Before our current epidemic shifted my educational looking glass, I was intending to use Dance, composer Franz Liszt, and visual artist Hyman Bloom to create a multifaceted experience to experience transcendentalism. I recently discovered the paintings of Hyman Bloom, and I felt an instant connection. I’ve always loved the music of Franz Liszt, and I felt that these two artists merged right outside of faith at transcendentalism, so why not pair them? About a year ago, I joined an ethnic fusion dance club. I had a good time (it was also bone chillingly terrifying!) We hosted a show to support the local women’s shelter, invited dancers, and had a belly dancing guru lead some workshops. While taking these classes, I was mesmerized by the symbolism and spiritual power of these dances. So, why not throw that into the mix? I was planning to work with a dancer to choreograph something that expressed both transcendentalism as well as the symbolic beauty of spirituality that permeates Bloom, Liszt, and myself. We were supposed to meet the first day of quarantine, which then never happened.

 

Since then, I have felt desolation, abandonment, and many, many directionless days. I know many people feels this way, and I decided that there was something much more pertinent, worthy of expression. 

 

During the few days leading into isolation, I saw fewer and fewer friendly faces around my normal gathering places. Those that I saw grew more and more fearful. I couldn’t help but feel the way many of us are - isolated. I turned to Johannes Brahms.

 

Brahms, hidden behind his massive beard, wrote some of the warmest, and most heartbreaking music. I went to him because I felt Isolated, and instead of amplifying my desolation, I found a friend. A kindred spirit. instead of feeling lonely, I felt the opposite. That is why we need art, now more than ever. Our world was already losing connection, and now, many of us are being forced into isolation. But rather than turning a blind eye to our exile, maybe we need to truly acknowledge it. We will get to let our soul speak, and if we share it, others can feel our song and know that they are not alone.

 

Brooke and I are both are musicians, but we both express through many mediums. Poetry and writing are common in our home, as well as many arts and crafts. We often share painting dates as well as gift exchange paintings. We also have the blessing right now to still be able to collaborate! I play for her voice lessons, and she often sings songs with me. 

 

Brooke’s painting, October, was originally one of those guided painting events of a Bengal from our undergrad. She was with an art major friend of ours, and they decided to experiment with the colors and make something different. I find Brooke’s painting to be very pertinent right now. The moon is often depicted as hope and love, and in Brooke’s painting, you can see the waning moon, but also the leafless fall tree in front of it. Just like our strange times, it can be bleak, but there is also something behind all of it if we choose to look.

 

My painting depicts a crucifix shattered and broken. This a symbol of faith to many, broken and battered. As an artist, I felt this way a few weeks ago when a dozen concerts were canceled nearly overnight, and many collaborations and projects were scrapped or severely altered. Between the broken piece of the cross, I painted stained glass and some colors I hear in music. Stained glass cross. Broken faith, stitched together with something (hopefully) beautiful.