Tomoko Sauvage is a Paris-based Japanese composer and artist who is best known for her long-time musical and performance practice on her original instrumentarium assembling water, ceramics and electronics. Her work centers around tactile materiality of vibrant objects and the use of the chance as a compositional method. Sauvage has performed at Barbican Centre, Palais de Tokyo, Maerz Musik, Musée d’art moderne de Paris, Manifesta 13, Roskilde Festival and RIBOCA, and her installation and video works have been shown at Sharjah Art Foundation, Portland Institute for Contemporary Art and Maison Tavel.

LUCIJA ŠUTEJ: Perhaps we could open a conversation with what might be less known about your practice - that your background is in jazz. Let’s dive right into the music scene from your youth - were you always interested in pursuing music and sound?

TOMOKO SAUVAGE: As a child, I loved singing. I learned classical piano like many Japanese children and I fell in love with jazz in my teenage years through listening to Akiko Yano, a wonderful Japanese pop musician and amazing pianist. I loved listening to American Black music - Soul, Jazz, Funk, too. Japanese popular music in the '60s-70s was predominantly influenced by American music.

I’ve been very interested in the influences of American culture in post-war Asia, especially during the Vietnam War. For example, in Japan, many Japanese musicians learned jazz via American army bases, where they played in the neighboring base towns and listened to the FEN (Far East Network) radio station, run by the American military. I feel connected to this history.

LŠ: Were you part of any art collectives in your youth?

TS: No, not really. Or nothing interesting to mention. The jazz milieu at the time was boring and conservative. While I still love jazz, I don't regret not pursuing it further. I wasn't talented as a pianist anyway. But I still think that it’s my musical basis somehow. I learned a very precious language called jazz. It’s hard to explain what it is, but there’s something about freedom.

LŠ: I also wonder if - and how did the research and work of ethnomusicologist Fumio Koizumi impact your research?

TS: His work is remarkable though not at all translated internationally. During my teenage years, I listened to his radio program called World’s Ethnic Music. It was great. I discovered so much from Mali’s Rail Band to Thailand’s Piphat Ensemble. I should listen back to his radio shows.

LŠ: The influence and research on Hindustani classical music was profound for your work. What was your first encounter?

TS: I cannot properly call it research as it takes tens of years to learn this music. I was only exposed to little through an introduction course with French flutist Henri Tournier, who taught the basics of improvisation methods of Hindustani music when I arrived in Paris. Although there was a limitation in trying to play this music in Western instruments' tunings, it was very interesting. However, what was really influential was that I found a special instrument called jal tarang of Carnatic music from South India. I attended Indian music concerts in Paris in 2006, and I saw Aanyampatti Ganesan playing this instrument, composed of many porcelain bowls filled with water and hit with bamboo sticks. That struck me and I started to play around with bowls and water.

Later, I went to Chennai during the Madras Music Season - an amazing festival of Carnatic music. Concerts happen throughout the city from early morning, as certain ragas are meant to be played at dawn. The festival runs for three weeks and I attended Aanayampatti Ganesan’s concert. I met him, and he kindly invited me to his home and showed me his instruments.

LŠ: And do you collect pottery?

TS: No, but talking about pottery, Jennifer Lucy Allen recently published a book called Clay that includes a chapter about my practice, based on our long interviews. We had very interesting exchanges. In the book, she discusses how porcelain has become less precious, especially with mass production in China. Before making porcelain bowls with the Ceramic Research Center in Limoges, I was using mass-produced cheap bowls with blue motifs from Chinese grocery shops. I sometimes even traveled with nothing, bought these bowls locally, and gave them away after concerts.

LŠ: Through your work, you developed your electro-aquatic instrument. Can you share with us its story?

TS: I simply started hitting porcelain bowls I had in my kitchen, practicing Hindustani music improvisation. The water's movement that was modulating the sound fascinated me, and I wanted to explore this moving element further. I discovered hydrophones (underwater microphones) and experimented with them in the bowls, which changed the whole characteristics of the instrument. The instrument became watery electro-acoustic and sensitive to all the vibrations of the surroundings.

*Study for Tracing Shell Geometry, a collaboration with fashion designer Tommy Juskus on Progetto Reperto.*

LŠ: Sound cannot be separated from the environment. How do you choose the locations of your pieces and navigate their complexities?

TS: Someone once compared me to a gardener - I prepare the environment for my instrument to resonate fully in the room. I regulate water levels in the dripping system and bowls, manage sonic balance with the positions of speakers, and reduce disturbing elements like thick curtains that cut resonance. Even the number of people and wooden floors affect the instrument. The quantity of water in my instrument is like the length of string for string instruments - it affects all pitches and tones. Water evaporates, changing frequencies radically. I can only control part of the instrument; the rest depends on the space and moment. It's about finding a fine balance of everything.

*Sonic interventions on IsamuNoguchi’s sculptures, Mountains Forming and Tsukubai, for the exhibition NOGUCHI at Barbican Centre, curated by Florence Ostende. 2021.*

LŠ: Your work operates on many layers and dimensions drawn together through sound. How do you see the meaning and role of vibrations within your work?

TS: Vibration is proof of life, it's how we communicate. In music, I'm interested in live sounds, the presence of objects, tactile materiality, and the moment when sound is born. I also have a visual pleasure in observing the movements of the objects I manipulate to make sounds. Water in particular.

LŠ: Your experimentation with glass also led to your recent collaborative work, the Serpentine Bell.

TS: This special project came through an invitation from Ruinart, a French champagne brand, for multiple projects including two solo shows in Asia and a garden sculpture. For the garden piece, I collaborated with Elias and Yousef Anastas from Palestine, whom I met when I was invited to Wonder Cabinet, an art hub they created in Bethlehem. They also run Radio Alhara, which has created an international community of radio people, musicians, architects, and designers.

In their architectural work, I loved the organic curves they created. I thought we could work together on fluid materiality. We wanted to create a micro space that is a listening space for one or two people under a glass dome. As we couldn’t use water on the site due to the porosity of its geographical situation, I wanted to replace water with glass. Under the glass cone, there are peculiar acoustics to the sound diffusion of water drip music sounding like bells and recordings of micro air bubbles coming out of porous chalk taken from their underground wine cellar. The design is based on Elias and Yousef’s long-time research on stone stereotomy.

The piece, called Serpentine Bell, draws from folkloric symbolism about bells, snakes, and water in Asia. Both bells and snakes or dragons are considered sacred and believed to influence weather and atmosphere. Snake symbolizes transformation and regenerative forces in a similar way that it symbolizes medicine in Europe.

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