Life As a Black Classical Pianist
From an early age, as I was first enrolled in piano lessons, I was
quick to realize that there were not (m)any other young black pianists
who were learning how to play classical music – at least that I had ever
met. Fast forward a couple of decades, and nothing has changed. No “growth of the sport”, no “catering to a wider audience”.
There are so many ways this writing can go… is it a question of the
chicken/egg concept (i.e. is there a lack of interest in classical music
within the black community because it is so underrepresented at the
highest levels/”misunderstood music”/etc., or is the lack of
representation yet another form of systemic discouragement towards some
groups of society)?
I have always loved everything classical music has to offer – from a
seemingly endless expanse of amazing music spanning hundreds of years,
while providing those who choose to play it a parallel variety of
technical, musical, and ideological challenges. No matter how many
hours of practice, there will always be more work to do and new heights
to reach. Delving into the diverse works of J.S. Bach and Domenico
Scarlatti could by themselves cost a lifetime of exploration, let alone
engaging into the oeuvres of Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt, Brahms,
and beyond. As “musically gifted” as I was told to be when I was young,
there were so many other pianists who seemed to be light years ahead of
what I thought I could ever achieve. Therein remained the goal to
improve and become the best version of my musical self that I could be.
Luke Welch performing at the Embassy Festival in the Netherlands
While I was committed to my own improvements, and those my piano
teachers laid out for me, I was often met with equal confusion,
resentment, discouragement, and sometimes straight-up disdain from
others around me. I don’t “look” the part of a classical musician, nor
do I talk as such (whatever that means). I have often been told –
especially during my time living abroad – to perhaps switch my musical
focus to something more in my lane, such as jazz music. I have even
been stopped from entering a concert venue in which I was the performer
until I was able to convince the unidentified individual (thankfully not
the concert promoter!) to actually look at the advertising poster to
confirm that I should even be allowed inside the building. In another
instance I was questioned, while at a music store looking for recordings
of pieces I was intending to prepare and perform, as to whether the
music I sought was actually for me. Once stated that I, too, am a
classically-trained musician, the look of shock was also followed by the
comment “Wow, you definitely can’t judge a book by its cover!”
“Wow, you definitely can’t judge a book by its cover!”
The amount of restraint it took to not lose my temper in that moment
took every fibre of my being. I remember discussing the situation with
my father shortly afterwards, and was even more disheartened to hear his
sincere, yet candidly matter-of-fact response: “Well, son, get used to
it.” Unfortunately, he was one hundred percent correct.
During
all of my academic years, from elementary school through university, I
did not encounter a single other black pianist. This interesting
observation extends not only at my own schools, but also to
competitions, professional performances, piano masterclasses, or any
other musical environment. It was not something I dwelt on at the time,
as I was so preoccupied with building my own career and completing my
education that I didn’t have the time to be as cognizant as I probably
should have been. I only tended to notice the imbalance when people
would bring it up to me in conversation as they were meeting me for the
first time at my own performances.
Once the proverbial light bulb *finally* went off in my head, I
realized the stakes were much higher than simply accomplishing great
feats at the instrument and making a name for myself. I also came to
understand and appreciate that I represented a community within the
community – and by that I mean being a black classical musician (see:
unicorn) in an already marginalized society (and yes, I admit that
those who immerse themselves within the classical music community tend
to be pigeon-holed as being on the fringes of mainstream). Not
only was it – and still is – of paramount importance to be at my best on
stage, but it was imperative to remain aware that the lights, camera,
and attention may not necessarily stop for me just because the
performance is over.
…it was imperative to remain aware that the lights, camera, and attention may not necessarily stop for me just because the performance is over.
I am not one to theorize whether or not my ethnicity impacts my
career opportunities, nor do I care. It’s rather quite the opposite. I
believe that quality will always succeed, so as long as I continue to
prepare well, push myself to be a better musician tomorrow than I am
today, maintain a respectful attitude, and appreciate the incredible
support from everyone around me and those who have contributed to my
career, the rest will take care of itself. I make no secret – diving
even deeper into the seemingly infinite pool of classical music,
travelling the world, seeing new places, meeting new people, performing,
recording albums: these are among the many things that continue to fuel
my passion for making music. If part of the job description involves
being an ambassador of sorts, I fully welcome the opportunity every
time, especially if it has the potential to encourage more young black
individuals to explore a world they may not otherwise know exists, or
feel entirely comfortable stepping into at first. It is a wonderful
feeling to do what you love, regardless of perception as the next
classical unicorn – or more importantly, as the next wonderful musician
and human being.
The same sentiments hold true in between performances as well. As an
independent artist, I have continued to focus the majority of my waking
hours on building the practical component of my career – concerts and
international travel to destinations around the world to share my music
with others. Simultaneously, I have focused on teaching as well –
working with students of all ages and abilities – first in Europe, and
now here in Canada as well. It has been a long-standing dream of mine
(again, no major revelation) to achieve a position within a
higher-education institution such as a college or university – working
with students who possess the highest level of talent, passion, and
dedication to their art the way I also did.
It’s incredible how many positions just like these continue to be
filled with faces and backgrounds which look remarkably the same. How
many institutions in this vast expanse of the Great White North
employ any teachers/professors/music educators who look anywhere
similar to me? How long will this trend continue? Even as recently as a
month or so ago, I applied for an associate professorship at a
university not far from where I live where not only did I meet the
outlined qualifications outlined in the job post, but I anticipated that
my educational background in multiple continents in addition to my
performance and teaching experience would have at very least warranted a
cursory response. Unfortunately, there was not even so much as an
acknowledgement to my follow-up let alone an invitation for a
conversation. Gullible, yet optimistic, I remain for the next coveted
opportunity.
Gullible, yet optimistic, I remain for the next coveted opportunity.
My intention is to share some of my experiences with those who are
willing to read about them, and maybe in some way can relate. Let us
continue to live side by side in melody and harmony. Let us continue to
learn from each other. Let us continue to come together (with the
perfect excuse!) for our shared love of music. Stay healthy and safe!
Thank you very much for reading.
– LW
Oskar Morawetz Scherzo - Luke Welch Official
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