How Gardening Can Solve All Your Pedagogical Problems
Garden Catalogs as Catalyst
Plato says we must must have an Ideal to establish the
roadmap to contemplating beauty. All gardeners would agree
that one of Winter's great pleasures is curled up with
glossy new garden catalogs, the perfect pictures assuring
us of easy success, even when that new lily is priced
outrageously. Visions of drifts of daffodils enter our
imagination, unencumbered as yet by all the sore muscles
from planting 200 of them. All great visions require serfs
to carry them out, and mine seem to be forever on strike.
So, we approach a new pupil with our ideals in place, only
to be reminded soon enough that like those tender new plants,
the pupil may or may not flourish. So, Plato said to always
study the object at hand. You can kill a plant with too much
attention. One has to stand back and contemplate the whole
person. The most important link to further success will be
if you in fact have the pupil's attention (or not). Tobias
Matthay added a footnote in an early publication, relating
the story of watching three monkeys in the zoo. His companion
asked, "Which one of these three monkeys do you think you
might teach successfully?". One monkey was all over the
place, another was scratching his belly, and the third was
staring straight at them, wide eyed. Matthay replied he
could teach the third one..."Because I have his attention".
Good Results Require the Proper Soil.
How often I have failed in my garden by not paying
enough attention to basic soil health. This Spring I went
on a Black Kow Binge. I can no longer lug the bags around
at the garden center, but always seem to find someone to
lift for me. I think by now I have mastered the trick of
suddenly appearing REALLY OLD. Help seems to come out of
nowhere. Results have been superb...that old spruce came
forth with all sorts of new needles, and an almost dead
shrub seemed suddenly to be shouting Hallelujah!
An older student suddenly has tension problems. I
persuade to put off any thought of surgery, explaining
one slip of the knife might prove irreversible. I go
into basic thinking mode, and set out on a program to
detox the muscles with some relaxation studies of my
own invention. New soil if needed for new roots to grow.
The trick is to find the inner stress that is leading to
tension in the limbs. Take time to talk to students about
what they feel is different in their lives that is causing
this upset. Shift down to basic things explained in simple
language.
Things Don't Always Bloom on Schedule
Preparing recitals with students carries enough baggage to
detour even the best expectations. Its all in the planning.
Cliffhangers wait til the last minute, and quick learners
grow bored. I always insisted pieces be memorized a month
ahead of the date. Also, tryouts should be thrown about with
abandon....play for the postman when you see him approaching.
When you walk past your piano on the way to somewhere else,
sit down and play a difficult passage cold and from memory.
Play act and get yourself into an emotional frenzy, and then
sit down and play the program in total. The actual performance
will much easier, I assure you.
Talk To Your Flowers and Give Them Praise and Encouragement.
Sounds abit like the old movie "On a Clear Day..." Plants do
feel vibrations. Notice before a rain how everything seems to
draw upwards in anticipation. Students respond to patience. To
cultivate a calm demeanor is of great pedagogical value. My
students often ask me how I can be so patient. I tell them I
and extending my life span by not screaming at them, or banging
objects around. They are tense enough already, so why add to that.
If you are pacing everything with a sense of purpose, students will
sense they are on the right path. Sometimes just a word or two can
make a huge difference. I use to praise students as they went along
in the lesson, but learned over time they are so geared to Summations
that they often didn't grasp the "praiselets" as they fluttered by.
The goal is for them to learn to praise themselves when they sense
things are going well. Some day they will be on their own, so that's
a big thing...encouraging and giving praise to oneself.
This Bloom is Staggering....However Did You Grow That!
Some years ago a student approached me to teach them during the
Summer Term, as their regular teacher was away. I asked what they
wanted to learn and back came the "Dante Sonata" of Franz Liszt.
I thought, okay..!!!!... (what on earth are you getting into..)
I really don't think that is possible, but bring it and I'll see what
I think. The piece was something this person wanted terribly to play.
I decided that was the best possible reason to create a hothouse
atmosphere, and force it out. It was an amazing experience, so
successful his teacher asked how on earth I manage to accomplish it.
I said I just gave him permission to fail, and failure wasn't an option.
Many years later that student wrote to ask me how on earth I managed to
get him to play that work. The answer was simple...and easy to guess.
Is this The End, or should I continue....
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Brahms the Enigma...
Brahms has always been rather an enigma to me as a person. He lacks that handle on his biography that attracts attention, for instance the madness of Schumann or the parading around Paris with a woman dressed as a man i.e. Chopin and George Sand. In contrast, there is no sensational element in Brahms' life. If there is a close encounter, it would be the fascination with his relationship with Clara Schumann. Many assert they were lovers, others say they had a mother/son relationship. The fact remains that she was a widow 14 years older than Brahms, and had eight children when Schumann died in 1856. Brahms was only 23 at the time, and hardly in a position to take on such an adventure. What did develop was a lifelong friendship, with Brahms a devoted presence and Clara somewhat more demanding, often acting rather imperially and somewhat critically. She was remarkably independent for her time, but don't forget the fact that she had been before the public as a child prodigy from a very early age.
