What to Do?

Writing this (what will soon be sloppy) essay was not on (see, sloppy already!) on my To Do list but I just felt like I had to. Many, if not most, of us artists, are feeling unmotivated, anxious, stressed out about money. It’s hard to make things right now.

On top of worrying about the virus, I’m worried about getting attacked by racists once we’re all allowed out again. But that’s for another essay.

This week I started gaining some semblance of a routine, believing that there will be, I don’t know, a time that is not now when people will get to see our work non-virtually, IRL. But before that I could not really compose or even brainstorm for any of my projects. It’s hard to dream things up when you cannot imaging a time for them to take place. This was especially devastating for me because for me because I imagine the future all the time. I felt stunted.

People have been posting things like, “You don’t have to be productive right now,” which I appreciate. But this wasn’t just about losing productivity for me; I was losing a sense of myself. I’m guessing many of us are. “Do I even actually like composing?” I’d ask myself. All I could do was play classical rep.

As soon as I started sheltering in place, of course I still tried to be productive. What I found to be helpful was making ridiculously manageable tasks. Things like:
- cut things out of a magazine
- play piano (anything counted…scales, whatever)
- make 30 seconds of anything (anything! and not to share or have a finished thing. Just the action of making anything)

I also enjoy making my lists because of [my] typewriter. But anyway, for some of us, not being productive is more stressful than not trying to be productive, if that makes sense. Maybe what I really mean by “productive” right now, at least for me, is owning this time, claiming it. I hesitate to use the word “control” but that too, a sense of control.

There’s something about writing [tasks] down on a To Do list that feels empowering (ugh I’m so over that word but it fits best here). Even if your list says:
- sing 5 notes
- Hold a note for 10 seconds
- watch “Kim’s Convenience” all the live long day
- sit on sofa

it will feel more intentional because by writing it down, you’re choosing.

I’m making such a point right now to try to feel like this time is my own, rather than something that is being taken away from me, because I think about other sad times when I regretted letting myself stay stuck in stasis for too long. The article in Harvard Business Review, “That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief,” was exceptionally enlightening as well.

Please feel free to share anything helpful that is getting you through this. Stay safe and healthy, and seek joy as much as you can at this moment!

Composer-Performer Interview Series: Caroline Shaw

This is the first in a series of short interviews with composer colleagues on balancing composing and performing. I’ve found it particularly challenging lately, with commission deadlines and also wanting to direct more focus into my solo practice, so I decided so ask for a little help from my friends!

January 2020 News/Rambling: awards, rejection, and getting work out there

2019 closed with some awesome things happening. I was awarded an ACF Create commission to write a piece for Boston-based duo Box Not Found, a 2020 National Arts Club Fellowship, and was invited to perform at Re:Sound in Cleveland and one of my dream venues, La MaMa. A lot can happen in two years...in 2017 I was hesitant to call myself a composer and got rejected from every residency I applied to. 

As artists, we all get rejected more often than not (I applied to ACF the year before, and I just got a rejection the day before yesterday), so it feels great to not get rejected. It’s also important to remember that these competitions do not valuate our work. I honestly see applications as cheap PR (especially compared to actual PR), a way to get work in front of as many people as possible.

Of course, all this supposed validation is followed by the immediate feeling that I’m a hack and got lucky somehow. Can’t stay in that mindset for too long though—I’ve got work to do!

Last weekend, I attended the Chamber Music America conference, a forum in which to get work in front of presenters and learn through panels and talks, as well as see showcases. CMA’s theme was “Music, Equity, and Our Future,” and it is clear that they have true conviction in this idea. Case in point: they are not afraid of tough conversations, as demonstrated in their panel “The Artist’s Perspective,” featuring Aaron Flagg, Tania León, Jerry Medina, and Tomeka Reid. I wrote more about it on an Instagram post:

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CMA day 2/#caturday: 1) met Hugh (up for adoption!) 2) Attended a panel on equity with Aaron Flagg, Tania León, Tomeka Reid, and Jerry Medina. . I asked a question (which I am paraphrasing here) about how we go beyond talking about issues of inclusivity and tokenism and effect change when PoC are lacking on the leadership/curatorial levels. Right now it’s about correction, and it is challenging to do anything differently or better when teams lack a variety of people and perspectives. I mentioned that I’m tired of talking, sometimes I think, I just want to BRING IT and REPRESENT rather than having this same conversation over and over again, with the same sentiments being echoed repeatedly. (Which is why I still haven’t written my article on PoC perspectives on diversity initiatives...) Aaron said, “If you’re tired, I’m exhausted!” But he mentioned how access to power is important and can be useful (as in, knowing people who have power and seeing if they can help), how he stuck around on certain boards, how the process was at times frustrating but had he left, things may not have improved the way they did. And afterwards he said, write the article! And so did someone else who had been sitting next to me. . Also got slightly admonished for using the term “PoC,” because one of the panelists felt that labels are the problem, that people see us that way because we see ourselves that way. I can understand why they’d say that; it’s partly a generational thing, it’s partly a “well, things worked out for me doing it this way” thing. And I never referred to myself in that way, not because I didn’t think I wasn’t, but because yeah, didn’t like labels, after all we’re all just “people.” I wish life was actually that simplistic. The nuanced racial dynamics I’ve experienced prove otherwise. Anyway I have more thoughts on that but will save them for a proper blog post (that I may never write) . Well crap I guess I just wrote an article on this POST . 3) Meowmy dis IS tiring I’m tired . #brevity #composer #pianist #questions #artist #nyc #newyorker #cat #tortitude

A post shared by Sugar Vendil (@sugarvendil) on Jan 19, 2020 at 11:23am PST

And back again to the topic of getting work out there: I got to do a pitch session since someone didn’t show up, where artists practice pitching and then presenters give feedback. It was very helpful, and 2/3 presenters were friendly except for the last one, who had an all-too-familiar look on her face of being pissed at me for existing. She softened towards the end after I explained the collaborative fashion concept behind my ensemble, The Nouveau Classical Project.

