Manifest Music: Michelle's Tour Blog
Friday, December 17 7:42 am
Austin, TX
Catch-up blog
Sorry about that, friends… I’ve been a little out of touch. It always seems that we head towards the end of the year with way more things needing to get done than the few hours we are allotted to do it. Know what I mean? Oh, yes, I’m sure you do!
Well, I would be absolutely remiss if I didn’t go back in time a bit and tell you about my amazing experiences in Istanbul, and Ljubljana. I must say, that all of my life, I feel like I’ve been told where I must travel to. You know what I’m talking about… you must go to Paris… oh, you must go to Vienna… you must go to ________ (fill in the blank with any typical major European city). But, no one in my life ever said, “You must go to Istanbul.” Well, dangit! Istanbul is totally the place where I should have must have gone to! Istanbul totally blew me away… my new absolutely favorite city. The sights (monumental mosques, gorgeous sea-ways, architecture both ancient and cosmopolitan, Harems in the Palaces (OMG!)), the sounds (exotic chant-prayers being broadcast simultaneously from every mosque, a different language on every corner, spontaneous singing from unexpected places), the smells (Turkish food = Yummy!) and on and on. Istanbul lies on two continents, for crying out loud. Part Asia, part Europe. How awesome is that?
Istanbul rocks.
I will tell you, though, before I left, I was warned by many people to be careful, as a woman traveling alone to Turkey. Well, I am here to tell you that, of course, tourists always need to be cautious, but Istanbul with it’s 10.2 million people, is one of the safest big cities on the planet. I felt remarkably secure at all times. I simply cannot wait to go back. My recommendation: GO! Now!!!
Istanbul was one of my very few “vacation” destinations on my tour. I performed and taught in Izmir all the week before and then wanted to have a short weekend to explore something exotic on my own. After 48 short hours, I headed to Ljubljana, Slovenia. Ljubljana is a gorgeous city, perfectly located. Just hours away are tons of destinations: Vienna, Venice, Munich, Budapest; and with a population of 250,000, it is still able to support 3 full-time orchestras and hundreds of smaller music organizations. Staggering. I performed at the Festival Ljubljana and stayed with the festival organizer, Volodja Balzalorsky and his charming wife and son. The hall I played in was absolutely gorgeous, and nice and small for that intimate vibe.
An interesting thing happened with my performance, though. Every performance throughout this tour seemed to get better and better. My interpretations grew richer and more complex, my fingers-ever more assured, my psyche calm and focused. But the night before my performance in Ljubljana, I had a conversation with Volodja and Marie about how great my tour had been, and how sad I was that the next day’s concert would be my last of the tour. And it was weird, because it’s not the last time I will be playing this program (I have another date in California in March and I’m performing the program at the Victoria Bach Festival in June), but I just got this pang of melancholy that this time of discovery, transformation, and enlightenment, would be over with the next concert.
I probably should have never began to think that way, because it opened up that nasty pressure-door, and I knew I wanted to have the last performance be more spell-binding than ever before. I woke up the next morning a little nervous. This was strange. I hadn’t felt nerves since the very beginning of the tour. And then, the whole day, I felt a bit apprehensive about the performance. The performance itself, while certainly not a bad one (and quite the opposite from the reaction of my enthusiastic audience), just wasn’t quite on the same level of freedom and musical-imaginative-exploration as the others. I felt a bit uneasy, was double guessing just a bit (in places where I never double guessed), and just felt that my brain was too present, and that it took the driver’s seat instead of allowing my spirit and soul to do the steering.
Ahhh… well… you certainly never stop learning!
Still, all in all… the entire experience couldn’t have been more interesting or thought-provoking.
Next-up… my performance experiences in Fayetteville, TX with superstars of the wind world… and what’ll be up in 2011.
Friday, December 3, 9:15 am
Flight from Izmir to Istanbul, Turkey
I’m feeling pretty darn sleepy on this flight from Izmir to Istanbul. I’ve been in Turkey for five days now, and as usual, when I’m overseas, I like to pretend that jetlag is simply a mind-over-matter issue. I always seem to think that suffering is totally avoidable, but alas, I’m working now on my third day straight of getting virtually no sleep at night. I think the big problem happened the day of my concert in Izmir, when I took a big fat delicious afternoon nap before my performance. Since that time, I just can’t seem to get to sleep before 4:00 am, and around 4:00 pm I just want to die I’m so tired!
