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!
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
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....
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....
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Black and white
After the crazy fun that was the Finnish musicians sharing their joy with us, I really thought that there wouldn't be such amazing projects ever again this year. But one has to have all sorts of little highlights, big highlights, some not as exciting times and also (I believe) experience the bad to know what all these levels of enjoyment are.
And I doubt that there are going to be any truly bad projects this year. I'm sure you would agree that not all musics resonate with you at all times. For example (and I know, this borders on the unmentionable, as a pianist), I do not really understand Prokofiev or Liszt at all. I havne't played any Prokofiev and can't imagine doing so in the near future. And I know, Liszt was one of the greatest pianists and he wrote so much piano music of distinction, but with the exception of a few pieces (such as transcriptions of Schubert songs, and some of his arrangmenets and workings of opera overtures, to name a few), I would rather pick something else over Liszt. There, I said it. Sorry.....
Anyway. Back to the idea of having all sorts of experiences.
Following Pekka Kuusisto and Iiro Rantala is a really tough gig. Seriously tough. There was so much energy in the air during their residency week that felt like a serious hangover of excitement and adrenaline. Next on the programme was an Australian Voices concert featuring the music of Peggy Glanville-Hicks, curated by the Australian harpist, Marshall Maguire. PGH was unique in that there were no female composers around her time in Australia so I suppose you could call her a pioneer. She went to New York and hung out with all these composers, artists and influential people in the scene there and was in with that crowd that considered themselves to be the intellectuals and witty. Her piece 'Thomsoniana' is a collection of songs for soprano, flute, horn, two violins, viola, cello and piano. The text is taken from reviews of various artists by Virgil Thomson. The language is so colourful and descriptive - we are so boring in our use of language these days! PGH's music reflects the styles in which these composers/performers presented themselves; for example, the music for Stravinsky is 'Neoclassical' while Schoenberg is atonal and awkward. Clifford Curzon incisively dictates while Satie's and Ansermet's is floaty and full of subtle harmonies. The entire work is quite light-hearted and at times, tongue-in-cheek. Again, the Salon at the Melbourne Recital Centre was a beautiful venue to play in and the audience seemed to enjoy the concert.
That concert over, it was time to gear up for one of the biggest weeks (for pianists, at least!) of the year: the 2011 Piano! Festival. This was a week of intense learning, much sharing, music-making galore and merriment. The four pianists at ANAM (three students, one teacher) were joined by another seven students from around the country and artists from around Australia and the world.
[Disclaimer: maybe skip to the last few paragraphs if you don't have much time. I have a feeling the next chunk will be a VERY significant bit of reading...and I think perhaps I shan't detail every hour that was filled with every rehearsal, lesson, concert or seminar.]
The week started on Sunday with an introduction to the week from Tim and introducing each other. Some people had only flown in that morning so were a little hazy on it. Good thing we didn't start rehearsals...! We had an introductory session to Alexander Technique from ANAM's regular, Penny McDonald. I have to say that before I came to ANAM I was a little skeptical of Alexander Technique; probably because other people couldn't articulate to me how it could be useful nor could they tell me how they had benfitted. And I think it's one of those things that you just have to give it a shot. Even if it's completely outside of our comfort zone and you mightn't actually end up doing it, it's worth it to at least try it. If there's one idea or belief that I'm forming quite strongly, it is that one has to be open to stuff. To at least try it and then if it doesn't work, to discard it and do something else. But at least to have active choices; this is what makes us human, right? We have been given choices and brains to make decisions for ourselves. So it was interesting, because most of us in the room had really never done anything of the sort, and I think that this session, along with the one the next day really was helpful for those who rescinded previously-held ideas and control just to try it out and see whether it could make playing more productive and easier.
The next day was the start of all the seriously serious stuff. I will admit that over the previous weekend in anticipation for the crazy busy-ness that was about to hit, I woke up early on both days to do my chores and errands....nothing quite beats going grocery shopping at 7.45am on a Saturday morning or doing one's laundry at 7am.....how cool am I?!? So, ANAM was going to be open from 8am every day so that we could fit in some practice time. Admittedly, we were allocated three dedicated hours a day to practice (if you choose to use them...) which may sound like a lot, but honestly isn't heaps given how much ideally we'd each choose to do! Pianists are notorious for being the first to pipe up, "I need to practice..." (particularly at social functions haha). So off I went to be there for 8am with the notion of a serious sugar and caffeine addiction already planted. We had a session on stagecraft from Hugh Halliday mid-morning where we talked about presentation and even did some walk-ons and bowing (even with two pianists. The coordination required is obviously quite pertinent!) The girls were even taught to curtsy, which few managed to do gracefully. The rest of us (me included) did this awkward bob thing trying to balance on one foot and looking more like baby giraffes rather than graceful ladies.
Then came the first of the lunchtime concerts for the week (there was one every day!) in which the ANAM pianists and another student from Queensland played our solos. I had the (un?)fortunate pleasure of being the very first up. I suppose this is what happens when one elects to play Bach....(I think I'm going to be known as the girl that plays Bach and Beethoven...! I suppose there are worse things to be known for, right?) It went fairly well, with the exception of a memory slip at the very beginning, about six bars in. Third time lucky, after a humble apology to the audience (and no expletives, which may have otherwise been expected..!) with music safely opened out, I got through all four of the Four Duets relatively unscathed. Quite satisfactorily, in fact, I think. These pieces are rarely played; in fact, I had never heard of them until Tim mentioned them to me. I'm pretty sure most people haven't heard of them, let alone even heard them. They don't enjoy the same sort of fame as the Well-Tempered Clavier, the French Suites or Partitas, or even the concerti (including those for multiple keyboards). But being the genius that Bach is, these pieces are clever and exciting gems that only utilise two voices to create surprising harmonic inflections, modulations and clever (and deceiving) rhythmic games. Such is the joy of playing Bach - always something new to discover.
During the week I had three different lessons with three differents artists: Michael Kieran Harvey, Ami Roge and Stephen Emmerson. For each, I brought three different works: the first movement of Beethoven's 2nd Piano Concerto (B Flat Major), Faure's La Bonne Chanson and the first movement of Beethoven's 5th sonata for piano and cello (D Major). All these classes were helpful and insightful with the teachers encouraging me (and my associate artist, in each case!) in shaping the music. One particularly exciting thing was that Ami Roge had only ever played the first three (of nine) songs of the Faure and so playing the songs for her was like a revelation. We had a particularly enjoyable hour together delving into the subtle harmonies and colours and didn't even get through the whole work! We were so excited that we arranged to have another session the next day where my soprano could come along and also for Pascal Roge (!!!!) to hear it too. This session was particularly exciting maybe just for sheer virtue of playing for Pascal Roge (!!!!) but probably most exciting was that here we were, sharing this amazing music for the first time for Pascal and Ami who had never heard the entire song cycle performed.
Each day at 5pm there was also a seminar given by one of the visiting artists (I suppose I should mention at this point that the other visiting artists, apart from Pascal and Ami Roge, Michael Kieran Harvey, Stephen Emmerson and Timothy Young, obviously, were Ian Munro and Steven Osborne). These presentations were interesting and definitely got juices and thoughts flowing. There was some lively debate and many seeds planted in the young (and not so young!) minds.
More of the visiting students played solos in the lunchtime concerts on the Tuesday and Wednesday. It was lovely to sit back and to enjoy hearing other pianists. One thing that was weird through the week was to hear so much piano being practiced! With only three of us this year at ANAM, we are far more likely to hear a violin or cello (or even an oboe! Yes, there are four oboe players this year! That's one more than piano. So unlikely!!) in the practice rooms. And for once, you couldn't tell who was practicing based on the repertoire - you actually had to peek in to see who it was!
The Tuesday lunchtime concert also featured Malcolm Williamson's Concerto for Wind Quintet and Two Pianos (Eight Hands). This was such a feat to get this together. Prior to the concert, we had had rehearsals where we fiddled with the position and orientation of the two pianos, where the wind quintet was going to be, whether it would work without a conductor, putting up baffles to reduce the bathroom-like quality of the hall. Complex. And although it went fairly well (you know, we started together and finished together. Each movement, that is. Quite an achievement. Give or take some weird stuff happening in the middle.) I will admit that this is one of those things that I didn't particularly enjoy. The piece conceptually is good - you know, wind quintet, lots of piano-ing; but the execution of this concept unfortunately didn't resonate with me (nor perhaps, several other members of the ensemble) as the music didn't go many places in the first movement, the second so complex texturally that it was hard to do much with it, the third was nice though a little stagnent and at least the fourth was entertaining with all its running semiquavers. Oh well, we did get through it quite sufficiently and as I preluded above, one has to have not so exciting projects to know what exciting projects are.
Thursday's lunchtime concert was an all-Poulenc programme featuring Pascal and Ami Roge, Tim and eight of the students in works for two pianos, as well as the Poulenc sextet. This was a really fun and enjoyable concert and also rewarding to not have to work hard and just to be able to sit back and enjoy the concert. Also because I don't understand, but enjoy, Poulenc's music. Friday's lunchtime concert was a great ball of fun; Stephen Emmerson and all the students performed an all-Grainger programme of works for multiple pianos and multiple hands. There were some short cute tunes and a beautiful Scottish folksong arrangement with the highlight (not as I played in it, but rather as the most substantial thing that Grainger wrote) being his arrangment of his own orchestral work, The Warrior (Music for an Imaginery Ballet), for three pianists at two pianos. This twenty or so minute work is full of exciting harmonies that shift rapidly, melodic themes, percussive effects, polytime (between all three pianists at one point!), canons - among many other exciting things. This was a fantastic piece to work on and play. In the couple of weeks leading up to it, practicing it always made me happy because it is such joyous and fun music. And there are sections of extreme dynamics - really fun to create 'barely a wisp of sound' to thumping it out ('bring to the fore' and ffff). I seriously think that in the performance we abused the pianos so much that we put them out of tune! It was great fun. We started together and ended together; again, with a few funny things in the middle, but that is the beauty of live performance: the risk factor! It was still effective, and I think the audience really enjoyed it. I know I got a real kick out of playing this massive work. What fun.
Each evening, we also watched a concert given by one of the visiting artists. These ranged widely from Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, French 'Impressionists', Rachmaninoff, Messiaen to a recent composition/homage to Liszt. Being immersed in this much piano and performance was very busy (each hour accounted for, including when we had time to practice and when we ate lunch and dinner!) but also really satisfying because we could engage in so much so intensely. Going to a concert each evening made us critical listeners and inspired much comment and debate afterwards and into the rest of the week. All the concerts were good in their own way; each provoked (positive and negative) responses from the students, which I think is a good thing. To play and not have any response is probably the worst reaction because it means that the music and playing didn't move anybody to care. Probably one of the highlights for me was to hear Messiaen's Quatuor pour la fin du temps (Quartet for the End of Time). Much has been said about this piece but I had never heard it in its entirety, either on recording or live. If you get the chance to see it live, I highly recommend that you do. Played well (as it was on the Friday night), it is incredibly moving; I doubt I can even adequately describe it in words, but in a poor attempt to do so, I felt like I needed to sit in silence for half an hour after the performance to process what had just happened. It felt like plucking molten silver out of thin air. Time stood still for many moments.
There was an Improv segment to Piano Week as well, held the weekend after the classical stuff finished. I also managed to squeeze in a vocal recital on the Saturday night at the end of the craziness that was the week. Perhaps thoughts and reflections on those two days are better left for another post of far less intensity and information. A ridiculous amount of caffeine and sugar taking the guise of an addiction (there are far worse things to be addicted to!) helped me through the one hundred hour or so week of incredible music-making, madness and merriment. I met a bunch of amazing artists - both professional and colleagues - who made the week so enjoyable. When Monday morning rolled around, I had lost a little bit of that motivation and gung-ho attitude that came with having every hour of every day accounted for in some schedule. It is back to the note-learning phase. The week was incredible. So many ideas were bounced around; I felt like I had to constantly have my critical hat on (critical not in a negative way, but in an analytical way) to really question why we make the decisions we do, why we enjoy certain things or not, and what we consider to be important in our music-making. So many ideas were sowed into young, impressionable minds and friends were made over music. That's important.
And I doubt that there are going to be any truly bad projects this year. I'm sure you would agree that not all musics resonate with you at all times. For example (and I know, this borders on the unmentionable, as a pianist), I do not really understand Prokofiev or Liszt at all. I havne't played any Prokofiev and can't imagine doing so in the near future. And I know, Liszt was one of the greatest pianists and he wrote so much piano music of distinction, but with the exception of a few pieces (such as transcriptions of Schubert songs, and some of his arrangmenets and workings of opera overtures, to name a few), I would rather pick something else over Liszt. There, I said it. Sorry.....
Anyway. Back to the idea of having all sorts of experiences.
Following Pekka Kuusisto and Iiro Rantala is a really tough gig. Seriously tough. There was so much energy in the air during their residency week that felt like a serious hangover of excitement and adrenaline. Next on the programme was an Australian Voices concert featuring the music of Peggy Glanville-Hicks, curated by the Australian harpist, Marshall Maguire. PGH was unique in that there were no female composers around her time in Australia so I suppose you could call her a pioneer. She went to New York and hung out with all these composers, artists and influential people in the scene there and was in with that crowd that considered themselves to be the intellectuals and witty. Her piece 'Thomsoniana' is a collection of songs for soprano, flute, horn, two violins, viola, cello and piano. The text is taken from reviews of various artists by Virgil Thomson. The language is so colourful and descriptive - we are so boring in our use of language these days! PGH's music reflects the styles in which these composers/performers presented themselves; for example, the music for Stravinsky is 'Neoclassical' while Schoenberg is atonal and awkward. Clifford Curzon incisively dictates while Satie's and Ansermet's is floaty and full of subtle harmonies. The entire work is quite light-hearted and at times, tongue-in-cheek. Again, the Salon at the Melbourne Recital Centre was a beautiful venue to play in and the audience seemed to enjoy the concert.
That concert over, it was time to gear up for one of the biggest weeks (for pianists, at least!) of the year: the 2011 Piano! Festival. This was a week of intense learning, much sharing, music-making galore and merriment. The four pianists at ANAM (three students, one teacher) were joined by another seven students from around the country and artists from around Australia and the world.
[Disclaimer: maybe skip to the last few paragraphs if you don't have much time. I have a feeling the next chunk will be a VERY significant bit of reading...and I think perhaps I shan't detail every hour that was filled with every rehearsal, lesson, concert or seminar.]
