Co-creators at the symphony

The Walt Disney Concert Hall

I have driven by the Walt Disney Concert Hall downtown Los Angeles countless times. I have friends who live on the same block. I've been to jury duty across the street and parked below the hall. I've been sightseeing and shopping and to concerts all within spitting distance of the hall. But I had never been inside until Friday morning.

Mary, one of our California grandmothers, had an extra ticket to her usual Friday morning symphony. She's offered me tickets in the past and the timing has never worked out. But this time, I thought, why not? Why not spend a few hours with her, listening to music, experiencing something new? The work would still be there the next day. The world wouldn't miss me too much if I took a little break. And so I did.

Mary arrived early Friday morning, eight-thirty-ish. I drove the rest of the way downtown and we found seats in the third row of the hall for the pre-concert event. I had no idea this was a thing. But it is! Before the symphony someone gives a forty-five minute lecture about what you're about to hear. How cool is that?

Gustavo Dudamel

Friday morning we were treated to a talk by Kristi Brown-Montesano, chair of the music history department at Colburn Conservatory of Music. She was smart and funny and full of so much information! She explained that we'd hear a Schumann Concerto, with a lot of cello, which is apparently a rare experience. She gave us some historical context and told some tales and then set us free to listen.

We climbed to the balcony and settled in. The concert lasted about two hours, with an intermission. We heard short concertos (10 minutes) and long symphonies (50 minutes). We got to experience an Argentine phenom named Sol Gabetta who played an entire concerto from memory and looked like an angel while doing it. Also, she was playing a cello built in 1730 which just blows my mind. We also got to witness the uber-famous conductor Gustavo Dudamel who I had previously only known from his picture on billboards all around town.

What stuck with me throughout the entire two hour concert was something Brown-Montesano said during her talk with us prior to the symphony's start:

We are co-creators of this experience.

I thought about that as I listened. As I processed. As I let my mind wander and then be drawn back in. I don't think I've ever sat still and listened to classical music for that long in my entire life. There was an intermission and a handful of breaks for applause but there was mostly quiet listening. I was a co-creator in that moment.

I sat there and I watched the women and the men. I counted how many people were on the stage (the sexes were pretty evenly represented). I watched as one musician cleaned his clarinet-type instrument countless times in between movements. I watched as musicians sat up straight, almost on the edge of their seats. I watched as musicians settled in more comfortably and awaited their turn to shine. I watched as the sounds blended and became indistinguishable from the piece as a whole. I listened as the songs swept me away.

And I meditated on the music. I thought about my day. I took in the experience of the room. Of the colors. Of the context. I looked around at the people I was sharing space with. I imagined experiencing this more often. I thought about writing and my own creation. I actually rewrote in my head while listening, thinking of a scene I had been playing with and wondering how the music might influence my process.

And I enjoyed myself. I let my self be there. Be with the music. Be a co-creator. Nothing else was being asked of me. I didn't have to take notes or try to solve a mystery or laugh at the right places. I just had to listen. To soak. To be.

I don't know how often I'll get back to the symphony but I do know I am grateful for the experience. I am grateful for the quiet and for the noise. For the co-creation I had Friday morning. I will take that with me into my week, into my creative process. I will listen to some Schumann and think about what I learned about him. About how he tried to do something new, despite being in the shadow of some of the greatest composers of all time. I will think about how when he got sick in his older age, mental illness taking hold, he gathered himself and asked for help, thinking more of his family's well-being than his own comfort. I'll think about how Brown-Montesano urged us not to consider his mental illness when listening to his work because the work should stand on it's own. But I will. I will think about his illness. Because it struck me that he was human, he was a man. A man who created this lovely music that so many people came together to celebrate on Friday morning in Los Angeles, so far away from his German homeland. So long after his death in 1856.

I will think about the music. The music that we celebrate. The music that informs our lives. The music that brightens our world. I will think about that and I will remember that. I will continue to co-create this experience over and over and over for it is now a part of me. A new experience that informs me and I love that.