​Tell us about your new work for Zeitgeist, Conjuring. 

Conjuring is a wild experiment where we challenged each other to try to create a seamless score for both sound and movement, where each relies completely on the other. We play with structures in sound and movement that move into alignment and then out of alignment, kind of like an eclipse or the perfect incantations needed for a spell. We like to think that through our connection as performers in this piece we are bringing something into existence that wasn’t there before. We are conjuring a new way of being, a change that leaves the world forever altered.

How did the two of you get started in your respective fields?

Maggie: I started dancing when I was five. For me dance has always been the path, even if I didn’t want it to be. Somehow dance and embodiment dragged me out of whatever other ideas I had in my head about what I should do.

Nick: I also started when I was five. They didn’t have basses that small so the orchestra teacher at the time put me on a cello standing upright, and tuned it like a bass. I primarily studied classical music through my younger years, but once I was a teenager, it seemed that the accessible styles for bass were endless. I did bluegrass, jazz, rock, and classical all at the same time. After I graduated college, it was easy to find work being a versatile performer so I stayed pretty current in all styles.

Nick, who are your inspirations in music, be that in bass or whatever comes to mind?

Nick: If you asked me this question 10 years ago, I would probably rattle off famous bass players and music bands. But my philosophy has shifted. I think inspiration is all around and can be connected to anything we come in contact with, or anything we can think of or recall. In addition to humans, I believe inspiration can come from the surrounding colors, sounds, tastes, landscapes, relationships, and events. I think if I had to pinpoint an exact inspiration to sum this up, I would say the scene in Mulholland Drive in the theater is chalked full of inspiration. The women that sings “Llorando” a cappella and then topples over is by far one of (what I believe) the most fascinating works I have seen. It’s followed up by the emcee saying “There is no band.” It’s colorful, moving, and yet simple all at the same time.

Maggie, when looking for a piece of music or art in general to choreograph a routine to, what do you think stands out and sparks creativity in you?

Maggie: My work usually begins with a feeling or a situation or a series of events. And then I’m happy to say I married a composer, so I then ask him to make sound for me! At that point we work together on the structure, sound, mood, I rarely ever find music first and then make work to it. I’m much more interested in creating both the sound and movement together instead of letting one come first and then creating a reaction. 

How do the two of you look at the process of collaboration, and how important do you think it is, both with each other and in the world at large?

Maggie: It is so huge in how we work together, but it also is really the way the world works. There is great reassurance in a process with someone I trust. It can get so messy when one person sees a direction and the other doesn’t. Or there is real disagreement in the way the work should move forward. But somehow the space of not-knowing feels deeper when working in collaboration, and there is something to be said about working through the not-knowing and the real conflict to get something into the world. Nick and I remodeled our bathroom about ten years ago, and we spent about three hours in Menards talking through and visualizing and telling each other our ideas. It was so so hard. But now our bathroom rocks! :)

Nick: And so does our kitchen!

Anything else you would like to add? 

Nick: Collaboration takes more than just being a “team player.” I think the hardest lesson for me in collaboration is knowing when to back down, knowing when to listen, and knowing when to be vulnerable to change. It takes a great amount of mental power to manage internal thoughts during the process. I don’t think it’s ever easy, and if it is easy, then there’s probably a missing component where someone isn’t being honest, or someone is holding back. I think this is why the collaboration with Zeitgeist was such a different experience. We tried to stay transparent whenever possible and attempted to craft a work that attempted to be distributed between all members of the ensemble. I don’t know if we achieved that arrival point, but it was something to work towards during the creative process.

Composer Jonathan Posthuma will present a recital of premieres from his Paul Klee: Painted Songs series featuring local musicians at Studio Z on Oct. 17, 2019. We welcome Posthuma as a guest blogger to share insight on this ambitious project and examples of Klee's work. 

​Paul Klee: Painted Songs is an ongoing series of instrumental chamber works inspired by the visual art of Paul Klee. Started in 2011, the series has grown into an expansive project – with around 30 of the planned 165 works completed. Over the years, I have added to the series, continuing to draw on the wealth of inspiration from Klee's images, which are filled with musical references, textures, colors, and symbols that closely link musical concepts with Klee's philosophy of visual art. To me, these pieces are musical settings of visual poetry, hence "painted songs." What continues to fascinate me about Klee is both the diversity and consistency of his total body of work. Throughout his vast career, certain ideas continue to resurface and find new applications. In this spirit, Paul Klee: Painted Songs continues to expand, ever exploring the poetry of his work through musical interpretation.
 