The week started on Sunday with an introduction to the week from Tim and introducing each other. Some people had only flown in that morning so were a little hazy on it. Good thing we didn't start rehearsals...! We had an introductory session to Alexander Technique from ANAM's regular, Penny McDonald. I have to say that before I came to ANAM I was a little skeptical of Alexander Technique; probably because other people couldn't articulate to me how it could be useful nor could they tell me how they had benfitted. And I think it's one of those things that you just have to give it a shot. Even if it's completely outside of our comfort zone and you mightn't actually end up doing it, it's worth it to at least try it. If there's one idea or belief that I'm forming quite strongly, it is that one has to be open to stuff. To at least try it and then if it doesn't work, to discard it and do something else. But at least to have active choices; this is what makes us human, right? We have been given choices and brains to make decisions for ourselves. So it was interesting, because most of us in the room had really never done anything of the sort, and I think that this session, along with the one the next day really was helpful for those who rescinded previously-held ideas and control just to try it out and see whether it could make playing more productive and easier.
The next day was the start of all the seriously serious stuff. I will admit that over the previous weekend in anticipation for the crazy busy-ness that was about to hit, I woke up early on both days to do my chores and errands....nothing quite beats going grocery shopping at 7.45am on a Saturday morning or doing one's laundry at 7am.....how cool am I?!? So, ANAM was going to be open from 8am every day so that we could fit in some practice time. Admittedly, we were allocated three dedicated hours a day to practice (if you choose to use them...) which may sound like a lot, but honestly isn't heaps given how much ideally we'd each choose to do! Pianists are notorious for being the first to pipe up, "I need to practice..." (particularly at social functions haha). So off I went to be there for 8am with the notion of a serious sugar and caffeine addiction already planted. We had a session on stagecraft from Hugh Halliday mid-morning where we talked about presentation and even did some walk-ons and bowing (even with two pianists. The coordination required is obviously quite pertinent!) The girls were even taught to curtsy, which few managed to do gracefully. The rest of us (me included) did this awkward bob thing trying to balance on one foot and looking more like baby giraffes rather than graceful ladies.
Then came the first of the lunchtime concerts for the week (there was one every day!) in which the ANAM pianists and another student from Queensland played our solos. I had the (un?)fortunate pleasure of being the very first up. I suppose this is what happens when one elects to play Bach....(I think I'm going to be known as the girl that plays Bach and Beethoven...! I suppose there are worse things to be known for, right?) It went fairly well, with the exception of a memory slip at the very beginning, about six bars in. Third time lucky, after a humble apology to the audience (and no expletives, which may have otherwise been expected..!) with music safely opened out, I got through all four of the Four Duets relatively unscathed. Quite satisfactorily, in fact, I think. These pieces are rarely played; in fact, I had never heard of them until Tim mentioned them to me. I'm pretty sure most people haven't heard of them, let alone even heard them. They don't enjoy the same sort of fame as the Well-Tempered Clavier, the French Suites or Partitas, or even the concerti (including those for multiple keyboards). But being the genius that Bach is, these pieces are clever and exciting gems that only utilise two voices to create surprising harmonic inflections, modulations and clever (and deceiving) rhythmic games. Such is the joy of playing Bach - always something new to discover.
During the week I had three different lessons with three differents artists: Michael Kieran Harvey, Ami Roge and Stephen Emmerson. For each, I brought three different works: the first movement of Beethoven's 2nd Piano Concerto (B Flat Major), Faure's La Bonne Chanson and the first movement of Beethoven's 5th sonata for piano and cello (D Major). All these classes were helpful and insightful with the teachers encouraging me (and my associate artist, in each case!) in shaping the music. One particularly exciting thing was that Ami Roge had only ever played the first three (of nine) songs of the Faure and so playing the songs for her was like a revelation. We had a particularly enjoyable hour together delving into the subtle harmonies and colours and didn't even get through the whole work! We were so excited that we arranged to have another session the next day where my soprano could come along and also for Pascal Roge (!!!!) to hear it too. This session was particularly exciting maybe just for sheer virtue of playing for Pascal Roge (!!!!) but probably most exciting was that here we were, sharing this amazing music for the first time for Pascal and Ami who had never heard the entire song cycle performed.
Each day at 5pm there was also a seminar given by one of the visiting artists (I suppose I should mention at this point that the other visiting artists, apart from Pascal and Ami Roge, Michael Kieran Harvey, Stephen Emmerson and Timothy Young, obviously, were Ian Munro and Steven Osborne). These presentations were interesting and definitely got juices and thoughts flowing. There was some lively debate and many seeds planted in the young (and not so young!) minds.
More of the visiting students played solos in the lunchtime concerts on the Tuesday and Wednesday. It was lovely to sit back and to enjoy hearing other pianists. One thing that was weird through the week was to hear so much piano being practiced! With only three of us this year at ANAM, we are far more likely to hear a violin or cello (or even an oboe! Yes, there are four oboe players this year! That's one more than piano. So unlikely!!) in the practice rooms. And for once, you couldn't tell who was practicing based on the repertoire - you actually had to peek in to see who it was!
The Tuesday lunchtime concert also featured Malcolm Williamson's Concerto for Wind Quintet and Two Pianos (Eight Hands). This was such a feat to get this together. Prior to the concert, we had had rehearsals where we fiddled with the position and orientation of the two pianos, where the wind quintet was going to be, whether it would work without a conductor, putting up baffles to reduce the bathroom-like quality of the hall. Complex. And although it went fairly well (you know, we started together and finished together. Each movement, that is. Quite an achievement. Give or take some weird stuff happening in the middle.) I will admit that this is one of those things that I didn't particularly enjoy. The piece conceptually is good - you know, wind quintet, lots of piano-ing; but the execution of this concept unfortunately didn't resonate with me (nor perhaps, several other members of the ensemble) as the music didn't go many places in the first movement, the second so complex texturally that it was hard to do much with it, the third was nice though a little stagnent and at least the fourth was entertaining with all its running semiquavers. Oh well, we did get through it quite sufficiently and as I preluded above, one has to have not so exciting projects to know what exciting projects are.
Thursday's lunchtime concert was an all-Poulenc programme featuring Pascal and Ami Roge, Tim and eight of the students in works for two pianos, as well as the Poulenc sextet. This was a really fun and enjoyable concert and also rewarding to not have to work hard and just to be able to sit back and enjoy the concert. Also because I don't understand, but enjoy, Poulenc's music. Friday's lunchtime concert was a great ball of fun; Stephen Emmerson and all the students performed an all-Grainger programme of works for multiple pianos and multiple hands. There were some short cute tunes and a beautiful Scottish folksong arrangement with the highlight (not as I played in it, but rather as the most substantial thing that Grainger wrote) being his arrangment of his own orchestral work, The Warrior (Music for an Imaginery Ballet), for three pianists at two pianos. This twenty or so minute work is full of exciting harmonies that shift rapidly, melodic themes, percussive effects, polytime (between all three pianists at one point!), canons - among many other exciting things. This was a fantastic piece to work on and play. In the couple of weeks leading up to it, practicing it always made me happy because it is such joyous and fun music. And there are sections of extreme dynamics - really fun to create 'barely a wisp of sound' to thumping it out ('bring to the fore' and ffff). I seriously think that in the performance we abused the pianos so much that we put them out of tune! It was great fun. We started together and ended together; again, with a few funny things in the middle, but that is the beauty of live performance: the risk factor! It was still effective, and I think the audience really enjoyed it. I know I got a real kick out of playing this massive work. What fun.
Each evening, we also watched a concert given by one of the visiting artists. These ranged widely from Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, French 'Impressionists', Rachmaninoff, Messiaen to a recent composition/homage to Liszt. Being immersed in this much piano and performance was very busy (each hour accounted for, including when we had time to practice and when we ate lunch and dinner!) but also really satisfying because we could engage in so much so intensely. Going to a concert each evening made us critical listeners and inspired much comment and debate afterwards and into the rest of the week. All the concerts were good in their own way; each provoked (positive and negative) responses from the students, which I think is a good thing. To play and not have any response is probably the worst reaction because it means that the music and playing didn't move anybody to care. Probably one of the highlights for me was to hear Messiaen's Quatuor pour la fin du temps (Quartet for the End of Time). Much has been said about this piece but I had never heard it in its entirety, either on recording or live. If you get the chance to see it live, I highly recommend that you do. Played well (as it was on the Friday night), it is incredibly moving; I doubt I can even adequately describe it in words, but in a poor attempt to do so, I felt like I needed to sit in silence for half an hour after the performance to process what had just happened. It felt like plucking molten silver out of thin air. Time stood still for many moments.
There was an Improv segment to Piano Week as well, held the weekend after the classical stuff finished. I also managed to squeeze in a vocal recital on the Saturday night at the end of the craziness that was the week. Perhaps thoughts and reflections on those two days are better left for another post of far less intensity and information. A ridiculous amount of caffeine and sugar taking the guise of an addiction (there are far worse things to be addicted to!) helped me through the one hundred hour or so week of incredible music-making, madness and merriment. I met a bunch of amazing artists - both professional and colleagues - who made the week so enjoyable. When Monday morning rolled around, I had lost a little bit of that motivation and gung-ho attitude that came with having every hour of every day accounted for in some schedule. It is back to the note-learning phase. The week was incredible. So many ideas were bounced around; I felt like I had to constantly have my critical hat on (critical not in a negative way, but in an analytical way) to really question why we make the decisions we do, why we enjoy certain things or not, and what we consider to be important in our music-making. So many ideas were sowed into young, impressionable minds and friends were made over music. That's important.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Beethoven to Tango via Finland
It is the month of May - the crazy one, where so much is happening!
Beethoven starred in a Mother's Day concert last Sunday. There were a few of his early violin sonatas and a couple of early cello and piano works. What a miserably wet day is was, but the audience were treated to a feast of music and what looked like some incredible cupckaes (among other tasty treats)!
There are ten sonatas for piano and violin by Beethoven.
Number one in D Major, tick!
This was admittedly a little hastily put together - maybe all within the space of about three weeks. But I guess the good thing about a work like this is that I'll have it in my repertoire hopefully as long as I live, and will have a lifetime to refine it.
From Beethoven sonatas to Beethoven violin concerto with.....(insert drum roll here)...Pekka Kuusisto!
Enter the one-week residency of Pekka Kuusisto, violin and Iiro Rantala, piano.
I'm not sure I had any idea what to expect, apart from lots of fun and experimentation. And that's what we got. The concert at the end of the week was in three stages:
Set I: Beethoven's violin concerto and Haydn's 88th Symphony
Set II: Great Mistakes (Hietala) for piano trio, and some improv
Set III: Subterraneo, tango improv (Finnish style...)
I signed myself up for Set III with little idea of what was expected of me. I had obtained a copy of Subterraneo and had a listen of Pekka and Iiro tango-ing it up. Certainly not really tango as I expected - that is, not via Buenos Aires! If you are looking for something new to listen to, I highly recommend this; it is INCREDIBLE. I have had it on repeat for at least two weeks now.
So, we turned up to our first Set III rehearsal with some nervous anticipation. I seriously felt not qualified to be there, but we got into it.
Our first task was to learn some Finnish text:
Lämpöni lempeni annan
Kaunis on nuoruutein
Näät suven ruusut kannan
Itseni yksin tein
Ei ole muuta antaa
Kuin tama nuoruutein
Sulle sen tahdon kantaa
En ota itsellein
And then we had to learn the melody that went with this song. Let me tell you: learning a new song and its melody is made significantly more difficult when you don't know what you're singing about, let alone how to say the words. Lucky Matt pulled out his iPhone and recorded Pekka and Iiro singing it so we could all have this forty second sound clip of sheer spontenaeity and helpfulness.
We also did some improvising on a basic G chord ('white notes') that would form the sections between more structured bits that P&I (yes, this is how I'm going to refer to them from here on in....) play. We came up with various combinations where the voices would interact with each other while others provided a background soundscape in which to improvise over. We also learnt Tango Ouh and where to come in.....
Day one complete.
The next day, I was fortunate enough to have about an hour or so one-on-one with Iiro. I didn't really know what to expect; I'm not sure he did either! Only much later in the week and upon reflection do I realise how fortunate I was for this time. You should also totally look him up on Youtube and what not to see what he does. Briefly, I admire him because he's a classically trained pianist who is an amazing jazz artist and the way that he uses the instrument - technically and tonally. So, what does one who hasn't really played much jazz do in a private lesson with such a great artist?
Well, he was really nice. Genuinely interested. He asked what I was currently playing, what sort of stuff I listen to, who my favourite composers are, whether I'd improvised and played any jazz before. That sort of stuff. And then we talked about what might be good ways to start improvising and listening and trying out stuff. I never dreamt that I would ever hear or witness the likes of ABBA, Queen or The Beatles being played on the pianos that are within the walls of the South Melbourne Town Hall, but there you go. No kidding. Awesome.
Then we experimented with some of that floaty stuff that we had done the previous day in our rehearsal. He encouraged and murmured approvingly as I added some colour notes and fiddled about with different motifs. Then he suggested adding a rhythmic pulse, which totally changed the feel of things. Funny that...
He demonstrated, and said "Here, you have a go, just like that." Ummmm........maybe not 'just like that'...!
But again, he was very encouraging. Then we tried some improvising on the chords in the intro of 'Autumn Leaves'. We talked about various other jazz pianists and some of their styles. I asked all sorts of questions, including some about 'wrong notes'.
In-between all that, he played me some of the things he's thinking about, like a pop song ditty he's written. Very catchy and cute. Incidentally, a few of us went to their gig at Bennett's Lane the night before the concert and he aired it for the first time there! I feel priveliged that I'd already had some of it! He also talked a bit about doing some improvisation on Bach's Goldberg Variations, whereupon he whipped out a well-thumbed copy (Henle, no less) of the piece and opened up to the first page and started playing a bit and improvising. I remarked to him after that it was astonshing that even though he was adding colour notes, like 9ths, 11ths and other fun things, the basic harmonies were not shocking - they all sounded plausible as Bach had written them. I think this is one of the things that makes me admire Iiro so much is that he is classically trained. He has this background of being well-informed about the history of Western music and technical security (there is no way he'd be able to play half of what he does if he didn't have it!), and there is that understanding of how music has evolved over time, and how he can do stuff now that is different. It was also quite humbling that such a great jazz artist would still return to Bach and love every moment of it.
Our next few rehearsals for Set III involved more improvising and having fun with the Finnish tango. In one of the songs, Adios Muchachos, I put my hand up for a 32-bar solo. Deep end? I think so. Bring it on! The ever-encouraging Sam popped in to have a listen during the week and had some very wise words for me that included "don't freak out about your solo" and the fact that I wasn't (and never will be, funnily enough..!) Iiro and that we are totally differnet people with different ideas and totally different experience. So I should just play what I do and not worry about any sort of comparison. [Sam, I know you'll read this, so thank you :) ]
And in the concert, I decided that I should just get on with it and do it. Have fun and what not.
