I was listening to the composer Saad Haddad talk about music. He was talking about how important it is as a composer to have input from the outside world—things like private lessons, or teaching engagements, where he receives feedback from students. At one point he even called external input a secret weapon that gives you something worth saying. But then he of made a kind of throw-away comment about how he only considers musical activities something that feeds into his compositional craft. That throw-away comment reveals a common misconception. It’s easy to think if you’re not directly engaging in your discipline, you’re not investing in your life as a composer or artist. I want to speak to that misconception.
The author J.R.R. Tolkien wrote a story about this dynamic in his own life. There is a painter named Niggle who is trying to complete a painting of a tree. One of his biggest obstacles is his neighbor who needs help from time to time. At one point, just as Niggle is about to start work on his painting again, his neighbor’s interrupts with urgent knocking, to which Niggle replies, “Damn!” At the end of the story, however, when Niggle looks at his finished tree, he observes how the interruptions of his neighbor have been woven into his tree and made it better. My own experience testifies that the interruptions to my composing schedule have shaped my music. Taking time to hear the heartbeat of my child, and the interruptions of taking care of them when they’re sick, they shape me to write music differently.
Last year, I watched the Disney documentary on John Williams. It was inspiring in many ways. There was an element, though, of regret woven through the documentary. The documentary spoke of how unavailable John was to his wife and children due to his demanding schedule. At one point, John’s wife tragically passed away, leaving behind young kids. He said she was always asking him to write music for her, but he never did until she passed away. It was one of his regrets in life. Sadly, his children continued to experience distance from their father, as one of them said she worries about him when he’s not writing music. While the documentary was largely positive, these reflections on family leave a wistful atmosphere that makes one wonder about the cost of his career.
In sympathy with John Williams, there are times when the demands of family or neighbors feel too large to bear. Speaking as a Christian, there is an important element in trusting God with my artistic career. In contrast with the people of Babel who sought to make a name for themselves, God called Abraham to tend to his family in the desert so that God would make his name great. We don’t make a name for ourselves. We trust God to make our name as important or unimportant as it needs to be while we follow him. So be present to your family. Be present to your neighbors. And trust the life he gives you (filled with particular family members and particular neighbors) in some mysterious way actually feeds into your art.
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