January 2008

What a week . . .

January 24, 2008 23:34

Well, it's been an interesting week musically. On Saturday I went to a performance by Pinchas Zuckerman and the Royal Philharmonic. The program was Weber's Overture to Oberon, Beethoven's 7th, and the Beethoven Violin Concerto. The overture and symphony came first, with Zuckerman conducting. As I was waiting for the concert to start I realized that I'd never really seen a high level professional orchestra before. Sure, local symphonies, and some summer festival stuff, but when you live in Kansas there aren't a lot of options. ;) It was a exciting to see how such an orchestra perform live. The Weber was great — colorful, light, virtuosic. Their Beethoven was was also amazing. They took the famous Larghetto faster than some versions I'd heard, but I really liked it — it gave the movement a more more sweetly melancholy feel rather than making it a heavy dirge.

And then, what I was most looking forward to — the Beethoven concerto. I'd never seen Zuckerman perform before, so it was a real treat. He has a lovely, sweet tone, and a natural ease to his playing, along with amazing technique of course. My only complaints would be that his style was slightly too romantic for the Beethoven — just a few too many slides and surges of vibrato for my taste. Zuckerman is also not the most extroverted musician. His face and gestures just didn't open up very often. My favorite part was the second movement, where he seemed the most passionate, open, and expressive. Overall though, it was a really beautiful performance.

However, having said all that, I have to admit — my very favorite thing about this concert was watching the concertmistress, Stephanie Gonley. She so captivating, both as a person and a violinist. When she first walked onstage, I was a little surprised — partly since female concertmasters aren't as common, and also simply because of her physical appearance. She wore a lacy black shirt, long ruffled skirt, and quaint looking heels. And her HAIR — this massive poof of greying ringlets going every direction. It was the most amazing head of hair I've ever laid eyes on (aside from my boyfriend, who could very well pass for Franz Liszt). Gronley looked more like a character from Sweeney Todd than the usual symphony member. But her playing and leadership were excellent — really, really excellent. I could always hear her beautiful, clear sound above the orchestra (though that was partly because I was sitting near the front). She was always very clear and decisive, yet totally natural, and never excessive. And her face and gestures were just so expressive, always matching the constantly changing characters in the various pieces. She had that perfect balance between clarity and simplicity which is so important in a good concertmaster. I could hardly keep my eyes off her the entire concert. Really inspiring . . .

. . . Hah, and even more so, ironically, in light of the news I got the following day. Saturday morning I auditioned for my college orchestra, playing some Tchaik 5 excerpts and a little sight reading. Well, on Sunday when I went to pick up my music, I learned that I'd been chosen as concertmaster. I have to admit, I was somewhat shocked, considering I'm once of the younger orchestra members (by the way, a big thanks to all of you who encouraged me on the discussion board about this). Now that the initial shock has worn off and I've had a chance to look over the music a bit, I'm excited about the opportunity. Our first program is Wagner's Overture to Dei Meistersinger, Weber's Bassoon Concerto, and Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition. I love the music, especially the Mussorgsky, and think it'll be a fun concert. :)

The last nice thing about this week was getting back to lessons again. Over break I started some new repertoire: the Mozart's D Major Concerto, Sarasate's Introduction and Tarantella, the last movement of the Brahms G Major Sonata, and a String Nonet that I'm performing for a composer friend's graduate recital. I'm excited — it's a nice variety, and I adore the Brahms. I'm also really enjoying the Mozart. I learned the A Major way back when in my Suzuki days, so it's nice to come back and try another Mozart with more maturity and experience. It's quite challenging, but brilliantly written. I can't help thinking how well it employs the violin's range — so much of that lovely middle upper register where you can really sing. The Sarasate is quite a handful for me, but still fun. It requires a lot of creativity to practice it effectively, since so many of the bowing techniques require full tempo to work. If any of you have advice, I always appreciate ideas. :)

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So maybe I'm not crazy after all . . .