Unfortunately, I don't really remember exactly what I did in my solo, but I remember thinking, 'Who cares about wrong notes? Make them into something. Do something fun and interesting!'
And you bet I had so much fun. A few people commented about how much fun it looked like I was having through the entire set. And not that I don't have fun when I play classical music, but I think it's a totally different mindset that I have. And perhaps it shouldn't be different. It was such a joy to do this concert and to be (almost) totally spontaneous and love doing it.
Maybe that's what I need to be practicing more of - having fun!
I think this project is one of the most enjoyable I've ever worked on. I know I've raved about other things (even so many this year already!) but this one has been hard to put into words and I'm not even sure if I've articulated any of the sentiment this week well at all. You might just have to imagine how amazing it was if I tell you that my eyes glaze over when I think about how incredibly fortunate I was to experience this.
And if you ever get the chance to see them, do it. I went to their gig and can say that it was one of the best gigs I've ever been to.
Beethoven starred in a Mother's Day concert last Sunday. There were a few of his early violin sonatas and a couple of early cello and piano works. What a miserably wet day is was, but the audience were treated to a feast of music and what looked like some incredible cupckaes (among other tasty treats)!
There are ten sonatas for piano and violin by Beethoven.
Number one in D Major, tick!
This was admittedly a little hastily put together - maybe all within the space of about three weeks. But I guess the good thing about a work like this is that I'll have it in my repertoire hopefully as long as I live, and will have a lifetime to refine it.
From Beethoven sonatas to Beethoven violin concerto with.....(insert drum roll here)...Pekka Kuusisto!
Enter the one-week residency of Pekka Kuusisto, violin and Iiro Rantala, piano.
I'm not sure I had any idea what to expect, apart from lots of fun and experimentation. And that's what we got. The concert at the end of the week was in three stages:
Set I: Beethoven's violin concerto and Haydn's 88th Symphony
Set II: Great Mistakes (Hietala) for piano trio, and some improv
Set III: Subterraneo, tango improv (Finnish style...)
I signed myself up for Set III with little idea of what was expected of me. I had obtained a copy of Subterraneo and had a listen of Pekka and Iiro tango-ing it up. Certainly not really tango as I expected - that is, not via Buenos Aires! If you are looking for something new to listen to, I highly recommend this; it is INCREDIBLE. I have had it on repeat for at least two weeks now.
So, we turned up to our first Set III rehearsal with some nervous anticipation. I seriously felt not qualified to be there, but we got into it.
Our first task was to learn some Finnish text:
Lämpöni lempeni annan
Kaunis on nuoruutein
Näät suven ruusut kannan
Itseni yksin tein
Ei ole muuta antaa
Kuin tama nuoruutein
Sulle sen tahdon kantaa
En ota itsellein
And then we had to learn the melody that went with this song. Let me tell you: learning a new song and its melody is made significantly more difficult when you don't know what you're singing about, let alone how to say the words. Lucky Matt pulled out his iPhone and recorded Pekka and Iiro singing it so we could all have this forty second sound clip of sheer spontenaeity and helpfulness.
We also did some improvising on a basic G chord ('white notes') that would form the sections between more structured bits that P&I (yes, this is how I'm going to refer to them from here on in....) play. We came up with various combinations where the voices would interact with each other while others provided a background soundscape in which to improvise over. We also learnt Tango Ouh and where to come in.....
Day one complete.
The next day, I was fortunate enough to have about an hour or so one-on-one with Iiro. I didn't really know what to expect; I'm not sure he did either! Only much later in the week and upon reflection do I realise how fortunate I was for this time. You should also totally look him up on Youtube and what not to see what he does. Briefly, I admire him because he's a classically trained pianist who is an amazing jazz artist and the way that he uses the instrument - technically and tonally. So, what does one who hasn't really played much jazz do in a private lesson with such a great artist?
Well, he was really nice. Genuinely interested. He asked what I was currently playing, what sort of stuff I listen to, who my favourite composers are, whether I'd improvised and played any jazz before. That sort of stuff. And then we talked about what might be good ways to start improvising and listening and trying out stuff. I never dreamt that I would ever hear or witness the likes of ABBA, Queen or The Beatles being played on the pianos that are within the walls of the South Melbourne Town Hall, but there you go. No kidding. Awesome.
Then we experimented with some of that floaty stuff that we had done the previous day in our rehearsal. He encouraged and murmured approvingly as I added some colour notes and fiddled about with different motifs. Then he suggested adding a rhythmic pulse, which totally changed the feel of things. Funny that...
He demonstrated, and said "Here, you have a go, just like that." Ummmm........maybe not 'just like that'...!
But again, he was very encouraging. Then we tried some improvising on the chords in the intro of 'Autumn Leaves'. We talked about various other jazz pianists and some of their styles. I asked all sorts of questions, including some about 'wrong notes'.
In-between all that, he played me some of the things he's thinking about, like a pop song ditty he's written. Very catchy and cute. Incidentally, a few of us went to their gig at Bennett's Lane the night before the concert and he aired it for the first time there! I feel priveliged that I'd already had some of it! He also talked a bit about doing some improvisation on Bach's Goldberg Variations, whereupon he whipped out a well-thumbed copy (Henle, no less) of the piece and opened up to the first page and started playing a bit and improvising. I remarked to him after that it was astonshing that even though he was adding colour notes, like 9ths, 11ths and other fun things, the basic harmonies were not shocking - they all sounded plausible as Bach had written them. I think this is one of the things that makes me admire Iiro so much is that he is classically trained. He has this background of being well-informed about the history of Western music and technical security (there is no way he'd be able to play half of what he does if he didn't have it!), and there is that understanding of how music has evolved over time, and how he can do stuff now that is different. It was also quite humbling that such a great jazz artist would still return to Bach and love every moment of it.
Our next few rehearsals for Set III involved more improvising and having fun with the Finnish tango. In one of the songs, Adios Muchachos, I put my hand up for a 32-bar solo. Deep end? I think so. Bring it on! The ever-encouraging Sam popped in to have a listen during the week and had some very wise words for me that included "don't freak out about your solo" and the fact that I wasn't (and never will be, funnily enough..!) Iiro and that we are totally differnet people with different ideas and totally different experience. So I should just play what I do and not worry about any sort of comparison. [Sam, I know you'll read this, so thank you :) ]
And in the concert, I decided that I should just get on with it and do it. Have fun and what not.
Unfortunately, I don't really remember exactly what I did in my solo, but I remember thinking, 'Who cares about wrong notes? Make them into something. Do something fun and interesting!'
And you bet I had so much fun. A few people commented about how much fun it looked like I was having through the entire set. And not that I don't have fun when I play classical music, but I think it's a totally different mindset that I have. And perhaps it shouldn't be different. It was such a joy to do this concert and to be (almost) totally spontaneous and love doing it.
Maybe that's what I need to be practicing more of - having fun!
I think this project is one of the most enjoyable I've ever worked on. I know I've raved about other things (even so many this year already!) but this one has been hard to put into words and I'm not even sure if I've articulated any of the sentiment this week well at all. You might just have to imagine how amazing it was if I tell you that my eyes glaze over when I think about how incredibly fortunate I was to experience this.
And if you ever get the chance to see them, do it. I went to their gig and can say that it was one of the best gigs I've ever been to.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Metropolis and Recollections
My mum sometimes gets questions that go something like this:
"What does your daughter do?" "Does she want to be a teacher?" "When is she going to play in the orchestra?"
Briefly, the answers are as such:
I study music. In particular, the piano.
I am a classical pianist most interested in collaborative work.
Teaching may be part of my work in the future.
At the present, I hope to play a lot.
I've been in a number of orchestras.
But this one, on 27 April, was different.
My mum could totally boast "Oh yes, she was playing in the MSO concert that night..."
Fact.
The MSO this year is presenting a Metropolis series entitled "Brett Dean's Vienna". All are held at CUB Malthouse, which is a pretty edgy venue. The concert we did was a joint collaboration between MSO and ANAM. For example, in the orchestral piece as well as the octet I was in, half of the players were from MSO, the other half from ANAM.
Brett Dean's 'Recollections' (2006) for clarinet, horn, percussion, violin, viola, cello, double bass and piano is a piece about "aspects of memory". In the piano part, I had to venture to the other side of the music stand (cue dramatic music here). I mean, there is so much music written for the piano - one could spend multiple lifetimes trying to even get through the solo repertoire, let alone chamber music and all other things, which may or may not include the other side of the stand! I was required to do some pizz-ing and some hitting of strings with sticks (mallets). It was all pretty weird cool fun. I stuck stickers on the inside of the piano so I knew where I was, what to hit or pluck.
What made the entire experience something new?
1. The conductor was also the composer. Okay, so I have worked with composers before on their compositions; in fact, a few have conducted their own piece too. But if you havne't heard of Brett Dean, he's kinda a Big. Deal. And you know what was realy cool too? He was super nice! He introduced himself to me, gave me heaps of encouragement and was very kind. And It was really cool to be told specifically what he wanted. We could ask questions, he would tell us exactly!
2. We had a very short rehearsal period. So this is something that I think professional orchestras do (ie. the short time-frame of things. So different to uni!) We had a rehearsal on the previous Wednesday for about 2.5hrs, then another one the next day that was scheduled for 2.5hrs (but only went for about 1.75hrs...) and then had the five day Easter long weekend. And then we came back on the Wednesday and did an hour or so (okay, went not so great the first time - I think we forgot how it went after five days! Don't worry, we pulled it together on the second go!) and then did the concert that night. Talk about efficiency...
So, being the Thinker-Feeler that I am (thanks Phil Jauncey! Okay, I'm wondering whether I'm starting to do things because I 'should be having this reaction because I'm a Thinker-Feeler' or whether I'm just more aware of it...?), I think it went pretty well. Of course, not everything was perfect. But at the risk of sounding like a broken record, what is perfect? The most moving part, I think was the last movement, entitled 'Locket'. This quotes a Clara Schumann Romance (no opus number) in the piano and the other instruments weave in and out, highlighting certain notes, creating an eerie atmosphere of some memory. It suspends in mid-air and ends in a similar fashion. Absolutely incredible to play.
I really enjoyed working on this project. I enjoyed working with Brett Dean, particularly on his own composition. I was grateful for a few friends that came to see me (and others...) play. I sometimes think that maybe people wouldn't want to come hear new music, but I think that more people are willing to try it, taste it, to see what other possibilities exist for instruments who have so much written for them already.
"What does your daughter do?" "Does she want to be a teacher?" "When is she going to play in the orchestra?"
Briefly, the answers are as such:
I study music. In particular, the piano.
I am a classical pianist most interested in collaborative work.
Teaching may be part of my work in the future.
At the present, I hope to play a lot.
I've been in a number of orchestras.
But this one, on 27 April, was different.
My mum could totally boast "Oh yes, she was playing in the MSO concert that night..."
Fact.
The MSO this year is presenting a Metropolis series entitled "Brett Dean's Vienna". All are held at CUB Malthouse, which is a pretty edgy venue. The concert we did was a joint collaboration between MSO and ANAM. For example, in the orchestral piece as well as the octet I was in, half of the players were from MSO, the other half from ANAM.
Brett Dean's 'Recollections' (2006) for clarinet, horn, percussion, violin, viola, cello, double bass and piano is a piece about "aspects of memory". In the piano part, I had to venture to the other side of the music stand (cue dramatic music here). I mean, there is so much music written for the piano - one could spend multiple lifetimes trying to even get through the solo repertoire, let alone chamber music and all other things, which may or may not include the other side of the stand! I was required to do some pizz-ing and some hitting of strings with sticks (mallets). It was all pretty weird cool fun. I stuck stickers on the inside of the piano so I knew where I was, what to hit or pluck.
What made the entire experience something new?
1. The conductor was also the composer. Okay, so I have worked with composers before on their compositions; in fact, a few have conducted their own piece too. But if you havne't heard of Brett Dean, he's kinda a Big. Deal. And you know what was realy cool too? He was super nice! He introduced himself to me, gave me heaps of encouragement and was very kind. And It was really cool to be told specifically what he wanted. We could ask questions, he would tell us exactly!
2. We had a very short rehearsal period. So this is something that I think professional orchestras do (ie. the short time-frame of things. So different to uni!) We had a rehearsal on the previous Wednesday for about 2.5hrs, then another one the next day that was scheduled for 2.5hrs (but only went for about 1.75hrs...) and then had the five day Easter long weekend. And then we came back on the Wednesday and did an hour or so (okay, went not so great the first time - I think we forgot how it went after five days! Don't worry, we pulled it together on the second go!) and then did the concert that night. Talk about efficiency...
So, being the Thinker-Feeler that I am (thanks Phil Jauncey! Okay, I'm wondering whether I'm starting to do things because I 'should be having this reaction because I'm a Thinker-Feeler' or whether I'm just more aware of it...?), I think it went pretty well. Of course, not everything was perfect. But at the risk of sounding like a broken record, what is perfect? The most moving part, I think was the last movement, entitled 'Locket'. This quotes a Clara Schumann Romance (no opus number) in the piano and the other instruments weave in and out, highlighting certain notes, creating an eerie atmosphere of some memory. It suspends in mid-air and ends in a similar fashion. Absolutely incredible to play.
I really enjoyed working on this project. I enjoyed working with Brett Dean, particularly on his own composition. I was grateful for a few friends that came to see me (and others...) play. I sometimes think that maybe people wouldn't want to come hear new music, but I think that more people are willing to try it, taste it, to see what other possibilities exist for instruments who have so much written for them already.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
First-world problems
So many times I want to complain: Why can't it be like THIS? Why did they do THAT? WHAT is going on? Why does the good stuff have to end? Why are so many things vying for my time and effort?
Jealousy is one of those first-world problems I suffer from. People have nicer stuff than me. People have more time to do stuff than me. People look like they have better relationships with others around them than me. People have the means to go do exciting overseas holidays. People have their life-plan worked out.
Among many other things.
But you know what? I've had a most wonderful long weekend.
I got to celebrate my birthday. Many children (who grow to be adults, or don't....) don't make it to this age. And many that do don't have the luxury of celebrating it with friends. I was blessed to be surrounded by friends who care enough to send me some well wishes and love.
I got to go to church and hear some truths about the reason we celebrate Easter. I got to hear about suffering and sacrifice and about resurrection and hope.
I got to go to see one of my favourite bands play a gig. I got to catch up with a few old friends.
