I do believe I took arts in school for granted for my entire life until one week ago.
As a part of Ohio State’s Women’s Glee Club, I had spent the previous fifty minutes slaving over Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Requiem, a classical hour-long trip into the afterlife. I joined Women’s Glee to escape from the stresses of daily life, and now the course was adding to my weariness and worry? I pulled my phone out, put my headphones in, and played the Agnus Dei movement from said Requiem, following along on the score.
(Hang in there as I get a little technical for those unfamiliar to music.)
As the singers in the choir I was listening to found their way to the most beautiful harmony my ears had ever been graced with in measure 47, and as I walked through the Oval, I began to cry (don’t even think about laughing).
Here’s a link to the exact version of Agnus Dei I listened to. 3:00 and beyond is the tear-jerker.
Sempiternam, they sang. The entire Requiem came together for me in that single moment; the other movements in the piece focus on begging for forgiveness from the Lord and praying for salvation in order to enter Heaven, but this final bit of Agnus Dei stuns musically and brings forth the angelic promise of sempiternam – eternal rest – for the deceased subject of the Requiem.
In that moment, I realized how important this was for me. This music, this organization I was involved in, the arts in general. Since my college career began nearly seven months ago, art has provided me with sempiternam in a way. Art is refuge from the academic struggles of the competitive college lifestyle, a breath of fresh air in an occasionally stale curriculum, moments of peace in my hectic day.
Singing has become one of my primary means of emotional release. If I feel the frustration building up deep in the pits of my abdomen, I long for a soundproof room in Hughes Hall and a loud solo piece to belt out at the walls. Practicing a beautiful piece in Latin (my favorite language to sing in) can completely turn an awful day into a positive one, and I can almost feel each tense muscle relax with each measure our wonderful pianist takes us through in rehearsal.
But where did this come from?
I was a lucky middle school and high school kid – the choir program did not get cut in my district until after I graduated and came to OSU. I spent seven brilliant years as an Alto 2 in 6th through 12th grade, anchoring the otherwise overly ethereal choir. I found part of my identity in the Latin choral pieces I obsessed over and the show choir tunes we could dance to. However, until I came to college, I saw choir as simply a fun outlet for my talent and a great way to bond with others.
Art for grade school children – being in band, choir, art class, etc. – is often seen as purely fun and a waste of a child’s time. As I reflect back, however, I realize how much I gained from being in choir for seven years before entering college.
I learned about the pureness of the appeal of music and art in general. For example, music piques one of our central and most natural senses – hearing. Music can garner different emotional responses from each listener and our hearing sense ties strongly to memory – two amazing aspects of music integral to our daily lives. Students with a thirst for any section of art, whether it is dance, theatre, painting, writing, etc., build a mutual relationship with that craft. The student will spend more time with the art in order to relax or improve the skill, and in turn, the art will provide the student with passion and a way to escape.
I also learned the importance of expression through art. Have you ever tried to explain the feelings that your craft gives you to someone else? It’s not a simple task. After a performance, I often find myself jittery and babbling on about how amazing the performance was, unable to filter my excitement and unable to be understood. My heart races, the adrenaline surges, and my vocal cords are unscathed, ready to sing for hours on end. It’s truly indescribable – it’s a drug-free high. I gradually became more confident in my art, and I began to compete in solo competitions in which I tested my technical as well as artistic vocal abilities. I often performed in front of highly qualified judges with only my mind, throat, and spirit. Through these competitions, I discovered that singing was solidifying my confidence and quenching my drive to show the world what I was made of.
Art is not just fun and games. Art is a career for some, a support for others, and a rescue for many. Therefore, I must ask why children of grade school age are constantly deprived of these outlets (or, should I ask, why art is placed at the bottom of the list of priorities for school districts).
Maybe you are a sculptor. Perhaps you are looking to make it on Broadway. You could be like me: a singer, a musician, a writer, a reader, an actress. Where would you be without your art? Can you not say that your art has helped make you who you are today?
This is the importance of art in our lives.
