born of dust and remembering

Looking up at the night sky one can see several patches of darkness. These are the parts of the night-time blanket that haven’t been embellished with the twinkle of starlight. The cornea is at the mercy of this void so vast and so false. Perhaps I’m more aware of the stars out here in Kent. 
It’s a luminous language foreign from that of the structured lighting of a city.
Here one can look up and see generous pointillism.
There is more that the eye can see when the ceiling is your torch.

I now find myself past the midway mark of my time at The Studio. I also find myself, along with the rest of the world* in a new calendar year. Salutations two-oh-one-nine. I think our world is a bit too myopic to consider this the eve of a year of ‘perfect vision’ (two-oh-two-oh), not synonymous with the brave new world that chilled the muses many. Although, the subtitles on the news of New Year’s Eve seemed to believe we were entering 20 AD. Which in some respects could be considered true considering certain policies and ideologies I need not explicitly state. Perhaps 2002 had even more of a ring to it (tragically memorable for more war and bloodshed). But it’s still a number so good the drunks of 2002 could read it backwards and forwards and still know the year they were in whilst quenching the thirst of the underlying human obsession with symmetry. Alas, there is a slight complication. Our fictional protagonist Anna, born in Ekalaka Lake in 2002 has long wondered why the word palindrome failed in itself to be a palindrome. Perhaps palinilap could usurp the word palindrome as a more appropriate term of fitting exactly what it serves to represent. But here’s a proposition for those who get inexplicably fascinated with symmetry: come find me in two-one-one-two and we can stare in the mirror and contemplate our own facial asymmetry in a symmetrical year. It will all be ok. Born of dust, back to dust. That’s symmetry right? Nevertheless, here we are in a new western calendar year and my endeavours are the same but fortified with perhaps what some call the new year’s resolution. V-I: alas even perfect resolutions find themselves challenged. However, the new year is empowering. Why? It’s a time where we look at a construct of closing and entering, perhaps one of the few times where we are encouraged to sit and reflect and meditate upon the internal and the external, achievements and mistakes, our actions and our own desires. However, it is not quite any of the above that serves as the catalyst for this entry to my blog. Instead I felt it was about time to break a rather self-imposed silence, a silence that I hope this entry will explain.

*For those who celebrate the New Year according to the Gregorian Calendar.
Also, I wrote this entry just before the new Lunar Calendar Year.
But now it’s the new Lunar year as well so 新年快樂 to all my Chinese family and friends!

monotony and memory

My week is structured around the days that I am at the flute studio. It’s a monotonous motion that I am certain is valuable to my flute playing and development, but perhaps not the most blog-inducing. We’ve ploughed through more repertoire than I ever did in my three years of undergraduate music studies and I am finding that I am learning pieces and concepts faster and that I have become more vigilant regarding my own playing and expectations. I’ve had the opportunity to play for some remarkable guest artists at the studio including Michael Cox (Principal Flute BBC Symphony Orchestra), Rachel Brown (historical flute and music specialist) and Juliet Edwards (accompanist and pianist). We’ve also attended master classes in London with Emily Beynon (Principal flute of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra) and William Bennet (Professor at Royal Academy of Music) which have been equally enriching. But classes with Trevor are often the hardest and most rewarding. He is a erudite figure who can be simultaneously cruel and caring in character, and my time here at the flute studio has been undeniably beneficial. He speaks of a world of ghosts that seemingly still haunt the way flute is taught and institutionalised. These ghosts are his friends… from Marcel Moyse to Alain Marion and other remarkable figures who he worked with or taught and some that are still alive today. But most importantly, it is fully clear that he respects his friends and colleagues, and that they have imparted lessons regarding music and life onto him and that this equates to a large portion of his wisdom– a wisdom he shares with his students. It is far from an evangelical “church of flute” vibe, and despite many of my friends thinking I joined an obscure flute cult in the English countryside, this is a valuable opportunity to learn from one of the few remaining flutists and pedagogues of a time passing. While many of Trevor’s values and tones of teaching may be outdated, it can still be applied to a large portion of the flute repertory (being that it is mostly composed by dead white guys anyway!). But the sentiment of the rules, character and fundamentals of music transpires across the periods. Even in more anarchical approaches there are always shadows. So in some ways I came to the studio to understand more about the past, because so much of the music I have played in my musical studies is steeped in periods past, but because it helps me to understand more about how we arrived at the sonic inventions of the present. It is also becoming increasingly clear to me just how much there is to consider when learning, performing and teaching music. But also how there is much (somewhat disregarded) simplicity. It is all a matter of understanding. I think after this course I will spend some time reading back through the notes I took from the studio classes. There’s just an incredible amount of information that I could probably compile it into a guidebook that I could use for the rest of my career and to help students and colleagues. I’ve also taken time to think more about the direction of my career. Not too long ago I was somewhat vehemently opposed to the idea of a career in orchestral playing. But I think this course has opened up realms of new possibilities that perhaps I had turned my attention away from. Whilst I gravitate most towards contemporary music, I now see my own musical identity broadening. That is not to say that I do not want to specialise, in fact I think I would eventually love to be a specialist in contemporary music. However, I am in love with delving through different styles and genres of music (and different modes of expression) and at this stage in my career I want to embrace that exploration further. After the conclusion of this course I am eager to explore a variety of opportunities in the various realms of musical expression.

