“ Perhaps because my sense of homeland has diminished in my native country, I've become more capable of viewing things from a broader perspective.”

7115: Your piece, “Myriader af tabte minder (Myriads of Lost Memories) for Soprano and String Quartet had its world premiere last August at Rudersdal Sommerkoncerter. On social media, you’ve shared how writing about this “very private theme” of “the journey to a homeland forever lost” was challenging, but worth it. What did this theme mean to you?

Aya: Writing this piece held significant meaning for me. The project/piece is about lost childhood memories of the Danish soprano Ly Tran. She was born in Vietnam and came to Denmark with her family as boat refugees at the age of six. (They were on boat for 7 days.) Danish is Ly’s main language and even though she still speaks Vietnamese, she has no memories from the time before she was able to speak Danish. She lost memory of her first 6 years.

Honestly, I struggled many times with whether it's appropriate for me to depict this very "private" family history in musical form because turning it into music meant bringing to light the "ambiguous yet beautiful memories" of the past.

We often have negative feelings towards 'forgetting’. However, Ly tells me all the time she does not remember things with any positive or negative feelings, 

which was quite new for me. Writing this piece wasn't about recreating the lost six years of her life or finding a way back to her homeland; it was simply a journey of confronting the beauty of oblivion. It was a very long and enduring journey. In the process of depicting this work with no clear destination, as someone living the life of an immigrant, I contemplated what I could convey and where my homeland truly lies. The emotions I felt during this journey, with no set destination, are something I believe I will carry, search for, and seek in my future. Forgetting is beautiful. Remembering, or recalling what might have been, is also beautiful.

7115: It’s now been about a decade since you moved from your motherland, Japan, to be based in Copenhagen and The Netherlands. What does “home” look and feel like to you these days?

Aya: This question has been stuck in my mind recently a lot, where my “homeland” is. I got to be asked this a lot as I have a bit of a unique background here in Europe. I think what makes you feel at home is “language”. It means that if you have a common language with the others in the community or the country you might feel at home. At least I feel it. However, that language doesn't always have to be a linguistic language. It could be music, generosity for others, curiosity for innovative new things, respect for indigenous or even your existence.

7115: With this concept of home in mind, how has being part of different communities, both within the music world and culturally, shaped your creative perspective?

Aya: The act of composing itself might be akin to the act of searching for my homeland. It's an act of finding a common language with others (in a community/country), and creating music that 'takes root' in that space, generating universal music, which is finding my own place. Perhaps because my sense of homeland has diminished in my native country, I've become more capable of viewing things from a broader perspective.

7115: When you won the Zemlinsky Prize in 2019, your grand prize included a guaranteed major orchestral commission with a world premiere by the CCM Philharmonia Orchestra and CCM Ballet Ensemble. How does your creative process change when you’re also accounting for voice or dance to accompany your piece?

Aya: I feel that collaborating with voice and dance is a confrontation with human physicality. In other words, the way of communicating with the audience is a bit different from other forms of collaboration.

This ballet was written in 2020, when I was stuck in Bergen, Norway during the Covid period. As I saw the weird world from such an isolated place in Norway, I got this question in my mind, what do we control and what are we controlled by?

I am especially interested in the movements the dancers can’t control. Throughout the whole piece, there is a lot of “breathing sound” from both the dancers and the musicians. I thought “breathing” is a very natural organic movement of human beings, which is sometimes uncontrolled whether they are dancing or playing instruments. They have to breathe even if they have the role of a beautiful princess in the ballet story. The jumping movements might be a bit tricky to control because the dancers can’t be in the air for a long time even if they want to. The sound of their steps could not be really controlled because of the gravity of their body.

The first 3.5 minutes consist of controlled breathing sound which was made by musicians and uncontrolled breathing sound which was made by dancers. Also 'Who' is in control is also changing through the piece; sometimes controlled by a composer (me) via musical score, sometimes themselves, sometimes the limitation of mobility (to play instruments/play in the community of orchestra…). Therefore this piece was written with my curiosity about those uncontrolled organic body movements both in dance and also orchestra.

“ I think the mentality of 'creating something' is something that writers have to intend to maintain and then it's preserved.”

7115: How do you get through moments of creative block or increasing pressure? What are some key practices or lessons learned that you’ve integrated into your life?

Aya: Hmm… I still do not have a right answer but I've recently come to appreciate how grateful I am to do nothing. So literally doing nothing; Sitting on a couch, lighting candles and looking at fire's flicker or looking up at the sky. Just being like a cat. Or if I feel better, I would walk around…but without listening to music.

The most important thing for me to create my work is working on it literally everyday even for a small/short amount. It’s like a “creator’s workout” for me, a daily workout routine. If I don't compose regularly, I start feeling a decline in my skills, similar to how muscles weaken and tasks I used to accomplish become harder both physically and mentally.

I believe that for composers, the 'workout' involves writing music every day, even if it's just a small amount. I think the mentality of 'creating something' is something that writers have to intend to maintain and then it's preserved. It consumes such a significant amount of energy.