The Total Arc: How Artists Can Take Control of Their Careers, with Andrew Maxfield
Glen Nelson
Hello and welcome to another episode of the Center's Studio Podcast. Today, we'll be listening to composer Andrew Maxfield, who is our guest. Welcome, Andrew, great to have you here.
Andrew Maxfield
Thanks for having me.
Glen
Usually this podcast series interviews artists about what they make and why they make it. I want to discuss those things with you, too. But you possess some unusual skills that other artists listening might not have, but need to consider. You have degrees in music composition, but also an MBA, and you've taught artistic entrepreneurship at the university level. More than almost anybody I've ever met in the arts, you make things happen for yourself, which is just an extraordinary thing, Andrew. A lot of artists I know could use help with the business side of their business. Do you feel that you're a little unusual in that way?
Andrew
Well, I don't want to be unusual. But I guess that peculiar mix of artistic skills and business skills makes me a little bit different.
Glen
How did you come to realize that art making and business development were necessary companions?
Andrew
Well, I've never seen them as being antithetical to one another, or as even being that different. And just saying that out loud, I know, I can see the faces of so many people, artists and professors and people that just get riled up with me saying things like that. So when I grew up, my dad's an entrepreneur, also a very, very good amateur singer, did a lot of musical theater. My mom's a flute teacher. And I feel like I sort of inherited half of my brain from each of them. There's sort of like the creative half, and there's the businessy half, whatever that means. And we can talk about what business really means. But I actually feel like they're both creative halves, and they're inherently complimentary. And they don't have to be even seen as being all that different from each other.
Glen
We're talking about music today, because you're a composer, but I think this applies to everybody in Creative Arts, wouldn't you agree?
Andrew
Oh, absolutely.
Glen
A painter, a novelist, a composer, they all make things or have ideas to make things. But then they have to figure out what comes next. I know, from talking to songwriters, they're often asked what comes first, the music or the words? So I'll ask you, which comes first, the creation of the art or the creation of the opportunity?
Andrew
You know, I heard somebody once, I don't know, I can't remember the entire story, but I think it was Rodgers, Hart, or Hammerstein or somebody like that, was asked, which comes first: music or words? And they said "The book", meaning like, sort of the story comes first. And I, in my mind, I feel like that's kind of an answer here to where the projects, I've used the phrase 'total arc' before, where the projects that excite me are the ones where I can see kind of a total arc from the idea of the thing that I want to make, all the way to the audience in back. In other words, some kind of spark or connection between the creative thing and the people that could be reached by it. And I think of that as sort of, like, what's the story or the concept or the arc or the seed or something like that. And, you know, people talk a lot about, at least in music, like they talk about music as though it is the dots on the page, or it is the performance by the artists. But I think that art is really this kind of reciprocal energy where the creator of a thing through the interpreters of the thing, whatever, you know, whether we're talking about visual arts, with something hanging on the wall, or performing arts, like music, where you're, you're having your creative work interpreted and performed by other people. I think the actual art is sending some kind of energy forward towards people who could be reached by it, and then they lean forward and send energy back and it's that sort of like, reciprocal flow that I think is actually the art. The dots on the page are part of it, but they're not the whole story. And I think the projects that excite me are the projects where I can kind of sense a total arc. Where you see that little reciprocal flow happening, at least in your imagination, and that and that's where I see the both the artistic so to speak and businesses sides kind of activating simultaneously.
Glen
Yeah, whenever there's a transaction. I mean, a financial transaction in the making of art, then suddenly, there's a business component inherent in it. Stephen Sondheim at his most jaded in Merrily We Roll Along said that the thing that comes first for songwriters is the contract, not the music nor the words. Now, one thing that artists need today is some kind of online place where visitors can find you and your work. Is it just vanity? Why is that a priority? It seems sort of obvious, but why, I'd like to get your take on that. What does a website do for you?
Andrew
Yeah, maybe it seems obvious, but I don't think it is, that doesn't mean it has to be sort of, you know, thoughtless or whatever. A website is, I don't know, kind of your avatar, it's your representation of yourself in the great big marketplace of things and ideas out there. And I think some creative people tend to be shy, some tend to be extroverted, and what kind of avatar they send out into the world is really just a choice, I think. How do you want to be perceived? How do you want to be found? Do you want to be found? I don't know.
Glen
Well, you have a website, which is andrewmaxfield.org. What elements were important to you to create your site?
Andrew
You know in business, so-called, people talked about this idea called brand, which is... or not, maybe call it sort of the total instantaneous snapshot of who you are, what you represent, and, you know, big companies obsess about their brands, for good reason. You know, if you see the Apple logo mark, it conveys 1000 things instantaneously, it might even make you buy an Apple Computer, who knows. But I think in the arts, people have oftentimes artists have this kind of feeling like, you know, brand, like all other ideas and terminology from so-called business is inherently vain, or gross, or whatever. And I just think that's kind of silly. It's like, you know, if I were getting dressed to go meet people at a reception, and I asked myself, "Hmm. How would I like to be perceived in this situation?" And that would be kind of the equivalent of my brand. And so when I put my website together, I wanted to convey who I am. And I tend to be a pretty cheerful person. And I don't have a lot of artifice or pretense about making art that's only comprehensible to me. And so I put my smiling face on the front of the website. I often write in first person about myself. I don't, I try not to make whatever bio I put out there, sound highfalutin or full of itself. I like to talk about the things that interest me as a human being. And, you know, none of those are overtly businessy. But they all have, I hope, kind of a coherent brand, so to speak.