January 10, 2008 20:36

Over winter break I've been reading a book by Malcolm Gladwell called Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. It's basically about the human ability to make snap judgments in a small amount of time based on limited information. It's amazing just how often these "blink" judgements can be correct. Gladwell also goes into how snap decisions like this can be be risky or even dangerous when misapplied. It was amazing to realize just how powerful our subconscious mind is, and how recognizing the strengths and weaknesses of this "blink" phenomenon can improve our decisions in daily life.

One portion of the book really struck me. It was interesting because it reinforced a theory that I'd formed over the past few years about performing. As I've had to deal with more stressful performance situations, I've also tried to examine more what it takes to overcome obstacles like nervousness and tension. One thing that a conductor of mine always used to say, and which has really stuck with me, is the phrase "Fake it till you make it." This can apply to a broad range of things in life, but the way I see it in relation to performance is that sometimes you simply have to fake that you're relaxed and confident until you actually feel more that way. Now, I'm not saying you can just fake your way through an audition you haven't carefully prepared for — nothing like that. I'm referring more to the psychology of performance. It's just that look — every person gets nervous to some extent before a performance. It's natural and inevitable. Sure, there's relaxation techniques, warm-ups, and pre-concert banana fixes that can all help. :) But bottom line, chances are we'll still feel nervous even after the most thoughtful preparation.

So . . .

Here's what I think. When we're nervous, sometimes the best thing we can do is to pretend that we actually are relaxed, poised, and confident. This means walking onstage with a confident, steady step even though you may be shaking inside. Or smiling and bowing gracefully to the audience, even though you may actually be terrified of them. Or breathing deeply and using free, expressive gestures in your playing, even though you may feel self-conscious. And guess what? If you can do all this, you might actually be able to trick yourself into truly feeling relaxed and confident. I know, I know, it does sound a little crazy. But you know, I think it actually might work. And even if it doesn't necessarily improve your playing by a huge margin (although I do think being more relaxed will help your technical security) the audience will certainly feel the difference. More than once people have asked me after a concert, "Wow, were you nervous? It didn't seem like that at all," and I'd have to answer, "Haha, yeah, actually . . . I was pretty nervous." But they didn't get that impression, because I tried my best to project confidence and musical expression, even when I didn't always feel that way internally.

So what does all this have to do with Blink? Well, in the book, Gladwell describes the work of two psychologists, Paul Ekman and Wallace Friesen, who collaborated to create "a taxonomy of facial expressions" (201). Basically, they would spend all day making and recording different facial movements for each other. Then they catalogued all the different gestures, linking combinations of muscle movements to specific emotions. "Happiness, for instance, is essentially A.U. [action units] six and twelve — contracting the muscles that raise the cheek (orbicularis oculi, pars orbitalis) in combination with the zygomatic major, which pulls up the corner of the lips" (204). Ekman and Friesen could then us this taxonomy to analyze the facial expressions of different people and essentially read their minds. Cool, huh? (And a little freaky, too . . . )

But their most fascinating finding (at least in my opinion) was that simulating these muscle movements could actually cause the person to feel the associated emotion. "What we discovered" said Ekman, "is that that expression alone is sufficient to create marked changes in the autonomic nervous system. When this was first discovered, we were stunned. We weren't expecting this at all. And it happened to both of us. We felt terrible. What we were generating were sadness, anguish. And when I lower my brows, raise the upper eyelid, narrow the eyelid, and press the lips together, I'm generating anger. My heartbeat will go up ten to twelve beats. My hands will get hot. As I do it, I can't disconnect from the system. It's very unpleasant, very unpleasant" (206-207).

As Gladwell says, "These findings may be hard to believe, because we take it as a given that first we experience an emotion, and then we may — or may not — express that emotion on our face . . . What this research showed, though is that the process works in the opposite direction as well. Emotion can also start in the face. The face is not a secondary billboard for our internal feelings. It is an equal partner in the emotional process" (208).

So, maybe it really is possible to change how you feel by simulating the outward expressions of that feeling. It certainly is an intriguing prospect, especially in regards to performance anxiety. Food for thought . . .

