In a peaceful hospital nestled in the Terrence Cardinal Cooke Center, the harmony of a violin fills the air — so light, shaking, and alive. In the expansive corridors and gently lit rooms, normally known for the steady beeping of medical devices, comes this gradual transformation as the music embeds itself in the scenery. Children and adolescents are seated in wheelchairs lining the sides of the room, some unable to move or speak. Nonetheless, their eyes are fixed on the movement of the bow on the strings, marking its paths of sound in intense absorption. In this brief moment, the institution changes into something else entirely different: it becomes an auditorium, an area of acknowledgment, and maybe a place of happiness.
This is the Mother Cabrini Concert Series. In fact, it is actually a project that I and my twin sister, together with some students of the Manhattan School of Music (MSM) and the Juilliard School, initiated in an effort to provide entertainment in the form of live music, and more importantly, human contact for children and adolescents suffering from profound neurological disorders. From a small project, it has culminated in MSM and Juilliard students joining forces, and this collaboration has increased the benefits of our music initiative for the patients, as well as for the impact of art in bridging any and all divides created through mobility, speech, and circumstances.
The project began with a question: How might our music education be put to use in a way that benefits those who may never get to attend a concert hall in their lives? As pre-college students at MSM and Juilliard, on the weekends we focused intensely on our technical training: scales, etudes, group rehearsals, and theory sessions. In the midst of our regimen of practice and performance, it became clear that something was missing: the belief that what we were doing artistically made a difference in the world. Our patients at Mother Cabrini Hospital, many of whom live in silence and have little exposure to those of their generation, are at the core of what we hope to accomplish.
Right from the start, it was clear that this would be no usual performance situation. These were people for whom clapping, talking, and turning their head were luxuries that sometimes were simply out of the question. However, listening, feeling, and responding in ways that questioned every communication belief we had were very much possible.
My role at Mother Cabrini grew quickly from performing to leading the effort. I assemble volunteers from amongst the students and prepare them for what it means to be in this emotional environment of the hospital. Before each performance, I tell the volunteers that it is in no way about perfection. In this context, it is the small occurrence leading up to the music that means so much — saying hello to the kids, remembering their names, greeting them or just offering them a wave or hello. This means the world in this context, in which many of the children get little social engagement at all.
In each case, the change is obvious. In each case, it is clear that some stimulus exists which responds in some manner to the music. Some of the patients’ bodies ease at the sound of recognizable classical music, while others change in recognizable ways in their respiration or muscle tone as the rhythmic patterns sweep them up. Nurses and sometimes neurologists watch in wonder at such responses and note them in patient records. And what happens in each case is that the underlying emotional landscape of the patients is seen to be vibrant and alive despite very evident physical limitations.
For many performers, especially those trained in recital and competition settings, such concerts serve as a reset for their point of purpose. Some performers have reported that this has awakened something very important within them — that music is not solely for academic purposes or for achieving something, that it is instead the language of empathy. Singing for children who may give little responses but are nonetheless very powerful serves as a reminder of this: it changes the aim from applause to something more focused on empathy, and from self to something that reaches out to others.
Further enhancing the excellence of the program are the joint contributions of Juilliard and MSM students. Even as the two conservatories are renowned in their separate ways, together in this series, they build another kind of artistic community — generated less by competition and prestige than by their specific aims. Students who never would have met otherwise work together, travel together to the hospital, and ponder the meaning of what they are doing together. Mixing different artistic cultures adds to the strength of both the concerts and the power of this specific project.
The partnership has also raised visibility within the communities of both schools. Teachers and students alike have began to attend or offer help in performances, giving way to more musicians and onlookers. Being in the spotlight makes it easier for other gifted artists to think of ways for their gifts to be utilized in reaching out to underserved communities. In this way, this series of concerts goes beyond just that — for it now sets an example of balance between conservatory education and service.
In addition to the performances, the concerts provide immeasurable joy to the nurses, aides, and members of the hospital staff who work tirelessly to care for the children. For many of them, it may be years or never in their lifetime that they’ve had the opportunity to enjoy live music in this way, and yet, within the hallways of this hospital, it is delivered at such a superior level. Some of the many observations that I have made of the nurses include their lingering in doorways or taking moments to sit down next to some of their patients.
In addition, the concerts create an important type of awareness that reaches beyond the children. Most of the patients at Mother Cabrini are invisible within the community at large, and their conditions render it difficult for them to be involved within life beyond the hospital walls. By reaching out into the university community and inviting students, faculty, and members of the community into the hospital as witnesses, the series demonstrates the existence of young people within the community that live with neurological disabilities.
All of the participants leave this experience as better musicians and as more understanding people. They are affected in such a way that the way in which they use their music and the way in which they approach the world around them will be different. They will be taking the message of the hospital concert series with them wherever they go — the message of music and the message of humanity. In the end, the Cabrini Concert Series is grounded in a very simple and profound conviction: Every child deserves to be seen and heard. Each note that is played is, in effect, an act of recognition that tells each of these children, despite the challenges that each of them faces, that they are part of a listening and living world. By joining the efforts of two of the world’s great conservatories, we are building not only a series of concerts, but a community.
In the end, the Cabrini Concert Series is grounded in a very simple and profound conviction: Every child deserves to be seen and heard. Each note that is played is, in effect, an act of recognition that tells each of these children, despite the challenges that each of them faces, that they are part of a listening and living world. By joining the efforts of two of the world’s great conservatories, we are building not only a series of concerts, but a community.