“Standing inside a storm” is how some theorists have described Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3, and on a moody spring night in Toronto, that metaphor feels almost literal. Inside Roy Thomson Hall, the air shifts as the Russian composer’s music gathers its force and intensity until it feels less like watching a live performance and more like inhabiting an inner state of mind. That’s the power of music—not just to transcend, but to transform the space we share.
At the centre of tonight’s concert is STILL HERE, a world première of a new commission from Cree composer Cris Derksen. A JUNO-nominated, internationally celebrated cellist and composer originally from Treaty 8 in Northern Alberta, Derksen is known for braiding musical influences that are not often paired together, from classical and hip-hop to folk and dance or Indigenous and rock. She has collaborated with orchestras across the country, including the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra, the Thunder Bay Symphony Orchestra, and now, the Toronto Symphony Orchestra.
Listening to STILL HERE, I’m struck by how naturally it holds place alongside Rachmaninoff. It carries a similar emotional weight, but its musical arc is grounded in reality; anchored by the lived experiences of Indigenous clients at Toronto’s Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH). Derksen’s “storm” isn’t imagined, but real; carried and endured. It makes me think about the place I’m sitting in. This isn’t just a concert hall, but a platform for stories to extend beyond its walls.
STILL HERE was created through the Art of Healing initiative, a collaboration between CAMH and the Toronto Symphony Orchestra that brings First Nations, Inuit, and Métis clients together with professional musicians to co-create original compositions. Through weekly sessions, participants share stories and experiment with sound, culminating in new orchestral works performed at Roy Thomson Hall. The process unfolds collaboratively, with lived experience guiding the music as much as formal composition.
The result is a piece that feels intimate and expansive. Dedicated, pointedly, “to all who feel alone surrounded by others,” the composition carries a quiet immediacy, reminding the audience that resonant music often begins with a human voice. “This project reconnected me to a sense of moral grounding,” says Derksen. “Who do we notice beyond ourselves? Who gets to be seen? This piece is about our shared humanity and the space we inhabit together.”
That sense of shared space extends beyond the stage. At the heart of the initiative is Shkaabe Makwa, CAMH’s first Indigenous-led, hospital-based centre established to improve the health of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis across Ontario. Grounded in Indigenous ways of knowing, the program replaces clinical distance with ceremony, sound, and collective reflection. Participants are understood not solely through diagnosis, but as whole people with deep connections to place, family, and community.
“This is what reconciliation looks like in practice, where Indigenous voices are not just included, but leading,” says Rebecca Mador, Director of Strategy and Planning with Shkaabe Makwa. Within this structure, Shkaabe Makwa staff and clients work together with an Indigenous composer and TSO musicians to co-design a program rooted in Indigenous values, one where music, culture, and clinical care intersect, making Art of Healing both a reconciliation-focused space and a model for community-based mental health support.
As Nicole Balm, Senior Director of Education and Community at the TSO, explains, the goal is to create a “space for clients to find belonging with others outside of their diagnosis where music can offer connection and reprieve.” This isn’t simply about presenting great works. It’s about redefining what a concert hall can hold: sound, yes, but stories and human vulnerability, too. “In bringing these stories into a public performance, the program restores voice and agency in spaces that have historically excluded Indigenous experiences,” concurs Mador.
By the time the program turns to Symphony No. 9 by Dmitri Shostakovich, the atmosphere has morphed again. The brightness and wit of the piece feel disorienting after the emotional magnitude of what came before it. Then I remind myself that under its cheerful façade and bouncy rhythm lies a much more complicated composition. Music isn’t meant to be explicit. It’s layered, contradictory, and full of complexity—just like us and the experiences we carry inside. And that may be the quiet achievement of Art of Healing. The audience doesn’t just hear a performance; they encounter the people and stories that shaped it. “Real Torontonians and real stories went into making the music you’re hearing. It’s a moment to remember who we’re surrounded by in this city we call home,” says Balm.
Written by Lara Ceroni, a writer, editor, and social strategist whose work has appeared in ELLE Canada, The Globe and Mail, National Post, FASHION, and more.
The TSO's Education and Community Engagement programs are generously supported by the Barrett Family Foundation