Jessica Hung on Violinist.com

New Website

Sat, 12 Dec 2009 17:10:02 GMT

Just a note to announce my new professional website, www.jessicahung.com. & nbsp;Check it out for streaming audio and video recordings, my full concert schedule, downloadable press images, newspaper articles, information about my studio, and more! & nbsp;All future blog posts will originate there as well, though I will try to cross-post them to violinist.com, or you can simply subscribe to the & nbsp;RSS feed.

Please feel free to let me know if you have any comments or suggestions about the site, and Happy Holidays to all!

Mahler 9.

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 08:03:15 GMT

...is probably my favorite symphony. & nbsp;Bold words, perhaps, especially when you take into account the symphonic masterpieces of Beethoven and Brahms, but no composer plunges the listener (and the musicians) into extreme emotional depths quite like Mahler. & nbsp;His music is irresistible for its incredible drama & ndash;something I vividly remember Benjamin Zander (who guest conducted the Akron Symphony just last season) emphasizing in the string tremolo that opens the Second Symphony. & nbsp;And for its passion, which can be raw and exposed as in the last movement of the Ninth, or inward and intimate as in & nbsp;the Blumine section of the First Symphony (originally a separate slow movement in itself, but now at the center of the otherwise stormy/triumphant last movement & mdash;violinists on the audition circuit may recognize this excerpt by the less descriptive, & ldquo;rehearsal 15 to 19 & rdquo;). & nbsp;And for its humanity & mdash;that it is universally affecting precisely because it was borne so deeply out of personal experience.

This past weekend on our Classical series, we gave the Dayton premiere of Mahler 9 under our Music Director, Neal Gittleman. & nbsp;I was fortunate to have played it before as a student at Northwestern, so I already harbored a strong bias towards it going in, but every performance is still unique and eye-opening. & nbsp;We had five rehearsals for this set & mdash;one more than usual & mdash;and the Mahler was the sole work on the program, putting the focus entirely on his last complete symphony. & nbsp; Written in 1910, just a couple years before The Rite of Spring, its place in the twentieth century is obvious, with incredible stretches of tonality on every page. & nbsp; Yet, to me, it is the fact that tonality is not only still & nbsp;intact but also & nbsp;vital (for example, the beautiful, serene D major in the first movement & rsquo;s opening second violin theme and the third movement & rsquo;s trumpet solo & mdash;which foreshadows the theme of the last movement Adagio, & nbsp;shifted to & nbsp;a heart-wrenching D-flat major) that gives tension and power to the bold and brilliant harmonic shifts throughout. & nbsp;In his Fifth Symphony, Mahler took Beethoven & rsquo;s revolutionary C minor-to-major shift (echoed by Brahms in his First Symphony) and heightened the struggle by moving from C-sharp minor to D major. & nbsp; & nbsp;It seems only fitting that, towards the end of his life, Mahler would choose to journey the same half-step, but in reverse & mdash;and yet transformed.

There is sometimes fierce debate about what exactly Mahler meant to convey at the end of the Ninth & mdash;it is about mortality, yes, but do we hear resignation, or acceptance? & nbsp;I don & rsquo;t presume to have a simple answer to that question, but I think Mahler & rsquo;s choice of key is a clue. & nbsp;D-flat is a very rich, dense key, filled with lush colors, even to the ears of someone without perfect pitch (such as & nbsp;yours truly). & nbsp;And while I & rsquo;m not really in the resignation camp, D-flat is not really a key of detachment, either. & nbsp;In fact, I would argue that much of the beauty of Mahler & rsquo;s music comes from the very attached emotions of longing and suffering & mdash;and while his yearnings were constantly for something higher, something spiritual and sublime, this desire manifested through his music in an intensely earthly way, something that can be felt just as strongly in the mind, heart, and body as in the soul (think Urlicht). & nbsp;This spiritual/earthly duality serves as an umbrella for many other juxtapositions in his music, down to the tiniest detail, both technical (for example, the first movement violin solos marked pp, but hervortretend & mdash;prominent & mdash;or, my favorite, schmeichelnd & mdash;cajolingly) and artistic (a molto espressivo last movement violin solo over a bed of tutti violins playing ohne Empfindung & mdash;without feeling).