Nevertheless, I am now on a flight to Istanbul, and if it’s anything as wonderful as Izmir (and all accounts point to “yes!”), I will definitely have a terrific time.
My residency at the Yasar University in Izmir went extremely well. I taught lessons and masterclasses the day after I arrived and enjoyed all the challenges of communicating with music students, many of whom had very limited English. When teaching to kids who don’t speak English, you have to get pretty creative. While I try to limit my vocabularly to these students, I also resort to many different kinds of demonstration, including: me sitting at the piano and demonstrating through exaggeration different kinds of techniques to get better tone, sound, articulation, ad phrasing; demonstration ‘on top’ of the piano, to fully show all possibilities of hand and body posture; and finally, I actually play on students (on their backs mostly) to demonstrate touch, power, distribution of weight. Mostly, I just try to be ridiculously animated to get my points across. And, in this case, it was met with great success! The students at the University responded beautifully to my suggestions and I found that despite language barriers, we were able to communicate effectively through unconventional means.
That experience made me think about all of the possibilities for understanding among different cultures. I have been looking forward to this trip to Turkey for months, but in the most recent weeks, my friends and family had been sure to warn me to be “careful” while in Turkey. I really didn’t have much fear, but I was beginning to see that Americans certainly have preconceptions about this country… and probably about Muslim countries in general. However, what I discovered was that Izmir is a very cosmopolitan city… the people modern and aware, and the amenities totally comfortable, safe, and reliable.
But I do think that I have an extreme advantage coming to foreign countries to perform and teach. My interaction with the locals is palpable and very personal. When communicating through music, I find that I am able develop rapport very quickly, and almost, we can instantly have a certain understanding of one another. Meeting people through playing music has always been my preference. I find that when just meeting people through talking, it can take hours… days…weeks… months… or years to get to know someone and be comfortable. But, when you sit down and play with a stranger, within a few minutes, you just know what’s what and how it’s all going to go down. Having a normal conversation with someone after playing with them is the most natural thing in the world to do, because you get a lot of the dance figured out in record time.
I think that might be why musical cultural exchanges are so important. While we may all have different backgrounds, speak different languages, share different religions… if we can communicate through music, I find that the doors open so much wider for all other kinds of interaction. So… it’s been just great to reinforce that here in Turkey.
My concert on Wednesday evening went really beautifully. I can’t reiterate enough just how much I feel I have grown and changed as a pianist and performer during this tour. Each concert, I just get excited, and giddy with anticipation. I feel the program is totally unique… and now… tried and true. The program has really transformed my audiences and offered them something personalized, unique, and unexpected. So, now, each time I perform, I am just so excited to present this “new” experience to my first time audiences. Even talking about the program in the beginning sets a stage like no other. In Izmir, I was very happy to be interpreted by Payam Susanni, so, I think the tag-team approach to describing the concert and how it would enfold was even more endearing. Afterwards, the audience was incredible grateful for a unique experience. And… the concert ended with a first time experience for me as well. I got one of those big ovations that started as an enthusiastic cacophonic applause, which then morphed into a homophonic beating in time by all hands (a la Russian style ovation). It was awesome! I had ever felt such strength in applause before! Frankly, the typical North American demonstration of true audience pleasure by a standing ovation involves a small flaw. Generally, as people start to stand, they stop clapping for a bit to fix their purse, and their pants, and make sure they don’t fall over. So, in a big American standing ovation applause it sounds a little like this to the performer:
Clap clap clapping!!!!!
Cla… cl…c…
C…cl…cla….
Clap clap clapping!!!
But this business of unifying in clapping that becomes a rhythmic thumping of enthusiasm… well… it’s pretty marvelous. And I think it probably feels marvelous for the audience too… like their own chamber music experience!
That’s it for now. I’m off for an Istanbul exploring adventure for a couple days before I head off to Slovenia on Sunday for my last performance of my program before Christmas. Then back home for the Beethoven Birthday Bash on Dec. 16.
Looking forward to seeing you all then!!!