When I was in my late teens I had quite a few lessons with Carl Friedberg, who was one of the last students of Clara Schumann, and who went to Brahms for coaching on a major part of the Brahms repertoire. He often spoke about both of them. His comments on the relationship of Brahms and Clara Schumann asserted that there was no real romance in the conventional sense. For him, it was more of a mother/son relationship. Friedberg spoke of the fact that Brahms' mother was 17 years older than his father, so Brahms had witnessed a marriage of an older woman and much younger man at close range. Don't forget that Brahms was close at hand when Schumann was in his last months in the sanitorium. Clara was not allowed to visit her husband for TWO YEARS, and then only at the very end. Friedberg told the story of Brahms composing his Variations on a Theme by Schumann, taking Clara a variation each time he went to see her, to help distract her away from all the personal sorrow and angst she was experiencing. I have always been struck by this story, and have never read any reference to it, rather it was just handed to me by someone who knew them both.
During Brahms' life the art of photography grew by leaps and bounds, and we have quite a treasury of photos of him, starting around the age of 14. By the age of 20 Brahms was attracting huge attention, particularly through the famous article written about him by Robert Schumann in the Neue Zeitscrift fur Musik, his periodical that made the rounds of the music world at that time. Schumann proclaimed Brahms a genius, the next great German composer. The result was instant fame at the age of 20. Music publishers appeared, many of Brahms early works were published, and in a few years he was on the way to becoming both world famous and a wealthy man before age 30.
The appearance on the scene of the Austrian violinist Joesph Joachim around 1853, at the time Schumann was touting Brahms to the world, was another life changer for both Clara and Johannes. Both of them accompanied Joachim at the piano, and the three of them toured around Germany, causing a great deal of comment, as Joachim was only two years older than Brahms, and Clara was well into her 30's. They were true Bohemians!
In 1853 a rather unusual composition appeared, written jointly by Schumann, Brahms and Schumann's talented student Joesph Dietrich. Called the "F A E" Sonata (Frei aber Einsam) it was so named by Schumann. "Free but Lonely". Rather a Werther approach to life, "The Sorrows of Werther" by Goethe being wildly popular at the time, with many young men affecting the melancholy and "mad with love" character of Werther. The sonata was not published until the 1930's, remaining in the hands of Joachim until his death. I played it many times with Jack Bauer in our early years at USC.
Brahms moved to Vienna at the age of 29, and was warmly received. His first associations were with singing groups, writing and conducting choral music. But rather quickly he withdrew into intense composition of his symphonies, chamber music and piano and vocal music. He was methodical, like a good Saxon, and often social, although one reads more antedotal accounts, and rarely more personally probing accounts. I like Jan Swafford's new biography of Brahms, as he paints a more intimate picture of Brahms in these Viennese years. Carl Friedberg said you could set your clock by Brahms' daily constitutional around Vienna. Brahms was a great walker, striding forth with his hands behind his back, erect in statue. One of the favorite photos I found was that of Brahms standing in his studio apartment, holding a cigar, looking at the camera with a wistful gaze. Jan Swafford emphasizes that Brahms was undemanding in his personal needs, taking refuge in his books and music, and his apartment meticulously kept by his adoring housekeeper.
All these thoughts went into a new "Conversations in Music" I did October 21 for students and public at Charleston Southern University. I have taken my older concept of "Piano Portraits" in a new direction, leaving space to take a composition apart for the audience, explaining how I approach learning it, trying to make it more understandable for the average listener. Brahms' Rhapsody in E Flat, Opus 119 proved a good choice, particularly in that passage that rather sounds like the zither playing the theme from "The Third Man". The students sat up when I played a snippet from "The Third Man"! One must be daring these days. My reward was several students coming up at the end, wanting to know how they could learn more about Brahms
When I was in my late teens I had quite a few lessons with Carl Friedberg, who was one of the last students of Clara Schumann, and who went to Brahms for coaching on a major part of the Brahms repertoire. He often spoke about both of them. His comments on the relationship of Brahms and Clara Schumann asserted that there was no real romance in the conventional sense. For him, it was more of a mother/son relationship. Friedberg spoke of the fact that Brahms' mother was 17 years older than his father, so Brahms had witnessed a marriage of an older woman and much younger man at close range. Don't forget that Brahms was close at hand when Schumann was in his last months in the sanitorium. Clara was not allowed to visit her husband for TWO YEARS, and then only at the very end. Friedberg told the story of Brahms composing his Variations on a Theme by Schumann, taking Clara a variation each time he went to see her, to help distract her away from all the personal sorrow and angst she was experiencing. I have always been struck by this story, and have never read any reference to it, rather it was just handed to me by someone who knew them both.
During Brahms' life the art of photography grew by leaps and bounds, and we have quite a treasury of photos of him, starting around the age of 14. By the age of 20 Brahms was attracting huge attention, particularly through the famous article written about him by Robert Schumann in the Neue Zeitscrift fur Musik, his periodical that made the rounds of the music world at that time. Schumann proclaimed Brahms a genius, the next great German composer. The result was instant fame at the age of 20. Music publishers appeared, many of Brahms early works were published, and in a few years he was on the way to becoming both world famous and a wealthy man before age 30.
