What is the meaning of a ‘musician’ in 2022?
Sofia Kolupov questions the archaic practices of the classical music industry as we look to define what being a musician actually is…
By Sofia Kolupov
Are we entertainers? Artists? Cultural contributors? At what point do we become professionals as creators? Who decides where the limit lies? Is there a border control where one must display their bouquet of accolades, diplomas and other such bureaucratic and empirical proof of their worth as artists?
With regards to the latter question, I would say both no and yes. The music industry is not structured in a hierarchy as one might see in a corporate company, where one would apply to a job with their CV as their ‘passport’, followed by a speaking interview. Universities, particularly in anglophone countries, also work on this premise. To win a job in a musical institution such as an orchestra, and especially in smaller ensembles, the requirement of diplomas and official documentation is merely a formality, with the subsequent multi-stage audition, trial period, not to mention after-concert drinks and tours where the social/personality aspect may be assessed by the other members of the ensemble, all forming key components of the job acquisition process.
“Archaic and stuffy classical tradition is not only perpetrated by concert-goers. We musicians ourselves contribute to to this environment through a kind of ‘internalised traditionalism’...passed down through generations of teachers, colleagues, institutions.”
“Isn’t that a relief?”, you might wonder, “to break free of the bureaucracy of papers and degrees and be seen for your actual worth, your artistic contribution and personality?”. To a certain extent, yes, it is a relief. Especially in a field so high in subjectivity full of ‘outside-the-box’ thinkers, it definitely works on many fronts. I myself cannot come up with a more functional process to hire musicians, but it still begs the question - are we blindly turning our eyes away from potential artists and cultural figures who do not fit into this model? They who remain undiscovered because of the requirement to comply and fit into this carefully built and structured palace which is the classical music industry, with centuries of tradition as the foundations and upheld by columns in the form of fanatic worshippers of the rigid regime which is Conservative Concert Culture.
This need to preserve the archaic and stuffy classical tradition is not only perpetrated by (mostly white and elderly) concert-goers. We musicians ourselves contribute to to this environment through a kind of ‘internalised traditionalism’, usually as a learned behaviour passed down through generations of teachers, colleagues, institutions. I myself have found myself questioning whether something I would wear to a concert would create an ‘unserious’ impression or detract value from my performance if seen as ‘unfitting’. I have thought about the idea of getting a nose piercing for years but have stopped myself from ever letting it become a reality for the same reason - what would audience members think?
“It’s okay for them to dress like that because they are such outstanding performers that they have nothing to hide, they cannot be accused of using their clothing to detract from performance vulnerabilities.”
Somehow, I equate the possibility of breaking those cultural rules and dress codes as something to be earned. Obvious examples are of the pianist Yuja Wang wearing mini-dresses and stilettos, or violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja wearing deconstructed suits or bright fun folksy skirts paired with bare feet. This, apart from being very cool and feeling authentic to them as performers, is justified by the following thought process: “It’s okay for them to dress like that because they are such outstanding performers that they have nothing to hide, they cannot be accused of using their clothing to detract from performance vulnerabilities.” I write this from a personal perspective but I am sure that this will resonate with many others who may also have put themselves through similar mental gymnastics. Despite her unarguable hoard of achievements and success, I still hear and read to this day that Yuja is only or mostly popular due to her clothing.
In an ideal hypothetical world, one might argue that the abolishment of all clothing traditions in classical concert settings would be the solution, in similar vein to (in the context of social media and body standards) the suggestion of totally ‘ignoring’ looks and focussing on other qualities (instead of body-positivity which one might argues still fixates on appearance) as a solution to media-induced and imposed appearance standards. This, while in theory seems like a liberating and progressive solution, totally negates the notion of clothing as artistic self-expression. Perhaps the abolishment of formal clothing requirements in favour of imposed casual clothing may feel as a result just as oppressive for those who enjoyed dressing creatively as part of the performance. For some it may be part of the mental ritual of preparing for the concert, the association of putting on a ‘costume’ with the embodiment of a specific character or simply stepping into the zone. For others it might even be an active part of the performance.
Anecdotally, I had exactly that kind of experience once when performing a contemporary piece written for me by a classmate in conservatoire. I had played some contemporary music before but nothing this experimental. I had to hold my violin upside down, between my knees, ‘saw’ away with the bow with pressure varying from light to huge, whilst simultaneously lifting the middle strings to varying heights using a nylon string. Not the most melodic piece, as you can imagine, certainly not one you’d be caught whistling in the shower subsequently. The piece was called ‘A Voice Within’ and was intended to emulate a strangled evolving groaning voice coming from somewhere deep inside the body.
I initially felt uncomfortable with how to go about presenting the piece and how to be convincing so as to convey the concept to the audience members. The piece also had a backing track of a field recording of a forest playing simultaneously in the background, which led me to this idea - why not wear my big fancy ball gown dress with a watercolour flower print on the bouffant skirt, with no shoes. The flowers tie in with the forest theme, as do the bare feet. It also served a dual purpose as an ironic statement. This kind of dress would typically evoke the association with a big and very traditional concerto performance - think large stage, full orchestra, chandeliers. What would people think if I walked out confidently with the air of a soloist, sat down in my own time, slowly and purposefully placed my instrument between my knees (instead of under my chin), and started scratching away producing deathly groans?
Despite not playing a single recognisable pitch nor holding my instrument in the way intended and the way I had practised for twenty years, that was one of my proudest performances to date. I felt like I had full artistic control and responsibility for the experience as a whole, including the atmosphere, the heavy silences preceding and following the performance and so on.
I suppose what I’ve been trying to say all along is this: are you sick of a system or tradition which does more to limit artists than to provide space for exploration? Are you burning with creative concepts and new experimental things to try but are afraid that the scene you work in won’t accept it? Are you tired of conforming and having to strive to fit into someone else’s ideals, both in classical music contexts and in broader life in general?
Yeah, me too. So perhaps it’s time to respectfully say “FUCK IT!” and start making the most of our fleeting time on this big old rock by creating stuff that is meaningful to us, and most importantly, in a manner which is authentic to ourselves.
Sofia Kolupov
I’m Sofia! Who and what else am I? With every year I start to understand that the answer to this question is constantly shifting and fluctuating. If you had asked me when I was younger I would have answered, “I’m a violinist, I was born in London, I studied at this place bla bla bla”. Yeah, bit boring, especially considering that I was never particularly fond of institutions and considered them anti-educational, anti-art and bureaucratic (not to mention capitalist and corrupt?!). But that is a rant for another day… I suppose I just identified as those things because everyone else did the same thing: filled in their instagram biographies with ticks next to music school acronyms.
Okay, so right now, today, who am I? I am Sofia, I am a proud (half) Ukrainian, a performer (usually through the means of violin), multi-lingual, current resident of Sweden. I enjoy writing opinionated mini-essays on things which irk me and then trying to find whose face I can shove them in (which explains how this little piece landed in TMDTA’s lap). I also love chamber music with all my heart very very much and think it possibly contains the answers to all the important questions in and about life (or if that sounds a bit much then at least admit that it’s got to hold the key to the composers’ innermost thoughts and emotional world). Anyway, I ought to wrap up before I whizz down an ADHD hyper-focus rabbit-hole and only resurface in 2025… But before I go, here’s one last thought from me: let’s re-popularise the viola da gamba! How can ANYONE in their right mind deny that it’s by far the sexiest instrument?!