Glen
I should introduce you to our listeners. Fortunately, I'm looking at your website right now. Here's your "about" page bio. The compositions of Andrew Maxfield hailed as "rhythmically vital ... superbly judged ... [and] tender" by Fanfare Magazine have been performed throughout the U.S. and Europe. A recent winner of the King's Singer's New Music Prize and Jury Special Commendation. Andrew has been a Composer Fellow at the National Collegiate Choral Organization and Composer-in-Residence for Newburyport Choral Society. Recent commissions include choral works for the Barlow Endowment for Music Composition, Hillsdale College, and Salem Hills High School; an orchestral adaptation of the Caldecott honor book, They All Saw a Cat, for the Center for Latter-day Saint Arts in New York City, and a concert-length score for SALT Contemporary Dance showcased at Lincoln Center. His album, Celebrating Wendell Berry in Music, was released by Tantara Records and his "well-crafted, approachable" works says Dr. George Case of the Boston Cecilia, are published by Walton, Santa Barbara and Yalecrest. Ensembles who have performed Andrew's music recently include USC Thornton Chamber Singers, Emporia Symphony Orchestra, Carroll University Symphonic Band and Choir, Wingate University Singers, Utah Philharmonic, the Piedmont Singers, University of Pennsylvania Chamber Choir, and Choral Arts Initiative. Andrew studied music at Brigham Young University where he was valedictorian-- overachiever--and where he occasionally teaches. He has pursued advanced studies in counterpoint and harmony at the EAMA- Nadia Boulanger Institute in Paris, graduate composition studies at Boston Conservatory and Berklee, and doctoral studies at the University of Bristol in the UK. He also holds an MBA in Arts Administration from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. So all cool, congrats! On your website you also have a blog, a listing of your works, and information about how to commission music from you. People can email you directly and you sell recordings and scores, too. How do people interact with you through your site? And why is it important for you to have an online presence?
Andrew
Well, just last week, I got an email through my website from a choral director at a college in Maryland. And he said, "Hey, I like your Wendell Berry album. We've programmed some of your music. And given that we're in this COVID, modified class kind of situation right now, I was wondering if you'd be willing to join as a special guest with our Choral Society and talk about your music and give kind of a mini lecture presentation...my students." And that's a fabulous opportunity. For me. Every one of those builds my email list, at the minimum, it builds my connections, it leads to more performances, and all those kinds of things. Those are all good things. And, it comes because, at a minimum, I have a viable, outward-facing presence, like this website.
Glen
Do you also post on Facebook, and Instagram, and SoundCloud, and YouTube, and other things?
Andrew
I do. I don't know if I'm, you know, the most aggressive or inventive on social media, but I have a Facebook profile for my composer life. I have a personal Facebook profile, which honestly is sort of personal/professional, I think as it is for many, many people. I have an Instagram account for myself, and I have a SoundCloud profile and a YouTube channel. And one of my goals right now is actually to build those all out more robustly. It takes a lot of time, so it's a challenge to keep all those balls in the air.
Glen
It's so funny to hear from young composers about the way that they record and share music. Because when I first started working with composers as a collaborator, many many times at the end of a recital, the composer would slap his head and say, "Oh no, I forgot to get a recording." Well, today, there's no composer in the world who would think of letting an opportunity to record something pass without getting recordings, isn't that right?
Andrew
Yeah.
Glen
Yeah. Let's step back a little tiny bit. You talked about your parents and your influences. How did you decide to become a composer yourself? And why is music important to you?
Andrew
Going back to those kind of early days when I was a real little kid, I remember going to an orchestral performance. You know, one of these kind of young audience concerts. And I came out of it, and I grabbed my mom and I said, "Oh, I want to be the guy with the stick." You know, the conductor. And I got piano lessons. So that was, you know, pretty close. And from the time that I was little music was just, I guess, a priority in our home. Not that anybody expected us to become professional musicians. I think my parents just wanted to support us and in kind of worthwhile pursuits. But music caught my ear from day one. And I remember when I was a little kid before I could really read music, I would lie on the floor in our apartment, and I would be drawing circles on blank staff paper and call them like compositions and asked my mom to play them for me. So I could find out what they sounded like. And so there was this just inherent, childlike, fascination with music. And that just kind of kept going. And I don't know exactly where it came from, but it's just always been a part of me. When I came to university, I was doing a lot of music, but not considering being a music major. And Ron Simpson, who was at the time, the head of commercial music program at BYU, we became acquainted as neighbors. And he said, "Hey, Andrew, it seems like you do a lot of music and you do it pretty well. Have you ever thought about being a...dun-dun-dun...music major?" And I don't know why I hadn't thought about that, because I was always doing music. But he kind of persuaded me and helped me see a path for myself in the music school. And that was both good and I think in retrospect, maybe a little perilous, because the thing that was good is it turned me loose in a resource-rich environment where I could feed that musical curiosity. And that was awesome. The thing that might have been negative, is that suddenly I was exposed to this idea that there are composers with a capital C, like the the ones that have studied many degrees worth of stuff in order to declare themselves composers, and maybe composers with the lowercase C, those of us who are just, or I felt like a composer with a lowercase C. And so this, the academic environment actually I think sort of muddied my sense of self for awhile. Nevertheless, after I finished a music degree, just for my own entertainment, I was starting to write these choral settings of texts by the poet Wendell Berry, who's one of my literary heroes. And it was by doing that project, by nudging it forward just sort of following it where it wanted to go, that other people, primarily choral directors sort of became convinced that I was a composer, maybe even with a capital C. And they started asking for scores and programming my pieces. And it struck enough of a chord with them. And I'll add that somewhere along the way, I met Glen Nelson, and he said, "You know, you really ought to...you really ought to write more of this stuff." And they're so they're these people...
