2011: a reflection

Concerts attended: 55
Concerts played in: 42
Bach Preludes and Fugues read through this year so far: 47
Trips out of Melbourne for concerts: 4
 New friends made and experiences of ANAM 2011: priceless

What a year it's been. I never dreamt that this could happen, that I would be asked to audition and come to this institution. I never thought I'd get this amazing opportunity to study with the teacher I wanted to learn with. I never thought I'd have this much motivation to work so hard. I never thought I'd get through THIS much repertoire in one year (and let me tell you, the list is mighty long!). I didn't think that I could sustain that much playing without feeling some sort of physical pain. I never thought some of those people would be my friends, but ta-dah, look, they are! I never thought it'd come full circle in one year - chamber music finals, when it all started with chamber music camp 2010 and the competition a few months later.

But it did all happen. Somehow.

There have been so many highlights (with only a few blips on the radar) of the year. There have been some amazing artists, amazing teachers and people to inspire. There have been some extraordinary works to learn and perform. There have been so many revelations: technical, musical, personal. There have been wonderful colleagues who have encouraged, challenged and been so enjoyable and fun to work with.

It really is a unique place - I have heard so many guests come and say that they've never experienced any other institution quite like it. I'm pretty amazed that pianists are encouraged and even required to undertake lots of chamber music and sonata work with other musicians. I have discovered amazing musical collaborations with some of my colleagues this year and enjoyed getting to know them and their work very intensely in a short space of time. I still sometimes have to pinch myself to make sure this is reality, and that I'm well in it.

This is not to say it's always been easy. On the contrary. There have been times of craziness, where I wanted time to stand still, for it all to go away, to have a body double, as I wondered how I managed to get myself into so many things. Throw in the other stuff of having a part-time job, often-inconsiderate other residents and the stresses of normal life and it got a little bit out of hand. But all those around me were giving, generous, kind and encouraging.

And it's been busy, for sure. I had to make a list of dates with the repertoire for the second half of the year because I couldn't get my head around it, and couldn't figure out what to practice. My arms cradled a large pile of books  that I apparently got lost behind. Just when I thought the pile would decrease, another thing would be added to it. Too often, I think, I said that I'd catch up with friends "when this is all over" but it never seemed to be over until the very end. But I'm one of those people that would like to have no regrets, so I also don't regret working hard this year and getting to know a bunch of other people. This is the journey of life, yes, where we meet different people at different times along the adventure? I only not regret being able to have 400% of time and energy and effort to maintain every relationship to the same degree as I would have liked.

I've learnt how to say 'no' a bit better this year, but it's still a work in progress. I've been given amazing opportunities this year and I've grabbed most of them and run far and fast. Maybe I should have been pickier and choosier about the battles and challenges I wanted to take on - a precedent has now been set! I hope I have the same sort of drive and passion through and beyond next year. I hope I continue to see things as great opportunities, despite it being a bit different, the vibe and personnel changing. 2011 has been a defining year indeed, and one that I'm thankful for.

The back end

So my ANAM year has finished for 2011. I played my last concert for the year on Wednesday at the Hobart Town Hall, and tonight I will be going to the final concert at the MRC. I am feeling quite nostalgic about this group of students with whom I've travelled over the past eleven months, but there is so much other to report on, so let's get cracking on it...



Looking for houses
I decided over the last summer that this would be my last year at Queen's. I wasn't sure how I was going to manage what I knew (and probably didn't anticipate to the extent that it has been!) was going to be a busy year at ANAM and a job that required some weekly commitment and a fluctuating workload according to the season of things. Thus, we commenced our house hunt a number of months ago. K and I decided we would like to live together, and on some sort of chance-like conversation, we also found J and considered him a worthy housemate! First up, I knew from stories of others' experiences that house-hunting is not a particularly pleasant or enjoyable experience, but one that is necessary. I was prepared for that. I was not, however, prepared for what it actually involved. Such ignorance on my part! Where do people learn all these life skills if they're not formally taught or told what they have to do?! Thankfully the other two had their heads screwed on the right way around and were able to navigate the ins and outs of it all. However (to cut a very long story short), in our looking-arounds, J discovered that he had an increasing preference for north of the river, while I discovered an increasing preference for south of the river. My preferences are borne out of the fact that ANAM is in South Melbourne and that while this year has been great (for saving a small though significant amount of money, pursuing a job that looks great on my CV, being in close proximity to some friends, convenience factors, being able to be part of my church community locally), the travel through the city every day, which adds up to about an hour and a half all up, has been quite tiring and cumbersome. And I realise I'm crossing a great divide as I go southwards - it seems akin to crossing the river in Perth, which I will NEVER do..! (Now just watch me break that one..!) But it seems like the logical choice given that I spend most of my time at ANAM and travel time is something I would like to not have to factor in very much of. So over the course of looking online, going to a few inspections, applying for a house in Brunswick, we parted ways as other opportunities came up. I think we parted happily - we are all still friends (yay!) who are scattered a bit more than originally planned. Maybe it'll just mean that we can go to each other's places for dinner or something fun like that. So the big announcement is that I will be a resident in Albert Park next year. It is a studio apartment/granny flat thingy above the garage/workshop at the back of a house owned by a couple whose daughters have since moved out of home. It is a 10min walk from ANAM, in a really nice area (safe, nice people, close to all sorts of things) and I think it will work out well, at least for next year. The only thing that scares me a little is living by myself, but having talked to lots of people about it, the way I figure is that I spend so much time with other people (okay, bar the time alone in a practice room) and working in collaboration with them that the space by myself I think will be good to have - to recharge as an introvert. I am scared, and also looking forward to checking out the area, learning the new locality, finding new places to hang out and visit, going to a different market and the like.

And obviously associated with moving out of Queen's is the end of my job. I've had the role of Director of Music for two years and honestly, it looks pretty good on paper for a first job out of university. When I first took the role, people sounded impressed, but I honestly think that it has sounded better than it actually entails. Hopefully nothing I write will incriminate me here, but in (fairly) brief, I have found it difficult this year to run a concert series with what felt like little administrative help (from organising all the little details of each concert, to being on the door at concerts other than my own, where I had to call in favours from friends, to making sure that the room was clean and set up, often I would do the set-up myself). I've also found living at College this year quite difficult; I think I have found it quite difficult in previous years, but other factors have compelled me to stay. This year I was living facing inwards to the quadrangle, and endured quite a lot of noise - from the gym that would be in use and pumping out awful doof-doof for hours each night, to drunken shenanigans. Try to combine that with a rigorous schedule which would have hopefully seen me sleep between the hours of 11pm and 6.30pm in a regimented way (occasionally those times get skewed, in the direction of less sleep) and College works out to be a terrible place for such discipline. For the frustrations of running a concert series pretty much single-handedly, it has been quite a success, if I may say so myself. The Seraphim Trio concert drew a capacity crowd (with some help from the Development Office). The Beethoven concert I played with E was a great opportunity to play ANAM repertoire in a different setting, to prepare for other recitals, and to test what it'd feel like to play three big Beethoven sonatas back to back (hint: I didn't collapse but was very exhausted...)
Alas, the job is complete and I am hoping the girl that rang me and asked me questions for half an hour does get the job, and that I also have not misrepresented my experience - all the good, bad and ugly of it.



Schools concerts with Richard Gill
One of the annual projects at ANAM is community engagement. These are usually concerts presented to children at local primary schools. After Breath Week earlier in the year, where the ANAM choir was led by Richard Gill, I knew that I had to get myself into the project he was leading later in the year. I learned that if you ask and express interest with your own initiative, sometimes people are willing to consider you for things that they wouldn't have otherwise. So, I laneded myself in this particularly Community Engagement project. We had an introductory session where we talked about why it's important to teach music, what ways we can do it, and things like that. Just as a preface (which is obviously late..!), Richard Gill is a conductor and extraordinary music educator who has spend years tirelessly advocating for music education in schools. He is an inspiring man with so much energy and passion. We were to do two days (only in the morning) at Albert Park Primary School. There was some confusion about how it was all going to run (again cutting long story short) so it was decided that Richard would lead the sessions on the first day and we would see how we went and we could lead it on the second day. We had prepared some repertoire to introduce the children to music and to listening for certain things. Watching Richard interact with the children, and the questions that he asked and they way that he got them to listen and answer was incredible. One of his blanket rules is to demand that they listen, that the music demands their attention, and to expect that children will be intelligent and ask and answer questions the prove this. We did not feel as if we were going to do a job half as good as him the next day...! But we did get there. We probably weren't quite as enthusiastic, or quite as comfortable, but we still managed to do it. It was also pretty cool to see how the children reacted - to spot the ones who obviously had some musical training, the ones who were actively listening, the ones who moved to the music and things like that.


