When cellist, composer and filmmaker Christopher Hoffman moved into the former home of Rex Brasher in Amenia in August 2023, he didn’t arrive with a plan to make an album about the painter and ornithologist who once lived there. But once he began to learn about the home’s former inhabitant — about his attention to land, to birds, to work done slowly and with devotion — he started to compose. “Rex,” Hoffman’s solo cello album (releases Jan. 16, 2026) is not a portrait of Brasher so much as an echo of a person, a place and a way of seeing the world.
Brasher (pronounced “brazier”) was born in Brooklyn in 1869, the son of a stockbroker whose passion for birds left a lifelong mark. After his father’s death, Brasher vowed to paint every bird in North America, and to do it from life. He eventually created more than 1,200 works, depicting birds with a precision and intimacy that bordered on obsession. Working largely outside the art world, Brasher lived on 116 wooded acres he called Chickadee Valley, where he painted, wrote and published his monumental 12-volume “Birds and Trees of North America.”
Rex Brasher at his home in Chickadee Valley.Provided
Founded in 2008 to preserve Brasher’s legacy and promote bird and habitat conservation through art, the Rex Brasher Association became an early point of connection for Hoffman, who composed and performed an original piece at the 2023 Rex Brasher Symposium just months after moving into Brasher’s former home. After many years in Brooklyn, Hoffman and his family had been looking for a change when they were shown the 116-acre property by association board member and architect Matthew Schnepf, who shared the history of the land and of Brasher himself.
“We’re the first renters outside of Rex’s family,” Hoffman said, explaining that the house is rented as part of an agreement to maintain the estate. Upon moving in, Hoffman dug deeper, purchasing the two-volume set of “Birds and Trees of North America” and immersing himself in Brasher’s world. Around the same time, and at the encouragement of composer, saxophonist and flutist Henry Threadgill, Hoffman debuted his first solo project at Tomeka Reid’s Chicago Jazz String Summit, planting the seed for the 13-track album that he then composed, recorded, mixed and mastered in Brasher’s home. The RBA (Rex Brasher Association) was equally supportive of the finished work, granting Hoffman permission to use Brasher’s artwork for the album, including the swallow-tailed kite painting that appears on the vinyl packaging. “You open up the record and the whole painting is right there,” said Hoffman.
‘Swallow Tail Kite’ by Rex BrasherProvided
Though birds are central to the record’s spirit, Hoffman deliberately avoided literal birdsongs. Instead, the cello is layered into dense soundscapes that suggest rather than illustrate. “There are tracks with tons of layered stuff where I guess you could hear bird sounds if you wanted to,” he said. Brasher’s refusal to accept approximation — destroying paintings when feathers didn’t look right — mirrored Hoffman’s own instincts as a musician. Tracks were built, discarded, rebuilt. Nothing stayed unless it felt true.
For Hoffman, “Rex” became a kind of reckoning. Though Hoffman has begun noticing birds with new intensity, using the Merlin bird app to identify some 30 species on the grounds, he says Brasher’s acuity still feels out of reach. “Even with binoculars, I still can’t see the details he was seeing.”
The album will be released Jan. 16 on Out of Your Head Records. Composed for acoustic and electric cello, the record reflects the solitude and intensity that shaped both Brasher’s vision and Hoffman’s process. “This guy was working so hard,” said Hoffman of Brasher. “And it was like, ‘Alright, Chris, get it together. Make the solo record you’re afraid to make.’”
To listen and purchase the album, go to: https://christopherhoffman.bandcamp.com/album/rex
Want more of our stories on Google? Click here to make us a Preferred Source.
Savannah Stevenson as Mrs. Paroo and Elliott Andrews who plays Harold Hill in the nationally touring production of “The Music Man.”
Then she became a lawyer instead.
“The leap from performing to lawyering isn’t as significant as it seems,” Stevenson said one recent morning from somewhere between tour stops on the national tour of Meredith Willson’s “The Music Man,” in which she now plays Mrs. Paroo, the Irish immigrant mother of Marian the librarian.
For 18 years, Stevenson practiced law at high-profile New York firms specializing in criminal defense before eventually becoming head of ethics, compliance and risk at Peloton during the company’s dizzying pandemic boom years.
“At some point in time, I got married and had children,” she said matter-of-factly. “And then life kind of unfolded.”
