HEERA ALAYA

Japanese koto virtuoso Yumi Kurosawa began her musical journey with Japan’s stringed national instrument, the koto, at age three under the tutelage of her parents, both professional koto players. Ms Kurosawa’s layered performance—rich with full-bodied and meditative notes that she delivers with grace and strength—with the synthesis of various instruments draws you into an immersive experience. Ms. Kurosawa has been commissioned as a soloist and composer by institutions such as the Smithsonian Museum and Houston Ballet.

Heera Alaya: You started young. Please walk me through your discovery of Japan’s national instrument, the koto, and your interest in learning this instrument.

Yumi Kurosawa: I started learning koto when I was three, as my parents were professional koto players and teachers.

Did specific intrinsic qualities lead to an affinity for the koto?

Though I started naturally—because my parents are professional koto players—I was often against the koto.

Why is that [being against the koto]?

It’s the resistance between parents and children. We sometimes argued about the conditions set by my parents, and I was not too fond of practising the koto. But my parents knew I had a talent for the koto, so I continued. And in time, I was into koto and the music.

How regularly do you have to practice the koto?

It depends on what I have scheduled. But I have to practice the koto every day.

I read: “Koto’s sound depends on the density and water content of paulownia wood (known as kiri).” Is it true?

Yes, the instrument must be made of paulownia wood; otherwise, the koto cannot produce the required sound. My father used to make the koto from scratch. I remember my father saying that Kiri for the koto has to be good heavy, not too light, not too heavy, and that the wood must have great grain; that’s how we see which one will be great for the koto. The wood quality and the instrument construction determine the koto sound.

What is koto’s history?

The koto has a history of more than 1300 years and originated in training monks and medical doctors to increase their inner strength and concentration. Creating the perfect sound is difficult, so monks and medical doctors played the koto to stay focused.

After a while, the koto became an educational instrument for the aristocratic society, eventually becoming cultural. Before the koto appeared in Japan, a koto-looking string instrument existed to pray, which served as a messenger to god.

You mention koto’s origin in spirituality. Experiencing your music is a spiritual experience, which ties back to the root of koto.

Oh great. Thank you.

Welcome.

Is Paulownia wood, indigenous to Asia, acclimatised for varying climates?

In Japan, historically, paulownia wood is significant. When they marry, parents send off their daughters with Kiri wood chests (with drawers). Kiri wood holds well in many climates, and various varieties can be sourced from many parts of the world, like Canada, New Zealand, China, the U.S.A. and Japan. The best Kiri for Koto is from Aizu in Japan. Kiri wood from colder weather (Canada and Hokkaido, northern Japan) is harder than the warmer areas, which we need for the koto.

Does your koto require special treatment?

Koto is a delicate instrument requiring meticulous care. Ideally, specialists would re-string my koto once in three months if I lived in Japan, but since I am based in New York, it’s not possible. My brother, a specialist in maintaining koto, shamisen [three-stringed Japanese musical instrument] and other instruments, visits me yearly and re-strings my koto.

How do you transport your koto?

I use a specific koto for my concerts (not practice), which I check in in a flight case. Airlines have misplaced my concert koto nearly ten times, but luckily, it has returned safely.

Do you have a backup koto? What would you do if it got lost?

I do [have a backup koto]. But when I travel, I don’t check in two kotos; if my koto gets lost, I can’t do much.

The range of koto strings ranges from 13 to 21. Does scaling up—the number of strings—have benefits?

Yes, scaling up the number of strings allows for broader compositional possibilities. Minoru Miki, a composer, and Keiko Nosaka, a koto player, invented the 21-string koto in 1969, as he wanted to have a more expansive musical scale. I play the 13-string and 21-string koto (also the 17-string koto), with my preference being the latter.

Why do you constantly adjust the bridges? 

Even though I have a 21-string koto, I have to create music with a limited number of strings, so I have to adjust the tuning by moving the bridges.

Interesting. I was wondering why you kept moving the bridges during your concert. 

Compared to the piano, which has 88 keys, the koto is limited by musical scale. Instead of having more strings, we move around bridges to readjust the tuning.

Though your performance and movements are poetic, you demonstrate strength while picking your 21-string koto.

Yes, that is correct (requiring strength to play the koto). I must be strong, so I do yoga and Pilates twice daily.

You took the words right out of my mouth—I was going to ask you if your craft demands elongating and core exercises like Pilates and yoga.

Pilates gives me the inner core strength, which works well for me.

Are you able to practice Pilates and yoga while travelling?

