Last reflection about the project and my journey throughout unit 3

Today I woke up realising it’s the very last day of academic hand ins. It almost feels like the end of a very chaotic time (in the best of ways). I waited to do one last post on the day to have a true sense of overall reflection, though the idea of finishing a masters feels unreal.

Looking back at Unit 1 and 2, all of the activities that we undertook, all the feedback that we were giving, starts making much more sense. There mini steps into building our confidence, research methods and our strength towards believing in what we say/do/research.

Looking back at Unit 3, I realise the importance of consistency within research and the magic of testing ideas. I have found it liberating to be open to failure and to accept that it is as important as getting things “right”. Looking back, moving away from writing and online community building feels like a big step for me.

It’s easy to get stuck with an idea, more so if it feels safe. I had done that for a while because it felt controllable, when so much has been out of my control for the past year. But what I have learnt during this unit is that most is not really under our control, only our energy, resilience and perseverance truly are. So, if I have those elements in mind, no matter how bad an idea can turn out to be, it is still worth giving it a go. No matter how uncomfortable trying something new might be, it is still worth getting there and doing it.

I wondered: what agency do I have to even think I can make music? How am I meant to lead a composer (who has been trained for years) into creating what I envision and have researched? Why would people want to listen to a long piece and care? But the truth is, after these doubts emerged, I realised I genuinely had an answer to them.

Yes, I have never tried making music. But I have listened to music my whole life, everyone in the world who can, has listened to music and has had an emotional connection to a song, or a sound. Music reaches all corners. I choose it because it allows the message to be spread no matter the language, no matter the age, no matter the gender or race. It just is, music.

Then, I wanted to make sure I kept my project accessible, as most times I preach about the importance of inclusivity and accessibility. I decided to incorporate dance, and test it – so that in the future, I can develop the piece into dance as well.

I wondered again, what agency do I have to direct or work along a dancer when I’ve never done that before? But again, I had many answers to that.

This is when I realised the importance of research, consistency and vision.

The people I ended up working with for this project – are fascinated with the concept and share the drive and passion to make it happen. They’ve listened to my feedback, my opinions, they’ve read the cancer caregivers stories, they’ve soaked up the emotions, I first hand explained my own. They took it, they respect it, they admire it.

Recently, I was sent a dance draft to one of the pieces Cristina and I have been developing, this one is the most important one: Love (state of pureness)

It was probably one of the most beautiful things to ever happen to me, to see my long time hard work and vision being danced to and represented with such care and respect. It showed me that the project is now taking true form, and that the research truly is a strong foundation to work on.

Furthermore, I love how open Cristina, the musician, has been to my thoughts and feedback. Listening to the emotional ride I intend to show and explaining ways in which this can be showcased. I send her examples and explain her – I direct her. I have only directed film in the past, for me this feels so out of my comfort zone but in the most fulfilling way. I want caregivers to feel this journey and resonate, I want non caregivers to listen to it and truly be aware.

Conversations between Cristina and I, working on the piece “Strength” – explaining I visualise a crescendo, and a more orquestral incorporation of sounds – with some dust in it to represent the particles of hopefulness. This piece, shows resilience, pushing through, hopeful news, holding to the good.

My journey throughout this unit has been a rollercoaster of emotions. There was a point where I felt so stressed and anxious because my mum’s newest scan was coming up. The results were not good. I don’t share this in order to share my sorrows, but instead to explain that cancer caregiving truly is a journey of constant uncertainties and mixed emotions. I hope, truly, I am able to portray that through this long piece of music. I hope it makes people feel something, that is sparks a sense of empathy or better understanding towards cancer caregivers, who are often met with this role out of nowhere and don’t really know where to start. I hope it gives them a voice through melodies and they feel represented it, that there’s someone out there listening (literally).

This unit 3 has changed me and it has taught me many lessons I will carry on for a lifetime as a person and as a creative.

That’s my final reflection.

Everywhere at the end of time – The Caretaker reflection – journeys into music

I found out about Everywhere At The End of Time by exploring collective narrative into music. This album, lasts six hours, and focuses on the process of dementia. It was highly acclaimed and raised awareness within young people about the importance of empathy towards carers and people suffering from dementia.

This was a big turning point for me. I listened to the whole album and felt absolutely transported into the emotional and confusing ride of falling victim to such condition. I decided to explore this further by reading about The Caretakers process.

In 2011, Kirby released An Empty Bliss Beyond This World, attaining critical acclaim for its exploration of dementia. And then he decided to take it further by exploring it through its stages.

It can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL998ajnjN4

Kirby’s interest in memory loss and the journey of dementia is similar to my approach to the emotional journey of cancer caregiving.

To find such an artistic reference was a crucial turning point for me because it confirmed the feedback I kept getting, explore beyond writing.

I then thought of music, a discipline I have always been keen on exploring but due to my lack of musical abilities I never thought I could. But then I thought – wait, why not? We live in a hyper connected world where ideas can still happen even if I am not necessarily the one making it, I can still be the one directing it or producing it, the one with the content and research a vision. This idea felt exciting, fresh and out of my comfort zone.

It would mean I would have to explore a process I never had before, and I would have to put all of my life learnings throughout this masters in practise.

  • confidence
  • leadership
  • communication
  • clarity
  • collaboration
  • research
  • pitching
  • vision

Would it be too crazy to turn these narratives into music? I thought. And what sort of music? with lyrics, no lyrics? what genre? I decided to eliminate any barriers that could stop people from having access to it – I’d leave it up to interpretations and emotions. Therefore, it only made sense to stick to experimental, electronic, classical – no lyrics: no language barriers. No voices: no gender bias. Just music, just emotion, just feeling the journey – the rest if up to interpretation.

It felt right. It felt timely. It felt unbiased and fresh.

I’d then structure the experience of going through cancer caregiving into four fragments:

I frustation

II sadness

III strength

IV Love

In no particular order – but from all of the emotions and comments all of the cancer caregivers mentioned, all tend to fall into some sort of the above categories.

Some include:

Hopelessness, hopefulness, anger, guilt, defeat, injustice, depression, love, care, compassion, empathy, sacrifice

As a short reflection, coming across The Caretaker’s work showed me how the process of an illness, or of a journey can be depicted through alternative narrative forms. And though, it might not be my background, I still have a voice and a vision – and I can work collabortively to express it. I have worked and researched these emotions meticulously for such a long time, I am aware they can be done justice through music.

What I have learnt within myself is that there really aren’t many excuses as to why we can’t try something, if we have a vision and a purpose, most things can be done. The key is to be able to find people who are willing to believe in it, a drive and a solid foundation of research for everything to make more sense. I am proud of myself for taking this step, it’s an unexpected one for me, one that might or might not help with representation and empathy-creation but that’s for me to find out in my next intervention when the music piece is done! & if it’s not well received, that’s okay – that’s another learning and a new beginning.

Reflection on Confidence & Artistic collaboration – translating self-narratives into music

Part of my growth during this masters has been gaining confidence to run self-directed projects and make decisions without waiting for the approval of others (most importantly, teachers).

Why? Because throughout conventional education, I have been so used to double checking with teachers, tutors, colleagues and while there is beauty in the discussion of ideas, not everyone will share your vision and it’s important to believe in your vision. The thing about visions are that you have to make them happen in order to be able to tell whether they make sense or not – but if those ideas remain ideas then they never truly turn into a tangible vision.

In the past, I would’ve been so scared to reach out to other artists to ask whether they’d be interested in working in my project collaboratively. I’d become so shy when it comes to expressing my vision, I would have chosen not to take the idea forward due to fear of rejection by other artists or my lack of ability to lead.

And here’s where confidence takes place, and confidence in this context comes with knowledge. I have gotten to a point where my research has been so focused and immersive, I feel truly knowledgable. I have also learnt to accept my positionally and have accepted my initial biases, enough to be able to look outside of what I am comfortable with and start exploring areas that can equally express narratives but yet be explorative and new.

The thinking process to reach to utilising music and dance as two core ways to showcase these narratives came from accessibility. Music speaks all languages, there’s no right or wrong. Dance is bodily expression, it’s innate, it’s human. Both, raw and pure forms of expressivity.

Both art forms I have never worked with before. Both art forms I admire.

So, I reached out to a composer whose work is classical, methodical but also experimental. I explained to her my project and the idea of translating a collective narrative into one musical journey. Her response (translated from catalan) “This is a brilliant project. The emotions and references you’ve used are incredibly useful and I have in the past seen people go through really bad illnesses so I understand, to a certain extent, the frustration and uncertainty that comes with that” “I’d love to be part of this project to give a voice to people who don’t often seem to have one, and also, to make people like me think deeper about non-professional cancer caregivers…so in a way, raising awareness” “Please count me in”.

Ever since this point, Cristina (composer) and I have been constantly speaking through WhatsApp voice messages – I had sent her a PDF with a breakdown of the collective emotions gathered from my research and put together a list of musical references linked to each emotion/stage. I then explained her my experience, while translated others’ experiences to her.

As an example of my improvement in communication and leadership – one of the initial drafts that she sent me for the representation of an important emotion which “frustration”- Cristina sent me a very clean, minimal and linear piano piece. While I thanked her for this draft and pointed out the bits where the stability of sound work well, I expressed that this piece is important and it needs to represent the emotions accurately. It’s a mix between bottled up emotions, release and hiddeness. I explained, through the example of one of the stories of Marina and other cancer caregivers (those who shared their stories with me), some highlighted points:

In mid December my mother passed away and I was too busy with Drew to make the 900km journey to say goodbye. It was tough. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. 

Marina, Non professional cancer caregiver

“This has made me realize life is truly random and unpredictable. We have no control over things, and there seems to be no concept of fair vs unfair. It really makes you feel kinda lost.”

Non-professional cancer caregiver

I am not so sure of my place and comfort in the world anymore. We were together 40 years and I never saw my future without him in it. We seemed to have it all, had sacrificed and made some wise decisions to set ourselves up for retirement, almost there and then Covid came upon the world followed closely by my husband’s diagnosis. We were swept away on the whirlwind that engulfed us until he passed away after 15 months.Life will never be the same. 

Non-professional cancer caregiver

Therefore, showcasing frustration through music should be turbulent, non-linear, messy, with the incorporation of synthetic sounds and noise. I image it to be far from clean, linear and minimal. This is a piece that conveys darkness, anger, defeat, guilt, grief, injustice, frustration.

As I expressed this to Cristina, while reading some of the quotes and sharing some of the stories with her. She immediately understood. This too made her explore outside her comfort zone, a perfectionist and classically trained pianist and composer, ready to explore these emotions with much more freedom and understanding that there are no right rule, no neatness in such journey.

Again, 10 months ago, I could not have seen myself communicating this, nor standing my ground on the importance of my vision and the representation of these collective narratives. Throughout the masters, understanding the importance of process, knowledge, communication and exploring the outside of our comfort zone – I have gained the trust with myself to listen to my gut, believe in my vision, respect other’s work while being open-minded to suggestions and feedback, and also – speaking from true stories, research and passion. I have certainly grown.

Here’s an extract of frustration/anger/defeat/guilt – early draft. With some corrections of messiness, dust and imperfection.

How can the self-narrative of non professionanl cancer caregivers be represented to gain better understanding of their emotional journey?

Collecting different narratives through interventions and primary research has been enlightening. As a non professional cancer caregiver myself, I have experienced first hand many of the emotions that many others have shared with me. Some stories involve stages I am yet to experience and others are completely relatable.

Through exploring these emotions and these stories, I have come to realise that by asking people to “Write” I am limiting the power of the stories that can be shared – as some might not necessarily have a literary or narrative weight beyond the emotional.

I therefore started exploring alternative ways in which I could represent the journey of emotions to give a voice to these carers but also to raise awareness.

By translating emotions and narratives into music, and then music into dance it would pretty much be an accessible way to access the caregiving journey while also giving voice and representation of this experience in the arts.

Reflection on OutWitting Cancer Exhibition

On Friday, I attended this exhibition called Outwitting Cancer by The Francis Crick Institute (it focuses on scientific research) – the layout of the exhibition was very artistic and immersive.

As you walk in to the exhibition, the first thing you see is a video and sound experience – it showcases different cancerous cells up close while being accompanied by very potent sound – it intends to show the biology of this disease, its spread, it shows the universe as well as the process of research through several close ups of research instruments and liquids. You can extract that malign cells spread, that it happens here on earth, to people, there’s research being done but it’s all so artistically put together in a way where it’s impactful and would, though its science, be 100% be an artistic video.

This inspired me to be able to continue using the stories, base foundation of information and represent it in an accessible way through an artistic form. Not only does it come across as more engaging but also it stands out and gets the message across more powerfully.

So for example, in this case, with sound design and video (visuals), the art was still delivering the message of cancer as a universal issue and the work behind it to try to solve it.

Aside from this the exhibition included an interactive part where you could write down an experience you’ve had related to cancer, for example if you’ve been a carer, know someone who’s had it, are curious about it, are a professional in the field or are a person affected by it (patient). This served me as inspiration to see how to gain ideas for my exhibition stand for the festival.

