In February, I actually did three things that I had either never done before or hadn't been able to do in a long time. I had been sitting on them thinking about how certain things were either not yet complete or up till the standard which I wanted to actually publish, but now I feel confident to share my process.
Composing
I started writing some new original music again. As of now I have one complete movement, as well as some other motifs and fragments that I am hoping to flesh out and expand into something bigger. I'm excited for when I am finally able to record and share it.
The last original piece I composed and had performed recently was The Afterglow of Compassion for left-hand piano, which I wrote in 2021 (the performance in the video was in 2022). Around that time, I had been struggling to put out a completed piece of music, and I hadn't programmed any new original compositions on my recitals since 2020 - I tried to compensate by including arrangements or previous works instead, but original compositions, however much I struggled with them, has always been an important part in showcasing my artistry, and I always used to beat myself up for not including my own original music on my recitals. I look forward to be able to do that again very soon.
Garageband
Separate from the project above, I recently experimented composing using means aside from classical music notation.
This wasn't the first time I tried using Garageband. During the pandemic when I was taking classes online, as music students we had courses on how to use software to layer music and videos. As a Macbook user, my go-to was Garageband. While I did manage to complete the requirements of the course, I was a complete dinosaur, struggling a lot with recording set-ups and the sound editing process.
With this most recent round, I tried to see if I could 1) make music without being confined to pitch and notation, and 2) experiment with sound editing, notably equalization.
It took almost an entire month to get the hang of it, both by actual practice and watching tutorials, but during the first couple of days, it almost felt like a completely different process from how I was used to writing music. But once I kept at it, it felt like tearing off a mask; it was eye-opening to record and cut up sounds, putting them together, paying attention to and editing the actual shapes of the sounds and its frequencies - all without seeing note-heads pop up on staves. It was like I was re-understanding music.
I once had a composition lesson in which my professor suggested that, one of the reasons I struggled composing could be due to my understanding of music being limited to pitch, and that I should explore other parameters such as non-pitched instruments or rhythm. Recently I wondered if perhaps this limitation could be extended to notation. Either way, I felt the need to diversify my understanding of music, in order to create and express what I have now.
Concerto
After almost a year of working on mostly sonatas and unaccompanied works, I decided to re-learn a past concerto - not necessarily for any upcoming performances, but just for my own practice. Right now I am working on the first movement of Sibelius.
There is always so much to learn in practicing any kind of piece, and I love all kinds of forms, but concertos are always exciting to revisit. I get to experiment with vibrato, dynamics and bow lengths in ways that I can't with sonatas and chamber music. It's also exciting from a composer's angle; the dynamic between a full orchestra and solo line is always fascinating. Does the composer treat the orchestra as mere scenery, or does the orchestra actively participate? Does the solo line always dominate, or does it feel the need to be heard and fight back?
(I would absolutely love to one day do a full blog post on the Sibelius concerto alone - the relationship between the solo and orchestra and its narrative effect is so interesting. Maybe when I've digested it more after revisiting it.)
Back when I was still a teenager, concertos were like star pieces, and I practically used up all of my energy just trying to learn and execute my part alone. Now, looking at the score and re-learning the solo line as an adult, everything feels like I am re-digesting what I originally understood of the piece. Watching all of the parts come together, the relationship between the themes and harmony changes, how the music moves just like a dialogue or story.
Always composing in progress
There were many times when I felt I should give up composing. I place importance on the modern artist's ability and right to express themselves, and the concept of the performer-composer was something I wanted to embody in my career. Even now, despite knowing I have things to say, in ways that I feel like I cannot achieve only by playing music by others, I admit I still can't get used to putting my thoughts and feelings into music.
This year on January 26th, in my solo concert at the Kuneru Club, I performed my solo piece Haiku. I also performed solo Bach as well as my arrangements of Pachelbel and Rossini, but after my performance, one of the audience members told me how they liked my composition, and they encouraged me to keep expressing myself through my own music. I still vividly remember how I felt when I composed Haiku - angry and rebellious, but also frustrated at how difficult it was to channel my emotions into note-heads. I think it took me almost four months just to put out a seven minute piece. So to hear those words from someone who had just heard me perform it was so gratifying and uplifting, and I know I won't forget them any time soon.
I know I'm going to struggle with composing my entire life, but I believe it to be crucial in developing my identity as a classical music artist. Now I just need to finish something . . .
Comments