A Night of Music and Meaning: My Senior Recital Experience

I still can’t believe the day is almost here—my senior recital. Just writing that feels surreal. This moment marks the culmination of years of dreaming, working, growing, and hoping. It’s more than a requirement for graduation; it’s the realization of a calling, the embodiment of a journey that has shaped me as both an artist and a human being. I wanted to take a moment to share the heart behind this recital with you—the music, the meaning, the process, and the people who made it possible.

Why these pieces?

I designed this recital as a journey through music that has shaped me—not only as a singer, but as a person. Each set tells a part of that story.

The program opens with Preis der Tonkunst (Praise of Harmony) by Handel, a powerful declaration of music’s emotional and spiritual force. It celebrates music as something capable of lifting sorrow, softening hearts, and stirring joy. To me, this cantata is the perfect opening: it honors music itself—what has given my life purpose—and sets the tone for the entire recital.

Next comes Chants d’Auvergne (Series III) by Joseph Canteloube—a set of French folk songs that transform daily life into something poetic and deeply moving. This particular series isn’t performed very often, and I was drawn to how it highlights the beauty and charm of ordinary people and tasks. Canteloube elevates the voices of shepherds, spinners, and lovers, turning their routines into vivid musical portraits. These songs reminded me that magic can be found in simplicity—that there’s wonder in the everyday if we stop to listen.

Monica’s Waltz from Menotti’s The Medium allowed me to dive into emotional complexity and theatricality—bringing fantasy, innocence, and longing into one vivid aria. Monica imagines a mute boy’s love-filled words, and the piece gradually blurs the line between play and truth. It’s a whirlwind of expression that’s both challenging and incredibly fulfilling to perform.

Then, the music of Jaime León, one of Colombia’s most beloved composers, became the heart of the art song portion of the program. A year ago, I started asking how I could represent my heritage through this recital. That question led me to León, and I was immediately captivated by his art songs. They’re deeply human and intimate—so much so that I felt compelled to connect them with the people I love most.

I dedicate El Columpio to my nephew Agustín. I hope he always swings high in imagination, dares to dream boldly, and speaks with a voice that changes the world for the better.

Pequeña, pequeñita is for my father, who has never stopped supporting me in my journey as a musician. I know I’m grown now, but for him, I will always be his “little, very little one.” His unwavering love has grounded me through everything.

To close the program, I chose a set of Colombian bambucos—a genre that blends folk tradition with deep emotional resonance. These pieces are a tribute to love and identity in all its forms.

Ojos de yo no sé qué, composed by Lucho Vergara, is dedicated to my husband David, who has never let me give up. He dreams my dreams higher than I can, lifts me with encouragement, and inspires me to become the best version of myself. He is my calm, my strength, and my joy.

The other two bambucos, La Ruana (by José Macías and Luis Carlos González) and Muy Antioqueño (by Héctor Ochoa Cárdenas), are dedicated to my beloved Colombia—the country that raised me from age five to sixteen. Though I wasn’t born there, I carry its music, language, and spirit in my soul. Through these songs, I honor its beauty, culture, and the deep roots I feel every time I sing in its voice. All three bambucos in this program were arranged by Leonardo Tamayo Buitrago, whose work masterfully bridges traditional Colombian instrumentation with classical vocal performance. His arrangements brought these songs to life in a concert setting while honoring their folkloric essence.

Why is this recital so meaningful?

This recital is deeply personal—it’s the realization of a lifelong dream. Since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to be a professional singer. But getting here hasn’t been easy.

There were countless moments of fear and self-doubt—times I questioned whether this was truly God’s purpose for me. College came with invisible struggles, the kind not everyone sees. And yet, I can say with full honesty: I am here only because God gave me the strength to persevere, and because He placed people in my life who reminded me of my purpose when I wanted to give up. This recital is a celebration of that faith and that perseverance.

This recital has been a full year in the making. It began with repertoire suggestions from my professor, Jeanette Thompson, and slowly grew into something deeply personal. One of the biggest challenges was finding the right instrumentalists—especially for the Colombian set. I reached out to people for months, but the real breakthrough came when I posted on social media. My friends in Colombia shared the post widely, and soon enough, I connected with the perfect musicians: Alvaro Bermudez, a brilliant Colombian-American guitarist and composer, and Luz Angela Jimenez, a renowned tiplista from Colombia. Their artistry brings so much authenticity and soul to this music.

The Handel ensemble was also a gift—made up of incredible students and collaborators from UM: Richard Tijerino and Justin Kinchen on violin, Ana-Sofia Canchola on viola, and Sam Tripp on cello. I’m so grateful to them for lending their talents to the opening work.

My dear friend and pianist Aidan Wahlmann has been by my side through it all. His musicianship, patience, and sense of humor have carried me through countless rehearsals. I couldn’t have asked for a better collaborator.

But my favorite moment? The first full rehearsal with both ensembles. After working for months with just Aidan and my professor, suddenly I was in a room with these incredibly gifted musicians—strings for Handel, and Luz and Alvaro for the Colombian set. I was nervous and overjoyed. The sound, the energy, the unity… it was pure magic. In that moment, I felt everything I had dreamed of come to life.

The full circle moment

A favorite memory from the journey

Getting into the University of Miami was something I once saw as out of reach. I didn’t know how to apply, how to pay for school—until my high school choir teacher, Mrs. Greene, guided me through it all with such generosity and belief in me.

When I arrived at Frost, I had a lot to catch up on. I had barely taken private voice lessons, and my musicianship skills were behind. I spent a year in a music theory boot camp and dove headfirst into four intense years of study. I also worked outside of school to support myself financially.

At the same time, I was learning how to take care of myself. During my second year, I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, began treating chronic insomnia, and started recognizing the anxiety that had often overwhelmed me. Life never slowed down—but I learned how to move with it instead of being swept away by it.

This journey wasn’t just academic or musical—it was holistic. It taught me how to care for myself, how to ask for help, how to stay rooted in faith and community. And now, to see this program come to life with the amount of detail and heart it’s taken… I am really, truly proud of myself.

This recital isn’t just a performance. It’s a symbol of how far I’ve come. It reflects every lesson, every struggle, and every quiet triumph that brought me from unsure beginnings to this moment of clarity and joy. I am proud of the artist I’ve become—and even more so, of the woman I’ve grown into.

More than anything, I hope you feel something real. Whether it’s joy, nostalgia, hope, or peace—I hope the music reaches you. I hope you hear the stories behind the songs. I hope you feel the love, the gratitude, the growth.

This recital is my way of saying: here I am, fully, sincerely. And this is what music can do when you follow it with your whole heart.

Thank you for being part of this moment with me.

What I hope you take away