time-travel, noise travel,
feet first into gravel

London is seductive. It’s this noisy and luminous magnet of activity that has abundance. Back in Australia one would sometimes have to wait months, if not several years for an artist, exhibition, program to come from overseas and grace our senses. We have such fine local artists in Australia and we are certainly never short of entertainment. But, envision this, you’re in Sydney for a night and there are three concerts happening simultaneously and you would like to be present at all of them. Omnipresence would border on delusional so you’d have to choose one. Cities are reminiscent of supermarkets, there’s choice, choice and more choice; choices to the point where you cannot choose whether or not you want to be dizzy because you already are. I am a sworn lover of nature and all places not suffocated by concrete but the magnetism of cities always draw my feet back into its streets. It’s no paradox, but more an acceptance that cities often house opportunities, culture, the arts and people to them. I am a victim to that magnetism. I’ve been into London a several times now, to listen to concerts and attend masterclasses. It’s about a 40 minute trip into London via South-Eastern rail that can cost up to £26 return, so I have to choose my visits wisely and sparingly. It certainly proves difficult when there is a worthwhile concert, exhibition or event happening EVERY SINGLE DAY. I’ve had the opportunity to see some incredible exhibitions particularly ‘The Clock’ by Christian Marclay at Tate Modern, a 24-hour film I have been wanting to see for years. I’ve also been to the National Gallery, The British Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum. The V&A museum holds such an extensive collection (all the Rodin statues!) and I also went into an exhibition regarding the production and sustainability of fashion. I am yet to go and listen to the many wonderful orchestras in London. I tried purchasing tickets for a London Symphony Orchestra concert but the few remaining tickets were around £80. For most events there reasonable are student or youth fares for around £10, but for these you have to act fast. But I’ve been fortunate enough to hear Claire Chase, Bang On A Can All-Stars (selections from Field Recordings, Julia Wolfe’s Anthracite Fields), Frederic and Jan Rzewski and the London Improvisers Orchestra. On the weekend that Bang On a Can (BOAC) and Claire Chase were playing in London there was also a Ensemble Modern concert, but as I had booked for another concert I couldn’t make it to that. Alas, choices! King’s Place has an incredible series called ‘Venus Unwrapped‘ that shines the spotlight on the creative power of Women in music. The BOAC concerts I went to were a part of that series and as I was sitting in my seat I realised that 80% of the works programmed were by women. What was most intriguing was that the concert was not advertised as a ‘program of mostly women composers’. At times I find that organisations and artistic directors feel the need to highlight that they are making an incredible effort to program the music of women and this is fantastic. But it can also be mildly counter-productive and can perpetuate tokenism, exclusivity and marginalisation. I think it’s about constructing a program that is made up of great music and balance. But when there is an alarming under-representation (or no representation!) in concert programs excluding particular groups in society, that is when we must highlight existing imbalances. But most importantly the focus should be to forge a more inclusive future through providing platforms where these unique creative voices can be heard. So before I went to the BOAC concert I wasn’t aware of Venus Unwrapped nor was I aware of how many composers were women on the program. It was only when I sat down that I thought to myself– ‘damn, this music is good’, and that’s all that should matter.

fertile ground

My time here in Elmsted, Kent is almost solely dedicated to the flute and practice. The other day, I was asked by one of the neighbours (by neighbour I do not mean next door, but rather, across a field) what I do when I am not practicing or at the Studio. I stared into my cup of tea, a pause, for a moment of consideration before I gave an answer. You see, there is not much else to do here than practice, go for walks in the woods, and get creative with a limited diet. However, in this time away from the clamorous seduction of city living I have found gentle entertainment in my the machinations of my own mind. Being here has extended opportunities beyond the flute. I have found more time to compose music and experiment with musical ideas I have wanted to try for some time. During this course I started making composition part a regular practice through composing my own warm-ups and exercises for flute to some larger projects not directly involving the flute. In the last three and a half months I composed my first string quartet ‘A Waning Body‘ that was premiered at the Environmental Sound Art, Classical Music and Australian Female Composers concert at the Queensland Conservatorium of Music. Each note from this work is a sonic translation of data collected from Antarctic Mass Variation since 2002. It was a concept I’d wanted to explore for some time as a means to promote heightened awareness on the alarming rate of climate change. Consequently, it’s full of sounds that aren’t meant to make anyone feel terribly comfortable. I also wrote a piece for percussion/speaker and fixed media dedicated to my Brisbane duo partner, Joyce To for her solo recital at the Tilde New Music Week in Melbourne. I’ve been exploring spoken elements with vessels (glass, flutes) and wanted to create a piece that featured this idea as a central element. And thus ‘Ingrained/in-grains’ came into existence. There’s no recording as of yet but you can listen to the fixed media component here. There are other ideas and concepts that are still in an embryonic state but are slowly taking form. I am also beyond excited to announce that a ‘Noisy Women’ concert will be happening again this year for International Womens Day (8 March). Last year the concert received overwhelming support from the Brisbane community and beyond with an audience exceeding the capacity of the venue and many more watching nationally and internationally into the live-stream. As well as being a concert celebrating the valuable contributions of women throughout musical history it is also a space to promote established and new works by women. How can masterpieces be made if they are not heard? Hence, this year the concert is happening again, albeit under a new and very exciting name (with an equally exciting acronym): Women of Noise. This year I also have a talented team of young musicians (Courtney Lovell, Anna Rabinowicz, Sasha Walker, Elizabeth Shearon) on the creative and organising unit who are undoubtably the backbone of the project. More information regarding the program and musicians involved will be available on our Facebook and Instagram so be stay tuned to exclusive sneak peeks and exciting updates!

