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:
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!
Call for Musicians
Working on a new piece related to Filipino identity, intersectionality, and colonialism. I need performers!
I have been looking for musicians for a new piece I'm going to start working on soon, a piece related to Filipino identity and intersectionality, and so far it's been *crickets.* It has been challenging to find other Filipinos in the performing arts here on the East Coast. It's not that I am trying to only work with people who share my culture (in fact, I believe in sharing culture with others, which is why I think that cultural appropriation is a more nuanced issue than simply being wrong...more on that at some point in the future), but I think I should try my best to see if there are other artists who can identify with the issues the piece will explore and REPRESENT! Filipinos are underrepresented in the performing arts, so here I am, adding my voice and trying to make the voices of others heard. I am ultimately open to working with anyone, any race, gender, etc., because, as I mentioned, I think we should share culture with one another, and ultimately this piece is about just one of the many things humans experience on earth. But I just need to TRY to see who's out there, beyond my own close circle of colleagues.
Below is a call for musicians that I am posting on other artist sites. Please feel free to share with anyone you think may be interested. Thanks!
Seeking Musicians for Multidisciplinary Project
Sugar Vendil and her artistic team are currently seeking musicians to collaborate on and perform in a new multidisciplinary piece based on racial identity, specifically centering on Filipino culture and colonization. The work will integrate live music, movement, and fashion (costumes). Musicians must be comfortable with dance/movement, since the piece will involve Filipino folk dance, as well as playing keyboard instruments such as a melodica or toy piano. The work will be directed by Sugar Vendil, with music composed by both Vendil and Trevor Gureckis, and choreographed by a Filipino folk dance specialist (will be announced at a later date).
This will involve a collaborative process, e.g., workshopping, going to a residency outside of the city, rehearsals, etc. Schedules will be determined well in advance and artists will be compensated for their time. The first workshop will take place in April 2017. To learn more about Sugar Vendil's work, visit her website.
If you are interested, please contact us through this form with the following information by November 28, 2016 :
1) An introductory message, detailing your interest in the project
2) Bio
3) Links to performances (video and/or audio)
4) Website
Please use the same form above to contact us with any questions.
Rite of Passage at Federal Hall
A performance art piece at Federal Hall.
I had started this blog post and completely forgot about it. The farthest I got was inserting an image then saving the draft. Anyway. A couple of weeks ago I saw performance artist Erin Helfert's Rite of Passage at Federal Hall with sound design by composer Nina C. Young. Helfert stood in the center of the circular hall, where she would turn towards different directions of the space, and repeatedly recited a monologue about her rape and her 5-year struggle to seek justice for it. (You can read about her experience in more detail here.)
Rite of Passage was powerful while it remained relatively simple. There were no other visuals aside from the artist herself, speakers, the space we were in, and other spectators. Helfert’s monologue, spoken into a microphone with live processing and electronics manipulated and created by Young, referred to “this body” and what it endured, the body that we were seeing right in front of us. To me, she was like a medium, channeling the past and speaking of it with both emotion and distance. The format of the piece itself, taking place in a government building, an amplified voice talking to strangers, took us back in time to the days of the trial. In her Chime for Change piece, Helfert writes: “Countless times, I’ve had to repeat the details of my rape before a room full of strangers, often into a microphone, the speakers blaring to a crowded courtroom audience.”
It was a gray day when this took place and I was almost too lazy to leave the apartment but I’m so glad I did. I was moved by how Helfert, with Young, both created something beautiful and demonstrated great strength after such an ugly and horrific experience.
RECHARGE/HER at BuoyRR
Went to a performance in the woods in CT.
BuoyRR Founders Bailey Nolan & Viva Soudan
I made an impulse purchase this past week immediately after finding about BuoyRR’s RECHARGE/HER, an immersive dance performance, on the Creators Project blog. The performance is a culmination of the collaborative work created by 17 artists during the BuoyRR residency, which is led by founders Bailey Nolan and Viva Soudan at The Peace Barn sanctuary in Deep River, Connecticut.
I convinced my BFF Alicia to come with me. The bus was the fanciest one we'd ever been on, with hardwood floors and leather seats. We secured the front seats that included a table. Moments later, a woman dressed in a blue outfit arrived and said she was our bus camp counselor. Her name is Ellen Robin and she made the bus ride part of the experience: she brought glitter, face paint, and googly eyes for us to decorate our faces and lanyard materials and yarn for hair wraps. I was down to get into the whole experience so after Ellen told me how to do it, I made one for Lish.
