Find a Balance and Learn Quickly: A Conversation with a Music Composition Professor Elena Mendoza

Elena Mendoza, a composer and professor of composition at the Universität der Künste Berlin, is recognized for her chamber, orchestral, and theatre pieces. Her interests lie in timbre and dramaturgy issues in instrumental composition.

In this interview, we explore Elena Mendoza’s insights on young composers navigating the contemporary music world and the influence of non-musical sources on the composition process.

M: Firstly, how would you describe yourself?

E: I’m Elena Mendoza. I consider myself half German and half Spanish. I come from Spain but have been living in Germany for a very long time. I am a composer, a mother, and a teacher of music composition.

M: What was your path to becoming a composer? You studied German linguistics, so I assume, at some point you had to make that choice.

E: I spent one year doing German Studies at the University of Seville. However, creativity has always been a part of who I am — I was always painting and writing as a child. When I began playing the piano, I also started composing some small pieces. It was very natural for me. My father is an architect, and my mother is a curator for contemporary art. I grew up in a culturally and artistically rich environment. When I decided to become a musician, I didn’t really have an idea what I was doing. I played the piano, sang in choirs, composed and wanted to study music. At some point, my father got very unhappy about that. He wanted me to become an architect, thinking, “Okay, she has a gift for art, so why not?” He was a little confused when I said to him, “I want to study music.”

The conservatory in Seville wasn’t very strong at the time (though it has improved since then). My father insisted that I also enroll at the university to study something more “real”. I thought to myself, “Okay, I already speak German, having attended a German school, and am interested in languages. Maybe, it won’t be too much work, and I will still have time for playing the piano and completing all my musical studies”. It was a great experience. I learned Italian and French, as well as some linguistics. It is also interesting from a compositional perspective, because the structure of language has a lot to do with the structure of music.

However, it became clear that I had to study elsewhere if I wanted achievements in the music field. I had some friends in Germany and, to make along story short, I went to Augsburg to study piano. At some point, I decided to study composition as well. I realized that piano, in a way, was like a “Hochleistungssport” (ed., Ger. “high-performance sport”) — very demanding and competitive. It was too “sporty” for me. I had studied piano until about a year before graduation. The piano teacher told me that I would have to stop composing entirely if I wanted to complete my piano studies, dedicating all my time and energy to practice, for at least a year. I felt much happier composing, so I said, “No” and went to Düsseldorf to Manfred Trojahn, and then to the Hochschule für Musik Hanns Eisler Berlin to Hanspeter Kyburz. 

M: As a longtime professor at Universität der Künste Berlin, what in your opinion are the most essential skills students should learn early in their music composition studies?

E: This is a very complex question… of course, students must learn multiple things at the same time. For example, in Spain, when I was a student,  you studied all the theory first, and only then you were allowed to enroll in composition. So only when students are completely spoiled (ed. laughs), they have a possibility to compose. Students had to do a lot of harmony and counterpoint, etc.

From my perspective, it’s a horrible model. I think you must do both at the same time, because they are complementary. On one hand, students must cultivate their own imagination, and on the other, they need to acquire technical skills. It’s best to have it like in Germany: main subject lessons — composition — and then, in parallel, you have all techniques: counterpoint, harmony, instrumentation, orchestration, which are, also the techniques of the 20th and 21st century. Even if you don’t realize it, studying all these theoretical subjects, you learn how to work with multiple voices, their interactions, and you use them anyway, at least unconsciously.

Basically, first years are about finding a balance between creativity and technical, professional skills. Having a traditional academic foundation is very useful. If you cultivate your own ideas and imagination alongside it, you won’t become overly academic — so it’s all about balance.

The next step is to learn about technology, how to work with digital tools and explore new ways of expression. You may choose to integrate these into your work or not, but it’s important to acquire the skills. I don’t mean that you must use everything, but it’s good to learn what is available and how to deal with it. 

Becoming a good manager for yourself is another important part: how to organize a concert, make a rehearsal plan, write an application for grant opportunities, and to promote art.

However, everything you do implies a steady reflection on what you are doing, why you are doing it, and who your audience is.

It isn’t possible to state that by learning this or that, you will automatically become a professional composer and be successful. There is no fixed path.

M: What advise would you give to your younger self — the student you once were?

E: Spend more time learning how to deal with technology. I see huge possibilities there and can work with it, but I regularly need someone to help or guide me. It is not bad because you may end up in the SWR Experimental studio collaborating with world-class professionals (ed. the recording studio and contemporary music laboratory in Freiburg im Breisgau. It is considered one of the world’s leading studios for electronic and live electronic music. Compositions that incorporate electronics are usually created there through collaborative work between composers, experts in music information systems, and sound engineers.)

