Ever heard of microtonal intonation? What about polyphonic contexts? If your answer is no, you’re not alone. One of the greatest joys and challenges of writing about a broad range of art and culture is the sheer impossibility of knowing every artists’ materials, theoretical sources and historical references. For Liv Runesdatter, sound is the main material with which she creates her work. When I was first invited to write about her practice, I almost said no, intimidated by my level of ignorance. But then, in speaking with an artist as skilled in her craft as Runesdatter, I was reminded that I don’t have to know. I just have to listen.

Liv Runesdatter approaches sound as a malleable thing. Although the human voice is top among her tools, she identifies herself as a creative musician and artist rather than a singer, using sound as a sculptor would use clay. Interdisciplinarity is key in her practice, and in this Runesdatter is a shape-shifter, at times performing, composing, choreographing, directing, and teaching. All of this, she states, arises from the same process: a deep engagement with sound and its relation to our world and to us.

Runesdatter came to this level of freedom and improvisation by way of strict training in traditional vocal techniques. During our first meeting, she described to me her difficult childhood and the stability and opportunities that music provided her. Runesdatter was born in Nøtterøy, a small village near Oslo. In primary school, her grandmother assisted her in auditioning and enrolling in the well-known Sandefjord Girls Choir. Describing her early experience with music, she said, “‘I can still feel the taste of the words we were singing. It’s so close to me. It’s when I experienced freedom. Because of the choir,” stated Runesdatter, “I had possibility.”

The impact of these early experiences continue to influence Runesdatter’s approach to music through deep immersion in wonder, curiosity and freedom, particularly in her projects with children. This is most evident in her recent project Fugler, in which she 1 spent six months in a 3rd grade classroom of Storhaug School, working with teachers to integrate birds into all taught subjects and developing a language of movement together with the schoolchildren. The project culminated in a short film showing the children interacting and performing self-choreographed movements in their local forest. Movingly haunting, the film enables us to once again see our world with childlike wonder. “Children have an intuitive understanding of how to relate to their surroundings and to each other,” says Runesdatter. “They approach the world with respect and sensitivity, and carry knowledge that so many of us have forgotten. We are too good at closing our eyes. We must find a path back to ourselves.” For Runesdatter, sound is that path, and she shares it with us.

Runesdatter continued her classical training in early music at the Music Conservatory in 2 Stavanger, while at the same time independently exploring her interest in traditional Norwegian folk music. Although folk music was frowned upon in the academic institution at the time, Runesdatter was drawn to both genres’ approach to the flexibility of the voice – how the voice may be drawn and shaped. Both early music and folk music simultaneously provide structure and embrace improvisation. Her unique perspective on The project took place from 2021-2022, and the film Fugler will premier at The Norwegian International 1 Film Festival Haugesund in 2023. For anyone like me who is unfamiliar with the term ‘early music’, Runesdatter succinctly 2 described it as music existing from the medieval times to the death of Bach. music and composition found acclaim outside of the institutional system, which she notes was crucial for her confidence in continuing to forge her own path.

Although secure working independently, Runesdatter notes collaborating with others as “one of the most important, inspiring, fun, unpredictable, and challenging things I do.” She has great respect for good craftsmanship and training, and continually enters into long-term relationships with a wide variety of researches, artists, musicians, and other professionals, together excavating historic materials, compositions, and methods towards the creation of something new. “I look for people who have competencies I don’t have,” says Runesdatter, “people who think differently than I do, and who ask the questions I don’t know to ask.”

She has collaborated with musicians from over 30 countries, with particularly strong relationships with musicians from the Caucasus and the Middle East, and draws unique connections between Norwegian folk melodies and the Arabic scale systems and rhythms (maqam and iqa´at). Her collaborators include Ananda Serné, Catherine Lamb, Pascale Criton, Ole-Henrik Moe, Morten Joh, Elshan Mansurov, Yemen’s «national poet» Mansur Rajih, oudplayer Ahmad al Khatib, percussionist Yousuf Hbeish,, violinist Harpret Bansal, cellist Svante Henryson, saxophonist Torben Snekkestad, and Silvia Tarozzi and Deborah Walker of Ensemble Dedalus, to name only a few.

I first learned of Runesdatter’s work through her widely known acoustic ensemble Song Circus. With the guiding idea that “sound is an orchestra and voices are the instruments,” Runesdatter set out to create a vocal ensemble with singers that had distinct vocal qualities and the capacity to work with complex music. After five years of research and small projects, she founded Song Circus in 2009 with a focus on contemporary music and improvisation, and an exploration of the possibilities of human voice apart from language. The all-female ensemble has now existed in varying forms for over 15 years and continues to evolve with Runesdatter as the artistic director. Current members include Stine Janvin, Signe Irene Stangborli Time, Ingeborg Dalheim, Ingrid Lode and Silje Aker Johnsen, Song Cirucs exists in the liminal space between music, performance, sound art, and immersive installations. Together, the group seeks to put music in focus through in-depth research and vocal experimentation, with an end result characterized by responsiveness, freedom and excess. This is achieved through Song Circus’ approach to sound – the idea that all sounds are worthy of consideration. In this, Runesdatter aligns herself with the lineage of John Cage, who famously said, “The act of listening is in fact an act of composing.” However, she also admits, “I’m not interested in vocal idolatry. I’m interested in sound. Every sound carries a story and a distinct quality.”

For the record, ‘microtonal intonation’, as described by Runesdatter, is “minute variations of sound that exist between the notes on a piano keyboard.” And ‘polyphonic’ simply means the simultaneous inclusion of multiple voices or sounds. However in Runesdatter’s practice, this also includes metaphorical «voices» – the layers of meaning already present in a material field. Paying attention to these microtunings, vocal textures, pre-existing histories, emotions, relationships, memories, and traditions, she creates a vivid sonic structure and heightened sense of awareness for the listener. One can easily fall deeply into the theories of phenomenology and psychoacoustic affects, but to be honest, it doesn’t really matter. “When I say that we work with microtonal music,” said Runesdatter, “people often react to the complexity of this music, the fact that it is demanding to perform and often heavily theoretically based. For my part, the complexity is rather less important, perhaps because I find it difficult to fully understand the theory and physics myself. In return, the intent is physically present, it is unstable and unpredictable and constantly changes in the face of new environments and people.”

Although a significant amount of research goes into each project, Runesdatter encourages listeners to experience her music intuitively – physically rather than intellectually. We don’t need to understand all of the theoretical underpinnings to be deeply impacted by her work. She reminds us that there is a physical and psychological element to sound. That it effects our bodies, that it exists in relationship to the spaces in which it is being made and heard, to other objects in the room, including us. Not only does Runesdatter orchestrate sounds; she creates situations that allow us to hear them, and in doing so she reminds us that all we have to do is listen.