FENESTRA: Oğuz Büyükberber

Oğuz Büyükberber - PROCESSING at Pantopia Festival, Spreehalle, Berlin, July 2023

PROCESSING explores our complex and multi layered emotional responses that are often in dissonance with one or more messages we have ingrained in our minds. Because these messages are often conflicting with each other, the inevitable paradoxical nature of our reaction tends to leave us with unrest, and what needs to be processed becomes more than just what triggers us when we react to our response.

While this is true for everyone, people with disabilities experience it at a peculiar intensity as their perception is often greatly different from people without disabilities. In PROCESSING, as a multi disciplinary artist and a 95% blind individual, Oğuz Büyükberber aims to create safe space to explore personal trauma in an expressive way while raising awareness to the wide spectrum of disabilities and their affect in people’s perception of reality and therefor how much it influences communication.

Reflecting on his own distorted and very limited sight, Büyükberber layers gesture over gesture, texture over texture and idea over idea in this ever-evolving piece, full of juxtaposed references. Works by Max Ernst, Cy Twobly, Pierre Boulez, Kraftwerk, Bootsy Collins, Wendy Carlos, Alfred Hitchcock, Mauricio Kagel and, of course, John Cage, as well as Oğuz’s own personal history, dreams and nightmares form the basis of this work. Between the lines, or sometimes in your face, are elements linked to pop culture, comic books, science fiction, psychoanalysis, architecture and family drama.

Composed and performed by Oğuz Büyükberber

EA: How did your creative path start? I'm curious about the evolution from visual arts to music and everything in between.

OB: I've been a performing artist for most of my life; I'm in my 50s now, and I started in primary school. It began with visual arts, then poetry. I was one of those kids who annoyed everyone. I was on TV reciting poetry, winning international painting competitions, and things like that. My dream was always music, but because I was already overachieving in those other areas, no one took my passion for music seriously. I had to really beg my parents to buy me a small Casio keyboard in the early '80s. I am visually impaired from birth and currently have about 5% of my sight left. It’s actually more impressive if I say it the other way around—I’m 95% blind; usually, people understand that better. When I was a child, I had just over 10% sight—more than double what I have now. I could see things up close in very fine detail, which is how I was able to do visual arts so well. Nonetheless, it was super tiring. After I convinced my parents to buy me that Casio keyboard, I immediately joined rock bands and started playing progressive rock. Pink Floyd, Uriah Heep, and Yes were my biggest influences. Then I discovered jazz... When I discovered jazz, I also immediately discovered avant-garde jazz, like Cecil Taylor and Anthony Braxton. Both were African American composer-improvisers who were instrumental in pushing the limits of jazz. The really heavy stuff! At the same time, I also discovered Ligeti (György Sándor Ligeti, a Hungarian-Austrian composer of contemporary classical music) and Stockhausen (Karlheinz Stockhausen, a German composer and pioneer of electronic music) and early electronic music. Basically, that’s the foundation of my work as an electronic musician. Of course, I love all the techno, dance music, and drones, but where I feel most at home is in gestural abstract expression.

EA:  How did the clarinet come in the picture?  

OB: When I discovered jazz, I was a keyboard player, and I immediately switched to piano. I was practicing and studying harmony. I was around 19 or 20 at the time, and I realized, "Man, I can't take my instrument to the beach." It sounds weird, but it's true. And everyone was playing guitar—I didn’t want to play guitar! (laughs) Joking aside, I also really love the sound of the clarinet. I grew up in Istanbul, Turkey, listening to a lot of gypsy music, a lot of music from the Balkans, and a lot of classical music. For whatever reason, when listening to orchestral music, I would latch onto the clarinet part. At the time, I was playing a recorder (block flute), and I would try to transcribe the clarinet parts of orchestral pieces for the recorder. I guess it’s just a sound thing, you know? And when I look back now, also having grown in synthesis, the clarinet has such a pure sound, yet it has all the possibilities to make it really dirty. You can use extended techniques, multiphonics, and it has a huge range compared to the flute or other woodwinds. I’m especially specialized in bass clarinet, which probably has the widest range in the family.

Eddy Westveer

GO:  Can you read scores? 

OB:  I can't, it's as simple as that—my disability prevents it. People often say I have an exceptional ability to learn by ear and memorize. The truth is, I know music theory very well, and I do compose. However, writing and reading are entirely different processes. When I compose, I understand what I'm writing. With the help of computer aids that enlarge the content, I can create pieces for others to perform. But when a new piece is written for me by another composer, I can't learn it through sight. Similarly, I can't see a conductor. That's why, from the start of my career as a classical musician, it was clear I wouldn't become an orchestral player. I believe that's one of the reasons I became a soloist. Many composers have written pieces for me that incorporate improvisation and instruction-based sections.

