Over the past month, much has been said about the cancellation of my violin concerto.
Many voices have spoken; many versions have circulated.
Yet somehow, despite the number of people and institutions involved in this decision, only one name has been consistently exposed, questioned, and attacked — mine.

An orchestra is a collective.
A festival is an institution.
When they speak, they do so from behind structures and titles.
A composer stands alone, with a single name and a single body.
And that difference has been painfully visible in the way this story unfolded.

I have spoken with colleagues, curators, musicians, administrators — people who understand this world, sometimes better than I do.
Almost unanimously, they advised me to let this go.
To protect myself.
To move forward quietly.

But silence has consequences too.
Silence is how self-censorship begins — not only for me, but for the next composer who faces the same situation and wonders whether speaking up will destroy them.

In the past month, I received messages so hostile and violent that I will not repeat them here. This is not anymore a simple professional dispute — it became personal, abusive, and disproportionate. And it proved, unfortunately, what I wrote in my first statement: that raising concerns publicly in our field often results in punishment rather than discussion, and the implicit expectation is silence.

I refuse.

This is not just about my piece.
It is about transparency, accountability, and the conditions under which contemporary music is allowed — or denied — to exist.
It is also, very concretely, about structural questions: for example, how “second instruments” are defined and compensated, what constitutes a reasonable request in modern orchestral practice, and how institutions respond to practices that are absolutely standard in contemporary composition and have been used for nearly a century.

I am not interested in drama.
I am interested in facts.
So below, you will find exactly what happened — chronologically and transparently.

This is not written to punish anyone.
It is written so that, going forward, no one can pretend not to know.

THE SCORE

I delivered the completed score later than ideal — this is true, and I take full responsibility for it. However, since July 2025, I had been in continuous contact with Günter Steinke (artistic director of the NOW! Festival), who was fully aware of the delay.

The reason I did not mention the delivery timeline in my first statement is simple: the explanation I was given for the cancellation referred exclusively to the use of objects, not to the timing of the score delivery. This was confirmed in an email from Marie-Babette Nierenz
(Intendantin Essener Philharmonie) on 24 October, in which she clearly stated that the performance could not take place because the orchestra and management were unable to reach an agreement regarding the Sondervergütung (special fee) for the use of so-called Sonderinstrumente. The missed deadline was not mentioned as a factor.

This was further confirmed during an online meeting on 27 October with Günter Steinke, Marie-Babette Nierenz, Merle Fahrholz, and Thorsten Stepath, where we discussed both my statement and theirs (as detailed in the section THE VOTE). In that meeting, the discussion focused entirely on the use of objects — the management’s claim that I had been told not to use them, and my clarification that I would not have accepted the commission had such a restriction existed. My contract, signed in July 2025, contains no such limitation. Although I delivered the score later than ideal, the issue raised was not timing, but the use of objects.

For accuracy regarding the delivery of my score, here are the dates:

• The soloist received her part in late August and recorded the entire solo part on 6 September;
• The conductor received two-thirds of the score in mid-September, and the complete score on 2 October;
• I delivered the full score to the festival on 3 October — one day less than four weeks before the premiere, not two as stated in the statement of the Orchestervorstand of the Essener Philharmoniker;
• I delivered all individual instrumental parts on 6 October, except for the Bass Clarinet, which I added the next day. This was still almost three-and-a-half weeks before the premiere;
• The decision to cancel the piece was taken on 20 October, two weeks after the score and all instrumental parts had been delivered;
• 30 and 31 October were the scheduled concert dates.

Late delivery happens in contemporary music — not as an excuse, but as a reality. In both my experience as a composer and as a curator, late delivery does not automatically cancel a premiere. When a piece arrives late, the normal professional process is dialogue: you sit down with the composer, conductor, soloist, and musicians, assess the material, and if the late arrival causes a problem, you solve the problem together. In this case, that conversation simply never happened.

It is also important to note that after my premiere was cancelled, the orchestra added a new piece to their program instead — one not previously in their repertoire — less than a week before the concert. Apparently, no-one thought that the remaining time was insufficient to study, rehearse and play the new piece in a professional manner.
The argument that my timeline made preparation impossible is contradicted by their own programming decision.

THE OBJECTS

For over twenty years, I have composed by imagining sound first — detached from the physical instrument. I begin from a sonic image, a texture, a breath, a vibration that exists before the instrument that will realise it. My work therefore often uses objects or preparations simply because certain sounds do not exist within the traditional instrumental palette. This is neither unusual nor provocative in contemporary composition — it is a common, established practice across decades of orchestral music.

In November 2023, during my first meeting with the orchestra management (Thorsten Stepath), and a representative of the NOW! Festival, I was asked not to use objects — I took a note in my phone: “no objects, no preparations, no scordatura (for the orchestra).” Later, after explaining my practice, in which the use of objects has always played a substantial role, the management confirmed that I could do what I want, as long as objects used were “simple.” Even though, as mentioned, my contract signed in July 2025 contains no limitation as to the use of objects at all, I respected their request entirely.

