CHORAL PERFORMANCE EXPRESSION:

MEANINGS, MODALITIES, PROCESSES, SYNERGIES

by

Shulamit Hoffmann

Dissertation Committee:

Professor Randall Everett Allsup, Sponsor

Professor Harold Abeles

Approved by the Committee on the Degree of Doctor of Education

Date: 18 May 2016

Submitted in partial fulfillment

of the requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Education in
Teachers College, Columbia University
2016
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 ABSTRACT

CHORAL PERFORMANCE EXPRESSION:

MEANINGS, MODALITIES, PROCESSES, SYNERGIES

Shulamit Hoffmann

Expression is a prized aspect of performance, yet it goes largely un-

conceptualized and sometimes partially pursued in amateur choral endeavor. This study

seeks to understand what constitutes live choral performance expression, and how it

materializes. The study adopted a qualitative, phenomenological research strategy to

investigate the lived experience of performers. Data were collected in individual

interviews with eight conductors, focus groups with 60 choristers, and rehearsal and

performance observations of seven choirs.

The findings suggest that performance is meaningful to performers and audience

for reasons that are not solely musical. Thus, expression is not conceptualized as solely

musical. Performers regard choral music as having inherent expressive content, but for
some, reification of a work is only part of performance expression. Aural beauty is

cherished, but expression is not experienced exclusively auditorily.

By “contagion,” performers seek to communicate affectively with their audience.

To this end, some employ visual presentation to embody the expressive character

perceived in musical and textual features of a work. The conceptualization of

performance expression as comprising aural and visual modalities aligns with the known

integration of acoustic and optic percepts in human communication of emotions, and with

the relative impact of gesture, tone, and word meaning on the perceiver.

Rehearsal processes for expression and the integration of vocal technique with

expression are problematic, and the efficacy of performing from memory or with the

score is ambiguous. Choristers consider conductor micro-corrections at the expense of

macro-overview an impediment to expression, but constructivist self-learning with video

feedback is found effective. Developing expression through movement, backstory, and

imagery is helpful, but acting as authentic portrayal of feeling is ambivalent. Inter-

ensemble musical and social synergies influence expression, especially its visual

presentation.

The study concludes that choral performance expression is for performer and

audience, entity and process; personal and communal; artifact-derived and performer-

created; phenomenal and noumenal; physiologically perceived and emotionally construed.

Amateur choirs achieve expressive performance when they engage musical, textual, and

visual presentation as inter-linked modalities; engage inclusionary leadership and

chorister-centered learning; and integrate musical-social synergies as components of

expression.
© Copyright Shulamit Hoffmann 2016

All Rights Reserved

ii
 DEDICATION

To the memory of my sister, brother, father, nephew, and mother,

With longing, both realized and abated, in music’s expressive beauty.

“(T)he relation of beauty to pain and in particular to loss is [deep] . . . beauty

always bears within it the poignancy of loss. . . .grief and death and beauty call on
us to yearn, and perhaps they call on us to yearn impossibly, to yearn for an object
that is always slipping from our grasp.” — Crispin Sartwell, Six Names of Beauty.

iii
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It takes a village, indeed. Thank you to the many who contributed to this endeavor. I sing

your praises with bountiful gratitude, con espressione.

My Dissertation Committee

Dr. Randall Allsup: You offered a “routine expert” profoundly worthwhile opportunities

to look beyond apparent and often cherished certainties for more nuanced resonances and

richer understanding. Your mentorship was provocative and benevolent. You gave

perspicacious advice, and then trusted I would do the work.

Dr. Harold Abeles: Your insightful, timely, and steadfast guidance was always a bedrock

of academic support and personal encouragement, from which I could clarify my thinking,

and find my courage and my way forward. Thank you for your figurative and literal

chivalrous arm.

Dr. Jeanne Goffi-Fynn: Your vocal expertise kept me on my choral toes, and you set a

fine example of chorister-centered leadership. You gave me a rewarding opportunity to

put my dissertation into action with the talented masters singing ensemble.

Dr. Richard Jochum: You encouraged me, in the most helpful way, to be as scholarly and

creative as I could. I look forward to costumes, lighting, and special effects.

iv
My Study Participants

Conductor colleagues and choristers: You were articulate and insightful, savvy and

sensitive, poignant and witty. You were willing to share deeply personal experiences.

Generous with your time and candor, you made interviews and discussions a pleasure.

You inspired with your dedication to the choral art and your enthusiasm for this project.

Your words are the very heart of the document and the quest it represents to capture that

enigmatic, compelling “thing” that is choral expression.

All Who Helped

Dr. Lori Custodero: For your long-standing insightfulness and graciousness.

Dr. Marie Volpe: For your pragmatism, encouragement, and hospitality.

Dr. Estelle Jorgensen: At the 2014 Philosophy of Music Education Conference, I asked

how you were coping with your broken arm. We had not previously met, yet you invited

me to tea, and inquired about my work. On brown paper napkins, you sketched out the

confirmation I needed that expressive contagion was a viable dissertation topic.

Dr. Kenneth Cooper and Josephine Mongiardo: For generous musical and personal

camaraderie and sustenance.

v
Dr. Amy Jervis: With your editorial acumen, classical etymology, choral passion, and

willingness to stay the course with me, you finessed my writing as much as anyone could.

Carol Meyer, Joyce Wright, Jan Grady, Alison Nyberg, Howard Roberts, and Jon Ochi:

For invaluable ameliorations and the time you spent to make them.

Dr. Judy Lewis, Dr. Mike Albertson, Chiao-wei Liu: You each extended a collegial hand.

Dr. Charlene Archibeque, Professor Emerita, San José State University: Your

expressivity is the gold standard that inspires so many of us to conduct choirs.

Stanley: You have given true spousal support, as well as unstinting IT support.

Toby: Reassuring and expressive in his Schnauzer-ness, with me for every word.

Friends: Who walked the walk and talked the talk with me.

Viva la Musica: A willing petri dish, with whom cultivating a strand of contagious

expression is so fulfilling.

Dr. Dino Anagnost (posthumous): For conducting and repertoire advice, Carnegie

support, and eternal tie-oneself-in-knots hand-independence exercises.

vi
It has been my privilege to be a part of the Teachers College community, which

exemplifies the essence of fine teaching and collegiality. Were my teaching to grow in

any way more insightful, my leadership more compassionate, and my musicianship more

expressive, it will be because of the generous reach of my professors’ and cohorts’

acumen and empathy. S.H.

vii
 TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter I – SETTING THE STAGE .................................................................................. 1

Introduction ................................................................................................................. 1

Researcher Perspective ............................................................................................... 6

Background to the Problem and Rationale for the Study ........................................... 8

Technique and Expression ...................................................................................... 9

Traditions Constrain.............................................................................................. 10

Choral Proscriptions.............................................................................................. 11

Cherished Ways or a New Paradigm .................................................................... 12

Definitions................................................................................................................. 14

Conceptual Framework ............................................................................................. 14

Communication of Feeling ................................................................................... 15

Contagion .............................................................................................................. 16

Aural and Optic Percepts ...................................................................................... 18

Summary of Conceptual Framework .................................................................... 19

Problem Statement .................................................................................................... 20

Purpose Statement ..................................................................................................... 22

Research Methodology Overview............................................................................. 23

Research Questions ................................................................................................... 23

Summary ................................................................................................................... 24

Remaining Chapters .................................................................................................. 25

Chapter II – REVIEW OF LITERATURE ....................................................................... 26

Introduction ............................................................................................................... 26

Expression ................................................................................................................. 27

Expression in Singing ........................................................................................... 27

Expression in Choral Performance ....................................................................... 30

Music............................................................................................................. 30

Text. .............................................................................................................. 32

Expression in Sound and Perception..................................................................... 34

Expression in Music.............................................................................................. 41

Rhyme or reason. .......................................................................................... 44

How music expresses feeling. ....................................................................... 45

Music, feeling, and beauty. ........................................................................... 47

Artistic Expression ................................................................................................ 49

A phenomenological view of artistic experience. ......................................... 53

Expression in Human Communication ................................................................. 55

viii
 Contagion .................................................................................................................. 56

Contagion as the Purpose of Art ........................................................................... 56

Contagion in Social Interaction ............................................................................ 58

Emotional contagion. .................................................................................... 58

Mirror neurons. ............................................................................................. 59

Empathy. ....................................................................................................... 59

Chameleon effect. ......................................................................................... 60

Aural and Optic Percepts .......................................................................................... 61

The Visual in Musical Performance ..................................................................... 61

The conductor as visual conduit for expression. ........................................... 62

The Impact of Words, Tone, and Gesture ............................................................. 63

Hearing with Our Eyes.......................................................................................... 64

Listening Brains .................................................................................................... 66

Amateur Endeavor, Pedagogy, Rehearsal, and Leadership ...................................... 68

Amateur Endeavor ................................................................................................ 68

Pedagogy ............................................................................................................... 70

Rehearsal ............................................................................................................... 73

Leadership ............................................................................................................. 77

Summary ................................................................................................................... 82

Chapter III – METHODOLOGY ...................................................................................... 85

Overview ................................................................................................................... 85

Pilot Study ................................................................................................................. 86

Pilot Study Findings.............................................................................................. 87

Choral expression: concepts and opinions. ................................................... 87

Actions in rehearsal to cultivate expression.................................................. 88

Obstacles to expression. ................................................................................ 88

Leadership and participation. ........................................................................ 88

The performance experience. ........................................................................ 88

Summary. ...................................................................................................... 89

Research Approach ................................................................................................... 89

Research Design........................................................................................................ 91

Recruitment of Participants....................................................................................... 92

Interviews.............................................................................................................. 96

Focus Groups ........................................................................................................ 97

Observations ......................................................................................................... 99

Data Collection ....................................................................................................... 100

The Dramaturgy of Data Collection ....................................................................... 103

Conductor Interviews .......................................................................................... 103

ix
 Chorister Focus Groups ...................................................................................... 107

Rehearsal and Performance Observations .......................................................... 110

Informed Consent.................................................................................................... 111

Recording and Transcription............................................................................... 112

Ethical Considerations and Issues of Trustworthiness............................................ 113

Limitations of the Study.......................................................................................... 114

Data Analysis and Synthesis ................................................................................... 115

Summary ................................................................................................................. 119

Chapter IV – FINDINGS: MEANINGS ......................................................................... 120

Introduction ............................................................................................................. 120

“Choraholics” and “Chorgasms” ............................................................................ 121

Vignettes of Meaning.......................................................................................... 123

“We were the audience that mattered.”....................................................... 123

“Emotional connectivity was so strong.” .................................................... 124

“I was crying from joy.” ............................................................................. 124

“It was astounding!” ................................................................................... 124

“Electricity in the air.” ................................................................................ 125

“Expressivity had so much to do with the setting.” .................................... 125

“Something brought us together in the face of challenge.” ........................ 125

“One of the great moments of my life.” ...................................................... 126

“The whole room was vibrating.” ............................................................... 126

“We were doing something worthwhile: Building community.” ............... 126

“It was hard to sing.” .................................................................................. 127

“The single most important thing I have ever done in my life.”................. 127

“What I gave to it, and what came back to me, priceless.” ......................... 127

“A tingling up and down my spine.” .......................................................... 128

“Runaway train.”......................................................................................... 128

“A magical moment.” ................................................................................. 128

“Someone else was singing through me.”................................................... 128

“Tears in their eyes.”................................................................................... 128

“With his whole being and body.” .............................................................. 129

“I live for these moments.” ......................................................................... 129

Summary ................................................................................................................. 129

Chapter V – FINDINGS: MODALITIES ....................................................................... 130

“A Beautifully Produced Sound Is Intrinsically Expressive” ................................. 131

“Harmonic Vibrations Heal Chinks in Your Heart” ........................................... 132

“A Con-Text for Singing” ....................................................................................... 133

x
 “My Little Cells Just Explode All Over” ............................................................ 136

“We Sing the Roman Catholic Liturgy Because We Love the Music” .............. 137

“Give Me More Face” ............................................................................................. 139

“There Is Sound Expressivity and Physical and Facial Expressivity” ................ 140

“Hear Something Beautiful, See Something Interesting, and Feel Something” ... 144

“Being Expressive Means Showing Something”................................................ 146

“We Are Actors and Actresses of Sound” .......................................................... 147

“I Am a Method Actor” ...................................................................................... 149

“It’s Hard for Me To Be an Actress” .................................................................. 151

“Dead Trees and Stuffed Frogs” ......................................................................... 152

“One Person’s Truth”.......................................................................................... 154

“There’s Just Too Much Passion”....................................................................... 155

Summary ................................................................................................................. 156

Chapter VI – FINDINGS: PROCESSES ........................................................................ 159

Introduction ............................................................................................................. 159

“Singers Need Technique in Order to Forget About Technique” ........................... 160

“The Baked Cake” .............................................................................................. 163

“They Were Expressive in a Way that Technique Couldn’t Make Happen” ..... 164

“You Can’t Tell a Story to Nobody” .................................................................. 166

“Knowing it in Your Bones, You Can Put Your Energy toward Expression” ....... 169

“Get Your Nose out of the Music” ......................................................................... 174

“The Only Way To Get it Wrong Is To Stand Stock Still” .................................... 176

“The Sticks Should Bump It Up”........................................................................ 179

“The Conductor Is an Artist and We Are His Paint” .............................................. 181

“If I Can’t Find the Beat I Don’t Care How Expressive the Conductor Is” ....... 185

Rehearsing............................................................................................................... 189

“Chorus Interruptus” ........................................................................................... 189

“Resting Bitch Face”........................................................................................... 191

“Video Doesn’t Lie” ........................................................................................... 193

Performing .............................................................................................................. 195

“I Love Performing” or “It’s Time to Pay the Piper” ......................................... 195

“Quality Is Not the Elimination of Defects” ....................................................... 197

“We Measure Our Success” ................................................................................ 198

Summary ................................................................................................................. 199

Chapter VII – FINDINGS: SYNERGIES....................................................................... 202

Introduction ............................................................................................................. 202

“A Filleting of the Soul” ......................................................................................... 203

xi
 “An Expressive Goldmine”................................................................................. 205

“Touching Vocal Elbows” ...................................................................................... 206

“Blue Hair” ......................................................................................................... 209

“When You Feel Connected to Someone You Make Better Music with Them” .... 210

“A Benevolent Despot”........................................................................................... 214

“You Can’t Lord Anything over Them” ............................................................. 218

“Ask, Don’t Tell” ................................................................................................ 220

“Play, Make Their Day, Be There, and Choose Your Attitude”............................. 221

“Daddy Loves Us!” ............................................................................................. 222

“The Audience ‘Assists’” ....................................................................................... 223

“I’m a Dancing Unicorn” .................................................................................... 226

Summary ................................................................................................................. 227

Chapter VIII – INTERPRETATION OF FINDINGS .................................................... 230

Introduction ............................................................................................................. 230

Binaries ................................................................................................................... 232

Meanings ................................................................................................................. 239

The Experience of Performing ............................................................................ 239

Amateur............................................................................................................... 241

Conceptualizations of Expression ....................................................................... 242

Modalities ............................................................................................................... 245

Expressive Cues .................................................................................................. 245

Presentation Is Not Only Visual ......................................................................... 247

Processes ................................................................................................................. 247

Acting.................................................................................................................. 247

Technique and Expression .................................................................................. 250

Vocal Technique ................................................................................................. 251

Rehearsing........................................................................................................... 252

“Chorus Interruptus” ........................................................................................... 254

“The-People-Who-Don’t-Look-Up Issue”.......................................................... 255

Movement ........................................................................................................... 256

Memorization ...................................................................................................... 257

What Conductors Show ...................................................................................... 259

Self-Learning with Video-Feedback ................................................................... 260

Performance ........................................................................................................ 261

Synergies ................................................................................................................. 263

Leadership ........................................................................................................... 264

Camaraderie and Artistry .................................................................................... 265

Vulnerability and Trust ....................................................................................... 265

xii
 Summary ................................................................................................................. 267

Chapter IX – POSTLUDE .............................................................................................. 271

Implications............................................................................................................. 271

Meanings ............................................................................................................. 272

Modalities ........................................................................................................... 276

Processes ............................................................................................................. 284

Synergies ............................................................................................................. 285

How The Study Has Influenced My Practice ..................................................... 289

Recommendations ................................................................................................... 291

Significance of the Study .................................................................................... 291

Further Research ................................................................................................. 292

Conclusion .............................................................................................................. 294

REFERENCES ............................................................................................................... 297

WORKS OF VISUAL ART ........................................................................................... 315

APPENDICES
Appendix A – Strategies for Expression......................................................................... 316

Appendix B – Conductor Interview Protocol ................................................................. 331

Appendix C – Chorister Focus Group Protocol.............................................................. 333

Appendix D – Rehearsal Observation Checklist ............................................................ 335

Appendix E – Performance Observation Checklist ........................................................ 336

Appendix F – Teachers College IRB Approval Notification ......................................... 337

Appendix G – Teachers College IRB Continuing Review Approval Notification......... 338

Appendix H – Research Description .............................................................................. 339

Appendix I – Informed Consent Form: Conductor ....................................................... 340

Appendix J – Informed Consent Form: Chorister ......................................................... 342

Appendix K – Informed Consent Form: Chorister From Investigator’s Own Choir...... 344

Appendix L – Participant’s Rights ................................................................................. 346

Appendix M – Investigator’s Verification of Explanation .............................................. 348

Appendix N – Participant Demographic Inventory ........................................................ 349

Appendix O – Informed Consent Form: Video-Recording Rehearsal and Performance.... 350

Appendix P – Participant’s Rights: Rehearsal Observations ......................................... 352

xiii
 LIST OF TABLES

Table

1. Instrumentation ............................................................................................................ 92

2. Participant Demographics ............................................................................................ 95

3. Data Collection Audit Log ......................................................................................... 102

4. Participant Pseudonyms: Choirs, Conductors, and Choristers................................... 110

5. Findings Schema ........................................................................................................ 121

6. Modalities .................................................................................................................. 130

7. Processes .................................................................................................................... 159

8. Synergies .................................................................................................................... 202

9. Findings Interpretation Organization ......................................................................... 238

xiv
 LIST OF FIGURES

Figure

1. Conceptual Framework ................................................................................................ 15

2. A Word Cloud of Choral Expression ......................................................................... 231

xv
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Illustration

1. Wildflower Petals........................................................................................................... 8
2. Wildflower Complete................................................................................................. 267

xvi
 1

Chapter I

SETTING THE STAGE

Introduction

In the United States, adult choral performance is predominantly the domain of

amateur1 singers. According to a Chorus America2 impact study (2009), an estimated 48

million amateurs regularly sing in approximately 12,000 active secular choirs. Choral

singing appears to be one of the most popular, if not the most popular form of amateur

participation in the performing arts. Choral music is alive and well. The large number of

amateur choristers mentioned in the Chorus America study is surely a reflection of a

resurgence of interest in lifelong educational and musical pursuits (Coffman, 2002). This,

in turn, is no doubt a consequence of a phenomenon reflected in national statistics:

American adults now outnumber those younger than 18, and “the largest cohort in the

United States, and also the best educated and most affluent, is moving through the middle

years” (Austrian, 2008, p. 202).

1
I use “amateur” because the word connotes the positive attributes of doing something
for the sheer love of it and the negative attributes of being less than professionally skilled,
both of which are important in terms of expression. The etymological root (Latin amātor,
“lover of”), stands in more than merely fastidious contrast to a second, now more
common, usage, “one who cultivates anything as a pastime, as distinguished from one
who prosecutes it professionally; hence, sometimes used disparagingly, as dabbler, or
superficial” (Oxford English Dictionary).
2
A national organization that promotes professional, volunteer and youth choruses.
 2

Amateurs undertake choral singing for their own leisure and pleasure (Mantie,

2015), but usually with an eye toward public performance. At the nexus between

performer and audience fulfillment, expression, elusive to define and to achieve, may be

the most important aspect of performance. What is expression in live choral

performance? Where does it originate? How does it manifest? How is expression

communicative? What or who is expressive? And what transpires between performer and

audience that both may be moved by expression?

Expression is arguably one of the most discussed subjects in music

performance. It is part of the everyday parlance of performers, teachers, and
listeners, and is used as a measure of the aesthetic value of the performance . . .
Despite its ubiquitous presence, the notion of expression seems to escape a
straightforward and unambiguous understanding (Alessandri, 2014, p. 22).

Discovering what expression may entail, and cultivating expressive intentions and

skills, is a tall order for many adult choirs and for their directors. Amateur choristers

“tend to apply the expressive features [of music] inconsistently” (Juslin, Friberg,

Schoonderwalt, & Karlsson, 2004/2006, p. 254). According to some, amateur choral

performance is prevalently “artistically lackluster” (Juslin & Persson, 2002, p. 229) and

“some music recital performances . . . fail to convey the character of the music” (Peiris-

Perera, 2015, p. 1). Such concerns and criticisms about amateur musical ability, quality,

and expressivity are probably justifiable.

Choristers themselves, however, attest to choral singing and performance as

valued avenues of artistic expression and self-expression. They are eloquent about choral

activity being important in their lives, and they describe their experience of life-changing

performances (Horn, 2013). Perhaps the wide field and corresponding range of

expressivity explain the apparent contradiction between enthusiasm for choral

 3

participation and observed deficiencies in artistry and expressivity. But amateur choral

performance is not served by acceptance of the status quo.

What is at stake is the quality of the performance experience for performers and

for audience. When classical music, live and recorded, is fast losing audiences in the

United States (National Endowment for the Arts, 2013), understanding choral

expression—what it is and how it materializes—in order to enhance amateur choral

performance is urgent. To this end, it is worth examining personal meaning derived from

choral participation and expressive artistry, expressive modalities both customary and

possible; and the impact of the communal aspect of choral singing on expression.

The questions that animate my enquiry are these: First, in live choral performance,

is beautiful singing enough? As audiences experience concerts with their ears and their

eyes, as they “listen” both aurally and visually, as communication between performer and

audience inheres in live performance, then is not the performance itself a transactional

medium? Is the performance, to paraphrase Marshall McLuhan (1964), at least part of the

message? Perhaps the ubiquity and impact of visual effects in popular music

performances and on TV influence my question. Second, does community have anything

to do with expression? As the communal aspect of choral singing is so highly prized by

many choristers, how does community influence expression? Certainly making music in

an ensemble is different than making music on one’s own.

Choral “music,” the artifact itself, reveals how expression in choral singing is

customarily regarded. A hybrid form, choral music is usually an amalgam of music and

text, the two elements somewhat disparate, although perhaps not as disparate as they may

at first seem (Jänke, 2012). These two modalities, individually and together, afford
 4

composers and performers a wealth of expressive opportunity (Grillparzer in Hanslick,

1854/1986; Hanslick, 1854/1986; Ehmann, 1949/1968; Kaplan, 1985; Godlovitch, 1988;

Jordan 1996; Jordan and Carrington, 2010; Custer and Henson, 2014, Silvey, 2014).

Music and text, embedded in the very fabric of the musical work, are the two

familiar and undisputed modes of choral expression. A third aspect may be the spark that

ignites the first two in performance: The visual statement a choral ensemble makes.

Recognized or not, the visual is a component of all performance. We are acculturated to

the visual being ubiquitous in many facets of our lives. It is especially pervasive and

effective in the culture of popular music entertainment. Live audiences “listen” with their

ears and their eyes.

My research and personal experience suggest, however, that the visual is little

considered as an element in classical choral performance. For some practitioners,

anything other than purely musical features might seem antithetical to the very ideal of

choral performance. But listeners experience music pre-reflectively or bodily, according

to Dufrenne (1973). And bodily presence is part of imagination and aesthetic feeling

(Bowman, 1998, p. 264). Coutinho, Scherer, & Dibben (2014) believe that “All

expressive modalities, particularly bodily posture, facial configurations, and vocalization,

are involved in emotion communication” (p. 3). It therefore may behoove performers to

consider a visual aspect when presenting music to a live audience.

Thurman (2000), a voice educator, says the inclusion of a visual element in

singing performance is vital:

 5

When singing human beings credibly express as-if feelings, the feeling-stuff is
ensymboled by the words and the music, of course, but also by the voice qualities,
facial expressions, body postures, and arm-hand gestures that are employed by the
singers. If that kind of nonverbal expressive involvement is minimal or missing,
then observers will be less able to engage empathically with the words and music
(p. 171).

To an audience, Thurman’s “as-if” feelings, credibly expressed, are as real as so-called

real feelings. Thurman’s idea of expression includes the visual statement a singer makes

by her facial expression and body comportment..

If choral singers accept Thurman’s proposition, then presentation makes the

choral ensemble a theatrical as well as a musical entity. I use “theatrical” not in an

overblown sense, not to imply “mugging,” to use an actor’s terminology, but in the sense

of good acting, presenting persona—a role—and credibly portraying character. As Olson

(2010, p. 132) suggests, “The old days of ‘stand and sing’ are no longer acceptable to

most audience members.”

Ostwald (2005) is of the opinion that audiences respond to singers’ physical cues

and that, over and above the singing, singers’ outward show of character is an important

way for audiences to gain access to expressive intention:

Audiences don’t read minds, they read the physical clues that [singers] give
them––visible and audible actions. They enter your character’s world by
interpreting what you do with your voice, face, and body (p. 11).

Ostwald conjoins performers’ “visible and audible actions” as a means to engage an

audience in the dramatic character of what is being sung and presented. From his

experience as an opera director, Ostwald knows that what singers show their audiences

may be as important as what is sung. In opera, the visual has always been an important

component of performance. In view of Bowman (1998), Dufrenne (1973), Thurman

 6

(2000), Ostwald (2005), and Coutinho et al. (2014), it would seem that choral

performance might not be solely musical, and choral expression might not be solely aural.

These perspectives frame my first concern: If choral performance were visually

compelling, would it have more expressive potency? My second question, whether the

all-important sense of community plays into expressive performance, is situated in

Durrant’s (1998) question: “What makes people sing together?” The literature shows that

amateur choristers value personal relationships that form among themselves and with

their conductor (Durrant, 1998; Bell, 2004, 2008; Garnett, 2009; Ahlquist, 2006; Horn,

2013). Are personal connections in the ensemble more than social, and do they influence

an ensemble’s expressivity? Is opposite true, that artistic expression promotes social

connection within the ensemble? Horn (2013) describes inter-ensemble relationships that

are artistic and social. Observing choristers in rehearsal and especially in performance, I

notice that their sense of connection with each other seems to affect their expression and

vice versa. My questions, of course, stem from my experience and positionality.

Researcher Perspective

The adult choir of which I am director, like most choirs, aims much of its

preparation at cultivating aural precision, clarity, and beauty in music and text. My own

first and strongest artistic impulse with my ensemble is always toward the musical. I

regard text in terms of its relevance to musical intention, although I recognize that text

may be a primary consideration for others. For my choir to make an impact on an

audience we need to do more than sing well and enunciate clearly; we must do more,
 7

even, than sing musically and with poetic sensibility. To perform most effectively, we

need to coalesce as an ensemble, and to “group express,” musically and visually.

Even with a willing choir, I could not say that my choir has ever given a

performance in which every singer took what is perhaps the first step toward being

visually convincing, and looking up for every entrance or phrase. Like other choral

directors, I urge my choristers, “Your eyelids are not nearly as expressive as your

eyeballs!” In response to my urgings for visual engagement, some of my singers say,

“We were trained not to show emotion while singing in chorus; we were taught that being

facially expressive was distracting.” How can an impassive on-stage presence engage an

audience, I wonder.

Few would disagree, I think, that presentation plays some part in all live

performance, and perhaps more so with an ensemble that can fill a stage with its sheer

physical presence. Spectacle and theater exist when an ensemble takes the stage. Yet I

have despaired at choirs entering the stage like a procession of undertakers, showing no

commitment to reach across the footlights, or to convince their audience of their musical

message. As an audience member, I disconnect emotionally from a performance when the

choir does little more than sing their parts. It feels like trying to engage in conversation

with someone who will not look at me. I have noticed that presentation often seems to go

unconsidered by amateur choirs, and that performances are often dreary.

I am on a walk one evening, musing about choral expression, when a wildflower,

almost hidden by an unprepossessing bush, catches my attention. I am reminded of

Stanislavski, who says: “The beautiful elevates the soul and stirs its finest feelings,

leaving indelible, deep tracks in emotion and other kinds of memory . . . For a start, take
 8

a flower” (1938, p. 114). I hold aside the protective foliage and the flower reveals the full

extent of its beauty. Two corollas of petals, fragile and papery, are the color of freshly

churned butter. The innermost parts of the petals are flecked with vibrant burnished

orange. At the flower’s center is a mini-corolla.3 Like the flower, expression’s beauty

unfurls. The middle corolla of petals suggests to me three expressive modalities possible

in choral performance—music, text, and visual presentation. See Illustration 1.

Music Modality Text Modality

Presentation Modality

Illustration 1. Wildflower Petals

Background to the Problem and Rationale for the Study

Adult amateur singers are enthusiastic and dedicated, and a large number of them

sing in choirs (Chorus America, 2003, 2009). Yet, as Juslin and Persson (2002) note,

3
Darwin postulated a theory of the origin of corolla in his book, On the Various
Contrivances by which British and Foreign Orchids are Fertilized by Insects (1862),
published in London by Murray. His theory of facial expression as communicative is at
the foundation of the conceptual framework of this study.
 9

amateur performance is often “lackluster.” There are several nemeses to choral

expression that may account for a lack of expression. Amateur choirs and their

conductors balance pleasure with skill acquisition. Because most choristers do not have

advanced vocal training, choral rehearsals necessarily include skill-building for singing—

vocal production, intonation, rhythm, diction. Expression may be addressed only when

technical issues and notes and rhythms are in hand. Rensink-Hoff (2009) notes

Mediating one reality—that many people want to sing for the sheer pleasure of
singing—with another—that singing is a skill that can be refined and developed—is
a difficult task, particularly in amateur music-making contexts (p. 196).

The preoccupation with basics, combined with the usual once-a-week rehearsal schedule,

tends to constrain or preclude expressive concerns, as Silvey (2014) suggests.

Technique and Expression

Conductors and singers view the choral ensemble rehearsal as an opportunity,

perhaps a necessity, to build singing skills, and choral rehearsal generally follows the

traditional teaching of music performance in its focus on technique over expression

(Stanton, 1971; Decker & Herford, 1973; Decker & Kirk, 1988). A lack of technique or

preoccupation with it, however, can be a sticking point that inhibits musical expression in

choral performance. This emphasis is partly a matter of necessity and partly one of habit:

Technique is regarded as teachable whereas expression is often considered intuitive

(Rodrigues, Rodrigues, & Correia, 2009, p. 608).

Musicians have a habit of obsessing over technical expertise, perhaps forgetting

the fact that technical skill comprises only part of performance per se. Choral
directors often rehearse technical musical, vocal, and linguistic skills right up to the
 10

virtual last moment. Then they devote one or two repetitions to “going straight
through it.” It is no exaggeration to say that this system almost always arrives too
late at thinking about the performance itself (Emmons & Chase, 2006, p. 259).

Musical aspects, of course, must be considered, but Emmons and Chase could not

be clearer: Something other than technical expertise, they assert, makes live performance

expressive. If choirs and their conductors want to give expressive performances, perhaps

they need to “think about the performance itself.” As Zander and Zander put it, “The art

of music, since it can only be conveyed through its interpreters, depends on expressive

performance for its lifeblood (2000, p. 31).

Chorus America (2015) is currently undertaking a study to understand the impact

of choral performance on audiences. Concert audiences are being asked:

• At any point during the concert did you lose track of time and get fully absorbed?
• Overall, how strong was your emotional response to the concert?
• When you look back on this concert a year from now, how much of an impression
do you think will be left?
• What words best describe how the concert made you feel?

The organization hopes the survey will reveal “facets of intrinsic impact such as personal

involvement, emotional resonance, intellectual stimulation, social bridging and bonding.”

If choirs want to create emotional resonance with their audiences, as well as building

community within choirs, expressive delivery may be key.

Traditions Constrain

A long-standing approach to training all choral singers is to expect or to demand

as little overt show of emotion as possible. Even the traditional choral costume, whose

purpose is to present a group of individuals as a visually uniform ensemble, emphasize

 11

conformity over individuality, implicitly de-emphasizing individual expression. Choral

singers are taught not to express facially or physically; in school and college, they are

told to stand still and be impassive while singing, because physical movement and facial

expression are considered distracting. Choirs used simply to “stand and sing” (Apfelstadt,

2011, p. 1). Accordingly, everything expressive inheres in the sound. Apfelstadt suggests

that, to create visually expressive interest, “facial expression is an easy way to start”

(p. 2).

In addition, the choral repertoire is rooted in sacred music. In a worship setting,

music is meant to elevate the congregation to spiritual contemplation; emotional

expression, rooted in corporeality, reminds us too much of our earthly selves, and is

traditionally eschewed in favor of decorous restraint.4 Dewey notes, “Intellectually,

religious emotions are not creative but conservative” (1910, p. 2). As secular choirs

perform sacred repertoire, and many conductors and choristers participate in both sacred

and secular choirs, it is not surprising that vestiges of a proscriptive liturgical tradition

continue to pervade secular choral performance.

Choral Proscriptions

Singers have the same musical obligations as instrumentalists, but a different

performance mandate. Singers face their audience and sing text, and these two things

make singing to an audience akin to conversing with them. For listeners, “music is

4
Gospel choirs excepted.
 12

perceived as if it were a person making a disclosure” (Watt & Ash, 1998, in Kopiez, 2002,

p. 525). Although they may not directly look at an audience, singers can visually engage

their audiences in the character of what they are singing. Physical gestures—a lifted chest,

a widened eye, a smiling visage—may carry a visual message in addition to making a

perceptible difference to the sound and clarity of the text. Linking musicians’ physical

motion to expressivity, Brenner and Strand (2013, p. 85) suggest that instrumental

players “find a way to sit expressively to play” their instrument and that “the musically

expressive body is the body connected to the instrument.” Because the vocal mechanism

is internal, singers’ overt movements for making music are small compared with the

movements of instrumentalists—shaping lips, for instance, compared with fingering a

wind instrument or bowing a string instrument, which makes their facial expression all

the more important for communicating musical message.

Choral singers give smaller and fewer visually expressive clues than their

counterparts in opera and musical theater, and they are unassisted by ancillary

accoutrements of costumes, scenery, makeup, and lighting. What character they can show

is only in face and carriage. It is hardly a wonder that visual presentation in choirs is so

restricted. Yet within this highly circumscribed arena, visual presentation of character

may take place, seemingly in opposition to the norm of uniformity.

Cherished Ways or a New Paradigm

Like many music teachers, conductors tend to teach much as we were taught. We

might readily characterize ourselves as “routine experts” (Allsup, 2016, p. 112) rather
 13

than “reflective practitioners” (Schön, 1987). The mindset of seasoned conductors, I

wager, is not to explore new “competencies and artistry and the equally elusive processes

by which these are sometimes acquired” (Schön, p. xiv). Musically but not theatrically

trained, choral conductors may consider expression a purely musical attribute.

Likewise, many choral ensembles, I believe, still strive for purely musical

expression as their objective. Dramatic projection appears largely absent from choir

performance preparation, especially that of amateur choirs. Olson notes, “Singers achieve

drama through much practice, and dramatic studies are a vital component of the

curriculum for conservatory voice students” (2010, p. 132). As the training of solo

singers embraces dramatic means, can the same ideals be incorporated in choral singing,

particularly in amateur choral singing?

Carter, author of Choral Charisma (2005), suggests two things: “Truthful

expression begins with each individual singer . . . connecting to the music” (p. 38) and

“Develop a caring community where each is known, valued, and respected (p. 9).

Carter’s call is for authentic connections with both community and music. Perhaps a

singer’s connection to herself (through the music), and her connection to community

(through the ensemble), brings about expressiveness. Connection with self through

artistic endeavor and connection with others through ensemble endeavor may be

complementary aspects of choral performance expression.

 14

Definitions

Key terms are used in specific ways in this paper.

Contagion—Emotional contagion is a theory of human communication; artistic

contagion is Tolstoy’s vision of the communicative purpose of art.

Expression—The outward manifestation of feeling, personal or artistic.

Meaning—How a performer makes sense of an affective experience and the personal

relevance of that experience for her.

Modality—A medium in which expression takes place. In choral music, music and text

are the two modalities of the musical artifact, visual presentation a modality of

performance.

Percept—A sensory channel through which expression is perceived.

Persona—The creation of character, as in theater.

Self-Expression—A manifestation of an aspect of oneself.

Synergies—The effects of interactions: among choristers, between chorister(s) and

conductor, and between performers and audience.

Conceptual Framework

The inquiry finds its conceptual footing in a framework comprised of three areas:

Communication of feeling, contagion, and the interplay of aural and optic percepts. In

Figure 1, a Venn diagram provides a visual representation of the three areas’ interaction:

The left and right circles represent, respectively, aural and optic percepts and contagion.
 15

In the shared space at their intersection, and incorporating their sets of information, is

communication of feeling. All three, aural and optic percepts, contagion, and

communication are feeling, are considered in the contexts of human communication in

general and of artistic endeavor.

Figure 1. Conceptual Framework

The logic of the conceptual framework is outlined below. The studies that undergird the

framework are discussed in detail in the literature review in chapter II.

Communication of Feeling

That facial expression has a communicative function in human interaction is now

so taken for granted as to seem almost tautologous. Darwin (1899) suggests that, beyond

physiognomy, facial expression carries communicative intention. In Art as Experience

(1934/2005), Dewey writes extensively about artistic expression, both the act of

expressing and the expressive object. He suggests that emotional impulsion is necessary
 16

for artistic expression, but for it to be meaningful and considered artistic, it needs to

undergo a process of ordering.

In music, Seashore (1938/1967, 1940), Juslin (2003) and others engage what

philosophers since antiquity have suggested: Acoustical properties of music contain

expressive elements. Specifically in regard to singing, Miller (1996), Thurman (2000),

Ostwald (2005), Sundberg (in Emmons & Chase, 2006), Olson (2010), and Coutinho, et

al. (2014) suggest that performers portray feeling and character embedded in the music in

ways similar to those actors use. Carter (2005) proposes that a choral singer’s personal

and authentic connection to the sung text gives their performance expressive “truth” and

conviction. In the very title of their instructional DVD for conductors, Eichenberger and

Thomas (1994) suggest, “What they see [the choir] is what you [the conductor] get

[back],” inferring that what the choir sees in the conductor’s gesture is what they will

reflect in their singing. The implication is that a conductor’s gestural language conveys

musical intention to the ensemble, which is “read” by the choir and reflected back in their

musical delivery. It may be a natural extension that the audience reads what the ensemble

and conductor show, and that what the audience sees is what they “get.”

Contagion

Psychological theories of human communication explore how emotional

interaction takes place. Hatfield, Cacioppo, and Rapson (1993, 1994) suggest that

emotional contagion occurs when people unconsciously mimic others’ expressions of

emotion. According to Iacoboni (2009), so-called mirror neurons fire both when humans
 17

act and when they see others act. The observer’s neurons mirror the behavior of the other

as if the observer herself were acting in the way the observed person is seen to act.

Keysers’ research (2011), like Iacoboni’s, explores the neural basis of empathy, namely

the areas of the brain activated by watching someone perform actions. He expands the

notion of mirror neurons to emotions and sensations, for instance, that a part of the cortex

is active when one is physically touched or when one sees someone else touched.

Similarly, a part of the cortex is active when one feels certain emotions or if one

perceives someone else feeling those emotions. Kinesthetic empathy (Reynolds &

Reason, 2012) is the ability to experience empathy by observing the movements of

another human being. An observer experiences kinesthetic empathy when, even while

sitting still, she feels she is enacting the actions she observes, as if she were participating

in the actions. Finally, the so-called chameleon effect is a subconscious mimicry of the

postures, mannerisms, and facial expressions of someone observed, such that the

observer’s behavior unintentionally changes to match that of the observed. Garnett (2009)

suggests that the chameleon theory applies to the interaction between choir and conductor

and that a choir mimics the conductor’s physical expressions.

In the realm of artistic endeavor and communication, Tolstoy (1897/8) proposes a

contagion theory of art; for Tolstoy, the purpose of art is contained in an artist’s ability to

infect an audience with his feelings, so that the audience feels the same feelings the artist

does.
 18

Aural and Optic Percepts

Mehrabian (1967, 1972, 1981) finds that, in interpersonal interaction in which

feeling or emotion is communicated, meaning is communicated verbally, tonally, and

visually in measurable proportions. According to Mehrabian’s Rule, the meaning of

spoken words conveys only 7% of what is perceived, tone of voice conveys 38%, and the

speaker’s gestures conveys fully 55%. McGurk and MacDonald (1976) find that when

what is heard conflicts with what is seen, visual communication prevails over aural

communication. The phenomenon of “hearing with your eyes” is called the McGurk

Effect. The tenet of Mehrabian’s Rule, that communication occurs by gesture, tone, and

word meaning in decreasing proportions, and of the McGurk Effect, that listeners “hear

with their eyes,” come doubly into play in an audience’s perception of choral

performance. As an audience “hears” the emotional content of the music in large part

through their perception of the physical gestures of the singers, they will also perceive

sung text through gesture, rather than word meaning.

Studies confirm that in musical performance, the movements musicians make

influence what audiences hear, and that when there is a disjuncture between the aural and

visual, what an audience sees will prevail over what they hear (Dahl & Friberg, 2007;

Schutz & Liscomp, 2007, in Goebl, Dixon, & Schubert, 2014; Nussek & Wanderley,

2009; Rodger, Craig, & O’Modhrain, 2012; Keller, 2014; Clarke & Doffman, 2014;).

Functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) of listening brains confirm that

the brain responds differently when auditory and optic stimuli are in agreement, and

when they are not. These studies provide physical evidence of changes in areas of brain
 19

function when listeners perceive what they hear and what they see as the same or as

different (Juslin & Västfjäll, 2008; Logeswaran & Bhattacharya, 2009; Petrini, Crabbe,

Sheridan, & Pollick, 2011; Kamiyama, Abla, Iwanaga, & Okanoya, 2012, Koelsch 2013).

Summary of Conceptual Framework

The conceptual framework of this study is based in psychological literature on

human interaction and epistemological literature on the nature of artistic expression as

well as studies that focus on audiences’ reception of musical performance. The

framework suggests two related hypotheses. First, given the known interplay of aural and

optic percepts in human communication, the inclusion of a crafted visual modality in

performance, in addition to the traditional artifact-motivated aural modalities of music

and text, may enhance expressive effectiveness for a listening and watching audience.

Second, the human-communication aspect suggests that, at least for amateurs, the

traditional conception of musical expression as solely musical may not fully encompass

performers’ experience of expression. There may be a social component in the

performers’ experience of expressive performance. Further, it is possible that a visual

performance modality and social communication may be interrelated: An amateur

ensemble’s sense of its own social community may contribute to its artistic expressivity

and to its presentational expressiveness, and, conversely, presentational expressivity may

heighten a sense of community among the performers. The studies cited in support of the

conceptual framework are further discussed in chapter II.

 20

Problem Statement

Issues concerning expression, communication, and emotions tend to invite

controversy. However, while philosophers, musicologists, psychologists, and
educators commonly express strong views on these issues, it is surprisingly rare that
the performer or listeners themselves are consulted (Juslin, 2009, p. 378).

Expression is problematic to pursue for several reasons. While many performers

consider expression important for effective performance, practitioners at best only

vaguely articulate the nature of expression in musical performance (Alessandri, 2014,

p. 22; Carter, 2005). Musical performances often do not convey the character of the

music (Peiris-Perera, 2015) and adult amateur choral performance, in particular, can be

lackluster (Juslin & Persson, 2002).

Contagion, the spreading of an emotion from person to person or among a number

of people, is recognized in an artistic context (Tolstoy, 1897/8) and, in a choral context,

as occurring between ensemble and conductor (Eichenberger & Thomas, 1994). How

contagion might affect an audience remains less explored. Traditional constraints of “old-

school” chorister training that idealize impassivity (Stanton, 1971; Apfelstadt, 2011), and

perhaps traditional liturgical practices, still seem to influence choirs. In conductor

training at the college level, philosophical and psychological considerations of expression

seem under-explored in favor of pragmatic musical concerns (Robinson, 1993). Ironically,

although visual presentation is central to conductor training in terms of gestural clarity,

classical choirs’ visual presentation remains less cultivated.

Choral expression is usually considered embedded in the artifact of the musical

work. In this regard, music itself is an inherently expressive modality (Seashore, 1967,

1940; Juslin, 2003, 2009; Juslin et al. 2000, 2002, 2008, 2004/2006, 2010/2011/2012), as
 21

is text (Grillparzer in Hanslick, 1854/1986; Hanslick, 1854/1986; Kaplan, 1985;

Godlovitch, 1998; Jordan & Carrington, 2010; Custer & Henson, 2014). Visual

presentation in singing is a solely performance-oriented modality that mostly seems to go

untapped although some writers and teachers subscribe to its importance (Miller, 1996;

Thurman, 2000; Carter, 2005; Ostwald, 2005; Coutinho et al. (2014). The intensity of

skill-building relative to choral singing as a leisure pursuit may make expression in

musical and textual modalities challenging for amateur choristers to achieve (Rensink-

Hoff, 2009). Visual presentation asks yet more of the performer. Conductors and

choristers usually think of technique primarily in terms of vocal technique, and technique

for character presentation is less considered (Miller, 1996; Thurman, 2000; Ostwald,

2005). It is commonly regarded as necessary to build a vocal technical foundation before

expression can take place, and even that expression is an intuitive attribute. Thus, in

much music teaching, technical skills are emphasized over expression (Rodrigues,

Rodrigues, & Correia, 2009). Likewise, in choral rehearsal, attention is usually paid to

technical proficiency rather than to expressive performance (Stanton, 1971; Decker &

Herford, 1973; Decker & Kirk, 1988; Emmons & Chase, 2006).

The possibility of visual character presentation as an ingredient of performance is,

at best, controversial. The neurological interplay between aural and optic percepts

(Mehrabian, 1967, 1972, 1981; McGurk & MacDonald, 1976; Fagel, 2006; Tiippana,

2014) appears to have gone unconsidered in musical performance preparation, until

recently (Dahl & Friberg, 2007; Nussek & Wanderley, 2009; Rodger, Craig, &

O’Modhrain, 2012; Keller, 2014; Clarke & Doffman, 2014; Schutz & Liscomp, 2007 in

Goebl, Dixon, & Schubert, 2014). But Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging (fMRI)
 22

studies suggest a correlation between auditory and visual stimuli in the listening brains of

musical audiences (Logeswaran and Bhattacharya, 2009; Kamiyama, Abla, Iwanaga, and

Okanoya, 2012; Leech-Wilkinson, 2013). Lastly, practitioners seem only peripherally to

consider how inter- and intra-ensemble synergies may help or hinder expression (Carter,

2005).

Purpose Statement

The purpose of this study is to consider “how different aspects of a performance

may influence expression” (Juslin & Persson, 2002, p. 220). The study seeks to

understand in what ways choral performance is personally meaningful to performers and

how this meaning influences a conception of expression; to explore the possibility of a

conception of live choral performance expression beyond the usual artifact-governed

construct and how choral expression may be manifested in different modalities; to

investigate processes and practices for cultivating expression; and to discover how inter-

and intra-ensemble synergies affect expressive performance. To form the lens through

which to conduct this research, I perused scholarly literature (Berg, 2009, p. 347) about

human communication of emotions and bimodal percepts; philosophical literature on the

nature of expression; and practitioner literature on performance. I incorporated my own

observations in an inductive approach to the analysis of data collected from the

experiences and insights of the participants.

 23

Research Methodology Overview

Taking a qualitative phenomenological approach, I studied the experiences and

perceptions of conductors and amateur choristers regarding choral expression. The study

population of eight choirs was drawn from a pool of over 500 amateur choirs in the San

Francisco Bay Area (Whitson & Howard, 1999) and was purposely sampled to include

ensembles of various sizes, histories, repertoire emphasis, mission, and conductor

background. Methods of data collection included one-on-one in-depth interviews with

conductors, focus groups with choristers in participant conductors’ choirs, observations

of rehearsals and performances of each conductor’s ensemble, and a focus group of my

own choristers. Data collection took place over nine months. Data analysis was achieved

through various methods, including complementary ways of coding. Data synthesis was

achieved through conceptual categories, as a means of organizing and interpreting the

findings.

Research Questions

To carry out the study’s purpose, three overarching questions govern the research:

1. In what ways is live choral performance meaningful to performers?

2. How do conductors and choristers conceptualize choral expression?

3. What helps and what hinders an ensemble’s ability to be expressive in

performance?
 24

Summary

Writers, educators, and practitioners widely recognize that musical expression is

prized yet enigmatic, elusive to define, and difficult to achieve in performance. That

expression is sometimes found wanting in amateur choral performance is known, even as

amateur choral participation is recognized as extensive and enthusiastic. Conventional

ways of understanding and teaching performance expression—reliant on musical

understanding, sensibility, and technique—may be inadequate to explain or to explore all

that choral expression may encompass. This includes the possibility that the meaning

performers derive from their expressive endeavors may reveal something about the nature

of expression; that expression may manifest through modalities other than the musical;

and that community synergies may play a part in choral performance expression.

I have suggested factors that contribute to the problem of expression in choral

performance practice and the problem of understanding choral expression only in

traditional musical terms, and I have introduced my own positionality (Throne, 2012;

Bourke, 2014). I have presented the background to the problem, definitions of key terms,

a conceptual framework that undergirds the inquiry, a statement of the problem, the

purpose of the research, an outline of my methodological approach, and the three

overarching research questions that frame the data collection.

 25

Remaining Chapters

Chapter II presents a review of relevant literature, incorporating further scrutiny

of the studies that form the basis for the conceptual framework with philosophical and

empirical studies that provide a backdrop to choral performance expression. Chapter III

explains the study’s methodology, including the processes of collecting and analyzing the

data. Chapters IV–VII report the study’s findings, each chapter reporting a category of

findings allied with one of the three research questions. Chapter VIII renders an

interpretation and discussion of the findings. Chapter IX explores the implications of the

major findings, suggests future research, and offers a conclusion to the study.

Pedagogical strategies suggested by participants for developing choral expression are

presented in Appendix A.
 26

Chapter II

REVIEW OF LITERATURE

Introduction

The purpose of this study is to discover what meaning conductors and amateur

choristers derive from live choral performance and how this is reflected in their

conceptualizations of expression, and to investigate expressive modalities and what

processes and synergies facilitate or hinder ensemble performance expressivity. A select

review of the literature is organized in four main categories: Expression; Contagion;

Aural and Optic Percepts; and Amateur Endeavor, Pedagogy, Rehearsal, and Leadership.

I have used multiple information sources across a variety of disciplines, both musical and

non-musical, including books, dissertations, professional journals, and Internet resources.

Following Merriam & Simpson (2000), the review of the literature includes differing

viewpoints, and identifies gaps in the literature.

 27

Expression

Expression in Singing

“Singing is musical theatre (enactment),” says Thurman (2000, p. 172). He

elaborates:

Song singing is always musical theatre. So is choral singing. They are

enactments or expressions of significant human feeling-states that are perceived by
others visually, auditorily, and kinesthetically (empathic as-if feeling states)
(p. 170).

Thurman reminds us that an audience does not distinguish between so-called real feelings

and what he calls “as-if” feelings. He advocates creating rapport between performer and

audience, which he defines (ideally) as “empathic, respectful, and comfortable human

communication” (p. 162). Citing Scherer (1995), he says:

The observers of singing performances can empathically engage with what is

being expressed only to the extent that the singers genuinely and convincingly
express as-if feelings.

Coutinho et al. (2014) write:

since vocalization has developed in part as a social communicative signaling

system, the externalization of internal states has been supplemented by display
mechanisms producing specific impression in the listener.

Although their research is mainly concerned with “the process of externalization of

emotions by the human voice,” Coutinho et al. acknowledge the impact of non-vocal

factors on singers’ communication of emotion, especially on the perception and inference

of emotional meaning through mechanisms of display (face and body posture).

“A danger exists in all pedagogy that a singer may fail to progress beyond

thinking technically during performances.” So warns Miller (1996, p. 245). He sees the
 28

teacher’s role as helping the singing student to develop both technique and the ability to

communicate emotions:

Part of pedagogy consists in assisting the singer to lower the barriers of

inhibition, to be willing to publicly reveal the private person, to risk sharing oneself
with others . . . Lack of communication stems . . . from the lack of technical means
to deliver . . . emotions. Artistic communication, in fact, is as much a part of
performance technique as is skillful vocalism (Miller, 1996, p. 159).

Advocating for expressive singing, Miller says “the performer must bring to words and

music a similar plasticity that lifts an audience into a world of heightened perception”

(p 141). One means of doing so, he suggests, is breath support, a source of energy for

communicating intensity (p. 56). He lists musicianship, vocal technique, and artistic

imagination as the first three of seven pillars of performance success (pp. 149-159).

Physical movement . . . and physical quietude play important roles in releasing

body and voice for emotive expression. Dramatic training is as essential to the
singer as to the actor. . . . The teacher should explore the technical routes available
for the externalization of internal emotion (Miller, 1996, p. 153).

Miller lays out the requirements for a singer to communicate artistically: Discard self-

consciousness, and develop an actor’s technical resources of body and face for expressive

purposes. He sees the requisites of singing as the same as those of acting:

An actor . . . is trained in the techniques of emotional portrayal . . . so must be

the singer. It is essential for the singer to learn the language of the body and the
impact of facial expressions (Miller, p. 152).

Like Thurman and Miller, Ostwald invokes empathy in advocating for creating credible

character:

The goal of good acting singing is to communicate all the nuances of the music,
text, and characters so that the audience has a fulfilling aesthetic and emotional
experience. You can achieve this goal if you create believable characters whom you
evoke with expressive singing. When you are believable as your character, you
engage the audience’s empathy. Once they empathize, they respond with their
feelings and are moved (2005, p. 20).
 29

Carter takes up the cause for creating credible character: “The collective audience

can only be moved deeply if the singer’s personal connection to text and music is

compelling and complete” (2005, p. vii). Carter regards text as the vital gateway to

expressivity in choral music. He warns that the predominant focus on musical elements in

choral rehearsals obstructs the portrayal of the meaning of the text. He suggests, “Singers

must identify the objective, the other, the story, the spark, and the stakes in order to have

a reason to sing” (p. 93). Carter applies a general principle of Stanislavski, the famous

Russian director, actor, and teacher. According to Stanislavski’s Method, an actor finds

and expresses the inner truth of a character by defining the character’s objectives,

developing a subtext for every moment on stage, and exploring the character’s emotional

life through emotional memory and improvisation. In Stanislavski’s system (1938/2010),

the emphasis, says translator Benedetti, is on “action, interaction, and the dramatic

situation which result in feeling with Emotion Memory as a secondary, ancillary

technique” (p. xx). Carter encourages choristers to build character by making the text

personally meaningful and relevant in order to achieve authenticity in performance.

Sundberg takes a scientific approach to quantifying the elements of vocal

expression:

Perhaps the most important facet of perception of voice is expression.

Surprisingly, we can, from listening to a voice, perceive a number of subtleties: the
singer’s emotional state and attitude . . . [and] whether the singers really mean what
the words are saying . . . Although expression is poorly researched as an area, it is
accepted that it is possible for us to hear these subtleties by identifying sound
patterns. The basic perceptual qualities of the voice are timbre, including vowel and
voice quality, pitch, and loudness . . . By noting combinations of these acoustic
cues, we gain information on which vowel was pronounced, the choice
characteristic of the (singer), and the sound patterns, from which we deduce
expression or the lack of it” (Sundberg, in Emmons & Chase, 2006, pp. 263-4).
 30

Miller, Thurman, Ostwald, Carter, and Sundberg all articulate differently nuanced but

mutually supportive views on dramatic or presentational expression as integral to a

singer’s performance.

Expression in Choral Performance

In choral pedagogy and choral conducting literature, music and text are discussed

as the two modalities of expression embedded in the musical artifact itself.

Music. Coward (1914) warns against losing sight of the “poetic element” (p. 90)

of expression. He writes,

Of the many factors which go to make a pleasing and successful musical

performance, the most important is that combination of colouring, intensifying, and
shading which we term Expression of music (p. 88).

For Coward, phrasing is the most important element in his lexicon of expression, as well

as musical rhythm and text––diction, emphasis, and tone-color. Coward uses dynamics

for the “artistic application, regulation, and modification of the amount of tonal and

emotional force required to secure a desired interpretation of a musical composition”

(p. 111). He mentions facial expression as a means of characterization.

Wilson (1959),1,2 explains how musical elements are used for expressivity,

specifically the manipulations of musical elements: “The natural cadence or inflection of

1
Wilson served on the faculty of Columbia University Teachers College and on the first
Executive Board of the American Choral Directors’ Association
 31

the words, the dance or bodily movement, and a blending or fusing of these two” (p. 58).

He notes that tempo, melody, harmony, form and design, phrasing, dynamics (level,

shape, and balance), accents (agogic, direct, and pressure), fermatas, pitch, and attacks

and releases can all be used for expressive purposes.

Decker and Kirk refer to expression as the motivating goal of performance, yet,

despite the title of their text, Choral conducting: Focus on communication, they address

the subject just once:

The Added Dimension, Communication: Choir and conductor together have a

responsibility to transmit all the beauty, empathy, and emotion of a composer’s
music. The singer’s goal is to communicate not merely the text and music but also
its meaning, drama, passion, beauty, and lyricism (1988, p. 130).

