On Thursday, I boarded a plane for Florence, Italy. By Sunday evening, I was wandering starry-eyed through the Piazza della Signoria at twilight, surrounded by a living museum of Renaissance sculptures standing at the foot of the 14th century stone tower of the Palazzo Vecchio, once the palace of the Medicis, now the city’s seat of government. I was among throngs of people, most of whom, like me, had traveled halfway across the world to be dazzled by the proud commanding figures of idealized human form.
I came here to immerse myself in the fierce beauty of a culture that sought to reflect the order of the cosmos in every sculpture, cathedral, fresco, and yes, even that divinely anointed ritual: the cappuccino.
Making time for contemplative encounters with beautiful art is essential for our survival. As a species, we long for narrative and wholeness. We weave tapestries, paint images, write stories, and compose symphonies because we sense at our core that all the fragments and experiences of our earthly existence belong to something greater than the individual parts. Yet in our digital era, it is entirely possible to suppress this. If we let ourselves, we can live out our lives in a safe sameness constructed out of our fears, desires and preferences, unclouded by disagreement, discomfort or change. And yet, there in our self-made bubbles, we will ache with our apart-ness, for at our core, to be human is to long for wholeness, which by necessity contains variety and communion.
Art, if great, can give us glimpses of this all-encompassing integration. An artist aiming to reflect the harmonious nature of all creation will not shy away from disagreement, discomfort or rupture, but will lovingly arranging in truthful hues the ugly and the beautiful, the painful and the joyful, the defeats and the triumphs in light of the unified whole that redeems the ruptures and wrongs of its individual parts.
Since a young age I’ve been acutely aware of the beautifully woven fabric that this world and all its varying parts form. I was raised in a home of strong faith and values, where I was taught how to be a good member of my family and society through conversation, prayer, great books, art, nature, and music. Each of these areas played an important role in forming my character, but it was primarily in classical music that I heard the tensions, aches, and longings of this world resolved with the ideals and virtues taught to me in my education and Christian faith.
In the richly varied, powerful strains of conflict and resolution, I heard a world in which disagreements resolved into clarified harmonies, where the dark, despairing elements could transform into soaring melodies of exquisite hope. Classical music formed a stream of sound that washed over me; beauty, truth and goodness became not just knowable, but habitable.
As a ten-year-old, I would often sit on our couch, enraptured by the instrumental world of Benjamin Britten’s Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra. Listening to the orchestra’s careful disassembly and reassembly, I found myself not only learning about the structure of orchestral music but also discovering how the world around me was intricately designed—each piece fitting seamlessly into a magnificent cosmic puzzle.
Music enables submersion in this revealed reality, for we can quite literally step into its waters and let the waves of sound wash over us, baptizing us in the healed unity of all things. The specific genre of classical music ensures this experience, since it is founded on the principles of cohesion and integration, in which each musical line and the notes within it function according to a clear direction, purpose and relationship to everything above, below, before and after the sounded notes of each moment.
It developed this way because of origins in medieval chant, which sought to bring heavenly realities down to earth through notation. As monks learned the art of stacking musical lines to create a new vertical sense in addition to the horizontal, music began to climb, building a rich, transcendent texture that resembled the cathedrals of its cities. After an exhilarating period of innovation and experimentation during the Renaissance and Baroque eras, composers of the Classical era enshrined all that had come before them into musical forms that reflected the Enlightenment ideals of equality and justice for all.
While the Founding Fathers of America were building a new democratic order founded on these ideals, Joseph Haydn, fondly referred to as the “Father of the Symphony,” was fine-tuning the sonata form—a pinnacle musical construct that gave contrasting musical ideas a clear map in which they could converse, develop and resolve. In a piece of music that follows the sonata form, we hear musical themes blossom then explore and discuss, as they react to new key areas and melodic content. By the end, all musical themes introduced at the start of the piece have transformed into a new landscape made richer by the musical journey and conversation.
In the prized classical genre of the concerto, a soloist shines in the spotlight while the orchestra supports it with accompanying harmonies, offering a fitting musical portrayal of an individual interacting with his surroundings. Derived from the Italian word “concertare” which is in turn derived from Latin, “concerto” quite aptly has two opposing meanings: “to dispute/contend” and “to agree/arrange.” A concerto displays both meanings of the word: as we listen to the interplay between the soloist and the orchestra, we are struck by the vulnerability of an individual as both uniquely set apart from and deeply embedded within the world at large.
Classical music offers cathartic moments of “dispute” and “agreement,” whereby conflicts resolve into shared communions oriented toward the true, the good and the beautiful. Whether it be sacred polyphonic strains reaching to the cosmos, an enlightened conversation poured into a sonata mold, or a concerto soloist showcasing the unique dignity of each individual within society, notes assemble all of the pieces-–bright, dark, and everything in between—into richly cohesive, redemptive wholes.
Sadie Hoyt is a classical pianist, music educator, and founder of Classical Encounters, a business dedicated to helping families, schools, and adult learners deepen their appreciation and knowledge of classical music. You can peruse her curricula, book, courses, listening guides, and free resources at sadiehoyt.com