We Are the Next Generation

Art forms do not disappear overnight. They thin out gradually — one unconsidered decision at a time, one missed opportunity after another, until the moment arrives when there are no longer enough people in the room who remember why it mattered. We are the generation that will determine whether that happens. Not in the abstract, not eventually — now.

The timing of this post is not random, as things seldom are -- Ganesh & Kumaresh perform at The Sheldon Concert Hall on May 17. They are among the most significant figures in Carnatic music alive today. Ganesh sir's Grammy win with Shakti in 2024 was historic — the first for Carnatic violin — and his new work, Thribinna, represents some of the most ambitious compositional thinking happening in Indian classical music right now. Kumaresh sir has built Fiddling Monk, a structured pedagogical platform that has brought rigorous violin training to students across the world. Between them, they have spent decades not just performing but actively investing in the transmission of this form to the next generation. They are, in the most literal sense, building something for us.

I want to be direct about something. There are educators in this city — in our community, in institutions, and beyond that claim investment in cultural breadth — who have not told their students about this concert. That is a choice, and it has consequences. Not because any single concert is the measure of an institution's commitment to the arts, but because the cumulative effect of those unconsidered omissions is a generation of students who never develop the habit of showing up. Who remain, as they were, theoretically interested — but absent. While we cannot fault anyone for being a part of the "nature of things," the responsibility falls on us to rekindle the spark across our community.

As such, there is a particular kind of engagement with the arts that frustrates me deeply. It is the engagement that expresses genuine interest, that speaks knowledgeably about forms and traditions, that would describe itself as invested — and then does not attend. Interest without presence is not patronage. It is not community. It is not enough to sustain anything. Let's change that.

I can speak only for Janya; we have worked to remove every barrier we reasonably can. The access is there. The context is provided. The space for questions, for unfamiliarity, for being new to this — all of it is held deliberately and carefully. What cannot be provided is the decision to walk through the door. That remains yours -- and as part of that next generation we cannot reasonably wait for motivation from our surroundings.

The artists coming to St. Louis on May 17 have more than done their part. They have spent their careers building, codifying, and transmitting a form of extraordinary depth and beauty. The SwaraYoga Ensemble — Ganesh sir's youth orchestra — performed just weeks ago in Seattle. Fiddling Monk has students learning Indian violin across continents. These are not abstract gestures toward the future. They are concrete, sustained investments in it. The question is whether we meet that investment with our own. This is just to name a few of the incredible artists, teachers, institutions, and fellow organizations who have dedicated themselves to passing the torch.

We are the next generation. The foundation has been laid — by artists like Ganesh and Kumaresh, by organizations working to bring this work to cities like ours, by every audience member who showed up before us and made the case that this art belongs here. What we do with that foundation is the only question that remains.

The art does not sustain itself. We do. Or we don't.