The objects used in this piece are:

• wine glasses (activated by gently circling the finger on the rim);
• 2 bird calls — a jay birdcall (a small whistle imitating the cry of a jay) and a nightingale birdcall (activated by gently twisting and rotating to imitate birdsong);
• waldteufel (a small percussion instrument, like a super small drum, producing a trembling growl);
• very small stones (two per player, lightly tapped together to create a delicate percussive sound);
• corrugated conduit tubes (short plastic tubes producing a soft, airy whistle);
• bowed wa-wa tubes (small resonant, metal tubes producing a filtered, vocal-like tone when bowed);
• small pieces of polystyrene attached to the music stand to be bowed (more info below);
• bowed singing bowls (producing sustained, shimmering overtones).

These objects can be played by anyone; they do not require advance practice, training, or special preparation. Nothing about these objects was technically or logistically demanding.

I would like to add that I have always taken full responsibility for providing objects in my works — this has been my practice with orchestras and ensembles across Europe and the US for the past twenty years. In Essen, without any contractual obligation to do so, I purchased every object myself and shipped them directly to the orchestra. The box arrived at the orchestra office on 20 October, the very day the performance was cancelled. The musicians did not need to source, buy, or prepare anything; everything was already there.

The only concern ever communicated to me — on 18 October, two days before the cancellation, — was about bowing on polystyrene. Günter Steinke (the only person from the NOW! Festival, Philharmonie Essen, or Essener Philharmoniker, who ever spoke to me during this process) informed me that some string players preferred not to use their bows on it. I instantly offered to remove the polystyrene entirely. I also made clear that I could supply alternative bows if needed — as I did, for example, last year for the Wiener Symphoniker, purchasing 14 bows at my own expense. Those bows did not cost “thousands of euros,” and the musicians had no issue with them.

The use of polystyrene was the only concern ever communicated to me, and I resolved it immediately. Despite this, it was nevertheless cited in the orchestra’s public statement of 29 October — even though the issue was already resolved prior to their decision to cancel the
performance.

WHAT IS A “SONDERINSTRUMENT”?

As I mentioned in my first statement, requesting an additional fee for objects is not uncommon when they are treated as Sonderinstrumente — second or extra instruments.

During a written exchange with the Orchestervorstand on 26 October, they explained their position regarding the use of objects. According to their collective labour agreement, musicians are typically required to play their primary and recognised secondary instruments (for example, flute and piccolo) without an additional fee. When musicians are asked to play an additional instrument — for instance, a flutist taking up alto flute — they typically receive a fixed supplementary fee. The Orchestervorstand explained to me that this system exists to protect musicians’ labour, and they directly compared it to compensating bus drivers or nurses for night shifts or weekend work. This was the exact analogy they used.

I want to be very clear: as I also told them, I fully understand and respect the principle that additional responsibilities should be compensated fairly. The question here is not the principle, but its application — and what should reasonably be considered a “second instrument” in contemporary practice. The objects in my piece require no training. My intention was never to impose extra demands on the musicians but to use these sounds as subtle extensions of their instruments. This is precisely why dialogue was essential: what constitutes a “second instrument” in contemporary practice is not a fixed category but an artistic question — one that could have been clarified within minutes, had we simply spoken before decisions were taken.

The festival privately informed me of the fee requested by the orchestra. This was the first time in my career that I was made aware of the actual amount, and I wanted to understand whether this was standard practice. I therefore contacted two symphony orchestras — with structures similar to the Essener Philharmoniker — that had recently performed my works involving objects. Both told me that no additional fee had been requested in those cases, as they have internal agreements in place, presumably designed to support contemporary repertoire — otherwise, new music festivals and commissions would quickly become financially unfeasible.

This makes one thing clear: there is no universal rule; this is an internal administrative choice that varies from orchestra to orchestra. I am not judging whether the fee in Essen was “right” or “wrong.” I am stating facts. And when an internal policy prevents a new work from being performed, that policy must be open to discussion.

In this case, I was told that the festival attempted to negotiate the fee, which led to an internal vote.

THE VOTE

It is important that I am accurate here: based on the information I was given, the musicians did not vote on whether to perform the piece; they voted on whether to accept the proposed financial arrangement. Nevertheless, in a joint meeting with the festival and orchestra
management on 27 October (with Günter Steinke, Marie-Babette Nierenz, Merle Fahrholz, Thorsten Stepath, and myself), it was explicitly stated — by one of them, not by me — that the musicians understood that rejecting the financial compromise would lead to the piece not being performed. The Orchestervorstand, on the other hand, told me that the final decision to cancel the performance was taken by the management.

