What in the World Can I Find in Taiwan?

This article has been published dated July 1, 2024, on Iwanami Shoten.

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A Work That Takes 639 Years to Finish Performing

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A television placed in an international airport in Europe was broadcasting a news program. Since I don’t have a television at home, my curiosity was piqued, and I turned my attention to the screen. The program appeared to be focusing on the so-called “problem” of newcomer immigrants and refugees struggling to integrate into society. Two “experts” were featured, each assigning blame for this issue – one attributing it to social intolerance, while the other blamed the immigrants and refugees for not making enough effort to integrate. Their arguments were clearly articulated, each presenting a well-defined position on opposing ends of the spectrum. Their statements were logicaly structured and easy to follow.

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However, a question arose in me whether this “problem” could truly be boiled down to a dualistic debate. The reality is far more complex – so complex that, in fact, even the word “complex” fails to capture its chaotic nature.

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Perhaps due to the rise of modern rationalism, many people have grown accustomed to consuming narratives that are easily understood. Rational explanations are easier to accept, offering a sense of comfort. When a confusing event occurs, various individuals, driven by diverse intentions, skillfully craft narratives that simplify the situation. In this process, elements that don’t fit the narrative are cleanly shaved away, reducing the story to something easily digestible. A “perspective” can be easily imbuied with a certain meaning by carefully weaving words together into a narrative, even if the narrative strays far from the “essence” of the topic . In this way, we maintain our sanity, convincing ourselves that we are able to “understand” the various phenomenas our world offers us.

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As a composer of contemporary art music, I am often told by many, “I do not understand the intentions of your work”. This is hardly surprising. In a world that demands extreme "understandability", creating unconventional music, such as contemporary art music compositions, inevitably leads to the recipients’ confusion and statements such as, “I don’t understand what you’re doing”.

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Contemporary art music, also known as "Western art music", is the music of today, stemming from the traditions of European classical music. Its styles vary widely, from Maurizio Kagel's (1931-2008) “Concerto for Timpani and Orchestra” – where the performer dives headfirst into a timpani – to John Cage's (1912-1992) "Organ 2/ASLSP" – a piece designed to take 639 years to complete one performance. While one cannot easily generalize the characteristics of this genre of music, it is often perceived as music that is challenging to comprehend. From a music theory perspective, many works of this genre deviate from traditionally significant concepts such as tonality and meter, and performers frequently employ non-conventional performance techniques which makes the musical experience unfamiliar for the audience. Additionally, the works often embrace a strong conceptual style, expressed through the highly abstract medium of "sound", which makes them difficult to “understand”.

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My love for contemporary art music stems from the escape it offers from this “world glossed over by words”. Sound is endlessly abstract and resists unique categorization. Unlike linguistic mechanisms, sound expression requires the listener to engage fully with their “subjectivity” and “sensitivity”. In this auditory space, we humans can instinctively connect with “ineffable ideas” that have been familiar to us since ancient times, without the need for words. While experiencing music, I find liberation from this overwhelming world, where countless narratives, frayed by their discrepancies with an ever-changing reality, drift aimlessly.

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Like Clay That Keeps Being Reworked

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Looking back, I realize I have spent much of my life grappling with conflicting narratives cherished by people from various regions and communities, trying to reconcile them with words. This struggle has made me acutely aware of the limitations of language. In recent years, I have decided to periodically immerse myself in communities that hold completely different beliefs than myself, in order to creatively disrupt the narratives I am unconsciously weaving in my head.

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I was born in Osaka and soon moved to Bangkok due to my parents' work. Later, I lived in Singapore until I have finished junior high school. After returning to Japan and finishing my high school studies, I enrolled in Kunitachi College of Music in Tokyo, where I studied composition and computer music. After graduating, I received a scholarship to pursue a master's degree at Columbia University in New York. Looking back, my time in New York allowed me to deeply engage with artists and immerse myself in the “worldview” shaped by the close-knit relationships I had with people within that artistic bubble. Upon graduating from Columbia, I became a Mitsubishi Foundation research fellow at the University of Pittsburgh, but my desire to see more of the world led me to Dresden, Germany. With this lucky move, even with the unprecedented COVID-19 pandemic struck, I and other composers in Germany were able to continue our creative work without interruption, thanks to government support.

