bts: reimagining carnival of the animals

In March, Sozo Artists brought me in to compose a piece for violin, cello, two pianos, and electronics for a collaboration with poet Marc Bamuthi Joseph, choreographer Francesca Harper, and dancer Wendy Whelan. It’s a reimagining of Saint-Säens’ Carnival of the Animals and it is an intentional response to the January 6 insurrection.

While I was making this, I needed to keep several things in mind: how to have my own voice pierce through a widely-known classical work; how to make something simultaneously original and familiar; supporting the text and choreography; making something for musicians I don't know and am not going to meet in person; writing an electronics part that works without click.

Left to right: Pauline Kim Harris, Walter Aparicio, Thea Mesirow

Marc would make audio recordings in addition to the text doc, and I’d listen to it over and over again. And again. Due to the project involving spoken word, where timing may not be rigidly measured, I allowed for space and flexibility in my score. There are also a couple of movements where the musicians are specifically directed to follow Marc’s verbal text rather than a set tempo, and I indicate this with performance notes and arrows pointing to words. In one movement, the ensemble doesn’t even need to stay together, but rather chase the text. I also really do not like click track, and again, I gathered this wasn’t going to be rigid or metronomic, so each cue is signaled by Piano 1, and I indicated this with a cute little hand symbol.

Vicky Chow and Walter Aparicio

I workshopped with violinist Pauline Kim Harris, cellist Thea Mesirow, and pianists Walter Aparicio and Vicky Chow. I’m so fortunate to be able to hear my music with live musicians rather than rely on shrieky midi, and to be in a process with colleagues I trust and feel comfortable with. There will be a preview performance on August 18 presented by La Jolla Music Society. (And I will finish the last movement this week!)  :-D

Composer-Performer Interview Series: Dr. Alan Thiesen

This is the second 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!

WAA Day 1: Deer in Headlights

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. 

My First WAA: Making it Rain in Vancouver

So desperate to get out of NYC in August. It's the worst. Photo: Arden Armbruster

I was in Vancouver this week for the Western Arts Alliance (WAA) conference. (It did actually rain!) My music ensemble, The Nouveau Classical Project (NCP), was selected as one of the three artists for WAA's Launchpad,  a program for emerging artists and early career agents or managers to make it possible for artists to become visible to, and to connect with, the managers and presenters who will book them. (Enormous thanks to Ichun Yeh of Sozo Artists for the nomination!)

I had never attended an arts conference because they are costly (for instance, "early bird" registration for APAP is $775) and I was never quite sure about what my ensemble would get out of it. From what I gathered, one rents a booth along with a sea of other organizations peddling their wares, and there's also showcasing, pay-to-play opportunities to gain exposure--which seems to mean "why you should perform for free"--to presenters and managers. (However, in the the case of, well, showcasing, it seems to actually mean something. More on that in a later post). I used to fake-DJ a fashion trade show each season, and this was the closest experience I could relate to the conference: the artists and managers are the fashion designers and showrooms, and the presenters are the buyers. In the past I have attempted to reach out to presenters on my own through cold e-mailing with virtually no response, so I was excited when we were selected for Launchpad. I knew this would give us access, and yes, exposure, to both presenters and managers, as well as consulting and mentorship that would guide us in our pursuit of being a self-produced, indie group to being an indie group that gets its concerts presented and produced/co-produced. We were told to keep our expectations low and that we were there just to meet people and start building relationships. Beyond meeting new people and starting productive conversations with managers and presenters, attending WAA was an eye-opening education into the world of the arts outside of both of hometown, New York City, and the new music community. 

Booklets & business cards! WE'RE SO READY (Or so we thought...)

Before heading to WAA, I spent weeks preparing our printed materials and cold e-mailing presenters and managers. Most of them didn't respond, but I was able to nail down a few meetings. I created both a video and a photo album that would loop on an iPad, the photo album including press quotes superimposed on the photos. I also bought a Vancouver guidebook, even though I knew deep down that we'd have zero time to explore the city. My partner in crime (and croissants...anything pastry-related) Isabel Kim, NCP clarinetist, was coming with me. I knew she'd be perfect because she's been in the ensemble the longest aside from myself and had experience on the presenting end as a staff member of Symphony Space.

I'll blog about each day at WAA in separate posts. Wish I could have blogged immediately, but we were exhausted and asleep by around 10pm each night. I hope the posts are helpful to fellow artists who are trying to take their careers to the next level! DIY and indie are great, and an inherent part of being an artist, but at some point, we need more substantial support...at least I know I do at this moment in my career. I'm hoping taking part in WAA was the beginning of that leap.