From Oğuz Büyükberber’s Book “Spiral", published on Donemus

EA: As a classically trained clarinet player and an electronic musician, can you talk about the different aspects of accessibility in classical music versus electronic music, as well as the tools used in these disciplines?

OB: If we divide the classical music world into classical repertoire and contemporary music, there are many excellent performers specializing in period music who are blind or have other disabilities. This is because that music has existed for centuries, with a well-established performance practice. There are also numerous recordings of older repertoire, which makes it somewhat easier for a blind musician to learn and master, though it’s still challenging.

In contrast, learning new compositions that haven’t been previously recorded is much more difficult—unless the composer is willing to adapt their working methods. Some composers are very attached to what’s written on the page, which makes their music extremely inaccessible for visually impaired classically trained musicians. Given how competitive the classical music environment is, this lack of accessibility unfortunately excludes many visually impaired musicians like myself.

However, if you have an entrepreneurial drive, you can create your own path. You develop your own process and find people to collaborate and create with on your own terms.

Photo by Yonga Sun "Creating Repeatable melodic improvisation on modular synthesisers” Masterclasses at ArtEZ Conservatory, Enschede NL

EA: Would you say that the environment of electronic music and contemporary music outside the classical realm is more accessible to people with visual impairments?
OB: When it comes to contemporary classical music, I wouldn’t say it’s accessible. However, if we talk about… well, I struggle to call it "experimental music." Although the term is often used, I don’t feel like I’m experimenting on stage because I’m well-prepared and know exactly what I’m doing. Back in the ’60s, there was a time when people genuinely experimented in front of an audience, but I don’t think that’s what most so-called experimental artists are doing these days.

That aside, I think the more unconventional electronic music scene is much more accessible. Companies like Erica Synths are setting a great example. If more makers were at least willing to listen to what people with disabilities need, we could take a significant leap toward making creative culture more inclusive. Unfortunately, mega-corporations don’t seem to care much, which makes it incredibly challenging.

With my very limited sight, I was an early adopter of Ableton Live in the early 2000s, starting with version one and using it daily for 15 years. But as my sight worsened, and I began losing my near focus, I could no longer work on a computer, and I had to stop using Ableton Live. That’s when I discovered modular synthesizers. Thanks to makers like Erica Synths and the knowledge I’d already built, I found a way forward.

Recently, the Ableton Push 3 was released as a standalone unit, meaning I no longer need a computer to use Ableton Live. I was thrilled to get my hands on one and am happily using it. However, it’s clear they didn’t consult visually impaired musicians during its development. If there was more willingness, they could make it far more accessible.

EA: That’s the bottom line—we have the technology now, so at the end of the day, it’s just about having conversations with visually impaired people and considering accessibility during the development of new interfaces.
OB: Exactly. In the case of Ableton, it’s taken them this long to get here, and there’s still progress to be made. But at least there’s hope.

EA: I find it fascinating that you work with visual art. Can you explain how you express your ideas differently through these two very distinct mediums? How do you compartmentalize visual art and music?
OB: What fascinates me about music compared to visual art is that, in visual art, every gesture you draw remains present, even as new gestures are added. Oil painting is a bit different because you can erase or paint over gestures, but with drawing, you're constantly accumulating information. Even the very first marks remain visible when the drawing is complete.

In contrast, with music, if you play a 10-minute piece, what you played at any given moment is no longer physically present after you’ve played it. Music is transient—it exists only in the moment it’s being performed or heard. This fundamental difference in how the two mediums exist over time is what I find so intriguing.

EA: It exists in real time.
OB: Exactly, it’s so momentary. It’s the same with speech—we understand each other when constructing long sentences, but what we physically perceive in the moment is only what our brain pieces together over time. The full scope of that information doesn’t exist all at once as we perceive it, and that concept of time fascinates me.

In visual arts, you can also go back in time—you can change your mind and erase anything. But in music, you can’t do that. Of course, I’m talking about live performance, not record production. Record production, or creating a piece of electronic music as a "fixed medium," is much more like painting. In that process, you can edit, extract, and subtract elements, just like with visual art.

In live music performance, though, you don’t have that flexibility. Once a moment has passed, it’s gone. I find that contrast incredibly fascinating!

