A Conversation with Seth Parker Woods

Seth Parker Woods wears many hats: he is a solo artist, a creator of large scale conceptual work, a member of the Wild Up collective, and now an academic chair. Following his appointment to the Robert Mann Chair in Strings and Chamber Music at University of Southern California’s Thornton School of Music, CMA’s Orchid McRae spoke to the 2022 Michael Jaffee Visionary Awardee about music education, his GRAMMY-nominated solo performance work Difficult Grace, and the nature of collaboration.

Woods has also penned an essay for the upcoming Fall 2024 issue of Chamber Music magazine, available in members’ mailboxes this October.

I know the year just started, but what is different for you, if anything, about being a chair of the department versus being a Professor within the department?

It’s hard to really know what it will mean in the long term, because I’m just kind of starting on this. I should say it’s an esteemed title and honor, but also I’m just so excited, one reason being, because I have from a young age idolized so much of what Robert Mann did in his life in championing and advocating for both older works, but especially newer works and so much of my career has been built on the same type of ethos and practice. Though I don’t exist inside of a longstanding quartet, I’m doing the best I can as as a singular artist. For me it’s trying to just continue to carry that forth through the ways I’m trying to evolve the chamber program here and I’m working even closer with our Vice Provost for the Arts Josh Kun and the chair of the strings Department Lina Bahn, former violinist of the Corigliano Quartet. Her and I have been working very closely together, and just trying to expand the efforts also of the Virtuosi (the chamber virtuosi which started last year) that I founded which is a collective of faculty and students.

Each year we are trying to continue to forge these paths of peer-based collaboration across both… I hate to say, student and faculty, because I always just think of them as my younger peers. Most of them all just call me Seth, because they think I’m still their age (laughs). So these are kind of the things I’m doing right now and trying to continue building and envisioning with dean Jason King for pathways forward that reimagine or expand what the musician of today actually is. We’re not holding too closely to the storied models of what musicians are, what they can be, or what they should be, that has kind of been held on to for far too long. These models are probably 40 years outdated. Students have so many varied interests and outlooks and their worlds are completely different, then say when I was coming up in the conservatory. For one, I didn’t have a smartphone (laughs). There weren’t those forms of social media and all the other things that kind of kind of come with just the tech advancements and access at the core of it, and what is possible and where instrumental programs are truly going in some ways. 

It’s really fascinating the way that it seems education must change in a lot of ways: education is impacted by technology, the student body’s interests, and so much more…

It’s not saying, “Let’s wash out and erase 130 years of legacy and work that we have done to build Thornton.” No, it’s saying,  “yes, and also we must…”  That world then is not the world we live in now. The ways in which we play, the interest of students, the multitude of career paths that students can take, it is possible. Even through the thousands of artists that have come through CMA and what they’re interested in, what they’re doing, how they’re trailblazing different pathways for careers, financial literacy, looks very very different and we have to meet everyone where they are. To say, “we are here and this is the thing that we do and we continue to perpetuate that thing in only one way,” I think it holds us back, so if we can actually wake up and say “Okay we are here and this is this is where our students are, this is what they actually really need, plus Legacy” The legacy is what grounds us, it’s the ethos that grounds us, but we also have to have that sense of innovation and inclusivity. 

Do you feel like your work in the classroom setting has an effect on your performance practice? How do you balance these two parts of your life? Do they feed into each other in any way?

I think they always have you know at some point. I started to realize that I’m lucky to get to work with younger peers all the time. It keeps me on my toes, but it really allows me to reflect on my own practice and I have seen how, with things that I work with on with my students, I do bring it back to my own practice, to my own chair, to make sure sure that it still works. Obviously I’m not taking everything, because I’m in a different place musically, personally, and technically from where many of my students are. That’s not a slight, it’s just trying to get them all in the same stream, and then the point is always for them to exceed me: not to be a copy of me at all, because there’s only one Seth. I think even more as I was kind of working on kind of iterations of recitals, and many of my students were working on some of the same material, it was really great to kind of look at bowings, look at colorings, and try things out on them and see how it’s working for them. I pull inspiration from them just as much as they probably are pulling it from me.

The “give and take” between professor and student is fascinating…

I think if I’m not learning anything, I don’t think I’m really doing it right you know. I always say “I am the forever stalwart student,” I’m always searching for something regardless of where I’m at. I have no ego about that. I’ve always said, “I don’t know everything, I’m not going to know everything, there’s just too much out there, but I do know where I can find the answers,” and so in working with students you know everyone hears something different, they feel it differently, so it’s also important that we’re still open enough as pedagogues and peers, even outside the classroom, and that we are trying to hear as many of the perspectives as possible because that was part of the reason why to start the Virtuosis as well. All of our students have a chance to work with seasoned performers that have been at this for a while, but they’re able to be in a safe and nurturing environment, and share at the highest possible level with people that will uplift them. 