Friday, November 19, 10:24 am
Austin, TX
It’s still really great to be home. I head out next Sunday to Eastern Europe for my tour, but this reprieve from travel has really hit the spot. Although, I’ve still been exceedingly busy! Funny how that goes.
The ACMC concerts last weekend felt quite stunning. I found that as each night progressed, I got more and more in tune with the text of the songs. Normally, I’m just not so much a ‘word-person’ when it comes to music. (Now, when it comes to scrabble… holy cow… I am such a word person!) With instrumental music, my attraction is probably to harmony first, counterpoint second, and then the whole gamut of melodic invention, texture, rhythm etc. after that. And even in vocal music, with text, I still first gravitate to the delight of all those features before the text affects me.
But, once I’m ready to really absorb the text, and the sub-text, and the sub-sub-text… it really brings it to another level for me. I always try to ‘act’ while I perform, because I believe that music is about direct emotional communication… but when I have text to truly embody, I feel like it has the power to totally influence the way I play. When the text comes first, (and for me, it takes a while to get there), everything seems to fall into place: ensemble, balance, tempo, rhythm, rubato, pauses, accelarandos. Everything. It’s a real pleasure, for sure.
Always after concerts, I feel a bit of an emotional hang-over. It’s always a lot of intense work, and then, in the moment, a ton of emotional output. It’s like being in bit of a bubble, and then when it pops, it can be just a little disconcerting (haha… no pun intended!) for awhile. I’ve learned to cope with this in the past years. I used to think I just needed down time… but that seems to be even more depressing. Recently I’ve found that keeping exceedingly busy afterwards, shoves me back into a happy place pretty immediately. So, after this weeks concerts… I played a church service at St. James Episcopal Church in the morning, and then judged for a Fall Piano Festival at Clavier-Werke for 6 hours. I was good and tired then, and ready to move on to the next wonderful thing!
And the next wonderful thing happens to be putting together a unique program for piano and marimba/vibes. Graeme Francis and I have constructed a really terrific program of Bach interspersed with various awesome and invigorating minimalist pieces. We first devised the program a couple of years ago and performed it at University of Western Ontario, in London, Canada. We will be performing it at UT-San Antonio this Monday and then as part of the ACMC Series in January. It’s a stunning program. I love working with percussionists. Of course, rhythm becomes the driving factor and I find that my own rhythmic chops get set on super-hyper-sensitive to really mesh with the directly visceral rhythmic impact of percussion instruments. It’s fun, and alive… and as always, it informs everything else I do. So, I’m also feeling this new rhythmic impulse creep further into my solo playing as I get back in shape for my tour. I am performing my program at a private house this Sunday (one of my favorites!) for a small crowd of 25, and I can’t wait to hear what my little break from performing will do for me! One thing I know for sure is that I’m really excited to play the program again. It’s been too long!!!
I did run through my program the other day, though, when I went to Bernard Mollberg’s Piano Restoration Shop in Blanco, TX. There, the UMHB 9-foot Steinway “D” Concert Grand is being restored. I’d say that it is being restored to its original glory, except for the fact that it’s original glory wasn’t so glorious. This is a piano from the 70’s – the so-called “dark days” of the Steinway legacy. Steinway made all sorts of crap decisions in the 70’s and this vintage piano just never sounded very good. But the great news, is that it is still a Steinway, and very amenable to rebuilding. So, this piano is not merely getting a face-lift (or a body-lift), it’s like it’s getting cloned and fitted with a whole new everything! I played the piano for a couple of hours on Wednesday and it is TERRIFIC! It will be so unbelievable nice to have a world-class instrument at my university. SO many possibilities! Wheeee!
Plus, Mollberg’s shop (and I must tell you, Mollberg is simply the best rebuilder in Texas) is divine. His land sits atop a mesa and the vista reaches out to five counties. I was blown away! (and literally too… those mesas are windy!!!). I was reminded that no matter where I do my travels, and see all the amazing things I see… Texas is still amazing country, and always matches up to the splendors everywhere else.
‘Til next time, friends!