This is not about assigning blame to musicians, nor questioning their right to fair compensation. The issue is the absence of dialogue — what happens when an administrative process is allowed to override an artistic one. Neither I, nor the conductor (who withdrew from the concert in protest at the orchestra’s decision), nor the soloist (who had prepared the work for almost two months) was contacted before the vote took place. A simple conversation could have clarified the nature of the objects, the feasibility, and possible solutions. There was time to talk. No one reached out. And so, instead of an artistic discussion, a financial procedure — and the disagreement surrounding it — ultimately led to the cancellation of the work.

Side note: I cannot avoid reflecting on the contrast with the independent music scene. In orchestras, musicians rightly receive stable salaries and, when they are asked to take on additional duties, there are established structures to compensate that work. In the free scene, by contrast, such questions are often not even part of the conversation — not because they are less valid, but because the structures simply do not exist. This is a much wider and more complex topic, and I mention it only to underline that practices vary greatly across the musical landscape.

STATEMENTS AND RESPONSIBILITIES

I published my first statement on 23 October. In it, I described the situation exactly as it had been communicated to me, to Carolin Widmann (the soloist), and to Elena Schwarz (the conductor).

The institution (comprising NOW! Festival, Philharmonie Essen, and Essener Philharmoniker) then released a public statement on 25 October containing factual inaccuracies that was widely picked up by the press. In particular, they accused me of having acted against “clearly defined” conditions regarding special instruments and objects and “undermined” limitations with regard to the instrumentation.

After reading their statement, I requested a joint meeting with the festival and orchestra management, which took place on 27 October. During that conversation, I clarified the inaccuracies, and afterwards the NOW! Festival (but neither Philharmonie Essen nor the Essener Philharmoniker) issued a brief public apology addressed to me acknowledging that I hadn’t been informed properly of some unspecified “framework conditions” of my commission.

In the days that followed, I received hostile and at times violent messages online. One musician from the Essener Philharmoniker reached out to me directly, accusing me of dishonesty. I explained that my initial statement reflected exactly what had been communicated to me at the time, and I reiterated the timeline and facts. After I did so, the musician thanked me and asked the Orchestervorstand to contact me. They wrote to me right after that exchange.

It quickly became clear to everyone that the apparent core issue had been a lack of communication between the NOW! Festival, the Philharmonie Essen, and the Essener Philharmoniker. On 29 October, I published an edit to my original statement clarifying the
voting process in more detail.

At that point, the most constructive next step would have been for the orchestra management to clarify the situation publicly — particularly for its own musicians — and to acknowledge that the cancellation decision rested solely with the management. This would have protected everyone and prevented further misunderstanding.

That did not happen. Instead, in an unexpected turn of events, the Orchestervorstand released a new public statement containing further inaccuracies, including that the score and the instrumental parts only arrived two weeks before the concert date (when I in fact had delivered them nearly four weeks in advance), and that the use of polystyrene – which I had already offered to waive – meant significant additional administrative and material effort. I wrote to them immediately, requesting a correction. They declined.

Finally, the NOW! Festival, Philharmonie Essen, and Essener Philharmoniker issued another statement on their website – which is accessible until today (26 November 2025) – claiming that the reason for the cancellation was that, allegedly despite intensive efforts on all sides, the limited time available after arrival of the score did not allow for professional rehearsals and performance of the work.

Even at this point, I suggested to correct the inaccuracies by releasing a joint statement. They eventually turned this offer down, too.

ONWARDS

I would like to end by speaking not about institutions, procedures, or contracts — but about impact.

This experience has been painful, and I will not pretend otherwise.
The absence of dialogue and the willingness to expose an individual while hiding behind institutions — all of this has consequences.

To see a work cancelled in this way — not for artistic reasons, but through administrative failure — leaves a mark.

It has affected me personally.

And yes, it will inevitably affect the way I approach orchestral writing in the future — not artistically, because imagination is not something I willingly shrink, but in terms of trust, and the structures that make trust possible.

I know I am not alone. I have received messages from other composers, performers, students, administrators — all describing similar experiences. This is not just my story — it is something many in our field recognise: when artistic processes collide with institutional procedures that cannot adapt, the strain lands on the individual artist.

I hope this document serves not to reopen conflict, but to prevent repetition — and to act as a starting point for honest conversation and transparency.

I hope it gives courage to the next composer who faces institutional opacity or intimidation. And I hope — sincerely — that we all can use this moment to reflect on how collaboration begins and how it breaks, and how easily trust can be lost when communication is absent.

I remain committed to writing for orchestra — not despite this experience, but because I believe deeply in what orchestral sound can still become.
But I also hope, going forward, that no composer has to choose between their voice and their safety in order to do so.

This is my final account of what happened.
I offer it not to look backward, but so that we can move forward — with honesty and a shared responsibility.