Inside the Creative Mind of Contemporary Classical Composer Danaë Vlasse
- Eileen Bluestone Sherman
- Jul 19
- 13 min read
Updated: Jul 23
By Eileen Sherman
Like her Grammy-winning, contemporary classical compositions, Indie Collaborative artist Danaë Vlasse is dazzling, warm, and insightful. Danaë’s music transcends any specific culture or geopolitical border. It’s no surprise that so many international artists have performed her works. A terrific storyteller with a highly theatrical flair, Danaë Vlasse knows how to capture an audience’s imagination from the first note to the last. She certainly captured my imagination as we spoke about her career.
Well, here we are, just weeks after your exciting Grammy® Win, but so much came before that thrilling moment. As a young adult novelist, I know that every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. You are in the middle of your own musical story, but what about the beginning? How did life in music and especially life as a contemporary classical composer begin? Is it a career that called you from an early age, or do you ever wake up in the morning still surprised where life has taken you?
My path to composition was not linear, so it is somewhat unexpected to have landed here. I showed interest in composition as a child, but my teachers were not composers, and not equipped to guide me, so my impulse wasn’t nurtured. During my college days at the University of Alabama and the University of Houston, I rekindled my interest in composition spontaneously. But I was enrolled in a Piano Performance program, so when I expressed my desire to compose, I didn’t get much support from the faculty. I say this with some hesitation, because I loved my teachers; however, when I started writing original compositions, I felt resistance, and perhaps even some misogyny, on their part.
A generation ago, it was axiomatic that “men compose and women perform.” Thankfully, this perception is changing today.
So, I didn’t start composing seriously until after I left college. I was writing for enjoyment and didn’t even begin to think of myself as a composer until professional musicians started to perform my work. I’m grateful that others appreciate my music, because I write for myself in the microcosm of my living room.
Your heritage is fascinating: a Greek father, a French mother, and a music degree from the University of Alabama. You are a walking example of diversity. For some, that could have created cultural havoc, but you intuitively emulate the best from everything and everyone, which, of course, makes you more in tune with the entire world of the arts. I’m curious: how did your mom and dad meet, and how does their cultural heritage influence your art and your worldview? Could you tell us a bit about your childhood and the lessons you learned in your youth that have impacted your compositions? How did you end up choosing to study music at the University of Alabama in Huntsville, for example?
My father’s story is a tale of the American Dream. He was born in 1933, the son of a seaman from the little island of Ithaca in Greece. As a teen, he wished to move to America to advance his education in science, so he emigrated with his father to western Pennsylvania. He completed high school there and then went to Australia for two years, where he studied in Melbourne, Victoria. In 1952, upon returning to the United States, he volunteered to serve in the US Army.
Thanks to the GI bill, he was able to pursue undergraduate studies at Columbia University. He went on to earn a Ph.D. in Physics and Chemistry at the University of Pittsburgh. After that, he did post-doctoral work and taught at Brown University for five years. Sometime around 1970, he was invited to work for the French CNRS – the national science research laboratory. During his time in France, he met my mother at a mountaineering club. They fell in love and were married. They had triplets: one of whom was me. I have two brothers!
Then it happened: he was invited to work for NASA. This is why we moved to Huntsville, Alabama, and the reason that I attended the university there. Huntsville is a remarkably diverse and highly educated city. It has one of the highest percentages of PhDs per capita anywhere in the USA. Thanks to NASA, it’s a city filled with international influences.
My father did microgravity research there for a decade. After that, he became a mission scientist, helping our astronauts conduct experiments for Mission Control.
He worked on both the Space Shuttle and the International Space Station (ISS) programs. When he retired in 2005, he had achieved his life’s dream of working for NASA. I am so proud of my father – and my mother!
My parents influenced my musical path by introducing me to a wide range of classical music. Of course, they also modeled a strong and focused work ethic and intellectual perseverance for my brothers and me.
