By CHRISTOPHER MADSEN

At the inception of "The Jazz Influence," the panel discussion that took place in Morse Hall on November 14, the low-ceilinged space normally reserved for student recitals was disappointingly only half-full, lending an unexpected echo effect to the voice of the panel's moderator, liberal arts faculty member Renée Baron, whose introduction seemed to resonate down the deep corridors of jazz history through which the distinguished panelists would be walking us for the next few hours.

But as time went by, the hall filled to expected capacity, as quite a good-sized (and, as we would discover later, well-informed) audience showed up. By the time we reached the question-and-answer session at the end, it was obvious that we were in the company of an audience worthy of the insights of panelists Greta Berman, Farah J. Griffin, Jürgen Heinrichs, and Joseph McLaren. But first, to start the evening off, President Joseph W. Polisi opened with his typically inspirational and profound remarks about jazz at Juilliard, speaking about how the inclusion of jazz at the School serves to enrich our community and our art. "I can't imagine Juilliard without jazz," he concluded, effectively reinforcing why he has become the beloved president he is today.

Jazz's all-encompassing and boundary-crossing nature is reflected in the varied works of the visual artists and writers who have been inspired by it.

The organizers of the event included Laurie Carter, executive director of jazz studies; Alison Scott-Williams, director of educational outreach; President Polisi; and Dr. Baron, who served as moderator for the evening. They had searched for a cross-section of panelists who could effectively demonstrate just how far-reaching the influence of jazz is. As a jazz musician, I was particularly struck by the fact that these people were not practitioners of the music, but they have devoted as much effort to studying the same music that I love from a completely different angle, almost viewing it from afar while we as musicians are inside the music looking out. Not only that, but we musicians often discuss how jazz affects and is affected by other forms of music, be it classical or various forms of pop or folk music. Very rarely do we talk among ourselves about how jazz has influenced literature, iconography, or German painters of the 1920s, which is what the first speaker, Jürgen Heinrichs of Seton Hall University's art history department, began the evening examining.

Dr. Heinrichs spoke almost exclusively about jazz's effects on German visual artists such as Otto Dix, Max Beckmann, Paul Grunwaldt, and others during Berlin's "Golden Twenties," in which jazz played a central role. Like the other panelists would do, he spoke from a text that he wrote on the subject, but his presentation was accompanied by a slide show to allow him to illustrate what he was describing. He pointed out the differences between artists like Dix, Beckmann, and George Grosz, and artists who focused on superficial aspects of jazz and continually used symbols such as the presence of African-Americans, the saxophone, and the Charleston dance step. These paintings are intriguing but tend not to shed light on how jazz really affected day-to-day life, he said. Other painters such as Paul Grunwaldt or anonymous photographs attempted to portray visually the deeper aspects of the music, such as the blues and the rapidly shifting harmonic sequences, to provide a more accurate portrayal of jazz's effect on German life in the 1920s. This reminded me of the duality of jazz; it's entertaining on the surface, but it is the artistic traits of the music, revealed only upon further study, that serve to draw us in and transform jazz from folk art or entertainment to a fine art.

The second panelist was Joseph McLaren, who is associate professor of English at Hofstra University. Dr. McLaren chose to focus on a figure who was a trumpet player but transcended his instrument as well as his music: the great Louis Armstrong, who forever helped to shape not only jazz but American life in the 20th century and beyond. Dr. McLaren explained that the baby-boom generation of the 1960s had been reluctant to identify with Armstrong because of his extreme duality, but now we have a chance to reclaim him and learn from the lessons he presented through his music and life.

So much of Armstrong's persona was (and continues to be) misunderstood; the wide grin and gravelly voice of his entertainer side was a kind of ironic counterpoint for what he really stood for. For example, during the 1950s, Armstrong made unfavorable comments about the Eisenhower administration's unwillingness to push desegregationist policy. This is an entirely different person from the jolly entertainer with whom we normally associate him. The issue of what lies beneath was brought to mind again as I remembered the opening chapter of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man, in which the protagonist listens to Armstrong and finds himself brought deep down into the social context of the music through the course of a hallucinogenic journey into the undertones of Armstrong's art.

The third and final guest speaker was Farah J. Griffin, director of the Institute for Research in African-American Studies and professor of English and comparative literature at Columbia University. She chose to address a very specific topic: how are black female writers portraying women and jazz culture in their fiction, particularly when women share lives and/or living space with the musicians? Of course, this question yields a variety of answers, depending on what you read or whom you ask. She demonstrated a variety of examples, from writers who clearly saw women as dispensable accessories to the jazz protagonists' complex lives, to writers such as Toni Cade Bambara and Sherley Anne Williams, who saw the male musician and the female counterpart as equals. One particularly visual sequence was described in Bambara's "Medley," wherein a bass player and his female companion play a duet as metaphor for their relationship. The bassist holds down the foundation and allows her to be who she is with a complete sense of freedom, while grounded to his pulse at the same time. This struck me as a beautiful way to look at relationships in general, musician or not.

Greta Berman provided an insightful response to the panelists, commenting on how she was reminded of jazz's all-encompassing and boundary-crossing nature, echoing President Polisi's sentiments about how well jazz fits in at this institution. Her remarks allowed me to ponder the very nature of jazz and its transcendental qualities. While the discussion was enlightening to all, jazz musicians especially need to attend these types of events, because they are similar to a sermon at church for us. At a spiritual meeting, you're reminded of why it is you do what you do, and you're lifted out of the everyday, occasionally mundane aspects of your existence by an enlightened thinker who reminds you of why your religion is so worth participating in. When we as jazz musicians attend live concerts or healthy discussions such as this one, we are reminded of why our music is so special and worthy of our devotion.

Christopher Madsen, who earned an artist's diploma in jazz last May, is the jazz studies performance coordinator.