The appearance on the scene of the Austrian violinist Joesph Joachim around 1853, at the time Schumann was touting Brahms to the world, was another life changer for both Clara and Johannes. Both of them accompanied Joachim at the piano, and the three of them toured around Germany, causing a great deal of comment, as Joachim was only two years older than Brahms, and Clara was well into her 30's. They were true Bohemians!
In 1853 a rather unusual composition appeared, written jointly by Schumann, Brahms and Schumann's talented student Joesph Dietrich. Called the "F A E" Sonata (Frei aber Einsam) it was so named by Schumann. "Free but Lonely". Rather a Werther approach to life, "The Sorrows of Werther" by Goethe being wildly popular at the time, with many young men affecting the melancholy and "mad with love" character of Werther. The sonata was not published until the 1930's, remaining in the hands of Joachim until his death. I played it many times with Jack Bauer in our early years at USC.
Brahms moved to Vienna at the age of 29, and was warmly received. His first associations were with singing groups, writing and conducting choral music. But rather quickly he withdrew into intense composition of his symphonies, chamber music and piano and vocal music. He was methodical, like a good Saxon, and often social, although one reads more antedotal accounts, and rarely more personally probing accounts. I like Jan Swafford's new biography of Brahms, as he paints a more intimate picture of Brahms in these Viennese years. Carl Friedberg said you could set your clock by Brahms' daily constitutional around Vienna. Brahms was a great walker, striding forth with his hands behind his back, erect in statue. One of the favorite photos I found was that of Brahms standing in his studio apartment, holding a cigar, looking at the camera with a wistful gaze. Jan Swafford emphasizes that Brahms was undemanding in his personal needs, taking refuge in his books and music, and his apartment meticulously kept by his adoring housekeeper.
All these thoughts went into a new "Conversations in Music" I did October 21 for students and public at Charleston Southern University. I have taken my older concept of "Piano Portraits" in a new direction, leaving space to take a composition apart for the audience, explaining how I approach learning it, trying to make it more understandable for the average listener. Brahms' Rhapsody in E Flat, Opus 119 proved a good choice, particularly in that passage that rather sounds like the zither playing the theme from "The Third Man". The students sat up when I played a snippet from "The Third Man"! One must be daring these days. My reward was several students coming up at the end, wanting to know how they could learn more about Brahms
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Deja vu....Half a Century Later
My first home in Columbia was a small rental house just off Datura Road. That area is now in the news again with the opening of Whole Foods new store just two blocks away. I was tempted yesterday to venture down Datura after I had done my shopping, and with the feelings one encounters after not seeing a person for years, or a street or house, I had a pang of nostalgia. I had forgotten what a charming area it really is, Datura winding down a long hillside just beside Brennen School. Years ago there was a large vacant lot with a pathway cutting across to the school on the parallel street, as there was no through road in those days....and still not one today. Today there is a very large new home just built in that spot. Two houses were for sale, opposite each other just at the top of hill. I suddenly stopped and parked off the road in a makeshift driveway. People still tend to have pinestraw areas where they park their cars, as many of these houses have no garage. I walked around the side of the first house, to see through the backyard fence children playing in the schoolyard at noon, just like 49 years ago. Obviously someone had lived there many years, as everything looked like it had just been there a long time, not particularly attended to, but not totally neglected either. I noticed a distinct smell and realized it was a scent from the past, coming from the earth and the damp, one that I often noticed at my former home just at the foot of the hill. I was taken aback. We are so visual today; perhaps we have forgotten the power of certain smells to instantly take up back in time.
Years ago I stopped by my music teacher's home in Birmingham...this would have been in the 1960's after I had moved from Texas to South Carolina. Sure enough she came to the door and of course had no idea who I was. But I noticed a smell that instantly threw me back to the early 1940's when I would go to her house once a week for my accordion lesson. There was always this smell, and I finally relized they were an Italian family, and it was obviously the smell of garlic. I had the oddest sense of deja-vu, almost quaking in my boots as I use to do when going for a lesson I never much liked or prepared for.
The smell of Datura Road suddenly made me realize all those people I knew on that street had long since moved, or even passed away. Should I buy the house, restore it and move back again? I guess we all have those thoughts, if only for a moment, before we realize the train long ago left the station and won't be stopping there again.
Years ago I stopped by my music teacher's home in Birmingham...this would have been in the 1960's after I had moved from Texas to South Carolina. Sure enough she came to the door and of course had no idea who I was. But I noticed a smell that instantly threw me back to the early 1940's when I would go to her house once a week for my accordion lesson. There was always this smell, and I finally relized they were an Italian family, and it was obviously the smell of garlic. I had the oddest sense of deja-vu, almost quaking in my boots as I use to do when going for a lesson I never much liked or prepared for.