EA: Absolutely. How similar are two of your performances if they’re, let’s say, a week apart?
OB: Throughout my musical career, I’ve played in a wide variety of genres. I’ve even been part of folk music bands as a clarinet player. In that context, of course, I’d play exactly the same part every night, right? But when I’m improvising, it’s a completely different story.

It might actually be more interesting for you as a listener to answer that question. There are people who’ve written about my work and commented on how difficult they find it at times to distinguish between my improvisation and my composed material. They also note how my playing is very recognizable—almost like a language.

Analytically, of course, no two performances are the same. I’ve even published a book about my approach to improvisation, where I provide examples of how I construct phrases and lines and explain the method I’ve developed to generate melodies. So it’s not just, “Oh, I’ll play what I feel.” That said, my mood does play a significant role in every performance, but the content remains quite coherent—or at least I hope it does!

PTSS by Oğuz Büyükberber, Zurich University of Fine Arts 2020

EA: In the accompanying text for your visual work exhibited, you mention that the piece Processing addresses the peculiar intensity of sensory perception in the context of the experience people with disabilities have.
OB: I created those colorful paintings in the exhibition to communicate a particular sensory experience that I have. Due to my medical condition, when I close my eyes, instead of a dark space, I see shapes, colors, and lights constantly flashing and moving. That’s a fact. And no, it’s not because I’m on LSD—I wish it were that simple! (laughs)

When I’m looking at people here, my brain is working overtime to process all of those flashing shapes and filter them out so I can focus on seeing you as clearly as possible. That’s the essence of the title of my show. I know those shapes and flashing lights are there, but I let my brain do the filtering.

However, when I try to sleep at night, I realize how much of my mental bandwidth this constant processing consumes. When I’m exhausted but can’t sleep easily, that’s the sensory overload I’m talking about.

I have close friends who are top-level classical musicians and experience something similar with sound. They’ve developed the training and mindfulness to filter out these distortions and perform their parts perfectly. No one notices this mental effort, but what their brains are doing to achieve it is immense. I deal with this intensity every day because of my sight.

This concept can also be applied to any disability that affects motor skills. People with disabilities have to work incredibly hard, even for the most mundane tasks. If they didn’t, they’d be forced to stay at home and become isolated from society.

GO: On a practical level, how do you connect with the industry to get work opportunities? Do you work with an agent?
OB: I don’t have an agent at the moment. I’ve tried working with agents many times over the last 30 years, but I find it very difficult. Right now, most of my opportunities come through connections. I also hope that the work I’ve put out over the years attracts people. But I do wish there was a better network and that the whole agent system worked more effectively.

I can’t help but think about how detrimental the shift in the record industry toward streaming has been. For example, in the ’90s, you would make a record, get reviews, people would see it in stores, and the reviews would lead to a tour where you’d sell more CDs. None of that exists anymore.

I know that a lot of journalists do review digital-only releases now, and things are starting to change, but I still feel like, as a whole, the current system isn’t the best model.

Find Oğuz Büyükberber's discography here

GO: As a well-established artist and musician, what advice would you give to other disabled artists and musicians?
OB: One of the most important things is trusting that you are worthy. Many disabled people struggle with self-worth, and I still struggle with it daily. I try not to listen to that negative voice. Don’t take what it says as fact—just keep going. Also, try to find your people. In a way, it’s easier than ever to do this thanks to the internet. There are countless support groups and networks for people with disabilities all over the world. This makes it possible for people to find the right people to connect with, create together, and share ideas. And don't be afraid to ask for help to get out of the house. I think that’s number one—you need to get out of the house.

GO: Was there a specific moment when you felt that your career as an audio-visual artist was really taking off?
OB: There have been several moments. One of the more recent ones was being featured with a 4.5-star review in Downbeat Magazine. Much earlier, it was my dream to make it to the finals of a young talent competition, which I couldn’t achieve for years. Finally, in 1993, I not only made it to the finals, but I also won the Best Instrumentalist award!

It’s funny… On one hand, these achievements don’t really mean much, but on the other hand, they motivate you, give you validation, and provide a sense of direction. It’s a double-edged sword, though, because people can become too dependent on external validation. You might end up not listening to your inner voice and find yourself going in directions that aren’t true to who you are. So, I think it's important to strike a balance.

GO:  What makes you happy? 

What makes me happy? Creating, expressing, communicating, and receiving feedback. Being around fellow artists and art lovers is what I truly thrive on. What makes me unhappy, however, is when I feel that what I just described isn’t possible because of my disability. That does happen. Sometimes there’s a festival I really want to attend, but it becomes too difficult when things are inaccessible.

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