Encore?

In the final months of my time here in Kent I’ll be up to my knees in pieces, practice and hopefully more snow! I am glad I took the time to write this entry as it has given me moments to reflect on time passed and the time that is passing. After my time in the United Kingdom I will travel to Germany where I will stay with one of my old flute teachers. I’ll be investigating opportunities including jobs, Masters degree options, maybe even going to a festival or two, getting some lessons and doing more performing. From one ambitious plan to another it seems! At this stage I anticipate that I’ll return to Australia late in the year. I’ll certainly be eager to perform, collaborate, catch up with friends and family and share what I learnt here at the studio. Here’s to the continuum of noise.

some photos…

…till the cows come home

before proceeding please listen:

I’ve been told that England seems to be mostly in eternal drizzle to the point I thought it true. This place I’ve known for less than a week now has welcomed me with a warmth all too familiar. Did I bring that warm weather with me? This question incessantly plays in my head, perhaps a delirium induced by several layers of clothing in weather nearing the twenties. But a few days passed and I looked at the clothes I had brought in worry. Could my plans of being the winter marshmallow wrapped in jumpers been only fantasy? In this somewhat balmy weather I make my way down the narrow roads, greeting the cattle, sheep, goats, horses, badgers and birds as I walk to The Flute Studio.  Trevor speaks about the world of flutes and the beauty of music. He places manuscript on our stands and ponders over his collection of hundreds of discs, selects one and it plays. Listening to Les barricades mystérieuses has become the bookends of days at the studio. Calling it a ritual wouldn’t be an understatement. In this landscape few planes fly overhead and cars drive past infrequently, perhaps the distant mooing, tractors and the flute playing of my housemate Lindsay are the sounds that I hear most. In the comfort of the studio and this little farm stead across from St James the Great, I pick up my flute and play.  

IMG_6268
Elmsted Court

I’ve arrived in Elmsted “an area of outstanding natural beauty” in the Kent downs, this is where I will be residing for the next six months. Elmsted was given its name in the time of Saxon, Elm referring to its abundance of elm trees and Sted meaning place derived from the Saxon word ‘stede’. It is a place of beauty and history. I walk down roads sided by hedges, sometimes you can find wild berries. The Anglican Church across the road is dedicated to St James the Great and dates back to the 11th century. It is always open and seems like it will be a beautiful acoustic for practice and recording. There are headstones so old they have become sculpture at the mercy of the Elmsted elements of weathering. One can barely make out an a name nor epitaph.

IMG_6255
St James Anglican Church

Our days at the studio have begun with high expectations and great intensity. Technical exercises are propelled at us one after the other and are expected to be absorbed into memory and therefore become automatic. Trevor seems to encourage the cacophony of all of us searching around lost in a tempest of tonalities and deciphering patterns he demonstrates to us by ear. After all: “you wouldn’t be doing these exercises if you can do them perfectly.” A week at The Studio is made up of classes on Monday (Technique and Studies) and Thursdays (Repertoire and excerpts) and the rest of the time is spent in personal practice of a specific regimen and research projects on the history of the flute up to 1700.  Trevor also takes us shopping once a week, a day I like to call “Tesco Tuesdays” and little excursions to neighbouring towns, Wye, Ashford and London. So far, I’ve met some of the community who seem to welcome Trevor’s students with great excitement. Last Friday, we were invited to play a game called Whist, a classic English trick-taking card game popular in the 18th and 19th centuries.  We were taught how to play only days before by Paul and his son Robbie who are friends of Trevor. It was quite a remarkable experience as during a game of Whist there is such energy of concentration and barely any sound other than the tapping of cards and the occasional apology. We are also preparing to have masterclasses Rachel Brown, Michael Cox and Juliet Edwards, among others. This week, we will go to London to hear a masterclass with Emily Beynon, the principal flute of the Royal Concertgebouw. In December, we will be playing in two concerts in the local area which I am particularly excited for. Otherwise, our time here is spent inside the house at Elmsted Court practicing all day with walks around the neighbourhood to freshen the mind (I’ve even tried running again!).

IMG_6244
From left to right: Lindsay, myself, Trevor, Kumjung and Agne.

