While working on some of my ideas for experiments, I wanted to for myself see what my audience sees, and to compare how it feels for me, as performer and in a way as audience. I tried different manners of eye contact and story-telling with expressions, as that was my focus and using my face as the only part of me the audience could see if they sat around the piano. I had recorded three "variations". The first (left) – a "control" version. With no "prompt", just playing as a regular performance, and also assuming the audience are seated in a normal way. In the second version (center) I wanted to get as much eye-contact time as possible, so I was only looking at my hands when I technically had to. The imaginary audience was now the camera itself, "sitting" close and in front of me. Additionally, I wanted to selectively separate this element from others, so I directed myself to keep my face as expressionless as possible apart from the gaze direction. I was inspired, among other things, by a paper revealing how meticulously master pianists consider every small detail about their performance, from the signaling movement of their palms at the beginning of a piece to their attire and the way they walk whilst they enter the stage.37 These are all part of the theater of the performance, regardless of it being a musical performance. I wondered if I could concentrate this way of thinking into this focused element of the gaze. The third version (right) was the free one – using eye-contact, but not only, with the goal of delivering the most communicative, personal, affective, of the story. I have actually repeated this exact experiment a few times throughout the journey of my research process, and the videos shown here are not the first attempt at this, but rather the most recent edition (February 2025). Interestingly, other than some more radical "face-acting" attempts, all renditions are quite similar and with similar results.
In the first version (the left side in the video), the perceived communication style for me did not feel like the "interpersonal" style that I was looking for. It seemed more "intrapersonal", or a combination of that and the "public communication" style – the performance did not feel directed at me personally. In some parts I seemed playing "for myself", and in some parts as "a performance", an act, with a clear fourth wall, so it was directed at an audience but a very general audience and without a direct acknowledgement of a specific individual. In this version I had tried playing as I would in a normal classical performance. So I was mainly looking at the keyboard and at my fingers, and even when I was looking up – it was not so noticeable that a real audience could perceive directly, especially because in that situation because they would not sit in front of me or around the piano this close, as the camera was put.
As performer, I of course felt I was trying to tell a story, and you can see that even in the video of the first version in my movements and in my intuitive expressions. They are not conclusive and are not all the time affective, but I felt the two directions of attention are clear – I was with myself, looking inwards, and at the same time remembering (at points vaguely) that I'm trying to convey it to others. However, this attempt of communication felt impeded. I was busy thinking about the "what" and the "how", instead of "just doing". Thoughts about building the musical phrases, the sound quality, which emotions I'm trying to convey, the overall structure of the piece and how to connect the sections – all those deflected me from actually achieving my goal of communicating what I want to communicate with the piece. I was trying to play it right – the way I worked on it with my teacher, repeating the interpretational choices I have made and following through, doing everything correct and the way I decided it should be, trying to achieve my best. But as a listener, I hear how the right moves are being done, but it feels a bit unnatural, it does not completely fit. It is not bad, but it does not feel completely authentic. That is because there cannot be a perfect formula for a performance of a piece; it has to be adjusted to the specific moment and environment with all its variables – the place, the time, the people, etc. In summary, one thing is very clear to me from this experiment as both performer and listener – in both the second and third versions, there are more technical mistakes and less control (wrong notes, worse sound quality, etc.), but there is much freedom, looseness, authentic intention, and natural communication.
Personally, I love both aspects of this duality of performance – how it can serve as a tool for sharing very personal things with other people, and at the same time a wonderful opportunity to connect and converse deeply with oneself. In conclusion from this first take, I realize that this is a kind of "performance for myself" – performance that is close to the "Poundian" ideal; it is making music "with" oneself, and allowing others to watch, giving them an opportunity to see or experience something. And while this self-connection aspect is very nice, I realize it has a great downside, especially as a classical musician. It brings the danger of thinking too much, analysing the technical musical details instead of being connected to what is actually happening in the room.
When we are in a conversation we are not constantly analyzing every word and intonation we say – even if we make a mistake and correct ourselves, we focus more on the flow, the overall meaning, and we do not even consciously think about many of the signals we give through non-verbal communication. We are acting naturally and we know what we mean to say and communicating it is a natural process. This could be an ideal for musical performance too – if playing music were as natural as speaking, we might be able to communicate much better and more easily if we treat it the same way, just focus on the meaning and let our bodies do the unconscious work for us (this, of course, requires being a trained musician that has learned a piece or can improvise as fluently as speaking one's native language). And I do think that in the third iteration of me playing the prelude it was clear to me, on both sides of the lens, that the communication process worked the best. The second version was also better than the first in that there were parts where the intense eye contact was getting very deep and actually made me very emotional as a viewer. But at some points it was too forced, especially when it was technically harder, and the "poker face" were at times helping and at times subtracting from the emotional experience. While there is still room for improvement, for example in being more free and versatile with the expressions, the difference between the first and last versions is immense, and in longer performances it could grow a lot more.
