Q&A with Merideth Hite Estevez ’09MM

Merideth Hite Estevez ’09MM is an oboist, author, and award-winning podcaster whose work centers on connecting artists to joy and fulfillment in their craft. Through her podcast, Artists for Joy, she encourages musicians to embrace creativity without being trapped by the pursuit of perfection. In this Q&A, Merideth reflects on the myth of the tortured artist, the role her faith plays in shaping her work, and her new book, Art Is How God Loves Us. 
  
Many artists feel pressure to perfect their technique and to perform flawlessly. How do you navigate the tension between disciplined craft and the freedom to simply experience joy in playing? 
MHE: I try to live by these words: “The real work of art is the person you’re becoming.” We feel pressure and have a desire, I believe, that is good at its core, to seek perfection and excellence. For most musicians, it can’t be joyful unless it’s also at a very high level. For me, the freedom comes from no longer seeing these things in tension, but as two notes of the same chord. Just like vibrato or technical facility, joy is a muscle we can strengthen, a skill we practice. If excellence is achieved through self-abandonment or unhealthy striving, that road will lead to burnout, injury, or joylessness. The real work of art is to strive from a place of joy — not fear or shame — and stay connected to our truest selves in the process. It is seeing that the real work of art isn’t the music you make, but the person and life you’re building in the process. Believing this has changed everything for me.

One of the missions of Artists for Joy is to debunk the stereotype of the “tortured artist.” Why do you think that stereotype persists? Why do you think it’s important to debunk it?  
MHE:  The tortured artist stereotype persists for many reasons, but perhaps first and foremost because of this profound truth: great art can be born of great suffering. What a powerful sentiment — that art can give our pain a purpose! Somewhere along the way, however, we began believing the lie that great art could only be born of great suffering. This can lead us to fetishize artists’ dysregulation, mental illness, and substance abuse. Just like many things in our culture, we consume content and “binge” media, and we miss the very human artist(s) behind the stories and sounds we love. 

It’s important to debunk this myth for numerous reasons, but here are two of my favorite ones:

Every human life, regardless of creative contribution or talent, deserves dignity, respect, and the resources to cultivate sustainability and healing. When we fetishize suffering, we value artists only in terms of their output. 
Great art can also be born of great joy. When we center our inspiration on pain and suffering, we miss the opportunity for creation that comes from deep oneness and connection with each other and something larger than ourselves.

How has your faith influenced your outlook on music, joy, and community?  
MHE: In my pursuit of perfection throughout my conservatory training, something began shifting for me spiritually. Even though I’d always been a person of faith, the connection between my creative output and my Creator was somehow severed. Art had become a way I was attempting to prove my worth and value, rather than a place for me to return home to something greater than myself. 

The reconnection point happened slowly — but also somehow all at once — when I realized that art was not a platform for my ego, but a space for connection with each other and with God. Artists are spiritual creatures; creativity is a spiritual practice. In my coaching practice, my books, and courses, I love helping artists across disciplines and from varied spiritual/religious traditions name what they believe and reconnect them with a joy that isn’t tied to their last performance.

How did your time at YSM shape your growth as a musician? In what ways did it prepare you (technically, professionally, spiritually) for the work you’re doing now? 
MHE: My time at Yale was transformative because it demanded excellence while providing a sanctuary for intellectual, musical, and personal growth. Having studied all over the world, I know now that this mixture is incredibly rare.

Technically, it gave me many tools as an oboist, but what I remember most was the music made with fellow musicians who became friends for life. It taught me the value of high-level collaboration and the importance of not just listening, but hearing. The environment challenged me to define my own voice within a storied tradition, preparing me to navigate the professional world with both humility and a clear sense of purpose. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to create a multi-passionate career as a performer, author, and coach if it weren’t for my experience at YSM.

You’re releasing Art Is How God Loves Us later this year. What inspired you to write this book? What can readers expect from it? 
MHE: Art Is How God Loves Us grew out of a period when I felt a profound disconnect between my life on stage and my life of faith. For years, I kept my spiritual life and my reed desk in separate compartments. But eventually, that separation became a chasm of self-loathing and sorrow.

I was reading Makoto Fujimura’s book Art + Faith and I came across this quote: “God creates out of love, not necessity.” As those words soaked in, I realized if God’s creativity is synonymous with God’s love. Perhaps, then, each act of creation — even from human hands — is rooted in the same love that created the universe. 

I started collecting stories over the years when art had whispered to me of the divine. In the book, I reflect on works of fine art, sculpture, architecture, classical and folk music, as well as works by artists of color and Indigenous voices, and offer a gentle guide for artists and art lovers alike — regardless of their religious or spiritual persuasion — to consider art as a spiritual gateway. The central invitation of Art Is How God Loves Us is to stop viewing your life as a machine, measured only by its efficiency and output, and to instead consider it as a work of art, a poem.