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...