Zeynep Toraman
composer- performer
bio • works • calendar • listen • contact
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A story someone told me in a forest a long time ago.
“Awoken in the intimacy of the night, ripped from the protective sheath of dreams, extracted from the blanket of sleep, pulled from the well of sheets, from the depths of your berth, emerging with a start from the warm, dark cabin, emerging from these holes by jolting painfully from one section to another, pushing aside one curtain after another, crossing one bulkhead then another, obliged to get dressed quickly, on the hop, in silence, called by the watchman hammering on the door for you to take over the watch, opening your eyes and ears…” (Michel Serres)
The voice persists within a harmonic field that feels familiar but never fully resolves. Drawing loosely on Anne Carson’s The Gender of Sound, my own voice, or a strange double of it, is not presented directly but dispersed across the ensemble, emerging through timbre, tuning, and subtle inflection. It appears as a trace within the texture, never fully locatable, hovering between presence and disappearance.
The material unfolds in looping structures that slowly transform, where small shifts in color, register, and intonation shape the form from within. Acoustic instruments, electric guitar, and analog synthesis merge into a single, porous body of sound. The voice becomes distributed and unstable, fragile and continuously shifting.
composer- performer
bio • works • calendar • listen • contact
<<
Sometime at Night the Far Away Stars [flute, clarinet, e-guitar, violin, cello, electronics]
Written for and Premiered by Ensemble Contrechamps in collaboration with IRCAM
[2026]
Written for and Premiered by Ensemble Contrechamps in collaboration with IRCAM
[2026]
A story someone told me in a forest a long time ago.
“Awoken in the intimacy of the night, ripped from the protective sheath of dreams, extracted from the blanket of sleep, pulled from the well of sheets, from the depths of your berth, emerging with a start from the warm, dark cabin, emerging from these holes by jolting painfully from one section to another, pushing aside one curtain after another, crossing one bulkhead then another, obliged to get dressed quickly, on the hop, in silence, called by the watchman hammering on the door for you to take over the watch, opening your eyes and ears…” (Michel Serres)
The voice persists within a harmonic field that feels familiar but never fully resolves. Drawing loosely on Anne Carson’s The Gender of Sound, my own voice, or a strange double of it, is not presented directly but dispersed across the ensemble, emerging through timbre, tuning, and subtle inflection. It appears as a trace within the texture, never fully locatable, hovering between presence and disappearance.
The material unfolds in looping structures that slowly transform, where small shifts in color, register, and intonation shape the form from within. Acoustic instruments, electric guitar, and analog synthesis merge into a single, porous body of sound. The voice becomes distributed and unstable, fragile and continuously shifting.