Composer Juan Pablo Contreras returns to the Fresno Philharmonic as an old friend
By Donald Munro
In music, how do you capture the sound of a butterfly fluttering its wings at midnight?
For composer Juan Pablo Contreras, whose new piece “Alma Monarca” is being performed this weekend at Shaghoian Hall by the Fresno Philharmonic, bringing musical life to a butterfly was one of his delightful challenges while he was writing it.
[Last-minute giveaway: Win a pair of free tickets to Sunday’s concert by leaving a comment asking for them on this post. First comment wins. Deadline is 10 a.m. Sunday.]
The piece, which was co-commissioned by the orchestra, is a memoir of sorts, with Contreras drawing upon his memories of celebrating Día de los Muertos as a boy in a small Michoacán town.
He remembers that when he pitched the idea for the piece a few years ago to music director Rei Hotoda, his son, Oliver, had just been born.
“And I was thinking about heritage and lineage and traditions, and that my son is American, but I was born in Mexico, and he’s going to have this huge family tradition to inherit,” he says. “I think he’ll have the best of both worlds.”
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Hotoda loved the idea.
“His music is so celebratory and so authentic to his culture,” she says. “He brings complete joy.”
The 15-minute piece comes second in the program following Ginastera’s “Four Dances from Estancia.” It’s part of a powerhouse lineup that includes acclaimed Mexican pianist Jorge Federico Osorio performing the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 1. The concert celebrates Hispanic Heritage Month.
For Contreras, the opportunity to reflect musically on a cherished Dia de los Muertos memory is part of a larger strategy in his composition career: He loves the idea of narrative. Some composers think in a more abstract sense. For them, the notes come together, and the ideas come later.
Not for Contreras.
“For me, the story always comes first,” he tells me in a Wednesday phone interview, the night before driving to Fresno for rehearsals with the orchestra.
The opening of “Alma Monarca” is set in the town of Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, the hometown of Contreras’ paternal grandfather. He figures he last visited when he was about 10 years old. The narrative follows Contreras’ own journey:
Upon arrival in his grandfather’s town with his immediate family, he could hear the Mexican bandas players warming up, preparing for the celebration to come. The family then took a 30-minute boat ride (listen for sounds of water, such as little birds “chirping” in the violin section and seagulls squawking in the cellos) to an island called Janitzio, a Día de los Muertos hot spot. After church (listen for the bells) and lunch (accompanied by mariachis), the family would walk to a nearby cemetery at night. A legend says that on midnight on Nov. 2, if you see a Monarch butterfly flying around the tombstone of your loved one, they represent souls migrating to heaven. (It helps that Monarchs are in their migration season at that time of year.)
And how does Contreras convey those butterflies in his music?
“The wind instruments go really fast, 32nd notes runs, like fluttering the winds. There’s a very beautiful – but I wrote it, I don’t know if I can say that? – but there’s a beautiful melody that accompanies the flight of the butterflies.”
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I’m always buoyed after a conversation with Contreras, who is as enthusiastic an ambassador for his compositions – and classical music overall – as you can find. (“He’s vibrant. His personality comes through his music,” Hotoda says.) He’s worked extensively with the Youth Orchestras of Fresno. (In May, the ensemble premiered his first symphony.)
“Alma Monarca” is his third co-commission for the Fresno Philharmonic.
“I’ve found that some people know my name enough that they go to the concert because they know that I am going to be there,” he says of Fresno audiences. “That’s incredibly special, seeing people you’ve seen time and again.”
He adds: “Sometimes you get commissions that are a little bit intimidating, that you feel like you have to impress the orchestra, or write a certain way so they will like you. With Fresno, I’ve written pieces where I am myself, and I can completely be myself. Those tend to be the best pieces, in my opinion. It’s a big reason why I keep coming to her to pitch her projects and to try to involve her in what I’m doing.”
My connection with Contreras goes back even farther. In one of my first major freelance pieces after leaving the Fresno Bee, I was asked in 2019 by the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra – one of the premier groups of its kind in the country – to do a piece for its subscriber magazine on Contreras.
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His story at the time was that of a young Mexican composer who had come to the University of Southern California to pursue his doctorate. He was a standout and already becoming known for weaving together Western classical and Mexican folk music. (He has since been nominated for three Latin Grammy Awards and was the first first Mexican-born composer to sign a record deal with Universal Music.)
Contreras liked what he saw in the United States. He wanted to stay after completing his schooling. It took him 15 years to navigate the process of becoming a citizen.
Now, eight years later, he reached a point recently that he considers sort of his “half and half” mark – spending half his life in Mexico and half in the U.S.
He has mixed feelings about the likelihood that his 3-year-old son, Oliver, will spend most of his life in the U.S. compared to Mexico. On one hand, Contreras is proud that he and his wife, Marisa Ochoa, are able to give their son a headstart in a country that offers opportunities to dream big. At the same time, he also wants to remind Oliver of his heritage.
With its Dia de los Muertos theme, you could think of “Alma Monarca” as a piece about death.
“But it’s also about the circle of life, and it’s a celebration of life. The way Mexicans convey this tradition that the best way to celebrate the dead is by living very passionately. That goes to show to how I think my son will experience his dual identity as Mexican and American. It’s with parents that really want to make sure that he remembers his heritage.”
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A funny thing happened to Contreras when he dug into research for “Alma Monarca.” He learned that butterflies don’t usually fly at night.
Which made him think about childhood memories, and consider the concept of imagination, and even muse on the question of when do our own lives slip into the realm of magical realism.
“So maybe it didn’t happen,” he says. “But that’s what I remember.”
As a kid, he’d play a game racing around trying to find butterflies and figuring out which loved one it could represent. He swears he can remember being on the scene at midnight and waiting for that magical moment.
To him, that’s the beauty of memory. There’s sort of a Santa Claus vibe going on here.
“Who knows if we actually did see the butterflies at night? During the day I’m pretty sure that we did, because I remember trees covered with butterflies, but at night, it might have been part of the illusion of being there surrounded by family.”
Maybe he’ll learn for certain when he takes his son there for Dia de los Muertos one day.
