I define being selfless as the act of putting others before myself. It requires self-sacrifice, kindness, and a willingness to set aside my own needs to support someone else—especially when it matters most. For me, volunteering has always been the most meaningful and direct way I live out this value. Giving back to my community isn’t just something I do in my spare time—it’s a pillar of who I strive to be as a person. I believe in showing up, in both small and sustained ways, for the people and spaces that have shaped me. From a young age, I’ve sought out opportunities to serve others. In elementary school, I volunteered every Sunday at Road’s End Farm near my home. I spent my afternoons feeding horses, grooming them, and mucking stalls—learning that real service often happens behind the scenes. That early experience instilled in me a respect for hard work, consistency, and care that expects no reward. In high school, I dedicated my Wednesday afternoons to the local community food cupboard. I sorted donations, restocked shelves, and helped ensure that families had equitable access to food. Even after long school days or other commitments, I chose to show up—because others were counting on me, and it was a small but meaningful way to give back. I also volunteered my weekends at the local nursing home, playing my cello for seniors during my senior year. I also volunteered at a local humane society, assisting a photographer in taking pictures of kittens to increase their chances of adoption. Helping animals find a home may seem like a small task, but it reminded me how simple actions—done with care—can lead to real change. During college, I’ve continued to deepen my commitment to community service. I volunteer with Bard’s Office of Sustainability to sort and process donations at the FreeUse Store, a resource where students and community members can donate and pick up clothing, supplies, and household goods for free. I believe mutual support and sustainability are forms of selflessness that meet both human and environmental needs, and I’m proud to be a part of a system based on generosity over profit. I also serve as a student ambassador for the Bard Conservatory, supporting prospective students during audition season each February. My role is to support students who may be nervous or overwhelmed by sitting with them, listening, and answering any questions they have about the Conservatory, the audition process, or campus life. I remember what it felt like to be in their shoes, and I know how far small acts of kindness can go. Each year, I also perform with the Bard Conservatory Orchestra at the Eastern Correctional Facility in support of the Bard Prison Initiative. Sharing music with incarcerated individuals is a powerful reminder that music belongs to everyone. It’s one of the most meaningful ways I’ve learned to connect across differences and give back through art. Volunteering is not just something I do—it’s how I embody my core values. To me, selflessness means taking action without expecting anything in return. Through each act of giving back, I aim to help build a more compassionate and equitable world.

My journey with music began early. I started piano at age three and transitioned to cello at age eight. Music has always been my outlet—how I express what words cannot. The cello’s voice, often said to be closest to the human voice, is resonant, unguarded, and deeply emotional. That expressive power drew me in, and over time, my connection to the instrument became a full commitment to a career in music. I was never the child who had to be reminded to practice; I practiced because I truly found joy and passion in playing. What began as childhood lessons evolved into a discipline rooted in listening, empathy, and communication. Today, I’m a dual-degree student at Bard College and the Bard Conservatory of Music, enrolled in a five-year program in music performance and anthropology. I study cello with Raman Ramakrishnan, formerly of the Daedalus Quartet and the Horszowski Trio, and previously studied with renowned pedagogue Peter Wiley. Their mentorship has helped me shape my voice as a performer and reminded me that, as musicians, we are also actors, translating the music for our audience just as actors embody their roles on stage. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote, “Music is the universal language of mankind.” I interpret this to mean that music speaks directly to our core as human beings. It bypasses linguistic and cultural boundaries, allowing us to understand one another through sound alone. Classical music, in particular, tells stories not through words, but through feeling. On a youth orchestra tour through Spain and Portugal in 2019, I played for audiences who didn’t share my language, but we understood one another in the silence after each piece. That resonance—unspoken, yet unmistakable—is the essence of Longfellow’s idea. Music makes connection possible, even across difference. As a student of both music and anthropology, I’m especially interested in the intersection between music and culture—how music reflects identity, memory, and belonging. I see my future not only on stage, but also in classrooms, community centers, and collaborative spaces where music is used as a tool for education, empathy, and healing. I want to help dismantle the notion that classical music is only for a privileged few. Whether through performance outreach, youth mentorship, or community workshops, I hope to make this art form more inclusive and accessible, especially for underrepresented audiences. As a musician, I’m not only a performer—I’m a listener, collaborator, and learner. Music has taught me how to be present, how to embrace differences, and how to meet uncertainty with curiosity. These are the same values I bring to my anthropology studies and the ones I intend to carry into my professional life. I want to use my experience not just to perform, but to invite others in—to create spaces where people can see themselves reflected in sound. The Audrey Sherrill & Michael D’Ambrisi Music Scholarship would help me continue cultivating this path without financial barriers. It would support both my technical development and my broader vision of music as a force for connection and dialogue. Music has shaped how I understand the world—and through it, I hope to help build a world that listens more deeply.