Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Katerina Kotar. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Katerina, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Are you happier as a creative? Do you sometimes think about what it would be like to just have a regular job? Can you talk to us about how you think through these emotions?
I don’t really find myself wondering about having a “normal” job, frankly because I love what I do. You never know exactly where you’ll end up. I have had many wonderful privileges getting to travel for my art or my research, including festivals across the U.S., Austria, Canada, and Italy and getting to explore many world-class music venues, museums, and libraries. More often than not, I find myself having moments where I catch myself wondering what my younger self would say if she could have seen where music would end up taking her.
For example, this past winter my new ensemble, Basso Celestia, went on our first ever tour with a program of music by the French Baroque composer François Couperin. One of our stops was a performance at Bruton Parish in Colonial Williamsburg. That evening, the four of us were left with the literal old-fashioned skeleton key for the building to let ourselves in and set up for our concert. Aside from the momentary eeriness of not being able to find any lights (there was a switch behind the altar), we had the space to ourselves. The pre-show time we had to ourselves was genuinely magical. Maybe it had to do with being “behind the scenes” in a building contemporaneous with the music we were making, (or maybe the eighteenth-century reproduction shoes I bought earlier that day), but there was something in the air that night. For a seventeenth century building, the vibe was ironically electric, and we had one of our best performances. For my part, I was buzzing with equal parts history-nerd excitement and the inspirational energy that comes from getting to make music with good friends in a beautiful space. Being in places with a long history, I am constantly made to think about all of the people who have passed through it, their stories. People who may have been deliberately forgotten from its written history, but were very much part of the life of the space and it a part of theirs. In spaces built by European tradition, my thoughts often go to the women and people of color who have always been large parts of the community. It was a moment of feeling like we were there on behalf of people like us that came before. It’s moments like that, where I get to combine elements of everything that I love in a professional capacity, that I realize how lucky I am to do what I do.
Katerina, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?
I grew up in northwestern Wisconsin, and spent a lot of time in the forests, lakes, and snow. My parents are both scientists, and were both big participants in the ski-bike-hike culture in the area. So maybe it is a little funny that they got such an “arts kid”, but they have been supportive of me taking my interests seriously early on and have remained my biggest fans. Much of my high school experience was defined by cello lessons, piano lessons, orchestra and chamber rehearsals, but I also found time for art, theater, and volunteering at a local equestrian center. History was always my favorite academic subject, and continually I found that the historically-inspired things were the things that drew me the most.
When I got to college, I finally had the chance to explore history through the lens of art and music. I graduated magna cum laude with my Bachelors in Music (cello performance) and minor in art history from Chapman University in 2020. Getting to play with the Chapman Early Music Ensemble definitely lit the fire for early music performance, and I just completed my double Masters in historical performance (baroque cello) and musicology at the Peabody Conservatory in 2023. This summer I am moving from Baltimore down to Durham, North Carolina to start my PhD in musicology at Duke University in the fall.
As a musicologist and active Baroque cellist and viola da gambist, I consider myself to be an artist and a scholar in equal measure. I strive to incorporate scholarship and historical influences into the world of contemporary performance and social justice activism, culminating in decidedly interdisciplinary concert experiences. With a passion for art history, my favorite area of study and performance is the helix of visual art, music, and historical practice. The uses and fascination of historical practice extend through all facets of my life; from trying my hand at historical methods of clothing construction and repair, to testing out recipes for Ancient Egyptian bread. I see history as an opportunity to get to know other walks of life, the people who lead them, and to explore how those similarities and differences can shape the art and innovations we make today. Effectively, looking backwards to learn to be present (as “wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey” as that sounds).
My focus these days has been on Venetian music history of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, primarily regarding the women who trained and were career musicians at the ospedali grandi. The ospedali grandi were a network of four major charitable institutions which catered to protecting the impoverished classes in Venice, and became a haven of women’s education, particularly in music. I have been working in particular on researching the uniforms which would have been worn by these musicians. The way we dress can impact greatly the physicality of the way we play as well as on the audience’s perception of a performance. Many modern artists cultivate a particular visual aesthetic to accompany their stage persona, such as Florence Welch of Florence + The Machine. I have been looking at the ways the uniforms may have shaped not only the performance practice and technique of the women of the ospedali, but also how it may have shaped the social standing of these figlie di coro (“daughters of the choir”) in both Venice and throughout the rest of Europe.
What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?
Our modern world tends to deemphasize the importance of localized communities and the human side of making art. There also is an obsession with “talent” that obscures the amount of work and care that goes into doing it well. I think the best thing that people can do to support artists and creatives is to build local infrastructure. Supporting visiting and local artists and going to concerts and performances in your home towns and cities help create a vibrant community both with the arts and with the larger local business economy. Funding arts education so that people of every age can be exposed to new facets of expression as well as be encouraged to cultivate their abilities. It is wildly important for everyone to find something creative that they enjoy and to just do it! It is not necessary to become a professional or even be particularly skillful at it, just to participate in these expressive behaviors that make us human (and have some fun doing it).
What do you think is the goal or mission that drives your creative journey?
There is a phrase used in the historical costuming community which I think resonates as someone who works in interdisciplinary material history; “Vintage style, not vintage values”. It is used to distinguish the exploration and cultivation of skills, materials, and recovering history of people like us from people who would weaponize an interest in the past to justify perpetuating hateful ideologies (i.e. racism, sexism etc.) or to recreate atrocities. I think it is so important to study history not only to learn from past mistakes, but to learn to see the present more clearly, with the same critical eye that hindsight gives us. There is also a strong consideration of sustainability in material culture and historical practice, considering what technologies were beneficial or detrimental and for what reasons. While some people may not think that an ephemeral art form like music would have a tangible impact, the music industry has always been beholden to material resources for everything from making instruments to infrastructure for performances. This is the kind of thinking that grounds my curiosity and my inspiration experimenting with historical methods in music, art, and clothing.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: @monacello15 and @bassocelestia
Image Credits
Headshot: Britt Olsen-Ecker Photography