My mother had a degree in education, and she was courageous enough to educate her triplets at home. As a result, I had a non-standard upbringing, with a great deal of creative time. I was encouraged to pursue numerous artistic activities, and I had a significant amount of structured practice time for music.
Cultural diversity is indeed creatively enriching. Not only did I grow up in a home life that encompassed three cultures, but I was fortunate enough to travel throughout my childhood and into my 20s.
I was regularly exposed to a variety of cultural influences in those formative years.
Perhaps as a result of all this, I never felt that I entirely belonged to any single culture. This was a bit upsetting to the younger me: I was always trying to fit in with the other kids. But this experience also taught me to appreciate diversity and uniqueness.
I come from the musical theater world, and one of its most revered lyricists is Oscar Hammerstein. In The King and I, he wrote,
“It’s a very ancient saying,
But a true and honest thought,
That if you become a teacher,
By your pupils, you’ll be taught.”
How do you approach the study of music with a new student? Who were the teachers who influenced you, and how do you impart their wisdom to the next generation of artists? Does your teaching affect your writing?
My pedagogy is indeed modeled on the teachers I’ve had, notably Dr. Margery Whatley at UAH and Nancy Weems at the University of Houston. They are the teachers who inspired me with their artistry and compassion. My teaching philosophy is to connect with students wherever they are technically, musically, and emotionally. I challenge them to build their proficiency while enjoying music. I tailor my curriculum around each student. It’s essential to encourage each person to grow as much as possible, working at their own pace. I believe that growth is an end in itself. While I value using tests for measuring progress, and I can see the pedagogical purpose of helping students pace themselves to meet deadlines, I don’t think high-pressure music-making is the right path for everyone. I am cautious about putting students in intensive testing environments, because they’re already tested ad nauseam in school. Standardized testing is not always conducive to creativity, and it doesn’t promote holistic learning. My goal is to nurture musically educated youth to develop a work ethic and a sense of self-respect through the challenge of learning an instrument.
Finally, yes, my teaching does influence my writing. I typically write music structured with technical patterns that organically fit the body, to encourage healthy technique. I often write patterns that will make sense and accelerate the learning of the music. I’ve composed pieces at all levels, and when I write easier music, it’s typically because I intend to teach that repertoire; it’s been such a joy to see my students play my works!
I heard you explain on a podcast that other art forms inspire your musical creativity. I was fascinated when you mentioned dance and pointed especially to ballet. Have you also studied ballet, which is another very demanding discipline? When writing, do your musical phrases suggest to you specific choreography? In other words, are you creating ballets in your head as the music flows onto the page? If so, could you offer an example or two?
I have not studied ballet, but I adore dance, and invite it into my music whenever possible. In terms of visuals, I do think about how the music will look to an audience when performed. For example, if I’m trying to convey wings fluttering (like the wings of a swan in my “Fantsaisie No. 2 Swansong”), I’ll write music that makes the pianist’s fingers “flutter” on the keyboard. Or, if I’m trying to portray hands flailing (as in the drowning scene for the music video “Sirens”), then I’ll write the music in a way that makes the hands flail with dramatic movements and energetic technical displays.
Many of my pieces are storytelling, so there’s a need to plan the choreography of how the singers will move on stage to convey the story. This is an operatic approach. I believe there is musical merit in pieces that don’t aim to tell stories, but my focus has been on storytelling since I began writing MYTHOLOGIES.
I love your phrase, ”cultural patience.” Like you, I believe the creation of worthy art needs time to evolve. Often, an artist has a vision and knows exactly where they want to go, but still needs time to develop, craft, and polish their vision. How do you strive for perfection and still keep spirits high? Was this part of your journey when composing your Grammy Award-winning album, MYTHOLOGIES? Do you think the listener should be aware of the effort, or does that diminish the mystique of the art?
MYTHOLOGIES was a five-year project from which I stepped away and returned multiple times to develop my vision. I definitely want listeners to know that quality takes time; my music is richly layered and designed to reveal itself further with repeated listening. My work is not meant for impatient ears, because I intend to reward attentive listeners.