So far the house is inhabited by Lindsay and myself. Lindsay is also a flutist/composer who also shares the ability to talk to for hours on end. She also happens to be allergic to soy which means I can no longer be lazy and buy those frozen vegan meals made with soy protein (this is probably for the best!). It’s an interesting dynamic to be living with another flute player. Prior to this course I often speculated about what it would be like. Would it be competitive? Beneficial? Or even a little overwhelming? It’s only been 2 weeks but I can say it is certainly beneficial and lots of fun. Often, we both will practice sight-reading duets and do technique together. It is a helpful exercise to do this as there is pressure to keep up with each other but also you have another person’s perspective rather solely personal practice analysis.

Screen Shot 2018-10-14 at 2.23.05 pm
New friends made en route to the studio. 

I’ve certainly been busy with adjusting myself to this new environment and regime practice regime so I apologise for the delayed post and not uploading my recital footage yet. I will endeavour to do this tonight and it will be up on my Youtube soon.

Finally, I wanted extend my heartfelt gratitude to those who donated to my Australian Cultural Fund page to support my ongoing project and production costs at the flute studio. Thank you my lovely friends, family and colleagues. To Carlin Hara-Crockford, Judy Brandl, Robert Lantos, Michael Hannan, Daniel Fawcett, Natalie Williams and the mysterious but generous ‘anonymous’. The fund is open for another four days and all donations over $2 are tax deductible! https://australianculturalfund.org.au/projects/the-flute-studio/

Screen Shot 2018-10-14 at 2.23.36 pm

Before I sign off, a few more words. I am quite outspoken about how I feel about “dead white guy composers” and consciously make decisions to program wonderful music that written recently especially my those under-represented. I am not iconoclastic, and I must confess I used to come across as such in my first year at the Conservatorium. However, Contemporary music has always made more contextual sense to me, I think it’s because it’s the world I live in. I don’t live in a palace or go to Church, or get invited to the dinner parties dinner parties of the aristocracy, nor have I lived through any world wars. But it’s a world that many composers did live and work in. This course delves into a lot of repertoire I have never really gelled with. I do of course appreciate and love listening to diverse styles of music but really feel most comfortable in contemporary as most of you know. This course for me is about becoming more versatile and feeling comfortable across all expressions of the musical language. I want to be able to express more honestly how I feel towards something that may be distant from our present time but still translatable to now. It is possible, and I have seen it done, that we are able to communicate our current landscape where we face environmental, social and political crisis’ though music because sound, vibration is what makes up our world and is innately human.

Something old but beautiful that I was reminded of by Trevor:

IMG_6266
New neighbours.

For flute players and others who might be interested this is the list of repertoire and excerpts for the studio:

Repertoire
Debussy: Syrinx
Honegger: Danse de la Chèvre
Enesco: Cantabile e Presto
JS Bach: E minor Sonata BWV 1034
JS Bach: E major Sonata BWV 1035
Marais: La Follia d’Espagne. (Flute and piano arrangement in G minor)
Schubert: Introduction and Variations on “Trockne Blumen” D. 802
Mozart: Concerto in D major
Mozart: Andante in C
Telemann: Fantasies 2, 4 7, 10.
Dutilleux Sonatine
Berkeley: Sonatine
Widor: Suite
Telemann: Sonatas in F Minor
Telemann: Sonata in F Major
Messiaen. Le Merle Noir
CPE Bach: Solo in a minor
Roussel: Joueurs de Flûte
Doppler: Aris Valaques
Müthel: Sonata in D major

Excerpts
Bach: Aus Liebe: St Matthew Passion
Gluck: Dance of the Blessed Spirits from Orfeo
Mozart: Magic Flute
Beethoven: Leonore No 3
Rossini: William Tell Overture
Schubert: Symphony No 5 in Bb: 3 movts
Mendelssohn: Scherzo
Saint-Saëns: Carnival of the Animals: Voliere
Dvorak: Symphony No 8
Rimsky Korsakov: Capriccio Espagnol
Prokofiev: Classical Symphony
Ravel: Daphnis and Chloe
Prokofiev: Peter and the Wolf
Bach: Domine Deus from B minor Mass.
Brahms: 4th Symphony

If you hadn’t already established it, these are all dead white guys… but they have an  important place the flute repertory.

Screen Shot 2018-10-14 at 2.22.51 pm
Beautiful pumpkins at Perry Court Farm

from norf back to south

This post is truly hard to write. It feels that as my fingers touch these keys that I am living again in the final hours of the festival. The final hours of sound which brought the festival to a spectacular close. These past two weeks have ripped through in a relentless whirlwind of activity and I have found these moments of reflection through writing to grant me a sense of pause and breath. I now sit on the plane completing this entry, it is my third attempt and I hope I will be able to express the depth of my feelings towards the last two weeks which were the Nief-Norf Summer Festival.

