Sitting at my piano, my fingers trace the notes of a prelude by Johann Sebastian Bach, gently feeling across the yellowed ivory keys. For centuries, Bach’s compositions have inspired and astounded musicians of every time and origin. I am no exception. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine my name becoming just as famous as Bach’s. But as my mind attempts to sort out the blurry swirl of notes in front of me and devise a brilliant analysis, it is instead swept away by their magnificent complexity, leaving my colossal dreams in a cloud of dust. The dazzling array of genius presented before me is the bread and butter of every dedicated piano student. However, Bach was not always a treasured name, as it is among musicians today.
Seemingly born at the wrong time, J.S. Bach’s style of music was quickly becoming outdated just as he was growing in his musical skills. He was a Bach musician from a long line of other Bach musicians, most of who are now forgotten. For the majority of his life Johann was a lowly church musician, and he nearly shared the fate of his ancestors. In his own times he was not considered an esteemed artist nor a brilliant man, did not sell hundreds of copies of his compositions, and was never fought over by princes and dukes like popular musicians. Enrich Neumann says in Art and the Creative Unconscious “But whether the artist grows slowly away from the tradition of his time or passes over it at one bound, …ultimately, if he does not stop at the stage of representation of the cultural canon—and no truly great artist has ever done so—he finds himself alone.” And so it was with Bach. Although he is perhaps the most brilliant musician to put quill pen to paper, in his own time he was all but unnoticed.
It may seem strange that an almost-forgotten musician who has been dead for nearly three hundred years could influence my thoughts greatly or inform my decisions, but Bach lived an inspiring life. Although he never knew his music would become universally acknowledged as genius, he continued writing what he loved despite his lack of popularity and small income. He placed importance on sharing the gift of music with his family—he had too many children to count, several who also became well known musicians—and also on God; on each of his sacred works he wrote “For God’s glory only.” Did he, like me, ever dream of fame and fortune? Did he, too, indulge himself in imagining the magnificent changes he could spark in the world? Johann Sebastian Bach did not achieve grandeur or great respect in his lifetime, yet his life was not lacking because of it. If he had ignored his own desires to do what would make him great and had not composed the beautiful music God had for him to write, however, his life would have lacked the richness he shared with his family, and after his death, the world.
As I sit here at my piano listening to each note’s voice, I feel the richness of Bach’s life seep into my own. Unlike Bach, I will probably never be a genius musician, and I doubt my name will ever be a household word. But like the great composer, I cannot see what will happen many years from now and my future is still hazy, at best. My only choice, it seems, is to live like Bach—doing what is right and best without regard to popularity or fame, being ready for whatever opportunities the future reveals. The music in front of me is still a classical conundrum of complex notes and my future is still uncertain but, perhaps, Bach has made my present purpose more clear.