I had time to practice. Admittedly, probably not as much as hoped or intended, but I did. And I got to have a few rehearsals with some friends in preparation for things coming up.
I got to play music in a style that I don't get to every day.
I got to hang out with some friends being myself, without pretension and purely for the enjoyment of each others' company.
I got to catch up with several friends today. I got to eat yummy food cooked by them, gorge myself on chocolate (yum!), ride out on a tram to a nice part of town, have coffee with another friend, have another one come over for a bit and catch up, and celebrate another friend's birthday.
I have so much to be thankful for.
I am thankful that I am able to live in a such a free country.
I am thankful that I can practice my faith without persecution.
I am thankful that I can hear, listen to music, and play music.
I am thankful for family and friends.
I am thankful for the money that I have.
I am thankful for a healthy body that can walk, dance, run (if really required....), feel and see the sunshine, taste food and drink.
I am thankful for the sacrifice made for me.
Among many things.
Jealousy is one of those first-world problems I suffer from. People have nicer stuff than me. People have more time to do stuff than me. People look like they have better relationships with others around them than me. People have the means to go do exciting overseas holidays. People have their life-plan worked out.
Among many other things.
But you know what? I've had a most wonderful long weekend.
I got to celebrate my birthday. Many children (who grow to be adults, or don't....) don't make it to this age. And many that do don't have the luxury of celebrating it with friends. I was blessed to be surrounded by friends who care enough to send me some well wishes and love.
I got to go to church and hear some truths about the reason we celebrate Easter. I got to hear about suffering and sacrifice and about resurrection and hope.
I got to go to see one of my favourite bands play a gig. I got to catch up with a few old friends.
I had time to practice. Admittedly, probably not as much as hoped or intended, but I did. And I got to have a few rehearsals with some friends in preparation for things coming up.
I got to play music in a style that I don't get to every day.
I got to hang out with some friends being myself, without pretension and purely for the enjoyment of each others' company.
I got to catch up with several friends today. I got to eat yummy food cooked by them, gorge myself on chocolate (yum!), ride out on a tram to a nice part of town, have coffee with another friend, have another one come over for a bit and catch up, and celebrate another friend's birthday.
I have so much to be thankful for.
I am thankful that I am able to live in a such a free country.
I am thankful that I can practice my faith without persecution.
I am thankful that I can hear, listen to music, and play music.
I am thankful for family and friends.
I am thankful for the money that I have.
I am thankful for a healthy body that can walk, dance, run (if really required....), feel and see the sunshine, taste food and drink.
I am thankful for the sacrifice made for me.
Among many things.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Third Day: "You are Mine"
It doesn't take much
For my heart to break
And you have done it
For what seems the millionth time
Whenever I hear
Of your saving grace
And how you gave your life
In exchange for mine
Sometimes I wonder why you even love me
And why you ever chose to call me child
Then I remember
It's by your sacrifice
I can say that
I am yours and you are mine
It doesn't take much
For me to shed a tear
And you have done so many things
To make me cry
Whenever I think
Of all that I've done wrong
And everything that you have done
To make it right
It doesn't take much
For my heart to break
And you have done it
For what's seems the millionth time
Friday, April 22, 2011
I have to pinch myself sometimes
So I've technically been on holidays for a week now. Of course, we all know that this just means that there is no compelling need for me to turn up in South Melbourne for classes unless I schedule anything myself. And you probably already guessed that meant that I was in South Melbourne pretty much every day. I'm proposing that the term 'holiday' be removed from a list of possible terms applied to my study and work situation. I prefer 'day(s) of rest'. Far more appropriate and descriptive.
Anyway, it has been good in any case. There was time to practice, and just chill out a little bit without having specific times to be anywhere. I also filled up my evenings because I could...! I taught on Monday evening, saw a Peter Wispelwey recital on Tuesday (solo Bach and Britten suites), saw the Easter Musical on Wednesday, and went out for birthday fun on Thursday.
So many good things. The sunshine. Friends. Music. Concerts. Rehearsals. Switchfoot gig!!!! (amazing!!! So. Cool.) Hot cross buns. Dancing. Singing.
And I was reflecting on how amazing this week has been, even though it's been busy and I haven't really gotten back into my proper sleep routine. And even though it has been incredible, how much MORE incredible this celebration of Easter is. I really enjoyed the sermon last week at church, and the truths about why we celebrate Easter. What it means for us. One of the things that really struck me was that the Passion story is not one of accident, nor a conspiracy, nor an unfortunate set of circumstances with unfortunately endings. These events were all ordained and were set in motion as a matter of choice and response.
Now that's incredible.
Anyway, it has been good in any case. There was time to practice, and just chill out a little bit without having specific times to be anywhere. I also filled up my evenings because I could...! I taught on Monday evening, saw a Peter Wispelwey recital on Tuesday (solo Bach and Britten suites), saw the Easter Musical on Wednesday, and went out for birthday fun on Thursday.
So many good things. The sunshine. Friends. Music. Concerts. Rehearsals. Switchfoot gig!!!! (amazing!!! So. Cool.) Hot cross buns. Dancing. Singing.
And I was reflecting on how amazing this week has been, even though it's been busy and I haven't really gotten back into my proper sleep routine. And even though it has been incredible, how much MORE incredible this celebration of Easter is. I really enjoyed the sermon last week at church, and the truths about why we celebrate Easter. What it means for us. One of the things that really struck me was that the Passion story is not one of accident, nor a conspiracy, nor an unfortunate set of circumstances with unfortunately endings. These events were all ordained and were set in motion as a matter of choice and response.
Now that's incredible.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Extemporisation, Classical Improvisation and playing Harry Potter. And are you a Mozzie?
You may wonder how extemporisation, classical improvisation and playing Harry Potter are related. The answer to this is the not-so-tenuous link of David Dolan, a pianist and expert in these three things (although one may argue that Daniel Radcliffe is much more famous for the last activity). DD (as he will now be referred to) came to ANAM for a two-week residency and to workshop all sorts of things with us.
The first session raised lots of issues: what is improvisation, and why are classical musicians so scared of it? My friend ventured that it's because there is nobody to defer to (ie. Beethoven says this in the score) and one has to be responsible (and take ownership of) but nobody wants to be exposed as a fraud. Yep, tick tick. That's me. What if I improvise and I'm accused of being bad at it, or being unmusical?!?
So DD started playing some games. With some brave and willing volunteers, he played games of classical improvisation, posing a musical question and letting somebody answer in a similar fashion. These extended to playing together in some sort of Question-Answer-together thing. He emphasised that there are no wrong notes - and what we consider to be 'wrong' notes are often the most interesting notes, because they form the distension in music.
What a fortnight it was. I was fortunate to have about seven sessions in total with DD in various forms - trio, instrument class, duo. Many visiting artists who come in to give any sort of class approach the student with some sort of finishing polish or a few ideas about how to approach things. This is not a bad thing in itself, but what DD was completely different. We were encouraged to approach pieces from a compositional point of view, particularly in terms of the harmony. We did structural and harmonic reductions of passages, looking at the bare bones of the music. We actually played these (he said to perform them like you would the actual written stuff!) and things became clear. We also acted and spoke the music (that is, not singing..!) to hear the direction and the intensity. We reduced the melody as well (reminded me of the Schenkerian analysis stuff we did in first year..!) And we played games! This was actually far more enjoyable than I thought it was going to be - the fear of 'what if I make stupid and bad noises?' was shelved in exchange for fun and experimentation. Even more enjoyable was the Neo-Classical style I was able to employ - Classical structures without Classical tonality. Here I found that rhythmic and shape elements were of greater interest and importance.
DD also gave me (us) tips on how to approach certain passages, making certain things so much clearer and easier to follow. All these thins: singing, acting, reducing, playing of games - DD did them all; he demonstrated to us and made us feel really comfortable about doing the same. What really struck me too was that he was so encouraging and positive and so open to sharing some of his genius with us. I was struck by his genius, his perception and his enthusiasm for helping us to uncover all these things in the music, and for his humility. At the end of each session, he would remind us that he didn't teach us how to play certain things (indeed, he didn't teach any specific technique of playing one's instrument to, for example, the violinists) but stressed that his work was to encourage us to think in a different way, and that we were all capable of doing this ourselves, and that we had! Such affirmation.
The other interesting guest we had in these two weeks was Dr Phil Jauncey, a performance psychologist. He has worked with some of the most successful sporting teams in Australia (and I'm sure, beyond Australia, and beyond the sporting domain too!) and is a fascinating speaker. I almost expected him to tell me 'This is how you can control your nerves and this is the magic formula.' So NOT what he was talking about. I shan't bother to sum it all up - it is quite a lot and also quite concise at the same time, but there are so many thoughts to it that perhaps I shall tell you if you're interested. Let's just say that I think his method of approaching psychology is quite different to what traditional Western medicine prescribes. One of the things we also did was to do a personality test (different to others, such as Myers-Briggs) where our results were then compiled and we were 'measured' on two different axes: External/Internal and Structured/Flexible. These formed four quadrants with the prevailing personality types of Mozzie, Enforcer, Thinker and Feeler. One can be a combination of these types too. It was certainly interesting to see my own results, and also discuss others' with them! How fascinating it is to see a broad spectrum of people at ANAM and how we can adapt how we work with the different people.
The first session raised lots of issues: what is improvisation, and why are classical musicians so scared of it? My friend ventured that it's because there is nobody to defer to (ie. Beethoven says this in the score) and one has to be responsible (and take ownership of) but nobody wants to be exposed as a fraud. Yep, tick tick. That's me. What if I improvise and I'm accused of being bad at it, or being unmusical?!?
So DD started playing some games. With some brave and willing volunteers, he played games of classical improvisation, posing a musical question and letting somebody answer in a similar fashion. These extended to playing together in some sort of Question-Answer-together thing. He emphasised that there are no wrong notes - and what we consider to be 'wrong' notes are often the most interesting notes, because they form the distension in music.
What a fortnight it was. I was fortunate to have about seven sessions in total with DD in various forms - trio, instrument class, duo. Many visiting artists who come in to give any sort of class approach the student with some sort of finishing polish or a few ideas about how to approach things. This is not a bad thing in itself, but what DD was completely different. We were encouraged to approach pieces from a compositional point of view, particularly in terms of the harmony. We did structural and harmonic reductions of passages, looking at the bare bones of the music. We actually played these (he said to perform them like you would the actual written stuff!) and things became clear. We also acted and spoke the music (that is, not singing..!) to hear the direction and the intensity. We reduced the melody as well (reminded me of the Schenkerian analysis stuff we did in first year..!) And we played games! This was actually far more enjoyable than I thought it was going to be - the fear of 'what if I make stupid and bad noises?' was shelved in exchange for fun and experimentation. Even more enjoyable was the Neo-Classical style I was able to employ - Classical structures without Classical tonality. Here I found that rhythmic and shape elements were of greater interest and importance.
DD also gave me (us) tips on how to approach certain passages, making certain things so much clearer and easier to follow. All these thins: singing, acting, reducing, playing of games - DD did them all; he demonstrated to us and made us feel really comfortable about doing the same. What really struck me too was that he was so encouraging and positive and so open to sharing some of his genius with us. I was struck by his genius, his perception and his enthusiasm for helping us to uncover all these things in the music, and for his humility. At the end of each session, he would remind us that he didn't teach us how to play certain things (indeed, he didn't teach any specific technique of playing one's instrument to, for example, the violinists) but stressed that his work was to encourage us to think in a different way, and that we were all capable of doing this ourselves, and that we had! Such affirmation.
The other interesting guest we had in these two weeks was Dr Phil Jauncey, a performance psychologist. He has worked with some of the most successful sporting teams in Australia (and I'm sure, beyond Australia, and beyond the sporting domain too!) and is a fascinating speaker. I almost expected him to tell me 'This is how you can control your nerves and this is the magic formula.' So NOT what he was talking about. I shan't bother to sum it all up - it is quite a lot and also quite concise at the same time, but there are so many thoughts to it that perhaps I shall tell you if you're interested. Let's just say that I think his method of approaching psychology is quite different to what traditional Western medicine prescribes. One of the things we also did was to do a personality test (different to others, such as Myers-Briggs) where our results were then compiled and we were 'measured' on two different axes: External/Internal and Structured/Flexible. These formed four quadrants with the prevailing personality types of Mozzie, Enforcer, Thinker and Feeler. One can be a combination of these types too. It was certainly interesting to see my own results, and also discuss others' with them! How fascinating it is to see a broad spectrum of people at ANAM and how we can adapt how we work with the different people.
Sunday, April 03, 2011
Les entretiens de la belle et de la bête (Conversation between Beauty and the Beast)
From Ma Mere L'Oye (Mother Goose Suite) - this text precedes the movement
- "When I think of your kind heart, you don't seem to me so ugly." - "Oh!
"Indeed! I have a kind heart, but I am a monster." - "There are many men who are greater monsters than you." - "If I possessed any wit, I would pay you a fine compliment by way of thanks, but I am only a beast.
...Beauty, will you be my wife?" - "No, Beast!..."
- "I die happy because I have the pleasure of seeing you one more time." -
"No, dear Beast, you shall not die: you shall live to become my husband!"
...The Beast vanished and she saw at her feet only a prince more handsome than Love itself who thanked her for breaking his spell.
(Mme Leprince de Beaumont)
- "When I think of your kind heart, you don't seem to me so ugly." - "Oh!
"Indeed! I have a kind heart, but I am a monster." - "There are many men who are greater monsters than you." - "If I possessed any wit, I would pay you a fine compliment by way of thanks, but I am only a beast.
...Beauty, will you be my wife?" - "No, Beast!..."
- "I die happy because I have the pleasure of seeing you one more time." -
"No, dear Beast, you shall not die: you shall live to become my husband!"
...The Beast vanished and she saw at her feet only a prince more handsome than Love itself who thanked her for breaking his spell.
(Mme Leprince de Beaumont)
Saturday, April 02, 2011
Voyelles (Vowels)
This poem was the first performed preceding the first movement of Richard Meale's "Incredible Floridas" on 9 March 2011.
A Black, E white, I red, U green, O blue : vowels,
I shall tell, one day, of your mysterious origins:
A, black velvety jacket of brilliant flies
Which buzz around cruel smells,
I shall tell, one day, of your mysterious origins:
A, black velvety jacket of brilliant flies
Which buzz around cruel smells,
Gulfs of shadow; E, whiteness of vapours and of tents,
Lances of proud glaciers, white kings, shivers of cow-parsley;
I, purples, spat blood, smile of beautiful lips
In anger or in the raptures of penitence;
Lances of proud glaciers, white kings, shivers of cow-parsley;
I, purples, spat blood, smile of beautiful lips
In anger or in the raptures of penitence;
U, waves, divine shudderings of viridian seas,
The peace of pastures dotted with animals, the peace of the furrows
Which alchemy prints on broad studious foreheads;
The peace of pastures dotted with animals, the peace of the furrows
Which alchemy prints on broad studious foreheads;
O, sublime Trumpet full of strange piercing sounds,
Silences crossed by Worlds and by Angels:
O the Omega, the violet ray of Her Eyes!
