IDENTITY one minute read

 

I am an old composer.

I am an old woman.

My bones though feel fresh. 

I have travelled far and yet I am nowhere near my destination. 

My breasts are still pert, my breath fresh, my libido intact.

I am an old composer.

I am a poet.

 

 I am a cherry picker of dreams and I pick my nose at night.

I am gay in my heart but in reality, I am straight.

I identify as a successful male composer

And yes, I would have liked to have a penis 

But that was really because I wanted the power that men have, that men still have.

I am an old composer. 

Fuck I am a woman. 

 

Most featured art music composers are still young men. 

The teachers of composition departments are mostly middle-aged white men. 

Sure a few women get a show. 

But did you know that only 11% of new art music featured on the BBC is by women?

But there are more women composing than that, I can assure you.

 

I walk by the roaring symphony of the North Sea every day

I am whole without accolades. 

I have a male composer soul-mate who sustains my vision.

 

I am an old woman composer 

Who identifies as a young successful male composer 

Help me!

No forget that, I will help myself 

I am worth it. 

I am a god, if only you knew!

Sunken Cities 8' for string quartet composed by Dr Self

https://soundcloud.com/selfmademusic/sunken-cities-8?si=41163cb0d0434afaa15bffb8f0a6fd80&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

 

Holkham Bay, North Norfolk

We agree to meet at 6.00am in the secret club house.Two Minute Read

I meet a tall, slim, mature man with long, wavey, fair hair. He has the feeling of a magician or a form of Dr Who. I am deeply attracted to him and he drives me in a sturdily armoured 4 x 4 truck along the side of a beautiful, clear, pollution-free river. It is summer and there are large oak trees set slightly away from the grassy banks that caress the winding river. The bank that we drive along is rocky and rough at first but then smooths out to grass and makes an easy ride. 

The Scene: Self, 2024.

We arrive at a club house in the woods, were I discover that the elegant man I am attracted to is a composer. He is meeting a choir to talk about a commission. We are so excited by each other that we agree to meet in secret the next morning at 6.00 am in the club house to have sex. He gives me a four digit code to the club house which is 4121.   

This is the dream I had last night. It was I fancy about the male soul that lives within me. He is a composer, he is my muse. He is also my husband, my lovers, my friends who support me and my infinite  imagination. If a male artist has a female muse then it is fitting that a woman needs a male muse. I am not transgender however I identify as male composer because I am outspoken and compose muscular music as well as beautiful music. I like pithy music drama like Martha's Rant in my opera The Butt which I composed for Musiktheatertage in Vienna in 2016.

https://youtu.be/ZAGo-Jmiv9w 

Dr Self conducting in Vienna 2016

But the dream has some other pointers. The infinite stream of clear and gorgeous music ideas that I have, the beauty of nature, the fact that being an artist is a rocky road sometimes. But most intriguingly of all that to get into the clubhouse, where I can join with my soul composer, I need a code.This final point reminds me how difficult it is to find the way into the accepted profession of composers. I still feel like on the outside but I am working on it!  

Her Self in Mexico

On Resonance: Two Minute Read

When you strike a tuning fork, its resonance continues for a very long time. This is also what happens with experiences. So my musing this morning is about the beautiful loft flat in Ghent at Claudine Bovyn's Beguinage tucked into the centre. The resonances continue: the creaky wooden floors, the slightly pooey smell from the drains below, the vast Norwegian sledge bed and the view of the famous three church towers from the loft window. To know that Van Eyk's iconic altarpiece was only as minute away filled me with delight.

Detail from Van Eyk's Altarpiece, Ghent

But even more during these months spent living in Ghent was the feeling that as an artist that anything in my imagination was possible. It was a time of multiple contracts singing for the Vlaamse opera. But I also composed my second symphony Memories, Dreams, Reflections in that enchanted loft . Days of waiting to be called to rehearsal facilitated this so that I interfaced composing with gentle walks down the main canal where Maeterlink would have wandered.

Memories

https://youtu.be/0EerLaeHKP8

Dreams

https://youtu.be/taT26j1fhTA

Reflections

https://youtu.be/VLUqLMu_0Xo

Now some considerable time later the resonance of the Ghent experience strikes as I sit in another version of that loft, The ARC in coastal Norfolk. It is A Room of My Own as Virginia Wolf would describe it. I have all day to compose and drink in the stunning view of the water meadow interlaced with walks by the sea. 

The ARC, Artists Retreat Centre, February 2024

The Norfolk Coast