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!

Thoughts on Hesitation

Auto-bio, or how I got over my fear of composing

Watercoloring, my new hobby

During school, I was focused on building classical repertoire. I started The Nouveau Classical Project around the same time I began my master’s program with $175 and luckily, musicians who were willing to volunteer to play for free for our very first benefit. The economy was ROUGH!

NCP started off very classical it has changed with me. After finishing my master’s, I became more interested in new music. I had also wanted compose but stopped whenever I tried to start: I respected composers and their craft so much that I thought I had no right to do it. Along with that, I was worried that I would not be good or successful at it since I did not start at four, like I did with piano. So I immediately walked away from the idea. 

As NCP grew, we commissioned composers and I, along with some members of my ensemble, would think of collaborative possibilities. This was the extent of my making activities. In retrospect, I wanted to be actually making things and not just assembling pieces, and that frustration would come out in weird ways.*

After primarily pursuing a career in performance and being solely a pianist for several years, I felt not just a desire, but a burning need to express and share my experiences and perspectives as a Filipinx American woman. It crossed my mind that I would have started doing this sooner if I saw more Filipinxes doing this.** Part of my motivation was just showing up, being a representative or an example for my people, but maybe that rationale was also a way to make it less personal and therefore less terrifying.*** I hit a turning point, where I decided I would make an attempt at this strong but long-feared desire to compose music.

A couple of things happened one year that pushed this decision. I was a Fellow in the Target Margin Institute for Collaborative Theater Making, which was not about theater, but about questioning one’s practice. This fellowship was a year long, and at some point during that year, two friends from high school around my age passed away. They were too young to die, and I realized that life is simply too short to not try to do something you want to do, regardless of whether or not you achieve conventional success. One other thing happened that I would rather not detail here. But just mentioning it so you know there was one other thing.

For the fellowship, I was meant to explore how to play the piano in unconventional ways, but as the fellowship went on, the TMT mentors (David Herskovits and Moe Yousuf) noticed that I often kept talking about how I wished I could compose. So they made my final investigation about finding ways to compose rather than about making a “good” composition, which further encouraged me to give myself permission to just try. Moe even said that my investigation should be trying to make a “bad” piece of music. It was hard to break out of my shell, so a lot of my practice has had to do with dismantling the perfectionist mentality.

I have always been a late bloomer so I suppose starting late makes sense. It is still often scary, and it is not easy, but I love what I do and I am grateful to be able to do it!

*This can be a whole other essay.
** Yes, there are many Asians, but we all are so different, so no, when I see another Asian I do not necessarily see someone who represents me.
***I wonder if this is part of the thought behind the zeitgiest of identity-focused art? By making it about ourselves but related to a broader identity it’s theoretically bigger than ourselves and feels altruistic? Anyway check out my piece Islander, which explores the residue colonialism has left behind and the resulting fragmentation of identity! :-D

Rambling 122718

I wasn’t going to post this because the writing is not great, but I just really need to get this thing started. Besides, is this really any worse than posting a selfie or a food photo? Perhaps…YOU be the judge!

A continuous line

Clockwise from top left: my final Target Margin Institute investigation; backstage with Trevor and Barbie at Periapsis Open Series at GK Arts; Target Margin Intensive, March 2016; at the Museum of Art and Design (MAD) Harry Bertoia exhibit; Coco; at the Met Museum with Target Margin; MAD Bertoia exhibit with Hajnal; work process photos of Test Site 1; a selfie. 

Another year, another set of failed resolutions.  If I forgot about them and didn’t make a sincere attempt, that means I didn’t really fail at them, right?! 

The election and dead celebrities aside, 2016 has been a year of artistic and creative realizations for me. The Target Margin Institute was a major contributing force. I was surrounded by open, intelligent, and creative cohorts, guided by the amazing David Herskovits, and supported by fantastic artists Sarah Hughes and Moe Yousuf.  I learned so much about leading and taking part in a process, saw amazing plays, and had the chance to meet and listen to Richard Foreman speak in an intimate setting. 

That happened the day after the election.  I wasn't planning on really writing about the election here, but in a somewhat circuitous way, it was another factor for the creative changes I decided to make. Like many of my friends and colleagues, I am working towards taking a more active role in important issues, but relating back to artistic awakenings: it emphasized that the voices of women need to be loud and amplified further and further until we are heard. I became extremely aware of how many things I had always wanted to do but did not (which I will specify as I do them over time), due to my lack of confidence as a woman in a male-dominated field, and then I thought: Screw it. No time for hesitation. For me, this creative hesitation is a microcosm of all the hesitations we execute because we only see people like us hindered, or don’t see them, rather, as they are instead rendered invisible: don’t apply for that opportunity; stay in your lane; a woman can’t possibly be president.

Also, two friends my age died. These shocking events not just reminded me, but screamed in my ear, that life is too short not to make things I want to make.

Although another year is ending, I would rather think of tomorrow as a continuation of a line rather than a newly drawn beginning. Calendars have the psychological effect of making us think of a new year this way; in fact, I still imagine each day and week as a box I’m inside of, the last day of the year the bottom of a page. But it is not the beginning for me; I’m adding on to what I’ve started. 

#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!

I'll be eloquent another day

I’m currently doing research for a project that I’m going to start digging into later this summer. And I’m aiming to finish this blog post by 3:30 pm, which is in 15 minutes, when I have to head out the door.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve been reflecting deeply on race and gender. And not in the general sense, but specifically about being a woman of Asian descent, being Filipino, and a Filipino artist, in America. There are so many contradictions and I’ll be eloquent on another day, but now I’m down to 10 minutes. With the way I’ve been brought up, there’s a mixture of pride (lumpia is THE BEST type of eggroll, #sorrynotsorry; Pacquiao (as an athlete, not as a person!); Boracay is one of the most stunning beaches in the world) and self-loathing (stay out of the sun to avoid getting dark; use skin-bleaching soap; looking more Chinese=better). I’m proud to understand every word of Tagalog, although I do need to brush up on my speaking. I love so much about the country where my parents come from, but it can also be such a sad place. Last night I watched the movie Metro Manila and it pained me to see the slums of the Philippines that are all too real, and the way most of the world sees us.  

Us? I was born in the United States so I’m American...wtf am I even talking about? But as I’ve gotten older I’ve been drawn to investigating how my upbringing as a daughter of Filipino Immigrants have affected my worldview. It’s become undeniable, unavoidable. Being born female and having the natural inclination to prove I can do anything boys do definitely complicated things, as Filipinos still had a “traditional” view of women when I was growing up: I had to beg to play volleyball (luckily I did; I was good and played varsity for 3 years of high school…in fact, I often thought I’d pursue volleyball instead of piano) and when I wanted to skateboard, my dad was resistant and asked if I was a lesbian. (And of course I didn’t back down without a fight. And of course I won. For the record, my dad is actually a really nice, open-minded guy…he’s grown a lot, so please don’t hate on him! Plus I keep him in line. And I’m a shitty skateboarder.)   

I need to finish this up so long story long: I’m creating a piece that incorporates a Filipino dance called the Tinikling. I’ve found a lot of metaphors in the dance itself that I think I can really expand on. This week I've been reading through various texts and I thought I’d try writing this (very rushed) post as part of my process.

If you are also the child or descendant of immigrants and want to share anything related about your own experience, please feel free to comment!

Embracing Process for Progress

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.