Anthrow Circus

London-based Composer Teodor Doré Explores the World Through Sound

STORY BY JOANNA MARSH
PHOTOS COURTESY OF DYNAMIC AGENCY

Ever since he was a young boy in Crimea, music filled Teodor Doré’s life. At four years old, he would come next to his mother, a pianist, while she was practicing, and he would try to imitate her on the keyboard as best as he could.

Not too long after, he composed his first piece for the choir his grandmother conducted. He set the poem The Birch Tree by Russian poet Sergei Yesenin to four voices.

Sitting in Beauty: How Choral Music Made Me Less Lonely

WORDS & IMAGES BY CALLIE RADKE STEVENS

Behind the steeple of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin, clouds gathered and boiled, preparing for a storm or a show or something wild, surely. I zipped my coat all the way up as my husband and I picked our way down the narrow street.

I was determined to see at least a little bit of the city before we had to drive an hour south to where I was doing grad school research. This was Dublin, after all. We were there, and we had limited time. We had to see it. My husband, on the other hand, was tired and cranky and being exasperating. I was also tired and cranky, but I was going to have a good time. I was going to see the city. He was being annoying.

The Surprising Instrument of World Peace

STORY AND PHOTOS BY DAN GLEASON

“It’s a dangerous business—going out your door,” someone once said to me. But maybe that person didn’t have a ukulele like I do.

I named my uke “Strad” (diminutive of Stradivarius), thanks to a totally unscripted interaction in Vienna when I insisted upon its gentle handling while declaring that I had an appointment with the Vienna Philharmonic that evening. Strad has gotten me through doors in countries as diverse as Kenya, Tajikistan, the Republic of Georgia, and so many others.

View From a Pandemic: Going Baroque in Southern France

STORY BY ELEANOR MARTINDALE

It’s hard to state just how catastrophic 2020 was for the performing arts, and it’s hard to imagine the shape of the post-pandemic world. Nobody knows when theatres will reopen, or under what conditions; nobody knows when rehearsals will be able to take place or when audiences will be able to gather. In short, nobody knows what, or when, the new normal will be.

Les Grandes Lignes: A Musical Composition

MUSIC AND TEXT COMPOSED BY NOELLE HEBER

In 2013, I attended an intense, all-day, week-long training in Paris. The upper-floor classrooms hovered over the train tracks of the Gare de l’Est, and while we were too distant to hear the hustle and bustle of the train station traffic, one sound rang through the open windows in regular intervals: SNCF’s four-tone jingle that introduces train announcements to passengers. This audio sound serves as a friendly alarm, always followed by “Mesdames, Messieurs …” (“Ladies and Gentlemen …”) and useful train-travel information, such as on which track a train is arriving or an alert to a dreaded delay.