Biologist Rupert Sheldrake has alluded, controversially, but good for him, to the consciousness inherent in stars. Many occult books point to stars as being incredibly highly evolved conscious beings. Science as a whole unconsciously places stars to being in the mineral kingdom, though more by default than by association with solid “inanimate” matter, which they are not.
Though on a different plane stars must have consciousness, they are born and die like all living things. They surely must be living, nurturing as they do (eg our sun) all of our categorized life. Their dynamics and internal flows remind me of the organization in an animal or plant. Their “discussions” must occupy great distances and involve long periods of time.
In calling my opus 29 in 1980 Starmilk, I was moved to this by my conviction that to align to the stars is an act of creative courage, whether you see this as poetic, or contacting perspectives, forces and allegiances beyond our planet. Starmilk has much space in it, space to absorb the sounds and structures, and space to see beyond them. Alessandra addresses this as a natural, it being her element, really beautifully.
It suits me as a composer to be inspired by stars as beings who have conversations. A live improvisation I did to accompany Fanchon Frohlich’s painting group Collective Phenomena in Liverpool I called Stars Conversing. (listen at lawrenceball.org recordings, under electronic, computer and synthesizer music from the 90s). The consciousness and expression of a star I see and hear as long sweeping streams.
Starmilk uses streams of musical light, long sustained notes, the resounding of phrases overlapping resonances with later notes. This layering of streams of light, of rays in eternity, of the awe at the expanse of space that rages out from where we are, suggests to me attuning to stars, communing with them, invoking their majesty in our lives, particularly through musical performance, releasing energies that would not otherwise be available to us socially. This is true of much of my work, but this piece especially so.
To open to the gifts of stars, to be inspired by the breadth of the universe in one’s daily life on our Earth. To allow awe, to sing with celestial tones, with the voice of ecstatic spacious life. The gift of remembering that we live in a vast, glorious place, full of stellar consciousness, To greet the stars as friends, to allow their stature to inspire us, this is the orientation of Starmilk.