Two roles that Eastman had no interest in playing. Classical music, not matter how progressive, has always had an orthodoxy – a set of rules, behaviors, and practices, which could ultimately be defined as White and heteronormative. Though details of Eastman’s life are difficult to stitch together, it seems that during the 1970’s he maintained a balancing act as a darling of avant-garde music, and an uncompromising thorn in its side. Though he is historically regarded as a composer, and began his creative life as a member of Creative Associates, a group of experimental composers that included Morton Feldman, Lukas Foss, and Pauline Oliveros, during his lifetime he was considered a stronger pianist and vocalist – performing in multiple ensembles, most notably S.E.M (which he helped found), as well as with Pierre Boulez, Meredith Monk, and Arthur Russell, among others. There’s every indication that he was a child prodigy – taking up the piano young and excelling at a rapid pace. Most of Eastman’s life was spent between Upstate New York (where he was born and died), and New York City. His absence from our collective memory seems to rest in vile predictability with his race, and his unwillingness to play “the game”. With such narrative stacked in his favor, you’d think he’d be history’s darling – a musical Van Gogh. He was also one of his generation’s the brightest minds.

He was a flamboyant, drug addled genius, plumbing depths that few have known – all eventually leading to his becoming homeless and forgotten. The case Julius Eastman defies history’s normal paths. As a result, history’s brightest minds are often those who suffer its greatest neglect. Stories of self-destruction are easier to understand than the mundanity that usually accompanies true creative genius – let alone its ideas. It often becomes impossible to separate the antics from the artifacts. Art History is held afloat by the dramatic tales of its contributors. Everybody loves a story – sometimes to a fault.

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