The ride went by quickly, as there was no traffic and lots of wrapping to do! When we arrived at The Peace Barn we were greeted by friendly faces and got settled in. For the actual performance, Bailey and Viva led two groups of about 30 people where we were required to remain silent. It was a really beautiful, meditative experience. It’s not often that one has the opportunity to experience a performance not just in a forest, but walking through one. We were guided through a nature walk of sorts, where instead of encountering wild animals, we saw duos and trios performing site-specific phrases on repeat. Each group had their own individual costuming yet aligned with the group’s blue color theme. The rain would start and stop and it made the whole experience even more unpredictable. Some performers interacted with the audience, putting both performer and observer in a more vulnerable place. The walk lasted nearly 3 hours and afterward we had a chance to meet people and eat lasagna.
The whole experience was so memorable and I’m happy to learn that a place like BuoyRR exists! As I've mentioned in previous blog posts, I'm currently focusing on creative process and seeing this performance made me excited about my upcoming intensive, where I'm required to lead an entire day of workshopping. I'll likely reflect on RECHARGE/HER more in the coming days and continue to be inspired!
Why does Brooklyn get all the cute coffee shops?!
Fancy bus!
That's a wrap!
Ready!
Bracelet=you get food
The residents' tents
Ashlynn Manning & Emily Doubilet
Amanda Wallace & Leticia Sampedro
Prue Stent, Clare Longley, and Honey Long
Olimpia Dior
My favorite moment at my first Target Margin Theater Intensive
First Intensive as a Target Margin fellow.
In early March, my fellow fellows and I had our first intensive. It was grueling, fun, and fulfilling. Here's my favorite moment, captured in this photo by Gaia Squarci and a journal entry, below.
More info about Target Margin here, and get tickets for their upcoming benefit here!
Breaking Habits & a Handheld Projector
More on the new piece.
On Saturday, April 2, I’ll perform an excerpt of Potential Energies, a ballet for musicians and dancers, with the original choreographer of the piece, Barbie Diewald, and premiere a new 6-minute piece called Test Site 1: (In)Habit, an experiment in process that I created with choreographer Coco Karol. All the music for the program is composed by Trevor Gureckis. In PE I’ll be playing the piano in the usual way (for the most part) and perform with Barbie, while in Test Site 1 I’ll be completely dancer-less but I will have a handheld projector and approach the piano in weird/wrong/unconventional ways. Over the past two years, I’ve been interested in exploring how musicians can use their entire bodies in performance, both the possibilities and the limitations , partly because I’m obsessed with dance, and also because I’m inspired by the amazing group I work with at NCP who are not only skilled instrumentalists but amazing performers in general.
I’m not gonna lie, this is a tricky thing to investigate because there’s always the danger of the cheese factor and things just not coming across effectively, of the work looking contrived or just straight up stupid. It’s not the most poetic or eloquent way to describe my self-consciousness, but it’s what goes through my mind, constantly. In creating Test Site 1, I wanted to immerse myself in a process (=3 hours in the studio every week since the beginning of February), get out of my comfort zone and let go of my judgmental mind, and create a solo work, which I plan to do more of in the coming years.
I won’t say too much about Test Site 1, because I can’t, because it’s an experiment, but it does revolve around the body, nature, urban life, & obligation (in this case, the piano), drawing connections & acknowledging tension between these elements. Tickets for the performance are here. In the meantime, below are behind-the-scenes photos!
This was a fun idea, but we ultimately scrapped it
Music in a Memory Palace
Kristine Haruna Lee's immersive memory palace piece.
On February 21, I'll be performing at La MaMa with composer and singer Lacy Rose in harunalee theater company's to the left of the pantry and under the sugar shack, an immersive theater experience. I saw the set for the first time during our tech rehearsal and I was blown away. I loved the entire aesthetic and I just wanted to touch everything. While it’s rare, things sometimes the stars align, as they are right now for me creatively: I have an experimental theater fellowship, I’m making my first solo piece, and now I’m involved in this production. This will be my first performance in a theater piece and it couldn’t have been more fitting for me, as I still get to play my role of pianist. (I’m pretty sure all this was sparked by my trip to Joshua Tree last Fall).
harunalee's website describes to the left of the pantry and under the sugar shack as "an exploratory installation which is a little bit cosmos and a little bit party, carefully designed and built so you can crawl into it at your leisure." The company accepted submissions of memories from the public. Each evening there will be different performers who work in various mediums, including dance, drag, music, and more. For our performance, I will accompany Lacy on three songs she composed especially for the installation. One composition is an invocation of the goddess of memory, Mnemosyne, another piece is inspired by one of Lacy's memories, and the third is a piece inspired by a participant's memory. It only seats 35 at a time, so it's best to reserve your tickets in advance, which you can do here.