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After five years of my creative endeavours in Germany, I sought a new perspective, which led me to move to Taiwan in 2023. Taiwan, like every place I've lived, has its own unique narratives for understanding the world. Here, I am currently blending the “stories” held by the people I interact with into my own, reworking what “common sense” means to me, as if these ideas were made of clay. I find that in Taiwan, similarly to that of in Japan, there is a certain tolerance for “ambiguity” in the narratives, which provides me with a sense of ease. Some of the perspectives people hold here overlap with the perspectives I have encountered in the United States and Germany, while others seem entirely incompatible, making the experience all the more fascinating.

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In the United States, I experienced a culture where events are processed emotionally and then verbalized, at times forcefully, turned into “arguments which sound correct”, even when they verge on sophistry. In contrast, the Germany I experienced was a society where events were “understood” by fitting them into pre-existing narratives, as if one was grading an exam paper using an answer sheet. My experiences in the United States and Germany has made me conclude that, while these two countries are often grouped together as the “West”, the methods used by the people of those countries I have personally interacted on how to interpret the overly complex reality could not have been more different.

Needless to say, my account of the characteristics of the communities I have engaged with is largely subjective and by no means attempts to explain these countries on a national level. No matter the social climate or the political system, it is absolutely impossible to imagine that the people living in a nation are monolithic. Beyond the framework of banal political ideologies like “liberal” or “conservative”, people’s interests, beliefs, cultures, histories, customs, and backgrounds – including religious views, gender, race, age, occupation, and immigration status to say the least – overlap and intertwine in complex ways to form their own “stories”, leading to the creation of countless narratives, both large and small. Furthermore, it is highly unlikely that these narratives are transmitted with a focus on the “essence” of the subject matter.

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Therefore, I believe it is crucial to find the equivalent of an “answer” to any given event by fully engaging our five senses, paying attention to the minute details, and experiencing the world for ourselves, rather than relying on someone else to provide an easy-to-understand “answer”. This is a cumbersome task, sure to stir uncertainty, hesitation, and confusion. Moreover, finding what can be thought of an “answer” to an event will be an extremely slow process, and that “answer” will inevitably give rise to further “questions”, which is to say that we will likely spend our life constantly pondering and questioning.

Whether in contemporary art music or contemporary art, good works do not provide “answers” but rather encourage us to ask “questions”. These “questions” are inherently open-ended, emerging when the viewer takes the time to engage with the work and connects it with their own subjective and past experiences. They are not “questions” that everyone can empathize with, but deeply personal inquiries that touch upon something profound within our subconscious.

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Rightist Mushrooms

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In early 2019, I was commissioned by the German vocal ensemble AuditivVokal Dresden to compose Rightist Mushrooms. It had its world premiere in Hannover that summer and was performed again in Dresden in the fall.

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At the time, Europe was experiencing a significant increase in the numbers of immigrants and refugees entering the region, leading to various social frictions. I was living in Dresden, and one day, on my way home from buying groceries, I heard an aggrieved speech and the roaring of a crowd. When I turned to look, I saw a rally held by a political party gaining momentum in Dresden, promoting an anti-immigration campaign. Many locals appeared to be shouting slogans in unison with the speaker. As someone living in Germany, I was very interested in what kind of “narratives” exist within the country, therefore I decided to stop and listen. As I myself was one of the “immigrant” in that specific situation, there was a possibility of the supporters of the rally hurling unpleasant words or actions at me. However, I know that stepping outside my “comfort zone” is a shortcut to spark my creativity, so I blended into the cowd. Fortunately, no one said anything to me that day.

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The speaker in the rally passionately proclaimed, “increasingly, Arab and Muslim names such as Muhammad, Ali, and Omar are ranking high among newborns in major European countries”, and that “Europe is undoubtedly being invaded”. He spoke of the “crisis” in Europe in stark terms.

