“As the last note fades, I have, as I often do with quieter songs, closed my eyes and can still feel the guitar’s resonance. When I open my eyes, twenty tearful faces are looking back at me. I am struck by the emotional impact of this moment like almost no other. I am sitting in a circle with perhaps twenty women in a women’s prison in Budapest, giving a small solo concert. For more than thirty years, my husband and I have made music together, a journey that has taken us around the world. We have performed before millions at World Youth Day in Rio de Janeiro, as well as for prominent public figures, heads of government, Nobel Prize winners/laureates and the Pope, and at festivals and conferences across the globe. But rarely do I feel so directly how this emotional power connects us women – no matter who we are outside these four walls, here and now …“
Judy, born in London, grows up in Barbados from the age of two. At nineteen, she returns to London where she studies psychology for eight years. Music runs alongside all of this, but not as a planned profession, but as something personal, something that simply belongs to her. At a concert in Germany, she meets Patrick.
Judy and Patrick are interested in my IMMIGRANTS project from the very beginning, helping me make contacts, and Judy makes it clear from the outset that she is happy to be part of it.
The time in between is wonderful and full of variety! Together we celebrate the 10th International Summer Festival in Alpen, where I grill sausages and take a few photographs. We meet regulary at “Café International”, opposite the Protestant church in the village. And as part of a tree-planting challenge, supported by many of our international friends, we plant two small trees together in Alpen.
My wife and I are guests at Judy and Patrick’s tour program “Life Is Not Black and White” in the small town church in Dinslaken. The contrast in their family histories could hardly be greater: on the one hand, there are Judy’s ancestors, who were forcibly brought to Barbados as enslaved Africans; on the other, there is Patrick, the son of a child born under the Nazi Lebensborn program — something he himself only discovered as an adult.
In September, we meet for the first time as a choir group, preparing for a performance in December. At first I have no idea what it is all about and want to accompany the whole thing photographically. Soon I discover how much I enjoy singing together and realise that taking part matters more than the professionalism of one’s own voice. Photography moves into the background, singing is infectious.
At the next meeting there are more people. A second choir joins us, our location, Judy and Patrick’s small rehearsal room is filled to bursting. Only later do I learn that Judy and Patrick are also rehearsing the songs with schools in Alpen and Xanten. In the end, it becomes clear to me too what we are actually rehearsing for: we will all perform together at the closing concert for the 50th anniversary of our district of Wesel in Xanten Cathedral!
Patrick asks me whether I will sing along and also take a few photos. Of course, I’m happy to!
Xanten Cathedral in December 2025: nave and side aisles filled with 600 seats, every last one taken, people standing in the aisles all the way to the exits of the cathedral.
We – a choir made up of people from 20 countries – together with pupils from three schools, accompanied by Judy’s band, a cello ensemble and the district’s new project orchestra, sing songs for peace and humanity, of freedom and democracy for our audience. I almost forget about taking photographs. When we strike up the final “Feliz Navidad”, no one stay seated, the whole cathedral stands, singing, laughing and clapping with us.
There’s a catch in my throat. I get goosebumps. I look around and see the same feeling reflected in other eyes, and realise that I am not the only one moved by this moment.
Once again I am amazed by what music can do.
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