Holly Mathieson
Reaching for the moon
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Dear Holly, Thank you for accepting our invite for this interview. What is the most exciting part of your job as a conductor? And the not so fabulous? I really love travelling, so exploring so many new cities and cultures is hugely exciting, especially as I’m doing it through the medium of sharing creativity with a group of people – it’s a nice point of intersection. Not so fabulous? It sometimes terrifies me that I will never stop learning – music, technique, rehearsal and performance psychology. It is a never-ending journey. Ironically, that is also one of the main drawcards for me! A daunting prospect, but one which ensures one never gets bored, I hope. What are some of your character traits, as well as training and experiences, that have helped you get to where you are professionally? |
Photo: courtesy of the artist |
I have a helpful personality, I think, which is hugely beneficial. If I can hear something not working so well, my first instinct is to try to find a way to make it easier, more effective, more rewarding for those taking part. My other natural disposition is to try to foster a collaborative and collegial work atmosphere.
There are far more diverse and, I think, healthy models now for how people in all sorts of professional fields can lead and enable others to do their best (which is, of course, the main point of having a conductor). It feels good to be part of a group of conductors and directors to whom it would never occur to behave like the autocratic maestri of old. Not just because I think their behavior is outdated, but because I genuinely feel it is ineffective, and symptomatic of a set of 19th century values which I don’t wish to perpetuate. It means you often end up being drawn towards colleagues and ensembles that share that philosophy, so it is a self-perpetuating culture.
How do you see your role as a classical music conductor in today’s world?
If I can get to the end of my career and feel that I was helpful and respectful to my colleagues, and played my part in creating and promoting projects that truly serve their communities in the most diverse and creative way possible, I’ll put the baton away for the last time very happily.
Who are the public figures you hold in high regard and learn from and why them?
Within the music world, I think Simon Rattle has shown us all a glimpse at what is possible in the realm of professional music-making that delivers straight to the heart of the many communities in which he situates himself, without compromising the quality of the music-making. He has completely cracked something open that now gives us all so much additional space to explore in terms of what art music can be, and who it can be for.
I’m also an enormous fan of choreographer Akram Khan. His work is just incredible, and comes from a place of such integrity, honesty, curiosity and creative rigour.
There are far more diverse and, I think, healthy models now for how people in all sorts of professional fields can lead and enable others to do their best (which is, of course, the main point of having a conductor). It feels good to be part of a group of conductors and directors to whom it would never occur to behave like the autocratic maestri of old. Not just because I think their behavior is outdated, but because I genuinely feel it is ineffective, and symptomatic of a set of 19th century values which I don’t wish to perpetuate. It means you often end up being drawn towards colleagues and ensembles that share that philosophy, so it is a self-perpetuating culture.
How do you see your role as a classical music conductor in today’s world?
If I can get to the end of my career and feel that I was helpful and respectful to my colleagues, and played my part in creating and promoting projects that truly serve their communities in the most diverse and creative way possible, I’ll put the baton away for the last time very happily.
Who are the public figures you hold in high regard and learn from and why them?
Within the music world, I think Simon Rattle has shown us all a glimpse at what is possible in the realm of professional music-making that delivers straight to the heart of the many communities in which he situates himself, without compromising the quality of the music-making. He has completely cracked something open that now gives us all so much additional space to explore in terms of what art music can be, and who it can be for.
I’m also an enormous fan of choreographer Akram Khan. His work is just incredible, and comes from a place of such integrity, honesty, curiosity and creative rigour.
Do you have a list of objectives you aim to achieve or do you follow a natural career flow?
I started out with a very defined list of aims, and in fact I still keep a list of 2-year, 5-year and 10-year goals, which I periodically tick off, adjust, replace, move forward or backwards. But I think that approaching my 40s, I’ve lost some of the anxious energy that makes you hunger for the extreme. I’ve found (to my surprise) that I’m quite content where I am right now. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want things to progress, but that is more to do with my own curiosity and hunger for constant change and new challenges. I don’t like feeling as though I’m treading water or getting sedentary. So that has become the driver for development, and new work relationships, rather than looking at the twitter feeds of my more successful colleagues and feeling envious of their pathway. I’m very grateful to be doing this now, rather than 10 years ago. I have a different perspective, and a more balanced understanding of what is actually of value, to me and to others.