I remember at the 2022 virtual conference during your conversation with [CMA CEO] Kevin Kwan Loucks, you were discussing Difficult Grace as a project you were actively creating and finalizing during the pandemic. Difficult Grace combines multiple artistic mediums and engages a really unique selection of composers and collaborators. How did you choose the mediums and collaborators for this work?

I think with so many of my projects they’ve kind of been these long slow burns. I first started developing the smallest form of the nucleus that was Difficult Grace back in 2018 when I was Artist-in-Residence with the Seattle Symphony and we were working to open what was then-to-become Octave 9, the Raisbeck Music Center. As part of that I was commissioning a series of new composers for a big recital that I would give; one of those would be the title work Difficult Grace by Fredrick Gifford. He was someone I had met in Chicago when I had been living there before I came to the Seattle Symphony. Pierre Alexandre Trémblay is a long-standing friend and collaborator that extends back to my years when I was living in Europe. His work is one of the oldest works on that program, so it was a piece that was already grounded with me and I had known it when I was building that first initial recital. There was already so much new, I needed something that I already knew. It’s not as much work as learning all these new commissions and premiering them all in one night which is heavy, heavy work. And Nathalie Joachim, who I had already worked very closely with. I’m about to play her concerto she wrote for me next month with the New York Philharmonic! Her piece The Race was commissioned specifically for that concert with a series of other presenters and I had already been in conversation for a few years, just around Isabel Wilkerson’s The Warmth of Other Suns and narrative and adornment. The text that I speak comes directly from the Chicago Defender’s archives, which was a very important newspaper for African-Americans in the turn of the century especially through all of the Great Migration and it still exists to this day: only in 2020 did it go to digital format, but for all those years up through 2019 it was still in paper format, like a regular newspaper which is a dying breed.

In short, I started working with people I either knew of, or knew of adjacently, who I really liked what they were doing and I thought it would be interesting to take an interesting journey with them. That also extends directly to the work Freefucked by Ted Hearne, which came later.

I built the show in different iterations, because there were all these other concerts after the first performance in Seattle. I had performances scheduled in other cities, but then obviously we know it happened. I thought it would be a few months, but then everything was different. It gave me a chance to sort-of pull back and ask myself, “What is it that I have here? Was it just this collection of pieces that I put together at this recital? Or is there a through line? Is there something more here? And maybe if there is, does this full set actually work? Or does it need revamping?” We would end up discovering that, yes, it does need some revamping, so I started moving pieces in moving pieces out and figuring out flow so it really became a laboratory for me and I started creating and directing music videos  through University of Chicago, which is where I was teaching. When UChicago Presents canceled their season, they turned to faculty to start working on content and performances and so we used a lot of the architectural spaces on the campus. Even though the campus was completely shut down, we were able to get access with my film team (a documentary team that I’ve been working with for years), and we filmed and created all that. We were all masked up and I only took the mask off just to do all the filming. Directing those films gave me an interesting way to start mediating an experience that was very powerful visually, but also sonically. Content was all over the place as during the start of the pandemic, and I wanted to try to see if I could focus on something and also give these works that were literally only heard by that one audience you know back in February 2020 a chance to be heard. For the first time we were able to experience so much art by so many different artists globally on a computer screen and it was exciting for those composers also to have the work be seen by more people and be shared and talked about. Due to the the sociopolitical and personal content of some of them, it also helped spark conversations and worked as add-ons to conversations that were already happening in the wake of so much of the continued social justice upheaval that was already happening throughout the 2000s and 2010s.

Fast forward and we created multiple stage versions and finally landed on the final version of that (which is the one I really do tour now). That’s going to Bochum, Belgium next. In the Spring, it’ll be in San Diego, in the new concert hall with the symphony. They’ll be presenting it there in a different version, just because it’s a concert hall and not a theater. The album became something that I wanted to do; I had been touring and performing that work and playing it so long it’s like, “well I really want to put this down on record, so it doesn’t only ever just exist in a hall or a bootleg that somebody took or a video that is not as well mediated.” So we took to recording the project and it has done so well, beyond what I ever thought it could do. It forged so many great collaborations and helped me grow even further as a performer and storyteller and I was so thrilled with the Grammy nominations and support for the album. 

What was it like to translate this multidisciplinary work to an “audio only” listening experience on the album version?

