Clifton Ingram (b. 1983) is a Boston-based composer​ and ​performer (Rested Field). His music aims to approach and retreat from itself along the fault lines of musical and extra-musical material – hidden objects, delicate obstinance, self-devouring ornamentation, hastily decanted surfaces, the expression of a (unreliable) narrator. He has written music for pianist Andy Costello, pianist/composer Marti Epstein, clarinetist Chuck Furlong, cellist Steve Marotto, percussionist Matt Sharrock, Castle of our Skins, Equilibrium Ensemble, Joint Venture Percussion Duo, Ludovico Ensemble,​ Music of Reality, and Transient Canvas. From 2010 until 2012, he was a curator at Brown Rice, a performance venue for new experimental and improvised music and arts ​in Chicago. He holds a MM in Composition from The Boston Conservatory, where ​he studied under the tutelage of Jan Swafford and Andy Vores. His music has been released by Experimental Sound Studio (OSCILLATIONS 2016 Mixtape | Chicago IL) and Dismissive Records (Four Instrumentals, 2015 | Denver CO).

artist statement   

Music for me inhabits thresholds, central to both its production and function. The composer occupies a state between potentiality and actuality; the performer a position between notation and sound; the sound itself suspends between performer and audience, ripe for interpretation. Liminality haunts the proceedings of music-making on many levels, and for this reason I prefer to believe it functions as a waking dream. I prefer music that operates with an oneiric logic, dissipating when questioned, eluding when investigated. The way I work reflects this: I draw on uncommon and archaic language in order to occupy a place between a titular concept — thought of as an eponymous entity that exists outside of myself and a personal reading or understanding of it. My intent is not to reject self-expression, but instead to compose as a sort of predication by turning my attention externally toward my environment, setting into motion a compositional process that strives to escape from — yet inevitably ends in — self-projection. The aim, therefore, is for my scores (unrealized music) to occupy a middle ground, to lay in wait for performers.