Decker and Herford (1973) encapsulate a common notion of the relationship of

technique and expression, that “artistic choral singing can be achieved only when all

elements of technique are successfully synthesized” (p. 160). Stanton (1971) confirms

this approach: “The better (the singers) are technically, the more aware they are of the

expressive possibilities at any given instant, and the more coordinated and meaningful

will be their responses” (p. 62). Yet he says, “The conductor must hold before his singers

the need to produce sounds which are, after all technical matters have been accomplished,

essentially emotional in meaning” (p. 18).

Stanton points to the value of evocative, metaphorical language to describe the

emotional content to be expressed:

It may be virtually impossible to convey this concept in technical terms, being

forced to rely, rather, on the piquancy of a nicely-turned colloquial or emotional

2
ACDA (http://acda.org/) has been a preeminent association for choral conductors
throughout the United States for the last 50 years. Its mission “is to inspire excellence in
choral music through education, performance, composition and advocacy.”
 32

phrase which may be frankly non-technical in nature. This may closely relate to
gesture and facial expression [of the conductor] (1971, p. 18).

Text. The relationship between text and music is variously regarded. Either text is

another musical element, or the meaning and inference of text guides the musical content.

In the nineteenth century, Grillparzer draws a distinction between music and poetry, an

opposition that choral music incorporates and exploits for expressive purposes:

[Music] begins with activation of the nervous system and, after having aroused
the feelings, ultimately makes its appeal to the intellect. Poetic art, however, begins
by arousing our intellectual awareness and only through this acts upon our
feelings. . . . Music and poetic art thus follow directly opposed routes, the one
intellectualizing the corporeal and the other corporealizing the intellectual
(Grillparzer in Hanslick, 1854/1986, p. 2).

Hanslick, author of On the Musically Beautiful, an important work on musical aesthetics,

extends the argument:

the concept “music” does not apply strictly to a piece of music composed to a
verbal text. In a piece of vocal music, the effectiveness of tones can never be so
precisely separate from that of words [and] action . . . as to allow strict sorting of
the musical from the poetical. . . . Union with poetry extends the power of music
(1854/1986, p. 15).

Kaplan writes of the expressive discomfort of music and text:

Vocal music is a finely balanced amalgam of two forms of human

communication: language and music. . . . It is this uneasy marriage between
language and music that makes the attainment of text intelligibility a more subtle
subject than the mere enunciating of every word (1985, p. 55).

Kaplan tells a personal story that points to a way of looking at text as giving general

rather than specific meaning. Preparing an ensemble to sing Stravinsky’s Swesdalikij, a

line of the Russian text puzzled him and he asked the composer to explain it:

His startling reply was that he had never understood it himself. . . . He explained
that when he liked a poem and decided to set it to music, he didn’t care about the
meaning of each sentence. For him, the meaning of the text as a whole is what
mattered, and the words became musical building blocks (p. 56).
 33

Custer and Henson (2014) write persuasively of the choral union of music and text.

Jordan and Carrington (2010) refer to the importance of prosody and the subtlety of text

nuance in marrying music and text, but Kaplan calls it “this uneasy marriage between

language and music” (1985, p. 55).

Godlovitch notes that “The presence of language and meaning in song . . .

complicate(s) the picture presented of what music-makers must accomplish at a very

primary level of agency” (1998, p. 11). Ehmann views the text “as the seed of musical

inspiration and growth and as the embodiment of the music” (1949/1968, p. 188). What

he calls “word-tone relationships” are dependent on the style of the music. He remarks

that in Bach:

the music, though inspired and ignited by the word, departs from a close
dependence on the textual body . . . instead, it achieves its inherent musical
symbolism with its own musical and spiritual qualities . . . To sing the text as in
natural, flexible speech, i.e. with the intent of making the words expressive in their
own right, too easily gives the choral music of Bach a foreign, sensuous
character . . . and does not achieve the necessary musical spiritualization (p. 198).

Jordan (1996) conceives of the relationship of music and text as one artistic unit.

He remarks on the standard ways conductors approach text: sharing a literal translation

with the choir; using the music as a “text painting device;” or using a translation and

applying “personal religiosity.” He advocates a meaning derived from the relationship of

text and music that goes beyond the literal meaning of the words and “connects in a direct

way with the lives of the persons singing the work and those who will hear the work

performed.” He gives the example of “Shenandoah,” a song about separations.

Choir members who have experienced separation as part of their lives will be
able to bring their life experience to the music. The resulting performance will have
an honesty in the sound that reaches listeners in a direct and profound way (Jordan,
1996, p. 175).
 34

Jordan (2008) asks for a reflective process from conductors and singers, advocating for a

personal, even spiritual, approach to choral singing. He asks conductors and choristers

“to listen to our own inner voice, which is our innermost personal musical idea” (p. 184).

Like Ehmann, Jordan refers to what he calls the codes of each kind of music, and he

provides a historical analysis checklist (2008, p. 319).

Silvey cautions that the challenges of limited rehearsal time for text study and the

priority of musical tasks leave minimal opportunity for choral singers to reflect on text

during rehearsal. He sees the usual approach to text from a purely technical standpoint of

diction, and an ensemble’s varied personal responses to the text as hindrances to

conveying textual meaning. He writes, “A choral ensemble is made of many individuals,

and the ideal of a collective interpretation, though admirable, is generally impractical”

(2014, pp. 11-12).

Ivey (quoted in Emmons & Chase, 2006) offers a synthesizing approach, uniting

text and music with one expressive intention for optimal effectiveness: “If the emotion

aroused by the music is compatible with the emotion aroused by the poetry, the images

have been synthesized and the expressive experience is complete” (p. 262).

Expression in Sound and Perception

To discover how musical features like the falling teardrop motif have physical

properties that suggest expressive qualities, I draw on Seashore’s work from the 1930s, as

well as the more recent works of Kopiez and Juslin. Seashore (1938/1967) distinguishes

between musical feeling expressed versus musical feeling aroused:

 35

The central problem in the psychology of music is the description and

explanation of the musical creation––the actual music––regarded on the one hand
as the expression of musical feeling and on the other as the stimulus for arousing
musical feeling (p. 25).

In an era when the quantifiable was regarded as pre-eminent knowledge, Seashore hoped

“that the scientific approach to music may be productive of a great enrichment of our

understanding and control of the power of music” (p. 382). He says:

We are, of course, not thinking here about that mystic inner something, which is
spoken of as feeling, as much, but of the expression of feeling. In modern
psychology, to feel is always to do, to express something—action of the organism.
The expression . . . comes to us through the media to which our senses are open
(p. 383).

He defines artistic expression of feeling in music as concretized in sound properties, and

wants us to understand expression in music as tangible: “In the . . . deviation from the

regular [in pitch, loudness, time, and timbre] lies the beauty, the charm, the grandeur of

music” (p. 9). Seashore acknowledges that, in performance, “music is more than sound”

(p. 13) and, in addition to the four acoustic parameters, “imagination and imagery are

also necessary for production and reproduction (performance) of music” (p. 5).

It involves some degree of dramatic action; it is modified by the character of the

audience, the personal appearance, manners, and mannerisms of the performers, the
total situation of which the performance is a part (pp. 13-14).

He acknowledges a transactional relationship between composer and listener, and that

music can evoke imagery for the listener: Music is “in the mind of the composer and in

the mind of the listener, not actual sounds but images, ideas, ideals, thoughts, and

emotions” (p. 14).

 36

Marrying aesthetic concerns with scientific measurability, Seashore names four

aspects for consideration: “The musical medium, the musical form, the musical message,

and the musical response” (p. 377). He explains:

The musical message is that esthetic experience––be it feeling, ideation,

impulse, craving, wish, or inspiration––which the composer in the first instance and
the interpreter at the next level desire to convey to the audience through the form
given by the musical medium. In the same manner, the message may be regarded as
that experience or interpretation which the listener arrives at from hearing the
rendition . . . The esthetics of the message, therefore, becomes the psychological
analysis, interpretation, and explanation of the musical experience of the sender and
the receiver of music, in terms of content (p. 370).

Seashore clarifies two important aspects: Where emotion resides in music

performance, and the emotion experienced by the performer may not be the same

emotion felt by the listener:

(It is not) necessary for the singer actually to feel the emotions which he
portrays . . . we now inquire as to what are the comparative bodily and mental
reverberations of emotion in the musical experience and, in the portrayal of the
experience, under what conditions these may vary (p. 381).

The listener creates her own response to what she hears:

there is not a one-to-one relationship between music as performed and music as

experienced . . . The ideas of feelings which constitute the response are the creation
of the listener in his own image (p. 387).

Regarding expression specifically in relation to sung text, Seashore lists text,

musical form, and the performer’s interpretation as the means by which specific emotions

are expressed in song:

the words of the poet convey the theme and the meaning of the whole message . . .
the words with any moderately generic melody . . . will convey at least the idea of
the emotion . . . the composer chooses what he feels to be an appropriate musical
form to fit the emotion to be expressed . . . (T)he singer projects himself into the
emotional attitude expressed by the words and takes great freedom with the
score . . . supplementing the song with dramatic accessories in his interpretation
(p. 38).
 37

Seashore references an experiment by Grant Fairbanks (1940) to measure pitch curves

typical in speech that portray simulated emotions of contempt, anger, fear, grief, and

indifference.

Kopiez (2002) acknowledges a relationship between musical structure and

expression; he names dynamics and timing as the two main expressive elements, in a

possible hierarchy. He cites Woody’s statement that says, “expressive performance is

based on a rule system that has to be learned by (performer) and listener” (p. 536).

Kopiez cautions against the search for universal communication of meaning and emotion.

He suggests instead that cultural factors are influential as well as musical features. For

the performer, “the development of a performance plan is characterized by an interactive

process that affects the whole preparation phase” (Kopiez, 2002, p. 524). In this plan,

there is often a sequence of phases: rhythm, pitches, and expression. While “little is

known about the performers’ emotions or sense of movement on the shaping of a

performance,” musical performance may contain acoustical cues (tempo, timbre,

articulation) that help facilitate communication of performers’ intentions (pp. 526, 529).

In teaching for expression, Kopiez advocates for verbal instruction, imitation, and

cognitive feedback as useful strategies to improve expressive performance.

Juslin and Timmers remind us, as do Goehr (2007) and others, that although we

usually regard music in terms of the musical works, in fact, music exists only in

performance and that performances of the same works may vary considerably. They point

out that “expression depends both on the composed structure and on its realization in

performance” (Juslin & Timmers, 2010/2011/2012, p. 458) and that what is usually

presented in a performance “is not the emotion itself but its expressive form” (p. 455).
 38

Juslin and Timmers describe the musical cues that performers use to communicate basic

emotions as a phylogenetic communicative system, that is, relationships based on

similarities and differences in the structure of the musical cues.

Musical expression, says Juslin (2009), is a listener’s subjective perception of

emotional information encoded in objective acoustical properties and patterns of music.

Such codes allow performers to convey and listeners to hear so-called general emotions.

The codes form a system that allows the performer to develop an individually expressive

language that is generally understood. It is both biological and cultural. Juslin and

Timmers suggest that music may have developed as a means of communicating emotions

and that musical performances, at their most effective, may be close to their origin as

non-verbal communication of emotions. It is on this premise that the emotive conviction

of the performer, they suggest, may be as effective as technical accomplishment.

Juslin, Friberg, Schoonderwalt, and Karlsson (2004/2006) dispel what they call

“common myths” about performance expressivity:

1. Expressivity is a completely subjective entity that cannot be studied

objectively.
2. The performer must feel the emotion in order to convey it to listeners.
3. Explicit understanding is not beneficial to learning expressivity.
4. Emotions expressed in music are different from everyday emotions.
5. Expressive skills cannot be learned (pp. 247-251).

They use Brunswick’s (1956) lens model of interpersonal perception to conceptualize the

characteristics of the communicative process that includes “a performer’s intention to

express an emotion and recognition of this same emotion by a listener” (p. 257). Paul

Brandvik confirms the concept of expression as transference from performer to listener:

Expression is the combining of intuition and intellect in creating phrases. It is

the releasing of sound ideas from the singers’ imagination into the imagination of
the audience (1993, p. 150).
 39

Juslin and Persson (2002, p. 223) name five emotions (happiness, sadness, anger,

tenderness, and fear) regarded as typical by laypeople and as basic by scientists, and

which performers can convey to listeners. They provide a list of so-called cue utilizations,

musical occurrences that elicit each emotion, correlating each with its activity level (high,

moderate, or low) and its valence (positive or negative). They qualify this by citing the

finding that “cue utilization is not completely consistent across performers, instruments,

or pieces of music” (Juslin & Laukka, 2000, p. 224).

Even though performers use an array of cues (i.e. pieces of information) to

convey expression, Juslin (2003) suggests, “performance expression is better conceived

of as a multidimensional phenomenon” (pp. 281-284), which he terms the “GERMS”

model:

(G) – Generative rules that mark structural boundaries by means of timing,

dynamics, and articulation.
(E) – Emotional Expression that communicates emotions to listeners by
manipulating structural features such as tempo.
(R) – Random fluctuations in involuntary timing adjustments.
(M) – Motion Principles consist of tempo changes that follow natural patterns of
human movement to be pleasing.
(S) – Stylistic unexpectedness that include deliberate deviations to create
tension and unpredictability.

Despite this analytical breakdown, Juslin acknowledges that all components occur

together in complex interactions.

Juslin et al. (2004/2006) suggest that lyrics and visual cues aid the communicative

process. In a project called “‘Feedback-learning of Musical Expressivity’ (Feel-ME)”

(p. 256), they aim to develop new methods for teaching expressive skills. Using an

empirically validated approach to expressivity, cognitive feedback (CFB) has been

implemented in computer software. The authors acknowledge, however, that, as of their

 40

writing, no computer programs focused on emotional expression. CFB refers to the

process of presenting the person with information about a task. Juslin & Laukka (2000)

find that cognitive feedback improves a performer’s judgments about cue utilizations.

Accuracy of expressive communication increased by 50% after cognitive feedback on

intended and perceived acoustical cues.

In its simplest sense, the term “expression” is applied to those elements of a

musical performance that depend on personal response and which vary between
different interpretations (Baker & Scruton, 1980, p. 326).

Taking a scientific view of musical expression as it is perceived by a listener,

Goebl, Dixon, De Poli, Friberg, Bresin, and Widmer (2008) provide objective data on

expressive music performance including historical mechanical, electro-mechanical, and

computer measurement devices to monitor performance audio and performers’

movements, to give an overview “of the technological side of accessing, measuring,

analyzing, studying, and modeling expressive music performances” (p. 196). They

describe various systems, some well-known—from piano rolls to MIDI—and some less-

known, in recounting how data is acquired and what computational studies and models of

expressive performance have been made.

Peiris-Perera (2015) has developed a visualization model called an Emograph that

can be used to visualize the emotional expression aspects of musical scores based on the

“(E) —Emotional Expression” component of Juslin’s GERMS model. The visualization

tool helps capture cues for emotional expression in musical scores for the purpose of

teaching students to grasp such cues and increase the expressivity of their performance. A

score is analyzed and a colored graphic representing an emotion is devised as a six-

dimensional radar chart representing tempo and tempo-variability, sound and sound-
 41

variability, and articulation and articulation-variability. A visualization template includes

red, green, and blue colors for tempo, sound, and articulation. These are combined with a

heat map as the basis for the Emograph visualization. Emotional expression for happy,

sad, tender, and angry can be represented. In a controlled study, Peiris-Perera found that

students who used the Emograph performed more expressively than those who did not.

These writers stimulate questions about expression in musical performance: Do

the performers need to feel the emotion they are hoping to project? Do the listeners need

to receive the same emotion that the performers project for the experience to be

expressively effective? Are feelings that arise from an aesthetic experience the same as

everyday emotions? How do performers find expression in a piece of music? Or do they

find it in themselves? What musical cues suggest specific feelings?

Expression in Music

Since classical antiquity, expression has been part of the discourse on music, the

word “music” derived from Greek μουσική (mousike), “the business of the Muses”

(Sparshott, p. 121). A long-prevailing theme in musical aesthetics is music’s emotional

impact:

In practice . . . musical aesthetics has been dominated by a single theme: the

nature and import of that powerful yet indeterminate emotional impact that music
has or is thought to have (Sparshott, 1980/1995, p. 121).

Emotion and feeling still prevail as the dominant impetus for music’s creation and

communicative purpose. Questions such as “What is music?” and “What is music for?”

commonly elicit responses about expression of feeling. “The primary purpose of music—
 42

and the arts in general––is the communication of expression and emotion” (Woody, 2000,

p. 14) epitomizes a widely held, if ambiguous, opinion. Music’s expressive nature

endures as an aesthetic value and its expressive purpose as a performance ideal.

Aestheticians, teachers, performers, and listeners interlink music, expression,

communication, and emotion.

But what is musical expression? Does music express something (emotion) or is

music expressive in and of itself? Does music express or impress (upon)? Does it arouse

or represent, embody or symbolize, invoke or evoke? If one hears yearning in a chord

progression or poignancy in the timbre of a tenor voice, are yearning and poignancy in

the music or are they in the listener/interpreter? Perhaps music is both expression and

impression. Whether music embodies (symbolizes) and expresses feeling or whether it

invokes feeling, it is in experiencing music that one experiences feeling. As novelist

Cates (2013) writes, “Music is what feelings sound like out loud.”

Sound properties that constitute music—pitch (high-low, tonality or modality),

rhythm (meter and tempo), dynamics (volume, voicing, and texture), timbre, and form—

all may contribute to music’s suggestion of feeling (Meyer, 1956; Cooke,

1959/1963/1989; Langer, 1953, 1957; Kivy, 1995, 2007). Through the medium of sound,

music may “ensymbol” (Thurman, 2000) or evoke feelings, for example of sadness or joy,

but feelings do not reside in music, and music itself cannot feel sad or joyful. Music

cannot feel at all because it is not human; it cannot be sad or joyful in the way a person

can be sad or joyful.

What music does so well is to suggest or to arouse feelings in people—the

composer, the performers and the audience—in any of them or all of them. Via the
 43

aesthetic experience of music, people access, experience, and perhaps transmute their

personal feelings. The cognitive awareness of those feelings is in the performer’s and the

listener’s experience. Performers and audience need not agree about their feelings.

“Expression does not require that there is a correspondence between what a listener

perceives in the performance and what the performer intends to express” (Juslin, 2009,

p. 378). Performers may intend and listeners receive different expressions, but the

transference of intensity from performers via the music to listeners may stimulate an

emotional response.

Philosopher Wittgenstein (1889-1951) distinguishes between the transitive and

intransitive senses of expression: Music may express something or music may simply be

expressive. Bowman (1998) says that although music may mean nothing beyond itself, it

may yet be meaningful. Baker and Scruton (1980, p. 328) suggest that, “even if art does

express feeling, the feeling expressed can be defined only through the expression, so that

feeling and expression are inseparable.” Performers might well ask, “Who is expressing,

what is being expressed, how is it expressed, and to whom is it being expressed?”

Performers might choose to be like glass vessels through which the composer’s intentions

are made known to an audience, or they may choose to be co-creators of the artwork.

Kopiez offers three alternatives to the question “What meaning might music

possess?” 1) Music does not have any meaning . . . 2) The meaning of music is its

musical form . . . 3) The meaning of music is the expression of emotion (2002, pp. 522-

523). Meaningfulness is tied to Kopiez’s second and third options: music’s architecture—

its internal or formal logic—and its expression of emotion. I trace the origins and
 44

historical trajectory of these two “meaning” options, below, in what I call Rhyme or

Reason.

Rhyme or reason. Two themes of music’s ontology emerge in classical antiquity:

music as reason or music as passion, philosophies based respectively in rationality and

emotion, paradigms either of thinking or of the ear. The first flourishes in Pythagoras’

system of music as scale-construction and tuning. Here, music is autonomous; it is about

music. In the Platonic view, music is heteronymous: It is governed by rhetoric and

oratory; its expressiveness is dependent upon the poetry associated with it, a felicitous

association for choral music.

Plato ascribes to music affective attributes so powerful that they could influence

one’s ethical state:

rhythm and harmony permeate the inner part of the soul more than anything else,
affecting it most strongly and bringing it grace, so that if someone is properly
educated in music and poetry, it makes him graceful, but if not, then the opposite
(380 B.C.E., trans. Grube, 1992, 398e, p. 74).

Aristotle expounds on music’s expressive character:

It may relax and refresh the mind. It may present “images” of “states of
character” such as anger, calm, fortitude and temperance, or it may inspire such
states or release emotions in listeners or stimulate them to action, in each case
affecting the character of the soul (trans. Alperson, 1987/1994, p. 3).

For Plato and Aristotle, expression is inherent in music’s purpose. Expression will remain

a central tenet in the axiology of Western art music in which the connection between

music and human emotion allows for three possibilities: either music expresses

something, or it stimulates an expressive response, or it does both.

 45

How music expresses feeling. A revival of a Neo-Platonic view occurs in the

sixteenth century, but now, promotion of character is subsumed by expression of feelings.

For the Florentine Camerata singers led by Vincenzo Galilei (1520-1591), singing lines

induce sentiment, and for the Venetian instrumentalists led by Zarlino (1570-1590),

melody, harmony and rhythm allow music to convey a general feeling-tone (Sparshott,

1980/1995, p. 125).

According to Baker and Scruton (1980), seventeenth- and eighteenth-century

musicians are preoccupied with exactly how music expresses feeling, and opinions differ,

albeit subtly: Should it follow the inflections of the voice? Should it echo the sense of the

text, word by word? Or should it convey the general tone of the text? Descartes (1649)

and C. P. E. Bach (1759/1949) agree that music both symbolizes and arouses feelings.

The Baroque Doctrine of the Affections holds that keys symbolize moods, although there

is disagreement among theorists about specific mood–key alliances. Rameau (1722)

proposes a Cartesian combination of music and reason that civilizes the passions. Batteux

(1746) labels music the language of the heart, now a long-standing popular axiom.

Avison (1752) says, “expression has the power of exciting all the most agreeable

Passions of the Soul” (Baker & Scruton, 1980, p. 325).

According to Sparshott (1980/1995, pp. 125-126), James Beattie (1735-1803)

declares music’s expression superior to its imitation of nature. William Jones (1746-

1794) makes the distinction between music’s ability to imitate and to express passions,

and deems the latter more desirable. De Chabanon (1729-92) says music affects the

emotions by analogy: a tender melody arouses tenderness in the mind, sound sensations

creating aesthetic feelings in the listener. Rousseau (1781) assigns to language the
 46

expression of thought and to music the expression of feeling. Diderot (1781) places music

at the top of a hierarchy of the arts. Because music is perceived directly, and does not

require the mediation of interpretation of content, it gives freedom to the imagination of

creative genius. For Rousseau and Diderot, music evokes emotion because it expresses

emotion. Kant (1790) concurs with the idea of music as the language of feeling; music

communicates sensations without cognitive meaning (Sparshott, 1980/1995, p. 127).

Music holds a place of preeminence among the arts in the nineteenth century,

precisely because it is deemed to express feeling. Now music is regarded as the language

of feeling. Pater (1894) proclaims, “All art aspires to the condition of music” (Sparshott,

p. 128). Music expresses feelings that defy description or catalogue: deep, intimate,

vague, indescribable, and mysterious. Audiences become enraptured and regard the artist

as a genius, a revolutionary. Beethoven, according to E.T.A. Hoffmann (1813), is

considered a visionary. For Georg Hegel (1835), music is one of the two pinnacles of arts,

for its absorption of matter into form by which it becomes etherealized and contributes to

humankind’s spiritual development. Arthur Schopenhauer (1819) likewise sees the arts as

giving access to metaphysical truths (Davies, 2003).

In his classic treatise on musical aesthetics, Vom Musikalisch-Schönen: Ein

Betrag zur Revision der Ästhetik der Tonkunst (On the Musically Beautiful: A

Contribution toward the Revision of the Aesthetic of Music) (1854/1986), Hanslick

proposes a formal conception of musical beauty, that the nature of the beautiful in music

is purely musical. He elaborates a negative thesis: music’s purpose is not to portray,

arouse, or express human feelings or specific emotions. Hanslick does not deny that

music does these things, but says they are not the defining purpose of music; “The fact
 47

that this art is intimately related to our feelings in no way supports the view that the

aesthetical significance of music resides in this relationship” (1854/1986, p. 3).

Hanslick says that music can express emotion, but the emotion itself resides

within the listener. The content of music is “tonally moving forms” (p. 29). Hanslick’s

argument for the musical nature of music may be a useful one in a choral context: Some

choristers relate more to the music than to the message of the text, and music fuels their

expression more than poetic meaning does. Stravinsky extends Hanslick’s argument with

his statement that “music is, by its very nature, essentially powerless to express anything

at all” (1962, p. 53-54). He suggests that, as music does not express statable meanings,

the meaning of a musical work is inherent only in its formal relations.

By contrast, the neo-expressionists Langer (1953, 1957), Meyer (1956), and

Cooke (1959) all address connections between feelings and form. Langer does so through

isomorphism, the symbol of affect. Meyer suggests culturally conditioned systems of

expectations aroused, frustrated, and fulfilled. Cooke compiles a glossary of musical

motifs, not unlike the Baroque affects, to which feelings are ascribed (Davies, 2003).

Music, feeling, and beauty. Kivy (2007) says we may be moved by the beauty or

perfection of music. We are aware of the beautiful way in which the emotion is expressed.

De Botton similarly alludes to the power of beauty in art to evoke “heartbreakingness”

(my word):

One of the strangest features of experiencing art is its power, occasionally, to

move us to tears; not when presented with a harrowing or terrifying image, but with
a work of particular grace and loveliness that can be, for a moment, heartbreaking.
What is happening to us at these special times of intense responsiveness to beauty is
the question (2014, p. 16).
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It is one thing to be reduced to tears in “real” life, but it is another thing to be moved to

tears by the beauty of art. The first leaves one more torn asunder and less whole; the

second puts one together, and allows one to find deeper, more completing resonances for

oneself.

George Eliot and John Keats both call up the classic Platonic triad of the ultimate

values of truth, goodness, and beauty:

It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are

thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we
must hunger after them (The character of Philip in Eliot, 1862, p. 314).

And:

Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. (Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn,
1884).

Schiller, who coined the term aesthetic education, says, “to make Beauty from beautiful

objects is the task of aesthetic education,” (in Über die ästhetische Erziehung des

Menschen in einer Reihe von Briefen, “On the Aesthetic Education of Man in a Series of

Letters” (1794/1954/2004, p. 83). The perceived may evoke a response in the perceiver,

but the expression of feeling is in the province of the perceiver’s cognition and perception.

For Reimer, “aesthetic perception examines an object by means of feeling and

discovers in the object an internal world existing in the realm of feeling” (2009, p. 56).

Reimer clearly articulates the coalescence of feeling and aesthetic experience. The

component of beauty, or a concept of beauty, establishes a relational condition between

the artwork and the perceiver. “We give beauty to objects, and they give beauty to us”

(Sartwell, 2006, p. 5). The transactional nature of beauty is in play. If art happens in the

interaction between the artwork and the perceiver, the audience defines art as art. “Value,
 49

it seems evident, is not intrinsic in objects, but attributed to them by whoever is doing the

valuing.” (Carey, 2006, p. xii). If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then the beholder

makes art as much as the “artist” does. Art is both being done and being received. As the

energy of an audience affects the performers’ music-making, we might consider the

audience a part of the music.

Artistic Expression

A coterie of words is often used to describe artistic expression. I examine

etymological roots and Dewey’s explanations in his seminal text, Art as Experience

(1934/2005). “Expression” (from Latin ex-primere, to squeeze out): Dewey takes up the

literal meaning of the word to make an analogy between a winepress and artistic

expression: “The thing expressed is wrung from the producer by the pressure exercised

by objective things upon the natural impulses and tendencies” (1934/2005, p. 67). Like

grapes that express their juice under compression from a winepress, an internal emotion

must interact with an external object in order to constitute an expression of emotion.

Natural material, emotion, must interact with or be shaped by something external, the

modalities of an art form, in order to transform emotion into artistic expression.

“Emotion” (from Latin ēmovēre, “to move out”): Something has caused you to be

in a certain state of being that moves you out of yourself. Dewey calls artistic expression

an “impulsion . . . a movement outward and forward of the whole organism” (1934/2005,

p. 60). For Dewey, emotion is an essential element of art. He says, “Without emotion

there may be craftsmanship, but not art; it may be present and be intense, but if it is not
 50

directly manifested the result is also not art” (1934/2005, p. 72). Expression and emotion

are so often conflated in common parlance, as in “emotional expression,” as to seem one

and the same.

“Ecstasy” (Greek ἐκστάσις [ekstasis], “out of a standing place”): Closely related

to emotion, ecstasy signifies being moved from a static state to a state of rapture, being

transformed or transmuted. It is from this connotation that we speak of art affecting us

and of our being “moved” by art. Art, Dewey says, carries us “out beyond ourselves to

find ourselves” (1934/2005, p. 11). He makes a distinction between artistic expression

and self-expression, such as a baby’s crying. Something beyond self-expression must

qualify an entity as art.

The initial stage of any complete experience [proceeds] from need: from a
hunger and demand that belongs to the organism as a whole and that can be
supplied only by instituting definite relations (active relations, interactions) with the
environment (1934/2005, pp. 60-1).

The experience of art takes us both out of our (everyday) selves and toward our (inner)

selves.

“Aesthetic” (from Greek αἰσθητικός (aisthetikos) is the adjectival form of

αἴσθησις (aisthesis), “sense perception,” or the understanding through sense perception of

the external world. Etymologically related to the verb αἰσθέσθαι (aisthesthai), “to

perceive, feel, sense,” “aesthetic” implies that the perceiver is awake and aware, in

contrast to its opposite, “anaesthetic,” being in a sleep-like state, numbed or deadened.

Awareness includes being both sensitive and sentient. Aesthetics as an epistemology can

be defined as “an investigation of artistic values and experience” (Taruskin, in Goehr,

2007, p. ix).
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From the perceiver’s viewpoint, personal response (from experience and cultural

situatedness) determines each person’s aesthetic values. Dewey explains the notion of an

aesthetic response in terms of the relationship of the perceiver’s emotions to the objective

qualities of a work of art.

The selective operation of materials so powerfully exercised by a developing

emotion in a series of continued acts extracts matter from a multitude of objects,
numerically and spatially separated, and condenses what is abstracted in an object
that is an epitome of the values belonging to them all. Thus function creates the
“universality” of a work of art (1934/2005, p. 71).

“Universality” suggests that a work of art can be deeply meaningful to an individual, and

can have wide-reaching resonances that others experience. For Dewey, a perceiver’s

aesthetic experience is based in reaction and transformation. “The work is artistic in the

degree in which the two functions of transformation (upon the outer material and . . .

upon the inner and mental stuff) are effected by a single operation” (1934/2005, p. 78).

There is interaction and permeability between the artwork, the performer, and the

audience: Each is changed by the others. Music is in the mind of the composer (and poet),

in the delivery of the performers, and in the ear and eye of the listeners.

“Audience” (from Latin audire, “to hear”) implies the simple act of hearing and

listening with intent. Artistic process offers the possibility of a two-way transformation,

both of materials by person and of person by materials. A work of art is transformed both

by the performer and the listener, and in turn it transforms them. If expression is the stuff

of communication, in performance it takes place collaboratively between performer and

audience, both of whom create expression. The performance affects the audience, but, so

too, the audience affects the performance.

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Finally, “experience” (Latin experīri = “to try out, undergo”) suggests knowledge

from an involvement with something. For both performer and audience, expression

depends on and informs lived experience. For Dewey, the experience of art is the ultimate

communicative medium:

In the end, works of art are the only media of complete and unhindered
communication between man and man that can occur in a world full of gulfs and
walls that limit community of experience (1934/2005, p. 109).

In grappling with the notion of artistic expression, one might do well to ask what

fuels the compulsion to artistic endeavor. Danto says of Hegel, “He saw Art as, so to

speak, a staging area in the epic of self-knowledge” (1999, p. 5). If art is a means to self-

knowledge, then through a work of art one can make a certain sense of one’s lived

experience. As Greene tells us, “the arts must be understood to be modes of sense-making”

(2001, p. 41). The artistic impetus is born of a desire for self-knowledge or self-

expression, although self-expression itself is not art. Gadamer (in Malpas et al., 2002)

describes art as transformation into the true. He explains:

My thesis, then, is that the being of art cannot be defined as an object of an

aesthetic consciousness because, on the contrary, the aesthetic attitude is more than
it knows of itself. It is a part of the event of being that occurs in presentation, and
belongs essentially to play as play (in Korsmeyer, 2004, p. 97).

Gadamer, like Dewey, seems to suggest that art is inherently transactional and

transformational. Transformation may occur for the artist and for the audience.

Philosopher-aesthetician Brelet (in Sparshott, 1980/1995, p. 130) proposes that

music exists only while it is being performed, that it is in performance that

communication occurs, and that the performer is creator-fellow of the composer. While

there is no equity between composer and performer, the act of performance itself may be

regarded as a kind of artwork. Goehr (2007) similarly suggests that art exists not only in
 53

the artifact as the artist created it, for instance, in a piece of music as the composer wrote

it, but in the very performance itself. As such, it is shaped by several factors: the

composer’s artifact, the performers’ interpretation of the score that represents the

composition, and the audience’s response to the performance. Small (1998) uses the term

“musicking,” to suggest that musical art is more action than artifact.

A phenomenological view of artistic experience. Husserl defines

phenomenology as a description of the content of consciousness (Robinson & Groves,

1998/2007, p. 118). In his reflections on expression and art, Merleau-Ponty suggests that

expression is “the making public of inner experience:” Communication is based upon

coding and encoding signs (in Landes, 2013, pp. 2, 10), and there is no interpretive

distance between what is expressed and what is perceived. “The gesture does not make

me think of anger, it is the anger itself” (Merleau-Ponty, 1964, p. 190). Landes comments,

“what is made public is the activity of expression” (2013, p. 39). There is a close

relationship between the perceiver and what is perceived. To make the expressive

structure explicit, something interior is revealed externally. Gestures are eloquent when

the other perceives them with intention. Perception itself is communication.

The body, the locus of the senses, gives the possibility for expressive gestures:

Expression is embodied (Landes, 2013, p. 11). Expression and communication are a

response to something primordial, beyond words, and communication is based in

emotional gestures (Landes, 2013, p. 92). Landes explains, “Communication is not the

goal of speech, but its very structure . . .” (p. 134). As Merleau-Ponty describes it, “an

actor slips into a role which envelops him and which alters the meaning of all of his
 54

gestures” (1964, p. 144). But he says, “Music . . . is too far beyond the world and the

designatable to depict anything but certain outlines of Being—its ebb and flow, its

growth, its upheavals, its turbulence” (1964, p. 161).

Kant (1781) says that we constitute our world in order to make sense of it: The

mind organizes what we experience to make sense of information we receive through our

sense perceptions. What we experience is the “phenomenal” world (Greek φαινόμενα,

phainomena, “things known through the senses”), as opposed to a theoretical “noumenal”

world (Greek νούμενα, noumena, “things perceived by the intellect”), known

independently of the senses. Empirical understanding of the phenomenal world is

accessed through sensory experience (Robinson & Groves, 1998/2007, pp. 74-75, 117).

In contrast to the Cartesian notion, “I think therefore I am,” sensation is the very stuff of

knowledge.

Damasio (1999/2000) makes a distinction between feeling and emotion: Emotions

arise in the body and feelings occur when the mind has had a chance to mull over the

state of the emotion. Feelings result from and are accessible via emotions. We might say

that emotion suggests something based in motion outwards whereas feeling suggests

something connected to sentience. Jourdain (1997) says emotions are transmuted into

feelings by the aesthetic experience. Juslin and Västfjäll (2008), on the other hand,

suggest that emotions in music are the same as “everyday” emotions. Emotion is often

interwoven with feeling, and with the concept of contagion in both psychological and

artistic contexts.
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Expression in Human Communication

In his exposé on human expression, written to support his theory of evolution,

Darwin advises: “He who admits, on general grounds, that the structure and habits of all

animals have been gradually evolved, will look at the whole subject of Expression in a

new and interesting light” (1872, p. 4). Darwin understood facial expression as

physiognomy and as a means of communication. He correlated the physical

manifestations of expression with communication of emotion, and he perceived the

power of visual gesture to intensify expression:

The movements of expression give vividness and energy to our spoken words.
They reveal the thoughts and intentions of others more truly than do words, which
may be falsified. The free expression by outward signs of an emotion intensifies it
(1872, p. 147).

Referring to expression as “the language of the emotions,” Darwin goes so far as to say

that expression is important to humankind’s well-being:

Expression in itself, or the language of the emotions, as it has sometimes been

called, is certainly of importance for the welfare of mankind . . . The movements of
expression in the face and body, whatever their origin may have been, are in
themselves of much importance for our welfare (1872, p. 150).

Darwin’s theory of evolution as transforming “the logic of knowledge”

(1910/1997, p. 2) and he supported Darwin’s “demonstrations of experience that

knowable energies are daily generating about us precious values” (p. 16), what might be

called “epistemology. The kind of knowledge to which Dewey refers is a posteriori

knowledge, or understanding based on experience. Concurring with Darwin, Dewey says,

“To improve our education, to ameliorate our manners, to advance our politics, we must

have recourse to specific conditions of generation” (p. 17). Amateurs’ artistic and
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expressive pursuits align with Dewey’s view of knowledge to “ameliorate our manners”

(1910/1997, p. 17) and Mantie’s view of leisure, to promote “‘the good life’” (2015,

p. 179).

Contagion

Contagion as the Purpose of Art

In his treatise What is art? (1897/8), Tolstoy proposes several ideas; the one that

fuels this thesis is his proposition that art’s purpose is to affect, or infect, an audience

with the contagiousness of the artist’s feelings.

Art is a human activity consisting in this, that one man consciously by means of
certain external signs, hands on to others feeling he has lived through, and that
others are infected by these feelings and also experience them (1897/1994, 2014,
p. 59).

A work of art causes the receiver to enter into a relationship with the producer of the art

and joins an audience to the artist by “a contagion of feeling.” The artist expresses feeling

through the artwork, which in turn evokes that feeling in the audience. “If only the

spectators or auditors are infected by the feelings which the author has felt, it is art”

(1897/8, p. 59). Tolstoy delimits art from other human activity that transmits feelings, by

saying art is “that part which we for some reason select and to which we attach special

importance” (p. 61). More persuasive, perhaps, are his arguments for the transmission of

feelings through art, and for infectiousness being the defining characteristic of art. Taking

the artist’s perspective, Tolstoy says:

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To evoke in oneself a feeling one has once experienced and having evoked it in
oneself then by means of movements, lines, colours, sounds, or forms expressed in
words, so to transmit that feeling that others experience the same feeling—this is
the activity of art. (p. 59)

From the audience’s perspective, the purpose of art may well be to receive another

person’s expression of feeling and to experience the same feelings.

If a man, without exercising effort and without altering his standpoint, on

reading, hearing, or seeing another man’s work experiences a mental condition
which unites him with that man and with others who are also affected by that work,
then the object evoking that condition is a work of art. (p. 162).

Tolstoy says that the feeling produced by art is distinguishable from all other

feelings in that the recipient of an artistic impression feels as if the work were his own,

and as if what it expresses were just what he would wish to express. In this way, the work

of art unites the perceiver with the artist, and it unites him with others who perceive it.

“In this freeing of our personality from its separation and isolation, in this uniting of it

with others, lies the chief characteristic and the great attractive force of art” (p. 164).

A variety of feelings may infect. The efficacy of the infectiousness depends on

three aspects: the individuality of the feeling transmitted, the clarity with which the

feeling is transmitted, and, most importantly, the sincerity of the artist, or the force with

which the artist himself feels the feeling he transmits. The stronger the infection, the

better the art. “Not only is infection a sure sign of art, but the degree of infectiousness is

also the sole measure of excellence in art” (p. 164).

Music’s particular and persuasive power awes Tolstoy. Music, he says, has “an

immediate physiological action on the nerves.” Tolstoy’s fictional character, Póznyshev,

says, after listening to Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata:

What is music? What does it do? And why does it do what it does? . . . Under
the influence of music it seems to me that I feel what I do not really feel, that I
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understand what I do not understand, that I can do what I cannot do. I explain it by
the fact that music acts like yawning, like laughter: I am not sleepy, but I yawn
when I see someone yawning; there is nothing for me to laugh at, but I laugh when I
hear people laughing. Music carries me immediately and directly into the mental
condition in which the man was who composed it. My soul merges with his and
together with him I pass from one condition into another; but why this happens, I
don’t know (Tolstoy, 1889/1924, p. 14).

Tolstoy is intrigued by a device, newly invented, that measures physiological

responses to music: “An apparatus by means of which a very sensitive arrow, in

dependence on the tension of a muscle of the arm, will indicate the physiological action

of music on the nerves and muscles” (1897/8, p. 124). His fascination with the device

anticipates by a century fMRI measurements of brain activity in response to music. In the

recrudescence of Tolstoy’s contagion theory of art, almost 100 years later, in

psychological literature on the phenomenon of emotional contagion, there is a salient

common feature: Something expressed by one person is caught or received by another.

Contagion in Social Interaction

Emotional contagion. The psychological phenomenon of emotional contagion is

found to occur in social interaction when a perceiver “catches” and feels the same

emotion as someone they witness displaying that emotion (Hatfield, Cacioppo, & Rapson,

1993, 1994). Emotional contagion is described as the mimicking of facial expressions,

vocal expressions, postures, and instrumental behaviors to “catch” others’ emotions as a

consequence of facial, vocal, and postural feedback (Hatfield et al, 1994, p. 127).

Emotional contagion fosters behavioral synchrony and the tracking of others’ feelings
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moment-to-moment, even when individuals are not explicitly attending to this

information. Hatfield et al (1994) find that:

people’s conscious assessments of what others “must be” feeling were heavily
influenced by what the others said. People’s own emotions, however, were more
influenced by the others’ non-verbal clues as to what they were really feeling
(p. 11).

That people catch others’ emotions through vocal expression, and facial and postural

expression, may be relevant to expressive efficacy in choral performance.

Mirror neurons. Iacoboni’s mirror neuron theory proposes that the sight of

movement in others activates motor cells in the brain of the observer so that what is seen

in others is felt by the observer:

We use our body to communicate our intentions and our feelings. The body
postures we make are social signals, ways of communicating with one another.
Mirror neurons are the only brain cells we know of that seem specialized to code
the actions of other people and also our own actions . . . The way mirror neurons
likely let us understand others is by providing some kind of inner imitation of the
actions of other people, which in turn leads us to “simulate” the intentions and
emotions associated with those actions. When I see you smiling, my mirror neurons
for smiling fire up, too, initiating a cascade of neural activity that evokes the feeling
we typically associate with a smile. I don’t need to make any inference on what you
are feeling, I experience immediately and effortlessly (in a milder form, of course)
what you are experiencing (2009, p. 27).

Gregory Hickok (2014) challenges Iacoboni’s mirror neuron theory, but other research

supports the hypothesis that seeing someone express a feeling causes an empathetic

reaction in the viewer.

Empathy. Empathy research describes how areas of the brain are recruited when

we observe other people’s actions. The observation of actions causes a response in

“shared circuits” (Keysers, 2011) in the brain of the perceiver. “Shared circuits” allow the
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perceiver to feel what he has observed in others. Concert audiences may be accessing

“shared circuits” when, hearing and seeing performers’ expressive intentions, they feel

the emotions intentionally expressed by the performers. Similarly, kinesthetic empathy

promotes a desire to move in response to seeing another person move (Reynolds &

Reason, 2012).

Chameleon effect. The chameleon effect suggests that “people unconsciously

synchronize bodily demeanor with one another in social situations.” The effect, Garnett

says, is based in “a direct causal effect between seeing an action and copying it” (2009,

pp. 172-173). It is passive, automatic, and unintended. The chameleon theory suggests an

unconscious response to something observed. Garnett alludes to the impact of physical

gesture on the actual sound of the music. She writes, “it is possible for the chameleon

effect to operate without emotional contagion taking place, whereas the converse is not

true” (2009, p. 178). Garnett makes a distinction between the chameleon effect’s physical

manifestations and emotional contagion’s affective communication.

Garnett sees the chameleon effect occurring between conductor and ensemble and

intra-ensemble. She notes that, because people in positions of relative power are more

likely to infect others emotionally, the conductor is more likely to infect the choir with

her mood than vice versa (p. 177). She cites the chameleon effect and emotional

contagion as accounting for the isomorphism between conductor motion and choral

sound and for the dynamics of group morale. Pursuing this line of thinking, Garnett refers

to charisma as a means that conductors can employ “to transform themselves into
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believable musical leaders” (p. 193) and she urges conductors to consider how they

“shape the behaviors and beliefs of the singers they work with” (p. 181).

Interpersonal communication theories of emotional contagion, mirror neurons,

empathy, kinesthetic empathy, and the chameleon effect seem to support the application

of the concept of contagion to musical performance.

Aural and Optic Percepts

The Visual in Musical Performance

In music performance, both aural and visual modalities are effective in conveying

musical expression. Even in the context of a musical concert, with the expectation of

sound as the predominant mode, the visual can predominate over the aural. What the

audience sees—the performer’s expressions and motions—influences what they hear

(Dahl & Friberg 2007, Nussek & Wanderley, 2009, and Keller, 2014). Performers’

movements not only strongly influence the auditory information they deliver, but may

even overrule it:

Music is necessarily deeply intertwined with both the instruments on which it is

made and the bodies that make it, and expressive performances are inevitably
stamped with their “instrumentality” and “embodiment.” (Clarke & Doffman, 2014,
p. 104).

Visually transmitted movement information “even alters the usually stable perception of

durations of single tones, when the production movement is changed” (Goebl, Dixon, &

Schubert, 2014, p. 223). Aside from sound-producing movements, the authors

differentiate ancillary movements as communicative and sound-facilitating movements.

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The conductor as visual conduit for expression. Morrison and Selvey (2014)

find a correlation between conductor expressivity and the audience’s perception of

ensemble expressivity. They examine how conductors’ gestures affect listeners’

evaluations of an ensemble’s performance. The identical aural performance elicited

different evaluations based purely on the audience’s visual observation of the conductor.

Participants rated videotaped performances with some conductors exhibiting either high

or low expressivity. The expressive level of the conducting influenced evaluations both

of the conductor and of choral performance.

Coward uses Tolstoy’s very words when he says a conductor “must infect his

followers” (1914, p. 251) by the law of sympathy:

by its almost unconscious influence choirs move by common impulse to a rousing

fortissimo, or catch the infection of the dramatic spirit, or realize the subtle
atmosphere which pervades a piece (Coward, 1914, p. 125).

Emphasizing the importance of the conductor as interpreter for artistic, expressive

performance, Stanton says, “the conductor’s influence in defining ‘artistic’ and

‘expressive’ is of crucial importance. . . . His being able to show . . . the difference . . .

between sounds that are merely mechanical and meaningless, and those that convey

feeling, expression, and inspiration” (1971, p. 154).

In interpersonal communication, perception of emotion occurs both aurally and

visually, simultaneously, and unequally. We might say that actions speak louder than

words, and that seeing is believing. In the 1970s, Mehrabian researched the relative

importance of words, tone, and gesture, and McGurk studied the conflation of auditory

and visual stimuli. These studies shed light performance expression.

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The Impact of Words, Tone, and Gesture

According to Mehrabian (1967, 1972, 1981), when there is an emotional

concomitant in interpersonal speech transaction, communication occurs multi-modally. If

you are listening to me speaking to you, you are making sense of the meaning of the

words I say, and you are hearing my tone of voice and watching my physical features,

comportment, and gestures. Mehrabian shows that spoken communication that has to do

with like and dislike is most effective when the three elements of face-to-face

communication—words, tone of voice, and non-verbal behavior (e.g. facial

expression)—are congruent and confirm each other. When the three elements are

incongruent—if, for instance, either tone of voice or nonverbal behavior does not support

words—the perceiver receives different messages via the different modes, and will tend

to believe tone of voice and nonverbal behavior rather than the words. In case of any

incongruence when communicating feelings and attitude, Mehrabian finds a proportional

response to verbal, vocal, and facial input, in which the impact of non-verbal elements far

outweighs the impact of the spoken meaning. This finding is codified as Mehrabian’s

rule: only 7% of inference is attributable to word meaning, 38% to tone of voice, and

55% to gesture. It is more likely that the receiver will trust what Mehrabian finds is the

predominant form of communication, the non-verbal impact of tone plus gestures, rather

than the literal meaning of the words. For the receiver of the message, both tone of voice

and the visual component—the speaker’s posture, body language or gestures—

predominate greatly over the meaning of the words spoken. The disproportionate

influence of tone of voice and body language occurs only when the situation is
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ambiguous. Such ambiguity appears mostly when the words spoken are inconsistent with

the tone of voice or body language of the speaker, and the equation is applicable only

when feelings and attitudes are involved. When feeling or emotion is conveyed, how a

message is delivered is far more important than what is said.

Hearing with Our Eyes

In a paper entitled “Hearing Lips and Seeing Voices,” McGurk and MacDonald

(1976) suggest that a fusion of information occurs when sensory inputs are both aural and

visual and, further, that an integration of those sensory inputs occurs. First, when aural

and visual information merge and integrate into a unified percept, what is seen

predominates over what is heard. Second, when both auditory and visual means of

communication are used, and they conflict with each other, either the visual predominates

over the aural for the perceiver, or sometimes a different meaning is derived, which is

neither a blend nor a composite of the two modes of delivery. The McGurk Effect

confirms multi-channeled perceptions of listening and seeing. Regarding perceived

speech, if there is incongruity between what a perceiver sees and what she hears, either

she hears what she sees or she hears something different from both. For example, if a

listener sees a video image of someone saying “ba ba ba” but simultaneously an audio

image of the syllable “va va va” is sounded, the perceiver will hear the visual “ba ba ba.”

Or she will hear a sound different from either the visual or aural stimulus, for instance,

visual “ba ba ba” and spoken “va va va” might result in heard “da da da.”
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The McGurk Effect could be said to define a change in auditory perception due to

incongruent visual speech, so that observers hear another speech sound than what the

voice uttered. Tiippana (2014) confirms that the “McGurk Effect arises due to

multisensory integration, resulting in an altered auditory percept.” He clarifies, however,

that there are several variants of the McGurk Effect, and all are the result of the same

perceptual process and reflect audiovisual integration:

the outcome for McGurk stimuli can range from hearing according to the acoustic
component (when audition is more reliable than vision) to fusion and combination
percepts (when both modalities are informative to some extent) to hearing
according to the visual component (when vision is more reliable than audition)
(Tiippana, 2014).

The McGurk Effect suggests that the audible and the visible influence each other;

that the perception of speech occurs in the acoustic and optic domains; and that when

these two sources of information are in conflict the optic will predominate. Fagel (2006)

finds that differences in emotional content seen and simultaneously heard are perceived

as a third emotion. In an experiment in which video of speech containing an emotion of

contentment or one of happiness was dubbed with the audio of speech containing a

different emotion, one of sadness or of anger, a third, unnamed emotion was perceived

that was present in neither the auditory nor the visual conveyance. Fagel notes that the

dynamic image of the video transmits additional information. He further suggests that

voice quality, articulation, the degree of valence (intrinsic attractiveness), and arousal of

the emotions influence perception.

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Listening Brains

fMRI studies (Juslin & Västfjäll, 2008, p. 566; Koelsch, 2013) find that

merely listening to music activates brain areas related to vocal sound production.

This suggests that the emotion of a musical affect can be transferred physically

from performer to listener.

an emotion is induced by a piece of music because the listener perceives the

emotional expression of the music, and then “mimics” this expression internally,
which by means of either peripheral feedback from muscles, or a more direct
activation of the relevant emotional representation in the brain, leads to an
induction of the same emotion (Juslin & Västfjäll, 2008, p. 565).

Further brain studies using fMRI technology provide evidence for the neural basis

of perceiving emotion audio-visually. These studies show that certain areas are involved

in processing multisensory, non-musical, emotional signals and that several areas of the

brain are involved in perceptions of emotions in music. In a study on how the brain

processes emotions of sadness, surprise, and happiness elicited by audiovisual music

performances (musician’s movements with music), by visual stimuli (musician’s

movements only), and by auditory stimuli (music only), the insula and left and right

thalamus of the brain were found to respond to visual, auditory, and audiovisual

emotional information (Petrini, Crabbe, Sheridan, & Pollick, 2011). This suggests that

part of the brain detects emotional correspondence between auditory and visual

information during music performance. The insula and left thalamus had increased

activation in mismatched displays compared with that in matched displays. “(The)

findings show that the emotional content of musicians’ bodily movements modulates the

brain activity elicited by the emotional content of the musical sound” (Petrini et al., 2011, p. 9).
 67

A study of the effects of facial expressions on emotional processing of music

(Kamiyama et al., 2012) shows that, although musical stimuli can be processed

independently of non-musical factors, emotional information traverses the boundary

between visual and auditory modalities. There is emotional compatibility between face

and music, whereby emotional information is recognized as common between musical

and facial stimuli, and there is an integration of musical and visual stimuli. Congruent

facial and musical stimuli were judged more rapidly than incongruent pairs. The study

concludes that there is an integration of emotional meaning derived from facial

expression and the affective processing of music.

The measurement studies of Koelsch (2013) and Petrini et al. (2011) show that

hearing music activates the part of the brain relating to vocal production, and that the

brain is activated differently when the emotional contents of musical and visual stimuli

correspond and when there is a lack of correspondence. The Kamiyama (2012) study

suggests that, in addition to the sung sound, the singers’ facial expression and carriage are

important to effective performance. An earlier study (Logeswaran & Bhattacharya, 2009)

examined the inverse: the influence of listening to music on evaluating visual stimuli. It

too revealed cross-modal influences on auditory and visual perception.

The Mehrabian, McGurk, and fMRI studies on listening brains all point to the

greater importance for audiences of what is seen over what is heard, particularly in

situations where the two are incongruent with each other. If a concert audience receives

the messages of the performers via the meaning of the words, tone, and gesture, then the

facial expression and physical demeanor of the performers play a dominant role in

performance expressivity. Likewise, as “listening to” live music is found to be bimodal,

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including an optic as well as an aural component, the integration of bimodal perception

suggests that it might be efficacious to include both aural and visual modes of delivery in

choral performance.

Amateur Endeavor, Pedagogy, Rehearsal, and Leadership

Amateur Endeavor

According to Coffman, the performance endeavors of adult amateurs are under-

investigated:

The body of research on adults within the field of music education is only
emerging. . . . The majority of the music studies with adults have (sic) been in the
areas of music participation or curriculum development. Far fewer studies have
sought to describe processes of teaching and learning or explore music development
in adults. Research that explores the social component of music making . . . is
needed to help us better understand the dynamics of group learning” (2002,
pp. 199, 205).

Music-making as a pursuit of leisure has been variously regarded in the United

States. Since the 1950s, leisure and recreation have been considered “nice but not

necessary,” and they “do not currently register as the proper concerns of music

educators—or many other educators, for that matter” (Mantie, 2015, p. 170). In 1958,

John Mueller wrote:

There are many who do not quite feel comfortable in the thought that music is
an activity for leisure. Such a function is not quite substantial enough and still
reflects a squeamish affinity with the frill (Mueller in Mantie, 2015, p. 171).

Mantie comments:

Many music teachers of the 1920s through the 1960s clearly understood their
work as helping students prepare for a life worth living by premising their own
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teaching of bands, orchestra, and choirs . . . on at least the possibility of active

music making outside of schooling. Today’s concerns, as evidenced in the pages of
Music Educators Journal and Journal of Research in Music Education, show little
sympathy for such a view (2015, p. 171).

He concludes:

We cannot undo the present state of the music education profession, but we can
make choices with the potential to change the future. We can choose to resurrect
leisure and recreation, long a fundamental rationale for school music, as a
legitimate aim and purpose for music education. Rather than viewing “leisure”
negatively, associating the word with privilege or frivolity, we can restore its noble
origins as the very definition of “the good life.” Furthermore, we can restore
recreational participation as a legitimate goal for school music instruction.
Appreciating music is fine; doing music, however, holds greater potential for
realizing more of music’s goodness as a healthy and worthy use of leisure time
(2015, p. 179).

Adult amateur choristers find choral singing meaningful, and they attest to their

enthusiastic engagement in choirs and in the preparation and performance of choral

repertoire (Durrant & Himonides, 1998; Bell, 2004, 2008; Ahlquist, 2006; Chorus

America, 2009; Horn, 2013).

Stebbins (2007) positively characterizes amateur activity and catalogues the

attributes of amateurs engaged in what he terms “Serious Leisure”:

1) need to persevere at the activity, 2) availability of a leisure career, 3) need to put

in effort to gain skill and knowledge, 4) realization of various special benefits,
5) unique ethos and social world, and 6) an attractive personal and social identity
(p. 312).

These characterizations aptly describe attributes of most adult amateur choristers.

They take choral singing seriously and make it a priority of their leisure; they devote time

and effort to skill acquisition and understanding; they demonstrate persistence; they

articulate the benefits—musical and social—that they get from ensemble participation

and choral singing; and choral singing gives them a desirable persona which they may not

access in other areas of their lives. What is not fully known is how this wealth of
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passionate, meaningful engagement is or can be tapped as a resource for expressive

performance.