Glen
Did I really? I don't remember that at all.
Andrew
Yeah, yeah. Well, early on, I helped you digitize recordings of an opera that you sent to me on cassette, if I remember, right. Anyway, so we there were, there were these other people around me who thought I was a composer. And at some point, I looked at myself, and I thought, what if I am a composer? What if I take myself seriously as a composer and just give myself permission to really do this thing that I've loved since I was five?
Glen
I think every artist, no matter what their discipline is, you know, when they're young, had that moment when they think, "Am I an artist with a capital A?" I'd love to talk a little bit more about this academic side. Right now, I've always loved music, but I can't explain why really, or even describe what's in it. So I'm auditing a course right now on 20th century music and analysis and techniques from a university in San Francisco. And, you know, you can imagine I'm completely over my head. But I'm realizing more than ever before how complex the music I love really is. So what did you learn about composition in school? And would you think that a graduate degree in music composition is a prerequisite to being a fine art composer today?
Andrew
Okay, so let's break that down. What did I learn about composing music and do I think of that degree pathway as a prereq, to being an art music composer? So, the way that music theory, analysis, and literature are taught in universities, is typically in kind of a semi-chronological survey, kind of thing where it presupposes that there are a variety of people in the room, composers, performers, music, maybe music educators. And we're going to, we're going to learn a little bit about a lot of things on the way from typically, you know, with sort of a Western heavy vantage point from say, like 900, with plain chant, up until 20th century, 21st century stuff. And so you learn about all of these techniques, materials, landmark pieces along the way. And I think that's all really useful, because I think the goal is to become a link in the chain to some extent, to make a contribution by grounding yourself in what has come before. The thing, though, that I think happens is that, particularly in composition is we have this obsession with originality. And I think that's a very modern kind of obsession. And I think what it does is it lends itself to a lot of sort of like surface level style-based, kind of navel gazing and obsession with making new things that nobody's ever heard before. And I think it's worth contrasting. In previous generations, say like pre-war Europe, if you wanted to be a composer you would just go apprentice yourself with a composer. And you'd sort of a master craftsperson kind of thing and you'd copy parts and you'd learn the trade by doing the trade. And at some point, you would have copied enough parts and done enough counterpoint exercises and just sort of absorbed enough information that whoever was training you would say, "Well, okay, you know all the things I know now. Just go do your thing." And your own contribution would come sort of as a natural byproduct of having assimilated the techniques and materials that came before you and following your own questions. But I think it was a real craft focus at that point. I think if you fast forward to the modern era where everything happens in universities, with grades, and this obsession about being original, I think what happens is that I think composers are kind of like left in this sort of like echo chamber, or this hall of mirrors where everybody's worried about what they're like, all anxious about being special and being new and being something that nobody's ever heard before. And I think that leads to some kinds of risks. Risks of not finding your voice, because you're not grounding yourself. And honestly, because you're worried too much about your voice. And so, you know, I think probably most people get to a path of composing through that academic pathway. And maybe it's inevitable in our world right now. But it's not without its risks, and all things being equal, I wish that I had, I genuinely wish that I had just apprenticed myself to some terrific composer that I admired when I was in my teens, and maybe bypassed academia entirely.
Glen
I don't even know what I think about all that. I would think, at my age, because you know, I turned 60 on Monday, I would have thought that I would have had this all figured out, like, where I stand with some of the issues of modernity and invention and the priorities toward that. But they're really evolving. So I mean, I don't even know what I think about all of that. But one thing that I am quite sure of is, there are more artists than people to support them. When I was writing this book with Grant Johannesen, the concert pianist, he gave me a statistic, that there were 10,000 piano students who graduate every year with performance degrees in the U.S. alone. Like, what are these people supposed to do, to make a living?
Andrew
Well, I think that's, you know, I've had so many conversations about this, this, both at BYU and elsewhere, where there's ... the basic problem is that people go to college, and even if people go to college, because they believe that a college degree will lead to employment. There may be some altruism, like, you know, I'm going to become a more well rounded person or, or something like that kind of a more classical liberal arts approach. But I'd say by and large people go to college, because a college degree, the way it's perceived today is sort of a necessary, if not sufficient, stepping stone moving into whatever you're going to do with your life to pay the bills, you know. And that more or less makes sense, if you're going into some kind of applied discipline that links itself to a career path. If you're going to go study accounting, or graphic design, or engineering, or nutrition science or, as you know, any one of these kinds of things. But in the fine arts the problem is that students come with the same expectations, often with it with very little information about what lies beyond. And the schools don't correct them. They don't inform them on the way in saying, you know what, there's 10,000 students that graduate with piano performance degrees every year, you might want to think about that. And so there's a whole conversation about what that, what that means, but what it means for the schools, for the programs, for the teachers, for this structure, to have all of that. But I think that there's also just that challenging reality that people can train with or without a connection to the marketplace, so to speak, that exists out there.
