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Maya Felixbrodt's home page is at http://www.pninax.com
Can you tell a bit about your background that is relevant to your practice? Does past education matter for what you do now?
My background spans classical, contemporary, experimental, and electronic music, along with text-based compositions, graphic scores, performance art, and interdisciplinary collaborations. I work with theater, dance, and visual artists, perform at parties, practice somatic movement (as well as other movement and dance styles at a basic level), create video art and music videos, curate and produce artistic events, play in indie bands, and write poetry. I also create and work in various social contexts, engaging with diverse communities across all ages — from infancy to old age.
Musical games are a big part of my work. I created Synzine, a magazine about musical games, and later Screen Dive, which is in a way the digital development of Synzine. My love for musical games probably started in the Scouts, where I spent years inventing games to explore different topics. That creative approach still shapes my artistic work today.
This interest in playfulness and interaction was reinforced in my studies. I hold a bachelor's degree in viola from the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance and bachelor's and master's degrees in composition from the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague. In Jerusalem, my composition studies were theoretically rich but less innovative. In The Hague, I was introduced to the concept of musical games, which immediately resonated with me. I was drawn to how serious composers embraced playfulness, how traditional composition — already infused with a sense of play — could evolve into a musical game. It fascinated me to see composers deliberately set aside structure and façade, leaving only the essence of play. By doing so, they moved closer to the audience, transforming composition into a shared act of creation.
Synzine magazine that you mentioned has quite a range of proposals, from cute birds' scavenger hunt in late issues, to score involving masturbation in one of the earlier ones. Can you give some sneak peek into the editorial process, especially as for acquiring pieces for publication?
For each issue of Synzine, I reach out to creators, artists, and composers, inviting them to design a score that encourages playful musical engagement. Here, "play" is broadly defined — it can be any action involving sound and interaction. I don’t propose a theme or direct contributors in terms of content or technique. What matters to me is expanding the range of ways people can experience music playfully.
From the variety of scores, each reader can choose pieces that suit their age group, setting, or mood. The only guiding constraint is that the scores must be accessible to everyone — regardless of whether they have a musical background. So contributors can’t rely on prior knowledge of music theory or performance. That said, some pieces do incorporate musical concepts, but always in a way that remains open and inclusive.
How do you connect theory and practice in art? Any book or article recommendations?
I use theory as a tool rather than something to study on its own. I often take ideas from other fields and apply them to music and art. This mix of different concepts and approaches is one of my favorite ways to work.
A clear example is my use of the Laban-Bartenieff movement system in music. I find ways to connect its ideas with sound, which I call "reconnecting" sound and movement. A great book on this topic is Everybody is a Body by Karen Studd and Laura Cox — it explains the theory in a very accessible way.
How would you describe your field and artistic context? Do you accept labels like ‘experimental’ or ‘avant-garde’?
When people ask what kind of music I make, I usually say I work with/in everything that is experimental — things that are unusual, strange, or different. That helps people understand what I do.
My work is also interdisciplinary, often connected to dance, theater, film, and visual art. I don’t really like the word "avant-garde" because it makes art sound distant or hard to understand. I want my work to be clear and accessible as possible (and it's not always possible, even though I think I try hard).
I also perform for many different audiences — from big events, to small shows for children, and special community projects. For me, playfulness and accessibility are both important artistic choices and personal values.
What music do you enjoy? Is there a difference between what you perform and what you listen to? Any guilty pleasures?
That’s a great question. The music I enjoy listening to isn’t always the music I play, and I’ve thought a lot about this.
Lately, I’ve been listening to simple songs — pop, folk, and some hip-hop. I like techno and minimalist music, and sometimes I go back to classical hits, like symphonies, string quartets, or concertos. I also enjoy blues and country, and I love singing those styles.
The music I perform and create, on the other hand, is much more experimental. It’s often not as easy or comfortable to listen to. I think I enjoy the process of creating and performing more than just listening — it’s about the artistic ideas, the social aspect, and the energy of playing.
I do try to find ways to bridge this gap sometimes, making music that feels more emotional and direct rather than just conceptual. But this tension between what I play and what I enjoy hearing is something I keep exploring.
Music games tend closer to experimental music. With your interest in many styles, do you have hints towards music-gaming activities which have an accessible, listenable sound results? These are rare specimens, but much in demand…
What creates a sonic or musical result that is more accessible or familiar to the ear are the musical elements being used: tonality (harmony), and the melody derived from it (in the sense of the scalar, tonal, harmonic world), rhythm, texture, and structure. These elements — regardless of context or the musical content — exist within a musical piece and constitute it.
These elements can be used (and for the sake of clarity, I’ll present this in a somewhat dichotomous way) to create a musical-sonic result that sounds either more experimental or more accessible.
Harmony: Atonality, tonal chaos — experimental;
Tonality, choosing a single scale as a “home” or “base,” or building a harmonic progression that is familiar and agreed upon by all participants — accessible.
Melody: A dissonant, chromatic melody – in terms of pitch; and/or a melody whose rhythmic values do not align with a beat — experimental;
A melody that rests on accessible harmony, whose pitches align in a synchronized way with the harmonic progression, and/or whose rhythmic values move with the tempo and rhythm (meter) — accessible.
Rhythm: Unstable, random tempo and rhythm, with frequent changes in speed or in the rhythm pattern itself, lacking consistency and not creating listener expectations — experimental;
Rhythm and tempo that are stable and consistent, with a uniform tempo and a rhythmic pattern that is repetitive and predictable, something that can be felt in the body and through movement — accessible.