Embracing Process for Progress
New piece!
Yesterday's workshop session with Coco Karol
I was recently accepted into Target Margin Theater’s (TMT) Institute for Collaborative Theater Making, where artists are invited to challenge themselves, their practices, and engage in questioning and experimentation. Activities include intensives, focused experimentation, adventures, and breakfasts. I was so thrilled just to get the interview; I don’t have a theater background so I thought my chances of becoming a fellow were low. What appealed to me is the way the Institute seems to balance structure with artistic freedom and experimentation. There is no end goal or specific project to work towards. In both the application guidelines and in the interview, it was emphasized that we would need to set aside whatever we are working on for one big question mark; the Institute would be a place not to launch and execute projects, but to embrace the unknown. The Fellowship is already such a gift in and of itself, and beyond that TMT gives each fellow a $1,000 stipend as well as space.
Illustration by Jesse Hawley
I am beyond excited to take part in this, as I believe this is exactly what I need right now. I have been building my music ensemble, The Nouveau Classical Project, over the past seven years. Aside from working on the creative side of it, i.e., curating, performing, directing, there is an enormous amount of unsexy work that goes on behind the scenes to execute projects and maintain the organization: fundraising, marketing, operations (one of my least favorite words…what are we, a hotdog factory?), making face time at events, coffee meetings, etc. More often than not I’m going at breakneck speed, mostly driven by ambition, but also by necessity. I work hard to make sure things get done, are well done, and people get paid, which doesn’t always allow me a lot of time to let ideas germinate or reflect on what matters to me as an artist. I have no regrets, though; having the discipline to balance all of this with a consistent practice schedule has taught me how to manage my time and allowed me to build something that’s still going strong.
Speaking of time, there’s a time and place for everything. This may not have been the right thing for me ten years ago, or perhaps I would not have understood its importance to my artistic growth and creative practice (I had piano tunnel vision; the only thing “practice” could mean to me at the time was hours on end at the instrument.) I’m a completely different person now and my priorities have changed significantly. I think now is the time where I need to engage in some much-needed experimentation, rethink my work, and immerse myself in a slow motion process propelled by questioning.
One of the projects I’m working on outside of the Fellowship is a multimedia piece with composer Trevor Gureckis and choreographer Coco Karol. It's going to involve music, movement, and projections. My stay at the A-Z West wagon station encampment in Joshua Tree was the impetus for the project so it will be incorporated into the piece. That's all I know right now. I’m purposely refraining from mapping it out too extensively at the beginning because I want to see how things unfold for a little while. Don’t get me wrong: it’ll get done and there will be a structure. After working the way I have for years this is inevitable. I just don’t know exactly what it is going to be at this moment in time, and for me, that means this project is off to a good start.
WAA Day 2: I Miss My Cat
I always miss my cat when we're not in the same room.
After dinner* on day 1, Isabel and I headed back to our hotel room to gather intel (aka Google presenters and review their programming) in order to figure out how to talk about NCP and our upcoming projects. During this planning process, my deep-set insecurities as a musician/artist/leader of a fashion-oriented ensemble rose to the surface and I said, “I hate this,” to which Isabel replied, “This is fun!” I'm glad at least one of us thought so. Although I had recovered from my blunders during Speed Leads earlier in the day, my confidence was still slightly shot. (However, it did give me a whole new appreciation for those who support NCP.) A couple of thoughts crossed my mind:
• We should trash these booklets I spent weeks creating…they’re absolutely useless…useless!
• Maybe NCP can just perform in New York forever
• I should have brought my cat
• We need to get this down STAT or I’m going to fuck up during the interview at the Juried Showcase
This notebook rocks. Thanks to Steve Caputo for this gem
Which brings me to the Juried Showcase. Each Launchpad artist was going to be interviewed for a brief three minutes at the event, which was a great opportunity to introduce our ensemble to presenters and managers, but it being so short meant that clarity was key. Making NCP sound interesting has never been a problem; describing it in a clear, concise manner has been a challenge. It always ends up being a mouthful, doesn't flow, and I’m pretty sure I’ve revised our bio about fifty times. As I mentioned in my previous post, we decided to describe ourselves as “a contemporary music ensemble that incorporates visual elements.”