Glen
Well, this is why I think our discussion today is so interesting, because these students graduate, they start making work. And I can visualize them sitting at home making something and then saying, "Well what am I supposed to do with it now?" Like, I've known plenty of composers, for example, who wouldn't dream of starting a major score without a performance of it lined up in advance. But poets on the other hand, work exactly the opposite way. They write works and then hunt for place for them to land. And when I talk with artists, a common sentiment is that they don't consider themselves to be very good with self promotion. So, what would you say to them? I'm sure that's something that you've heard from artists your whole life.
Andrew
Oh, absolutely. Well, it's, I think it's a little bit funny in one way, because if you take somebody, for example, who has had piano lessons for, I don't know, 20 years. That is a person who knows how to develop a skill through incremental, deliberate practice, one day after another after another after another. And what that person is basically saying is that I know how to work really hard, and make my fingers hit the right notes, but I'm not willing, able, to put in that same level of effort to do other things related to my career. Artists are really good at learning new things. But there's something that feels tricky or sticky, or something about this whole, the professional side of things, you know, and people say, well, it takes me out of my comfort zone, I'm not good at talking about myself, I don't want to promote my projects, that my work should speak for itself. Sure, fine. I mean, make a long list of all of those standard excuses, where you could say, you know, if I can practice the piano for three hours a day, I could probably also practice networking. I could do an elevator pitch of myself, I could write a prospectus for a project that's interesting to me. It's all, I think it's all just choice, skill, willingness to participate in the world the way that it is, rather than the world the way that artists wish it were.
Glen
Yeah, I think this is great. Let's give the listeners some possible solutions here. In my experience, artists are pretty good once they've established a relationship with an audience or a patron or a reader, wouldn't you say? But it's the gap of getting there, that seems to be the problem for them getting in front of people?
Andrew
Oh, yeah. You know, it's funny because I have a mentor whom I respect, enormously, who has helped me in my craft side, more than probably any other person in my life. And he and I were having a conversation once in which he lamented that he did not have any current commissions. And I asked him whether he had thought of attending any professional conferences and meeting directors or artistic administrators, you know, the kind of people that make the decision to commission things. And he just kind of had this deflated look on his face. And he said, "Well, I wouldn't even know how to do that." And so the thing that's fascinating is that he has all of the skill in the world to write incredibly beautiful music. And yet, there just feels like something unapproachable about this idea of talking to people, and I don't think it has to be that way.
Glen
Every once in a while, about monthly, I get an email from you that has the byline, 'Andrew's Brain Trust'. Can you describe that to our listeners?
Andrew
Oh, yeah, well. This is not a new idea. If you read Ed Catmull's book, 'Creativity, Inc'. (Ed Catmull being one of the founders of Pixar) he describes the idea of building a 'brain trust', meaning that some problems are tricky enough that it's good to throw a lot of good minds at the problem. In fact, it'd be a little bit naive to assume that one person alone with one vantage point can can really crack a complex problem. And so he advocates building a brain trust. And there are other people who've talked about this idea, too, about even building sort of a personal brain trust. Where whatever it is that you're trying to accomplish, you might be able to do it better if you had the input of people whose taste or insights or opinions you trust. And so I thought, well, I'm going to do that for myself. And so I have a short--this is not like my main email list of people that I send newsletters to--this is a shorter kind of sub-list of people whose opinions and taste and vantage points I trust. And on an occasional basis, it was kind of upset by COVID, but on an occasion basis, I just send out a little update that says, "This is what I'm working on. This is, these are some of the challenges I'm facing. These are some of the opportunities I see. If you see something that I'm missing, I'd love to hear from you." Part of it keeps me honest because I have this feeling like I want to be able to show progress. And knowing that I want to write to my little brain trust group means I want to, I want to hustle, I want to have something to show for myself. And then part of it is, I get responses back all the time. And sometimes it's "Oh, have you thought of X, Y, or Z?" or "You ought to talk to so and so." And those are invaluable.
Glen
The last one that you sent was just a month ago. And it highlighted 1-2-3-4-5 separate projects by you that are being premiered, commissioned or have won awards recently. It's really impressive, Andrew. And you also link it to scores. Whenever I read these emails, my first thought is, "How is Andrew managing to get all these projects going?" We're in a pandemic. Didn't you get the hibernation memo? And then at the end of the email you write, "As always, I have a variety of projects in the works. And I'd love to hear your ideas, reactions, insights, questions, etc. In the meantime, I hope you'll drop me a line and let me know how you are." I just think that's brilliant. Yes, you're brilliant! So let's talk about this. It's like you've created this community of fans and supporters. And I can't think of other artists who do this, regularly, in such an organized way. But I mean, what has the brain trust accomplished for you that just sending out an email or posting on social media, for example, wouldn't accomplish?
