My heart, along with that of many others in Canberra and beyond, is breaking this weekend, because on Friday evening we heard the news we had been dreading, that Michael Sollis had died – that morning.

Just weeks off his 41st birthday, Michael was a musical performer and conductor, composer and arranger, artistic director, musicologist, music educator, arts administrator, artist, advocate – and husband, father and son. He was, above and beyond this – and by any measure – a beautiful human being. I am not sure I can do justice to who he was and what he meant to those of us who knew him.

Mr Gums and I first met Michael nearly 20 years ago when he started appearing on Canberra’s professional music scene. We attended our first Griffyn Ensemble concert (see my post) in 2010. He was just 24 years old. Over the years, I wrote 21 posts on the Ensemble’s concerts because, while I am not a music critic by any means, I love music, and I loved the way Michael and the Ensemble he founded pushed boundaries in every direction. They spoke to me as an arts lover, because over the years they addressed everything I cared about and then some. There were concerts inspired by social justice, First Nations history and culture, climate change and the environment, astronomy, art, literature, and even sport (through Michael’s love of Rugby League, no less). There was music, song and dance. There was art. There were collaborations with other musicians (including First Nations, Scottish and Swedish), with scientists (such as astronomer Fred Watson), and with dancers, artists, writers …

Then, there were concerts held not only in arts centres and theatres but in the ruined shell of a Mt Stromlo telescope, gallery foyers, libraries, a woodshed and an industrial hangar, a school hall, in the outdoors, and more. When I look back at my posts I am overwhelmed, yet again, by Michael’s energy and entrepreneurship, by the breadth of his intellectual enquiry, by his versatility, and by how it all produced – for us the audience – concerts of such meaning, beauty and power. These concerts were not done alone, of course, because the Griffyn Ensemble comprised a skilled, committed and collaborative group of musicians who came together with their individual skills and personalities to perform concerts that surprised, provoked and delighted.

But then, in May 2021, Michael, who was finalising a new foray for him – a multimedia art project addressing environmental degradation – was diagnosed with bowel cancer. Given months to a year to live, Michael tackled his cancer the way he tackled everything, with determination and grace. He started chemotherapy a month after his second son was born, and did all he could to stay alive as long as possible for himself and his family, particularly his two little boys.

Over the last five years, as Michael kept up a brutal treatment regime, he continued to create, compose and think. His interest in First Nations culture was apparent very early in Griffyn’s history, but in recent times, he developed, with input from Ngunnawal people, creative bush walks along the Murrumbidgee. He was also appointed co-artistic director of the National Folk Festival with two Griffyn colleagues, Holly Downes and Chris Stone. Michael did perform a few times in these last years, but we were away each time, so …

The last time we saw and heard Michael play was in March this year when the Ensemble presented what we feared would be a farewell performance, though Michael was not giving up. Such was the love for Michael and the Ensemble that it booked out quickly, and a second performance was added for the same day. How Michael did that, physically let alone emotionally, I have no idea. And how the musicians pulled it off, emotionally, I can barely understand. Speaking to a couple afterwards, I know they barely did.

As for Michael’s wife, Kiri, who is also an Ensemble member, well, words fail me. Her pain was all too clear, but she carried herself with a bravery and dignity that was remarkable.

I did not post on this concert, mainly because I wanted to focus on this likely last experience, but it was thoughtfully conceived by Michael, and performed by the Ensemble with quiet, tender respect. It included some pieces we’d heard before, including one of my favourite pieces that Michael arranged well over a decade ago for the ensemble, and had been performed by Kiri Sollis (flute) with Laura Tanata or Meriel Owen (harp), and Susan Ellis (soprano), at least twice before. It is a beautiful, haunting piece called Goodnight by Polish composer Henryk Górecki – and it set the scene for a concert that was imbued with a calm, inclusive spirituality. (You can hear a different version of the Górecki on YouTube, and you can read a review of the concert by Graham McDonald at CBR City News.)

I have no doubt the tributes will flow, but one of the first to be published was by local arts journalist and critic Helen Musa.

Over the years, I captured words of poetry that were included in Griffyn ensemble concerts, including these:

When dreaming there I carved
Some words of love upon the bark
Both joy and sorrow
Drew me to that shady spot

(from Wilhelm Müller, “The Linden Tree”, in Cloudy with a Chance of Rain)

And

Silver moon upon the deep dark sky,
Through the vast night pierce your rays.

(from “Song to the moon”, by Antonin Dvorak, in Illicit Passions)

There were many more words, including from First Nations people, but they are not so easy to locate. However, I think these two capture something apposite for today.

Vale Michael. Life can be so cruel, but you gave it a red hot shot and leave a legacy worthy of someone twice your age. Go well.