Boundaries

Like many other artists, the events of the past year have encouraged me to think deeply about what the role of musicians and, more broadly, all artists is in society. With many of our usual activities closed due to health concerns and in light of the social activism sweeping our country, I’ve often wondered if our typical performing and teaching activities are only a small part of what we can do for our communities, our families, and ourselves. In the face of that question, I have searched for an answer to the broader role of artists, and while I don’t profess to have the right one because I do not believe there is one single answer, I have found one that resonates strongly. The role of artists in society is to stand in the gaps of cultural, social, and ideological differences and create artistic experiences that reaffirm our connection to our shared humanity.

What does it take to create an artistic experience that connects us to our shared humanity? I’ve been involved in more performances than I can count over the course of my life and I can only remember a few where I got that feeling of deep connection between myself, the other performers, and the audience. Clearly it takes more than a carefully chosen program that is performed well or a well-defined pedagogical plan in lessons, otherwise these experiences would be more common. 

I believe that at its core, creating an artistic experience that reaffirms our connection to our shared community requires trust.  This means both trust in ourselves and also between artists and the audience. 

What does trust mean in a musical setting? 

It can be the feeling of reliance on our collaborators during a chamber music performance. It can be the willingness of a student to try something different on the suggestion of a teacher. It can be a composer believing in performers to bring their artistic vision to life. It can be our faith that the audience will be receptive to what we have to say through our performance. These are only a few examples of trust in musical settings that I was able to come up with quickly and undoubtedly there are many more. The multitude of different answers show us that trust is a difficult concept to define in musical contexts. If we are going to create musical experiences with the goal of inspiring authentic human connection, which requires trust, then we need to understand what trust means a bit better. We need a set of tools to break it down into its component parts and give us a lens to examine all elements of our musical activities.

I found this set of tools in the book Braving the Wilderness by noted researcher, professor, and author Brené Brown. In the book, she introduces the acronym BRAVING which describes the anatomy of trust, both the trust between people and also our ability to trust ourselves. 

The self trust piece here is as, if not more, important than creating the trust between artists and audience/participants. If we want to reaffirm that connection to our shared humanity through an artistic experience, we need to create a space where people give of themselves fully. 

Eric Booth says this another way in his book The Music Teaching Artists Bible when he states “the goal of a concert is not to perform great music well but to cocreate personally relevant experiences together inside the music.” The audience must become more than a passive observer if we are going to cocreate a personally relevant experience inside the music; they have to give of themselves and become a participant in the experience. We cannot expect participants to give of themselves in an artistic experience when we do not feel worthy to receive their gifts. That is where self trust comes in. You cannot ask other people to trust in you when you do not trust yourself.

So here’s a breakdown of the acronym:

B - Boundaries

R - Reliability

A - Accountability

V - Vault

I - Integrity

N - Non-Judgement

G - Generosity

We are going to take a deep dive on one of these per week, discussing how that particular element in the anatomy of trust can be applied to our artistic practice as a musician, educator, and citizen. As with most of the posts I’ll be writing here, I don’t intend for these to serve as definitive answers to these questions, but they are profoundly deep topics that I want to publicly explore and generate discussion around. If this post spawns more questions than it answers, then it will have done its job.

Boundaries. Let’s break this down first from the self-reflective perspective and then move to the interpersonal. 

Boundaries in our personal artistic practice relates to our values. How often, especially as students, are we told to try every type of music and say yes to every opportunity for exposure? Staying busy is the key to getting ahead. How often do we spread ourselves extraordinarily thin as musicians in order to find that next gig? I wonder what it would look like if we took time to really figure out what we value in our artistic practice. This exploration will look different for every person, but it is worth the time because at the end of the day, you can’t be authentic in a performance or teaching situation if it does not line up with your values. 

This does not mean that you cannot play music that makes you uncomfortable, whether that is a genre you are unfamiliar with or performing in a venue that you are not used to. There is a difference between boundaries and vulnerability. Discovering and respecting our boundaries is a vital part of maintaining our own artistic practice. At the same time, learning to sit in vulnerability as an artist is critically important to our own personal growth and creating connections with other people (this topic demands its own complete post, which I plan to write). 

We also need to be keenly aware of what boundaries exist in our chosen field that oftentimes prevent the audience from fully engaging in artistic experiences. I find it useful here to use this description of trusting others from Brené Brown and think about it from an audience perspective: “You respect my boundaries, and when you’re not clear about what’s okay and not okay, you ask. You’re willing to say no.” In many cases, we expect audiences to know the traditions of the concert hall such as how to dress, when to clap, and why sitting quietly and respectfully listening until the music is over is the accepted norm. We infrequently engage in a conversation about how to create a welcoming space, because that’s the way it has always been. If we compare classical music concerts to popular music performances, theater productions, or sporting events, we see that our traditions differ markedly from all other large gatherings of human beings. It’s not uncommon to hear cheers at a big moment in a sports game or movie, or to have people sing and clap along to their favorite popular songs at a concert. What is so different about our art form that we erect these boundaries to vehicles for connection with other human beings?

While these boundaries may fade somewhat when you have an artistic experience outside the hall, we were raised in those traditions and we have to ask ourselves what we are comfortable leaving behind for the sake of bringing our audience more authentically into the experience. In fact, thinking about them as the audience automatically installs a barrier of passiveness to their experience. Perhaps if we thought about them as participants in the artistic experience, we would be more able to readily address the conventions of our art form that can stand in the way of developing trust between artists and those who partake in our art. 

It’s also important to understand that boundaries are permeable; they allow information, stories, and emotions to be exchanged from one side to another. This is notably different from the impassable walls or obstacles to be hurdled that we often find in our concert halls and lesson studios. I can think of many times as both a musician or an audience member where an institution offers the opportunity to participate in art, but only on their invitation, on their terms, on their value system, and with the risk of being judged if you don’t ascribe to those rules. That feels like an obstacle to me. So the difference between walls/obstacles and boundaries is linked to the invitation. If we seek trust, understanding, and authentic exchange in our artistic experiences, our invitation must be welcoming and give all participants agency in the experience. Only then can we establish the boundaries we need for trust and still allow for the exchange of our stories, experiences, and emotions. 

In community engagement and teaching work, it is also critical to understand participant’s boundaries and approach new relationships from a standpoint of listening and learning. This means understanding their culture, the art that is important to them, and the impact that any co-created artistic experience can have as a result of your interaction and collaboration. You must step into a vulnerable place where you may not be as comfortable performing or teaching and learning what the community needs and what is important to them. Trust means creating a space where you can learn the boundaries of that community and likewise they can understand yours. Developing this awareness of boundaries also can address important details of projects such as values, invested time and effort, allocated resources, and the need for compensation. This process of building trust requires preparation and deep listening, and while it can be initially uncomfortable, it allows you to approach cultures different from your own from a place of genuine understanding. Then you can bring your own artistic vision into the space to cocreate something based in mutual trust. 

I am encouraged by the deep questioning and thinking about values I’ve seen exhibited by many people across our field as we seek to adapt our practices to be more racially and culturally equitable. I believe that this deliberate thought about values can be a launching point for us to think about what our own boundaries are as artists, and give us the tools to engage in honest conversation about boundaries with those who participate in our performances, lessons, and community engagement events. When we start having those vulnerable discussions, we will find within all of our work a place of meaningful engagement and authentic connection founded on mutual trust.