Sitting in my winter coat, a Styrofoam cup of tea in hand, I listened in awe as the orchestra on stage finished Gustav Holst’s “Jupiter.” Nearby, several friends of mine sat in similar joyous awe, taking in the music.

This was a regular Friday or Saturday evening occurrence during my college years. Thanks to the abundance of free musical events at my school, I was frequently enriched by choral, orchestral, and other musical performances of a professional quality. Not all my peers partook in such enrichment, but many at my small Christian liberal arts college did enjoy attending regular musical events whether they were musicians or not.

Regularly witnessing such beauty created a certain tenor amongst the college community, or, at least, amongst the groups of which I was a part. As renowned philosopher Roger Scruton says, true art “stands on the threshold of the transcendental,” pointing us “beyond this world of accidental and disconnected things to another realm.” The awe one feels when listening to a well-trained choir sing a complex piece in another language is not easily reproduced in other pastimes, like watching sports or even a film, and the audience, as a community temporarily brought together by music, shares such awe. Those who witness good art are pointed beyond themselves and the artwork. Regularly opening ourselves to witness the transcendence of good art creates a receptivity in ourselves and our communities, a posture of welcome towards all that is good and beautiful, a posture extending beyond the arts.

As such, many of us would profit from attending more choral performances or Shakespeare plays. We should jump at the opportunity to attend local performances of pieces such as Handel’s “Messiah” when such opportunities come our way, for witnessing such beauty is formative.

But outside the world of the university, frequent exposure to high art is simply not an option for many, due to finances or other commitments.

I mulled over this conundrum several weeks ago as my husband and I drove to a piano recital for my younger brother. “What is the place of the arts in an ordinary, non-academic life?” I wondered.

The pianists who played at my brother’s recital were much younger and less developed in their skills than the pianists I saw perform at college. The location of the recital – a small church auditorium – was much humbler than my university’s performing arts centre. The recital audience was likewise smaller than that of many other performances, mostly composed of the pianists’ families.

Still, to sit and watch the pianists perform – especially as the older ones, playing Chopin and other famous composers, came to the bench – brought that old familiar awe-filled joy to my heart. While the young pianists were not professionals or full-time music students, they devoted themselves to playing their music well. Their focused eyes, roving fingers, and the resulting beauty of their music testified to their devotion.

Public enjoyment of music and other arts, even performed by amateurs, enriches both the individual and the community as it points beyond themselves toward something higher. As the artist pursues his purpose – that is, transcendence, beauty – the audience is witness to his noble pursuit. And even if he does not quite reach his aim, those who watch him benefit by patiently witnessing the pursuit after beauty.

Even a humble piano recital in a small church on a quiet suburban street can direct one’s eyes upwards to that beauty which is higher than our lowly affairs, that beauty which endows and enters into our experience, often at unforeseen moments, that beauty which has been given by the one who, in the words of Solomon, “hath made every thing beautiful in its time.”

“High art” may not regularly have a place in an ordinary life like mine. But the communal arts of a piano recital, a free summer evening concert, or a production put on by a local Shakespeare troupe can have a meaningful place if one is willing to witness and welcome such pursuits after beauty, however amateur.

—

The republication of this article is made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal. 

Image Credit: Pexels