The smell of Datura Road suddenly made me realize all those people I knew on that street had long since moved, or even passed away. Should I buy the house, restore it and move back again? I guess we all have those thoughts, if only for a moment, before we realize the train long ago left the station and won't be stopping there again.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
More South American Memories II
On the way back to Santiago from two weeks in the south of Chile, we stopped in Chillan and were met by the Principal of a Seventh Day Adventist school, who drove us to the school campus near the base of the Andes. We stayed for two days, and played our main recital program for the whole school. I remember they had to move the piano, which was an upright, putting it on the back of a truck, with me riding in the cab. It was a rocky journey, but several strong lads were holding it. I remember the Director's wife saying they had just done Handel's "Messiah", noting that it was an
arrangement for three solo treble voices, chorus plus violin and piano. That impressed me no end. The morning we lett was a Saturday, so the Director was in prayer and unable to be with us. The wife prepared a nice breakfast, and somehow I remember her saying that the local Indian population, which wasn't interested in their religion, were all waiting for the "Great Earthquake". I guess I am still figuring that comment out.
Back in Santiago we had a few days to regroup, and prepare to travel to the extreme north of Chile, right into the Attacama Desert, perhaps the driest on earth. This leg was done by bus, and they turned out to be quite nice, with an atendant to serve tea and coffee, and snacks. I remember a rest stop along the way, where there was a water pump, quite in the middle of nowhere. There was a small flower blooming beautifully, and beside it a sign saying "Dame Agua"....which apparently everyone did.
We arrived in La Serena, a beautiful small town, and were met by Jorge Pena-Hen, the director of the orchestra at a big school for orphans. He had started this orchestra some years before, and this is now felt to be the real begining of what is called El Sistema, the movement made famous by the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra in Venezuela. He had already taken the orchestra to Cuba, so he was leaning heavily towards the Socialist Front. I remember Patricio Cobos remarking that some of the money was coming from the Red Chinese, who were very prevelent in certain areas of South America. I spent a few hours with Mrs. Pena-Hen, a wonderful pianist, and we played for each other. I remember being struck by the beauty of the piano music of Humberto Allende, Chile's great composer. His music remeinded me of Albeniz and Granados,and in fact Debussy was one of his great admirers.
The sad conclusion to this story is that a few years later,
after the assassination of President Allende,and the take over of General Pinochet, the so called Death Caravan wove its way around Chile, and Pena-Hen was murdered and his body dumped along a road just outside La Serena. I often wonder what became of his wife. I only found this out a couple of years ago when reading the European Piano Teachers Journal, the author of the article having been in Chile during the same years I visited. It took me a long time to digest all this, but it puts in focus the fact that we never know so much in life until long after the fact. Judy Woodruff of NPR News did a documentary of this period in Chile, Judy being In Chile during this time.
We played out last concerts in Vina del Mar, the great resort town on the Pacific, close to Santiago. After the concert there, a very lovely lady invited me to return
if possible and play a solo recital for them. I did this two weeks later, and was excited to find a review of it in Chile's leading newspaper a few days later. This was a great turning point in my career, and led to over 150 solo concerts in the years ahead for the United States Information Service. Isn't it remarkable how things happen in life.
I left Chile with deep memories, and often I see pictures in my mind's eye. One that I often reflect on is traveling in the south of Chile on a cold day, by a very old bus. Suddenly I saw a man on horseback,with a second horse next to him waiting on a small rise by the side of the road. The bus stopped, after hours of travel, and a man got off with his suitcase and mounted the second horse and they rode off into the gloom. It made me realize the vast size of this country and the huge areas of very small population. A romantic scene....worthy of a song!
arrangement for three solo treble voices, chorus plus violin and piano. That impressed me no end. The morning we lett was a Saturday, so the Director was in prayer and unable to be with us. The wife prepared a nice breakfast, and somehow I remember her saying that the local Indian population, which wasn't interested in their religion, were all waiting for the "Great Earthquake". I guess I am still figuring that comment out.
Back in Santiago we had a few days to regroup, and prepare to travel to the extreme north of Chile, right into the Attacama Desert, perhaps the driest on earth. This leg was done by bus, and they turned out to be quite nice, with an atendant to serve tea and coffee, and snacks. I remember a rest stop along the way, where there was a water pump, quite in the middle of nowhere. There was a small flower blooming beautifully, and beside it a sign saying "Dame Agua"....which apparently everyone did.
We arrived in La Serena, a beautiful small town, and were met by Jorge Pena-Hen, the director of the orchestra at a big school for orphans. He had started this orchestra some years before, and this is now felt to be the real begining of what is called El Sistema, the movement made famous by the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra in Venezuela. He had already taken the orchestra to Cuba, so he was leaning heavily towards the Socialist Front. I remember Patricio Cobos remarking that some of the money was coming from the Red Chinese, who were very prevelent in certain areas of South America. I spent a few hours with Mrs. Pena-Hen, a wonderful pianist, and we played for each other. I remember being struck by the beauty of the piano music of Humberto Allende, Chile's great composer. His music remeinded me of Albeniz and Granados,and in fact Debussy was one of his great admirers.
The sad conclusion to this story is that a few years later,
after the assassination of President Allende,and the take over of General Pinochet, the so called Death Caravan wove its way around Chile, and Pena-Hen was murdered and his body dumped along a road just outside La Serena. I often wonder what became of his wife. I only found this out a couple of years ago when reading the European Piano Teachers Journal, the author of the article having been in Chile during the same years I visited. It took me a long time to digest all this, but it puts in focus the fact that we never know so much in life until long after the fact. Judy Woodruff of NPR News did a documentary of this period in Chile, Judy being In Chile during this time.
