Today we had a discussion in response to the 2012 Peggy Glanville-Hicks address given by Michael Kieran Harvey. (It can be found here) There were some interesting points made, some things to consider, and I brought up a few large questions and thoughts that may take many years to answer. However, one of them, why do I do music? is a question I ask myself quite regularly, and one that I am often asked by people I meet. And earlier in my life, I would probably have answered this question quite differently (mostly with a 'because I can, and because I'm alright at it') but have been challenged to question really why. And I think I've found myself being more comfortable with my choices now. This is not to say it hasn't been a challenge and struggle at times. Many times, and still now, I struggle with the fact that music can be an entirely self-seeking and self-serving career choice, one that might not benefit anybody else in this world directly (let's put it this way, I'm not saving lives like a doctor, I know this), and how to serve this world and to live out my faith in my work.
I honestly believe I've been given a great gift. And I admit, I like it. It's quite nifty, it has lots of exciting things (well, I think it's exciting). And yes, sometimes it is a little too easy to think that I am where I am because of all my hard work. But circumstances, such as my present one, constantly remind me that this is not the case. Reminders that tell me some (many...) things are beyond my control. And yes, I'll admit that I love doing what I do - I love the social interaction, I love the working process, I love creating things, and I love the buzz of performing, presenting a concert, showing the world what I can do. But I know I seek affirmation, and for expectations to be met. Those of my friends, colleagues, teachers, and ultimately myself.
But what I truly also love is to be able to share my gift, and what I do, with other people. What would be the point of me holing myself up in a room for hours a day if nobody could experience the joy that this music also gives me? The performance is the culmination, but also only a small glimpse into the entire creative process that gives me excitement and joy.
But when I really think about it, as I had to once when having a very honest discussion with a friend about what things were important in my life, music - for all that it appears to be to those around me (close or not) - remains third on my list of important things, behind God and relationships with family and friends. How much more exciting must these two things be?! How much more effort and persistance must these take? How much greater the reward in life (and post this life on earth)? And the way I see it, ultimately my life must serve the most important thing in my life, and all the things below #1 must point upwards. In my approach to why, and how I care about, and spend my efforts.
And maybe for others that's not how it works for them. Which is maybe why I can't always reconcile my part in this world, or this industry. And maybe why I'll never understand.
But that's me. That's why.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
A long overdue post
My gravest apologies if you're an eager reader who has had to wait several months for another post. You must forgive me, as it has been quite busy, and I am not so good at sitting down to type my thoughts out for the general public to read. Post Townsville, there was much to do. ANAM kept me well and truly busy, with many projects, including a two-week residency by David Dolan, Head of Classical Improvisation at the Guildhall School, Les Six week, second round of concerto competition, and a few recitals, including my own. I am proud to say that I am alive after it all, and am thankful to have survived it relatively unscathed!
It was great to have David Dolan back at ANAM this year; after last year's work with classical improvisation, it was nice to revisit some of these things - concepts, games and to also have grown so much across a year. So this year, we played some more games, and also launched into improvisation over harmonic foundations. It also helped that he articulated that he thought I was very musical, which is a nice validation of what I'm pursuing! I also managed to have a lesson with him, where we played games with improvisation, and I also took to him part of my Mozart concerto, which I was playing in the second round of the concerto competition. This was extremely refreshing, to be given morsels of ideas about the liberties one might take in order to make this piece truly my own. I also played him my cadenza to the first movement, which I had written earlier in the year. Granted, it is a mish-mash and somewhat appropriated from several other famous (and not so famous) cadenzi, with some of my own quirks. And I know it's not to everybody's taste (or some parts of it anyway!), but I truly was very satisfied with it. In some little way, I came to know a small part of the composition process: the muddled thoughts, the overwhelming amount of material, the frustration of not being able to make it work, and the eventual joy of making a creation that became truly my own across time.