Pedagogy

Amateur choral singing is largely an educative endeavor, and teaching is an

integral part of amateur choir leadership. Amateur singers rely on the expertise of their

conductor (Kemp, 2009), and they “typically . . . leave aesthetic concerns to . . . the

conductor” (Kemp, 2013, p. 33). Most conductors employ the traditional, authoritative-

directive style of teaching under which they themselves may have sung. Ronald Thomas,

former director of the Manhattanville Music Curriculum Program, suggests, however,

that giving directives is not considered good teaching:

Real education is not a study about things. It is experience inside things. If

music is an expressive medium, learning involves expressing. If it is a creative art,
learning means creating. If music has meaning, personal judgments are fundamental
to the learning process. If music is a communicative art, the educational process
must involve students in communication (in Moore, 1973, p. 83).

Thomas writes of involving learners in communicative processes in order for

them to become expressive. Abeles (1975) and Abeles, Goffi, and Levasseur (1992) find

that, in applied music instruction, learners regard rapport between teacher and student as

the most important factor in their learning, above a teacher’s pedagogical skill, musical

knowledge, competency and organization. In small-group music-making, Allsup (2003)

finds that students are more likely to regard themselves as creative musicians when

mutual learning and democratic action prevail than when students follow teacher-

dominated instruction. Amateur choristers, Bell (2000) finds, consider the most important
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conductor behaviors to choristers are showing enthusiasm during rehearsal and instilling

confidence in the singers.

Weimer delineates the role of the teacher: “Learner-centered teachers (are)

guides, facilitators, and designers of learning experiences” (2002, p. xviii). She calls into

question the role of authority in the classroom and traditional power structures (p. 10).

She suggests strategies for building learner-centeredness: Sharing power with students;

using content to develop learning skills; shifting a teacher’s main role from performer to

facilitator; creating practices that engender responsible learners; and learners being

involved in their own evaluation (pp. xvii-xix).

Bain (2004, p. 173) references the teacher as facilitator approach by quoting the

title of Donald Finkel’s (2000) book, Teaching with your mouth shut. Bain frames good

teaching in terms of empowering students to find their own creativity, pointing out that

knowledge is neither given nor received, but constructed, and that teachers help learners

construct knowledge. Bain reminds us that there are different kinds of learners and

knowers, and that not all learners are like ourselves: receiving knowers, in the so-called

“banking model” of Freire (2000); subjective knowers who use feelings to make

judgments; and critical and creative thinkers. Bain makes a distinction between separate

knowers, who remain objective, detached, even argumentative about ideas, and connected

knowers, who embrace the idea under consideration.

Moore writes, “It is a psychological fact that more is remembered through one’s

own discovery of information than through rote absorption of prefabricated material. . . .

Facts may be taught, but meaning is discovered” (1973, pp. 81, 83). Moore proposes the

Socratic method of question-and-answer to bring students’ own thinking processes into

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play and a choral laboratory, outside of rehearsal, as a forum for this kind of inquiry.

Brookfield says that, in teaching generally, to do the best teaching a teacher need

only find out what a student does not yet understand, and help him/her understand

whatever remains not understood:

skillful teaching is whatever helps students learn . . .skillful teachers adopt a

critically reflective stance toward their practice . . . the most important knowledge
we need to do good work is an awareness of how students are experiencing their
learning and our teaching (2006, pp. 18, 24, xvii).

Brookfield (2006, 2011) writes of the prevalent western societal hegemony that

puts rational thought, scientific inquiry, and masculine endeavor ahead of the intuitive,

the artistic and the feminine. Even when ideological opposition to authoritarianism and

male-dominated hierarchies exists, it takes vigilant awareness to avoid perpetuating these

structures. Cohen and Piper (in Mezirow et al., 2000, p. 226) refer to a “learning

community.” Yorks (2005) suggests that what he calls “collaborative space” replace

discipline-based models of knowledge creation. bell hooks’ “characterization of

classrooms as ‘radical spaces of possibility’” (in Weimer, 2002, p. 9) is a call to examine

acceptance and replication of hegemonic constructs and to advance, instead, a system that

gives learners, individually and collectively, space for their “own voice.” The education

studies reviewed remind conductors that, in a chorus, learners learn in a variety of ways,

that a chorus is a learning community, and that choirs meet collaboratively in physical

space and in expressive space.

Brookfield recognizes that involvement in artistic enterprise can change our view

of the world and of ourselves. An outcome of the aesthetic experience or artistic endeavor

is that we see ourselves as active creators. He writes, “Practicing the skills of imaginative

speculation is essential if we are to become critical thinkers” (1987, p. 132). For Mezirow,
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feelings are integral to transformative learning. Affective learning, that is, learning that

relates to, arises from, or influences feeling, results in a greater sense of self-worth.

Mezirow suggests, “both critical reflection and affective learning play a significant role

in the transformative process” (Mezirow et al., 2000, pp. 303-305). Neumann coins the

term “passionate thought,” an apparent oxymoron that captures the corollary aspects of

critical thinking and feeling in transformative learning. She notes that high points of

passionate thought evoke images of “peak (positive) emotion” and “intensified awareness”

(Neumann, 2009, p. 55). Passionate thought, peak emotion, and intensified awareness are

readily situated at the heart of musical learning and performance.

Rehearsal

Choral rehearsing remains largely modeled on long-standing practices of large-

ensemble rehearsing. Conventionally, conductors arrive at interpretive concepts and

impart intentioned ideas to the ensemble, which produces the sound manifestation of the

ideas. In a study of professional orchestral players, Ross and Judkins (1996) distinguish

between “critical and performative interpretations” (p. 17). They suggest that players

bring performative interpretations to rehearsal, the conductor brings a critical

interpretation, and the final result is an amalgam of the two. A collaborative aspect is

evident, whether conductors admit it or not. The ideal interpretation is fluid and subject to

“the insights, serendipities, and contingencies of performance” (p. 28). This subtly

collaborative approach may be the most used and useful in many ensembles, professional

or amateur.
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Di Natale and Russell advocate for cooperative learning in music ensembles and

for ensemble participants to be “coproducers of ideas” (1995, p. 28) who contribute to

decisions about the learning process and the interpretive approach to repertoire. The

conductor is seen as the facilitator of cooperative learning with a focus on social and

musical interaction, cooperation, communication, team-building, and conflict resolution.

Cooperative learning is interlinked with communicative skills, and fosters a group

dynamic that has specific ramifications for music-making: development of sensory

attributes of listening, watching, and intuiting. Communicative processes happen with

verbal and visual cues, and on a “telepathic” level (1995, p. 27).

Lamb (2005) finds that choristers work better in a spirit of camaraderie. Durrant’s

(2000) study contrasts the democratic approach of four conductors with the authoritarian

manner of one conductor. Durrant observes that the manner of the conductor and mood of

the rehearsal affect the quality of the ensemble’s music-making. The author leans toward

the rehearsal styles of conductors who show respect for choristers’ thoughts and opinions,

who establish an atmosphere of trust, and who work with their choirs in a relaxed and

encouraging manner.

Davis describes how choral icon, Robert Shaw (1916-1999), impressed his

expressive musical intentions on his ensemble:

One of the musical conductor’s fundamental responsibilities is leading others to

interpret and create music in a manner that was unfamiliar, unimagined, or
inconceivable prior to the rehearsal experience. Regardless of the level or type of
musical ensemble being conducted, each person within that ensemble possesses a
unique perception of the musical, pedagogical, and stylistic elements, which must
be compromised—if not completely abandoned in some instances—in the process
of creating a cohesive musical ensemble (2005, unnumbered page).
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This conventional, maestro-dominated ensemble approach relies on the sublimation of

individual musical ideas. It is used widely and successfully, despite seeming antithetical

to creative music-making.

Yarbrough (2002) studied a 1991 rehearsal-workshop of Robert Shaw. Twenty-

two segments of 160 minutes of videotaped rehearsals were analyzed and coded into

categories: 1. Task presentation (academic 22.2%, directional 13.9%, social 1.7%, and

off-task 1.7%; 2. Chorus response: performance 50%, verbal and non-verbal 1%; 3.

Reinforcement (11.65% approval 3.6% and disapproval 8.1%). Even with a highly

trained and well-prepared ensemble, Shaw sequences musical priorities: pitch and rhythm

first (including various count-sing applications), then dynamics and text. Most of the

rehearsal is performance by the chorus. Yarbrough notes the importance of task analysis

and sequencing, and the small amount of chorus feedback.

Sequencing of tasks, from the technical to the expressive, is a commonly adopted

procedure. In an examination of the relationship between teacher discourse and learner

experience Freer (2003) suggests that scaffolding, an instructional technique to move

students progressively toward fuller understanding, combined with sequencing of

material, enables learners to assume responsibility for their learning. Phillips, critiquing

Freer, says:

This study suggests a strong positive relationship exists between teacher

scaffolding, language use, complete sequential units of instruction, and quality of
student experience (2006, p. 89).

Silvey (2005) investigates the transactional nature of the relationship of the

singers to a composition. Through observation, interviews, and reflective journals, Silvey

analyses the singers’ perceptions to uncover what kinds of understanding contribute to an

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authentic, aesthetic experience of the music. Like Yarbrough and Freer, Silvey

categorizes a progressive sequence in this transactional process of learning and

“interpreting” a choral work: “impression or propositional knowledge; construction or

procedural knowledge; and understanding or acquaintance knowledge” (Silvey, 2005,

p. 102). Like Moore, Silvey emphasizes the value of experience-based learning over

acquisition of factual information about the piece of music, suggesting that the

understanding of formal structural components, when undertaken from an experiential

standpoint, allows an emotional component in the learning. He asserts that the knowledge

that singers gain about the music is a form of self-knowledge, and that the more

inquisitive and reflective singers are and the more they invest themselves in the process,

the more this knowledge is available to them. Silvey suggests ensemble leaders find ways

in which singers can acquire substantive understanding of compositions they are learning.

Gumm suggests a multifunctional approach to conducting gestures, including

“expressive, motivational, technical, tonal, and psychosocial functions” (2012, p. 48) and

takes into account “how an ensemble receives and responds to gestures” (pp. 43, 48).

Aside from traditional gestures for mechanical precision of “beat, tempo, meter, rhythm,

cues, entrances and cutoff releases” (p. 43), and for expression of dynamics and other

score-derived characteristics, Gumm suggests motivational gestures “that draw musicians

into an intense mental and visual connection with the conductor” (p. 43) and gestures that

“serve a psychosocial function” (p. 43), based in fostering shared interpretive decisions

with the ensemble. “The significant functional shift is in how the conductor connects with

musicians” (p. 47). The emphasis is not on the musical elements contained in the gesture

but on the psychological and social interconnectivity between ensemble and conductor.
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In the Gumm (2015) ACDA survey of choral conductors areas of rehearsal and

teaching (as one aspect) and conducting are addressed. Some questions are concerned

with facial expression, eye contact, and body stance as ways in which a conductor

portrays the music’s emotional intent and communicates this to an ensemble. One

question asks whether conductors explain gestures to their ensembles. Other questions

address the use of metaphor to explain musical sounds, the description of musical events

“in feelingful terms (angry, gentle, peaceful)”; the depiction of “physical energy levels

needed to produce the intended sound,” and shaping the overall expressive character of

the music. Several questions address balancing authoritative and democratic practices in

the ensemble, for instance, conducting that is responsive to musicians rather than meant

to control them; “giving musicians less guidance so they carry on more freely;” and the

conductor ceasing gesture to allow the musicians to ‘function on their own” (p. 4).

The application of scientific inquiry to rehearsing and conducting is a recent

phenomenon, and the psychology of large ensemble leadership, even in a popular
sense, remains insubstantially addressed (Price & Byo, 2002, p. 335).

Since 2002, when Price and Byo wrote their critique, large ensemble leadership

has received considerable scholarly attention. Nevertheless, the field is relatively new.

Traditional approaches prevail, especially in amateur choirs, perhaps because they are

most familiar to practitioners rather than because they are most effective.

Leadership

Armstrong and Armstrong, citing Stephen Covey (The Seven Habits of Highly

Effective People), propose a model of the transformational leader as one who respects the
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individual and nurtures her development, “encourages the heart” (1996, p. 24), inspires a

vision that engenders commitment on the part of individual members, manages the

organization on the basis of trust, and empowers others to act. In Wis’ model of the

conductor as servant-leader, the servant-leader “rejects the notion that leaders must be

autocratic and trusts that all the musical goals will be reached if the focus is on serving

the musician and the music” (2007, p. 20). She suggests that the ensemble is

the venue through which students learn how to perceive . . . how to make artistic
and creative decisions, and how to sing or play expressively. . . . At the optimal
level, the ensemble experience should provide students with the opportunity to
develop a part of themselves—their aesthetic sensitivity and artistic intelligence—
in a unique and empowering way (2007, p. 18).

For Wis “authority does not equal leadership (2007, p. 7).” The quintessential

relationship is “who we are to what we do” (p. 165). Like Bain (2004), Wis values

creativity above efficiency:

Though a directive style can be efficient, it is not necessarily the style that
creates the deepest or most meaningful experience for those we lead because it can
limit their input and creativity (Wis, 2007, p. 97)

Several writers address conductor charisma to inspire musicality in the ensemble.

Wis (2007) refers to a conductor’s inspiration for musical interpretation. Jorgensen

(2011) notes that an ensemble’s musical expressivity is dependent on the transfer of

charismatic energy from conductor to ensemble (p. 176). For Hunt, Stelluto and

Hooijberg, a conductor must be a “charismatic leader” (2004, p. 147) who provides

interpretive insight—intellectual and emotional stimulation and inspiring passion for the

music—to elicit engaged rather than merely compliant responses from the ensemble.

In studying professional orchestras, Hunt et al. liken a conductor to a company

chief executive officer and they name the various roles of a conductor: “expert musician,
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psychologist, teacher, autocrat, colleague, politician, and charismatic leader” (2004,

p. 148). They see leadership influencing the group’s “dynamics, commitment, and

organizational effectiveness” (p. 148). Hunt et al. suggest a structurally flatter

organizational model than the traditional hierarchical structure, and a “broad-gauge

leadership approach” (p. 149), incorporating flexibility and the ability to respond to the

needs of stakeholders. The authors suggest a “competing values” (p. 150) framework and

list specific roles for the leadership of creative people: innovator, facilitator, mentor,

coordinator, director, producer, monitor, and broker. They coin the term “behavioral

complexity” (p. 150) as “an ability to exhibit contrary or opposing behaviors (as

appropriate or necessary) while still maintaining some measure of integrity and

credibility” (p. 151). The Hunt study offers provocative ideas for the leadership of

amateur choirs, long rooted in top-down organization.

Yu categorizes two different leadership models for conductors, using the Ohio

State University Leadership Studies of the 1950’s, known as the Leader Behavior

Description Questionnaire (LDBQ) and the Supervisor Behavior Description

Questionnaire (SBDQ). What emerged from the LDBQ and SBDQ studies was called

Consideration and Initiating Structure. Yu uses the terms “Consideration Leadership

Style (CLS) and Structure Leadership Style (SLS)” in his 1999 study. In CLS, a leader

shows concern for the welfare of the members of a group; in SLS, a leader defines roles,

defines how tasks are to be accomplished by the group, and initiates and organizes

actions. SLS is more task-oriented than CLS. Yu’s study found CLS to be more effective

than SLS in terms of member satisfaction with the conductor; self-motivation,

cohesiveness, and morale; and greater efficiency, productivity, and learning. Based in
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part on Zielke (1996), who finds that leadership that is both high-task and high-

relationship-focused is the most effective in most choral situations, Yu suggests a

leadership style that is a “behavioral mix” of CLS and SLS (1999, p. 130).

To define “community” in community choirs, Sharlow finds that qualities of trust,

commitment, communication, and relationship between conductor and ensemble are

important. One of Sharlow’s study respondents wrote: “‘I believe you must give singers

ownership in the ensemble. This can be accomplished simply through asking higher-order

thinking questions in rehearsal’” (2006, p. 149). This insight indicates the important link

between leadership and learning.

In her paper, “I Sing in a Choir but I Have No Voice,” O’Toole argues that

conventional models of choral participation “create docile, complacent singers who are

subject to a discourse that is more interested in the production of music” (1994/2005,

p. 1) than in the singers themselves. Using a critical feminist lens and Foucauldian

theories of power to question long-established belief systems and power structures that

prevail in choirs, she suggests that, to the singers’ detriment, content or product trumps

all other considerations. She suggests a re-examination of the process-product binary that

includes consideration of choristers as individuals and the application of their knowledge

to “transform and inform” practice (1994/2005, p. 24). O’Toole finds, however, that even

choir members who are dissatisfied with the system do not question it. Perhaps Carter’s

(2005) humanistic approach answers O’Toole’s cry about singers being, in effect, music-

laborers, working to produce a musical product.

Dalbey (2008) takes issue with O’Toole’s suggestion that “the conventions of

choral pedagogy are designed to create docile, complacent singers.” Dalbey suggests that
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choristers are so accustomed to director-authority that they may prefer it or be more

comfortable with it. Although O’Toole’s concerns may be well-founded, her stance

seems not to reflect any widespread expressed dissatisfaction among choristers. Dalbey

notes that, within a choral ensemble, there are challenges of learner-centeredness and he

suggests assumptions about roles and control be clarified. If control were to be shared

between conductor and singers, Dalbey questions how this might be done. Long-held

attitudes and long-standing modi operandi may be just what conductors and choristers

want, or may warrant examination in light of dissatisfaction, or simply to entertain new

possibilities.

Barrett puts forward the thesis that “choral ensemble settings offer particularly

rich opportunities for the realization of constructivist practices in which students are

given more responsibility for musical decision-making” (2007, p. 422). Two questions

underpin Barrett’s “case within a case” (p. 421): In what ways do choral singers make

meaning of, and interpret, the music they are learning to perform? How does the

teacher/conductor establish an environment in which this kind of process can flourish?

The study focuses on the practices of seven university students undertaking a qualitative

research project, the analysis of video footage of a high school choral rehearsal. The

conductor asks the singers to consider the text, its meaning, its affective expression, while

the researchers focus on the kinds of interpretive responses of the students-choristers.

Freer and Barker devised their collaborative study for the purpose of teaching

students about literature reviews and about “the collaborative process of scholarship and

inquiry” (2008, p. 80). The authors model collaboration in the methodology of their study.
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They contrast collegiality with “managerialism” (p. 71). Their collaborative model can be

used in choral rehearsal.

Constructivist approaches to teaching, non-authoritarian leadership, and

democratic practices that include collaborative processes and that engender creative and

critical thinking may be progressive steps in choral teaching, leadership, and rehearsing.

In seeking new models, Moore (1973), Armstrong and Armstrong (1996), Yu (1999),

Wis (2002, 2007), Sharlow (2006), Barrett (2007), and Freer and Barker (2008) address

core issues: How do conductors engender trust, rapport, and synergy with their

ensembles? How do they enable ensemble members to claim ownership of the

interpretive process? Wis asks an all-important question, “Where and when do

conductors learn to lead?” (2007, p. 17).

Summary

The literature review has surveyed expression, moving from its narrowest and

most salient application, expression in singing, to its broadest application, conceptions of

artistic expression. The review has included live choral performance expression, musical

performance expression, and expression in a musical work. It has considered

psychological research about expression and the communication of emotion. It has

discussed theories of contagion, both interpersonal and artistic. It has examined studies

on the interplay of aural and optic percepts, as well as fMRI of the listening brain and the

reception of musical expression from a listener’s perspective. It has considered salient

features of amateur participation and appraised approaches to teaching and leadership.

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In singing, expression is often surpassed by a preoccupation with technique, even

though some singing teachers and opera and acting directors argue for expression’s

importance. Choral performance, specifically practitioners’ efforts for expression, seems

largely focused in musical and textual domains. The expressive potential of visual

presentation of persona receives less attention (Carter, 2005).

The literature reveals that, despite expression’s dominance in the historical

trajectory of philosophical discourse on music, it remains problematic to define.

Although theorists and practitioners liberally use the terms “expression” and

“expressivity,” there is an array of opinions about what these terms mean in the context

of music performance.

The scientific literature reveals that the visual sense dominates perception, and

that when what is heard and what is seen are in conflict, an audience will perceive the

visual over the aural, which underscores the importance of this aspect of performance.

Various synergies are possible by which the communication of musical expression

between conductor and ensemble, between ensemble and audience, and between

conductor and audience may occur. Adult amateurs derive immense satisfaction from

their engagement with music and from their social connections in choir.

The review surveys pedagogy, organizational leadership, and rehearsal processes

applicable to amateur choral ensembles. The literature suggests that student-centeredness,

constructivist approaches, progressive sequences, scaffolding strategies, democratic

approaches to organizational structure, rapport-building, and musical decision-making all

engender critical thinking, creativity, passionate thought, and self-knowledge. Rehearsals

are the central opportunity for ensembles to cultivate expressive intent and the means to
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convey it, and organizational style and leadership qualities can facilitate expressive

capability.
 85

Chapter III

METHODOLOGY

Overview

I recapitulate the study’s purpose and research questions, and provide an overview

of the methodology adopted to carry out the study’s purpose. I present a summary of the

pilot study’s design, research questions, and findings. Following this are detailed

descriptions of the dissertation study’s research approach; its design and instrumentation;

participant recruitment and demographics; data collection including informed consent,

ethical considerations, issues of trustworthiness, and limitations of the study; the

dramaturgy of collection, including an introduction to conductor interviews, chorister

focus groups, and rehearsal and performance observations; and data analysis and

synthesis.

The purpose of the study was to develop an understanding of expression in live

choral performance by exploring, with conductors and amateur choristers, what personal

meaning performers derive from their expressive endeavors, their perceptions of what

constitutes expression, how they materialize expression in live choral performance, and

how processes and intra-ensemble synergies affect an ensemble’s expressive capabilities.

Three overarching questions guided the research:

1. In what ways is live choral performance meaningful to performers?

2. How do conductors and choristers conceptualize choral expression?

 86

3. What helps and what hinders an ensemble’s ability to be expressive in

performance?

Data collection comprised one-on-one in-depth interviews with conductors, focus groups

with choristers in the participant conductors’ choirs and from my own choir, and

observations of rehearsals and performances of each conductor’s ensemble. Data

collection took place over nine months. Findings were analyzed using successive and

complementary methods of coding, and synthesized through iterative categorization of

codes into themes and concepts.

Pilot Study

The design of the dissertation study is an elaboration of a two-part pilot study

comprising individual, semi-structured interviews with two conductors, and a focus group

of three choristers from my own choir. Conductor interviews were held in September and

October 2015, and the focus group took place in March 2014. The pilot proved to be a

helpful precursor to my dissertation study, both in content and approach, covering “both

substantive and methodological issues” (Yin, 2009, p. 93). The following research

questions guided the individual conductor interviews and the chorister focus group:

1. How do you conceptualize choral expression?

2. What actions take place in rehearsal to cultivate expression?

3. What input do choristers have in interpretive decisions?

4. How is choral expression meaningful to you?

 87

For the conductor interviews, I devised a protocol of 12 open-ended questions.

The four research questions formed the framework for the chorister focus group

discussion. So that I could capture the participants’ own ideas, meanings, and values

(Corbin & Strauss, 2015), I coded the data with in-vivo codes “drawn from the language

of the participants” (Maxwell, 2005, p. 58). A synopsis of the pilot findings follows.

Pilot Study Findings

Choral expression: concepts and opinions. Not all choral directors pay attention

to expression. For some, the right notes and rhythms take precedence over expression. If

the director does not focus on expression, neither will the choir. Technical accuracy does

not necessarily produce emotionally compelling performances. Resonance of overtones

creates aural beauty and suggests metaphysical connection, but in performance,

expression is not solely musical; there is also input from other senses (synesthesia).

Pedagogical strategies need to accommodate the different ways in which choristers relate

to text and to music. To be fully expressive, choristers must do more than what is notated;

they must interpret the score and perform. When singing sad music, however, singers

don’t have to be sad to convey “sad.” Facial expression and posture convey a visual

message and affect vocal production. For example, lifting the eyebrows and lowering the

chin affect the sound and connote intensity. Shifting body weight, by leaning forward or

back or sideways “speaks.” Ensemble means something musically and as a community;

negotiating individual expression and ensemble cohesion can be tricky.

 88

Actions in rehearsal to cultivate expression. Integrating expression into the

rehearsal process can be viewed in two opposite ways: You perform as you rehearse, so

you should rehearse as you would perform. Thus, you front-load expression from the get-

go, and expression is addressed every rehearsal. Or, expression can only be addressed

once notes are learned, and performance is very different from rehearsal: Rehearsal is for

cultivating technique and expression will happen in performance. Once musical

technique is expended, personal narrative affects musical outcome.

Obstacles to expression. When choristers are asked to be expressive they do not

know exactly what is involved. They also do not have a clear perception of their own

degree of visual expression, and what they think they are doing may not align with what

the conductor sees them doing. Less-proficient reading skills are a barrier to expression,

as choristers need to get their heads out of the book as a first step to being expressive.

Innate shyness or self-consciousness inhibits singers, and there is a perceived “virtue” in

not showing off. Some singers perform physical movements easily (praxia), others not

(apraxia).

Leadership and participation. Leadership tends to be authority-driven in larger

or less-experienced ensembles. In smaller, more-experienced ensembles, singers often

participate in interpretive decisions.

The performance experience. Performers owe the audience something, and

expression occurs collaboratively between performer and audience. The French

expression “assister à” (“assist”) rather than “attend” (a concert) encodes the inherently
 89

active participation of the audience. Either rehearsal is more meaningful than performance,

or the presence of an audience heightens the intensity of the performance experience.

Summary. Themes that emerged from the pilot findings presaged the main

study’s findings: a lack of articulation about expression; synesthesia; performing is more

than singing the music; ensemble is musical and social; balancing technique and

expression; praxia; leadership depends on the ensemble; the audience participates.

What Bailey suggests, I found to be true: “A pilot enables the researcher to ensure that

the information being gathered is germane to the concepts being studied when the

concept is multi-dimensional, lengthy and complex” (2006, p. 70). My pilot study was a

reliable model for the dissertation study.

Research Approach

the way that people imagine a phenomenon is fundamentally linked with the way
they choose to research it, and this in turn shapes the kinds of knowledge that result
and the uses to which it can be put (Garnett, 2009, p. 30).

I adopted a qualitative phenomenological approach to carry out the purpose of the

dissertation study. Phenomenology (from Greek φαινόμενον [phainomenon], meaning

“appearance”) is both a philosophical method of inquiry and a methodological strategy

for research. A phenomenological approach was appropriate to the personal and sensory

nature of the topic: Philosophically, as a means to investigate a theoretical understanding

of performance expression, and methodologically, as a way to understand the “lived

experience” (German Erlebnis) of performers. The guiding premise of phenomenology is

 90

that reality consists of phenomena (objects and events) as they are perceived in human

consciousness and interpretation (Landes, 2013). This premise allowed me to cultivate an

em“pathic” understanding (Greek παθικός [pathikós], from πάθος [páthos, “suffering”,

“feeling”], from πάσχειν [páskhein, “to feel”, “to suffer”]) of the multiple meanings

(Creswell, 2013) and modalities of choral expression. The application of a

phenomenological approach invited rich and full descriptions to aid my understanding

and interpretation of the particular “life-world” (Wertz, 2011) of choral performers. In

accordance with a phenomenological strategy, my research reveals meanings that may

appear “hidden,” and it unearths some little-acknowledged issues. Although choral

performance takes place in a public arena, individual experiences of it are deeply

personal. This was reflected in the often intense, emotional, and vulnerable tone of

participants’ narratives and conversations. I embraced the aspect of phenomenological

study that calls for intensive engagement with participants to develop patterns of meaning.

In presenting my participants, their views, and experiences, I included my own

philosophical situatedness, objectives, expectations, vision, and goals. Hackmann (2002)

notes that this style of research “makes the researcher’s biases and experiences explicit,

in essence becoming a lens through which the researcher processes and analyses data

collected throughout the study” (p. 52). I described and interpreted, a process at once

analytical and creative, to sculpt emergent themes. I delineated “context, voice,

relationship, emergent themes, and aesthetic whole,” as Lawrence-Lightfoot & Hoffmann

Davis suggest (1997, p. xvii). English (2000) takes an adverse perspective. For him, this

approach is hoist with its own petard, because the researcher takes an involved stance and

“brings her own life story, her familial, cultural, ideological, and educational experiences,
 91

to the research project” (p. 22). Where to English this is the faulty “politics of vision”

(Callen, as cited in English, 2000, p. 25), to Lawrence-Lightfoot “empathetic regard” is

“the vehicle for gaining a deep understanding” (p. 147). It is precisely these tenets that

suited my research approach. Lawrence-Lightfoot makes an appealing distinction

between “ethnographers (who) listen to a story while portraitists listen for a story” (p. 13).

The researcher, she says, “emerges as an instrument of inquiry, an eye on perspective-

taking, an ear that discerns nuances, and a voice that speaks and offers insights (p. 13).”

Even as I observed, recognized, and organized, I drew on my own experience to interpret.

My interpretive inclination was unavoidably part and parcel of both the process and the

product of the research. My methodology stopped short of full-blown portraiture, but the

“sketches” I drew served me as a tool for comprehending my findings. Even though I

heeded Lamb (2005) and Finkel in Bain (2004), saying less to hear more, the questions I

asked revealed my expressive inclinations and the trajectory of my own interests in the

topic. As Taylor & Bogdan (1998) suggest, “Far from being an impersonal data collector,

the interviewer, and not an interview schedule or protocol, is the research tool” (p. 88).

My skills of observation and experiential context as a choral conductor aided me in

making sense of the data, and going beyond prima facie impression, suggesting an

epistemology.

Research Design

The design of the dissertation study included one-on-one semi-structured

interviews with conductors; focus groups of their choristers, one group from each choir;
 92

observation of at least one rehearsal and one performance by each choir; and a focus

group of my own choristers. Creswell (2013) and Yin (2009) advocate the use of multiple

methods of data collection, and Yin cites the advantage of “converging lines of inquiry”

(p. 98). These, says Maxwell (2005):

reduce the risk that your conclusions will reflect only the systematic biases or
limitations of a specific source or method, and allow you to gain a broader and
more secure understanding of the issues you are investigating (pp. 93-94).

The data instrumentation, method of collection, participants, and type of data yielded, as

suggested by Bloomberg & Volpe (2016) is summarized in Table 1.

Table 1. Instrumentation

 

       

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Recruitment of Participants

After receiving Teachers College Institutional Review Board (IRB) approval for

my study in mid-March 2015 (Appendix F), extended in December 2015 by IRB

Continuing Review (Appendix G), I began to consider which choral ensembles I might
 93

invite to participate in my study. In 1999 there were over 500 amateur community

choruses in the San Francisco Bay Area (Whitson & Howard, 1999). Today that number

probably exceeds 600 by current, unsubstantiated estimates. As wide as the field is, it is

also uneven, some choirs giving what I consider to be outstanding performances, and

some, less-than-satisfying.

I compiled a list of 35 ensembles known to me, following Maxwell’s (2005)

suggestion to collect information from a diverse range of individuals and settings (p. 112).

I pared this down to a short list of 11 ensembles, purposely selecting ensembles that

differed from each other in various ways: repertoire focus, size of choir, duration of

existence, chorister’s experience, and the director’s experience and tenure. I anticipated

that the participants would have a range of perspectives with regard to expressive

ideologies, and that some might concur with the concepts in my conceptual framework,

while others would run contrary to them.

I sent solicitations for participation and a copy of the Research Description

(Appendix H) to the conductors of the 11 selected ensembles. One conductor did not

respond to my solicitation. I received positive responses from the other 10, of whom eight

were able to commit to appointments for interviews. One of these conductors was not

currently with an amateur choir, but was in a leadership position with the state branch of

the ACDA, and was interested in being interviewed. Of the eight conductors, two have

bachelors’ degrees, three have masters’ degrees, and three have doctorates. One of the

participant conductors is not currently conducting an amateur choir.

In addition to these conductors and their community choirs, I convened a church

choir focus group, because I thought differences in perception of liturgical service and
 94

secular concert performance might give another perspective on expression. I also

convened a focus group of choristers from my own choir.

The eight ensembles have been extant for anywhere from 20 to 80 years; the

oldest was formed in 1937, and the newest in 1995. Ensembles range in size from 35 to

200 choristers. They comprise mostly amateur singers, although some trained, semi-

professional or professional singers and voice teachers sing in amateur ensembles. All,

but one, of the ensembles are auditioned. Choristers range in age from their mid-twenties

to mid-seventies and early eighties; most are in their 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s. Two singers

have each sung with their ensembles for over 30 years. The choirs’ repertoire ranges in

focus from traditional large-scale choral-orchestral works to short-form contemporary a

cappella, pieces.

Table 2 provides demographic information about the participant choirs: date

founded, current number of choristers, a summary description of each choir, repertoire

emphasis, whether singers are auditioned; their directors—tenure with the choir, whether

founder, age, gender, and education; and the number of choristers from each choir who

took part in focus groups for this study.

 95

Table 2. Participant Demographics

 
  





   



 



 



  



 

 


 


 

 


 






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I was personally acquainted with four of the eight participant conductors. I knew

only one chorister from the amateur choirs, five of the six church choristers, and my own

choristers. I met most of the 60 choristers who participated in the study for the first time.
 96

My focus during interviews and focus groups was always on the participants, rather than

on the topic, as advocated by Marshall & Rossman (2016, p. 51). My interest in them, my

appreciation for their participation in my research, and my wonder at their commitment to

choral singing, I surmise, were evident to most. There was immediate ease and openness.

Participants readily shared thoughts and feelings, poignant moments and jokes. Mostly,

the interviews and groups felt like informal conversations among friends. Interviewing

and facilitating discussions were akin to rehearsing, teaching, and performing: being in

the moment, aware of where we needed to go next. I was constantly on my toes to listen

closely, pose clarifying questions, and keep communication fluid. My interview and

focus group protocols were never a script, only a guide, and this allowed participants

freedom to shape the discussions.

Interviews

I conducted in-depth semi-structured interviews with conductor participants. My

approach was to use open-ended questions in a phenomenologically-based interviewing

style (Seidman, 2006, p. 15) to capture the participants’ perceptions of their lived

experiences and to explore their response to questions. The participants own voices

provided “thick” description (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). Their experiences and ideas and

supplied context (Ryle, 1949; Geertz, 1973; Greenwood, 2013). The interviews allowed

for in-depth conversation, elicited a range of opinions and perspectives, and ultimately

uncovered deep meanings (Rubin & Rubin, 2012).

 97

Focus Groups

In my study, there were eight focus groups with three to nine choristers in each

group. The overarching research concerns shaped the discussions: Live choral

performance’s meaning to performers; what expression is and how constituent modalities

are expressive; and what helps or hinders expression. A group from my own choir met

with me twice over the course of three months. A core of seven choristers attended both

focus group meetings. One more chorister attended the first group but not the second,

while two others who had not attended the first meeting attended the second. I acted as

the facilitator of these focus groups as I had the other groups. In one instance, probing the

choristers’ recent experience of using video feedback for achieving expression, I asked

additional questions that related specifically to this area.

As Morgan advises, focus groups can be used as either a primary or

supplementary means of collecting qualitative data, and they can be used in multi-method

approaches, in combination with individual interviews and observations, when all

methods have mutual relevance. “[Focus groups] . . . combine with other qualitative

methods in a true partnership” (1997, p. 3). Several writers recommend focus groups as

particularly useful in a research area “in which a dense set of observations is difficult to

locate” and when issues are deep and may not have been thought out in detail (Morgan,

p. 11; Berg, 1989/2009, p. 165).

Group discussions provide direct evidence about similarities and differences in

the participants’ opinions and experiences as opposed to reaching such conclusions
from post hoc analyses of separate statements from each interview (p. 10).
 98

“Focus groups . . . give access to reports on a range of topics that may not be observable,”

(Morgan, 1997, p. 13), and they are useful for “idea generation” (p. 14). Focus groups

locate individual responses in a larger context. Morgan (p. 34) suggests high moderator

involvement, and recommends compromise between directive and nondirective

moderator approaches (p. 41). He proposes four criteria for effective focus group

interviewing: cover a maximum range of relevant topics; provide data that are as specific

as possible; foster interaction that explores participants’ feelings in some depth; and take

into account the personal context that the participants use in generating their responses

(p. 45). Berg notes an important advantage of focus groups:

It allows researchers to better understand how members of a group arrive at, or

alter, their conclusions about some topic or issue and provides access to
interactionary clues” (1989/2009, p. 165).

Morgan emphasizes the value of focus groups for deep subject matter: “issues of

depth can sometimes favor focus groups” (p. 12). Creswell (2013) advocates the use of

focus groups when interviewees are similar and cooperative with each other, which was

certainly the case in my study. Morgan finds the potential synergy of a focus group

makes it superior to individual interviews.

As Brinkmann & Kvale (2014) note, “Depth is achieved by going after context;

dealing with the complexity of multiple, overlapping, and sometimes conflicting themes”

(p. 35). Subjects that arose spontaneously and unexpectedly, as offshoots of the questions,

were particularly interesting, and I was mindful of maintaining my careful observer

stance (Merriam & Tisdell, 2016, pp. 141-151) when I had emotional reactions to

opinions with which I disagreed. A Socratic question-and-answer method of inquiry

sometimes developed, by which participants articulated, developed, or defended positions

 99

that were at first “imperfectly defined intuitions” (Garrett, 1998). The questions provoked

critical thought and development of ideas. Theoretical or philosophical questions

sometimes led to aporia (Greek ἀπορία, “difficulty of passing”), a state of puzzlement,

which was used to further the discourse.

Observations

I requested and received permission from each conductor to attend his or her

ensemble’s rehearsal. As a non-participant observer, I observed at least one rehearsal and

one performance of each choir and two choirs’ dress rehearsals. I maintained a journal of

field notes about my observations. I also video-recorded two of the rehearsals. Patton

(1990/2002) affirms the suitability of observation for gathering qualitative data. He notes

that observations can provide the researcher with a clearer understanding of the context

of the study. For this study, observations were important: I found both confirmations and

contradictions between talk and practice. As my observations were infused with my own

subjectivity, I heeded Merriam & Tisdell’s (2016) advice to observe carefully. I assessed

the mood of rehearsals by keeping in mind Mehrabian’s (1981) Rule about the relative

importance of words, tone, and gesture. In addition to the music itself, conductor and

chorister tone of voice and body language, as well as their interactions, revealed a great

deal about expression.

 100

Data Collection

Data collection spanned eight months, from the end of March 2015 to the

beginning of November 2015. I made initial contact with potential conductor participants

by email and followed up with actual date setting, either for interviews or for my

attending rehearsals. I did not have a set order in which I wanted to garner information,

but allowed the ensemble’s rehearsal and concert schedule and the conductor’s

availability to determine the order of interview, focus group, and rehearsal and concert

observations. Some interviews and focus groups were held pre-concert and some post-

concert. I solicited chorister participation during observation of each ensemble’s

rehearsal, when the conductor allowed me to introduce my project to the choir. I gathered

names and emails of interested choristers and followed up with emails about possible

dates and venue. Although not every chorister who expressed interest was able to

participate, most did.

Access to participants, both external and internal, was easy. Interviews and focus

groups frequently ran far longer than the planned two hours. Three focus groups lasted

four hours each and four interviews lasted three hours each. Conductors and choristers

were unanimous in their appreciation of the opportunity to articulate and discuss their

ideas about choral expression, a subject, they said, of importance to them, but one they

had seldom or never articulated. Participants readily revealed deeply personal aspects of

their choral participation, both positive and negative. Some tears were shed in the

recollection of intensely meaningful performance moments, captured verbatim in the

 101

Vignettes section of chapter IV. Participants were at first taken aback by the theoretical

or philosophical nature of some of the questions but soon “got into” them.

Choristers in the focus groups were often highly interactive in their engagement

with each other. Several said they found discussion with their peers enjoyable and

meaningful, and that the focus group gave them an opportunity to get to know their

fellow choristers, something they would not have had in the normal course of rehearsals

and performances. Several conductors and choristers said that my observing their

rehearsals had a positive influence, and that, in the presence of new eyes and ears, they

“upped their game.”

Having a greater number of participants than originally planned infused the data

with a broader range of opinions and experience. When I had completed the data

collection, the data seemed to have reached a saturation point. Given the highly personal

nature of the data, more data might have yielded new information (Baker, 2012), but I

knew I had more than enough to uncover themes and tell a story. I maintained an audit

log of dates, times, and durations for all interviews and focus groups, and rehearsal and

performance observation, and the totals for each type of data collection, as suggested by

Bloomberg & Volpe (2016). This information is summarized in Table 3.

 102

Table 3. Data Collection Audit Log

 




  
  

 
  
      
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 103

The Dramaturgy of Data Collection

Research can be and should be an intensely humane and co-operative endeavor,

in which individuals, while doing their own work, are attached conceptually to a
larger issue than their own and socially to a community of like-minded scholars
(Reimer, 2003, p. 18).

My interviews, focus groups, and observations of rehearsals and performances

form a narrative mostly of enthusiasm, willingness, connection, and cooperation. Minor

resistance was only in regard to scheduling, an ultimately insignificant obstacle. In data

collection, my conceptual framework—at least the human-communication sections—

sprang to life. I have said Mehrabian’s Rule was in play. So were emotional contagion,

empathy, the chameleon effect, and probably mirror neurons and I found myself

mimicking the movements and postures of the interviewees. In this study about

communication and expression, my data collection became a study within a study.

Conductor Interviews

Interviews were held at various locations, at conductors’ requests: my home, a

conductor’s home, conductors’ offices, restaurants, and via Skype video. The conductors

were collegial and it was easy to create rapport. Even those who had been diffident about

scheduling interviews were clearly engaged by and supportive of the project. Not wanting

my queries to pre-empt answers, I couched my questions in the most general terms. I did

not reference my conceptual framework with my participants, which made any mention

or inference they made of the framework’s elements all the more compelling. The

interview questions generally took participants by surprise, even though they had
 104

received the research description in advance. Addison (a pseudonym, as for all

participants) typifies the expert practitioner when he says, at the end of his interview,

“I’m happy to figure out what I think. I don’t do a lot of thinking about it. I just do . . . I

learned a lot!”

For the study’s first interview, I met Bernardo at his office on the campus of a

Silicon Valley university. I was sick that day and felt awkward breaking in half two

cookies we wanted to share. I was concerned about my germs being contagious—this was

not the contagion I wanted to research. After several questions and answers, Bernardo

stopped in his tracks:

This is important information. Unfortunately, not enough people do what you

are talking about. If this project can provide people with steps toward the end goals,
that would be amazing. Maybe there isn’t one path to that end, but there is a
sequence of teaching, a set of tools, to make this more teachable.

Yuval wanted to meet at the Café Velo Rouge in downtown San Francisco. The

Velo Rouge’s seating, true to its name, is a collection of bicycle seats, with a

corresponding level of discomfort. The conversation ongoing, Yuval and I switched seats

a few times until we could make level eye contact. Our meeting took place the hour

before Yuval was about to conduct a major choral-orchestral dress rehearsal a few blocks

away, at the iconic St. Ignatius Church on the campus of the University of San Francisco.

Under time constraint, I presented Yuval with a smorgasbord of questions and asked him

to choose the ones he wanted to answer. He began by describing what expression is not,

and soon turned to music’s personal relevance for him:

Expressive doesn’t necessarily mean “emotional” and certainly not in . . . the

overwrought (sense) that most people identify as the reason they are doing music—
especially people singing in choirs, who want to have an overwhelming emotional
experience . . . There are some very deep-lying roots in the dis-association . . .
between the emotional/spiritual self and the cognitive self. I think that music
 105

serves—it did with me as I was developing as a person, and was one of the reasons
I went into music––to integrate the emotional part of my being.

We completed the interview as we hoofed it back up the hill to the church, I, with

recorder in hand, breathlessly asking questions, he, with athletic stride, holding forth

about choral singing being the most democratic participatory art. At the entrance to the

church, he invited me to observe the imminent rehearsal. I was pleased at the invitation.

This would be my second observation of his choir. A self-described “East-West kind of a

guy,” Yuval returned the transcript I sent him shortly after, writing (only partly in jest, I

suspect): “I like the interview transcript you sent me. It actually makes me sound

thoughtful” (Personal communication, July, 2015).

Paul opted for a Skype video interview. I suspect he might have wanted the safety

of a more impersonal medium. But, in fact, the images of our faces were in such close

proximity that our interaction was no less intense and immediate than if we had met in

person. As the interview got underway, I sensed Paul hanging back. I asked if he would

like to begin broad and philosophical or narrow and practical. He opted for the former.

He had answered several questions, when he got up from his computer monitor and,

retrieving a book, said, “I haven’t thought about this stuff since I took a philosophy of

music class in school,” and shared the book’s title with me. The interview, scheduled for

an hour and a half, lasted nearly three. Paul’s closing response was, “Congratulations on

not asking ‘How do you conduct this or that?’ Thought-provoking and fascinating

questions—Can we schedule a time when I ask you the same questions?”

Francis agreed to meet at a restaurant. After two hours of intermittent text

messages about his estimated time of arrival, I was about to forego the interview, when

he arrived. We began before the waitress took our order and things were unsettled still,
 106

but when the food arrived, the gears shifted. Francis provided some colorfully expressed

ideas and gave the project his encouragement:

If you get people to think about expression as much as we have been talking
about it just now, that would be an incredible service to the choral art. This is
practical. Meaningful. It gives people something to think about.

Gisele had agreed to participate but it took several months to find a convenient

time. Eventually we settled on a day, and she graciously invited me to her home, a

charming California 1920s bungalow. I had brought a small orchid plant, a serendipitous

gift, as it turned out. Gisele is an orchid aficionada. We began our personal acquaintance

as she introduced me to Wormpoop, a fertilizer she finds particularly effective. The

interview went longer than planned. At the end, the tables turned, and Gisele kindly

extended herself by offering guidance about getting a dissertation written. She ended our

conversation saying:

I’ve been interviewed for a bunch of stuff and I have helped students doing
dissertations . . . and these are wonderful, thought-provoking questions. This has
encouraged me to crystallize my thinking. I’ve been thinking (as we speak),
“Maybe I should say that to my singers . . . maybe I should express it this way . . .
maybe I could find a different way of working on this or that issue.” This needs to
be part of our national discussion.

I had invited Hooper to have dinner at our home before his interview, and

prepared a fairly fancy meal. An hour before we were due to meet, Hooper called to

cancel. The empathy aspect of the study’s conceptual framework came to mind; we

arranged another date later that week. After dinner, we settled into the living room for the

interview. Very soon, a question elicited tears that signaled the personal intensity that

would infuse Hooper’s articulate and imaginative responses.

Aria’s interview, over gelato and espresso at a sidewalk table at an Italian

restaurant in ritzy Los Altos one warm summer evening felt like the reconnecting of long-
 107

seen friends. Only the recording equipment on the table might have given the diners at

the next table pause to wonder. Aria said, “It’s so valuable to have these conversations,

and to share with someone who does what I do; we don’t get to do this enough.”

I met Addison in his on-campus office at a Bay Area university. A magnificent

nine-foot Steinway stood in contrast to the shabby couch. The conversation was serious,

like the Steinway, and comfortable, like the couch. Addison was approachable and

talkative. We hit the sweet spot when, choked up a bit, he recalled a choral experience he

had had as a teenager as the most important moment of his life.

Chorister Focus Groups

All but one of the chorister focus groups were held on Sunday afternoons, over

the summer months, most in the living room of my home in suburban Foster City.

Libations and comestibles encouraged sociability. People settled into a conversational

circle. With little icebreaking, each tête-à-tête was soon underway, like a leisurely salon.

The groups developed organically and each group’s unique character came to the fore.

The ease with which the groups functioned seems to reflect the choristers’ experience of

ensemble as a social entity. They brought their sociability to the discussions, even though,

as Lisa said:

We don’t get together often socially so this was an opportunity to get to know
each other more. . . .I haven’t given a lot of thought to expression but it’s a topic
that is near and dear to us. It’s part of what we do and what we internalize.

One focus group met at the auspiciously named La Bohème, a trendy and bustling

café in the Mission District in downtown San Francisco. The Palo Alto focus group met
 108

in an office conference room in their neighborhood, the atmosphere almost like a living

room, with a settee and comfortable chairs around a coffee table laden with food. The

church group met for a sandwich lunch after Sunday service at their church in Los Altos.

Most of the choristers were people I was meeting for the first time. I had shown

up at rehearsals of their ensembles and, in a minute or two, explained my purpose and

asked for their participation. They had put their names on my list and I’d contacted them

by email to confirm date, time, and place. In light of this, their candor was surprising.

Most were open and spontaneous, often loquacious, by turns earnest and serious or witty

and entertaining. They were willing to embrace sensitivities and vulnerabilities. Several

groups stayed far beyond the requested two hours, some more than four. Each group

created their own dynamic. Moods were often serious, sometimes jovial, frequently

intimate, and occasionally argumentative. Coincidentally or not, the group that met in the

office conference room seemed to have some initial reserve. Cecil, the only person who

had requested the actual discussion questions before the meeting, wrote afterwards:

These are thought-provoking questions. I like them very much. I have sung with
well-known Bay Area conductors, but I don’t think I ever heard any one of them
discuss expression (Email communication, October 9, 2015).

One group, discussing some stressful musical aspects of their ensemble, asked if I

would intervene on their behalf with their director; they felt I might be able to say things,

colleague to colleague, that they could not. Another group hotly discussed tense

interpersonal issues in their choir. Someone suggested I consider becoming a choral

therapist. It was not difficult to refuse both invitations, but the sensitive nature of what

was shared moved me to consider the implications.

 109

Conductors and choristers have different roles and voices that affect their

concepts and experiences. To distinguish conductors from choristers in the findings

reportage, conductor pseudonyms are prefaced by the prefix “Conductor,” choristers are

referenced by pseudonym only, except my own choristers, who are identified by the

prefix “Vivan.” pseudonyms for participants and choirs were presented in Table 4.

All the participants are referenced by pseudonym. Table 4 lists pseudonyms for

choirs, conductors, and choristers.

 110

Table 4. Participant Pseudonyms: Choirs, Conductors, and Choristers


 
 



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Rehearsal and Performance Observations

I observed each choir in at least one rehearsal, all except one choir in performance,

and two rehearsals of two choirs, in both instances the second a dress rehearsal. Even as a
 111

non-participant observer at rehearsals, I felt my presence affected the choir. Several

confirmed that they “upped their game” because there was an audience, even of one. For

two of the ensembles, the focus and general conduct of rehearsal was reflected in the

performance, but there were several instances of disjuncture between rehearsal and

performance. I found the rehearsal of one choir splendid and expressive, but was

disappointed that the same intensity did not come across in concert. With another, the

rehearsal seemed to trundle along, but the performance had great commitment and

vivacity.

Informed Consent

Interviews and focus groups opened with an explanation of procedures and forms

to be signed, each participant receiving a printed copy of the Research Description

(Appendix H), previously sent electronically with the solicitation for participation; an

Informed Consent form (Appendix I for conductors, Appendix J for choristers, and

Appendix K for choristers from my own choir); a Participant’s Rights form

(Appendix L); and an Investigator’s Verification of Explanation (Appendix M). I

reviewed the Informed Consent form with participants to ensure, to the best of my ability,

that participants understood the protocols and procedures of the study, especially

regarding the necessity for confidentiality between participants and myself and among

group participants (Bogdan & Biklen, 2011; Creswell, 2013). I addressed any questions

participants had regarding the research. Each participant signed a Participant’s Rights

form and I signed an Investigator’s Verification of Explanation. Precautions taken for

 112

confidentiality and to avoid harm were worth the time spent, as sensitive information that

needed to remain confidential was shared with me and within groups.

I explained that the overarching questions contained in the Research Description

would organize the ensuing conversation. For conductor interviews, I had prepared the

Conductor Interview Protocol (Appendix B) and completed a Participant Demographic

Inventory form (Appendix N), and for the chorister focus groups, I had prepared the

Chorister Focus Group Protocol (Appendix C). I explained that I would not follow a

prescribed script, there were no right or wrong answers, and participants were not

answerable to me in any way. I asked participants to interact with each other in answering

the questions, and that disagreement was acceptable, perhaps even encouraged. For

rehearsal observations, I followed my Rehearsal Observation Checklist (Appendix D) and

I gave each person present an Informed Consent Form: Video-Recording Rehearsal and

Performance (Appendix O). I also asked them to sign a Participant’s Rights: Rehearsal

Observation form (Appendix P). I maintained a physical file for each group’s signed

forms in a filing cabinet in my home office. For performance observations, I followed my

Performance Observation Checklist (Appendix E).

Recording and Transcription

I audio-recorded all interviews and discussions with a Roland Edirol 24-bit

WAVE/MP3 recorder, and an iPhone recording application as a backup, and video-

recorded two rehearsals with a Canon XA-20 digital video recorder. Upon completion of

each session, I uploaded the recorded WAVE audio files and video files onto my personal
 113

computer, where I maintained them for the duration of the study. I transcribed the audio-

recorded interviews and discussions and my handwritten field notes into Microsoft Word

documents and stored these on my home office computer.

In the transcription I retained the actual words spoken by the participants, but

exercised light editorial discretion, and sometimes smoothed out idiosyncrasies of speech.

Spoken dialogue, especially in the fragments that group discussions sometimes produced,

did not always translate clearly into written text. I eliminated from the transcriptions

portions of dialogue that were off topic. Because I had made some decisions about the

reporting, I wanted to be sure I had accurately captured what each participant had

intended. To this end, I sent electronic copies of the transcriptions via email attachment to

the relevant participants for checking. The member check (Carlson, 2010) return rate for

the data was 100%. I incorporated any corrections, clarifications, and changes sent me

into revised versions of transcriptions. To mitigate potential breaches of confidentiality, I

reiterated in a post-discussion follow-up thank-you email to participants my initial verbal

request that participants delete the transcription documents from their computers.

Ethical Considerations and Issues of Trustworthiness

The study adopts several recognized qualitative research methods of individual

interview, focus group, and non-participant observation, and includes different types of

participants and sites. Ethical considerations in this study include participant rights and

consent, participant anonymity, confidentiality of data, and minimizing risk to

participants. Following Shenton’s (2004) criteria for credibility and confirmability, I

 114

developed a “familiarity with the culture of the participating organizations” (p. 73) and

facilitated an atmosphere of trust to promote honesty. Reciprocally, I was scrupulous

about maintaining confidentiality, especially in the face of sensitive discussion, and felt a

responsibility to honor my participants’ trust in me and in the process. I reiterated similar

questioning in all the data collection dialogues. I used my field notes taken during

observations as reflective commentary and applied “thick descriptions to the phenomenon

under scrutiny” (Shenton, 2004, p. 73). All transcriptions were member-checked.

Limitations of the Study

There are four limitations to the study. First, the topic of expression is many-

faceted and inscrutable, and resists ready definition. Second, the experience of

performance is deeply personal and interior. Third, there is inherent researcher bias: My

own understanding of and disposition toward my topic are evident in the environments I

created for the interviews and discussions, in their semi-structured interactive design, and

in the kinds of questions asked. I recognize that this reflexivity (Carlson, 2010) on my

part had an influence on the research and on the engagement of the participants, but

believe it created a positive environment for discussion and reflection, both intellectual

and experiential. Fourth, the inclusion of 68 participants, despite being a relatively large

number for this kind of study, may nevertheless limit the study’s applicability to other

studies.
 115

Data Analysis and Synthesis

Transcribing aural recordings to print format usually took anywhere from two to

four times the actual duration of the recording. I tried to do the transcriptions the day

following each event. I played and replayed snippets of the recordings to be accurate in

my notation, and my participants’ speech became embedded in my ear. My transcriptions,

for me, were akin to musical scores. I read each of the 16 transcripts many times,

studying them as I would a musical score. As music doesn’t live in a score, but only the

directions for musical elements are encoded there, so the written word represented only

something of the spoken conversation. But I could recall the tone, tempo, and nuance of

the speakers’ words and this helped to inform my organization of the findings.

I kept conductor and chorister comments in separate documents first, for the sake

of having a logistical handle on the mass of text. The unit of analysis for analyzing and

presenting the findings is the participants’ lived experiences of and opinions about choral

expression. As I considered the transcription texts structurally, thematic connections

emerged. I coded and annotated each transcription using the Comment function of

Microsoft Word. I referred to the draft of the coding schema derived from the coding of

my pilot study, my conceptual framework, my understanding of the literature, and my

expectations of responses. Each transcript suggested modifications to the pilot schema.

Now that I had the real stuff—life stories, opinions, experiences, and expressions—I

open-coded by inductive analysis of the actual text, from which I created in vivo codes,

derived from the language of the participants. These codes related to the meanings and

values of the participants, and to events, strategies, and relationships.

