SOUND IS AN OPENING: exhalation

Join us at Abrons Arts Center on June 23rd

SOUND IS AN OPENING gathers artists of the International Contemporary Ensemble community with dynamic and varied connections to diaspora, and whose work creates, expands, and reframes spaces of home, transformation, and transgression. This first installment – subtitled exhalation – features three unique composer-performers in an exploration of voice, presence, and ritual.

Curatorial Statement by eddy kwon

An opening is both a door and a wound, an invitation and a clearing. Throughout my life, the ritual of sound has offered me a chance to access what is most precious, freedom, transformation, and belonging, particularly in moments when I feel the least deserving. The ceremony of creative performance continues to reveal and affirm for me the processes that keep life irresistible, falling in love with oneself and another, collaborating mischievously with evolution, and connecting to a continuum both known and unknown. That last part, viewing oneself as a part of history and not separate from it has been an especially challenging pursuit, personally, and one that has demanded a kind of disciplined intentional crafting family ancestry lineage. These are central to the human story, yet so often made inaccessible by forces both structural and subjective. colonization, imperialism, war, genocide, enslavement, immigration borders, these and other violent attempts at social sculpture, shape and obscure our ability to clearly see it feel and hear our place in the world. And in another way, the very intimate feelings of disgust, shame, embarrassment, grief, and hate our soldiers to blocking lines that should flow free. And still, we find a way toward freedom, transformation and toward belonging. And as artists, we use our tools to open doors that do not respond to any other key. And those same tools can be used to make the door wider, and invite you in. The artists in this first installment of sound is an opening, Charmaine Lee and Jen shoe are in their distinct ways, Master Builders, of keys of doors of spaces, and of worlds, you in particular, their use of voice, both as a limitless instrument of expressive sound. And as an instrument of transformation is distinct, potent and utterly compelling. diasporic experience like all human experience is mosaic. And our common edges are still in a way markers of difference. Sound is an opening is one humble attempt to share over several events, this spectrum of diverse life experience perspectives and practices to do this with tenderness and honesty, and to invite us all into a space of inspired openness.

Interview with performer-composers Charmaine Lee, Jen Shyu and eddy kwon.
Moderators: eddy kwon & Isabel Crespo Pardo
May 27, 2022

eddy: I'm wondering if each of you would be willing to introduce yourself, your creative practice, and if you'd like, share a little bit about what you'll be presenting at the June 23rd show at Abrons Arts Center.

Charmaine: My name is Charmaine Lee. I am a vocalist based in New York. And my music is primarily improvised. But I also compose as you'll be hearing at the performance on June 23rd. The piece I’m composing and performing is in two parts. The first is a solo performance, which will be improvised. And the second will be a piece for four instrumentalists, myself on voice and electronics, Weston Olencki on trombone, Josh Modney on violin, and Rebekah Heller on basson. What I’m trying to achieve with this piece is really in line with eddy’s vision of exhalation and breath, and drawing on organic material that particularly excites my sonic palette. I am very interested in the ongoing process of distilling my vocabulary I’ve developed as an improviser into the composed format, and then translating that into a group dynamic, providing a platform for artists to engage with that practice, thereby shaping it and contributing to it in their own way. 

Left to right: Josh Modney (violinist), Weston Olencki (musician) and Rebekah Heller (bassoonist)

Jen Shyu: I'm Jen Shyu, and I'm a vocalist, composer, singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and dancer. Recently, I've been very interested and drawn toward acting and theater more and more. On June 23rd, I’ll be presenting an excerpt of Zero Grasses: Ritual for the Losses, which is ever-evolving. I’ve been thinking about breath and exhalation more and more since both my parents have passed. It’s so profound to feel both spectrums of being absent. When my dad passed, I was in Japan working on this piece, and when my mom passed, I was sleeping in the room next to her. Both different experiences, and both so so difficult. I’ve been thinking about the transition: breath to no breath. eddy, when you mentioned in your curatorial statement that an opening can also be seen as a wound, I really resonated with that. I have found time and time again that it is breathing that helps me through. To be on stage, to go into these truths, and to have the strength to convey something to the audience while carrying the weight of devastating experiences, is such a difficult and deep practice.