2018 x 11 = a taste of the new

36175886_10156850658640016_2332859869628989440_n
Arithmetic by Jonathan Newmark (2018)

I shall start a few days back, at the Composer’s Concert. This concert was a showcase of the composition fellow’s new works performed by the performance fellows. Never have I seen a program which lists the same year which we are living in as the composition date for each composition. All were composed this year and that was just so incredibly refreshing. Almost so new you could still see the steam rising. Each work had its own compositional style, none exuded or were the offspring of another composer’s idiomatic style. I thought this was quite a remarkable thing. I played in a composition titled Arithmetic by Jonathan Newmark for voice, flutes (flute and piccolo), violoncello and percussion. This piece was written to be fun and was quite the whimsical work set to a text by Carl Sandburg. This piece certainly had its own particular challenges. Apart from being one of the more ‘tonal’ works I played during the festival this piece also held some challenging ‘licks’ and passages that required particular attention to the cleanliness of articulation and technique (which is of course important across all works). The composing fellows would always be at every concert, listening to the various works we were performing. During my time at the festival I had the privilege to speak with each of them about their compositional practice and language. I was particularly intrigued by one of the composers, Varun Rangaswamy who had undergone a metamorphosis in compositional identity. In the composition presentation he gave us an insight into how his style had evolved through a reflection on his cultural identity as well as the current political situation in America regarding immigration and foreigners. I have always felt that new music has a crucial perspective in regards to current political, environmental and social situations in the world, as a vehicle for reflection and as a medium to translate its chaos. It is undeniable that every work written bears the weight of the present, of the composer’s internal thoughts and the noise and activity of the external world. For this very reason, I believe that composers who reflect upon their own compositional language and trajectory will have a clearer image of what they want to sonically depict in future compositions. However, this thought does not always reign supreme. Experimentation is an integral part of the compositional process and for many emerging composers this practice is a crucial aspect of developing a compositional identity. During the festival I worked with one of the fellows, Sebastian Zel from whom I requested an electro-acoustic piece for alto flute. We set aside a time where I could show him some techniques characteristic of the alto flute and see how electronics could manipulate these ideas. Some of the most surprising sounds were key clicks and jet whistles. The harmonic richness of the alto in the higher registers also was translated in a unique way by the patches he was using. It certainly was such a intriguing interaction between the interplay of the alto flute and real-time manipulation. I also invited many of the of the composers to send me their flute pieces when they wrote one. This will also tie into a commissioning project from flute and percussion and in future flute/violoncello/percussion which is my dream ensemble configuration. I received a surprise email from Christopher Adler, the Head of Composition at Nief-Norf, with a wonderful solo flute work as well as a duo for alto flute and violoncello both commissioned and to be recorded by Lisa Cella. I am excited to see what works will come my way from the connections and friends I made at the festival. But for now I have so many projects of my own which I shall bring back with me to Brisbane.

Have a look at some of the highlights from Concert 10.

Hyper from Varèse’s Hyperprism to New York’s Hypercube

36030304_1204546999687783_9184308347224981504_n
Hypercube in action for the 11th Nief-Norf Summer Festival Concert

The 11th concert of the festival was not only special as it was our evening to rest before the colossal marathon concert to come but was a concert featuring guest ensemble Hypercube from New York. The ensemble has a signature instrumentation of saxophones, guitars, percussion and pianos. The pieces they played apart from Hout (1991) by Louis Andriessen were either written for or revised for the instrumentation of the ensemble. I have this guilty pleasure for the sound of a well-played accordion you see. Andrea Lodge played the piano-accordion (as well as the piano) and it added this wonderful visual and sonic depth to Sam Pluta‘s American Toyko Daydream IV (Data Structures/Monoliths). After that piece it was announced that they solidify then tilt by (2018) Nicholas Deyoe had to be taken off the program as in the throws of passionate performance the accordion had been injured. The other pieces on the program included Liminal Bridges (2016) by Philip Schuessler and Mastodon Rises (2017) by Christopher Adler. It was a wonderful smorgasbord of music exploring the timbral interactions between the instruments of the ensemble. I was most captured by the ensemble synchronicity and dynamic. They had that telepathic way of communication of an ensemble which has been working together for some time. I think part of this observation came from a craving to have a deeper connection with my ensembles during the festival. Of course, my connection towards musicians I have worked with numerous times becomes strengthened each time we re-engage musically with one another. I noticed in some groups this was better than others, for example Unlit Cigarettes, Pangkur, Terrestre, Mouthpiece 28 held more ensemble glue than some of the other ensembles I worked with. Part of this can certainly be attributet to having minimal rehearsal time, often only with three days to put together a work.

Naturally, ensemble communication comes from experience. The experience of working in a chamber setting and professional performance. Its both a quantative and qualitative experience. One may have the fortunate opportunity for their first chamber music immersion to be with a group of seasoned chamber musicians. I see a salient point in my musical future, where once having played, performed and engaged in myriad chamber configurations I will come face-to-face with a collision. And from this collision I know I will feel the ground beneath as bedrock, a place where the people around me will exude an intricate, telepathic electricity moving from their fingertips, breath, gesture to the synapses of my understanding. I have felt this synergy before, but in ensembles where time seems evanescent. However, one of my upcoming chamber projects this year involves making this desire a reality, incarnate and establishing it as a robust concept.