We played out last concerts in Vina del Mar, the great resort town on the Pacific, close to Santiago. After the concert there, a very lovely lady invited me to return
if possible and play a solo recital for them. I did this two weeks later, and was excited to find a review of it in Chile's leading newspaper a few days later. This was a great turning point in my career, and led to over 150 solo concerts in the years ahead for the United States Information Service. Isn't it remarkable how things happen in life.
I left Chile with deep memories, and often I see pictures in my mind's eye. One that I often reflect on is traveling in the south of Chile on a cold day, by a very old bus. Suddenly I saw a man on horseback,with a second horse next to him waiting on a small rise by the side of the road. The bus stopped, after hours of travel, and a man got off with his suitcase and mounted the second horse and they rode off into the gloom. It made me realize the vast size of this country and the huge areas of very small population. A romantic scene....worthy of a song!
Friday, November 16, 2012
South American Memories...1971
Chile in Revolt...Winter 1971 in Chile
Writing about this part of my life forty some years after the fact has it's own inherent perils and failing memories. But the fact remains, much remains vivid and thought provoking. I made this first tour of Chile when Patricio Cobos called me from Wintrop College to say his accompanist, pianist Jess Casey, would not be able to make the tour. He asked if I could possibly leave in two weeks time and also, if I felt comfortable about his repertoire demands. It was the end of term in Columbia, and I knew I wanted to go terribly. We met soon after and went through two of the larger works which I recall the Brahms Sonata in A Major for violin and Piano was one. In those days I had a large repertoire of music for strings, and almost as large for winds. A few shorter works were familiar, and there was also a mandantory work by an American composer, which I do not recall.
There was a rather humorous twist in that Patricio had just gotten married, and his bride would be accompanying us on our tour of 12 cities, lasting about a month. She was a lovely tall American beauty, and Patricio was barely up to my shoulder, and I was 5'11" in those days. Of course, everyone thought the bride was mine, and just who was this Chilean violinist tagging along. We had our share of humorous adventures to say the least.
Pat had arranged for me to stay in Santiago with his Aunt Clara and her family, and they lived near the center of town in a large apartment above a furniture store. That gave me the opportunity to get to know some locals, and also to rest up between segments of concerts. As we were playing for the United States Information Service, we made our base at the Centro Americano, where the main attraction was a large library and classes for teaching English. There was also a very nice Steinway in a small auditorium, and we practiced a great deal when we got there so as to make a team out of ourselves. After about a week we were ready to set off to the northern part of Chiles, that long narrow country that is as long as America is wide. We would be traveling by train and bus. Two days before we were to leave we were told that newly elected President Salvatore Allende would be touring the north as well, leaving the same day as we had planned. The American Embassy said we must go SOUTH instead....so in the space of two days the whole affair was turned around, and we indeed DID go south. This made me discover the fact that my sponsors were not fazed in the slightest, changing all sorts of concert arrangement for this long tour. Latins seem to like this kind of spontainiety, as evidently it happens all the time.
What is most important about this particular time in Chile was the fact, that after years of rule by the Social Democrats, Chile had elected a Socialist Party candidate, Salvatore Allende, as President. The country was virtually in an uproar, and the Socialist's drive to take land from large estate owners and parcel it out to poorer
people was having a chaotic effect, to say the least.
We played our first concert at the Centro, and a large audience attended. We had an
excellent review in the main newspaper, except I was puzzled by the comment that my
ornaments in the Mozart were "unusual". I never figured that out! We left by the night
train for Conceptcion, and I remember I couldn't sleep because the tracks were old and there was a clicking sound every few seconds where the ralls didn't quite connect! Pat made us go to the restroom and collect a share of toilet paper, saying it would mysteriously disappear. I guess there was a shortage along the line, so to speak!
Chillan is famous as the hometown of the great Chilean pianist Claudio Arrau. In fact, when we visited the marketplace I could hear him playing the Appasionata over the radio in one of the stalls. He was a hero, as he had come home after one of the worst earthquakes and played benefit concerts all over. I learned this from our piano tuner, who had accompanied Arrau on his tours in Chile. When we were leaving the following day, a man came to the train before it left and asked if we could come to his school some miles to the east near the base of the Andes. He said they didn't get much classical music, and the whole school would turn out. We accepted, and made plans to go there on our return in two weeks.
As we headed to the extreme south of Chile, we followed the Bio-Bio River for miles, and it was in flood stage, and often seemed like a vast lake. Temuco was Pat's hometown, and we had two concerts to play there. I remember the hall had no heat, and we played with a small heater at our backs. Afterward the last concert there was a banquet in a local hotel, and I remember the desert was called "Volcano" as it was the shape of one, and the top was filled with brandy sugur cubes, which ignited into a glorious plume of fire! Inside there was ice cream...so it was a kind of Baked Alaska, Chilean style. I was having to adjust to very late nights, Latin style, and soon learned the value of the siesta!