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Upon experiencing the uncomfortable atmosphere of the rally with my whole body and mind, inspiration for my new piece came to me a few days later. I first researched and arranged the names given to newborns in the previous year or the year before in the UK, Sweden, Germany, and France on my score, ranking them by popularity from 1st to 100th so the singers could read them out loud. The dynamics for the names considered “traditional” in Europe were written as “pianissimo” (pp), meaning “very soft” in Italian. I have also notated those names without a fixed pitch. On the other hand, the dynamics for names considered “non-traditional”, such as “Muhammad”, were written as “fortississimo” (ffff), meaning “very strong”, with a fixed pitch using an upward glissando. Upon completing the bone structures of the piece with hundreds of newborn names, I then further constructed the piece with layers of harmonies that were not limited to pitch, incorporating special vocal techniques such as plosive consonances, completing the work.

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In the Hannover premiere, ten vocalists whispered the “traditional” names scattered across the score, and then raised their voices to sing the “non-traditional” names that appeared among them at the written pitch with glissando. After the performance, some of the audience shared their thoughts on the work. Their comments ranged from ones along the lines of “thank you for creating a work supporting refugees and opposing discrimination” to “thank you for sheding a light on the reality of Europe being ‘contaminated’ by different cultures”, reflecting a wide range of interpretations that were completely opposite to one another.

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In Europe, two major arguments dominate immigration policy discussions; one being “we should accept immigrants and refugees” and another being “we should not accept immigrants and refugees”. These simplistic arguments are often dressed up with skillful rhetoric and transformed into narratives with gradations that transcend dimensions (in a metaphorical sense). However, expressions like music, which cannot weave a narrative with words, naturally do not present an “easy-to-understand story”. Thus, when the audience do not have enough time to deeply engage with the work, they may interpret what they hear by fitting the expression into a narrative they are already familiar with, as seen in the comments I have received.

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“Rightist Mushrooms” is neither a work supporting European immigration policy nor one opposing it. Firstly, I believe that reducing the complexities of our world to just two options is extremely unhealthy for deepening our thoughts. Furthermore, the concept of this work is far removed from European immigration policies.

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“Different strokes for different folks” – this is a saying many know but easily forget. Each person is different – from the environment they grew up in, what they have accomplished, and what they had to give up in life. Contemporary art music, as a form of expression not reliant on words, can express the ego that emerges from the depths of an individual, capturing an essence difficult to convey with words alone. Similarly, this work is an expression that overflows from the reservoir of conscious and subconscious memories created by my life experiences over 33 years, and it cannot be “understood” as a “story that was woven with words”.

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After the second performance of Rightist Mushrooms in Dresden, an audience member ran up to me. She had also attended the world premiere in Hannover, and this was her second time “experiencing” the work. She shared her impressions, saying, “I can't put it into words yet, but I feel like I was able to see a little bit of your perspective today”. I do not know anything about her life, and I am not sure I can fully interpret what she meant by “your perspective”, however her words stirred a positive emotion in me that I cannot quite articulate.

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I do not deny the power of words. In fact, I am currently telling a narrative using words. I know words can at times save people and become a tool to “solve” what we perceive as “problems”. I believe I “understand” the weight of words and “stories” in my own way. Throughout history, humans have told countless “stories”, cooperated in creating many civilizations by believing in them together. At times, those stories drove the people to war and mass destruction. On that basis, I would suggest that if there are people who feel exhausted by a world full of contradictions and sophistry, where countless “stories” are used to manipulate and cover up the “essence” of a topic, it might be a good idea to face your heart for a while in the “world of sounds without words”.

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As I mentioned earlier, I am currently based in Taiwan. My goal is to reconcile the “stories” told in small communities I engage with here with my own “stories” that I have accumulated in life, and to renew the world I see. People are unable to escape “stories”. Therefore, to periodically remind myself of the limitations of narrative, I move my base every few years if the situation allows me to. In my mind, I have many countries and regions where I would like to experience life in the future, such as India, Oman, and Mexico. It is my wish to learn the languages spoken in these countries, live with the people, and thoroughly digest “stories” new to me. I cannot wait to experience what kind of “ineffable” music comes out from me in the future.

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SHIMIZU Chatori, Contemporary Art Music Composer