Then it started getting really busy (if it hadn't already been!). A few more projects were added to the pile: the Smalley horn trio (Australian Voices concert), chamber competition (two ensembles), Beethoven in Hobart. The Smalley horn trio is hard. Really cool, and really hard. We started work on it at least a month in advance because we knew it was going to be a challenge. The programme was curated by Ian Munro, the Australian pianist, who made two visits to ANAM in two weeks. I had a couple of lessons with him, which were great. So much to think about, so many ideas! He apologised that I had been allocated the trio, which is apparently far harder than the quintet he was playing. Oh well. I learned lots, worked my butt off for it, and it was an enjoyable experience. In the late projects of the year, I had been in groups that I had not really played with very much, or at all throughout the year. I found that lots of these were actually great collaborations, and am sad that we didn't discover these much earlier in the year to foster these musical relationships (and friendships to boot!). It's a bit of a pity as some of these people are leaving ANAM after this year! :(

My two ensembles somehow found ourselves in the Chamber Competition Final (of five ensembles); the final was about two weeks after the first round - uh-oh! We quickly have to learn the rest of the piece!!! Let me tell you, trying to put together a quartet and sextet with insanely busy people with other projects and classes and commitments is really difficult. The cellist in both of these groups was also the same guy, so as we tried to fit in as many rehearsals as possible to give us the winning edge, I found myself running from rehearsal to rehearsal, often spending five hours before lunch with the same person. Talk about intense! Also switching from composers and styles so quickly proves to be a challenging brain game as my role in each ensemble changes ever so slightly. However busy this period was, it was a very steep learning curve on how to keep on top of things, to manage a bundle of demanding programmes at one time, to be efficient at doing stuff. I wouldn't ask for the workload for more than three or so weeks though - it's physically and mentally draining. So many kind and well-meaning friends would express their concern at my workload only to be met with my reply of, "Well, it's gotta be done!". Sorry for anything that may have come across as rude or unappreciative. The actual Chamber Competition Final was an exciting night. Guaranteed to have a high standard of playing (this is the final, right?!) and to be an evening of great variety and great indecisiveness, I think this night is one of the hightlights of the whole year. Apart from the music and extensive preparation, there is the ever-present question of what we were going to wear. For a big night, we demanded big dresses....! D6 probably would have won an audience prize of best-dressed, as our clarinettist was playing with MSO earlier that night, where the dress code is tails and white tie. To make life much easier for him (not sure how?!), the male half of our sextet donned tails and white tie (they looked so dapper!) and the girls found extravagant dresses to match. In my case, this was the rare pulling-out of the year twelve ball dress, which doesn't fit quite as well, but makes a significant statement. We walked to out whistles and great laughter, as we played the cheesiest piece of 'serious music'. There were moments in the piece where I just felt we let go and let the music happen - it is such an incredible experience to be able to do this: to know your part so well, and to trust the other musicians so much. The talented quartet who played the Ligeti quartet won the competition, which was really exciting! I think something that has really struck me about ANAM this year is how supportive everybody is about everybody else; I feel that there hasn't been that streak of competitiveness that is associated with most high-level training, or even at universities and conservatoriums. There were certificates handed out to students who were finishing their time at ANAM, as well as a few more awards - the recipients were indeed worthy! A fine celebration at the pub followed an incredibly long day. What a relief for it to be over, but also a little sad, as I came to love the people I was playing with, enjoying spending such intense amounts of time with them, and working so decidedly towards something.

But, they say no rest for the wicked! The next morning, I was off to Hobart for another ANAM project. The Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra was having a Beethoven cycle, performing all of the symphonies across a period of a few weeks. As part of the festival, we (ANAM) were to present a total of four free lunchtime concerts of Beethoven's solo and chamber works. Each day featured one of the pianists and their associated artist/s. I was playing the second and the fourth concerts (one week apart - I flew down twice): Piano Sonata No. 17 in d minor 'Tempest' Op. 31 No. 2, the 7th violin sonata in c minor Op. 30 No. 2, the 5th cello sonata Op. 102 No. 2 and the 'Ghost' Trio Op. 70 No. 1 (heck, I hope all those opus numbers are correct!). Lots of Beethoven to round off my ANAM year - a tiny bit like how I opened it, and worked through it...
We were put up in the Old Woolstore Apartment Hotel, which is quite a nice hotel at one end of the CBD, and right across the road from the ABC/TSO studios. How handy! We were given a studio apartment EACH (Seriously, I'm a student. I sort of was expecting, and totally would have been fine, to share, but no!). I walked in to a large room and thought, "Is this all for ME?!?!" I was thankful to be staying for two nights! We wandered down to Salamanca for a quick lunch, then had a bit of rehearsal/practice time in the afternoon. We went again to Salamanca to Cargo's for dinner; it was a warm balmy night and so there were quite a few people out. Pizzas there are excellent, and there is much choice. We finished up with gelate in excellent delectable flavours. The next morning, I went to meet S for breakfast. She was in Hobart for the AISOI programme, which was cool, because we had actually (re-)met two years prior at the same programme when we were next-door neighbours at the student apartments. We struck up a friendship, played in a trio together the following year, and have since become great friends. It was lovely to see S again after a while. She is really good at keeping in touch, even though we don't see each other as regularly as we used to (maybe two times a week for rehearsals). I then wandered off after breakfast (and buying a delicious-looking lamington) to the Hobart Town Hall to have a brief rehearsal at the venue where I'd be performing the next day.

It is a lovely room, quite sizeable. The room is mostly light blue, with great decoration and detail. The stage is raked, which makes it quite trippy, considering that there is also a very lovely Steinway 9-foot piano on stage. I am one of those people that like things to be parallel and perpendicular and straight and this caused a bit of disconcern. However, it is a beautiful instrument to play. The Town Hall had also been filled with seating, about 300 or so chairs. When I first walked in, my immediate thought was, "We're never going to fill it! So many chairs!", probably based on the audience size that come to the lunchtime concerts at South Melbourne. However, when I arrived at about 12.45pm later to watch the first concert, the hall was already about half full, and taking a seat that I thought was going to be quite near the back (about three-quarters the way down), people kept streaming in. The first concert went really well, and it was delightful to hear such joyful Beethoven's music can be. A celebratory drink and lunch followed the concert before another rehearsal with K for our concert the next day. We went to Fish Frenzy that night for dinner, which was great - K and I had vowed to eat seafood while in Tasmania (because it is so good, and Tasmania is known to have great seafood and produce). The Fish Frenzy on the menu was a large portion of fish, calamari and scallops, accompanied by chips. What a feast! We rolled home after a good feed in preparation for our concert the next day. It went pretty well; the audience was bigger than the previous day (apparently the audience size kept growing. By the last concert, which I played in the following week, the hall was full and there were people sitting in the little seats down the sides in the bays.) However, all I could think while playing was, "Oh no, that's going on record!" The concerts were recorded by the ABC in Hobart and will be aired in the period between Christmas and New Year. I am hoping that they also recorded some of my rehearsal and can edit!! A celebratory lunch and drink again and then it was to the airport to fly back to Melbourne. A delay prolonged our trip home after a really long day, but it was nice to know that we would be coming back to Hobart within the week!

With only one concert left, I was pretty excited. There have been very few times this year where I have only had to work on one programme - usually my time must be divided between practicing my own repertoire, chamber repertoire, having rehearsals for several groups and having lessons and tutorials on various things. With only one cello sonata and trio to go, my workload was very well set out. The sonata I have played a bit this year, and it's nice to have played it now three times in the year, also having it be a re-visit from several years ago. The trio I also learnt last year, but obviously playing it with different people makes it a different experience. However, familiarity is always nice. My second visit to Hobart was again enjoyable, perhaps a little more so as my travelling companions were people I knew much better. The member of faculty was also excited about dining with us, and really enjoyed the experience of relaxing, eating and drinking and listening to music! Incidentally, also staying at the same hotel that week was the Australian test cricket team. I tried not to stare in two days as various assumably famous people wandered in and out! We grabbed lunch on the pier, at the old Jam Factory. We also finished up with ice-cream on the perfectly beautiful sunny day, and then headed off to rehearse. A productive rehearsal later (albeit with some weird balance issues because the studio we were in was not ideal, nor did it replicate the hall in any way) we went back to the hotel to rest and do whatever. I watched TV for about two hours. Amazing.
We then wandered down to Salamanca to eat dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant which was very busy, but totally worth the wait. H ordered drinks and entrees, which is always a wise idea because he knows his food and drink. Excellent choices! The majority of our table enjoyed the spaghetti marinara, with excellent seafood (this is half the reason to go to Hobart - to enjoy the food!!). A fine evening to remember.

Our concert the next day went well. As I mentioned before, the hall was packed. A couple of friends unfortunately couldn't make it, but others did, so it was lovely to see some familiar faces in te very large audience. We played quite well, even though again, some part of my brain was focussed on the fact that ABC was recording our concert. Lunch and drinks at Fish Frenzy (again) by the pier - champagne at 3 o'clock in the afternoon - to mark our final ANAM performance for 2011 was a perfect celebration. Such relief at the end of a busy year called for extreme happiness for the rest of the day (spotted with tiredness!) and a well-earned sleep in the next day. What an adventure.

To follow in the next post: final musings and reflections on the year....

I take it all back - part A

You know that thing I said in my last long post about the second half of the year being disproportionate in terms of performances? I take it back. I should know better than to think I would be not so busy. I was talking to an old friend today and she asked how everything was, and I replied, "Oh you know, busy as ever." To which she responded in mock shock, "Gladys? Busy?! Never!! What have you done with yourself?!" So yes, I should know better. Me, of all people, should have expected this!

