Music, Culture and History Collide in Tan Dun's Nu Shu: The Secret Songs of Women

By Leilani Polk

When the Philadelphia Orchestra reached out to Tan Dun for a co-commission, the expectation was for a 25-minute harp concerto. What they got was Nu Shu: the Secret Songs of Women, a 42-minute multimedia symphony for harp, 13 micro films and orchestra. Nüshu, the subject and inspiration, is a language and syllabic script once used exclusively by women in China’s remote Hunan province for communicating with female family members and “sworn sisters.” Written in poetry, embroidered into fabric and composed of between 1,800 and 2,500 characters — sometimes called “mosquito writing” because of their wispy, elongated quality — it became a means of expression, resistance and solidarity among women who had little voice in the trajectory of their lives. 

Nüshu’s origins remain unclear. Some scholars trace it back to pre-historic “oracle bone writing” while others believe it was created many centuries ago by women denied the right to literacy in “man’s writing,” or standard Chinese characters. Whatever the case, Nüshu is a language of lamentation, commiseration, endurance and empowerment, used by women to rise above their place in a patriarchal society by educating and encouraging each other. 

Tan Dun was deeply moved by Nüshu’s beauty and power when he first encountered it in his travels. His journey to understand Nüshu took him through ancient villages of Jiangyong County, where he met the last remaining women who could still read and sing in this language, which is highly formulaic, composed in verse and “read” by being chanted aloud or sung, straddling the border between oral and written culture. The rise and fall of the women’s voices, the cadence of their chants, the melodies passed down for centuries — this was music waiting to be heard by the world, full of rhythm, drama and emotion. 

Inspired by these encounters, Tan Dun composed what he has called a “soundscape monument for mothers, daughters and sisters” in which one can “see the music and hear the visuals.” To do this, he undertook extensive ethnomusicological research over a five-year period, channeling his hero and the earliest ethnomusicologist, Czech composer Béla Bartók, renowned for collecting and studying recordings of folk music spanning Southeastern Europe and incorporating these sounds into his compositions. Tan Dun’s own trips were essential in capturing the authenticity of Nüshu’s sound, tone and tempos. 

He recorded more than 200 hours of audio and video (including capturing traditional Nüshu singing rituals and the sounds of local musicians), talked to the last women fluent in Nüshu, and continued working on his symphony, which ended up having 13 movements structured around 13 micro films. He ultimately created the immersive experience he sought — one where audiences can not only hear Nüshu, but see and feel it preserved in its purest form. Each movement is based on real-life Nüshu traditions and culture, and tells a different story of a woman’s life, love, sorrow and hope — a mother’s farewell, a daughter’s longing, the unbreakable bonds of sisterhood, the ritual of marriage. 

“Melodically there is a lot of tri-tone,” he explained in a 2014 story by The Asian Wall Street Journal. “It’s very ancient, not typical pentatonic. It comes from the Yao (a minority group who live in the area).” He echoed the tri-tones by creating what he described as a counterpoint in three parts, with three screens offering portraits of the women singing, chanting and crying alongside scenes from village life. He chose the harp because it has long been deemed as decorative and feminine but is reframed here as a potent solo instrument that both personifies the female voice and accompanies the ancient melodies sung by the Nüshu-speaking women, as well as serving as the bridge between the films and orchestra.  

Tan Dun’s signature techniques are present — pairs of rocks and bowls of water in the percussion section, tapping of instruments and clapping by the entire orchestra — adding further environmental textures to his work, which ultimately seeks to give a voice to the women whose words and songs were once confined to secrecy. By bringing Nüshu to the concert hall, he celebrates its beauty, its history and the enduring power of women’s stories.  

Tan Dun returns to conduct the Seattle Symphony in his work on May 15 & 16. He will be joined by harpist Xavier de Maistre. 

Xavier de Maistre’s performances are generously sponsored by Richard Meyer and Susan Harmon. 

Performances of Tan Dun Conducts Nu Shu: The Secret Songs of Women are generously sponsored by Jeff and Rita Xiong. Additional support is provided by Mimi Gardner Gates.