Circling back to the previous question, another important skill for young composers is to find a way to learn quickly and stay up to date with new developments. I realized this during my time in Liège at the Institute founded by Henri Pousseur, where I spent about half a year creating a piece on a small grant. Although I learned a lot about sound, such experiences were occasional — you didn’t have the opportunity to work there constantly or work with the hard-, software at home. By the time you started your next piece, the tools had already changed, and you had to find a way to learn new things. Today, the relationship with technology is completely different; although everything has become more accessible, the ability to adapt and learn quickly is even more essential.

M: What are the main challenges facing composition education?

E: The challenge for all who teach composition isn’t just about students attending classes — the pieces also need to be performed. Students must listen to their works, experience the whole process of rehearsing the piece and develop skills to work with the musicians. This is an essential part of education — without feedback on what you’ve imagined and written, you simply cannot learn. The most challenging aspect of teaching composition is organizing structures that allow students to complete their pieces and have them performed. Ideally, the works should be played in public, not just for the students themselves. For example, at the Paris Conservatoire, master’s students from time to time have reading sessions with the Ensemble Intercontemporain, and Graz students — with Klangform Wien.

These kinds of cooperations are super valuable. However, you wouldn’t want the students to write only for ensemble. That’s why it’s so important for me, as part of the study program, to offer music theater and orchestra seminars — one of which will take place soon for UDK composition students, giving them the opportunity to have their works read by a full orchestra.

M: Do you take different approaches to students with different aesthetic views?

E: Of course, each student has their own world, ideas, and aesthetic path. As a teacher, you don’t want your students to become all the same. You should help them cultivate their own path and provide them with the tools to bring their individual artistic vision to life. Sometimes you should help them expand their aesthetic horizon a little bit. Some students come up with great ideas, but they don’t have a clue how to implement them. The main task for a composition teacher is to help students fill in the gaps. 

However, we are limited. The idea above is somewhat idealistic, modeling the perfect situation. There could be people who can help much better than others. That’s why I tell my students “Go to my colleagues” and that’s why having a variety of teachers with different approaches is essential.

M: Does teaching composition influence your creative work?

E: I think that receiving constant feedback from students and engaging in ongoing conversations with them — whether in class or during masterclasses — is both refreshing and stimulating. I’m not sure if it directly influences the way I write, but it certainly acts as a strong source of inspiration. When you talk to students, you often discuss topics that interest you as well, which can spark new thoughts and make you keep questioning things. It’s especially wonderful with young composers, because their perspectives can be completely different from yours, which keeps you intellectually stimulated and open.

At the same time, there’s also a potential danger in teaching composition while composing yourself. You’re constantly using your critical ear and eye, always searching for problems and evaluating ideas. As a result, you can become overly critical of your own work. It’s a delicate balance — and sometimes a bit of a dangerous process. Occasionally, you musttake distance and say, “Okay, this is my garden here and I don’t want criticism to enter it”. 

M: What values do you see in competitions, residencies, and festivals for young composers? 

E: Residencies are definitely very useful. You need to finance your life in some way. In this first phase of your career, there’s often a lot of pressure from your family and society to earn your own money, to be independent, and to be “useful.”

The danger is that, once you start taking on various jobs to stay financially independent, you may end up with neither the time nor the mental capacity to compose.

Many young composers fall into this trap — teaching, doing cultural management work, or other side jobs — until there’s simply no energy left for their own music.

Again, it’s all about balance. If you don’t take time to compose, you can’t really build a career as a composer. It requires a serious investment of time and focus — not just in terms of hours, but also mental capacity. If your mind is constantly occupied with organizational matters, you can’t find the concentration or creative space you need to compose.

That’s why residencies are so valuable. They give you time — and importantly, you are paid for composing. Surely, you still need to organize your project, find commissioners or musicians who will perform your work, but residencies provide both the time and legitimacy to focus on your music. In a way, they offer a kind of social validation — a clear, institutional reason for dedicating yourself to composing. It’s truly a privilege.

Having said that, residencies also have their risks. Like everywhere, there are two sides. I know composers, writers, and visual artists who move from one residency to another almost endlessly — and this can be damaging to one’s mental health. At a certain stage in life, you need to build your home, your relationships, your friendships — your Heimat (ed., Ger. “homeland”). If you’re constantly changing where you live, it becomes impossible to form lasting connections or a sense of belonging.

So, residencies shouldn’t become a permanent way of life. But having them occasionally, for specific projects, can be immensely valuable.

In my view, competitions are worthwhile only when you have nothing to lose — for instance, when you can simply submit a few existing works. However,there are also competitions that require you to write a very specific piece, and those can be risky. You invest a lot of time and effort, and if you don’t win, you’re left with a piece that may never be performed. 