Though I described Mahler earlier as & ldquo;universally affecting, & rdquo; Mahler 9 is perhaps not for everyone. & nbsp;Complaints I & rsquo;ve heard range from & ldquo;neurotic & rdquo; to & ldquo;self-indulgent & rdquo; & mdash;words that no doubt described not just his work but the man himself at times. & nbsp;But I like to think that it is these very human failings that draw our empathy. & nbsp;Mahler & rsquo;s expression is always personal, sometimes overbearing, but never without meaning or intent & mdash;even if its intent is sheer banality. & nbsp;That he went through life knowing great anguish and tragedy is apparent (many of his siblings died in childhood, one committed suicide, his daughter died at age four), but I am hard-pressed to find an emotion at the end of Mahler 9 stronger than the sweetest love and gratitude for life, and the beginnings of peace. & nbsp;The last melodic fragment in the first violins is a quote from Kindertotenlieder & mdash;sobering, perhaps, but the line is & ldquo;Der Tag ist schoen auf jenen Hoeh & rsquo;n! & rdquo;

The day is beautiful on those heights.

As usual, I have rambled on abstractly without much reference to real-life events. & nbsp;However, our performances went very well on both nights. & nbsp;The orchestra put in a tremendous amount of hard work, as did Neal, and I was honored to have been part of the DPO & rsquo;s Mahler 9 premiere. & nbsp;I thought we came a long way in our rehearsals over the span of a week, and things really solidified at the dress rehearsal on Thursday night. & nbsp;Although that always raises the question of whether you & rsquo;ve peaked too soon, the concerts were a hit & mdash;we have an incredibly receptive and supportive audience in this community who stood and applauded heartily, not least when Neal held up the score in his hands. & nbsp;I invited a few friends who weren & rsquo;t too familiar with classical music, warning them in advance that this & nbsp;concert was not for the faint of heart, and much to my relief they really enjoyed it. & nbsp;Friday night & mdash;the premiere premiere & mdash;was actually ideal for me in terms of how I felt personally. & nbsp;These were certainly the most exposed solos I & rsquo;ve played in a major symphony here thus far, and I find the first movement ones the most difficult (not to mention the ones at the very end of the first movement are by far the most structurally important). & nbsp;I actually had time on a day off earlier in the week to drive up to Cleveland for a lesson with my old teacher Steve Rose, and I think the emphasis he places on character and relaxation really helps. & nbsp;Switching back and forth seamlessly between blending into the section and standing out in a solo is a mental task in and of itself (the third movement solo is hardest for this, occurring right in the middle of a phrase & mdash;as if someone suddenly yanks back a shower curtain for a few bars, then apologizes and pulls it back, and you & rsquo;ve got to be nonchalantly scrubbing yourself clean the whole time), but the trick is to do so while staying fully immersed in character and without receding into that uncomfortable mental zone of self-consciousness, self-talk & mdash;self-anything, really. & nbsp;When communication and expression of the music is the highest priority, fear has no room to even enter the picture.

Although Friday was an ideal balance of excitement for opening night and comfort, familiarity, and trust in the music and my wonderful colleagues, Saturday somewhat surprisingly turned out to be no less engaging & mdash;it & rsquo;s simply not a piece you can sit back in. & nbsp;The parts I remember most are the last movement, both divine and decadent (sometimes simultaneously). & nbsp;And perhaps because I am young, I have to admit that it is not the end of the movement & nbsp;so much that speaks to me yet (though that may change each time I play the piece), but the richness of the opening and the middle: so full of blood and warmth, so thoroughly alive.

Two last notes:

While I & nbsp;take my job seriously, I did not drive all the way to Cleveland & nbsp;just for a lesson on Mahler 9 solos. & nbsp; & nbsp;It was also on & nbsp;repertoire for my upcoming recital. & nbsp; & nbsp;Please come if you're in the area--it's FREE, and there will be a reception afterwards. & nbsp; Free music, AND free food! & nbsp; It's on Sunday, March 15th at & nbsp;4:30 pm, & nbsp;at the & nbsp;Seventh Day Adventist Church (3939 Stonebridge Road, Kettering, OH, 45419). & nbsp; DPO Principal Keyboard Josh Nemith and I & nbsp;will be performing an eclectic program of Handel, Beach, Prokofiev, Debussy, and Beethoven.

