Hear the Light was a conceptual immersive exhibition that premiered in Taiwan in August 2020. An exhibition that brought light to over 1500 people in 21 hours.
“Heavenly”, “inspiring”, and “hopeful” were how the visitors described the experience. However, no matter how much light it carried, the idea of the exhibition derived from the darkness. An unforgiving and unavoidable kind of darkness.
On the day of Yale School of Music’s Convocation in 2017, the state of the world was worrisome and discouraging. The Dean of School stood in front of us and calmly shared a story that would become the inspiration for the exhibition: Scottish writer, Robert Louis Stevenson, was often bedridden when he was a child. One night the nurse found him leaning against the window, "Look, that man is making holes in the dark!" little Robert said. The nurse took a look and realized it was the lamplighter lighting gas street lamps one by one. Our Dean paused, looked at us, smiled and said, “There is is no denying that we are in a dark era. But, this is the time for musicians to do what the lamplighters did, carve out space for light in the darkness.” Three years later, we found ourselves staying inside, leaning against windows, and looking out at the empty streets just like Little Robert. Ongoing social turmoils and a devastating pandemic have forced us to pause and rethink our places in this unfamiliar world. Students and professional classical musicians packed up instruments and left the quiet and empty concert halls. In the suffocating stillness, I thought of the story and my responsibility as a musician.
It is my belief that music is enlightening. It is my claim that it can penetrate the walls we put up and soften the harsh edges of reality, but how do I prove it? How do I share it? How do I physicalize music and light?
I decided to combine them and create an experimental exhibition that is touchable, walkable, and powerful enough to leave a lasting emotional impact. I wanted to present the darkness and lightness of life and music in their simplest and undisturbed forms: a dark room, a mirrored sunlit field, and a recording of a symphony.
After drafting the artistic concept and confirming the venue, Taiwan Taipei Huashan 1914 Creative Park, it was the beginning of a month-long preparation. From assembling the team to two days of on-site construction, there was never a moment of complete certainty, but that is the thrilling quality of experimental projects, one can only work and hope for the best before the first participant graces the show.
Judging from my past encounters with art-loving and warm Taiwanese people, I should have been more optimistic, but when the first visitors came and left with smiles and happy tears, I was still overwhelmed by gratitude and relief. In the next three days, we welcomed over seventy visitors every hour while maintaining our one-visitor-at-a-time pathway, and the overall number of people in the main exhibition area.
Even during the busiest hours, there was no sound other than Mahler's in the installation. More specifically, it was the recording of conductor, Hugh Wolff, leading the New England Conservatory Philharmonia in a live performance of the fourth movement of Mahler’s Symphony No.5 in 2015. I chose Mahler because his greatness is not only limited to his importance as a composer and conductor in Western Classical Music History, but also the universal power in his works. As someone who was very sensitive to life’s impermanence, Mahler seemed to have given every note humanity and vitality that resonate beyond barriers. Besides asking questions such as, “What is this piece of music that is being played?” and “Why did you choose this movement for this exhibition?”; the visitors also kneeled down to read Mahler quotes that were written on small mirrors hidden in the garden. Their care and curiosity to music were especially encouraging.
What the unsuspecting visitors did not realize was that they were forming a positive cycle: the moment they were told to step into the darkness alone, the moment they gathered all their courage to walk forward, the moment they found the door, the moment they walked lightly in nature, and the moment they exited with more ease than they entered.
All of these small moments gave this exhibition life and meaning, reminding us why we must make room and time for art, especially in dark times.
Since it was experimental, collecting plenty of feedbacks and data was crucial. Besides conducting interviews, a notebook was placed at the exit for visitors to write down their first impressions and unfiltered thoughts:
“I felt vulnerable not knowing where the exit was, but the second I stepped into the field; sunlight shining on the field, the fragrance of the plants, and the music, I teared up all of a sudden. I could still hear the music when I was leaving, it made me want to live a good life and find time to experience more classical music.”
“Tears were pouring from my ears. The music and light calmed my heart.”
“It turned out the exit was in the process of searching. Our souls can only be saved by ourselves.”
“I was terrified in the dark, but when I closed my eyes, music healed me.”
“When I saw the light it was like a rebirth, I was given courage again.”
“Closed my eyes, embraced the whole world.”
“Listening to music in nature nurtured my soul. Reading the quotes along the path, maybe my worries are really just worries.”
“When I came out, I was shocked by the beauty, I thought I was in heaven.”
“I have heard of Mahler’s beauty before, but now I’ve seen it too.”
“The moment I opened the door, stress was released from my heart. It was an eye-opening exhibition.”
“A very healing exhibition, I saw hope in the dark.”
“I moved slowly in the unknown, and when I saw the light coming out of the door, I seemed to have become brave. Maybe everything in this world is not as scary as I thought. My heart was saved, I was moved.”
“The music guided the lost, and the bright greenery led them to salvation and rebirth.”
“I reminded myself there are still beautiful things in this world.”
“It seems that I can move forward again with hope.”
The frequent mentions of rebirth and hope revealed the reality of the stressful time we are going through as a community. However, this was not a utopian exhibition, it was not an escape. Facing loneliness and uncertainty, we need to stay rooted now more than ever. It was an opportunity of finding ourselves back with the help of music, like a comment says, “Walking on the grass reminded me of my childhood, running barefoot in the fields. Life was and is simple. In our troubled society, experiencing an exhibition like this saved people's hearts."