We came ready with our notebooks, brochures, business cards, and our new, quick NCP description. And it worked! At our presenter meetings the next day, no confusing looks. Who knew that eight simple words would make me 100x less anxious? And after the initial one-sentence intro, we would delve into fashion and the multidisciplinary nature of our major projects. Now that we had gotten through these smoothly, I was ready for my three minutes in the limelight.
JURIED SHOWCASE
Gotta stay on my toes! Speaking at the Juried Showcase at SFU Goldcorp's Wong Experimental Theatre. Photo: Isabel Kim
I won’t go into depth about my interview, because it was pretty uneventful and it went well. Isabel and I didn’t stay for the entire showcase, but we did have a chance to see a world music band, two theater groups, and two classical music ensembles perform. What I found interesting was that both of the classical ensembles had verbal sales pitches during their performance: one group gave a speech about outreach and having no boundaries (each member would take turns saying different parts of the pitch) and the other mentioned how they play in alternative venues and effectively draw audiences. Both also engaged in crossover projects in addition to their regular programming: one group did Radiohead arrangements (surprise!) and the other collaborated with a DJ to remix music they had commissioned. The speeches, combined with the crossover offerings, gave me the impression that there may be a sense of insecurity when it comes to programming classical music in the presenting world, and these ensembles are offering possible solutions. I didn’t find any of it particularly inspiring and in fact had a strong aversion to one of the performances. (For the record, I respect both of these ensembles as fellow musicians; their style just isn’t my cup of tea.) I thought, is this what we have to do to get booked?
This is a thought that often crosses my mind, as an artist whose responsibility it is to manage the growth of an ensemble and wants their ensemble to go places! It’s not the way an artist should think. Strategy is smart, but I’d rather we perform in fewer cities doing what we do best rather than add formulaic programming that works on presenters. Also, from what I’ve heard, touring isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. A little more on that in my next post.
As usual, I got over the feelings of self-doubt pretty quickly. Thankfully, Isabel agreed that hell no, NCP will not be doing any Radiohead arrangements anytime soon. Unless Radiohead themselves wanted to take us on tour with them/record with them. TOTALLY different story.
Old Faithful Shop in Gastown
We left to explore some of Gastown, where the showcase had taken place, so we headed out wearing our dorky badges (thanks to the shop worker at Old Faithful Shop for reminding us with an enthusiastic, “Hey, Isabel!!!”) and went to dinner at a restaurant that reminded us of home. All I wanted to achieve for that day was to get through the meetings and my three-minute interview, which I did, and to top it off I tried poutine for the first time and had cake for dessert. It was a good day.
* Sushi in Vancouver is AMAZING. We dined at a moderately priced Japanese restaurant and the fish that was served was exceptionally fresh and high quality; we could cut through it with our chopsticks.
WAA Day 1: Deer in Headlights
The title says it all.
As I had mentioned in my first post, I had some idea of what to expect after seeing how fashion trade shows worked. I was not expecting a crowd at The Nouveau Classical Project booth, since I figured most of the attendees had scheduled meetings beforehand, but I also didn't expect to hear crickets. Over at the Launchpad corner, it was just me and Isabel most of the time, our fellow Launchpadders MIA. I figured people would at least browse the booths, but there was not much of that in our empty corner. For heaven's sake, we were CHOSEN to be here! Isn't anyone interested in meeting us?! Apparently not...even after sending out dozens of e-mails mentioning that we were part of WAA's Launchpad, I only received about five responses. Launchpad did not equal street cred. I also heard that people were scheduling meetings even farther out in advance, so I'm sure that these presenters were also extremely busy and needed to prioritize. Luckily, the conference was three days long and there would be time and in-person opportunities to make connections and schedule more meetings.