Finally, Neal informed us after our performances this weekend & nbsp;that his inspiration for the opening of the third movement is Kramer barging into Jerry's apartment. & nbsp; No doubt this will color my interpretation of Mahler 9 for years to come.

The audition.

Sat, 10 Jan 2009 11:18:32 GMT

This seems to be the place to start as far as the details of my new job: how it happened. & nbsp;Everything came together at my audition in Dayton, but even in retrospect, there is always a sense of mystery around these affairs. & nbsp;Far from glamorous events, they are nerve-wracking and stressful for the candidates & mdash;and even for the committee, which bears so much responsibility. & nbsp;As everyone & rsquo;s individual audition experience is so unique, I can hardly claim to make generalizations about the process, the & ldquo;best & rdquo; way to prepare, or anything of that nature, but I can make a list of a few things & mdash;both conscious choices and mere happenstance & mdash;that may have helped my performance on that particular day:

& middot; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I failed other auditions.

& nbsp;

First things first! & nbsp;While there are people who land great jobs on their very first try, those people are few and far between. & nbsp;For most, losing auditions is simply part of the process & mdash;but it doesn & rsquo;t have to be done in vain. & nbsp;I believe there is a lesson to be learned from each loss, even if the lesson is maddeningly frustrating (or perhaps even more frustrating, not readily apparent until some time has passed). & nbsp;For example, I learned that Brahms excerpts are some of the most musically difficult and elusive when I faltered on them two auditions in a row. & nbsp;And I learned that sometimes I actually did the best I could in the moment but I just wasn & rsquo;t there yet. & nbsp;By & ldquo;being there & rdquo; I mean technically, musically, artistically, psychologically, emotionally, even spiritually. & nbsp;That makes it sound like a titanic struggle, but when it really works, it & rsquo;s not at all. & nbsp;For me, at least, it is when the struggle ends that all the needless inner chatter goes away, and the music comes through.

& nbsp;

& middot; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I advanced in other auditions.

& nbsp;

This was also a helpful step & mdash;a success and a failure (if we define failure as all outcomes other than winning) rolled into one. & nbsp;To anyone taking a multi-round orchestral audition: advancing is always something to be proud of! & nbsp;While it may postpone your night of dejected/elated bar-hopping, advancing is a clear positive sign from the committee. & nbsp;Though the stakes were higher in the next round, I tried to keep in mind that they must have liked something about my playing & mdash;sound, style, articulation, phrasing, overall standard, whatever & mdash;and sometimes even managed to feel more relaxed in the second round.

& nbsp;

& middot; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I prepared early.

& nbsp;

All those other failed auditions sure added up, because there is no substitute for familiarity with the repertoire, and feeling like most of the music on the list is & ldquo;old. & rdquo; & nbsp;Though familiarity breeds security (and sometimes contempt, if this is perhaps the umpteenth time you need to work up the Schumann Scherzo), resting on your laurels until the last minute renders that sense of security decidedly false. & nbsp;I credit the beautiful atmosphere at Tanglewood for the inspiration and motivation to start reworking old excerpts & mdash;and to look at a few new ones & mdash;in the middle of the summer about six weeks before. & nbsp;This left enough time to have the whole list in solid shape by the audition in early September, yet it was a concentrated enough period that things didn & rsquo;t feel overworked and stale. & nbsp;I also rotated the excerpts, not all that strictly in fact, but in the fairly casual manner of looking through all of them at the end of the day and choosing maybe three that I thought were weak or knew I could improve as my main focus for the next day.

& nbsp;

& middot; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I used a metronome and a recorder (and not the wind instrument).

& nbsp;

Sometimes I get lazy and go without these invaluable tools, but when that happens I always pay.

& nbsp;

I try to have a tempo or at least a tempo range chosen for every excerpt, which initially establishes a consistent goal, and by the last week before the audition these tempi should feel practically second nature.

