Re-imagine

February 7, 2007 at 11:21 AM

My mom’s best friend, Stephanie, took an interest in it. She was also an artist, and so naturally she would stop to see how my first attempt at color pencils was progressing. I’d chosen to draw egrets, and placed them on a slate background to punch out the white of their feathers. The log perch came out just fine; layered Prismacolors provided amazing depth I’d never before experienced. But even as an eighth grader, I could tell something with the birds had gone amiss. They didn’t come to life like I wanted them to. What was it? Who could show me? I couldn’t make sense of it.

Stephanie didn’t bother to tell me what it was. Instead, she suggested, “Turn it upside down. Let the other side of your brain have a look at it.” Curiously, I did as she instructed. To my surprise, the undetected bias of the one side of my brain fell away, and the drawing lay free for fresh inspection from the other side of my brain. That’s when I saw it: the toes needed highlights. That was it! Egret toes look very much like pencils, unless they have highlights to point out the fact that they actually serve a purpose (which is gripping things like well-drawn tree limbs). I layered a small bit of cream atop the tan and burnt sienna. Voila, highlights!

Artists know to flip it around every once in a while. The mind makes mistakes when viewing from just one angle, and new perspectives create opportunities for new insight. In the act of creating a piece of artwork, I will spend a lot of time between brief color application just moving about. I stand on my chair. I walk across the room. I hold it in the mirror. I frame small portions of it between my fingers and examine how the microscopic bits are coming along. I run away and come back, pretending to be an art critic in a gallery. How is it? Is it good?

It works. It not only works, but is completely necessary in order to bring the drawing to the finish line. You cannot expect to achieve the same results without this process. Skipping this step is not only cheating, it’s about as dangerous as leaving the house without checking the mirror to discover that a pair of underwear is clinging to your sleeve. You need to consult other angles.

Artists know this fact. Do musicians? You must realise that this rule is no different with practicing. Perhaps we do not literally flip the music on its head to achieve results. What form, then, does this creative process take with the violinist?

I suspect it may be different with everyone. I admit, I haven’t dug into the depths of this process to the same degree that I have with artwork; it’s a little less obvious to see. I do know, however, that it involves the imagination.

Where imagination lacks, teachers may compensate. They can point out the obvious things that somehow went unnoticed during the practice sessions. A good teacher may not directly point at it, but suggest a mental turnabout much like Stephanie did, a device of some sort that will provoke an epiphany. Such direction is immensely valuable, as it shows the student how to make their own discoveries.

So what do I personally do to catch new angles?

I think one thing that benefits me is my studio. Thirty students are bound to have at least one or two new ideas amongst them. Although I’m usually the one showing them about, every once in a while, someone does something that gives me an idea. I continually study my students to see what growth they can bring me.

Listening to others is good, as it contributes to conformity. Conformity is not all bad; it comes in handy when playing in ensembles. Four people in a string quartet reach an agreement as to how a phrase is to be articulated, and though it may not be what each individual had in mind, it stretches each player to mold to a new form which they may have otherwise avoided. In this way, each is granted new perspective.

Conformity also provides contrast for individuality. In the areas where I do not conform, I notice right away how my own personality contributes to my creation. Identifying my personal flair aids in musical elaboration. (“I know this may not be how you personally choose to interpret the Bach, but I feel it this way, and I am sure it must be this way because my personality speaks differently than yours.”) I discover my voice and manipulate technique to better articulate my thoughts. I do what is right in my own mind.

To further activate my imagination, I try all sorts of tricks. I change the tempo. I turn off the lights. I role play, pretending I’m either someone else, or playing for different audiences in various circumstances. I try out new acoustics. I play it microscopically, listening for every small detail, then play macroscopically, thinking about what the big picture looks like. I take a short vacation from my music (because time creates fresh light). I record myself and listen to it later, pretending I’m hearing my piece played for the very first time.

Music, like art, is a continual progress, built brick by brick by the effort of activated imagination.

From Ihnsouk Guim
Posted on February 7, 2007 at 12:05 PM

Beautiful writing. I enjoyed reading it.

Ihnsouk

From Sarah Montoro
Posted on February 7, 2007 at 12:40 PM

Fantastic--thanks for the encouragement!

sarah

From Scott 68
Posted on February 7, 2007 at 3:21 PM

i think i remember reading einstein said imagination is more important than knowledge

From Tom Holzman
Posted on February 7, 2007 at 4:18 PM

Einstein was right. There is nothing worse than a technically proficient violinist without imagination.

From Stephen Brivati
Posted on February 8, 2007 at 12:23 AM

Greetings,
Tom, I think there may be. Einstein was an unimaginative violinist who lacked tehcnical proficiency. Thus the famous anecdote about a session with some famous musicians one of whom became sufficeintly enraged to inquire `Mr. Einstein, can`t you count?`
Cheers,
Buri

From Emily Grossman
Posted on February 8, 2007 at 7:55 AM

You know what's even worse than that? A non-imaginative, technically deficient violinist who's not a freaking genius.

From Jim W. Miller
Posted on February 8, 2007 at 8:07 AM

Party like it's 1999!

From Emily Grossman
Posted on February 8, 2007 at 9:34 AM

A non-imaginative-technically-deficient-non-freaking-genius-purple-rain.

From Linda Lerskier
Posted on February 8, 2007 at 10:25 PM

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

From Emily Grossman
Posted on February 9, 2007 at 6:10 AM

???

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