It was in the kindergarten classroom where I first came in contact with a violin. My classmate had brought the instrument to play it for show and tell day. I don’t recall many details from that day, apart from the sheer sense of wonder and curiosity that her performance of “twinkle twinkle” had drawn from me. “How does it work? How does a wood box, string, and hair create such a compelling sound?” This intrigue must have stuck with me long enough that day, so that when I hopped off the bus and walked home, I asked my dad about getting a violin. My step towards playing the violin was likely ignited because my dad was an accomplished musician and teacher, which reflected on me. In retrospect, my act of asking to play was quite a feat when considering that my six-year-old self was straggling behind the other kids in my class as a result of a short attention span. My early struggle with ADHD, while not vital to who I am, is something that my parents considered when they made the conscious decision to hold off on the violin until my school work could be set on course. After four years of school, doctor’s visits, going to the symphony with my dad, and learning violin through my school’s Suzuki program, I had finally begun taking private violin lessons with my dad’s dear friend, Dana Edson Myers of the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra. Studying with Dana had a profound impact on me in the last two years of elementary school. Lessons set something for me to work, achieve, struggle, and live within. This combined with practice sessions set in place by my dad set up a stable routine that the two of us worked on together. While he is not the definitive reason I went in to music, my dad was the force that pushed me to keep going. My fondest memories of music include him and I, a team, reading through the beginner technique books my teacher assigned. The memories of the sounds of my dad’s soaring solfege and the steady pulse of his fist gently thumping his chest to keep me on track are ones I will cherish forever. With this support and guidance behind me, I went on to audition for and join student orchestras, performed solos at small recitals, and ultimately began to appreciate making music along with people of my same age. Upon entering middle school, several significant changes impacted my life. One of these changes included my gender transition, something that was very difficult to navigate. While my gender identity was supported by my mom and school, my dad had a hard time coming to terms with my transition. That same year, he was diagnosed with stage four esophageal cancer, which drastically defined my middle school experience. Despite all of the stress that suddenly burdened my family, I continued to take lessons and play in orchestra. And while I did keep up with music, my abilities did suffer due to the strained relationship with my I had with my dad. The summer before he died, we had some practice sessions that reignited some of the joy that we had lost. It was then when I realized then that music was as important to me as it was to him. I was 14 when my dad died. After this major setback, I had a really difficult time finding motivation for anything. At a teacher’s suggestion, I tried the viola. The new instrument gave me a fresh start. This switch, paired with my new teacher, Chris Tantillo of the St. Louis Symphony, helped get me through this turbulent period. Since then, my motivation and energy to pursue my goals has grown steadily. As I pursue an undergraduate music education, I know I will be able to face the challenges ahead. Recently, I’ve been tutoring several younger violists on zoom. I am filled with joy by helping them find new ways to get through roadblocks in the early stages of learning the instrument. It’s even more inspiring to watch them work it out in the midst of being stuck at home with little to no motivators. Ultimately, I’m working to achieve the goal of sharing my music with audiences as an orchestral violist. I also hope to forge new ways to help younger students learn music, similar to how my father taught me.

At the beginning of the pandemic I told myself to walk at least once a day, and I’m grateful I stuck to it for the sake of my mental health and overall productivity as a graduating senior. Connecting to my neighborhood and the nature around me has allowed for me to stay focused on how I want to perform my music just through allowing my body to move. These pictures speak to me because they were all taken when I was at my most peaceful during my walk.