Maybe a Peep?
I bawled in church today. Not because it's Easter and not because of the message.
It's these words, and the act of trying to sing them with a group of people:
~
How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He would give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure
How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One
Bring many sons to glory
Behold the Man upon a cross
My guilt upon His shoulders
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers
It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished
I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no powr's, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection
Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom
~
It's especially those italicized verses that make my throat tight and hurty. The fact that my husband drives straight home, gets out his guitar and figures out the chords is pretty awesome, too. This year, I have that wonderful Christmassy feeling at Easter instead. It's probably better that way, really.
It's not that we prepared especially. We certainly don't have an Easter tree, and my mom had to buy all the egg decoratin' gear for Toby to have any memory of this year's holiday at all. We did stop at WalMart this morning and snag the very last bag of malted eggs in the whole state, apparently. We didn't even do lent despite my fascination with it. I guess you could say it's a pretty distant fascination, sort of like the way I feel about people who run ultra marathons or play in the Met Opera orchestra.
It's just that I feel the recent clouds- adoption failure, new baby haze, heinous church shopping, the various infections and medical mysteries the boys suddenly seem bent on collecting- have disipated. They're there, but it just feels like life and not so much like the other.
Yesterday I watched a community come together and celebrate a violist who was killed the year I moved here. I play some of her gigs, I have the priveledge of carpooling with some of her good friends. Preparing for the concert was a heavy responsibility and I found myself cherishing all the goofy things in my hectic and lovely life. It turned out to be fun, and fulfilling and I think she must have been quite something considering all the funny stories people were remembering. Sassy. I like that word even more now.
I love Easter. God bless you, internet.
Showing posts with label Unified theory of the Viola. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Unified theory of the Viola. Show all posts
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Thursday, November 20, 2008
It's happening again...
I can totally agree with those types who want to slow down the holiday season, to take time and savor a few shining events with loved ones rather than pack in a shindig a day like a girl scout on her way to her Domestic Overcommitment badge. I see the idea of orchestrated simplicity in my family life fly past on my way to reality every November or so. In fact every single month I get a couple of beautiful magazines packed with somebody's long-massaged idea about how to make every corner of my life a paradigm of organized loveliness. Your home represents you, your schedule displays what you value, the enlightened move calmly from moment to carefully cherished moment and you better too, they confide tastefully from within their manicured covers.
Zaniness at this time of year is just the way it is when you are a classical musician. Even folks who don't have much of a relationship with the great composers and all the variety of styles within the big C will recognize bits of the Messiah and think of the holidays. They make a tradition of going to a holiday concert, so we put on a bazillion concerts at the holidays. As a Christian I think it has something to do with people's inbuilt desire to be a part of creative endeavors and to celebrate something corporately. Of course if you really want to get into worship and music in popular culture, there's always rock.
I see another striking similarity between classical music and religion in that people like it for the ceremony. There is muted controversy there, some classical musicians bucking for a collective toss to the dumpster of their formal tails and fussy hall atmospheres. (I myself let it all hang out here whenever possible.) The entire relevant church movement (from the very earliest days to right this postmodern second) are in the same kind of battle between respecting tradition and finding modern immediacy in their expressions.
I had a little epiphany the other day at a bar watching some folks struggle through a very late Beethoven movement. It's THE Beethoven movement, actually. It is life and death, consonance and dissonance all wrapped up and knitted together with complex strands the way only Beethoven and little sonny Jesus ever could. Some members of this group had a tougher time than others and yes, there are moments in any performance of this nature where the listener is just hoping they make it through to the next phrase and get on with it. But as I sat there watching them help each other through and heard them come to more than one True thing.
Whatever you do this season, however busy you get, my advice is to cling to those odd moments when things are True and run with them. For me at this season, simplicity is a myth but Truth is everywhere.
Zaniness at this time of year is just the way it is when you are a classical musician. Even folks who don't have much of a relationship with the great composers and all the variety of styles within the big C will recognize bits of the Messiah and think of the holidays. They make a tradition of going to a holiday concert, so we put on a bazillion concerts at the holidays. As a Christian I think it has something to do with people's inbuilt desire to be a part of creative endeavors and to celebrate something corporately. Of course if you really want to get into worship and music in popular culture, there's always rock.
I see another striking similarity between classical music and religion in that people like it for the ceremony. There is muted controversy there, some classical musicians bucking for a collective toss to the dumpster of their formal tails and fussy hall atmospheres. (I myself let it all hang out here whenever possible.) The entire relevant church movement (from the very earliest days to right this postmodern second) are in the same kind of battle between respecting tradition and finding modern immediacy in their expressions.