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Eugene Drucker on "The Savior"

January 9, 2008 16:23

So I just found out that my local public radio station is airing a segment this weekend on "KPR Presents" where Eugene Drucker will be discussing his new book "The Savior." I haven't read it myself, but would love to as soon as I get the chance. Anyway, I'm sure the program will be fascinating, so I just though I'd share it with you all. Details about the program are here and you can listen online when it airs by following this link

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Old Hopes for a New Year

January 3, 2008 08:19

A few days ago, I was thinking . . . what is it about New Year's that makes everyone make all these resolutions? I mean, besides the fact that the date ends in 2008, January 1, is pretty much exactly the same as December 31. So what's the big deal? It's all psychological. Big whoop.

But then, after my initial cynicism (thankfully) waned, I got to thinking, 'But you know . . . psychology, in some ways, is everything.' We make all these resolutions at New Year's precisely because 2008 feels fresh, unspoiled, new. There's just something about starting another year that is inherently encouraging, inviting change, growth, revolution.

I suppose my initial cynicism really came from my own disappointment in the fact that . . . well, I don't think I've ever really kept a New Year's resolution, whether to eat healthier, pray more, study harder, or practice longer. I mean, sure I'd hang in there for a month, maybe two, but after that, it's sliding back into old ways. I'd get guilty and discouraged because I couldn't meet my own expectations, and before you knew it, I (usually subconsciously) said to myself, 'Fine, whatever, I can't do this, and I don't feel like it, so why bother trying?'

So you know what I decided?

Psychology is everything.

So, instead of setting strict or overly specific goals for resolutions this year, I've decided that instead, I need to create an environment or framework that simply makes me want and enjoy the changes I'd like in my life. And since I know I can never perfectly achieve my goals anyway, I'm trying to think of them in terms of constant, gradual improvement, rather than something like 'Okay, if I lose 5 pounds in 2 weeks, I'll be happy.' Like I've heard somewhere or other, "If you aren't moving forward, you're slipping behind."

Well, one thing I'd really like for this new year is to practice more often and more creatively. I have a lot of new music to go along with my new year, and I know already that the only way I'll be able to handle the volume of repertoire is to simply practice more than I did last semester. However, I know if I set an exact goal like "I must practice 4 hours every day or else," then I'll just end up getting discouraged when I can't meet that, or I might fall into sloppy practice on a tired day, or slack off when technically I meet my time goal but still have work I can and should do on a particular day. So, I'm working to create an encouraging environment more practicing. I've started a practicing journal, where I'm recording the content and time of what I work on each day. It's in a nice little notebook I decorated myself, and I have colored markers for writing in it (what can I say? I'm a sucker for pretty colors). I've also decided to "go with the flow" more when I practice. So, if after 20 minutes of Sarasate I feel restless and drained, I'll take a break and grab some tea instead of forcing an entire hour. Or, if I'm on a roll with my Mozart, I'll keep going as long as I can, until I start to get tired or lose concentration. I think overall, this plan will help bring more life and quality to my practicing.

I'm applying this same concept to some other goals as well. I'd like to take better care of my health, so I'm drinking more tea and trying to eat more fruits and veggies in forms that I enjoy, like salads. I want to be more organized with my classes and teaching, so I'm trying to keep on top of my schedule with some some new binders and planners (hand-decorated, because, knowing myself, I'll always be more inclined to use something pretty and personal, rather than something ugly and generic, especially in the dull, dreary days of winter ahead). I want to pray more, so I'm exploring some books and meditations that I find meaningful and inspiring, instead of the same old same old that I was neglecting.

And all these goals are connected. The healthier I stay, the more energy I'll have for classes and practicing. The better organized I am, the more time I save for all these different pursuits. The more I pray, the more peaceful and less stressed I am. The more I practice, the more hopeful and confident I feel.

I know I'm ambitious. I know I'll have bad days, and get frustrated. But I also know that small, gradual, but real steps will bring the most rewarding progress. Like Goethe said, "Whatever you can do or dream you can do, begin it; boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."

Notice he says begin it. Not complete it, or perfect it, or accomplish it in a day, or a week, or even a year, but begin it. Each day I want to be beginning anew in some way, if just a tiny bit. Wish me luck. :)

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