Our tour took us ts Valdivia, as far south as we could go without being much more
adventurous and heading into the mountains and glaciers of Chile Austral, where
Puntas Arenus is the most southern city in the world. That was not to be, but it
was the big regret of this trip. Valdivia was built along a river, and farmers brought boats with vegetables and fruits right into the heart of the city. We played for the
Goethe Society, as their is a huge German population in this area. Suddenly there seemed to be a lot of blondes of both sexes. We were entertained royaly, and I remember the beautiful hotel where we stayed, with the huge dining room with windows looking over the river.
Heading north again, we stopped in Concepcion, which is the home of one of Chile's great universities. Little did we realize that it was also a center of revolution, not the safest atmosphere during these turbulent days. Pat was to play with the school orchestra, but we received word that student unrest might lead to a demonstartion against visiting Americans. The concert was delayed one day, and took place quietly in the early evening. The orchestra was wonderful and Pat played two works of Saint-Saens.
A footnote to this is that, unknown to me, the composer Luigi Nono was in Chile at this time. He was associated with Stockhausen and Brono Maderna, leaders of the Darnstadt Group in Germany, but soon to establish his own studio in Freiburg. Patricio and I returned to Chile the next year, and again went to Concepcion. During that summer (winter there) a young leader of the Chilean Rovolutionary Front named Luciano Cruz was murdered under mysterious circumstances. Nono was deavastated at the news, and wrote one of his great masterpieces.. "Como una ola fuerza y luz" in memory of him. Just last summer 2011 I went to the Salzburg Festival to hear Luigi Nono's greatest work, "Prometeo", performed in the huge Collegiate Church. A massive work that takes two orchestras, several smaller orchestral choirs, two choruses, and two conductors...it is a work revered in Europe, but little known in the USA, where it still awaits a performance. I find such co-incidences thrilling in my life, even if it takes years for it all to clarify. There is much more to this story...and I will take up my pen again soon.
Writing about this part of my life forty some years after the fact has it's own inherent perils and failing memories. But the fact remains, much remains vivid and thought provoking. I made this first tour of Chile when Patricio Cobos called me from Wintrop College to say his accompanist, pianist Jess Casey, would not be able to make the tour. He asked if I could possibly leave in two weeks time and also, if I felt comfortable about his repertoire demands. It was the end of term in Columbia, and I knew I wanted to go terribly. We met soon after and went through two of the larger works which I recall the Brahms Sonata in A Major for violin and Piano was one. In those days I had a large repertoire of music for strings, and almost as large for winds. A few shorter works were familiar, and there was also a mandantory work by an American composer, which I do not recall.
There was a rather humorous twist in that Patricio had just gotten married, and his bride would be accompanying us on our tour of 12 cities, lasting about a month. She was a lovely tall American beauty, and Patricio was barely up to my shoulder, and I was 5'11" in those days. Of course, everyone thought the bride was mine, and just who was this Chilean violinist tagging along. We had our share of humorous adventures to say the least.
Pat had arranged for me to stay in Santiago with his Aunt Clara and her family, and they lived near the center of town in a large apartment above a furniture store. That gave me the opportunity to get to know some locals, and also to rest up between segments of concerts. As we were playing for the United States Information Service, we made our base at the Centro Americano, where the main attraction was a large library and classes for teaching English. There was also a very nice Steinway in a small auditorium, and we practiced a great deal when we got there so as to make a team out of ourselves. After about a week we were ready to set off to the northern part of Chiles, that long narrow country that is as long as America is wide. We would be traveling by train and bus. Two days before we were to leave we were told that newly elected President Salvatore Allende would be touring the north as well, leaving the same day as we had planned. The American Embassy said we must go SOUTH instead....so in the space of two days the whole affair was turned around, and we indeed DID go south. This made me discover the fact that my sponsors were not fazed in the slightest, changing all sorts of concert arrangement for this long tour. Latins seem to like this kind of spontainiety, as evidently it happens all the time.
What is most important about this particular time in Chile was the fact, that after years of rule by the Social Democrats, Chile had elected a Socialist Party candidate, Salvatore Allende, as President. The country was virtually in an uproar, and the Socialist's drive to take land from large estate owners and parcel it out to poorer
people was having a chaotic effect, to say the least.
We played our first concert at the Centro, and a large audience attended. We had an
excellent review in the main newspaper, except I was puzzled by the comment that my
ornaments in the Mozart were "unusual". I never figured that out! We left by the night
train for Conceptcion, and I remember I couldn't sleep because the tracks were old and there was a clicking sound every few seconds where the ralls didn't quite connect! Pat made us go to the restroom and collect a share of toilet paper, saying it would mysteriously disappear. I guess there was a shortage along the line, so to speak!
Chillan is famous as the hometown of the great Chilean pianist Claudio Arrau. In fact, when we visited the marketplace I could hear him playing the Appasionata over the radio in one of the stalls. He was a hero, as he had come home after one of the worst earthquakes and played benefit concerts all over. I learned this from our piano tuner, who had accompanied Arrau on his tours in Chile. When we were leaving the following day, a man came to the train before it left and asked if we could come to his school some miles to the east near the base of the Andes. He said they didn't get much classical music, and the whole school would turn out. We accepted, and made plans to go there on our return in two weeks.
