She once performed at Buckingham Palace at the invitation of King Charles III, taught Hugh Grant the violin for a miniseries and starred in the ABC documentary, Mrs Carey's Concert. Still, Emily Sun's favourite memory of music is showing her dad her musical experimentations as a child.
"I first started learning the violin for fun at home because my mum was a violin teacher and I had the tiniest little violin that looked like a toy," Emily recalls. "I ended up writing little tunes she'd help me notate and I would rush to my dad to show him when he got home from work because I was so proud."
Emily's dad Daniel Yi Sun, was one of the first composers to be admitted in China's leading music school, the Central Conservatory of Music Beijing in 1976. Until then, his talent had been a well-kept secret. Swept under a ban of Western arts and culture during Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution, classical music was branded "the dirt left behind by Western imperialism." Musicians were persecuted and even executed, while all musical creations had to serve as revolutionary propaganda. So if Daniel wanted to play Brahms or Tchaikovsky, he would hike up a mountain for two hours and play his violin where nobody could hear him.
Another time, Daniel and his friends took extreme measures to listen to a smuggled record of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Emily's mum, Helen, was also part of this group of musically talented, Maoist-defying friends. They huddled in a room and used blankets and cushions to soundproof and conceal the fact they were listening to illicit material. Swarmed around the record player, they listened at the tiniest volume.
Hailing from Qingdao (you may have heard of its beer, Tsingtao), in Eastern China, Emily's parents wanted to stay where they called home. Daniel had entered the Chinese conservatorium as a self-taught composer and his classmates included the likes of Tan Dun, an Academy and Grammy Award winning composer. But bit by bit, the rest of the Sun family packed for Australia, not wanting to risk another communist uprising.
"[My parents] eventually moved because if there was suddenly another rise of communism, they would all be deemed traitors just by having family overseas," Emily says.
The unfortunate trend then was the skills of migrants not being recognised in Australia. From operating tables to now serving tables, talented immigrants were often reduced to blue-collar work. When they arrived in Australia, Emily's dad washed dishes and worked in a warehouse, while Emily's mum worked as a hotel maid.
"My mum said at the time, Chinese people were either labourers or opened Chinese restaurants," Emily says.
Eventually, passion overpowered practicality and Daniel returned to what he knew and loved.
"My dad was like, 'this can't continue, I have to keep doing what I believe in.' So he started studying for a Masters and PhD, had his compositions published with the Australian Music Centre as well as teaching kids violin at his own music school in Burwood," Emily explains.
Still, Daniel didn't stop there. He was one of many top musicians from China who had swapped their instruments for tools in Australia. From his own pocket, he created an orchestra for these immigrants and rented out a hall in Ashfield in Sydney's Inner West, to rehearse and perform each week.
"He wanted to give them a sense of purpose again, that was his way of providing a community for Chinese musicians who didn't have any other outlet to play their music anymore," Emily explains.
Sadly, Daniel was killed in a motorway accident in 1996. Emily was just four years old at the time, but remembers it being a "very formative experience" of her childhood. Thrust into single motherhood, Helen raised Emily and her sister, emboldening both daughters to learn and excel in two instruments "because of the respect she had for my dad's memory."
Emily has since performed with the East-West Philharmonic Orchestra her father founded and received his posthumous PhD on his behalf. She's also performed at Buckingham Palace, won countless awards and released her debut album with ABC Classic. After landing in London though, Emily at times wrestled with the thought of pursuing a more consistent career.
"But then I always think my dad did so much in Australia in such a short time so I feel like it's my responsibility to build on that, to continue what he couldn't finish," she says.
Music was an obvious and natural choice for Emily. Having been teased as a child for being Chinese, she learned that music didn't discriminate. While girls were gossiping at lunch, Emily was usually rehearsing.
"During your teenage years, you're trying to find where you belong," Emily says. "But I was really lucky I had this musical community that shaped me and my identity beyond how Asian I am."
Moving to London in 2011 to study at the Royal College of Music confirmed this. Thrust into a medley of musicians — musicians from Russia, France, South Korea and beyond — they all connected through playing music together, their lingua franca. Here, Emily's worldview widened.
"You meet these people, you play together, you talk to them and I felt my eyes were opened to other people's experience and culture in a way that would have been less accessible in Australia," she says.
"Music is a global language, it transcends borders and that's what's amazing about it, it brings people together."
For now, Emily is straddled between Australia and Britain. Living in London, Emily keeps in touch with her mum in Mandarin and has concertos dotted across the calendar in Australia as she begins her 'Artist in Association' with the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra. She's inevitably developed an English accent but has failed to shake off her Australianness.
"Musicians are freelancers essentially so we can be anywhere, but it's so important for me to continue playing in Australia to Australian audiences with Australian musicians."