One of the main ideas of the following experiments is testing how eye contact can influence the agency of the audience. An interesting point of view on the topic is found in Vivia Kay Kieswetter's paper, which studies the transformative force of the gaze – in a specific kind of liturgical dance performance. When Kieswetter starts with "reframing the gaze", she cites Laura Mulvey from her essay "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema" – defining the spectator's gaze in performance as a heterosexual "male gaze", which has the power to subvert the agency of the performer, for example by objectifying it. Kieswetter claims that the performer can use their own gaze to disarm the harmful "male gaze" and to reclaim their own power.38
Kieswetter continues with other descriptions of a subject's gaze, relating more to Christian art, but most importantly recognizing the intricately complex social nature of it. For this, she cites David Morgan from his book The Sacred Gaze: "I understand the concept of gaze to mean a visual network that constitutes a social act of looking. A gaze consists of several parts: a viewer, fellow viewers, the subject of their viewing, the context or setting of the subject, and the rules that govern the particular relationship between viewers and subjects [...] The central structure of the gaze as it is most frequently constructed in visual experience is the relation between subject and viewer."
Kieswetter goes on from this framing the gaze as a builder of community to elaborate on how the rules of these relationships are co-constructed in the specific context of a dance performance – which is less relevant here. But I find it an incredibly inspiring view on the power and many facets of the human gaze. In the context of this study, where audiences will be brought into situations where they would be more active and could be considered "participants" or even "performers", it can be possible to connect this relationship of spectator and subject with a follower and leader type of relationship. Satoshi Kawase investigated the correlation between gaze and synchronization with players of a piano duo. Other than demonstrating how mutual gaze enhanced synchronization (before tempo changes), Kawase also observed that under the specifically assigned leader/follower condition – "the duration of the follower's gaze towards the leader was longer".39 This clear fact raises the question of whether this kind of relationship can be created in the opposite direction – meaning, if an assigned follower naturally looks toward the leader for longer durations while the leader looks at the follower less, could a performer use long duration of gaze to instate the role of leader in an audience?
Kawase also surveyed and gathered information from music performers and audiences regarding the importance of various communication cues in musical performance. He mentions that while sound itself received a high ranking, many other studies have already shown that visual information can "more significantly affect the conveyance of performers' intention" than auditory information. Facial expressions of the performer was deemed highly important by both sides in the study, and the gaze of the audience got into the ranking as well, but the gaze of the performer is absent. Those results are in line with how we perceive most musical performances, including the fact that basically no importance was given to communication cues between audience members. Apart from showing the vastness of information that is delivered and received at any given moment of a performance and the complexity of it, this suggests that any change of the prescribed formula – like introducing forced importance of the performer's gaze – could have major consequences. A study on social attention and eye contact, by Megan Freeth et al., again reiterates how powerful direct gaze is as a social cue. These researchers also specifically found that participants were much more likely to look back at the interpreter's face when being asked a question than when giving an answer.40 That is another example of the connection between direct gaze and social connection – the direct gaze of the participants is used as part of the listening mechanism and the response and feedback mechanism. The effect is related to the direct gaze made by the experimenter, and that demonstrates the kind of spell that direct gaze can put on people, grabbing their attention and forcing them into a closer social situation. A review that focuses on the affective reactions to eye contact by Jari Hietanen shows "accumulating evidence that eye contact automatically activates affective systems" in our bodies. More than that, it suggests that it "leads to enhancement of self-awareness, memory effects, activation of pro-social behavior, and positive appraisals of others"41– effects that relate positively to both intrapersonal and interpersonal communication. In my experiment here and the following ones I have noticed some of implications of these theories, including from my own perspective and in audience members' comments.
The main relevant goals of this experiment is related to the audience as a group of individuals, and to the process of learning and discovery. Rather than focusing on the performers and their communication with the audience, I wanted to see how a musical experience can serve as a tool for bonding – for taking a collection of people and connecting them, making them grow as a group.
