Janice Misurell-Mitchell "Vanishing Points" - music for solo, duo and quartet. Composer, flutist and vocal artist Janice Misurell-Mitchell takes a multi-faceted approach to composition. Drawing on traditional Western European classical elements, she fashions pieces that reach into the rich sources of jazz, popular, and ethnic music. "Her attempts at stretching music's boundaries-by incorporating improvisation and performance art...have produced refreshing results." Ted Shen, Chicago Reader. Janice Misurell-Mitchell is on the faculty of the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. A member of CUBE Contemporary Chamber Ensemble, she has taught and performed in the US, Europe, Morocco, Israel, Palestine and China. She has recently been a featured composer at the Transregional Conference on the Move in Hungary, the Our Literal Speed Conferences at Art Chicago and at the Center for Art and Media in Karlsruhe, Germany, the Music for a While contemporary music series at the Music Institute of Chicago, the National Flute Association Conventions, and others. Her honors include grants from the Illinois Arts Council, the Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs, Meet the Composer, residencies at the Ragdale Foundation, and awards and commissions from the National Flute Association, the International Alliance for Women in Music, Northwestern University and numerous performers of contemporary music. REVIEW: The Reader, Chicago Our favorite music of 2013 Chicago contemporary classical by Peter Margasak Janice Misurell-Mitchell, Vanishing Points (Southport) Composer and flutist Janice Misurell-­Mitchell, codirector of long-­running ensemble CUBE, represents the old guard of Chicago's new-music community. But her latest portrait album proves that there's nothing outdated or musty about her work. On the aptly titled Agitacion, vibraphone and drum kit alternately intersect and propel Winston Choi and Abraham Stokman's jagged piano lines, and "Dark Was the Night," performed by guitarist Maria Vittoria Jedlowski, takes inspiration from the Blind Willie Johnson classic referenced in its title, and its bracing, splintery gestures owe as much to Derek Bailey as to the blues.