Last year, just as I started writing a weekly parenting column for Violinist.com, one of my own kids began her grad school conservatory applications. It was, as they say, déjà vu all over again. Except this time she I got to sit back and watch from the sidelines, which gave me time to contemplate the process, and to write.
For those just beginning the journey, here is an index of the 24 columns. The topics are by no means exhaustive (although they may be exhausting—audition year is a long, hard road.)
I'll add more chapters this year to the develop the series further, but for now, here's a good start. I'm interested in knowing your questions, as well as any topics you'd like to read about. You can contact me directly through this site by clicking on the mail link beside this article. Or leave a comment at the bottom of this post.
Last weekend, reporting for another publication, I dropped by several sessions of the HAIKU Conference at the University of Pennsylvania. Devotees of Japanese verse may be disappointed to learn that this two-day event had nothing to do with seventeen-syllable poems, but instead with a rather momentous topic: the future of arts in and humanities in research universities.
"HAIKU" turns out to be the awkward, if easy to remember acronym for "Humanities and Arts in the Integrated Knowledge University." The question at hand being, what is the future of these disciplines, given a climate where institutions of higher learning are scored for financial considerations, punishing colleges majors that do not lead immediately to lucrative paychecks? Under such a system, STEM and business studies are rewarded, but the study of humanities, arts, and pure science is marginalized, or even eliminated. And that's a scary future.
The conference was wide and free-ranging, with contributions from scholars and artists of many persuasions, and everything was live-tweeted by Art History PhD student Iggy Cortez on the @haikuconference Twitter stream. There was even a keynote address by Harvard professor Howard Gardner, the developmental psychologist who will be familiar to many of you as the author of the theory of multiple intelligences.
(An amusing sidenote: during the break, I approached Gardner, who was in the process of being grilled by some zealous grad students, and to thank him personally because his work had a direct impact on the way I raised my own for daughters. He asked what they were doing now and I replied "aerial theater artist, glass artists, musician, and actor/playwright." He paused and said, "Well the wonderful thing about this time we live in is that they can always do something else." )
My favorite session of the weekend was titled "Neuroscience, History, and Social Dynamics in Beethoven's Great Fugue." There was a neuroscientist who happens to love classical music; a terribly proper young British musicologist "particularly interested in the intersection between music analysis and recent Continental philosophy"; and an ethnomusicology professor who moonlights as an indie-rock drummer when he's not studying Tamil Hindu ritual musics in post-tsunami and late-war Sri Lanka. If that sounds a little unfocused, okay it was. And that's fine. A loose panel leaves room for brainstorming, reflection, and imaginative interaction.
The Beethoven session opened with a performance of the Fugue by the Daedalus Quartet, a gorgeously nuanced and intelligent display by this first-rate string quartet, currently in residence at both UPenn and Columbia Universities. At Penn, the music department focuses almost exclusively on scholarship and composition. And while Penn has produced many first-rate composers, including Jennifer Higdon and Osvaldo Golijov, there is little music performance at the university. Students can take lessons and enroll in ensembles for partial credit. Aside from an occasional exchange student who wanders uptown from Curtis, you don't run across many professional-level chamber musicians in the classrooms.
Which is why, of course, it's so important for the university to provide its community with listening opportunities from high level performing artists. The quartet's performance, along with the rest of the conference took place in a chilly auditorium, really an oversize classroom, in the basement of the university museum—not your typical setting for a recital. As they played, on the screen behind them the fugue was converted into a live visual data stream demonstrating overtones (or something—I was a little lost, but the visuals were impressive, if distracting.)
The quartet members spoke in turn, interacting with each scholar at his or her level of musical understanding, and taking into account the undoubtedly wide range of sophistication among the varied audience. First violinist Min-Young Kim, a Harvard and Juilliard grad, carefully defined "fugue", giving historical context and explaining how the Great Fugue defied listener expectations. She got the audience to sing the difficult intervals of the fugue's first subjects (they did a pretty good job of it) and noted, "My desire has always been that people will walk out humming the theme. Maybe this time it will happen!"
Quartet photo Courtesy of Penn Arts & Culture.
The Daedalus Quartet performs a FREE recital of music by Mozart, Bartok, and Ravel this Sunday at Penn's Rose Recital Hall (4th Floor, Fisher-Bennet Hall, 34th and Walnut Streets), 3 PM. Tweet
A few days ago the blogosphere erupted in outrage over a Washington Post column about a gifted young musician who was charged with truancy—even though she maintained a straight-A average—because she missed ten days of seventh grade.