Andrew
You know, think about how you would talk differently to, I don't know, a close friend, versus how you would talk, if you were I don't know, giving a talk in church or addressing a large group. The brain trust, for me, is an opportunity to let my guard down, to be really candid. And there's nobody on the list who I don't know pretty well. And so I feel like I can ask for help, ask for guidance, ask for input. Treat it like a conversation that I might have, you know, with close friends as opposed to, my big email list includes people who've bought my album sometime in the last 10 years. I don't have any way to know whether they actually even care that much that I exist or if they've even ever listened to the album. Maybe they bought it for their neighbor, you know, for their aunt or something like that. It feels, it feels like a bigger group that's really important, but it's it's a different purpose.
Glen
Let's listen to a piece of your music. What should we hear?
Andrew
I think the fun recent choral pieces called 'The Door'.
Glen
So we've been talking about how to develop things. Tell us about this piece, how it came about from the business side of things, and then we'll listen to it.
Andrew
Sure. You know, when we talk about things, from the business side of things, I hope that what people will hear is that I'm equally committed to excellence in the craft of music composition, as I am into excellence in the execution of the business side of things, so to speak. So, and I mention that because, you know, not every project that I do is something that I look at and say, "Ah, you know, this is going to sell thousands of albums" or something. I was reading a collection of poetry, which I read a lot and I came across this poem called "The Door" by a Czech poet named Miroslav Holub. He's kind of a Czech William Carlos Williams. And I just looked at it, and I thought, "Oh, that is cool. That is fun. It's sort of whimsical and snarky and insightful all at the same time." And at the time that I encountered the poem, I was just on the heels of having written a whole bunch of kind of slow moving, gooey, choral stuff and I wanted something fresh and different and so the text jumped out at me. And I just, I wrote the piece, you know, that's kind of like the artist's story. You see something. You like it, you make it, where, you know, maybe self-expression is sort of the beginning and then end of the game. But after I wrote the piece, and then I thought, this is a pretty good piece> I believe in this piece. Who would sing this? And a friend of mine has a chamber choir. I knew they had a summertime recording session. And so I shared the piece with him. And they agreed to record it during the summer and put it on an album and that was a win. And then another person I had met has a fabulous chamber choir in Los Angeles, and I emailed and said, "Hey, listen, I have this new piece. I know that you've got programming coming up, would you be interested in doing the West Coast premiere of this piece?" And they said, "Wow, yeah, we'd like that." So they programmed it. And then I applied to be a composer fellow at the National Collegiate Choral Organization. And that same piece was showcased at their national conference by another choir. And so I mentioned those things, because in this case, the piece had sort of an organic artistic genesis. I just liked it, and I made it. But then once I had the thing, I looked at it and said, "Okay, I want to find 15 ways that this can be useful to me right now. Who do I contact and what do I do next?"
Glen
It is sort of different from the way that a number of composers work where they look for commissions or grants or opportunities before they even start writing the piece. You sort of created product as it were, and then tried to find the right place for it, is that accurate?
Andrew
Well, yeah, and I, here's a, here's a perspective. And it might sound super crass, but I'm kind of okay with upending conventional wisdom, sometimes. A Pulitzer Prize is both a amazing achievement, a significant award, and it's a $10,000 check. And if I can think of a project that makes $50,000 from album sales, that I also believe 'dance on its own feet' artistically, I'm just as interested in that as winning a Pulitzer. Because it's within my control. I can't, you know, you think about the way a lot of composers work is they they hunt around for commissions and they hunt for prizes to win and it's a pretty desperate feeling because you're always putting your future in somebody else's hands, waiting for them to decide that you're worthy, waiting for them to write a check, waiting for something to happen somewhere. And, you know, listen, I've done my best in those kinds of things, too, despite the fact that the odds are just about as bad as Grant Johannesen's assessment of piano majors entering the market. And sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't. But the stuff that's in my control, where I can see that total arc from my idea to an audience and back, and I just see the possibility of it. That is so exciting. And it's something, you know, I can write my own Pulitzer check. No, I mean, that sounds terrible, but I can write my own check in the sense that I can be in charge of the success of the thing.
Glen
And of course, this would apply to any of the arts fields, not just music. Now, I hope you won't mind, but I want you to tell a story. This is an incredible story, I think, of your trip to New York when you stayed at my place a couple of years back. Specifically two stories: going to Juilliard, and then crashing the gala at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. So is that okay with you? Okay, so these two stories are so instructive on how anybody with a little determination can get themselves into the room where it happens. Okay, so Andrew is providing a masterclass of networking here. So, first the Juilliard story. What happened, and what came from it?
Andrew
So I feel like the least probable way to achieve a breakthrough is by sitting by myself and staring at the wall and waiting for something to happen. When I've made strides forward in my life, it's usually because I go someplace where things are happening and where there are conversations to be had. And it's hard to know in advance, which conversations will be productive, like you cannot predict. But you can be certain that if you're not having conversations, nothing will happen. And so, in about 2016, where I was finally coming around to saying, you know what, a lot of other people think I'm a composer, I wonder if I'm a composer, I decided to come to New York. And my wife, Liz and I came out, and I just lined up conversations with absolutely everybody that I could find, who knew more than I knew about the world of composing both on the sort of technical skill development side and on the business side. And some of those conversations led nowhere, which is fine, you know, it's like a batting average. But in one, I talked to a composer, I showed him scores, and I said, "I'm thinking about doing some skill development." And he said, "Wow, you know, for what you're writing, you should absolutely study at the EAMA, European American Musical Alliance, or the Nadia Boulanger Institute at the time, program in Paris." He said, "Why don't I write you a letter of recommendation?"
