In the Studio with Harrison Hughes
From intimate songwriting to emotionally charged live performances, Sunshine Coast musician and performance artist Harrison Hughes creates work that invites audiences to connect with themselves and each other.
A past Horizon Festival artist, Harrison brought I Know How You Feel to Mapleton Public House for a sold-out show. We caught up with him at Pacific Paradise Productions, where he was recording his debut record, to chat about his creative practice, the role of vulnerability in performance, his connection to the Sunshine Coast and what’s next.
Who are you and what do you do?
I’m Harrison Hughes. I’m a musician and performance artist whose work involves exorcism of my fears and deepest emotions.
How did you first get into music and performance, and what led you to pursue it as a creative practice?
I got into music and performance because it felt like the only thing that satisfied my deep confusion about who I was or was trying to be. Weirdly, everything else felt like a performance except performing – a place where I feel so sure of my role and purpose.
You work across songwriting, vocals, keys and movement. How do these different disciplines connect in your work?
My songwriting is always a very private process. Usually in the late hours of the night or when I finally get a moment alone, I sit down at the piano like I’m having a secret affair with it, and I tell it all my secrets and confess all my feelings. After I write a song, I’m often surprised at some of the things I’ve admitted to myself, and then when I share the work live, it’s a ritual of embodiment and release.
This starting point of “what do I need to exorcise from myself” carries through to my songwriting and then transforms into an idea of a shared experience with my audience: “How can I create a space that feels safe for us all to exorcise those feelings?”.
How would you describe your practice to someone encountering it for the first time?
To someone encountering my work for the first time, I would describe it as being invited into my bedroom, where we're bonding over some really intense emotions that we haven't been able to put words to yet. There’s also a lot of reference to the Sunshine Coast, and having fun and enjoying the comfort of this beautiful land. So, it’s not just me being a self-indulgent sad sack.
What role does the audience play in shaping a live performance?
One of the main reasons I started to pursue music came from sitting at a friend’s keyboard whilst she got ready to go to dinner in the other room. I was singing some of my own music, and I hadn’t noticed, but she had snuck in to sit behind me and listen. When I turned around, she just looked at me, emotional, and almost within a month, she was hosting my first music performance at her apartment.
It was the first time I had previewed my music, in full, to any audience, and after the show, people I had never met, sat with me and told me of their heartbreaks, listening to each other speak really honestly about things. It helped me see a value in sharing my work, something cathartic and ritualistic. It helped me perform better because I knew that the more honesty I could give to a show, the more I invited the audience to participate – the more I could let them to be self-indulgent too.
Is there a particular feeling, question or experience you hope people leave with after seeing your work?
The thing I want people to take away from my music, at a simple level, is to feel connected to each other and themselves in a new way.
Maybe if I intellectualise it, there is something in hoping people will find solace in exorcising the truth of our doubt and confusion and pain. Accepting that clarity or an answer isn't going to fix anything, but bonding with each other over it could.
What's something you've learned about making work that you wish you'd known when you started?
Something I wish I’d known about making work when I started was that it takes time. It takes a long time to figure out what you want, it takes a long time to find people you want help from (and you will need help), it takes time to make what you think you want and then realise you don’t. I wish I had known that everything I make doesn’t have to be my Magnum Opus and, in fact, making is releasing, is growing, and then making again. Making is recording, archiving and moving forward.
What's next for you? What do you have coming up?
I’m getting ready to finish producing my first record! It’s been nearly a five-year journey from writing the music, to performing, to feeling confident to share it in an immortalised form. I’ve been working with Ryan and Jordy from Pacific Paradise Productions at their studio on the Sunshine Coast; I’ve brought them on this really emotional journey, and we’ve been trying to capture the world of the story and line the tracks with music and textures that bring you into the experience. As the record gets finished, I’ve been moving into a visual mindset, and that’s been really exciting, dreaming up the translation from musical articulation into visual media. It feels almost like a whole new project.
Quick-fire questions
If your artistic practice was a person at a party, who would it be?
My practice would be the person at the party that goes wandering around the house by themselves every 10 minutes to have a social break.
Favourite place on the Sunshine Coast?
My favourite place on the Sunshine Coast is the bathroom at my parents’ house. It’s where I probably feel the most safe in the world.
One word to describe Horizon?
Exciting!