Silences crossed by Worlds and by Angels:
O the Omega, the violet ray of Her Eyes!
- Arthur Rimbaud, as translated by Oliver Bernard: Arthur Rimbaud, Collected Poems (1962)
Find out more about Arthur Rimbaud and his poetry at http://www.mag4.net/Rimbaud/index-en.php
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Bach
So today I played in my first ANAM lunchtime concert. I hadn't really expected to be doing it quite so soon in the year. And I had really hoped that it was in a format that I was far more comfortable with: chamber music. But alas, a couple of weeks ago my teacher asked if I could play at the previous Academy@1 concert. Thankfully, I had more time to prepare for my first lunchtime concert by it being....the following week. Haha.
I had hastily and shakily answered, "Well, I could pull out.....some...Bach....?" It was agreed. Bach it shall be. It has been a while since I studied this piece. If I remember correctly, I prepared it for my third year, first semester, exam. That was a while ago...
So began the process of re-learning, re-familiarising myself with f# minor, the voices, the hand shapes, the genius that is the intertwining of the voices. I took it into my lesson about a week and a half ago - the patched together version from several years' past and the more recent layers. In about two weeks, my teacher deconstructed it and added about fifteen more layers on top of it. Wow. I guess this goes to show that one never is completely done with Bach. The Well-Tempered Clavier is a testament to Bach's genius; it never fails to amaze me at how he wrote these pieces - all different characters, all expertly and finely crafted.
So, I had played this piece for several people - in my lesson, in piano class (twice..!), to various willing friends. Each time revealed something new, something different, another layer.
This morning, I had some time in the Hall to try it out there. There is something special about being in that Hall first thing in the morning, when the sun was shining through (admittedly, pretty much into my face...) and playing Bach as a way of waking up my senses (if the squishy tram ride and coffee weren't enough...) and mentally preparing for the day. A friend came to listen. My teacher also came in to have a listen. He suggested a few things to fine-tune in the next couple of hours before the performances: some voicing, some metronome work. But he was very encouraging and confident in my ability and work.
I will be the first to admit that I suffer from nervousness of a varying degree; varying depending on context. And I'll admit that I haven't really touched solo repertoire for about two years. Lunchtime concert, first up, Bach, solo. Things that all scare me. My teacher said to me just before I went on, "You love Bach. Enjoy it!" Good thinking. Share Bach with the audience! So out I went, nervous as anything, and ready to show the audience why I love Bach and to prove that I'm here at the Academy to be good!
While playing, I actively remember actively thinking about certain things I had written in my score. This is a good thing. Far too many performances fly by and I don't remember what I thought (except for "Don't stuff this bit up...." or "Ooh, wrong note...". Maybe that should be rephrased as 'So many performances fly by and I don't remember thinking many positive thoughts) and it happens and works because I've practiced enough for it to become an automatic thing. This is something I know I have to be far more pro-active about. And to tell you the truth, I actually really quite enjoyed performing my Bach today. I enjoyed that it was completely up to me to show the audience how much I love it, and to keep them hanging onto every sound I was creating. I enjoyed being able to lead them through the complex textures of genius. And of course, it wasn't perfect. Show me a perfect performance (do they even exist?!) That's ok. I figure, once you've made a mistake, you can't go back and fix it (unless you're repeating, then you can give it a second shot! But not the case here.). What was the point of stressing over it? Better make something good happen now and into the future.
Some friends, both from Academy and outside, came along, which was greatly appreciated. It was a great affirmation of what I'm doing (is on a positive track!) and a great opportunity to perform in a different context to what most of my friends have seen and heard, and heard about. One friend remarked, "I think that's the first time I've seen you play solo since about (his) first year..."! There you go. I felt so humbled that the audience were appreciative enough for me to take a second, rather awkward and embarrassed, bow....!
I had hastily and shakily answered, "Well, I could pull out.....some...Bach....?" It was agreed. Bach it shall be. It has been a while since I studied this piece. If I remember correctly, I prepared it for my third year, first semester, exam. That was a while ago...
So began the process of re-learning, re-familiarising myself with f# minor, the voices, the hand shapes, the genius that is the intertwining of the voices. I took it into my lesson about a week and a half ago - the patched together version from several years' past and the more recent layers. In about two weeks, my teacher deconstructed it and added about fifteen more layers on top of it. Wow. I guess this goes to show that one never is completely done with Bach. The Well-Tempered Clavier is a testament to Bach's genius; it never fails to amaze me at how he wrote these pieces - all different characters, all expertly and finely crafted.
So, I had played this piece for several people - in my lesson, in piano class (twice..!), to various willing friends. Each time revealed something new, something different, another layer.
This morning, I had some time in the Hall to try it out there. There is something special about being in that Hall first thing in the morning, when the sun was shining through (admittedly, pretty much into my face...) and playing Bach as a way of waking up my senses (if the squishy tram ride and coffee weren't enough...) and mentally preparing for the day. A friend came to listen. My teacher also came in to have a listen. He suggested a few things to fine-tune in the next couple of hours before the performances: some voicing, some metronome work. But he was very encouraging and confident in my ability and work.
I will be the first to admit that I suffer from nervousness of a varying degree; varying depending on context. And I'll admit that I haven't really touched solo repertoire for about two years. Lunchtime concert, first up, Bach, solo. Things that all scare me. My teacher said to me just before I went on, "You love Bach. Enjoy it!" Good thinking. Share Bach with the audience! So out I went, nervous as anything, and ready to show the audience why I love Bach and to prove that I'm here at the Academy to be good!
While playing, I actively remember actively thinking about certain things I had written in my score. This is a good thing. Far too many performances fly by and I don't remember what I thought (except for "Don't stuff this bit up...." or "Ooh, wrong note...". Maybe that should be rephrased as 'So many performances fly by and I don't remember thinking many positive thoughts) and it happens and works because I've practiced enough for it to become an automatic thing. This is something I know I have to be far more pro-active about. And to tell you the truth, I actually really quite enjoyed performing my Bach today. I enjoyed that it was completely up to me to show the audience how much I love it, and to keep them hanging onto every sound I was creating. I enjoyed being able to lead them through the complex textures of genius. And of course, it wasn't perfect. Show me a perfect performance (do they even exist?!) That's ok. I figure, once you've made a mistake, you can't go back and fix it (unless you're repeating, then you can give it a second shot! But not the case here.). What was the point of stressing over it? Better make something good happen now and into the future.
Some friends, both from Academy and outside, came along, which was greatly appreciated. It was a great affirmation of what I'm doing (is on a positive track!) and a great opportunity to perform in a different context to what most of my friends have seen and heard, and heard about. One friend remarked, "I think that's the first time I've seen you play solo since about (his) first year..."! There you go. I felt so humbled that the audience were appreciative enough for me to take a second, rather awkward and embarrassed, bow....!
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Figuring it out
So a couple of weeks ago I was talking to one of the staff at ANAM about life at ANAM and stuff. She asked how I was going with it all and what not, and I told her my reflections on the first couple of weeks. All good.
She has this theory that it takes people about six months to figure out how to balance the amount of learning, the rate of learning, the learning material and everything else in-between. I have to admit that I was quietly confident that I'd have this down-pat, y'know? I totally did university and so much outside of it, and so much between university. Then I did the intern position last year and also did chamber music, and a job and other freelancing. Piece of cake, right?
Perhaps not.....and it's not that I'm finding it hard per se, but it's challenging and difficult in the best way. I've always been really bad at saying no to stuff (my friends will be the first people to admit for me that I have a nasty habit of saying yes to everything and overcommitting to stuff) and like doing lots of things to keep busy. I'm still learning (obviously VERY slowly) how to prioritise; and this year, I know that study is a serious top priority. I'm chipping away at it, and hopefully making some sort of progress!
Back to the practice room....I'm only one month into the six (and counting) of a steep learning curve....
She has this theory that it takes people about six months to figure out how to balance the amount of learning, the rate of learning, the learning material and everything else in-between. I have to admit that I was quietly confident that I'd have this down-pat, y'know? I totally did university and so much outside of it, and so much between university. Then I did the intern position last year and also did chamber music, and a job and other freelancing. Piece of cake, right?
Perhaps not.....and it's not that I'm finding it hard per se, but it's challenging and difficult in the best way. I've always been really bad at saying no to stuff (my friends will be the first people to admit for me that I have a nasty habit of saying yes to everything and overcommitting to stuff) and like doing lots of things to keep busy. I'm still learning (obviously VERY slowly) how to prioritise; and this year, I know that study is a serious top priority. I'm chipping away at it, and hopefully making some sort of progress!
Back to the practice room....I'm only one month into the six (and counting) of a steep learning curve....
Thursday, March 10, 2011
36% hit rate
My teacher asked me on Tuesday, "Are you getting 36% of the notes now?"
I think I could reply in the affirmative. Which is better than 35% so there WAS improvement!
My second lesson was pretty epic. I went in with three questions:
1. How do I play fff given my stature?
2. How do I play ppp without wimping out and the notes not coming out?
3. How do I practice (Beethoven violin sonata #7) broken octaves without getting RSI?
This amounted to about an hour and forty five minutes of lesson. We talked about physiology (including muscles and bones. Do they come under physiology?!?!), the physical nature of playing the piano, what it looks like, did various exercises that were quite physical (much like going to the gym - my thighs were sore!), levers (such as the elbow!), which largely amounted to "doing nothing". Whoever said that playing the piano was easy obviously didn't think so much about nothing.
So, my first ANAM concert for 2011. Or maybe just the first one ever!
It was pretty rad. Held in the Salon at the Melbourne Recital Centre, we only had about twenty minutes of soundcheck. Pretty scary considering:
a) The entire piece goes for about 30mins. So we weren't even going to play it all.
b) Wherever I go, it's pretty much never going to be the same instrument as the one (or several) that I practice on.
c) If you know about the acoustics of the MRC, you will know how finely tuned they are. You will know that you can hear everything very clearly.
And I'll admit - I was nervous. I usually am, admittedly. In some situations, such as the accompanist (I'm ok with the term), I'm the one that has to reassure the soloist. Other times, I'm the one stressing out big time. I arrived with plenty of time to spare - getting changed and putting some face on doesn't actually take that long. Nor does eating an apple and cracking open a book to get about one page further before others started arriving and it started getting pretty hectic. There was an electronic piano in one of the dressing rooms, but I rather thought finding my sitting bones and core might be more helpful.
So, the actual performance.
Incredible Floridas by Richard Meale is a six-movement work. Before each movement, some of the poetry by 19th century poet Arthur Rimbaud, that inspired Meale was read. I would be lying if I said that the music went perfectly. Quite the opposite in some parts. But guess what? It didn't matter - it was still effective and convincing. The music is incredibly colourful. Not least because the first movement actually contains (and even starts wish) some of the ensemble reciting the vowels and some associated colours in French. It was incredibly evocative.
The Salon, while scary, was incredibly beautiful to play in. What a venue. It's incredibly intimate - there is no difference between the audience and the performer. There is no raised stage and the seating is often very close up. We joked that they could've turned out pages for us. That would have been really helpful, actually! You can hear everything so clearly - this is a scary thing, but also amazing. The audience was so attentive in this concert; they loved it. Which pleasantly surprised me, really, as I have this conception that Australian music is often very difficult to sell. I played my little heart out - those fff sections were loud. Particularly in that acoustic. I was acutely aware of trying to incorporate some of the things I'd learnt in my lesson the previous day. Some things worked - my teacher even commented that he saw me playing further up on the keys for that particular Messian-like sounds for the beginning of the third movement! I noticed he sat on the side where he could see the piano. I was a tiny bit nervous, but less than I thought I'd be. I feel very much at ease and very reassured, so that's a really good thing!
My previous teacher also came along to the concert, as I found out after. It was wonderful to see that people came, and to see me (at least!)! She mentioned that she really enjoyed the use of silence. I reflected on this and I think I am becoming even more aware of silence, especially in the week and a half we had with this piece. There are a few moments where the pianist has these amazing solos that can be played fairly freely and I really enjoyed being able to create sections that were completely me. This is not to sound ego-centric or anything, but it was cool to be able to create certain sounds and an interpretation that was mine. Preserved for posterity on recording (oh no! Haha..) I also spied a bunch of ANAM people sitting along the back (comp tickets are wonderful!), and lots of the staff came too. The audience were so into it that we even went back out twice. Okay, silly I know - but there haven't been many performances where this was the reaction. Really quite overwhelming. It was lovely to have such positive feedback particularly from some of the staff in the last 24hrs. I was so determined to prove myself at this concert, given the strange nature of my admission.
I have been asked a few times in the last week or so, "How are you enjoying ANAM so far?" and I can say without hesitation, "I'm loving it". I love that the people who work there are so helpful and kind. I love that the people studying there are so talented and work hard. I love that the teachers are so experienced and encouraging. I love that I'm learning so much already and it's only week two. I love that I have a great teacher. I love that I'm getting back into playing all sorts of pianistic things. I love that I feel like I belong and that it's as if I'm meant to be studying there. So much to be thankful for.
I think I could reply in the affirmative. Which is better than 35% so there WAS improvement!
My second lesson was pretty epic. I went in with three questions:
1. How do I play fff given my stature?
2. How do I play ppp without wimping out and the notes not coming out?
3. How do I practice (Beethoven violin sonata #7) broken octaves without getting RSI?
This amounted to about an hour and forty five minutes of lesson. We talked about physiology (including muscles and bones. Do they come under physiology?!?!), the physical nature of playing the piano, what it looks like, did various exercises that were quite physical (much like going to the gym - my thighs were sore!), levers (such as the elbow!), which largely amounted to "doing nothing". Whoever said that playing the piano was easy obviously didn't think so much about nothing.
So, my first ANAM concert for 2011. Or maybe just the first one ever!
It was pretty rad. Held in the Salon at the Melbourne Recital Centre, we only had about twenty minutes of soundcheck. Pretty scary considering:
a) The entire piece goes for about 30mins. So we weren't even going to play it all.
b) Wherever I go, it's pretty much never going to be the same instrument as the one (or several) that I practice on.
c) If you know about the acoustics of the MRC, you will know how finely tuned they are. You will know that you can hear everything very clearly.