I had a little epiphany the other day at a bar watching some folks struggle through a very late Beethoven movement. It's THE Beethoven movement, actually. It is life and death, consonance and dissonance all wrapped up and knitted together with complex strands the way only Beethoven and little sonny Jesus ever could. Some members of this group had a tougher time than others and yes, there are moments in any performance of this nature where the listener is just hoping they make it through to the next phrase and get on with it. But as I sat there watching them help each other through and heard them come to more than one True thing.
Whatever you do this season, however busy you get, my advice is to cling to those odd moments when things are True and run with them. For me at this season, simplicity is a myth but Truth is everywhere.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Composers
I played on the most amazing student recital yesterday. This senior composition student brought together a string quartet, a random quintet, an OPERA, and a few other solo works. She rehearsed them all, got over seventy people to attend the recital (that alone is literally stunning) and made every performer a gingersnap with our name written on it in frosting. We all have a thirty minute recording slot on Wednesday.
She should run for president- this woman is organized and gets people to agree to all sorts of things.
I've been really enjoying playing lately. There seem to be phases for that, like any job I suppose. While there's always a certain functional satisfaction to performing, I savor these times when even practicing is appealing to me.
J is probably laughing at my tra-la attitude after listening to me practice the trio I'm playing Friday. It's by a nutty Romanian composer and was composed in 1990. Kurtag is a big name in contemporary classical music (not necessarily the whitest hottest kind of fame) but he put things in the viola part that are impossible to play. This is not hyperbole; it is physically not doable and would have garnered any composition student a lower grade. I guess over the last few months of rehearsing and practicing I thought I would come up with something to approximate his requests, but no such miracle has occurred. Sometimes you get the feel of a piece and can fill in a bit of musical vocabulary for the composer if he's written clumsily, but this... well. Just look:
She should run for president- this woman is organized and gets people to agree to all sorts of things.
I've been really enjoying playing lately. There seem to be phases for that, like any job I suppose. While there's always a certain functional satisfaction to performing, I savor these times when even practicing is appealing to me.
J is probably laughing at my tra-la attitude after listening to me practice the trio I'm playing Friday. It's by a nutty Romanian composer and was composed in 1990. Kurtag is a big name in contemporary classical music (not necessarily the whitest hottest kind of fame) but he put things in the viola part that are impossible to play. This is not hyperbole; it is physically not doable and would have garnered any composition student a lower grade. I guess over the last few months of rehearsing and practicing I thought I would come up with something to approximate his requests, but no such miracle has occurred. Sometimes you get the feel of a piece and can fill in a bit of musical vocabulary for the composer if he's written clumsily, but this... well. Just look:
Monday, September 15, 2008
Playing Softballs
We're doing La Traviata (it's about hookers!) over the next few weeks here in the Land of Port, and it's been completely enjoyable. I think the orchestra sounds like a different (different better!) group this year.
The music is mostly stupid-easy in the viola parts and that can sometimes mean it's also physically painful. When you are the Oom or the pah-pah for two pages straight, your body tends to get tired of it. It's not bad music, thankfully, but it could easily become tedious in rehearsal if you had a dumb conductor.
We don't!
This guy is great- I don't know how I've missed him, and I'm glad to be playing for him now. First and foremost, he doesn't talk at us when he could be conducting but he does tell enough charming anecdotes to be human. Secondly, he is musical and loves his job. Third, and sort of a rehashing of point one: he actually told us not to write in too much as he may do something different the next time through. And he does! Clearly!
I also finally feel as though I am getting to know some of the area locals. It's hard when you're freelancing to feel much of a connection to any community but I think maybe I'm on the brink of something there. Such a one-eighty from last fall.
The music is mostly stupid-easy in the viola parts and that can sometimes mean it's also physically painful. When you are the Oom or the pah-pah for two pages straight, your body tends to get tired of it. It's not bad music, thankfully, but it could easily become tedious in rehearsal if you had a dumb conductor.
We don't!
This guy is great- I don't know how I've missed him, and I'm glad to be playing for him now. First and foremost, he doesn't talk at us when he could be conducting but he does tell enough charming anecdotes to be human. Secondly, he is musical and loves his job. Third, and sort of a rehashing of point one: he actually told us not to write in too much as he may do something different the next time through. And he does! Clearly!
I also finally feel as though I am getting to know some of the area locals. It's hard when you're freelancing to feel much of a connection to any community but I think maybe I'm on the brink of something there. Such a one-eighty from last fall.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Aisaac
I think I went back to gigging a bit too soon.