I’m generally not great at pitching and I find it challenging to balance making the work and putting the work out there, or to put it crudely, selling the work. I’ve been able to get opportunities organically by talking to people in random social settings, or making in-person connections by seeing a show at a venue or meeting people at events.

Anyway! That’s been my January so far. Feel free to share any thoughts or ask questions in the comments.

Arts Letters & Numbers & Keyboards

I just got back from a productive and inspiring week with fellow pianists and composers, Melinda Faylor and Mary Prescott. We visited a residency upstate called Arts Letters & Numbers where we were graciously taken care of by Frida Foberg and Rikke Jørgenson. Rikke picked us up from the bus station and took us to the grocery store. In addition to Frida and Rikke, there was a lovely community of friends surrounding the residency: a ping-pong group that consistently meets once a week, and regular ALN folks Farmer Adam (moniker courtesy of mua) and John, who were great company, not to mention they generously gave us rides to the store and bus station.

Every day we hit the studio to work on a new multidisciplinary piece. Not going to say too much about that since it's very early in the process, but I will say that Mary and Melinda rock. Our work was intense, we were physically sore every day from all our moving around, and it was fun. We danced, sang rounds, played little pianos that were not of the grand variety. When we weren't working, we were either eating, practicing on the 9-foot Baldwin (however, after a couple of days I simply didn't feel like touching the piano), talking a walk, or relaxing. We all forgot to bring a nail clipper, so being the pianists we are, we were sad to leave but eager to get home to trim our nails. I'll remember to do so at our next intensive week, which I am already very much looking forward to. 

Melinda, me, and Mary at the House on the Hill

Love this vegetarian chili recipe I found on epicurious. Leftovers for days!

Inside the Mill

I wore this exact same outfit EVERY SINGLE DAY minus the additional sweatshirt around the waist

I liked working on the large surface area of the kitchen island

Can you remember who's who? The answers are above! :-P

Thumb piano; a Casio tone from the 80s we nicknamed "Gene," as in Gene Belcher; melodica; Melinda's accordion; and some cow bells that were hanging out at the mill

Ping-Pong set up

Our new buddy, Gary, who brought some delicious posole

Outside the Mill. Can you tell we really loved the Mill?

Steps from the Hill to the Mill

Mary called me "Kenny G"

Working on movement

Working on the porch because the weather was beautiful

Leaf imprint in the snow

Mary was stoked for the moss on this leaf

We're starting a Go-go's cover band called S & M's.

I wish I swung more on the swing

Working

5 seconds later

View from the house

Sculpture in the house

Heading back

#popthebubble

This post is imageless, due to the fact that all public domain bubble images are cheesy and I can't find the photo of me with my bubble gun that makes giant bubbles the size of my head.

I'm going to start this post with an excerpt of the post-election e-mail I sent out yesterday:  

I hope everyone is doing ok. There's not much to say that hasn't already been said. I'm completely shocked. I went to bed at around 2 am, and although things were already looking bleak and it was apparent that Hillary was going to lose, I still held out the tiniest iota of hope that when I woke up, just maybe things would have turned around...because it ain't over till it's over, right?

After hitting snooze several times and finally getting up at 7:25am, I looked at my phone and just broke into tears. I'm taking this loss personally, as I'm sure many of you are. I could elaborate on my thoughts, but I've been posing status updates throughout the day, and I'm sure you're all seeing messages similar to one another come up on your feeds as well, so I won't go on.

...

The one glimmer of happiness today was spending the morning with my Target Margin fellows in SoHo, where we vented our frustrations, supported one another, and had a discussion with Richard Foreman. We asked him questions about his work, but of course, we could not avoid talking about last night's election, which led to us asking whether or not art has the power to change people.

Richard said no, and I don't blame him. Right now I don't know. 

I still don't know. I just interrupted my practicing to write this because I guess I want to try and see if it's possible to effect change. And I really need to get back to practicing because I have a recital this Saturday and I still need to get Mary's piece up to tempo (getting there!) so this is going to be quick, I'm going to be thinking out loud on (digital) paper, and possibly be a little sloppy. I feel an urgent need for us to come together as artists and figure out how we can engage with people outside of our collective city bubbles. I, for one, live in a city that nurtures outsider art and embraces PoC and LGBTQ folks. But this isn't the case everywhere, and if we're making pieces about race and gender equality, perhaps we should reach those not in the proverbial choir.

Why can't art just be a job like everything else? Art is about engaging with people for many of us. And this election, which has illustrated both the explicit and complicit racism of this country affects all of us. PEOPLE. "...the government of the people, by the people, for the people" is going to be led by a megalomaniac that according to the popular vote, most of us don't want to be our president. 

Something I know I'm capable of doing is organizing the shit out of anything and making things happen. There's strength in numbers and I want to hear from my fellow artists about what we can do to #popthebubble and reach people outside of our current spheres through art.

Or we can just keep making art apart from this, and keep donating, signing petitions, etc....ain't nothing wrong with that. But we need to try. I feel a responsibility as an artist to just step the hell up already. Stay tuned for a meeting in the coming weeks (no more than two because I hate when things lost momentum). In the meantime, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments!