(Limelight Magazine)

Recent Reviews: April/May

(Journal)
Published – 23.05.2022
(Writing)

My reviews for Limelight Magazine in April/May of 2022:

the whisper opera (Rubiks Collective)
Primrose Potter Salon, Melbourne Recital Centre
Reviewed on 1 April, 2022


After two years of lockdown living, have we become better or worse at listening closely; to ourselves, to our surroundings, to one another? In many ways there has been less to distract us, yet paradoxically, more to consume. Our streaming options are endless, and we could, if we wanted, easily fill our days without coming up for air. What does this mean for us, as we slowly emerge at our theatres and concert halls? Are we ready to listen, and do we remember how? Will we need to re-train ourselves to lean in and pick up the smallest nuances of what we see and hear on stage?

These are the questions posed by David Lang’s the whisper opera, performed by Rubiks Collective in the intimate Primrose Potter Salon at the Melbourne Recital Centre. The work, which is not allowed to be amplified, recorded or filmed in any way, asks us to consider what would happen “if a piece were so quiet and so intimate and so personal to the performers that you needed to be right next to them or you would hear almost nothing.” It is undeniably an interesting question, and one that the performers sought to answer by creating a space that allowed each audience member to have a front row seat: the Salon was set out in quadrants, with twelve or so chairs in each. Long swathes of gently swaying cloth separated the quadrants with negative space in the middle allowing for the artists to move around and occasionally, for the vocalist to stand and be heard, more or less, by everyone.

“Is it possible that the meaning of hearing music live will change?” is posited by the composer in the 2013 program note, without of course any possible understanding of the great impact the pandemic would have on the performing arts. The music itself – at times haunting, at others jarring – played as a fugue to the whispered sentences of the singer: “when I am alone I always…”; “they said I was crazy but I…”; “when I think of you I think of…”; “it’s not my fault I am so…”. The whispers were conspiratorial and secretive, made even more so because one couldn’t hear each sentence with clarity. Shrewd lighting design helped push the drama along, ushering in a sense of beginnings and endings and transitions, where otherwise the audience may have been left – no pun intended – in the dark. The pacing struggled a little, particularly towards the middle when the piece seemed to narratively lose its way, but the delicate yet engulfing sounds of all four instruments together at the beginning and end of the work made for an immersive experience that was both clever and emotionally precise.

Ultimately, the questions the work raises were perhaps more affecting than the work itself: it was inward-facing but at times without intimacy – almost getting lost in its own ingenuity. The performers – Deborah Kayser (voice), Tamara Kohler (flute), Gemma Kneale (cello), Kaylie Melville (percussion) and Natasha Fearnside (clarinet) – worked with great energy and admirable stamina, though that effort was on occasion lost between the whispers. The promise but ultimate lack of intimacy undid the piece: regardless of the deep eye contact clearly specified by the composer between the audience members and the performers, there was no warmth. No fault of the performers, who were disappointingly underutilised; the score failed to strike the intended chord.

The risk of producing works that push boundaries and challenge audiences is a high one, and one that Rubiks Collective takes with great rigour and dexterity. Risks don’t always pay off, but they still make for meaningful experiences – this interrogation of listening and communicating, and our participation in both, will continue to play on our minds as we navigate the return to live performance.

Music, She Wrote: RENEW (3MBS)
Chapter House, Flinders Lane, Melbourne
Reviewed on 7 April, 2022


“…indeed, I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman,” wrote Virginia Woolf, in her seminal text A Room of One’s Own. And it is not only poems that have the ghosts of women’s fingerprints across them, without any whisper of acknowledgment – it is science and mathematics, works of fiction and music. These fingerprints can be felt on works of great genius, long credited with male names, and pieces written and distributed with no name at all. And “Anon”, to her overdue credit, has left behind some spectacular treasures.

These unclaimed gems, and the great and enduring work of correcting the male-centric canon, were given time in the spotlight in the second performance of 3MBS Radio’s second annual Music, She Wrote festival, curated by violist Katie Yap: three nights of “Melbourne’s most celebrated, imaginative and engaging classical, baroque and folk musicians.” Each night featured two contrasting sets of 40-minutes or so, tucked safely inside the stunning surrounds of Alpha60 in Flinders Lane’s Chapter House.

Cathedral high ceilings and stained-glass windows were fitting for the spectacular stylings of Italian Baroque triple harpist Hannah Lane and golden-voiced Chloe Lankshear. Through a series of anonymous 16th and 17th century works for harp, and vocal pieces by female composers of that era, the pair ushered in a sense of calm fearlessness through their sparkling virtuosity and palpable investment in not only the music, but the women behind it. A highlight was Barbara Strozzi’s Che si può fare – Lane and Lanshear’s rendering made the centuries-old piece seem as vital and propulsive as if it were written yesterday.

The second set – a performance by Big Fiddle Little Fiddle, Louise Godwin and Jessica Foot’s folk duo – tilted the evening on its head, clearing away the traditional ‘classical” concert setting, and instead making room for a perhaps more cosy atmosphere. The musicians bantered excitedly with the audience which made for a chatty vibe which was appreciated to begin with, but an operational lack of preparation for this left some audience members in the dark about what was going on. The great enthusiasm of the duo was infectious, and the fun the two were having allowed for audience forgiveness of any musical scrappiness that may have crept in. Women’s work, as it were, can be messy, but the best of it has a great, generous integrity, and that was demonstrated in spades here.

The combination of the Baroque and the folk was welcomed, even if not carried off to its highest potential. While the disparate sound worlds could and should be programmed alongside each other more frequently, both idioms need to borrow a little from the other to allow for a more deeply cohesive performative experience. Perhaps this could be achieved by a change of audience set up for the folk section, allowing for closer interaction with what is at its core a deeply participatory form that benefits from an exchange between performers and those watching.

It is clear that whatever the genre, the forwarding of all women’s work is vital, and 3MBS’ commitment to dusting off the manuscripts forgotten to time and rebroadcasting them, not just on air, but live and in person, is both admirable and crucial. One hopes that this festival championing women’s contributions continues and expands, making room for a broader acknowledgment of intersectionality, and further sustained advocacy of living composers.

Bass Instincts (Alicia Crossley)
Melbourne Recital Centre
Reviewed on 10 April, 2022


A well-timed commission can be career defining for a composer, offering the three things that are most needed for one’s personal and professional development: time, money, and the opportunity to be heard. Commissions themselves can be few and far between, so the chance to hear a collection of new works in one concert is a cause for celebration. The curation and logistical ordering of works can be a challenge, and throw up several questions for consideration: how to arrange a disparate program so it appears cohesive? If the underlying commissioning theme is Australian female voices, how does one capture a uniquely Australian, female voice without leaving anyone out of the conversation?

Recorder virtuoso Alicia Crossley, whose Bass Instincts project first appeared as a recording project, presented her thoughtful collection of newly-commissioned works for bass recorder at the Melbourne Recital Centre Salon on 10 April. The composers, a selection of some of the country’s finest voices, included Holly Harrison, Alice Chance, Anne Boyd, Fiona Hill, Lisa Cheney, Amanda Cole and Jessica Wells. The list, while impressive, disappointed in its distinct lack of diversity and intersectionality; a mistake that was evident musically, in a homogeneity that could have been avoided had the commissioning net stretched wider.

The stand-out piece in a stacked list of names came from Sydney-based composer Fiona Hill, whose work Lost in the Darkness was inspired by a poem of the same name, written by a 19-year old refugee about the struggles to stay hopeful in a seemingly hopeless situation. Hill excelled at using the instrument as not only a textural sound to create a spatially impactful piece, but also as almost a theatrical tool, allowing Crossley the space to do what she does best: use the bass recorder as a way of telling stories. Hill’s seamless working in of live electronics provided for a deeply unsettling and emotionally impactful performance, reminding us of the great horrors of ongoing detention. Crossley performed as if she were an actor, embodying the poet and the imposing system, pushing boundaries and smashing expectations of what the bass recorder can do to create a temporal and spatial sense of darkness and, delicately breaking through, hope.

Other stand out works were Alice Chance’s chorale-like Inhaltations for bass recorder and pre-recorded bass recorder quartet, and Holly Harrison’s Sylvan. Harrison’s work is consistently quirky, off-kilter and full of exciting characters; this piece, featuring Crossley’s collaborator, the percussionist Joshua Hill, was no exception. The bass recorder took on the role of say, a not-quite-of-this-planet tenor saxophone in a smoky underground jazz club; the percussion was propulsive and in turns pushing and tripping forward. It was Harrison at her best, creating an almost filmic character-driven work that is both alive and idiomatic.

It is a difficult thing to put together any program, but organising and executing a concert of new works poses singular challenges – how to choose your composers, and how to build out a program around their inventions. What one hopes will become more and more important as we as a community continue to commission and create is that we not only leave the door open for a more diverse group of composers to come forth, but that we actively usher them in, allowing for what we call our Australian sound to represent more than one type of Australian.

The ANAM Set Opening Night (Australian National Academy of Music)
Abbotsford Convent, Melbourne
Reviewed on 13 May, 2022


It is worth stating up front that what the Australian National Academy of Music has achieved with its expansive ANAM Set is extraordinary; for its scale, depth, and for the fact that its conception came out of an undeniably devastating period for musicians and composers globally, this project will certainly go down in Australian music history. The works that have arisen from the year-and-a-half-long project are, as ANAM Artistic Director Paavali Jumppanen sums up, “an immense survey” of living Australian creativity and innovation, the scale of which will hopefully be aspired to, if not fully replicated, many times in the future.

The backbone of the idea – commissioning sixty-seven composers to each write a piece for one of ANAM’s 2021 musicians – seems simple enough; but the scale of the work, from finding the composers, to pairing them with musicians, from the gargantuan task of administrating the program, to finally categorising the works into palatable concert-length performances, is staggering. Attending the opening night of the three-day festival felt like joining marathon runners at the moment of crossing the finish line; we, the delighted and trepidatious audience, played no part in getting to that point, but we sure were pleased to be there with the musicians and composers who had.

“There are around fifty composers in the room tonight,” creative coordinator Leigh Harrold noted in his introductory remark. “You may be sitting next to one!” Delighted giggles echoed through the audience – how rare it is to be amongst so much living creativity. Together, the works performed across the festival could be described as an anthology of new pieces, and Harrold had taken pains to mine them – as stylistically different as they were – for themes that might act as throughlines. He eventually settled upon six themes that would be celebrated across the festival, with the opening night performance to feature tasters of each: intimacy between a performer and their instrument, nostalgia or works with a distinct lineage, sounds of an agenda, loss and hope, the natural world, and perhaps problematically, “intellectual powerhouses”. The categorisation, which is worth exploring in more detail, could not keep a lid on the music, though – beginning with William Barton’s triumphant Journey Song.

A French horn and a didgeridoo? Of course. The pairing: unexpected, perhaps, but on first listen extremely sonorous and well-suited. Both instruments (performed brilliantly by Josiah Kop and Barton himself) created their own sound world that somehow came together as if nothing could be more natural. Kop and Barton breathed together seamlessly without needing to as much as steal a glance at one another, such was the musical understanding between the two. Kop’s crisp, clear notes moved between soaring and driving rhythmically with ease. The two instruments took charge at different moments; Barton’s didgeridoo providing a backing for Kop’s deeply melodious solos, before becoming a true duo and bouncing off one another, almost as if improvised. Barton, as music lovers have come to know, is virtuosic – a magician, pulling rabbits out of a hat as he paints new worlds with his instrument. An additional joy: Barton’s vocalising over driving rhythms in the French horn. The final unison ostinato patterns to conclude the piece ended triumphantly, leading to rapturous applause.

“If this is an indication of what we have in store,” I noted down as I listened, “then we are in for something very special indeed.” The pace changed as flautist Lily Bryant took to the stage for Matthew Laing’s Destructive Interference. The title comes from a phenomenon of physics that occurs when two audio waves superimpose and cancel each other out, leading to a lower amplitude; a phenomenon that Laing was drawn to following the years lost to COVID. “The pandemic experience has been so overwhelming it implies a cancelling out,” he noted, and his piece which was, perhaps, an elegy to lost opportunities allowed a sliver of hope through the darkness. The piece began as a whisper, a catching of breath, as if experiencing a false start before being able to continue. As Bryant, who masterfully navigated the complex, balletic work, got going, the piece grew wings, leading towards a greater question – what happens next? Laing has a deft sense of movement; his work is fit for choreography, for bodies shifting in space, and this work, which was as much about the silence he wrote as the notes, was no exception.

The concept of movement, and a musician’s deep relationship to their instrument, continued in the highlight of the program, Liza Lim’s Cello Playing – as Meteorology, performed by James Morley. If meteorology is how we were to look at this piece, then the cello was the weather; Morley our meteorologist, guiding us in turn gently, then harshly, then contemplatively through the changing events. He appeared on stage with no music, no chair, just his instrument and two bows. Lim had Morley standing with the cello leaning against him, singing and scrubbing at the bridge with both bows – creating something both tough and beautiful. Here again was a deep sense of choreography, of improvisation; a reminder of the long period of development each musician had with their composer. When Morley concluded, arms thrown into the air holding those two bows aloft, there was a moment of silence before applause. This is a piece I hope Morley continues to perform and grow with as he himself continues to develop what promises to be a very fine career indeed.

Two further explorations of solo instruments followed: Kate Tempany’s Honeyeater for trumpeter Nicholas Corkeron and Elizabeth Younan’s Fantasia No 7 for double bassist Kenneth Harris. Tempany’s work celebrated the song of the honeyeater, and the plight the bird faces as the species declines. Corkeron negotiated multiple mute changes and on-stage movement with ease, his playing accomplished and characterful. Younan’s deeply virtuosic fantasia made the most of Harris’ skills, allowing him to be improvisatory and to show off his dexterity, jumping between the composer’s small and changing musical cells.

Finally, Harrold arose to speak about the final piece – the “intellectual heavyweight”. I felt a stiffening around me, as he spoke of the last category of composer who used substantial inspirations for their works – mathematics, science, literature. Had not other composers that we’d heard tonight, and who would be heard at other points throughout the festival not had lofty aspirations for their pieces? Could they not also be labelled as intellectual? Chris Dench’s un petit mot crabe-c’est-ma-faute for trombone and percussion, brilliantly executed by trombonist Cian Malikides and percussionist Alexander Meagher, was a delightfully character-driven duo. The trombone became the crab on its great adventure, the percussion providing pantomimed occasions of peril, of safety, of challenge. Dench’s piece was strange and dense, and yet with a great sense of wit and humour; a delightful ending to an exceptional night.

And yet, the categorisation felt sticky, and worth remarking on. New contemporary Western art music, as Jumppanen pointed out at the opening of the concert, often has an agenda, and often is itself an agenda. Composers draw upon years of trial and error, or reading, listening, watching, thinking to write their works. Some pieces flop, others are roaring successes. Many never get the acclaim they deserve. To categorise sixty-seven new works is no easy task, but to define some composers to the category of “intellectual”, with deep implications that in this instance, intellectual equals good, does a disservice to all composers – the ones included in that category and the ones who are not.

One cannot overestimate the work that fell on Harrold’s shoulders in putting together a festival of this magnitude, but to state in front of a roomful of creators – many who would be heard across the weekend – that their inspirations were not lofty enough to be considered part of this heady category was disappointing, and off-putting. Luckily, while the pieces will remain long after we are no longer here to hear or perform them, the categories in which they were relegated to will be a thing of the past.

GLOW (Jasper Ly and Peter Dumsday)
fortyfivedownstairs
Reviewed on 15 May, 2022


I’ve long distanced myself from the famous phrase, “writing about music is like dancing about architecture,” because there are so many ways to articulate one’s feelings about music. But occasionally there is a performance that evades even the most careful expression. Arriving for Jasper Ly and Peter Dumsday’s recital, aptly titled GLOW, at fortyfivedownstairs felt like wandering into the hottest new play in town – the raked seating was packed to bursting; the PA was playing calm neo-classical tunes and the youthful audience was whispering excitedly. Golden light and haze effects, masterfully designed by Henry Paulet, gave the room a joyful feeling of regeneration – there was nothing staid or conservative about this performance, and the music had not yet begun.

The concert itself – which the pair initially put together in late 2019 for presentation in 2020 – was created to celebrate Melbourne-based talent, who were writing, in part, about uniquely Melbourne experiences. The “glow” wasn’t specifically named for the direction the composers took in their writing, but instead for a particular feeling that the musicians hoped to portray – a relaxed, but deeply choreographed move through each of the six programmed works.

Setting the scene perfectly, Oscar Jenkins-Wing’s City Loops for oboe, piano and electronic track situated us in the Melbourne CBD. Leaning on inspiration from artists like Steve Reich and Philip Glass, Jenkins-Wing’s work used found recorded sounds from across the city – train announcements, the clicking of the pedestrian traffic lights, the sounds of our beloved trams on their tracks – an idea that morphed from what was perhaps a nod to every day sounds to something of a love letter for a city deeply impacted by a lack of noise over the past two years. The work was reverent but witty in both the electronics themselves, and in the clever musical links that borrowed from minimalism, neo-classicism, pop and jazz. Jenkins-Wing himself plays in a band that fuses Latin, jazz, Afro and house genres, and these sensibilities were clear without overpowering the work.

Dumsday is an assured stylist, and was the perfect foil for Jasper’s charismatic, precise oboe performance: their skills as a duo soared in Ade Vincent’s Vancouver At Dawn, a piece inspired by the West Coast of Canada and dedicated to the composer’s mother. The work was treated with deep thoughtfulness and reverence by Ly and Dumsday, who gave Vincent’s already delightful arrangement a sense of fuller orchestration. It would be excellent to see a life for this piece into the future, perhaps with a broader orchestration.

Two works by Robert McIntyre followed – Dai[zies] and Intercept, the former a piece that drew its inspiration and electronic track from an excerpt of The Hunger Games soundtrack. It showcased a very interesting use of sound design – there were several moments were it was unclear what was tape and what was live. McIntyre also made the most of Ly’s storytelling skills, proving how useful it is as an instrumentalist to be able to work closely alongside a composer for an extended period of time. His second work, Intercept, was a study on the active process of reflection: while it presented several interesting ideas, none were fully developed, leaving the piece to feel a little anaemic. McIntyre’s voice is an exciting one though, and I am interested to hear how he continues to grow.

As is already evident, Ly’s curation of this recital was deeply personal, with each piece’s introduction featuring stories of meetings and blossoming friendships, as well as noting a particularly special lineage: Oscar Jenkins-Wing was introduced to the oboe player through his teacher, Ade Vincent, who in turn was taught by Stuart Greenbaum, whose Sonata for Oboe and Piano was the standout work of the program. Greenbaum’s sonata was abstract, yet cinematic, borrowing as he often does from a combination of Western art music traditions and pop and jazz ideas. The work has all the elements to become an oft-performed part of the oboe repertoire.

Finally, Zinia Chan’s work Gaze Upon the Liquid Sky was a stunning bookend to Jenkins-Wing’s opening statement – the beginning a love letter to city living, the end a nod of gratitude to wildlife, and both deeply Australia-focussed. Again here, a strong use of electronics allowed for the acoustic instruments to become part of the soundscape; Chan melded the natural noises of the outside world with electronic sounds and the oboe and piano performing live. One became the other, and if you closed your eyes, you could feel the wind shifting the trees, the frogs croaking, the crickets singing out.

“I didn’t know how popular we were,” Ly had quipped on noticing the crowd at the opening of the night, and popular indeed they deserved to be – their performance has stood out as one of the finest since we emerged from lockdown. It’s hard to capture with language the way this concert made me, and the rest of the sold-out audience feel, but I am certain that we all experienced a thoughtful, thought-provoking and not-soon-forgotten performance, that transcended its individual pieces and left us all feeling a little glow.

(Articles)
On Kunstkamer
Published – 16.06.2022

(Articles & Program Notes)

An Update
Published – 09.06.2022

(Journal)

Recent Reviews: April/May,
Limelight Magazine

Published – 23.05.2022

(Journal)

I Vespri Siciliani,
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Published – 19.05.2022

(Articles & Program Notes)

Verdi & Prokofiev,
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Published – 19.05.2022

(Articles & Program Notes)

Crying at Night
Published – 27.08.2021

(Journal)

Jam Tomorrow
Published – 18.07.2021

(Journal)

Rumaan Alam’s Current Enthusiasms
Published – 18.06.2021

(Journal)

A Musician’s Day
Published – 23.05.2021

(Journal)

Creating the Dream Team,
Musica Viva

Published – 20.05.2021

(Interviews)

There are Fairies,
Canberra Symphony Orchestra

Published – 26.04.2021

(Articles & Program Notes)

Konstantin Shamray,
Musica Viva

Published – 14.04.2021

(Interviews)

The Meaning of Alleluja,
Bach Akademie Australia

Published – 26.03.2021

(Articles & Program Notes)

Doing The Work
Published – 07.03.2021

(Journal)

Diana Doherty and Emma Jardine,
Musica Viva

Published – 20.02.2021

(Interviews)

Welcoming the New Year
Published – 07.01.2021

(Journal)

On hard times, for my friends.
Published – 10.08.2020

(Journal)

Luisa Miller,
Intermusica

Published – 22.07.2020

(Interviews)

Singing Violetta,
Intermusica

Published – 22.07.2020

(Interviews)

On Wondering
Published – 29.04.2020

(Journal)

A Couple Quick Things
Published – 05.04.2020

(Journal)

Staying Hopeful
Published – 24.03.2020

(Journal)

Hard Time Reminders
Published – 16.03.2020

(Journal)

Noted, Recently
Published – 05.03.2020

(Journal)

Through Winter, To Spring
Published – 04.03.2020

(Journal)

Poems for Summer
Published – 05.01.2020

(Journal)

Nevermind Review,
The Age

Published – 17.11.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Seraphim Trio Review,
The Age

Published – 17.11.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Stalin’s Piano Review,
The Age

Published – 17.11.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Australian Brandenburg Orchestra Review,
The Age

Published – 17.11.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Horsely & Williams Duo Review,
The Age

Published – 17.11.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Lina Andonovska Review,
The Age

Published – 17.11.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Brian Cox & MSO,
The Age

Published – 17.11.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Arcadia Winds Review,
The Age

Published – 17.11.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Nevermind Pre-Concert Talk,
Musica Viva

Published – 22.10.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Nicole Car in Recital,
Melbourne Recital Centre

Published – 09.08.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto,
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Published – 03.07.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Verdi’s Requiem,
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Published – 19.05.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

Requiem Blog,
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Published – 20.03.2019

(Articles & Program Notes)

New Year, New Words
Published – 20.01.2019

(Journal)

How To Be Perfect
Published – 06.01.2019

(Journal)

The Year, Gone
Published – 30.12.2018

(Journal)

Relationship to Work
Published – 03.12.2018

(Journal)

French Classics,
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Published – 28.11.2018

(Articles & Program Notes)

Everything is Waiting
Published – 15.11.2018

(Journal)

In September, Things That Are New
Published – 29.09.2018

(Journal)

Make the Ordinary Come Alive
Published – 03.09.2018

(Journal)

New Music,
Darmstädter Ferienkurse

Published – 12.08.2018

(Articles & Program Notes)

Notes on Love
Published – 06.07.2018

(Journal)

Remember This Feeling
Published – 05.06.2018

(Journal)

Words in Mind
Published – 18.05.2018

(Journal)

Away From Home
Published – 16.05.2018

(Journal)

The Blank Page
Published – 14.05.2018

(Journal)

On Music and Friendship,
Orchestra Victoria

Published – 03.05.2018

(Articles & Program Notes)

Musical Directions
Published – 24.12.2017

(Journal)

Learning to Sing,
Rehearsal Magazine

Published – 17.12.2017

(Articles & Program Notes)

Behind-the-scenes of The Merry Widow,
Senza Sord

Published – 03.12.2017

(Interviews)

Musical Quirks,
Musica Viva

Published – 06.10.2017

(Articles & Program Notes)

Beauty and Tragedy,
Orchestra Victoria

Published – 24.07.2017

(Articles & Program Notes)

Eighth Blackbird,
The Music

Published – 23.02.2017

(Articles & Program Notes)

Schubert’s Swan Song
Published – 23.09.2016

(Articles & Program Notes)

Songmakers Australia,
Limelight Magazine

Published – 12.04.2016

(Interviews)

On Women in Music,
Ensemble Goldentree

Published – 05.03.2016

(Articles & Program Notes)

Grandma’s Hands,
Hundreds and Thousands

Published – 29.11.2014

(Articles & Program Notes)