Vissi d' Arte

I love music.  I grew up immersed in it. My dad sang loudly on lazy Sunday evenings after church was over -- belting out his best Bohemian Rhapsody for all to hear as he made himself sandwiches in the kitchen. 

Our family of eight listened to music everywhere. Christmas carols while coloring on snowy winter days as we proffered crayons to each other, Saturdays as we did our chores, and of course as teenagers for hours alone in our rooms. In the days of dial-up and Napster we listened to the CDs we bought ourselves or ones that were around the house. My parents were as patient as saints while my brother and I both went through a long obsession with show tunes. Each morning in high school I harmonized with Ben, the brother two years below me, on the way to our zero hour class as the sun rose hazy gold over the world and the frost still sparkled jewel bright on parts of the windshield. 

I used to take voice lessons two days a week with an extraordinary woman called Anne who had an amazing ability to whistle any tune loudly. Almost every time she picked up the phone when I was around she answered in Italian. A formidable grand piano stood in her living room, its dark gleaming surface reminiscent of a deep lake that beckoned students to fall in. Every student was offered tea or hot water before a lesson. I gladly partook every chance I got before I began to delay what often felt like two hours of mistakes. But I kept coming back week after week because I wanted to get it. To master the songs, make the music my own. 

Another thing Ann poured out along with her tea was wisdom. And while the music that gets my heart going now has a strong lead guitar line and is punctuated by eighth notes most of  the time, her words have always stayed with me. "You have to live for art," she said. Vissi d' Arte. 

As a teenager I didn't understand what that meant. Art seemed like a cruel mistress. Auditions, scary audiences full of critical people and a lifetime of chorus parts stared me in the face. It felt daunting and I did not find any sort of artistic passion again until six years ago as I held my first DSLR camera in my hands. I clicked the shutter as a flock of geese made their way up from a snowy beach into a blue sky. I knew at that moment that there was something special in this glass and mirror contraption and I wanted to get it. And that day love was born.

When I sing an aria in front of people my heart finds a home in my throat and my stomach is infested with butterflies I can't seem to shake. I become pale and shaky. But when I click the shutter something inside me begins to sing. I feel strong -- like an archer who pulls back the string on her bow, lets her arrow fly and hits the target dead center. God gives me vision to capture that one blink of a moment and as a result I have recorded history. That married couple's first kiss. That look of exhausted bliss as they leave the reception to spend their honeymoon proudly saying "My husband..." and "My wife..." with a beaming smile and a heart filled to bursting. I feel purpose in creating beautiful memories for people to last for a lifetime and to share in that love. It's the kind of art worth creating as I walk my way through this world. I hope every day that it honors and reflects the God I love and the people I am privileged to serve and love too. Vissi d'Arte.