Don't get me wrong, both the orchestras I've played with this past month have been great. The first was for a conductor I adore who reminds me of a favorite uncle and we did Missa Solemnis with lovely soloists and the only thing I can think to complain of is that the venue was a shmancy catholic church and sounded exactly like a deafening bathroom. My hands would have been protecting my ears if it weren't for the viola they were full of.
Isaac was only a few weeks old at the first rehearsal for that noise, so J brought him to me at the breaks to eat. Let's take a minute and be thankful someone invented this nursing privacy blanket thingy, shall we? I'm working on making myself a couple of knock-offs so I can have one in every bag. If you have a pregnant friend who's planning to boob the kid, get them one of these puppies and I swear she'll remember you in her will.
I also played with the Portland opera, and I am trying to figure out if the woman who sang Aida sold her soul to get her voice or is simply an angel on break from the sparkling gates of heaven. She reminds me of Renee Fleming, whom I might cyber-stalk if I were a socially dysfunctional tecky dude. Amneris kicked it old school, too. I had no idea how much I enjoy Aida- it was almost never a countdown of page turns to the final notes, which really are haunting despite always being described as such by critics.
The conductor, who must be very closely related to Jerry Stiller, was fantastic. I am not kidding- these are four-hour rehearsals and the time skips by. Everyone calling him Gigi made me feel more familiar than we are, like I might bump into him at a streetside cafe in Venice, peer over my huge black sunglasses and offer to buy him a glass of wine while he fawns over my adorably precocious yet incredibly well behaved wonder children.
So why then, in the midst of all the wine and roses, did I wish I weren't working?
Isaac's early weeks were, as everyone warned, entirely different than our memory of Toby's. We joke that he had two moods: asleep and pissed. He has an adorable scowl. Once after I got stuck in old-people traffic exiting the hall's parking garage, J greeted me with a screaming baby and "What HAPPened?" before I could even put down my case. In his defense, there are few circles of hell deeper than The Baby Won't Ever Stop Screaming. Now that Isaac's got a few months under his wee little belt, the learning-a-stick-after-driving-an-automatic phase has mostly passed and we've laid off comparing every single thing he does to rosy memories of his big brother. That, and he has indeed stopped screaming. (mostly)
It surprises me, though, how much just one gig on my schedule made in the feeling of a day or even a week. He probably picked up on my tension. I've probably ruined him something awful by failing to grow my hair seven feet long and wear gingham recreationally, but he was in trouble from the beginning what with a viola being practiced within earshot and such.
In conclusion, if we have another one of these things, I hope I remember to beg off any work for the first three or four months. Even though he was only ever in my hands or his dad's and even though it was nice to get out and smell the Egyptians (Aiiiiida!).
Don't get me wrong, both the orchestras I've played with this past month have been great. The first was for a conductor I adore who reminds me of a favorite uncle and we did Missa Solemnis with lovely soloists and the only thing I can think to complain of is that the venue was a shmancy catholic church and sounded exactly like a deafening bathroom. My hands would have been protecting my ears if it weren't for the viola they were full of.
Isaac was only a few weeks old at the first rehearsal for that noise, so J brought him to me at the breaks to eat. Let's take a minute and be thankful someone invented this nursing privacy blanket thingy, shall we? I'm working on making myself a couple of knock-offs so I can have one in every bag. If you have a pregnant friend who's planning to boob the kid, get them one of these puppies and I swear she'll remember you in her will.
I also played with the Portland opera, and I am trying to figure out if the woman who sang Aida sold her soul to get her voice or is simply an angel on break from the sparkling gates of heaven. She reminds me of Renee Fleming, whom I might cyber-stalk if I were a socially dysfunctional tecky dude. Amneris kicked it old school, too. I had no idea how much I enjoy Aida- it was almost never a countdown of page turns to the final notes, which really are haunting despite always being described as such by critics.
The conductor, who must be very closely related to Jerry Stiller, was fantastic. I am not kidding- these are four-hour rehearsals and the time skips by. Everyone calling him Gigi made me feel more familiar than we are, like I might bump into him at a streetside cafe in Venice, peer over my huge black sunglasses and offer to buy him a glass of wine while he fawns over my adorably precocious yet incredibly well behaved wonder children.
So why then, in the midst of all the wine and roses, did I wish I weren't working?
