Sarah Lyn Pearson

I attribute my success to tenacity and a deep sense of purpose. I’ve never been someone who gives up easily, but more importantly, I believe my work is part of something larger than myself.

My goal is to help shape a future where orchestral music feels relevant, accessible, and reflective of the world we live in today. That vision is grounded in my faith, my upbringing, and the legacy of my family—it’s something that has always guided me and continues to sustain me, especially in the more challenging moments.

And there are challenges. Building and sustaining an organization requires constant problem-solving—whether it’s finding musicians, securing funding, or creating opportunities with limited resources. I’ve dedicated years of work to this, often without financial compensation, because I believe deeply in the mission. For me, it’s not just about where things are now—it’s about what they can become. And I’m committed to seeing that vision through.

One of the most meaningful pieces of advice I’ve ever received came from my mentor, Bob Bernhardt, who would often tell me: ‘Don’t forget to breathe. What I’ve come to understand over time is that he wasn’t just talking about breath—he was talking about presence, awareness, and control.

In conducting, and in leadership more broadly, there’s constant pressure—expectation, responsibility, decision-making in real time. It’s easy to become overwhelmed or reactive. But learning to pause, to ground yourself, and to stay internally steady changes everything. And that has stayed with me, especially in the most challenging moments of my career. Because leadership isn’t about eliminating pressure—it’s about how you carry it.

For me, ‘breathing’ has become a discipline. It’s how I stay focused, how I support the people around me, and how I lead with intention rather than urgency. That ability to center yourself—it’s what allows you to step into difficulty with clarity and strength.

I would tell young women entering conducting that we are stepping into a moment where leadership is evolving—and the arts have the power to lead that shift. We’re not just conducting music—we’re redefining what leadership looks like on the podium.

So first: keep showing up. Don’t give up on yourself, even when it’s difficult. My mentor, JoAnn Falletta, always emphasized the importance of developing a thick skin. Rejection is inevitable in this field. I’ve faced it throughout my career—but I’ve learned that not every ‘no’ is a loss. Sometimes rejection is protection—and redirection toward what you’re truly meant for.

But purpose also requires discipline. This work demands focus, preparation, and a willingness to do the hard, daily grind of becoming better. And it matters—because music is one of the most powerful ways we tell human stories. We don’t just conduct concerts—we create experiences that invite people in, that make them feel seen, and that connect communities.

So stay committed. Stay grounded. And trust that your voice belongs here.

One of the biggest challenges in the field right now is rebuilding audience engagement—especially with younger generations. Coming out of the pandemic, orchestras lost a lot of momentum at a time when many were just beginning to reach new peaks in audience development. While live performances have returned, audience habits have shifted. People became accustomed to the convenience of digital access, and we’re now facing the challenge of inviting them back into the concert hall. But within that challenge lies a tremendous opportunity. We have the chance to redefine what the concert experience feels like—not just as something you attend, but something you truly experience. For me, that means creating deeper points of connection before, during, and after the performance.

Through my Inside the Music program in Arkansas, I’ve focused on building a 360-degree concert experience. Students and audiences are introduced to the music ahead of time through listening materials, composer insights, and interviews, so they arrive feeling prepared and invested. We also focus intentionally on middle and high school students—because that’s a critical moment when they’re already engaged in music, but often disconnected from the professional orchestral experience. Through mentorship, our principal players work directly with students in schools, helping prepare them for auditions and building relationships. Then we bring them into the concert hall—not just as audience members, but as participants in the experience—often alongside their families. Because when you engage a student, you also engage a household.

Ultimately, I believe the opportunity in front of us is to shape a future where orchestral music feels relevant, accessible, and reflective of the world we live in—and where audiences don’t just attend, but feel a sense of belonging.

The values that matter most to me are connection, intentionality, and care. I believe that how you lead in your professional life should be a reflection of how you live your personal life. For me, that starts at home—with my family—and carries into every space I step into.

I’m intentional about creating environments where people feel supported, valued, and seen. Because when people feel cared for, they show up differently—they engage more deeply, they contribute more fully, and they grow. I also value discipline and personal responsibility. Impact doesn’t happen by accident—it comes from showing up consistently and doing the work.

I want others to see that while the path may not be easy, it is possible with commitment and purpose. At the heart of everything I do is a belief in collaboration. I don’t see leadership as standing apart—I see it as bringing people together. Inviting others to the table, giving them a voice in the process, and building something collectively—that’s where real impact happens.