So this post will recount several exciting adventures since 10 October:

The Recital
The recital. The big event (or not?) of the ANAM year for each student. Each student is required to present a 50min (or so) public recital which makes up part of the ongoing measure of progress. We have free reign over the programme - it is completely free choice. At university, one usually tries to pick a programme that best demonstrates capacity to cross a range of styles and technical demands. While that is nice and all, we are at liberty to pick a programme here that may have thematic links, may include ensemble pieces, and/or just be stuff that we'd like to play. Such freedom! (With great freedom comes great difficulty in decision-making.) The recital is presented to the public (so it means the usual enthusiastic crowd, and as many friends and family you can muster together) and there is a panel consisting of your teacher (or other instrument specialist) and another who sits on all the recitals for this year (this year it is the flute teacher). We don't receive grades or numbers as such, but we do get comments, and a indication along a scale from Not Satisfactory - Exceptional. It is nice in many ways to not have any grades, as we are not studying for any degrees or qualifications, but instead are setting particular goals about artistic achievements and are refining our craft by doing and getting practice at doing. So even though I had this amazing breadth of choice about what I wanted to play, I somehow ended up with a full 50min recital of solo repertoire. Don't ask me how it happened - it just kinda did and look, I found myself with no ensembles in my recital! I suppose that meant that I could prepare at exactly my own pace. The programme was as such:
Bach: Four Duets BWV 802-805
Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 17 in d minor Op. 31 No. 2 'Tempest'  
Rachmaninoff: Variations on a Theme of Corelli
I only realised much later after I had decided on my programme that the key structure was quite extraordinary and the progression of pieces was really organic. The four duets progress as such: e minor, F Major, G Major, a minor. The Beethoven is in d minor, but opens with an A Major chord in 1st inversion. The piece ends quietly with a d minor arpeggio downwards. The Rachmaninoff opens with the La Folia theme in a plaintive way in d minor.
It was extraordinary and totally unplanned!
I had done several runs of my programme for various very kind and willing friends. However much one prepares for things like this, I think I am still at that point where there are still some things that you can never anticipate, or plan for, or that you will react in very different ways than anticipated, or that you might never feel 100% ready. My mum had flown in that weekend just to see my recital (and okay, I suppose, hang out a bit with me, which we did) and several friends had told me that they would be coming to my recital. I supposed that I had better practice if all these people were coming to see me play!
One of the biggest things I had anticipated but didn't realise the extent was just how exhausting it would be to play an hour's worth of recital. I knew it was tiring - it is a big programme and it is all very intense music requiring much concentration, particularly if some of it was from memory! Adrenalin obviously kicks in, but one usually can't practice the adrenalin, only ever anticipate the theoretical effects or remember the experience of what it feels like. Through the recital, there were times where it felt like I could conquer the world (okay, not really. Maybe just the music and the hall) - what energy! And that people were sitting anticipatedly in silence to hear ME play....crazy!! Straight afterwards, as I was pushed out onto the stage to take a couple more bows, and through the lovely big hugs from friends, I found it difficult to stand upright on my two feet, let alone smile, due to utter exhaustion. So much adrenalin pumping through...!
Upon receiving my feedback, the comments were fair and very complimentary. I took the rest of that day off (rebellious!! The rest of the afternoon AND the night!!! AND I only went in for 10am the next day..!!!) and enjoyed hanging out with mum, a family friend, and some cousins.

So all sarcasm about taking a 'holiday' straight after my recital aside, there was actually still much to prepare for. I was playing in a friend's recital two days after mine - Beethoven's first violin sonata. This is a piece we had worked together on earlier in the year, and thankfully I had played it about a month before the recital (albeit with a different violinist). It was lovely to re-visit a piece we had worked on a while ago, when we were both still pretty fresh. It was so obvious that we had grown so much in five months. Also it is a piece that I only started studying this year, so it technically bears only ideas from this year, which I felt have changed greatly (in a positive way, to do with technique, ways of thinking about music) in the course of studying at the Academy.

Port Fairy & Team Awesome (PFE)
The other project soon after my recital was the Port Fairy Spring Music Festival. Directed by Anna Goldsworthy, this Festival has been running for just over twenty years (Anna not directing all of those..!). This year, a quintet of us from ANAM were invited to be part of the festival. Our quintet was a dymanic bunch of people, including our esteemed Artistic Director, Paul Dean, who is a lot of fun to play in an ensemble with, and excellent fun on a roadtrip, as I discovered. We were to play two concerts on the one day: Stuart Greenbaum's 'All the Ways of Leaving', which is incidental music to a Nick Earls short story (which was narrated by Michael Moore at Port Fairy), and a concert later in the day entitled 'Converging Spheres' featuring a work by Paul Dean of the same title, another of his pieces 'Abyss' for the quintet and violin, as well as the Beethoven Quintet for Piano and Winds in E Flat Major Op. 16 (a mainstay of my repertoire now!). We also played in a Saturday late night caberet show of fun acts. We had a powerful hire car in the oh-so-sexy black and took off on our way towards Geelong. I had never been very far west of Melbourne down the coast, no further than Geelong in fact. It was a great car ride, with the tunes pumping loudly, a bucketload of snacks (we prepared well) and good laughs to be had on the way. I was in the passenger seat, which of course means various duties: ensuring the driver has enough fuel (food-wise), holding things, reading signs, reading the map and directing once we got into town, experimenting with the music choice, among other things.

The journey took just over four hours, including the lunch break in Camperdown. It really is very different scenery on that journey. I often don't think of Australia having breath-taking scenery, apart from great beaches and desert, but one remembers that Australia is a land of great natural beauty of some much variety, even in Victoria. As we neared Warnambool, one can look out and see ocean!! This was particularly exciting as it reminded me a lot of home - we live near the beach (although we rarely go!) and it's a bit like driving down the coast. It is so beautiful, but I had always taken it for granted. I moved to Melbourne and don't really see any great beaches around. I have been to a few beaches out the other way of Melbourne but this was a bit exciting! As we rolled in to Port Fairy, I definitely got the small town vibe. It was wonderful! Crossing over the river and looking back, it looks a bit like what (apparently) Boston looks a bit like (I've never been, but I can imagine it!). The river, with many boats tied up, and houses right on the river - many older style buildings, some obviously renovated with floor to ceiling glass windows to drink in the magnificent view. Our accommodation was in self-catered apartments a mere three minute walk from the beach. They were comfortably furnished and a nice home-away-from-home for the weekend. One thing I love about going on such trips is that the sheets are always (okay, mostly!) white and crisp, and tucked in very tightly. Something I do NOT do! We had a rehearsal at the Drill Hall in town, which is attached to a restaurant/bar now - a magnificent piece of architecture that links the old and new with clever use of glass. Kawai was a sponsor of the festival, so all the pianos were fairly new and really very nice to play on - the Shigeru Kawais, which are their top range, I think. We then had the rest of the afternoon off to do whatever we liked. So we retired back to our apartments, and then went to the oval just down the road, which is actually the home of the Port Fairy Seagulls, the local football club. We had a kick of the football and threw the frisbee around. By 'we' I am loosely suggesting that I partook in such physical activity; in reality, my involvement was admittedly quite minimal given that I am fairly uncoordinated at any sporting activity. We then went for a wander to the beach (!!!) and then into town: we ambled along the river, crossing the bridge and walking along the pier. We spotted some funny looking birds, and admired the boats, some bearing funny names, some obviously recreational, to the last, which appeared to be a sizeable fishing vessel. We wandered along the streets of Port Fairy; I admired the quaint architecture of many buildlings along Norfolk Pine-lined streets. There is much charm about the town.

The artists of the festival were invited to drop in for dinners (early to late!) at a house that the festival rents every year to provide hospitality. We decided after our non-extrenuous walk, we would go for a home-cooked feed. We were met by a few musicians/culinary experts, and their friends, also chefs extraordinaire (as we were to find out!). We were greeted with such a warm welcome and were fed extremely well and richly. One of the people who were helping to cater for hungry tummies over the weekend was my former piano teacher, who had also brought her two children along. It was fantastic to meet them, as her eldest (daughter) was born while I was learning with her, and her son was born just after I stopped learned with her. I had actually seen part of their growth, which was a beautiful to see in front of me! Over two nights I managed to hang out a bit with them, watching some of their movie, and getting to know them a bit. By the second night, her daughter felt well and truly comfortable to crawl into my lap and stayed cuddled as we watched the movie. How beautiful children are! We headed home on foot (which was up the road) and I remembered that the city is full of light pollution - it really was very dark along this street!

The next morning was an early start with a rehearsal at 8.45am in our venue. The rehearsal only could go for about an hour because there was another concert at 10am in the same venue. Such is the schedule of festival: there are often so many concerts happening simultaneously, and many are back to back as well. We went to another venue for a 10am performance of Paul's piece, then immediately jumped across to another venue (where Paul was supposed to also be having a 'concert conversation' at the same time!). We were left to our devices for about forty minutes, where we wandered about town a little bit, including a foray into the lolly shop. This actually was child in a lolly shop - amazing! One of those old school stores where there were all sorts of wonderful boiled lollies, sour lollies, chocolates of all imaginations, sherbert delights, flavours of all sorts! It was quite difficult to not spend all our money there, and we walked out with big grins on our faces and decidedly excited about consuming said treats.Our concerts went really well, although it seemed to be a long day, with a rehearsal squished in-between our two concerts! We managed to fit in lunch at a fantastic cafe (Rebecca's. It is good. Seriously good. Go there.) and bumped into many audience members at this time, and later in the afternoon. Some of them even stopped us on the street. Most of them wanted to tell us how much they enjoyed our concerts. It was pretty funny feeling like a minor celebrity, even though we were such small names (or more like, no names!) in the whole scheme of the artist line-up. Apparently one audience member declared the second concert we did to be the best concert of the whole festival! Quite a declaration given the line up of the festival! After our concerts, we were able to scoff our faces with our fine purchases from the lolly shop, and to wander about town a little more. It was definitely a day for ice-cream, so we went to a fine ice-creamery and enjoyed even more culinary delights.