Isaac's early weeks were, as everyone warned, entirely different than our memory of Toby's. We joke that he had two moods: asleep and pissed. He has an adorable scowl. Once after I got stuck in old-people traffic exiting the hall's parking garage, J greeted me with a screaming baby and "What HAPPened?" before I could even put down my case. In his defense, there are few circles of hell deeper than The Baby Won't Ever Stop Screaming. Now that Isaac's got a few months under his wee little belt, the learning-a-stick-after-driving-an-automatic phase has mostly passed and we've laid off comparing every single thing he does to rosy memories of his big brother. That, and he has indeed stopped screaming. (mostly)
It surprises me, though, how much just one gig on my schedule made in the feeling of a day or even a week. He probably picked up on my tension. I've probably ruined him something awful by failing to grow my hair seven feet long and wear gingham recreationally, but he was in trouble from the beginning what with a viola being practiced within earshot and such.
In conclusion, if we have another one of these things, I hope I remember to beg off any work for the first three or four months. Even though he was only ever in my hands or his dad's and even though it was nice to get out and smell the Egyptians (Aiiiiida!).
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Week 38 Round-up
I've caught that dreaded third-trimester bug, you know, the one where the preggo cannot stop watching Discovery Health shows involving rare disorders and high-risk deliveries. I have a few hours to myself right now and I spent part of it wallowing in frightening medical possibilities, with Toby at the Aumsville toddler ranch while I take care of some high powered (cough) viola career-related jockeying and teach a student in Portland. Mostly I had my bible study come over and also had tea with my pianist while we talked about what we wanna play this year.
As to my balance of ambition/parenting dilemnas, I think I have found a partial solution for at least the next few years. My focus will turn to my duo, building the viola studio at the college, and to opportunities I can arrange for myself. Those are the things I enjoy most artistically anyway. Those are also the most easily self-driven aspects of classical freelancing and they afford me the most control. I would rather put my energy there than in drumming up gigs and networking, though there are a few ensembles I will always agree to play when they call.
A brilliant friend reminded me about grace this week- and especially that it can include the ability to be okay with a different circumstance than one has planned. This relinquishment of control and trust in grace applies both in sacrifice and in receipt of energies and abilities.
A phrase from a song lyric has been rattling around my head: heart wide open. I want that in these preschool, busy, boring, frenetic, rapid adaptation years. In the three most important years of my life (marriage, Toby's birth, and now Isaac's arrival) I've always longed for the ability to be present, to slow down, to remember and absorb my own days.
I tease and complain about pregnancy, but I hope I don't forget what it's like to actually contain all this life, otherness, potential.
And I hope he comes soon.
As to my balance of ambition/parenting dilemnas, I think I have found a partial solution for at least the next few years. My focus will turn to my duo, building the viola studio at the college, and to opportunities I can arrange for myself. Those are the things I enjoy most artistically anyway. Those are also the most easily self-driven aspects of classical freelancing and they afford me the most control. I would rather put my energy there than in drumming up gigs and networking, though there are a few ensembles I will always agree to play when they call.
A brilliant friend reminded me about grace this week- and especially that it can include the ability to be okay with a different circumstance than one has planned. This relinquishment of control and trust in grace applies both in sacrifice and in receipt of energies and abilities.
A phrase from a song lyric has been rattling around my head: heart wide open. I want that in these preschool, busy, boring, frenetic, rapid adaptation years. In the three most important years of my life (marriage, Toby's birth, and now Isaac's arrival) I've always longed for the ability to be present, to slow down, to remember and absorb my own days.
I tease and complain about pregnancy, but I hope I don't forget what it's like to actually contain all this life, otherness, potential.
And I hope he comes soon.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
WFMW: Backwards Edition: Graceful Transitions
Today's Works for Me Wednesday is a backwards edition, meaning I ask for advice & solicite your ideas rather than coming up with my own.
So, here's what I'd like to know.
How do you gracefully handle fundamental change? We are about to go from one great kid (2 y-o boy) to two. I am about to go from miserably pregnant to ALL THE HECK DONE (whoooopp!). My career as a musician/teacher is sort of in adjustment, per the general SAHM-ness of my life for the next few years. I don't take the ability to be home with my kids for granted- it is exactly what I want- but I won't pretend my personal ambitions are in some parental deep-freeze.
I would love anything from practical advice on balancing being a mom and caring for my own drives (ambitions, goals, professional stimulation) to tips on how to breastfeed while potty training.
Thanks and check out all the other folks looking for advice (and the neat ideas they'll get in their comments) here.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
WFMW: Unstuffy Classical Music
This week for Shannon at Rocks in my Dryer's Works for Me Wednesday, I am going to give you an insider's guide to some of the coolest classical music and FREE internet resources for finding more you might like.
