An Impromptu Reflection on Luminous 2024

This year, I was privileged to be invited to participate in Hobart Baptist Church’s Luminous festival. Michael Henderson, Karin McCormack, and myself each contributed a piece of art to an exhibition and engaged in a panel Q&A thing. The theme was ‘Sacred Tasmania’ and explored our connection to land and community, our sense of home on the precious land we are blessed to inhabit. Trying to explore and convey aspects of this theme in music required a fair amount of thought and reflection on what they mean to me. The theme is both quite abstract and spiritual and so my moments of pondering naturally led to prayer and/or meditation, as well as a few meaningful conversations.

This ‘preliminary’ stage refining what concept meant for me personally ended up not being so preliminary, but a process which continued right up until the opening of the exhibition. After flying down the day before, June 11th, I walked the streets of Hobart, whose old stone and architecture so distinctly echo its colonial past. I beheld its sky and braced myself against the kind of cold air I usually only experience when I open my freezer. There’s a general friendliness among its residents which gives the city a sense of heart I grew quickly fond of in my few visits. My home in Sydney has its own beauty and gnarls, its own stone, wind, and sky, so the concept of sacred land has been readily accessible to explore. It was just nice to touch base with the ‘home’ that the exhibition’s audience would be relating to. My heart goes out to those who struggle to feel a sense of home and belonging, and those too afraid to open themselves to it.

While human creativity itself is capricious and often ineffable, the process of creating has a fairly regular form and rhythm (for me at least):

-       I have an abundance of ideas and make lots of little musical ‘sketches’

-       I pursue my favourites of these, adding some meat to the bones

-       I realise I have no idea what I’m doing, my nervous excitement now giving way to stress and anxiety

-       The imposter syndrome sets in more deeply as I try many new ideas or ways of fleshing out what I already have, all of which proves to be futile

-       I inch my way forward with the smallest moments of creative iridescence until I gather enough momentum to ‘limp-run’ toward something which vaguely resembles a finish line

-       I present my work to an audience and am suddenly struck with all the ways I could refine, improve and expand the work.

It’s a fun time.

I will say, however, that I was conscientious of this paradigm even from the earliest phase, which helped abate the most sever worry. And I try to be aware that criticising our own work is when we can be our most cruel. So, while it was a hard-fought battle, I was able to let go of the work, content, knowing I gave it my best and God will do the rest.

On the practical side, recording live instruments, namely a violin and a cello, bore several new challenges for me. I’ve never before needed to organise and reconcile different schedules, prepare an ordinary room to act as a studio with rented mics and gear, and record more than one muso at a time. There were setbacks, financial costs, and the recordings themselves have a lot of ‘bleed’ between the mics—where a microphone pointing as instrument ‘A’ picks up sound from instrument ‘B’—which made mixing very difficult. I value the wisdom this experience granted me.

The Q&A panel went well, I received kind words about the music, and was fortunate to have some positive conversations afterward. People texting in their questions allowed for anonymity, of which I see and appreciate the value, though it feels a little less personal to dialogue through a third-party than directly to another person. Nonetheless, I like to think there was authentic engagement and reflection in those that attended (some 55 or so) which will help them instil a greater degree of intentionality into their time, relationships, and interactions with nature.

Our home, your home, is sacred. The land you walk on, the sky above you, the sounds of birds and cold streams of wind are gifts. I believe that taking time to be intentional and appreciate that is the first step towards better care and sustainability of natural resources. This directly benefits us, from the endorphins offered by time on grass and in the sun, to a better world for our families and the next generations. Our relationships are no different. The more we offer an open-armed love to others, within healthy boundaries, the more we contribute to their sense of home, which is in most cases reciprocated, creating that same feeling for ourselves. It’s perhaps easier than ever to live distractedly, letting precious days and people slip by unnoticed and underappreciated. It is my hope that we can break that cycle, more readily give and receive care and affection, both to our sacred land and kin.

Your fellow neighbour is not your housemate, they are your family. This world is not your house, it is your home. Go hug a tree :)

If you'd like to collaborate with or hire me for your creative project, email me at joelwybrew@gmail.com