& nbsp;

I also try to record myself once I think an excerpt has reached a certain standard, or if I no longer know what to do with it. & nbsp;This is really like hearing your own voice on a recording, or seeing your face in a picture as it really looks rather than the backwards image you are used to seeing in the mirror. & nbsp;Though the parts are all external, playing is still an internal, subjective experience, and recording it and listening to the feedback can be like giving yourself a new set of ears. & nbsp;I even found that I often noticed the same problems my teachers had already told me to fix, but that I had continued to let slip by because I didn & rsquo;t really hear them.

& nbsp;

& middot; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I treat auditions as (highly accurate) performances, with the same joy of sharing music at heart.

& nbsp;

I disagree with the opposing mental images we commonly have regarding auditions versus concerts and recitals. & nbsp;Here is the conventional wisdom: Concerts are happy, festive occasions, where your loving friends and family come to adore you, bringing flowers and having already written cards that say & ldquo;OMG you were sooo awesome, LOL! & rdquo; before you even play a note. & nbsp;You play a long program, with plenty of time to get comfortable in the performance space, and if you miss a few notes, no one cares! & nbsp;It & rsquo;s all chalked up to the thrill and excitement of live performance.

& nbsp;

Auditions, on the other hand, can be likened to sitting on death row, where the executioner-music director and his cronies sit shrouded in sinister secrecy behind a screen, counting your every mistake, forcing you to start cold with your cadenza, cutting you off early, saying & ldquo;thank you & rdquo; in sarcastic voices, playing with their cell phones, and generally readying the guillotine. & nbsp;Needless to say, you don & rsquo;t stand a chance in this oppressive environment.

& nbsp;

This is all simply not the case. & nbsp;Yes, audition environments are more formal and frequently awkward, and yes, a few minutes is a brief amount of time for a committee to make a decision that could potentially fill a chair for the next few decades. & nbsp;But committee members, even while upholding stringent artistic standards, are still human. & nbsp;They are your potential future colleagues, friends, and neighbors, and they want you to play well & mdash;at least, I can & rsquo;t imagine anyone who sits on a committee for hours or sometimes days on end actually wanting to hear a relentless string of cringeworthy Don Juans.

& nbsp;

With this in mind, I play auditions with the same goal as concerts & mdash;to communicate, express, share, move, and touch; and to allow my audience to just sit back and relax. & nbsp;Yes, this means having prepared technically so that those committee members who are tapping away and counting every rest are still satisfied with your rhythmic reliability, and those who place a premium on sensitivity to style are not offended by inarticulate Mozart or unsustained Brahms. & nbsp;But the goal of any audition, for me, has been to move beyond the audition, meaning any feeling of a contrived performance & mdash;yes, stay within the confines of what & rsquo;s traditionally expected technically, but absolutely break out of the box artistically. & nbsp;Remember that we play music for beauty, pleasure, entertainment, understanding, knowledge, wisdom, healing, and many other reasons & mdash;but probably not primarily for analysis, deconstruction, and criticism. & nbsp;It is a complete 180 from the way we prepare, and requires a real leap of faith in the moment.

That turned out to be a pretty general list rather than a description of my audition day, but the whole thing was rather a blur, so I don & rsquo;t think I could provide a real blow-by-blow account anyway. & nbsp;I remember sitting around backstage for hours waiting between rounds much more than the actual playing, so even at a successful audition I learned another valuable lesson: prepare to be bored. & nbsp;Bring a pleasant distraction like a book (or in my case an iPhone, though unfortunately it was dying & mdash;I even went to my car at one point to charge it, after playing a huge second round that I believe clocked in at close to twenty minutes per candidate). & nbsp;Bring a snack & mdash;I ate at the Subway across the street for lunch and dinner.

