If Music Be the Food of Love . . .

Dana Martin and how Music for the Future changes lives

By Nola Bowie

Dana Martin (Photo by Kirsten Roysten)

This article is part of the Stage Raw/Unusual Suspects Theatre Company Youth Journalism Fellowship. The subject, Dana Martin, Program Manager for Music for the Future, is also a contributor to Stage Raw

“Where words fail, music speaks.”

That phrase has helped many artists express themselves and process strong emotions and trauma in non-verbal ways. It was repeated to me by Dana Martin, who, among her skills such as acting, directing, and journalism, works as the program manager for Music for the Future, a course sponsored by the New York-based non-profit organization, Project: Music Heals Us.  

Born and raised in Riverside, California, Martin got her creative start at her local children’s theater. “It gave me a sense of community, gave me a sense of discipline,” Martin says. She cheerfully recalls how she would “stand backstage and do the whole entire play.” Her hometown was very diverse, and with the absence of most technology, Martin “tapped into [my] imagination at a very young age.” After getting her Bachelor’s degree from Cal State, San Bernardino and her MFA from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, “I moved into what is more in line with my purpose,” Martin states, claiming that “acting was the gateway into this world.” This world that Martin speaks of is the theater world, of course, and her background in it is what makes her artistic skills shine.

But what Martin does today is something slightly different from acting. Being the Program Manager for a course called Music for the Future (a seven-week course), Martin tells me how the course “brings student string quartets from Juilliard into several different facilities, [mostly jails, prisons, and addiction treatment centers.]” It begins with a five day in-person residency, consistent with an artist leading the classes and a large opening concert.

“Students in the class are learning the fundamentals of music and eventually how to compose for a string quartet,” she explains. After six weeks on zoom reflecting on the residency, the quartet performs the newly composed pieces at Juilliard. Martin’s job is possibly one of the most difficult: “To organize all of that.” This means she is responsible for coordinating the schedules while also expanding the program.

“Do you ever feel like your history with acting and theater has influenced what you do now?” I ask.

“In every single way,” Martin answers directly. She  emphasizes what goes on behind the scenes of a production, and that “all the skills I have within the theater, like directing, come in handy immediately: I know what a run of show is, I can speak publicly, I know how to guide without seeming like it’s pushing,” and her list goes on. Martin often prompts herself with theatrical setups in her work when she faces challenges like having to bridge the gap between the San Bernardino Sheriff’s Department and artists, along with bearing responsibility for every piece of the program and shaping the narratives of addicts and prisoners into music. “Directing goes hand in hand with that.”

Looking up to her peers and teachers such as her acting mentor Kim Rubinstein and late journalist Jerry Crawford, Martin could appreciate the nuanced beauty of acting while also evolving in her directing and journalism pursuits. However, she was not always sure that she wanted to pursue anything other than acting. “I had a much more narrow view. . . even up until the end of graduate school, I really didn’t consider much else because I was studying acting.” Martin says. But even then, something didn’t feel quite right, as Martin often felt unfulfilled and even selfish when onstage. “But when I don’t feel that way. . .  is when I’m teaching,” Martin remarks. “I’m facilitating arts in places that are hard to get to, and I have learned over time that is what I want to do.”

Left to Right: Luke Henderson, Violin; Isaac Park, Violin; Ian Maloney, Cello; James Preucil, Viola. (Photo courtesy, San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department)

There is no question that working with Music for the Future requires just as much emotional as it does technical attention. When I asked if Martin had any moving experiences or stories, two came to mind immediately.

The first occurred when she was responsible for placing a quartet into a female mod of a prison, instead of the usual male mod. Martin recalled that “the energy was just different. More emotional, just a sense, a feeling. The way that they gathered together was just more loving and supportive.” She states that when the women played the concert, it was extremely touching, and she even described the moment as “a heart connection that surrounded the sound.”

The second experience was much more personal to Martin, who had lost her father to cancer just before she began working with the program, leaving her to endure the grief on top of the job’s endless responsibilities. In one of her earlier residencies, she overheard a dress rehearsal of one of the quartet sets: “They played a version of ‘Amazing Grace’ and the second song was an original song that was about healing: that trauma happens from the outside in, that healing happens from the inside out. These two, in combination, just touched something so completely and so deeply within me, it caught me completely off-guard. You know, I was fiddling with my sound device, and, like, writing things down, and it just hit me like a lightning bolt.” She went on to mention how the instance was almost entirely coincidental, causing her to feel overwhelmed with gratitude.

However, there are still challenges posed to Martin. The biggest challenge, it would seem, is the relentless environment of the facilities. “It’s just so harsh and institutionalized, and there is trauma and there’s a lot going on both sides. The side of the officers and faculty, and the side of our students, who are inmates there… it’s extremely stressful.” Despite the fact that this is true, Martin is not as negative about it as some may think, as her job, along with the rest of the organizing, is to bring relief to the stress: “It’s a light. We bring in a different kind of energy.” Martin says that their presence in these spaces relieves the tension, and “that in and of itself is worth the challenge.”

Finally, I ask her a question that many artists spend their whole lives wondering: “Do you feel like you’re making a difference?” After a pause, Martin responds.

“I do. I do think I’m making a difference in the lives of the individuals that I am in the presence of,” Martin says, smiling. Ranging from the smallest of methods — such as deep breathing and reminding herself to be present — to the largest, Martin remains confident. Her work brings art and creativity to environments that promote almost none of that, and that is something she is rightfully proud of. In terms of making a difference, Martin cheerfully concludes, “It’s not me directly, but I can see that their lives are affected, I can see that their lives are changed. Is there a number? No, but, you know, I’m gonna keep going where I can, and eventually it will increase.”