It’s okay baby, we got you
performance date: Spring, 2014
“We’re in prison. We have all the time in the world.”
going through the blue gates.
it’s sad and uplifting at the same time.
it sounded like he was calling her name.
i was so depressed before. i feel so much better now.
hearing them cry during the Ciaconna.
i could see the emotion on your face. it looked like you were gonna cry.
wanting to stay in that suspended moment, forever.
A little over a year ago, I had the privilege of performing Bach for female inmates at a high security prison. Scheduling difficulties at the facilities ended up truncating my performance time from a little over an hour, to about fifteen minutes. In the five minutes during which I went through security and walked through the prison hallways, which looked eerily similar to any default hallway at a public school, I had to figure out what to play, and how best to frame this now miniature performance. Bach can be heavy for a new listener and I did not want to simply play the Ciaconna and leave right afterwards, without any time for us to process and reflect on the music together, and yet I also wanted to offer a high intensity experience for these women.
I began by saying simply that Bach was a very religious man, he was a family man, and played a short improvisation on Amazing Grace. Within seconds I felt the room relax, and some of the women were even singing along. I then decided I would jump right in and play the Ciaconna. I spoke about how Bach's first wife had died, and shared the 'myth' that the Ciaconna can be viewed as an expression of Bach's grief. I expressed that I felt the major section begins with a 'prayer.' After I played I opened my eyes to see that some women were crying, some were smiling. One woman commented that she 'heard Bach say Maria's name' in the major section, and others commented on how they could feel the pain and emotion when I played and see how much I loved the music on my face. I then talked about how Bach ordered all of his Sonatas and Partitas. He travels through four minor keys and sets the Ciaconna in the deepest part of the work as a whole. And yet he also leads us outwards, ending the Ciaconna on two unison D's - he leaves one suspended in the air, and gently rubs against it with a heartbeat, a relentless dotted figure, leading us to the purity and release of C major. This fulcrum of Bach's universe acts as a beautiful turning point for the listener and performer.
I asked everyone to tap on their hearts with me in the same rhythm as the motive in this C major Adagio. I then began to play the movement - but I had demonstrated a tempo that was too fast for me. I stopped playing a few measures in and laughed at my mistake - when one woman called out 'It's okay baby, we got you! Why don't you start and we'll join in.' This moment has never left me. I was forced to play with eyes open (I usually perform with eyes closed, it happens without conscious thought), looking out into the room, so we could all find the right tempo together. It was like playing chamber music.
I looked out into a room filled with women whose hearts and spirits were wide open, and were tapping on their chests to the rhythm of Bach, and carrying me along through the movement. I realized then how incredibly lucky I was to have music in this moment - a space within which I could truly connect to other humans, outside of society, outside of judgement, outside of all of our collective life histories, and breathing together, allowed us all to share in this beautiful gift that Bach has to left us, and left to the world.
By now I knew that we had gone well over fifteen minutes. I kept looking over at the Warden who was supportively nodding me on to continue.
I played the Preludio of the E major Partita to end the presentation, emphasizing that Bach leaves us here in E major, in a Partita filled with exalted and joyous dances - I like to think of it as a reminder that though we have seen heartbreak and suffering, we are still here, of the earth, and can dance and move forwards with our lives. One woman asked me where she could have her grandmother buy her a violin to be waiting for her when she goes home.
I left the room feeling incredibly humbled (and grateful that I could shake hands with each one of these women, unlike when I had played for male inmates on a previous visit). I walked back through the hallways, through security, and heard the slam of a blue metal gate behind me. I will never forget these women.
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