Thursday, November 11 , 11:41 pm
Austin, TX
Hi y’all! It’s great to be back home! I’ve had an interesting week: judged fantastic pianists at the Hawaii MTNA Competition, endured a wretched seven hour red-eye flight back from Honolulu, tried to get back into my regular routine (only to find out that I have no regular routine), finalized much of the 2011 Festival planning, and spent inspired hours working with soprano Hanan Alattar on this weekends concerts. I’ll recap in reverse chronological order.
Tonight, I just got finished with a performance of the Birthday Suit(e) concert with Hanan at the University of Mary-Hardin Baylor. Geez… it was really, really good. I love working with singers, and especially a singer as remarkably emotional, communicative, exciting, and captivating as Hanan. All the songs we are doing (by composers who are celebrating BIG birthdays this year) tell amazing stories and evoke fantastic imagery. And Hanan’s stage presence is striking and electrifying. This might all sound like a marketing pitch to you, but I’m just telling you how I feel working with her. As a pianist, I get swept up in the stories and images within all kinds of music… but when I play for a singer, and the words are there to solidify those images, paired together with the soaring lines of the voice, and the sighs, gasps, explosive consonants… ahhh… it just takes me to a different place. I feel like when I play for a great singer, I’m not playing the piano at all anymore… but … I am singing. And it’s an intense and glorious feeling.
I know this still probably sounds markety-ish. I’m sorry. But, if you are reading this blog… DO NOT miss this concert. Please! Hanan is an artist of unusual musical prowess, and you will be transported and transfigured by this concert.
OK?
OK.
We also ran through the concert on Wednesday night in a new series called “Golden Connections” that ACMC is producing at Querencia Retirement Community. It’s a great little series, and the audience there is incredibly appreciative and enthusiastic. We always have a great time there, and it’s a terrific first opportunity to run the program for a captive (and captivated!) audience.
Performing a new program in Austin feels pretty darn terrific for me after being on tour. Right now, I feel like I own the stage. Now… I fully recognize that I may not always feel this way, but I’m definitely going to enjoy it while it is here. Collaborating feels easy and natural, listening is hyper-active and engaged, and my fingers are responding to just about any musical whim that my imagination can muster up. It’s totally fun, and totally liberating.
Otherwise, being home has been kind of interesting. I found myself at the end of the Hawaii trip really looking forward to coming back to Austin. I just couldn’t wait to get back to my routine. But when I got home, I found that my routine just wasn’t very established or reliable anymore, so, honestly, I felt a bit lost for a few days. It was really only once I started rehearsing with Hanan on Monday evening, that I started to feel more like myself again. I guess music is always the constant in my life, and regardless of where I am, or what time it is (the five hour time difference between Honolulu and Austin certainly didn’t help), and how I feel (whether I am tired or energized)… once I sit down and collaborate with another musician in rehearsal, everything feels just right. I feel comfortable, confident, and the time spent is valuable, rich, and very rewarding. And then I feel human.
I am so lucky.
I think that’s about it for now. Except for one more plug. ACMC is in the middle of our Annual Fundraising campaign. If you enjoy this blog, and enjoy what ACMC does… do me a big fat favor, and send us a little dough. I see what other organizations do all the time with their budgets, and I can tell you, without a doubt, that ACMC does a ton… a TON (!!!!!) of incredible musical things, for the most ridiculously reasonable amount of money. When I am asked to speak about ACMC to various other organizations and conferences, I always go through the laundry list of our activities… and it is truly staggering. I’m proud of this organization and where we are heading.
Come on… join me… be proud too… and know that your support and contribution, no matter the amount, will directly impact the musical landscape of Austin through our many educational and performance programs. We need you. Really. We do. And we will be the most respectful and responsible stewards of your money. Promise. Cross my heart.
Thanks and see you this weekend!
