Last month's column focused on the deep biological roots of the arts. Early parent/child interactions activate innate brain processes that enhance our definitive social and motor capabilities, our search for meaning in what we do, and our consequent technological and aesthetic elaborations of objects and events we consider important. The arts are an important by-product of all this activity.

The large audience at last night's Oregon Bach Festival concert responded appreciatively to Beethoven's Sixth Symphony (Pastorale) and Penderecki's Flute Concerto. Almost 200 years separated the composition of the two dissimilar works, but the audience related to the time span and compositional differences as easily as folks do when they walk from the ancient to the modern art galleries in a museum. Creativity takes many forms that we can appreciate.

Most already knew the simple story line of the melodic Sixth Symphony—from a family's pleasant arrival at a bucolic setting to the thunderstorm to the resultant wet but cleansed environment. Conversely, the sharp dissonance and wild melodies of the flute concerto sparked and spread a multitude of responses through the audience. Beethoven foreshadowed the story that emerged in my mind, and so I imagined the sharp cries and frantic scrambling of a frightened child lost during a family forest outing. The concert thus helped me recall happy and fearful events at family outings. It was a mix of biological and psychological bonding, movement, meaning, and elaboration—the heart of the arts that nurture the soul.

I was comforted by the melodic familiarity of the Sixth Symphony, but I was stimulated by the risks the flautist took during the flute concerto. The arts embody both, as in the choreographed and improvisational movements of a ballet. Was it necessary for us to purchase tickets to experience such feelings (and with two thousand others)?