So I seem to have made out that all we did in Port Fairy was play some music, eat LOTS of food (most of it extremely fine. Actually all of it, bar the roadtrip snacks) and wander around, enjoying fresh air, the slower pace of a small town, not having to do other stuff and to enjoy hanging out and a weekend away. I certainly expected those things, and am glad to report that my expectations were met. We had another rehearsal in the evening (after a cheeky drink at the bar) for the evening caberet-style concert that was to happen at about 10pm that night. This show was hosted by Tim Ferguson (whom I admit we did a search for on Google to find out about him...!) who turned out to be a funny, quick-witted man. It was a very entertaining show for all involved. A late night at the bar with old and new friend ensued, and was enjoyed, particularly with the prospect of a lazy Sunday for us (not so for PD who had a rehearsal and then a concert of Messien's Quartet for the End of Time!). We slept in - I was under strict orders that I could not get out of bed before 9am (even if I was awake before then); this was not so hard to manage, though a little part of me really wanted to get out of bed! A quick pack-up preceded a walk into town where we had decided to return to Rebecca's to enjoy a big cooked breakfast. So, country servings....are LARGE! A wonderfully slow relaxed morning of great food and fun friends was followed by some more wandering. I had seen a sign for a school fete, and suggested we go. On our way, we stopped by a fun store where a guy was selling kites, and other fun games like the diablo, juggling balls, those mind trick games and other fun stuff. We stood for a while outside his shop playing with things and learning how to make them work and figure them out. We continued along to the school to check out the fete (what else did we have to do?) and wandered around. The boys 'played' guinea pig racing (this is the most obscure and random thing I have seen in a while!), we observed fun fair things like a massive blow-up slide, the hot dog (and other hot fried foods) stand that we felt ill about smelling after our deliciously large breakfasts, the various tidbits for sale, gift hampers, and a large selection of cakes and other delectable looking baked goods, and the jams and things people had made (yes, country school fete feel. Amazing!). Some beautiful dogs lined a footpath on our walk back into town (all 10mins of it..!) and we headed off to the Cafe des Artistes for one last feed before we embarked on our roadtrip home.

As the carload found out that I had never been past Geelong on the western side, and therefore never been along the Great Ocean Road, we decided that our roadtrip home would go via part of this scenic route. I had asked our accommodation owners for a suggested route that might add only a couple of hours on to our journey. He suggested that we take the turnoff from Warnambool and join the G.O.R. from there, where we would pass several look out points, including London Bridge (scene of accident several years ago where erosion finally proved its point and some people were left stranded on this outcrop), and the Twelve Apostles (of which there are only four left). It was a fantastic day for driving - sunny, a little bit windy, just beautiful. But windy at the coast means a pretty wild gust; I felt like I was going to be blown away with all the other tourists! We took our obligatory tourist shots (of course!), and marvelled at the scenery, commenting on how scary it would have been to be one of those people stranded at London Bridge, and admiring nature. Our car ride home was entertaining, quite ludicrous and sugar-filled. Coming back into the city, I felt somewhat anxious about having to go back to the real world of deadlines and the fast pace of life. What a great weekend of music-making with such fun people and fun memories!

It's been a bit busy..

Today I sent off two invoices, played for a friend's audition, ran into a friend on the tram, made it to a trio rehearsal, had another rehearsal straight after, went to class, did a photo shoot and jumped around lots, ate 1.5 doughnuts, stood around for 30mins, had a 1.5hr piano lesson, practiced for 1.5hrs, ran into another friend on the tram trip home and ate College Christmas dinner. Somebody didn't warn me that life was going to be a bit difficult sometimes!

 

So much has happened since the last post, but such stories shall have to wait for a while. Sorry readers, the day described above is admittedly extreme and quite unusual, but the average week has had days that are about half that, which is still a lot. I'll get there. Highlights to come include:

the recital experience

Port Fairy and Team Awesome (including the roadtrip)

looking for houses

the wrap up of my job (almost)

schools concerts with Richard Gill

A strange week

Last week was one of the strangest in a while. A week full of highs and lows.
Term 3 finally came to a close. On the long list of concerts for the rest of the year created during the middle of July, the list numbered about twenty concerts in the  next five months. Yes, that is an average of one a week. By the end of term three, about fifteen of them had been done. Disproportionate much?! It's been a busy few months, though mostly very good. And don't worry, I've managed to keep well out of trouble too!

The start of the holidays was marked by weddings. A couple of friends got married (separate weddings..), one at which I played at. I was a little nervous about this one, as it was only a three-piece band who hadn't played together on those instruments in a long time. But it all came together, which was wonderful. Another friend got married that morning elsewhere, but obviously attendance at one precluded me from attending the other. Facebook also told me that a couple of other friends also got married that weekend! Must have been a particularly great weekend to get married.

The Breakfast Club convened on Sunday morning at Chez Dre in South Melbourne, a new favourite place of mine. The Breakfast Club was formed at the beginning of this year over a conversation about how a friend and I love eating breakfast food and our decision to catch up and eat breakfast together. We meet probably about once every six to eight weeks. Most of us see each other at least intermittently, if not more regularly, but it is nice to have time to just sit and enjoy eating and catching up.

The start of the ANAM holidays signalled two weeks of hard work for me - a recital on the first day back was looming! A public masterclass with Angela Hewitt kicked off the holidays. It was held at Melbourne Uni, in Melba Hall, and heck, walking in there was pretty strange. Playing in there was even stranger! It was wierd after spending five years in there, being ready to leave, and then having to go back to something so familiar, and something to foreign, all at the same time! I played the Bach Four Duets for her, a piece I've been working on all year. And don't say Bach is easy. It's probably the most difficult thing to play! One is so exposed, and there are so many intricacies. Even those appear to be easy on the page, each piece being three pages long and 'only' two voices, the harmonies are complex - chromatic, and at times, dissonant. They are similar on concept to the Two-Part Inventions, but much more complex. If one takes a wrong turn, they might end up cutting out half of the piece, or going back to the beginning, making the whole process very arduous! These are pieces that one sits with for a long time, to process everything, to find different ways to do things, to come back to how one originally played them, with a whole journey behind them. Angela Hewitt had great feedback, lots of ideas and demonstrated how she plays the pieces; it was so obvious that she has such an affinity and love for Bach. What was more interesting for me, however, was that many of her ideas were very different, opposite in fact, to Nikolai Demidenko's ideas. Interesting. What to do?! I'm one of those people will absorb all the ideas and suggestions like a sponge, and then process them all, and figure out which ones I will take, which ones I discard. In the end, I had to decide how I wanted to play them, right? It's no use sounding like a mashed-up combination of many very different ideas and not to sound like me, is it?

The following night, I unfortunately missed Stephen Hough's concert (as well as Saturday night, which was a real pity - I was planning to go, but another opportunity presented itself. More about that later.). I won some tickets to see a screening of The National Theatre's "One Man, Two Guvnors". If you get the chance to see it (though limited screenings), you definitely should. It's based on the play 'Servant of Two Masters' (I think, or something that sounds very similar to that). Think British comedy with some over-the-top stereotypes. Fabulous acting, fantastic physical comedy and some really cool interaction with the audience too! It was an utterly hilarious evening with some great company.

On Wednesday night I went to see Matthias Goerne (baritone) and Eric Schneider (piano) perform Schubert's Die Winterreise. It was probably one of the most moving concerts I've been to. It was absolutely incredible. From both performers were so many extraordinary colours, such moving music. Truly extraodinary. It was also a highly appropriate day for it, as outside the weather had turned very wintery. In preparation for recitals, a couple of us piano students stayed late to practice the following night. During the week, the Melbourne International Festival of Brass had commandeered ANAM and there were very many concerts going on. That night was a concert presented by the Australian Brass Quintet, and our teacher was to be playing Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue in a new arrangement for piano and brass quintet. We watched that little bit and watched our teacher totally nail his part, though at times it was a struggle to hear him above the brass resounding for a very long time in the bathroom that is the Hall!

On Friday I had coffee with a school friend that I really haven't seen in almost seven years! She has just moved to Melbourne. It was great to catch up after all this time, reminisce a little, and see what was going on. I've said it several times, but it struck me again, that school was really good - we had plenty of opportunities but now is a different stage in life where things are different. I really enjoyed school while it lasted, and I was sad to leave, but growing up means things change for the better and worse. It is an interesting thought, is it not?

I managed to avoid the city for most of the Saturday, which was Grand Final Day. I have friends who are hardcore supporters of both teams that were in the final - I knew I was going to have friends who were ecstatic and devastated whatever the result. The evening, however, was a most exciting event - an Orchestra Victoria fundraiser dinner. Dame Elisabeth Murdoch actually had bought a few tables, and donated one of them to ANAM. Nine students and the Artistic Director were invited to attend this black-tie event. All a bit exciting. It was held at the Myer Mural Hall, which is on the top floor of the Myer building in the city; it's a swish venue, Art Deco style and usually not open for public access. Champagne and canapes greeted us upon entering. We swooned at the extravagance of the venue and I giggled with glee at how exciting the whole idea of me getting to go this sort of function was. I will admit that I may never get to go to something liek this ever again. Stephen Hough would unfortunately have to wait until his next tour. It was an extravagant affair. The Orchestra played a few numbers, there were gift bags at the tables for the women (some moisturising cream, a new product being launched at Myer), golf leaf on my dessert, Placido Domingo and Katherine Jenkins at dinner (unfortunately they didn't sing), David Hobson as the MC (we had a photo with him, to prove it), many who's-who in Melbourne in attendance. I feel like I should have been provided with a document in advance with photos and a little write-up about each person's claim to fame or what not. Like diplomat's aides have. It was a very enjoyable evening, free flowing drinks and great food, all with fabulous company. How funny.


Those were the highlights of the week. Quite extraodinary, let me point out. I don't usually lead such an extravagantly glamourous and exciting life. The lowlights were being hit over the head with sad news of tragic deaths of two young men - one I didn't know, the other I knew vaguely. Both were surprising, both were unexpected. Given that there had been quite a bit in the news about young children dying in tragic accidents, it was a pretty rough week of news. And one doesn't really ever expect that somebody they know is going to be around one day, the next day not. I suppose it gives us reason to be thankful for everything that we have every day, and to live life to its fullest and to have no regrets. As a friend once pointed out that it sucks for the people who are left behind. Yeah it does, but I suppose this faith is also one of great comfort and assuarance.

