But I can't escape the thoughts that seem to captivate me these days about survival. Perhaps it's because my son told me the inventor of a Segway died … on a Segway. Overlooking a cliff.
His timing was impecable. He told me that tidbit yesterday standing on a cliff … both of us on (you guessed it) a Segway.
Life is precarious. And full of risk.
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| Jeff Beal |
So, perusing Facebook this morning my attention was caught by a school friends post of her husband's Commencement address at our alma mater, Eastman School of Music. I was so moved by it, I asked if I could re-print it here and Jeff Beal has agreed. He is a survivor of adversity and knows real suffering. And success.
Thank you Dean Lowry and President Seligman for the honor of speaking to you all today and sharing this wonderful event in the life of the class of 2011. Itʼs hard to imagine itʼs been all of twenty six years since 1985; I was right down there, in this same audience with you, getting ready to begin the exciting, but also terrifying adventure of a life past the rich artistic cocoon of the Eastman School. I suppose, for the next few minutes, you could consider me a metaphorical time traveler, back from your future, here to share some thoughts with you as you begin your own journeys.
The very first topic that popped into my head when Dean Lowry invited me here to speak to you was a rather unexpected one - the word was FAILURE. Reading my career highlights, and noting Iʼm from California, you might have assumed Iʼd bring a more upbeat message, perhaps an inspirational Deepak Chopra, Tony Robbins type invocation about - SUCCESS!
However a realistic self-examination of my life cannot refute this core truth: It is precisely the many failures; learning from them, persistently moving forward, over, under, or just getting past them, that are the defining elements in our journeys. So, letʼs get the bad news out of the way; no amount of preparation, practice, diligence, nor advice from me can prevent you from the failures and rejections awaiting you. Some of these will be of your own making and others through no fault of your own. But it will be your response to these road blocks; how you learn from them, persevere, innovate, fine tune your skills and try again, that will define you, and contribute most significantly to the creation of your lives, and your legacies as artists.
After graduating from Eastman in 1985 and moving to New York City, my aspirations for a career as a jazz trumpeter and composer met with some modest success, but never quite clicked. It didnʼt feel like the right fit for all that I wanted to express, and I briefly considered leaving music for another career. But I persisted and kept composing and recording. I loved it too much to quit. Ultimately, it was this experience as a jazz artist; rooted in principles of collaborative creativity, that found the right home in film composing, a career that brings me great joy and artistic fulfillment to this day.
I remember well when I first knew I had to become an orchestral composer. I was 16, sitting in the trumpet section of the Oakland Youth Symphony in California, rehearsing Stravinsky's masterpiece, The Rite Of Spring. Between trumpet passages, I poured over the score, marveling at Stravinskyʼs gift for orchestration. I couldnʼt forget the history of the scandalous premiere of the Rite in Paris. I loved that ironic story; that one of concert musicʼs most highly regarded works was welcomed by riot in the theater and critical rejection. A colossal public failure.
I had my own public failure early on in my scoring career. I was hired to write the theme and underscore for a new TV show, called “Monk” starring Tony Shalhoub. The show became a hit, but as season two approached I heard from my agent that the producers wanted to change all of the music, because thats what producers do, change things. Randy Newman was hired to replace my theme, and another composer was hired to write new underscore. It was a very public rejection of my work and it stung. I assumed my career was over, but unexpectedly, after these decisions were made public, fans and journalists rallied around my theme. Petitions and articles were written. I was nominated and won my first Emmy award, for my Monk theme. The producers admitted they missed my underscore and asked to hire me back. I accepted and continued on to finish the showʼs eight season run. What had seemed like a career-ending failure, turned out to be a pivotal time of growth and validation
Most of last week was spent on a film-dubbing stage in Los Angeles- mixing my musical score into a new movie called Wilde-Salome. The director and star is the legendary actor Al Pacino. After a difficult and often frustrating creative journey that took Al 5 years to complete, all of us with him were excited and relieved to be finishing the movie, which will premiere at the Venice Film Festival in September. My music editor reminded me that this stage was the very same place where 10 years ago we mixed my score into another actor driven project. That was for Ed Harris, and the film was “Pollock.”
Pollock was Edʼs directorial debut, and just like Al Pacino, Ed spent many years preparing for and realizing his creation. In this case, not only directing the film but also portraying the artist Jackson Pollock -- Ed went as far as to build an art studio next to his house where he could practice painting and movement.
Both of these films, and their esteemed creators, strike me as relevant for us today. Here are two accomplished actors, well past the point of needing to prove themselves, who could easily sit back and cherry pick the roles offered, instead choosing the hard way. They spent long hours, days, years of effort and risking failure to realize a creative vision-- but why? Both of these projects grew out of very personal creative passion. Both men have shown me first hand that relentless learning and challenging the boundaries of our own comfort zone are not simply things you do when you are young and starting out; they can, and should, be life long commitments.
Neurologists have only recently discovered that the brain is quite malleable and dynamic; weʼre able to master new skills long after the supposed optimal age for learning. You are all graduating today, but I hope that your life or learning and discovering is far from over. I urge you to continue to masternew skills with zeal, live abroad and study a new language, teach others to love music, read books for fun. Never, ever stop being a student.
My interest in the brainʼs plasticity has grown out of another failure of sorts. Instead of an external failure, it was the failing of my health. Four years ago, numbness on my left side lead to a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis, a chronic and (as yet) incurable neurological disease. Now here was a road-block I never expected nor hardly wished for, but I decided pretty early on- I needed to figure out how to respond to this. There were new lessons to learn in acceptance, self care, humor, and patience. I struggled to live as gracefully as I could with chronic pain and daily fatigue.
But the MS has, in a strange way, forced me to focus on whatʼs most important in my personal and creative life, and to avoid what isnʼt. Iʼve been the benefactor of the dedication of my wife Joan, an Eastman Alum, whoʼs here with us today. She responded in her own way, becoming a crusader, researcher, and spokesperson for new treatments on my behalf and for others with MS. She became a student again, tirelessly pouring over medical papers and research. Her writings and advocacy have helped to spread information to literally thousands around the globe. Thatʼs about as far as you can get from singing German Lieder, but Iʼve seen her pursue this with the same amount of zeal and energy as anything musical.
None of you here today would have been accepted to Eastman, much less graduate, if you did not have the passion to pursue your great gifts in music. Congratulations to you for your commitment, hard work, and discipline. The arts will always be the social and spiritual glue that connect us and provide us with moments of transcendence, joy, and catharsis. And our society needs these gifts today, more than ever.
To the class of 2011, I wish for you, all of the greatest successes- both artistic and personal. But I also wish you the greatest of failures...because many of your gifts are yet to be discovered, and some of these gifts will only be revealed by adversity. May you respond to your own challenges with growth and humor. Congratulations and Thank You for letting me spend this very important day with you.
If you know anyone who suffers from MS, please take a moment and look here for more information about Chronic Cerebrospinal Venous Insufficiency (CCSVI) and how it relates to Multiple Sclerosis. And consider supporting them.
Keep going, Jeff and Joan. You are both a huge inspiration.
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