Integrity
This post is part of a series discussing how to build trust into artistic practice, allowing artists to create artistic experiences that stand in the gap of ideological, cultural, and social differences and reaffirm our connection to our shared humanity. This series uses the acronym BRAVING from Brené Brown as a set of tools to understand the anatomy of trust and how we can best apply it to a variety of musical settings; previous posts in the series will be listed below:
Due to the pandemic and work towards social justice in our society, the ways in which we practice integrity as artists and institutions is being examined more closely than ever. The number one thing I have heard from people over the past year when they find out I’m a musician is “Wow that’s so great, I really miss music.” It’s noticeable absence has demonstrated to us how its importance in our lives extends beyond entertainment; music is critically important to creating experiences of connection, healing, and justice. As we are starting to see the world “rounding the corner” and we are starting to envision our first live performances and teaching in over a year, it is vital that we consider how we are not just going to “go back to normal” but instead are going to ground our artistry in integrity.
Brené Brown defines integrity as follows: 1) courage over comfort, 2) what’s right over what’s fast, fun, or easy, and 3) practice your values rather than profess them. If we are going to build an artistic practice with integrity, then all three of these components must be present; we can’t be selective. In fact, the Latin root of the word integrity, “integritas,” means soundness, wholeness, or completeness. These components are all parts of a holistic artistic practice grounded in integrity, and work together to inform similar types of activities.
The first element of integrity: courage over comfort has a lot to do with the culture of expertise around music we have created as a society. So often have I have heard my or another musician’s abilities attributed to some inherited talent, rather than the hard work and interest that is most responsible. For musicians and other artists, it is easy to subscribe to this viewpoint since it provides economic value to our work: only the supremely special and talented could create this experience and therefore they must be set on a pedestal and rewarded accordingly. While I agree that artists always deserve to be compensated for their time and energy (and often aren’t paid enough), this perspective ignores that human beings have been creative since our earliest days. In early human history, there was no distinction between human and artist; being artistic is an integral and natural part of being human. When we create or participate in an artistic experience, our focus needs to be on getting it right not being right. The quality of our art depends on how and why it relates to other people rather than the expertise or talent we can demonstrate.
This means stepping into musical and artistic situations where we are not experts. We must constantly seek to learn from others around us, including both trained artists and those participating in our art. When we focus on learning and stepping into spaces where we are not experts we create many more opportunities for authentic connection through our art. This doesn’t mean we forego training and deep study, but the culture of expertise inherently creates distance between art and those who participate in it. We are tasked with creating a space where the audience feels welcome to let go of their need for knowledge. They shouldn’t have to feel like they belong to a club to participate, but instead can focus on their own genuine and deeply human response to the music.
The next element of integrity: what’s right over what’s fast, fun, or easy is crucially important to artistic response to changes in our society. One of the most visible ways we can work towards racial, ethnic, and gender equity in our field directly feeds into this type of integrity. It is easy to program the standard repertoire because we believe that it is the safest business decision and it is the repertoire we are most comfortable with. That music has its place, but maintaining its near omnipresence in our institutions because it makes the most money is a false conclusion and instead it is a decision of convenience and ease rather than courage. It takes more work to seek out works by BIPOC composers and women, but when we do, we more deeply connect our work with the societies in which we reside. However, tokenizing these composers by just programming their works and checking off the box is not integrity, integrity means truly engaging with the artists, understanding their stories, and then bringing them into all elements of the creative process. When we deeply connect relevant, artistic work with our communities then we create spaces for both existing participants in our art and those that we think won’t show up if we don’t play the standards.
This type of integrity also directly relates to the way we need to engage with our communities through art. We have to focus on developing relationships and continuing to show up. It is easy for us to program the one-off interactions that signal we are “engaged” enough to at least qualify for funding, but don’t lead to any real impact. Community engagement work with integrity requires continually showing up and investing in the relationship between artist and community. We also need to show up in ways beyond the musical, our art is only one way in which we connect and we can also nurture community relationships via education, service work, or mobilizing resources through food drives, fundraising, and partnering with charity organizations. This work can also not be pigeon-holed into a community engagement department. That inherently makes community engagement work feel less than the performances and education we do within the institution. Hierarchical institutions are designed to funnel resources up and preserve that cult of expertise. What if we took an inside-out approach and tried to make community engagement a fundamental part of our artmaking process, not just something extra?
Finally we have integrity that manifests as practicing your values rather than professing them. This is one I’ve been thinking about a lot over the past year as I have seen numerous artists and organizations release statements of solidarity standing with people of color and women. While these are all well and good, many times they are not accompanied by substantive action. It is important that our programming and artistic choices reflect a new commitment to representing the stories of people of all ethnic, racial, and gender backgrounds, which goes beyond just the appearance that we will with the release of a public statement. In a similar vein, when we make commitments to changes in our artistic practice, there is no need to virtue signal what we are doing so. Make the change and let the art speak for itself. If someone notices, great, if no one mentions it, even better. Finally if we make a decision on our values such as a commitment to more racial equity, it is imperative that this decision is implemented from top to bottom of our institutions and work. Changes in values need to be reflected all the way from the composition of the board of directors down to who we recruit to volunteer.