It’s not right to ask you what orchestras you love working with, but what can you share with us what are some of the signs that give you a preview of a great collaborative experience ahead?
You never know in advance; often colleagues will warn you that some orchestras have a bad reputation with new conductors, or are incredibly friendly, but your own experience can be totally different. My happiest experiences have nearly always been with pit orchestras and smaller or chamber orchestras – you actually get to know each other, have conversation in rehearsal, rather than bark out instructions, and there’s a far more interesting work process and shared sense of responsibility for the music.
The bigger the orchestra, and the shorter the rehearsal period, the harder it is to override the habitual boss-and-workers model. Not least, because it often feels like safe territory for the players in large orchestras. It’s what they know. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy working with them, but there isn’t the same sort of pleasure you get from spending three weeks in an opera studio, and coming to a communal understanding of the piece together through the experience of doing it. And having multiple performances with the same orchestra is utter joy – you really get to know each other well, and develop a shared gestural dialect, and you literally “play” the music – if you have good rapport, you can be spontaneous in the moment.
You’ve said you love travelling. What are some of your favorite cities where you feel like a local and enjoy for their art scenes and more?
I absolutely love Inverness and Aberdeen in Scotland, and I had an incredible time in Halifax, Nova Scotia in Canada. I immediately felt at home. In mainland Europe, I love Basel, Bern and Strasbourg – It’s not that I feel at home, but they are beautiful beyond belief. And something about being on or near historic borders means they have rich, living cultures and complex histories. My hope is that the next 10 years will bring more work in Asia (I had three very happy and inspiring weeks in Seoul many years ago, and am desperate to visit Japan), Scandinavia and of course a bit more time back home in NZ would be great. Anywhere with mountains gets a big tick.
In the summer of 2018, you were involved with the innovative Nevis Ensemble, which is founded on the maxim that "music is for everyone, everywhere”. Is there a moment that captures the essence of that project?
Gosh, where to start… My mind always goes back to a closed concert we did in a beautiful Edwardian fenced garden in the west end, for service-users and staff at an HIV/Aids community group. We were playing a beautiful string and wind piece by Judith Weir, an excerpt from her opera The Vanishing Bridegroom. One man, who was from somewhere on the West Coast of Africa I think, went and sat alone under a tree and wept while we played. One of the service managers came to me afterwards, and said that the man had never spoken about his illness, never emoted about it, no one knew how he had contracted it, and they’d often worried that there would come a day that he would stop coming. It was very humbling to know we’d been part of a significant moment in his grieving, his processing of his illness.
Those are the most amazing moments of Nevis for me – quiet, vulnerable and deeply intimate connections with people. I’ve never experienced anything else like it as a musician.
How do you approach music written by contemporary composers? Who are some of your favorite contemporary musicians and why?
I’ve learnt an enormous amount from my husband Jon Hargreaves, also a conductor, who specialises in contemporary music. In many ways the process is the same as learning any other score: Find out what are the questions you need to ask, the answers to which will unlock the piece. The difference is that often the questions you ask yourself are very different to the usual ones.
When you remove the familiar reference points of harmonic structure and form, you need to learn what to ask instead. It is often about timbre, exploration within the sound, rather than journeying through it. It requires incredible attention to detail and understanding of the written score, as it still often feels to me to be a foreign language. That was terrifying at first, but I now feel much more confident, as I’ve learnt it’s not about getting it right or coming up with a valid interpretation, necessarily; far more like holding something up to the light and examining it with your colleagues from every angle and seeing what you find.
I’ve worked with many young composers through orchestral composer schemes, and am always most drawn to those pieces that have a big idea at their core, and explore it with creativity. I won’t name anyone, as I don’t want to highlight favourites, but I do respect music which presents us with ideas and sounds we’ve never come across before, or a perspective that is new.
Other than music, what do you dedicate time and energy just for the joy of it?
I love doing craft projects – there’s always a piece of partially-reupholstered furniture lying somewhere around the house, or home-made candles setting on the bench. I’d really love to join a pottery class.
When I have the time and energy, I love getting into the mountains (or, here in the UK, hills), and have started going back to ballet classes over the last year, although my attendance is shamefully sporadic!
Is there an expression or saying you’ve heard lately that has stuck with you for any particular reason?
