Gesture, Clarity, and the Baton: Rethinking the Choral Toolbox

There’s a quiet assumption in many corners of the choral world: the baton is for orchestras. Choirs, on the other hand, are led with hands—bare, expressive, and direct. I understand where this tradition comes from. I’ve studied it. I’ve practiced it. And yet, I don’t accept it as a rule.

Because for me—and for many like me—the baton is not a crutch or a convention. It is an extension of the body, a focused channel of intention. I conduct everything with a baton, whether I’m leading a chamber choir, a student chorus, or a full orchestra. Not to assert dominance, not to look more “professional,” but because the baton allows me to speak more clearly, more precisely, and more fully in the language of gesture.

Clarity Is Not the Enemy of Expression

There’s a myth that the baton somehow dulls expression. That it reduces the nuance of gesture, or creates emotional distance. But that only happens if you treat the baton like a pointer. I don’t. I treat it like a brush—and in the right hand, a brush can shape not only time but tone, color, vowel, and breath.

I’ve worked with choruses that needed structure. I’ve worked with ensembles that responded to subtlety. In both cases, I found that the baton could do what my hand alone sometimes could not: offer clarity without sacrificing warmth. It becomes an extension of my nervous system—a tool that sharpens my intent rather than limits it.

A Lesson from the Audition Trail

During my auditions for master’s conducting programs, I was interviewing a prospective teacher who is a respected choral conductor and had completed her doctoral training at a major university. In the course of our conversation—part of my own discernment about where and how I wanted to study—she shared something that stayed with me even to this day:

In the early years of her career, she conducted choirs exclusively with a baton.
That’s right—choirs, not orchestras.

Hearing that from someone deeply rooted in choral pedagogy affirmed and liberated something inside myself I’ve felt for a long time:
Our tools should match our convictions, not our categories.
The baton isn’t reserved for orchestras or ensembles of massive proportions. It’s reserved for clarity, discipline, and expressivity—qualities that belong just as much in the choral realm as anywhere else.

Conducting as a Unified Practice

I’ve had some orchestral training, but most of my work has been choral. Still, I see no reason to bifurcate my technique. I don’t want to be a different conductor depending on who’s in the room. I want my conducting practice to be whole—a single vocabulary of gesture, applicable to any ensemble, rooted in musical structure and sacred intention.

That’s why I use a baton. Not because I’m trying to be “orchestral,” but because I believe every ensemble deserves clarity, consistency, and craftsmanship. The baton, for me, reinforces all three.

A Call to Fellow Conductors

I’m not arguing that everyone must use a baton. But I am saying that more conductors—especially in choral contexts—should reconsider it as a powerful, expressive, and deeply pedagogical tool. If you’ve written it off because you were told it’s “not choral,” maybe it’s time to revisit that narrative.

Let the baton become what it always has the potential to be: an instrument of precision, connection, and embodied artistry.

Sacred Invitation to the Listening Artist

If this perspective stirred something in you—if you’re rethinking your own approach to gesture and leadership—then I invite you to explore more.
Download Musical Building Blocks: A Sacred Primer for the Listening Musician—a free guide to hearing structure with the soul, not just the ear.
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