Broadening your child’s musical taste while expanding your own
As a professional classical musician (I’m a violist, in case you are bopping by for WFMW. Feel free to submit viola jokes in the comments if you like.), civilian friends sometimes ask me what music I like to play for my kid. There are a lot of pieces out there you are probably already familiar with (whether you know it or not) because they’re common in soundtracks, car commercials, produce departments and Muzak tracks worldwide. I’m looking at you, Pachelbel’s Canon and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.
There are some really cool classical works out there that you may not have heard yet. I’m aiming for things that are accessible enough that you’ll enjoy them the first time but complex enough that you’ll still be enjoying in a few months (hopefully years!). Here are some of my (and my 2 year-old boy’s) favorites.
So let's dig in!Bela Bartok: Concerto for Orchestra
I’ve blogged about this piece before, but it really does get the job done. It’s got it all: huge brass and strings parts, rhythmic drive, beautiful melodies. Bartok was a fascinating character and also happens to have written a lot of great stuff for viola. If you like this piece, you might also enjoy his 44 Duos for Two Violins. Here's a link to a free listen of one movement on Rhapsody.
Maurice Ravel: String Quartet
This is an incredibly cool piece and I bet with a little legwork you can find it online free from some enterprising ensemble, because it's one of those pieces you have to play if you want to be the new hotshot virtuoso string quartet.
Felix Mendelssohn: Octet
Can you believe he wrote this at 16? Sheesh. I totally want this played at our 50th anniversary or some other huge party. Help me think of reasons to throw a fete.
The Naked Violin: Tasmin Little
Don’t worry, she just means naked as in unaccompanied. This is a FREE release for download by well-known British violin virtuoso Tasmin Little. I am in love with her concept, and have in fact been trying to get a similar (though currently not so famous) project off the ground. I would recommend starting with the incredible Bach Partita, then moving on to the intense Ysaye (pronounced Eee-sigh), and working your way through the Patterson. Her website even includes ideas for classroom use (cough- heyhomeschoolers- cough).
Which brings us to an intro to a few of the many Rad Online FREE Broadcasts
New York Philharmonic
Here’s a great site to get you started with listening to lots of different repertoire if you don’t happen to have a good classical station where you are. You can listen to whatever they had on the air that week through your computer for FREE. And NYPhil, they aren’t going to let you down.
The Orpheus Chamber Orchestra
If this orchestra were a person, for me it would be Johnny Depp. Maybe Will Smith. Anyway, it’s hot with a million t’s, and I have always loved them. Ask any classical string player about their dream orchestra job, and I’d lay money they’ll mention Orpheus sooner or later. They play without a conductor and every single musician is one of the best in the world. When I was a wee undergrad in New York, I had the pleasure of getting to know a few of them. Once I even got to listen to a dress rehearsal in which Gil Shaham (wonderful violinist) was playing and James Taylor was sharing our row in the seats at Carnegie Hall. It was neat, even though I didn’t know who James Taylor was at the time. So, that’s a tangent, but you should really look into any recordings/videos/podcasts/internet broadcasts you can find. I especially recommend their recordings of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons (I know, but it’s a great piece and actually deserves the fame), and the disc with Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony and Britten’s Simple Symphony is one of our household favorites.
Alexander Street has a blog offering a free classical download once a week, which I just discovered while surfing for this post. Might be worth checking out, and I know there are more like this out there.
Many classical radio stations have excellent podcasts available free, as do a ton of orchestras. The last three top-tier orchestras I played with all had a free kid's program at their local libraries. Check around- I bet there is a whole community of vibrant, unstuffy classical music near you.
So that's what works for me- another WFMW whacked out at the JWards.
Thanks for sticking with it to the final cadences!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Pot, Kettle.
Rachael violin ho came for a visit! And she brought her better half Tim, and together they brought Toby a bubble machine (mind. blown.) and a huge green ball and some clothing he can put on his little brother. Yay!
This afternoon Tim and I ganged up on Rachael and made her commit to at least three Big Auditions this year, because she is awesome and is clearly on the cusp of winning a lucrative job. Maybe even something with an insurance package, which is nothing to sneeze at for a classical musician.
When we got done browbeating her and they piled into their Seattley blue Volvo to drive back to their trendy Seattley home, I realized I was feeling kind of... jealous. Or guilty. Or... is that strange sensation... could it be I felt- motivated?
See, there's this minor local audition in four weeks from which I had excused myself for two reasons. One, I am huge scary pregnant and my hands regularly take tingling catnaps without warning. Two, I feel sorry for myself having not won much local crap and would like a break from the suckage wringer. (I really wanted to write suckage wiener. Wierd.)