Beethoven, Unicorns and South Melbourne coffees

Much has happened since the last post. I apologise for the intermittent nature of these posts. I often mean to post things, but time sometimes get away from me.

The Unichurch Unicorns won for the first time in three years. As a follower of football only in news reports, I went to support our team. I mean, they've been "training" for months! Sporting my red, we arrived at Arden St oval via Seven Seeds coffee. We arrived looking like soccer mums - wearing team colours, coffees in hand, cupcakes in tow. We arrived a bit after the match had started, and we were losing. I have to admit, I sort of expected that the Unicorns were going to lose (sorry guys!) as have for the past two years, and the other team is usually about twice the size (in physical stature, rather than number of players!) than ours. The last quarter got very exciting when one of our players kicked a fantastic goal and put us in front by only a matter of points. It was quite thrilling to watch, even as a non-fan of the sport. Anyway, so the exciting part was that we won. It was also a relaxing afternoon, just hanging out watching a football match with some friends. A lovely afternoon. Not so great was later, when I missed a step at the pub (I'd like to note here that I didn't drink anything besides my dinner of soup) and twisted my ankle. The first thing I thought after falling (apart from "Ouch!! This REALLY hurts!") was "Oh my goodness, I have to play a concert tomorrow! What am I going to do?!".
The whole incident was painful, though somewhat ironic considering that none of the players were seriously injured that day, but me, a spectator, was injured in a very awkward incident.

So, this concert the next day. At the end of last year, a very good friend of mine, a violinist and fellow student at ANAM, had decided that we were going to play some Beethoven sonatas together. Quite extraodinary, then, that we both ended up at ANAM this year in a year they decided to work through all of these! What brilliant coincidence (or perfect planning, really!). I had also decided a little while ago that I would perform Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 17 in d minor ('Tempest') for my ANAM recital and it would be great to get as much performance experience in preparation. We had a class with Paul Lewis a few weeks ago and I played for him then, which was nerve-wracking but also helpful. So back to this idea with the violinist; as part of my job at College, I have organised a concert series and this was the perfect opportunity to perform and schedule a concert featuring Beethoven sonatas! On the programme were three sonatas: Violin sonatas No. 1 and 7 and the Tempest. I didn't quite realise how tiring playing three Beethoven sonatas back to back (with no real interval, though I did take a ten minute breather!) might be. I guess adrenalin does kick in too. Only after the last sonata (7th violin sonata) did I realise just quite how exhausted I was. I do recall, however, being extremely hungry mid-way through the concert! The left foot held out quite well, with a ankel support thingy thing wrapped around it. I realised that when walking it hurt, but with all powers of concentration applied to playing the piano, pain was not such an issue. Maybe this gives evidence to the 'mind over matter' idea?

The following week saw a residency at ANAM by Elizabeth Wallfisch (violin) and David Breitman (fortepiano). The main focus for the week was work on Beethoven sonatas; lucky E and I had been working towards the concert so we had repertoire under our fingers. A schedule for their time at ANAM was put out with not much notice to prepare, which was a little intimidating given that Beethoven is not something one can skim over quickly! A two-hour forum on the first day provided an introduction to the work we were going to be undertaking, and an immediate insight into the characters and working styles of both artists. I really didn't know what to expect! We played last in this forum, and I will say we were pretty darn scared. The first two duos to play barely made it past the first page (of the instrumentalist's printed page). Czerny's book on the "Proper Performance of All Beethoven's Works for the Piano" was referenced several times in order to understand what Czerny (as Beethoven's student) understood of these works. We quickly discovered how much Libby and David care for this music and how passionately blunt they could be in trying to inspire students to feel this love too.

E remarked, as we sat waiting and watching for our turn, that it was like lining up and seeing the person in front of you get executed! (Okay, thankfully far less messy and with less clean-up involved.) As we got up, we were actually shaking from nerves and fear. E's part is across three pages - as she folded up the corner of the first page, I wanted to whisper, "Don't worry, we won't get that far." and off we went, the first movement of the seventh violin sonata (c minor). Into the development, into the recapitulation - and we were still playing. Sometimes in auditions and things like that, once you get a way in, your mind switches to thinking, 'When do they cut me off?' - this was one of those times. And we got to the end of the first movement, no stopping. Who knew? It was met with applause and no harsh words - quite the opposite of what we may have been expecting! It is a magnificent sonata - Czerny deems it one of Beethoven's finest. We tend to agree, and we love it, and we love playing it, however hard it is and however hard we toiled at it! We had the delightful opportunity to work with Libby the next day on it. Rather than workshopping particular bits and pieces, we actually played the entire sonata through with E using a different edition with totally different bowings, fingers and what not, and me playing the fortepiano! How interesting, very different and quite difficult! The fortepiano is a forerunner to the modern piano, and has quite a few differences. It sounds different, has an action that feels quite different, has pedals that are operated by lifting one's knees, smaller keys (doing consecutive octaves were very confusing!!!). So essentially, totally different to playing the piano. This in many ways was also frustrating, because I know the piece well and knew what I wanted to do with it, but lacked the ability to do so on this new instrument! However, this was an utterly fascinating experience, and something that I really enjoyed, however difficult it was. After the initial shock of the significantly lower pitch, reading different articulation and what not, getting used to a whole new way of playing, hearing different things and what not, across time we were getting into the groove of it. Our ears were adjusting to the pitch (or just ignoring what we had established as 'the correct pitch'), measuring space in time differently, adjusting to the different palette of tones and timbres. It was wonderful. I had so much fun being pushed out of my comfort zone, doing something different, experimenting with something old and new all at the same time. Much to digest.

I also had the great privilege of having a lesson with David Breitman. I played the first movement of the Tempest sonata (I said that there was a lot of Beethoven involved, right?!) and we talked about lots of things - what Czerny said and his suggestions for the performance of this piece. We talked about how articulation and notation indicated specific things; things that might not have the same meaning today, due to assumed knowledge and conventions of the time. Then we moved to the fortepiano to try it out there. One of my biggest hangups about historical performance specialists is when they insist that things MUST be played in the historical manner. For example, that legato cannot be played in Bach because the harpsichord is incapable of producing a true legato like the modern piano. But it was so refreshing to hear David say that I should play for him on the piano because that is what I am studying, and the work we did at the fortepiano would be to give an introduction to the instrument (who knew what bones it may tickle, what spark it might ignite?) and to inform and open possibilities that may or may not be carried to the piano. [I will note here that I actually had this session before the violin sonata one described above.] I sat gingerly down in front of the instrument, unsure of whether it  might bite, falter, or yield to my inexperienced hands. I asked tentatively, "Can I play it?" to which David enthusiastically encouraged, "I'm waiting for you to do so!" What an experience! What a new sound, what a new touch, what a range of possibilities. I asked lots of questions about the fortepiano (in general. Like 'what does this do?', 'how easy is it to break a string?' and lots more. Also lots of questions about the piece in general. I like asking questions. My teacher will attest to this - he even has a term called "Question Time with Gladys" and appears to be disappointed when I have no questions.) The range of the fortepiano is obviously much less than the modern piano and it was extraordinary to physcially see that Beethoven used the extremes of this keyboard instrument. It was cool to hear the different qualities across the range and how they were employed in his writing. It was interesting to hear the decay of notes across time, even with the knee-pedal thing. It was really a very enjoyable and insightful session that opened up so many ideas and possibilities. It made me think lots about what I might transfer (or not!) to the piano. After three hours of fortepiano and Beethoven goodness, my sense of pitch was altered, my fingers geting used to the different feel of the instrument, and I was already thinking about other pieces in which I may have to change interpretations of things. Wow. A friend told me a few years ago that he thought I should play the fortepiano. After the initial shock of a new instrument, I think I really do love it. I would never give up the piano, but would dearly love the chance to play fortepiano a lot.

Later that week there was the final Beethoven sonatas concert for the year (in Melbourne. Watch out, Hobart!) in which I was to be playing the fifth cello sonata of Beethoven with a young and talented cellist at the Academy. I was initially quite nervous about this, as I have already workshopped and performed it with another cellist. Would this interpretation be similar? Totally different? What if I felt so strongly about a particular way that I would be unyielding? How much do I impose my already established interpretation on a different duo partner? To my pleasant surprise, these questions remained largely as hypotheticals. My cellist this time is a very musical person and it was a great pleasure to work with him and to work through this piece together. I suppose it was also great to be able to play my part in a manner I felt convinced about and for somebody else to either positively or negatively respond in a musical manner that informs me immediately whether they agree or disagree with it. I have come to love this piece dearly. I don't (unfortunately?) really consider myself particularly great at understanding late Beethoven works, but this piece is something that seems to resound with me quite strongly. Even the fugue, in all of its madness and difficulty (consecutive 6ths, what a bane of my life!!). We got the chance to workshop this with Libby, who brought new insight and had lots of great string tricks! We played the piece in class that afternoon in preparation for the concert the following night. And sure, in performance, not everything goes perfectly, but listening to the recording, I am quite amazed at how it went - quite well, in fact! It's not often that I am so willing to listen back to my own playing (I hate doing it. I hate more watching myself...even though I know it's a great feedback and educational tool.) but I distinctly remember being quite happy with it. The recording turned out quite nicely too. Missed a few bits, but that is the nature of live performances, the danger! At least I nailed most of those consecutive sixths!!