 116

To report the findings, I manually merged the two sources into one document,

interlinking conductor and chorister opinions, interweaving threads from individual

interviews and group conversations to bring emergent themes into focus. Excerpting

passage after passage from each transcript, I organized the comments by grouping the

codes associated with the script. I made interpretive decisions about the codes I had used,

and what went with what. Sometimes this was clear and obvious, but not always. Often,

one theme runs through several interviews and groups, and it appears that participants

from different groups are conversing with each other, even finishing each other’s

sentences. When various people talked about the same topic, independently of each other,

this suggested a theme of some importance. Themes emerged when there was agreement

or controversy. Controversial topics are especially interesting for the multi-faceted

perspectives they highlight. I developed a hierarchical axial coding, and sought a higher-

order organizational schema for the emerging themes and sub-themes.

My field notes, collected from my observations of rehearsals and performances,

were a useful source of information that confirmed and contradicted data from interviews

and focus groups. I folded these notes into the emerging compilation of transcriptions in

what seemed to be appropriate places, identifying them as my observations by providing

the date of each source. I included my own impressions from my field notes and invented

some reflexive codes. Different priorities and connections emerged in each transcript, and

an organizational schema began to emerge.

Like Thomas Tallis’ glorious 40-part motet, Spem in alium, for eight choirs each

of five voices, my text had a large-scale, multi-voiced polyphonic texture. Themes

emerged according to their relative importance to the participants, indicated by the

 117

amount of space topics required and the number of participant comments in the raw data;

themes were restated, new ones introduced, sub-themes emerged. Possibilities of

interpretations and connections and contradictions began to abound, and the categorical

schema of overarching concepts began to flex.

I had gone mining and struck gold. I had in excess of 750 pages of double-spaced

text from transcriptions. The project was reaching scope creep, and there was an

imminent danger of “drowning in the details of the data” (Ely, Vinz, Anzul, & Downing,

1997/2005, p. 134). I began to reduce the data. I annotated my impressions of emergent

themes and outlier opinions, and the organizing schema of conceptual categories

solidified as the categories aligned with the research questions. Developing the schema,

and sorting themes and sub-themes according to conceptual categories (Piantanida &

Garman, 2009) was an iterative process that unfolded over several months. The schema

moved my thinking from codes to concepts (Foss & Waters, 2007).

Once I had reduced the original mass of data to 250 pages (70,000 words), I

shared this compilation with an associate (who holds a master’s degree in business

administration and a bachelor’s degree with majors in psychology and music, has worked

in human resources for a national company, and is an amateur chorister). Although I was

not seeking strict inter-rater reliability, which would have been inappropriate for my

study, I wanted confirmation that my organization of the data made sense to me and to

someone else with an informed background (Armstrong, Gosling, Weinman, & Marteau,

1997). In consultation with my associate, I challenged and clarified my organizational

schema, and further honed the transcription text. Once the organizational schema aligned
 118

conceptually with the research questions, it remained fixed, but I adjusted themes and

sub-themes within it through the reporting of the findings.

In the findings reportage, I de-emphasized choir affiliation and conductor-

chorister connections, to allow the larger findings themes to come to the fore and to better

protect the participants’ anonymity. This required omitting some voices for the sake of

managing the scope of the document; thus, not all participants’ voices are heard equally.

Aiming for “thick description” (Denzin & Lincoln, 2011) I maintained the most unique

and most representative comments, and hoped that, like a boeuf bourguignon sauce, the

final reduction would be rich, flavorful, and nuanced.

The topics of most importance, either to conductors or choristers or both, emerge

as the salient findings of the study: These occupied the most time in the discussions and

the most space in the transcripts. For example, memorization is a hotly debated issues.

Topic threads are sometimes so tightly knit that participants from different groups seem

to be conversing with and confirming each other. This congruence was potent in both

constructive and negative contexts. There were several references to the visual aspect of

performance expression from an audience viewpoint and to acting, particularly Method

acting, as a resource for choral singers to create expressive character, and criticisms of

inexpressive choirs.

Contradictory statements from different participants, even within the same choir,

made thematic threads more tensile; for instance, whether a conductor’s crying during

performance helped or hindered the choristers’ expressivity. My own observations of

rehearsals and performances either confirmed or contradicted what was said in interviews

and in focus groups: Ideology and practice sometimes went hand in hand, but not always.
 119

For instance, one conductor spoke eloquently about choral singing as a symbol of and

vehicle for community, yet it was her choristers who expressed the most dissatisfaction

with the lack of community they perceived in their choir.

Summary

I adopted a qualitative research approach in the phenomenological tradition to

carry out the study. The pilot study served as a methodological guide and its data

presaged the dissertation study’s findings. With Institutional Review Board approval, I

solicited participation in the dissertation study, achieving diversity among the participant

choirs, conductors, and choristers that I believe enriches the data. Data collection is

documented in detail, for procedure and content, and an audit log is shown in Table 3.

Considering participants’ right to anonymity and confidentiality, I adopted protocols

relating to informed consent. With the trustworthiness of the research in mind, in terms of

credibility and confirmability, I conducted all interviews and observations in similar

manner, established an atmosphere of trust, and ascertained 100% member checking of

transcripts.

Framing the data in the context of the literature review and my pilot study, I used

in vivo and axial coding to organize the data. From the codes I developed a categorical

schema, according to which I present the findings. While not specifically articulated

during interviews and focus groups, my own beliefs and assumptions are, nevertheless,

apparent in the questions, and the findings organization and interpretation.

 120

Chapter IV

FINDINGS: MEANINGS

Introduction

The purpose of this study was to investigate the meaning of choral performance

for performers, how they conceptualize expression, what they regard as modalities for

materializing expression in live choral performance, and what promotes or hinders

expression. I derive my findings from data collected in conductor interviews, chorister

focus groups, and my observations of participating ensembles’ rehearsals and

performances.

As phenomenological research makes use of significant statements in “the

synthesis of meanings and essences of the experience” (Moustakas, 1994, p. 184), I have

created a montage of participants’ verbatim statements, as well as précises of their

comments and discussions, to characterize my understanding of the meaning and essence

of their experience of choral expression. Denzin and Lincoln (2013) suggest “The

material practices of qualitative inquiry turn the researcher into a methodological (and

epistemological) bricoleur [tinkerer]” (p. 508). In assembling my montage, I recognize

that I am the one choosing the images and their arrangement. I am making meaning in the

way I compile diverse ideas and experiences. My own predilections are implicit in the

way I have selected the data and organized the findings.

 121

The overall findings schema, its categories aligned with the research questions,

and the chapters in which each category of findings is presented are shown in Table 5.

Table 5. Findings Schema

  
 





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Research Question 1:

In what ways is live choral performance meaningful to performers?

“Choraholics” and “Chorgasms”

Most of the study’s chorister participants have been singing in choirs for a

lifetime, often starting in elementary or high school. Fay has been in choirs for 67 years,

Margot for 40, Kay and Vernon have each sung with one choir for over 30 years, and

Gilbert and Jessie for 15 years. Catherine sums up this kind of commitment, “I’ve been in

for ten years, but I’m still the new kid on the block!” Several choristers sing in more than

one choir. That 60 singers willingly agreed to spend several hours talking about choral

singing for this study reflects their enthusiasm. Dedication and commitment to choral

singing and its rewards are evident, and confirm Horn (2013) who, in the subtitle of her

book, describes choristers “finding happiness singing with others.”

 122

Choristers often use the language of addiction to describe the driving force behind

their choral participation. Basso says he’s a “choral geek;” Derek calls himself a

“choraholic;” and Susan says all choral singers are “junkies.” Like a junkie after a fix,

Vivan Mei says each performance makes her “hungry for the next one.” Conductor

Addison confirms that, “a really great, moving performance . . . is a fantastic narcotic. It

feeds [the choristers’] addiction!” Wendell and Margaret refer to choral singing releasing

endorphins and dopamine, energizing the singers. In the women-only Coro Athena group,

the temperature in the room rises when Margaret says she has “chorgasms,” her colorful

neologism for especially emotionally impactful performances. “Just thinking about it, I

need a cigarette!” she says, fanning herself, and challenges me, “Put that into your notes!”

Dante speaks for many when he says:

Choral singing allows me to express emotions and feelings that I do not express
in any other part of my life, not in my personal life, not in anything else. It puts me
in touch with a different part of myself.

He recounts singing the Verdi Requiem for the first time:

Towards the very end the bass part goes to the E above middle C and you let it
all out—a societally accepted way to scream! [Laughter] A singer can’t literally
scream but can sing full out. It’s an incredible high to be able to do that.

There is a recurring refrain among participants about choral singing as an avenue to

access emotion and get more in touch with oneself. Vivan Marcia finds “satisfaction in

doing something positive, creative, and artistic.” Emma values “the transcendent

experience that comes when you are performing.” These choristers explain the relevance

of their aesthetic experience (Dufrenne, 1973) and their “lived experience,” Erlebnis

(Merleau-Ponty in Landes, 2013).

 123

Self-expression through artistic expression emerges as one of the important

reasons why many, perhaps most, choristers sing. Louise says, “With artistic expression,

you have to be true to what the composer wanted, so you have to channel him or her . . .

while exploring your personal reactions.” Amy unwittingly echoes Tolstoy’s (1897/8)

conception of art as infecting the perceiver when she says self-expression is “presenting

oneself to the world,” while “artistic expression is really about trying to have an effect on

other people. They often end up being the same thing, but it’s in the intention of it.”

Implicit in Amy’s conception is the notion of the performers’ obligation to move their

audience.

Vignettes of Meaning

Each conductor interview and chorister focus-group discussion opened with my

requesting participants recount a special performance, either wonderful or terrible. All

chose inspiring occasions. In each of their vignettes, their words richly evoke powerful

memories. Tellingly, in almost every instance, the occasion of the performance has as

much or more to do with its impact on the performer as the music itself. Several

choristers said, “I live for these moments.”

“We were the audience that mattered.” When Conductor Bernardo’s choir

gives its swan song performance at the Church of the Madeleine in Paris at the end of a

tour, they sing as much for themselves as for the audience. Performers prize community,
 124

especially on tour. The recognition of community’s importance makes an emotional

impact on them:

We were giving our final concert of a European tour. The choir had bonded
during a year of rehearsals and performances, so there was a lot of emotion
packaged in all of that. This was the last concert of the tour and for the choir as a
whole. Tears were streaming down Tonio and Sirena’s faces. There was an
audience, but, in this case, we were the audience that mattered.

“Emotional connectivity was so strong.” Derek recounts an informal post-

performance choir-sing that moves him to tears. Elsewhere he says, “I’ve lost the ability

to cry,” but here:

It’s hard to think about it without tearing up, even now. It was after the last
performance of the tour. We had had our last dinner together, and we found a little
courtyard, and the entire choir surrounded our conductor, and sang the choir’s
signature song. Many of us were in tears. It wasn’t so much about the conductor or
our relationship with her, but the way she was able to make us emote. The
emotional connectivity was so strong in the way we made music. That’s special!

“I was crying from joy.” Margot remembers singing the Dvořák Requiem in

Dvořák Hall in Prague. She recalls the chorus, the orchestra, the hall, the audience, and

curtain calls:

A huge chorus, augmented by 40 local ringers and a local orchestra. I was up

high, next to the organ, in a little pod of singers. We sang in this beautiful hall, to a
full house. The audience went crazy. They brought the conductor back for seven
curtain calls. I was crying from joy.

“It was astounding!” Chang, on tour with the university glee club, recalls the

audience, the setting, and the music:

We sang to an audience of monks at one of the California missions: a somber

double-choir piece, half the men up in the back balcony and half of us in front. The
whole thing came together, and the acoustic was perfect for a male chorus. When
we stopped singing, nobody moved: not the monks, not us. It was astounding!
 125

“Electricity in the air.” The audience influences Susan’s experience:

On a choir trip, we sang in Clusone, a small town near Milan. Everyone came to
our concert: excerpts from the Mozart Requiem. They were glued to us, lapping it
up, and because of that, we produced an incredible sound. There was electricity in
the air. It was absolutely an audience thing.

“Expressivity had so much to do with the setting.” An extraordinary

opportunity promotes memories of expression for Conductor Gisele:

Shortly after Vatican II, when Latin had been outlawed, I was invited to bring a
choir to sing a William Byrd Mass for a community of cloistered nuns. The priest
said to me, “I could be excommunicated, but this is so important to me and the
nuns.” It was a Poor Clares1 order: vows of silence, vegetarian, barefoot even in
winter, a very austere life! We sang in an all-Latin mass [service]. We couldn’t see
the nuns as they were behind a screen, but afterward, they were given special
dispensation to talk to us. Singing for them, knowing what was at stake for them,
for the priest, the music was a completely different deal. The expressivity had so
much to do with the setting. It’s still a vibrant memory for me 40 years later.

“Something brought us together in the face of challenge.” Adversity engenders

“expression magic” for conductor Paul and his choir:

Expression magic is often triggered by challenge. At a festival final concert, we

were scheduled to sing at 7:30 pm. Behind the main tent where the concerts were,
were smaller tents for green rooms. It was a cold summer night. My choir—women,
some in their 60s, even 70s—were standing, cold and tired. Forty of us were in a
little tent, rubbing hands and trying to stay warm. Through the evening, the
organizers would come and say, “Oh, we’ve had to let a children’s choir go before
you.” The choir grumbled, “If they don’t want us to perform, we can just leave.”
But I said, “We are going to kick ass here!” Finally, we were called: 11:30 pm! We
opened with Pablo Casals’ Nigra Sum, a risk performing this in Barcelona, but it
was exquisite. Something brought us together in the face of challenge.

1
Poor Clare Sisters are a contemplative order of Roman Catholic nuns, founded by Saints
Clare and Francis of Assisi. There are over 20,000 Poor Clares worldwide. “Each Poor
Clare community is autonomous. Not all Poor Clare sisters dress alike, work alike or
keep the same daily schedule,” but they all live “a life of prayer, community and joy”
(http://poorclare.org).
 126

“One of the great moments of my life.” Conductor Addison has an epiphany, in

which music, text, ensemble, and friends all play a part:

When I was a high school junior we had a great [choir] director. He never talked
about technique. He just sang and we all copied him. We had a 16-voice men’s
group. One concert was perfect: The music and the text and the ensemble and my
friends and just how great it sounded moved me. I was all charged up and goose-
bumpy. It was the first time I figured out that support is not breath; support is
electricity; it is energy and current. We inhale and exhale in order to live, and it
converts. That was the sensation I had for an hour in that concert! I breathed and it
was converted to AC. One of the most powerful experiences I ever had as a singer.
It is part of expression.

“Was that a corporeal experience?” I ask. Addison replies:

Almost out of body! I was 15. That’s one of the great moments of my life. 51
years ago! I have tried for half a lifetime to recreate it. As much as I learned all the
physiology of singing and how important the diaphragm is, it’s what you convert it
into that matters.

“What was the adapter that allowed you to convert?” Addison says, “The music!”

“The whole room was vibrating.” Conductor Gisele and her choir are mystified

by a special energy during a performance in which the whole room seems to be vibrating:

We were doing a Jewish program at a synagogue—some Holocaust music, a

couple of world premieres. The hall was small, not particularly good acoustics, and
the audience was modest, even disappointing. We’d performed the program two or
three times, but something happened in this particular concert. There was a focus
and energy among the singers, and between me and the singers and the audience
and the music—just thinking about this chokes me up a little . . . It was almost like
the whole room was vibrating. “Was something extra going on?” I asked when we
went offstage. Everyone agreed, but we could not say what it was!

“We were doing something worthwhile: Building community.” For Marie, a

charitable cause gives contextual meaning to the her choral singing:

We sang with the Lesbian and Gay Chorus and we’d seen the gay community
ripped out from underneath us by the AIDS epidemic. After concerts, the singers
would go and greet the audience, and people would give us $100 bills. As the
 127

singers funded the production costs all the proceeds went to the AIDS food bank.
We were doing something worthwhile: Building community.

“It was hard to sing.” Similarly for Kathy, commemorating 9/11 is deeply

moving:

In D.C., after 9/11, it was as if the city was on lockdown; there were tanks on
street corners. Several choirs joined to sing the Fauré Requiem in the Shrine at the
Catholic University. There were military people and first responders in the
audience. Not a dry eye in the house. It was hard to sing, it was so emotional.

“The single most important thing I have ever done in my life.” To honor of

her parents’ memory, Annie starts a new music fund for her choir. Family, community,

and artistic commitment meld:

When my father and mother died, I donated money to commission a new work
in their honor. . . . It’s probably the single most important thing I have ever done in
my life, frankly [laughs] and it was important to me that the new music be for
amateur choirs.

“What I gave to it, and what came back to me, priceless.” Trixie2 begins her

story of acceptance into a choral community, saying, “Honestly, this still gets me [She

chokes up a bit]:”

I was auditioning for The City Singers. We were doing the Bach B minor Mass
and so there was a lot of music to memorize. But I felt really welcome. When we
sang the first concert, standing there I could feel my [guide] dog peeking his nose
out, and when we started the Kyrie I almost lost it as the sound swirled around me
and I thought, “I am really up here and I am accepted.” I felt part of the community,
rather than, “Someone has to put up with this silly blind girl.” That, coupled with
the music, what I gave to it, and what came back to me, priceless!

2
Trixie is a chorister who has been blind since birth. She sees nothing. She agreed that I
should refer to her as blind. Trixie provided many “insights.”
 128

“A tingling up and down my spine.” Remy recounts the thrill of “nailing” a

complex piece and the audience’s awed response:

We did a composed Maori war chant. It’s a complicated, dramatic piece of

music, fully choreographed, and we nailed it. . . . The audience didn’t seem to
breathe. The piece built and built, and when it was over, there was this rush of
energy for me: A tingling up and down my spine.

“Runaway train.” Virginia describes how a performance gives her a sense of

women-power:

Gloria K is a dynamic piece that needs to have an element of danger to it. We

had pushed beyond the safe bounds and were really going for it. We became like a
runaway train. It was seriously on fire. The power in that many women, all locked,
barreling down the runway.

“A magical moment.” The audience becomes part of the performance when

Conductor Aria’s choir receives an audience’s gratitude in a show of lights:

We gave each member of the audience an electric tea light and asked them to
turn them on when they were inspired. As we sang Morten Lauridsen’s Sure on
This Shining Night every light was turned on—a small audience, but a magical
moment.

“Someone else was singing through me.” For Shannon, performance about

communication and community:

My “Aha!” moment in singing came when I was a soloist in Judas Maccabeus.

I felt like someone else was singing through me. I’m going to get teary. It’s very
emotional for me. Thank you [Accepting tissues]. I was able to look out and
communicate with the audience and with the conductor. I felt the support of the
choir, the conductor, and my colleagues in the solo pen. I live for experiences like
that.

“Tears in their eyes.” Conductor Francis refers to the audience watching (not

listening to) the performance as he describes his choir’s communicative impact:

We went to a competition where we sang Franz Biebl’s Ave Maria. The choirs
watching us had tears in their eyes—high school students with tears in their eyes!
 129

The chaperones were in tears. I didn’t realize it had communicated to the audience
to that degree.

“With his whole being and body.” Jade recalls a conductor’s expressivity that

influenced her to become a voice major:

I was in a regional choir in high school, and there was this one moment where
the conductor was conducting so expressively, with his whole being and body. It
was just that he was so engaging with his whole being. The next day I went to my
choir teacher and asked with whom I should study voice.

“I live for these moments.” William is moved by his director’s crying:

It was my first experience in a performing choir in the U.S. Halfway through a

piece the director started blinking, and then he started crying—while he was
directing. I couldn’t sing. I was fighting back tears, just mouthing words. I live for
these moments.

Summary

These vignettes tell of choral experiences that take on special significance

because of occasion, performance venue, connection among choristers, connection

between performers and audience, and performers’ connection with themselves. The

beauty of the music is wrapped up in the potency of the expressive experience, the

significance of the moment, and human connection. Several liken the intensity of musical

fulfillment to sexual fulfillment.

Each vignette is an epigram of meaning and poignancy, intensity, even catharsis.

Participants reference inner resonances and outer connections. The descriptions have a

sense of wonder and mystery. The vignettes suggest that, for these participants, choral

expression is not solely musical. Both music and community are important. Personal and

social import and the admixture of the two are referenced as much as musical expression.
 130

Chapter V

FINDINGS: MODALITIES

Research Question 2:

How do conductors and choristers conceptualize expression?

Findings themes categorized as Modalities are summarized in Table 6.

Table 6. Modalities


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 131

“A Beautifully Produced Sound Is Intrinsically Expressive”

It goes almost without saying that conductors and choristers experience musical

features as having implicit expressive potential, and that they regard musical sound as the

most important expressive medium in choral performance. Conductor Paul says, “A

beautifully produced sound is intrinsically expressive.” For Conductor Hooper:

If it doesn’t sound like anything special, you might as well be singing your
grocery list. You are singing about things that elevate you out of the everyday, so
don’t sound everyday!

Participants regard musical elements as inherently expressive: pitches and rhythms,

phrasing, dynamics, melodic lines, harmonic sequences and function, vowel color,

overtones, and form. Conductor Yuval hears modulations in tonal music as

“psychological-emotional adventures.” Like Seashore (1938/1967, 1940), participants

regard concrete musical parameters—volume, speed, and articulation—as needing

performers’ interpretation. Conductors find interpretive resources for expression by

“bring[ing] a composer’s vision to life,” “knowing the conventions,” and “honoring the

page.” Choristers say historical context gives them access to the music’s emotional

content. They refer to performers’ responsibility to reconstitute the printed representation

of music, not merely accurately, but creatively interpreting. Esteban describes this as

adding water to something desiccated to make it live again. Conductor Addison says:

There is expression as creative and there is expression, under the heading of

interpretation, on the re-creating side. Our job as re-creators is to try to get to the
essence of the expression of the message, and to be “the composer’s advocate.”1

1
Leinsdorf, E. (1981/2). The composer’s advocate: A radical orthodoxy for musicians.
Yale University Press.
 132

Conductor Hooper wants a stylistically considered sound concept for each piece, but

cautions against “brainy” performance practice that gets in the way of passionate

performance. Vivan Lisle compares performing musicians who must interpret to

language translators who translate but do not necessarily interpret. Conductor Gisele

suggests that, to invite the composer into the room, conductors might “take up less space.”

“Harmonic Vibrations Heal Chinks in Your Heart”

Many regard the beauty of good intonation as an evocative element and vibration

as a compelling property of sound that provides emotional gratification. Conductor Paul

quotes Robert Shaw’s axiom that “intonation is the sine qua non of choral music.”

Shannon describes the effect of a perfectly locking chord: “You get more volume, you

get more emotion, you get everything that you are there for . . . you feel it here [points to

her heart]. It’s not intellectual at all.” Hooper links an emotional response to the aural

beauty of impeccable tuning and to metaphysical resonance:

When a vocal ensemble really tunes, all those overtones really kick in. Singers
can get a lot of partials going with their vowel formants . . . the harmonic vibrations
of choral singing are just off the chart.

The reference calls up Schopenhauer’s thesis that the arts give access to metaphysical

truths (Davies, 2003). To this end, Conductor Addison’s technical baseline for a singer is

to be able to manufacture overtones. Remy says: “The vibrations cause a physical

response, and the physical vibration goes straight into emotion.”

Hooper links the physical beauty of tuning with metaphysical connectivity and

expression:
 133

When you tune and the overtones kick in, it’s like you are inviting unseen
angelic voices to harmonize with you. That symbol wasn’t lost on early musicians,
singing open-fifth chords in cathedrals, knowing that the third, one octave higher,
would ring in. The root was God the Father, the fifth was Christ, and the third [the
overtone] was the Holy Spirit, that you don’t see, but you experience it. It can find
the chinks in your heart that need to be healed. In regard to expressivity that’s
important in my concerts.

I ask: “Do you feel that in performance?” He says:

Yes, sometimes it’s so powerful that I have to press it down. I’m getting very
emotional about this [he reaches for the box of tissues]. You have a group of
musicians, especially amateurs, that have come together from different
backgrounds, religiously, economically, educationally, who agree to give up just
enough of themselves to do something that is bigger than any of themselves. From a
religious standpoint, it’s very much the body of Christ in action. Harmony is a
metaphor, a symbol, a synonym for peace.

Using just intonation rather than equal temperament tuning2 is something Hector calls

“just wow!” For ensemble singers, chords and tuning are more than a gateway to aural

beauty. They describe the powerful emotions that in-tune singing evokes in them. It so

affects the performers that they speak of it only in terms of their own responses—how

they experience the beauty of perfectly tuned chords. Expression here is reflexive: What

the singers create affects them.

“A Con-Text for Singing”

There is general agreement among participants about musical resources for

expression, but less about how text relates to music in terms of expressive yield in

2
“Just intonation is tuning that uses intervals that occur naturally in the harmonic series
and are pure and beatless. In equal temperament, a man-made system of tuning, all
harmonic intervals, except the octave and unison, contain interference beats.
 134

performance. Lola says, “If the music is good and the text is good, the music is serving

the words and the words are serving the music, like Handel’s word painting.” For some,

the impetus for expression is primarily musical, and text is subsidiary. For others, text is

an expressive entrée. Text is meaning or text is sound. How conductors and choristers

integrate text and music depends on the requirements of each piece of music and its

poetry, and individual preference. All participant conductors use text to find expressive

avenues into the music. Conductor Francis must find the text worthwhile: “When I’m

choosing music, I don’t even play through it, I read the text. If it’s garbage text, I don’t

bother with it.”

Conductors Yuval and Addison see music and text in opposite ways. For Yuval

music trumps text: “With a new piece, I take the words out and, if it still holds, if it

makes a coherent structure, it’s a good piece of music.” Yuval assesses the value of a new

piece based on musical elements alone, but is adventuresome in his choice of text:

There has been a historical association between things churchy and art. But
language is a living thing. We have sung contemporary pieces that use found texts:
excerpts from Supreme Court decisions, texts from medical books, the Oath of
Allegiance, and newly commissioned poetry.

Interested in world religions, Yuval says that if he likes the music of a contemporary

piece that uses traditional liturgical text, he is willing to ask the composer to consider

substituting a more contemporary text source. In Addison’s view, text prevails over

music, even for the composer:

Composers have said to me, “I can change that music, if you think that would
serve the message!” The composer’s medium is music, so you’d think he would be
married to that and intractable, but in my experience, that’s hardly ever the case.

Conductor Francis says text provides him with interpretive clues to the music:
 135

A quarter note is not a quarter note is not a quarter note. Some have greater
weight than others, some have nuance that is dependent upon the words, the stress
of the word within the statement, the stress of the syllables within the word.

Conductor Gisele urges conductors to be more aware of text:

Conductors will work to get a gorgeous sound and seem to regard the words as
an afterthought, but what was the composer’s relation to the text? What did the
words really mean to the composer?

As does Conductor Hooper:

What was it about this poem that spoke to the composer and why did he set that
line like that? He’s obviously trying to bring out some symbol or mood or color.
There are cues in the poetry, like stage directions: how to act it to express the text.

Conductor Aria individualizes each repetition of a generic word:

In Randall Thomson’s Alleluia, the only word sung is “alleluia.” I asked the
choristers to count how many times they sing “alleluia” and to have a different
word in their imagination for each time.

Text is important to Kay, because, she says, her musical background is not very

strong:

I have to know the meaning of the words. I prefer it if, at the beginning of
learning a piece in a foreign language, we are taught what the words mean, rather
than us finding out at the end, “Oh, that’s what this means!”

Several participants say they have sung without being aware of what they are singing

about. Suzanne says:

When our conductor tells us “You are singing about joy, sound joyful!” all of a
sudden, I realize I wasn’t really aware of the words; I was just singing and thinking
about getting the right notes.

Viola has experienced similar disconnects with text:

How many times we’ve sung stuff and not known what we are singing about
until someone says, “This is a gorgeous poem,” and you suddenly realize, “Oh
yeah, it is!” You don’t really realize what you are singing until someone says,
“Read that!” Bernardo is very lyric-focused, and that helps with expression.
 136

When Basso guest-conducted, he was surprised to find the choir did not know the origin

of the text they were singing: “They were doing a setting of When Absalom. So I told

them the Old Testament story. They hadn’t known the story, so they had had no context

for singing the song.” Chang suggests that conductors talk about text even before the

choir sings a new piece: “The first time the choir picks up the music, the director might

say, ‘Folks, we are singing about joy!’”

For those who do not make a personal connection with it, text is simply another

element of sound. Some choristers don’t like the texts they are singing. Harper admits to

ignoring the text:

What if I don’t care about the words? What if I don’t believe the words? I just
like the music, a lot of the time. I shouldn’t say I don’t care about the words, the
Latin, but I’m almost resistant to writing the translation.

Harper might be surprised to find that her words recall Kaplan’s (1985, p. 56) anecdote

about Stravinsky not understanding an obscure line of the Russian text he had set, and not

considering a word-for-word literal understanding necessary. Derek goes so far as to say,

“I hate poetry and I hate it when our conductor says, ‘What do you think this poem

means?’”

“My Little Cells Just Explode All Over”

Enunciation evokes a range of opinions. For Lauren, “The precision of the vowels

all aligning really speaks to me. When that happens, it makes my little cells explode. It’s

an orgasm of (the spirit).” But Kathy finds emphasis on precision too mechanical: “You

lose the flow of the line because you are so focused on the jots and twiddles. It’s
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mechanistic. It’s not like a spoken language anymore.” Wendell, a chorister and actor,

says:

How much “DIK-shun” should we do? A friend once came to our concert and
said, “It was lovely but I had no idea what you were singing.” . . . Another time, a
friend, surprised, said, “I could actually understand what you were singing!”

Dante recounts telling a friend attending his concert, “Follow along in the program

because the poetry is exquisite and you may not be able to understand [what we are

singing].” Lisa thinks enunciation is “practically impossible” with a large choir, while

Chang notes that unified pronunciation “allows the audience to understand the text and

improves intonation.”

“We Sing the Roman Catholic Liturgy Because We Love the Music”

All the choirs in the study but one are secular and, within the secular choirs, there

are several religious traditions among the memberships. But community choirs frequently

sing sacred repertoire from the Roman Catholic liturgy, and perform in churches as

concert venues. Vivan Belle finds that studying the mass literature that her secular choir

sings actually deepens her faith:

Being Catholic, you just say the prayers. Listening to people around you, it
sounds like everyone could just be saying their ABC’s. But knowing what every
one word means in order to sing it, deepens my faith.

Conductors and choristers who are not Catholic relate to Catholic texts by universalizing

their meaning for broader than theological relevance. Conductor Gisele gives choristers

ways of thinking about sacred texts, not by theology, but getting to the emotional content.

Although Kathy explains she is religious and spiritual, she is “not connecting to the
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music doctrinally; I’m connecting to it out of lived experience.” Virginia concurs, “With

religious music, if it’s not your religious belief, the best you can do is to try to transcend

the words at face value.” Margot, avowedly agnostic, says, “I’m fine with singing

religious texts when music is beautiful and it moves me.” Marie eschews a religious

message, but she cares, for instance, that “in A German Requiem, Brahms was expressing

grief on behalf of people who need to grieve.” Albert, an avowed atheist, is more

equivocal:

I go back and forth on singing sacred texts but I make clear to friends I invite
that we’re a non-affiliated choir. I am also frustrated that we are singing a Royalist
text this concert because I am anti-monarchist!

Kathy says, “We omit the anti-Semitic bits of St. John Passion.” Lola quips, “We take

out the bits that Mel Gibson leaves in.” She goes on:

My experience of music is purely musical because I come from a place where

Christianity was not the dominant religion so Christian music was not part of
religious service. I can connect with the sentiment even though I am not on board
the Jesus train.

Lisa encapsulates these ideas when she says, simply, “We sing the Roman Catholic

liturgy because we love the music.”

Several choristers describe how they reconcile their Jewishness with singing

Christian texts. When Lisa started singing in a choir, her sister asked:

“Doesn’t it bother you? Singing all this Christian stuff?” In those days I was
not so connected to the text and I said, “You just don’t listen to the words.” Now I
realize how important text is. I am not a religious person, or even spiritual, but I
connect in a meaningful way without having to believe.

Dante agrees:

I grew up an orthodox Jew and I had never heard choral music until my sister
sang in a chorus at Brooklyn College. I liked it. Then, in graduate school, I joined
an amateur chorus and we sang Bach’s Christmas Oratorio. Memorable!
 139

Louise, also Jewish, says, “The Latin doesn’t speak to me in some religious pieces, and

yet the beauty of the music does. Biebl’s Ave Maria—it doesn’t get more beautiful than

that.” Lauren, “agnostic, at best,” describes what happened to her when she sang

Lauridsen’s Ave Maria: “All the religion stuff was out of my head and it was just my

heart speaking at that moment. During that whole performance, every cell of my body was

[shows vibrating].”

Annie is in the minority when she says there is a tension for secular choruses

singing music written in a religious context. In the main, choristers find expressive

meaning, beauty, and relevance in singing sacred music, even from a religious tradition

other than their own. Vivan Marcia encapsulates what is perhaps a canard: “Like they say,

‘when you sing, you pray twice.’” Trixie sums up secular choristers’ tolerance for singing

sacred texts with a playful comment: “I like singing the masses better than I like going to

them.”

“Give Me More Face”

Conductors and choristers speak about choirs they have heard and even choirs

they have participated in who sing accurately but not, for them, expressively. What they

want, they say, is “portrayal of meaning,” a sense of “singers’ personal involvement,”

“reaching the audience,” and a performance “having life.” Conductors agree there is a

prevalence of inexpressive performance across the spectrum of school, amateur, and even

professional choirs. They define this dearth of expressivity mostly in terms of a lack of

visual component in performance. Speaking from his experience as a festival judge,

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Conductor Hooper finds most choir performances wanting, and explains why sound alone

may not satisfy an audience:

When I adjudicate, 90% of what I talk about is expression: “What’s this piece
about? Give me more face!” I would say I’m dissatisfied with the majority of choirs
I hear. My assumption is that you always want something emotional from your
choir. The reality is not a lot of conductors think this way; for them, it’s about
sound. If you give your audience only the sonic experience, as it’s impossible to be
sonically perfect, that’s a great way to leave them dissatisfied.

Surprisingly, choristers and conductors are critical of their own choirs. Conductor

Gisele sees the dilemma of her own elite group (a different choir than her Felix

Kantorei):

If you close your eyes, they sound wonderful; if you open your eyes, they look
like a bunch of stuffed frogs. There’s just nothing going on visually. Singers just
don’t know what they look like. I ask them, “Can you let the audience know what
you are feeling by the way you look?”

Vivan Yun says: “Some people are more naturally emotionally expressive, and

some are less.” Conductor Aria agrees: “We have a wide range of experiences; trained

and experienced singers and musical theater performers for whom expression is second

nature and one first-time chorister who loves it, but it doesn’t show.”

“There Is Sound Expressivity and Physical and Facial Expressivity”

Vivan Carmen asks:

Why do so many choirs look so dour? What is the unwritten rule that you have
to stand absolutely dead still and not have any facial expression? And where did I
learn that? In college! We were trained not to show emotion while singing in
chorus; we were taught it would be distracting.
 141

Conductor Gisele, unprompted, says: “Choirs tend to look terrible, even if they sound

beautiful. There is sound expressivity and there is physical and facial expressivity.”

Derek says:

It is not normal for an American choir to emote or, quite frankly, a European
choir, any choir. A choral singer is so used to opening Messiah and putting the book
in front of your face so that no one can see you, and just singing.

He describes an experience as a young chorister which may be typical and account for

why so many choirs sing without demonstrable expression: “Boys Choir was very strict:

You were not allowed to express, everything was memorized, and you were supposed to

stand still and that’s it.” Rachel reports that when her children used to attend her choral

concerts, they would be confused by the incongruity they perceived between what was

sung and how the choristers looked. “My children would come to rehearsals and

performances a lot. They would come home and say ‘It sounded like happy music, but

people didn’t look very happy.’”

Amy and William regard choral expression as something the audience both sees

and hears. Amy thinks that, although the sound may be enough for some audiences, “the

purely sonic listeners may be in the minority.” Conductor Bernardo says:

We are so visually minded as a society. We probably make more judgment calls

with our eyes than with any other sense. Visually there’s a huge component for us
as singers. The musical aspects—that’s one level of expression . . . but as singers
we are engaging something more. Choirs that have thought through what their
facial affect looks like, what their whole body says, and what “the look” is, give the
most expressive performances.

Conductor Yuval adds: “With the increasingly visual element that is so ubiquitous, the

percentage of the population for whom the aural performance is transcendent may be

shrinking.” Wendell weighs in:

 142

If you compare a choral concert to stuff young people see on TV, all highly
produced and theatrical, it is a difficult bridge. In popular culture performance is
audio and visual with an emphasis on technological innovation. We are used to
video techniques, multi-camera work, flying cameras, close-ups, hi-def.

When he is a member of the audience, Yoshi both hears and sees: “I pay attention to the

chorus members’ facial expression. I am trying to link the whole message with their

facial expression. I am watching and listening.” Viola says when she is in the audience

and the choir does not look up she loses attention and connection. Hector unwittingly

confirms that musicians’ movements affect an audience: “I take in the whole experience,

using sight and sound, the auditorium, the movement of the instrumentalists, the singers,

the conductor—it’s a kelp forest!” Conductor Francis proposes a visual component even

in rehearsal warm-ups. “My choir will be singing ‘I love to sing’3 with stone-cold faces.

No engagement. So I ask them, ‘Could you look like what you are singing?’”

But Annie is in the opposite camp: “We don’t even think of ourselves as having a

look, aside from everyone wearing black.” She pauses, then adds, “But certainly audience

members say things about how we look.” Annie has unknowingly articulated the crux of

the argument for presentation: Even if choristers consider that concert attire alone

constitutes “look,” they recognize that how they look impacts their audience.

Other choristers express ambivalence about presentation. Lola, usually sure of her

opinions, first says, “I am not putting on a kabuki show; people come to hear me, not to

see me.” But she quickly reconsiders:

3
An exercise sung on the scale degrees 1-8-5-3-1: “I”=1, “love”=8-5 (emphasized over 2
scale degrees), “to”=3, “sing”=1, with “love.” The pattern is usually sung in ascending
sequences for the technical purpose of warming up the upper vocal range, but, as Francis
suggests, can simultaneously serve as an expressive exercise for word emphasis and color.
To this end, directors may shift word emphasis from “I” to “love” to “sing.”
 143

Or maybe they came to see me as well. It would be fairly boring for them to not
have anything to look at. There’s nothing particularly interesting going on onstage
except for our faces. I am rethinking my initial statement. People experience choral
concerts in different ways and the choir is transmitting on a multi-channel thing.

Margot seems to disagree with Lola’s suggestion that audiences see as well as

hear a concert, so I ask: “For you, is it a sonic experience?” She answers:

And an emotional experience, but not making happy faces. To me, the heart of
choral expression isn’t facial expression. It’s the vocal line, the tapering, the
swelling. . . . I don’t think about making facial expression. That detracts.

A few minutes later, speaking as an audience member, Margot does an about-face:

“There’s this high school choir . . . not a magnet school, they are from a low-income area.

You watch their faces . . . it’s amazing! It’s so moving. You feel it. It’s palpable.” As a

performer, Margot feels she should not facially express, but as an audience member, she

is moved by chorister faces. Like Annie, Margot does not seem to be aware of this

contradiction.

Perhaps Margot’s symphonic choir background influences her first thought that

facial expression detracts. Several choristers say that symphony choirs are different from

other choirs: Being an extension of the orchestra and performing in large halls at a

distance from the audience preclude visual expression. Harper makes a distinction

between an opera chorus and a choir: “The audience probably comes to see an opera

chorus as well as to hear them, whereas with us, they probably came to hear us.” She

hesitates, and then says, “Well, maybe they came to see us too.” This epitomizes the

schism between the traditional stoic approach to choral performance expression and the

contemporary “showing” approach.

Joy, an art teacher, brings her visual sensibilities to bear when she says:

“Expression on faces and even the posture of the body can influence how people receive
 144

the music. I think there is a lot to be said for body language.” Remy equates

expressiveness with showing something through body language, carriage, facial

expressions, movement, and hands. Chang likens singing to conversation:

When you are speaking to someone, having a conversation, so much of the

communication is non-verbal. Singing is far more than just a beautiful sound; you
need the look on the faces of the choristers.

Singing as conversing is a concept found in the literature (Watt & Ash, 1998, in Kopiez,

2002; Ostwald, 2005; Carter, 2005).

“Hear Something Beautiful, See Something Interesting, and Feel Something”

Conductor Francis lists components of choral expression: “It’s visual, it’s

obviously auditory, it’s kinesthetic, it’s spiritual, it’s emotional . . . Expression is a

synergistic experience.” Many conductors and choristers conceptualize choral expression

in terms of aural and visual elements, the aural including the intrinsically twinned

modalities of choral music itself, music and text. The notion of visual presentation as an

expressive modality engages some participants and bemuses others, and the discussions

about it are more polemical than those about music and text. Opinions about visual

presentation are colorful, impassioned, and contradictory, even self-contradictory.

Lauren makes a connection with expression and emotion when she says: “When I

go to a concert, I want to hear something beautiful, I want to see something interesting,

and I want to feel something, all three equally almost.” Shrimp understands expression as

“this thing that comes out of the performer that isn’t written on the page.” She talks about

connection to and communication with the audience.

 145

Part of expression is communicating with the audience. It’s not just about
singing or blending, or paying attention to the conductor. You really are singing to
somebody out there. It’s about communicating something to the audience.

Emma references the transformative power of performance when she says: “Ideally, if we

give the most awesome performance, the audience will leave feeling a little changed. You

want to move them, emotionally and/or intellectually.”

Participants speak of singing as conversing with the audience. For Annie, who has

said her choir doesn’t think of itself as having a look, a choral “conversation” has aural

and visual components:

You want the audience to hear what you have to say as if you are in
conversation. You do that with the look on your face, whether you are singing out
or holding it in . . . In our music classes we talk about projecting.

Some choristers refer to choral performance as storytelling. Vivan Mei goes even further

and says that in telling a story, choristers are actors: “If I’m not giving emotion, then I’m

not telling a story. If we are not communicating the story to our listeners, then why are

we there? We are actors.” Many choristers want to “make” the audience feel something.

Basso says: “Finding something in the music that touches me and then finding a way to

make the audience feel it is as important to them as it is to me.”

Virginia says, “Part of choral expression is energy. There is an energy field when

we are performing that is different even than when we are running the sound check.”

Trixie, too, speaks of energy. She says, “I often think about making sure I really hold the

energy of [the music] in my body so it flows out, and so it’s not just coming out in my

voice.” Some in Trixie’s group say the concept of performance energy is difficult for

them, but her energy reference and those of Virginia and others take an understanding of

what expression can encompass beyond the auditory and even beyond the visual. Energy
 146

is ephemeral but felt—at least by some and for those who feel or sense it, energy is part

of expression.

“Being Expressive Means Showing Something”

Derek says, “Choirs have traditionally been so boring! You have to overdo it. If

you aren’t overdoing it, you aren’t doing anything. If you overdo it, you are doing it just

right.” Participants with drama or musical theater backgrounds suggest a theatrical

component to choral expression. Conductor Hooper, speaking from his experience

conducting musical theater, thinks choral singers would do well to follow the example of

musical-theater singers. Conductor Aria also says her acting background helps her in

choral singing and she is unequivocal: “Being expressive means showing something.”

Likewise, Vivan Marcia says her musical-theater experience helps her get into the

character of the piece. “It’s is more difficult for straight classical choral singers, who are

trained to stand still.” Louise describes her experience at a NATS4 master class on

musical theater: “Every teacher said, ‘Put the music down and tell me what you are going

to say, tell me the story. What is this character going through?’ In musical theater, that’s

truth.” Thurman (2000) sees musical-theater truth as choral truth when he says: “Song

singing is always musical theatre. So is choral singing” (p. 172). Gilbert, too, has musical

theater experience, and he is adamant: “We are performing for an audience. We need to

4
National Association of Teachers of Singing
 147

give them something. We need to show them something. They are there to see us, not just

to hear us.”

Vernon, a choir-mate of Gilbert and Viola, has been a member of Aulos choir for

35 years and has sung under several different conductors. He makes a startling admission:

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a conductor say that. No conductor before Bernardo
said the audience has come to see us as well as to hear us. That thought had never
even occurred to me. Music is sound, and I myself really hadn’t thought about the
other part of it until Bernardo. I think it’s really true.

Viola tells Gilbert and Vernon, “I heard that a lot in The Actors Chapel, in New York.

We were always dramatizing something, somewhere.” While some participants vacillate

between presentational or theatrical element as part of expression or not, most are either

emphatically for or against it.

“We Are Actors and Actresses of Sound”

The beauty of sound is paramount for Conductor Paul, so it is all the more

surprising to hear him say, “We are actors and actresses of sound.” Several choristers, all

from different groups, speak about acting. Trixie considers acting and role: “Preparing

Handel Messiah, I thought, ‘Wait, what’s our role?’ We are really going after Jesus; we

are going to crucify the guy. There is an acting component.” Dorian says, “I pay more

attention to my visual expression when I am performing for an audience. I definitely do

more acting rather than just thinking about the sound.” Louise’s mother, a drama teacher,

taught her that expression is everything, so she brings acting into her choral singing.
 148

Remy is explicit: “I don’t think there’s any difference between music and acting, or at

least there shouldn’t be.”

Conductor Hooper explains his rationale for acting as a component in choral

performance:

In front of an audience, one is doing something that is not an everyday kind of

thing—there’s something mannered about that. So a singer really needs to act. He
has a costume; entrances and exits; text as a script. Each chorister is doing their
monologue with fifty other people.

Several choristers refer to truth in characterization, and Remy points to a germane

concept that good actors are credible and embody a truth:

There’s this thing of actors being believable and true to the part. Expression has
to do with that truth. If a chorister or an actor has no idea of what that truth is, she is
just saying words.

Carter emphasizes “the singer’s personal connection to text and music [must be]

compelling and complete” (2005, p. vii). Wendell, actor and chorister, says, “There are

theatricality aspects to what we do to reach the audience. We have to find the balcony

front rail.” Vivan Mimi says singers, like actors, should be in character even before they

are heard.

Amidst all the enthusiasm for acting, Vivan Octavia offers a caution, especially

about encouraging amateurs to act:

I would argue that no one in a chorus need act at all, except in spoof pieces. The
thing about “acting” is that you have to start by losing inhibition and engage
organically. Few people can do that without training. Trying to act or emote when
you’re self-conscious looks amateurish and just plain bad.

Octavia’s ideas recall Miller’s (1996) counsel that singers need to become un-self-

conscious before they can successfully communicate emotion. The training that acting

requires may be the sticking point that precludes many amateur choirs from including
 149

acting in their choral performance. In all likelihood, already stretched to cope with the

technical requirements of music and text, conductors and choristers may be unable to take

on one more demanding thing. Aside from ideology, the practicalities of cultivating

techniques for all three modalities may make the combination a rare hat trick.

Sara suggests that musical connoisseurs can hear music as music, and do not need

visual aids, but these might be useful for non-connoisseurs: “For a naïve audience, it’s

our faces and what we are doing that help them to know what the music is about.” The

implication is that if a choir shows something visually expressive, this helps a general

audience “understand” the music: Non-experts find the visual component of a

performance an aid to accessing the expressive. Perhaps Sara is voicing an inner

contradiction, similar to Margot’s. It is as if Sara and Margot do and do not think that

showing expression is the right thing to do. It is possible that, as many of the participants

in the study said, they were articulating their thoughts about expression for the first time,

and had not before thought consciously about these conflicting imperatives. Their

equivocation might suggest that, in these choristers’ ensembles, visual aspects—showing

feeling or emotion by facial expression and demeanor, presenting, or acting—are neither

much discussed nor utilized as an expressive modality.

“I Am a Method Actor”

Several chorister participants and some of the conductors reference Method acting

as a means of conveying dramatic character. Developed by Stanislavski (1938/2010),

who called it the “System,” Method acting was famously taught in the United States by
 150

Lee Strasberg and others. 5 Applying The Method, an actor uncovers and expresses the

inner truth of a stage character. Using imagination, senses, and emotions, the actor’s

“magic ‘if,’” the actor re-experiences a life event, or creates a fictional event, and

conveys to the audience in a credible way the feeling that event evokes. The practice of

developing a subtext, about which participants have spoken, stems from Stanislavski’s

Method. As I have not mentioned Stanislavski or Method acting to the study participants,

I listen keenly when choristers speak about it, although what they call Method acting,

rather than being the formal methods of Stanislavski and Strasberg, may be the more

informal processes they use to express emotion convincingly and to accomplish what an

audience experiences as a moving performance.

She says outright, “I am a Method actor,” and explains why, for her, choral

expression occurs not only in an aural modality:

I have a drama background, so, for me, the experience of the audience is not just
auditory. When performers express and emote, we have to consider what our
audience is experiencing. The result of our expression is the audience’s experience.

Emma describes how she applies some acting techniques commonly associated with

Method acting:

It can be an emotional or intellectual connection that I make with a song that I

convert to a crafted expression. I come up with a scenario and a strategy: What I am
expressing and ways I can express it. It’s a lot of work and energy.

I ask Wendell, the actor-chorister, “Do you bring any of your drama training to your

choral singing?” He answers, “There is internalizing the emotion. In some sense, it’s like

5
Considered the father of Method acting in America, Strasberg co-founded the Group
Theatre in New York City in 1931 and was director of the Actors Studio from 1951.
Chorister Viola mentions what she learned at the Actors Studio.
 151

Method acting.” I ask him, “Method acting is not just understanding the text, right?

That’s just opening the door—it’s it a lot of work, isn’t it?” He explains:

You have to find an emotional connection, a memory of something in your own

experience, so you feel the emotion internally. If it’s just this note and this vowel
and my lips are like this, there’s no emotional content. Just like the words of
Hamlet could sound like reciting poetry or like reading the newspaper. You wrap
emotional connection around what’s coming out of your mouth.

“It’s Hard for Me To Be an Actress”

Not all participants regard acting as truth. For some it is more artifice than

authenticity. Helen, for one, sees acting as “putting it on,” the opposite of being truthfully

expressive:

I feel an obligation to be as truthful as possible about the music. . . . I can only

be truthfully expressive if I connect with the piece. I can only put expression on my
face if I feel it. It’s hard for me to be an actress.

Jessie puts on a particular expression to disguise her distaste for a piece: “I wear my ‘I

care about this piece’ face.” Virginia suggests that acting can serve as a disguise for true

feelings; it may be uncomfortable for the singer, but it still needs to seem true to the

audience.

We are expressing things we may not personally feel, but they have to have a
ring of truth in how we look and how we sing. I may have to express something
artistically I may not feel comfortable expressing myself. If it doesn’t ring true for
me, then it becomes an acting exercise and that is awkward.

Seashore (1940), despite applying positivist principles to musical experience, understands

that singers need not feel an emotion to be able to portray it (p. 381). Conductor Hooper

explains that singers finding their own truth may involve a Jungian process of

individuation integrating opposites, like the conscious with the unconscious:

 152

What you don’t want to do is play the emotions in an artificial way. You want
to be connecting to something that is real for you. It might be more Jungian than
Method acting. Everyone has to find their own truth to fuel the emotional turbines.

Conductor Yuval emphasizes that acting is not based in show:

A new dimension of expression is happening at the cutting edge of the choral

art. Acting training isn’t based on how you look; it’s not superficial. It creates
power. Contemporary performance art techniques are almost in contradiction to
what we might think of as traditional stage gesture.

He distinguishes contemporary performance from traditional, perhaps because he sees

traditional stage gesture so infused with conventional trappings as not allow authentic

expression.

Conductor Paul notes that choristers may be naturally expressive, a quality he

clearly prizes highly even though they may not be the best singers:

Some singers are so exquisitely expressive in the neutral place that I don’t want
them to do fake facial stuff, because, in the neutral place, they are so lovely to
watch. They may not be my best singers but they certainly add to the ensemble.

Playing devil’s advocate, Vivan Lisle asks, “Let’s say everyone does a perfect job of

presenting themselves. So what?” Gisele clarifies (although not directly to Lisle—they

never met during the study) that for presentation to be credible it must originate

internally; it cannot be put on like a suit. A fake smile is perceived as fake.

Conductors say, “This is a happy piece so you should smile.” It’s a kind of a
show-business approach—the influence of Hollywood—in how you present
yourself, but almost never with authentic results.

“Dead Trees and Stuffed Frogs”

Conductor Bernardo says: “An obstacle to expression is the many different

personalities—introversion and extroversion of varying degrees—and ways of seeing a

 153

piece.” Conductor participants refer to some of their singers as “dead trees,” “stuffed

frogs,” “deer in the headlights,” “sticks,” “singers who look like they just got Botox,” and

“singers who look like they are at the dentist.” Chorister participants are also aware that

some singers are more expressive than others; that unevenness of personality and ability

make unifying ensemble expression problematic; and that uniformity is necessary to

make an impact in performance. Vivan Carmen says, “Some people are over-expressive

and others look like zombies.” Vivan Octavia says, “Some people naturally have more

visual interest: they move the message forward through the physical.”

Conductor Hooper points to choristers being guarded, and “not opening up even a

chink, because their fear is that everything will come undone.” Conductor Gisele notes

that some people may feel intensely, but cannot outwardly express what they feel, either

because they were taught to block emotions or because they are not aware of how they

look; they can’t “show” feeling vocally, facially, or in their bodies. Louise speaks of

finding the balance between looking like an automaton and overdoing emotion. Seeing a

chorister overdo it drives her crazy. Esteban notes that certain music—for instance,

Gregorian chant—is easier for introverts while other styles, like jazz, are easier for

extroverts. Conductor Hooper notes the similarity between vocal and emotional output,

balance, and blend:

As you don’t want individual voices sticking out, you want everybody vocally
facing the same direction so that it’s in tune and balanced, so you also want each
singer’s emotional output to be balanced with everyone else. It’s a tightrope the
width of dental floss.

Conductor Paul knows the dilemma of finding a middle ground:

Sometimes if you push on the people sitting back they become phony, and then
if you pull down on the ones that are being who they are, then you take it all out and
they have nothing left.
 154

“One Person’s Truth”

Singers say that creating subtext helps them make a personal and emotional

connection with the underlying feeling of the music they are singing. Most want more

than a broad-brush-stroke approach, and appreciate a detailed phrase-by-phrase analysis

of what the music and text evoke. Conductors say they suggest keywords for different

formal sections of the music, and choristers say they find these useful. Conductor Hooper

advises: “Find one buzzword for each phrase, that reminds the singers of where to go.

“But,” he cautions, “one person’s truth is not going to be the same as their neighbor’s.”

For Harper, keywords her conductor offers are especially helpful “when the text is not

meaningful to me personally.” Others prefer to create their own backstory. Imagery is

effective for Remy, whether from real life or from imagination:

A conductor asks, “Think back into your life for when you felt profoundly blah-
blah-blah. Now feel that time and place when you sing that part.” That’s one
technique; the other is to tell a story and I’m in it. That becomes the backstory to
evoke feeling when I sing.

Carter (2005) says “singers must identify the objective, the other, the story, the spark, and

the stakes in order to have a reason to sing” (p. 93). Conductors agree that expression

should be taught from the beginning, and choristers agree that they like to start thinking

about subtext early, and incorporating it throughout their musical learning of a work.
 155

“There’s Just Too Much Passion”

I ask participants, “When we talk about expression in music, is there a difference

between emotion and feeling?” Conductor Gisele savvily answers my question with one

of her own: “Are you distinguishing between what’s going on inside and what’s coming

out?” Like visual presentation, the distinction between feeling and emotion is a topic

many participants say they have not thought about, and there is no consensus. Damasio

(1999/2000), however, makes a distinction between emotions as corporeal and feelings as

of the mind, which may be important in terms of aesthetic feeling. Harper and Kathy pick

up on something I said when arriving late for the meeting with Felix Kantorei at Café la

Bohème, I told them that my own tardiness so upset me that I felt nauseated. I was using

“feeling” in the sense of a physical sensation. Harper says, “Feeling is sensation;

sometimes you can physically feel an emotion.” Kathy says, “If you have a feeling of

nausea, it may really affect your ability to sing.” In the same vein I ask, “If you cry, you

can’t sing, right?” Albert agrees, “Right, you want the emotion of sadness, but you can’t

be sobbing.” Certainly some expression, like crying, is inappropriate to performance and

has to be channeled. Kay mentions the necessity of calling up emotion in order to

perform effectively, but not allowing emotion to obstruct one’s performance:

When I perform it’s like Method acting. I try to express on my face what I am
feeling inside. But sometimes, when the pieces are so powerful, I have to suppress
my emotions. You can’t let your emotions get in the way of performing the piece.

I ask Conductor Aria if singers need to feel feeling to show it. She says:

To convey a strong emotion in performance, you don’t want to fully feel it,
because that causes over-expression. Singers can’t just break down in tears on the
stage, because all the audience will feel is discomfort. Showing too much of your
own feeling on the high and low end of the scale distracts the audience.
 156

Trixie speaks of how emotion or feeling that the music evokes in her is

transmuted by the music:

There is something about bringing the emotions and feelings within me to

singing, not only to use them, but to organize them, so it moves the energy. If I feel
sad and I start singing, I never feel quite the same way at the end.

Wendell says, “Trixie said it changes the energy. It’s not just emotion, but it sublimates

the emotion and shapes it, and that’s how it goes out to the audience.”