I also floated the idea of improvising a little segment in my recital in September, as a transition between Scarlatti sonatas, to which David was heartily enthusiastic. I have to admit to not having sent a copy of my recital to him yet, as he asked! How does one practice for this? You ask. Well, I found it quite difficult. Where does one start? How does one get ideas? I thought about harmonic structure, of getting from one key to the next, I thought about using chorale melodies (Lutheran hymns, compiled by Bach) and trying to improvise a small fugue (VERY DIFFICULT!), and then finally settled on some sort of motif of which it would then grow. I did eventually do it in my recital, which was a bit scary, but also very liberating. I remember thinking, in the middle of it, "This is great! I have no idea how this will go, or how it will end, but there is no wrong or right!" How refreshing.
The other thing that was refreshing was to be able to play a piece of chamber music at ANAM more than once. A couple of most excellent double reed players were assembled to play Poulenc's Trio for Oboe, Bassoon and Piano for Les Six week. They were most enjoyable to play and rehearse with, and with the exception of a couple of minor disagreements, there were no (bad) issues at all. We had a few tutes with various people, which we enjoyed to varying degrees and then took and ran with our musical ideas.
There have been a few other projects in and out and after that. One was The Impossible Orchestra (not an ANAM project, but involved lots of ANAM musicians), which as an orchestral project designed to raise awareness about carers in Australia, and the nature of their job being full-time and essential (among other things). Thus, an orchestra was formed which would play for 24hrs in eight 3hr segments; the musicians rotated across the time period according to availability and what not, and the 3hr segment was repeated (so not new stuff all the time!), and interspersed with videos featuring some of the carers, and also celebrity conductors and the like. This was a massive undertaking, with musicians from Melbourne (and also some from other parts of the country) making up the orchestra. I would never have thought I would get the chance to play a (little) solo at Hamer Hall, but there you go, I did! It was a pretty crazy project, and one that was enjoyable and enlightening to be a part of.
In most recent time, my latest adventure has been a most exciting one. Last week we met Peter Hill, who is a British pianist who studied with Messiaen for a time (and is also known for his Bach - Peter, not necessarily Messiaen). We, the piano department of four students at ANAM, would be going to play Visions de l'Amen with Peter at the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) in Tasmania and the Synaesthesia festival, held over the first weekend in November. This work is scored for two pianos - it was the first piece Messiaen wrote after being released from a concentration camp during WW2 and like much of his music, is deeply Catholic, and also features some birds. It was written for Messiaen himself (piano 2 part, with the thematic material) and Yvonne Loriad, his second wife, who was a very talented pianist (piano 1 part, lots of virtuosic stuff). Guess which part we got 'stuck' with?!? However challenging the part was, it was a steep and good challenge. We had two days with Peter in Melbourne where we workshopped the piece in movements, which we had divided between the four of us. This was a fairly painless process, and really quite enjoyable - it was not difficult (as I had imagined) to put together and Peter defied my expectation (however unjustified) that a British guy would be extremely particular and the rehearsal process very nit-picky! We had a couple more rehersals in Hobart at MONA to adjust to different instruments and the room. One of the interesting things about the festival and being artists was that we were also able to explore the museum. The museum itself was shut over the weekend to general public who had not purchased a $605 ticket to the festival. This ticket allowed patrons to enjoy the museum (relatively emptily, as the day before it shut for the weekend there were about 1400 patrons!), and attend the various concerts, and be fed and watered very well!
MONA is truly fascinating. It is just outside Hobart, and belongs to David Walsh, who created it - the building itself, a beautiful architectural concept built into a rock face, and the collection, an eccentric and very diverse one spanning large amounts of time, mediums and concepts. Concerts were held in different rooms and spaces through the gallery, and most of these spaces proved to be excellent concert venues, where one could possibly enjoy visual art simultaneously and sound could filter through parts of the building. Synaesthesia is a neurological condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to an automatic, involuntary experience in another sensory or cognitive pathway. (Thank you Wikipeadia. Check out the article for more about it, fascinating). For example, music and colour, or numbers and emotions. Forgive my simple and brash explanations. Anyway, so this festival was about the combination of senses. Which I think is also very appropriate for a venue like MONA.
We performed our Messiaen in The Organ Room, which has an organ (ta-dah!) as well as a wall of greenery of ferns and other plants when you walk out of the lift. Usually, the room also has a myriad of small glass windows to reveal a most stunning view of Hobart. However, each of these windows (yes, EACH one) was blacked out so that our performance could include lighting effects to complement the music.