What draws you to Paul Klee?
Everything! His works are incredibly varied, but instantly identifiable. He practically wrote the textbook for the theory of color, line, and texture, and though sometimes abstract, his work doesn’t try to push you away – it draws you into a world of fantasy and is often very child-like, even impish at times. He is able to balance the purity and simplicity of his subjects with clever and direct titles, and though his work rigorously follows its own principles, it isn’t academic or overly dense. Klee was a trained musician, loved classical music, and often played his violin for hours before beginning to paint. The reverse is true for me – by studying his work, the music starts to flow more easily.
 
What is your favorite painting by Paul Klee?
There are so many incredible works that I’ve grown to love by Klee, but I am partial to Klee’s works between 1920 and 1930, which encompass his time as a teacher at the Bauhaus in Weimar (1920-1924) and then when the school was relocated to Dessau after being shut down by rising tensions and right-wing extremists (1925-30). Those years of applied study, exploration, and lecturing alongside colleagues like Kandinsky yielded vast and diverse results, and then when his teaching load was reduced, those explorations blossomed. Perhaps my favorite style of Klee is seen in “Mask of Fear,” “Illuminated Leaf,” and “Ghost of a Genius” where thinly applied washes of color are outlined by finely-sketched lines. His “magic squares” also fascinate me (such as “Colorful Flower Beds” and “The Blooming Garden”) but I respond more strongly to his more figurative and representative works, especially those of flowers and birds, subjects which have always fascinated me as well. The works from his last few years (after 1935 in particular) have always deeply troubled me and though I am including many in the series, they are more raw and cryptic than his earlier work. “Intoxication” and “Hidden Treasures” are among those works, which emphasize dark lines, patches of bold colors, and are more glyph-like than figurative. Those works are often considered Klee’s response to the trauma of the Nazi regime and WWII as well as his own physical pain from a series of illnesses – perhaps because the works are more visceral, it is more difficult for me to find a musical response that is fitting.
 
Why 165 works? How many are completed?
This number is largely symbolic and represents the number of squares in “Ancient Sound,” which is No. 165 in the catalogue. Over the years, I have reordered and renumbered the works multiple times, but this current ordering includes a wide range of chamber ensembles, ranging from solos up to large flex-instrumentation ensembles. Beyond the 165, there are other plans as well, including “galleries” that have more of a through-line or plot and are designed to be used for dance or theatrical productions. Currently, there are around 30 completed pieces are around 12 have been premiered.
 
Do you have synesthesia?
No, not in the sense that other composers or artists have described. But I do have strong associations with colors, textures, shapes, and lines that I respond to when composing. Certain colors are brighter and darker, more intense or more muted, which correspond with certain harmonies, dynamics, or instrumental colors. Certain lines or textures have a gesture or a density that is very relatable to music. Certain images or symbols seem to guide my musical response as well (e.g. eyes are song-like, hands are always searching, feet are rhythmic, plants grow and decay, fish, birds, and mammals have different types of movement, etc.) None of these associations are completely fixed and remain very flexible, but I have my own tendencies that have become somewhat self-referential as I respond to these ideas found through Klee’s work.

(from left to right)
No. 21 “Mask of Fear” (Maske der Furcht, 1929)
No. 9 “Illuminated Leaf” (Belichtetes Blatt, 1929)
No. 98 “Ghost of a Genius” (Gespent eines Genies, 1922)
 
Examples of Klee’s work in the 1920s using thin layers of paint and finely-sketched lines.
​

​ (from left to right)
No. 161 “Colorful Flower Beds” (Buntes Beet, 1923)
No. 158 “The Blooming Garden” (Der blühende Garten, 1920)
 
Examples of Klee’s “Magic Squares”
​

(from left to right)
No. 18 “Intoxication” (Im Rausch, 1939)
No. 89 “Hidden Treasures” (Kleinode, 1937)
 
Examples of Klee’s late work, which is more cryptic and visceral.

​

Oct. 17  •  7:30 p.m.  •  $15  •  Tickets

A recital of premieres from Jonathan Posthuma's Paul Klee: Painted Songs series featuring local musicians.

Eri Isomura, marimba
Devan Moran, violin
Amelia Smith, clarinet
Jonathan Posthuma, composer / piano

Paul Klee: Painted Songs is a ongoing collection of chamber music inspired by the visual art of Swiss painter Paul Klee. Selections include solos for marimba, violin, and clarinet as well as ensemble works featuring improvisation. More information here.  ​