I have built a performance in which the audience has to participate, explore, and also try to figure out what in fact their new role is. We, the performers, designed a "musical map" of the room in such a way that each wall-surface corresponds to a different musical "style", or collection of elements – which are inspired by spacial-visual environments. An audience member is handed a flashlight with the written instruction to explore, and to share it with the others. Thus they become a leader – they act as a representative of the whole group in a way, and they chose for the others where to look, they guide everyone's gaze. Unknowingly at first, they also become leaders of the musicians, pretty much like conductors – their movements create and influence the music, with arguably even more control than a conductor has; the musicians don't know what music they will play the next second, and the audience chooses for them.
The idea of a musical experience as a tool for group-building and connection-making is not new. When early humans transitioned from hunter-gatherer lifestyle to a more stable agricultural societies, they also started living in larger communities. This transition created a need for forming larger-scale communication in order to keep a stable society and to establish the group's shared identity and values. Things that were previously done on a one-to-one basis, caring for each other, teaching, sharing in person – could now longer serve the community as a whole because it became too big. There was just no sufficient amount of time for each person to individually get to know and connect with every person in the community.42
In this context, people found new ways for group communication. Ceremonies are a great way to incorporate large-scale communication in a society. People can use them to share experiences and participate together in activities that bond them with shared physical or emotional structures. This concept of enhancing a "group feeling" through shared experiences and endeavors is studied these days in a field called entitativity studies. This field of study addresses the level to which a collection of people feel like a group (level of entitativity), what factors influence that feeling, and what people can do in order to have control over that. Some factors include similarity (shared characteristics and values), interaction (frequent and meaningful communication), interdependence (reliance on each other for achieving goals), and common fate (shared outcomes).
My experiment deals with some of these elements. Interdependence and common fate are at play here – even though it might be vague, and while there is no talking during the performance so each person is to themselves, they are essentially working together to try to understand what is happening, and what is the relationship between the flashlights, the space and the music. They are also collaborating with the musicians, and it is clear that they have a great amount of influence on the whole experience – on the process of the performance and on its outcome and what they get from the experience. The fact that there is one or two people at a time that direct the event (the ones holding the flashlights at a certain moment) makes it resemble even more to a ritual or ceremony – they are acting as the facilitators, they control the flow and give instructions.
Another aspect that I had special interest in is similarity. Research has shown that physical similarity, even as simple as mirroring movements, can have a great influence on people's connection and level of entitativity.43 In this experiment, there is actually a form of this similar movement – with gaze direction. As people has commented after the performance, they were fascinated and closely followed the movement of the lights, trying to understand what kind of control it had.
It was very interesting to see during the performance and to hear in the conversation after it the various expectations they had. I had decided that not every aspect would be relayed in the music – this was about space so the main factor was the location of the light. So the speed or shape of the movement, how close or far it was from the surface – officially did not have an influence on the music. Curiously, it was also sometimes hard to ignore as a player, and at points we did react to it. More than that, the audience said that sometimes they felt as if we were guiding them! They were also very curious if something special would happen when they shined both lights at the same spot. So the experiment gave a lot of information regarding expectations that people can have and elements that can be used.
More specifically regarding my expectations, I can say that this experiment definitely was socially successful. There were almost no comments regarding only the aesthetics of the music – this was clearly not perceived as something that was about the music by itself, and all the comments were about the experience and the process. People were not focused on the music as music, but as a tool in the experience – a tool used for learning what to do and how to deal with this new situation, new social context. They were eager to understand. And as I had written, my goal was for them to try to understand, but it was not important whether they figure everything out or not. The shared process they went through, shared knowledge, shared goal and outcome – were enough.
It was helpful to get a lot of feedback both from the audience and from my own experience and reflection – starting to grasp the amount of parameters and expectations and roles that can take part in creating and building this kind of performance, "ritual". It also raises questions about whether I should change some ideas to fit better with the intuitive expectations that people have, or continue with my own direction and finding ways to make that clearer, or where a compromise between those could be. In any case, it is clear that this is a good direction, creating collaboration between the audience and the performer, turning the stage into a space for social experimentation that is intriguing for everyone while maintaining the musical surface level and using trained musical skills.
Calligraphy is the art of decorative writing, and for this experiment I had the great opportunity to collaborate with Lanka Abe, a Japanese calligraphy artist based in The Hague. Lanka has a rich experience performing her art with musicians, and in fact music takes an integral part in her creative process, but she has never performed in an improvised situation – without knowing what she is going to write and especially without being familiar with the music in advance. An additional and major change for her was to be in a situation where she communicates with the audience directly during a performance.