It’s served as inspiration as the importance of explore different mediums of expression and use the voices of stakeholders to create work them for them but also to raise awareness about the journey and importance of them.

Jumping over the fence

Slowly slowly I’ve been walking away from home. It all started by the beginning of this masters (literally inside my room), my room as an allegory of a comfortable safe space. Though the process of research and the more calculated risks I had taken, I’d move away from my room into the living room, still safe but more open. As time flew by, closer to the third and final part of this master I have found myself swinging back and forth between the door to go outside and the inside of my home, a thin yet bold separation of spaces. The unknown and the known. The familiar vs. the uncomfortable. The mystery vs. the spoilers.

It was only recently, and I mean very recently when I just shut the door behind me, ran through the front yard, jumped through the fences and ran through the freshly cut grass while getting wet by water sprinklers. Or should I just say, I got out of my bias comfortable box.

I guess this is why this masters follows this structure – and it is all making sense.

A question that evolves is a question that keeps getting explored, and as you start learning more answers new questions arise…new ways of seeing naturally emerge and this is good. A static question means no interventions have been taken, no movement has actually happened, when you move you’re in motion, when you’re still you just see the same wall over and over, even if it means from different angles. I’ve taken this time to approach movement, but also reflect on stillness, ask the uncomfortable why’s and most importantly grow more confidence in the how’s.

My latest big jump has been through drafting my evaluative report, as any evaluation I took time to observe and put together all the work I have done throughout these months, learning about the importance of consistency and perspective. During one of the parts that I had to fill out, positionally was a particularly difficult one – why? because as I was writing I had realised that perhaps, seeing what worked and what didn’t should be enough proof to turn the information and translate it into something impactful and accessible. I had been so focused in writing as a way for self-expression that I’d forgotten or felt blurred about other mediums of expression that happen to be even more accessible and rare within the caregiving field.

Such as what? Well, theatre, dance, music for example.

Not long ago I had been with a friend who is a contemporary dancer, he was telling me he had finished a project in which a filmmaker was writing a story and the dancer was performing that story through his body movement, no words. How accessible, how raw and how honest. I then remembered how much I love going to the ballet or the opera and how in those scenarios stories are too represented with little words and much more bodily expression – and what a beautiful way to perform story and self-narrative than through the most accessible and human mediums such as sound and movement.

What a way to do these stories justice than by embodying them in artistic expressive forms that can then be shared with cancer caregivers of all walks of lives and in whatever stages they’re at but at the same time, be able to raise awareness of the inner journey of these heroes.

Stories go beyond words and yet words can still be used at the foundation.

So I wrote this (spoken word – and share it with a cancer caregiving community – it got 30 interactions)

My life changed in December,

I was hit by Turbulent news

and I wondered How and why

How can life change so suddenly

Why does my mum have to be the one?

My heart aching with so much fire inside

Sadness withheld in order to keep things

“Normal” But nothing was normal,

My radiant mum,

the flower that blooms with most liveliness

struggling,

slowly fading away like the sunset

I want to hold on to her forever

And her warmth be the shield to this unfair life

I want to make new memories with her

but none that include

Cancer

Cancer

A word once so scary and now…

Now it just feels like a day to day word

Easy to use,

difficult to be asked about

My heart aches along with my thoughts

and the Possibility of loosing her,

Of another twist and turn

Makes me want to be with her at all times,

To enjoy every single minute as we can

But she encourages me to live my life

To not worry

So I listen,

I listen

because I care and I know she has it worst

Way worst

But that doesn’t invalidate our thoughts

No mindless guilt of whose story it is to tell

You’re your own voice, with your own pain

With your own fears

And when you see the person you love the most

Face the possibility of death

In such proximity

It’s shattering

Its a dagger through your soul

and you can’t get it out

I befriend it

And it starts hurting a little less

And I start accepting the new reality

Slowly, By being present, grounded

At times it’s all better,

At times it’s all worst,

Like living in a limbo or being caught up in a delicate web

While we’re in there,

We remember we’re alive

They’re alive

We can breathe

They can breathe

We both feel,

We feel together

And whatever comes,

Whatever is,

It is worth remembering

We’re with them through this

From the 30 interactions, most of them expressed sincere gratitude for being able to voice their feelings and opinions in a way they could not. This in itself has once again shown me the power of expression, not to be mistaken with the power of words, but expression in general and how there are different mediums in which those stories, feelings and journeys can be turned into art so that these carers can then re-access them in a new form and feel connected to a work they’ve been part to, speaks to them and to others.