Field Notes Vol. 6 no 2: The Next Chapter for Me

“Wait — you have an eclipse on your Birthday??” 

We were sitting on the porch off the main hall at MacDowell, in Peterborough, NH, chatting after dinner, and one of the other Fellows — a Chinese-American poet, and also a dedicated astrologer — was reviewing my natal chart. It was October 14, 2023, the date of an annular solar eclipse. It was also my 59th Birthday.

My friend stared at the chart in awe for a few minutes more. “Wow…An eclipse on your Birthday…that’s huge. Something major is going down for you in the next year.”

That “something” was already in the works. I could feel it. My time at MacDowell, immersing myself in my composing — and in an environment that resonated so powerfully with my spirit — had delivered a defibrillating jolt to my psyche:

Life is too short to spend it doing anything other than those things that you’re best at and that bring you the most joy. The End.

(I can now add astrology to the list of things in which I can’t honestly say I believe, but I can’t honestly say I disbelieve, either.)

So, my time at MacDowell was telling me that I needed to make a change, a big one. And if I needed any confirmation of that, the heavens appeared to be in agreement. But what would it look like? How would it play out? I would spend the rest of my sabbatical (through the summer of 2024) contemplating these questions. I confided in a few trusted advisors. I contemplated some more. I fretted (of course). I gamed out scenarios, realistic and otherwise. And I came to realize that, while I couldn’t just up and retire completely, I needed an exit strategy from my role as Director of the Entrepreneurship Center for Music. 

Life is too short to spend it doing anything other than those things that you’re best at and that bring you the most joy. 

I’m a capable administrator. I’ve had to be: for most of the 16 years I’ve led the ECM it’s been me and a Grad TA running the show. But is it among the things I’m best at? No. Is it among the things that bring me the most joy? HARD no. And in recent years it has grown from something I tolerated into something that sapped my spirit to its core. 

So, what are the things that I am best at? Teaching and composing. Hands down. It’s taken me a while to get there — I feel like it’s only recently that I’ve truly broken through to a level of excellence that I could only admire in others. The last few years I’ve started calling myself a “late bloomer,” until my old friend Gabriela Frank corrected me last summer: “You’re blooming exactly when you’re supposed to.” (Thank you for that, Gabby!) But anyway, both my teaching and my composing have experienced major breakthroughs in recent years, and with that, my joy in doing them has broken through as well. Even a difficult day in the studio is a good day. And even the darkest days can be redeemed by an hour in the classroom. 

So there it is: like so many things, the answer is quite simple once you figure out how to sift out all the irrelevancies. Besides, I never want to be the guy who doesn’t know when to quit: the world of the performing arts is changing in profound ways, and it’s doing so at breakneck speed (graphic metaphor intended). Adapting a program to meet these constantly shifting needs requires fresher and more nimble minds/necks than mine: that’s a game for the young. Time to pass the torch. 

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And what a journey it’s been! When I arrived at CU-Boulder in 2009, the ECM existed…but mostly in name only. Founded in 1999 as the first entrepreneurship center in the arts anywhere, the program had gone through three directors in 8 years. The notion of such a program within a conservatory was something of a radical notion back then, and there was more than a little resistance to it within the College of Music. Such attitudes were hardly unique to CU, by the way: I’ve visited dozens of schools over the years where similar hurdles have had to be cleared before programs can get off the ground. I’ve often joked that our institutions really put the “conservative” in “conservatory”!

Anyway, after a failed search for a new (4th) Director in 2007, the College recognized that something needed to change; they managed to wrangle a new tenure line exclusively dedicated to music entrepreneurship — the first such line anywhere. Still, by the time a search was conducted and I was hired, things had been dormant for two years. This was a double-edged sword: I had some modest infrastructure and some dedicated funds on the one hand, but on the other hand I was more or less starting from scratch. So, while I never once encountered the sentiment of, “That’s not the way we used to do it” (what a relief!), I also inherited a student body who had no idea who I was or what the ECM was about. Many faculty, I would discover, were more or less in the same boat. I spent much of those first few years simply building awareness, and then, buy-in.

Elevating the Directorship of the ECM to a tenure-track faculty position was the right move, though. While I loathe the underlying reason for this truth, for better or worse it’s the tenure track faculty who rule the academic roost. They make the most money, have the most perks, and are held in the highest regard. And when you’re trying to build legitimacy for a program many suspect is not necessary (or, worse yet, subversive to the mission of the conservatory), these things matter. A lot. 

Coming into this position mid-career gave me some advantages, too. While I was starting as a wet-behind-the-ears Assistant Professor on the one hand, I also had 15 years of experience as an arts administrator and professional: I had a few miles on my tires already. I quickly realized that in order to gain the trust of my colleagues I had to first gain their respect. So I scheduled a recital of my compositions and enlisted my colleagues to perform them. It worked. After that, nobody ever exactly said, “I didn’t realize you were actually a good musician…” but that was the sense of it. I was on my way.

That early turning point was also in line with the philosophy I’d already been preaching to anyone who would listen: that art and entrepreneurship were not separate pursuits or, worse yet, contradictory forces. I passionately believed (and I still do) that entrepreneurship is about empowering one’s artistic vision — or, even helping shape it. And to communicate that effectively — whether it’s in a classroom, a faculty meeting, or a donor event — one must begin with one’s love of the art. Without that, what’s the point of the rest?

Of course, one of the greatest challenges of teaching entrepreneurship in the conservatory is that your mandate involves serving all students — and, by extension, the faculty who teach them. Any time you are charged with satisfying a group of constituents that diverse you are bound to disappoint some of them. And when you’re one person the demands of the position are bound to outstrip your capacity to address them all effectively. (That’s certainly another aspect of my decision: this job is exhausting.) I think these challenges are particularly true in arts entrepreneurship, which, even after 15+ years of research to define its terms and parameters, still suffers from a lack of clarity among everyone else about what exactly it does and how it can/should live within the conservatory. It’s hard to advance a new discipline when there isn’t even understanding as to what the discipline is or what it seeks to deliver. The scourge of armchair quarterbacks is a real thing for arts entrepreneurship educators everywhere.

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There are lots of things I’ve learned along the way these last 16 years, both as an educator and as leader in the conservatory; I’ll be sharing some of them in future installments of Field Notes. In the meantime, I’ll be spending my summer composing, reflecting, and getting ready for this new chapter (not to mention playing some golf). I’m so grateful for the community of mentors, friends, supporters, and cheerleaders who make up the arts entrepreneurship village: I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without all of you.  

I’ll see you around. Until then, here’s to new beginnings!