By Ari Beck
I open the clear glass door. Music and creativity flood my ears. During the day, Thompson Hall is filled with chatter, smiles, and music of all kinds. This beige, stone building belongs to the campus of Judson University. This particular building is neither tall nor large, but it is about to burst at the seams with creativity. Creativity is the heart of Thompson Hall. Students come here to write music, work on podcasts, and become writers. The potential is limitless in this lively environment.
At night, there is usually silence. Occasionally, you can hear the soft sound of a student practicing the piano, guitar, violin, or even the drums. Down the winding stairs and in the tiled basement, Thompson has many little practice rooms. Each room holds a piano. All the rooms are a different color. The one I like most is in the back corner, painted a dark brick red. It’s one of my favorite places to go. I use that room as an escape from the outside world, where I can practice my music. In the evening, when the cream-colored basement is nearly deserted, I head to my beloved practice room. I work on my acoustic guitar skills, while the piano sits there quietly listening. Worship music floods the room, even though I pretend the brown door conceals all sound. After all, I don’t want anyone to hear me play a wrong chord. Waves of peace wash over the building when music is played. Stress disappears, and we are left with the peace of stunning melodies.
Studio A is a practice room where we store expensive recording equipment. It’s here that students are welcomed to become artists. The studio invites college kids to come in and record the songs they have worked hard to create. They can record instruments along with vocals. The technology allows the blossoming artists to blend their songs and make them flow together. Studio A gives students the opportunity to be more than a young adult in music classes. This is a place where they can become stars. This spot in Thompson Hall encourages the flourishing and growth of young creators.
The welcoming lounge is almost always crowded with students who come to finish their homework or connect with their classmates. It is a place of calm, a place of debrief, and a place to grow. The long wooden table is home to hard workers who aspire to be the best they can be. The royal blue woven couches are a place for students to sit and chat. Sometimes, in the mid-afternoon, Thompson is almost quiet, but if you listen hard enough, you might just be able to hear the sounds of muffled singing or piano playing. In this place, we are friends. We hold open the door for each other. We take the time to have conversations. We laugh often.
Friends and faculty members pace up and down the speckled carpet. The booming voice of Dr. Warren Anderson is almost consistently present in the Thompson building. There are other noises in this building apart from the beautiful music. Upon entering, you pass all the colorful pictures on the white walls, and before you enter a classroom, you will hear many hello’s and how are you’s. It is difficult to feel unwelcome in this considerate place. The jingle of keys, the sloshing of water bottles, the zippering of backpacks, furious typing, and the consistent laughter fill the rooms. There is happiness and calm, with a hint of concentration in the midst of pounding drums. Opening and closing of doors. Loud chatter and quiet whispers. It’s almost never silent, but the noise that clutters it is filled with peace.
Focused students walk in with their instruments in black cases, determined and ready to practice. Thompson Hall is a place of creative perfection. Dark velvet speakers and lanky cords are carried from one brick room to another, ready for rehearsal. Instruments are set up delicately as they patiently wait to be played. Warm air wafts through the cheery building, making it rather steamy (this is not unpleasant during the rough Illinois winters). It is a nice cozy place to hide from the bitter cold. In the main common room, three large windows are like eyes, gazing at the outside world. Raindrops cling to them like tears in the spring, and sun cascades through them whenever it shines in the sky. The common room is a place for the instrumentalist to take a break and relax with fellow classmates. Voices of professors, high and low, drift through the halls as they leave their classrooms.
The dark and light wooden tables in each classroom provide a perfect space for the college kids to work and learn about music, writing, communication, and more. The smaller classrooms have profound acoustics, which help the students not to miss a word that comes from their professor (unless they are on their phone, in which case, there is no hope). Most whiteboards are filled with marked music notes that are drilled into the brain. Thompson may be small, but it pushes students to learn. The concrete stairs and green ivy climbing the tan walls are inviting. The music almost puts people in a trance and draws them in. The music might be peaceful, or it might be booming and powerful (if you’re lucky, you might even catch some opera). It is tough to say what students will hear as they enter this building of harmony.
The spot in Thompson that has the biggest heart for music is the theater, Thulin Auditorium. The orange-brown wood lines the stage in little columns. The stage is not very large, but it is the perfect size for the Judson Theatre department. Rich, dark carpet covers the floor under the plushy, almost knitted looking seats. The popcorn walls and fabric curtains are neutral colors, so that the stage absorbs more light. Bright lights are attached to the creamy ceiling, where they hide till it is their time to shine. There is one bold light that shines in the middle of the stage, blinding whoever is on it. This light is so daring that it covers the audience like a baby in a blanket, and no actor on the stage can see anything but the cocky light.
The theatre is wide and open, but also rather tight. Sound easily flows through the room and cannot escape through the heavy camouflaging doors. Monologues and solos sound fuller in Thulin. The theater brings out the best in songs because the space is not difficult to fill. The choir that practices in Thulin comforts all who inhabit it. The worship that is bravely sung delivers endurance to those who are struggling. The room wraps us up and takes us away from the pain and heartache that lie beyond the masking doors. At this moment, Jesus is fully present in the comforting Thompson building. He is delighted to see a room filled with students lifting up praises to Him as they rehearse for upcoming tours, where they share the wonders of God.
The green room of Thompson is usually deserted. The mirrors wait patiently for someone to look in them. The lights ache to shine, and the costume rack sits with its arms empty. During performances, the green room is filled with lively chatter and nervous jitters. Makeup containers and eye shadow plates with every color lay open on the grey counters. The room has a strong aroma of hairspray and various scents of perfume. Hairpins and rubber bands are scattered all over the place. The cast tries to calm their anxieties by taking shots of energy drinks (obviously, this does nothing for the nerves except maybe to increase them). Before every performance, the cast comes together to pray and lift up the show to God. This act of communication and thankfulness makes Thompson smile.
An aspect of Thompson that makes it feel extra homey is a result of how it received its name. Thompson Hall is named after the remarkable couple, Ed and Alice Thompson. These two were about as opposite as they come. Ed was as eccentric as Professor Harold Hill from The Music Man. He was always bubbly and full of life. Alice, on the other hand, was a put-together perfectionist. She was the rock, the stability. Ed was like a fountain, the energy. Both vocal teachers helped create the central atmosphere that still exists in Thompson today. Their love for music keeps the building alive. Ed would always be the teacher who adored when students added their own touch to songs (which he’d show with the raise of an eyebrow). Alice was more by the book, helping students to learn what was written. The two complemented each other like a harmony to a melody. They balanced each other out. Their forty years of commitment to Judson are seen throughout Thompson Hall. Their spirits keep the building alive, for they are its very heart.
Thompson is a building on the edge of campus. The construction itself is simple and clean. On the outside, it seems like it may almost be dull, but on the inside, it is packed with creativity and life. All the students who walk into the home have ideas just begging to be written down, recorded, played, or sung. This place is a safe haven. A place to be creative, a place to grow, and even a place to make new friends. Music, chatter, and laughter overflow the whitewashed halls of Thompson. Ed and Alice Thompson are the heart of this haven, and they remain alive in the music that fills the space. It’s such a beautiful place, and as the doors close behind me, suddenly, the music is no more.
The Judson Mosaic 