And I'll admit - I was nervous. I usually am, admittedly. In some situations, such as the accompanist (I'm ok with the term), I'm the one that has to reassure the soloist. Other times, I'm the one stressing out big time. I arrived with plenty of time to spare - getting changed and putting some face on doesn't actually take that long. Nor does eating an apple and cracking open a book to get about one page further before others started arriving and it started getting pretty hectic. There was an electronic piano in one of the dressing rooms, but I rather thought finding my sitting bones and core might be more helpful.
So, the actual performance.
Incredible Floridas by Richard Meale is a six-movement work. Before each movement, some of the poetry by 19th century poet Arthur Rimbaud, that inspired Meale was read. I would be lying if I said that the music went perfectly. Quite the opposite in some parts. But guess what? It didn't matter - it was still effective and convincing. The music is incredibly colourful. Not least because the first movement actually contains (and even starts wish) some of the ensemble reciting the vowels and some associated colours in French. It was incredibly evocative.
The Salon, while scary, was incredibly beautiful to play in. What a venue. It's incredibly intimate - there is no difference between the audience and the performer. There is no raised stage and the seating is often very close up. We joked that they could've turned out pages for us. That would have been really helpful, actually! You can hear everything so clearly - this is a scary thing, but also amazing. The audience was so attentive in this concert; they loved it. Which pleasantly surprised me, really, as I have this conception that Australian music is often very difficult to sell. I played my little heart out - those fff sections were loud. Particularly in that acoustic. I was acutely aware of trying to incorporate some of the things I'd learnt in my lesson the previous day. Some things worked - my teacher even commented that he saw me playing further up on the keys for that particular Messian-like sounds for the beginning of the third movement! I noticed he sat on the side where he could see the piano. I was a tiny bit nervous, but less than I thought I'd be. I feel very much at ease and very reassured, so that's a really good thing!
My previous teacher also came along to the concert, as I found out after. It was wonderful to see that people came, and to see me (at least!)! She mentioned that she really enjoyed the use of silence. I reflected on this and I think I am becoming even more aware of silence, especially in the week and a half we had with this piece. There are a few moments where the pianist has these amazing solos that can be played fairly freely and I really enjoyed being able to create sections that were completely me. This is not to sound ego-centric or anything, but it was cool to be able to create certain sounds and an interpretation that was mine. Preserved for posterity on recording (oh no! Haha..) I also spied a bunch of ANAM people sitting along the back (comp tickets are wonderful!), and lots of the staff came too. The audience were so into it that we even went back out twice. Okay, silly I know - but there haven't been many performances where this was the reaction. Really quite overwhelming. It was lovely to have such positive feedback particularly from some of the staff in the last 24hrs. I was so determined to prove myself at this concert, given the strange nature of my admission.
I have been asked a few times in the last week or so, "How are you enjoying ANAM so far?" and I can say without hesitation, "I'm loving it". I love that the people who work there are so helpful and kind. I love that the people studying there are so talented and work hard. I love that the teachers are so experienced and encouraging. I love that I'm learning so much already and it's only week two. I love that I have a great teacher. I love that I'm getting back into playing all sorts of pianistic things. I love that I feel like I belong and that it's as if I'm meant to be studying there. So much to be thankful for.
Friday, March 04, 2011
Something new
And so it began.
Monday 28 February. The 2011 students of the Professional Performance Programme at the Australian National Academy of Music descended on the South Melbourne Town Hall to be officially welcomed and to begin Reading Week full of rehearsals, seminars and information overload.
I didn't sleep so well on Sunday night - nerves got the better of me! What if I really don't belong there? What if I don't make any friends? What if I haven't prepared enough? What if my tram runs late? What if they've made a mistake of actually ADMITTING me?!?! So many things could go wrong.
And so much didn't go wrong!
I walked through the door and the lovely ladies were at the front, ready with a nametag as well as my locker key and electronic tag ready for me. So efficient! And they are so good - in the few weeks leading up to the start when I've been going in to practice, they've been helpful in finding me a room to practice, buzzing me through and answering all sorts of questions. All with a smile. And they already knew my name before I got there. So many people did. And if they didn't, they made a point of asking and introducing themselves. Seriously, that made me feel so welcome. It made me feel like I belong already; like I'm meant to be there.
I had been given seven pieces to look at for Reading Week. I came to realise that this is actually quite a lot, considering that one of my violinist friends had two. There are three pianists at ANAM this year and we'll have guests come in to for various projects. That probably explains why we have so much on our plate! All my music is actually really cool, as I'm learning (at various rates!).
In no particular order, this week I had:
Malcolm Williamson's Concerto for Wind Instruments and Two Pianos (Eight Hands)
Paul Stanhope's Songs for the Shadowland (for oboe, clarinet, horn, bassoon, piano & soprano)
Beethoven: Trio Op. 70 No. 1 ('Ghost') [relearning with different people]; Violin Sonata No. 7 in c minor & Cello Sonata No. 5 in D Major [relearning after several years]
Richard Meale's Incredible Floridas - for concert in the MRC Salon NEXT WEEK! This is a pretty complex piece, with violin (doubling on viola), cello, flute (picc/alto flute. Amazing AFlute solo in the final movt), clarinet (E flat/b.cl), percussion (lots of it!) and piano.
Britten's Jamaican Rumba, which I get to play with my teacher!
So the point of Reading Week was just that - read through stuff and get used to playing with different people. It was exciting to meet so many people also this week - 50 and a bit of us, of whom I only really knew a handful. Some readings were far more successful than others. Because the Meale is for performance next week, we had two sessions of rehearsals. The incredible Paul Dean is conducting us; I feel so privileged to be taught and to work with so many amazing musicians - teachers and students alike. We have several more hours of Meale next week to pull it all together, which will be a difficult task but rewarding. The piece is complex; it doesn't sound tonal at all - I'm struggling to find a tonal centre, really. The rhythms are complex (much subdivision into 3, 5, 7, triplets within triplets. Other things like that) and the time changes into many obscure things so often! However, it is so satisfying to feel parts of it coming together already. It's a colourful work and so we aren't allowed to wear all black next week!
We also had some information sessions and met all the staff and most of the teaching faculty. They all were very helpful and it's so evident to me that ANAM is a tightly run organisation with really clear ideas of how it works and how each department manages things and works with the others. The vision of so many things is across a long period of time (for example, working on programming for six months!) and it's otherwise not clear to us just how hard these people work and how we're involved in the whole scheme of things. This year centres around us being "Fearless ambassadors. Australian Voices. Our place." There are so many exciting projects this year! I'm looking forward to them all. There was also a seminar on 'Effective Practice'. It was amazing to listen to four members of faculty (including the Artistic Director), who are all amazing established and wonderful musicians in their own right in addition to being fantastic teachers, talk about their own experiences about learning how to practice. And let me say, they weren't always perfect. They're human, they learnt many things in their time. And they were adamant that they wanted to teach us how to do it effectively, without hurting ourselves and for it to be productive and helpful. One of the things that my teacher said that really struck me was that they, as teachers, were there to teach us, the students, how to teach ourselves. That is practice. And they also admitted some things that seem like big taboo subjects to talk about. One was that some days of practice will just be bad, and one cannot expect that yesterday's experience will be the same as today's, nor tomorrow's. It was really comforting to know that these amazing people have had that experience and are realistic about expectations of themselves, and of their students.
I had my first lesson with my new teacher yesterday. I was (am) having a bit of trouble with the Meale, as it is quite complex; the rhythms are all over (my rhythm actually sucks) and the notes are all a bit messy. I admitted that I think I have maybe a 35% hit rate and my teacher said that we could just work on it for half an hour and he could give me ways to think about it and practice it. Even if it would make it a little better to 36%, that would be better. I admitted that I was nervous about having a lesson, because I haven't really had a piano lesson in two years, but he said that was ok. And he was so kind and gentle; there was nothing scary. He was helpful and forgiving. We spent about half an hour looking at about three bars. We set the metronome, we clapped, counted out loud, and tried it out multiple times. And it was really good. I was so encouraged and reassured!
I thankfully had most of Friday to myself. It had been a hectic week for me - almost all the reading sessions in the week (which were an hour and a half long) were full for me, all but one repeat had new works! It was nice to have a little bit of time to practice for myself and to take it a little easier. They were kind - they specifically didn't schedule much for me!
And so ends the first week at ANAM. I've had to pinch myself several times a day to prove that I'm awake and that it's all happening. I still can't quite believe it. I look down at my keys and see my 2011 ANAM keyring (which gets me discounts woohoo!) and the electronic tag. I think that's when you know you belong - you're given access to the buildling! I see so many talented people around me and still ask what I'm doing here, but then remember that I'm one of them too. I've been struck by how genuine everybody is and their generosity. I've been given this amazing opportunity to learn and I'm going to grab it with both hands, embrace if and run.
And I think we're going to be well-fed with lots of sugary goodness this year!
Monday 28 February. The 2011 students of the Professional Performance Programme at the Australian National Academy of Music descended on the South Melbourne Town Hall to be officially welcomed and to begin Reading Week full of rehearsals, seminars and information overload.
I didn't sleep so well on Sunday night - nerves got the better of me! What if I really don't belong there? What if I don't make any friends? What if I haven't prepared enough? What if my tram runs late? What if they've made a mistake of actually ADMITTING me?!?! So many things could go wrong.
And so much didn't go wrong!
I walked through the door and the lovely ladies were at the front, ready with a nametag as well as my locker key and electronic tag ready for me. So efficient! And they are so good - in the few weeks leading up to the start when I've been going in to practice, they've been helpful in finding me a room to practice, buzzing me through and answering all sorts of questions. All with a smile. And they already knew my name before I got there. So many people did. And if they didn't, they made a point of asking and introducing themselves. Seriously, that made me feel so welcome. It made me feel like I belong already; like I'm meant to be there.
I had been given seven pieces to look at for Reading Week. I came to realise that this is actually quite a lot, considering that one of my violinist friends had two. There are three pianists at ANAM this year and we'll have guests come in to for various projects. That probably explains why we have so much on our plate! All my music is actually really cool, as I'm learning (at various rates!).
In no particular order, this week I had:
Malcolm Williamson's Concerto for Wind Instruments and Two Pianos (Eight Hands)
Paul Stanhope's Songs for the Shadowland (for oboe, clarinet, horn, bassoon, piano & soprano)
Beethoven: Trio Op. 70 No. 1 ('Ghost') [relearning with different people]; Violin Sonata No. 7 in c minor & Cello Sonata No. 5 in D Major [relearning after several years]
Richard Meale's Incredible Floridas - for concert in the MRC Salon NEXT WEEK! This is a pretty complex piece, with violin (doubling on viola), cello, flute (picc/alto flute. Amazing AFlute solo in the final movt), clarinet (E flat/b.cl), percussion (lots of it!) and piano.
Britten's Jamaican Rumba, which I get to play with my teacher!
So the point of Reading Week was just that - read through stuff and get used to playing with different people. It was exciting to meet so many people also this week - 50 and a bit of us, of whom I only really knew a handful. Some readings were far more successful than others. Because the Meale is for performance next week, we had two sessions of rehearsals. The incredible Paul Dean is conducting us; I feel so privileged to be taught and to work with so many amazing musicians - teachers and students alike. We have several more hours of Meale next week to pull it all together, which will be a difficult task but rewarding. The piece is complex; it doesn't sound tonal at all - I'm struggling to find a tonal centre, really. The rhythms are complex (much subdivision into 3, 5, 7, triplets within triplets. Other things like that) and the time changes into many obscure things so often! However, it is so satisfying to feel parts of it coming together already. It's a colourful work and so we aren't allowed to wear all black next week!
We also had some information sessions and met all the staff and most of the teaching faculty. They all were very helpful and it's so evident to me that ANAM is a tightly run organisation with really clear ideas of how it works and how each department manages things and works with the others. The vision of so many things is across a long period of time (for example, working on programming for six months!) and it's otherwise not clear to us just how hard these people work and how we're involved in the whole scheme of things. This year centres around us being "Fearless ambassadors. Australian Voices. Our place." There are so many exciting projects this year! I'm looking forward to them all. There was also a seminar on 'Effective Practice'. It was amazing to listen to four members of faculty (including the Artistic Director), who are all amazing established and wonderful musicians in their own right in addition to being fantastic teachers, talk about their own experiences about learning how to practice. And let me say, they weren't always perfect. They're human, they learnt many things in their time. And they were adamant that they wanted to teach us how to do it effectively, without hurting ourselves and for it to be productive and helpful. One of the things that my teacher said that really struck me was that they, as teachers, were there to teach us, the students, how to teach ourselves. That is practice. And they also admitted some things that seem like big taboo subjects to talk about. One was that some days of practice will just be bad, and one cannot expect that yesterday's experience will be the same as today's, nor tomorrow's. It was really comforting to know that these amazing people have had that experience and are realistic about expectations of themselves, and of their students.
I had my first lesson with my new teacher yesterday. I was (am) having a bit of trouble with the Meale, as it is quite complex; the rhythms are all over (my rhythm actually sucks) and the notes are all a bit messy. I admitted that I think I have maybe a 35% hit rate and my teacher said that we could just work on it for half an hour and he could give me ways to think about it and practice it. Even if it would make it a little better to 36%, that would be better. I admitted that I was nervous about having a lesson, because I haven't really had a piano lesson in two years, but he said that was ok. And he was so kind and gentle; there was nothing scary. He was helpful and forgiving. We spent about half an hour looking at about three bars. We set the metronome, we clapped, counted out loud, and tried it out multiple times. And it was really good. I was so encouraged and reassured!
I thankfully had most of Friday to myself. It had been a hectic week for me - almost all the reading sessions in the week (which were an hour and a half long) were full for me, all but one repeat had new works! It was nice to have a little bit of time to practice for myself and to take it a little easier. They were kind - they specifically didn't schedule much for me!
And so ends the first week at ANAM. I've had to pinch myself several times a day to prove that I'm awake and that it's all happening. I still can't quite believe it. I look down at my keys and see my 2011 ANAM keyring (which gets me discounts woohoo!) and the electronic tag. I think that's when you know you belong - you're given access to the buildling! I see so many talented people around me and still ask what I'm doing here, but then remember that I'm one of them too. I've been struck by how genuine everybody is and their generosity. I've been given this amazing opportunity to learn and I'm going to grab it with both hands, embrace if and run.
And I think we're going to be well-fed with lots of sugary goodness this year!
Monday, February 21, 2011
There's no such thing
However much I say to myself, "Next year will be not so (insert some expression of rest or self-pacing here)", I somehow find myself in all sorts of circumstances that only seem to be escalating in excitement and busy-ness.