Conductor Bernardo recounts how one chorister found the emotional heat of the

director’s concept too much to bear:

I was assistant conductor for a community chorus whose conductor was very
passionate. Her choirs weren’t always the best, not so precise, but her Brahms
Requiem was one of the best I’ve ever sung because it was so passionate. After the
second rehearsal a singer turned in her music and said, “Thank you for the
opportunity but I just can’t sing with you; there’s just too much passion for me.” I
was thunderstruck.

Summary

The findings presented in this chapter focus on the participants’ often deeply

meaningful experiences of expression and their understanding of what expression is.

Themes emerged as a result of several participants addressing a topic from the same or

different standpoints. The findings combine participants’ remarks on similar topics, but

participants may not actually have been conversing with each other.

Many participants characterize their attraction to choral singing by using

metaphors of addiction, which speaks to the great personal satisfaction they derive from

participating in choral singing and in performing. Such satisfaction is for reasons of

musical artistry and community. Numerous participants report intensely meaningful

 157

experiences connected with choral singing, and, in some cases, credit choral singing with

allowing them access to emotions otherwise inaccessible. Their comments are a testament

to the personal gratification and meaning that choristers derive from choral singing.

Music and text are the two traditional and unchallenged modalities of choral

expression. For some respondents, both choristers and conductors, impeccable tuning

itself, especially in Just Intonation, can be profoundly affective. Performers see

themselves interpreters of the composer’s intent in re-creating music from the printed

page. Singers tended to value emotional and intellectual subtext, such as keywords,

imagery, made-up backstories or associations with lived experience, as aids to singing

expressively. A few feel that text is not meaningful or important; a belief heightened by

foreign-language textual challenges that require translations to make them meaningful to

performers. Conductors tended to value poetic quality in text as an expressive avenue,

and some value it more than music in choosing repertoire.

As secular choirs perform sacred repertoire, singers often find themselves singing

texts that come from traditions other than their own. They find ways to connect with

sacred music emotionally and artistically, and some find a spiritual experience in singing

it, even if they are of a different faith or irreligious. One finds her spirituality in music

rather than in religion.

Many choristers advocate for presentation as integral to performance, even as

their opinions on what presentation entails varied widely. Several others said they were

thinking about how a choir’s appearance might relate to expression for the first time. One

expressed seemingly contradictory views: She felt choristers should not show facial

expression while performing, but admired the animated faces of a high school choir.
 158

Others value nonverbal forms of expressivity in choral performance, including posture

and facial expression. Symphonic and church choirs, it was agreed, were taught to be less

physically expressive than musical-theater performers, a distinction reflected in the

attitudes of choristers from those backgrounds.

Some choristers and conductors feel that acting is useful for choral presentation of

expression, but one cautioned that acting requires training and/or experience that

choristers typically lack. Several choir members use the principles of Method acting to

inhabit and convey character to an audience, and others cite the use of a narrative

backstory to help them convey feelings expressed in text. Coping with the requirements

of acting as well as those of technical musicality and text may be a reach for adult

amateurs.

Participants did not address whether emotion is innate within the music itself,

whether musical features are commonly recognized as emotive through usage, or whether

music evokes emotion in the performer and listener, perhaps because these are such

commonly held values. Choristers do not agree on the existence or nature of a distinction

between emotion and feeling. They do agree, however, that strong emotions lend

authenticity to a portrayal of persona, but must not be fully experienced while performing,

because they will detract from the performance. Individual singers’ abilities to express or

emote vary considerably within choirs, underscoring a need for teaching strategies to

unify ensemble presentation. Presentation of character seems to include the idea of

adopting a public persona, which enables transmission of authentic feeling to occur

without any personal breakdown on the performer’s part.

 159

Chapter VI

FINDINGS: PROCESSES

Introduction

Research Question 3:

What helps and what hinders an ensemble’s ability to be expressive in performance?

Findings themes categorized as Processes are summarized in Table 7.

Table 7. Processes

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 160

Vivan Cecilia poses a practical, germane, but not easily answerable question: “Is

there a method of teaching choral expression?” I ask Conductor Bernardo “Do you think

conductors teach their choirs to sing expressively?” He says emphatically:

No! I don’t think people know how. It’s not just an amateur choir issue:
Professional and college choirs are not expressive. Perhaps we are moving toward
expressive performance, yet I see a ton of choirs who don’t do anything visually.
Perhaps they were never taught, or perhaps because the emotional/social/musical
intelligences1 all have to come together to create this. Singers vary in their ability to
express musically because the expressive is not being reinforced, not even in the
university setting.

Participants agree that there are many ways for a choir to become expressive, and there

are several processes to develop performance expression. Perhaps the most perplexing is

the relationship between technique and expression.

“Singers Need Technique in Order to Forget About Technique”

Conductor Paul believes a solid technical and musical foundation is what allows

singers to express. He says that how a choir looks is important, but his primary focus is

on how his choir sounds. Rachel, not in Paul’s choir, says, “The emphasis of our

rehearsals is what (our conductor) would like the group to do to achieve the sound that he

wants.” Conductors and choristers agree that expressive capacity is limited by technical

capacity and that, in amateur choirs, enthusiasm and spiritedness is a common but

inadequate substitute for technique. Conductor Yuval says, “There is great reward given

to enthusiasm in the community choir world. People love to sing, but they don’t

1
Gardner, H. (1993/2006). Multiple intelligences: New horizons. New York: Basic
Books, Perseus Books Group.
 161

necessarily have enough technique.”2 Conductor Paul agrees: “In community choruses,

it’s common to hear that the spirit is there, but at the expense of technical proficiency.”

Elsewhere he says, “There’s nothing better than amateur choirs as far as being generous

with their expression.” The explanation for this apparent contradiction lies in the context

of the second comment, where the emphasis was on community commitment and the

expressive intent this inspires. Lisa says, “An obstacle to expression is the technical, not

having the vocal capacity to move my voice in the way I mean for it to move. If our choir

were technically better, we could do a better job.” Catherine observes that technical

concerns interfere with singers’ emotional connection to the music. Lola feels that with

her vocal technique not yet solid, she needs to control how much she can express (which

she equates with acting) so as not to negatively impact her vocal production.

Participants agree that technical accomplishment does not automatically engender

expression. As Conductor Hooper says, “Perfect rhythm and technical proficiency just

aren’t that interesting. I want the choir’s hearts engaged. I want to hear phrases and

colors that speak to something bigger.” Louise:

A student will sing and they’ll be [she shows preoccupation with mouth shape]
and I’ll say, “I had no idea what you were feeling.” They will tell me, “I wasn’t
acting that time, I was just singing.” Singers need technique in order to forget about
technique.

2
Yuval cites a quotation about the relationship of technique to expression:

The object of art is expression.

The essence of expression is imagination.
The control of imagination is form.
The medium for all three is technique.

Herbert Witherspoon, singer and voice teacher, in Doscher, B. (1994). The functional
unity of the singing voice (2nd ed.). p. xii. Lanham, Maryland: Scarecrow Press, The
Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group.
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Participants say that a singer’s body is her musical instrument; that carriage is part

of character; and that postural and facial actions can simultaneously serve vocal

technique and musical expression. Conductor Paul says, “The physical aspects of good

vocal technique are vehicles for artistic expression. They are freeing, they are an open

canvas, and they enhance expressive delivery.” Conductors agree on certain basics of a

delivery position for singers: the bottoms of the feet squarely on the floor, one foot

slightly in front of the other, the pelvic girdle tilted slightly forward, not clenching the

epigastrium (the upper abdomen over the stomach), a lifted chest with expanded ribcage,

and the body always free to move and rebalance. Conductor Hooper explains:

I’m always talking about keeping the area from the solar plexus to the belly
button released, because this section, when you are guarded, is clenched, it is closed
off, and when you release that, the voice releases, and you open up emotionally.

Conductor Aria mentions facial expression, specifically lifting eyebrows and cheekbones,

for intonation and for conveying emotional affect. In reminding us that the choir will

copy the posture the conductor models, conductor Gisele echoes Garnett’s (2009)

chameleon effect theory. Conductors agree that part of every choral rehearsal should be

devoted to training for posture, for breath (which some refer to as support and others as

connection or buoyancy) and to resonance creation and placement. These are the

components that contribute to comfortable singing and good vocal quality, and also

communicate a visual invitation to the audience.

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“The Baked Cake”

I ask conductor Bernardo: “If expression is an ingredient in the cake, in what

order do you add the ingredients?” He is emphatic: “It’s not just an ingredient in the cake.

It is the cake. It’s the baked cake. You can’t separate it out.” The integration of technique

and expression is problematic in much traditional music teaching (Rodrigues, Rodrigues,

& Correia, 2009), and how conductors address this issue in choral rehearsal varies

widely: Is it technique versus expression or technique and expression? Conductor

Addison says, “You can’t have too much technique but it’s not about technique; it’s

about being expressive.”

Participant conductors agree that expression should be integrated with technique

through the rehearsal process, so that both aspects become part of the singer’s physical

and emotional identity. They say they make musical expressivity part of the whole

learning process, every rehearsal and every piece, so that, by concert time, it is a part of

the choristers’ very being. Conductor Hooper:

Expression isn’t something you add; it’s the kernel . . . You work in parallel
[tracks] using a technical path to get to an emotional destination . . . If I don’t
remind people to be connecting to something early, then they can’t turn it on later.
As they are working the technique, they need to keep attaching it to something
expressive. If you spend too much time on technique and then say, “Okay, now be
expressive,” they get to the concert and they’re like “Huh?” If most of the rehearsal
time has been spent on technique, then you’re going to get deer in the headlights.

The conductors acknowledge that a technical foundation has to be in place before

expression can be addressed. Conductor Gisele’s epigram says it best: “I try to make it as

from-the-beginning as possible.” Conductor Aria takes a pragmatic approach, and sees a

progression from notes and rhythms to text accent and dynamics. Yet conductors
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acknowledge that a technically excellent performance, for instance with the perfection

achievable in recording, may still lack emotional connection and energy. Conductors

Giselle, Paul, and Hooper all refer to this enigma.

Chang says:

If you teach technique, the choir will perform well: if you teach content, they
will communicate well—that’s expression. If expression is communicating to the
audience with emotion, the director needs to get you there emotionally.

Conductors regard technique as a means to an expressive end, but individual

conductors’ work varies in this regard. Even in rehearsals that were close to performance,

some conductors spent most of the rehearsal on technical musical concerns. Others

focused on expression by suggesting a quality of sound, or a character or mood; by

referencing text meaning; and by demonstrating, either vocally or by acting out the action

of a song for the choir.

“They Were Expressive in a Way that Technique Couldn’t Make Happen”

Conductors Bernardo and Paul each recount occasions when technical advice

from the conductor did not solve the problem at hand, but an emotional concomitant did.

Bernardo describes two instances. In the first, poetry trumps the technical:

They kept singing a glottal. Several times I said, “No!” I had them conduct with
me. I tried doing it with a glottal, then without. It wasn’t great but I couldn’t explain
the technique anymore so I gave up and went on. When we came back to the piece,
I talked about the poetry—personalized it. We restarted and it was flawless; they
were expressive in a way that technique couldn’t make happen.

In a second instance, a personal story changes the sound of the choir:

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You can explain it technically or theoretically, but sometimes it’s with

emotional concomitant that we can connect. When I told my story about my
significant other dying way too young in a car accident, they sang the most
beautiful first 8 bars they’d ever sung.

Paul describes something similar when a soloist’s performance influences the sound of

his choir:

We had a soloist with a beautiful voice, but this [demonstrates very wide
vibrato] and the choir hated it and asked if I would audition someone else. But I
couldn’t do that to her. In the first verse, before the soloist entry, the choir sopranos
leap to a high note. They were really struggling and it was not pretty. Then the
soloist sang and she was so “onstage,” communicative, and open, that the choir
started changing the way they were singing . . . By the second verse, my choir was
singing from a place in the heart that allowed them to solve all technical issues.

In these three instances, recourse to technique was ineffective, but human

connection (Goebl, Dixon, & Schubert, 2014), including qualities of openness,

vulnerability, and communicativeness, made a positive impact on the choirs’

expressiveness. The singers’ spirit, what Paul calls “singing from a place in the heart,”

fixed obdurate technical faults and transforms the choirs’ sound. Virginia suggests that

“bringing forth more subjective expressive aspects” may sometimes be more effective in

eliciting expression than focusing on what is objectively right or wrong. Darwin (1872)

suggests face is more than physiognomy. Likewise participants recognize musical

expression is more than technical perfection, and some technical faults may be fixed by

human communication of feeling.

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“You Can’t Tell a Story to Nobody”

Participant conductors, wanting expression practiced, subscribe to the dictum

“practice makes permanent.” But some choristers want rehearsal to be about technical

issues, and say that with a technical foundation, they will be expressive in performance.

This is one area where conductors and choristers tend to disagree. Conductor Francis says

unequivocally, “What you do in rehearsal is what you do in performance. It’s cultivating

habit.” But Louise says:

You can’t tell a story to nobody. In rehearsal, you’re learning the music and
setting your default. In performance, you’re telling the story. I’m in work mode in
rehearsal; in performance, I perform.

Almost everyone agrees that there is an emotional energy boost from being in front of an

audience and that this, in Basso’s words, “ups the amplitude of one’s performance.” But

Conductor Gisele criticizes working only on notes in rehearsal, and expecting the

ensemble to sing musically in performance:

When singers say, “I’ll be expressive when I get to the concert,” I say, “We
have to practice everything. Do in performance what we practice with more
intention, intensity, focus, and presence.” But there should not be more push or
volume, because those make balance and vowels go out.

Esteban cautions against doing things differently in performance than in rehearsal

because this confuses fellow singers: “If suddenly the person next to me is singing twice

as loudly as they did before, then I have to decide, ‘Should I back off or should I match

them?’” Conductor Hooper:

What you do in rehearsal is what’s going to happen in performance. The way

you breathe, the way you tuck, the tonal quality, and the emotional release.
Expression needs to be practiced in. If you are breathing as someone with
desperation, you practice what that feels like.
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But Jade doesn’t believe in the adage “how you rehearse is how you perform:”

For me rehearsal is technical. How I rehearse is what my voice is going to do,

but it’s not how I am going to perform. I will rehearse things over and over again,
just to have it technically in my voice, but then, when I perform, I think about none
of that, because, if I think about technique, my character goes away and I’m not
expressing anything. There’s a wall.

Lauren takes the opposite approach from Jade; she wants to be able to emote

throughout rehearsal: “If I don’t start emoting early and frequently, I’m not going to be

able to get through the performance because some music is just so deeply rooted in

emotion.” Kate says, “We never know when the emotion is going to hit us. With the

voice, sometimes nothing comes out.” Zach describes the experience this way:

If you get all choked up, or you are singing something angry or forceful and
your larynx goes up into your throat, if the emotion surprises you in performance,
it’s “Oh, crap!” because it changes the way you sing.

Participants acknowledge that intense feelings cannot simply be let loose in

performance; they must be practiced so they can be controlled, and perhaps acted.

Conductors Giselle, Aria, and Hooper allow or encourage choristers to take risks in

rehearsal so that they can navigate through intense emotions in performance. As Hooper

puts it, “so the emotion doesn’t play you.”

Shannon feels that choral expression is best achieved by evoking real-life

experiences, even if they bring up great sadness, but she emphasizes the importance of

practicing this early on. She relates how Aria asked the choir to think of the saddest

experience in their lives, and she recalls how difficult this was:

I could barely make it through the piece. But if you do it early in the rehearsal
process and practice on your own, so that you can internalize the memory of how it
felt, then you convey that to the audience in a musical way without totally losing it.
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Like Jade, William says, “I cannot always get into a performance mode in

rehearsal. When our conductor tells us in rehearsal, ‘Express!’ I find it hard to be in that

place. In rehearsal I need to learn my notes.” But Vivan Celeste points out “Actors have

to get into character in rehearsal. That doesn’t happen just when the audience is there.”

Basso sums up the tension between having notes under your belt before thinking

about expression and needing enough time to internalize expression:

Rehearsals give us technical skills, and the tools to express what the music is
about. We need to be able to express while we’re note-learning, not a week and a
half before the performance. It has to be intentional through the rehearsal process.

Louise says it’s just too much work to express intensely in rehearsal, but “with the

adrenaline that I have in performance I can turn it on.” Emma feels similarly: “For me

personally, it is a lot of energy to turn my face on. You know how in rehearsals, you spot

and pull back a little? That’s what I have to do.” Percival says, “I don’t even turn it on the

rehearsal before performance—only at the concert, because it is emotionally draining.

After a concert, I’m so spent that I go home, have a bath, and crash.”

But Louise and Emma recognize that when choristers hold back in rehearsal, it

makes their conductors anxious. “They don’t know what we are going to do!” Remy

explains: “I used to think, ‘I’m just going to learn the music and then, when the audience

is there, I’m going to express.’ It doesn’t just happen. You have to practice it.” Derek

follows the “whatever you do in rehearsal is what comes out in performance” school of

thought, but finds what makes this difficult is “to be 100% engaged at 7 p.m. on a

Monday night after you have worked all day. That’s what kills it the most, right?”
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Conductor Aria says the expression and feeling of a piece may not click until

there is an audience: “The audience suddenly pulls it together. I don’t know why, other

than a heightened sense of awareness.” But Viola has experienced the opposite:

The expressive moments don’t always happen in performance. We’ve had

moments in rehearsal that have been heart-stopping. What creates those? In
performance, when people get self-conscious, it’s not as expressive.

Vivan Mei says that, in rehearsal, the conductor is an audience of one, and that the

conductor’s nonverbal and unintentional feedback is the most helpful. Conductor Paul

adds a word of caution:

At [choir school] I felt that every rehearsal you were supposed to be right there,
in the moment, your best self [shows intensity on face and in body]. You can’t live
like that. Sometimes it’s a day like every other day.

“Knowing it in Your Bones, You Can Put Your Energy toward Expression”

Like rehearsing for expression, memorization is a polarized issue. It seems to

have nothing to do with the quality of musicianship and little to do with the difficulty of

music: Some very fine musicians don’t want to memorize, and some say they sing better

from memory or “by heart,” a pithy idiom in this context. Some, to whom memorization

comes easily, feel it improves their performance; for others, who may be good musicians

but not facile memorizers, the reluctance to memorize or fear of memorization detracts

from their performance. Some choristers recount terrifying moments when memory failed

them in a performance, but several express a desire to memorize even though their

conductor has not required it of them.

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Choirs memorize in order to be more communicative with conductor and

audience. But the matter is not a simple one. Emma says:

There’s something about memorizing and knowing it in your bones. Your body
remembers things better than your brain. If you practice something enough that you
know it without thinking and you can just execute, then you can put your energy
toward expression.

Conductor Gisele explains:

If memorization has come about easily and the choir knows a piece well, they
can be so expressive. They have connection with conductor and audience. But if
they are concerned with what comes next, it takes them in the opposite direction.

Conductor Bernardo gives credence to the idea of singing as oratory and recognizes that

the amount of repetition necessary to memorize in order to make singing delivery seem

like giving a speech is much greater for (older) amateurs than for school or college

choristers:

If singers are not going to memorize, they must give the illusion of
memorization, so that they are able to communicate while holding music—the way
an orator would speak. I can’t get my amateur choir to memorize as much as I
would like. A junior high choir will memorize something after they’ve sung it 3
times; a college choir, 20 times; my community choir, 50 times. The barrier of
holding printed music is huge.

Choristers recognize that they have more contact with conductor and audience

when they are off book, but they are anxious when preoccupied with remembering their

music. In the Vivan focus group, choristers ask to memorize, even major works. I ask,

“Are you suggesting memorization as a rehearsal technique or for performance?” Vivan

Celeste answers, “Not just in rehearsal, let’s perform from memory.” The desire to sing

from memory was mentioned not only by Vivans but by other choristers too. Albert says,

“I just wish we could try it. I would love our conductor to say at the beginning: ‘We are
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going to do such and such section from memory.’” Harper agrees, “I wish we could just

memorize even one piece.”

I ask choristers how memorization plays into their ability to be expressive. Trixie,

who, I remind readers, is blind, and memorizes all her music, says:

The beauty of having to memorize: The better I know the music, the more
expressive I can be. Someone said last rehearsal, “Wow, I don’t know the piece that
well; you get to be more musical because you do.” There’s a remedy for that!

I ask: “If you were an audience, what do you want when you see a choir?” Harper

says, “I want to see them looking up.” Kathy agrees, “There’s more of a connection if

they are off book and their faces are up.” Margot, the chorister who said she does not

believe choristers should exhibit facial expression, now says the benefit of memorization

is that “the engagement is there.” Conductor Paul conducts two amateur choirs, one of

which mostly memorizes and the other mostly does not:

The (non-memorizing) choir can still communicate when they are using music,
but (the memorizing choir) sings like [demonstrates singers buried in their books].
As they are not used to performing with music, when they do, their unconscious
mindset is that they are not performing, and posture and expression go to hell. My
choristers are aware of the power memorization gives an ensemble. When they go
to hear other choirs, and see even really good choirs singing on book, they perceive
the book as a barrier.

He acknowledges how demanding memorization can be: “Memorization is a lot of work,

a lot of anxiety. Some struggle with words, some with notes. Few do it easily.”

Conductor Aria, herself an avowed memorizer, says memorization is time-

consuming in rehearsal. Gilbert feels it worth his effort to memorize because then he can

watch his conductor, who gives such a lot back to the singer. Lola says memorization

makes her a better singer: “I’m looking more at the conductor and I have nowhere to hide

from the audience.” Wendell says choruses who memorize their music become the
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conductor’s instrument: “You can respond because you have internalized it enough.”

Dante recalls that his chorus used to sing the last movement of major works from

memory. “It is fun when it just sings.” Memorization is freeing to Remy:

When I start out [learning] I’m just focusing on what is on the page.
Memorized, I can forget about notes and rhythms, and think about what am I
expressing, what I want the audience to hear or feel or understand.

But for Basso, using the book is freeing: “We did a concert fully memorized; a

week later we did the same concert and the conductor let us use the music. The second

was so much more freeing for me.” Shannon sees both the upside and the downside to

memorization:

There are reasons for a choir to memorize: you connect more with your
audience. But people who memorize quickly stop referring to the music, so when
the conductor says, “Mark such and such a measure,” they don’t; they think they’ll
remember, but they never do, and they never sing what the conductor has asked.

Singers are clear that memorization must be solid to be an asset in performance.

Esteban compares singing with music to the immutability of written communication and

singing from memory to the more fluid medium of oral communication. It sounds as

though the second would be preferable to the first, but then he refers to the pitfall

Shannon has described:

When memorizing, there’s a tendency to forget precise rhythms and do

something not quite accurate, like take a rhythm from one section and apply it to
another. With memorization, it’s hard to avoid things getting sloppy.

Hearing other parts distracts Zach:

The more expressive the piece is, the more into it I get and I start to lose track.
If I am off book, and I like what another part is singing, I start singing their part. So
I like to use music because it reminds me, “That’s your part, there.”
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Derek and Basso know the hazards of memorizing. Derek admits to having to fake it

sometimes, and Basso says he forgives himself for mouthing a section he has not

memorized.

Trixie notes that on a recording of the choir singing by heart, “We actually

sounded more polished. It’s like the music came out through us, rather than us trying to

create it.” Dante, in the audience for a concert of his choir once, speaks about the

difference in sound: “When the books went down it was as if the volume was turned up!

There was a distinct difference in the sound.” I ask if the choristers feel the difference.

Lisa and others are enthusiastic. “Oh yeah! We love it. The extent to which you

internalize it is what enriches the experience.” But Annie counters their enthusiasm for

memorization:

I am going to take the negative side. When I have to sing 17 “amens,” I can’t
tell which one is which. It drives me crazy. . . . I’m totally worried about the amens,
which takes away from what I learned and know.

I ask the focus group, for whom memory is a requirement, “If you each had your

say, would you keep memorization as a performance requirement in your choir?” Helen:

I’d vote for a mix. We can be more attentive to each other off book. And we
tune better. But I have to spend a lot of energy and effort to memorize. I understand
the benefits of memorizing, but there are some pieces that require so much time and
energy that it’s unsatisfying.

Margaret:

As a memorized choir—it’s in our mission that we memorize—we are so

awkward when we have folders. But the pressure to memorize takes something
away from delivering the message, because you are so preoccupied counting on
your leg or figuring out the next word. It takes away from the artistic experience.

Kay says, “I cannot imagine singing without memorizing. I would have to relearn how to

sing. I don’t know how to look at the music and look at the conductor.”
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Memorization may be difficult, but many feel it worth the effort. When I ask if

the trade-off to memorization’s difficulty is that it allows choristers to be more expressive,

almost everyone agrees. A pastiche sums up these choristers’ endorsement of

memorization: “By my being memorized, every eyelash the conductor moved, we were

so together through the whole thing.” “If music is memorized, then you can be

expressive.” “Everything the conductor does, everybody sees.” “Memorizing is so

freeing!” “You are fully present.” “You are more inherently aware of the meaning of the

music and the emotions it evokes.” “Off book, I feel much more ‘there.’” “You can do

every nuance . . . there’s nothing like it.” Vivan Yun says she might sing with the same

intention, on book or off, but she thinks an audience connects more with a choir that is

off-book.

“Get Your Nose out of the Music”

Vivan Jack remarks:

There’s a vast difference in performing on book or off book. The worst possible
thing you can do is always being in reading mode. The most important thing is to
get your nose out of the music. Then you can project.

Calling it “The people-who-don’t-look-up issue,” Vivan Yun says, “Those choristers just

don’t get it! They need to be coached individually.” Chang knows the skill of singing

expressively while holding music cannot be taken for granted: “You have to learn the

habit of how to hold your music so you can look at it and at the conductor. It’s habit that

takes a lot of practice. It took me years.” Annie notes that when using the score, there is a

tension between the left-brain function of reading notation and the right-brain function of
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being creative. “Everybody gets so caught up in the annotation stuff, and they’re so

worried about all of that, that you miss the whole boat.”

I ask choristers if their conductors give them any specific instruction about the

“dance” that is necessary when holding music, between looking at the book and looking

at the conductor. Sara says her conductor “says something every once in a while, like ‘If

you were watching me . . .’” This may be the most frequent and futile complaint in all

choral rehearsal, as Hector confirms: “At dress rehearsal, the assistant conductor is out

there monitoring and she often says, ‘No one is looking up.’” In Collegium Musicum’s

rehearsal, the musical instruction of the director engaged the singers. But I noted,

“rehearsal is musically focused; no mention of comportment, holding books, or looking

up” (field notes, 10/08/15). This was also reflected in the choir’s performance when

singers glued to their music neutralized, for me, the musical conviction of the

performance (field notes, 11/1/15).

With another group, I ask:

When I observed your rehearsal (field notes, 9/29/15) I noticed the conductor
several times said to the choir: “You must look up.” I saw the same people who had
looked up look up again, and the same people who hadn’t, didn’t. Does it matter
whether choristers look up?

Kathy says it matters, but doesn’t know if she looks up. This is the point Yun has made,

that choristers may simply be unaware of where they are looking. Felix Kantorei made an

effective change. Where, in rehearsal, the choir seemed impervious to their conductor’s

requests, in performance they were engaged, and seemed committed to projection (field

notes 10/17/2015). I mentioned the shift I had observed. Kathy suggests the obvious, that

it might just be a matter of a singer’s confidence in her knowing the music well enough,

and Margot says, “Especially in groups like ours, with high reading skills, people are so
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attached to the book.” Conductor Francis encapsulates the prevailing concern in a pithy

axiom, “Don’t let the music you hold get in the way of the music you make.”3

“The Only Way To Get it Wrong Is To Stand Stock Still”

Conductors use movement in rehearsal to free the sound. Conductor Francis says,

“Visual starts with movement, and once you move, you can’t have tight muscles because

a muscle in motion can’t be tight. The movement frees up the voice.” Conductor Gisele is

a dancer herself, which is evident in her conducting, especially in rehearsal, when she

demonstrates the sound she wants by leaping lightly on and off the podium, and flying

elegantly across the stage to give form to her musical point (field notes, 9/29/2015). She

explains how movement in rehearsal translates to expressivity in performance:

I leap around a lot during rehearsal. I jump off the podium, run across the stage.
In concert, I might only do this (shows a horizontal gesture with arm) and the
singers will remember my running across the stage. It builds a vocabulary of
gestures.

She is an advocate for eurhythmics, the use of the whole body, which she regularly

applies in rehearsal warm-ups to engage singers’ bodies. Daley (2012) discusses the

musical benefits of Dalcroze’s method of teaching musical rhythm, structure, and

expression through movement, to capture expressivity in students who are technically

proficient but lacked musical qualities. Gisele says, “There is always a little initial

resistance, but once they hear it and they feel it and they get it, a whole new world opens

3
Francis attributes the axiom to Dr. J. Edmund Hughes, composer and Adjunct Professor
of Music at the University of Puget Sound, Washington.
 177

up.” I ask Gisele’s choristers whether they felt that doing eurhythmics helps the choir’s

expression. Eurhythmics suits Margot because, she says, “I’m kinesthetic, and I’m

actually really good at rhythm, but I’m not good at reading rhythm.” Kathy also mentions

specific benefits of eurhythmics: “It affected rhythmic expression: We were in a circle all

on the tips of our toes. And we stayed ahead of the beat, and got the flow of the line.”

Lola, too, sees the benefits of eurhythmics in correcting rhythmic deficiencies: “It

showed why people are late after a dotted note: that in itself was worth the price of

admission.”

Conductor Bernardo encourages his choristers to conduct while they are rehearsing

(field notes, 3/31/2015). The issue of movement did not come up in his interview, but

Viola, who sings in his choir, says how much the movement he requires helps the choir’s

musicality:

Physical movement helps with expression. Like for a sforzando, you pull your
hand. Sometimes it’s great and sometimes you don’t really feel like doing it. But it
helps you remember the musical expression when you are in a concert.

Conductor Aria uses movement to fuel expression, because, she says: “The

physical act creates deeper levels of understanding and meaning.” She uses movement as

a fix when choristers do not seem to feel the rhythm. During the rehearsal I attended, Aria

felt the choir was not feeling the sub-pulse enough, so she asked them to first to walk

around the room and sing, and then to march and sing. This changed the sound more

effectively than when they tapped the rhythm while seated (field notes, 3/22/2015). Aria

recounts the choir learning Palestrina’s Sicut Cervis: “It was technically correct, but then

I had them put one foot slightly forward on every text accent, just the smallest amount,
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and then bring it back. That was magic.” She also says that movement implemented for

musical expression can be visually expressive:

Singers needn’t plan their movements or practice them. The movement should
be natural and organic. The little nuances are hardly anything at all, but leaning in a
bit, or pulling back a bit, lifting the head a little—all of these things are magical
moments from an audience perspective. And it’s easy!

Although some choristers like to move, not all choristers find movement easy,

natural, or organic. But Mimi says: “I find myself moving [onstage]. I cannot physically

stay still. It’s just natural for me. It comes from within.” Many audiences find such

movements visually effective.

Wendell says he dislikes formal choreography for choirs, so-called choralography

[a staged sequence of steps and movements designed specifically for choral performance].

Choralography is not the same as presentational expression, a less formalized showing or

projection of feeling, but, its mention raises some telling issues: “The problem with those

kind of visuals is that they are just one person’s imagination,” he says. Choralography

seems most effective when there is a willing and able choir, adequate rehearsal, and

repertoire that is enhanced by a staged movement, Virginia knows this from experience:

We sang a piece with choreography and the discomfort of many members came
through. When we dropped the choreography it became freeform. The only way to
get it wrong would have been to stand stock-still. Energy that had been diverted
into something we are not good at now went into the singing.

Octavia’s caution about amateurs lacking the skills for acting might apply to

choralography. Without adequate training, attempts to act or to move result in self-

consciousness, an uncomfortable situation for the choristers that runs counter to being

expressive, and uncomfortable for the audience, too.

Conductor Bernardo has the final word on movement:

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Choirs that sing standing still tend to be the less expressive choirs. There should
be some kind of movement, but not so extreme to the point of distraction. We need
to talk to our choirs about those pieces without choreography to determine what
“the look” is for every single piece.

“The Sticks Should Bump It Up”

Referring to sound production, Conductor Gisele points to choral singers’ limited

necessity for movement as compared with instrumentalists in connection with sound

production: “Physical motion is hugely important in musical expressivity; violinists and

oboists all have physical stuff they do, but singers just need to stand there.” Conductor

Yuval adds:

In the case of our choir, we are 160 singers. That is big for singing light and
clear, like for Mozart. I wanted them to feel like dancers . . . balanced and poised,
ready to really dance.

Basso takes the position of an audience member watching the ensemble and, merging his

self-proclaimed nerdiness with his performance sensibilities, he describes the effect of

different degrees of movement in mathematical terms:

In some groups there are real outliers. If you were to plot it on a Gaussian
curve4 you notice it more in the people on the happy side; from an audience
perspective, it’s almost distracting. They’re obviously really into it, but you almost
want to just dial it down a bit.

Shannon adopts a practical chorister perspective: “The people standing behind them

really want them to dial it down.” Lauren talks about the opposite situation, in which

people move little: “We have some people who are just sticks. Compared with them, I

4
A mathematical graph that shows the distribution of events as the normalized sum of all
values.
 180

feel I move too much at times.” To which Jade replies: “I don’t think any of us should

pare it down. I think the sticks should bump it up.”

The choristers shift the focus of the dialogue from movement as an aid to musical

expression to movement as an expressive element of its own. That they do this so

seamlessly suggests that movement in rehearsal to improve the music is closely allied

with movement in performance to project the character of the music and provide visual

interest for the audience. Shrimp mentions how important the appropriateness of the

movement is to the style, mood, and character of each piece. She values uniformity of

movement within the ensemble, and sees movement for musicality benefitting the

performer, and movement for visual interest benefitting the audience:

In a quiet number, you probably shouldn’t be moving around a whole lot, but if
you are singing I’ve Been Anchored [an African-American spiritual], you better be
moving, otherwise you look like you are singing the wrong piece.

Remy has sung under conductors who pay as much attention to movement unity as they

do to musical unity:

They are very exacting about the whole thing. They might point people out:
“You’re not moving enough!” and “You’re moving too much!” And that’s in pieces
without choreography.

Amy describes a dance practice of expressing lyrics that has helped her chorally:

I did partner dancing. One of the last elements they introduced was to go with
the lyrics of the song. You are always striving for musicality, to match the flow of
the music, but to convert the words into what you are doing with your body was the
cherry on the cake: Expressing the lyrics physically helps connect me to the music.

Amy’s experience of dancing to express sung text takes Aria’s description of using

movement to express text accent to another level. The Kantorei choristers, who have

experienced eurhythmics, confirmed that it helped them with rhythm and relaxation, as
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Daley (2012) notes. Choristers who may be resistant to eurhythmics may not be up for

dance classes per se, but, as Viola suggests, movement in rehearsal is helpful to embody

character, even if choristers have not wanted to do it: “Some nights it’s great and

sometimes you just want to smack him because you don’t feel like jumping up and down.

But when you are in a concert, you remember what you did.”

“The Conductor Is an Artist and We Are His Paint”

Vivan Yun says a conductor conveys musical intention to both ensemble and

audience by gesture, posture, and movement: “It’s not just hands and arms. It’s the whole

body and it’s very involving.” Despite conductor training that focuses on how to elicit a

musical response from an ensemble (Eichenberger & Thomas, 1994), and literature

dealing with gesture (McElheran, 1964/1989; Webb, 1993; Rudolf, 1995; Jordan, 1996;

1961/1997), there are unresolved issues and mysteries about how conductors

communicate intention to their ensembles, and what choristers perceive their conductors

are doing and showing. Viola offers a metaphor for conductor and chorister interaction:

The conductor is an artist and we are his paint. He’s the one telling the story. I
am not “me” in a choir; I am the conductor’s instrument. I express myself through
the conductor.

Margaret recalls a connection in performance with a former conductor that is intense and

personal: “When she conducted, it was all about you and her. The way she looked at you,

you were transcended into another world.”

Several choristers, however, are frustrated by their conductors not looking up or

not looking like the mood of the piece, both things choirs are used to being asked to do
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by their conductors. Hector wants to reflect back to his conductor what he has so often

heard the conductor say to the choir, “Is this happy or sad music? It’s happy! Well, then,

why aren’t you smiling?” Joy asks, “When the conductor has his head in the music, and

isn’t there when I look up, why should I?” Emma feels a difference when her conductor

uses music and when he does not:

In rehearsal, we are all in our scores. But in performance we don’t have our
music. If he’s staring at his music, that distances us. He didn’t use music for one
performance, and I felt much more connected to him.

Conductor Francis uses the score differently in rehearsal and in performance:

During rehearsal I want to get everything right so I check notes and dynamics.
But, when it comes to the performance, by the time I’ve heard the error I can’t do
anything about it! So I look into the eyes of my singers, to encourage them.

I ask: “What are your singers getting from you that makes them expressive? What are

you showing in your face?” Francis: “I am showing the expression I would have if I were

singing.” I ask: “Is that the expression you would want them to have?” Francis replies,

“When it comes to my face, do I want them to emulate it?—Only if they feel the same

way. What they are emoting has got to be authentic for them.” For Shannon it is

imperative for the conductor to reflect what she wants the choir to be emoting. Lola is

full of praise for her conductor: “She gives us something interesting, inspiring, and heart-

warming every time I lift my eyes, that motivates me to look and to mirror what I see.”

Conductor Bernardo thinks of himself as expressive, facially and bodily. “I model it

pretty well, if I may say.” In rehearsal (3/31/2015), he exuded the character of the music.

Gilbert confirms that Bernardo does not just ask or tell the choir, but demonstrates the

expressiveness that he wants them to emulate:

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Other conductors have asked, because not going far enough has been an issue
with our choir. But Bernardo shows us. He goes way farther in rehearsal than he’s
asking us to do in concert.

Conductor Hooper reminds me that Carter (2005) recommends conductors do not

emote, because that coerces the choir into parroting back the same thing; instead, if

conductors encourage the choristers to develop a relationship with the text, then what

they reflect is more their own expression (Carter, 2005, p. 38). Hooper says:

I understand Tom’s critique that, if the conductor shows expression, it makes

the choices for the singers. I think you allow the actor to find the choices in the
rehearsal process. There are all these studies on the brain and mirror neurons.

Conductor Aria feels she should model what she would like her singers to express. She

adds a last thought that she is the filter [funnel] through which the choir’s expression is

directed to the audience:

Do you remember the keynote address Weston Noble gave at the American
Choral Directors Association National Convention when he talked about mirror
neurons?5 It makes perfect sense. I show them what I want to see, they give it back
to me. It’s an exchange. I model for the singers what I want to see. I perform for
them so they can perform for the audience.

Aria says that a conductor modeling for a choir is especially useful for amateurs:

“ because that’s one of the only ways that amateurs understand.” Conductor Hooper says

the opposite:

I don’t think the conductor can actually perform for the choir. You are doing
things to keep all the balls in the air. You want the choir actually doing the
expressing. The conductor’s job is to coax. When you over-conduct, your choir
does less.

He is referring to the conductor showing expression of feeling while maintaining the

technical features of tempo and rhythm, dynamics, articulations, phrasing, and vowels

5
http://www.acda.org/Western/2010Spring.pdf, p. 10.
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and consonants. In this context, it is the conductor who must balance technique and

expression. Conductor Addison takes up Hooper’s allusion to the expressive quality of

gesture. He recalls Eichenberger’s (1994) premise for conducting, that what the

conductor shows the choir is what they will give back.

I’ve never forgotten the basic premise, “What they see is what you get.” It goes
both ways: You hope that they are seeing and that what they are seeing is
communicating what you want communicated. I want them to see my passion, how
much it matters—on my face and in my body.

Conductor Paul talks about not conducting in neutral gear, but cueing the emotional

valence or character of a piece and:

If I say, “Some spot needs to be more blah-blah,” they ask, “Can you show us?”
They need the reminder, the cue. Since they are off book, and their connection to
me is so important, if I conduct neutral, they reflect neutral in their performance.

Lauren refers to in-the-moment guidance she gets from her conductor: “You

know how you go in and out in performance, you lose the emotional and you’re back in

technical land? When I lose my way, all I have to do is look at him.” Emma says: “You

cannot avoid mirroring what you see; it’s instinctive. I think you need both to be truly

successfully expressive.” Jade makes a distinction between whether the audience receives

the conductor’s or the choir’s expression: “What the audience gets is how we react to

what we get from our conductor.” Derek takes the point further; he says he enjoys it

when the ensemble sings without the conductor: “When our conductor doesn’t conduct, I

feel, is when we have the most freedom. That’s the opportunity for the choir, as an

organism, to really create.”

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“If I Can’t Find the Beat I Don’t Care How Expressive the Conductor Is”

Conductors express multivalent meanings with their gestures and facial

expressions, not to mention their demeanor. What they intend to show and what singers

see are not always the same, just as what singers think they show may not be what others

see. Some, but not all, choristers say they watch both a conductor’s gestures and her face.

In practice, it seems taken for granted that choristers understand the implicit content of

conducting language—what conductors’ gestures and facial expression are intended to

convey—an ironic omission in endeavors so focused on communication and expression.

At the most basic level, choristers feel comfortable when a conductor’s beat patterns and

tempi are clear. When asked what they wanted to see from a conductor, Hector says,

“The downbeat!” Susan captures a common chorister frustration with conductors’ lack of

clarity: “If I can’t find the beat I don’t care how expressive the conductor is.”

There is a lack of agreement about what choristers focus on in what conductors

show. Most chorister participants say they watch the conductor’s face more than her

hands; some say they watch hands; a few are aware of both hands and face. Viola: “Eyes.

I’m watching face more than hands. Vernon: “I’m watching his gestures.” Gilbert: “If

I’m confident, I’m watching the audience.”

Conductor Bernardo thinks it behooves conductors to remind singers not just that

they should watch, but what they might be watching for. Some choristers concur that they

are unclear about what message is intended by what the conductor shows. Bernardo says,

“My singers’ tendency is to watch my face. And you have to teach them what [gesture] to
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watch for and what it means.” Conductor Paul has a special gesture for reminding his

singers to watch his gesture:

In performance, they are watching my face as if I didn’t have any hands. I do

this gesture often: [his left hand points to his right]. It’s condescending, I know, but
I am showing quality of the beat and articulation and they are not paying attention.

Conductor Aria describes how important gesture is:

Your choir should be able to sing a piece—it might not be expressive and it
might not be beautiful—but they should still be able to sing, at least what’s on the
page, if they cut off your head.

Conductors and singers speak about the tightrope between intense emotion—

feeling and showing—and being able to perform. One chorister said he hates it when his

director cries during performance. Conductor Aria relates how undesirable it is when she

has such a strong emotional response that she loses her poise:

In the Randall Thompson Alleluia there was a moment that just took my breath
away and I looked down for a moment. I apologized to the choir after, for being a
faucet. “We almost went with you,” they said. We need to go far with intense
emotions in rehearsal, and then hold it in performance.

Like several choristers, conductor Paul says has what he calls “a neutral pleasant

expression,” but admits to having to challenge himself to be more facially expressive

because he knows that is a catalyst for the choir:

On that humorous mosquito-and-pig piece you heard us rehearse last week, next
rehearsal I am going to act for them. I am mediocre in acting, but I will act to give
them a springboard.

Louise:

I watch mostly the conductor’s face and I see his hands peripherally. You asked
what creates expression?—The conductor’s face. We have to look at him, right? So
when he is like this [shows animation], I get it.
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Shrimp says she watches both face and gestures. Remy says it depends: “There are some

conductors who, if you didn’t look at their face, you’d miss half the cues.” Shannon

watches mostly face, but Esteban says, “I watch our conductor’s hands more because she

is so precise and you can pick up lots of little things going on.” Shrimp says of a guest

conductor: “You’ve gotta be watching that guy’s eyes. The eyes were saying ‘more’ or

‘less.’” Esteban adds, “Yes, and sometimes his gesture just stopped, even when he

wanted us to continue singing!”

Jade, Derek, Lauren, Jade, and Amy say they watch their conductor’s face more

than his hands, because they know, from rehearsal, what musical elements they should

bring forth; with guest conductors, they watch hands more. Margaret and others mostly

watch their conductor’s face. Margaret says: “His eyes give me everything.” Emma says

the opposite: “I watch his hands because his face isn’t giving me anything. I don’t want

eye contact; I avoid eye contact.” Virginia: “When he looks at me, it’s usually to let me

know I should sing softer.” In The City Singers, Marie, Lisa, and Wendell all watch their

conductor’s face, because they find it expressive.

Marie adds a cautionary tip for bearded conductors: “Now that he has the beard

off again, that helps a lot.” But, choristers say, they do not watch their conductor’s

gestures as much because they do not match the music. Marie: “Sometimes you just can’t

go with what he is doing because he is so athletic. He’s way out there with motion and

we are doing something really quiet.” Wendell: “Even with the baton, he does expressive

things. What’s hard is that sometimes I can’t tell where the beat is [laughter].” Lisa: “His

beat is kind of a circle.” In the rapid-fire banter, someone else said: “The beat is

somewhere in here.” Annie: “His cueing can be non-existent.” Lisa: “I put notes in my
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score in practically everything we have sung that say, ‘No Cue.’ If he misses a cue twice

in a row, you know he’s not going to do it in performance.” Trixie, the blind singer, says:

“If I am close enough toward the front, I can kind of feel what his energy is doing, and

sometimes his motion doesn’t match his energy.”

Observing their performance (field notes, 8/13/2015), I noticed a disjuncture

between the character of the music and the conductor’s gestures. In light of this, I

wondered at the obviously effective connection this conductor makes with his ensemble.

In rehearsal, when the conductor vividly explained his conception of the music, the

choristers readily went with him. It was clear that his interactions with the choir are

positive and friendly. These attributes help him get his message across to his choir. Just

as musical expression may not be solely musical, conducting expression is not solely

about gesture.

A conductor’s gesture, typically described in visual terms, can be sensed in

another way than the purely visual. With sufficient physical proximity, Trixie perceives

gesture in terms of energy. Perhaps what she describes is Iacoboni (2009)’s mirror neuron

theory in action. The application of this perception of energy to a conception of choral

expression seems like a natural one. If a chorister can sense her conductor’s gesture, one

might surmise that an audience not only sees visual expression, but may sense it too. In

this way, emotional contagion (Hatfield et al., 1993, 1994) may occur in performance

between conductor and choir, between choir and audience, and between conductor and

audience. Contagion may occur when one sees or feels something.

Hooper suggests that a conductor’s job is to keep all the balls in the air and to

allow the choristers to find their own expressive temperature. Catherine says, “We may
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take our cues from the conductor, but we add our own personal expression to the mix. It’s

not one or the other.” What conductors do to enable their choirs to be expressive appears

to be more than showing beat patterns, cues, and expressive and readable musical

gestures. It seems paradoxical that, in an endeavor so focused on communication, the

intention of conductor gesture, the technical means of communicating with the ensemble,

is not always understood.

Rehearsing

Expression in rehearsal and performance are nested like a set of Russian dolls.

Annie likens the two to a family dinner and a banquet. For Esteban, expression in

rehearsal is like talking to oneself, whereas performance is having a conversation. Susan

explains it as rehearsal being for oneself and performance for the public. “When we are

rehearsing, we are doing it for ourselves, and for the technical aspects; the real mix

doesn’t happen until you have an audience.” Participants share their views on how

rehearsal and performance processes affect their expressive abilities.

“Chorus Interruptus”

Choristers find one commonly used rehearsal strategy singularly unhelpful in

building expression. Vivan Celeste coins a term to describe singers’ frustration at being

stopped midstream. She says, “At the performance, there’s the pleasure of singing the

whole piece without ‘chorus interruptus.’” Choristers value singing through a work
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without interruption, yet conductors acknowledge how difficult it is for them to give their

choristers this opportunity. Conductor Bernardo acknowledges:

Even if we say, in rehearsal, that we’re going to run the piece from start to
finish, how many times do we actually do that? Even when we are good about it, we
do it only 75% of the time.

Vernon remarks, “How many times have you heard a conductor say, ‘I’m going to try not

to stop’”? Gilbert notes, “Sometimes we didn’t sing all the way through until the concert!

We didn’t study the text until just before dress rehearsal. And we never ran it all the way

through.”

Conductor Paul:

With my choir, there is a strong desire for the run-through because of testing
memorization. But the danger is, by the time you have been through it three times,
the mistakes have been installed, and you need as many repetitions to get the habit
out to start again at neutral. At university, we’d sing through things, and the director
would say, “Measures 14-22 need work.” And the next rehearsal we’d sing through,
and she’d say again, “Measures 14-22 need work.” The stuff that worked always
worked, and that stuff that didn’t work always didn’t work.

Suzanne:

It’s hard to be expressive when you are constantly being stopped: You are
working up to something, and then, bam, it’s gone! Unless you go through the
piece, come what may, you may not get the sense of the expressiveness of the
music.

In rehearsal, about two weeks before performance (field notes, 9/29/2015), a chorister

said to the conductor, “Thank you for giving us the opportunity to sing through.” Margot

says this is new and much appreciated:

I have sung with our conductor for 12 years; she never used to let us sing
through the whole thing practically until dress rehearsal. That drove me crazy. I
need it set in context.
 191

I ask one focus group: “Would you give up some of the bitty work, the technical

work, working on this or that phrase, for a run-through?” Most say yes. Trixie: “When we

are just getting into the music and the feel of it, he says, ‘Stop!! We need to work on

this!’” Lisa: “Our section doesn’t even stand up anymore . . . because he’s going to stop

somewhere before he gets to us. In rehearsal, mostly it’s snippets of things, not even two

or three movements in a row, so we don’t have the arc of the music.” Dante: “In

performance I always feel as if I am really putting forth. One reason is the adrenaline of

the performance and the second is that we rarely get to sing a piece from start to finish.”

Lisa: “Or a movement from start to finish.” Dante: “So in performance, singing from

beginning to end, you get the whole thing.” Only Fay is of the opinion that detailed work

is more valuable than run-throughs.

Another group tells the same story. Virginia says: “Our conductor is super detail-

oriented. Even in the home stretch, in sound check, we are doing little bits, so we don’t

see how all the bits fit together from start to finish. It never falls into sequence.” Emma:

“Nine times out of ten we stop.” Catherine: “It’s so frustrating to be stopped when we are

giving energy and giving face.”

“Resting Bitch Face”

Choristers say they know their own unconscious facial expressions can convey

unintended meaning in performance, and that they have to practice their facial

expressions in rehearsal in order to project the expression they want in performance.

Harper hardly thinks about facial expression: “I probably have a pleasant enough face,
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unless it’s sad texts. They usually tell us, ‘Stop looking so happy when we are singing

this sad text.’” William likewise has what he calls “a default pleasant look that I put on.”

He says, “It comes from singing in barbershop for many years. I even look pleasant when

the song is really sad!”

Other singers recognize that their natural facial expression is not always helpful.

They are candid about themselves. Emma:

I have a resting face. I call it “Resting Bitch Face.” It’s what I have. So I need to
inject . . . otherwise I really look like I’m having a horrible time even when I’m not.
For guys, it’s “Resting A-hole Face.”

Virginia: “My face at rest looks very grim. The sides of my mouth turn down. I need to

neutralize.” Shannon, too, says she does not look lovely when she sings:

It’s just the way I am made and that I am getting older and my face is drooping.
Although I am doing vowels correctly on the inside it may not look great on the
outside.

Singers agree that looking serious without seeming glum is more difficult than looking

happy. Shannon again:

Doing the Pergolesi Stabat Mater, which isn’t happy music by a long shot, I
tried to put as pleasant a look on my face as I could and sing—that is a struggle, to
look pleasant but not happy.

Some conductors address facial expression by simply instructing the choir, “Smile! This

is a happy piece.” My observations suggest this does not always result in a compelling

visual message.
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“Video Doesn’t Lie”

Video-recording rehearsal, especially when singers can view the recording on

their own, emerges as the most positive feedback experience for many of the choristers.

As Margot says, “Video doesn’t lie.” Vivan Mimi: “It’s a reality check.” Vivan Yun:

“The video lets you know right away.” Vivan Mei: “The video gives you more to think

about when you least want it.” Basso: “Sometimes it is embarrassing and sometimes it

gives you just enough that you can work on it.” Conductor Paul: “When singers see

themselves on video, they realize they are doing less as far as acting, and come across as

less expressive, than they thought they were.” Catherine: “On a video of our choir I can

pick out the people who are not engaged. They aren’t showing it, they aren’t

communicating out.”

Conductor Aria finds that playing a video of the choir on fast-forward makes it easy

for singers to see habits: “At two or three times speed, the fidgets are noticeable. The

singers are able to see the physical things that distract from expression.” After attending

and recording Conductor Hooper’s first rehearsal, I sent the video to him. He said:

I sent the video and told the choir they needed to watch it. Some people got it
together. Other people said they looked different from what they expected; they
thought they were being expressive. It was invaluable.

Conductor Gisele says singers compare themselves with others on the video: “If the video

is panning a chorus, each singer can look at themselves and look at the whole group and

see how well they are doing or not.” Viola: “Video-recording the dress rehearsal was so

useful. I saw myself pushing up my glasses 1000 times.” Harper: “I would like to see a
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video of us to watch as if we were the audience, because choirs that use music: a lot of

them are looking down.”

My own choristers, who used rehearsal videos in a recent season, describe the

impact this made on their performance and on them personally. They are highly self-

critical, but seem able to use their self-observations constructively. Vivan Chantelle says:

The videos opened my eyes to what you have been saying for years . . . that we
shouldn’t move our heads up and down, or sideways, when reading. That was
completely clear to me. I agreed with that. What I didn’t realize was that I was
guilty of it myself! It was shocking that I’d listened to your requests and
suggestions and thought, “I agree, but I’m not doing that!” (personal
communication, May 31, 2015.)

Vivan Yun used a video application on her computer to record and watch herself. She

wrote of her seeing improvements in her facial expression, her posture and comportment:

I have learned and grown so much, thanks to watching myself on video. All
along I thought I was being expressive, but wasn’t. And I’m so glad you personally
gave me a heads up about it (personal communication, May 28, 2015).

Vivan Mei:

It was pleasing and horrifying at the same time! After all the talking you’ve
done about it and all the trying I’ve done, I saw I was still doing weird stuff. It was
a shock. I thought I was doing all the right things. In performance I sure was
thinking about that video.

Vivan Celeste says, “I looked like a zombie. After I saw the video, I thought about Belle

and Cecilia, who are so expressive, and I tried to perform more as they do.”

Vivan Belle:

When you are singing it’s like being in conversation with someone and, as you
are listening, your body language says something: You’re leaning back or forward,
you’re making eye contact, making facial expressions. In actual conversation, I
usually don’t say much, and the way I participate is more by facial expression and
body language. That’s what I do in singing too.
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Everyone agrees that, with video, singers’ awareness of their own shortcomings and

strengths is immediate. Vivan Cecilia writes:

Viewing the videos of our rehearsals on our own to improve our on-stage
presence and expression was a breakthrough for me. It brought to light personal
foibles. Viewing videos of actual performances has always been a pleasant
experience, but as I now realize, one without particular focus. Viewing the rehearsal
videos became much more targeted and was a novel way of learning (personal
communication, May 27, 2015).

Performing

“I Love Performing” or “It’s Time to Pay the Piper”

Choristers differ in their attitude to performance. For some, performance is the

culmination of a season of rehearsal. It is a “high,” there is the rush of adrenaline, and

success primes them for the next performance. As conductor Addison and Vivan Mei

have said, it is an addictive narcotic. Kay loves to perform. She says, “I love performing;

it gives me a chance to express myself . . . I am proud to be a member of this choir, and

performance is part of that for me.” Helen remarks: “I really look forward to exposing

others to the music, their lives, open their hearts and connect with them.”

For others, performance is not keenly anticipated or the most enjoyable part of

their choral participation. These choristers find fulfillment in the process of learning the

music rather than in performing it. Performance is stressful for them and thus less

satisfying than rehearsal. Wendell says:

With one chorus I have sung with, there are a lot of people who really didn’t
like performing . . .but they really enjoy just getting together and rehearsing. It
could have been the Rehearsal Society.
 196

I ask: “Not liking performance isn’t just because your feet hurt, your back hurts,

your toes are numb, and you can’t walk after standing on risers?” Several say it is all

those things, but it is more than discomfort. Virginia is a convincing performer (field

notes, 08/14/15) but says she generally does not like to perform: “Concert weekend is the

time to pay the piper.” Catherine, also a fine performer, concurs:

There are seasons I’d be perfectly happy not to give concerts. I’ve learned new
repertoire, had a great time making music with my friends and cohorts, but do I feel
the need to give a performance? Sometimes I just feel, “There goes my weekend!”

Margaret is ambivalent:

It is pay the piper and it’s also, “Look what I can do!” I am excited to share with
the audience the culmination of the hard work and I’m so passionate about all of
this I think the audience will be too. Then again, the shy side of me hates it. When
we have a performance it’s less for me than in rehearsal.

