Meet Amie Maciszewski | Culture Worker, Sitarist, Teaching Artist, Ethnomusicologist

We had the good fortune of connecting with Amie Maciszewski and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Amie, why did you decide to pursue a creative path?
The simple answer is because beauty, be it in form, movement, or sound, very much including that in nature, has always moved me intensely. I can say that beauty is truth for me, and art (in the broadest sense) is my religion. The beautiful natural environment I grew up in–the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in rural northern New Mexico–and being raised by supportive parents who were both creative, certainly left a strong imprint in my consciousness.

Making music, dancing, creating little plays or puppet shows were my preferred ways of spending leisure time–in addition to hiking and other outdoor activities. But what I observed in nature fueled my creativity–the sway of the trees and grass; the expanse of the sky and its cloud formations about the contour of the hills and mountains; the colorful splash of flowers, both wild and in the garden; the graceful movement of animals–pets, farm, and wild . . . I felt the urge to somehow translate how all this made me feel into art. Which medium, I still didn’t know.

I needed to draw or paint or write beautifully about what I saw and felt in nature. When I heard music that moved me, I needed to dance to it. Later I realized that I need to make music (on instruments) that would inspire dance. When I encountered Hindustani (South Asian traditional) music, Much, much later, as a mature adult, I realized the urge to sing the music that can be played on instruments, as well as to create the music to be played/sung.

Although I had the privilege of being able to spend decades studying the music that I play, it took me many years to actually build the courage to pursue a completely artistic career. I kept thinking that I need to have some “regular” job; that that was the “practical” thing to do. But every time I worked a job in which I wasn’t allowed to be creative or couldn’t figure out how to bring an artistic element into it, I would get frustrated and burned out after a while (especially when it didn’t pay well). It took getting fired from a job as an accountant at UTexas/Austin, which was a terrible match, for me to allow myself to embrace being a full-time musician. There have been more starts and stops along the way, as I have often danced between academia and the arts. I have FINALLY realized that I need to be able to live as an artist/creative.

Let’s talk shop? Tell us more about your career, what can you share with our community?

I am a sitarist, teaching artist, public ethnomusicologist, and producer/facilitator who has spend her adult life studying, practicing, performing, teaching, and promoting the music and culture of the Indian subcontinent. It gives me joy to have recently realized that all this can be put together under the heading of “culture worker.” Why? Because seeking to co-create and inhabit spaces where the intercultural arts, learning, and social/environmental justice weave together like threads of the same broad narrative has always been a driving force in my life. I choose to “wage peace” by means of the creative celebration of difference through the arts, learning, and social/environmental awareness. I have chosen the lifelong study of the complex, diverse music culture of the Indian subcontinent because I believe that understanding one culture in depth will facilitate understanding of and appreciation for other cultures.

Growing up in rural New Mexico in a Polish immigrant family with an appreciation for the arts and dedication to the pursuit of excellence through education, I was exposed to at least three cultures and languages. This made me aware of diversity as well as social injustice, and made me curious to know more about the world. It’s been a long, fulfilling journey (literally and figuratively), with lots of twists and turns along the way.

My exposure to the music of the Indian subcontinent when I was in high school consisted of recordings of the Beatles and other pop musicians experimenting with Indian instruments for “exotic” sound bytes and Ravi Shankar’s pioneering work in introducing Indian classical music to the west. I found those “weird” sounds immensely beautiful. After completing my university studies in anthropology and music at University of New Mexico, I set out to experience the cultures I was reading about, traveling overland to India in 1976. I thought I would dabble in learning sitar. But once I reached India and experienced the sound of sitar live for the first time in a touristy sitar shop in Benares – I was spellbound. It was an entire shift in consciousness, and I have not looked back since. I went on to settle in the international university town Santiniketan, some 100 miles north of Kolkata (Calcutta) in the state of West Bengal, and immerse myself in studying Hindustani (North Indian classical) music on sitar and more for nearly a decade. And my path of discovery continues . . .

Has my journey been easy? Well, if not smooth, it’s certainly been interesting and (most of the time) rewarding! I must mention that during my student years in India in the late 1970s through the mid-1980s, and then as a musician/researcher in the mid-1990s through the mid-2000s, I faced a number of challenges and some privilege as a young and then not-so-young Caucasian woman in a post-colonial, patriarchal society. Besides the obvious harassment, I was constantly reminded that being a serious instrumentalist was a male-dominated arena. That eventually led me to come into a feminist consciousness and specialize in gender and music during my doctoral and post-doctoral studies in ethnomusicology. I realize that, although some progress has been made in the past decades, challenges remain–as illuminated by the #MeToo movement. And we have to face the challenges with determination, resiliency, and the courage to be straightforward about boundaries.

