Tribute from Chloe Hong

Chloe Hong, Colorado Symphony

When I think about the person who helped me fall in love with music again, I think of Mr. Krosnick. He wasn’t just a teacher. He was a guide, a steady presence, and someone whose wisdom stayed with you long after the lesson ended. In the moments when I was struggling to view myself in a positive way as a musician or person, he supported me. He saw something in me I couldn’t see and he held onto it until I was ready to believe in it too.

He had a way of listening that made you feel like what you played mattered, even when it wasn’t perfect. He never flinched at mistakes. Instead, he leaned into them, helping me understand what they were trying to say. For him, music wasn’t about precision. It was about honesty, expression, and showing up as you are, even in uncertainty.

There was one lesson I still think about. I’d been caught in a familiar loop of self-criticism and doubt, convinced I didn’t belong. I don’t remember exactly what I played, only that I didn’t want to be heard. When I finished, I braced myself for critique. But he just looked at me for a moment and said, “You don’t have to earn your right to play. You already have it.”

He was the wisest person I’ve ever known and he had a way of making you feel both safe and seen. Every conversation with him felt like it mattered. To this day, I still hear his voice when I play - his insights, his encouragement, the way he challenged me to listen more closely, to care more deeply. I will always carry that with me. I’m eternally grateful that I got to be his student in this lifetime.