You may ask, "How does a fairly conservative, Christian girl who studies the piano, end up going to play music of a overtly Catholic man in a venue that is known to be confronting and controversial, owned by a man who is anti-Christian?" This circumstance puzzled me prior to going, but I was determined to have an open mind, and to be take in the experience of this museum, as an artist and interested person. I am thankful that The Organ Room was harmless in every way, and in fact, very pleasant! There is no doubt that I would characterise the museum as generally weird and fascinating; some is very cool, some is disturbing (as in I wouldn't tell my parents about it, let alone encourage them to go as they are even more conservative than me). As a concert and musical experience, it was pretty incredible - getting to play one of the most incredible pieces of music in a cleverly conceived concept and space, for a (mostly) appreciatve audience, and to be able to hear other fantastic music in great spaces (Quartet for the End of Time? Yes please). I love that so much thought and care has been put into the completely experience of visiting MONA, and find the place entirely fascinating. Someone commented that if some, or even one, of this confronting collection was in an average gallery among other fairly harmless art, that particular piece would stand out as highly controversial and out of place. But given that most of the collection is there to provoke and confront, one only expects to come face to face with the weird and big questions, which become the new norm. Definitely, there were certain rooms where I was afraid to go through by myself, cautious of what I may see around the corner.....but an entirely fascinating and intriguing place.
It was great to have David Dolan back at ANAM this year; after last year's work with classical improvisation, it was nice to revisit some of these things - concepts, games and to also have grown so much across a year. So this year, we played some more games, and also launched into improvisation over harmonic foundations. It also helped that he articulated that he thought I was very musical, which is a nice validation of what I'm pursuing! I also managed to have a lesson with him, where we played games with improvisation, and I also took to him part of my Mozart concerto, which I was playing in the second round of the concerto competition. This was extremely refreshing, to be given morsels of ideas about the liberties one might take in order to make this piece truly my own. I also played him my cadenza to the first movement, which I had written earlier in the year. Granted, it is a mish-mash and somewhat appropriated from several other famous (and not so famous) cadenzi, with some of my own quirks. And I know it's not to everybody's taste (or some parts of it anyway!), but I truly was very satisfied with it. In some little way, I came to know a small part of the composition process: the muddled thoughts, the overwhelming amount of material, the frustration of not being able to make it work, and the eventual joy of making a creation that became truly my own across time.
I also floated the idea of improvising a little segment in my recital in September, as a transition between Scarlatti sonatas, to which David was heartily enthusiastic. I have to admit to not having sent a copy of my recital to him yet, as he asked! How does one practice for this? You ask. Well, I found it quite difficult. Where does one start? How does one get ideas? I thought about harmonic structure, of getting from one key to the next, I thought about using chorale melodies (Lutheran hymns, compiled by Bach) and trying to improvise a small fugue (VERY DIFFICULT!), and then finally settled on some sort of motif of which it would then grow. I did eventually do it in my recital, which was a bit scary, but also very liberating. I remember thinking, in the middle of it, "This is great! I have no idea how this will go, or how it will end, but there is no wrong or right!" How refreshing.
The other thing that was refreshing was to be able to play a piece of chamber music at ANAM more than once. A couple of most excellent double reed players were assembled to play Poulenc's Trio for Oboe, Bassoon and Piano for Les Six week. They were most enjoyable to play and rehearse with, and with the exception of a couple of minor disagreements, there were no (bad) issues at all. We had a few tutes with various people, which we enjoyed to varying degrees and then took and ran with our musical ideas.
There have been a few other projects in and out and after that. One was The Impossible Orchestra (not an ANAM project, but involved lots of ANAM musicians), which as an orchestral project designed to raise awareness about carers in Australia, and the nature of their job being full-time and essential (among other things). Thus, an orchestra was formed which would play for 24hrs in eight 3hr segments; the musicians rotated across the time period according to availability and what not, and the 3hr segment was repeated (so not new stuff all the time!), and interspersed with videos featuring some of the carers, and also celebrity conductors and the like. This was a massive undertaking, with musicians from Melbourne (and also some from other parts of the country) making up the orchestra. I would never have thought I would get the chance to play a (little) solo at Hamer Hall, but there you go, I did! It was a pretty crazy project, and one that was enjoyable and enlightening to be a part of.
