Music, Art, and Weiss Wisdom

Our February issue features a musician and the founder of a music school who’s cultivating the restorative power of music in students of all ages and backgrounds. 

An acclaimed photographer reminded me how Steinbeck and Hemingway shaped my early narrative style after we discussed the American literary figures’ influence on his work; his mention of and nod to fellow Scot, Hugh McIlvaney, compelling me on a binge-reading weekend of the Sunday Times sports journalist’s work known for its keen attention to detail.

Also featured is a high school film teacher, known to his students as Mr. Weiss, who continues to inspire aspiring filmmakers in our community; the artist creating an unexpected synthesis in my quest to write about wildly zooly individuals. 

While I knew little about Weiss’s work outside of the Episcopal School of Dallas classroom where he taught my youngest in film, I was uber-impressed with his tutelage in the genres of photography and film, and by his deep dedication to his students.

Adept at focusing on their individual growth, Weiss expected his high schoolers to communicate directly with him and not through their parents, so it would be years before I had the privilege of getting to know the teacher outside of the classroom. 

When my husband and I attended an off-campus art exhibition featuring his paintings, I was surprised to learn we had some unique things in common. 

Weiss was from my hometown, and he’d taught arts at my high school alma mater decades after I attended. 

Years later, Weiss accepted an invitation to a graduation party at our home in recognition of a small group of our son’s impactful mentors, and the artist struck up a conversation with my parents. The three found yet another remarkable connection among us.

Before returning to Dallas to teach high school, Weiss was mentored by the artist Eric Avery, whose Spring Scare Crow has hung on the walls of my parents’ homes for decades. Avery’s art is reflective of his work as a psychiatrist, with his dedication to human rights and medical activism expressed in his acclaimed exhibits.

Avery, who worked at the University of Texas Medical Branch in Galveston for 20 years, was initially brought to the program by the director and professor emeritus of the Institute for the Medical Humanities, who happens to also be my father. 

In a nutshell, my son’s mentor was mentored by a mentee of his grandfather’s — with many decades and many miles separating the parallel events.

My sons would say “mind blown!”  Their mom is in awe of the threads that bind.