I'm currently reading Stephen Fry's autobiography The Fry Chronicles and have just passed a bit where he talks about his inability to say no and how much of a workaholic he is. I have to admit that I was nodding away as I read:
"To this day I am often reminded by those about me that I don't have to say yes to everything and that there are such things as holidays. I don't believe them, of course, no matter how many times they assure me it is true." (The Fry Chronicles, by Stephen Fry. Penguin Group p321)
I also realise that I probably have not cited this properly. So much for academic writing and five years at university....!
Having said that, I did really enjoy my summer holiday, when I managed to convince myself that it was okay to take a holiday and not feel guilty about it.
But this year is gearing up to be a big year. I find myself about to launch into full-time study again, in a very specific discipline - one that seems obvious to so many people around me, but in which the process is so foreign also to the many people around me. This is not to say that they don't care or don't take an interest but perhaps that it is largely misunderstood or is perceived in quite a different way to how I actually experience it. And unfortunately I can't describe it.
I keep thinking that I have something to prove. But those who know this world reassure me that I don't really. Not in the way that I keep thinking that what I do isn't good enough or that other people around me are just so much more amazing that I will have trouble keeping up. I'm constantly reminded that I'm there to learn as much as I can and to do what I do. And that if they didn't want me at all, they wouldn't have even given me a second look. So remind me this year, please - learn and absorb like a sponge. And if it gets to the other extreme, where I have a seriously inflated view of myself - please somebody, slap me around the head many times. I refuse to let that happen and may need some help keeping it in check.
It has been an enjoyable almost-month in this city. There are free summer events, and friends to catch up with. I have thankfully been able to enjoy both to some degree of success. So much has changed that sometimes it feels awkward to be doing all this stuff, and sometimes you just have to leave the circumstances out of your control. And sometimes it all works out for the better, and to pleasantly surprise us.
As discussed with various friends and most recently on Saturday evening, I really do consider myself an introvert. You may see a different view; I suspect you see it either because you are a close friend or you see me interacting with good friends. But for those people, I am very fortunate, blessed and thankful.
I realised last year that my rate of walking had significantly slowed in comparison to previous years. Maybe that was a deliberate result of a decision made at the end of 2009 to stop and smell the roses more in 2010. I still don't think I really know how many I sniffed, nor what they really smell like. I'm not sure if there's the opportunity to do that this year; I think most stuff will be flying at me in a whizz of colours and shapes that may or may not be identifiable. Things change. 2011 is surely going to be one of those. I urge you now to fasten your seatbelt if you're taking this journey with me!
For this rambling post of weird thoughts, I apologise. The next one may be more concrete. Key word there is 'may'. No guarantees.
I'm currently reading Stephen Fry's autobiography The Fry Chronicles and have just passed a bit where he talks about his inability to say no and how much of a workaholic he is. I have to admit that I was nodding away as I read:
"To this day I am often reminded by those about me that I don't have to say yes to everything and that there are such things as holidays. I don't believe them, of course, no matter how many times they assure me it is true." (The Fry Chronicles, by Stephen Fry. Penguin Group p321)
I also realise that I probably have not cited this properly. So much for academic writing and five years at university....!
Having said that, I did really enjoy my summer holiday, when I managed to convince myself that it was okay to take a holiday and not feel guilty about it.
But this year is gearing up to be a big year. I find myself about to launch into full-time study again, in a very specific discipline - one that seems obvious to so many people around me, but in which the process is so foreign also to the many people around me. This is not to say that they don't care or don't take an interest but perhaps that it is largely misunderstood or is perceived in quite a different way to how I actually experience it. And unfortunately I can't describe it.
I keep thinking that I have something to prove. But those who know this world reassure me that I don't really. Not in the way that I keep thinking that what I do isn't good enough or that other people around me are just so much more amazing that I will have trouble keeping up. I'm constantly reminded that I'm there to learn as much as I can and to do what I do. And that if they didn't want me at all, they wouldn't have even given me a second look. So remind me this year, please - learn and absorb like a sponge. And if it gets to the other extreme, where I have a seriously inflated view of myself - please somebody, slap me around the head many times. I refuse to let that happen and may need some help keeping it in check.
It has been an enjoyable almost-month in this city. There are free summer events, and friends to catch up with. I have thankfully been able to enjoy both to some degree of success. So much has changed that sometimes it feels awkward to be doing all this stuff, and sometimes you just have to leave the circumstances out of your control. And sometimes it all works out for the better, and to pleasantly surprise us.
As discussed with various friends and most recently on Saturday evening, I really do consider myself an introvert. You may see a different view; I suspect you see it either because you are a close friend or you see me interacting with good friends. But for those people, I am very fortunate, blessed and thankful.
I realised last year that my rate of walking had significantly slowed in comparison to previous years. Maybe that was a deliberate result of a decision made at the end of 2009 to stop and smell the roses more in 2010. I still don't think I really know how many I sniffed, nor what they really smell like. I'm not sure if there's the opportunity to do that this year; I think most stuff will be flying at me in a whizz of colours and shapes that may or may not be identifiable. Things change. 2011 is surely going to be one of those. I urge you now to fasten your seatbelt if you're taking this journey with me!
For this rambling post of weird thoughts, I apologise. The next one may be more concrete. Key word there is 'may'. No guarantees.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
It's a different life (also another old post that should've gone up a while ago)
And my holidays at home went *just like that*!
Highlights included:
summer reading
watching much TV (especially summer sport) on a new, very large, digital TV (so many channels!)
chilling out with the family
playing some games (especially Boggle, where I beat dad - I've never before beat dad!)
home-cooked food!
a very well-stocked fridge and pantry
not being worried about mice
everything being super-clean
going for walks
eating ice-cream (and also hearing the ice-cream truck around our street)
the very random discussions with family (eg. What meat/animal would you not eat? What do you like to order when you go out for a meal?)
sleeping
being able to borrow a very large amount of books from the music library owing to the fact that mum is a staff member at the uni :P
catching up with a couple of friends
And although I love being in Melbourne, and there are so many friends and wonderful things to do, I really also enjoy being at home. I love being able to relax and completely chill out. Being in the city compels me to be productive, to do something with my time, to fill my time with activities or work.
I had a very strange flight back though. It was delayed by a lot - thanks E for waiting for the longest time!! So patient...
And then there were two failed attempts at landing, because the plane was trying to land at the same time as the large southerly passing through the city. It was very bumpy...but at least I got some food on the plane. Yes, it is plane food, but it is exciting to get it after travelling lots on budget airlines where you have to pay for it separately.
And Qantas is now seriously cutting down on their staff: now not only do you check yourself in at the kiosk, you also print your baggage tags, and also affix them all yourself, and then bag drop by yourself! I was not particularly enthused...
There are boxes still in the living room, much to my disgust (at myself, that is). I felt unsettled for a few days, but am beginning to enjoy it more now that there is somebody else around!
All good things must come to an end, so I guess I should stop hoping that I will suddenly have the chance to have a big new TV in the lounge, that the pantry and fridge will be magically (!) restocked by my parents, that things will just be clean because mum works so hard to do it, or that the summer will last forever. My final year at university was spent wondering where the time had gone, and feeling unsettled about how the year had started without me, even in May and even in October. It's time to get a grip and get aboard the rollercoaster ride that will be 2011!
Highlights included:
summer reading
watching much TV (especially summer sport) on a new, very large, digital TV (so many channels!)
chilling out with the family
playing some games (especially Boggle, where I beat dad - I've never before beat dad!)
home-cooked food!
a very well-stocked fridge and pantry
not being worried about mice
everything being super-clean
going for walks
eating ice-cream (and also hearing the ice-cream truck around our street)
the very random discussions with family (eg. What meat/animal would you not eat? What do you like to order when you go out for a meal?)
sleeping
being able to borrow a very large amount of books from the music library owing to the fact that mum is a staff member at the uni :P
catching up with a couple of friends
And although I love being in Melbourne, and there are so many friends and wonderful things to do, I really also enjoy being at home. I love being able to relax and completely chill out. Being in the city compels me to be productive, to do something with my time, to fill my time with activities or work.
I had a very strange flight back though. It was delayed by a lot - thanks E for waiting for the longest time!! So patient...
And then there were two failed attempts at landing, because the plane was trying to land at the same time as the large southerly passing through the city. It was very bumpy...but at least I got some food on the plane. Yes, it is plane food, but it is exciting to get it after travelling lots on budget airlines where you have to pay for it separately.
And Qantas is now seriously cutting down on their staff: now not only do you check yourself in at the kiosk, you also print your baggage tags, and also affix them all yourself, and then bag drop by yourself! I was not particularly enthused...
There are boxes still in the living room, much to my disgust (at myself, that is). I felt unsettled for a few days, but am beginning to enjoy it more now that there is somebody else around!
All good things must come to an end, so I guess I should stop hoping that I will suddenly have the chance to have a big new TV in the lounge, that the pantry and fridge will be magically (!) restocked by my parents, that things will just be clean because mum works so hard to do it, or that the summer will last forever. My final year at university was spent wondering where the time had gone, and feeling unsettled about how the year had started without me, even in May and even in October. It's time to get a grip and get aboard the rollercoaster ride that will be 2011!
The curse of the TV (an old post that I thought maybe should go up)
For those of you that know me, or even if you don't, you may know (or suspect) that music takes up so much of my time, and always has. Probably at the detriment of sport. I've never been a sporty sort of person. I was always the last kid picked on school teams. Or maybe the second last, at best. While other kids spent Saturday mornings playing hockey or soccer or football, or there were netball trainings and matches after school and on the weekend (though I will admit that I did go to netball training for a little while, I think I might have even played a couple of times?!?!), I was busy having music lessons, or in high school, at rehearsals for choir or orchestra or band or something like that.
However, I will admit that I really quite enjoy watching a healthy dose of sport. That's emphasis on WATCHING, not participating in. Just after Christmas, we bought a new TV. It is big and fancy, and the definition is pretty extraordinary. Paritcularly after years of our trust analogue TV that wasn't quite wide enough when broadcasting moved to the wide screen format. At the moment, there is tennis. There was (and also still is?) some cricket. I used to think that cricket was the world's most boring thing - like watching grass grow. And somehow, after years of persistence, I have grown to enjoy it. So much that I have paid to go see it live.
My father and brother have always enjoyed soccer, so there's been a healthy dose of that too.
Come the Olympics or Commonwealth Games (or other similarly large sporting event), I usually tune in with great enthusiasm. I find myself reading the sports news (when I usually give it little more than a passing glance) to keep up with the latest results and happenings. When the Rugby (union) World Cup came to Australia (and that group with South Africa and England in it was in Perth) I avidly watched the matches.
So my point here is not to glorify sport, or otherwise. It is merely to point out any fallacy that may exist in thinking that this classical pianist (slash economist) only cares about the languishing state of the arts (another discussion and debate in itself) in this country. The attraction of such an incredible TV is overwhelming that every summer (and sometimes, winter) that I am at home is spent languidly enjoying hours on the couch looking at the screen.
However, I will admit that I really quite enjoy watching a healthy dose of sport. That's emphasis on WATCHING, not participating in. Just after Christmas, we bought a new TV. It is big and fancy, and the definition is pretty extraordinary. Paritcularly after years of our trust analogue TV that wasn't quite wide enough when broadcasting moved to the wide screen format. At the moment, there is tennis. There was (and also still is?) some cricket. I used to think that cricket was the world's most boring thing - like watching grass grow. And somehow, after years of persistence, I have grown to enjoy it. So much that I have paid to go see it live.
My father and brother have always enjoyed soccer, so there's been a healthy dose of that too.
Come the Olympics or Commonwealth Games (or other similarly large sporting event), I usually tune in with great enthusiasm. I find myself reading the sports news (when I usually give it little more than a passing glance) to keep up with the latest results and happenings. When the Rugby (union) World Cup came to Australia (and that group with South Africa and England in it was in Perth) I avidly watched the matches.
So my point here is not to glorify sport, or otherwise. It is merely to point out any fallacy that may exist in thinking that this classical pianist (slash economist) only cares about the languishing state of the arts (another discussion and debate in itself) in this country. The attraction of such an incredible TV is overwhelming that every summer (and sometimes, winter) that I am at home is spent languidly enjoying hours on the couch looking at the screen.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Summer Edition #2: Feet matters
Our feet do a lot of work. Every time we want to get somewhere, the majority of us will use our feet to take us there. Walking, cycling, even standing up on the train or tram (if necessary) all require us to use our feet.
I reckon that one of the ways that you can tell a good piano player from a bad one (among other ways) is to look at their feet. Yes, that's right - both of them. Not just that right one that does that thing where it either sounds rich and sonorous or muddy and confused. In the about one to one and a half inches so that constitute the right pedal are a million different colours - not just default 'on' and 'off' settings. I think this is still one of the many things I'm learning, and looking forward to exploring this year. After seeing the Atos Trio in Melbourne last year, I left abuzz with goals swimming around in my head of what I wanted to work on re. piano technique in the coming year. One was "judicious use of pedals". Yes, I did think of the word "judicious".
Until my first year at university, I had never really used the pedal on the left. On a grand piano, this shifts the keyboard over in a really cool mechanism such that the hammers only hit two of the strings, rather than the usual three. On an upright, which we own at home, this is not quite the dynamic process that the grand offers - why would a young learner be quite so excited about a non-dynamic process that was unseen, and inside the piano? A discussion about pedals arose in one piano class in that first year. The coordinator for piano was taking the class as usual, and one of the things that stuck in my mind was his pointing out the use of this left pedal. What is this pedal, and why was it so important, I wondered. He talked about changing the colours, and how this is an important pedal - one that should not be overlooked at all! And he talked about how our two feet should always be engaged, ready to utilise these metal bits sticking out the bottom of our instrument. Since then, I'm not sure how I ever did without the left one. I'm beginning to suspect I still don't understand how it works - I suppose that falls into the category of "Judicious use of pedals".
My question is this: if the right pedal has a million possibilities because of the millions of 'positions' the pedal can be in (ie. depth), does the left one do too? Thoughts and opinions appreciated.
Anyway, back to feet.
A few years ago on a Sunday, I did this large day of practice, split into several sessions. Afterwards, I painfully endured walking. The large amount of practice obviously entailed a large amount of contact of the round, curvaceous metal of the pedal in the same spots of my feet for hours. Females, you know that pain on the balls of your feet when you have worn your heels for far too long? And the crying out to stop and rest your weary feet? It was like that. And again, self-inflicted and oh-so-satisfying. Except for the pain, obviously.