I had the great pleasure of being away for the weekend on my church camp. It was so lovely to not be attached to my computer, not have phone reception, and just to be able to relax a little, enjoy great company, learn lots, and enjoy the beautiful surroundings. The campsite is just out of Neerim South, out yonder Warrigal way, on the edge of the forest. Most remarkable was the view; on Saturday morning as I walked out of the cabins up to the maing dining hall and conference room, I looked back and saw the sun shining, blue sky dazzling over the fog, the forest behind the cabins, an expanse of space, quite and peace on a glorious morning. What an incredible view. It was also good to have a two day holiday from piano. The idea in general scares me (What if I haven't got enough time to prepare my repertoire? What happens if I forget how to play this? Worse, what happens if I forget how to play piano entirely?! Okay, irrational, I know..!) but it was good to have a little break, as I knew I wasn't going to have one at all for the next three weeks leading up to my recital!

It has been a mostly beautiful week in Melbourne - days of glorious sunshine. It's funny, I was commenting to a friend that I'm relaly thankful when the sun is shining, but I should be too even if it's grey and overcast! This past week I've had the chance to catch up with a few friends and enjoy their company (in the sunshine too!). I wandered to Fed Square to return something to a friend and ran into a couple of other friends also on their lunch break. What happy coincidences. A dear friend and I had lunch on Friday at a new cafe and had a great time chatting about all sorts of recent developments, including her and her husband's plans for next year (exciting!). The Breakfast Club convened this morning in South Melbourne to great success. It's a great bunch of girls I know from church and while we might not all catch up often, it's a wonderful thing to have variety of friends and interesting people who are of such good quality! I also managed to sneak in a laksa dinner with E earlier in the week (such great good, such great company, such great conversation), as well as a sneaky lunch date with E & K, along with a couple of mid-week concerts. It's been good. Busy, but good. :)

Finding a voice

A few weeks ago, I had a private piano lesson with a visiting artist. These are an excellent opportunity to get some other expert other than your own teacher to give you feedback and just mix things up in general. However, I often have mixed feelings about having a lesson with somebody other than my own teacher. I'm not denying that it is good to get different feedback (or even the same from somebody else, in a different, or even similar way!). But as I'm finding this year, my progress and learning has been somewhat unusual and atypical across the years. I suppose one may consider and assume that a typical pianist's education encompasses the usual suspects of Bach Preludes and Fugues (tick, well, on the way...), Beethoven sonatas (I currently play maybe one and a half of the thirty-two. I play more instrumental sonatas of Beethoven than piano sonatas!) Chopin etudes (tick, some), Liszt (umm....not much at all!), Rachmaninoff (some), and other hardcore things that require fast fingers and stuff.
So yes, somewhat atypical. I'm really happy about it, though, I have to admit.

So, I got quite a few things out of this piano lesson. But one of the big points was to not be modest about myself. Which I will tell you, is a little bit hard for me personally. It's just how I am with it all. And I suppose that performing allows one to remake themselves, to put on a persona that may or may not be reality; this then opens another can of worms about own personality, about acting, about bearing your own soul on stage or having a facade. And apparently I'm too nice! I didn't really see this as a problem, but apparently it might well be. This may be a result of playing with, and for people, for pretty much my entire piano life so far.

This, combined with a few other things, shook my confidence in my ability as a musician for about a week. One of my fears is for somebody to tell me that I lack talent, or that I'm unmusical. I know, it's completely irrational; I don't think I would have gotten to this point in my life if that were the case, but those sorts of fears sometimes creep about, waiting to pounce at moments of doubt. Which is why sometimes just having your own teacher who already knows your strengths, weaknesses, progress, hurdles and working style is enough to be content with. I have been fortunate in this regard. And it's not a matter of settling for anything, but to be thankfuly for what I have. If these teachers knew that I'd spent most of my time playing repertoire for other instruments or that I didn't really have a piano lesson per se for two years, would the approach be different?

And even if I'm too nice, or still discovering and learning to play the piano, I'm discovering that time and experiences shape us all in ways that we sometimes have little control over. It's not much use pondering over the hypotheticals of what could have been if this were different, but I'm enjoying hindsight and being able to attribute certain aspects of my personality to the experiences I've had. I'm coming to realise, with the help of teachers, mentors, friends (and personality tests!), my capabilities, my limits, my strengths and weaknesses and my distinct preferences. As I move through different stages of life, I've stopped caring so much about what everybody things, because I know it's impossible to please everyboday. It's extraordinary to see personalities develop as children grow (there is a gorgeous little girl, the daughter of a couple, that live at college and it's been pretty cool to see her grow, even week to week!). But I'm pretty sure that my personality is still being developed and forming more distinctly, even at the age of twenty-four!

So that is the pondering inside this mind at the present...

Fridays@3

So at ANAM there is a 'series' called Fridays@3 which is usually a conversation with a visiting artist. This last week, the cellist Alban Gerhardt was in residence, along with the Silver-Garburg piano duo. All were pretty phenomenal artists. Mr Gerhardt was the guest for the conversation at the end of last week.
I often sit in lectures of all sorts (well, I suppose necessary at university to do so...) and write lots. Often I write to keep awake, or to just get as mkuch information as possible, for processing later. This conversation, however, needed no good reason to keep awake - Alban Gerhardt was highly entertaining and candid. I was glad to have some paper and a pen to record some of these pearlers:

* About chamber music: "We get paid the same amount, but the pianist has to work so much harder (then the cellist)". (I KNEW it! Thank goodness a cellist has admitted it!!)
* About being asked whether one should play new music that isn't written for you specifically: "I found the question stupid, and telling."
* On not listening to recordings much and absorbing concepts and ideas from many sources: "I'm not very good at arts, visual arts. I mean, I've seen stuff..."
* "I've played sixty, seventy, cello concertos, which is not that much....(of the approximately 250 written for the instrument)." Oh yeah, not much at all...
* About his early listening experiences (which were not much to do with cello): "Well, I wasn't very interested in wind music, sorry...I'm sure there aren't any wind players here." On the contrary, a good proportion of the wind students were in attendance.
* "I wrote a blog, and called it 'Schumann and sweets', or some sort of shit title."
* "These scones, not British ones that are light and fluffy, but these American ones..." Good to know his taste preferences!
* "I have a good story...actually, it's not very good...anyway...."
* "We always think about Hungarians as perpper and paprika, and stuff..."
* About Jacqueline du Pre: "She was so beautiful, well, not really....she's not ugly, but she's not a movie star...you wouldn't want to watch her every day."
* About the Max Reger cello sonatas: "These sonatas, the cellist can learn it in a week. The pianist needs a year!"
* About a concerto: "It's for three cellos, which is a dumb idea!"
* "In Germany, we have been tortured by our own modern composers."
* "...he is not a charlatan, he is not Philip Glass!"
* On listening to Philip Glass play a concert: "Shit! I could improvise better as a six-year-old than Philip Glass!"
* On composing (which he has no intention of doing so now): "I wrote a piano trio when I was nine. I wrote it for myself and  my siblings. It lasted a minute and fifty seconds. It sounded like Strauss."

What a dude!

Polish adventures Part 3 (A Sunday in Sydney, no Polish news to report of)

So after a most restful night in the biggest bed I've ever been granted, it was a day of pure fun! I realise that I've never been to Sydney just to have fun; the few times I've been have all been for music tours of some variety, where I've been doing other stuff, and haven't really had much time to look around that much. One day I'll actually go and be a tourist there, seeing as there is so much to do.
Waking up to a beautiful sunny day (!!) with a window overlooking a cosmopolitan street with cafes and what not....blissful!

KD was to come and pick me up from the hotel, which she did. It was nice checking out and not having to settle any bills! And to not have to make the bed (hehe) although admittedly, I really hadn't rolled around much at all. I decided if I wasn't going to be able to enjoy the lovely flowers that I had been given the night before, KD should definitely have them! We wandered around a little for a cafe that looked good for breakfast and settled upon one that looked like it would serve us a hearty morning meal. I have to admit that I love a good cooked breakfast and a morning coffee to go with it. Blissful continued! We had a lovely catch-up over breakfast, chatting about things that had been happening this year that we weren't able to hear about every week. So much has changed and happened this year. Then we went to KD's church, which is currently meeting at Moore Theological College as their original building suffered in a fire and is undergoing the rebuilding stage. It was a great service, really encouraging and also different to my usual Sunday evening one! There were people of a much larger demographic (families! Kids!) and there was a great vibe to it. It's nice going to another church sometimes to visit and to realise that even though the people are different, the songs may be different, the service format, style or vibe might be different, we're still on about the same things fundamentally! This is really exciting and reassuring, I think, partly as I think about how I have no idea what city or country I might be in within the next five or twenty years.

One other thing that struck me about getting around Sydney is how utterly confusing it really is! Even Google Maps on an iPhone do not guarantee that you will get from A to B as expected. On our way to church, the route plotted actually turned out to be not so good as it failed to consider the impossibility of turning at a particular street. We ended up having to follow the road for some while and then find our way back. A fairly frustrating non-anticipation, but in the process of this, we actually drove into the suburb of Woollahra and actually found ourselves passing by the Polish consulate, where we were only the night before! How funny! Google Maps, however, did prove useful when driving to the airport via some cool (large) back streets that avoided much traffic. Whaddaya know?!