Thirteen-year-old Avery Gagliano is a bit of a phenom. She performed on From The Top at ten and went on to win international competitions all the while keeping up her schoolwork at Alice Deal Middle School in Washington, D.C., which is known as one of best public schools in the city. Nonetheless, Avery's ten absences were deemed "unexcused" by school authorities, despite a built-in loophole that gives administrators latitude to excuse absences for unusual circumstances
"Avery Gagliano is piano royalty being treated like a criminal," said From The Top host Chris O'Riley, in a public Facebook post, one of the many iterations of the story that appeared this week on social media.
Avery's parents appealed to the school district, submitting a portfolio of her musical achievements, including international appearances and competitions, plus an independent study plan for days that she might miss during future touring. But they were rebuffed and their daughter was declared "chronically truant". Backed against the wall, Avery's frustrated parents reluctantly withdrew their daughter from Deal Middle School. This year, she'll be homeschooled.
Say what you will: the D.C. school district was being rigid, unfair, mindless, inept, overwrought, dysfunctional, whatever. The fact is, public education in the US is an entitlement, but our right is to a basic education; we don't get to dictate the particulars. Public school systems are decentralized, so the scenario and the rules can vary drastically, even from city to neighboring suburbs. Because they lived in that particular district, Avery drew a short stick.
A few years ago, in my own city, I had an experience like the Gaglianos—slapped with a truancy summons—goody-two-shoes me, who rarely gets a parking ticket!—when my 9th grade violinist missed too many days of school, despite her excellent GPA. If we'd lived a few miles away in the suburbs, our kids would have enjoyed an entirely different public education experience in a well-funded, manicured school that would have put them on the "pre-professional" track and allowed them time for practice and rehearsals, and to make up work missed during travel, exactly as Avery's parents had sensibly proposed. But, tough luck, the way the dice rolled we didn't get that opportunity. And, like Avery's parents, we had to deal with it.
Life is short; childhood is shorter. Sometimes you have to shift gears to support your kid. Like Avery's parents, we couldn't afford to send our daughter to a private high school where her needs for practicing and travel would be accommodated. So we cobbled out a solution. In my daughter's case, this was a charter cyber school. That's right: she transferred from the highest-ranked urban public magnet school to an internet-based school. When I told my friends what we'd decided I could hear their jaws dropping across the phone connection. How could we pass up the best public school in Pennsylvania in favor of cyber school—and, was cyber education even legit?
But you do what you have to. Life was impossible in her old school, and there was no way, in the short time of her childhood, we could make it different.
And, you know what? It was okay. It was pretty good, even. Our daughter had a different high school experience than we'd thought she would. Instead of AP Chem, she had regular chemistry. And she learned it. She participated in online discussion boards where she had to engage in civil debate with kids whose basic assumptions about science, religion, and ethics were completely different from that of anyone she knew. And that's an education: stepping out far from one's comfortable nest of like-minded peers. As I often tell my kids, sometimes the most valuable lessons aren't even on the syllabus.
Cyber school was lonely, often. She had her sisters, of course, and her musician friends at pre-college. Her old school friends kept in touch, but as my daughter delved deeper into the professional music world, she had less and less time and energy for dances and parties. Life is about choices and compromise; at this point in her education, as a first-year grad student, she is well glad she made the decision to leave her public school when she did.
Bonus: it's character-building, if painful, to feel like an outlier sometimes. You get stronger when you're not always nurtured and appreciated for doing your best. Given our druthers, of course, we'd all choose to be coddled and supported. But the real world doesn't work like that. If you want to make a living in a tough industry like classical music, you need to be tough. When my daughter's school gave her the cold shoulder and sent us seeking out educational alternatives, our family got an off-the-syllabus schooling that tuition couldn't buy.
[Addendum: It's come to light that the DC Public School District has issued a statement refuting the report by Washington Post writer Petula Dvorak. According to School District officials, the truancy citation was auto-generated by a computer program when Avery reached ten absences, and the family was advised to ignore the letter, and that the issue would not escalate further. "We are very proud of Avery’s accomplishments throughout her entire educational career as a DC public school student, and we are hopeful that her parents will enroll her back at her back at Deal Middle School soon," says the press release.]Tweet
Every September my city, Philadelphia, belies a stodgy reputation and throws its heart and soul into an edgy two-week all-arts (dance, theater, visual arts, music and spoken-word) festival we call Philly Fringe. The festival, now in its 19th year, inspired by the Edinburgh, Scotland Fringe Festival, is one of many that take place all over North America in late summer and early fall. Here in Philly, the most interesting and innovative performances of the year happen during the Fringe.