In addition, it is quite irrational — whether you win a prize or get a residency often depends entirely on the jury.

M: Should contemporary composers make their work more accessible, and is there a way to do so without compromising authenticity?

E: I think as artists, we should always look for a genuine, authentic way of expressing ourselves — but also for opportunities to share our work with a broader public, meaning listeners outside the contemporary music community.

It’s also essential to give the audience ways to access our work — for instance, by explaining what we do or writing thoughtful program notes. I find this important. Some composers say, “I don’t want to talk about my music,” but that’s a bit diva-like, isn’t it?

You must talk about your music; otherwise, it remains hermetic. We compose to communicate — that’s the whole point.

The project I did about 20 years ago in Spain may show how well-designed programs can connect musical worlds. So, contemporary ensemble Taller Sonoro combined new compositions with parts of Guillaume de Machaut’s Messe de Notre Dame in one concert. The ensemble collaborated with an early music vocal quartet that performed the mass a cappella.

The structure of the concert was quite fascinating: they alternated between the movements of Machaut’s mass and new instrumental pieces. There were three composers involved, and since the mass has six sections, each of us wrote two new pieces. It was a wonderful project because it brought together audiences of early music and contemporary music, and everyone was happy. I must say, the music of Guillaume de Machaut, this Ars Nova repertoire, is truly brilliant.  Interestingly, sometimes the contemporary pieces sounded more accessible to the public than the old ones!

I think there’s still a lot to explore when it comes to concert formats. We shouldn’t always stick to programs of only contemporary music. It’s much more engaging to create dialogues between different eras and styles.

M: Nowadays, a lot of compositions are inspiratedby non-musical topics. What role do non-musical influences — such as literature, philosophy, or visual arts — play in your compositional process?

E: I cannot just write pieces in a very routine way. Surely, it is my job to write music, and I do write one piece after another, but each composition is some kind of new question. That’s why composing is difficult and that’s why I need a lot of time. I cannot approach a piece purely in a technical or instrumental way.

I must search and find an idea. Such an idea may come from every kind of influence, from everything that surrounds me. I don’t consider myself a “pure” composer. I always say that I defend the idea of unreine Musik (ed. a term that describes the sound as a complex phenomenon, not merely the sum of its compositional and instrumental components. Music opens itself to extramusical elements and naturally interacts with other artistic disciplines). So, for me, the creative process is about searching for an idea.

Example: the last piece I wrote is called Elogio de lo impuro (ed., Sp “In Praise of the Impure”). It’s for three percussionists. I had a commission to write a piece for three percussionists, and I was looking for an idea around the concept of purity, which, in a social sense, can lead to intolerance. I think purity in terms of race, religion, whatever, is a real danger in the world today.

I believe society works best when it’s mixed, when there is no “purity,” and when cultures and people intersect. Purity, in this sense, implies discrimination — you must make others impure to remain pure. You must set borders.

I translated this idea of purity into the concept of cleaning. So, in my piece, the three percussionists are “cleaning” throughout the performance — one with a brush, another with a wiper, gloves, and all kinds of cleaning tools. I also used traditional percussion sticks, but mostly these cleaning tools. The theatrical gesture of cleaning comes directly from the concept of purity, and it also opens timbral possibilities. I explored all the sounds you can create with brushes, putty knives, gloves… everything you would use to clean.

At moments, the performers stop and explain to the audience, in a kind of professorial way, the meaning of “clean,” “dirty,” and “pure,” drawing directly from dictionary definitions. There are also projections with literary quotations commenting on or explaining ofwhat they are doing. All the quotations revolve around the theme of purity. However, the piece is not a moral lesson — it’s a poetic reflection. If you follow the idea of purity to its extreme, it can lead to fascism, but the piece remains subtle and reflective rather than didactic.

At certain points, the performers “argue”: one defends the idea of clean, the other of dirty. So, the piece unfolds around this tension between the pure and the impure. The theatrical dimension emerges from the gesture of cleaning and the projected text. This is how philosophical ideas, theatrical thinking, and musical exploration come together in my work. There is a mix, but there is always a focus.

M: What is music theater for you? What unique opportunities does it provide?

E: I find it really touching, when music theater works, because it’s almost a utopian genre. It’s very difficult to make everything fit together — a director, conductor, orchestra, composer, and a stage director etc.

I don’t consider music theater to be separate from my chamber music pieces. It’s not true for my earliest compositions, but over time, my works havedeveloped so that even my chamber music has a theatrical dimension. I consider even my orchestral pieces very theatrical. It’s not just a special genre that I cultivate separately; in fact, all my compositional acts are interconnected. Music theater is everywhere!

 

This material was created and published thanks to a grant from Music Export Ukraine, Canada-Ukraine Fund, Aid for Artists.

 

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