I practice yoga and Pilates every day, twice daily, everywhere I visit.

Wow! That’s discipline.

Not really. Music has been my discipline since I was a child, but I want Yoga and Pilates to be enjoyable and to help me calm down.

It’s a refreshing viewpoint. I didn’t think of it this way [yoga and Pilates being solely for joy].

Do you change your compositions, say, on a quarterly or a bi-yearly basis?

There is no plan to switch around compositions for concerts, but I change the concert program when a few new compositions are ready and if those fit the program nicely.

Does a particular setting or environment bring out the best in creating compositions?

I wish I could be by the ocean/beach.

Wouldn’t that be lovely!

Yes. In the city, I work on compositions for various assignments, including projects for The Freer Gallery. I created three new pieces for a specific Japanese artwork, the “Mind over Matter” project. I usually start with the image and story and come up with melodies and sounds.

How fascinating. I have always wondered how composers write music.

You fuse music and cultures. How do you decide on your accompanying musicians?

My trio members are fixed—a violinist and a percussionist. Sometimes, I have to create a unique ensemble for one specific concert. When I am commissioned, let’s say, by the Freer Gallery [The Freer Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.] to celebrate a Japanese artist, I consider specific aspects of the artist and their life story. This Japanese artist was also influenced by Chinese art, so I created an ensemble that included the Chinese flute.

What does musical brainstorming with other musicians entail?

I have two positions—I am a koto player and a composer; I also have to lead my musicians. When I start working with new musicians, in addition to explaining the concept and the music I desire, I hear them—not only the sound or music; I want to get to know them better.

Why is listening essential?

I teach at a few academic institutions, and the students have their own lives with different interests. I try to learn what is going on in their life. It doesn’t mean I talk to the students or ask them many questions, but I try to figure them out in my mind and then try to help them indirectly or decide to be quiet. I also apply this understanding approach to my musicians, as I want everyone to stay fine and happy.

Is there any pronounced difference between performing alone versus performing with other musicians?

It’s very different [performing alone versus performing with other musicians]. For a solo performance, I can concentrate on myself as an artist. But for an ensemble, it’s teamwork, and I have to lead my team to give the best performance. I love both and need both as an artist and a human.

From what I understand, it’s similar to trekking alone (where you know your rhythm and stamina) versus leading a trekking group, where you must consider each person’s specifications.

Yes.

What does it take to put together a performance?

The preparation for performance begins when I compose music, keeping the other musicians in mind. I usually have deadlines, so I work backwards, calculating the days we [musicians] have to rehearse and rehearsals at the venue before the concert.

Do you follow a process to compose your music versus writing original scores for commissioned work, let’s say for The Freer?

Yes. These [composing her music versus writing original scores] are different processes. Organisations give me the theme or concept when I get commissioned. When I got offered a new project from The Freer last year [2021], I needed to compose three music pieces for three specific artworks at Freer. I learnt and researched about these arts and then composed the music. On the other hand, when I write new music for my projects, I start looking for and deciding on concepts or stories and then compose.

How do you approach each performance?

I have been playing the koto since I was three, so it’s natural for my body and mind to unconsciously prepare for my performance and touring once dates are on my schedule.

It’s instinctive.

Yes.

Besides your instincts, do you meditate or have a cup of tea?

I get up and down. I get exhausted when it’s hectic and know I need a break. I get out, and I try to forget everything to reset.

Have there been instances when you have caught yourself being distracted? If yes, how do you refocus?

I’m human, so I’m not perfect, but I have to control myself as a performer. Each day is different; it could be a health issue or something else, and learning/training to stay focused is essential for concerts and recording sessions.

How do you unwind between performances? And is detaching essential for your creativity?

Being a composer is different from being a performer. It can get hectic between composing music and practising for other concerts; I am used to this pace. But, I have to take a break, allocating time, let’s say some hours, to work on composition, followed by changing my mood and practising or the other way around.

Do you have other interests that balance your time-consuming musical creations?

I may be too invested in music. Even when not practising or composing music, I still think about music. Also, we all have to deal with other things every day. When time permits, I try to paint (I love art.). Also, meeting new people is inspiring.

How far in advance do you plan out your performances?

I usually plan one to two years ahead.

What is your philosophy of life and music?

Music is my life. An essential part of my life is to go inwards—conversing with myself and responding to my creation and instrument. This reflective process helps me realise other elements of my life.

Thank you, Yumi. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.

And thank you for coming to my concert.

Learn more about Yumi Kurosawa.