Other choristers also prefer rehearsal to performance. Yoshi says he always sings

better at dress rehearsal than at the performance: “We get to run through the piece many

times, and one of those times it’s going to be our best performance, whether that’s in

performance or in rehearsal.” Dorian, too, enjoys dress rehearsal more than the

performance: “I don’t sing so much for the audience; it’s for me. There’s something

easygoing about the dress rehearsal, when we are all together making music, and there’s

no pressure.” Lydia likes the atmosphere and camaraderie she experiences in the dress

rehearsal. She regards the concert as a necessity to give focus to the rehearsals. Rachel’s

perspective shows both sides of the coin:

I have sung in a group that didn’t perform and I had no commitment. I would
show up every week and sight-read. It didn’t matter to anyone else and it didn’t
matter to me. It’s important to have that goal.
 197

The social aspect of the group is as important for some of the singers as the

musical one. Rehearsal is more of a place for sociability than performance. Dress

rehearsal, especially if an orchestra comes on board, is a halfway house between the

routine of regular weekly rehearsal and the excitement of putting together choral and

orchestral parts. There is no watching, listening public, so it is still very much just for the

singers’ own satisfaction. If performance itself is not a modality for expression, then

there is nothing special to do in performance other than sing.

“Quality Is Not the Elimination of Defects”

In performance, Gilbert is willing to risk technical accuracy for something more

potent: “I give myself permission to make mistakes.” Several participants mention the

audience’s tolerance for mistakes as an asset in live performance. Paul says that an

audience is more forgiving of technical deficiencies “because they want the emotion.”

Kathy says that a mediocre performance [by which I think she means a performance

lacking technical precision] moves her more than a performance that is pristinely perfect.

She tries to put her finger on what it was that moved her:

I was writing for Chorus America about a small community that had a choir
whose mission is that everybody counts. I watched a video of theirs online. It
wasn’t the most beautifully polished performance but everyone’s face was up, it
was so heartfelt, I started crying. There was something going on that doesn’t have
to do with perfection.

Conductor Addison agrees:

It might not be perfection in terms of absolute exact rhythms and all that stuff,
but it may be miraculously expressive and moving, to listener and to the singers,
who may or may not know that it wasn’t perfect, and, in a way, it doesn’t matter.
 198

Annie, certain that the audience comes to be moved, says, “people are very forgiving and

perfection is not what they are after.” Remy asks, “If you get more expression out of the

choir when they are not looking at the music and they can connect better with the

audience, is it okay if they make mistakes?” She answers her own question: “It depends

on what the mistake is, I guess.” Shannon thinks that mistakes make the audience

uncomfortable and can cause inter-choir friction, because one person’s error can throw

off others. Basso says that a mistake makes it really hard for him to get back in. “I get

nervous and then it’s a negative feedback loop!” Remy is aware of the snowball effect of

one mistake: “Someone makes a mistake and then everyone starts worrying about making

a mistake and it gets tentative.”

Virginia says, “Perhaps quality is not the elimination of defects. Turning in a

great performance is more than, maybe even independent of, getting everything correct.”

Then she says, “Our conductor could start transitioning to that [attitude] at dress

rehearsal.” Helen agrees that there should be a shift in focus from accuracy in rehearsal to

connection with the audience in performance:

Rehearsals are fun because of the precision demanded. We work really hard and
are individually responsible. We should have intensity in rehearsal. But we
shouldn’t have to work so hard in performance, where we should be having fun.

“We Measure Our Success”

Perceptions of a performance’s success vary among conductor, choristers, and

audience members. Success can be difficult to quantify, and often depends on personal

and subjective impressions. Some choirs dissect their performance, or their conductor
 199

dissects it for them, which may or may not be productive. Others may not have occasion

to do so collectively. Conductor Aria finds, “Reflection on the performance afterward

with the ensemble can be really beneficial.” But Rachel cautions, “It’s counterproductive

to hold a serious postmortem of every mistake that was made in the concert. It just makes

you anxious for the next season’s concert.” Conductor Yuval’s approach is practical and

constructive: “We measure our success by our own standard. If we perform the piece

better than we did last time, or if it was better than our rehearsal, then it’s a success.”

Summary

The relationship between technique and expression is tricky to negotiate.

Although many regard a technical foundation as necessary for musical performance, they

agree that technical excellence may not result in a satisfying performance. While mastery

of technique enables singers to focus on presentation and conveying a message, technical

ability does not necessarily engender expressivity. When technique fails, anecdotes

confirm, an emotional concomitant may resolve a technical problem and produce the

desired expressive effect. Several conductors find that, when technical teaching does not

producing a satisfying result, a human connection, via personal anecdote or text analysis,

can sometimes yield a musical outcome. Conductors cite the importance of breathing,

physical posture, and facial expression for both conductor and choir.

Although rehearsing for musical expression goes unchallenged, practicing for

visual projection of expression is controversial. Conductors advocate rehearsing with

expression as the only way of ensuring expressive performance, but some choristers
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object because it takes energy to create emotional intensity in rehearsal and, given the

lack of an audience, it may simply be impossible for the performers to manifest

expression fully.

Memorization is another polarized issue: Most participants see memorization as allowing

communication (meaning looking) between choir and conductor and choir and audience.

If memorization is difficult or if choristers fear it, apprehension or uncertainty may

impede their communicativeness. Some choristers prefer to memorize, others not,

regardless of musicianship. Memorization can cause anxiety and adult amateur choirs

require more repetition for memorization than younger choirs. Some but not all choristers

want to memorize music, for greater expressivity and engagement with conductor and

audience. Some choristers want to memorize, even major works.

Using the book is not a simple solution, because techniques need to be acquired

for holding a binder, reading the music, and being expressive. One chorister notes that the

art of holding a book while still attending to the conductor must be learned and practiced.

Get your noses out of your books is a frequent, baleful refrain. Yet, if choirs are used to

performing from memory, they perform less expressively when using the music.

Both conductors and choristers feel it is important for the conductor to

demonstrate the expressivity she wants the choir to enact, though conductors disagree on

exactly how this should occur. There is a tension between choral self-expression and

mirroring the conductor’s gestures and expressions. Some choristers focus on the

conductor’s face and some on her hands. Sight is not the only mode of perception

involved; a blind chorister can sense a conductor’s energy, perhaps an example of the

mirror-neuron theory.
 201

Movement in rehearsal is found to be helpful musically—mainly for rhythm,

accent, and line—and visually, where some physical freedom may portray mood and

character. Choristers may not be aware of how they look, and may find it difficult to

perceive their own facial expressions and degree of movement. Choristers find feedback,

especially from video-recordings, instantly helpful. Many find watching videos of

themselves rehearsing or performing surprising and valuable for learning how to manage

their facial expression for an audience.

Choristers have preferences regarding rehearsal techniques, especially a strong

desire to be allowed to sing pieces straight through without interruption at least

occasionally in rehearsal. They feel that each chorister is responsible to the others for

learning his or her own notes outside of rehearsal.

 202

Chapter VII

FINDINGS: SYNERGIES

Introduction

Research Question 3:

What helps and what hinders an ensemble’s ability to be expressive in performance?

Findings themes categorized as Synergies are summarized in Table 8.

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Participants recognize that artistic endeavor is influenced by the human

interactions within an ensemble, over and above the musical instrumentalities. They

discuss qualities of leadership and “follership” (followership) that they consider promote

or impede an amateur choral ensemble’s ability to be expressive. For amateur choristers,

 203

their conductor’s personal qualities may be as important as her musicianship. Dynamics

are both musical and interpersonal. Vivan Carmen’s malapropism, “Conductors are

humanoids!” (by which she means that conductors are as human as the rest of us, not that

they are superhuman) reveals the generally held, if unarticulated, view that leadership of

an amateur ensemble is both musical and social.

Participants are frank in revealing how vulnerabilities experienced in communal

endeavor impact an ensemble’s expressivity. Relationships among ensemble members

and between ensemble and conductor affect an ensemble’s artistic process, just as the

relationship between performers and audience affects the performance. Vulnerability is

regarded as a necessity for artistic expression, for conductor and singers.

“A Filleting of the Soul”

When I ask the participants what “being expressive” means, the question brings

up issues of vulnerability, which Lauren describes as “a filleting of the soul, being open

to the process.” Remy says, “I think the challenge is the willingness, desire, and ability to

be vulnerable.” Louise, says similarly:

Letting my guard down, opening my heart, taking down all the barriers, not
being afraid of how I might look, losing my self-consciousness, being in the
moment.

For Jade, “Trust is a huge thing between the director and each singer.” Conductor

Bernardo gives a director’s point of view:

School-age singers are not yet able to be emotionally vulnerable, to feel—they

are building up walls to protect themselves from being bullied. The ability to
connect emotionally at fifteen years of age is very different from the ability at
 204

nineteen. Not many years of difference, but when students come to university and
they are more accepted, they are more open.

Conductor Hooper:

You can’t have a fully realized emotional opportunity without taking a chance,
because the opposite of risk is being guarded. I like to give the choir permission to
make mistakes in performance for the sake of emotional connection.

Hooper understands vulnerability. Yet in rehearsal (field notes, 5/18/2015), he says to the

choir, “This is not a hiding place. You are all in the front row. The camera is on you.”

Vulnerability, risk, and trust come under discussion with several conductors and

in several chorister groups, in musical and social contexts, but particularly with reference

to singing and acting. Singers make repeated references to feeling vulnerable in different

ways: shy (a manifestation of feeling vulnerable) to express the emotions of the music,

vulnerable as an individual within the group, and vulnerable to their conductor. The

ability to access one’s feelings, most seem to agree, is a necessity for artistic expression.

Conductor Bernardo turns the tables when he says: “Singers need to want to sing

for the conductor, they need to feel like they have a window into your soul. Being

emotionally vulnerable as a conductor is important.” Virginia wants vulnerability to go

two ways, chorister to conductor, and the other way around: “For trust to develop

between choir and conductor, we make ourselves emotionally vulnerable to perform

expressively, and we need vulnerability from our director.” She describes a recent

situation: Her conductor was in a vulnerable position, back on home turf after a long

absence, performing in front of his own teacher:

He was emotional when he asked us to step up to the plate. We wanted to do

well for his sake, so our batting average went higher.

Conductor Paul expresses the musical pros and personal cons inherent in vulnerability:
 205

The choir knowing their conductor well and vice versa can be a blessing and a
curse. I’m not overt but I am transparent, so when something is not going how I
want it to go, they know. I don’t have to say a word, even if I am still smiling and
phrasing. It sucks that they know! I want to be able to lie to them! On the other
hand, that honesty opens the door to really beautiful things. When you totally trust
them, and are totally in the moment, what we are doing is beautiful and worthwhile
and worth sharing.

Conductor Yuval mentions the negative influence of the church on choral

expressiveness. “If people grew up in the church and came to choral music through the

church, they can be quite constrained in their aesthetics.” Conductor Hooper agrees that,

if a church [he refers, I think, to Catholic and mainstream Protestant churches] regards

emotions and senses as being of the body, not of the soul, then church singing may be

constrained. Joy, a church chorister, confirms this when she says:

When you are performing in a church service, you are trying to reach and to
nurture the congregation, so the communication with the listeners is more important
in a church service than it is in a concert when you are just showing yourself off.

But many of the study participants experience performing as the antithesis of what Joy

calls “showing off.” They experience performance as Lauren does, being vulnerable, and

laying bare their innermost feelings.

“An Expressive Goldmine”

Conductor Paul is enthusiastic about amateurs’ potential for expression:

A choir that wants to be there, has paid to be there, given their time, and is
socially invested with peers, is an expressive goldmine.

Viola agrees: “Professionals are technically better but, regarding expressing, emoting, it’s

easier for amateur choirs to be expressive.” But Conductor Aria addresses the perennial
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difficulty of uneven abilities and finds expression generally challenging for and with

adult amateurs:

You’re teaching to all levels: People who barely read and are less expressive
and people who read fluently and are expressive. With amateurs, they either do it or
they don’t. Because they are not paid, and they have no obligation other than their
personal commitment, you can’t force anyone to do it! I can’t force someone to
raise his or her eyebrows and look happy.

Gilbert points out that amateurs often take a long time to learn the music: “In

professional choirs, the assumption is you come knowing the music, whereas we are

learning the music up to dress rehearsal. That’s a huge difference.” Basso notes the

practical difficulty of the typical amateur choir’s once-a-week rehearsal schedule: “It’s

hard to get enough repetition for musical excellence and for emotion, for technique and

for expression.” His observation confirms Silvey’s (2014) argument that skill acquisition

takes up so much of rehearsal as to preclude effective reflection, for instance, on textual

meaning. Lola sees the benefit of critical mass in an amateur ensemble: “In big groups

the key is to have some singers who can herd the rest through, at least at the beginning.”

Vivan Mei sees no need to distinguish amateurs as such. “I think the amateur-

professional dichotomy is semantics. It all has to do with your commitment to your

performance.”

“Touching Vocal Elbows”

Participants regard the concept of ensemble in various ways, as a sonic and social

entity. Some conflate the two, which may be an apt reflection of what ensemble means

for many amateur choristers. The quotes that follow are drawn from different chorister
 207

groups or conductor interviews. Harper captures the linking of close physical contact and

musical ensemble when she says, “I like the feeling of people around me and I like four

parts.” Singing harmony is both literal and metaphorical, as evidenced also in conductor

Addison’s portrayal of chordal singing: “What part of the chord am I: am I the fifth, the

third, the root? That matters because it all goes to ensemble.” Susan describes the musical

aspect of ensemble in terms of aural and physical proximity, “wanting to hear and to feel

the other voices around you. It’s like touching elbows, in a vocal sense.” Vernon

recollects a St. Olaf’s Choir concert as “the best concert I ever went to. Halfway through

the concert, the choristers were all holding hands. They had this physical connection;

they were a unit.” Shrimp mentions metaphorically holding hands with neighbor singers,

and that hearing a neighbor breathe facilitates ensemble connection. Vivan Belle says she

is aware of choristers around her, and adjusts her expressive output accordingly,

calibrating her emotional response.

Several choristers refer to group emotions. Esteban says, “A group of people does

things that are not just the sum of individuals.” Annie says, “It’s not just bigger; it’s

different. You can express collective emotions, not individual emotions.” Margot

describes how interconnectedness gives her artistic energy: “There’s nothing like being

part of the whole. When you are connected to the people around you, all doing this, it’s

like being one organism.” Lauren describes the power of group expression:

The real connection is when we are all feeling that same feeling. Then
expression is so much more powerful than I could ever be alone. That’s so thrilling.
You are . . . vibrating, almost, in that moment.

Shannon says, “If you have a big choir, you have that many different versions of

expression. It has to be this convergence of everyone’s ideal expression for any particular
 208

piece.” Vivan Belle says, “I take the feeling of the whole. I feel like a beautiful singer

because of everybody around me.” Zach describes channeling all the energy that comes

into a singer from the group, and the singer needing to channel it out again into an artistic

product. Louise feels the special quality of ensemble when there is musical cohesiveness:

“There are moments in choir when I feel the magic. The magic happens not from me

personally having this gorgeous note, but the group.” Kathy considers that self-

expression must give way to ensemble expression: “This is not about me being

expressive; it’s about the whole group being expressive. How I do meld to make the

whole greater than the sum of its parts?”

Shannon takes the opposite view, and talks about what the group can offer each

singer: “People around you influence you as you are singing. You inform each other.

Then it comes together as a section and as a whole choir.”

Vivan Carmen thinks everyone internalizes things differently, which works against

ensemble cohesiveness, but Vivan Mei finds reward in the unification of personal

interpretations:

We are all individuals so we put our own interpretation on what we are singing.
The person next to you may be exhibiting something you might not have thought
of. But as a choir, we want to put across a unified sound and interpretation of what
we want the audience to feel.

Remy clarifies how she sees the relationship between individual and group expression:

It’s building the whole unit so that the expression for everybody is the same,
rather than everybody having their own idea of what a piece is about. That’s one
difference between a not-so-good choir and a great choir: uniform expression.

Esteban, like Remy, regards solving the individual/group dichotomy as a hallmark of a

good ensemble:
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The problem with group expression is that you don’t have one expression . . .
Good groups solve the problem more adeptly: When the expression starts to
diverge, people are better at figuring out how to make the group converge again.

Remy offers an opinion about the power of group expression: “In really good choirs it

goes beyond what the conductor does, and the group builds their expression together.”

These views on ensemble underpin choristers’ experience of expression as group-think,

group-feel, and group-express.

“Blue Hair”

Independently of each other, Conductors Paul and Francis mention blue hair. Both

say they have tolerance for expression of individuality, and both give the example of

choristers sporting blue hair. For these conductors, blue hair is superficial, whereas

singing and stage expression are the “real” affective aspects of performance that are

dependent on unity. They say they don’t insist on everyone having the same color hair, so

why not some blue? Paul says, “For me, there are much bigger distractions than blue hair.”

Francis says:

When kids started dying their hair blue, people would ask if I would insist they
dye it back. No! If she wants blue hair, that’s an expression of her. She needs to
wear it off her face and she needs to wear the uniform, but if she wants blue hair . . .

Paul and Francis are sensitive to issues of individuality and conformity. Perhaps, at heart,

they know each singer needs to tap into her own humanity, her own uniqueness, even as

she is part of the ensemble, because this is what makes an ensemble fully expressive. It

enables singers to fully give voice, literally and figuratively. The relationship between
 210

individuality and ensemble is a key to choral expression, more so, perhaps, than a

tolerance for blue hair might suggest.

“When You Feel Connected to Someone You Make Better Music with Them”

This subtitle comes from Jade’s words, that capture the sense of musical and

social kinship that choristers value. The positive social and sociological effects of being

together may be at least part of the draw to choral participation for amateur choristers. As

Dante succinctly says, “What enables me to be expressive is 200 other people.” Lydia

describes the positive attributes of choir participation:

Being part of a choral group: It’s a world unto itself. Everything else goes away
for the rehearsal. One is totally committed for that time to integrating yourself into
the group to do something superlative and uplifting. That thing is the most
enjoyable and meaningful thing about being part of a chorus: the immersion in a
good world.

Percival blurs the distinction between musical and social comradeship: “I like the

camaraderie of singing with other people; I never liked solo things but I liked being part

of a group.” Trixie says, “When I am trying to express, and fifty people around me are

also trying to express the same thing, it amplifies it and it makes it more expressive.” Lisa

agrees: “When we know that those around us are also feeling the same things as we do,

that connection is hugely powerful and meaningful.”

Annie says, “You can express in a group what you cannot possibly express as an

individual.” Gilbert references the something-bigger-than-the-individual theme: “It’s not

just one-singer-plus-one-singer experience; it’s the singers, and the conductor, and the

audience, and it is much more an exponential experience.” Emma says something similar:
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“The product that is outputted is greater than the sum of its parts. We create something

that is bigger and better than anything we can do on our own.” Kay says, “It’s like each

of us is one piece of the whole puzzle —and if one piece is out of place it doesn’t work—

but it when it does work . . .” Vivan Jack expresses a conflation of the musical and the

social that is common among the participants: “Doing the music, performing and

rehearsing gives me a lift. The camaraderie. And every season I learn something.”

Conductor Yuval speaks of performance in spiritual terms:

If singers work as hard as they can, there is a cathartic possibility. It is a

rewarding rush to finish a performance and to be enlivened internally, like every
fiber vibrating . . . that’s pretty special, a validating experience. I hope that, at the
end of the performance, my singers feel like their souls have been ministered to,
and the audience feels like their souls have been ministered to, and I wouldn’t mind
if mine was also.

Conductor Paul sounds a cautionary note about the choir-and-conductor relationship:

“There is certainly baggage that is not seen. The relationship between choir and

conductor is like a love relationship. You have to hear the other out.” Viola makes the

analogy between a choir and a sports team. She notes “group-think,” a necessity in choirs,

is all the more remarkable for being contrary to the individualism that is an American

hallmark:

Choral music is such a big thing in the U.S.—interesting, because in America

it’s all about personal expression, not about group expression, group-think, group-
feel, group-listen as choral singing is.

Choristers also use metaphors for choir such as team, family, even an army going into

battle. Vivan Celeste:

I love the feeling of the team spirit of the choir. All of us are committed to the
music. All of us want to do our best. There aren’t any people going, “Nah, I don’t
want to do that.” All of us are working toward the same goal. I just love that.
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Fay, exhibiting true San Franciscan spirit, compares the Dodgers and the Giants:

Can I talk baseball for a minute? The Dodgers have a team full of stars but they
can’t play as a team, whereas the Giants don’t have stars but they play as a team
and they end up winning.

Vivan Mei says, “When we are all successful together, there’s such an adrenaline rush,

and the better it went, the more tired we are the next day; we’d given it everything we

had.”

The participants seem sincere when they speak like this, but at the same time, it

sounds too good to be true, so I probe beneath the surface: “In the choir, some people just

get on other people’s nerves!” The analogy of family fuels the conversation. Vivan Mei:

“It’s like a sibling thing. I don’t like you but I love you.” Vivan Carmen: “We share good

stuff and bad stuff. It makes it cohesive.” Vivan Mei gives another analogy: “It happens

in the green room. There, we are an army going into battle.” Elsewhere, Mei says, “On

concert day, team spirit begins in the green room.” In the green room, choristers help

each other attach boutonnières and bow ties, find their place in line, and get on and

offstage—external manifestations of connectivity from sharing. There was similar

cooperation in the focus groups: Choristers were collaborative in ways similar to their

rehearsal and performance interactions, something Freer and Barker’s (2008) study

suggests. They teased out answers “in concert,” frequently finishing each other’s

sentences.

For Marie, community extends beyond the choir:

I love the experience of singing with others. The choral experience really makes
me feel I am part of a community and that I am also giving the community beyond
me something that is worth having.
 213

A common theme among the chorister participants is that artistry is in some way a

function of trust. Derek says, “The people we sing with are important.” Amy says, “In

terms of things that facilitate expression, knowing each other and trusting each other and

having some common ground is really helpful.” Susan: “In a choir, there has to be huge

trust amongst the choir members, not just with the conductor . . . Being in a choir is safer

[than singing solo] so you can have more expression.” Margaret: “Once we trust each

other . . . the artistic delivery just comes naturally. It would be useful to explore the trust

issue in greater depth.” Virginia: “Our conductor is getting more and more into a

symbiotic relationship with the choir, like an organism.” William wants more pre-concert

interaction with his conductor:

Before concerts, our conductor goes into a different zone; it’s as if he wants to
be left alone for a while. It’s his way of preparing for the concert, to center himself.
If he were a little loose, the choir would be feel better if they were able to interact
with him freely; instead he becomes like a delicate touch-me-not flower.

But Jade understands the need to be solitary:

I’m the same way when I perform. When I’m backstage, my cast mates may be
goofing off and I sit in the corner by myself often with my eyes closed. For me to
have the energy to give onstage, I have to be by myself.

Virginia testifies to the importance of a sense of community in a choir:

Our choir motto is, “Come for the singing; stay for the community.” Lots of
shared experiences that have nothing to do with music are key. A shared adventure
bonds the group in a way that all the rehearsals can’t do.

Emma agrees:

We not only get a sense of who we are as singers but who we are as people.
Helen opens up her house to us; we contribute, we are volunteer-driven . . .
Community is huge.

I ask: “Does that affect your singing?” Emma replies:

 214

Absolutely! It adds a sense of ownership to the choir. I contribute artistically

and on a grassroots level. We need to find a balance because we burn out choristers
by asking them to contribute in more ways than just showing up at rehearsal . . . I
love to perform, but that’s not the only reason I keep coming back. I come back for
the people.

For Derek: “Snack nights are so important, because it’s a time for the choir to get

together to socialize.” Lauren: “I like the retreat because we have a chance to have lunch

and time together.” Jade: “The thing is, we should do more things that build that

community and less rehearsing. Retreats should be less about rehearsing and more about

getting to know each other.” Percival: “Retreats might be better if we did more team-

building things. Like introducing ourselves. I still don’t know half the altos’ names and

I’ve been in [the choir] for years.” Derek: “Like any organization, a choir that parties

together wins together. It would change how we sing together. The synergy, the

connection . . .” Percival agrees:

If we’d meet and hang out and spend more than just rehearsal time together . . .
Despite the fact that we are such a high-performing choir, the emotional connection
isn’t there because there’s no opportunity for team building. We never meet for
coffee or drinks before or after. . . . And I think we over-program. There’s too much
scheduled; it creates tension.

“A Benevolent Despot”

To find out how a conductor perceives leadership style affects ensemble

expressivity, I ask conductor Francis, “I see little in the way of democratic process in the

way choirs are led.” He responds, “Oh, no! I am not going for democracy! No, no, no.

It’s a totalitarian dictatorship and I’ve got the stick.” I ask him, “What kind of leader are

you?” He replies:
 215

A benevolent despot! I like to think of myself as Joseph II: edicts of tolerance,

liberalism, but when it comes time for a downbeat, someone has to give it; it’s not a
democratic downbeat.

Conductor Hooper says:

Singers need to feel safe. That gives them permission to be vulnerable. From
vulnerability, emotional release will happen. They aren’t going to become
vulnerable if they don’t trust the conductor. In the rehearsal space, there is
fellowship. There’s a lot of love flowing amongst all of us. And for that time that
we are together, there are no enemies in the room. It makes us all friends and
family.

Conductor Addison:

You have to be direct and challenging and in charge and all that sort of thing.
But my wife, who was a kindergarten teacher, claims that everybody is a
kindergartener. You have to say everything three times and reinforcement has to be
positive.

Remy says that leadership style is crucial:

You can see the style of the conductor in the results that they get. Often
different levels of choirs get the same results; the technique of one may be better,
they may be more polished, but what you see at the performance is very similar.

Dante likes his conductor’s attitude toward the choir: “Yuval knows what our limits are,

yet he is insistent on us trying to get certain things. He treats us professionally but with an

understanding that we are amateurs.” Fay adds: “You always feel safe with him, that he is

going to get the best out of you without browbeating you.” In the two rehearsals I

observed of Yuval’s group, there was obvious mutual respect between conductor and

choristers, despite their criticism of his conducting style, reported earlier. What Yuval

says about himself supports his choristers’ testimonies and my own observations (Field

notes, 07/07/15; 08/13/15):

To me, the endgame of emotion is not the starting point. I honor that people
have taken the time as a collective to do something positive together. Having
participation with people, that an idea is out there and that, as a group, we are trying
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to come to terms with it, is a goal in and of itself. I’m kind of an East-meets-West
guy; I am interested in each of us as individuals having our own centered place
from which we learn and prepare and can come forward.

I ask Yuval why he thinks other conductors don’t approach ensemble more like he does.

He answers:

If they trained in a conservatory, they probably spent too many hours alone in a
practice room. My liberal arts background suited me for this; I was a political
scientist. My globalism is an outgrowth of that. I am oriented that way.

I ask the choristers, “How do you feel about being servants to the conductor’s

wishes, being obedient to the conductor’s commands?” The question is met with giggles

of bemusement. Suzanne’s allusion to submission is surprisingly representative: “You are

saying to the conductor. ‘I am giving you that authority. I will do to the best of my ability

whatever you are telling me to do.’” Others, too, seem to accept such authority and to feel

comfortable in it. Joy says:

If a director yells at the choir, that hurts because you have put your trust in that
person by saying, “I will let you guide me and I will not express how I feel. I will
do whatever you want.”

Viola’s testimony neatly encapsulates the pros and cons of permissive leadership versus

authoritarianism.

I’ve had really permissive choir directors, and it was fun, and I liked them, but
their choirs sucked. Then I’ve had a lot of authoritarian conductors. There’s a
tendency for conductors to get like that and it doesn’t foster as much expression. So
the thing about Bernardo is that you aren’t told that you should . . . you just want to
do well for him. He makes it a collaborative experience.

Vernon agrees with Viola: “You aren’t standing up there shaking, afraid that you’re

going to screw up.” Then Viola gives an enactment and description of a conductor’s non-

demonstrative style that elicits just as much expression as a demonstrative conductor:

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Then we have this coach experience, like “Okay, let’s see what you can do.”
The conductor literally just sat there like this [demonstrates no action] and every
now and then he would nod, something really minimal. Less is more. I bet that
concert was just as expressive as a Bernardo concert. I’m not sure how that
happened. I thought he was very charming for doing nothing.

Basso describes harsh conductors:

In the push to achieve excellence, there’s a whip. Frankly, the whip just gets me
pissed! I’ll sing and I’ll do it right, but I’m sure not going to express . . . I mean,
I’m not gonna be able to express the real expression of the piece.

Conductors speak about the value of musically authoritative leadership, and of the

value of give-and-take with the choir. Conductor Aria mentions the power and the risk of

valuing chorister opinion:

It’s a risk, as a conductor, to give the singers ownership. Showing the singers
that I care about what they think and how they feel makes the process more
enjoyable for them, but it is a very fine line because then singers feel free to give
me all of their feedback.

Conductor Addison highlights the difference between one-on-one coaching and ensemble

conducting:

One-on-one, you can have more of a conversation; it’s more Socratic. With the
ensemble it is more didactic, because otherwise it’s inefficient; you just don’t want
to waste people’s time. I try to effect a balance of leadership, being in charge, with
a sense of collegiality. We’re-all-in-this-together idea.

I ask: “Is there any way to make a large ensemble more chorister-centered?”

Addison: “It would have to be so carefully structured and managed to work, and at what

number of people would it get unwieldy if not damaging?” When I ask Bernardo what

influence a conductor’s leadership style has on the ensemble’s expressivity, he responds

vehemently, “100 percent! But,” he adds, exercising caution, “If we share too much then

it’s all about us. So we have to be careful. I don’t want to be manipulative.” I ask him,

“Do you think your success is vested in your personality?” He answers, “You have got to
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figure out a way to be a bit bipolar on the podium, a bit Jekyll-and-Hyde in some way,

and terribly charismatic. I think we all are drawn to charismatic conductors.”

“You Can’t Lord Anything over Them”

Conductor Hooper points out that motivation—a complex matter in itself—is the

linchpin by which a conductor brings a choir to his artistic vision:

In a volunteer choir, the singers don’t get a paycheck or a grade. So you have to
find a way that they like to get them to the finish line. You can’t lord anything over
them.

Conductors’ personal qualities seemed to directly affect the atmosphere of

rehearsals. Conductor Aria seemed to enjoy the rehearsal (4/22/2015) in a relaxed manner,

reflected in the mood of the choristers, who rehearsed with commitment, but in an easy-

going way. Conductor Bernardo was energetic, witty, and comical, and the choir returned

his energies in their musical responses (4/28/2015). At the first of Hooper’s rehearsals

(5/18/2015), a bird trapped in the room flew about the rafters anxiously. Hooper asked

everyone not to be upset by it. At the break, someone switched off the light, and the bird

followed the hall light and found its way free. When the rehearsal resumed the mood was

freer. Hooper engaged me in the rehearsal, and he invited me to attend the choir’s dress

rehearsal 10 days later (5/27/2015). At dress rehearsal, people seemed buoyant—excited

perhaps, with concerts just days away, and rehearsing in one of the concert venues.

These are, of course, personal reflections. Another observer might not have

interpreted the ineffable quality of mood as I did. What seems more certain is that in a

conductor’s connection with her choir, and theirs with her, Mehrabian’s Rule (1967, 1972,
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1981) may well be in effect: the spoken content is only a small portion of the total

communication when feelings are involved. Certainly the words themselves were

important, but, even in communications included instrumental directives from conductor

to chorister and some chorister-to-conductor communication (questions, clarifications,

suggestions), they were not all that was “being said.” For the conductor especially, tone

of voice and body language or gesture (not conducting gesture), to which Mehrabian

assigns the most importance, spoke as loudly.

Lola understands a conductor caught between being authoritative and being

authoritarian:

Leadership is important. Dealing with grown-ups, you can’t be a schoolmarm.

It’s difficult to be a disciplinarian and push people to learn, because it is alienating,
and it stops being fun if people feel they are on the spot.

But Albert thinks there is a place for castigation:

When Gisele puts up her hand for us to stop and some basses just go on singing,
I wish there was some way to be a bit more punitive with anyone who was still
singing.

Kathy cautions, “Shame does not work with people. It makes them go in the other

direction. They close down and get neurotic.” Then, Lola, who to me seems the epitome

of an independent, strong, self-sufficient woman, says:

Now I am going to sound completely like a whiny child. I left the choir for a
time because I felt the previous conductor didn’t love us. If there was an effort at
love, it was external. Now I have the feeling that I am loved, that this is something
Gisele loves to do and that she likes us as people and as fellow performers.

Albert responds: “I don’t know if it needs to be about love or affection but about respect.

I don’t need affection or love but I want to feel like someone is being respectful.”
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“Ask, Don’t Tell”

Bernardo describes an “Ask, don’t tell” approach to teaching the choir:

We conductors can do a better job of asking our singers to do something in the

form of a question instead of telling them. It seems like such a dumb little switch.
It’s rhetorical, but they hear it as a question. “What’s your dynamic at the start of
this piece?” If their response is, “Let me listen more closely,” I’m good with that.

Virginia likes the fact that her conductor pays attention to chorister opinion: “In rehearsal

we can offer our opinion. That gives me the feeling that our opinions matter.” Chorister

Annie would like her conductor to take chorister opinions into consideration, even though

her choir is large:

He’s collaborative with the orchestra. It would be nice if there were more
collaboration with the singers. He could say, “Here’s a problem; you be creative
about solving it.”

In rehearsal (field notes, 09/29/15), Conductor Gisele asked for her choristers’ opinions. I

ask the focus group: “Do you like being invited to give feedback?” Kathy is aware of the

difficulty of managing a large group in a collaborative way. She says: “Dictatorship

doesn’t work very well, but everyone giving an opinion also doesn’t work very well.”

Harper is more conventional: “If the director knows what she is doing, I’d like us to all

listen rather than thinking we know better.” Lola says:

I delight in the fact someone knows more than I. Authority is always earned. It’s
also that you might not be aware of something. Pitch is a classic example, right?
You think you are on pitch, but you aren’t.

Albert adds:

I like the fact that she enrolls us in giving feedback. She might already know the
things we tell her, and the process might be more efficient and quicker if she didn’t
ask, but it is good from the collaborative angle that she is trying to encourage.
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While choristers generally accept conductor authority and realize its efficacy, they enjoy

a collaborative environment and a space to air their opinions.

“Play, Make Their Day, Be There, and Choose Your Attitude”

Of all the study conductors, Bernardo is the most overt about community

building:

At a world-famous fish market, the staff is encouraged to be silly, and they

throw fish at each other. Their business model has four main tenets: “Play, make
their day, be there, and choose your attitude.” People might say this is touchy-feely
garbage––but if our singers sense that we are there for them, that we are choosing to
support them, and we all are in this together—if our singers have a sense of comfort
with us, we are building community so that they feel that they are valued members
of the corporation. Then we are on the path to getting them to be expressive.

Yet he speaks of imposing expressive ideas on choristers:

Our job is to impose our self-expression and our musically expressive ideas on
them, with the idea that eventually they will be able to self-express when they have
a singing foundation and are solidly grounded in musical traditions.

In Bernardo’s choir rehearsal (03/31/15), this is less authoritarian than it sounds; it is

more of a scaffolding approach to teaching expression (Freer, 2003). Conductor Aria

strives to show the choir her appreciation and enjoyment:

I try to lead with gratitude, give credit where it is due, praise where praise is
due. When something is bad, I say, “Okay, good!”—Positive reinforcement. I feel
our performance is better because we are a community. Caring about one another
allows for vulnerability that then creates expression.

Then, as if confirming Mehrabian’s theory about the importance of gesture, Aria says:

“And non-verbal gratitude, as in a smile, really goes a long way: The power of just a

smile.”
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Conductor Addison explains how intertwined musical and personal endeavors are,

and how he and his choir are mutually dependent in the best possible way:

My challenge was to get good enough at conducting, singing, teaching—things

that all feed my needs and complete me—so that I could grow. If I grew, then the
people with whom I was working could grow, and we could grow together, and we
could go back and forth in the exchange of growing. When I’m open and sharing
and passionate in my delivery, then it’s honest and real.

“Daddy Loves Us!”

Many choristers are eager to please their conductors. Adults who hold responsible

positions at work, and who are fathers and mothers themselves, reveal an almost childlike

desire to satisfy their conductors by their performance. For Dorian, “We want to please

him . . . we have a lot of respect for him.” Suzanne says she looks at the conductor “to see

if we have done a good job.” Catherine says, “I live for the times when he signals to us

after a piece in performance that we have done well. It says to me, ‘Daddy loves us.’”

Louise says:

I think, “Am I following the conductor, am I giving him exactly what he wants,
is my vowel correct?” Sometimes when I see his face and I know, “My god, he is
happy!” it makes me happier.

Shrimp:

I do better as a musician if I like the conductor because I’m always trying to

please the conductor. I watch her face to see, “Are we doing what you want?” I’m
looking for her reaction. That’s what it’s all about: trying to please the conductor.

Vivan Yun writes to me: “Thanks for noticing the work I have put in on my facial

expression. It means a lot to me to get your approval” (personal communication, May 18,

2015).
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Helen finds the conductor’s signaling approval mid-concert positively affects the

rest of her performance.

Last winter concert, when we left the hall at intermission, he gave us a high-
five, for the first time ever. I was like, “Oh my gosh, we did something right? Wow,
okay, cool!” . . . I felt very different about singing the second half.

Emma is moved by her conductor’s coaching approach:

He shifted into big picture mode so, instead of saying all the details, he was our
baseball coach: “I trust you to do this.” I almost started bawling because it was
emotionally uplifting. And we had a group hug.

I ask: “Did it change your performance?” Emma: “Yes, overall it did. It’s team-building.”

Louise adds a note of caution: “The choristers don’t have to love the conductor. They

don’t all have to be the conductor’s friend.”

“The Audience ‘Assists’”

One of the conductors in the pilot study mentioned that he liked the French

expression “assister à” (French assist): “the audience assists at a concert, rather than attends

a concert,” because it suggests active inclusion in the performance, compared with the

English phrase “attend a concert,” which implies more distant and passive observation.

Margaret regards the audience as voyeurs of the performance:

When I think of expression in concert mode, it’s me having an experience with

my buddies and our conductor. I don’t really care about the audience. They are
voyeurs of something that is happening with us.

But Conductor Addison says that, although the audience has a less physically active form

of participation, “they’re still part of the deal, right?” Viola acknowledges the positive
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effect of my and the videographer’s presence at her choir’s rehearsal (3/31/2015). We

were their audience of two:

The day you guys came to rehearsal, there was a jazz that happened because
you were watching. We wanted to be good for Bernardo’s friends, but we were
more on, he was more on, we were more expressive. It was just the two of you, but
there was energy, like a good date, and we had a better rehearsal.

Trixie alludes to an empathic connection between singer and audience. She sounds as if

she is echoing the theory of kinesthetic empathy (Reynolds & Reason, 2012), by which

seeing someone do something promotes a response, both physical and emotional, in the

perceiver.

The audience responds physically, monkey-see-monkey-do. [People] are that

much in tune with each other: As I am breathing, as I relax my jaw, people in the
audience are going to match that. It makes the music available to them.

For Conductor Addison, audience perception affects the choir’s ability to be expressive:

My choir is aging and we have some people sitting. It’s not that they can’t sing;
it just doesn’t look like they can. This affects our ability to communicate because it
affects how we are perceived.

Conductor Aria says, “With applause and reaction and moments of verbal outbursts, the

audience can be part of the expression.” Both Addison and Aria are aware of the

transactional nature of performance, a key aspect of Dewey’s (1934/2005) conception of

artistic endeavor.

For some choristers, the audience response is gratifying; for others, the

gratification is internal. William says: “When I look at the audience I see people in a

completely different world and I feed off that and I just give it all back.” Rachel’s

experience in Sweden, where she sang in a choir for two years and heard many choirs,

was different from the way she experiences choir in the United States: “They sing for the
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joy of singing. The joy of singing seems to supersede the need to be singing to others.”

Vivan Carmen confirms that the singing is its own reward:

When you know you have hit it out of the ballpark, and there’s an adrenaline
rush, you don’t need anyone to tell you that. You just know it, there’s a sense of
self-satisfaction when it’s as perfect as we can make it.

Vivan Mimi, on the other hand, likes to see the audience’s appreciation and applause,

“Getting a standing ovation is enormous exhilaration.” To which Vivan Yun says: “It’s a

lot of it but not all of it.”

I ask performers to put on their audience hats and say what they hope for when

they attend choral concerts. Chang and Gracie want to be “inspired,” Suzanne “thrilled,”

Shannon “transported,” Shrimp wants “joy,” Remy says, “I wanna be moved; what can I

say?” Albert likes “emotional connection.” Esteban wants “access to beauty.” Joy wants

“to be taken to a different place. I want to be unaware of anything around me.”

Yoshi says:

I never get goose bumps listening to a recording but I do at live concerts. One of
my conductors tells us, “You can control the breath of the audience.” If the
performers do that, I can be so engaged in the audience that I don’t breathe.

Gracie speaks from an audience viewpoint:

It makes a big difference if the audience knows, from the singers’ faces, that
they are enjoying the music; if their noses are in the book and they have
expressionless faces, it detracts from what is being sung. It does.

Choristers say what they think their audiences want when they attend choral concerts.

Jade replies:

“A variety of things but, ultimately, they want to feel something, whether it’s
just being moved by the sound, whether it’s being entertained, whether it’s to feel
some divine connection—they want to feel something on some level.
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Annie: “We live lives where we don’t have time for emotions. A lot of what audiences

come to our concerts for is, ‘My, there’s actually some emotion going on.’” Vivan Mei:

“When they leave the concert, we want them to say, ‘Wow, I was crying!’”

Conductor Hooper speaks of bringing the audience as close to the choir as possible,

not physically but psychically:

The audience is already primed to like what you are doing; they’ve invested
money and time to drive to the venue. Short of having the audience in the choir,
programs that the audience relates to so that they feel part of the performance; they
are only one level removed from actually singing.

Speaking as an audience member, Hooper says:

A performance must be intact both sonically and emotionally to be satisfying. If

just one piece on the program makes me cry, even though I may have had
criticisms, these won’t matter because the performance actually moved me.

Conductor Paul describes an experiential way of bringing the audience to music that is

difficult for many to access:

For the Veljo Tormis piece, I had the audience speak some of the Estonian
words with me: The winter blizzard movement starts with the word vinga, which
means “sharp.” Someone who has never heard the language or doesn’t know where
Estonia is could connect to that. They really got into tasting the words.

“I’m a Dancing Unicorn”

Performers’ relationships with their audiences range widely. Several speak of

giving or owing the audience something, or needing to persuade them. Vivan Cecilia

feels the choir has an obligation to give the audience something that’s worth the price of

admission: “The audience is paying. We owe them something. It’s a contract. I take that
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seriously.” Others speak of getting energy from the audience. Lauren says it is helpful to

overcome performer nerves by thinking about the audience.

I was so afraid to perform, until my teacher said, “It’s not about you; it’s about
them.” It was a mind-shift for me. Our conductor tells us before concerts, “You
don’t know who is out there; maybe somebody needs healing.”

Derek agrees: “The reason to be a performer, instead of just being someone who just

holds music that covers your face . . . the reason is the audience.” But Jade feels

differently. For her, performance is not so much what she is giving to the audience as

what it does for herself, allowing her to be something other than her introverted self:

I’m a selfish performer. For me, it’s not that I’m performing for people, it’s that
I’m just part of something else . . . That’s why I like musicals; for a moment, I’m a
dancing unicorn, or something. For me, it’s being immersed in a different world.

Lauren says in performance, “Our backs are a little straighter in live performance.

When we performed at that festival, they just devoured us and that energy came flying

back!” Susan says: “It’s electricity. We’ve all been in it, right?” Gilbert says: “When I’m

up there singing and the audience is responding, we’re building on the energy that is in

the room.” And Margot says, “The audience adds a whole other layer to it. Each audience

member has their own energy and their own connection.”

Summary

Expressivity presupposes singers’ willingness and ability to expose themselves to

emotional vulnerability, something that requires both individual and collective trust

between conductor and singers. Many refer to a profound sense of connection with fellow

performers and audience. A sense of collective expression and unity with fellow
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choristers is both satisfying and crucial, as is a sense of interaction with the audience.

Some choristers prefer rehearsal’s positive social aspects to the stress of performance, but

non-performing musical groups lack the focus and motivation of working toward

performance. It is vital that choristers relate personally to the music they sing in order for

them to be expressive; they may not be able to be expressive or even to bring themselves

to sing repertoire they find distasteful.

Various synergies in amateur choirs, including among choristers and between

conductor and choristers, affect expressivity. In rehearsals there seemed to be a

correlation between the conductor’s attitude and manner and the mood of the choristers.

Perhaps Mehrabian’s Rule applies to conductors’ communication with their singers; tone

and body language may matter as much as or more than words. The social-emotional

benefits of singing as a group may be as powerful a draw for choristers as the music itself.

Many amateur choristers sincerely value their intra-choral relationships and social

experience. They use metaphors such as family, sports team, and army to describe their

experience of bonding with fellow choristers to make music and to give performances.

Singers enjoy socializing with each other, and some want to build a sense of community

and teamwork in non-rehearsal events and at rehearsals and retreats.

Trust is critical to choristers’ relationships with each other and especially with the

conductor. Adult amateur choristers are surprisingly eager to please their conductors. In

addition to earning the conductor’s respect, some want to feel loved by their conductors.

This underscores the importance of leadership that is vested in musical outcomes and in

social benefits. One chorister describes her gratification at the conductor’s praising the
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choir as “Daddy loves us.” Perhaps the desire to please comes into play in choristers’

willingness to cede power to their conductors.

There is a fine line between authoritative and authoritarian leadership, and

considerations of efficiency seem to preclude interest in governing by consensus. The

qualities of amateur singers are regarded as both assets and liabilities.in ensemble. The

inclusion of the choristers as co-communicators, able to make artistic choices and to

participate in the creative process, as Ronald Thomas advocates (in Moore, 1973), seems

to be overlooked. Yet, in rehearsal, the simple shift of asking singers to do something

instead of commanding them seems to engender more buy-in. There is little interest in

democratic choir management among either choristers or conductors. Choristers,

nevertheless, want their opinions heard; some seem to feel that there is no platform from

which to express their opinions.

Choristers and conductors experience interaction with the audience to varying

degrees; all can take an audience member’s perspective, having attended concerts

themselves. As audience members, respondents want to be moved emotionally, a

perspective they can bring to their own performing. Quality in performance is more than

the elimination of technical defects. Amateurism does not necessarily lead to amateurish

performance; on the contrary, adult amateur choirs tend to be emotionally expressive.

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Chapter VIII

INTERPRETATION OF FINDINGS

Introduction

To accept the notion that knowledge is constructed and reconstructed in public

with others, that reality is an interpreted experience and not objectively verifiable,
gives scholarly inquiry more perspectives from which to see, hear, listen, observe,
and reflect (Allsup, 2014, p. 69).

Expression may be elusive, but it is a potent elixir: The study participants were

forthcoming and articulate in giving voice to personal experiences and strongly held

opinions, even though, by their own admission, they may not have previously articulated

thoughts about choral expression. That expression was important to all the participants

was indubitable. Many voiced similar ideas, ideals, and concerns. Nevertheless,

complexities of expressive endeavor and of expression, the “thing” itself, surface in

incongruities between what participants say and what they do in rehearsal and

performance; what conductors say and what their choristers say about the same subject or

situation; contradictory chorister opinions, both within groups and across groups, and,

sometimes, contradictory opinions from the same person. If ever reality were not

objectively verifiable, it is in regard to that most elusive entity and process, object and

experience, modality and synergy, that is expression in a musical performance. Figure 2

presents a conglomerate of more than 200 terms participants offered to name expressive

components or to define expression.

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Figure 2. A Word Cloud of Choral Expression

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Binaries

Like the petals of a flower counted off, “he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not,” the

findings piled up in binaries. Linguist Ferdinand de Saussure (in Stawarska, 2015)

theorizes that binaries in language, for instance “good/evil,” may appear contradictory,

but each unit has meaning defined reciprocally in terms of the other. The relationships

between binaries are not contradictory, but complementary, Stawarska suggests. The

binaries of this study reveal the potential enrichments and vulnerabilities of choristers,

and the paradoxes and agreements, joys and difficulties, and obvious and hidden facets in

expression’s materialization. Ambiguities abound. I place the binaries center stage. They

have a musical quality to them, like contrapuntal voices.

Participants “do” expression, but they don’t think about, or talk about, expression.

Even though they may not have talked about expression before they study, they readily

talk about it in the study’s interviews and discussion groups. Choral singing for these

participants is compelling, even addictive, and expression is the central component; but

within ensembles, expression—usually musical and textual expression—is pursued, but

not directly discussed.

Amateur choirs are expressive gold mines, directors say; or directors find it

challenging to overcome less-than-professional technical abilities. Choral participation is

for the choristers’ own leisure and pleasure, and choral performance is to make an

audience feel what the composer “is trying to say.” Choristers sing for their own

fulfillment, and they embrace their artistic obligation to move their audience.
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All choristers love to sing, but only some love to perform. Public performance is

fulfilling; or public performance is stressful. For some choristers, performance is a “high;”

for others the performance is “paying the piper.”

Both introverts and extroverts can be performers. Being one or the other does not

align with liking or disliking performing. Some introverts love to perform, because they

can take on a role, and be something other than who they are in their daily lives.

Performing gives some people energy; performance makes others exhausted. Some are

exhilarated after performance; some get depressed.

Choral singing is communal, but gives personal fulfillment. Even as they

relinquish their individuality to be part of the ensemble, choristers feel they can be their

authentic selves, or find their authentic voices, in choral singing. Performance expression

is made possible only by the whole ensemble, but individual abilities make group

expression difficult.

Choral expression, like vocal expression, is aural beauty; or, because it is nearly

impossible to be vocally perfect, a solely aural experience is a sure way to leave the

audience dissatisfied. In choral performance, musical expression is everything; or choral

performance expression may be more than musical. Musical expression is only musical;

or musical expression includes things other than musical. Musical experiences are

memorable for the beauty of perfect intonation (and other musical qualities); or musical

experiences are meaningful in terms of the emotional valence of the occasion. Being the

composer’s advocate is important, but reifying the music does not necessarily engender

performance expression. Expression is easy if you just do everything the composer asks;

or expression is difficult because performance practice can make things “brainy” and dry.
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Music is more important than text; or text is more important than music. Either

the audience never understands a word the choir sings, or audiences say that they can

hear every word. The precise meaning of text is important to understand; or the precise

meaning can be overlooked for a more general meaning, if you happen not to believe the

text you are singing, for instance when singing sacred repertoire from a religious tradition

to which you do not belong.

What singers feel inwardly, they make outwardly manifest. Vulnerability is a

necessity and a risk. Being willing to reveal something of yourself is a necessity for being

expressive, but vulnerability means you can get hurt.

Feelings true and real are shown through acting; or acting is to disguise real

feelings. Singing is acting and storytelling, but not in a choir. Acting is for an opera

chorus, but not for a concert choir. Acting is sincere; or acting allows one to hide one’s

true feelings. Acted feelings must first be experienced; or the performer need not “really”

feel the feelings they are expressing.

It is best to practice strong feelings so they don’t overwhelm the singer in

performance, but one “can’t tell a story to nobody,” so one can’t really practice

expressing. One can’t emote if there isn’t an audience: or actors practice emoting, so

singers should also.

“Emotion” and “feeling” mean the same thing. Differences between the two are

just semantic. A conductor might say to her ensemble, “Once more with feeling!” but she

would not likely say, “Once more with emotion.” Likewise, she might admonish, “Don’t

be so emotional!” but not, “Don’t be so feelingful!” Emotion is outward, and feeling is

inward; or the opposite.

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Expression is human communication, and expression depends on technique.

Amateurs have less technical proficiency than professionals; the professional-amateur

dichotomy is artificial. Either technical musical proficiency trumps expression, or

musical proficiency does not necessarily lead to expressive performance. Expression

cannot be included until the singers can sing the notes; or include expression from the

beginning of the rehearsal process. Rehearsing is to develop technical proficiency; or

emotional content needs to be practiced. Technique is generally considered to be vocal,

singing technique. Technique is necessary for expression, but having plenty of it does not

necessarily make a singer expressive. Singers’ intense emotions are necessary for a

performance to be convincing, but intense emotions may leave a singer unable to sing.

Choirs wear uniforms so that everyone looks the same; or everyone needs to

express something. One should not make faces when singing in choir; or a choir’s facial

expression is compelling. Smiling detracts from a performance; or facial expression

enlivens a performance. Audiences come to hear choirs, or audiences come to see and

hear choirs.

Presentation is part of performance; or presentation is not part of performance.

Presentation is about singers’ faces and comportment; or it is about choir’s dress—what

they wear. Character and mood are derived from the music; but visual presentation is a

“bodification,” an embodiment, a performer-created persona. Presentation is something

you do to portray the character of the music visually. Presentation is a highly personal

way of performing and choristers may feel self-conscious, yet presentation unifies the

ensemble synergistically and musically. Choristers are not aware of how they look, and

want to use video-feedback. It is difficult to watch oneself on video, and it is helpful.

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Some choristers are self-conscious, but others calibrate their visual expression to make

the ensemble expression a total package.

Presentation is visual, and presentation also occurs through energy transfer.

Energy is transmitted from performer to audience and from audience to performer. With

an audience present, performers “up their game;” or the audience are voyeurs. Rehearsing

and performing should be similar, or they are different.

Movement is used as a learning aid in rehearsal, and movement is used as an

expressive resource in performance. In performance, the “sticks,” stand stock still, and

some people move too much. The sticks should “bump it up,” and the people who move

too much should “rein it in.” For some music, standing still is appropriate; for other

music, standing still communicates the wrong message.

Looking up is important to being visually expressive, or looking up does not

matter or is not feasible. Fluent readers look up more easily; less fluent readers and less

confident singers tend to be score-bound. Choristers who do not look up from their books

in performance are not aware that they are not looking up. This frustrates fellow

choristers as well as conductors. Conductors should tell choristers who don’t look up that

they need to, but they should do this one-on-one, because those who are looking up are

tired of being told to.

Everyone should either use a book or not use a book; or it does not matter whether

some use a book and others do not. IPads are ok, as is a mix of books and iPads; or iPads

are a distraction for the audience, because they reflect bluish light on the performers’

faces, and are so small that singers have to hold them close to their faces.
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Memorization is an asset to expressive performance because singers feel free, or

memorization is a liability because it causes anxiety. Some memorize easily, others with

difficulty. Memorization preferences have little to do with other musical skills. Some

strong musicians don’t like to memorize, while some less able readers prefer to memorize.

Conductors show emotion in their gestures, and conductors show emotion in their

faces. Conductors show technical and expressive messages through gesture, but choristers

don’t always understand what the gestures are intended to show. Conductors should show

the character of the music; conductors should not show the character of the music.

Conductors should give clear beats but, if they do not, they can be forgiven; or choristers

do not care how expressive a conductor is if they cannot follow their beat. Conductors

show expression to the choir and to the audience. When conductors cry in performance,

this encourages the choir, because they know they have moved their conductor; or, when

conductors cry in performance, choristers “lose” it, or it makes them uncomfortable or

even impatient.

Choristers accept conductor authority, yet they want their voices heard. Even

choristers who hold powerful positions in their professional lives enjoy the authority of a

knowledgeable conductor. Choristers like the conductor to engage them in musical

decision-making, but they regard democratic processes as time-costly. Choristers value

their conductors’ collaborative approaches, and they like to know that their opinions

matter. A didactic model of teaching prevails in choirs, but some chorister self-learning,

for instance with video-feedback, is more effective than conductor instruction.

Amateur choristers want to please their conductors. More than that, they want to

love their conductors, and they want to be loved by them in return. Choristers want their
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conductors to be musical leaders and community leaders. To choristers, conductors’

musical knowledge and personal likeability are like a set of scales. If aptitude is lacking

in some area, likeability can make up for it; if likeability is at issue, this is overlooked

because of musical aptitude.

Choristers relish choral camaraderie. Amateur choristers join choirs for the music,

or for the social connections, or for both. A choir is like a sports team; a choir, pre-

concert, is an army readying for battle. Choir is social and musical. Choir is community;

“I wish choir were more like a community.” Choristers make better music when they

stand close to each other; hearing other parts can pull one off one’s own part. Standing

close together has both musical benefits and social symbolism.

The binaries weave a rich tapestry. Some opposites seem to exist harmoniously in

tandem with each other; others expose the inherent complexities of an endeavor that is

human, communal, and artistic. My interpretation of the binaries accords with my

categorization of the findings and their alignment with the three overarching research

questions. Table 9 recapitulates this organization.

Table 9. Findings Interpretation Organization

  
 

 

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Meanings

The Experience of Performing

That conductors and amateur choristers are enthusiastic about choral singing and

take their choral commitment seriously (Coffman, 2002) is evidence that, although choral

singing is a leisure pursuit for choristers, it is much more meaningful to them than mere

“frill” (Mueller in Mantie, 2015), a common way of regarding amateur artistic endeavor.

Choristers, aware of their own passionate engagement, regard themselves as “junkies,”

“choraholics,” and “choral geeks.” Were choristers familiar with Stebbins’ (2007) term,

“serious leisure,” it is likely they would use it as an apt description of the qualities of

their choral participation: Commitment and perseverance are requisites for the acquisition

of particular skills and knowledge that result in unique benefits of self-fulfillment through

aesthetic engagement: a sense of social belonging and a musical identity. Participant

testimonies evidence the meaningfulness of choral singing: It is compelling, even

addictive, because it enhances the performers’ lives in unique ways: It allows for self-

expression; it energizes; it is an expression of participants’ own creativity; it gives an

opportunity for feeling whole; it even allows for transcendence. Fulfillment from choral

singing is personal—it can be a “chorgasm” after all, but it also involves multi-layered

communal connections. It is meaningful because it allows connection with others and

connection with the aural beauty of music. Ensemble is experienced as a musical and a

social entity (Durrant & Himonides, 1998; Chorus America, 2003, 2009; Bell, 2004,

2008; Durrant, 2000; Ahlquist, 2006; Horn, 2013).

