During the visit to Rock Hill, I was able to assess the town from a little more adult perspective than when I lived there, and I was struck that about two thirds of the town I knew consist of quite lovely neighborhoods with fine buildings and tree-lined streets. The other third of the town - where we lived most of our time there - seems to be a community in real need.
In the middle of the town is a gem known as Glencairn Gardens. I was very fortunate to have daily access to the gardens for several of my "formative years." On revisiting the gardens this time I had the very moving epiphany that my sense of aesthetics was developed in large part by the many times I visited the gardens during those years. On a daily basis, the concepts I mostly consciously learned later were played out in the physical realm all around me. Those experiences shaped me as an artist.
The gardens have a brilliant few weeks in the Spring when the azaleas are blooming. The amount of color in the landscape is unbelievable at that time. But year-round, the gardens pack a powerful impact because of issues relating to arrangement, proportion, etc.
The central feature is a multi-tiered fountain that flows into a large pool that is often full of waterlilies. The symbol of the fountain is powerful and beautiful. It essentially appears to be an inexhaustible spring from which life-giving water flows. Here, ideas and an image from the physical world go hand in hand, just as Emerson said they do. The fountain speaks of abundance and miracles. The way the water spills from one tier to the next certainly shaped my understanding of flow and its importance.
From some vantage points, the fountain is easily seen and framed from a distance and a higher elevation. From other directions, it is hidden until almost the last moment of one's approach. One can experience many shades of framing, approach, introduction, and context there.
Because of the hills, meandering paths, various fountains, and the surrounding streets, one is also drawn into a sonic awareness of the many aspects of the place which can be experienced simultaneously and constantly change as one changes location.
Reflecting on all of this, and on how these things shaped me made, me think that artists, and musicians in particular, need such places in our lives. We need to become alert to what things make for beauty and practice experiencing those things as we grow our own sense of proportion, relationship, and so forth.
Sometimes we are fortunate to live very close to a scene that was designed to embody principles of beauty. Other times, we need to travel to such places. I am thinking of giving my students exercises for discovering beauty in the physical realm around us - exercises for recognizing the nature of materials and the relationship of those materials - so as to fine-tune their understanding of the beauty of the musical objects with which they deal in performance.
On a deeper level, all of this is important because the gardens gave me a place to muse, to meditate, to imagine, and to grow. Experiences of beauty can provide sanctuaries for such deeply significant human activities. Maybe all these things are the spiritual content the world desperately needs, content that transcends the physical or the sonic.
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