[Julia Bullock] Graduates: I don’t presume to know what you’re thinking. I don't know where your heads are, but I remember
sitting where you are 10 years ago, with my colleagues and my friends –– my hair was smashed
under the graduation hat, not today. I was wearing that brilliant tailored black polyester gown with
the accented Pepto Bismal pink collar, and feeling really content because I liked being
a part of the community.
I had studied music for the past 4 years, at one of the greatest music schools in the country.
I was trained well in the fundamentals, I was getting better at
listening and communicating so that I could engage in something that actually felt legitimate.
But despite all of that, I wasn’t comfortable calling myself a musician.
I had this idea that in order to be the best musician I could be I had to buy into the
philosophy that there was a great divide or distinction between those whose work I was
interpreting, –– the composers, poets, authors, writers–– those who really created,
and myself.
I had submitted to the idea that there was a hierarchical model when it came to creating
art, and certain voices or contributions were more valuable than others.
I thought that my sole role as a musician was to be utilized as a tool or vessel through
which these other minds––great minds–– could express theirperceptions of the world,
their thoughts, their feelings, and that my voice and person was somehow not quite as relevant.
I don’t know if was just part of the culture at Eastman, or maybe it’s in the culture
of classical music, but there were certainly conversations I had with my classmates in
which we all agreed that the most admirable thing for us aspire to as musicians was to
become ‘vessels’ for ‘whatever purpose’ –– as if modeling ourselves after inanimate
objects was a life goal.
But we’re human beings, as were and are all of those individuals whose work we most admire.
We can respect them, we revere them, but there is no need to abandon your own individual
expressions, identities or perceptions in order to serve some higher purpose for making music.
Because that almost suggests that we have to divorce ourselves from our distinct and
unique humanity.
It wasn’t until several years after graduating from Eastman that I felt I could put everything
that I feared, everything I loved, and was confused about, confounded by, astounded by,
INTO the music I was making; that I could put it all INTO the words and the music I
was interpreting.
And I think these great creative minds, at least the ones I love the most, are after
the exact same thing.
They write these amazing, diverse, and intense expositions, not to create some sort of ultimate
crystallization of beauty that can be admired from afar.
Their work exists so that we can invest ourselves, and even so they could invest themselves,
in it: to more clearly look at who we are, where we are, what we’re doing, and then
be able to increase our awareness of others.
And I think whether you are listening, performing, or teaching: music helps us to find clarity,
it helps us to be more conscious.
To view ourselves within a larger context and more completely.
The words, “for the enrichment of community life,” were engraved on the façade of this
theater, the theater where we find ourselves.
That’s a huge and massively important statement, because that communicates that the world of
the arts and buildings who house and present the arts do not exist to be self-serving,
but to be outward looking.
I hope, for everyone in this theater, that you feel confident moving forward in your work.
Because today doesn’t solely need to be centered around your achievements here at
Eastman and this point of arrival, because as musicians we all know that arrival points
are just that.
[gestured a point in the air] They are magnificent, but they lead onto the next moment.
So this is not a day of arrival, but one of launching.
Hence the commencement address: I’m so excited to stand amongst you today as a musician,
even if some of you don’t yet know how to define what being a musician is, I hope you
never feel that you need to silence yourself, or that your voice isn’t as valuable as another.
There is no authority who should oversee freedom of expression, or determine who should be
given the space to express themselves fully.
And if you do feel that should be the case, or you want to be that overseer, ask yourself:
Am I a musician?
Because musicians don’t just want to be listened to, they leave space and time to
listen to others, and to really hear them.
Congratulations. [applause]