I chose this collaboration because calligraphy art has certain qualities that fit with my intentions – it's an artistic form of language. It uses words, visuals, and – in performance – movement to breathe new life to the text and create new meanings out of it. It also a unique performative concept that has a chance to bring more concrete intrigue and curiosity into the concert hall – the fact that you can see something substantial being drawn in front of you, growing with time, and you can try to interpret into along the way. It combines in a beautiful way the opposing temporal aspects of music and painting – the music passes with time in such a way that it's completely new every single moment and at the same time it's a piece that takes a long time to observe fully, and the painting stays there without being "erased" with time, so you can view its past and present while its future is being created. This also brings attention to the element of space – the large paper takes a great chunk of the stage, and the movements of the artist have dance-like features.
The results did not disappoint. After the first segment, the audience expressed their wish to stand and walk around the painting, to see it from different angles and from up close. After the second part they referred more to the relationship between the two mediums – they liked it better when the correlation between the music and brush-strokes was clearer. The last part was a bit more controversial. For me as performer, it was the most interesting to play and felt the most alive, and I also sensed some heightened level of attention from the audience during this one. The listeners were less ready for it perhaps – the music was less calm and less tonal, and I think they felt apprehensive from the mere fact that we came to ask them for a personal story as inspiration for it. This step had been a little too big and created some gap in the intimacy that we had built.
Many other ideas for including the audience's input in less intrusive ways were suggested, that I will take into account in the future. These include options like asking for words instead of stories, collecting them through written notes instead, or having a list of words prepared on a screen that the audience can choose from.
This had also been an opportunity for me to, basically for the first time, improvise solo (musically) in a proper performance setting. The nervousness I was feeling was very different than what I was used to in classical performances - I was very confident in my abilities, but more worried about how the audience will recieve my music. I was considering which limitations I should have in order for it to be accepted positively, pleasing the audience, and also where to draw inspiration from in order to create the most appropriate and communicative music in relation to the visual art. These thoughts are like an upside-down world compared to my usual feelings before a concert - where I am used to worry about my skills, but the direction and goals are completely clear. I was experiencing how the freedom of improvisation desires boundaries and definition, exposes personal vulnerabilities, and brings the focus towards real, concrete options for interpersonal connection.
In this experiment, I tried to make it more about the music – to take my ideas and goals, but unlike the previous ones where I have used lights and space or visual art, now to focus more on the eye-contact communication and the musical content. A repeating element that I wanted to explore is the social element in relation to the role of the audience and to increasing entitativity. A first way to create an immediate connection between listeners and the music was to let a few volunteers "compose" some of the music – creating motifs for my improvisation. And in regards to the effect of eye contact as a social communication tool, I wanted to see what would happen in the group if instead of me looking at them and all of them looking at me – they would look at each other. Thus I am making them not only "composers" but also performers. Sharing the performer role with the participants is by itself a means I used to strengthen the social atmosphere, since it shifts the perception of the event more towards joint music-making rather than a solo performance.44
The task the participants were given – to look towards the person whose motif they heard – forced a very active listening, which reinforces both an educational element and an element of freedom that are important to me in my practice. They were required to put more effort into analyzing the music than in a regular performance, and they had the chance to hear how a certain theme evolves on the spot. At the same time, it is important to me that the participants don't feel left out or that they are missing something – just like in the exploration experiment where there was no intention for them to figure out all of our plan and I think it was clear by the nature of the process of the experiment that it was experience-based and not an assignment they need to succeed in. The same was true here – as some variations and permutations of motifs are harder to recognize, I tried to make it clear that there will not necessarily be a motif being used at every given moment, and that it is fine if they feel a bit overwhelmed or do not understand everything all the time. I did that by starting with an introduction that is not based off of any motif, for example. Additionally, at some points I was using two of the motifs at the same time, and I saw and heard some smiles and laughter – which was good, because it was a form of release of tensions when it was very clear that it is an impossible task to look at two people at the same time, and it eased out the atmosphere.
I chose to not look up too often, for a few reasons. I did not want to make it a legitimate escape to look at me instead of at the others; and I did not want to "give away" the answer of whose motif I was playing. But I was curious and I checked at looked up at some points to sense how the exercise is being handled, and also to hint towards the right person when I was playing more elusive versions of a motif.
