Muse - a self portrait (2024)
11 minutes
for flute, clarinet, violin, cello and piano
Commissioned by the Albert H. Maggs Award for Composition (2022) and composed for Syzygy Ensemble, Melbourne.
To be premiere in August, 2025.
11 minutes
for flute, clarinet, violin, cello and piano
Commissioned by the Albert H. Maggs Award for Composition (2022) and composed for Syzygy Ensemble, Melbourne.
To be premiere in August, 2025.
Muse (noun) : a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.
What is it to be a Muse? History tells of countless women who have served, loved, assisted, and inspired the great artists of the time- often their romantic partners- to creative heights. The Muse is the source of knowledge and the conduit to fulfilling artistic potential. A necessary and pivotal puzzle piece in the elusive act of creation, too often she becomes a mere footnote once the art is revealed and the author recognised.
The goal of Muse- a self-portrait was to examine what it might be like to be one’s own Muse: to draw inspiration from one’s own work and journey, to trust that one’s view of self is an appropriate catalyst for artistic inspiration, and to recognise that a unique and identifiable artistic voice is a cornerstone of artistic maturity. As a mid-career composer, I am learning more and more to trust my voice and my ideas, and to recognise their worth on their own terms. There is a hard-fought freedom in reaching an age where this can be true, and yet this truth remains delicate and incredibly fragile. What will people think if I write what I like? Can I still be original/innovative/interesting if I sound like me? Shouldn’t I look outward for inspiration… or is it safe to look inward?
In his Season 5 podcast interview with Hugh and Josh van Cuylenburg of The Imperfects, Australian comedian, actor, writer, and musician Tim Minchin spoke of the struggle within the artist – even the ‘successful’ one – to recognise and accept that me at my most me is worth something. This is the wall that I hit time and time again when composing. At best, it provokes reflection and healthy critique, and the work is the better for it. At worst, it prevents the flow of ideas and makes one too self-critical. Comparison creeps in, authenticity is lost, and it starts to feel hard. Really hard.
Structurally, Muse- a self portrait loosely follows how my composition process plays out- a sudden burst of inspiration and the spark of an idea; the hard work of slowly fleshing out the ideas and making sense of them; and finally the well-earnt catharsis of flow when one has ‘found’ the piece and everything feels like riding downhill with the wind at your back. Many of my compositions are intentionally referenced and quoted throughout, and an indicative list is given in the 'partial bibliography'. I will leave it to the discerning listener to go hunting for these references if they so wish: it may provide an interesting exercise for the right person, but is certainly not required for understanding and (I hope) enjoying the work. No doubt there will be other quotations and references I haven’t mentioned, as it is not uncommon for a composer to lean on certain devices and processes even when they don’t mean to. None of our ideas are created in a vacuum, after all.
Parts of this work were easy to write, but not all. Like staring at one’s own reflection in a mirror for too long, I lapsed into discomfort and self-consciousness on many occasions. The act of self-quotation is something I’ve always been wary of in my writing – surely it means I’ve run out of original things to say?! One would think that sounding like yourself should be the easiest thing to do; this work has taught me that it is, and it isn’t. So while it is far from perfect- and what art really is?- writing this work has given me opportunity to take stock of what and how I write, to see my artist-self from different angles, and to be true to where my own voice takes me. This is a snapshot of me, today, at my most ‘me’.
Anne Cawrse © 2024
What is it to be a Muse? History tells of countless women who have served, loved, assisted, and inspired the great artists of the time- often their romantic partners- to creative heights. The Muse is the source of knowledge and the conduit to fulfilling artistic potential. A necessary and pivotal puzzle piece in the elusive act of creation, too often she becomes a mere footnote once the art is revealed and the author recognised.
The goal of Muse- a self-portrait was to examine what it might be like to be one’s own Muse: to draw inspiration from one’s own work and journey, to trust that one’s view of self is an appropriate catalyst for artistic inspiration, and to recognise that a unique and identifiable artistic voice is a cornerstone of artistic maturity. As a mid-career composer, I am learning more and more to trust my voice and my ideas, and to recognise their worth on their own terms. There is a hard-fought freedom in reaching an age where this can be true, and yet this truth remains delicate and incredibly fragile. What will people think if I write what I like? Can I still be original/innovative/interesting if I sound like me? Shouldn’t I look outward for inspiration… or is it safe to look inward?
In his Season 5 podcast interview with Hugh and Josh van Cuylenburg of The Imperfects, Australian comedian, actor, writer, and musician Tim Minchin spoke of the struggle within the artist – even the ‘successful’ one – to recognise and accept that me at my most me is worth something. This is the wall that I hit time and time again when composing. At best, it provokes reflection and healthy critique, and the work is the better for it. At worst, it prevents the flow of ideas and makes one too self-critical. Comparison creeps in, authenticity is lost, and it starts to feel hard. Really hard.
Structurally, Muse- a self portrait loosely follows how my composition process plays out- a sudden burst of inspiration and the spark of an idea; the hard work of slowly fleshing out the ideas and making sense of them; and finally the well-earnt catharsis of flow when one has ‘found’ the piece and everything feels like riding downhill with the wind at your back. Many of my compositions are intentionally referenced and quoted throughout, and an indicative list is given in the 'partial bibliography'. I will leave it to the discerning listener to go hunting for these references if they so wish: it may provide an interesting exercise for the right person, but is certainly not required for understanding and (I hope) enjoying the work. No doubt there will be other quotations and references I haven’t mentioned, as it is not uncommon for a composer to lean on certain devices and processes even when they don’t mean to. None of our ideas are created in a vacuum, after all.
Parts of this work were easy to write, but not all. Like staring at one’s own reflection in a mirror for too long, I lapsed into discomfort and self-consciousness on many occasions. The act of self-quotation is something I’ve always been wary of in my writing – surely it means I’ve run out of original things to say?! One would think that sounding like yourself should be the easiest thing to do; this work has taught me that it is, and it isn’t. So while it is far from perfect- and what art really is?- writing this work has given me opportunity to take stock of what and how I write, to see my artist-self from different angles, and to be true to where my own voice takes me. This is a snapshot of me, today, at my most ‘me’.
Anne Cawrse © 2024