Today is Tuesday, June 2nd, and in this twenty-second episode I’d like to share with you some “historical” reflections.
Because, at the very moment I am writing these lines, which will serve as my outline for the recording, I have just finished a piece of work.
Or rather, let’s call it the piece of work: the one that has kept me very busy since April 1st.
Let me try to explain.
Like many colleagues who divide their time between teaching and fieldwork, I have been collecting information for the past twenty years — mainly for teaching purposes — about the events that have shaped our discipline in Italy.
Since I am not particularly good at storytelling, but I am much better at cataloguing, every time I find a piece of information I put it into a PowerPoint presentation. And, to avoid being too soporific, I try to “season” it with photographic, informative, and documentary material that I can find online.
On April 1st, 2020, in the middle of lockdown, enjoying what felt like unlimited time, I thought the moment had come to work a little on my PowerPoint.
And, as was entirely predictable, that file, which had previously contained just over one hundred slides, began to grow.
And grow.
And grow.
As I continued with the work, what increased was not only the number of slides, but also the inconsistencies between one source and another, the imprecision of certain dates, the gaps, and the absence of direct witnesses for this or that event.
I did not lose heart.
Since I have been swimming in this world for about thirty years, I know a lot of people who really did make History. So, without even a moment’s hesitation, I decided to share the file with a small group of “grand old figures”, inviting them to take part in the project.
The initiative triggered the most varied reactions.
There was tomb-like silence.
There were comments such as:
“Thank you, but I’m no longer interested.”
Or:
“I’m done with music therapy forever. Best wishes.”
Ah yes, then there was also:
“But why haven’t you written anything about me?”
Or:
“Please, let’s not call this history. This is just a photo album.”
And so on, and so on.
But I must say there were also enthusiastic responses:
“Wow, super cool! Tell me what I can do for you.”
“I’ll send you what I have straight away.”
“Give me a few days and I’ll retrieve everything.”
“Damn, I have everything in my office, but right now I can’t go there without a self-certification form. As soon as it reopens, I’ll go.”
A little saddened, but not defeated, instead of slowing down, I accelerated.
I expanded the group and sent the file.
Expanded the group and sent it.
Expanded the group and sent it.
Each time, I shared with a growing number of people a file that was becoming larger and larger, enriched by the many precious contributions of a few generous colleagues.
Just to give you a few numbers: the PowerPoint I sent yesterday had reached more than 530 slides, and it was received by more than 90 colleagues.
I imagine that, at this point, many of you may be thinking:
“And what about us? Are we the poor relations?”
And here comes, I hope, the good news.
You have two options.
First, you can write to, phone, or video-call the director of your music therapy school, your older friend who has become famous in the world of music therapy, or the highest institutional figures in our “music therapy system”, and ask them to send you the file.
Because they are almost certainly among the ninety people who received it yesterday evening, Monday, June 1st.
If this first method does not get you anywhere, then write me an email at cnvpaolo@gmail.com, and I will send you the link to download the PowerPoint on The History of Music Therapy in Italy and Around It free of charge.
I’ll stop here.
We’ll meet again on Tuesday, June 9th, with a new episode of A Light-Hearted Journey Through Music Therapy.