So much of the show is so visual, or moving visuals, or moving bodies, that it’s almost impossible to to make a full translation, but through the way we mixed it, the way things are positioned, and the movement of sound in the recording it still feels immersive and not a flat 2D listening space. I wanted people to feel like they’re right here [points to shoulder] on my shoulder. In some ways they’re right with me and not like listening or experiencing objectively, but there are moments I think where that exists. How can we also zoom you out and pull you away from the fire, and you can kind of take a breather while the train still trudges on? A lot of that came down to the the sound design sculpting in the same ways that we dealt with it in the live performance. It is immersive, but in the live it’s full-on. We wanted to create a version of that.

The percentage is obviously not 100% in that way because it’s a hall against whatever medium of listening people are experiencing this record, but trying to mix it in a way where we are cognizant of the different listening mediums and without having to “dumb it down” in that way. To be more specific, we used very special old antique radio mics, old NBC mics, and they color the voice in such beautiful ways. That was similar to the way in which the voice is treated in the live show, but I’m able to kind of even pronounce it even more so it really takes on its own like that character exists even in the recording and in many ways it becomes a thing where it’s like you don’t expect the voice to be me especially for those that never got to see the show, or haven’t seen the show yet. They are shocked, or sometimes they think, “There is someone who is speaking with Seth’s playing! Who’s singing with Seth?” No it’s me also! Wearing a lot of hats and and just trying to do it becomes a spectacle, but in the best possible way. We tried to imagine the different mic arrays that we used around the space. I moved in different spots to capture a different type of acoustic profile in the live rooms. All the vocals were done in an isolation booth, so they weren’t they had a very focused profile as well and then it becomes just the mixing and where we’re putting certain things. We remastered a lot of all the live electronic things, so it was even richer.

You touched on this a little bit, but It sounds like so much “behind the scenes” work in your practice is borne out of close collaboration and commissioning; working closely with artists that speak to you and resonate with these larger works that you’re creating, but so often you’re the only person on stage. So I’m curious, how do you balance your artistic aims with so many contributors in these larger projects you create? Or in collaborations like something like Ice Bodies with Spencer Topel, where you’re working one-on-one closely with one person? 

Well it’s solo, but it’s never really solo. When I look at Difficult Grace: the lighting design, my sound design (that’s Thomas [Dunn] and Chris [Botta]), down to the collaborations with Roderick George (a choreographer and dancer), all of his movement work is already present there. Even if it’s just it’s me as a physical body on the stage, there’s all of these elements that are kind of encapsulating me and we’re working so closely in the rehearsal and during production, including the artworks: the visual by Freida Abtan in My Heart is River, the Jacob Lawrence Migration Panels, Barbara Earl Thomas’s paintings that also exist inside of the show. I have built my career on collaboration and I think most of us function in that way. We don’t build these careers by ourselves, there’s always someone helping at some point on the journey. I am always trying to be very clear about that, that it’s not just one person or that I am not just the performer in these situations, but also a driving creative force behind the work. However, there are multiple people who have an important heavy hand in the product that you are seeing and the art that you are consuming, experiencing, and witnessing.

With Ice Bodies you know that was such a huge undertaking for both Spencer and I because both of us come from a world of Music. Although he has also a practice in installation and I do as well. Others helped guide us along the way until we figured it out, but Ice Bodies was a completely wild card for both of us. Trying to figure out directions, how to manufacture, how to engineer: there were probably 30 people that really had a hand in the work, but you really only kind of see Spencer and I. For example, when we were building the molds for the ice to be housed in, you know we eventually did it, but we had so many assistants and engineering students, and literal engineers, and professors at Dartmouth that were helping us along the way. The people in every single festival, city, and museum that we presented, all of those fabricators and installers as well, they helped immensely with all that; the people that built the the platforms the pools that helped source the ice, the ice carvers that coached me and taught me how to use these tools safely because they’re deathly sharp, there’s all these people, but you know there’s always a face right behind every movement, behind every artist there’s always an assistant or assistants. However, there’s always a vision inside of it, especially with Ice Bodies. Both Spencer and I had to compile these elements down so there still feels like there is a strong narrative through line. It doesn’t feel like it’s all over the place, but how do you create cohesion even though the artists or the two people may come from very different backgrounds? Time, conversation, and communication does eventually lead to that thing and you can always say some of the creative work that feels less cohesive is usually because of difficulty in collaboration. For us, Ice Bodies is such a powerful message and builds on a powerful legacy from Charlotte Moorman and Jim McWilliams who created the very first ice cello installation sculpture project during the Fluxus movement. It was important to also pay tribute to that but also acknowledge where we were in the world and what that piece really represented through our lens. 

I love that you shouted out the presenters and the fabricators and the installers! Presenting work like yours requires so many people. 