The atmosphere during the performance felt buzzing – everyone were on the edge of their seat, both trying to adhere to the instruction and to look what everybody else were doing. It was clear that this was a great way to involve audience participation in a way that gives them some agency in a non-intimidating way and with "escape-routes" – they could choose to abandon the task and they were not forced to engage beyond their will. The extent to which this influenced the entitativity is debatable. From my position, it seemed like the shared new experience and the joint cause, especially with the eye-contact that was at times uncomfortable for some, did create bonds between participants that can correspond to higher entitativity. Big impact could not be expected from an exercise this scale, but nonetheless – this kind of connections would definitely not have been made in a regular performance setting, or even in the same setting but without the gaze-task or without the motifs coming from the audience.45
This is another attempt of the same experiment, but now with a group of classical pianists. The difference compared to the first group, which were students in a class with more exposure to improvisation and to non-standard performance, is striking. This shows the significance of the setting – in an atmosphere where an unusual performance is expected, this exercise can be accepted more easily; but, for example, after a whole lesson of students performing classical pieces in a very classical way and dealing with their technical and performative struggles – this performance is very vulnerable and creates a lot of awkwardness and reluctance.
The first segment was an "introduction" round where I asked everyone to say their name, while I was creating a musical atmosphere. I intended to establish a certain atmosphere of sharing, to distinguish this performance in a clear way from the classical performance that preceded - where everyone was seated in the audience chairs far back - and to open them up to something new. The video shows most participants laughing awkwardly, looking down often, too shy and reluctant to follow the task and be more out of their comfort zone. In the feedback conversation they mention how the scenario was "surprisingly vulnerable" and "uncomfortable". One of the volunteers did not feel that way, and we can even see her seeking the looks of the others at some point when her motif is being heard. It is clear, also from her tone of speaking, that she feels very confident and sure in her skin.
Evidently, preparation and set-up of a specific atmosphere are required, and dependent on the identity of the individuals in the audience, and more specifically their expectations. I thought that the introduction round would be enough to set the tone in a convenient way – a good combination of familiarity and something new. Also, even though in my perspective as performer I was being very vulnerable, I can sense from my experience and from the feedback that the participants felt so vulnerable in a way that suggests some inequality between us. Though complete equality is of course not achievable, but perhaps there is something to say that part of a preparation should be putting myself in a clearly more vulnerable place to give the participants a safe place to join. Another obstacle that should be mentioned is the fact that the motifs given where all very similar and derived from each other. This created some issues both for me as a player and for them as listeners. I handled it the best I could, but it raises the question of how much I should interfere with their free choices. I noticed this problem at the beginning but I chose not to comment on it because they were already feeling timid and I did not want to criticize them, I feared that would create more reluctance and distance. But it is a matter to think about for next times, and on how to create a setting where this kind of comment can be welcomed positively.
In terms of the effect of eye contact and communication, it appears that the listening experience was indeed special. The extreme feeling of vulnerability and awkwardness is completely reasonable and follows our regular perception of this non-verbal language element, and to create this kind of silent "discussion" within an audience using a musical performance is a unique and interesting result in itself. And even considering the amount of reluctance and intimidation there was among the participants, it is clearly seen that there is a high level of attention and reaction to everything that happens in the music, at all times, which is a fantastic outcome. There was a long discussion during the feedback regarding whether this kind of exercise actually creates connection among the participants, and it is clear that this concept can go further and more intimate or more extreme in many ways. I think I first need to find more balance in more delicate aspects of it before going there.
Here, I returned to Rachmaninoff. I added a verbal "introduction" to make it more personal, and as a bridge between the music and the "contemporary listener" who can have any kind of background and relationship with classical music. Even though this piece is, generally speaking, romantic and emotional and not so detached from us, my story and context make it really "contemporary", relevant, and gives it a very good reason to be performed - a connection to me as a speaker. Philip Auslander relies on performance studies to say that one does not necessarily perform something, and you might say they perform someone – an identity. He proposes thinking of musicians as social beings – "to be a musician is to perform an identity in a social realm". The identity we present as performers, our personal, is not a foundational reality nor it is a fake one – it is "a way of representing oneself within a particular discursive domain".46 I would advance this train of thought – the content is me (the performer), not the music. I try to "sell" myself to the audience – making music convincing is basically making me and my story convincing, "likable".
I gave myself free license to act as I feel without planning in advance. I made a lot of eye contact and also were in the emotional space of the music. There was less awkwardness and not extreme smiling among the listeners, which made it easier for me not to smile and to even act out some facial expressions. I believe the reason for having less awkwardness, compared to the previous experiment, is because of the context – The participants were not after a nervous "lesson-mode", and also because my personal introduction set the tone in a very clear way. By giving the introduction myself and not with a round going through the participants, I had more control over the atmosphere and the outcome.