Texture: When the texture leans toward noise and chaos — squeaky, unidentifiable, percussive, or what might be called “strange” sounds, and when dynamics are unstable and shift, perhaps sharply, between extremes (very loud, very soft) — experimental;
When the texture has “pleasant” colors (of course, “pleasant” and “unpleasant” are based on global aesthetic conventions, not objectively), which can be described as calm or serene, and when the dynamics stay somewhere in the middle — not too loud or too soft, possibly with changes but without lingering at extremes or jumping between them too sharply — accessible.
Structure: Often, musical pieces that are more experimental have a structure that is difficult to identify — starting with the length of the piece, which can be very short or “too” long, and also in how the thematic development of musical ideas and repetition is handled. More experimental works tend to approach repetition either with excessive repetition or no repetition at all, i.e., with frequent and sudden changes;
In more accessible works, the structure tends to be more predictable, with clearly defined sections and clear transitions between them (less crossfades), where one section leads into the next (but doesn’t bleed into it). There will be repetition (especially on the micro level) of motifs and themes, and repetition within the structure itself, with a clear sense of beginning–middle–end that creates anticipation in the listener and satisfies that anticipation.
This set of tools — or “colors,” whether experimental or accessible — can be applied in almost any musical game framework. Naturally, one must take into account the rules of the game (or consciously choose not to), and if the rules include constraints related to any of these elements, then that’s part of the game.
In terms of structure, most musical games (generally speaking) tend to be long in duration, which already contributes to an experimental atmosphere. When structures more similar to pop songs, folk tunes (binary form, alternating two or three sections), or repetition and methodical development of themes and motifs as in classical sonatas or symphonies are used, there’s a greater chance of making the music more accessible.
However, accessible elements like harmony, melody, rhythm, and texture can be used — almost within any game framework — and in doing so, the musical game can sound more accessible, even though its very nature is experimental.
Do you have a favorite game? Or a game genre/mechanic?
I don’t have one specific favorite, but what I love most about games in music is the playfulness they bring to the creative process.
Classical music, and even some experimental music, can be very structured with strict rules. But when you use game elements, you create a system that allows for more freedom, choice, and surprise. Instead of following a fixed plan, you create a framework where you know what is the starting point, but the rest is open to discovery.
This sense of unpredictability — of adventure and exploration — is what I enjoy most. It also makes space for deeper listening: when the goal isn’t just to play things "correctly", I feel like there is more room to react to others and be in the moment. Of course, this might just be my own preference, but I imagine others who feel the same can relate.
If I had to name one recurring mechanic in my work, it would be the idea of multiple choices and branching paths — where each decision opens up new possibilities while closing off others. I’m drawn to the way choices unfold dynamically, revealing new directions while making others inaccessible. This concept also fascinates me visually, and I often find myself mapping it out through diagrams and flowcharts.
Can you tell us about your most recent project? How long did it take, and how many people were involved?
A recent project I’d like to share is Screen Dive, an online platform for interactive sound works. It started during the pandemic in collaboration with Gaudeamus Festival in the Netherlands, when they were looking for ways to continue their activities without a physical event.
Since then, the platform has grown, now featuring around 30 interactive sound pieces by artists from around the world. It’s free and open to everyone, so people can explore and play with the works anytime.
Over the past year, my Screen Dive collaborators — Luke Deane, Tuëma Kiraç, and I — have been doing artistic research at the Antwerp Conservatory as part of the Creatie research group. We’re developing a personal protest song generator, which creates a short protest song based on a 50-question survey. The questions explore people’s feelings about their environment and their motivations for change, in their own personal lives and in the world. The song is inspired by protest rhythms and movements, adapting to details like the location, size, and style of the protest.
So far, about 40 people have filled out the survey. If you’re interested, you can try it here:
Survey Link
We started this project in October 2024, and our research phase will continue until October 2026.
In the form, you speak of feeding an A.I. model with data. What is your approach to this technological sphere on the ethical front, are there any aspects that decide whether you'd engage in such an activity or not?
I relate to the question, even though I don’t have a definitive answer at this point. I find myself shifting between acceptance—recognizing the potential benefits—and resistance or hesitation. Since this is my first experience working in this kind of context, I imagine I’ll develop a firmer position as things unfold, once I have the chance to look back on the process and outcomes with more perspective.
What do you value most in collaboration? Do you work with amateur artists, or do you prefer professionals?
For me, good collaborations start with trust, communication, openness, and making space for different perspectives. I believe in seeing the strengths each person brings and finding a way to create together while staying true to ourselves.
That’s why I love working with a mix of people — professionals, amateurs, children, and people from different fields. I enjoy projects where boundaries are flexible, and each person can bring their unique input while still working as a collective. I think the most interesting ideas often come from these kinds of meetings.
How are you with workshops? Mostly "one-shots" or did you have some stable longer-term groups for music-gaming activities, or maybe a recurring series of events?
At different times, I’ve organized musical game sessions in various formats — some as social gatherings, others as workshops, and of course also with children in educational settings. I’ve found that when you detach the idea of musical games from the context of contemporary or academic music, there’s often much more openness and a playful atmosphere. It becomes a fun activity rather than a formal or theoretical one.
Is there something missing in the connection between music and games? Or something you’d like to see more of?
I’m still searching for something that originally led me to musical games — the idea that music should be part of everyday life. I want music to feel natural and accessible, not something distant or reserved for experts.
In Western culture, classical music has often been treated as something elite and untouchable, while pop music — although more open — still follows strict formulas. I feel like there’s not enough space for people to participate in music.
With musical games, I try to bring playfulness and accessibility into music. I want to simplify core musical ideas, making them something people can engage with, be inspired by, and enjoy in daily life.
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