Stevenson and her husband began renting a house in Falls Village “just to get out of the city on the weekends.”
“We fell in love with it, of course,” she said. “And then when the pandemic hit, we of course fled the city up to that house and decided not to go back.”
Sharon Playhouse Board President Savannah Stevenson, former attorney and lifelong theater loverProvided
The family — Stevenson, her husband Jon, and daughters C.C. and Sylvie — became full-time Salisbury residents in 2020.
Then came another plot twist.
While the world was buying exercise bikes and streaming spin classes from their living rooms, Stevenson was part of Peloton’s legal leadership team. But after the company’s spectacular rise came the somewhat inevitable crash.
“In 2023, the board decided to let the entire executive team go,” she said.
Suddenly, Stevenson found herself unemployed in Northwest Connecticut with time on her hands and a teenage daughter deeply immersed in the Sharon Playhouse YouthStage program.
“My older daughter said to me, ‘Well, as long as you’re bringing me to and from rehearsals every day, why don’t you audition for the show?’”
She auditioned.
“And they were like, ‘Oh, you actually can sing.’”
What followed sounds like the plot of a feel-good movie about reinvention in middle age: mother and daughter performing together at the Sharon Playhouse while Stevenson rediscovered a part of herself she had set aside decades earlier.
“It was the most joyful experience ever,” she said. “And I kind of realized that now, in my late 40s — I’ll be 50 this year — I’ve aged into this entire new crop of roles. The mothers, the older wise women, the cougar,” she said, laughing. “All of these great older women’s roles.”
So, she started auditioning.
And getting the parts.
Now she’s on a six-month national tour.
“It really does feel like a full-circle moment for me,” Stevenson said.
If that sounds glamorous, Stevenson is quick to point out that touring theater is less champagne and more buses, protein bars and Peloton app workouts in hotel rooms.
“There are certainly times where it’s a show Monday night in one city, get on the bus, show Tuesday night in another city, get on the bus,” she said. “There’s a lot of time on the bus.”
Mostly, though, she talks about the crew with something approaching reverence.
“We finish a show at 10:30 or 11 at night. They load out the entire set onto trucks. Then they sleep on the bus, get to the next city at 8 a.m., load it all back in and rebuild it,” she said. “They work so hard. It’s incredible.”
In “The Music Man,” Stevenson now plays the role she once dreamed of from the opposite side of the generational divide.
“I would have sung Marian in my 20s,” she said. “Now I get to play her Irish mother, Mrs. Paroo.”
There is a scene where Marian sings “My White Knight,” and Stevenson stands nearby as Mrs. Paroo listening silently. And while the younger actress sings about longing and possibility, Stevenson finds herself thinking about her own daughters.
“Sometimes I just find myself standing there with a tear running down my cheek,” she said.
Meanwhile back home, Stevenson has become one of the Sharon Playhouse’s most visible champions. She joined the board in 2023 and stepped into the role of president this year.
“There’s social science that provides really strong evidence about the benefits of having a theater in your community,” Stevenson said. “Lower rates of violence. Higher rates of volunteerism. Higher graduation rates.”
She speaks about theater the way some people speak about public libraries or churches — as essential civic infrastructure.
“Sharing laughter, tears, music and dancing through stories that illuminate our common humanity touches us in a way that builds connection, empathy and genuine community,” she said.
Much of that conviction comes from watching what theater has done for her own children.
When her oldest daughter interviewed at competitive boarding schools this year, Stevenson said interviewers repeatedly commented on her poise and confidence.
“They would say to me, ‘All that theater education is really paying off,’” Stevenson said. “She can establish connection with people readily.”
When asked what advice she might offer to other women contemplating a midlife pivot, Stevenson resisted the fantasy of reckless transformation.
“I don’t think it’s about jumping without a net,” she said.
Instead, she advocates something more measured.
“It’s about making a calculated risk,” she said. “And then, once you’ve run those calculations and feel planful enough about it, really diving into that risk headlong.”
Which is perhaps another way of saying that sometimes the girl who once sang show tunes in Atlanta and studied musical theater at Carnegie Mellon never actually disappears.
Sometimes she’s just waiting patiently for her cue.
For tickets to The Music Man, visit themusicmantour.com
Want more of our stories on Google? Click here to make us a Preferred Source.