Regarding the performance – in "musical" terms, it was very bad. There were uncountable mistakes, missed notes and incorrect ones, many improvised parts, irregular pauses and changes in tempo… but on the other hand, it was one of the most meaningful performances. The attention level of everyone was indescribable. As a performer I found a completely new zone, a new "element" – I was in my inner intimate world and simultaneously my attention was also directed outwards, without conflict. Of course, one downside was that it was harder to play the music as intended, but that also depends on my preparation and mastering the piece itself, which could have been better, especially if I had practiced more with this type of performance in mind. But I was amazed by the effect of this performance.
The listeners were clearly drawn into the performance by the verbal introduction, evident from their later comments. From their feedback, it appears that the seating in a circle and no rows, the fact that no one could see my hands, and the eye contact – all together created a feeling of equality and focus on the music and on the true meaning of the experience.47
The round of names was less effective – it was a bit too messy. In my opinion, it was actually nice and positive that people felt the freedom to go not in a specific order or even not to wait until I looked at them. As eye contact has also been shown to increase synchronization, I expected it to be a helpful social binder for the group.48 But apparently it also felt artificial and did not bring a meaningful addition of connection. The idea was to have a bridging segment between me telling a story of my own and telling a story "by them" in the next segment, but in hindsight it feels unrelated and not really contributing to the flow of the content.
The feedback implies that the atmosphere and setting are critical to the impact of this experience. The "friendly environment" helped it not to become too awkward even when it was indeed "funny". It also allowed for people to feel comfortable participating only to the extent they wished at the moment. Some powerful comments mention the connections created during this experiment and also how it changed the listening experience. The musical interweaving of the motifs managed to weave a connecting line between the participants, and also to create a very direct bond between them and me – the piece was also "theirs", and I was making it for them, very personally and specifically. This also creates more equality and unity within the group – we are on the same side, sharing the "creator" and "participant" roles. Looking at each other might have felt a bit awkward and technical, but it definitely enhanced the process of listening and analyzing the music. The admiration expressed towards the social experience, the perceived technical skills, and the enjoyment from the experience – demonstrates how music can be used as both a great tool for education and social impact and as an aesthetic goal at the same time.
The final impression summarize quite well the results. Curiosity for new experiences of connection in a friendly atmosphere with a powerful impact. This experiment was very encouraging and shows how to move forward – putting focus on setting the atmosphere by having more control in the beginning while showing more personal vulnerability; giving the participants "tasks" (activities) that are more meaningful and less technical; trying to keep a better flow through the segments, like an ongoing story. A question to keep in mind is about the ideal number of participants, or how to create an intimate atmosphere with a larger number of people, and what would be a limit beyond which specific methods will not work or would have to be adjusted. But in any case adjustments have to be made on the spot by considering and feeling the atmosphere and reactions of the individuals present. When the parts of the "puzzle" fits well together, the joint journey makes everyone feel more open and united, and the appreciation of the artistic content is greater.
Starting with my personal story in a longer, deeper version, to set the tone in an intimate and revealing atmosphere, it drew everyone's attention close. Along the dim lighting and close sitting, it was clearly felt by me, seen by Sigrid as an outside observant, and commented later by audience members – that a special close contact was created. For some it was more intriguing, for some more intimidating or uncomfortable, but within the range of reasonable reactions when you get very close to someone else. I found it interesting that Sigrid observed how people "sank" in their chairs when I started playing more – as if they were "released" from their responsibility as a side in a dialogue, and happily went back to their more passive role as "just audience" or listeners. But after a closer look at the video, it was interesting to see how many people actually shift between these positions, as if remembering the story and the conversational atmosphere while the music is playing, stimulated by my looks towards them. It was basically like they were gradually getting used to the idea that I will not be letting go of them – that this was not just a special introduction to a normal performance, but that this attitude is crucial for the performance.
Musically, it was an interesting experience for me. Even the technical aspect felt more social than musical for me. There was a merging of the inwards and outwards thoughts in my head. Hearing it back in the recording, a certain quality of immediacy which was present at the moment does not transfer, but it can be felt in the tensions, struggles, holding back that is still heard in the musical interpretation. Similar to the 3rd version of the first experiment by myself, and to the friends-tryout, there were audible mistakes and moments of small "improvisations", and they felt completely part of the communicational process – in that I mean they were not harming the process, but rather just byproducts of it, and of the complicated medium that requires eye contact while playing piano, which I am probably not one-hundred percent fluent in, yet.
