It’s not creating something from nothing. It’s inspiration, stupid.

I'm inspired by beautiful mountain and/or ocean scenery. I'm inspired by striking architecture, warm acoustics, well-voiced and tuned organs, and congregations singing lustily. I’m inspired by organist conventions and reunions. I’m inspired by great playing. I’m even inspired by bad playing. I am inspired by a performance I heard, by yesterday’s progress on a new piece, by the mountain view out the windows, by the good news that came in, by the thawing of the ice storm, by breaking bread with friends and the needy, by a relaxing drive over unfamiliar land. It’s all potentially inspirational, and I choose to turn all inspiration toward my playing and teaching.

Recently, I subbed for David Arcus on a Sunday morning at the Duke Chapel. It isn’t often that a non-incumbent enjoys the inspiration of cubic footage such as that. The momentum to pursue excellence continues for months after such an experience. It’s times like those that I understand the phenomenon of inspiration drawn from outside stimuli. Many great composers’ greatest pieces were written while on vacation. But what about those composers who are inspired by their regular jobs, not just their vacations? I experienced flashes of understanding when I played the Widor Toccata at St-Sulpice, the Franck E Major Choral on the Cavaillé-Coll stops at Ste-Clotilde and the Duruflé Veni Créator at St-Étienne-du-mont. Surely Bach was inspired by the organs he played, but we have little evidence that his inspiration came from anywhere but a boundlessly fertile imagination to use the resources at hand. What an interesting study THAT would be.

It has slowly dawned on me that some corner of every house should be set up for creativity. The obvious corner in mine is where the organ console sits. But other corners of that same house can be used for exercise while watching movies or for repairing bicycles or for reading helpful books on everything from opera to local architecture to biographies to entrepreneurship. Living in a house is different from merely residing in it.

Getting stuck finding some inspiration? Go through Gerre Hancock’s book on improvisation. That is a great way to develop inspiration where none exists otherwise. In that respect, my most recent inspiration came from improvising at the organ at St. John the Divine in New York City. That is a room in which, as an organ builder friend of mine puts it, “a train wreck would sound good.” The momentum from that experience lasts, and the inspiration to continue carries on. And let’s not forget the inspiration drawn from hearing the genius of Bruce Neswick and his staff and choirs do their work in that space.

In this cash-poor time and in a society where mediocrity is consistently rewarded and celebrated, it’s time to look outside ourselves. There is plenty of beauty to absorb and to contribute to. There is plenty of excellence left to pursue. Find your way! If you need me, I’ll be practicing.