You grew up in a wonderfully artistic family. Was there a moment when you knew you wanted to be a musician or was it always there?
My Chickasaw father, Charles, is a classically trained pianist and baritone. He played and sang classical repertoire in the house, as I was growing up. When I was 8, I asked him to enroll me in piano lessons. Within 3 months of study, I announced to my parents that I was to be a concert pianist. I was in.

Is there anything you wish you’d know or wish someone had told you before you became a composer?
I’m very happy that I had absolutely no conversations about being a composer before I became a composer. I simply followed the steps that had been demonstrated by the great composers that I was playing on the piano and who had composed the phenomenal symphonic repertoire for ballet and the theatre. I felt that I was composing and continue to compose on my own terms.

You’re also a renowned pianist! When did composing become part of your life?
My Manx mother, Patricia, was a dancer and choreographer. When she created her ballet, Winter Moons - based upon American Indian stories - she asked me to be the composer. To her, it made complete sense, because I am Native and knew her work, intimately. In a very innocent and beautiful way, she was inviting me to be all of who I am.

What is something you must always have at the ready when you begin to compose?
Piano, pencil, paper.

There’s an excerpt of Joy Harjo’s poem in Found Again, “In music we can become tragically and beautifully lost... and found again” What does this mean to you?
Creating art is the process of deconstructing something real and then reconstructing it. This creates a moment of instability, followed by clarity. We become beautifully lost and then found again.

How many times have you set Joy Harjo’s poetry to music?
Twice.