As we headed to the extreme south of Chile, we followed the Bio-Bio River for miles, and it was in flood stage, and often seemed like a vast lake. Temuco was Pat's hometown, and we had two concerts to play there. I remember the hall had no heat, and we played with a small heater at our backs. Afterward the last concert there was a banquet in a local hotel, and I remember the desert was called "Volcano" as it was the shape of one, and the top was filled with brandy sugur cubes, which ignited into a glorious plume of fire! Inside there was ice cream...so it was a kind of Baked Alaska, Chilean style. I was having to adjust to very late nights, Latin style, and soon learned the value of the siesta!
Our tour took us ts Valdivia, as far south as we could go without being much more
adventurous and heading into the mountains and glaciers of Chile Austral, where
Puntas Arenus is the most southern city in the world. That was not to be, but it
was the big regret of this trip. Valdivia was built along a river, and farmers brought boats with vegetables and fruits right into the heart of the city. We played for the
Goethe Society, as their is a huge German population in this area. Suddenly there seemed to be a lot of blondes of both sexes. We were entertained royaly, and I remember the beautiful hotel where we stayed, with the huge dining room with windows looking over the river.
Heading north again, we stopped in Concepcion, which is the home of one of Chile's great universities. Little did we realize that it was also a center of revolution, not the safest atmosphere during these turbulent days. Pat was to play with the school orchestra, but we received word that student unrest might lead to a demonstartion against visiting Americans. The concert was delayed one day, and took place quietly in the early evening. The orchestra was wonderful and Pat played two works of Saint-Saens.
A footnote to this is that, unknown to me, the composer Luigi Nono was in Chile at this time. He was associated with Stockhausen and Brono Maderna, leaders of the Darnstadt Group in Germany, but soon to establish his own studio in Freiburg. Patricio and I returned to Chile the next year, and again went to Concepcion. During that summer (winter there) a young leader of the Chilean Rovolutionary Front named Luciano Cruz was murdered under mysterious circumstances. Nono was deavastated at the news, and wrote one of his great masterpieces.. "Como una ola fuerza y luz" in memory of him. Just last summer 2011 I went to the Salzburg Festival to hear Luigi Nono's greatest work, "Prometeo", performed in the huge Collegiate Church. A massive work that takes two orchestras, several smaller orchestral choirs, two choruses, and two conductors...it is a work revered in Europe, but little known in the USA, where it still awaits a performance. I find such co-incidences thrilling in my life, even if it takes years for it all to clarify. There is much more to this story...and I will take up my pen again soon.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Fall is in the Air
One nice thing about living surrounded by nature is the noting of subtle changes
as the seasons unfold. There is a moment in mid-August that always alerts one
that summer is ending. Perhaps it is a cooler than expected morning, although the
day can still be hot. Perhaps it is the cooler feel as the sun goes down, heat
suddenly dissapating. I always look for the early red leaves on one or two trees
or for scarlet leaves that appear in the underbrush. More than once I have ventured
out in the woods to see what is catching my eye, always startled to think color is
appearing so soon. I have a hickory tree by the front door, and this year the nuts
are bigger than ever it seems. I pick them up so Billy can mow more easily, and since
they have been falling for over a month now, I get some good waistline exercise. Today
I noted the squirrels have finally gotten around to them, and my job is over. There
are a few pine stumps around, and the squirrels use them for tables to dine ...there
is always a residue of cracked nuts atop them.
I went to survey my neighbor's pear tree, and it is quite full, but they are smaller
this year. I am allowed to pick up those that fall, and it seems everytime I go
there this strong breeze comes from nowhere, shakes the tree, and all these lovely
pears fall to the grass below. Isn't that amazing how these strong winds come along!
By the drive, two trees have almost shed all their leaves, and one oak is ready to
turn, framed by very green trees. In a few days I will have this wonderful painting
seen through the picture window in my sitting room.
Then there is my tiny green lizard, who hangs out by the back door. I dug up the
hydrangea bush two weeks ago, and gave it away. It was becoming so ragged. Little
green lizard loved to sleep on a hydrangea leaf. Many a hot day I would pass him by
and notice how green blended into green. Today I saw him on the bush I
replace his pad with, and he gave me a wink, as to say he was still around and
liked the new space. I have so many birds and squirrels that take no notice of me,
afterall, I am just a visitor to their place on earth. As Colette would write..
"Earthly Paradise", her ode to her mother's gardening skills, and her own early life.
as the seasons unfold. There is a moment in mid-August that always alerts one
that summer is ending. Perhaps it is a cooler than expected morning, although the
day can still be hot. Perhaps it is the cooler feel as the sun goes down, heat
suddenly dissapating. I always look for the early red leaves on one or two trees
or for scarlet leaves that appear in the underbrush. More than once I have ventured
out in the woods to see what is catching my eye, always startled to think color is
appearing so soon. I have a hickory tree by the front door, and this year the nuts
are bigger than ever it seems. I pick them up so Billy can mow more easily, and since
they have been falling for over a month now, I get some good waistline exercise. Today
I noted the squirrels have finally gotten around to them, and my job is over. There
are a few pine stumps around, and the squirrels use them for tables to dine ...there
is always a residue of cracked nuts atop them.
