“How do you keep a wave upon the sand?” Call me corny, but I love this line from The Sound of Music. I think it so encapsulates the feeling of helplessness in the face of constant and inevitable change, the ebb and flow, that is the nature of our world – especially in these days of lightening-fast technology which changes the way we operate and interact. I freely admit to being as tethered to my iPhone as anyone else, but that doesn’t stop me from mourning putting pen to paper every now and then, or spending some quiet time in an actual library.
Then I had a chance to visit one of my favorite libraries ever when Dave, Andreas and I were in New York a couple weeks ago. A friend had recently reminded me of the Morgan Library, a place I had visited before while living in New York. With my friend’s reminder, I couldn’t wait to visit again. The room that was J. P. Morgan’s library is my idea of the perfect room for reveling in words and ideas and all of the wonderful things that humans create. There are books from floor to ceiling, three bookcases high, and some of the world’s most treasured manuscripts – illuminated texts, a Gutenberg Bible, pages from Thoreau’s journal while at Walden Pond, original scores of Brahms and Debussy – all open and displayed, ready to give my eyes and soul some much needed nourishment and delight. The Library’s (capital L) collection extends far beyond what is in this one room. There are also etchings by Rembrandt, manuscripts and letters of many British writers, and the world’s largest gathering of Mahler manuscripts – among many other treasures!
With my need to get back to Andreas, I only had a very short time to spend there, but a quick visit would be better than no visit. I headed to the Winston Churchill exhibit first – The Power of Words. On display was his secretary’s typewriter, which Churchill required to be silent because a clickety-clack would disturb his train of thought as he dictated. I saw letters he sent to his mother which were embellished with his own hand-drawn illustrations. There were letters to other foreign dignitaries; there was, rather hilariously, a New York doctor’s prescription for a certain amount of alcohol to be daily consumed by Churchill (this was during Prohibition, of course!). There were also letters, awards, and gifts as well as recordings and footage of some of his most important speeches.
Then I walked through the rest of the collection, ending in the library to soak up what I could of that beautiful room and its contents.
Why is it so thrilling to spend time with words and notes put on paper long ago? I think for the same reason it is thrilling for me to be a musician. I’m reminded that, despite the inevitable changes that always surround us, the human spirit remains curious, constantly striving, constantly expressive. It is amazing to me to observe the ways in which we build upon and bounce off of one another’s ideas and creations. Sometimes banding together, sometimes pushing apart in opposition. No matter what, it seems we humans are always responding, tweaking, tinkering, always trying to find a way.
I love to see how the great minds represented at the Morgan respond to the environment and issues of their day and how they go about contributing their own voices and perspectives. It is this process of “working through” that is often highlighted in Morgan’s collection. We get to see the cow chewing its cud, so to speak. Though plenty of finished products are housed there, (autographed scores, drawings, first editions, etc.) I love the sketches, journals, letters, and fragments.
What becomes clear is that the process is not always an easy one. Those works of genius that seem rattled off with ease, so coherent, so full of power and clarity, were works that, very often, took serious time and tenacity to work through — and a certain conviction to put it out there despite the criticism and opposition that would no doubt come their way.
As the classical music world goes through major changes in its structure and status, I am so curious to see what our striving natures will drive us to do. How will we react to the environment of today? What will be our legacy? Will we have cared for the art form and added to it? What “manuscripts” from our era will someone look at in the year 2212 and be able to see vision, imagination, courage and passion? What will remain as our beautiful acts of creativity?
I have to admit, there are days when I wonder if the collective legacy of our time regarding classical music will be one of disregard. But I do remain hopeful that we are on the way to somewhere better – just getting there in a roundabout and painful way.
One piece from the Churchill exhibit that I particularly loved was a gift from Franklin D. Roosevelt on the occasion of Churchill’s 70th birthday. It was a quote from Abraham Lincoln. I can’t help but think that the sentiment voiced by Lincoln (and taken to heart by FDR and, presumably, Churchill) is an attitude worth taking while the inevitable waves of change ebb and flow, and in those times when we are finding our way forward, creating and putting ourselves and our work out there. Lincoln says:
“If I were trying to read, much less answer all the attacks made on me, this shop might well be closed for any other business. I do the best I know how, the very best I can; and I mean to keep on doing it to the end. If the end brings me out alright, what is said against me will not amount to anything. If the end brings me out all wrong, ten angels swearing I was right would make no difference.”
Of course, as musicians, we are not usually making decisions that alter the course of world history, but do have a certain output each day, whether through teaching or performing and, increasingly, as we become entrepreneurs of some stripe or other.
I think that every experiment carried out in our attempt to and express and share what we value is important. If we keep moving, looking for avenues that link our rich past to a future we envision, tweaking along the way, we just might surprise ourselves in the end by what is created.