So I went to the orchestra's website and took one more look, and at least one of the positions only requires four excerpts. There is pretty much no excuse for wimping out on such an itty bitty thing. Except maybe labor. (C'monnnnn labor!) So now I think I stop whinging, commit and take the stupid audition.
Of course, by the time J got home just two hours after this epiphany, I was already in a foul mood- and no, I haven't even taken the viola out of the case yet. I'll say it before Rachael can. Hypocrite!
This afternoon Tim and I ganged up on Rachael and made her commit to at least three Big Auditions this year, because she is awesome and is clearly on the cusp of winning a lucrative job. Maybe even something with an insurance package, which is nothing to sneeze at for a classical musician.
When we got done browbeating her and they piled into their Seattley blue Volvo to drive back to their trendy Seattley home, I realized I was feeling kind of... jealous. Or guilty. Or... is that strange sensation... could it be I felt- motivated?
See, there's this minor local audition in four weeks from which I had excused myself for two reasons. One, I am huge scary pregnant and my hands regularly take tingling catnaps without warning. Two, I feel sorry for myself having not won much local crap and would like a break from the suckage wringer. (I really wanted to write suckage wiener. Wierd.)
So I went to the orchestra's website and took one more look, and at least one of the positions only requires four excerpts. There is pretty much no excuse for wimping out on such an itty bitty thing. Except maybe labor. (C'monnnnn labor!) So now I think I stop whinging, commit and take the stupid audition.
Of course, by the time J got home just two hours after this epiphany, I was already in a foul mood- and no, I haven't even taken the viola out of the case yet. I'll say it before Rachael can. Hypocrite!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Violation
I haven't had many performances lately, and I'm starting to miss it. My duo has been working on some recordings, but other than that... crickets. It's scary to think how easily I could fall off the face of my life and into a different one, where being a mother is my defining characteristic and all those pesky years of schooling, competing and practicing were for vanity alone. Well, vanity and student debt. It's the one-two punch of less than essential doctoral degrees.
Don't get me wrong, having (almost) 2 kids will most certainly be one of the most important things about my life. But I plan to have a semblance of a music career as well, and believe it's the perfect compliment to J's day job. Once the kids are in school things will be a smidge less complicated, or at least complicated in different ways. I often find myself trying to plan ways to just muddle through the next hunk of years, viola-wise, so when I emerge on the other side of preschooldom I might have retained some artistic viability.
My solitary college student left for London for the semester with promises to work on all sorts of assignments and lug a school instrument across Europe on her back. That seems appropriate penitance for her only recently seeing the light and switching from violin to viola, no? I thought it was nice timing, actually, with my due date being smack in the middle of the semester.
Instead I feel left out. I have schemes and plans to build the viola department at our college, but it takes time when they've had more employee turnover than Dairy Queen for the past few years. Small schools like mine often dally when it comes to getting things in motion, and you may have noticed my atrophied career patience muscles.
So it's not that I'm not doing stuff about my career. And things. It's just a slower season, and I'm trying not to feel neglected by my colleagues and wonder what it will mean after the new baby.
Don't get me wrong, having (almost) 2 kids will most certainly be one of the most important things about my life. But I plan to have a semblance of a music career as well, and believe it's the perfect compliment to J's day job. Once the kids are in school things will be a smidge less complicated, or at least complicated in different ways. I often find myself trying to plan ways to just muddle through the next hunk of years, viola-wise, so when I emerge on the other side of preschooldom I might have retained some artistic viability.
My solitary college student left for London for the semester with promises to work on all sorts of assignments and lug a school instrument across Europe on her back. That seems appropriate penitance for her only recently seeing the light and switching from violin to viola, no? I thought it was nice timing, actually, with my due date being smack in the middle of the semester.
Instead I feel left out. I have schemes and plans to build the viola department at our college, but it takes time when they've had more employee turnover than Dairy Queen for the past few years. Small schools like mine often dally when it comes to getting things in motion, and you may have noticed my atrophied career patience muscles.
So it's not that I'm not doing stuff about my career. And things. It's just a slower season, and I'm trying not to feel neglected by my colleagues and wonder what it will mean after the new baby.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
My viola-piano duo is playing a little concert tonight. On the program is a rearranged arrangement of "Silent Noon" by Vaughn-Williams with words by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. My favorite line is: Your eyes smile peace. He turns out to be kind of interesting, so I'm posting this while I continue to think about what I want from 2008.
Gabriel Dante Rossetti (1828-1882)
SILENT NOON lyricist
"Mainly remembered as a painter.
During this time, Rossetti acquired an obsession for exotic animals, and in particular wombats. He would frequently ask friends to meet him at the "Wombat's Lair" at the London Zoo in Regent's Park, and would spend hours there himself.
