Meet the Artist: Christopher Holman

Christopher Holman brings a unique vision to his upcoming recital, spanning eight centuries of organ music from the Roman Catholic tradition. Set against the backdrop of the Murdy Family Organ in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, his program is a musical journey through history, beginning with one of the earliest written pieces for keyboard and concluding with a work composed in 2022. With each carefully selected piece, Holman invites audiences to experience the evolution of Western music and the cultural depth that the organ, as one of the oldest instruments, uniquely reflects.

Read on to learn more about Christopher Holman and his remarkable journey as an organist.

Your upcoming recital spans eight centuries of organ music from the Roman Catholic tradition. How did you go about selecting the pieces for this program, and what was your vision for it?

The organ is one of the few instruments in Western culture that dates from antiquity (the third century BCE, to be precise) and is still in use today. As such, the organ’s repertoire almost uniquely can show the unbroken development of Western music from the Middle Ages to the present, which is a beautiful and fascinating journey. When you hear the first written piece of keyboard music (c. 1360) and then proceed continuously in chronological order to a piece composed in 2022, anyone—regardless of the depth of your musical knowledge—can start making some amazing connections and truly appreciate the beauty of human expression over a huge span of history and world cultures.

How does the organ you perform on, such as the Murdy Family Organ in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, influence your interpretation and performance of these diverse works?

There are only a handful of organs on which I would want to play a program of such diverse works. The Murdy Family Organ is one because every single aspect of this instrument reflects world-class craftsmanship and great intentionality, which translates into exquisite beauty in every note. Even though, for example, a trumpet or flute stop on the Basilica organ may be particularly suited to a certain national school of a certain period, in the end it somehow doesn’t really matter, because every pipe is beautiful and has a unique character, which enables all kinds of music to sound fantastic.

Your program begins with the earliest written keyboard music and concludes with a 2022 composition. What do you find most compelling about performing such a broad chronological range in one concert?

My ultimate goal is to show off the many colors and tonal possibilities of the Murdy Family Organ, and to highlight how the organ as an instrument reflects the cultures of the many peoples who built and composed for it. While medieval music is a completely different sound world than that of J.S. Bach or a more recent avant-garde composer like Elisabeth Lutyens, each composer on this program was profoundly inspired by the organ and, in turn, inspired those who heard their music in their time. The benefit of living in 2024 is that we have access to all that repertoire and have wonderful instruments like the Basilica organ that can bring everything to life.

Can you share your approach to interpreting and performing works by iconic composers like J.S. Bach and Charles-Marie Widor, especially when paired with lesser-known or contemporary pieces?

For all music, I analyze each piece in many ways to see how it’s put together. I’m specifically looking for the ways that composers defy what we expect to hear. I once spent a week with an orchestra playing nothing but Handel’s Esther, a beautiful but rather conventional oratorio; during a long drive home, I turned on a recording of Bach’s Mass in B Minor, and even though I know that piece extremely well, my mind was utterly blown! It’s because the harmony, contrapuntal devices, phrase structures, and soundworlds Bach used felt, in comparison to Esther, completely unexpected and therefore fresh. When I’m crafting an interpretation, therefore, I’m looking for moments where it seems like we’re going one direction, but then the composer completely changes course, and then I try to highlight that to the audience, because those moments mean and express something important. I then combine all that with what I have researched about historical performing practices of that composer, and try to allow the listener to experience the music in a way that hopefully expresses what the composer intended, and in a way that would be familiar to them and inspiring to listeners today.

The program includes music by Sor María Clara de Oaxaca and Elisabeth Lutyens, highlighting female composers in the organ tradition. How do you see their contributions shaping the history and future of organ music?

I regularly play the music of women composers, not only because I feel it is important to highlight their brilliant compositions and unique voices, but because I also wish to invite audiences to consider why they’ve never heard of such wonderful music and composers before. When people think about sacred music, especially in the Roman Catholic tradition, they usually imagine male monks chanting and playing the organ—yet there were at least an equal number of nuns in convents throughout the last millennium doing the very same thing! So why does such little music by women throughout history survive? Are we doing everything in our power to make organ playing, composition, and building accessible to everyone today? If that answer is no, then why are we doing that, and how can we make changes to enable every person’s voice to be heard and valued?

What are some of the unique challenges and rewards of performing pieces from vastly different historical periods in one recital?

