Community Building

I have traveled and taught in nearly 45 countries: at an orphanage in Greenland, in refugee camps, and alongside migrants and refugees who escaped war. I learned to teach when words were not enough, and to build community through music. Somewhere along the way, I forgot something essential: to support others, we also need support.

What is possible when you plant seeds?

That is the question the Academy for Impact through Music (AIM) team posed to parents after a week of working with children and teachers at Escuela Iniciación Musical de Santa Cecilia (EIMSC), a school one hour south of Oaxaca City, Mexico in Colonia Vicente Guerrero.

The University of Navarra (Madrid, Spain), with co-organizer Boston College, is gathering artists, scholars, psychotherapists, and practitioners from around the world for the 2027 Art & Character Conference (June 3–5, 2027).

“It gave me great peace of mind to know that there are such capable and inspiring people whom I can turn to when I face problems that I cannot solve on my own.”

This was how one of my peers reflected on our three days together in Milan last August. Her words got to the heart of a question I had been thinking about for some time: 

What keeps a network alive?

One of our longest-standing members asked a question at a meeting this year that I still cannot answer well. He had rehearsed four or five pieces for our concert last December. On the afternoon itself, he participated in playing only one of them. He wanted to know how that had come about. He put his question to everyone in the room.

Last month, my daughter’s choir director needed parents to take tickets to the year-end concert. I had been a choir singer and director myself, so I know the invisible work it takes to put students on a stage. When the request came, I wanted to be the kind of parent who showed up.

Then, my week got overwhelming. By the time the concert arrived, I was no longer deciding between helping and not helping. I was deciding which responsibility would boil over first if I took my attention off it.

In my small Portuguese village of Pousos, between the giant waves of Nazaré and the Shrine of Fátima, we had a community band. I joined at age 8, playing flugelhorn. I’m forever grateful for this decision, which launched a life in music. But it wasn’t until years later, when I served as the director of several conservatories, that I began asking why it took so long to get started.

One-day choirs are growing in popularity.

Creative work makes a difference for all of us, but especially for immigrants.

Every other week this season, I wrote updates to my Los Angeles Philharmonic colleagues—a small, internal note meant to keep our broader institution abreast of what the Learning Department was up to. On the surface, it could be viewed as mundane: a calendar snapshot, a few highlights, the ever-important statistics everyone needs. But as I scrolled back through nine months of messages, I realized the depth they carry. These were not only stories about music lessons, concerts, and special events. They were testaments to the impact of connection built across programs, networks, and industries.