I admit that I like practicing in bare feet. There's something really organic about the touch of playing the piano. I used to think that I was really a docile child; my friend pointed out several years ago when we were out at lunch that she noticed that I fiddled a lot. After completeing our lunch, our plates cleared, I would often play with the leftover napkin, or the salt and pepper shakers, or the table number. If not, I'm drum my fingers on the table. My hands are restless. I fidget endlessly. Some part of me has to move. I find it hard to stay still - most of the time. Practicing is a tactile thing for me too. The wood of the piano keys under my fingers and the cold (then warm!) metal of the pedals underfoot. In the winter, or in particularly cool rooms, it's with socks. Which brings me to two points.
The first is this: a few years ago (probably on that particular Sunday of great pain), I discovered that the soles of my feet go a grey/green at the point of contact. Does this happen to anybody else? Is this a reaction of my skin (which may or may not be sweaty, eew...sorry!) and the metal?
The second concerns socks. Ah, the humble sock. You know the various suspects lurking in your drawers: the humble white ones, the ones you never have to wear again for school (eg. the knee highs if you went to a boys' school, the foldover white ones if you went to a girls' school), the ones with lots of cushioning, the ones you were given by an aunt/distant great-aunt/random family friend, the ones with the really cool pattern that you'll hang on to even though they've got holes in them (and no, I don't mean the big hole that you fit your foot into). I can't admit to being a big sock wearer. My shoe choices are very limited; in fact, I really dislike shopping for shoes - I'm too picky. Anyway, in the context of playing the piano, the point of contact of foot and pedal is the ball of the foot - wtih sock inbetween. Dear pianist friends, do you find that your socks also wear away at this point at an alarming rate? Do you find that you feel the inside of your shoe when walking about, wondering why this is so - only to find you have little holes at the balls of your feet? And I suppose if you were fastidious that you always wear the same sock on the same foot (if you had a way of identifying how to do so) - would you find that a larger hole eroding its way through the cotton (or whatever material) of your right foot?
While we're at socks, I might as well extrapolate a little. Shoes. Finding the right shoes to play the piano in.
Thin soles. Black (functionality). Comfortable. Presentable. Maybe a little bit showy. Flat used to be a pre-requisite; that is, until 10 June 2010, when I purchased a pair of black Wittner heels to play in a concert the following evening because my black flats were totally wrecked.
So, you get the idea. It's hard. I'm picky.
And usually, they're so comfortable (or at least functional - black!! How many times have you seen me in an outfit that does not include any black?) that I wear them everywhere. Thus, the lifespan of such shoes is severely shortened.
And one could extrapolate even further to the subject of trousers (or pants, whatever you want to call them). A friend once apologised for asking this random question: Do you find that the knees of your pants, or jeans, are seriously displaced?
For the amounts of time spent sitting down to practice, yes, my jeans don't quite keep the shape they're suppose to and yes, the knees of my jeans end up far below where my actual kneecaps actually are. How awkward.
Green soles (that may or may not have indentations). Hanging knees. This job really is full of occupational hazards from the waist down!
I reckon that one of the ways that you can tell a good piano player from a bad one (among other ways) is to look at their feet. Yes, that's right - both of them. Not just that right one that does that thing where it either sounds rich and sonorous or muddy and confused. In the about one to one and a half inches so that constitute the right pedal are a million different colours - not just default 'on' and 'off' settings. I think this is still one of the many things I'm learning, and looking forward to exploring this year. After seeing the Atos Trio in Melbourne last year, I left abuzz with goals swimming around in my head of what I wanted to work on re. piano technique in the coming year. One was "judicious use of pedals". Yes, I did think of the word "judicious".
Until my first year at university, I had never really used the pedal on the left. On a grand piano, this shifts the keyboard over in a really cool mechanism such that the hammers only hit two of the strings, rather than the usual three. On an upright, which we own at home, this is not quite the dynamic process that the grand offers - why would a young learner be quite so excited about a non-dynamic process that was unseen, and inside the piano? A discussion about pedals arose in one piano class in that first year. The coordinator for piano was taking the class as usual, and one of the things that stuck in my mind was his pointing out the use of this left pedal. What is this pedal, and why was it so important, I wondered. He talked about changing the colours, and how this is an important pedal - one that should not be overlooked at all! And he talked about how our two feet should always be engaged, ready to utilise these metal bits sticking out the bottom of our instrument. Since then, I'm not sure how I ever did without the left one. I'm beginning to suspect I still don't understand how it works - I suppose that falls into the category of "Judicious use of pedals".
My question is this: if the right pedal has a million possibilities because of the millions of 'positions' the pedal can be in (ie. depth), does the left one do too? Thoughts and opinions appreciated.
Anyway, back to feet.
A few years ago on a Sunday, I did this large day of practice, split into several sessions. Afterwards, I painfully endured walking. The large amount of practice obviously entailed a large amount of contact of the round, curvaceous metal of the pedal in the same spots of my feet for hours. Females, you know that pain on the balls of your feet when you have worn your heels for far too long? And the crying out to stop and rest your weary feet? It was like that. And again, self-inflicted and oh-so-satisfying. Except for the pain, obviously.
I admit that I like practicing in bare feet. There's something really organic about the touch of playing the piano. I used to think that I was really a docile child; my friend pointed out several years ago when we were out at lunch that she noticed that I fiddled a lot. After completeing our lunch, our plates cleared, I would often play with the leftover napkin, or the salt and pepper shakers, or the table number. If not, I'm drum my fingers on the table. My hands are restless. I fidget endlessly. Some part of me has to move. I find it hard to stay still - most of the time. Practicing is a tactile thing for me too. The wood of the piano keys under my fingers and the cold (then warm!) metal of the pedals underfoot. In the winter, or in particularly cool rooms, it's with socks. Which brings me to two points.
The first is this: a few years ago (probably on that particular Sunday of great pain), I discovered that the soles of my feet go a grey/green at the point of contact. Does this happen to anybody else? Is this a reaction of my skin (which may or may not be sweaty, eew...sorry!) and the metal?
The second concerns socks. Ah, the humble sock. You know the various suspects lurking in your drawers: the humble white ones, the ones you never have to wear again for school (eg. the knee highs if you went to a boys' school, the foldover white ones if you went to a girls' school), the ones with lots of cushioning, the ones you were given by an aunt/distant great-aunt/random family friend, the ones with the really cool pattern that you'll hang on to even though they've got holes in them (and no, I don't mean the big hole that you fit your foot into). I can't admit to being a big sock wearer. My shoe choices are very limited; in fact, I really dislike shopping for shoes - I'm too picky. Anyway, in the context of playing the piano, the point of contact of foot and pedal is the ball of the foot - wtih sock inbetween. Dear pianist friends, do you find that your socks also wear away at this point at an alarming rate? Do you find that you feel the inside of your shoe when walking about, wondering why this is so - only to find you have little holes at the balls of your feet? And I suppose if you were fastidious that you always wear the same sock on the same foot (if you had a way of identifying how to do so) - would you find that a larger hole eroding its way through the cotton (or whatever material) of your right foot?
While we're at socks, I might as well extrapolate a little. Shoes. Finding the right shoes to play the piano in.
Thin soles. Black (functionality). Comfortable. Presentable. Maybe a little bit showy. Flat used to be a pre-requisite; that is, until 10 June 2010, when I purchased a pair of black Wittner heels to play in a concert the following evening because my black flats were totally wrecked.
So, you get the idea. It's hard. I'm picky.
And usually, they're so comfortable (or at least functional - black!! How many times have you seen me in an outfit that does not include any black?) that I wear them everywhere. Thus, the lifespan of such shoes is severely shortened.
And one could extrapolate even further to the subject of trousers (or pants, whatever you want to call them). A friend once apologised for asking this random question: Do you find that the knees of your pants, or jeans, are seriously displaced?
For the amounts of time spent sitting down to practice, yes, my jeans don't quite keep the shape they're suppose to and yes, the knees of my jeans end up far below where my actual kneecaps actually are. How awkward.
Green soles (that may or may not have indentations). Hanging knees. This job really is full of occupational hazards from the waist down!
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Summer Edition #1
I'm not sure how many summer editions there will be, but we'll see.
Having stayed up all night was amusing - I was determined to make it through the next day. However, my willpower is not that strong - the afternoon was spent napping. Haha. Oh well.
The summer so far has been fairly uneventful. I find that living in Melbourne, so close to the city and public transport, compels me to do stuff. Apart from overcommitting (which I am admitting to myself!) and rushing here and there - however much I enjoy it - I still feel obliged to take advantage of all the city has to offer. Even if it's just wandering around by myself, killing some time in-between appointments. For all of pains, uncomfort, tardiness, unreliability and who-knows-what, I do quite enjoy venturing out on public transport (read: only trams and trains) to different areas and checking them out. Okay, only in the daytime. Still. I know I have spent a large amount of hours probably doing next to nothing (read: listening to music, attempting to learn music, looking out the window, people-watching, falling asleep etc), it often is a good time to do just that: (next to) nothing! I enjoy the downtime that commuting offers, even though I always have that niggling feeling that this is time that could be more effectively spent. I'm pretty sure if I didn't have the downtime, I wouldn't take it. It might as well be in full view of my fellow commuters.
Perth, however, is a very different story. I'm quite happy to spend most of time chilling out at home. Doing....well, not much also. Or maybe lots of other stuff. These six weeks are about resting after a big year, getting rested as much as possible before another big year, catching up with some people, forward planning and practicing new repertoire! I find sleep much more indulgent at home - I often don't have to physically be anywhere - that is, go out of the house - and this is highly conducive to sleeping in! I wonder why I can't take my go-get-it attitude on the plane with me when I come home! It is nice to read the paper every day again though, even if it adds a significant amount of time to my breakfast routine. The crossword and the circuit breaker have again become my morning brain exercise - some days more succesful than others!
There is much practice to be done; it is getting there! I'm glad to have sorted out through some of the proposed repertoire, and decided to keep some, decided to discard some. So far, there is some Bach (including my weekly P&F project), Mozart, LOTS of Beethoven (concerto, trios, piano sonatas, violin sonata, cello sonata, quintet pending) and Debussy. Still in the wings is perhaps more Debussy, Schubert, Ligeti, Rachmaninoff, Haydn and some others. I think it's going to be a very large year.
And don't worry - there will be a VERY healthy does of collaborative piano. I would never give that up. I think it's one of the things that I enjoy the MOST!
The diary (read: note dairy, as this blog has previously stated in another year!) is filling up quickly! I'm coming home in April to play in a concert at my old school for current and previous staff in the school's 90th year. Another concert in May which looks like a super-busy week of Piano Festival!
We bought a new TV just after Christmas. I don't think it was just one of those 'Let's give ourselves a Christmas present' sort of buys; my family has been looking to upgrade for a while. We finally welcomed a HD TV, along with digital TV (!!) and a new piece of furniture into our house. Of course, this meant some farewells, of the trusty old 20" analog. But now - WOW! The options are so numerous. It is still quite a novelty to me, as I barely watch TV during the year, owing to time constraints, and in particular for last year - the lack of TV in our flat!
Throughout last year, I had started a list of things I wanted to do in 2011; sort of like a list of resolutions, thoughts and goals. When so much changed, so much of it was rendered a little impossible for this year. Oh well. There is still lots to look forward to.
And still lots that I'm so nervous, anxious about and approaching with trepidition.
What will change this year???
Having stayed up all night was amusing - I was determined to make it through the next day. However, my willpower is not that strong - the afternoon was spent napping. Haha. Oh well.
The summer so far has been fairly uneventful. I find that living in Melbourne, so close to the city and public transport, compels me to do stuff. Apart from overcommitting (which I am admitting to myself!) and rushing here and there - however much I enjoy it - I still feel obliged to take advantage of all the city has to offer. Even if it's just wandering around by myself, killing some time in-between appointments. For all of pains, uncomfort, tardiness, unreliability and who-knows-what, I do quite enjoy venturing out on public transport (read: only trams and trains) to different areas and checking them out. Okay, only in the daytime. Still. I know I have spent a large amount of hours probably doing next to nothing (read: listening to music, attempting to learn music, looking out the window, people-watching, falling asleep etc), it often is a good time to do just that: (next to) nothing! I enjoy the downtime that commuting offers, even though I always have that niggling feeling that this is time that could be more effectively spent. I'm pretty sure if I didn't have the downtime, I wouldn't take it. It might as well be in full view of my fellow commuters.
Perth, however, is a very different story. I'm quite happy to spend most of time chilling out at home. Doing....well, not much also. Or maybe lots of other stuff. These six weeks are about resting after a big year, getting rested as much as possible before another big year, catching up with some people, forward planning and practicing new repertoire! I find sleep much more indulgent at home - I often don't have to physically be anywhere - that is, go out of the house - and this is highly conducive to sleeping in! I wonder why I can't take my go-get-it attitude on the plane with me when I come home! It is nice to read the paper every day again though, even if it adds a significant amount of time to my breakfast routine. The crossword and the circuit breaker have again become my morning brain exercise - some days more succesful than others!
There is much practice to be done; it is getting there! I'm glad to have sorted out through some of the proposed repertoire, and decided to keep some, decided to discard some. So far, there is some Bach (including my weekly P&F project), Mozart, LOTS of Beethoven (concerto, trios, piano sonatas, violin sonata, cello sonata, quintet pending) and Debussy. Still in the wings is perhaps more Debussy, Schubert, Ligeti, Rachmaninoff, Haydn and some others. I think it's going to be a very large year.
And don't worry - there will be a VERY healthy does of collaborative piano. I would never give that up. I think it's one of the things that I enjoy the MOST!
The diary (read: note dairy, as this blog has previously stated in another year!) is filling up quickly! I'm coming home in April to play in a concert at my old school for current and previous staff in the school's 90th year. Another concert in May which looks like a super-busy week of Piano Festival!
We bought a new TV just after Christmas. I don't think it was just one of those 'Let's give ourselves a Christmas present' sort of buys; my family has been looking to upgrade for a while. We finally welcomed a HD TV, along with digital TV (!!) and a new piece of furniture into our house. Of course, this meant some farewells, of the trusty old 20" analog. But now - WOW! The options are so numerous. It is still quite a novelty to me, as I barely watch TV during the year, owing to time constraints, and in particular for last year - the lack of TV in our flat!
Throughout last year, I had started a list of things I wanted to do in 2011; sort of like a list of resolutions, thoughts and goals. When so much changed, so much of it was rendered a little impossible for this year. Oh well. There is still lots to look forward to.
And still lots that I'm so nervous, anxious about and approaching with trepidition.
What will change this year???
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