eddy:  I appreciate so much your sharing that with us, Jen. I really resonate with how you describe the strength needed to pull yourself together when you’re onstage and dealing with very real and emotional life experiences. Similarly for me, when I’m in a period of intense mourning, conflict or struggle, the creative process can be akin to wrapping a wound, not entirely healing, but a supportive gesture, keeping me going. And I very much felt that way during a performance this past week. As artists, we have these tools that we've developed over our entire lives, that are integrated throughout our entire body memory, and they allow us to take care in these moments as well as stimulate growth, healing, change, and transformation.

Charmaine: Jen, I also want to acknowledge your heartfelt, and honest sharing. I'm deeply sorry about the loss that you've experienced in the past couple years. I know how heavy that's been for you. For me, the interesting thing about the voice is that it’s the most direct source of expression. Even as I expand my practice through electronics, I always return to the voice. Through it, I find an embodied practice that’s almost euphoric, a beautiful synergy of body, mind, emotional complexity and life experiences. I always enjoy learning about how different artists perceive and teach the voice because it’s so internal and mysterious. Teaching vocal technique  necessitates metaphors and analogies to create sensational sympathies with others. Through the voice we can tap into a rich and emotional set of life experiences so universal and direct.  I can focus on highly musical elements such as rhythm, harmony, and polyphony, and trust in the listener to intuit the emotional landscape of a performance for themselves.

I hope that by engaging with and sharing a complex spectrum of vocal expression, I can encourage others to push past physical, emotional, and mental walls in order to reach their own unique expressions.

eddy: It took me a long time to gain the confidence to sing. It wasn’t until I heard artists that defied cultural expectations of beauty that I realized the profound power of using our voice in the way that feels true to each of us. As a queer and trans person, I find myself unintentionally shifting the ways I use my voice to fit into different social settings. I’m trying more and more to grant myself the love and compassion to stand in my authentic self, no matter what space I’m in.I think in a similar way, all of us here use the voice defined as presence in life, action and impact. When I think of the two of you and the impact that you've had on the creative music scene as well as within the community, that really, really inspires me. I want to acknowledge and celebrate the ways in which the two of you are really using your voice to transform the world in musical and extra-musical ways.

Isa: I would love to hear more about everyone’s experience with transformation as connected to breath. I feel that breath, in and out, can represent cycles, and in each cycle there's an opportunity to shift or to stay on a path and go deeper. I'm curious about how you all perceive breath as connected to transformation.

Jen: I'm thinking about that on many levels. I feel like over time, I've really had to shed what I know of my voice. For example, when learning another vocal tradition, I work to internalize it and then it becomes automatic, and then I have to let go of it again. It's very nonlinear. And it's mysterious. I feel that it’s easier for me to experience transformation when I’m on stage. I don’t know why, I can’t even explain it. I hear artists talk about being a vessel channeling other forces coming through you, but for me, I can feel completely altered after a performance. So it’s not just something going through me. I may feel deeply changed. I think transformation is letting go, emptying and starting over

Charmaine: I’m currently experiencing transformation as I work to synergize seemingly disparate elements of my practice and life experiences into one very long ongoing process. As I age, I perceive the subtle changes in my voice, the shifting breaking points, the register deepening, and it’s exciting to physically experience the transformation and growth. In general I'm someone who is constantly poking holes at my own truths and beliefs, and what results from that process is a strong sense of confidence in recognizing my own internal conflicts and contradictions. That awareness is very important to me. And so that process of constantly questioning my beliefs, my reality, and my priorities has allowed me to then creatively take risks on stage and be able to push boundaries.. And I think my goal is that some of the other aspects, such as the  aesthetics of what I'm interested in, evolve over time as I get deeper into the sort of things that are truly foundational. Everything else is open to evolution. 

Jen: When talking about transformation, the word shapeshifting comes to mind. It’s a little cliché, but I think as I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten in the habit of putting myself in uncomfortable or difficult situations in order to bring about my own transformation and growth. I know I’m on the right track when I’m terrified.