Striving for perfection is how I honor my potential and justify the place of my work in history. In the Classical world, we have hundreds of years of glorious music to appreciate, so if I’m adding to that repertoire, I’d better be writing music that’s worthy! I work best without deadlines, because I want to enjoy the creative process and luxuriate in the editing phase. In my case, the editing phase can be substantially longer than the initial writing phase!
There are examples of remarkable Classical music written in a short period. Handel’s Messiah and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue were each composed in about three weeks. But for most forms of art, I believe that time enhances quality. When you admire elaborate stone sculptures in museums or vast canvases of intricate tapestries, it’s easy to forget that they may have taken decades to complete.
We live in a world filled with fast food, fast fashion, and cheap entertainment, based on a consumption-driven marketing model. We need to learn to slow down and appreciate things more consciously, out of respect for the artist's work. That’s what I mean when I say we need “cultural patience.”
TikTok and Twitter are not ideal platforms for expressing creative visions. The highly distracting nature of social media and the short attention span structure of music streaming platforms has caused us to lose our ability to wait for a reward. Musical expression has suffered measurably as a result. Today, pop songs need to hit their chorus within 30 seconds, or listeners tend to tune out. Today’s streaming listeners rarely listen to a full album, so artists are pressured to constantly release singles. They can’t put together a cohesive vision for a full album – there’s no time or perceived value in developing a cohesive vision, because the market doesn’t value or reward it.
Cheap, fast-food-style entertainment certainly has its place: I enjoy my share of mindless diversion from time to time! But I hope it doesn’t obliterate more time-consuming and sophisticated art.
A lack of collective cultural patience manifests in ways that extend far beyond jeopardizing the arts. For example, most politicians don’t think beyond the next election cycle. How we make art is also how we live our lives, and because the arts are a mirror of our society, artists have a responsibility to lead thoughtful and patient social reflection.
As members of THE IC, we all value the importance of collaboration. When it works right, it’s pure magic! Tell us about some of your more magical collaborations and what made them work.
My colleagues constantly inspire me, and writing music for specific individuals is deeply rewarding. When I first heard the voices of Hila Plitmann and Sangeeta Kaur, I knew I wanted to write for them: their artistry moves me deeply, no matter how often I listen to them. I am truly blessed that they continue to work with me: a beautiful sisterhood has grown among us over the years.
Passion is contagious. When it’s combined with top-tier talent and sweet dispositions, it makes collaboration all the better. I’ll never forget the fervent positivity with which flutist Wouter Kellerman asked me to write for him! And what a thrill it was when I reached out to violinist Lili Haydn for the Mythologies album, and she somehow knew who I was – thanks to the Indie Collaborative Facebook Group!
These are examples of relationships that thrived because we had such mutual respect, and I was fortunate enough that they felt my composition was in alignment with what they could do to bring it to life.
Younger artists hear success stories like these and assume that their heroes never found themselves in an embarrassing situation. Do you have any examples of “a professional faux pas” that you can laugh about now?
I’ve got two stories of embarrassment that portray the incredible humility of those who witnessed me messing up. First, several years ago, one of my solo piano pieces was premiered, and it concluded the first half of the concert. I was approached during the intermission by many people I didn’t know; one of them asked me whether I composed music for strings. Instead of asking him about himself, I launched into a description of my affinity for the cello. Five minutes later, the intermission ended, and everyone returned to their seats. As I sat down, someone near me said, “Wow, I saw Mischa Lefkowitz talking to you! Will you write for him?” Then I realized (too late) that I had been talking to the most senior member of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and he was a violinist, not a cellist. I felt like such an idiot for missing a priceless opportunity to connect with an artist of that caliber. But the story ends well: Mischa emailed me the next day, inviting me to his home to meet his wife and have dinner with the intention that I write for him! We had a highly productive collaboration over the next two years.
