Carnegie Hall

Called “one of the most talented composers in the world” by longtime collaborator Gustavo Dudamel, Mexico’s Gabriela Ortiz creates endlessly vibrant music that blends and transcends musical traditions. As holder of this season’s Richard and Barbara Debs Composer’s Chair at Carnegie Hall, Ortiz discusses her artistic journey and her place within the pantheon of Latin American composers.

What were your initial thoughts about being named this season’s Debs Composer’s Chair?

For me it is a real honor. It’s a wonderful opportunity to show my work to audiences in New York and to collaborate with incredible artists. I’m also humbled to be part of a growing list of composers who have had this distinction—and I’m especially proud to be the first Mexican composer added to the list. It’s an enormous responsibility, but also a unique and magical opportunity.

What inspired you to become a composer?

I grew up in a musical family. When I was a child, I listened to Latin American folk music—my parents were part of a folk band. I started playing the guitar and then the charango. My father also loved classical music, so he introduced me to the works of Mahler, Beethoven, and Mozart. I started learning the piano and how to read music when I was eight years old. After a few years, I discovered the music of Bartók, and that changed my life completely. There was something in his music—the rhythm, the harmony. It was like a new window totally opened for me. That’s when I decided to become a composer.

You have worked with Gustavo Dudamel on several occasions, including this past October at the start of your series.

My first experience actually hearing my music at Carnegie Hall was in 2022 when Gustavo conducted the Los Angeles Philharmonic and violinist María Dueñas in my Altar de cuerda. It was like a dream and one of the highlights of my life. To begin my series with Gustavo and the LA Phil last fall—this time with cellist Alisa Weilerstein—was an enormous privilege. The orchestra members already know my music very well—they understand my language, my aesthetic. When you collaborate not just on one piece, but on three or four, the relationship gets stronger and stronger. That’s been my experience with the LA Phil.

To begin my series with Gustavo and the LA Phil last fall—this time with cellist Alisa Weilerstein—was an enormous privilege. The orchestra members already know my music very well—they understand my language, my aesthetic. When you collaborate not just on one piece, but on three or four, the relationship gets stronger and stronger. That’s been my experience with the LA Phil.

At the end of January, your series continues with Roomful of Teeth and Tambuco Percussion Ensemble.

Tambuco is a quartet from Mexico that has created a very important and rich percussion repertoire by composers from around the world—especially from Latin America. And to complement Tambuco, there’s the vocalists of Roomful of Teeth. They are so unique, so experimental— something totally different. The way they use their voices is beyond the canon of choral music or the way one thinks classical singers should sound. They represent a totally different world. To write a new piece for them was a big challenge, but also very exciting.

You have said that another challenge is writing for a string quartet.

To write for a string quartet is a challenge for any composer. There is a vast and solid repertoire for this combination of instruments. As a composer, what else am I going to say, what else am I going to share? But it’s a combination of instruments that I really love.

Later this spring, the Attacca Quartet premieres what will be your eighth string quartet.

The Attacca’s concert is going to be very important to me because in addition to a new work, it also includes one of the most important pieces in my catalog: Altar de muertos. It focuses on how Mexicans approach death and remembrance in many different ways. The piece has a lot of interesting elements in it.

For example, the first movement includes water drums—basically a gourd that you put in a container with water and then tap to make sound. It’s a soft sound that reminds me of a heartbeat. When I wrote the work, it was a very interesting time of my life because I was pregnant. For pre-Hispanic cultures in Mexico, it’s all a cycle: from death comes life and from life comes death.

Your series concludes with The Met Orchestra and Yannick Nézet-Séguin this June.

It’s going to be the first time for me to collaborate with this incredible orchestra and with Yannick. They will be performing Antrópolis. It’s a very fun piece—a piece that invites you to dance. And it has a bit of mambo at the end—at least in my own way, of course.

In addition to your works, you also include other compositional voices from Latin America.

When I received the invitation to be the Debs Composer’s Chair, I knew I wanted to include a young Latin American composer. Carolina Noguera is a composer from Colombia. She writes very unique music, very personal, but with a strong Latin American identity. But it’s not how people expect Latin American music to sound. Sometimes others think our music has to sound like a fiesta or mariachi band or that sort of thing. Latin America is very complex and multicultural. And the contrasts are so varied. Carolina has all of that in her music.

What do you want audiences to gain from your series?

This incredible collaboration with Carnegie Hall is really something that is extremely important—not only for me, but for Latin American music. Because Carnegie Hall has created this opportunity for my music to reach others, it is also opening doors for other Latin American composers. Carlos Chávez and Heitor Villa-Lobos—these great Latin American composers— opened spaces for all of us, and it is in this way that I see myself trying to do the same for other composers.

Carnegie Hall has given me the place to showcase the work of Latin American composers at a time when it can be very difficult for them to hear their pieces performed. This is a great opportunity to show new audiences not just my own work, but that of other composers from across Latin America, while also recognizing that Latin American music is not one genre, but rather a collection of many. My hope is that throughout my series, it will be a tapestry of all these sounds and cultures.

Photography: Ortiz by Mara Arteaga, Ortiz and Dueñas by Chris Lee.