This season, which we’ve titled TOTALLY OBSESSED, we’re endeavoring to not just give voice to composers’ music, but to make space for whatever elements of themselves they believe to be important to their creativity and public life. On November 14th, we’re diving into three major works by three lions of the new music world: Shulamit Ran, Anna Thorvaldsdottir, and Kotoka Suzuki…and today we’d like to share with you an illuminating and quite candid conversation about identity with Kotoka.
Doyle Armbrust: When we worked together this past summer, you mentioned that at the point you wrote Minyo, you were feeling quite homesick. Did evoking the sounds of Japan in this piece assuage this feeling?
Kotoka Suzuki: I think it was quite the contrary. The process of working with this piece made me feel more at home. I can even say that it was therapeutic. Although I lived and grew up in different countries, I always felt Japan was my homeland. But around the time when I wrote “Minyo”, I was beginning to feel that I was becoming a foreigner of my own culture from living away from Japan for many years. It’s human nature to want to feel like one belongsto something and somewhere, like religion, gender or culture. Japan is also a country that prides itself on authenticity and tradition. I was becoming no longer “authentic” - not by Japanese standard. I did not know how to process this and what this meant in terms of my identity. This question mattered to me because I felt that without knowing my own identity, I would not be able to write a convincing work that is uniquely mine. Identity is your voice. During this time, I listened and studied numerous recordings of Japanese folk music from different regions across the country. I also learned how music is expressed very differently throughout Japan. For example, folk music from the southern region is more rhythmical and upbeat. I think this process of discovering more about my own culture and their music made me feel much closer to Japan. It was a path to discovering and accepting my identity.
DA: How long did this desire to rediscover the sounds of your birth country continue to make its way into your writing?
KS: I no longer consciously try to apply sounds that reflect Japanese culture into my work. I think “Slipstream” (2002) was the last work that did that. I think it has to do with the fact that I’ve learned to accept and feel comfortable with my uniquely conglomerated voice. At the same time, I have continued to compose works that are inspired by Japanese culture. For example, in my “Dreams and Wandering” for chamber orchestra and electronics (2012), I took the writing “Oku no Hosomichi” (Narrow road to the deep north) by the poet, Matsuo Busho as an inspiration after the Great Sendai Earthquake in 2011. Or more recently, I wrote “In Praise of Shadows” for three paper players and electronics (2015) inspired by the essay by the same title by the Japanese novelist, Junichiro Tanizaki. I’m sure that I will continue to incorporate elements of Japanese culture in my work, but I don’t feel the need to do this in the same way I did in the past.
DA: Your music has since come to focus on the exploration of electronics. What is it you’re obsessed with as a creative today?
KS: I have too many things I’m obsessed about in regards to sound that I can mention here. I love all sounds and creating sounds. I collect sounds by recording them indoor, outside, in the wilderness, everywhere. I have made many recordings of forests, rivers, toys, household items to name a few. I often do this when I travel too. I especially like recording sounds that are almost too quiet to hear with our ears. I also build small objects that make sounds and record them or use them as part of my piece. Many of these types of works become choreographed where the act of performance becomes part of the piece. When I compose, I also feel and see sounds as sculpture in space. And like any organic form, I see them transform in space to different shapes and colors at different speeds. Multiple speakers and electronics make it possible for me to create these sounds and spatialize in the way I imagine in my head.
DA: As a teacher, do you feel that the inclusion of elements of identity on the part of your students seems different, or shows up differently, than when you were their age?
KS: I do. I think the discourse on identity we have today is much more open than it was when I was my students’ age. These open discussions can be tremendously helpful for young students in finding their own voice. I think knowing and accepting your identity is extremely important, not only in life in general but also in creative practice. When you are not honest with yourself, everything becomes so much easier. You can’t create your best work if you are not honest with yourself.
DA: What is your experience of listening now to a piece you wrote at the beginning of your career? What would you say to your younger self, as a composer?
KS: I wish I was more confident and took more risks. I thought I did at the time, but looking back, my confidence was based a lot on external forces. I cared too much about writing what I ‘should’ write based on what I thought would be approved by the academic music community. Of course, when you are starting out, you need the experience to build confidence. But I feel like I dismissed many ideas fearing it would not be understood or accepted as ‘serious’ work. Fear is the biggest detriment in creative practice. Today, I feel that we are much more open to various styles and expressions in the contemporary music world. I think this is a wonderful thing.