Carnegie Hall

During the National Youth Orchestra of the USA’s (NYO-USA) residency last summer, the Carnegie Hall team began working on a collaboration between NYO-USA and Ukrainian refugee musicians scheduled to take place during the German leg of our tour. After a flurry of communication, some last-minute problem-solving, and mutual determination to make it work, we had a plan: We would convene in Berlin’s historic Tempelhof Airport for a combined performance of Ukrainian and American works in an effort to create community through the shared language of music. And for me personally, I would have the privilege of co-conducting the gathering alongside Barbara Leifer, music director of the Diplomatic Choir of Berlin.

We arrived in Berlin in the middle of a heat wave. Our NYO-USA T-shirts stuck to our backs as we rode the U-Bahn from our hotel to Tempelhof. We were optimistic but cautious, unsure of how this event would unfold, a little shy at the thought of working with strangers. A 10-minute walk took us from the subway to the airfield, where a plane from the Berlin Airlift served as the backdrop to our makeshift stage. There we met Barbara and US Embassy officials who helped to organize the event. They introduced us to the refugee musicians from Ukraine, who also seemed a bit shy, while greeting us with the warmest smiles. There was a language barrier, but we had several Russian and German speakers among the NYO-USA members. As I watched the Ukrainian string players take their seats next to NYO-USA musicians—and the handshakes and enthusiastic introductions that ensued—I was moved by how seamlessly the two groups merged.

The nature of the event, combined with the brevity of the rehearsal, released us from any false hope of perfectionism that often plagues musicians. When a few people played enthusiastically during what was supposed to be a large rest in Copland’s “Hoedown,” we laughed together and tried it again.

After handing the baton to Barbara to rehearse works by Mykola Skoryk and Arvo Pärt, I sat in one of the lawn chairs that were scattered around the airfield, sipping a German soda and enjoying the magic in the air. When the voices from the female choir rose as they sang two traditional Ukrainian folk songs, goosebumps ran up my arms at the power of these women, the steadfastness of their sound, the proud and beautiful ownership of their culture.

After a short break, we reconvened to present an informal concert of what we had created together. As an anxious worrier, I sometimes struggle to feel fully in the moment, but there in the cool shadow of the old military plane, the music and striking sense of kinship anchored me firmly in the present. I was in awe at the miracle of us being there, in harrowing times, together.

All photography by Chris Lee.