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The vignettes are a testament to the intensity conductors and choristers experience

in expressive choral performance. Participants describe coming into themselves,

expressing themselves, and knowing themselves through choral performance experiences,

in ways similar to Danto’s (1999) explanation of Hegel’s conception of engagement with

art as a means of self-knowledge. As singers invest themselves in the process of music-

making, the more the music is available to them. As Silvey (2005) proposes, acquiring

musical self-knowledge requires a progressive sequencing approach: Learning repertoire

begins with “propositional knowledge,” moves through “procedural knowledge,” and

arrives at “acquaintance knowledge,” a form of self-knowledge. Performance is a way

performers know themselves. Making sense of self is part of artistic activity, in which the

personal and aesthetic selves meet (Greene, 2001; Gadamer in Malpas et al., 2002;

Gadamer in Korsmeyer, 2004). Self-knowledge is nascent in aesthetic experience.

Choristers speak of choral performance evoking emotions they do not experience

in any other areas of their lives. Several speak about momentous, even life-changing

performances. This confirms Mantie’s (2015) proposition that recreational musical

participation is “healthy and worthy” (2015), as well as the notion of the transformative

potential of artistic experience (Dewey, 1934/2005; Greene, 2001; Gadamer in Malpas et

al., 2002). Meaning is vested in artistic features, and meaning derives from the

symbolism or sense of the occasion. Both musical content and a sense of the occasion

heighten expressivity. Participants’ descriptions of their own performances, captured in

the vignettes, were opportunities for phenomenological self-investigation: They give the

performers the opportunity to articulate their own consciousness (Husserl in Robinson &

Groves, 1998/2007).
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Performers are aware of themselves in the act of performing, which is different

from how they are in their day-to-day lives. In performance, especially performance that

uses several sense percepts, they experience the phenomenal world (Kant in Robinson &

Groves, 1998/2007), and they make sense of the world through sensory experience. Inner

feeling and aesthetic experience (Schiller, 1794/1954/2004; Reimer, 2009) connect

through the sensory, embodied activity that is performance.

Amateur

Amateur choristers consider choral participation for their own leisure and pleasure.

Some conductors take choristers’ amateur status into account, when considering

expectations. Some choristers, however, see the professional-amateur dichotomy as

artificial, and regard themselves and other amateurs as deeply committed to performance

goals as professionals. Amateur choirs are “expressive gold mines” and amateur

choristers show abundant and inarguable commitment and enthusiasm. Yet less-than-

professional technical abilities and unevenness of abilities within an ensemble make

expressive performance difficult for amateur choirs.

Choristers and conductors embrace expression for self-fulfillment and

communication of feeling to an audience. Amateur choristers sing for their own

fulfillment, while regarding it as their obligation to move the audience. Expression is

regarded to enhance both. Participants are aware of the nemeses that obstruct expression,

and most of the conductor participants and some of the choristers are forthright in their

opinion that amateur choral performances often lack expressive conviction (Juslin &
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Persson, 2002; Juslin et al, 2004/2006). That choral singing generates such enthusiasm

for the rewards it offers singers, even as it may be lacking in expression, is something of

a conundrum.

Conceptualizations of Expression

Amateur performers perform both for themselves and to move an audience. They

consider expression for both these purposes. They speak in terms of “making the

audience feel something.” Usually expression in this context is thought of as musical

expression, but it can also be considered more than solely musical Goehr, 2007; Leech-

Wilkinson, 2013; van der Schyff, 2014). Though expression is prized and pursued, it

apparently is mostly undefined in amateur choral practice. It is most usually practiced as

musical expression. Text is included as an expressive medium, either for its literal

meaning or for its adjunction to music.

Choristers are critical of other choirs’ lack of expressivity, and they are also

critical of their own choirs. When they are critical, usually they are referring, not to a lack

of musical expression, but to a lack of visual communicativeness from choir to audience.

They are also aware of an expression deficit when there is a lack of textual connection,

particularly when they themselves lack comprehension of the text.

How expression in a choral context is different than expression in solo singing is

understood in a musical context—blend and balance—and in social terms—interpersonal

connections in the ensemble. Harmony is at once a musical element and a symbol for

inter-ensemble, social synergies.

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Choristers tie self-expression to artistic expression. They say they can be their

authentic selves, or find their authentic voices, in expressive choral singing, even as they

relinquish their individuality to be part of the ensemble. Individual abilities make group

expression difficult, but performance expression is made possible only by the whole

ensemble. The relationship between individual and ensemble is intricate.

Participants conflate the terms “emotion” and “feeling.” Some suggest they mean

essentially the same thing. If differences between the two are not just a question of

semantics, as one chorister suggested, the differences are not obvious. One conductor

pointed out that, in seeking communicatively convincing performances, we ask for more

feeling rather than more emotion. That participants were not clear on the distinctions

between emotion and feeling is not surprising, given the array of opinion in the literature

(Damasio, 1999/2000: Jourdain, 1997; Juslin & Västfjäll, 2008).

Performers regard their obligation to fulfill the composer’s intentions by

considering themselves the composer’s advocate (Leinsdorf, 1981/2), by putting into play

their re-creative imagination to color and intensify the music (Coward, 1914), by

observing performance practices (C. P. E. Bach, 1759/1949/1974), and by interpreting, as

they frequently put it, “what the composer is trying to say” (Zander & Zander, 2000).

Some choral performers take their cues from textual clues (Grillparzer, Hanslick,

1854/1986; Kaplan, 1985; Godlovitch, 1998; Custer & Henson, 2014) as much as or

more than from musical cues.

If choristers are traditionally trained, they subscribe to the notion that sound is

everything in terms of expression and that an audience is a listening audience (Stanton,

1971). They consider that if choristers express anything visually while performing, this
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can be a distraction for them and for their audience. Many participants, however,

especially when speaking from the perspective of an audience, agree that sound alone is

not the only component of live choral performance. Expression is not vested simply in

musical features, and may include other sensory components, primarily a visual

component. They attest to the effectiveness of combined aural and visual elements to

create a connection between performer and audience. Some characterize this connection

as energy transfer.

That expression may go beyond a solely musical conception, to include musical,

textual, and presentational aspects, is an apparently recent notion in a choral context,

although it is long-present in the training of solo singers and opera- and musical theater-

singers (Miller, 1996: Thurman, 2000; Carter, 2005; Ostwald, 2005; Nussek &

Wanderley, 2009; Olson, 2010; Coutinho et al., 2014; Hoffmann, 2015). This synesthetic

conception of expression is generally put forward by conductors and singers whose

experience includes solo singing, opera, and musical theater, and conductors and singers

whose training is more recent.

While few performers mention “contagion” as an artistic intent or “emotional

contagion” (Hatfield et al., 1993, 1994) as a psychological phenomenon, all speak about

their purpose in performing as reaching their audience on an emotional level, the very

purpose of art that Tolstoy (1897/8) proposes. Likewise, no one mentions visual and

auditory interplay from a proven scientific standpoint (McGurk & MacDonald, 1976;

Tiippana, 2014), some speak about the visual modality predominating over the aural.

Two conductors mention mirror neurons (Iacoboni, 2009, Hickok, 2014) as transference

between conductor and ensemble. One participant mentions a workshop he had recently
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attended, where there was a demonstration confirming that visual impact outweighs aural:

The presenter, with her fist to her temple, asked the audience to put their fists under their

chins. The audience did what they saw and not what they heard.

Modalities

Expressive Cues

As concept and practice, choral expression encompasses a wide range of

possibilities, but the traditional notion of choral expression as primarily musical

expression prevails (Seashore, 1938/1967; Meyer, 1956; Langer, 1953, 1957; Cooke,

1959/1963/1989; Baker & Scruton, 1980; Kivy, 1995, 2007; Kopiez, 2002; Juslin, 2003,

2009; Juslin et al. 2000; 2002; 2004/2006; 2008; 2009; 2010/2011/2012). To be

musically expressive, choral performers bring to life an interpretation of the printed

representation in musical and textual sound, usually the conductor’s interpretation, but

possibly and collective interpretation; and they convey this to the listener (Brunswick,

1956; Brandvik, 1993; Juslin et al., 2004/2006). There are two ideas at work: the

performer is “creator-fellow” (Brelet in Sparshott, 1980/1995; Goehr, 2007), and the

listener attributes qualities to the artwork (Carey, 2006).

Performers subscribe to the idea of musical expression as encoded, an

understanding on which Woody (in Kopiez, 2002) suggests musically expressive

performance is based. Participants say they portray emotions and the five that Juslin and

Persson mention, are familiar: happiness, sadness, anger, tenderness, and fear (Juslin &
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Persson, 2002). While they do not formally conceive of a categorization of aural codes

that convey particular emotions (Juslin et al., 2004/2006), they are comfortable

interpreting music and take for granted the means to interpret as suggested by their

conductors: adjusting timing, dynamics, articulation, to create tension and release (Juslin,

2003).

Musical and textual cues prompt expression in singers to varying degrees (Ivey in

Emmons & Chase, 2006; Silvey, 2014). Some singers find textual meaning the most

important way of accessing expression (Ehmann, 1949/1968; Jordan, 1996). For these

singers, the literal meaning of text, keywords as a reminder of affect, and personalizing

the meaning of the text may all be helpful (Custer & Henson, 2014). A relationship to

sung text may or may not be the most effective underpinning for performs to be

expressive in performance. For some, text and its precise meaning are secondary or

peripheral (Kaplan, 1985; Godlovitch, 1998), and the music is itself the impetus for

expression.

Presentation may simply refer to costume—everyone in the choir looking

uniform—or presentation may refer to a visual ancillary to musical and textual expression.

The expressive character and mood can be conveyed through artifact-derived elements

within the music itself, and through visual presentation are “bodification” that reflects the

artifact’s expressive aural content and projects it through a visual modality. When

choristers speak about visual presentation as an expressive modality, they often have one

set of standards when speaking as choristers, and another when speaking as concert

audience members. As performers they tend to be more conservative, and more readily
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eschew the visual; as audience members, they are more susceptible to visual expression

complementing aural expression.

Presentation Is Not Only Visual

While most participants describe portraying intensity and conviction in physical

terms, Trixie, the blind chorister, describes the portrayal of character in terms of energy.

She is clear that she needs to adjust her body to present to the audience, as she is clear

about receiving energy from the conductor and the audience, and perceiving that energy

when listening to a performance. Lacking sight, she articulates clearly what others

describe in visual terms in terms of energy transfer. While Trixie articulates this most

clearly, and while the aural and visual media are the most familiar, others also perceive a

transfer of energy from choir to audience and vice versa.

Processes

Acting

Some choristers—but by no means all—embrace acting as a way of projecting the

expressive meaning of what they are singing to the audience. Some call themselves

Method actors, and incorporate techniques, like the use of subtext, to make a personal

emotional connection with the music, text, or both. They speak of the energy output

required for portrayal of persona, over and above musical requirements, and the need to
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incorporate acting techniques into rehearsal. For others, acting is mere artifice, a resort to

disguise genuine feeling as, for instance, when a singer must sing something she does not

like. Some regard presentational techniques as overcoming inhibitions rather than as

acting.

Particularly with strong, sad emotions, participants feel that they need to practice

so as not to be caught off guard by their intensity in performance. The paradox is that

unless one feels something strongly, one has nothing to give to the audience that will

make an impression on them. When reduced to tears, singers have no voice. Actors can

continue to act while crying, but singers cannot continue to sing. Choristers agree that to

sing sad music, you need to convey “sad,” but you do not actually need to be sad yourself.

Being sad can be detrimental to vocal production and theatrical ability, so singers need to

“hold it together.” Through music, choristers experience intense and particularly poignant

emotions: They need to express these emotions intensely and authentically, while not

allowing the emotions to overwhelm them in performance, so that they can deliver

something sincerely felt, aurally beautiful, visually intense, both human and artistic.

Crying is a recurring refrain—conductors, choristers, and audience cry during

performances, and participants cried during interviews and focus groups. They say they

cry because of strong emotions: they cry for joy, because the intensity or beauty of the

moment moves them, while they are performing, or when they are witnessing a moving

performance. Kivy (2007) refers to the perfection of the music and de Botton (2014) to

the power of beauty to move us to tears in moments of grace. Eliot (1862) links the

expression of truth, goodness, and beauty, the Platonic triad of values, as the most

valuable in human experience, and Keats (1884) conjoins truth and beauty. Crying in
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performance, and crying at performance, are, it seems, ineffable moments when

performers and audience may experience truth and beauty.

Feelings that have to do with sadness, poignancy, and yearning may be both the

most powerfully evocative and the most difficult to convey effectively in visual

presentation. Music expresses these attributes of longing (Cates, 2013), but for

performers, showing this spectrum of feelings is difficult. It is relatively easy visually to

communicate happiness and joy and, by contagiously affecting one’s audience, to pass on

the feelings. It seems contradictory to visually communicate sadness or yearning, and still

have an uplifting effect on one’s audience. As compelling as an aesthetic experience of

longing or sadness may be, it is more difficult, perhaps, to convey these feelings as a

singer than as an actor. As a singer, one wants music’s beauty to “speak” as much as the

authenticity of the feeling. Music may evoke sadness, but, in music, the sadness can be

exquisite. In music, one can hear and feel beauty in sadness, as Sartwell (2006) suggests.

Perhaps this is more difficult in the visual modality and perhaps a difficulty also rests in

the difference in credibility between the sadness of one singer and that of a whole

ensemble.

Singers must do something in rehearsal to keep their own emotions in check

during performance. They must rehearse strong emotions, even though rehearsal is not

performance and one cannot fabricate the commitment to communication as in a live

performance. That is a conundrum. Singers have to prepare themselves in rehearsal in

order to achieve technical reliability and emotional authenticity in order that what

Thurman (2000) calls “as-if feelings” an audience may find indistinguishable from real

feelings and thus credible. The audience’s lack of distinction between an acted emotion
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and a real one recalls Merleau-Ponty’s statement, “The gesture does not make me think of

anger, it is the anger itself” (1964, p. 190). Juslin’s and Timmer’s (2010/2011/2012) view

contrasts with Merleau-Ponty: They believe that what is expressed is not the emotion

itself but a representation of the emotion. An irony of expression is that, because one

cannot express what one does not feel (or know), a performer cannot authentically

express a feeling she has not herself intensely experienced and known, or what

phenomenology deems lived experience. She may not actually experience this feeling in

the act of performance, but she must have an experience of it—real or empathic. As

Imogen Holst (1973), suggests, one cannot “put in the expression.” One cannot put in

what one hopes to draw out. This echoes Dewey’s emphasis on experience in art:

emotional impulsion is necessary for artistic expression, but it needs ordering from prior

experience to be meaningful and considered art. Dewey writes:

An activity that was “natural”—spontaneous and unintended—is transformed because it

is undertaken as a means to a consciously entertained consequence. Such transformation

marks every deed of art (1934/2005, p. 65).

Technique and Expression

There is an ongoing dance between technique and expression, and the integration

of expression with technique is problematic. Technique—generally narrowly considered

to be vocal, singing technique—is regarded as foundational, but not as necessarily

leading to expressive performance. Most participants agree that more technique is useful,

although many say that even when singers have plenty of technique, this does not
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necessarily lead to expressive performance. Several choristers are critical of professional

ensembles for having superb technique, but being communicatively bland.

Teaching is geared toward technique because it is emotionally easier: Conductor

and chorister are both less vulnerable if they are talking about the physicality of making

sound meaning, rather than about meaning. But when most or all teaching goes toward

technique, then an opportunity for the expressive has been lost. All amateur ensembles

spend time learning pitches and rhythms, some more than others. This is perhaps the

single biggest difference between the expectations of amateurs and those of professionals.

Singers’ intense emotions, like Neumann’s (2009) “passionate thought,” are

considered necessary for a performance to be convincing, although it is not necessary,

nor perhaps not desirable, for singers to feel intense emotions while they are singing.

Conductors recount instances when they have expended all technical resources

without achieving the desired musical result. In these situations, personal narrative

involving conductor vulnerability, or musical example produces results and solves

musical problems that technique alone cannot. Conductors who emphasize vocal

technique, they do not emphasize techniques for visual presentation. Conductors who

subscribe to visual presentation use backstory, imagery, movement, and overacting to

cultivate visual presentation in their ensembles.

Vocal Technique

If vocal technique is considered in the context of solo singing and opera singing,

then it included components that enable singers to be expressive (Stanton, 1971; Decker
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& Herford, 1973; Decker & Kirk, 1988). For the conductors and choristers who are

trained singers and voice teachers, a singer’s technique, including posture and

comportment for breath support—foot placement, pelvic tilt, torso, neck and head

alignment—and facial adjustments for tonal beauty and placement of vowels all play

naturally into a stage persona (Miller, 1996). A singer’s cultivated stance “speaks”

(Thurman, 2000). Not only is expressive performance more effective because of the way

it looks, but presentation techniques such as posture—firm foundation, open chest—lifted

eyebrows, and head aligned on a straight neck all help vocal production. Most choristers,

however, do not have extensive vocal training, and, rehearsing in the evening, when they

are tired, may not readily assume or maintain good vocal posture, and may not have a

singing background that incorporates posture, facial expression, and dramatic portrayal as

integral to singing.

Rehearsing

The purpose of rehearsal is debatable, whether to lay a solid technical

foundation—which includes vocal technique, and musical and textual proficiencies, how

much technical basis is necessary before expressive endeavors can begin, and whether to

make expression reliable through rehearsal. Some regard rehearsing should be similar to

performing for the best expressive outcome, and some see rehearsing and performing as

totally different. “You perform as you practice” and “You can’t tell a story to nobody”

are two aphorisms that capture the dichotomy of approaches to expression. One chorister

points out that actors rehearse in an empty house and says choristers should practice
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expression likewise. Some conductors and choristers feel they need to practice expression

from the get-go, to make it an integral part of their performance. Others regard rehearsal

as an opportunity for developing technical prowess, and say their expressive delivery

depends on the presence of an audience.

Whether to approach notes first or notes and expression together remains a

conundrum: For “front-loaders” expression has to be “built-in” as notes and rhythms are

being learned; it should be inherent in the whole process, not added afterwards. They say

that, because we perform the way we rehearse, we should rehearse the way we want to

perform. “We shouldn’t rehearse like we are doing chores,” chorister Lyle reminds us.

One can’t be expressive if one is still learning pitches and rhythms, but knowing pitches

and rhythms doesn’t automatically lead to expression. For some the answer is to reach a

level of technical confidence that allows one to focus on expression.

If presentation is only addressed at dress rehearsal, when an assistant conductor

calls out from the back of the church sanctuary, “No one is looking up!” or “It’s a happy

piece; but you don’t look happy,” this usually does not give singers the tools or time to

cultivate visual presentation. It ends up being a deficit. If visual presentation—how the

choir looks in performance—were not important, then an assistant conductor would not

be asking for it.

Choristers and conductors are mostly in agreement, but opinions diverge on two

important issues regarding what is rehearsed and how it is rehearsed. First, all conductors

say expression—in whatever modalities they conceive expression—needs to be practiced;

some choristers agree, especially for coping with intense emotions. Others say that

rehearsal is for technical security; they want to be left to “turn it on” in performance.
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Particularly in regard to a visually expressive component, some choristers feel they need

an audience before they can be visually expressive; others agree with conductors that this

needs to be practiced. They see singers as actors. If actors can rehearse to an empty house,

choristers should do likewise, and include every expressive modality in rehearsal. Second,

conductors want to finesse micro-musical issues until the last possible moment, while

choristers want to run-through to get a grasp of the overall. Labeled “chorus interruptus”

by one singer, this issue surfaced over and over, as choristers voiced their frustration at

conductors for not giving them the opportunity to get a macro-grasp of a work. The big

picture, choristers feel, enhances their confidence and their expressive output.

“Chorus Interruptus”

The least helpful aspect of rehearsal is what one chorister terms “chorus

interruptus,” the apparently widespread conductor practice of stopping the choir’s singing

to fix musical issues, even eliminating complete run-throughs of works for the sake of

attending to details and eradicating mistakes. “Chorus interruptus” captures choristers’

frustration at this practice, because they regard it as an impediment to their being

expressive in performance.

Almost all the conductors admit to practicing “chorus interruptus,” and almost all

the choristers feel their performance would be better for more “run-through” rehearsal.

Conductors feel compelled to stop; choristers want to experience the big picture of the arc

and flow of the piece. What conductors regard as finessing, choristers regard as

nitpicking. The difference is clearly one of orientation, with conductors aiming for
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technical gloss and choristers for a more sense-based experience of pacing themselves

through the whole. It is hard to say who is “right,” but, for the most part, choristers know

themselves, they know when they can be trusted, and the benefits of conductors allowing

their choristers to do what feels good to them are reaped in performances that may be

more confident and more “felt.” As Virginia says, “Quality is not the elimination of

defects,” and “bringing forth more subjective expressive aspects” may sometimes be

more effective in eliciting expression than focusing on what is objectively right or wrong.

“The-People-Who-Don’t-Look-Up Issue”

“Looking up” is generally regarded as a baseline for expression. Even choristers

who know they have difficulty with this, like Jack, say it is important. Choristers are

frustrated by their conductor stopping the whole choir and saying, “Look up!” The

choristers who are looking up get tired of this. They urge their director, “Tell the specific

people. Don’t tell the whole choir.” As Moore (1973) advocates, bringing the student’s

own awareness into play is more productive. The conductor may have to address this

with individuals out of rehearsal, not in front of the group, because calling people out in

front of the group can feel like shaming them, and that takes the situation in the wrong

direction. This issue is pervasive, no matter the level of the choir.

Choristers either say everyone should either use a book or not use a book, or it

matters little or not at all whether some use a book and others do not. Similarly, some

find the use of iPads fine and are tolerant of a mix of books and iPads. Others consider

them a distraction for the audience.

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Movement

Conductors may use movement for musical, textual, and presentational reasons,

without fully articulating its purpose either to themselves or to their choirs. For some,

movement is intuitive, and its multiple uses and benefits in a choral context may be

tapped, even without recourse to Dalcroze’s system of eurhythmics (Benson, 2011).

Some subscribe to movement, either as a rehearsal tool, on the assumption that

movement creates freedom that engenders expressive potential, or as an artistic

component of performance, choreographed or not. Participants expressed different

perspectives on the purposes movement can serve. The various discussions tended to

conflate movement in rehearsal and movement in performance; movement for musical

benefit and movement for visual interest for the audience; and movement to embody the

text.

Some choristers’ resistance, difficulty, or discomfort with physical movement

(dyspraxia, from Greek praxia “action” and dys “difficult”) may make the use of

movement in rehearsal and as a visual unification of ensemble in performance less

effective. Clearly, though, both conductors and choristers value movement for multiple

reasons. Most conductors advocated using movement while singing to train choir

members. Setting aside “choralography” movement can benefit musicality and adding

can add presentational interest.

Creating ensemble cohesion is tricky because abilities are individual and

diverse—choristers have varying degrees of experience, shyness or self-consciousness,

and praxia (ease with performing physical movements). Unifying the ensemble is key to
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its effectiveness, both aurally and visually. For some individuals, the group connection is

enhanced by a literal physical connection among the singers, like holding hands, or

standing close enough to hear breathing. For others, either of these things might be too

close for comfort.

Memorization

Memorization as a means of expressive performance is a divisive issue: Some

regard it as felicitous and others as an obstacle. Not all choristers who find memorization

difficult feel it hinders them; some who find memorization onerous still consider it worth

the effort because it contributes to a better connection with the audience. Despite finding

memorization challenging, they feel it is worth the effort, and that they can be more

expressive in performance when they are off book. While memorization helps some

singers be more expressive in performance, for those who find it difficult, it impedes their

ability to be expressive in performance. There is also no correlation between

memorization and musical skill.

The mission statement of one of the participating choirs includes performing from

memory. These choristers acknowledge that memorization requires a lot of extra effort

beyond the requirements of on-book performance. They also acknowledge that the

memorization demands of their performance repertoire—contemporary, often

commissioned works, in foreign languages—are intense and go beyond the demands of

more conventional repertoire. Their conductor observes that the choir regards being on
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book as being in rehearsal mode, and that they are not as expressive on book as off,

because they have not cultivated on-book performance skills.

Because memorization abilities vary so greatly, some conductors consider the

option of having the ensemble perform with some singers on book and some singers off,

according to each singer’s preference. The lack of uniformity is seen as giving the

audience a mixed message, and detracting from ensemble unity. The impression of

uniformity is important to some, who offer the solution of having memorizers hold an

empty binder, to appear the same as the reading singers. Having some choristers

memorize and others not creates inter-ensemble tensions: Some singers express the

concern that, if they are on book, they are or are regarded as lesser than their off-book

colleagues. Some are uncomfortable being off book when others are not as they do not

want to be perceived as “showing off.”

Despite the acknowledged difficulties of memorization for some, choristers

themselves express the desire to attempt to memorize more, including multi-movement

major works with orchestra. They think that were their conductor to require

memorization, and provided a schedule for it, more singers would memorize. They

believe choristers have more material memorized than they think, and that building

memorization into the rehearsal process gives hesitant memorizers a means to build trust

in their own abilities. Advocates for memorization perceive the book as a physical barrier

between themselves and the audience that diminishes their expressive potency. They say

they feel freer, more expressive, and more “on” performing without the burden of the

book.
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None of the participants mention giving or receiving specific training either that

helps choristers memorize or use the book more beneficially. A few choristers speak

about looking up as instructed, only to find their conductor looking at his own music.

Choristers think conductors, too, could profitably dispense with their scores. The

memorization issue is fraught with complexities and there is no one-size-fits-all solution.

What Conductors Show

Choristers are not fully aware of the implied meaning of their conductor’s gestural

language. They differ in where they get their expressive clues—from a conductor’s

gestures or face, or both—and where they place their visual focus to communicate

expressively, whether on the conductor or on the audience. Coward echoes Tolstoy’s

(1897/8) metaphor of contagion, and recommends that the conductor “infect” his

followers—the singers—with his dramatic spirit (1914, p. 251). Perhaps conductors need

to explain their gestural language to their choirs and to come to an understanding about

what their own facial expression intends to suggest: whether the choir is to mirror the

conductor’s expression, or whether the conductor’s expression is a way of making herself

open to her ensemble. As human communication is regarded as basic, the conductor

revealing her own connection to the music is an invitation to the singers to reveal

something of themselves too.

One school of thought is that the conductor must show the choir what she wants

to see—“What they see is what you get” (Eichenberger & Thomas, 1994). Another

suggests that the choir mirrors what the conductor is showing, like monkey-see, monkey-
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do—see Hatfield’s et al. (1993) emotional contagion, Iacoboni’s (2009) mirror neurons,

and Keysers’ (2011) empathy theory—and, in that situation, the conductor is limiting the

choristers’ personal expression by showing his own. It is better to give choristers tools in

rehearsal to find their own (more authentic) expression, by discussing text, giving subtext

and finding personal ways into the piece, and not doing the emoting for the choir (Carter,

2005).

As one conductor said, he has to be vigilant about reminding the ensemble to

watch gesture rather than hand. That there is so much contradiction in where choristers

look, whether at hands and gesture or face of the conductor, suggests that conductors do

not give sufficient instruction to their ensembles about what to look for where, nor

explain their gestures to their ensembles. These are issues addressed in Gumm’s (2015)

ACDA survey of conductors, which addresses questions about the purpose of conductor

gesture: whether to control the ensemble or to give them more freedom to be expressive.

Conductors use motivation, perhaps even a motivational message (Gumm, 2012)

in their gestures, to foster expression. Clarity or elegance of conductor gesture for solely

musical purposes does not seem to matter as much as making a personal connection with

the ensemble. The ensemble is responsive to psychosocial connection between them and

their conductor (Gumm, 2012).

Self-Learning with Video-Feedback

Choristers acknowledge that they are generally unaware of how they look when

singing. They know they do not have a realistic perception of how they look while
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performing, and do not know how to calibrate their expressive portrayal. Several

expressed a desire to use video-recording of rehearsals as a tool. Those who have used

video, are enthusiastic about it. More than anything else in their learning, they say, this

helps them be visually expressive. The most constructive use of the video is for self-

feedback, where choristers can observe and learn on their own. This brings into play

features of andragogy (adult learning) (Knowles, 1980, Merriam, Caffarella, &

Baumgartner, 2007): Self-directed learning, a readiness to learn that is connected to the

social role of the learner, immediate application of knowledge, and being problem-

centered. Choristers appreciate that the video obviates a director expressing frustration at

the whole group when only some are inexpressive. They find the combination of the

video and personal guidance from the director helpful in facilitating improvements in

their presentational delivery.

Singers’ self-analysis of video-recordings of their rehearsal and performance

proves to be an effective way of cultivating self-awareness of individual strengths and

deficiencies in showing expression, and an immediate means of improving individual

singers’ performance expression. Singers are not only willing to self-teach, they are keen,

especially when they are able to monitor their own progress and improvement from one

video-recording to the next.

Performance

While contagion or emotional contagion might not be the terms choristers use to

describe their performance goals, these seem to encapsulate the belief that moving or
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affecting an audience is the purpose of their public performance. Most amateur

performers feel they owe their audience something, and that there is an energy transfer,

both from performers to audience, and from audience to performers. They subscribe to

the idea that expression involves collaboration between performer and audience. The

occasion of performance heightens the perceived expressive intensity of their delivery.

The presence of an audience catalyzes their own expressiveness. They regard the

audience as participating in the performance.

But not all choristers find the performance experience fulfilling; some derive

personal satisfaction from the instructive processes of rehearsal and find rehearsal more

rewarding than performance. For these choristers, performance is an inevitable necessity

of the choral experience, and yet they themselves may still be able to be expressive

performers.

Many choristers spoke about performance as an opportunity to “turn it on,” “up

the amplitude,” and “get jazzed.” Several conceived of “energy” as a part of the

interaction between performers and audience. But, for some participants, performance is

not the epitome of the choral experience. These choristers find fulfillment more in

rehearsal and in the process of learning and singing than in performance. Some do not

like the pressure of performance and prefer the more relaxed atmosphere of rehearsal. For

some, the dress rehearsal with orchestra is the most enjoyable part of the season. It is

more exciting than a regular rehearsal but not as demanding as a performance. Some are

buoyed by the camaraderie and social bonding that occurs in rehearsal, as much as by the

musical performance experience. Some regard performance as “paying the piper,” a kind

of necessity, to enable them to have a choral experience at all, and to impel the ensemble
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toward the learning and accomplishment that public performance requires. It would be an

easy but false conclusion to say that the choristers who love rehearsing more than

performing are the less expressive performers; my observations indicate that is not the

case.

Nor was it the case that extroverts like performing, and introverts do not. In fact,

some of the self-acknowledged introverts like performing for the very reason that it gives

them an opportunity to express themselves. Jade thinks of herself as introverted, but loves

to perform because, as she said, “For a moment, I am a dancing unicorn.” Several

acknowledge the amount of work and energy necessary to give a committed expressive

performance. Percival says the output is so intense that he can only give his fullest in

performance: “After the concert, I go home, I have a bath and I crash.”

Synergies

Choristers readily submit to the authority-driven process that prevails in amateur

choirs, and are gratified when they are successful in satisfying their conductors’ musical

demands. Choristers want to please their conductors for musical reasons, and to like or to

love them for their interpersonal and leadership abilities. In return, they want at least to

be respected, and better to be loved. Few choristers seemed to want to challenge their

conductor’s musical decisions, although some were somewhat critical of programming

and repertoire choices. Although one group was good-humoredly critical of their

conductor’s gestures, which they felt did not match the music, they did not feel this

impeded their expressive abilities. Garnett (2009) cites personal charisma as a way for
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conductors to make themselves musically authoritative. Although a conductor’s personal

likeability may fuel a choir’s desire to perform expressively, in this study, the choir who

experienced the most difficult interpersonal interaction with their conductor was, in my

opinion, the most expressive in performance.

Leadership

Conductor participants vary widely in leadership ideology and style, and in

developing chorister ownership of the musical product and of the choir itself, as Sharlow

(2006) finds helpful. Some conductors make rehearsals “collaborative spaces,” as Yorks

(2005) advocates, and some promote an atmosphere of a learning community (Mezirow,

2000). There was evidence of learner-centeredness (Weimer, 2002), but the challenges to

learner-centeredness that Dalbey (2008) notes are real: the practices and ideals, both of

conductors and of choristers, based in an authority-driven model. Mostly, rehearsals I

observed were leader-driven although Barrett (2007) suggests a constructivist approach

possible and beneficial. Constructivist learning occurred with the use of video feedback

when choristers could watch the video on their own.

Choristers apparently recognize, value, and willingly subscribe to conductor

authority. Some voiced a desire to be heard more than in their singing. When choristers

expressed a desire for inclusion, how this would be accomplished was unarticulated.

Conductors recognize that hierarchical processes preclude democratic inclusion and make

ensembles product- rather than process-focused. The traditional large ensemble model is

regarded as inevitable.
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Camaraderie and Artistry

For many of the study’s choristers, “community” in community choirs plays an

integral part in their self-expression, and self-expression is often integral to their artistic

expression. They sing in choirs for musical and social fulfillment, and they conflate their

desires for community and artistic aspirations. Developing expressive ensemble synergy

seems to depend on the cultivation of a sense of community among the singers and with

the conductor. In turn, this sense of community is based in part on a shared sense of pride

in mutual endeavor, but several participants express a desire for opportunities to cultivate

closer personal relationships within the choir, through shared activities beyond musical

rehearsal and performance, and some wish for more access to their conductor. Some even

feel that less rehearsal and more socializing would be musically beneficial, as it would

create a bond among the choristers and between choristers and conductors. One says he

has sung in his choir for ten years and still does not know the names of the alto singers.

Choristers said they valued the study’s focus groups as an opportunity to get to know one

another better, something that is not available in the normal context of their choir

participation.

Vulnerability and Trust

Because the voice emanates from inside the physical body, singing is regarded as

“more personal” than playing an instrument. Singers feel vulnerable because of this, and
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they want and need to feel safe to perform well (Bell, 2000). But being able to be

emotionally vulnerable for expressive reasons is important, choristers say, and, in the

context of community trust, vulnerability is a positive attribute for being expressive.

Some conductors create an environment where people can be with and for each other.

Some demonstrate relationship to the music and relationship to singers. The whole

conglomerate that is the choir—30, 60, 100 people—all have some relationship with the

conductor, with each other, with the processes of materializing music and text, and with

the audience, which, in turn, has a relationship with them. Participants acknowledge that

all these contact points make choral performance positive when it works well, and

difficult when it works poorly. Yet leadership itself seems to be more intuitive than

considered, and more to do with the personal propensity of each conductor.

Many chorister participants mentioned trust and vulnerability, yet the conductor

as servant-leader, a concept suggested by Wis (2002, 2007) seems little adopted. Wis,

like others (Hunt, Stelluto & Hooijberg, 2004; Jorgensen, 2011), espouses the value of a

conductor’s inspiration for musical interpretation over conductor leadership based on

musical knowledge. Several conductors in the study seemed to personify Yu’s (1999)

Consideration Leadership Style, being at least as relationship-focused as task-focused.

The findings suggest a completion of the wildflower pictured in chapter I. There,

the middle corolla of petals represented the expressive modalities—music, text, and

visual presentation—possible in choral performance. Now, the innermost mini-corolla

suggests artistic contagion, the persuasive impetus for reaching an audience; and the

outermost corolla of petals capture three aspects of choral expression: its meaning for
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performers, the processes that bring expression into being, and the community synergies

that are integral to it.

Meaning

Music Text
Modality Modality

Artistic
Contagion

Synergies Processes

Presentation Modality

Illustration 2. Wildflower Complete

Summary

The major findings yield several surprises. As little as expression—as

epistemological inquiry into what it might be, rather than how to make it happen—is

discussed within choirs and among choristers and conductors, it is important to the very

same people. They “do” expression, even if they don’t articulate what, how, or why. As

Yoshi said, “I’ve been singing with several really fine conductors in the Bay Area for 15

years now, and no one has ever talked about this expression stuff.” Perhaps this is the

classic divide between practitioners and researchers, what Huberman, referring to

educational research calls “the chronic two communities problem: the differences in
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norms, rewards and sensibilities between researchers and school people [in this case,

performers]” (1990, p. 364).

Live choral performance expression may be regarded as reifying a musical work

or it may be regarded as that and more. When choristers and conductors have solo singing,

musical theater, or opera experience, they are likely to complement the traditional

artifact-derived expressive modalities of music and poetry with a visual presentational

element.

Technique is generally considered to be vocal technique. The relationship of vocal

technique and expression was difficult to unravel. There was agreement that the two are

connected and that expression is somewhat dependent on technique, although technique

does not necessarily engender expression. Techniques of acting not usually associated

with musical endeavor, including Method acting and the use of subtext, are useful

resources.

Regarding processes, there is disagreement, mainly between conductors and

choristers, about whether and how to practice expression in rehearsal. Conductors always

want expression practiced, but only some choristers do. Several say they can “turn it on”

in performance if a technical foundation is well established in rehearsal. Also, choristers

favor the acquisition of the macro-view, even as conductors want to make micro-

corrections to the music.

There is a diversity of opinions on memorization and whether or not

memorization is helpful for expression. A number of choristers said they adopt Method

acting to portray character. Most choristers say that, in rehearsal, “chorus interruptus” is

unhelpful. Here is an instance when conductors might well “teach with their mouths shut”
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as Bain (2004) suggests, quoting the epigrammatic title of Finkel’s (2000) book, and

allow the run-throughs that choristers so clearly say they find helpful. Some find video

feedback instructive, and are able to change their own performance because of it.

Synergies include intra-ensemble interactions that are both social and musical.

While the meaning for participants of choral singing and performance is highly personal,

the endeavor is communal. Choristers value the community aspect of singing for social

and musical reasons and regard the social aspect as having a positive impact on their

artistic endeavor. They are willing to give up something of their individuality for the sake

of the group, just as they are willing to submit to the conductor’s authority. Personal

vulnerability is a necessity for artistic expressiveness, but is a personal risk. Choristers

have a concept of group expression. For a choir to present persona, “group” expression

subsumes self-expression, and introverts and extroverts find common ground. The axiom

that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts seems apt.

Fulfillment from choral participation is personal, but there are multi-layered

communal connections. Even in a high-standard performing ensemble, choristers want

social connection among themselves and with the conductor. Choristers want to please

their conductor. And they want to respect or love their conductor and to be respected or

loved, in return.

While accepting the conventional structure of a choir, choristers express a desire

for their voices to be heard outside a singing context. Even as the benefits of flatter

organizations (Hunt, Stelluto & Hooijberg, 2004) and more learner-centered ways of

teaching (Weimer, 2002) and leading (Wis, 2002, 2007) are proclaimed by writers, the

findings of this study point to the almost unquestioned acceptance of an authoritative

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model in amateur choirs. The reliance on a hierarchical system may be explained by the

tyranny of limited rehearsal time, which limits time expended in pursuit of democratic

processes. Nevertheless, choristers want their voices heard not only in singing; they want

their opinions heeded. They feel they could solve some musical problems, if given a

chance, and they want to exercise their own critical thinking (Brookfield, 1987). In

amateur ensembles, conductors consider their role to include community-building,

although how much of this is musical community and how much is social community

varies from conductor to conductor and ensemble to ensemble. Some mutual learning

(Allsup, 2003) and constructivist chorister self-learning (Weimer, 2002), for example

with the aid of video-feedback, is found to be effective in terms of both the product and

chorister self-fulfillment.
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Chapter IX

POSTLUDE

Implications

Human behavior is complexly motivated. Our interpretations should mirror that

complexity rather than suggest that we have the capacity to infer “real” meanings.
Qualitative researchers should reveal and revel in complexity, striving . . . to make
things appropriately complex without rendering them more opaque (Wolcott, 2009,
p. 70).

My study was a platform for conductors and choristers to articulate the meaning

of choral performance expression. It explored a concept of expression as more than

musical, by including the visual presentational modality of expression as an ancillary to

the conventional, artifact-derived modalities of music and text. It examined how

commonly adopted processes of rehearsal—note-learning before expressive learning, use

of the score or memorizing, movement, and micro-corrections—aid or hinder expression,

and it included a consideration of inter-ensemble synergies that contribute to or detract

from expression. Attempting to bridge a conceptual continuum between practitioners and

aestheticians, it addressed Aristoxenus’1 complaint that musical performers are oblivious

to philosophical concerns (in Bowman, 1998, pp. 136, 196). It gave equal voice to

choristers and conductors, whose opinions aligned on all but two major issues. It

1
Pupil of Aristotle, philosopher, and author of the musical treatise, Elements of Harmony.
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highlights their different perspective on two contentious issues: whether and how to

practice performance expression and on micro-corrections or macro-overview.

Some conductor and chorister participants express dissatisfaction with choir

performance in general. Choristers and conductors are critical even of their own choirs.

Participants ascribe their dissatisfaction at less-than-compelling performances to a lack of

emotional conviction, rather than to a lack of musical quality. This criticism points to

matters more than musical and to choirs more than amateur. There is a paradox that

choristers love to sing, and do so with great commitment, yet both choristers and

conductors complain about a prevalence of inexpressive performance. Ascribing this to

the constraint of deficient amateur abilities only partly answers the problem.

Tom Carter, author of Choral Charisma (2005) and choral coach, suggests the

reasons for inexpressive choral singing:

Most choir directors don’t touch this stuff and it usually is not addressed in the
instruction of choral directors. The craft––usually the musical craft––assumes
center stage; how to project meaning is often a lesser priority. Most conductors talk
about the musical craft, not the humanity underneath, the meaning underneath. If
they had that human connection, at the grad-school level or wherever, then they
would bring it in (to their own choral directing). Very few directors know about
choral charisma or Method acting. And some choristers feel that charisma is not
what choir is all about. They either cannot or will not engage with it . . . Front-load
processes for choral communication early and make them a part of every rehearsal.
This needs to be an organic process that taps into common human experience and
skill sets . . .When you establish this, the musical side becomes more efficient
(Personal communication, April 1, 2014).

Meanings

It is evident that choral performance is a priority in choristers’ lives, something to

which they are willing to dedicate time and energy, work hard at, and pay for. This bears
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out the findings of Chorus America’s (2009) study of chorister dedication and benefits.

Choristers reveal deeply personal feelings about their choral experience. The primary

reason that choral participation is so intensely meaningful to conductors and choristers

appears to be that choral expression ties closely to personal emotion, validation, sense of

self, and accomplishment. Performers regard choral singing as both an inlet to and an

outlet for feelings. In giving up something of themselves to be part of an ensemble,

choristers find their authentic selves in choral singing. In the self-told vignettes (chapter

IV), participants recount choral performances as profoundly impactful, even as

transformative occasions in their lives. As Ahlquist (2006) writes, “links between

aesthetic and other kinds of meaning in choral performance can be strong” (p. 9).

But that expression eludes ready definition suggests how difficult expression is to

pin down, and that expression is not just one thing: Expression can be and is thought of as

different things. It also confirms the long-standing divide between practitioners who do

and philosophers who think. For most, the concept of expression resides in the reifying of

musical works; for others, reification is only part of expression, especially when

expression is considered as part of performance. This latter, expression in performance

suggests that a broader conception of expression than the traditional is warranted. It does

negate or occlude or ignore the traditional, but expands it. Choristers are dedicated to

choral participation (Stebbins, 2007), regardless of their conceptions of expression. While

expression is equated with the most intense performance experiences, vividly recollected,

that expression is often recounted only in part as musical. Clearly, performers are

profoundly moved by their perception of aural beauty—the effect of perfectly in-tune

chords sung in Just Intonation. Equally, however, a sense of occasion and its emotional
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valance contribute to the intensity of the performance experience. A further conundrum is

that the connection between choristers’ personal gratification and an audience’s

perception of the expressiveness of their performance do not necessarily correlate.

Choristers may be moved by their own performance more or less than their audiences.

When performers describe their strong responses, for instance, to beautifully in-tune

singing, they speak as if they are the audience—how they experience the beauty of

perfectly tuned chords and just intonation. Expression is reflexive: What the singers

create affects them. It is not possible to make objective judgments about the expressive

merit of the performances described in the participants’ self-reported vignettes (in chapter

IV), but the vignettes point to a set of paradoxes: The correlation of performers’ sense of

personal fulfillment with artistry or expressivity; whether artistry is technical and

musical; whether performers derive personal satisfaction from their performances, even

when the performances might not considered optimally expressive, and when performers

do not derive personal fulfillment from performances that are perceived as expressive.

The two most descriptive neologisms that emerged from the research are both

sexual in nature. “Chorgasms” was an apt term for the sort of whole-body joy that singers

can derive from a fulfilling performance. “Chorus interruptus” was a phrase coined to

capture the frustration singers experience when, singing in full flight during rehearsal, the

choir is stopped for correction by the conductor. “Bodification” (as in embodiment) of

feelings featured prominently in chorister descriptions of powerful personal moments

during choral performance. It is not possible to make judgments about the expressive

merit of the performances described in the participants’ self-reported vignettes (in chapter

IV), but they raise at least two paradoxes: in the correlation between a performers’
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personal fulfillment and perceived artistry, and in artistry being both technical and

musical.

Because the body houses physical senses, as Landes (2013) suggests, performance

expression is an embodiment, whether conscious or not. One participant said that the

alignment of the vowels “makes my little cells just explode all over. It’s an orgasm of

(the spirit).” Another said one should not expect that every choral performance be

supremely fulfilling, in the same way that one could not have that expectation of every

sexual encounter. Leech-Wilson (2013) focuses “on bodily response” to music (p. 50).

He echoes Dewey when he points out that performing a musical work offers the

possibility for transformation, not least for the performers.

Emotion and feeling are often conflated in common parlance, as they were by the

participants, but Damasio (1999/2000) makes a distinction between emotions as

corporeal and feelings as of the mind. If emotions are exterior and feelings interior, both

are integral to the aesthetic experience and to a performer’s communicative ability.

Emotions are both responses to stimuli and manifest physically; feelings are mulled.

Turning the tables, a performer’s relationship with a work is contained in her feelings; in

performance, she physically manifests these; they take shape in sound- and sight-

expressions. This is an important lynch pin for expressive performance. If choral singers,

like all performers, make a personal connection with a work, and find ways of

manifesting their connection, then they able to contagiously affect and move their

audience. This seems to entail an alignment of the performers’ sensibilities with a work’s

artistic features, and physical ways of communicating or sharing this with an audience. In
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choral performance, performers access musical and textual features, and manifest these

through sound and through a corresponding and corroborative visual representation.

Modalities

Performers give full credence to the powerful, affective nature of musical sound.

Chorister Jack perhaps speaks for most when he says sound fulfills a large percentage of

the importance of all the elements of expression. Participant choristers refer to the

resonance of well-tuned chords and the presence of overtones as providing them intense

satisfaction. This confirms sound as the primary source of sensory fulfillment for

themselves and thus potentially for their audiences. Yet, even if a choir sings well, that

may not be all there is to affect an audience emotionally. Many participants attest to

being unmoved, even by performances of great vocal expertise.

Performers present to an audience an artifact, a composition of music and text as

interpreted by them (Zander & Zander, 2002). The concept of musical expression being

dependent on the composed structure and on its realization in performance (Juslin &

Timmers, 2010/2011/2012) is a familiar one. The concept can be extended to

performance expression that is dependent on musical and textual modalities embedded

within a work and on the visual as a performance modality. To persuade or “infect” (in

Tolstoy’s context) an audience, modalities other than musical, are used. Visual

presentation is not regarded as a substitute for musical singing, but as an ancillary to it.

Techniques for presentation—upright comportment, alignment, breath, and eyes—are

regarded as communicative in their own right, as well as benefitting singing.

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Each member of the audience perceives the performance in his or her own way,

and receives and judges the performance subjectively. In this communication, it is not

facts that are conveyed, nor specific meaning, but feeling, acknowledged since Plato and

Aristotle and throughout the course of western civilization, as a major purpose, perhaps

the major purpose, of art. Performers subscribe to the notion of performance affecting an

audience, and an audience affecting the performance. They agree with Tolstoy (1897/8),

perhaps unknowingly, that the purpose of art is to infect an audience by contagion, that a

work of art will engage an audience by affecting them with its contagious properties, and

that the affective nature of the performance is evidenced in an audience’s perception of

and response to a performance. Tolstoy and others write of such properties as “universal,”

suggesting that they are deeply meaningful to the individual and have wide-reaching

resonances, which others experience. Certainly, personal experience determines aesthetic

value, and aesthetic response is a personal matter. It seems reasonable to say, though, that

feelings elicited by art, at least in their most general description, are, to some extent,

universal. Dewey explains:

The selective operation of materials so powerfully exercised by a developing

emotion in a series of continued acts extracts matter from a multitude of objects,
numerically and spatially separated, and condenses what is abstracted in an object
that is an epitome of the values belonging to them all. Thus function creates the
“universality” of a work of art (1934/2005, p. 71).

A choir and conductor might agree that the music sung is expressive of sadness by

its musical gestures. We uncover feeling-meaning or essence in the idiom of the music:

minor mode, slow tempo, low tessitura, quiet dynamics, melodic falling “teardrop”

motifs, and harmonic tension and resolution. In choral music, we will find a parallel

expression in the set text. Or perhaps we will find feeling-meaning in the text first and its
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musical manifestation second. Either way, the choristers will attempt to express their

interpretation of the feeling-meaning of sadness in their performance. Members of the

audience will hear and feel sadness, each in his or her own way, but will not be sad. In an

aesthetic expression, what one hopes for is that the audience is moved by the beauty of

the expression of sadness, will recognize sadness, and will be enriched by the expression

of it, without feeling sad themselves. The feeling experience of the performers and that of

the audience are closely aligned. Performer and audience communally experience the

feeling-essence, what chorister Remy calls a “mind-meld.2”

Although conductors and choristers recognize that communication with an

audience happens aurally and visually, the prevailing model of choral pedagogy is a

unilateral focus on musical sound as the vehicle of expression. Schooled in music and in

text, most conductors have little or no training in theater. Not all agree that, in addition to

the musical or sonic component, choral expression includes a visual component. Some of

the study participants were only peripherally aware of what a presentational component

might entail, and only some directors teach one, despite recent propositions for more

physical means of expression—Miller (1996), Thurman (2000), Ostwald (2005), Carter

(2005), Olson (2010)—and scientific studies showing that humans have a marked

preference for the visual over the aural in contradictory contexts: McGurk, Dahl &

Friberg (2007); Nussek & Wanderley (2009); Rodger et al. (2012); Keller (2014); Clarke

& Doffman (2014); Schutz & Liscomp (2007, in Goebl et al., 2014).

Even if they subscribe to the importance of presentation, choral conductors admit

to the difficulties of teaching presentation—how to combine basic musical learning with

2
A reference to what Mr. Spock, in Star Trek, can do to read others’ minds.
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presentational learning, requiring its own set of techniques, as well as the admixture of

different degrees of emotional maturity, according to Gardner’s (1993/2006) multiple

intelligences. Expressive and inexpressive, however, do not necessarily align with

extroversion and introversion, and extroversion and introversion do not align with either

musical or visual performing abilities. But visual expression needs a technical foundation,

as musical expression does, and this is often beyond the purview of conductors or

amateur choristers.

Each facet of expression—musical, textual, and presentational—requires its own

set of aptitudes and skills that can be learned, at least to a degree. Manifesting expression

in any or all three modalities is not simply an intuitive action. For this reason, choral

expression may be challenging, especially, but not only, for amateurs, who juggle the

enjoyment of choral participations for personal pleasure with the demands of skill

cultivation for effective public performance. To realize a multi-modal conception of live

choral performance, amateur choral singers go beyond being choral singers; they become

choral performers (Olson, 2010) or actors.

As choristers find personal relevance in the text they are singing as a technique to

reveal and express feeling, then real-life experience and real feeling provides access to

choral expression. Ironically, this statement works just as well the other way around:

Choral expression provides access to real-life experience and feelings. This is one reason

that choral participation is so meaningful to performers. As several participants said,

choir is a place where they can give vent to emotions they do not express in any other

area of their lives; it’s all right for the basses to “scream” at the end of the Verdi Requiem.
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If real life provides the “what” of choral expression, vocal technique and Method acting

provide the “how.”

Even if conductors and choristers feel that theater is not their province, and were

the evidence for the efficacy and/or predominance of the visual mode of expression to be

proven incorrect or arguably inapplicable, if what an ensemble does visually were to

make no difference at all to an audience’s perception of a performance, visual

presentation actions would still be an asset to choral performance efficacy because what a

singer physically does—or doesn’t do—in order to visually present affects their sung

sound. At the very least, poor posture means less breath, which affects intonation, quality

of sound, and phrasing, and lack of facial expression often results in poor diction. When

presentation allies with good vocal technique, posturally and facially, presentation makes

a positive impact on the sound and textual clarity. The reverse is also true. What a singer

does in terms of vocal technique may make a visual statement in addition to affecting the

sound: A good singing posture makes a statement about having something worthwhile to

deliver.

In this study, presentation emerges as a feature of live choral performance for

some but certainly not for all. Yet, beyond ineffectual injunctions like “It’s happy music,

smile!” many conductors do not teach their choirs presentation. While orchestral players

have instruments with which to engage—there is theater in bowing, blowing, and

beating—choristers have no such physical props or visual allies, and they easily forget

that they have a visual presence. As chorister Lyle sees it:

It’s like the difference between being a studio musician and a stage performer.
If I’m going to sing for a live audience, it is incumbent on me to engage the
audience in addition to providing a musically interesting rendering of the score
(Personal communication, November 14, 2015).
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In Chorister Margot is the tension between the traditional rejection of visual

expression and the irresistible attraction of a choir that shows expression. First, Margot

adamantly rejects visual expression for herself as a chorister:

Choral singing is not making happy faces or whatever. I never think about that.
I think about the music and the meaning. To me, the heart of choral expression isn’t
facial expression. And I don’t think about what expression am I making. In some
ways, that detracts. I mean there’s a reason why they want people to wear a
uniform, so that as a choir you are uniform.

But when she makes a 180-degree turn when she describes an expressive choir, she

reveals her attraction to the visually compelling:

There’s this high school choir in Hayward . . . You watch their faces . . . it’s
amazing! It’s so moving. You feel it. It’s palpable.

Darwin (1899) tells us we perceive expression from faces. Emotional contagion

(Hatfield et al., 1993), mirror neurons (Iacoboni, 2009), and empathy research (Keysers,

2011) all suggest that we are affected by what we see others express because we

internalize what we see. For communication that deals with feelings to be optimally

effective, words, tone of voice, and non-verbal signals need to be congruent, and, when

they are incongruent, tone and nonverbal behavior prevail, according to Mehrabian’s

Rule: word meaning, tone, and visual cues are incrementally meaningful to the perceiver

(1972, 1981). The McGurk Effect (1976) confirms that auditory and visual information

merge; that the visual predominates when aural and visual modalities conflict; and a

different meaning is derived which is neither a blend nor a composite of the two modes.

In audience perceptions of music performance, the motions musicians make influence

what an audience hears, and even in the context of a musical concert, with the

expectation of sound form as predominant, the visual can predominate over the aural

(Goebl, Dixon, & Schubert, 2014). Finally, fMRI studies of listening brains show that
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different areas of the brain are active when aural and visual stimuli correspond and when

they do not (Juslin & Västfjäll, 2008; Koelsch, 2013).

Historically, choral performance originated in a religious context, in large,

impersonal Gothic cathedrals where the performers stood so far from the audience, that

choristers’ facial features might not even be visible. In a telling reversal, at the Venetian

Ospedali of Vivaldi’s era, the young women choristers were hidden from the

congregation’s view behind lattice screens, for fear their beauty would distract the

listeners. Church constraints have conspired to make impassivity a traditional hallmark of

the choral medium, but not, I suggest, to its benefit. In an era when audiences are

accustomed to immediate, vivid, and sophisticatedly produced visual stimulation (TV,

YouTube), choirs ignore visual presentation to their detriment. In venues where

audiences can see facial expression and comportment, choirs have a richly expressive

resource available to them to increase the contagiousness of their performance.

Singing the right notes in the right time with the right words—what we might call

the primary parameters—and even with dynamics, blend, balance, line—the secondary

musical parameters—may not necessarily make for an effective, affective performance.

In the same way that a table-read of a stage play is not a performance, so a reading of the

music is not a musical performance. A multi-modal approach to choral performance

enhances the communicative intensity and character of what is sung, when visual

expression complements an aural modality.

Chorister Rachel’s children teach us an important lesson about choral impassivity:

When my children were young, they came to rehearsals and performances all
the time. They would come home with comments like, “It sounded like happy
music but people didn’t look very happy.” And that would confuse them.
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Throughout this study, the third modality is visual presentation or theatre, but

chorister Trixie brings a more nuanced understanding of what presentation is. Blind since

birth, Trixie is keenly aware of energy and she “senses” energy fields, the energy she is

giving off, the energy of the choristers around her, the energy of the conductor, and the

energy of the audience. She says:

I often think about making sure that I really hold the energy of it in my body so
it flows out, and so it’s not just coming out in my voice.
I will think about that: “What’s my role?” Even in the first part of the Brahms
Requiem, in the first movement, I’m really blessing those who are grieving; in the
last movement I’m blessing those who are dead. The two are very different. To me
there is a little bit of an acting component.
The audience does respond physically, kind of like monkey-see, monkey-do
kind of thing. I think we are that much in tune with each other. As there is an
opening, as I am breathing, as I relax into the singing, as I relax my jaw, people are
going to match it, and it makes the music available to them.

