I worked together with my grandfather on this piece. The original idea had been to create a graphic score that graphically conveys the experience of mediating. I experimented with different ways to show my experience of meditation in real time. Starting a stop watch for 2 minutes I drew a straight line from the top left hand corner to the bottom right hand corner without ever lifting the pen form the page. I tried to keep the focus on my breath, and every time a thought occurred to interrupt this focus I drew a little loop. Looking back at the sketch I'd created was quite interesting - it didn't really seem to say much, other than that my thoughts would often form in clusters, bouncing off one another before I was able to reconnect to the sensation of my breath. I'm not entirely sure whether I really expected anything really profound to reveal itself out of this experiment, but it was interesting to look back on the progression of time and be able to retrace my own thoughts so clearly! When I showed this to my grandfather, he really like it, and decided to play around with it on this photo manipulation software he uses for many of his own art works. I would be really interested to know if anyone feels they can relate to this image as a representation of meditation or can imagine using it as a graphic score for instrumental or electroacoustic composition?

This artwork was created when experimenting with soft pastels. I have not as yet attempted to use it as a graphic score, and would be interested to know what other people think. How would you interpret this work musically?

Having performed with Atefeh Einali for some years now, it never occurred to me how difficult it would be to composer for her instrument! I'd listened, watched her play and asked many questions about the practice of performance and improvisation in the Persian santoor tradition, and this has informed the way I perform with her. However, it wasn't until I took on the bold decision to write for santoor, flute and voice in my composition 'Rainy Thoughts' that I realised how thoroughly I had to understand the broader principles of Persian music in order to negotiate the fusion of Western and non-Western instruments. The biggest breakthrough this experience has had for me was the discovery that each and every degree of the Persian 'dastgah' system is permeated with spiritual significance. The limitation of patterns and selection of notes for each section of the 'dasgah', gives the modal elements of the system their own peculiar character, and it felt like I had to learn a whole new language to understand the voice of the santoor and find a way for it to interact with the flute and vocal part. As a composer this challenge has been incredibly valuable, giving me scope to explore unchartered territory.

Since the country has been going in and out of lockdown, the only option for me has been to play on my own. Playing without a real audience has been one of the most harmful implications the virus has had on my work as a musician. I realised that the spirit with which I play substantially feeds off the energy emanated from a live audience, and the process of recording myself and posting my work on social media has been a different experience all together. On the one hand it has been incredibly demotivating performing without the guarantee that anyone will hear me play, on the other hand, I feel that it has encouraged me to explore my own personal resources of expression, allowing me to move beyond the self-conscious display of musical character, and on to a state of self-awareness which more effectively allows me to accept imperfection along with the quirks of my personality.