After church we wandered along King Street in Newtown, which is close to Sydney University and has lots of shops of all sorts. You might get the idea that we ate lots that day. You wouldn't be wrong. It was great!
KD had a hunch that there was this sort of bookshop/cafe just off the main road and we followed that hunch....and found it! The downstairs part was a lovely bookshop with lots of fun books and gifts. Bookshops are one of those sorts of places that I fawn over so many things that I would buy if I had the means to do so. Perusing the shelves, both KD and I saw these bowls with a dragonfly print on it and looked at each other, with that look and said to each other, "I know somebody that this would be perfect for....!". We decided to buy a gift for the said person just because we could, because we were both in Sydney at the same time in this lovely shop and had this mutual friend that we're both close to. All good reasons for random gifts! Upstairs was a cafe and a second-hand bookshop (which unfortunately we didn't get time to wander through because of little time, pity!) where we ate sweet delicious things on account of not being able to fit lunch in after that large breakfast.

Then it was off to the airport after a very fleeting 24hr stint in Sydney. It was so wonderful to catch up with KD in her new home city (can I say 'new'?!) and to hang out with her for a whole half day. What luxury for us both! It was such a beautiful day all round and a lovely way to round off a really enjoyable weekend. What might seem quite stressful (three flights in three days, one small suitcase, two concerts, meeting-and-greeting) was actually a most relaxing weekend - I'll tel you why. We had one programme to play, which was repeated (such a good feeling!); we were well-looked after; I couldn't bring lots (if any!) work nor my computer, so the only thing I could do was relax; we were somewhat limited in how far we could venture (transport and time constraints) which meant lots of relaxation time; being physically away from the centre of my work (however much I love it) often puts me at ease because I am unable to do it. What a great mini-holiday!

Polish adventures Part 2

So it was good that we were housed in the super austere and very warm Polish embassy in Canberra. It's a bad idea to check the temperature when you know it's cold, right? One just feels colder for looking at it.
The next day I checked the weather update and commented, "Well, at least it's now positive degrees."
We didn't have much to do at the embassy once the concert was over, so I spent a lovely morning reading a large amount of Harry Potter. It was so relaxing to just not have to do anything, to have a slow morning lazing around.

We were driven to the airport by the lovely Polish embassy woman in another very luxurious (think leather seats, motorised adjustable seats) German car, via a lost way that went past Old Parliament House. Our plane from Canberra to Sydney was a little one - only four seats across, and propellers on the wings. (Reminds me of a fantastic quote from our theory lecturer a number of years ago: "What plane has propellers on the wings? No wonder I felt sick!"). Thankfully, another short flight. Flying into Sydney, you definitely get a different vibe. There are buildings everywhere, you feel like you're about to land in a residential area as you touch down.

After collecting our luggage (flying a Qantas leg allows your to check in luggage - what luxury! For a 7kg orange suitcase...), we looked around for a man with a sign with our names. But no. We looked lost. There was a guy who obviously was waiting for somebody, but he sure wasn't waiting for us (I asked...). We didn't have any contact of the Polish people in Sydney, we didn't even know where the hotel was! We only knew the address of the Polish consulate, but figured we couldn't just rock up there, press the doorbell and tell them who we were and to take care of us (remember, we're not Polish nationals. We can't take refuge there!). A few frantic phonecalls to try get a contact, a man sidled up to us with a sign. Definitely our names. Thankfully he did, we were about to get in a cab to make our way to the Polish consulate!

One thing that always strikes me about a place is the geography. What are the roads like? Are there lots of buildings? What style are they in? Is it mostly freeways? How leafy is it? How hilly is it?
And let me say, Sydney was pretty crowded. For a Saturday afternoon, there sure were a lot of cars on the road! But maybe that is just Sydney? It was a drive that went through tunnels, across freeways, up and down the hills, past a few parks and stopping at lots of traffic lights. We turned into a fancy area: Municipality of Woollahra. As I'm aware from Australian literature studies, this is a FANCY area. Like Toorak. Like Peppermint Grove. Like the Upper East Side. (Sorry, I can't give any more analogies). Just by the bay, lots of nice cafes and homes and stuff. We were driven to right outside our hotel in Double Bay (which is next to the suburb of Woollahra), which Wikipedia tells me is sometimes referred to as "Double Pay". We had been booked a hotel room EACH (how luxurious!) into this boutique 3 1/2 star hotel which is kinda exciting when you've been living in student accommodation for a long time. We checked in ("Your rooms have already been paid for, so anything extra, like breakfast, you pay, right?") and found our rooms.

Awaiting me was a hotel room woo! A double bed - the BIGGEST double bed I have ever seen in my entire life. I could have fit at least one and a half times diagonally. Doing the biggest starfish I could, I couldn't reach the edges. Crisp white sheets, tucked in ever so tight. Amazing. A TV (unfortunately not digital...), an ensuite with dispensers of stuff, a hairdryer, fluffy white towels. Space for me, my daypack and a 7kg piece of hand luggage. Plenty good. And a window overlooking a cosmopolitan street with cafes, shops and exciting things that I could walk out the door and go to (unlike Canberra...)! A long hot shower later, I felt much better and refreshed post-two flights and travel eyes. TV and reading and chatting with KD to organise the next day, and general resting was in order. Bliss. We ventured out in Double Bay briefly foraying for food, which we found at a nice (though slightly pricey) cafe. It was such a beautiful Sydney winter day: sunny and not too cold - I was almost regretting only bringing thick layers but thankful I brough cotton socks, not just the woollen ones. What pleasant weather we had all weekend, even in Canberra (almost perfect: even though freezing cold, it was sunny and crisp!!).

At the appointed time, the driver was waiting downstairs, (yes, right at the doorstep) in the luxury German car with leather seats to drive us to the Polish consulate to have a warm-up and scope of the venue. The Polish consulate is in that suburb of Woollahra, as I found out later, next to the German and Serbian consulates. The driver apologised "Sorry, I said it was five minutes away. I was wrong. It is two minutes away!". We were ushered into what seemed like a large house into this reception room, which held about 100 or so guests. There was a little stage with a piano. Lights all set up, chairs all waiting, and tables with champagne glasses.

The Sydney concert was very similar to the Canberra one, though slightly elongated (a bit more poetry. Apparently the Polish ambassador in Canberra is a concise man...) We were in a waiting room, behind two locked doors in the offices of the Polish consulate, in a sort of meeting room with a large wooden table and various Polish consulate merchandise....a painting, and champagne glasses with the Polish consulate emblem. The thankfully went without a hitch and we were free to mingle with the guests afterwards at the reception. We were given some very lovely flowers which unfortunately I was unable to take into Victoria because one can't bring plant material into the state! As we passed the kitchen on our way to the 'dressing room', we were able to peek in and see the enormous amounts of food....yay! Plates and plates of all sorts of things were served. Amazing. We met lots of really interesting people, including Wanda Wilkomirska, who I had never heard of until that night. So apparently she is a super-amazing violinist who is of Polish ethnicity (which explains her being there..!) and lives in Sydney (also explains stuff..). She really enjoyed our playing, which is extremely high praise! We also met a film-maker, and a nuclear weapons activist whose favourite composer was Gorecki. We met lots of lovely people who really enjoyed the music, and had lots of photos taken (some by an over-enthusiastic photographer). We were saved from the (as it turned out, overly-enthusiastic) filmmaker who was so keen to go out to dinner with us when the driver insisted that we had to leave as he had to drive somebody else home so it was either now or another forty minutes. We went with the former option, while the overly-enthusiastic photographer kept trying to take last photos. We quickly escaped and headed back to the hotel to don some comfortable pajamas! Feeling it too early to go to bed, we donned more comfortable clothes and settled in for tea and biscuits and channel surfing, stumbling upon a very strange movie.....

I slept so well in this MASSIVE bed that night, though I do recall thinking "If I want to roll over, I could, several times over!". First world luxuries.....

Part 3 to come, encompassing my lovely day with KD...

Polish adventures Part I

As we arrived in Canberra, I thought back to my last visit to the nation's capital - Australian Youth Orchestra Season 1, 2009. I have never arrived in Canberra by plane; looking out the windows, one may suspect they are in a fairly small country town. The airport is quite new-age, different wings and what not. Our flight was short (45 minutes) and uneventful, thought that's probably what you want in a flight! It seemed like we'd only been in the air for a moment before we were starting our descent!

We were greeted at baggage collection by a driver (note: no hat, no gloves) bearing a sign with our names (Yes, "Ms Chua". I am rarely ever greeted as such!). I may never ever have somebody wait at the airport with a sign for me again. He offered to take our bags as we went to teh car - a large Mercedes-Benz van with so much leg room and huge enough for me to almost stand up inside it! So this is an embassy vehicle! I noticed that its plate was blue, and rather than being an ACT plate, or even federal plate (I did not know these existed such a thing until recently), it bored 'Capital State'. Yes, royalty indeed. On our way from the airport, we passed the Royal Military College Duntroon, which was an expansive and impressive compound. I couldn't help but wonder whether the lakes across from the college were used for milirary exercises or not! The crisp air and the beautiful blue sky, sun shining, made the bare trees look like a picture from New England rather than Australia.

As we turned toward the main part of Canberra, New Parliament House appeared as the dominant scenery ahead of us. I suppose this is what people think of when they come to Canberra - a city of government officials and public servants. We passed the buildings of the Australian Federal Police (think a bit like super-new, shiny centre for fighting crime) and the National Archives of Australia. Many of the foreign embassies are located in close proximity to each other. Along the same street as the Polish embassy are the embassies of the USA, India, Israel, Germany and Sweden. Our lovely driver pointed these all out to us. The Chinese is the largest, the USA the 2nd. It is interested to see how each country has tried to outdo the others, each building looking like a symbol of its country's architecture - the US of New England (complete with red bricks actually imported from the USA!), with guards staunchly protecting it, British colonialism in India, and the distinct presence of communism of a bygone era of the Polish embassy. The lines are all very clean, straight, and there is a sense of austerity. When we walked in, we were greeted by a friend, though fairly concise, woman. The Polish ambassador and his family live in this large building that also houses a reception hall (in which we played), offices and guest rooms. In an earlier era, there were far more employees on site; now, only about nine. The driver also tends to the gardens and does all sorts of jobs around the place. He pointed out that the entire land area is about one hectare, and well-monitored by security cameras.

