I’ve really only gotten into journaling—and by extension, blogging—in the last year or so. It started from a need to find a place for my thoughts, and, truly, the experience has been incredibly therapeutic. What draws me specifically to blogging is the chance to create a space to discuss the vital topics that impact our profession but rarely get the airtime they deserve.
John Bogenschutz, the creator of Tone Deaf Comics, has a poignant poster on his website (linked HERE) that perfectly captures this. It depicts a director buckling under the weight of 37 different hats, each representing a role we play outside the scope of being “just” a band director: a cheerleader, librarian, travel agent, and mentor, to name a few. I love this illustration because it highlights exactly how much we manage beyond the music itself!
I bring this up because I sometimes worry my writing leans too heavily on the culture of directing, rather than the act of directing itself. I can almost hear the critique: “These aspects of the field are minuscule compared to the actual music we are creating!“
And I think there is some truth to that. At the end of the day, our goal is to create the best possible musical experiences.
*And* the immediate next step my brain takes is this: how can we create the best possible musical experiences if we don’t consider the musicians creating them?
How can we expect an incredible education system for our kids if we refuse to fund it?
How can I focus on improving my health if I ignore what I’m eating?
How can the musicians in our ensembles make the best possible music if we treat them as tools rather than collaborators?
If I have a secret to getting buy-in—and the excellent musical output that follows—it is giving attention to every individual. Musically, it’s vital that every person in the ensemble understands my high expectations for them and the music we are creating together. Interpersonally, they need to know they are cared for and are an essential part of the group. I don’t just believe this; I enthusiastically lead with these principles. It is human nature to feel more comfortable experimenting, taking risks, and being truly artistic in a supportive space. As a conductor, my job is not just to shape the music to the composer’s intention, but to foster creativity and build community to support it!
All of this is to say that writing about the culture of directing might seem off-topic in the grand scheme of our profession, but I’d argue the exact opposite. Avoiding these conversations is exactly what holds our field back from staying relevant, inclusive, and unlocking the vulnerable, high-level musicianship that defines our greatest art. Classical music already battles a reputation for being stuffy and exclusive—and that model just doesn’t work. People want to be an active part of the music-making process. They want to express themselves. As leaders, conductors need to be willing to care not just for the music but for the amazing people who create it!