I think perhaps the most important thing was a kind of Zen feeling I had all day, which I absolutely attribute to past audition experience. & nbsp;Auditions are a crapshoot, much like college admissions and being able to reach your back teeth when you floss. & nbsp;Everyone knows this, but it & rsquo;s not so easy to accept when you & rsquo;ve invested so much (or when you really want clean teeth). & nbsp;A couple past auditions stand out as ones I desperately wanted to win, and prepared well for & mdash;but in one I completely bombed and was sent home after sizeable hotel and airfare expenses but just one (1) excerpt & hellip;and in the other I got all the way to the finals only to stumble over excerpts I had nailed in the first round, suddenly second-guessing myself at the crucial moment. & nbsp;In both cases my Achilles & rsquo; heel was the same: allowing the desire to win and corresponding fear of & nbsp;failure & nbsp;to overpower the simple truth and joy of music-making in the moment. & nbsp;It & rsquo;s not the desire to win itself that is detrimental & mdash;in fact, if that doesn & rsquo;t exist, there & rsquo;s little point in taking the audition at all & mdash;but allowing that desire to rule your emotions and grip your thoughts. & nbsp;Accepting the role of chance, luck, and random factors we may never even know about does at last give a sense of peace, freeing us to take what we can control & mdash;merely ourselves & mdash;to new heights.

I will say that when the results were at last announced, some ten hours after the start of the first round, I had a moment of confusion because of the system for identifying candidates & mdash;we had used numbers in the preliminary round, letters in the semi-final round, and I think we were back to numbers in the final round (though they may have been Roman numerals? & nbsp; Fancy!). & nbsp;At any rate, the results were announced by letter & mdash;the designation from the semi-finals & mdash;but as I was expecting to hear numbers, I thought that was odd and simply equated the letter they & rsquo;d & nbsp;announced to its corresponding number (which might seem even more odd, but it was late and I was tired) & hellip;and the number was not mine. & nbsp;It happened to belong to the fellow candidate I & rsquo;d just been talking to, so I turned to congratulate him. & nbsp;The confusion was corrected in a matter of seconds and I came to realize that it was really my letter from the previous round that had been called. & nbsp;But I appreciate having that mistaken moment to look back on, because I know how I would have reacted & mdash;did react, briefly & mdash;to another failure: finally, with acceptance. & nbsp;I had played my strongest audition yet, but I don & rsquo;t know if any audition is ever & ldquo;perfect. & rdquo; & nbsp;At least in Dayton, everything came together in that I showed what I had to offer, but harbored no expectations of instantaneous reward and gratification. & nbsp;Of course I am incredibly grateful that the committee did indeed take a chance on me, and that my life has changed because of it. & nbsp;But only in finding the humility to lose did I really find the courage to play my heart out. & nbsp;And sometimes the byproduct is a win.

Solo e soli.

Sat, 10 Jan 2009 08:17:55 GMT

I'm planning a mammoth post on my Dayton audition (to begin at the beginning), and orchestra auditions in general, soon, but in the meantime I just want to note something I & nbsp;never would have imagined as a student: & nbsp;though I have yet to play any major concertmaster solos with the DPO--Scheherazade, Heldenleben, and other big works that are well-known audition staples and concert highlights--I have had some interesting solos, and gotten plenty of exposure already, & nbsp;often on non-Classical series concerts.

One of the most enjoyable was from The Composer is Dead by Nathaniel Stookey, which we performed on & nbsp;a & nbsp;young people's concert. & nbsp; Written in the vein of Britten's Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra, but with the twist of solving a mystery--namely, who murdered the composer--The Composer is Dead is absolutely one of the most entertaining educational pieces I have played. & nbsp; Mr. Stookey has his orchestral stereotypes down pat (for example, he paints the viola section as a self-pitying lot who & quot;play the notes in the chord that nobody cares about & quot; and have to stay late to stack up chairs). & nbsp; My role, of course, was that of the flamboyant showoff with an overdone cadenza. & nbsp; I & nbsp;was also encouraged to throw in some extra notes so the cadenza goes on just a tad too long, and though improvisation isn't my strong suit, I did manage to make each of our two performances for area schoolkids somewhat different. & nbsp;It was fun to play a solo that involved a bit of acting, and I believe it was my stand partner who & nbsp;advised me best: & quot;Just go crazy, man. & quot;

