I've done a lot of traveling in my career as a musician, a lot of trains, cars, buses, planes. Somewhere between my flight home from Chicago last night, my 7 hours at home in Pennsylvania, and my early morning train to NYC this morning, I realized that through all of this, and through all of my travels, there has always been an instrument by my side. In fact, while my friends and family live all over the country, the friend that I carry with me always is my instrument.
It hit me when I hopped out of the car this morning and dashed to the train. I had packed hastily last night, but the only thought that ran through my head was "do I have my violin?" I wasn't thinking about whether I had packed enough nor was I dwelling on the fact that it was far too early and I hadn't had enough tea to drink. My only focus was my instrument.
I think this is one of the true joys of being a musician. We, as instrumentalists, have this strange connection with our instruments. They are personified, they are our best friends, our companions, our lovers. While travel with a stringed instrument is stressful, I feel naked without my violin or viola, like a part of me is missing.
Or maybe this is why my dating life is so unsuccessful: part of me is, and will always be, in love with my instrument.
This weekend I'm off to NYC to play for a friend's cabaret at Don't Tell Mama. Here's to my New York performance debut!
Friday, August 16, 2013
Thursday, August 8, 2013
It's Not About You.
Recently I came across a YouTube video of Joyce Didonato giving a masterclass to a group of Juilliard singers. While the focus of the masterclass was on performance and technique, the video featured only her question and answer period following the music. She took a standard question from a student: "What advice to you have for aspiring performers?" Her answer was something I hadn't heard before: "It's not about you."
It's not about you. Our education and training as musicians is almost always all about us. Technique, intonation, phrasing, expression, balance, blend- it's all about your playing, how you interact others, how you tune with your stand partner, how you execute that passage, etc. I'm not faulting any conservatory or training style, this mindset is natural. We must focus on ourselves in order to achieve technical mastery. But somewhere the ultimate goal as an artist gets lost. Somehow, along the way, between all the Schradieck, Kreutzer, and Bach, we forget that actually, it's not about us.
So, you're asking, who's it about then? As artists, we are called to give. We are called to inspire, to change, to emote, to affect- to give, to give to them. So often, we get caught up in all the little things, in beating ourselves up for our mistakes, in worrying over our existential existence as artists, that we forget that it's always about them.
But, who is them? I'd say that ultimately, them is the audience. Be it 50 people at a small chamber concert, 2,000 people at a Broadway show, or just your parents listening to you run through your recital repertoire, our audience is them. It's all about the audience. Yet even in our giving, we can lose focus of the appropriate them. Are we giving to our colleagues, in an attempt to impress? Do we give to the conductor, in hopes that he or she will move us to a higher seat in the next rotation? Are we giving to the contractor so that he'll be sure to hire us again? You see, giving to them is a fragile platform, unless we dedicate ourselves to giving to them, our audience. Otherwise, the work becomes frantic, desperate for approval.
Simply, it's not about you, though it can become about you very quickly. And once it is about you, your work is no longer a pure gift to them. Allow your giving to inspire your work.
It's not about you, it's about them.
For further inspiration, check out Joyce's blog. http://www.joycedidonato.com/journal/
It's not about you. Our education and training as musicians is almost always all about us. Technique, intonation, phrasing, expression, balance, blend- it's all about your playing, how you interact others, how you tune with your stand partner, how you execute that passage, etc. I'm not faulting any conservatory or training style, this mindset is natural. We must focus on ourselves in order to achieve technical mastery. But somewhere the ultimate goal as an artist gets lost. Somehow, along the way, between all the Schradieck, Kreutzer, and Bach, we forget that actually, it's not about us.
So, you're asking, who's it about then? As artists, we are called to give. We are called to inspire, to change, to emote, to affect- to give, to give to them. So often, we get caught up in all the little things, in beating ourselves up for our mistakes, in worrying over our existential existence as artists, that we forget that it's always about them.
But, who is them? I'd say that ultimately, them is the audience. Be it 50 people at a small chamber concert, 2,000 people at a Broadway show, or just your parents listening to you run through your recital repertoire, our audience is them. It's all about the audience. Yet even in our giving, we can lose focus of the appropriate them. Are we giving to our colleagues, in an attempt to impress? Do we give to the conductor, in hopes that he or she will move us to a higher seat in the next rotation? Are we giving to the contractor so that he'll be sure to hire us again? You see, giving to them is a fragile platform, unless we dedicate ourselves to giving to them, our audience. Otherwise, the work becomes frantic, desperate for approval.
Simply, it's not about you, though it can become about you very quickly. And once it is about you, your work is no longer a pure gift to them. Allow your giving to inspire your work.
It's not about you, it's about them.
For further inspiration, check out Joyce's blog. http://www.joycedidonato.com/journal/
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