How essential is the logos of faith in your music?
This is a deeply personal and sensitive topic. I do not classify individuals based on their faith; faith is a calling, a unique voice for each individual, and there are countless ways to believe and express one’s faith. There is no singular correct way to have faith; it is a unique experience for each person. For instance, when I listen to Mozart’s “Ave Verum,” it imparts a sense of transcendence that surpasses countless doctrinal words. I believe, as Leonard Bernstein stated, that “every musician is a believer.” While some may disagree, I hold that those who deeply engage with artistic expression inevitably transcend the everyday and connect with what I would define as the divine. There are musical pieces that convey the sacred without being explicitly so and vice versa. Personally, I would substitute the terms “spirituality” and “faith” with “an intimate necessity” to approach God through music.
Recently, I learned that you declined a prestigious scholarship to assist a young, talented musician who could benefit from the opportunity for her promising career ahead. Can you share what this decision was about?
It’s true, but I believe it was the right thing to do for a talent who will undoubtedly make a name for herself. It wasn’t what I would call a good deed; true goodness is something entirely different. It was simply right for an incredible and brilliant talent. I don’t think there’s much more I can add.
How would you define today’s music? Where do you position yourself in it?
I would characterize today’s music as an act of courage, as it has always been. It takes courage to convey a message that not everyone will hear, to expose oneself to judgment, and to engage with an audience that may be distracted or absent; thus, the act of creation always involves a risk. As for myself, I consider myself a small grain, indeed minuscule; I find it difficult to define myself because how can one describe a tiny grain?
What does composing represent for you?
It represents an expressive necessity, a tool with which to view the world differently, a means to listen to the world and grasp its rhythm. However, I cannot conceal the bitterness in thinking that music is often perceived as mere amusement or a pastime, where the creators (composers and performers) are not clearly distinguished from their audience. If we consider that all Art awakens minds and ignites awareness, we open the door to a broader discussion.
Is being a composer considered a profession?
Unfortunately, it is not regarded as a profession, and in many cases, we must engage in other work to support the music we write. Nonetheless, composing is a necessity for me, and I cannot forgo it.
Do you think that contemporary classical composers perform or could perform social functions in today’s society?
If so, which ones? Which functions would you like to adopt personally?
Art should not adhere to market logic. The inherent freedom in art separates it from the concept of merchandise. Music extends far beyond, recording the present and serving as a bridge between the past and the future and I know it may seem unrealistic and visionary.
Music does not remain at the surface but delves deeper, which is why it requires time and attention; the “speed” of modernity does not belong to music. Music moves “slowly,” as it gathers the invisible fragments that no one sees and transforms them into messages, stories, claims, and dreams.
In my music, I aim to amplify the voices of the forgotten and the vulnerable, those whom society often views as defeated or useless. Yet, it is precisely these individuals who bring beauty and charm to humanity, making the world a place where love can still be spoken of. They are, in fact, the ones who have the most to give.
Which pieces would you save and take with you on a hypothetical ark? And what about your own works?
It is very difficult to choose, but I think of Passacaglia and Fuga in C minor BWV 582 for organ by Bach, Mozart’s Requiem, Mahler’s Symphony No. 6, and R. Strauss’s “Salome.”
As for my own works, I cannot choose; they are all “creatures born” from the same mother. How could I prefer one over another? Although I believe that among them, one with a stronger, more rebellious character might jump onto the ark, deciding for me.
Do you think music is inspiration or transpiration?
I believe it is both. There exists a basic idea that draws inspiration from the real world, is then translated, and subsequently transferred onto the staff, where transpiration and labor unfold, allowing the composer to immerse oneself and emerge somehow changed, sometimes exhausted or emptied, and rarely, as is the case with me, satisfied.
What are you working on now?
I am composing music for a ballet inspired by the life of novelist and poet Jack Kerouac, a representative of the Beat Generation. It is a ballet with a frenetic rhythm, focused on the quest for freedom, spirituality, and the exploration of American streets, reflecting a restless and rebellious spirit. Although Kerouac was not a composer, his writing style is intrinsically musical, an ode to freedom and rhythm, creating a bridge between literature and music, and the dance embodies that fusion.
What fascinates you about this project?
It is the story of an abstract “journey,” a narrative of an intriguing, mysterious, yet also cynical and tragic “encounter” threading through the streets of frenetic New York while traversing America. Kerouac does not present himself as a victorious model of life; with extraordinary honesty, he does not claim to teach anything but rather positions himself as someone who learns from life, with its contradictions, pains, and obsessions, always unresolved and hanging by a thread.
What is your hidden dream? And what would you like to do “when you grow up”?
Each time I write, I open that drawer, and that dream comes to life. As long as that drawer opens, it will allow me to continue dreaming. As for what I will do “when I grow up,” I still have much to learn, and the more I observe, the more I realize how little I know. However, I do not want to lose my curiosity and wonder at the language of nature, as well as my sensitivity and love for everything that is different from myself.
Thank you for conversing with us.
Thank you for this opportunity.
Maria Rago’s reflections present a vivid depiction of an artist who perceives music as more than mere composition; for her, it is a spiritual and human journey. Her background, philosophical insight, and unwavering honesty contribute to a creative voice that is anchored in truth and change. As this conversation draws to a close, it is clear that Maria Rago’s work goes beyond sound—it beckons us to engage more profoundly with ourselves, to explore our inner motivations, and to recognize both the fragility and beauty of the world around us.