BY MICHAEL BAKRNČEV
In 2017, Melbourne contemporary classical composer Michael Bakrnčev addressed the question, Is it worth becoming a composer in Australia? Half a decade on, this multi-award-winning artist shares the experiences that led him through and beyond an arts career.
By 2017, I’d had enough of being a student.
I had been a student from my time at an independent school from the age of three, a couple of different state schools as a pre-teen, an elite private school for my secondary education, a country city university for my bachelor’s, and two major city conservatoriums for my honours degrees.
I had to get away from it all.
I had to allow time to be a person, enjoy developing my craft on my own for a little bit, and try to create a bridge to somewhere, for myself. Little did I realise that bridge would have to be hand-chiselled, by me alone, in billions of years’ worth of rock and stone.
A future for young composers
I remember when I caught the bug and started taking composition seriously, my head of department read an article in a seminar about the downfall of orchestras in Australia, and my own composition teacher advised me very strongly to consider what I was going to do after I graduated university.
Grim forecast, to say the least.
At the time, I decided to move back to my hometown of Melbourne, and pursue my masters. I was fortunate enough to have won prizes, scholarships, receive a few commissions of note, and also gain an opportunity to work with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. My piece Sky Jammer was selected to be performed at the Metropolis festival, which was sensational.
I remember the feeling well: after all that hard work and effort, I felt like I was getting somewhere. I was very fortunate that it was performed by the Macedonian Philharmonic soon afterwards.
Then, absolutely nothing happened.
One of my composition teachers described composer development opportunities as often being bridges to nowhere. Half a decade on, and it appears there are some really great extended development opportunities for composers. However, many of these are dedicated to “young composers”. In the grand scheme of things, the vast amount of talented composers out there may find only a limited number of residencies and commission opportunities available to those of any age.
I suppose it’s why, roughly at the same time, my distant cousin Anthony Pateras (who is a composer as well) once told me that being an artist over the age of 30 in Australia is one of the toughest career paths one can take.
The perils of pursuing the arts
This is approximately when I suffered from burnout and frustration from the pursuit of being an independent artist. So many negative sentiments, private messages among colleagues, long drawn-out discussions over beer and wine about the perils of pursuing the arts.
Too much negativity and pessimism can wipe a person out. Add to that, an Eastern migrant cultural belief system that is heavily bogged down in Western capitalist ideologies can make a man like myself feel really down.
What were the opportunities for a composer in 2017 in Australia? I still don’t know. I never asked, and I wish I had. I opted to chase the great Australian dream instead.
The great Australian dream?
There’s this scene in Seinfeld where Jerry wants to pursue a friendship with his best friend Elaine, whilst maintaining a sexual friendship at the same time – something that the show satirises can never be done. George famously says that for millennia, humans have been wanting to have their cake and eat it too; it cannot be done. Then of course, Jerry persuades George that it can be done, rationally, and with logic, and George falls for this belief too.
Naturally, Jerry and Elaine’s fabled relationship does not work out.
So could I, as a composer, have my cake and eat it too? Could I have both the commercial pursuit of achieving the Australian dream, and develop a sustainable and serious career as a composer?
The answer is, no. Although, I did try. I chose to neglect one (composition), so I could gain the other (Australian dream).
Sadly, I lost contact with many people who I admired and enjoyed spending time with. Some people, who I marvelled at, sadly seem to have given up entirely. One passed away, tragically too young. Some make art here and there. But thankfully, there are still those few who seem to be resilient and consistent with their art – like composers Andrian Pertout, Mary Finsterer, and Kate Neal among many, many others – all whilst having a fairly sunny disposition, which I admire to the fullest extent imaginable.
Searching for opportunity
The good news is that I did enjoy some really great opportunities, such as being selected to represent Australia in Taiwan for the 35th Asian Composers League Festival and Conference, being commissioned by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, and working with the Ku-ring-gai Philharmonic Orchestra in Sydney with Matthew Hindson (although I couldn’t go due to the imminent birth of my first daughter).
I pursued and managed to obtain the great Australian dream. I’m now in my 33rd year of life, I have two absolutely adorable and beautiful daughters, a dog, a modest house, a car, and a loving, very patient and understanding wife. (My heart and soul bleeds for spouses of creatives – thank you.)
But what was the commercial reality of chasing the Australian dream? My health has suffered, many relationships failed or became stagnant (in my personal life, and in the arts), and my joy for being a creative was supressed.
All of this was exacerbated immensely, through multiple lockdowns, and the uncertainty of working as a project manager in an industry totally reliant on property values, sworn valuations, market stability, the effective balance and management of equity, debt, risk, cash flow and projected growth. Strewth.
I, like many, saw my paycheck go down, and then down some more, until I was told: “Sorry, there’s nothing I can do for you, you’ll have to find another job.” That was a moment I will never forget, whilst I looked at my one-year-old daughter, and my wife who hadn’t been working for a couple of years, and was now unable to find work due to the pandemic.
Somehow, I was able to land a project management role in finance. There, I bore witness to some unpleasant commercial realities of white-collar work in Australia. But the office banter and good views of the city helped me get through the day.
The world is abundant. And yet…
These experiences – merged with hours upon hours of scrolling through YouTube motivational videos by the buoyant ‘Gary V’ – have led me to understand and believe this: The world is abundant. There are more opportunities today, to yield an active and fruitful career as a composer, than any other point in history.
Yes, there is still very much a need to create external sources of income, to not just live – but thrive, and provide for my family. But if it means that I can chisel out and enjoy the musical path that I choose to create, then I am more than happy to apply my migrant mentality – that is, to suffer (capitalist says ‘invest’) now, so that I and future generations may enjoy later.
You can imagine the lessons I learnt. I’m tougher now. My skin is thicker, and I know when a calculated risk is worth it.
And, perhaps most significantly, I understand the true value of being myself – that is, an independent artist, a contemporary classical composer. You know, of the Australian kind.
You can read Michael’s first blog about composing in Australia here. Michael has also written about commissioning new orchestral music.
If you would like to learn more about Michael or commission a new work for an upcoming recital, festival, or concert, you can follow and contact the composer on Facebook or Instagram.
For artists seeking support:
Support Act Wellbeing Helpline 1800 959 500
Lifeline: 13 11 14
Images of Michael supplied.