Another memorable concert for unusual solos is one I just played a few hours ago and will be repeating again tonight. & nbsp; On our SuperPops series (which, according to its name, & nbsp;is apparently superior to your average pops series), we are featuring the lovely Maude Maggart, a cabaret singer (and the sister of Fiona Apple). & nbsp; The program features earlier songs of Irving Berlin, her specialty, and the description on her homepage of her tone as & quot;sultry-sweet & quot; by a USA Today writer is very apt. & nbsp; Her version of & quot;Pack Up Your Sins (and Go to the Devil) & quot; & nbsp;begins with a violin cadenza (which I was discussing with the conductor, so I couldn't possibly have murdered the composer...sorry, inside joke from the last paragraph). & nbsp; She also sings a love song called & quot;Yiddishe Nightingale, & quot; accompanied by piano and violin obbligato. & nbsp; Add to that some & quot;Younger Than Springtime & quot; solos in our Rodgers & nbsp;South Pacific Symphonic Scenario on the first half, and & nbsp;somehow I & nbsp;have my hands full (literally) & nbsp;this concert! & nbsp; As I just made my solo debut with the orchestra on New Year's Eve, I certainly didn't expect to be standing up to play again anytime soon, but hey, no complaints. & nbsp; It's great to be back at work.

Dude, where's my rambling?

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 08:42:13 GMT

Hello there! & nbsp; Apparently it's been 2.5 years since I last posted to this blog. & nbsp; Time flies when you're having fu--I & nbsp;mean, practicing! & nbsp; I've made a & nbsp;New Year's resolution to start posting again, so here goes.

An incredibly concise (for me, anyway) outline of the time as yet unaccounted for is as follows:

Summer 2006: & nbsp;Attended Schleswig-Holstein Orchestral Academy

Spring 2007: & nbsp;Graduated from CIM

Summer 2007: & nbsp;Attended Tanglewood Music Center

Fall 2007: & nbsp;Began graduate program at CIM

Summer 2008: & nbsp;Went back to Tanglewood Music Center

Fall 2008: & nbsp;Won a full-time job!

So here I am in Dayton! & nbsp; We're mid-season already--had an enjoyable holiday break, but it's back to work from today through the end of May. & nbsp; I & nbsp;won't go into too much detail for this update, but I will say that I'm quite happy here and it's a pleasure to be part of the Dayton Philharmonic. & nbsp; My boss and my colleagues are warm and friendly, and likewise are our supporters and audiences. & nbsp; I & nbsp;feel very lucky to be working and playing here, and I'm excited for the second half of & nbsp;my first & nbsp;season and next season as well! & nbsp; And I hope that in reviving this blog, I'll be able to share some of my experiences with you--not just those at work, but about all things musical--and in doing so perhaps satisfy your curiosity if you're wondering how I've been and what I've been up to. & nbsp; At the very & nbsp;least, I hope I can & nbsp;provide my colleagues & nbsp;some entertainment.

More to come...

Videos.

Wed, 21 Jun 2006 03:37:26 GMT

My mother has taken on the project of putting up videos of my live performances on Google (just click on the link and do a search for my name to find them). A couple disclaimers: the audio quality varies greatly, so in a few of them it may sound like it's tracking the entire time which may be distracting; and as this is my mom's work, I'm not in charge of anything that goes up or down. But I hope some of it is enjoyable and brings you some entertainment.

'Song' Update.

Thu, 01 Jun 2006 20:07:44 GMT

I uploaded a new "song"! (That word is one of my pet peeves when it comes to classical music. I love Lieder but I certainly can't play them.) Second movement of Mendelssohn up at download.com. Not downloadable (despite the site's name) because I haven't checked with the orchestra or conductor about it, but happy streaming.

O Canada

Thu, 01 Jun 2006 00:10:47 GMT

This weekend my mom and I will begin our road trip to the XXXIVth International Viola Congress in Montreal. The performers they've engaged are amazing, as usual, so I'll be sure to report on the masterclasses, lectures, performances, and exhibits. We're staying in the dorms at the University of Montreal, which sound pretty comfortable--communal bathrooms on each floor, but what's dorm life without them? Happily the Internet connection is convenient, and that's my main requirement for staying connected to civilization.

