On Art, Friendship, and Music

Let me begin by assuring that none of the following content was generated by AI. I am a real human person with real human interests, education, and experiences I believe are worth sharing to the void with the hope that it resonates with other human people. I am also a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist as well as a registered Art Therapist. As a child, one of the first things I said I ever wanted to be when I grew up was an orchestra conductor. My father would teach me about the classical composers, take me to see musical performances, and encourage finding my own musical expression alongside my already budding creative one. I took violin lessons when I was seven, and I learned to play some guitar when I was twelve. Sadly, I did not stick with the practice as I had many other preoccupations. Nevertheless, I will forever associate the sounds of piano music and string instruments with my father’s perpetually calming presence and intellectual gifts he has bestowed upon the world. While attending classical music performances throughout my childhood, it was admittedly difficult for me to focus. My developing little brain craved more stimulating input (after all, it was the 90s, the decade of sweet sensory overload). I would often carry a bag of mini art supplies or toys with me to keep myself entertained. What always seemed to siphon my attention though was the role of the conductor in the orchestra, waiving the wand around in synch with the swells and crashes of the musical movement. I liked that. I wanted to be that someday. Instead of seriously pursuing this dream, I constellated many others and operated on an anxious but creative whimsy, balancing practicality while never really committing to any one path until I finally found my calling at the age of 28. It was then that I realized I could synthesize all my creative interests into a people-helping career in art therapy. While going to school and accumulating my practicum hours, music cradled me through the stressful days, and art helped me process. I learned the science behind these simple joys in life, that the things I naturally do were things that can naturally relieve stress or move a person from their reactive or triggered brain into a calmer headspace. Things like singing, dancing, humming, playing music, drawing, painting, sculpting, breathing deeply, designing, writing, reading, learning, talking… all these things have science backing them up as healing practices. Now you may be thinking, “who has the time or space for any of that these days?” You would be right. We are spiraling ever deeper into a state of compounding crises, and it feels like there is no time or space for play or creativity. But creativity and play aren’t just about feeling or evoking bubbles and rainbows. These activities are also crucial for helping to process trauma, stressors, and complicated emotions. As a pillar in the community of expressive arts therapy asserts, “Right now more than ever, we need to resensitize ourselves to joy, playfulness, and compassion. We cannot just talk ourselves into these experiences—they must be felt, sensed, and integrated into both body and mind.”  -Cathy Malchiodi, PhD, Trauma and Expressive Arts Therapy: Brain, Body, and Imagination in the Healing Process. Story time: In 2016 I was living in Los Angeles, attending school for my pre-requisite courses in psychology, and working at a known art supply and custom framing shop where I met a co-worker who instantly became a dear friend. She is a fellow experienced painter, and I absolutely adored her art style and general vibe. We would often get together outside of work, talk shop, paint, watch comforting movies, listen to music, and laugh until the cows came home. That was ten years ago. She and her growing family have since moved to Pennsylvania, and though it was very sad for me, we have thankfully been able to maintain our friendship across the miles. We would often discuss what paintings we’re planning next, or the struggles and hilarities of battling that dang inner critic, but often also just about life and whatever might be beyond it. I kept promising to visit, but the years kept passing. Suddenly, she and her husband had a six-year-old and a three-year-old, and the velocity with which the world seems to be burning made the urgency to go see them all the more pressing. So off to Philadelphia from San Diego I went this past August.  It just so happened that during my visit, we had a concert to attend, and when they said they had an extra ticket for Gregory Alan Isakov, I nearly shot to the sky. Why? Because not only had I already seen him live twice before, but since discovering him around 2015, his music has never ceased to be a safe and consistent salve for my soul. Getting to see him a third time now with my dear, dear friends in the city in which Isakov grew up was extra spectacular because this time he was accompanied by the Philly Pops orchestra. And what is an orchestra without its conductor? The song I was most excited to experience live again was the one entitled Liars, originally recorded with the Colorado Symphony. It starts slowly and pauses quietly before Isakov turns around, the beat drops, and the whole vibe dramatically shifts to powerful swells of strings playing heartily into the end. Recalling my childhood fascination for conductors and my lifelong appreciation for moments like this, I was wonderfully swept away, mesmerized by every single musician losing themselves to the individual and collective performance of this musical masterpiece, achieving the kind of harmony so rarely seen in this world anymore that it compelled me to share and argue that programs and practice for music, art, dance, movement, rhythm, reading, writing, creativity, etc desperately need to be saved, funded, cherished, nurtured, experienced, valued, and promoted, now more than ever.