Jon Bullock’s research has brought him around the world, and he’s brought the world into his O’Neill Hall office.
Bullock is an ethnomusicologist specializing in the music of the Kurds, an ethnic group that lives at the juncture of Iraq, Iran, Turkey, and Syria. His interest in Kurdish music began when he came across an article about Iraqi Kurds in a 1975 issue of National Geographic — which currently lives on his office bookshelf.
“I thought, ‘Oh, I wonder what Kurdish music is like. There must be lots of material out there,’” Bullock said. “But I realized not much work at all was done in the realm of Kurdish music, and so I thought, ‘Here’s my opening.’”
One doctorate and many visits to Kurdistan later, Bullock’s office is full of photos, instruments, and other mementos from within and beyond the region.
This feature is part of a College of Arts & Letters story series called “Office Hours,” which provides a glimpse into the personal and professional lives of Arts & Letters faculty through their workspaces around campus. This installment highlights Bullock, an assistant professor in the Department of Music, whose research currently focuses on the role of music in Kurdish radio broadcasting.
In this interview, Bullock discusses important pieces in his office that inspire him and are relevant to his research, his teaching, and his personal life.
Bullock’s answers have been edited for clarity and conciseness.
Q: What is ethnomusicology, and what instruments do you keep in here?
A: Ethnomusicology is the study of music in culture. It’s essentially looking at music in its cultural context — not just as an object to be
analyzed, but also an activity that’s informed by and sustains culture itself. You can think of it as the anthropology of music.
I’ve been collecting instruments for quite a while. This is actually the most recent instrument I’ve acquired. It’s called a santur. It’s really common in the Persian realm, so anywhere from Kurdistan, stretching east all the way across much of Central and South Asia. It probably traces its roots back to Babylon, so it’s been around a very long time.
Here we have an axatse, which is an African percussion instrument. It’s really great for percussion discussions in the Intro to Ethnomusicology course because it’s really loud. And here is an mbira, which is also called thumb piano. It’s an instrument from Zimbabwe — the Shona people.
We’ve got a drum — a djembe — and some chimes here. And this is one of my favorites. This is a goblet drum that I picked up in 2010. I taught English in Kazakhstan that summer, and the family I stayed with took me with them on a trip to Tajikistan, just across the border. That’s where I picked up this drum. It’s got a skin head, and the body is made out of clay. I play it from time to time, so it’s still in good working order.
We’ve got a slit gong here — some of these pieces I didn’t pick up in their locales of origin; I’ve just sort of found them in random places. That’s the case for this one, which is from Cameroon in Central Africa. It’s nice to have examples of the different kinds of instruments, especially for students. I really like taking them into class when I can.
Q: Is there an instrument here you like to play?
A: I play Irish whistle, and I actually played with Notre Dame’s Céilí Band 2024-25. I still play in my office quite often.
That was a piece called “The Swallowtail.” It’s a jig. I started learning whistle when I was in my first master’s program in ethnomusicology. We had to learn a new instrument, preferably one that was not a standard Western classical instrument. I had a good friend in Staunton, Virginia, who taught flute and also Irish flute and whistle, so I took lessons with her. Coming to Notre Dame was obviously a perfect opportunity to use the instrument, and I was thrilled to travel to Ireland with the Céilí Band in 2024.
Q: Aside from the instruments, what in here do you show your classes?
A: This photo here is an important one I like to share. I bought this in Iraq in 2019, and the photographer’s name is Hawre Khalid. He’s an Iraqi Kurdish photographer who traveled around the country between 2014 and 2019, documenting the aftermath of the Iraq War.
The photo is of a family from Mosul, which is the city that ISIS had completely taken over in 2014. Mosul was bombed by U.S. forces and Iraqi forces around 2018 to try and liberate the city. This family was trying to escape the bombing, and there are a lot of things that are striking about the photo. For one thing, even though the bombing represented a liberation of the city, the reality for a lot of people was displacement and continuing hardship — which is not to say that the city shouldn’t have been liberated, but it’s a reminder of the true cost of war. I’m also struck by the juxtaposition of the fact that above their heads is an ad for a common dessert — something extra, a nice little treat — and a family who’s been completely displaced, and everything they have is right there with them.
Q: What are some of the souvenirs you keep in here?
A: These on the top here are all from my time in Kazakhstan in 2010. The traditional, famous Kazakh house is the yurt, and this is my little felted mini yurt. Next to it is a pen that says “Kazakhstan.”
This rug on the wall came from Kazakhstan as well. It’s a prayer rug featuring the Kaaba in Mecca. On the left, this goat skin with a handwritten chapter of the Quran is from Iraq.
For centuries, many of the Kurdish tribes were nomadic, and goats were a really important part of their life, producing milk and agricultural products but also goat hair tents. So goats themselves are really prominent historically in Kurdish culture.
I also have three rugs on the floor that come from Kurdistan. They’re really special in part because, like so many traditional arts in so many places, traditional rug making is kind of an endangered art, so I always try and do what I can when I’m there to help keep the artistry alive.
Q: Where do you look in here for inspiration?
A: At all of the photos, especially the ones from Kurdistan — it’s inspiring being reminded of everything the Kurds as a whole have been through, from colonial intervention in the early 20th century to the genocide committed under Saddam Hussein to now. Iraq is the part of Kurdistan where my field work is based, so all these pictures on canvas are photos I’ve taken there.
This one here on the left — it just looks like a living room, which it is, but it’s the living room of a dear friend of mine. She and her husband recently built this house, and on the property, they’ve also built a cultural center for hosting visiting artists and scholars. I was actually the first to get to stay there in January 2024, and one of the things I love about it is there was a real commitment when they were building to using traditional Kurdish art and architecture, and so all of the stone work that you see is done by Kurdish masons from different parts of Kurdistan.
Kurds are often called the world’s largest stateless nation. But in the absence of the official state structures of celebrating and keeping alive Kurdish culture and tradition, it’s amazing that there are individuals like this who are doing it for themselves.
I sent the owners of this house a message recently — I think it was last August, because there had been a major firefight in the city, and several people had died. So I reached out and said, “Hey, I just want to make sure you guys are OK.” And she responded by sending me back a voice clip. I think it was only 10 seconds long, but it was her and some friends in that living room, sitting there clapping and singing, and she said, “As you can hear, we are having an evening of singing. That’s what you do when there is continuous conflict all the time.”
That kind of resilience and that ability to just keep moving forward — to just keep building, to just keep singing — has been so inspirational and so meaningful to me.