Glen
Is this somebody that you had known before?
Andrew
No, no, because early in the process of finding myself as a composer, I asked myself, "Hmm, who do I know who knows composers?" And so I emailed a friend of mine, Nate Botts, who studied trumpet at Juilliard, and said, you know, "Do you know any composers?" He said, "Oh, yeah, a friend of mine named Adam Schoenberg, studied composition at Juilliard and has had a pretty successful path. I bet he'd be happy to talk to you. He's a nice guy about your same age." And so I talked to Adam and ended up meeting him in Los Angeles. And he said, "Oh, well, if you're ever in New York, you should talk to Ray Lustig." And I pay attention to stuff like that. And so when I was going to New York, I thought, Ray Lustig, I had to talk to this guy. And he was the one that wrote me a letter of recommendation for this Boulanger Institute, which is a terrific summer program, really intensive, counterpoint, harmony and analysis study that, in a way helped me more than anything I learned in my undergraduate program.
Glen
Really? I remember you came back to our apartment after meeting him. And you were just shocked that he just volunteered to write this letter of recommendation. And he said, "Oh, by the way, the deadline for submissions for this thing is like Sunday."
Andrew
Oh, yeah, that's right. So I put together an application and the next morning, as soon as FedEx opened I was down there. Yeah, it was, I don't know. You just have to. I feel like there are people whose antennae are up and ready to, like, give and receive help, to try things, to do things and then there's people who are intent whose antennae or just kind of down, for whatever reason. And that's not a judgment so much as to say that it's within our control, to sort of raise those antennae and be ready to have conversations and ready to offer help, and receive help, and to explore. And those are all hugely beneficial things to do.
Glen
I remember on that same trip that you and Liz said, "Oh, we're going to go to this party in Brooklyn." And I thought, "Oh, that's nice. You know, have fun. Be safe on the subway." But you weren't there just to have fun, were you? So why don't you describe the event and what happened?
Andrew
Yeah, so and in fairness, I feel like Liz gets tired of the fact that I almost never go places just to have fun. You know, my mind's always percolating on connections or projects or whatever. All I can do is just say, I'm guilty as charged. But I had been aware of this really cool concert at the Brooklyn Academy of Music prior to booking our New York trip. And so I got tickets. And this was the retirement concert for the former president of Nonesuch Records, Bob Hurwitz, who I think is a just an absolute gem of a human being and has done really, really great things. And so I bought tickets, and then emailed a friend, who is now the president of Nonesuch Records. And that was another byproduct of similar networking. And I said, "Hey, I'm coming to the concert." And he invited us to come up to the after party, and so in the after party, and, you know, just standing shoulder to shoulder with Steve Reich, John Adams, and Dawn Upshaw, and the Kronos Quartet, and the list just kind of went on and on and on. And I struck up a conversation with Adam Guettel, got his phone number, and we've been in contact since, and I feel like those kinds of opportunities are everywhere all the time, maybe more frequently in New York, let's be honest, than in say, Provo, but the opportunity is everywhere.
Glen
I remember that Liz, were talking to the Kronos String Quartet, they said, "Oh, what do you do?" And she said, "Oh, I'm a composer. "Oh, do you write string quartets? You should send me one."
Andrew
Yes, indeed.
Glen
That's pretty extraordinary. There are these gatekeepers in the arts. And we need to figure out how to get through the gate. When you're figuring things out, do you sit down and actually draft a plan of attack of how you're going to network and how you're going to do business development?
Andrew
Yes, but maybe it's not so, it's not like I'm building PowerPoint presentations or something like that. I do think about, I ask questions like "What would have to be true in order for this project to happen?," then spend some time kind of reverse engineering, those different, I don't know, dominoes that would have to tumble in order for the big thing to be true at the end.
Glen
My wife is an extraordinary networker, and I'm not particularly good at it. I'm a good friend, but I'm not a really great networker. It just doesn't come.
Andrew
You are a good friend, Glen.
Glen
Some of these things just don't come to me naturally, I have to work at it. But once I attended an exhibition opening of an artist-friend at his Fifth Avenue gallery. And this guy was everywhere in the room, talking up the New York Times art critics and wealthy patrons, collectors, and average folks, as well as well-wishing friends. At the end of the evening, the gallery manager walks up to him and says, "How did you learn to do that? Like, I've never seen an artist work a room like you just did." And he said, "I was a Mormon missionary, we know how to do it." And I've never forgotten that. For you, where does your boldness come from?