I think we’re presented with a barrage of saccharine memes on social media that all start to render each other redundant. However, there are two that have stuck all my life. The first, I remember from back when I was a young ballet student. I had a poster on my wall that read “Reach for the moon; even if you fall, you’ll land with the stars”. It has been my philosophy ever since. (the quote is variously attributed to Norman Vincent Peale and Les Brown).
The other is not about work so much, but I find it hugely important as a woman, and that is a quote from a 2006 blogpost by Erin McKean: “You don’t owe prettiness to anyone”. It should be a mantra for every parent to teach their little girls.
#BeatTheBlues features works and confessions of artists and non-artists about experiences and ways to beat the blues and rise from the depth of darkness?
This is a big one in our house – we are both freelance musicians, in the early stages of our careers, so the self-doubt, fear and anxiety can be overwhelming at times. I have days when my motivation is so low, and I feel so introverted, that I struggle to leave the house if I don’t have a rehearsal to get to. And the guilt I feel about that sluggishness is dreadful.
My advice is to constantly zoom out and keep reminding yourself of the bigger picture of your journey. If the past two months have been rough, zoom out to 3 years, and see what the bigger pathway has been. Also, ask yourself not only what your goals are, but what your values are. Is that A-list career you’re hankering for actually what you want? Or have you assumed it is, ever since you started at conservatoire.
There are many ways to live a fruitful, creative life, and often the unexpected open doors lead to the most rewarding experiences. And rest, recuperation and relaxation are part of your work. They are essential. Do them fully, regularly and without guilt.
Also, a piece of advice I received from an incredibly kind player I was working with, who knew I was really struggling with anxiety before rehearsals at that time – bananas… as many bananas as you need to get you through. They are natural beta-blockers, calm your adrenaline, and focus your brain. If I’m in a new work situation, I’ll always have one before the first rehearsal. It works like magic.
Thank you, Holly!
For more, you can visit Holly's website here
I started out with a very defined list of aims, and in fact I still keep a list of 2-year, 5-year and 10-year goals, which I periodically tick off, adjust, replace, move forward or backwards. But I think that approaching my 40s, I’ve lost some of the anxious energy that makes you hunger for the extreme. I’ve found (to my surprise) that I’m quite content where I am right now. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want things to progress, but that is more to do with my own curiosity and hunger for constant change and new challenges. I don’t like feeling as though I’m treading water or getting sedentary. So that has become the driver for development, and new work relationships, rather than looking at the twitter feeds of my more successful colleagues and feeling envious of their pathway. I’m very grateful to be doing this now, rather than 10 years ago. I have a different perspective, and a more balanced understanding of what is actually of value, to me and to others.
It’s not right to ask you what orchestras you love working with, but what can you share with us what are some of the signs that give you a preview of a great collaborative experience ahead?
You never know in advance; often colleagues will warn you that some orchestras have a bad reputation with new conductors, or are incredibly friendly, but your own experience can be totally different. My happiest experiences have nearly always been with pit orchestras and smaller or chamber orchestras – you actually get to know each other, have conversation in rehearsal, rather than bark out instructions, and there’s a far more interesting work process and shared sense of responsibility for the music.
The bigger the orchestra, and the shorter the rehearsal period, the harder it is to override the habitual boss-and-workers model. Not least, because it often feels like safe territory for the players in large orchestras. It’s what they know. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy working with them, but there isn’t the same sort of pleasure you get from spending three weeks in an opera studio, and coming to a communal understanding of the piece together through the experience of doing it. And having multiple performances with the same orchestra is utter joy – you really get to know each other well, and develop a shared gestural dialect, and you literally “play” the music – if you have good rapport, you can be spontaneous in the moment.
You’ve said you love travelling. What are some of your favorite cities where you feel like a local and enjoy for their art scenes and more?
I absolutely love Inverness and Aberdeen in Scotland, and I had an incredible time in Halifax, Nova Scotia in Canada. I immediately felt at home. In mainland Europe, I love Basel, Bern and Strasbourg – It’s not that I feel at home, but they are beautiful beyond belief. And something about being on or near historic borders means they have rich, living cultures and complex histories. My hope is that the next 10 years will bring more work in Asia (I had three very happy and inspiring weeks in Seoul many years ago, and am desperate to visit Japan), Scandinavia and of course a bit more time back home in NZ would be great. Anywhere with mountains gets a big tick.
In the summer of 2018, you were involved with the innovative Nevis Ensemble, which is founded on the maxim that "music is for everyone, everywhere”. Is there a moment that captures the essence of that project?
