We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Margi Griebling-Haigh. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Margi below.
Margi, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. 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?
Overall, I AM happy being a creative artist — a classical composer, to be specific. However, my creative urges do not stop with music. I find myself happiest creating, well, just ANYTHING.
Apart from composing, I do graphic design work (mostly for programs and publicity for musical events); I create individual greeting holiday cards for every member of my family; I’ve created several comprehensive memory books to a pretty high standard; I dabble in carpentry, sewing, baking… I obviously inherited this creative streak from numerous family members, and could name each source without a moment’s hesitation.
I actually do have a regular job, if you can call it that. I have worked at Apollo’s Fire Baroque Orchestra — part time, but in several capacities — for nearly 14 years, but have avoided a definitive job description. I do box office, marketing, music library, and front-of-house work; I organize the volunteer ushers, and I help with annual fund letters, banking, merchandise… I tend to refer to myself as a “gal Friday” and am happy filling in wherever I’m needed.
I have also maintained my own music copying business since college. This is definitely NOT a regular job, as few people enjoy the process of musical “engraving”. I put that word in quotes, since preparation of scores and parts has been done by computer from the 1990s. When I started this business, it was all pen and ink and drafting equipment, and the output was creative in its own right. I have always taken great pride in making beautiful and user friendly editions of other people’s music as well as my own.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
I come from a family of composers.
My father, a lifelong engineer at Firestone Tire & Rubber, was a gifted, self-taught composer who attained quite a bit of success during his lifetime. Several of his works were published, some recorded, and a great many professional performed. His music had a very wide appeal, being extremely melodic, Romantic, and accessible.
My mother maintained a healthy private piano-music theory-composition studio for many decades, but she, too composed. Her output was much slimmer than my dad’s, and she claimed to have put composing on the back burner in deference to him and while raising her family — although I can promise that nobody every asked her to do this.
My older sister, Karen Griebling, started composing at an extremely early age (4 or 5?) while taking music theory lessons in the preparatory department at the Cleveland Institute of Music. When she was 5 and I was 2, my father was transferred to Firestone’s facility outside of London, U.K. We moved back to Akron, Ohio four years later, and that’s when my own music theory training really began. I, too, started writing little pieces by the time I was 5 or 6.
Akron, Ohio can boast of a unique opportunity for young composers through a program run by its Children’s Concert Society. This Scholastic Composers Contest was made known to our family soon after our return from England. Karen and I quickly took advantage of it, and started winning prizes from day one. We had a friendly sibling rivalry to see who could earn the greatest number of certificates and little scholarships. Soon we both started entering contests offered by the National Federation of Music Clubs, which had state, regional, and national divisions, and we both consistently found ourselves in the winners’ circle.
Karen and I participated in various contests all the way through high school, and our successes definitely hooked both of us. But our love of composition was much more than prizes, obviously. Each of us found a difficult-to-describe creative outlet for our thoughts, emotions, and other interests. I tend to think of my sister’s early output as being based largely on literature, whereas mine was maybe more visually inspired. We have always supported each other, and continue to compose to this day.
What sets me apart from other classical composers might be my rebellion when it came time to decide whether to officially study composition at conservatory. It was during the late 1970s that Karen enrolled in a double major of composition and viola at the Eastman School of Music, and two years later I was accepted there as a double major in composition and oboe. But I really didn’t enjoy the aesthetics currently in vogue in the composition world and decided NOT to study composition at all. I never have had a single lesson in this field. I decided to write how, when, and what I wanted to write, and I believe I have a real instinct for style and form. I picked up what I needed from music theory and orchestration classes, along with performing a lot of solo, chamber music, and orchestral repertoire. I even took “percussion methods”, studied harp for a year, sang in a vocal jazz ensemble, and took a course in jazz improvisation, all of which contributed to my knowledge and skill as a composer.
With no conservatory or university affiliation as a composer, I have had to create my own path. I happily accept commissions for new works, of course, and over the years I have received quite a few commissions (mostly for chamber music, which is less costly and more practical). I continue to copy music for composer colleagues, and I have also served for years and years as an officer of the Cleveland Composers Guild, where I have organized countless concerts for the benefit of other composers and myself. My music now also appears on 17 or 18 CDs, with at least two more soon to be released (by other artists) and a big upcoming recording project of my own.
I am most proud of staying true to my own style. I think this has benefitted me tremendously, since more and more performers are programming and recording my music, and finding it to be fun to play and appealing to listen to. I am always thrilled to discover that something of mine has been performed and/or recorded by complete strangers… which means, it’s finally getting out there!
Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?
I think that most non-creatives have little idea about the time, thought, and intensity that go into writing a piece of serious (i.e. classical) music. From the first whiff of an idea — a little snippet of melody, a catchy rhythmic motif, an inspiration from some source or other — the embryo of a new piece gradually takes over ones waking and (supposedly) sleeping hours. There really is something similar between composing and parenthood, because each new piece has to be grown and developed and disciplined and loved!
In my own experience (which is the only one I’m qualified to describe) about 10% of composing time is actually spent writing down ideas and the other 90% is spent pacing the floor, cleaning the closets, taking long walks, etc. And during the night insomnia sets in — in the form of ear-worms — when snippets of the music play over and over again in one’s head. During these wakeful hours, I have often worked out solutions to various problems that have kept me stymied during the day. To clarify, I think that composition is about 10% inspiration and 90% puzzle solving.
Composing is a super solitary endeavor, too. Distractions and interruptions can throw off an entire work session. I imagine that the entire process is mysterious to non-creatives, but I always welcome questions about it. In fact, I really wish more people WOULD ask questions, because musical composition differs greatly from other forms of creative expression in that it is truly abstract and requires a comprehensive and unique skill set.
The most fun part of writing a new piece is that “a ha!” moment when the piece itself takes over and leads its parent in unexpected and inspired directions — again, kind of like raising a child!
In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?
I wish society were really and truly ignorant of names, genders, races, ages, orientations, and all the rest and could simply support creative talent no matter who or where it comes from without the need to take any of these things into consideration. I’m grateful, for example, that there are concerts dedicated to music composed by women, but at the same time I deeply object to being classified — as if music by women were somehow different or in need of special attention. And yet, it IS historically in need of special attention, and this is galling to me.
An anecdote: in 2008 my then 16-year-old daughter composed a four movement, 40 minute symphony. She submitted it (anonymously) to one of the big international composition contests, which was open to anyone in the western hemisphere up to age 26. She was one of the 10 winners that year, and when we were at the awards ceremony in NYC and met one of the judges, he confessed to being certain that her symphony had been composed by “an angry young man in his mid-20s”. I will never forget thinking that this judge was expecting that music composed by a young girl would be all about butterflies and rainbows.
I think that the mainstream media needs to play a much bigger role in sharing good news about creative people. Wars and storms and violence seem to keep us in thrall, but a healthier balance of positive human interest stories would perhaps create more a optimistic and less depressed society. The arts have always been good at creating hope, and the “why” of life.
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