Second, when I first met Hila Plitmann, I was so star-struck that I went blank on her last name as I approached her. I went up to her and said, “Oh wow, are you soprano Hila...(awkward stutter) ... Whitacre?” She was married to composer Eric Whitacre, but I knew she’d kept her maiden name, so even in that instant, I knew it was a bad guess. But instead of dismissing me, Hila smiled and hugged me, then asked me about myself. She is a classy, sweet person and now a friend.
For art to thrive, the artist must explore the real world around them. Regardless of the art form, the questions remain the same. Essentially, intangible beauty and ugly horror make up the two sides of the coin. How do you think your music reconciles this paradox?
When I teach composition, I strive to convey the concept that “ugly sounds” can be used to heighten tension, thereby allowing the sweeter parts of the music to feel even more beautiful. The artistic process can effectively juxtapose opposites to expand the emotional scope of expression.
I try not to dwell on ugliness because I think the world already offers plenty of that, so I wish for my music to provide solace. A musical concert, like any artistic endeavor, can aim to raise awareness about important (often tragic) causes. Still, in my experience, audiences don’t want to be tortured by anxiety, feel guilt, or experience conflict. I want my art to help people feel connected, hopeful, and collectively elevated!
What a pleasure it’s been to chat with you! I know that one of your missions is to encourage new audiences to experience the beauty of contemporary classical music. While your exquisite music surely speaks for itself, what is it about contemporary classical that moves you? On a final note, why do you think it is essential that others share this experience?
I love the fact that Classical music honors the past by being rooted in a well-established pedagogical and stylistic tradition. Contemporary Classical music allows for cross-pollination with other musical genres. This brings in new audiences. As a result, there's now a distinct style of music that’s considered “Crossover Classical.” EDM and Classical orchestration have been incredibly effective when blended – listen to what Kitt Wakeley is doing, for example.
An impressive number of pop artists have brought the richness of Classical instruments into their music.
And this blending of styles goes both ways because the Classical world is increasingly welcoming and overlaps with other genres. Why? I believe many classically trained artists appreciate the fun accessibility of pop music, so they utilize their rigorous musical training to create truly outstanding pop-classical blends (Josh Groban and Lindsey Stirling are examples).
I applaud this because it is a remarkable way to expand the appeal of classicism to audiences across vast age groups and varied cultures.
On the concert stage, I’ve been seeing technology take a bigger role in the Classical music realm, and this goes beyond using pre-recorded electronics: 3D experiences are starting to take hold, and even holograms are now being used!
I admire my colleagues who have the vision to step outside their training! For example, Robert Thies is an established classical pianist, having won major international competitions and performed with orchestras worldwide. He is producing recordings with jazz flutist Damjan Krajacic, and together they created the marvelous Blue Landscapes albums, which offer a truly high-quality ambient New Age sound. I think it’s admirable to make music that forces artists to stretch beyond their training, and to focus on producing art that’s made in friendship, with inspired imagination, passion, and clarity of purpose.
I believe the future of classical music lies in striking a balance between tradition and innovation. I’m encouraged to see musicians embrace new paradigms as they seek to blur lines between art forms and make music more accessible to broader audiences. Again, I want to emphasize that music should be created without marketing gimmicks in mind; art should be created with integrity.
I’m a traditionalist at my core, which means I’m careful to avoid allowing elaborate staging to distract from the music. I’m often skeptical when I see projects being marketed around novelty and promotional gimmicks because if the art isn’t substantive, then we’re back in the realm of “cheap entertainment,” so in my writing, I ask myself, “would this music stand on its own merits without a background story, without visuals or fancy staging?” And from there, I’ll dream of adding elements to enhance the musical journey for audiences.
I see innovation, and I believe in the ingenuity of the new generation of composers who write for the concert stage. I think the Classical world is evolving to accommodate greater diversity, which will keep this art form thriving.
Thank you, Danaë - I have truly enjoyed learning more about you and your outlook, and I am sure that our readers will, too!
This article first appeared in The IC magazine, issue #2 in 2022.
Danaë Vlasse is affiliated with the IC’s:
IC • US • CA • Los Angeles Chapter
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