Gosh, where to start… My mind always goes back to a closed concert we did in a beautiful Edwardian fenced garden in the west end, for service-users and staff at an HIV/Aids community group. We were playing a beautiful string and wind piece by Judith Weir, an excerpt from her opera The Vanishing Bridegroom. One man, who was from somewhere on the West Coast of Africa I think, went and sat alone under a tree and wept while we played. One of the service managers came to me afterwards, and said that the man had never spoken about his illness, never emoted about it, no one knew how he had contracted it, and they’d often worried that there would come a day that he would stop coming. It was very humbling to know we’d been part of a significant moment in his grieving, his processing of his illness.
Those are the most amazing moments of Nevis for me – quiet, vulnerable and deeply intimate connections with people. I’ve never experienced anything else like it as a musician.
How do you approach music written by contemporary composers? Who are some of your favorite contemporary musicians and why?
I’ve learnt an enormous amount from my husband Jon Hargreaves, also a conductor, who specialises in contemporary music. In many ways the process is the same as learning any other score: Find out what are the questions you need to ask, the answers to which will unlock the piece. The difference is that often the questions you ask yourself are very different to the usual ones.
When you remove the familiar reference points of harmonic structure and form, you need to learn what to ask instead. It is often about timbre, exploration within the sound, rather than journeying through it. It requires incredible attention to detail and understanding of the written score, as it still often feels to me to be a foreign language. That was terrifying at first, but I now feel much more confident, as I’ve learnt it’s not about getting it right or coming up with a valid interpretation, necessarily; far more like holding something up to the light and examining it with your colleagues from every angle and seeing what you find.
I’ve worked with many young composers through orchestral composer schemes, and am always most drawn to those pieces that have a big idea at their core, and explore it with creativity. I won’t name anyone, as I don’t want to highlight favourites, but I do respect music which presents us with ideas and sounds we’ve never come across before, or a perspective that is new.
Other than music, what do you dedicate time and energy just for the joy of it?
I love doing craft projects – there’s always a piece of partially-reupholstered furniture lying somewhere around the house, or home-made candles setting on the bench. I’d really love to join a pottery class.
When I have the time and energy, I love getting into the mountains (or, here in the UK, hills), and have started going back to ballet classes over the last year, although my attendance is shamefully sporadic!
Is there an expression or saying you’ve heard lately that has stuck with you for any particular reason?
I think we’re presented with a barrage of saccharine memes on social media that all start to render each other redundant. However, there are two that have stuck all my life. The first, I remember from back when I was a young ballet student. I had a poster on my wall that read “Reach for the moon; even if you fall, you’ll land with the stars”. It has been my philosophy ever since. (the quote is variously attributed to Norman Vincent Peale and Les Brown).
The other is not about work so much, but I find it hugely important as a woman, and that is a quote from a 2006 blogpost by Erin McKean: “You don’t owe prettiness to anyone”. It should be a mantra for every parent to teach their little girls.
#BeatTheBlues features works and confessions of artists and non-artists about experiences and ways to beat the blues and rise from the depth of darkness?
This is a big one in our house – we are both freelance musicians, in the early stages of our careers, so the self-doubt, fear and anxiety can be overwhelming at times. I have days when my motivation is so low, and I feel so introverted, that I struggle to leave the house if I don’t have a rehearsal to get to. And the guilt I feel about that sluggishness is dreadful.
My advice is to constantly zoom out and keep reminding yourself of the bigger picture of your journey. If the past two months have been rough, zoom out to 3 years, and see what the bigger pathway has been. Also, ask yourself not only what your goals are, but what your values are. Is that A-list career you’re hankering for actually what you want? Or have you assumed it is, ever since you started at conservatoire.
There are many ways to live a fruitful, creative life, and often the unexpected open doors lead to the most rewarding experiences. And rest, recuperation and relaxation are part of your work. They are essential. Do them fully, regularly and without guilt.
Also, a piece of advice I received from an incredibly kind player I was working with, who knew I was really struggling with anxiety before rehearsals at that time – bananas… as many bananas as you need to get you through. They are natural beta-blockers, calm your adrenaline, and focus your brain. If I’m in a new work situation, I’ll always have one before the first rehearsal. It works like magic.
Thank you, Holly!
For more, you can visit Holly's website here