Have a look at some of the highlights from Concert 11.

counting by hours, closing in songs

Concert twelve– the final concert, they even call it a marathon. 

I ran towards the Natalie L. Haslam Music Centre to catch the beginning of what I knew would be seven hours of intense and gripping music-making. As I slowly opened the doors I was immersed by George Lewis’ Calder which was performed in the echo chamber of the foyer, the sounds of trombones, percussion and piano bouncing off the tiled floors and walls. I was set to play two pieces in the line-up of over 20 works– Christopher Burns‘ Injunctions (2013) and Jordan Munson‘s Heartless Fools: Union + Awaken (2018). Despite the enormous length of the program I listened to a majority of the pieces, only sitting out the works immediately before mine.

There were a few pieces which completely had me entranced with all my senses locked in deep fixation. I begin with Daniel Fawcett‘s Radiant Cry II (2018), composed for soprano and electronics, and I honestly am led to believe, infused with some sort of magic. Katherine Ambrester, soprano and a very dear friend whom I had the lucky privilege of living with during the festival, was the soloist in this piece. Bathed in a blue light emerged whispered words, spoken articulations to sung thoughts. From her body, her fingers and hands were enveloped in gloves with cables travelling from fingertips to a device made only in a few hours of the night. There was a feeling of pause and beautiful ascension. Amongst the many wonderful works, I was particularly excited hear Rain by Anna Thorvaldsdottir and 2.5 Nighmares, for Jessie by Natacha Diels. I was enchanted and so very drawn towards Jessie Marino’Rot Blau (2009) which is for two identical performers, modified gloves, lights, cups and mouth lamps. This was such a quirky piece performed by Alex Richard and Hannah Dick each wearing a blue and red wig. The piece was so full of character and I really would love to try this with my duo partner Joyce in one of our upcoming concerts. I was eager to hear the work by Tomas La Porta titled Haikus sin palabras (2018) which had been chosen from the Call For Scores. This young composer wrote beautifully for flute, piano and percussion with lines which gave space and room for stillness. I had the opportunity to speak with him after about his work and musical ambitions. He said he had to return to Argentina the next day for school. I spoke further with him on social media and he informed me that he had completed his piano quintet on the plane and was working on a piece for soprano and orchestra inspired on the Mystery of the macabre by György Ligeti as well as his second piano concerto. I am excited to hear many more of his pieces and hopefully even play one of his works in the near future. I also was quite eager to hear the work of Weijun Chen, another composition fellow who I was fortunate to meet at the festival. His work, Three Early Songs (2018) was initially intended to be performed in the Composer’s Concert but was moved to the final concert, and fit perfectly into the program. It was beautifully scored for soprano and piano with a peaceful and intimately warm presence.
As I looked down the list of the program which we seemed to be moving through quite rapidly I spotted a work by Matthew Burtner, a composer who had recently featured in  my university essay on Ecoacousticology. His work Cloudprints (2008-2012) was featured in the marathon program. This work is primarily scored and contains a section with images of cloud shapes and formations. The piece has a beautiful and leisurely sense of movement and I found it incredibly refreshing to listen to.

Throughout the festival I’ve been exposed to the honest, conceptual and almost extraterrestrial work of Carolyn Chen. Every time her name was on the program I would be so excited to hear/see/feel what would occur in the recital hall. For the marathon concert her piece Drown (2011/2018) was performed by the wonderful soprano, Alexandra Porter. It’s a piece which involves singing of course, then singing into a fish tank with a hydrophone which receives sounds outside and inside of the glass. If that wasn’t enough, then a camera was also placed looking at the tank to capture the image Alexandra plunging her face and singing into the water and well as the faces she was making on the other side of the tank. This was projected in real-time on a screen above the stage. Carolyn is full of wonderful and whacky ideas in all sorts of unpredictable places of the quotidian and using objects and combinations of things you wouldn’t quite expect. And…. she has a flute piece which I certainly will be playing sometime in the near future! It was such a joy to be able to meet Carolyn and discover her works and witness absolute fun unravelling.

