Diving Back Into the Big Pieces

Piano

Piano (Photo credit: MagnuZ)

Somewhere along the way, in my early 20s, I made the mistake of relying on a teacher to pass down the precise details of technique, fingering, pedaling, phrasing, and ultimately interpretation as I learned new repertoire. When I got a wonderful fingering for a section of the coda of Chopin’s 4th Ballade, it was like getting a special family recipe handed down from my great-grandmother. An unusual syncopated pedaling in the last movement of the Waldstein Sonata identified me of a member of a particular teacher’s studio. Many pianists even make a game of tracing their piano teacher lineage (What a burden to have to bear!… You studied with someone who studied with someone who studied with Beethoven?)

But what happens when a student leaves the comfort of the conservatory nest and doesn’t have a teacher coaching and demonstrating the repertoire every step of the way? Are they prepared to tackle a large piece and polish it to performance level on their own?

I wasn’t. At least I thought I wasn’t.

But I did have choices. For a while I decided I’d play only “new” music, challenging technically, but less so musically because there’s no tradition to follow. Then there was the job playing popular standards in a restaurant…no quicker way to become a sloppy pianist. Once I even tried free improvisation by rolling rubber balls inside the piano…very cool, but really??

Every pianist I know has a “bucket list.” Mine includes Beethoven Op 109 and 110, Schumann Fantasy in C, Chopin Polonaise-Fantasie Op 61, Brahms Handel Variations, Schumann Carnaval, and many others. I know my 16-year old self wouldn’t think twice about tackling one of these “big” pieces. And now I’m happy to say, with a few months consistent practicing under my belt, I might be…finally… ready to put aside the doubts and insecurities that have taken root and dive back in.

As a side benefit, this experience has taught me a lesson about my own teaching. Over the past few years I’ve been demonstrating less and demanding more from my students. I’ve become less micro-managing, and hopefully better at instilling confidence as well as knowledge. My goal is that every student will want to sit down at the piano and explore a new piece of music when they reach adulthood.

That’s why this blog post from Bruce Brubaker struck a chord with me. He says:

I prefer to believe that what’s happening in a “lesson” is the scrutiny and exploration of process. That’s why very satisfying work can occur with music not known in advance by the “teacher.” All those details of enunciation, metric grouping, fingering, the pedal — are not the point. From lessons the student comes to know, as Schoenberg puts it, “… that one must come to grips with all the problems — not how to.”

When explanation and singing won’t do it and I succumb to playing during a student’s lesson — it feels like a little failure. Better for the synthesis of ideas and the grappling with issues to lead to sounds arising from within the student, the analysand.

Mindfulness and Recording

Sunday night while I was recording the Bach-Petri version of “Sheep May Safely Graze” I realized one side-benefit of this weekly recording project is that I am forced to practice with heightened awareness. Pianist Jocelyn Swigger is learning all of the Chopin Etudes and shares her experience through a series of wonderful podcasts on her blog, Play It Again Swig. Here she talks about the element of consciousness that occurs when you practice in settings where there are people listening. She compares it to the aliveness that you feel when you’re performing on stage and talks about recreating that feeling in the practice room.

For me that “heightened awareness” comes as soon as I turn on my handy little ZoomH2 recorder. Suddenly I’m listening to inner lines, aware of every hesitation, and feeling the same adrenalin rush that comes with a live performance without the self-consciousness were there an actual live audience listening. Once I’m able to stop the mental chatter (where I question my sanity for giving up yet another Sunday evening to record a piece that’s still a work-in-progress and post it online for the whole world to listen to), I’ve actually experienced moments where my attention is fully on the present. This feeling of total awareness is what some call “mindfulness.”  This is when time passes in a blink of an eye. For me, it is these moments that will keep me coming back to these Sunday night recording sessions.

Using Failure to find Focus

Failure is a word that hasn’t popped up too much in my vocabulary recently except maybe for some baking and sewing projects and even some frustrating experiences with my minimal computer skills. However over the past few weeks the word failure has appeared in some unexpected contexts.

In late December I stumbled upon the new online documentary on YahooTV called Failure Club. Morgan Spurlock and Philip Kiracofe  have based the series on the premise that the less afraid of failure you are, the more you can achieve.

“What were those things that you dreamed of?” Kiracofe asks. “In most cases, what’s stopping you is all the rational reasons why that’ll never work, ‘I don’t have that experience,’ ‘I don’t have the connections,’ etc.”

(Referring to the show’s participants,) Kiracofe adds, “The essence of that is they’re learning, ‘Wow, there’s no real downside to failure. Failure is actually good.’” (read more)

Well, that was the first eye-opener. Fear of success? Fear of failure? I started taking a hard look at my piano teaching and my piano playing and the time and energy I spent on each. What was it that really kept me at the piano bench for all those years? The dream of teaching 40 kids a week or the love of the music? Well, then what was keeping me from playing? Especially in this age where anything goes? Oh, sure. There were three kids at home, two homes bought and sold, four or five moves, the restaurant pianist job, the business of owning a music studio, grant-writing, the blogging. But I had already put in my 10,000 hours. It shouldn’t be that difficult to sit down and play the piano for one hour a day. Was it really the fear of failure that was holding me back?

The next time the word failure showed up was in the context of  writing. Here Pulitzer prize winning author, Jennifer Egan, talks about failure.

Failure. It’s such an ugly word, isn’t it? It reeks of cancer, of loss: the sense that what once went wrong cannot be set right, that the world has come to an end, that failures are failures forever — that it’s not just the project that failed, but you. Successful people, we imagine, are somehow blessed with more optimism, bigger brains and higher ideals than the rest of us.

But it’s not true. Successful people — creative people — fail every day, just like everybody else. Except they don’t view failure as a verdict. They view it as an opportunity. Indeed, it’s failure that paves the way for creativity. (read more)

So, I took these mentions of failure as a sign and took the plunge. I’ve created a SoundCloud account where I will post one new homemade recording every Sunday evening of the music I love. No, I’m not composing or improvising. I’m simply interpreting some of what I feel are the most beautiful piano works. Some are pieces I’ve performed long ago. Others I’m learning as I go along. (This week’s piece is Chopin’s Nocturne Op 9 No 1.) I’m hoping by the end of the year to be able to look back at these early recordings and see growth and improvement. In the meantime, the goal for 2012 is just to go play and present my best at the end of every week.

And yes, I’m still teaching. But my focus is now on the music!

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