In most recent time, my latest adventure has been a most exciting one. Last week we met Peter Hill, who is a British pianist who studied with Messiaen for a time (and is also known for his Bach - Peter, not necessarily Messiaen). We, the piano department of four students at ANAM, would be going to play Visions de l'Amen with Peter at the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) in Tasmania and the Synaesthesia festival, held over the first weekend in November. This work is scored for two pianos - it was the first piece Messiaen wrote after being released from a concentration camp during WW2 and like much of his music, is deeply Catholic, and also features some birds. It was written for Messiaen himself (piano 2 part, with the thematic material) and Yvonne Loriad, his second wife, who was a very talented pianist (piano 1 part, lots of virtuosic stuff). Guess which part we got 'stuck' with?!? However challenging the part was, it was a steep and good challenge. We had two days with Peter in Melbourne where we workshopped the piece in movements, which we had divided between the four of us. This was a fairly painless process, and really quite enjoyable - it was not difficult (as I had imagined) to put together and Peter defied my expectation (however unjustified) that a British guy would be extremely particular and the rehearsal process very nit-picky! We had a couple more rehersals in Hobart at MONA to adjust to different instruments and the room. One of the interesting things about the festival and being artists was that we were also able to explore the museum. The museum itself was shut over the weekend to general public who had not purchased a $605 ticket to the festival. This ticket allowed patrons to enjoy the museum (relatively emptily, as the day before it shut for the weekend there were about 1400 patrons!), and attend the various concerts, and be fed and watered very well!
MONA is truly fascinating. It is just outside Hobart, and belongs to David Walsh, who created it - the building itself, a beautiful architectural concept built into a rock face, and the collection, an eccentric and very diverse one spanning large amounts of time, mediums and concepts. Concerts were held in different rooms and spaces through the gallery, and most of these spaces proved to be excellent concert venues, where one could possibly enjoy visual art simultaneously and sound could filter through parts of the building. Synaesthesia is a neurological condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to an automatic, involuntary experience in another sensory or cognitive pathway. (Thank you Wikipeadia. Check out the article for more about it, fascinating). For example, music and colour, or numbers and emotions. Forgive my simple and brash explanations. Anyway, so this festival was about the combination of senses. Which I think is also very appropriate for a venue like MONA.
We performed our Messiaen in The Organ Room, which has an organ (ta-dah!) as well as a wall of greenery of ferns and other plants when you walk out of the lift. Usually, the room also has a myriad of small glass windows to reveal a most stunning view of Hobart. However, each of these windows (yes, EACH one) was blacked out so that our performance could include lighting effects to complement the music.
You may ask, "How does a fairly conservative, Christian girl who studies the piano, end up going to play music of a overtly Catholic man in a venue that is known to be confronting and controversial, owned by a man who is anti-Christian?" This circumstance puzzled me prior to going, but I was determined to have an open mind, and to be take in the experience of this museum, as an artist and interested person. I am thankful that The Organ Room was harmless in every way, and in fact, very pleasant! There is no doubt that I would characterise the museum as generally weird and fascinating; some is very cool, some is disturbing (as in I wouldn't tell my parents about it, let alone encourage them to go as they are even more conservative than me). As a concert and musical experience, it was pretty incredible - getting to play one of the most incredible pieces of music in a cleverly conceived concept and space, for a (mostly) appreciatve audience, and to be able to hear other fantastic music in great spaces (Quartet for the End of Time? Yes please). I love that so much thought and care has been put into the completely experience of visiting MONA, and find the place entirely fascinating. Someone commented that if some, or even one, of this confronting collection was in an average gallery among other fairly harmless art, that particular piece would stand out as highly controversial and out of place. But given that most of the collection is there to provoke and confront, one only expects to come face to face with the weird and big questions, which become the new norm. Definitely, there were certain rooms where I was afraid to go through by myself, cautious of what I may see around the corner.....but an entirely fascinating and intriguing place.
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