I now move to the works that I was performing in. Injuctions is a work by Christopher Burns for five or more improvisers and involves a series of ‘injunctions’ given by hand cues. For example, one thumb is ‘no pattern’, vulcan salute is ‘no quarter’ and an open palm is ‘no development’ amongst several other gestures. It seemed only fitting to have performed a Burns work for the first concert I played in and now to be ending with another Burns in the closing concert. Unlike Unlit Cigarettes I found this work so incredibly challenging to engage in as a performer and improviser. There were several times when we would run the piece where I would just feel an urge to sit out, to not contribute as there was an incredible amount of activity happening already and any further contribution would muffle what was already unravelling, perhaps creating a cacophony. I think my difficulty with this piece may have been attributed to the large number of people involved. There were around fifteen improvisers involved all with strong and wonderful ideas and because of this I felt there was minimal space for silence or even a solo, duet or small ensemble interaction. I think I often take for granted the courtesy and practice of listening that I have experienced with working regularly with a small group of improvisers in Brisbane. It almost seemed that everyone played for the entire fifteen minutes of stage time we had during the marathon. But the part of the performance which struck me like a big face palm was when a fellow improviser introduced ‘the lick‘ to the performance. Now, I haven’t got any prejudice against this Jazz cliche, I just felt that it’s introduction seemed alien from the improvisational realm we were weaving. Once it was introduced the realm unravelled into a world of quotations. Improvising with musicians I have never worked with previously has its own challenges as I have mostly identified. However it also presents its own charms, offering fresh ideas and sonic perspectives which may not have arisen if not given the chance and space to improvise together. It is truly rare that I come out of an improvisation feeling unsettled but the version of Injunctions that we performed certainly made me feel this way. Perhaps I could have steered it in the direction I would have preferred through the given hand gestures but in some ways the performers had each taken to their own anarchical ideas and it seemed an unshakable trajectory. I won’t forsake myself of the knowledge that I had fun. I had fun playing my flute, piano, percussion and engaging in the chaotic scenes which unravelled on stage. There was this wonderful moment of interplay between spoken/sprechstimme statements, chewing gum and a rhythmic ostinato. I always find with all improvisations that I am able to remember some truly wonderful moments which even after the close present me with a feeling of satisfaction. Our version of Injuctions made the audience laugh and smile as the chaos, stories and humour which transpired on-stage. I think that despite my own discomforts, that the work was a perfect piece in the lengthy program to perk the audience up.

Do you ever have one of those nights where you put your weary body to bed at a decent hour of the night? Well, I certainly indulged in one of those nights, perhaps when I shouldn’t have. I initially thought I was only going to be performing Injunctions in the marathon concert and had slowly unwinded since having performed Terrestre. The morning after my early slumber, I checked my messages to see if there were any updates or changes. It was 9:50am and I had missed a 9am rehearsal which was only established at 11:30pm the night before for a piece which had been added to the marathon program. Of course due to the late nature of the addition my absence was excused but I am always strict with myself with rehearsal attendance and early arrival as you never know if the person who is hiring you is very particular. Anyhow, I was overjoyed to be involved in Jordan Munson’s Heartless Fools: Union + Awaken a work for flute, bass clarinet, trombone, electric guitar, piano and electronics. I know I have previously expressed my love of working with living composers and how Nief-Norf truly made an effort to invite composers to the performance of their pieces and have composers workshop their pieces, and this was another opportunity to do so. Jordan had been present throughout the whole festival as the Technology faculty, predominantly making sure everything would run smoothly from performance to performance. It was very exciting to hear and be involved on one of his works. The piece revolved around F-sharp Phrygian and would rise and fall in a sort of drunken climb again and again then fall to short melodies and eventually dissipate. Jordan made use of lights which would respond to sound and the intensity of sound, so if I played a forte-fortissimo B7 the light would be at its brightest whilst the light would be duller if I played much softer and lower. We were bathed in a blue light and as our sounds intensified flashes of the bulbs would greet us. It was truly a spectacular and beautiful work to be part of and I am so very thankful I had the opportunity to perform with such incredible musicians. It was certainly a spectacular way to close the festival.

…no fall of a curtain but only applause and goodbyes to know it was over…

So here I am, I’ve attempted to write this post a fair few times and now I’m completing it. It’s been hard trying to put this festival into words when I often run to music to express what words cannot.

Two weeks, twelve concerts, and thousands of memories. Ok, this totally is not a weeping moment. I’ve already done that. But in all honesty Nief-Norf Summer Festival made me experience an infinite amount of thoughts, sounds, sights, ideas and emotions. I’ve met many incredibly prolific and passionate musicians who also are hooked on this world of whacky and weird noises and want to celebrate and create much more. I was given the opportunity to play pieces that may not have been so easy to facilitate in Brisbane. And I now I have the confidence that I can tackle ALL repertoire no matter how gnarly it appears. Coming from classical performance, contemporary music often is a sort of secret identity I engage with outside of my studies. At Nief-Norf I felt completely welcomed into the outstretched arms of the festival and through the pieces I played, the people I met and the things I experienced I was invigorated and in many ways rejuvenated. It was hard work but I honestly would do it all again. The people I met gave me names of other festivals and intensives which I am so excited to look into for next year. I also have many couches to sleep on and homes which have open their doors to me as part of the new friendships that have been born. So, of course, this will make the United States much more accessible to me in future. These friends are indeed musical colleagues which I see myself working and collaborating with in the near future. To the entire Nief-Norf family (especially Andrew Bliss, Eric Retterer and Abby Fisher) I thank you for the noisy and incredible time that was the Nief-Norf Summer Festival. See you and hear you soon!

 

P.S Nief-norf friends please keep me updated with your musical movements and beyond!

If you’re a fellow lover of noise and want to hear more or have any questions about the Nief-Norf Summer Festival please don’t hesitate to contact me using my contact form.

Paganini under inspection…

…a tale in retrospect…

34907800_1190793844396432_8262287007460360192_nI am so often selected for random airport checks- security and customs that I am beginning to ponder whether I exude an aura which screams-“please pick me!” Or perhaps it may also be attributed to the brightly clothing or my inability to resist smiling at people…

The Houston, Texas department of borders and customs by a random flick and focus of the eyes chose me as their subject. But this wasn’t just your average bag check for foreign  items.