In this segment, the participants had gotten the opportunity to use this environment of musical performance as a different outlet and means of expression. By doing so, they have shared with me the role of performer. Each participant shared one word with everyone in the circle, a word that represents something significant to them. This is an elaboration on the round of names from the previous experiment, and also inspired by feedback from the calligraphy experiment. While no one can know the full personal meaning of each word, the level of vulnerability and openness was very high. I used the music to embody and give a safe presence – time, space, expression – to each of their stories, through their own words.
Reactions varied a lot, including self-reflection, intrigue, tension, curiosity, defensiveness, openness. Some people looked more into themselves while others were more interested in the people around them. This also changed for some during the round, as they were getting less surprised and perhaps more comfortable with the setting.
The most interesting part of this segment for me, in retrospect, was the part that "went wrong". When, after asking everyone to open their eyes after finding a word of their story to share, one person remained with eyes closed. Awkwardness, unexpectedness, tension, embarrassment, helplessness – all converged in this short moment, which brightly shows how much awareness the participants had for each other during the performance and how different and highly social this experience is than other musical performances. Even more specifically, this is a moment where eye contact and gaze played a highly important role and not in my intended way. Here I was using was using it in quite a usual way, letting the audience close their eyes to be with their thoughts, and then opening them as a sign they are ready to move on; but when one person was not following, the gazes' direction and expression were telling a lot more things. It is also very interesting to note the combination of those feelings and social interpretation with the music, which reflected my own similar feeling and at the same time I was trying to use it to non-verbally communicate that I wanted to move on, but had to balance that to not stop the flow. This kind of musical-social communication, which involves a lot of vulnerability and even angst, happens again during the bridge to the next segment, when I wait for someone to volunteer to speak more. These are rare moments which are so naked and human – I am exposed and almost helpless on the brink of failure, I show it and it is felt by others, who wish to help and struggle with the revealing costs of saving me, until one takes the chance – of a sacrifice or a reward.
Returning to the "one-word stories" – in Sigrid's words, "a way of saying so much without really saying anything" – I did not expect it to be so deep and mystical. It was really touching and intense in a way that is hard to describe. Looking back, I can see how it relates directly to what I have learned about ancient rituals of early humans as a method of bonding and sharing in a relatively large group.49 Giving each person a short but very meaningful opportunity to reveal themselves, while they can equally see – physically and spiritually – and feel all the others doing the same thing. That being said, the amount of people was still much smaller than what we are used to in concerts of most kinds – it is more like a house concert, and even though it is in a venue, a similar friendly environment is wanted. I find it fitting to have this kind of event in a venue and not necessarily a living room, while trying to achieve something of both places – formality and casualness together. The number of participants (13) was probably close to the limit for this specific formula, and the format would probably have to be adjusted if it were to be with a larger group. I would say this crowd of ten to twenty people, is ideal for this kind of concept, and if we think of the communication models, it is somewhere between interpersonal and public – compared to a regular conversation, it would be too many people to really have a discussion with equal weight to everyone, but also not that many people as in a big presentation where people might have "stage fright". This number can go up to forty people, I theorize, if the performance would be longer and there would be sufficient time and diverse "pieces" to give attention and space to each participant – a scale that may resemble a group activity for a large school class.
The ritualistic aspects of this performance bring to mind Leon Botstein's words from his article "The Audience". Botstein notes how in the eighteenth century, music was acknowledged as a social act, where "both the musician and listener commanded the craft, which in turn required public and semi-public rituals. Music […] had straightforward societal utility". But this public "utility" has been lost, he says, during the mid-nineteenth century when two social processes came about. Musical culture was becoming more widely accessed, and at the same time some musical forms got "elevated" and marked as high art while popular music and musical entertainment became distinguished from profundity and true expression. Thus, the social role of the music and of the listener changed – the new listener at the time, was being tested and had to portray their intelligent appreciation of the so called profound beauty of the music – which coincided with passivity, the same as the rules of decorum and repose of the time. This resulted in audiences that created fake intimacy, an illusion of intimacy that in itself was to be concealed. Concealment as a principle became important, which is part of the reason darkening the music hall has become a tradition – separating between audience and performance, since some interchange between them would be "less decorous".