A program like this requires a substantial knowledge of historical styles, not just in terms of the basics of interpretation—articulation, timing, and tempo—but which stops to select and how to use the organ to reflect the various sound worlds of these composers. An Italian composer from the seventeenth century might ask for a principal stop at one point, and then a French composer several hundred years later might also ask for a principal; the problem is that stop in each period and place probably has a very different sound and possibly function within the entire ensemble of stops in an organ. In general, I don’t tend to think in terms of “I have to use these stops because the composer said so,” but rather “wow, this combination of stops on the Basilica organ is very weird and according to [x, y, and z organ theory treatises] shouldn’t really work… but it sounds great here and is as close as I can get to the relevant historical instrument and will serve the music beautifully.” And when I get it right, it can be truly magical.

The recital features a piece by British composer Caitlin Harrison, written in 2022. How do you approach contemporary compositions differently from older works, and what excites you about performing new music?

I love being able to have conversations with the composers about their music. When the composer is dead (the vast majority of the time in how we program classical music today), we have to undertake a lot of research to figure out what they may have wanted, and in the end we’re usually just taking our best guess. If I can actively collaborate with a composer (as was the case with Caitlin), the composer can use their great skill and creativity to focus on the overall sound/effect they want, and the interpreter can use their expertise of the instrument to help them achieve that.

The idea that the organ can bring about a “vision of eternity” is powerful. How do you convey this sense of timelessness and spiritual depth in your performances?

The great nineteenth century French organist and teacher Charles-Marie Widor famously said, “Organ playing is the manifestation of a will filled with the vision of eternity.” I suspect for him, that vision of eternity probably was closely connected to the Roman Catholic Mass, which theologically is the literal joining of this temporal earth to the eternal heaven. A program of works written for the Catholic Church (or at least are based on plainchant, the ancient music of the Church) over the centuries reflects the idea of eternity in terms of both this theological-liturgical context, and a vast period of history in which every composer attempted to reflect eternity in their time. The organ makes this possible by its very nature; unlike the piano, whose sound decays when the key is depressed, the organ will continue to sound while there is still wind in the instrument, possibly for all eternity.

As an organist, how do you balance technical precision with emotional expression, particularly when playing such a wide variety of styles and eras?

Just as composers favor different techniques of composition over history, so did they grow up learning different kinds of expression. The commonality to everyone is timing and touch, but the nuances of each vary drastically. Recordings are the most accurate way of measuring this, and pinned organ barrel recordings from the eighteenth century survive—the same mechanism as a modern music box except for organs—which famous organists of that period heard and certified sounded like their live playing. Around the turn of the twentieth century, we have recordings on wax cylinders and organ rolls. I try to use these as models along with theoretical writings on the same subject so that the music really sounds appropriate to each period, and also take into account contemporary aesthetics of performance.

Looking ahead, what future projects or pieces are you most excited about, and how do you see your role in continuing the tradition of organ music in both historical and contemporary contexts?

I recently started a Sacred Music Series at St. Gertrude Church in Cincinnati, where I’m Director of Music. Each program in that series features the organ in solo, accompanying, and ensemble contexts, but the repertoire is extremely varied, from late medieval plainchant by St. Hildegard, baroque music from Peru and Brazil, Mozart’s Requiem with a largely unknown but wonderful nineteenth century orchestration, excerpts from Debussy cantatas, jazz-influenced works like Mary Lou Williams’s kaleidoscopic motet St. Martin de Porres, to newly composed pieces. The reality is that organ music and sacred music have pervaded Western society for nearly a millennium now, and as such, their influence can be heard everywhere. The music belongs to everyone, and I think when done well, it is also appealing to everyone. More importantly, it has the power to change people’s hearts, minds, and souls, which contributes to a more beautiful society and world. And if I had to say that my life has contributed to one and only one thing, I hope that would be it.

Christopher Holman’s deep passion for showcasing the organ’s rich history and its role in sacred and contemporary music is evident, and he continues to push the boundaries of the instrument’s expressive power. His commitment to highlighting both renowned and unique voices in the organ tradition demonstrates his dedication to making music accessible and meaningful to all. As he shares the “vision of eternity” through his performances, Holman inspires audiences to appreciate the timeless beauty and spiritual resonance of organ music across the ages.

We hope you enjoyed learning more about Christopher Holman and his artistic journey. Join us in attending his recital this November!