Our Compositional Core

I recently participated in the Atlanta Opera's 24 Hour Opera Project- a crazy adventure in which mini-operas were written, rehearsed, and performed in- yes, you guessed it- 24 hours. The lyricist (who I had never met before) and I had twelve hours, from 6pm to 6am, to come up with an idea and write both the libretto and music for an entire 10 minute opera. It was exhausting and exhilarating. While many people think these types of 24 hour composing challenges are pretty neat, I would hazard a guess that the projects (and compositions) are generally looked upon as fun and frivolous- never as serious works of art. For the most part, yes, this is a fun event (although very stressful at times!) and a composer is generally not going to write her magnum opus. But I don't think these challenges are frivolous. I actually think they're quite useful to participate in as composers for a variety of reasons, besides the obvious wonderful outcome of having an almost instantaneous performance of your music.

Generally it takes me between six weeks and several months to compose a chamber piece, let's say on average eight minutes of music. The last piece I wrote was for two instruments and was 15 minutes long. From the time I began composing until I gave the piece to the performers I had worked on the piece for approximately three and a half months. I did take about a month-long hiatus in the middle, but that's part of the process of composing- being able to take a step back, later returning to the work with fresh ears/eyes/thoughts. The point is, I wrote a pretty awesome (if I do say so myself) 10 minute piece in 12 hours last weekend, compared to my typical three months to write a (hopefully) better-than-pretty-awesome piece.

So the question is, how much better is the quality of my three-month piece than my 12 hour piece? Is it two months, 29 days and 12 hours better? Probably not. And that's what gets to me. My 12-hour opera is not my strongest work because of the time constraints. Many parts were rushed or pared down in order to get the job done. But, overall, I was pleased. My goal was merely to finish, but I was proud of the end product, and not just as a 24 hour show product. While I wouldn't necessarily present this as a representative sample of my work to someone who doesn't know my music, I would definitely present it to someone as something fun I wrote once.

But let's talk about this "representative sample" idea. After we did a 24 hour show in grad school, I had a conversation with one of my professors about how he thought these situations distill who we really are as composers. With no time to think, you revert to whatever it is that you "do," or do best, as a composer. It's an interesting idea as well as thought exercise. When you have no time, it's much harder to experiment and try new things. It's harder to push yourself, harder to force yourself to think outside the box. Instead, it's much easier to simply fall back on the tried and true, but not just any tried and true- our tried and true. It's really interesting to see who you "really" are, what you can come up with under the time crunch: your essential "core" as a composer. 

While I think the 24 hour show is an interesting and thought-provoking compositional tool, I certainly wouldn't advocate for its use all the time (or even most of the time). One of the most exciting things to do as a composer is be a chameleon, trying new things and attempting to break out of one's comfort zone. But it's hard. And I think that sometimes, we get stuck in the idea that we have to constantly push ourselves to write a certain type of "new music." Every once in a while, it might be interesting to see what you would produce when you have no time to censor yourself, no time to push yourself. Just to see what you can do.

Posted by Sarah