Locked away, inside every soul, there are boxes of precious memories with snapshots of the people and stories long gone to remind us of a simpler time. Hearing the devastating news of the passing of Professor Yang unlocked such a box that I once thought I had forgotten. Seven years of age, a timid, terrified me with practically no experience in solfeggio and sight-reading somehow earned myself a place in the Yang Choir. And thus began a five year-long journey in the most prestigious children’s choir in all of Beijing, heck, perhaps all of China. Unlike most of my bandmates, the choir didn't take up a huge chunk of my life, and I have never really felt that I belonged in that place (perhaps I realised that other people are so much more talented than me). When I left, I never really looked back. This piece of my history almost felt like it just dissolved into the back of my head. So why then, among an endless sea of beautifully written tributes, am I writing this to remember the extraordinary life of Professor Yang? The world moves fast. We have all these 'tabs' open in our brains, each worrying about different issues. There often comes a moment in everyone's lives when we sit back and wonder... 'What is the point of all this?' We eventually burn out. For me, an often-ignored boy in the choir, Professor Yang introduced me to the captivating world of not just music, but the world of art as a whole. Ten-year-old me never realised that there could be a whole other realm out there, a much better world: where realities and dreamscapes dance and blend together like myriad colours on the canvas of the creative consciousness. In a world where there are more people spreading hate than love, when I pick up the guitar, when I immerse myself in elegantly written words, everything around me seems to slow down just a little bit. All the rage, all the furious shouting seems to get quieter just a little bit. And I get to burst my head through the surface and take a giant breath and say ‘maybe stuff isn't too bad after all!' This man lived and breathed art, and dedicated his whole life to art. No, he did not just bring joy and happiness to other people's lives, he gave people the tools to discover their own intrinsic happiness that has been hidden from them all this time! Our hearts and bodies are rented to us for a limited amount of time, but you can catch Professor Yang among the vibrating piano strings, vocal cords, the twirling conducting baton and the serotonin-filled minds of each and every one of his students and all the people he influenced. Art never dies. In such a messy, chaotic and hatred filled world, Professor Yang gave me the keys that transported me to a place where I can find my own peace of mind.
Locked away, inside every soul, there are boxes of precious memories with snapshots of the people and stories long gone to remind us of a simpler time. Hearing the devastating news of the passing of Professor Yang unlocked such a box that I once thought I had forgotten. Seven years of age, a timid, terrified me with practically no experience in solfeggio and sight-reading somehow earned myself a place in the Yang Choir. And thus began a five year-long journey in the most prestigious children’s choir in all of Beijing, heck, perhaps all of China. Unlike most of my bandmates, the choir didn't take up a huge chunk of my life, and I have never really felt that I belonged in that place (perhaps I realised that other people are so much more talented than me). When I left, I never really looked back. This piece of my history almost felt like it just dissolved into the back of my head. So why then, among an endless sea of beautifully written tributes, am I writing this to remember the extraordinary life of Professor Yang? The world moves fast. We have all these 'tabs' open in our brains, each worrying about different issues. There often comes a moment in everyone's lives when we sit back and wonder... 'What is the point of all this?' We eventually burn out. For me, an often-ignored boy in the choir, Professor Yang introduced me to the captivating world of not just music, but the world of art as a whole. Ten-year-old me never realised that there could be a whole other realm out there, a much better world: where realities and dreamscapes dance and blend together like myriad colours on the canvas of the creative consciousness. In a world where there are more people spreading hate than love, when I pick up the guitar, when I immerse myself in elegantly written words, everything around me seems to slow down just a little bit. All the rage, all the furious shouting seems to get quieter just a little bit. And I get to burst my head through the surface and take a giant breath and say ‘maybe stuff isn't too bad after all!' This man lived and breathed art, and dedicated his whole life to art. No, he did not just bring joy and happiness to other people's lives, he gave people the tools to discover their own intrinsic happiness that has been hidden from them all this time! Our hearts and bodies are rented to us for a limited amount of time, but you can catch Professor Yang among the vibrating piano strings, vocal cords, the twirling conducting baton and the serotonin-filled minds of each and every one of his students and all the people he influenced. Art never dies. In such a messy, chaotic and hatred filled world, Professor Yang gave me the keys that transported me to a place where I can find my own peace of mind.