Andrew
Well, you know what, that's interesting, because my wife, Liz and I have this kind of ongoing conversation where she describes herself as a shy extrovert. Did I get that right? Yes, shy extrovert. Where for her, it's a little bit of a challenge to like, start up a new conversation. But she does. She thrives on social interaction. Human interaction just fills up her batteries. She describes me as a conversational introvert. Where the truth is, I don't love parties. I really don't love large group gatherings. Just going to some sort of large gathering, you'll usually see me, you know, slink from the front door somewhere towards a bookshelf where I can see what books somebody has. I'm not a social gadfly. Except, if I have a project in mind that I'm excited about. And it isn't that I feel like disingenuous. It's just I think that a lot of artists can relate to this, which is where there's there's a difference between the person that you are all the time by yourself and the person that you are when you're on a stage, or playing a part in a play, or performing, or something like that. So that's what I do. I don't actually really enjoy small talk with new people, figuring out what makes them tick. And then I have, I don't know, like a folder full of potential projects in the back of my mind all the time. And I'm always just sort of like listening for potential little connections. Did I get that as a missionary? I don't know, because I found it to be tremendously awkward to walk up to people in the street and bother them. I don't think I'm good at that. But if you like, you know, practicing the piano example, before, if you do that, for two years, you probably do develop a certain boldness or willingness to just try it or open your mouth or realize that nothing really bad's gonna happen if you, if you flop.
Glen
Let's listen to another piece of music and just like we did with The Door, why don't you tell us how it came about from a developmental side?
Andrew
Okay, so this is a piece called Nightingale. The actual title of the poem is Negative Capability, which is a idea of being able to hold opposing ideas in your mind. But, again, I found the text in a collection of poems that I liked a lot. And it struck me as a piece for solo voice rather than for an ensemble. And I kept it in the back of my mind. And here, you know, I applied for a Barlow grant. And I had this text among others in mind. And in the meantime, had met Robert Baldwin, who's the Director of Orchestras at the University of Utah, and the music director, the artistic director for the Salt Lake Symphony Orchestra. And so I approached him and said, "Hey, I have this idea for a song cycle for soprano and orchestra. Would you be interested in premiering the piece and contributing to the commission if the Barlow endowment were toward the commission?" And he said, "Well, yeah, we'd love to do that." And so they conditionally put up some cash to do the commission. And then the commission did come through for Barlow. So I've got a this is a piano soprano version of that piece that will be part of the larger song cycle, which was meant to be premiered last fall, actually, and then was cancelled because of COVID. So it'll be in this upcoming season.
Glen
Alright, let's listen.
Glen
Some folks assume that people with talent just have doors open to them, like cream rising to the top. That's not been the experience of most of my friends. Those who get somewhere seemed to build the path for themselves. What does it take for somebody to be successful in the creative arts today? I know that we've hinted at this a lot. But when you've taught at the university level on these topics, how do you describe what it takes to be successful and how you get through the door?
Andrew
Well, I think there's a lot of people that have tried to debunk that myth of the lone wolf, the creative genius in the wilderness or just inventing amazing things ex nihilo. I think that a phrase that I like that came from Austin Kleon's book is 'scenius', like become a you know, portmanteau of scene, like a artistic scene, and genius. Be a scenius, in other words, sort of like join, be part of something. And people that are "surprise successes" are almost always not: a) they're years and years in the making, and b), they're the byproduct of a scene. And that doesn't diminish anything about what they've accomplished. It's just sort of pulling back the curtain and showing the way that reality is. I think, for people who are aspiring artists, we've got choices to make. We can continue to believe that we just need to make cool things, and people will eventually discover us, which is I think, kind of silly, like, you know, you take a step back from that and say, really, is that really how you think the world works in 2021? You know, that, knowing something about the landscape of funding and arts organizations, and all the rest of that just makes it even more ridiculous. So you can choose to just sit there and wait to be discovered, or you can say, "You know what, I want to find my scene, find my tribe, I want to find my collaborators." And I think that's inherently energizing, and rewarding, because good collaborators just add so much to the world of possibilities. And then you can say, "Well, I could wait around for somebody to commission me to make something or I could figure out how to commission myself." You know, it's just one choice after another. And I think if you stare at them long enough, you realize that there's not a right or wrong answer, but there's a lot of power that's within your control.
Glen
Certainly, communicating with people that you've never met before, could not possibly be easier today than it's ever been, right?
Andrew
Absolutely, absolutely.
Glen
I get emails from artists all the time, probably one every other day. Many are people I've never heard of, sometimes thousands of miles away from me, sometimes not in my native language, but I'll tell you what, I'm always excited to discover their work. And I always respond to them personally. And if there's a way that I can be of use to them, you know, sharing their work with people I think would like it, or putting them on the radar of influencers, or helping them connect to like-minded artists or whatever. I always try to do that. Most of them aren't really asking for professional advice or anything. They simply want to share who they are.
