q&a with resident composer katie jenkins

What initially inspired The Elements and the idea of structuring the work in three movements?
Whenever I am writing music for dance, I love creating different movements or sections that knit together. It provides the choreographer with opportunities for narrative, contrast, and storytelling — even when the piece itself is more abstract. I love creating contrasting characters and emotional worlds that allow different dancers and personalities to emerge throughout the work.

I have always been deeply inspired by nature in my music, and when I was connected with the wonderful choreographer Jacquelyn Long, she shared that she was equally inspired by the natural world and approached me with the idea of the elements. I was immediately drawn to it. Composers such as Arvo Pärt in Fratres and Ravel in Tzigane created such fiery, virtuosic violin writing, while composers like Debussy and Chopin mastered these flowing, watery textures in the piano. It felt like the perfect sonic palette for the world we wanted to create.

Rather than structuring the work in a more traditional way by pairing water with fire and earth with wind, I decided to create movements titled Fire on Earth and Breath of the Tide to explore the synergy and interconnectedness between the elements. I wanted to give the choreography space to explore those relationships in a more unexpected and emotional way.

Your first commission for Pointeworks, Chasing Shadows, was written for solo piano. How did expanding into piano and violin change your compositional process for this new work?
Violin is actually my main instrument, so I have always dreamed of writing a substantial violin sonata. When writing for piano, I naturally use the instrument as a compositional tool because I also play piano, but writing for violin feels much more personal and instinctive to me.

Since I play violin myself, I spent a lot of time experimenting with sounds and textures directly on the instrument while composing. I would often improvise ideas, record little snippets, and then develop them further on paper. I had to be careful not to rely too heavily on my own muscle memory as a player and instead push the writing toward the incredible virtuosity and artistry of Julia Choi. Having the instrument physically in my hands allowed me to explore colour, gesture, and emotional intensity in a much more expansive way.

What excites you most about hearing this music performed live alongside ballet?
I am especially excited to hear this piece choreographed because the music is so visually driven and emotionally expansive. It gives the dancers a huge canvas for virtuosity, speed, lyricism, elegance, and expression. There are moments of fiery passion, slow lyrical intimacy, and fast, spirited energy — something that allows every dancer to showcase different strengths, especially through Jacquelyn’s beautiful choreography.

For me as a composer, there is truly no feeling like hearing my music choreographed. It is the closest we ever come to “seeing” the music and “hearing” the dance. Music can often feel abstract and emotional on its own, but ballet brings an added layer of narrative and meaning that transforms how I experience my own score. Sometimes it can feel like an entirely different piece once movement is added — it sparks my imagination in completely new ways.

How does writing music for dance differ from composing concert music on its own?
The process is very different for me. When I write concert music, I often enjoy incorporating improvisation, aleatoric elements, or moments where performers are encouraged to interpret the music freely and differently each time.

When writing for dance, however, I become much more conscious of structure, rhythm, and clarity for the dancers. Dancers need to hear cues, count clearly, and feel grounded in the pulse of the music. Even when the music becomes atmospheric or expansive, I try to maintain clear rhythmic anchors and transitions that support the choreography. I find that when dancers feel secure within the musical structure, the performance becomes more expressive and enjoyable for everyone involved.

What has your collaboration process with Pointeworks and the choreographers been like over the past two seasons?
Pointeworks truly feels like more than a company — it feels like a family of artists and collaborators. I have treasured every collaboration and am incredibly excited for what we are planning in the future as well.

The choreographers and dancers have really pushed me creatively and helped me discover my voice within the world of dance music. The residency structure allows for a genuine ground-up collaboration where the music and choreography evolve together very organically. My collaboration with Laine Habony on Three Von Enck Sisters felt especially meaningful because it pushed me to think thematically about how different musical ideas could reflect each dancer’s personality and strengths.

While I absolutely love writing large-scale orchestral music, there is something deeply personal and intimate about chamber music in this context. I have been able to write specifically for musicians and dancers I know personally, shaping the music around their artistry in a way that feels incredibly rewarding.

Pointeworks audiences will hear more of your music this fall at the Balboa Theatre in collaboration with choreographer Hélène Simoneau. Can you share a glimpse into what’s coming next?
My collaborations with Pointeworks have followed a really exciting natural progression — from solo piano, to violin and piano sonata, and now expanding further into a virtuosic string quartet for two violins, viola, and cello.

Nature continues to be a huge inspiration for me. When I visited Pointeworks’ home in San Diego for the first time last summer, I was completely blown away by the beauty of the landscape, especially the sunsets. I wanted to honour the birthplace of Pointeworks through a new work inspired by dawn and dusk in two contrasting movements. One movement will feel shimmering, radiant, and full of light as the sun rises, while the other will feel darker, more arresting, and reflective as the day fades into night. I don’t want to spoil too much, but audiences are definitely in for a treat!

Resident Composer Katie Jenkins

As a composer, what draws you to interdisciplinary collaboration between music and movement?
I think it reflects who I am as a person. In my personal life, I’ve always been someone who loves bringing people together — organising gatherings, reconnecting friends, and creating spaces where people can collaborate and share experiences. As a composer, I feel incredibly lucky to do that artistically as well.

I love connecting musicians, choreographers, filmmakers, and artists across disciplines because I truly believe art becomes more powerful through collaboration. I always try to approach music with empathy and humanity first, and interdisciplinary work allows my music to live beyond the score itself. Seeing dancers, filmmakers, or other artists reinterpret my music gives it an entirely new life. It makes me feel understood in a really profound way.

What do you hope audiences feel or take away after experiencing The Elements live?
I hope audiences leave feeling emotionally transported and deeply connected to the experience. More than anything, I want the work to create a sense of immersion — where music, movement, and emotion blend together into something larger than themselves. I hope audiences can lose themselves in the atmosphere of the piece while also finding moments that feel personal and reflective to them individually.

How do live musicians change the energy of a ballet performance for both the dancers and the audience?
It is completely transformative. Having experienced both live and recorded performances, there is something truly magical about musicians and dancers sharing the stage together in real time. The dancers respond differently when they can breathe with the musicians, listen to subtle shifts in phrasing, and interact with the energy unfolding live in the moment.

It creates a freedom and spontaneity that changes every performance. The audience feels that connection too — there is an electricity and humanity in the room that simply cannot be replicated. Everyone becomes part of the same shared experience.