I went to survey my neighbor's pear tree, and it is quite full, but they are smaller
this year. I am allowed to pick up those that fall, and it seems everytime I go
there this strong breeze comes from nowhere, shakes the tree, and all these lovely
pears fall to the grass below. Isn't that amazing how these strong winds come along!
By the drive, two trees have almost shed all their leaves, and one oak is ready to
turn, framed by very green trees. In a few days I will have this wonderful painting
seen through the picture window in my sitting room.
Then there is my tiny green lizard, who hangs out by the back door. I dug up the
hydrangea bush two weeks ago, and gave it away. It was becoming so ragged. Little
green lizard loved to sleep on a hydrangea leaf. Many a hot day I would pass him by
and notice how green blended into green. Today I saw him on the bush I
replace his pad with, and he gave me a wink, as to say he was still around and
liked the new space. I have so many birds and squirrels that take no notice of me,
afterall, I am just a visitor to their place on earth. As Colette would write..
"Earthly Paradise", her ode to her mother's gardening skills, and her own early life.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
"Quo Vadis?" -The Art of Piano Performance"
Curious title, curious frame of mind, curiosity killed the cat. I have more time these
days to ponder weighty subjects, and I can think of nothing that matches my curiosity
about piano performance today. I just read a few pages in a self-help book by a noted
scholar of piano literature and performance practice. I had to put it down after a few
pages, as I felt if I had to suffer like some people over performance anxieties, I would not even leave the house. It is such a luxury to share misery, but frankly, any
misery connected to the piano is a very private affair. It never ceases to amaze how many pianists sit down at the piano bench, and instantly forget (or they never read) Tobias Matthay's most valuable suggestion: "Never sit down at the piano except to make music".
What does this tell us? It tells us that everything we do at the piano should have some
amount of framework, design, objective, purpose...you can add you own word. Exercises? These are the most challenging of all, as they demand our utmost discipline and unwavering attention. This is when we deal with craft, and craft is the basis of any
art. The painter sizes his canvas while peering into the white void, his internal vision
already alive with purpose. The writer looks at the blank page and suddenly writes a few words that soon open up into sentences and paragraphs. The ballet dancer works at the barre,yet if it is a good studio, music plays and each exercise builds towards the complete body/mind experience.
The pianist must ease himself into his session, first determining what kind of session
it might be. Just the thought that one might plan out the time might be news to many.
What is your goal for today, tomorrow, the week, month, year....decade!! Are you starting all new pieces at the smae time, or, are you adding them slowly, so each work
is at a different stage of development? How easy to be overwhelmed. Have you really thought about the musical and technical challenges of each work, so as to avoid having everything being a plunge for notes and organization? Buffets are fun, but eating at one every meal might make one soon turn off food in general. So the same is true for
repertoire. Do you really enjoy sitting through programs that are more about the performer tackling one hurdle after another? Perhaps it never entered his head that the
audience is usually the reason he is there, and they don't want a huge buffet. They want
a balanced program, which means just that.
On reading my words I think I might be still under the influence of The Victorian Age.
On reflection, my early teachers were very much under this influence. We often think Victorians were stuffy, rather stifled people. But it amuses me that so many dramatic
breakthroughs came just at the end of this age. Tobias Matthay made great insights into
the whole process of learning, balancing scientific observations with equal amounts of
common sense and instinct. Freud made his amazing journies into the psyche, and Stanislavsky made acting into something vital and timeless. Alexander made his bold
discoveries about mind and body, so nobly illustrated recently in "The King's Speech", where his techniques were used to unlock the tongue of George VI.
I grew up in an age when beautiful tone was the great challenge, as the Golden Age of
Pianists had at it's core this wonderful aesthetic of sound. I heard many of the great
practicioners of this art, including Rubenstein, Hess, Horowitz, plus many others through their recordings...especially Cortot and Gieseking. Each had a unique sound, but they all had this tonal art that was at the core of their music. I have a vivid memory of Carl Friedberg, then in his eighties, playing parts of the Brahms Concerto in
B Flat Major. We had finished a lesson, and he was showing me some of his ideas. What struck me so stongly was the focus of his sound. It had weight, but it also had virility
and strength. His fingers were deep in the keys, and everything was directed to the
musical intent. He didn't wave around, fall around, or any of those things we see in
abundance today.
I just read a review in The Guardian of a recital by Yuja Wang in London last week. The
critic was eager to say she had fantastic fingers that did everything she demanded with
ease. What surprised him was the lack of depth in her playing, and the sound could become hard at times. She is very much a pianist of the moment, and she atrracts attention by dressing unconventionally for her public. Perhaps we are entering a whole new AGE. Its more about the package and the predictable results, than it is about the
searching for soul and profond moments. I have grown very fussy in my advancing years,
not wanting to be made to listen to speed and thrills. Years ago my teacher Frank Mannheimer sat through a performance of a Chopin Scherzo by a master class student, a
performance so loud and fast it was almost unbearable. He smiled at the end and told the young man."A racecar could have not done it any faster". Luckily that young man grew into a fine and sensitive artist.
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