And in general, I guess I’m just never satisfied with where something is. I think about how our lives are changing, how the decisions being made all around us shift our world, and all of this seeps into the work we make. I like to stay open to change and really invite it into my work. eddy what do you think?

eddy: For me these days, I've been thinking a lot about ritual and ceremony. Acts of creation, performance, and improvisation, being in relationship with people and developing friendships – all of these things feel like cumulative rituals. I'm always drawn to the people who are able to shift the energy around them just by the way they engage with the world. Somehow the quality and intensity of their attention, or the connection that we have together, transforms the space around and inside of us. Something mundane can become transformative, something casual can become the most important thing in the world – for a brief while. I love people that can make me feel that way. For me, transformation happens through the intention I put into a moment.

I also want to touch briefly on how this connects to some other recent inquiries in my life. I have a pretty complicated and evolving relationship with lineage, family and ancestry. For a lot of different reasons, I don't feel like I can access my biological family ancestry. But, you know, as I get older, the idea of participating in the arc of history and locating myself in a lineage feels more and more important to clarify. Where do I actually belong in this long line of humanity? And, if it’s not through bloodlines, then how can I connect?  Like many queer people, I engage in the practice of creating chosen family and by extension, ancestry. Chosen family is not defined by blood or biology, rather it's about a shared history or shared values or kinship in other ways, like spiritual kinship. For me, learning about queer and trans Korean shamans and practictioners of shamanic ritual throughout history has been one of the most exciting and empowering educational experiences I’ve had in my creative and spiritual development. Learning about the rituals, performances, and community practices they were participating in (and instigating) a hundred of years ago illuminates so many parallels between queer and trans experience then and now. And so for me, being able to integrate some of the artistic practices that queer and trans Korean shamans were doing way back in the day, helps me establish a link to a history that I feel includes me, and that I feel belong to. That's kind of how I am viewing ancestry right now, for lack of being able to access a more traditional definition of ancestry and lineage. Through learning, through practice, and finding my place within it.

Charmaine: Thank you for sharing that, eddy. I really appreciate that very personal insight. For context, I was born and raised in Australia by parents who migrated from Hong Kong. I moved to the US for college about 11 years ago, and I've stayed here ever since.  I don’t have a direct history in the sense of my physical environment or the society I operate in. And so in a lot of ways, like you eddy, I feel that I’ve had to independently design some of that feeling. For me, a lot of understanding of my lineage has been through music and the process of making music with others. I like to think very ontologically about my influences and create seemingly disparate connections between  time periods and communities that artists were operating in and the breadth of their work. My influences all  share fundamental values that inspire me creatively and socially, as well. I look to them when creating a sense of lineage for myself in hopes that my contributions will be a part of that context that I’ve tried to create. In terms of family lineage, one of the strongest values I feel I’ve inherited from my family is the commitment to authenticity. I’ve explored different styles of music, from jazz to new music to this practice I’m forming now, and I think one of the consistent lines through it all has been a commitment to trying, despite hesitation, doubt, and self-consciousness, to stay true to my own voice. 

Jen: Wow, that's so interesting, Charmaine. I feel like I was raised opposite, having a different voice for each kind of role that I played and being rewarded for that kind of behavior. So it's taken a long time to shed the additional selves, the multiple layers of masks. I still feel like I’m freshly trying to be completely honest and in myself. Zero Grasses is actually based on real diary entries of mine, starting from age eight until 41. And, when I look back at these entries, I can really see clearly what my parents told me about how to act, dress, and carry myself. For example, my parents often discouraged me from talking about personal things in my work, and in that regard, I’ve kind of gone off the deep end into the “forbidden personal.” And I think there's still room to go more over the edge, while remaining connected to the wisdom my family shared with me. I think the word diaspora is so multifaceted. And to honor its influence and all it encompasses is to recognize the experience and wisdom it’s brought into our lives. And at the same time, sometimes we need to escape from it and find our own way of being.

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