There’s so many people  involved in the process that work really hard to make it happen; they’re working even harder than we are! They they’re working well before we get there, they’re working hard while we’re there, they’re there just as long as we are when it comes to the installing and preparation days. They’re long hours and we’re all kind of in it. When it all works and the whole team is really there for it, it really does work, but it’s not glamorous work, especially Ice Bodies. I know it gets kind of sensationalized in some ways or people laugh “you’re playing an ice cello!” But it is a haunting and thought-provoking work that I’m so proud of in my career, that I you know I dare to step out and do something different. 

It is certainly different! Ok Seth, I have two more questions for you. The first one is about the collective Wild Up which just released the fourth edition of its project celebrating Julius Eastman. We’ve talked a lot about solo performance, so I’m curious about your involvement with a collective group like Wild Up?

I serve as cellist and I also serve on the Curatorial Advisory Board. We have so many composer-performers also that exist in our collective who we want to really showcase as well, on top of other composers we try to champion, so we dedicate concerts throughout our seasons, both locally and nationally (or internationally in some situations). We are also internally championing just as much as we are externally championing others. I do quite a few concerts, but not as many as many others do due to my busy schedule. With regards to this Eastman project, I have very much served as an Eastman scholar having been involved with Julius’s music for over 10 years. We’re continuing to help push his legacy forward for new generations, that are coming to discover his music and wanting to perform it.

One last question: what’s next for you? What are you excited about?

Well right now this Friday (note: this conversation took place on September 11, 2024)  I’m performing with my University Symphony here at Thornton so I’m presenting Joel Thompson’s breathe/burn: an elegy for cello and Orchestra and then Ravel’s “Kaddish” for cello, string orchestra, and harps.This is our first opening concert, so that’s like the most “right now” thing I’m about to do. It’s going so well and it’s just so wonderful to work with your students in this kind of capacity, and to see it all come together and how I can match that and work with them to sculpt something in this way, because 9 times out of 10 you know you don’t really get to talk much to the soloist and in this way to again forge this kind of pedagogical collaboration. 

Outside of that I’m presenting the New York premiere of Had To Be by Nathalie Joachim, which she wrote for me and was a co-commission with the Spoleto Festival, Chautauqua Institute, New York Philharmonic, and the Orchestre Métropolitain in Montreal where Yannick Nézet-Séguin and his protege Naomi Woo will be conducting. We’re excited about bringing it to New York; this also marks my New York Philharmonic debut and Nathalie’s first commission from them too, so it’s a huge occasion. She’s a New York girl, she’s born in Brooklyn, her whole entire Haitian family is going to be there. It’s going to be a huge celebration! My mom’s coming from Houston! It’s this beautiful convergence of so much of our cultures and the ways in which we adorn, and the ways in which we lift ourselves up through identity, through the textiles that we wear, and those that have come before us that have helped inform who we are and how we move in the world around ethos and Aesthetics. That is really what this work is and in so many ways it’s such a sentimental work because I think it also frames beautifully this long collaboration and friendship  that Nathalie and I have that really goes back to when we first started connecting and working together back in 2017. All these years working on smaller works that have kind of built up, even with larger work of her own with Flutronix, and that’s led to her really having getting a really good grasp of writing for me, but also writing for the cello in this way. We’ve both researched the Dandyism movement, which is what grounds this work, and the African Dandyism movement as well. The research that went into that and just also the lived experiences from me growing up as a kid from Houston with huge Creole and Latinx influences and then Nathalie growing up in Brooklyn with deep Haitian ties and trying to fuse those things very much into this work. It becomes almost a love letter to self, and a love letter to family, or found family, or forged family, that sounds so exciting. I don’t want to give too much weight, but it’s a beautiful work and the more I play it, the more I continue to find more layers inside of the work. It’s a gift that I get to play it so much this season. Thanks to my manager who is working with all these presenters to really give this piece some true legs. Sometimes these pieces get written, even if they’re a solo piece, and maybe they get one or two performances then they kind of go dormant for awhile. Whereas, by the end of this season in November, I will have played it 10 times since I premiered it on June 1st. It really allows a lot of different audiences to experience it and it’s been an overwhelming reception thus far and that’s beautiful to witness. 

Outside of that I’m working on my next record. It won’t be fully solo, it’s my first official recital album. On this record, I will be joined by pianists Conor Hanick and Andrew Rosenblum, and Soprano Julia Bullock. I’ll finally record George Walker Sonata for Cello and Piano, Rachmaninoff, Lembit Beecher (through American Composers orchestra initiative pairing composers who had never worked together before), Julia Connor and I joined together to record Tania Leon’s “Oh Yemanja” from Scourge of the Hyacinth, which Dawn Upshaw worked closely with Tania on for many years. I’m excited to record this, it’s encapsulating multiple times in life. I studied Rachmaninoff first as a student. I met Walker in my early 20s via Ursula Oppens. I’m joining forces with great collaborators. I’m excited to put this thing down on record.