When I began performing, teaching, and promoting the music of India in the late 1980s in the US, one of the greatest challenges was simply making people aware of and willing to listen to this music. Another challenge, ongoing, has been to find an appropriate venue to present the art form and to attract a substantial audience. For example, before there were “world music” festivals, we often would not be selected because the organizers either found the music “too foreign” or “not danceable enough.” The latter is true today, even in the context of world beat festivals. There is often some pressure to “keep it upbeat,” when that’s not always what my music is about. Even when doing so, it’s difficult to maintain the volume (loudness) and artistic integrity at the same time. And there’s the issue of whether the venue owner can sell enough tickets to the show to make it worth their while to book us. Even with the South Asian community, people often prefer Bollywood or DJ dance music, or classical music organizers want to book big-name musicians, so it can be difficult to find a slot. Thus, the courage and boundary-setting extend to maintaining my artistic integrity.

I have learned that being supportive of my fellow artists, while maintaining my self-respect, is usually the best way to go. My extensive education and 4 decades’ experience in the field also make me a natural cultural mediator, comfortable and highly competent in navigating within both western/North American and South Asian culture. My goal is to re-present the music and culture of South Asia, in which I have been immersed for more than half of my life, in a manner that is accessible to people of diverse backgrounds, generations, and abilities. I want to celebrate diversity through my/our music with all kinds of people.

Let’s say your best friend was visiting the area and you wanted to show them the best time ever. Where would you take them? Give us a little itinerary – say it was a week long trip, where would you eat, drink, visit, hang out, etc.
Well, right in my hood in Oak Cliff, I’d suggest we walk over to Bishop Arts, about a 15-20 minute walk from my house. We could roam around there a bit, check out some shops and galleries, maybe get a coffee at Wild Detectives. Then we could go for drinks at Revellers’ Hall and hopefully catch some live music. Dinner would be at Veracruz. Then on our way back we could get some pie slices to go from Emporium Pies and head home.

The next day we would take my dog, Begum, for a walk to Kidd Springs Park before lunch. After bringing her home, we’d hop in the car and go to Tacodeli in Sylvan 30 for lunch and maybe grab a few groceries at Cox Market. From there we’d head up Ft. Worth Ave. to Lula B’s for a bit of thrift/antique therapy. Assuming it’s late enough, we could stop by Nova for happy hour and enjoy the late afternoon sun and possibly the sunset. Dinner at home that night, on the patio. Something casual and creative. Bonfire courtesy of my hubby Sunit.

After my music classes the next day we could head out to White Rock Lake for a walk around the lake with Begum and a visit to the dog park. We’d head over to visit the Bath House Cultural Center and check out their recent renovations and exhibit, if any, at the same time making some notes for my proposed upcoming performances there. On our way back, we would go for tapas and drinks to Cafe Izmir on Greenville.

Since Austin is only 3 hours away and was my home for nearly 20 years until I moved to Dallas at the end of 2012, I would make sure to fit in a trip to Austin and the hill country nearby for a couple of nights. Each day would feature a walk or a hike in one of the many beautiful areas there: the Barton Creek Green Belt, Enchanted Rock State Park and/or Hamilton Pool State Park, and Commons Ford Ranch Park in my old hood. Meals would include those at Polvo’s, G’Raj Mahal, and some of the food trucks in south Austin. I might sit in with some of my world musician friends at the Sahara Lounge or Skylark Lounge. And of course a walk around Lady Bird Lake is compulsory. And some thrift therapy on Burnet Street would be great.

The final day in Dallas, a visit to the Dallas Museum of Art is a must, followed by a stroll around the Arts District and Klyde Warren Park and a bite or at least a beverage somewhere in the district. By the time we get home in the evening, we’ll grab Begum and walk down to see if there’s music happening on the Kessler Theater Green. Regardless of whether anything’s going on there or not, we’ll head over to my favorite neighborhood establishment, Nova, for a farewell bite and drink.

The Shoutout series is all about recognizing that our success and where we are in life is at least somewhat thanks to the efforts, support, mentorship, love and encouragement of others. So is there someone that you want to dedicate your shoutout to?
Dedication goes to my beloved parents, the late Arthur and Teresa Maciszewski; my gurus, Ustad Aashish Khan, the late Pandit Suresh Misra (and family), and the late Padma Vibhushan Girija Devi; my post-doc mentor Dr. Regula Qureshi; and my dear husband Sunit Sikri.

Organizations would include the Fulbright IIE, City of Austin Cultural Arts Division, Texas Commission on the Arts, Mid-America Arts Alliance, City of Dallas Office of Arts and Culture, University of Alberta Department of Music and Canadian Centre for Ethnomusicology, Sangeet Research Academy/Kolkata (India), Enacte Arts, US Consulate/Lahore (Pakistan) Public Affairs Office, American Institute for Pakistan Studies, National Academy for Performing Arts (Karachi, Pakistan), Aashish Khan School of World Music (Kolkata).

There are plenty of other friends, teachers, co-artists, and colleagues along the way who have been a great support and inspiration, of course.

Website: www.sangeetmillennium.org

Instagram: @sangeet-musafir

Facebook: www.facebook.com/sangeetmilens

Youtube: https://youtube.com/user/sangeetmil1

Other: www.facebook.com/sangeetmillenniummusicacademy www.facebook.com/amiemaciszewski

Image Credits
Kallabh Ghosh Kris Hundt