For Trixie, what the audience “gets” should not be limited to her voice, as it is not solely

auditory and visual, but must emanate from the energy she emits with her body; it is a felt

perception. There is an acting component to choral performance. In Trixie’s conception,

artistic expression occurs when the performers communicate the emotions they feel to the

audience via acting. She is aware of the audience’s responding to and matching her

delivery. Trixie is a model of presentational expression. Her understanding of

presentation as the performer’s creation of, and the audience’s reception of, an energy

field suggests that presentation be an integral part of choral performance.

Even with the awareness that a choir’s appearance affects how an audience

receives the performance (reflected in statements such as “We should look happy if the

music is happy”), larger choirs, choirs led by older conductors, or choirs with a higher

percentage of older singers are more likely to consider musical and textual components as

the constituents of performance expression. Newer thinking in the field challenges the
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usual approach. Chamber choirs, younger conductors, and younger singers seem more

likely to embrace presentation as a valuable component of live choral performance

expression.

Processes

If communication of feeling is integral to performance, then a choir singing

without visually projecting the character they are singing will either confuse an audience

or give them the wrong message. As Derek says, “A choral singer is so used to opening

Messiah and putting the book in front of your face so that no one can see you, and just

singing.” In rehearsal, the integration of technique and expression is a conundrum,

especially when the concept of expression is broadened, and the requisite techniques

expanded. Now, not only vocal technique is required, but also technique for presentation,

the dramatic techniques which Miller (1996), Thurman (2000), Ostwald (2005), Carter

(2005), and Olson (2010) say are essential for all singers. Practicing for expressive

presentation, cultivating using the book or singing from memory, incorporating

movement either in rehearsal alone or also in performance, giving up micro-corrections

for a macro-overview of a work, are processes that amateur ensembles need to adopt in

rehearsal to support and enhance their acquisition of musically and textually expressive

means.
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Synergies

Choristers value the musical expertise of their conductors and look to their

conductors for musical leadership, as Kemp (2009, 2013) finds. Although several

choristers expressed the desire to have their opinions considered by their conductors, no

one in the study seemed to question the authority-driven model that is prevalent in

amateur choral organizations. This appears to be a disjuncture between current theories in

education, adult education, leadership, and musical leadership, on the one hand, and

amateur choral practice on the other. Acceptance of authority is at once unsurprising, in

that amateurs enjoy the musical expertise of their conductors, and surprising given the

general social atmosphere of individuality and trends away from authority in educational

and organizational fields.

There may be as many workable leadership and teaching styles as there are

conductors, but choristers regard some aspects of conducting with affectionate tolerance

(“his beat is in there somewhere”), and some personality traits as unhelpful (choristers

wish for more pre-performance contact with their conductor who is unto himself at such

times). If a conductor tells her choir: “Make a crescendo from this measure to this

measure to express such and such,” in the banking model of Freire (2000), the choristers

are regarded as “receiving knowers” (Bain, 2004). That is different from regarding the

choristers subjective knowers, critical and creative thinkers, and asking, “What does this

crescendo express?” If teaching asks more than tells, as Bernardo suggests, that is more

than a mere stylistic shift. It may impact a choir’s buy-in and therefore how the choir

sounds and their relationship with the work.

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Trust and vulnerability are key factors in positive social interactions within a

choir, between choristers and conductor, and among choristers. Choristers are

appreciative of their conductor’s collaborative spirit and creation of a collaborative

environment (Mezirow, 2000). One person said she’d like her conductor to have same

kind of collaboration with the singers as she sees he has with the orchestra, what Freer

and Barker refer to as collegiality instead of “managerialism” (2008). Ross and Judkins

(1996) suggest, the ensemble may bring to the table performative interpretations and the

conductor, a critical interpretation. In amateur ensembles, especially, Ross and Judkins’

idea of an amalgam between performative and critical interpretations seems most

appropriate. It takes into account the performers’ abilities and sensibilities, and the

conductor’s artistic vision. As it is the singers who make the sound (not the conductor), it

seems fair and sensible to include the singers’ interpretive choices, for the most

committed expressive outcome.

Yet choral leadership remains almost exclusively authority-driven, and

organizations function, at least musically, in a top-down manner. Both conductors and

choristers are comfortable with this model. In the chorister focus groups, there is no

mention of flattening the long-established hierarchy and hardly a reference to democratic

practices by conductors or choristers. These issues appear gradually to be airing in

professional forums (Gumm, 2015, ACDA survey of conductors). But, as yet, there

appears to be little challenge to traditional top-down, choral leadership and “follership

(followership).” Conductors and choristers alike seem to accept the status quo.

Conductors prefer the hierarchical-authority model for its efficiency in large

ensembles. Conductors see themselves as artistic (and sometimes organizational)

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authority figures, and choristers accept them as such. Some regard their role as that of a

benevolent despot. As a leader, the conductor must be a psychologist, and may be called

on to mentor and to minister. “The twenty-first century conductor is a scholar, house

manager, salesman, performer, peripatetic workaholic who can swing from Mozart to

Messiaen” (Hunt, Stelluto & Hooijberg, 2004, p. 146).

Amateur choristers want to please their conductors. More than that, they want to

love their conductors, and they want their conductors to love them in return. As Abeles

(1975) and Abeles et al. (1992) find, rapport is more important for learning, than skill,

knowledge, competency, or organization. Trust and vulnerability, participants feel, are

necessary for artistic expression. The application of the notion of “learning community”

to choirs (Cohen and Piper in Mezirow et al., 2000) promotes a safe environment in

which choristers can learn to be expressive. Perhaps choirs can even be “radical spaces of

possibility” (bell hooks in Weimer, 2002) in which expressive exploration may have

artistic, personal, and social resonances.

The “Blue Hair” conductors recognize that each member of the ensemble must

come to the character of the music himself or herself, and that each person’s role is to

convey, with complete sincerity, something expressive—a mood, a character, a feeling—

to an audience. When choristers’ expressive commitment is authentic, and there is

unanimity in the materialization of expressive intent, the choir becomes more than a

conglomerate of singers; its expressive power coalesces into something that is more

effective than the sum of its parts. It is in this ensemble endeavor that musical and

communal aspects of choral participation seem to work in tandem toward expressive ends.

When a choir coalesces into a living, singing, expressing, performing organism, when
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everyone in the ensemble is putting forth musically, and textually, and when, as an

ensemble, they present an authentic and cultivated persona, their communicative

effectiveness increases exponentially.

Community—with all its multifarious and interconnected musical and social

meanings—is implicit in participants’ conceptions and experience of expression.

Expression emerges as both internal and external, something felt and something done,

something for the performer and something for the audience, both an activity and an

experience, simultaneously personal and communal. Choristers relish the camaraderie of

team spirit, and think of their choir like a sports team, in which members support and

encourage each other. Some refer to pre-concert green room activities that bolster team

spirit. Some even refer to a choir pre-performance as an army readying for battle.

Choristers prize camaraderie, for the social benefits it offers and for the sense of

teamwork that makes artistic endeavor by an ensemble pleasurable and effective.

That many choristers want to please their conductors, and the extent to which this

was a guiding factor in their performance attention, was surprising. Several choristers felt

that they give themselves over musically to their conductors. Viola expressed this as

being the paint for a painter. They are willing to subjugate their own ideas to their

conductor’s ideas. This seems largely at odds with O’Toole’s (1994/2005) “I have no

voice” position. Although choristers do say they want their opinions heard and would like

to be collaborative with the conductor and each other in problem solving, they are not as

rancorous about this as O’Toole seems to portray. In my study, conductors and choristers

had equal voice, a gesture symbolic of a recommendation for more democratic,

inclusionary practices.
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How The Study Has Influenced My Practice

Some of surprises yielded up by the findings are, little by little, changing the way

I lead my choir. First, I feel the impact of personal meaning. My study participants’

vignettes are vivid and they teach me that my role is to teach the person rather than teach

the music. The moniker “music teacher” is a misnomer. As I do not and cannot know the

personal import of choral singing on each chorister, I can only consider what impact their

participation may have on them, and I can listen when they tell me how important choir is

in their lives. Their choral participation is as meaningful for them as mine is for me. In

that regard, perhaps my leadership grows more chorister-centered and process-oriented,

rather than product-centered. I might be shifting away from a tightly-wound, focused on

the-music-is-everything, we-have-a–paying-audience-and–must-deliver driven approach,

toward one that considers my choristers’ experience first. I do not have rose tinted

spectacles, and I know old habits die hard, but perhaps, just perhaps, I grow a modicum

more flexible, patient, compassionate, tolerant, and trusting.

I accede more readily to choristers wanting run-throughs when I want to polish.

I’m willing to give up some of my perfectionism to give the choristers freer rein and

more ownership of their learning. If they say that run-through helps them in performance,

I’m somewhat more able to give up some of my musical nit-picking.

I think most of my choir sings with me because they appreciate my musical focus,

and my ability to articulate musical ideas. Certainly, the choir sings some things more

musically than we did ten years ago, so there has been some cumulative effect of the

emphasis on musical elements. While I am musical inspirer, I am also aware of how

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much the choir gives back to me in performance. I am more musical when they are

musical. But now I do less in terms of gesture than I used to. I don’t feel I have to act the

music, either for the choir, or for the audience; I simply have to uncork the choir, unleash

them, support and encourage them.

My choir also knows how much I subscribe to the idea that a choir that shows

something convinces their audience. They know, because it is discussed every rehearsal,

and because we use video-recordings for the choir to watch. It has become part of the

ethos of my choir. My choristers, each in their own way, subscribe to this ethos, or they

would not be singing with me. I understand about the energy of rehearsal being different

from that of performance, but I do believe in practicing how we want to perform. Still,

near the end of a season of rehearsals, and close to performance—no, not after one season,

after 30 seasons of emphasis—half the choir still forgets about looking up in rehearsal. I

could tear my hair out or I could keep in mind that they have almost always risen to the

occasion. So I try to trust, and hope the teaching-and-learning will kick in, and that their

awareness will turn on for the upcoming performance. But the tensions about this that the

study reveals are very real.

Finally, in the communal endeavor that is choral performance, I make human

connections. My study shows me just how much choristers value community and how

much I do too. I don’t mean to be too touchy-feely, and for me, community comes with

its pros cons, but I know that when I am less needy, less tired, less crabby, and can shift

my emphasis to what I can do for my choristers, rather than the other way around, things

simply go better. They go musically better. I hope some of these changes in my own

perspective and practice will yield good performance results, perhaps better. Just as I
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know that when my singers deploy multiple expressive modalities, the ensemble becomes

more effectively communicative.

As the choristers incorporate an intentioned, crafted, visual component, along

with musical and textual expressivity, this changes their performance: The presentation

itself becomes an expressive medium that is particular effective en masse; the singers’

physical comportment and facial expression improve the quality of their sound and text

enunciation, the ensemble seems more cohesive, and the audience see as well as hear, the

character of the sung music and text. I also observe that relationships among my

choristers are intensified by their shared musical endeavor. For instance, they calibrate

their visual output to each other, just as they do their vocal output. Because the visual is

so “bodified,” it promotes an immediate, visceral, and inarguable sense of community. It

is in this kind of activity that the intersection of musical and social activity and

relationship makes an impact on all of us and on the ensemble’s expressivity.

Recommendations

Significance of the Study

At a time when classical music concert attendance nationally is dwindling, and

classical music recording sales are in decline, amateur ensembles still cultivate audiences

at the local community level. Performances that take into consideration the aural and

visual percepts innately present in live performance, and that incorporate several

modalities including the embodiment of musical persona in visual presentation, may

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vivify the experience of performance, both for performer and for audience. Performers

consider and cultivate interactions between themselves, the artwork, and the audience.

These aspects may give audiences expressive value, and assure the viability and

sustainability of live choral concert performance. As choral performance is

predominantly the province of amateur choirs, addressing amateur needs is relevant to the

largest swathe of choral performers in the country.

If others are encouraged to reach for broader, richer ways of being expressive in

performance, the study will have resonance. Should choral practitioners take up the

suggestion that musical beauty is served by visual presentation, and adopt approaches to

performance preparation that embrace this idea, the study will have contributed to the

expressive impact a choral performance can make on an audience. For those whose

emphasis may be on musical means and musical outcomes, the study hopes to draw

attention inter-personal synergies, and the connections between visual presentation and

synergies, as integral to the process and product that is choral expression.

Further Research

The research conducted in this study focuses on the endeavors of amateur choirs.

Similar research might be relevant in the field of school choirs and also in church choirs.

In an arena based on long-standing traditions—musical expression as artifact-based, large

ensemble procedures in which conductor authority and didactic learning are taken for

granted, and performance outcome as a measure of a program’s success—it might be

worthwhile to consider aspects of this study: performers’ experiences of choral

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performance affect their conception of expression; performance expression may be more

than musical; visual presentation may be a viable ancillary modality to music and text for

the communication of expression in live choral performance; and processes and synergies

influence an ensemble’s expressivity.

Further research into expression in live choral performance might be pursued in

the following areas:

• Focus on professional choirs, school choirs, and church choirs in ways similar

to this study’s focus on amateur choirs.

• Audience perceptions of choral performance: What audiences see and hear,

what choral performance offers them as audience members, and what they

would like it to offer.

• Conductor training programs at the masters and doctoral levels, to ascertain

how curricula address expression.

• An actor’s perspective or input on presentational expression, with an eye to a

program of training exercises.

• The expressive conceptions, requirements and potential of contemporary and

avant-garde repertoire beyond the tonal canon.

• Social implications of musical ensemble expression for amateur, student,

church, and professional performers.

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Conclusion

The study airs many enigmas, contradictions, paradoxes, puzzlements, and

difficulties of choral expression, that remain unsolved. But participants say that their

involvement has prompted them to consider previously unexplored territory, and to

articulate or clarify their ideas about expression. Annie writes that her conductor brought

to his choir ideas stimulated by his interview as part of this study:

It’s clear from comments Yuval has made to the chorus that your questions to
him were thought-provoking. He acknowledged that some were ones he hadn’t
really thought about before (personal communication, August 16, 2015).

The study provokes questions about choral teaching and leadership: Whether and

how to reconcile the traditional authority-driven, didactic teaching model that prevails in

most amateur choirs with flattened, organizational structures and constructivist theories

of education. If college-level conducting programs addressed these topics, perhaps

conductors would explore flexible artistic conceptions and pedagogies to further promote

expression in live choral performance.

Conductor Gisele is motivated to formulate her ideas about expression:

It was a great way to prepare for the upcoming season. Thank you for the
opportunity to think so thoughtfully about these important issues and for the spur to
put them into words (personal communication, August 21, 2015).

Conductors Paul and Yuval acknowledge that aiming beyond easy-consumption

entertainment is not always conducive to audience-building, but they advocate for

expanding the expressive boundaries of choirs and audiences beyond the conventional

canon. Conductor Yuval:

If you really want to be an arts organization, not an entertainment organization,

there is an absolute obligation to reach out and expand outward . . . That is actually
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a little painful because the audiences are smaller for it. But we are figuring out how
far we can push the amateur singer into new artistic areas.

Conductor Paul articulates his artistic outlook as a call for a broader, more

inclusive, less definitive, more adventurous, and more complex conception of choral

expression than custom has embraced:

I want to live in the artistic-expression world where I am questioning, I am

embracing ambiguity, I’m provoking in the singers and in the audience a reaction
that is unexpected, or a perception of beauty in something where they did not
expect to see beauty . . . Artistic expression is like a diversity movement or civil-
rights movement, like we are rethinking the transgender issue. We are finding new
frontiers. That process of slowly molding the changes in public perception . . . You
see a static status quo, and then you take a leap. It happens with artistic expression
too.

Conductor Yuval has said, “A new dimension of expression is happening at the

cutting edge of the choral art.” He says that acting is not based in show, that it is

authentic, and that it engenders power. He contrasts contemporary performance

techniques with traditional stage gesture, but perhaps traditional and contemporary

repertoire or performance techniques are more closely allied than different from each

other.

The provocative questions that emerge are these: If visual presentation enhances

musical expression, and reveals something to the audience about the performers’

connection to the music, could “a new dimension of expression” apply to traditional

repertoire? If authenticity and the outward manifestation of inner conviction are always

appropriate, how can and do choirs achieve this? Most importantly, might a change in

conceptualization of expression and in teaching and leadership impact an ensemble’s

vision and capacity for expressive performance? If choral performers are comfortable

with the notion and practice of visually conveying authentic feeling, then the
 296

incorporation of other external visual elements—costume, technology, and other

contemporary media—may not be such a big leap to make.

 297

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Appendix A

Strategies for Expression

Collected pedagogical strategies for expression offered by participants are

presented. The author attribution for each is given in parentheses.

Expression starts in warm-ups

• Have musical intention and communicative intention in warm-ups, so that warm-up is

not a time to go on automatic and zone out (Conductor Francis).

Note Learning and Expression

• Front-load expressive intention in the rehearsal process at the start of learning a new

work (Tom Carter).

• Notes and rhythms are foundational, but expression should be addressed in every

rehearsal (Conductors Bernardo, Aria, Gisele, and Hooper).

• Expression is a way of singing, even when note-learning. Because it is not possible to

learn just pitches and rhythms, as tone, timbre, and dynamics are implicit in

articulating pitch, singers should have an expressive conception early on. Otherwise

they learn the notes with a tone that may be inappropriate to the expressive intention.

In this sense, technique and expression go hand in hand (Conductors Gisele, Hooper).
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Posture

• When standing, plant feet firmly, hip width apart, one foot slightly forward, with

flexible knees and hips (Conductors Addison and Hooper).

• Conductor models posture for choristers (Conductor Gisele).

• Sit for part of rehearsal and stand for part of rehearsal (Conductor Addison).

• Rehearsal posture should be performance posture, whether sitting or standing.

• As presentation is transfer of energy and the audience can sense the choristers’ energy,

how choristers stand affects the audience’s perception of expression (Trixie).

• No books on laps for rehearsing. Use music stands if this encourages straighter backs.

Then dispense with stands if singers are going to hold binders (Vivan Carmen).

• Every singer directly faces the director. A slight turning away says a singer is unsure,

or not part of the ensemble (Conductor Addison).

Tuning that fixes itself in performance

• “Rehearse and rehearse—flat, flat, flat. All of a sudden, in performance some miracle

happens—it might be the only time we are on pitch the whole year” (Margot).

• I think we go chronically flat in rehearsal is because there is less pressure on the cords,

there’s less effort. In performance, when we are more ‘on,’ so our intonation is better”

(Lola).
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Using music

• Conductor helps the choir become better readers by teaching looking ahead when

reading, so that choristers are anticipating ahead of where they are singing by one

beat, one measure, or more (Vivan Dot).

• If using music, teach how to hold binders and read while watching the director from

one head position, moving eyes only, not head (Vivan Yun).

• Avoid moving head from side to side following the lines of the music on the page

(Vivan Mei).

• Looking up doesn’t mean moving your head up (Vivan Yun).

• When holding music, choristers should have bifocal vision, attentive to both the

printed page and the conductor, not moving their heads following the lines of music

in the book (Vivan Yun).

• If singers sing buried in their music folders and do not look up, this detracts from the

ensemble’s ability to be visually communicative with an audience, and creates

musical ensemble problems (Vivan Octavia).

• Choristers who do not watch for cues, but sing from what they hear, will most likely

sing behind the beat, an impediment to an ensemble’s rhythmic unity, and may tend

to sing more out of tune because of a lack of spinal alignment (Vivan Chantelle).

• Frustration about choristers looking up or not looking up is not limited to conductors;

choristers expressed dissatisfaction at fellow choristers who sing buried in the book.

“They know it better than they think they know it” (Vivan Celeste)
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• The typical amateur choir’s once-a-week rehearsal schedule exacerbates the problem

unless choristers practice on their own (Vivan Marcia).

• Frequent, ideally daily, reinforcement of learning is the most helpful. Choristers are

most successful at using the book without being hampered by it when they practice

daily on their own (Vivan Cecilia).

• Set expectations of looking up for:

 Phrase entries and cutoffs.

 Contrapuntal entries, like conversation.

 New textures, such as tutti homophony after contrapuntal sections (Vivan Mei).

 Apex moments in phrases and in movements (Conductor Francis).

Uniformity—Binders

• Uniformity matters, either to the singers or to the audience or because of tradition

(Shannon, Esteban, Margot, Albert, Kathy).

• There is a tolerance for not being uniform because of an understanding of differences

in learning styles and other abilities (Remy, Basso). “He could hold an espresso

machine,” says Lola, talking about a physically disabled singer, “as long as he can

sing with us.”

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iPads

• iPad use is acceptable to some. Others object because of the bluish light iPads cast on

the singers’ faces or because the small screen size requires singers to hold the iPad

close to their faces and obscuring them (Suzanne).

To memorize or not to memorize

• The choir participates in deciding whether and what to memorize (Basso) or whether

to allow some singers to sing off book and others on book (Shannon).

• Choir and conductor together decide uniformity’s merits and whether memorization is

worth it (Shrimp).

• If memorizing, follow a schedule and share memorization techniques (Conductor

Paul).

• Conductors are advised not to ask a singer who is using music to put down her music

and try to sing from memory because it causes anxiety (Conductor Aria).

• If the choir is asked to look up, the conductor needs to do likewise (Emma).

• When singing on book, teach holding, posture, head position, and eye movement,

even for rehearsal, so that the technique learned in rehearsal can readily be naturally

applied in performance (Chang).

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Text

• For some the music is harder to memorize, for others the text.

• Conductor participants provide or require translations of foreign texts, and choristers

say they want text translations, preferably early in the rehearsal process.

• “That song we sang in Spanish. I had no idea what was going on until we talked

about individual phrases, then I got it” (Zach)

• Write a word-for-word English translation into her score “so I know what I’m singing

about and I can connect with the feeling, otherwise I’m just singing sounds” (Vivan

Celeste)

• Memorizations techniques found by Googling “memorizing music” (Remy).

• Choristers tend to prefer more familiar languages over others.

• “Italian, German, French, or Hebrew are okay, but not Swahili or Finnish!” (Louise).

• Photographic memories serve some choristers well when memorizing; others

memorize by hearing rather than reading (Margot).

Subtext

• Pick an emotive, descriptive word that the performers will be thinking of during the

performance of a work (Conductors Hooper and Aria)

• Pick an emotive, descriptive word that the performers want the audience to think of

during the performance of a work (Conductor Bernardo).

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• Choristers recollect a meaningful life experience that they regard relates to the music

and helps them create an affect (Remy).

• Choristers fictionalize themselves as characters in a story that they regard relates to

the music and helps them create an affect (Remy).

• Think about what the choir’s facial affect looks like, what their body comportment

says, and what “the look” is for every single piece or movement of a work (Conductor

Bernardo).

“Chocolate”

• In addition to text comprehension and the use of subtext, conductors use imagery and

analogy to help their choirs understand their conception of the sound for each piece

(Bernardo).

• Bernardo’s choristers know how much he loves chocolate, so his extensive use of

chocolate imagery gives them both a sound concept and a personal connection to him.

• Cross-sensory imagery is effective.

Overacting

• Overact as a practice to unify an ensemble of disparate temperaments and abilities

when some singers do less than others. It may take a while to feel okay about being

bigger, expressively. Then, everyone puts away their over overacting and they overact

internally and the there’s something vibrant and expressive” (Conductor Hooper).
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• Gospel choirs and barbershop choirs are types of choirs that “go way overboard to

express, because if you do a little it doesn’t come across but if you do a lot it comes

across just right” (William).

• If you are overdoing, you are doing just enough. If you don’t overdo it, you just look

like a stick” (Derek).

• You have to work at over-emoting. (Amy).

• When some singers do less than others and don’t realize they are not going far

enough, overact. It takes a while to feel it’s okay to be bigger about something. Then

everyone puts away their overt overacting and they overact internally and then there’s

something vibrant and expressive (Conductor Hooper).

• Gospel choirs are visual models: They move around. They are joyful (Vivan Carmen).

Feedback on Visual Performance

• Make video available as a self-learning tool (Harper, Margot)

• Self-analysis of rehearsal video is an effective means for choristers to improve their

performance. The video reveals faults and exemplars, and each singer can absorb this

information in her own way. If a basis for presentation has been set in rehearsal, the

video is a tool to help each singer do what she must to be a fully present, presenting

member of the ensemble (Vivans Mei, Lynn, Cecilia, Lisle, Chantelle, Dot).

• Use models—singers who do something well—to demonstrate to the ensemble

(Conductor Aria).

• Use mirrors (Jade).

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• Sing to each other. Sing in pairs. Sing walking around the room (Conductor Aria).

• Rehearse in different formations, sometimes in a circle, so everyone can see everyone.

Mix parts, allowing pairs (Conductor Aria).

Movement for Musical Benefit

• Micro-conducting (Conductor Bernardo).

• Eurhythmics (Conductor Gisele).

• Movement in rehearsal and in performance (Conductor Aria).

• Movement for visual interest for the audience (Basso and Shrimp).

• Movement for expressing text (Amy).

• Encourage subtle body movement that won’t be too much when the whole ensemble

does it (Conductor Gisele).

• Dance to express the lyrics (Amy).

The Conductor

• Conductors need to give choristers a reason to watch (Conductor Gisele, choristers

Lola and Joy).

• Choristers need to be taught what they are watching for in conductor gesture and face

(Conductor Bernardo).

 Face shows vowel shape and breath (Conductor Paul).

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 Articulate what messages are intended in conductor gestures: entry cues, tempo,

dynamics, articulation, consonants, and relative importance of parts (Conductor

Hooper).

• Conductors, inspire the choir, who want to please you! Give them the motivation to

do the work (Derek and Catherine).

Create Musical Ensemble

• Choristers should be able to hear each other’s breaths (Susan).

• They should be able to hear their section blend (Suzanne).

• Choristers want to hear their parts in relation to other parts. “If I am working on my

own and I don’t have the context of the music, I have a hard time holding my

commitment to my part” (Trixie).

• Standing in section formation, however, they are often unable to hear anything but

their own section, a deficit that affects their expressive confidence (Dante, Zach)

Create a Social Ensemble

• Build community and camaraderie among choristers and between choristers and

conductor (Derek, Emma). “I’ve been singing in this choir for years and I don’t know

the names of the altos” (Percival).

• Refer to sections by section name instead of using the shorthand “men” and “women.”

Sopranos and altos are not always women, and tenors and basses are not always men.
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Be sensitive to matters of gender, which may be less defined, particularly in a

contemporary urban context, than it once may have appeared. Gender fluidity and

trans gender issues are more visible and what part people sing may be part of their

identity (Lola).

Live Performance Trumps Recording

• Live performance is preferred over recording because energy and mistake-forgiveness

make live performance a more communicative experience (Conductors Paul, Gisele,

Hooper and choristers Derek, Lauren, Amy, Zach, Margaret, Emma). “You can’t

bottle it!” (Susan).

Expectations

• Avoid “note-bashing” in rehearsal: It causes frustration for the choristers who do not

need it (Basso).

• Conductors should be clear about and stick to expectations of what practice-

preparation choristers should do for rehearsals (Shannon).

• Professionals understand how important the practice process is, whereas amateurs are

not always aware of the importance of practicing outside of rehearsal, “the alone time

you spend with the music” (Remy).

• “The purpose of rehearsal is to learn everyone else’s part, never your own. Your own

preparation is your welcoming gift to your colleagues” (Conductor Addison).

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• Even if most individual practice is for technical issues, like notes, breath, and phrases,

this practice will make choristers secure so they can focus on expression in ensemble

rehearsal (Basso).

Programming, Repertoire, and Planning

• Programming is a critical component in a choir’s ability to be expressive in

performance (Conductors Hooper, Aria, and others).

• “If I program intelligently, then every rehearsal I am doing something expressive with

every piece. The times I’ve bitten off more than we can chew, we’re cramming

everything, including the expressive” (Conductor Hooper).

• Plan backwards. “I used to get to the week before concert and always a couple of

pieces weren’t ready. Planning backwards changed our rehearsal process” (Conductor

Aria).

• Choristers like to be challenged but they want to feel successful (Zach).

• Repertoire should be feasible in terms of rehearsal time, simultaneous other demands

on the choir, and available resources (Conductor Hooper).

• Repertoire should suit the choir’s experience and skills, and challenge the choir

(Conductor Francis).

• Repertoire should be intelligible to and challenge both choir and audience (Conductor

Paul).

• A choice of harrowing repertoire: When repertoire is too close to the bone, and

choristers retreat from singing, left only with revulsion, anger, or despair, one may
 328

have pushed past the point of artistic expression. “I tried but I could not give voice to

the images in my head. They broke my heart” (Helen). “It reduced me to tears—of

anger, sadness, and revulsion. I had no way to connect to it” (Catherine). “It made me

want to throw up every time we rehearsed” (Emma).

Rehearsal Strategies

• Choristers say it is helpful when the conductor identifies the difficult parts of the

music early in the rehearsal cycle, gives the reasons they are difficult, and offers

practice suggestions (Lisa). “Here are the hardest parts, here’s what’s hard about them,

and here’s how you solve the problem” (Annie).

• Choristers want vocal advice. “You cannot tell a singer who does not have enough

vocal pedagogy, to fix their own voice” (Derek).

• Choristers want conductors to be specific with a section or a person about the

problem and the remedy, rather than addressing things generally, because often the

person at fault does not know so, herself (Jade).

• Amateurs, however, can be touchy about being called out. “One’s voice is so personal,

and the voice is so much a part of who one is, that any criticism of it is taken

personally” (Harper). “Divas get their dander up” (Lauren).

• Conductors are more likely to ask singers for input on text than on musical

interpretation (Conductor Aria), but singers feel they want to voice their opinions on

musical matters (Annie). “I think singers want to sing for you more . . . when you ask

and value their opinion” (Conductor Francis).

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• Others feel calling out a singer is the most helpful and productive approach to fixing a

problem. Some have had that experience in college choir when no singer took offense

at being corrected by the conductor (Zach).

• Use exemplars to model, so other singers can see what “engaged singing” looks like

(Conductor Aria).

• Use mirrors in rehearsal, like in a dance studio, so the singers themselves can see

what they are projecting (Jade).

• For conductors and singers, use audio and video recording playback. “Standing on the

podium, you don’t hear everything. There’s just too much input. There’s so much

coming at you that it becomes processor overload. Record or have someone else listen”

(Conductor Francis).

Give Post-Concert Feedback

• Choristers feel a letdown after performance. “I get a bit depressed,” says Margaret.

• Positive feedback and constructive criticism give singers a reason to come back

(Derek and Rachel).

Musical Benefits of Visually Expressive Choral Performance

• Improves intonation, rhythmic precision, and text clarity (Conductor Aria).

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In an Ideal World

• Choral expression benefits from activities for musical growth outside of musical

preparation and rehearsal, for instance in musicianship classes that some choruses

require their choristers to take (Annie).

• Acting helps with emotional expressivity and communication of truth (Conductor

Hooper, choristers Emma and Wendell).

• Musical theater experience is relevant in terms of showing expression (Conductor

Hooper, Choristers Louise and Jade).

• “Prepare monologues for scenes, work with an acting coach, have some emotional

truth going. Solo singers get it” (Conductor Hooper).

• “If I were Queen of the World, every conducting student would have taken dance

when they were kids” (Conductor Gisele).

• “We should be taking acting lessons and poetry classes.” As choral music is half

poetry, studying poetic techniques helps singers develop a sense of emotional

communication of text to the audience (Conductor Francis).

• “We’d have acting every day, and yoga, and voice, and language lessons” (Conductor

Paul).
 331

Appendix B

Conductor Interview Protocol

RQ 1. In what ways is live choral performance meaningful to performers?

Please describe a particularly memorably choral performance experience, either

wonderful or terrible.

RQ. 2. How do conductors and choristers conceptualize choral expression?

Musical Expression
1. If you regard music as potentially expressive: Who is expressing? What is
being expressed? How is it expressive?
2. What is the relationship between self-expression and artistic expression?
3. What is the relationship between technique and expression?
4. What is the relationship between interpretation and expression?
5. What are the expressive connections between composer, performer(s), and
audience?
6. “Emotion” and “feeling” are often conflated. How are they same or
different?
7. Do you think music can make a moral or ethical impact?

Choral Expression
1. What is expression in live choral performance?
2. Is the sheer beauty of the sound persuasive enough? Is it a purely sonic
experience?
3. Is there a difference in expression between live performance and a
recording?
4. What distinguishes choral expression from instrumental expression?
5. In what ways is ensemble expression different from solo expression?

Live choral performance expression

1. What do you think your choir understands are the constituents of
expression?
2. Singers use posture and face for technical reasons: How does vocal
technique connect to showing expression?
3. Do you say to your choir, “Be more expressive!” and what do you mean by
this?
4. How important is presentation or The Look of a choir in being readable?
5. There are introverts and extroverts, people who may understand the music
really well but don’t convey visually convey much and people who are
 332

natural, authentic and credible onstage. You unify your ensemble’s sound—
intonation, balance, blend, dynamics, and articulation: How do you unify
your ensemble in its presentation?
6. How does memorization affect the performance? Do your singers want to
memorize?
7. Which do you thing you singers watch more: Your gestures or your face or
both?
8. In your experience, do amateur choirs, in general, perform expressively?
9. What are the challenges to expression specifically for amateur choirs?
10. How is an amateur choir different, in its ability to be expressive than
students or professional singers?
11. How are your expectations of your amateur ensemble different than your
expectations of your professional ensemble?

RQ 3. What helps and what hinders an ensemble’s ability to be expressive in

performance?
1. Is expression different in rehearsal and in performance; if so, what are the
differences?
2. How do you incorporate expression into rehearsal?
3. There is obviously a different tenure when there is a live audience and when
there isn’t. Do you cultivate expression in rehearsal or do you trust your
singers will be expressive in performance?
4. What is the path to expression? Is it something that happens more toward
performance, does it happen from the get go?
5. In teaching, conducting, and mentoring conducting students, what do you
emphasize regarding expression?
6. What would you say your audiences want to get from your concerts?
7. How would you characterize your leadership style and what influence does
this have on your ensemble’s expression?
8. How do you create an expressive connection between yourself and your
singers?
9. How are interpretive decisions made in your ensemble about expressive
intentions?
10. Is your ensemble’s expression director driven? Solely? Somewhat?
11. Do you invite input from your choristers give about interpretive decisions?
12. What difference, if any, do you think it makes for choristers to participate in
expressive decisions?
13. Do you think that choristers feel they need to reflect back the emotion you
show—like monkey see, monkey do—or, that, if you show your passion,
that that will engender a passionate response from the singers?

In conclusion, is there a question I did not ask that you would have liked
to answer or something more you would like to add?
 333

Appendix C

Chorister Focus Group Protocol

Welcome and Introduction

The discussion is about your experience of and thoughts about expression in live
choral performance. We have approx. 20 minutes for each of 5 sections (introductions
and 4 topics). Participant Rights, Consent, Investigator Verification Forms
explanations and signing.
What pseudonym would you like used?
After the discussion, I will email the transcript to you within a few days.
Please send me back corrections or clarifications you want to make.
Please start by giving a readers’ digest version of your choral background.

RQ I. How is expression meaningful to performers and how do performers

conceptualize expression in live choral performance?
1. Speaking from your experience as a choral singer, tell us about a remarkable
performance, either fabulous or terrible.
2. What, for you, is expression in live choral performance? What does it sound like,
look like, and feel like?
3. Is the experience of a choral concert a purely sonic experience or are the other
aspects? What’s the difference between live performance and a recording?
4. What are the relationships between:
• Self-expression and artistic expression?
• Technique and expression?
5. What connection is there between you the performer, the composer, and the
audience?
6. What are the differences between instrumental and choral performances?

RQ. II. How are constituents modalities of choral performance expressive?

1. What strategies/actions/processes in rehearsal help you cultivate expression?
2. How does memorization affect your expressive ability?
3. How is group expression cultivated?
4. What are the assets and obstacles for an amateur ensemble when striving for
expressive performance?

RQ III. How is expression different in rehearsal and in performance?

1. How are rehearsal and performance different for you?
2. What do you think your audiences want when they come to your concerts?

RQ IV. How do synergies influence an ensemble’s expression?

1. How does the leadership style of your conductor influence your being expressive?
 334

2. What aspects of your conductor’s musical and personal leadership help you be
expressive?
3. Do you watch your conductor’s gestures or face and what does each show you?

Is there anything I did not ask that you wish I had or anything you wish to add?
 335

Appendix D

Rehearsal Observation Checklist

Conductor

• Conductor’s teaching style

• Conductors leadership style
• How conductor elicits musical expressivity
• How conductor elicits text expressivity
• How conductor elicits stage presence
• References to music, text and presentation
• Explanation
• Metaphor, allegory, allusion
• Vocal modeling
• Gesture: Does conductor look like the music
• Interactions between conductor and choir
• Group cohesion, energy, and focus
• If pianist is present, quality and efficacy of interaction
• If orchestra is present, quality and efficacy of interaction

Choir

• Responsiveness of the choir to conductor

• Interactions between choristers
• Engagement with conductor and with rehearsal process
• Engagement with the music and the text
• What their body language and facial expressions convey
• Participation in interpretive decisions
 336

Appendix E

Performance Observation Checklist

• Checking my own responses to choir’s performance:

• Am I musically convinced? Am I engaged? Am I enjoying the performance? Or am
I critical?
• Do I hear the text and do I know what is being sung?
• Am I convinced by the theater of the presentation?
• Am I distracted by some choristers?
• My responses to efficacy of conductor’s gestures.
• Does the conductor convey musical intent?
• What is the quality of rapport between conductor and ensemble?
• Is there a sense of ensemble cohesion: Do all the choristers seem equally engaged?

• Audience response to the performance, during and after.

 337

Appendix F

Teachers College IRB Approval Notification





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 338

Appendix G

Teachers College IRB Continuing Review Approval Notification






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 339

Appendix H

Research Description

As part of my doctoral program in Music and Music Education at Teachers College,

Columbia, I am undertaking a research study about expression in live choral performance.
My working title is "Expression in Live Choral Performance: Conceptualizations and
Practices, with an emphasis on the Experiences of Amateur Choirs and their Conductors."

Expressive performance may be a worthwhile and meaningful aspect of choral

performance, both for audiences and for performers, yet it is elusive to define and to
achieve. The purpose of the study is to uncover performers' understandings and
experiences of choral expression and to provide suggestions by which it may be realized.

The study seeks to investigate five broad areas:

1. Conceptualizations of expression, musical and choral.
2. Obstacles to expression and strategies to achieve expression.
3. The effect of ensemble leadership on expression.
4. Expression in rehearsal and in performance.
5. The meaning of expressive performance to the performers.

A qualitative research paradigm has been adopted. Conductors and their ensembles
have been selected from a pool of potential participants in the San Francisco Bay Area.
In addition, choristers from my own choir comprise an ongoing study group.

Methods of enquiry include:

1. Interviews with conductors.
2. Group discussions among choristers.
3. Observation of rehearsals and performances of choirs.
4. Review of demographic data and mission statements, repertoire, and
other institutional data from websites and concert playbills.

The Institutional Review Board of Teachers College, Columbia, has approved my

research protocols by which I am bound by ethical standards to protect the identity of
and to minimize risk to participants. I will report all data confidentially and
anonymously, use pseudonyms when referencing individuals and ensembles in my
written document, and use audio and/or video recordings only in written transcription, so
that no individual or ensemble will be identified. Each conductor and chorister observed
and/or interviewed will be provided a Participant's Rights Form and will be asked to sign
a Consent Form. Possible benefits to individual participants relate only to the inherent
potential of the study to further their interest in its subject.
 340

Appendix I

Informed Consent Form: Conductor

Teachers College, Columbia University

525 West 120th Street
New York NY 10027
212 678 3000
www.tc.edu

(Page 1 of 2)

DESCRIPTION OF THE RESEARCH: You are invited to participate in a research study,

conducted by Shulamit Hoffmann, a doctoral candidate at Teachers College, Columbia
University, that focuses on how adult amateur choirs conceptualize and achieve expressive live
performances.

You have been selected to participate in this study as a conductor of an adult amateur choir,
based on your reputation in the profession for exemplary work with an amateur choir.

Conductors will be asked to participate in an interview with the investigator to share your
understanding of expression in live choral performance and your experience with an adult,
amateur choir, in achieving expression in performance. The live interview will be arranged at a
mutually convenient time and place.

With your permission, the interview will be digitally audio-recorded and the audio recording
transcribed into digital text on a computer. Written transcription allows the investigator to
analyze the data in a considered manner so that she can reflect your views as accurately as
possible. The audio recording and transcription thereof will be used only for the purpose of
gathering data for this study. Both the recording and the transcription will be securely stored and
the audio recording will be destroyed after the completion of the study (April 30, 2016 is the
anticipated date of completion).

Conductors who are interviewed for this study will also be asked to give permission for the
investigator to observe a rehearsal of their choir as they prepare for a public performance.

TIME INVOLVEMENT: Each interview will last approximately one and a half hours. The
investigator may also request a shorter follow-up interview.

RISKS AND BENEFITS: The potential risks associated with participation in this study relate
only to those normally associated with an information-gathering one-on-one meeting, and are
thus anticipated to be negligible. Your participation is strictly voluntary and you may discontinue
participation at any time with no penalty or fear of recourse.

PAYMENT: There is no remuneration for participation.

 341

CONDUCTOR INFORMED CONSENT FORM

(Page 2 of 2)

DATA STORAGE TO PROTECT CONFIDENTIALITY: The confidentiality of your

identity as a participant in the study and of the information you provide is considered of utmost
importance and will be a priority throughout the research process. Only the investigator will be
privy to the identity of the participants. Participants’ real names will not be used in the written
dissertation. To ensure anonymity, participants will be identified in the study by pseudonyms.
The content of the audio-recorded interviews will be held in confidence by the investigator. Both
the audio recordings and the written transcriptions thereof will be kept securely in the
investigator’s home where only the investigator will have access to the materials. Data files on
the investigator’s computer will be password protected.

HOW THE DATA WILL BE USED: Data gathered from interviews or other sources will
remain confidential and will be used primarily for the purpose of informing the present study.
The information you and other interviewees provide will form the basis of the findings of the
present study that will be published as a dissertation, in partial fulfillment for the degree of
Doctor of Education at Teachers College, Columbia University. Data gathered from interviews
and other sources used for the purposes of the present study may also be used for related
educational purposes in professional presentation(s) given by the investigator and in educational
or professional publication(s) published by the investigator. In these instances, also, anonymity
of the participants is assured.
 342

Appendix J

Informed Consent Form: Chorister

Teachers College, Columbia University

525 West 120th Street
New York NY 10027
212 678 3000
www.tc.edu

(Page 1 of 2)

DESCRIPTION OF THE RESEARCH: You are invited to participate in a research study,

conducted by Shulamit Hoffmann, a doctoral candidate at Teachers College, Columbia
University, that focuses on how adult amateur choirs conceptualize and achieve expression in
live performances.

You have been selected to participate in this study as a chorister in an adult amateur choir.

Choristers will be asked to participate in a focus group discussion with 3-5 choristers from the
same choir, to share your experience of community choir performance, specifically with an
emphasis on expression in live performance. The focus group will be arranged at a mutually
convenient time and place and the investigator will act as the moderator of the discussion.

With your permission, the discussion will be digitally audio-recorded and the audio recording
transcribed into digital text on a computer. Written transcription allows the investigator to
analyze the data in a considered manner so that she can reflect your views as accurately as
possible. The audio recording and transcription thereof will be used only for the purpose of
gathering data for this study. Both the recording and the transcription will be securely stored and
the audio recording will be destroyed after the completion of the study (April 30, 2016 is the
anticipated date of completion).

TIME INVOLVEMENT: Each focus group discussion will last approximately two hours.

RISKS AND BENEFITS: The potential risks associated with participation in this study relate
only to those normally associated with an information-gathering small group discussion, and are
thus anticipated to be negligible. Your participation is strictly voluntary and you may discontinue
participation at any time with no penalty or fear of recourse.

PAYMENT: There is no remuneration for participation.

 343

CHORISTER INFORMED CONSENT FORM

(Page 2 of 2)

DATA STORAGE TO PROTECT CONFIDENTIALITY: The confidentiality of your

identity as a participant and of the information you provide is considered of utmost importance
and will be a priority throughout the research process. Only the investigator will be privy to the
identity of the participants. Participants’ real names will not be used in the written dissertation.
To ensure anonymity, participants will be identified in the study by pseudonyms. The content of
the audio-recorded interviews will be held in confidence by the investigator. Both the audio
recordings and the written transcriptions thereof will be kept securely in the investigator’s home
where only the investigator will have access to the materials. Data files on the investigator’s
computer will be password protected.

How the Information will be Used: Data gathered from interviews or other sources will remain
confidential and will be used primarily for the purpose of informing the present study. The
information you and other interviewees provide will form the basis of the findings of the present
study that will be published as a dissertation, in partial fulfillment for the degree of Doctor of
Education at Teachers College, Columbia University. Data gathered from interviews and other
sources used for the purposes of the present study and may also be used for related educational
purposes in professional presentation(s) given by the investigator and in educational or
professional publication(s) published by the investigator. In these instances, also, anonymity of
the participants is assured.
 344

Appendix K

Informed Consent Form: Chorister From Investigator’s Own Choir

Teachers College, Columbia University

525 West 120th Street
New York NY 10027
212 678 3000
www.tc.edu

(Page 1 of 2)

DESCRIPTION OF THE RESEARCH: You are invited to participate in a research study,

conducted by Shulamit Hoffmann, a doctoral candidate at Teachers College, Columbia
University, that focuses on how adult amateur choirs conceptualize and achieve expression in
live performances.

You have been selected to participate in this study as a chorister in Viva la Musica, the adult
amateur choir that I lead.

Choristers will be asked to participate in focus group discussions with 5-7 other choristers from
Viva la Musica, to share your experience of community choir performance, specifically with an
emphasis on expression in live performance. There will be at least two sessions of the focus
group that will be arranged at mutually convenient times and places. The investigator will act as
the moderator of the discussion.

With your permission, the discussion will be digitally audio-recorded and the audio recording
transcribed into digital text on a computer. Written transcription allows the investigator to
analyze the data in a considered manner so that she can reflect your views as accurately as
possible. The audio recording and transcription thereof will be used only for the purpose of
gathering data for this study. Both the recording and the transcription will be securely stored and
the audio recording will be destroyed after the completion of the study (April 30, 2016 is the
anticipated date of completion).

TIME INVOLVEMENT: Each focus group discussion will last approximately two hours and
there will be at least two discussions, spaced over a three month period.

RISKS AND BENEFITS: The potential risks associated with participation in this study relate
only to those normally associated with an information-gathering small group discussion, and are
thus anticipated to be negligible. Your participation is strictly voluntary and you may discontinue
participation at any time with no penalty or fear of recourse.

PAYMENT: There is no remuneration for participation.

 345

CHORISTER FROM INVESTIGATOR’S OWN CHOIR INFORMED CONSENT FORM

(Page 2 of 2)

DATA STORAGE TO PROTECT CONFIDENTIALITY: The confidentiality of your

identity as a participant and of the information you provide is considered of utmost importance
and will be a priority throughout the research process. Only the investigator will be privy to the
identity of the participants. Participants’ real names will not be used in the written dissertation.
To ensure anonymity, participants will be identified in the study by pseudonyms. The content of
the audio-recorded interviews will be held in confidence by the investigator. Both the audio
recordings and the written transcriptions thereof will be kept securely in the investigator’s home
where only the investigator will have access to the materials. Data files on the investigator’s
computer will be password protected.

How the Information will be Used: Data gathered from interviews or other sources will remain
confidential and will be used primarily for the purpose of informing the present study. The
information you and other interviewees provide will form the basis of the findings of the present
study that will be published as a dissertation, in partial fulfillment for the degree of Doctor of
Education at Teachers College, Columbia University. Data gathered from interviews and other
sources used for the purposes of the present study and may also be used for related educational
purposes in professional presentation(s) given by the investigator and in educational or
professional publication(s) published by the investigator. In these instances, also, anonymity of
the participants is assured.
 346

Appendix L

Participant’s Rights

Teachers College, Columbia University

525 West 120th Street
New York NY 10027
212 678 3000
www.tc.edu

(Page 1 of 2)

Principal Investigator: Shulamit Hoffmann

Research Title: EXPRESSION IN ADULT AMATEUR CHOIR PERFORMANCE:
CONCEPTUALIZATIONS AND PRACTICES

x I have read and discussed the Research Description with the investigator. I have had the
opportunity to ask questions about the purposes and procedures regarding this study.
x My participation in this study is voluntary. I may refuse to participate or withdraw from
participation at any time without jeopardy to future medical care, employment, student
status or other entitlements.
x The investigator may withdraw me from the research at her professional discretion.
x If, during the course of the study, significant new information that has been developed
becomes available which may relate to my willingness to continue to participate, the
investigator will provide this information to me.
x Any information derived from the research project that personally identifies me will not
be voluntarily released or disclosed without my separate consent, except as specifically
required by law.
x If at any time I have any questions regarding the research or my participation, I can
contact the investigator, who will answer my questions. The investigator’s phone number
is 650-346-5084 and her email is shu@machutch.com.
x If at any time I have comments, or concerns regarding the conduct of the research or
questions about my rights as a research subject, I should contact the Teachers College,
Columbia University Institutional Review Board (IRB). The phone number for the IRB is
(212) 678-4105. Or, I can write to the IRB at Teachers College, Columbia University,
525 W. 120th Street, New York, NY, 10027, Box 151.
x I have received copies of the Research Description, the Informed Consent Form, and
Participant’s Rights documents.
x Audio recording of interviews and focus groups and printed transcriptions thereof are part
of the procedures of this research. Only the principal investigator will view the written
transcriptions.
 347

PARTICIPANT’S RIGHTS
(Page 2 of 2)

x Please check one below:

( ) I consent to be audio recorded.
( ) I do NOT consent to being audio recorded.
x Audio recordings of me and written transcriptions thereof:
( ) may be viewed in an educational setting outside the research

( ) may NOT be viewed in an educational setting outside the research.

If you agree to participate in either a one-on-one interview or in a focus group discussion, kindly
indicate your willingness by signing and dating this form.

I am willing to participate in an interview or focus group and I give permission for the
information I provide live to be digitally audio recorded and transcribed into text.

I am willing to participate in an Individual Interview / a Focus Group Discussion

(Please circle one of the above)

Participant’s Name (please print) _____________________________________________

Participant’s Signature _____________________________________________________

Date ____________________________________________________________________
 348

Appendix M

Investigator’s Verification of Explanation

Teachers College, Columbia University

525 West 120th Street
New York NY 10027
212 678 3000
www.tc.edu

I certify that I have provided a description of the research of this study and that I have explained
the purpose of my research and the nature of the participants’ participation as clearly as I can to
_________________________________________________, a potential participant in my study.

S/he has had the opportunity to discuss the procedures of the study in detail and has said s/he
understands the nature of her/his involvement in the study. I have answered all questions
regarding her/his participation to her/his satisfaction and she/he has provided an affirmative
agreement to participate in my study.

Investigator’s Name: ____________________________________________

Investigator’s Signature __________________________________________

Date _________________________________________________________
 349

Appendix N

Participant Demographic Inventory

Participant:_____________________________________________________________

Age (Decade): __________Gender: ________________Ethnicity:_________________

Educational Experience:

Professional Experience:

Tenure with Current Ensemble:

Performance Experience of Ensemble:

If you would prefer to submit a professional biography rather than complete the sections
on this form that deal with Educational and Professional Experience and the Performance
Experience of the Ensemble, please do so.
 350

Appendix O

Informed Consent Form: Video-Recording Rehearsal and Performance

Teachers College, Columbia University

525 West 120th Street
New York NY 10027
212 678 3000
www.tc.edu

(Page 1 of 2)

DESCRIPTION OF THE RESEARCH: You are invited to participate in a research study,

conducted by Shulamit Hoffmann, a doctoral candidate at Teachers College, Columbia
University, that focuses on how adult amateur choirs conceptualize and achieve expression in
live performances.

You have been selected to participate in this study as a chorister in or conductor of an adult
amateur choir.

You are asked to give your consent to my observing your rehearsal and to my video-recording
your choir’s rehearsal and performance in which you participate.

With your permission, the rehearsal and performance will be digitally video-recorded and the
recording transcribed into digital text on a computer. Written transcription allows the
investigator to analyze the data in a considered manner so that she can reflect what took place as
accurately as possible. The video-recording and transcription thereof will be used only for the
purpose of gathering data for this study. Both the recording and the transcription will be securely
stored and the recording will be destroyed after the completion of the study (April 30, 2016 is the
anticipated date of completion).

TIME INVOLVEMENT: There is no additional time involved, beyond your usual participation
in rehearsal and performance.

RISKS AND BENEFITS: The potential risks associated with this manner of participation in
this study relate only to those normally associated with usual rehearsal and performance, and are
thus anticipated to be negligible. Your participation is strictly voluntary and you may discontinue
participation at any time with no penalty or fear of recourse.

PAYMENT: There is no remuneration for participation.

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CHORISTER INFORMED CONSENT FORM

(Page 2 of 2)

DATA STORAGE TO PROTECT CONFIDENTIALITY: The confidentiality of your

identity as a participant and of the information you provide is considered of utmost importance
and will be a priority throughout the research process. Only the investigator will be privy to the
identity of the participants. Participants’ real names will not be used in the written dissertation.
To ensure anonymity, participants will be identified in the study by pseudonyms. The content of
the audio-recorded interviews will be held in confidence by the investigator. Both the audio
recordings and the written transcriptions thereof will be kept securely in the investigator’s home
where only the investigator will have access to the materials. Data files on the investigator’s
computer will be password protected.

How the Information will be Used: Data gathered from interviews or other sources will remain
confidential and will be used primarily for the purpose of informing the present study. The
information you and other interviewees provide will form the basis of the findings of the present
study that will be published as a dissertation, in partial fulfillment for the degree of Doctor of
Education at Teachers College, Columbia University. Data gathered from interviews and other
sources used for the purposes of the present study and may also be used for related educational
purposes in professional presentation(s) given by the investigator and in educational or
professional publication(s) published by the investigator. In these instances, also, anonymity of
the participants is assured.
 352

Appendix P

Participant’s Rights: Rehearsal Observations

Teachers College, Columbia University

525 West 120th Street
New York NY 10027
212 678 3000
www.tc.edu

(Page 1 of 2)

Principal Investigator: Shulamit Hoffmann

Research Title: EXPRESSION IN ADULT AMATEUR CHOIR PERFORMANCE:
CONCEPTUALIZATIONS AND PRACTICES

x I have read and discussed the Research Description with the investigator. I have had the
opportunity to ask questions about the purposes and procedures regarding this study.
x My participation in this study is voluntary. I may refuse to participate or withdraw from
participation at any time without jeopardy to future medical care, employment, student
status or other entitlements.
x The investigator may withdraw me from the research at her professional discretion.
x If, during the course of the study, significant new information that has been developed
becomes available which may relate to my willingness to continue to participate, the
investigator will provide this information to me.
x Any information derived from the research project that personally identifies me will not
be voluntarily released or disclosed without my separate consent, except as specifically
required by law.
x If at any time I have any questions regarding the research or my participation, I can
contact the investigator, who will answer my questions. The investigator’s phone number
is 650-346-5084 and her email is shu@machutch.com.
x If at any time I have comments, or concerns regarding the conduct of the research or
questions about my rights as a research subject, I should contact the Teachers College,
Columbia University Institutional Review Board (IRB). The phone number for the IRB is
(212) 678-4105. Or, I can write to the IRB at Teachers College, Columbia University,
525 W. 120th Street, New York, NY, 10027, Box 151.
x I have received copies of the Research Description, the Informed Consent Form, and
Participant’s Rights documents.
x Video recording of rehearsals and performances and written transcriptions thereof are
part of the procedures of this research. Only the principal investigator will view the
written transcriptions.
 353

PARTICIPANT’S RIGHTS
(Page 2 of 2)

Please check the appropriate comments below to reflect your consent or lack of consent:
( ) I consent to the rehearsal in which I participate being observed by the
principal investigator.
( ) I do NOT consent to the rehearsal in which I participate being observed by
the principal investigator.

( ) I consent to the rehearsal and performance in which I participate being

video-recorded for the stated purposes of this research.

( ) I do NOT consent to the rehearsal and performance in which I participate

being video-recorded.

Video recordings of me and written transcriptions thereof:

( ) may be viewed in an educational setting outside the research

( ) may NOT be viewed in an educational setting outside the research.

If you agree to participate in video-recorded observations of rehearsal and performance, kindly

indicate your willingness by signing and dating this form.

I am willing to participate in a rehearsal and performance that is observed by the principal

investigator and I give permission for the rehearsal and the performance to be digitally video-
recorded and transcribed into text for the stated purposes of the research of this study.

Participant’s Name (please print) _____________________________________________

Participant’s Signature _____________________________________________________

Date ____________________________________________________________________