This season's no exception. Among the most eagerly anticipated is Philadelphia Shakespeare Theatre's production of iHamlet, South African playwright Robin Malan's 2010 one-actor distillation of Shakespeare's play. And, in typical Fringe-forward creative casting, director David O'Connor has placed Australian-born actor/composer/musician Melissa Dunphy, Philadelphia's resident all-arts phenom, in the title role as Hamlet.
Oh, did I mention that Melissa, in addition to being an award-winning, nationally recognized and totally exciting young composer and one of our city's finest Shakespearian actors, is also a violist?
The other day while perusing some advance photos of the show, which opens this Sunday, I noticed a still life image of Melissa's Luis and Clark carbon fiber viola artfully arranged next to poor Yorick's scull. Intrigued, I contacted Melissa to find out if she were planning to play her viola during the performance.
And she said yes. I asked her to explain the thinking behind the choice to play viola throughout the performance.
"Robin Malan's script calls for some singing, specifically, the What a piece of work is man quotes from its setting in the musical Hair," says Melissa. "I realized it would work better if I could accompany myself on something like a mandolin or mandola.
"Of course, I'd just got my Luis and Clark viola recently, and it's so beautiful and black and begging to be shown off as often as possible. So my first suggestion was to use that and strum it. The director, David O'Connor, then immediately suggested that I play the viola at the top of the show in the first tableau. The rest of the musical interjections grew organically out of that.
"I love that my baby is in the show with me! It's a one-person show, but having my viola with me makes me feel like there's another character on stage. And honestly, it looks exactly like the kind of instrument this particular Hamlet would play.
"The viola in the show is what Hamlet turns to in moments of introspection, when he's trying to calm himself or sort through his feelings. And then during the play-within-a-play, it provides the diegetic music.
"The viola is often considered a melancholy instrument, which is perfect for Hamlet's melancholia. In the recorded music, it makes the sound of the ghost's appearances, which is full of screeches and harmonics and spooky noises."
34-year-old Dunphy was catapulted into the national spotlight four years ago during the 2010 Philly Fringe Festival when, as a first-year PhD student in the University of Pennsylvania's music composition program, she produced the debut performance of The Gonzales Cantata, a 40-minute choral work written in what she calls “pop neo-Baroque” style. Scored for harpsichord, and chamber orchestra, the cantata is based on the U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee hearings that led to the resignation of Attorney General Alberto Gonzales. Rachel Maddow called it "probably the coolest thing you will ever see on this show."
Since then Melissa's award-winning works, including Tesla's Pigeon, a song cycle for soprano and orchestra and What do you think I fought for at Omaha Beach?, a choral setting of excerpts of public testimony given before the Maine Senate by WWII veteran Phillip Spooner in a hearing to discuss the Marriage Equality Bill on April 22, 2009, have been performed nationally. Currently, she's finishing up an opera about the sex life of Ayn Rand as narrated by Alan Greenspan.
During the past few years, Melissa has been on a self-imposed hiatus from film and theater projects in order to concentrate on composing and music performance (she plays regularly in her noise-pop duo, Up Your Cherry, with her husband, musician and web developer Matt Dunphy). And that's too bad for the theater community. Dunphy, hailed by Philadelphia Inquirer as "unquestionably the city's leading Shakespeare ingénue", is one of those once-in-a-century talents who burns bright everywhere she points.
Well, she's back. iHamlet runs September 7th through 14th at Philadelphia Shakespeare Theatre. Tickets are $25 with some discounts for students and seniors. Shakespeare and viola. iS there anything more delicious? iDon't think so. We have tickets for next Saturday.
-->Meanwhile, here's a bonus for Violinist.com readers:
Last week, after I published an essay on Busking for Life, Melissa sent me a link to her own blog post on busking, which contains seven very practical must-read tips. Read it here on her blog.
Photo credits: Kendall Whitehouse on FlickrTweet
Previous entries: August 2014
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Karen Rile is from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Biography
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