Rossetti described the sonnet form as a "moment's monument", implying that it sought to contain the feelings of a fleeting moment, and to reflect upon their meaning."
His wife overdosed on laudanum and he buried a book of poems with her, but later had them exhumed by his slug of an agent. The poems were harshly criticized and the whole strange episode pushed him deeper into insanity. Addicted to Chloral (one of the chemicals used to make DDT), he eventually died because of it.
Isn't he just perfect for a viola recital?
Gabriel Dante Rossetti (1828-1882)
SILENT NOON lyricist
"Mainly remembered as a painter.
During this time, Rossetti acquired an obsession for exotic animals, and in particular wombats. He would frequently ask friends to meet him at the "Wombat's Lair" at the London Zoo in Regent's Park, and would spend hours there himself.
Rossetti described the sonnet form as a "moment's monument", implying that it sought to contain the feelings of a fleeting moment, and to reflect upon their meaning."
His wife overdosed on laudanum and he buried a book of poems with her, but later had them exhumed by his slug of an agent. The poems were harshly criticized and the whole strange episode pushed him deeper into insanity. Addicted to Chloral (one of the chemicals used to make DDT), he eventually died because of it.
Isn't he just perfect for a viola recital?
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Frrrrrrrrrrrrrreixe!
It's like the universe thought and thought and finally came up with the perfect holiday surprise for a husband who loves film making and a wife who plays viola and drinks wine when un-knocked up. And neither are offended by directors paid to do a little product schilling. Much.
Click here to see what happens when a violist becomes a secret agent man. I like how much his viola participates in the tremolo sections.
Click here to see what happens when a violist becomes a secret agent man. I like how much his viola participates in the tremolo sections.
Friday, November 09, 2007
That is total TP.
After posting a bunch of angsty stuff about playing and being new in town (geeze, I've been here more than a year- why do I still feel new?) and such, I have run into several interesting conversations both in real life and through the laptop.
One of the opera's violinists is moving out of state and has decided not to audition for the local stuff where she's headed. Instead she'll take a non-music degree at the university, which will give her a scholarship for playing in the orchestra. Sounds great, I smiled and nodded, but THEN she said, "I came to terms with the fact that I was at the peak of my playing a few years back and could do nothing more about it, and I just don't want to work up an audition for groups I'm not sure will interest me." She is a whopping 42 years old.
That first thing, about the peaking? Scared the crap out of me. I have never thought this way, ever. Thinking about this Theory of Peaking (TP), I realize that not only do I disagree, but I'd like to live my life in a way that disproves it. Who doesn't want to see themselves as a better artist ten years down the road? How is it possible that playing a musical instrument, which is a time-based artistic expression involving a billion jillion variables, would suddenly NOT be able to change? Geeze, if I ever feel that I think I will walk away from the music stand and put up a viola for sale sign right then and there. (Unless I'm playing with Bjork or the Orpheus. Then I'd wait until after the gig.)
I think we get better the more music we encounter. Or the more co-performers we adapt to, or the more we discover what it is that really turns us on or off. Actually, I know it's worn out but I'm pretty sure that the things we encounter everyday have a profound effect on our artistic lives. Not just how we deal with people or what we choose to play, but how we play and hear everything.
Every teacher worth his salt (and many who are not) uses little stories, images, similes and metaphors. Passages become icey, dancing, hot, fat, shy, you name it. I was once thoroughly embarrassed when I went to play for a (male) famous violist at about age 20 and he saw the word "Sexy" written over a tie in my Bach. (My teacher was a little out there at the time...) Who hasn't had a chase scene, courtship, argument suggested to them in a chamber music coaching? We live to make context*, and if you have more stories to draw from, it stands to reason you will have better stories to tell. That alone invalidates the TP. And I haven't even gotten to the technical aspects of playing.
I remember when I was about 16 I went to my first "real" music festival (the defunct Johannessen International School of the (snarky) Arts in Victoria, BC) and there was this Russian hot-shot violin teacher in his 60's who everyone worshipped. Isn't there always? Everyone thought he was amazing, and the thing they all said was that he got better with each year. I remember hearing him practice scales & arpeggios every single morning across the quad: it didn't sound like just "maintenance" to me. He continued to improve, technically, well into his seventies. But what if you don't think you can do that?
Another great example of the anti-peak is Karen Tuttle. I studied with her in my undergrad in weekly studio classes, and I'm going to be completely honest. She was a great person of spunk, and taught some people incredibly well, but by the time our paths crossed she had lost some control of her small motor skills leaving her unable to play "well". But! I still enjoyed some of the things she demonstrated in class, in particular when she would show the range of colors she wanted in a certain phrase. Her playing not only still had merit, I would lay money (no coupons, even!) that for her purposes it was better than it had been in her youth.
