BY JASSY ROBERTSON
Many composers and musicians will allow their art to speak for itself. Not often are they asked about their personal lives.
We think it’s important to give all individuals a platform to express their views – to speak openly about what shapes them, and tell us how they feel the world perceives them. We want to share stories that will help others express their individuality as they navigate a career anchored in past traditions.
Queer and Now is a new CutCommon series in which we interview LGBTQIA+ identifying musicians and composers in Australia to gain a wider perspective of how identity affects art and careers.
To launch the series, we chat with ARIA award-winning composer Sally Whitwell on the intersections between her experiences as a woman and a member of the LGBTQIA+ community. Sally has proudly expressed her identity through music, being involved in lesbian and queer music events and panels. However, Sally’s journey has not been without its challenges. We discuss the underexplored topic of what it means to be a queer female composer in 21st Century Australia.
How do you feel your sexual identity has affected your career in music?
Mostly, I think it’s affected my approach to my career. When I was just starting out as a freelance musician, I felt a very keen urge to be involved as a musician in the LGBTQIA+ community. I fulfilled that urge by working as an accompanist for the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir, as well as producing and performing in several shows for Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Festival.
I’m not so involved as a performer these days, as I feel less of an urge to shout my identity out to the world. But I have enjoyed doing the odd gig here and there, like Lesbians at the House – a massive concert of all lesbian identifying artists at Sydney Opera House – and being a part of panel discussions like SGLMG project Women Say Something.
What have been the career challenges, benefits, or impacts (real or perceived) of publicly expressing your identity?
From music industry colleagues, I have to say I have felt no real impact; neither positive nor negative. From my fan base, however, I’ve copped my fair share of homophobic abuse via social media. It comes mostly from older, more conservative classical music lovers who think that one’s art and one’s life should not intersect. I say the opposite!
Also, in the beginning, when I started recording albums and getting a bit more profile, I thought that perhaps I would get some support from the LGBTQIA+ press, and therefore from the wider community. It has been a struggle, though. One thing that comes to mind is being flown interstate twice at Universal’s expense to record interviews on LGBTQIA+ radio stations. They’ve never been broadcast.
How would you describe the sense of community between LGBTQIA+ musicians and composers?
There’s nothing organised and I don’t really feel much solidarity with them. I find it’s mostly an unspoken thing, which makes me wonder: if I were to suffer some homophobia in my workplace, I’m not sure I could or would turn to any of my LBGTQIA+ colleagues for support. I’d be much more likely to turn to other LGBTQIA+ friends.
How do you feel this compares to the community of female musicians and composers?
Women composers have a good thing going on. One example is a social media group I belong to, which is dedicated to sharing our experiences as women in composition, keeping up with everyone’s work, posting professional and educational opportunities for women composers, etc. The only thing that mars it for me a little is the occasional snobbism from very academic composers towards those of us who came to composition along a different path.
Are there other queer artists who influence your work?
Actually, there aren’t really any queer artists who influence me, as such. But there are many whose work I admire, because by being out and proud they are living their truth. Like Ellen Page for example, or Neil Patrick Harris.
What advice would you give to LGBTQIA+ identifying artists who hope to achieve their dreams in Australia?
I’d say, be completely yourself. If that means you need to get around in a pink glitter ball gown and live in a rainbow-striped tipi, then be not afraid. If you’re more understated about it and just want to write love songs with the appropriate pronouns, that is equally wonderful. Whatever you do, the point is to make the art that is completely you and to not apologise for it. Everyone’s voice counts, and only you can write what you write because you are unique in this world.
Listen to Sally Whitwell’s music in Seven Stories at the City Recital Hall on 3 June. She’ll also take part in the Gondwana Choirs’ concert Southern Lights, Northern Lights on 28 June.
Are you an LGBTQIA+ identifying artist and would like to share your story? Get in touch with us using the form below.
Images supplied.