Andrew
Oh, yeah, I feel the same way. And I think it's helpful to play a little reverse-the-roles game. For artists, I think one of the hard things about being an artist is spending too much time in your own head. But if you turn around and say, if somebody approached me, and wanted to share something that they'd made, or wanted advice, or wanted a connection, or wanting to just think out loud, how would I respond? And I'm happy to help. I like being a helpful person, I feel like there's something very, you know, it's good karma to be a helper. And I think that most people out there actually have something like that in their DNA. And if you reach out to somebody that you don't know and nothing comes of it or if they're grumpy or whatever, then so what? No harm, no foul, you know. You just keep on moving. But I've met so many people who are interested in doing fun things, in making beautiful stuff, and making things happen. That who are glad to hear from me--not because it's me, not because I'm special, but just because that's the way we're wired--that I just have no hesitation now about being proactive and reaching out like that. In fact, there's an orchestral director in Michigan, and I was aware that he did some young audience programming, and I'm working on a new piece right now, an orchestral piece for young audiences. And I said, "Hey, can I can I get your advice on this piece?" because I want to make sure that it's something that orchestras would be willing to program because there's a lot of important constraints that affect programming decisions. The number of players, the number and the type of instruments. I could go on and on. And he says, "Sure, I'd love to talk to you." So we had this great conversation. And then at the end of the conversation, I said, "So if I, you know, if I nail this, would you be open to, to programming it?" And he said, "Oh, if you nail that, I'd be totally open to programming it."
Glen
Yeah, that is so insightful. I've found in my life, that the the easiest way to make friends is to ask for help. It's counterintuitive, in a way. But that's been my experience.
Andrew
You bet.
Glen
To end our discussion, I have four questions for you, that I think listeners can benefit from hearing your responses. Are you ready? Here we go. How do you deal with rejection?
Andrew
I have a folder I call my "failure folder." And I put all my rejections in there. And I celebrate them by saying, "If I'm not failing, frequently, I'm not reaching. I'm not stretching far enough."
Glen
Number two. Once you make a connection with somebody who might be helpful to you, how do you keep that relationship alive?
Andrew
Okay, at a tactical level, I have a little contact app kind of thing where when I meet somebody who strikes me, as you know, unusually potential kind of collaborator or something like that, I'll just make a note of it. And so I have a long list of choral and orchestral directors, for example, and in ensembles and things. And periodically, every couple of months, I'll just look at the list, and I'll see who's on it. And sometimes I'll say, "Oh, wow, you know, this person, there has been no reason to reach out to that person in previous months. But now I'm thinking of a project. And I'd like to pitch it, I'd like to get input on it, I'd like to ask for advice, or help or something like that."
Glen
Number three. Tell me about the importance of professionalism as an artist, and I'll tell you what I'm thinking. When I have to deal with a whole bunch of artists, let's say on a single project, maybe there are two dozen different artists all collaborating together, the people who respond first are the people who are the most accomplished. And I think to myself, "How is it possible that they have time to write first?, when I know these other people aren't as busy," but they're simply more professional. So tell me about, in your view, what is the importance of professionalism as an artist?
Andrew
Well, I don't think you can overstate the importance of professionalism. But you also can't overlook the fact that it is a series of skills that are learnable. And when I meet musicians who are always late, who don't reply to email, who always seem kind of distracted and confused, rather than saying, "Wow, they're not professional." I think, "Well, they're not very skilled at a handful of things that matter a lot." And at the end of the day, I would like to be as skilled of an orchestrator and composer, as I am at owning and managing my own workflow and professionalism. With all that that entails.
Glen
Once I went to an opera that Nico Muhly wrote. And if you're just listening and don't know who he is, he's a real A-lister composer. No longer up-and-coming. He's really the guy. And I wanted to play a piece of the music from this opera. So I got his email. And I wrote to him thinking, well, there's no way he's going to write back to me, like this guy is the most in-demand person on the planet in his sphere. Sure enough, within two hours, there was a reply. And he had also cc'd some assistant or somebody who made sure that I had the recording, a midi version of the recording and the score. And I was dumbfounded. And I thought, "He doesn't know me." It was just extraordinary. And then I started thinking, "I wonder if this kind of professionalism isn't, you know, one of the reasons certainly not above talent, but one of the reasons why he's so successful."
Andrew
Some of us have images in our mind of like a Miles Davis, who plays with his back to the audience because he couldn't care less because he's too cool for that or what, you know, whatever, or, you know, pick your moody artist who is just, you know, too artistic for email or something like that. And I look at that and think, "Well, maybe that's fine for them. Maybe they got to that point after having been more contractual and punctual and aware earlier in their careers, what do I know? But all I know is that will not work for me."
Glen
Number four. What's the best experience you've had in your career so far, that was a result of you acting entrepreneurially?
Andrew
Okay, well, a recent highlight. We were sitting up in that cool theater looking out over Columbus Circle, at the Association of Performing Arts Presenters National Conference and SALT Contemporary Dance was showcasing an excerpt of a larger work for which I had composed the score. And I was sitting in this theater. I mean, it looks like a million bucks up there. And watching a fabulous dance performance and hearing my music and watching people who don't know me, who aren't related to me, sitting in that theater responding to the dance and the music. That moment wouldn't have happened, were it not for a lot of, I don't know, hustle and networking and friendly connections with that dance company and so forth. But it happened, and man, it was cool.
Glen
And I hope people listening have really enjoyed this conversation. There's so much insight that you have. Would you be willing to field questions if somebody emails you directly about this?
Andrew
Yeah, you bet. I often do.
Glen
Yeah, so Andrew's email is andrew.maxfield@gmail.com and again, your website is andrewmaxfield.org. Thanks so much, Andrew. This was really, really, great. On behalf of the Center for Latter-day Saint Arts I want to thank you all for listening. Be safe, goodbye.