So innocent and optimistic. Me and Isabel heading down to the Opening Reception
SPEED LEADS
One of the activities I signed up for was Speed Leads. It's like speed dating, but with six presenters and one artist or manager at a table, and no one is horny and only one of us gives a shit about making a good impression. Each artist or manager gets two minutes to pitch a project to six presenters at each of the four tables without the help of any printed collateral or iPads. I came into this with confidence, as I'm a naturally social person (hell, I've even made projects happen from chance meetings at parties), and the project I was pitching was so obviously a winner: a multimedia piece with a Rome Prize-winning composer who was recently awarded a major commission for the project. Although it would have helped, I don't think practicing my pitch would have saved me, as we later learned that the project was too complex/very "New York", but I would have at least felt like I did a decent job. Anyway, the nerves immediately kicked in: I began by introducing NCP, saw the perplexed looks on everyone's faces, and then thought, shit I'm running out of time already, and so I jumped into "55-minute multimedia project with Rome Prize-winning composer Nina C. Young...<bumbling, bumbling>...integrates music, fashion worn on musicians, choreography, kinetic sound sculpture..." and as soon as the word "Anthropocene" spilled out of my mouth, I felt like everything was in slow motion and I had an out of body experience where I was like, "Nooooooooo!" Confused looks everywhere (later learned a lot of people do not know what the Rome Prize is, nor do they care), needed to explain the term "Anthropocene", then TIME! For the first two tables I basically bombed but by the third and fourth, I better understood how to pitch. While I couldn't avoid saying "Anthropocene", I figured out which order to explain the many elements of the project, and actually remembered to distribute my business cards. (By the way--props to Stephen Seifert from University of Denver for knowing what the Anthropocene is!) The reaction from the final two tables was significantly more positive than the first two. Being a former volleyball player, I know how to shake off a bad play and regrouped immediately. I started saying "concert" to provide greater clarity. In my mind, a "concert" sounds ordinary; I've noticed artists, including myself, using terms like "hybrid works" or "multidisciplinary" and at this conference, I found that these descriptors just confuse presenters.
Granted, one usually gets more than two minutes to pitch a project, and while discussing a potential performance doesn't typically take place in this weird Shark Tank-esque setting, I still think this exercise was helpful. I'm used to having to explain projects on paper to grant makers, and as with this presenter situation, it requires immediate clarity since you often need a one-sentence description at the start. However, in this two-minute space without any visual aids, you have paint a picture immediately with words.
YOU DO YOU...BUT A YOU THAT DOESN'T MAKE YOU SOUND TOO WEIRD
The name of the game for this first day was How to be Crystal Clear Without Scaring Away Presenters. And the way you do that is by NOT sounding too unique. Or by reframing unique to mean interesting but accessible/familiar in the context of an arts conference. After attempting to describe NCP in our usual way to booth visitors, we realized that the fashion element was something that people would get fixated on and required way more explanation than was necessary. So we decided that the best thing to say is that we're a contemporary music ensemble that incorporates visual elements. To us, that sounds like something everybody is doing, but here, it was a good thing because it's something the presenters were familiar with. This was one of the most eye-opening, and quite frankly, disconcerting things for me: the level of accessibility we had to provide with our introduction. But I get it: presenters need to fill seats and they need to feel like they're making a sound investment.
By the end of the day I felt a little discouraged and less like an artist. It's not sexy to have to think about how to downplay a major part of your identity. My team and I had created booklets with visuals, a cool vellum cover, and I felt like I had fucked up by featuring projects that I thought were compelling, but now looked too complex and not simple enough. Plus I have a project I'm working on where I'm going to explore new territory, directing a hybrid project and digging into my Filipino roots, and my head was clouded with the idea that there is clearly no space in this world for that kind of project. (I tend to have intense reactions to negative experiences, but I get over them pretty quickly). As an artist in New York, one is encouraged to take risks. In fact, it seems like risk-taking is commonplace: nudity is acceptable and there is abundance of multidisciplinary work. Not everywhere is New York, as Isabel and I learned. A lot of the feedback was that some of our projects work in New York and not everywhere else. Well, I grew up in a town called "El Sobrante" that means "the leftovers" in Spanish, and I'm pretty sure there are some people in the middle of nowhere that would love something new, and even strange, to come to their town.
While it's important to stick to your guns, I think there's a way to finesse your way into presenters that might be initially hesitant; for example, the way we stopped emphasizing fashion in our elevator pitch. It doesn't change what we do but new contacts are less likely to shut down. And like audiences and grant makers, there's no way in hell to please everyone, and it is possible to find those who share your vision. There were way more than the 24 presenters that were in that Speed Lead session at WAA, including people who were receptive to what we do. Things looked up after Day 1.