by Michal Emanovský
Every so often, we find ourselves standing at a crossroads, where one chapter of our life converges with the beginning of another. For me, a pivotal moment came when I transitioned from my position as the Associate Principal horn with the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra to take on the role of director at the Czech Center in Seoul. This move was not just a personal evolution but also mirrored the broader dialogues frequently occurring amongst horn players; it raised questions about longevity, the persistent pursuit of quality, and evolving definitions of success and fulfillment within a musician's career.
After the global upheaval caused by covid, I was surprised to find myself considering a position far removed from my dedicated path as a musician. The offer to apply for the position of director at the Czech Center Seoul initially felt beyond my realm of expertise, but I found myself curious. My wife had no doubts—she encouraged me to apply right away. After a period of self-reflection, I decided to step up to the challenge, embarking on this new chapter at the beginning of 2022. Initially, the administrative responsibilities felt like a drastic change from my orchestral life. I had to manage payroll, learn to handle Excel files, and streamline workflows using macros—all tasks with which I had little experience. Despite the steep learning curve, I was keen on developing projects while still finding time to maintain my skills on the horn. This period introduced me to a new network of people involved in the cultural sphere, expanding my horizon and understanding of the industry.
Working primarily as an administrator brought a significant transformation in my relationship with the horn. As a full-time musician, I often played principal horn parts while battling a lingering self-doubt. The constant comparison and the relentless chase for perfection had, at times, overshadowed the joy derived from music. Distancing myself from a full-time commitment allowed me to experience a renewed sense of fulfillment in making music, a rediscovery of the freedom and depth music offered. Each concert, whether a one-time chance to perform with the Gürzenich Orchester Köln or return to the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra as a guest, now feels more like a celebration, a gift, rather than a stringent evaluation of my skills. I found myself cherishing each composition, wondering if it might be the last time I would be engaging with it.
My current role and my background as a horn player sometimes intersect in interesting ways. I have come to appreciate the fact that my musical background brings a distinct touch to my directorship and can enhance the depth of events and collaborations. For example, I have integrated Czech music into the opening of the Emil Zátopek exhibition or played a horn quartet fanfare at the 30th anniversary of Czech Centres in Prague. Looking ahead, I face the challenging question of how long I can sustain high-level horn playing alongside my demanding job. It’s a constant balance of honing my skills to remain competent as a horn player and steering the rich and varied programming at the Czech Center. I am yet to see whether this pathway is my final destination or a stepping stone to something else.
Sharing this narrative isn't just a recounting of personal experiences; it's an invitation to fellow musicians to embrace the myriad of possibilities that lie outside the familiar terrain. Our training and experiences as musicians equip us with resilience and a unique perspective that can be applied successfully in diverse fields. It is alright to harbor doubts and to critically assess our paths; it is okay to change tracks, to rediscover passions. It is a journey of continual learning, of embracing change with all its uncertainties, and finding a space for growth that accommodates both the old and the new.
Enjoy listening to one of my final concerts as a full-time musician.
My personal project during covid—our horn quartet performing Bach together with sand art.
