I It has long been believed that each family has its own dialect. A list of words, references, and phrases that are incomprehensible to outsiders. It comes from shared history, childhood misunderstandings and pranks. And it exists even if one of you does not speak, or in the case of my brother, speaks minimally.
My brother is autistic, so he pronounces things differently and uses certain clichés, but over time these statements have become part of the structure of our conversations. Ta. “Give me the trucklot,” I might say to my mother, meaning chocolate. “Nos da, Cwac” (literally “night, night, Cwac”), my father says. Borrowed from one of my brother's favorite Welsh cartoon catchphrases. It may seem strange to hear me say “tradoo” instead of “trousers,” but this is a legitimate entry in the family lexicon. It's also a way of communicating with my brother, recognizing and respecting his unique phrasing.
I had never given much thought to this phenomenon until I met composer, violinist, and sound artist Ruby Colley. He is a composer, violinist and sound artist, and his younger brother Paul is neurodivergent, non-verbal and in need of high support. In collaboration with Paul, Ruby (who is also a neurodivergent) has created a new work for vocal ensemble, electronics and violin, “Hello Halo'', which will be performed. in london and liverpool by Exaudi Ensemble. “When one person speaks and the other doesn't, the flow of a connected conversation feels like a one-way street,” Ruby told me. “What I really wanted to do with this project was basically find the points of contact between the two of us and bring out all these details within Paul's communication style.”
Like my brother and I, Ruby and Paul (who are 41 and 43 years old respectively) grew up in a home filled with music. Ruby started playing the violin at the age of 3, when she was one of the many volunteers helping 2-year-old Paul reach developmental milestones.This little girl needs something. he pointed out. While she practiced, Paul sat on the floor, entranced. In the short film produced in parallel to this work (to be released after the premiere), there is a lovely moment when Ruby plays the song to Paul and Paul begins to smile in recognition and gratitude. .
The affinity that many autistic and neurodivergent individuals have for music and its therapeutic benefits are well established. musician Memoirs of James Cook“In Her Room: How Music Helped Me Connect with My Autistic Daughter,” chronicles how he connected. communicated using his voice and guitar Along with Emily, a little girl who doesn't speak his language.
And in his upcoming memoir, Maybe I'm surprisedmy colleague John Harris writes about it. Songs became a common language between him and his autistic son James. John explains why chords, tones, rhythms and everything else can sometimes evoke and crystallize emotions and experiences far more powerfully than language, and why he practices and plays songs with his son. , I wrote about my obsession with “Why do I play the guitar?” He tended to focus on bass and keyboards, which he began to feel were a substitute for conversation. And then I realized something even more surprising. It was conversation. “This family discovered that music can create a 'wordless world.'
Ruby's work pays homage to another similar conversation and her family's own lexicon. One of Paul's favorite words to say is “Hello,” hence the title. This work also uses words from his childhood that he lost, as well as words that he uses to talk to important people in his life, such as support workers. “In one of the movements there is a reference to “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,'' which he loved as a child and which he always played when I was learning. Years later, all of a sudden, he was sitting in the back of a car playing the perfect song. According to Ruby, that taught her that Paul understood much more than the family realized.
Hello Halo is timely, coming at a time when the voices of people with verbal nerves are becoming more and more visible. While this is obviously a good thing, it also means that autistic and disabled people who need support, who are unable to speak, or who are minimally able to speak, have their stories taken out of the public conversation about autism. It means that it is missing. Hello Halo reminds us that the connection between non-speaking people and their families goes beyond words. We also firmly advocate the need for artistic expression for everyone. Kate Adams, Ruby and Paul's mother, is the CEO of Project Art Works, which has helped many disabled, autistic and neurodiverse people get involved in the arts.
“I feel it's important to say that Paul is an enigma,” Ruby says. “A sister can know her brother through common experiences, sibling connections, and intimate historical knowledge, but the gap of the unknown can be wide. I've learned to embrace this element. It's an act of surrender and love.”
'Hello Halo' will be performed at King's Place in London on February 1st and at Liverpool Harmonic Hall on February 3rd.