If you’re a musician you may be familiar with the eager request from friends, family and even strangers to hear you play a little tune on your instrument. But it’s a bit different when the customs officer asks you to demonstrate your instrument to prove that you can play and that you are not some imposter causally accessorised with a flute and piccolo travelling to Knoxville.

“Play a tune- something that I’ll recognise.”

I laugh a little thinking that perhaps this is in jest.

“I’m waiting.”

There I am fumbling at my case, body weary and quite unsure if my lips would be up to the task of forming an embouchure. But I knew that I shouldn’t take their request lightly. Their uniforms seep with the air of authority, badges, rifle on the hip and a tone of command, to pass or not to pass, it all is in their hands.
What to play? Something that he’ll recognise? Well, perhaps something local? Beyoncé is from Houston as is Kenny Rodgers, Hilary Duff and Destiny’s Child. But with my brain feeling not so ready to play Single Ladies (Put a Ring on it) in customs I decide to take to something safe that my fingers know well. So I take my flute out and play Paganini Caprice No. 20, a tune I doubted that he would recognise and whistle along to as most folk only know the 24th caprice. After the first few phrases of the slow lullaby section he smiled, said that was enough to prove that I was not a possible black market instrument sales-person attempting to sell a few flutes to Knoxville folk and said that I could pass (without the need to open my suitcase).

There are several unusual places I’ve played at– from carparks, garages, balconies to public bathrooms. More recently I did I recital at a nursing home that so happened to be scheduled during their lunch hour. It was Cageian bliss of crashing plates and televisions turning on, seasoned with wheelchairs squeaking. The most inconvenient part was that I needed to get a recording out of it to submit for my performance study. But I think the most heart-warming aspect of these unconventional performance spaces is that music visits and enters the space, which is different to us the audience visiting the music in a concert hall. Both at the retirement village and in customs I could see people’s eyes light up, smiles dancing across their lips. This is why I love bringing music away from the concert hall even in the most unsuspecting and spontaneous of performance spaces.

 

Prelude on an eve of departure

In approximately six hours, before the sun has decided it must reveal a golden glow, a  hopefully perky uber driver will be outside my door to transport me to the Brisbane International airport where more people machined with transport will help me to get to the Nief-Norf Summer Music Festival in Knoxville, Tennessee.

But this is a dawn for something that I have long felt overdue– the blog, well, you may endearingly term it ‘the Bog blog’. So welcome, you are always free to browse, to comment, to linger for a little longer and even to leave.

This post will be short and sweet, hopefully with a taste as memorable as MSG, leaving you thirsting for more. I believe I must write, in all forms, textural and musical (composition), I think this is a way that I am able to navigate through myriad texts and thoughts of others which I have read, performed, played and considered throughout my life. It occurred to me recently that the avid journal keeping that used to be ritualised into my nights, even when not on a holiday adventure has been dormant for almost three years. Fragments of thought have been dappled across pages, napkins, receipts but very few page after page, entry after entry. I’m not seeking a chronological timeline of events but a way to assemble the fragments, perhaps not into a clear salient image or idea but to have the opportunity to perceive and grasp at these sometimes fleeting or presque-vu images or ideas in my curious mind. There’s an abundance to consider in this world. I often think back to Madame Chenoweth, my French and English teacher during high-school who told me to write my thoughts down in third-person as a distance-mechanism, to consider for a time later, then close the book and perhaps revisit. I won’t write in third person, not always, but there may come times when I feel it would be the best mode. I guess instead of a grand ol’ analysis into how I should write and how I will write won’t do much other than make your eyes dry so I will allow you to discover for yourself the cogs behind these typed words. (Fun fact, I also only type with two fingers, I’m not sure if this also assists in extra trill potential for flute… for two fingers only).

Read as you will— I’m certainly very excited to begin this blog especially at on the eve of a new adventure– The Nief-Norf Summer Music Festival, a two week festival (11th-26th June) in Knoxville, Tennessee which I have been invited to as a performance fellow. It’s a mixing pot for musical folk (performance, composition, research, technology) who are part of a wonderful movement, pushing boundaries of sound as you and I know it to convey new ideas. I am overly excited to have the opportunity to play and perform some Kaija Saariaho (YES!!), Morton Feldman, Juro Kim Feliz, Christopher Burns, Drew Baker and Erin Gee (and perhaps also some surprise some sneaky pieces by the composition fellows). Also my newly composed game piece, Share House I will make an appearance at Norf-Speak during the festival and I am so excited to share this with the Knoxville folk! I hope to share with this a world of daring sounds, peculiar and profound ideas as well as a great investigation into the food options for a hungry vegan human in Knoxville. As it turns out there is a small but active handful of vegan restaurants so it will not just be the golden pride of two weeks of potatoes. But, I am so very excited to meet others who love making lots of noise!

Thank you for being one of the first to ponder this prelude. So, again welcome to the ‘Bog blog’, and I’ll be keeping things as fresh and regular as can be!