The hall we played in is like a reception hall, capacity about two hundred or so. They were setting up - dressing some tables with tablecloths and ironing them, arranging flowers, working out the state and lighting and other details. I experienced the Polish sense of humour, and attitude. The man who was overseeing all these arrangements pointed out all sorts of problems: "So, we have this little problem with the lights....", "And this little problem with the noise in the kitchen...", and continuing to point out the flaws of this performance arragement, but ending with a smile and shrug, "But this is what we have".

Present at this concert were members of the Polish community in Canberra, the Polish ambassador, the Finnish and Turkish ambassadors, a former Austrlaian ambassador in Poland, and the Archbishop of Canberra & Goulbern, who is the uncle of my colleague, the violinist! Good thing we only found out who all these people were after! A reception was held after about an hour of music and poetry readings in English and Polish. Along with the wine and juice on offer, standard too was vodka! We met lots of lovely people who really enjoyed the evening. The Finnish ambassador particularly enjoyed the music, as did her husband, who kissed both of our hands! We met the Polish ambassador, and many members of the Polish community.

just an ordinary lesson

My lessons this year are quite extraordinary.
You know how as a kid, or even older, you'd sometimes go to lessons knowing that you hadn't practiced enough, and that your teacher was going to yell at you for it, or you knew exactly what your teacher was going to say because it was the same thing as last week. Or that feeling that you'd let your teacher down, or that fear of going into a lesson because of all the above thing, and  more?

Well, I don't feel that at all this year.
This is not to say that I don't work hard to try and incorporate every thing that I've been taught in my previous lesson into everything else. But I certainly don't feel that sense of dread that my teacher is going to yell at me. I actually really look forward to each lesson because I know that I'll learn something extraordinary and will change my perception of my technique or musical idea.

Today was no exception. We only had a little bit of time, but short or long time, these lessons usually leave  me much to contemplate. I had intended to get through a lot, but it was to be so.
We spent about 45 minutes on these two lines or so with a particularly difficult section. If you're particularly interested, it is the end of the first movement of Beethoven's seventh violin sonata in c minor with that tricky broken octave bit that trucks along and causes great misfortune to pianists.

So I'm having troubles with it because:
i) I have little hands
ii) repeated broken octaves in that particular figuration does my brain (and hands) in
iii) the last of those octaves in the LH is a G Major - all white notes!!! No reference point doesn't help

So what to do?? Take it to your teacher, of course!
And thus the lesson of a whole heap of pratice techniques and discoveries. This is a list of them that I've noted for myself:

* Practice with earplugs. Dulls all the overtones and enhances peripheral perception of technique and physical things going on, rather than the actual sound feedback and the auditory sense. This totally came about in this fashion:
As my teacher was fiddling with my hands trying to explain muscles and what not, he saw the stamp on my inside right wrist and asked how the nightclub was. I quickly explained that I'd gone to a pub to see a friend's band, but don't worry, I had earplugs to save my ears. And he smiled and said, "Well, speaking of earplugs..."
There you go. Such diversions. Great.
I also pointed out that this friend had suggested that the stamp (a star in a circle) looked slightly evil and might have been a pentagram. I just thought it was a star in a circle.
* Fingers 2-3-4 acting as a unit. Band together with elastic band/cloth/other device so they stop flapping about unnecessarily.
* Stops on bottom / various stop combinations. Oh heck, stop practice is HUGE this year. I can't even begin to emphasise how much it's helped!
* Core of body but keep breathing! Related to Alexander Technique, which has been a massive change this year. There's pelvic floor that's related to the core, which is different to holding in your stomach. Go figure.
* Cupped hand position to brace 5th finger. Work that massive interossi muscle! Pianists with little hands often have a HUGE muscle on the outside side of their hand because they've had to develop it to do stuff. Mine is possibly one of the largest developed muscles in my body. How embarrassing!
* Relaxing the muscle between 1 and 2 even if the thumb doesn't contract.
* Letting go of stuff, including the above, and as a result of having a strong core. That is, free arm, free wrist, free everything.
* Voicing between LH & RH

So yeah, that's what we did in about 45 mins.
And although not all lessons leave me with quite as many practice methods, they're all extraodinarily helpful and enlightening.

Yep, an ordinary lesson indeed.

My mum writes funny emails

Some highlights in recent times have included:

* After I told her that I'd been shopping again:
"More spending?!?  Julia Gillard and Wayne Swan will love you for contributing towards the economy."

* Oh yeah, just casually mentioning that she's coming over in October...
"I hope there's no changes to your recital in October.  I've booked my flight to go to Melbourne for this and will take you out for early dinner on 10th Oct.  Will give you details later."

* When I hadn't called or emailled in a while:
"Guess you must be busy again with no news from you in between.  We haven't forgotten you although not been in contact.  What's been happening at your end?"
Good to know my family hasn't forgotten about me....!

lots of little trivial things

I know clothes don't make a man (and/or woman) but still, having some new clothes is pretty exciting. Particularly when they're on sale.

So I don't go shopping for leisure that much. I actually find it quite frustrating. I much prefer going shopping at the markets for fresh food. I tend to only go when I need something in particular, or when a sale tempts me enough to have a little poke around to see what bargains can be had. Today had some purpose in it: a pair of jeans (because I pretty much live in jeans and performance blacks...), some earphones and some warm socks for my impending one day in Canberra at the end of July. All things were accomplished today, which I am a little shocked at because I usually spend a long time umm-ing and ahh-ing, but with a limited time frame and the knowledge that fitting another shopping trip is near impossible in the forseeable future, I think I was pretty determined to get it done. I'll tell you: I'm pretty excited my two new pairs of woollen socks; They will do very well in the freezer that Melbourne currently is and the expectation of Canberra!

Also in my rather unusual-for-me-because-I-usually-have-this-practice-routine day, I did some particularly domestic activities: cupcakes baked and iced, a load of washing in the machine and dryer, a load of blacks washed, vegetables chopped and roasted in anticipation for cooking soup later this week, French toast made and consumed, supermarket shopping done. Yep, I think I'm set to be a domestic housewife if this music thing doesn't work out....or even if it does!

The vacuuming, among other things, still remains to be done...maybe as a procrastination tool....

The grey area

So I guess you know that I am really enjoying this year. I am really enjoying studying again (not that it was a significant break...), and I am really excited that I get to play the piano every day! Sure, some days are not as successful as others and some days are filled with rehearsals and seminars and other things that don't leave much time for practice, but still, it's a pretty exciting life.

However, there are several hard parts. I could whinge on for a little while about how hard it is for people to accept what I do as valid, or how much hard work it is, but one thing I'm struggling with (and have been for a while now) is where to draw the line. There can never be enough practice. Practice makes perfect. And I love practicing (on most days). I find it a consoling thing to do, something that is my routine, almost a physical need for my hands to touch keys. The hard part for me is knowing when to take a break. I find it hard to take a day off, even though I know there are so many good reasons for doing so. I usually only take them at the end of a very intense period of work or when my day has filled up with so many other necessary things that getting a chance to practice the piano is impossible for the day.

So what happens when that grey area is so large that you can't identify where leisure and work are anymore? Friends, please remind me to enjoy life too, outside of the thing I really love doing. Please help me to be disciplined about my practice and my rest too!

The Bach Project

Last year I decided on some repertoire goals in order to give me motivation and things to work towards. It is a very happy coincidence that a friend and I decided to play Beethoven sonatas together and that ANAM this year is undertaking a Beethoven project.

One of the other things I decided to do was to read through all 48 Preludes and Fugues of J.S. Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier. One of the pillars of Western art music, these pieces are often used for instruction and for determining whether a student can play Baroque music. Of course, Bach does not equal Baroque music, but Bach sure does constitute a large segment of Baroque music! I figured that there are 52 weeks in a year and 48 of these pieces. One a week. This plan gives me four weeks extra time to play with, should particular times of the year be too busy. Not to master and certainly not to performance standard, but to sit with each one for a week to absorb, feel somewhat more comfortable with, and explore. These are pieces that I know will sit with me for the rest of my life; one isn't ever finished with Bach.

I started at Book 1 Number 1 (C Major) on 27 December 2010, a Monday. Since then, every Monday has been a new discovery of the next Prelude and Fugue, chronologically. It's been a great motivator to get out of bed and to practice on a Monday morning: "New Prelude and Fugue day!" Okay, so I took one week off during Piano Week because we had such limited practice time. I have liked some very much; and admittedly I have liked some less. A few I have studied before, a few more I have read through before and the rest are largely quite new to me. Monday has usually seen a very lumpy read-through a few times with little concept of structure and the voices. Mid-week has seen some patchy areas ironed out a bit and by the end of the week some things are getting somewhat fluent (well, more so than on Monday!).

As of yesterday I technically finished the first book of the WTC. Every Prelude and Fugue in the first book, I have stumbled, read and played through. That's halfway point. It feels like a pretty exciting thing to have done it for maybe even twenty minutes a day for the last 24 weeks. At the present, I am awaiting a copy of the second volume to arrive in the mail before I embark on the second half of the project, which I know will be far more difficult but satisfying. For the present, I am happy to keep persisting with #24 of the first book (b minor) which, unusually for Bach, has tempo markings and articulation.

I will let you know how I progress through Volume Two....