"The twentieth-century concert hall has […] become a cold, impersonal space". Botstein compares it with the convivial and energetic atmosphere of earlier musical venues where "the purpose of the open and vulnerable display of feeling and movement by the performer was to break the separation between audience and performer" – and this he attributes to Beethoven and C.P.E Bach.50
Recalling my own experience during this performance, Derek Bailey's depiction of improvisation resonated well with me: "Improvisation […] exists because it meets the creative appetite that is a natural part of being a performing musician and because it invites complete involvement, to a degree otherwise unobtainable, in the act of music-making".51 As a classically-trained musician, I still find it hard to fully agree on how unobtainable this involvement is in other forms of music-making, but I do see this sentiment as going further than relating only to the musicians performing the music. I believe, and also examine in these experiments, that improvisation, in certain performances, can invite the same incredibly high level of involvement from its listeners, too, who might as well be called music-makers (given the right conditions, which are explored here).
Talking about improvisation and getting a bit into the musical content itself, we can relate again to Auslander's perspective of the performer's musical persona. Similarly, George E. Lewis mentions the importance of "personal narrative" in improvisation, and says that a part of telling your own story is having your own "sound". This "sound", at least in Afrological forms to his system, incorporates not only style, but also the improviser's personality, sensibility, and intelligence. Lewis quotes Saxophonist Yusef Lateef, who wrote "the sound of the improvisation seems to tell us what kind of person is improvising. We feel that we can hear character or personality in the way the musician improvises".52
I find it interesting to observe my own improvisations here from different points of view. As a starting point, agreeing with the views I have just shared here, my playing is me – it is an extension of my musical personal, it is a very open and vulnerable part that requires cooperation and intimacy to fully open up and reveal itself. At the same time, in this exercise I am trying to give a voice to the "personas" of the participants, and while objectivity is definitely not the point here, it brings into question which stories come out, how authentic they could be and what would influence that. Zooming out a bit in the scale of the performance, I find it even more interesting to consider the music I was playing as "flow"-music – between my own talking parts, while giving instructions or waiting for the participants. Theoretically, this music should have no meaning – it is "waiting"-music, but so much care and thought had gone into it at the moment. I remember realizing how much power this can have on people's thoughts, especially when they were asked to think about their stories. I realized I could not play whatever I wanted, I could not play myself completely on one hand, so I had to minimize my persona. But at the same time, the very act of trying to play music in a style that would be, perhaps, meditative – enabling thinking while keeping interest, avoiding negative, sad or tragic connotations while not pushing in any specific emotional direction – this act and all these intentions, they tell a lot about me as a performer in the moment as well.
In this segment we can see how an individual can affect the environment and the experience for all the other people just by their unconscious communication and behavior – and not in the way I had initially expected. Just like in the experiments with friends – Michele was in a mood of looking inwards. He was mostly with his eyes closed and head turned down, passionately connecting with the music, and with me and with his inner self through it. Where I had planned that the "theme" of eye contact will repeat and transpose into a new key, a different, more minor subject from before has taken hold of the "piece" – the gaze inwards, the intrapersonal communication. Michele did not want or try to become a performer the way I intended, he merely wanted to have the experience of me mirroring his (possible) story through my music, and he had not tried seeing what it would be like to communicate with or react to the other participants. That was very interesting for me to experience, and another part that was positively unexpected and eye-opening for me as creator.
In a way, the absence of eye contact here, especially after the establishment of it as a key component from the beginning of the performance, is in itself a statement and an experiment. For some it gave a chance return to "audience-listener mode" and just look at me as the performer-interpreter; for others it might have given a chance to also look inwards and maybe even try to connect with Michele's story in themselves. There were not many comments regarding this part, and I assume it is difficult to comment about it because it is about feelings and experiences that are beyond words. Michele did speak with me in person later and he was immensely moved by the experience, as it gave him a new perspectives of reflection and appreciation for what was on his mind.
In the same way that I was improvising the music and having to "go with the flow" at some points, like after mistakes while playing the Rachmaninoff prelude, or after seeing the positive reaction to the clear depictions of the one-word stories and leaning into it – all in order to keep the flow going as smoothly as I could – In this same manner I also had to improvise and fix the structure of the performance. I had planned on doing the "intertwine" segment with improvising on motifs from the audience, but I felt at the moment that it does not fit with the atmosphere that was created – that stopping for talking and taking themes from volunteers would be completely off-putting in that current situation. So I just skipped it. Part of it was also sensing from the room that it would be an appropriate time to go towards the end.
"A wake-up call; inspiring; connection within; being vulnerable; being in love; touching; puzzling; … wonder what fear would sound like; … I discovered new things about him; focusing; translation; talented improviser and inspiration; sensitivity."53
Reflecting on the whole experience, it seems that together with enhancing the interpersonal qualities of the performance, a significant attention is also given to intrapersonal attention. Taking part in this are factors both within and outside my own control – my words, my directions, my music, and also participants' independent choices, mood, and personality.