I will be performing in the masterclass with Lars Anders Tomter on the very first day, the 7th, just the first movement of the Brahms f minor Sonata. I worked on the piece a couple years ago and performed that movement at a different summer camp, so it is currently a bit rusty, but I still have a week to focus on it exclusively. I really find that the primary problems with switching from violin to viola are physical. It is debatable among different teachers exactly how much the technique and approach changes between the instruments, but I personally find that if I don't spend some time with scales and etudes, I never quite settle back into the richer, darker, deeper sound, and am quickly thrown off by the extra exertion it takes to pull out that fullness. As violinists, we so often take for granted the acoustical favor of our instrument and the fact that everything so naturally balances, rings, and projects. People say that the more cutthroat standard of perfection for aspiring violinists makes up for that acoustical discrepancy, but at the top of any instrument's field there are some uncanny technical feats going on. Violists (and sometimes even cellists) are expected to play Paganini caprices or La Campanella in competition these days, with no exceptions for the sheer physical awkwardness of the instrument. I suppose if I really want to humble myself someday I'll try the bass, or a double reed or brass instrument.

Pending Fall Class Schedule

Fri, 19 May 2006 02:17:33 GMT

Lessons
Orchestra
Quartet
Orchestral Repertoire
Conducting
Theory Pedagogy
Independent Study Pedagogy
Intro to German Literature
Senior Seminar
Senior Recital (probably early December)

Tentative recital program:
a Mozart Sonata
Bach Sonata No. 3 in C Major
a showpiece
Brahms Sonata No. 3 in d minor

Current new repertoire: Prokofiev Concerto No. 1 in D Major

Ich bin fertig!

Tue, 09 May 2006 08:17:03 GMT

I am finished! With my jury and German final now over I am far less stressed. I was very happy with my jury which went surprisingly well. I worked on the repertoire a while ago, then took an unwisely long break from it. Or wise, who knows. When I actually brought it back, it was of course technically rusty, but I actually found it rather effortless to be free and spontaneous. When that affects my body motions and old bad habits I have to keep it in check, but I thought my jury performance had a nice balance of being grounded which is perhaps the number one thing I have to remind myself of for performances, and still being creative. I do get in a rut sometimes with seeing things too closely, losing the larger perspective, and complicating everything I need to do, so apparently not overthinking things can help. A concrete example is the slow movement of the Bach C Major Sonata. I initially had a pretty good feel for it and got the phrases to sound very natural and flowing pretty quickly. When I worked on it in more depth, however, I created problems for myself by going too far with sound colors and I lost the line and the core. I see it as a very delicate movement and for quite a while just wasn't playing loud enough, to put it crudely, for the three- and four-note chords to even speak. I worked on this in a lesson and my teacher brought me to the obvious realization that special soft colors don't automatically exclude the opposite, bold end of the spectrum--they are, in fact, enriched by the contrast. So essentially I just tried to play louder today, or rather being aware of the places that simply technically require a certain volume and presence of sound and trying to make them sound integrated into my still gentle perception of the movement. I didn't catch every single chord, but it fared much better. I also had a shift in attitude from the borderline ridiculous, "This 16th note, which I'm playing an excruciating 5 cents sharp, must be as expressive as possible and penetrate the hardened heart of a hypothetical bitter old man who hasn't cried in years, and if he isn't in tears by the end I have failed," to, "I'm going to relax and let the expression flow." Awareness is often helpful, but in the moment, forgetting awareness and remembering to just be (and then promptly forgetting all of the above) can work wonders. When I can figure out how to do it--or forget the whole thing entirely, either way.

Tomorrow marks the start of what I have of my summer vacation, half of which will be spent at camp with almost no time for solo rep. As I say periodically on this blog, it also marks a renewed commitment to consistency and focus and not being easily discouraged. I have been pretty bad with convincing myself to practice over breaks when there's no impending pressure. I perhaps need to set smaller goals and deadlines and pretend that they're as important as an actual audition or something. I also just need to be vigilant about remembering that consistency improves everything in my life in subtle ways. Staying technically fit is reassuring and stress-relieving, as is the feeling of having done something worthwhile each day. I love being at CIM (who knew anyone could be happy in Cleveland?), feeling supported, and being perhaps in a better position than I have ever been to muster courage and start going for things. And I have been humbled to find that a school and environment change has not magically made my life a utopia. I am blessed with great support, which is just that--support--and making the last leap (every day in inconceivably small steps) is still my burden and privilege. The reasons for my resistance to developing as well as I know I could, even in favorable situations, are clearer to me now, and I hope that rather than using knowledge of my old tendencies to excuse myself, I can learn to overcome them and actualize my truest self.