We both began our studies at the Jutland Art Academy in Aarhus in 2007. Since then, we have played together in our band Måske bare musik (Maybe Just Music). Our approach back then was an experimental investigation of sounds through play, without thinking - just play and see what happens…and it still is today, 14 years later. Since the beginning, we have been working with four constraints:



1) never play in the same place twice

2) everything, rehearsals as well as concerts, is improvised

3) always take a photo of the place and the setup

4) everything is recorded

How do you experience that gender and bodies are important in your artistic work?

It is most often in the meeting with the outside world, for example in a meeting with a journalist, that I experience that my gender matters. Here, for example with the band Selvhenter, we always get questions that relate to the fact that we are women. And it is especially through the conversations that have subsequently arisen in the group that I have become aware of how to tackle the outside world's view of being a woman and a musician/composer. For example, we have come up with a strategy where we ask the journalist back: »What do you mean when you say feminine?« Or: »What do you mean by masculine sound?« The terms feminine and masculine are used as if we all understand what they represent, but I find it very vague. I think it is more fruitful to talk about experiences, sound, art or energy without giving it a gender, e.g. to talk about something 'open', 'outgoing' or 'calm' instead of saying masculine or feminine. I am often irritated by the fact that what we have to talk about to journalists always relates to gender and not just to the music itself.. I would very much like to talk about the music and the thoughts behind it and not spend all my time talking about gender. 

For the last 25+ years, I have mostly worked with improvisation and composition in a hybrid and fluid field that can contain elements of free / experimental jazz, electronic, noise, new compositional music, etc.

My practice in improvisation ranges from 'free' improvisation to varying degrees of structured or conceptual improvisation: ie. a mixture of predefined and 'free' elements. 'Free' is in quotation marks, for no improvisation is ever completely free, even if it is free from following a score and free from certain style norms and rules. Contemporary improvisational music is also called instant composing, real-time composition , etc. I use improvisation in this text. My approach to improvisation is closely intertwined - or rather entangled - with my work with slow composition. 

As a musician, singer and composer, I have been taught by, studied with and worked with women as well as men. I experience that the difference of meeting with different partners, colleagues and teachers lies primarily in the individual person more than in gender. That, in any case, is what I want and strive for. 

Over time, I have become aware that I reason best with responsiveness, curiosity, honesty, clear communication, courage, openness – also for any. conflicts in my artistic collaborations. In addition, the collective and trusting in collaborations built up over time is wildly interesting, just as collaborations that challenge and develop me, as well as colleagues or even the audience. Finally, I find that a common understanding of or sense of aesthetics and time is crucial to whether an artistic collaboration can work.

The lofty concepts in my professional environment are considered asexual as long as men are in focus - and gendered when we see a woman. From the beginning of my career, music journalists have described my appearance as a prologue to describe my artistic work. Since then, it has become a concrete thematization of female composers, which I thought was, at the beginning of my career,  both unnecessary and superfluous, but which I have later increasingly experienced had to be articulated. As a professional environment, the world of composition has no place for women without being exceptional, exotic and can be instrumentalized as an exception. It is similar to 50% of the world's population, but is professionalized as a minority.

The project, Dear Daughter/Sen_sing_inannainanna (Russ, Shiva, Klein), which is part of a series of voice-based live performances, video documents, and performative speech installations, was first performed in a public bus connecting two institutions of art in Copenhagen: The museum Glyptoteket, with its collection of art and archeological objects encompassing a time span of 6000 years, and the art center Copenhagen Contemporary, that exhibit contemporary art. 

In this audio paper the artist reflects on how she, during her live performace Dear Daughter/Sen_sing_inannainanna (Russ, Shiva, Klein) (2019) used her voice to perform mothering towards strangers on a bus while sharing, by mantra singing, eco-feminist thought on the necessity of caring for others in times of planetary crisis. Central to the audio paper is an episode that happened during the live performance where the artist demonstrated how the figure of the female cyborg, and technology as a tool, can be used to subvert gender-based verbal violence. 

The collaboration as DEAP started during a joint residency at Andersabo in Sweden, where we worked on a soundtrack for a short film. We have made music together before under a different name, but this felt like a new chapter - so the name was more a common name for everyone in our family, who in a way was part of the group, whether they / we wanted it or not. 

Our collaboration on DEAP's first release, Musik i en tid, has been artistically exploratory, but also practically demanding on several levels, including because our children have been a big part of the project. When we started, Pernille had recently given birth to our second child, and we worked at intervals between breastfeedings. The fashion she was in at the time was influenced by the birth, both physically because her body was still hormonally changeable and characterized by a hard birth, but also creatively, as the birth had been a kind of spiritual experience for both of us. It definitely rubbed off on what we thought was exciting to explore in the music and what we considered possible in general. 

On the list of things you probably haven’t experienced much during the pandemic is a visit to a British Museum but here’s your chance – regardless of the world situation: Museum of Portable sound is a physical museum dedicated to collect, preserve and exhibit sounds as objects of culture raising debates on digital materiality, the bias of sound and sound as cultural heritage. Until the pandemic, visits have been purely physical but during the last year, it has been possible to do a personal guided tour around the museum with the curator, John Kannenberg, via Zoom or Google Meet. I met with Kannenberg for a tour around the museum and an interview. Upon my arrival I was informed that I was visitor number 1894 – or rather visit number 1894 since tours vary a lot in size and the last one included 117 people.

More than a year and a half passed before the concrete rooms of Kraftwerk, home of the first nightclub in East Berlin, could resonate again. The brutalist building in Köpenicker Straße opened at the end of September to host Metabolic Rift, a new project of the legendary festival Berlin Atonal that will run throughout the month of October. Besides a concert series, Metabolic Rift includes an exhibition in the main hall and in previously unused spaces, aiming to convey a »feeling of overload, of intense and transformative musical and artistic experiences«.



The title refers to the Marxist notion of rift between industrial society and nature, and to the flows of energies and materials that humans regulate between the two. The formerly most important powerplant of East Germany becomes not only an architectural manifestation of this relationship but also the infrastructure of a metabolism in itself, composed of chain reactions and intercommunicating vessels.

UNM (Ung Nordisk Musik) festival can now, at 75 years old, count itself as one of the oldest festivals of contemporary music in Europe. For comparison: Donaueschingen (Germany) turns 100 this year, Darmstadt (Germany) is also 75, Warsaw Autumn (Poland) is 65, Huddersfield (UK) is 43, and Ultima (Norway) has just reached 30. An interesting paradox for a festival that, by definition, is focused on youth. I have attended and reviewed the festival several times, and 2021 will be my last year, as I have finally aged out of consideration.



Each year I am struck by similar questions: What does UNM represent for young composers? How does this multi-committee, multinational structure manage to create a coherent festival? Is there any point in trying to divine the future from what happens at UNM, or is it just a random assortment of pieces haphazardly glued together?