Community Art

Music has always been a dominant theme in my life. I grew up hearing my mom sing show tunes and jazz standards as she went about her daily activities. I learned to hear harmony by standing beside her in church. She tells me I cooed melodies before I could talk. Music was a birthright.

Sometimes when our family of six traveled by car, we'd sing folk songs a capella, harmonizing for hours, inventing counter melodies, listening, blending, delighting in the synergy of spontaneous creation. I can still hear my dad's clear tenor and Mom's alto anchoring a tune while my siblings' and my voices wove in, over, and around. "Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine" waltzed in my ears, and my tongue learned to follow wherever the dance led.

We weren't practicing for anything or even intentionally trying to master a skill. It was a game. A way to pass the time. As a child I assumed all families did the same. Now I realize those jam sessions were a priceless gift. An introduction to community art.

The past two months I've been busy with choreography rehearsals for a production of Bye Bye Birdie at the local high school. I've been choreographing choir productions there for thirteen years, but this is the first time they've attempted a full-blown musical collaboration involving the choir, theater, and band departments, with live pit orchestra and professional-quality sets. It's been a growing, stretching time for everyone involved, and the moment of truth is upon us. The grand dress rehearsal is tonight.

Until a person has performed in or worked behind the scenes on a production of this caliber, it's probably hard to appreciate how much work goes into pulling it off. These kids and their directors have been rehearsing from 4:00 to 8:00 PM after school for weeks. While I'm super impressed by all the songs, lines, blocking, and dances the leads have had to memorize, I'm also keenly aware that the lowliest chorus member can make or break any given scene. A musical is not a solo gig. It's community art, and when it works the way it's supposed to, it's magic.

The TV show Glee has done a lot to promote the arts in schools, and it has also influenced another community art trend that I absolutely love. The Flash Mob. According to an article on Zap 2 It, "A flash mob is when a large group of people assembles in a public place -- seemingly going about their business as usual -- and then suddenly stops to perform, before dispersing as if nothing ever happened. Flash mobs have been happening all across the nation since 2003, but recently they've become a sensation. Janet Jackson witnessed a flash mob dance to her own music in Los Angeles last year and the Black Eyed Peas recently surprised Oprah with a flash mob when they performed I've Got A Feeling on her show."

The article featured a link to this Glee-inspired flash mob performance at Westlake Center in Seattle:

 

Doesn't that just make you smile? For the oblivious folks who happened to be soaking up a few moments of lunch-hour sunshine, it was a serendipitous gift of mob-sized proportions. For those who participated, it was a meticulously timed and practiced performance, whether they were among the lead performers or the last group to join the chorus. And, of course, there were also choreographers, videographers, and tech assistants who worked behind the scenes. A flash mob is planned spontaneity at its communal best, and I can't help but think that those who participated and those who happened to find themselves in the audience left this scene with a little brighter outlook and a stronger sense of camaraderie with their fellow Seattlites.

I have nothing against art intended to provoke serious conversation or to increase awareness of the world's suffering. We should by all means seek to reveal God's heart for justice and mercy in our art. But I also believe God is pleased when we blend our voices just for the fun of it, when the many intentionally move as one, when we rehearse hour after grueling hour not to draw applause to ourselves, but to be part of a whole, for the pure joy of creating in community to give to community -- that those who receive leave not with a sense of any one person's greatness, but with a sweeter, deeper, multiplied delight.

Western culture prizes individuality and promotes competition. I won't say that's bad in every regard, but it can tend to elevate personal ambition over collaboration. We're so busy trying to accomplish selfish goals, to be the brightest sun shining in our corner of the sky, we forget we're created for community. And, as a result, we all lose.

The examples I mentioned above all involve performance, but there are plenty of other ways artists can work together. Community art happens when painters work together to create various panels of a mural. Or when writers compose a story that one person starts then passes to another and another and another, each taking it in the direction of his fancy while staying true to the characters and preceding action, with the ultimate goal of sharing the whole.

Are you involved in any form of community art? I'd love to hear about it. What are some practical ways we can collaborate with others to make the world a more beautiful place for all of us?

 

Jeanne Damoff posted photos of Bye Bye Birdie rehearsal here. Also, she really, really, really hopes she'll get to participate in a flash mob some day. Really.

 

Comments

[Kathleen]

Our family also had informal jam sessions. Anyone who played an instrument would join with the voices. Grandma played the spoons- others - guitars, harmonicas, bass, accordian, piano. I have fond memories of these weekends either at home or camping. I would find a corner and a blanket and fall asleep to those sweet sweet sounds of songs, laughter, and stories mingled.
Your post made me thankful.

[Jeanne Damoff]

That's so great, Kathleen! I love the mental image of Grandma playing spoons. :) So glad the post prompted special memories for you. Thanks for sharing.

[Jennifer@GDWJ]

Great piece, Jeanne! My family is very much like yours ... prone to spontaneous harmonizing. Even as adults, we do this.

Have you see the Random Acts of Culture performances, such as the singing of Handel's Messiah at Macy's? I'm reminded of that while reading this tonight.

P.S. -- Is that you twirling in the photo? Love it!

[Jeanne Damoff]

Thanks, Jennifer! I'm not surprised to hear your family is a musical bunch. Music remains a constant in adulthood for us, too, and it seems to have only increased with the next generation. I love it!

I haven't seen the Random Acts of Culture performances, but they sound wonderful. And, yes, that's me twirling. Dancing is also a constant. We aren't famous for being quiet or sedate. :)