Art v Culture: Dawn of Creativity

Does art create a culture, or does culture create art? This was one of the many random questions that popped into my head and rebounded across the walls of my brain as the plane landed with a triumphant thud onto the cracked and rocky air strip in New York. The genesis of this thought would represent the beginning of my trip band's field trip to Carnegie Hall. From March 5th-9th, I would have the opportunity to not only play on stage of the prestigious building, but also explore the city of New York as well. This was my first time ever being in New York City and I eagerly stared outside the window all throughout the flight, voraciously soaking up the faint outlines of icons such as the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, and the Metropolitan Opera. As I took my carry-on and tenor saxophone off the compartment of the plane and waited for the shuttle to take me to my hotel (catching up on episodes of Daredevil as the minutes went by) I tried to immerse myself into the culture of New York City, even within the confines of the airport. The occasional announcements over the intercom would interrupt the constant background noise of cab drivers, elated exclamations between family members, and the barking of dogs. When my cab finally arrived and I stepped outside of the airport, I saw a city that bustled with excitement, bogged down with intermittent bags of trash, and brimmed with edifices that made my eyes lock in a lucid trance with the sky. As the driver raced down the highway (gleefully ignoring the "draconian" speed limit) I saw a culture characterized by overt (and covert) belligerence, centripetal thinking, and artistic appreciation. The street performer made his golden saxophone somehow blend seamlessly with the dreary ambiance of the night, while Times Square's gargantuan screens acted as a surrogate and mechanical sun in a city shrouded in darkness. I was fascinated by the depictions of art and culture that were seen here (and I had only been on the ground of New York for at most 3 hours) and hoped to explore further the answer to my question. 

Faint outline of the Statue of Liberty

In the middle of Times Square

In addition to playing at Carnegie, my band (and orchestra) explored the other sights of New York as well, including the 9/11 Memorial, Metropolitan Opera House, Times Square, Central Park, and even the Jazz Village Vanguard Club. Whether it was the musical School of Rock (my first Broadway show) or the singing waiters and waitresses at Ella’s Stardust Diner, to see the copious amount of ways in which both the layman and the Broadway performer connected and used music in their daily lives fascinated me. In Chicago, there was certainly not an absence of artistic appreciation, but in New York City, I felt as though it was elevated to another level. Street performers, diner singers, Hallal vendors, and Jazz musicians all found their niche of creativity in New York. 

Seeing School of Rock

Top of the Rock View

Along with my fellow jazz band members, I was able to go to the Village Vanguard Jazz Club. It was a in cramped and dark room, yet despite the initially uncomfortable conditions, I felt as though I was a member of an exclusive, prestigious, and privileged group that was able to see these musicians "premiere" their pieces. The club was  was a stark contrast from what I had initially envisioned; I thought that the setting would be much more spacious and bright. Having performed jazz predominantly in a concert setting (whether at UIC, Evanston, New Trier, or even outside in the rain), getting used to a nocturnal atmosphere was a welcome change. At the Village Vanguard, there was much more of a focus on the artists themselves and the intimacy of the “ensemble” feel. Each artist looked as though they were given just the right amount of space; the addition of any other member would have made the stage overcrowded. As I heard the zealous solos of the Tenor Saxophone or the bombastic pounding of percussion, the crowd would gradually increase in energy and intensity. Here I realized the importance of a culture when it comes to art; the uncomfortable setting was purposely done to create an ambiance of intimacy. Even though I am usually I shy person, I found myself gleefully cheering on the players as they performed classic jazz tunes. As the band played the opening notes of Walkin' About (a piece that I am currently playing in Jazz Band), I felt a surge of excitement rush through me as I heard master performers flawlessly execute an incumbent tune. As each Saxophone player (Soprano, Alto, Tenor, and Baritone) took their rounds soloing and adding a new layer of creativity upon the main head of the tune, their artistry poured right back out into the community. Simply put, the art would not have reached its truest form of enjoyment if the culture around it did not exist; because of the culture, I was able to fully enjoy the art (or at least, enjoy it in a more elevated way). 

Image credit: Jazz Times

Yet in the same way, my performance at Carnegie Hall showed how the different expressions of art shaped the culture. Bands from all around the country came to play their pieces, and each piece that was played added to the culture of appreciation and expression. For example, the band from Hawaii represented a more strict and rigid formality; every movement was synchronized and every piece struck the perfect balance between mellifluous harmonies and expeditious tempos. For my band in particular, we focused more on the importance of dynamics; how the increase or decrease of volume gives a physical shape to a sound. Each of these idiosyncrasies created a unique culture within the aesthetics of Carnegie Hall. Certain strengths were emphasized for each band, and though all of us were distinct, the expression of our art created a new culture that the audience was able to participate in. The fact that my band was able to play a commissioned piece (appropriately titled Sitting in the House of a Giant) also provided a unique experience. We were able to premiere a brand new piece of art, and as a result, we helped set the culture and reception the composer wanted. The result was a powerful and riveting tribute to Gunther Schuller, filled with eccentric tempo changes, engaging dynamic contrast, and a cornucopia of personal "Easter Eggs" for audiences to appreciate. 

Whitney M. Young Magnet High School Band and Orchestra at Carnegie Hall

Through this amazing experience, I ultimately learned how musicality can be expressed in different ways. The everyday activities of New York provided a new urbanized soundtrack (albeit much more fast-paced) that I could tune in to everyday if I paid attention closely. Music was not just found in the aesthetically superior hall of Carnegie. Everything from the grilling of comfort food, bellicose honking of car horns, and the energetic night life helped force me to become accustomed to the minute details played in my own music. The members of the band in a sense all represented the diverse group of people that walk on New York’s streets; all are united by the commonality of living in the Big Apple, yet each have their own unique experiences as well. For me, though I played the saxophone, the flutes, oboes, and French Horns all contributed to the grand piece I was playing as well. Going forward, I hope to realize that there does not have to be a battle whether culture creates art or if art creates culture; both can occur at different points in time or at exactly the same moment. I hope to become more accustomed to the world’s sounds, and to strive for the highest level of musicianship. 

A post-script: As my father so cleverly pointed out, I have undermined my credibility by copying the title of a movie that comes out this Friday: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. I hope that such a egregious error did not drive you away from viewing this post.