Yet another pivotal teacher of mine lacks the kind of rich, deep, consistent sound you might expect from a person of their professional stature. However, every musical idea this person attempts is transmitted with such striking clarity that audiences are utterly convinced of the truth in the interpretation. The pieces are better for this person playing them, and there's a healthy cult following of the violist's career and teaching. I love to listen, and I fully expect that they would choose to play differently 5 years from now, because they consciously make sure their playing continues to evolve.
Anyway, I love when I get stuck on an idea or am in the throes of some funk and God dumps 14 examples of other folks' thoughts in my lap. These conversations have been so specific and unexpected (the TP chick and I were merely discussing which of her plants still needed homes) that I can't get around them with a label of "coincidence."
*We can talk about concrete music at a later, hopefully less verbose, date.
One of the opera's violinists is moving out of state and has decided not to audition for the local stuff where she's headed. Instead she'll take a non-music degree at the university, which will give her a scholarship for playing in the orchestra. Sounds great, I smiled and nodded, but THEN she said, "I came to terms with the fact that I was at the peak of my playing a few years back and could do nothing more about it, and I just don't want to work up an audition for groups I'm not sure will interest me." She is a whopping 42 years old.
That first thing, about the peaking? Scared the crap out of me. I have never thought this way, ever. Thinking about this Theory of Peaking (TP), I realize that not only do I disagree, but I'd like to live my life in a way that disproves it. Who doesn't want to see themselves as a better artist ten years down the road? How is it possible that playing a musical instrument, which is a time-based artistic expression involving a billion jillion variables, would suddenly NOT be able to change? Geeze, if I ever feel that I think I will walk away from the music stand and put up a viola for sale sign right then and there. (Unless I'm playing with Bjork or the Orpheus. Then I'd wait until after the gig.)
I think we get better the more music we encounter. Or the more co-performers we adapt to, or the more we discover what it is that really turns us on or off. Actually, I know it's worn out but I'm pretty sure that the things we encounter everyday have a profound effect on our artistic lives. Not just how we deal with people or what we choose to play, but how we play and hear everything.
Every teacher worth his salt (and many who are not) uses little stories, images, similes and metaphors. Passages become icey, dancing, hot, fat, shy, you name it. I was once thoroughly embarrassed when I went to play for a (male) famous violist at about age 20 and he saw the word "Sexy" written over a tie in my Bach. (My teacher was a little out there at the time...) Who hasn't had a chase scene, courtship, argument suggested to them in a chamber music coaching? We live to make context*, and if you have more stories to draw from, it stands to reason you will have better stories to tell. That alone invalidates the TP. And I haven't even gotten to the technical aspects of playing.
I remember when I was about 16 I went to my first "real" music festival (the defunct Johannessen International School of the (snarky) Arts in Victoria, BC) and there was this Russian hot-shot violin teacher in his 60's who everyone worshipped. Isn't there always? Everyone thought he was amazing, and the thing they all said was that he got better with each year. I remember hearing him practice scales & arpeggios every single morning across the quad: it didn't sound like just "maintenance" to me. He continued to improve, technically, well into his seventies. But what if you don't think you can do that?
Another great example of the anti-peak is Karen Tuttle. I studied with her in my undergrad in weekly studio classes, and I'm going to be completely honest. She was a great person of spunk, and taught some people incredibly well, but by the time our paths crossed she had lost some control of her small motor skills leaving her unable to play "well". But! I still enjoyed some of the things she demonstrated in class, in particular when she would show the range of colors she wanted in a certain phrase. Her playing not only still had merit, I would lay money (no coupons, even!) that for her purposes it was better than it had been in her youth.
Yet another pivotal teacher of mine lacks the kind of rich, deep, consistent sound you might expect from a person of their professional stature. However, every musical idea this person attempts is transmitted with such striking clarity that audiences are utterly convinced of the truth in the interpretation. The pieces are better for this person playing them, and there's a healthy cult following of the violist's career and teaching. I love to listen, and I fully expect that they would choose to play differently 5 years from now, because they consciously make sure their playing continues to evolve.
Anyway, I love when I get stuck on an idea or am in the throes of some funk and God dumps 14 examples of other folks' thoughts in my lap. These conversations have been so specific and unexpected (the TP chick and I were merely discussing which of her plants still needed homes) that I can't get around them with a label of "coincidence."
*We can talk about concrete music at a later, hopefully less verbose, date.
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