Thursday, November 4 , 7:48 am
Honolulu, Hawaii
Aloha, y’all! This is the leg of my tour that has been at least as much fun/vacation as it has been work. The interesting thing about traveling on tour is that the feeling is one of vacation (new places, new sights, new foods, rental cars, meeting up with friends, etc.) but one has to maintain a real sense of focus and discipline. While in Carbondale, New York, Toronto, Fredonia, Long Beach, Idyllwild, and now Honolulu, I have had to really limit myself socially to maintain my performance edge. Even though I’ve been with friends and family members who I would normally stay up all night with chatting and catching up, in these cases, I’ve been very cognizant of getting to bed early and getting enough sleep, eating well, avoiding caffeine (which to me is a party drug), avoiding alcohol, hydrating enough, eating well, and guarding my time on the day before and day of performances (to be sure to make enough time for practice, rest (naps), working out, vegging out, getting ready-time, and some relaxed quiet/focus time before performing). It’s been strange for me in some ways because, in general, I am a very ‘go with the flow’ type of person. I am generally very copacetic and usually up for anything-fun, relaxing, crazy, lazy… whatever! But surrounding concerts, I am always aware that I need to be more protective… that I have to say “no” more often, and often need to make specific requests of my friends and hosts. I must say that everyone I have been with throughout this tour has been GREAT about giving me loads of space to get in the right head-space… but it has just been weird for me to have to be so ‘demanding’!
Being in Hawai’i has been particularly difficult for setting boundaries. It is so ridiculously beautiful here! I even told my audience last Friday that I couldn’t see how they ever got anything done, being surrounded by such amazing distraction! But I also figured that, for a young pianist… if you can stay focused and get some real work done despite all these distractions… well… you can probably stay focused through anything. So, perhaps this is the perfect place to train to become a pianist! (It’s a great excuse, anyway!).
Nevertheless, I was able to have a good regimen on the day of my performance last week. I did go to bed early on Thursday night (it helped that the time is four hours behind here) and I had a good schedule on Friday: breakfast, practice, some relaxed sightseeing in the car (Matt, my husband was a terrific amateur tour guide!), nap back at the hotel, a vigorous workout, more practice and then the concert.
As with all of my concerts lately, I felt pretty darn great. Although, this concert had a few distractions that I struggled a bit with. First off, I tend to get a bit distracted when there are specific members of the audience that might make me nervous… people that I want to ‘impress.’ The great thing about being on tour is that concerts can be relatively anonymous, so the pressure to ‘impress,’ seems to be much less (for me, anyway). However, sometimes, a person shows up (usually a colleague, a teacher, someone famous, or someone from the past) that throws a different feel into the mix. In New York City, I was a little taken aback when I saw my very first boyfriend (from when I was 17 years old). I hadn’t seen him or spoken with him in close to 20 years, and although I was surprised and it was nice to see him, I must admit that the whole concert, I was very aware that he was there, and that he was a musician (composer), and that he knew how I played 20 years ago, and OMG I hope that he thinks I’m good, or at least better, and geez, I hope he doesn’t think I suck, and oopsy, that phrase wasn’t so good, did he hear that?, is he rolling his eyes right now?, is it going to be weird talking to him after… etc. etc. etc. (OK… I’m not proud that I am neurotic…really…). After the NYC concert, we chatted and he really enjoyed the concert and my concepts and I probably had no reason to be so darn self-conscious. But, also, as you might recall, this was the last concert where I was really plagued by a general sense of self-consciousness, and everything since then has been great.
In Honolulu, however, I ended up playing for a very important audience member… someone who hadn’t heard the program yet… my husband! How strange that I had played the program so often, and he still hadn’t really-really heard it. He had definitely heard it in bits and pieces, hands separated, backwards, forwards, and upside-down through my practicing… but hadn’t had the performance experience of it. So, it’s not that I was super nervous, or self-conscious… but I was definitely ‘aware’ that Matt was there, and that I definitely wanted to be impressive. So, sometimes when I try to be impressive, I get a little away from myself, or rather, too much into myself, and I try a little too hard, instead of just letting great things happen. I think I had a very good performance last week, but at the same time, I don’t think it was as free as my other performances, and felt maybe that it was a bit forced.
Also, I got the feeling that the audience was a bit more distracted than usual. I feel like I have a very good idea of how an audience feels when I am performing. For instance, in Long Beach at the outdoor concert, I just felt like that audience was so enraptured and focused, despite being outside. It was amazing! But in this Hawaii performance, I just felt that people had jimmy-legs, and a cell phone went off, and someone’s digital watch (do people still have those?) went off dutifully at 8:00, 30 minutes into my program. Then, there was also the infamous wrapper lady …(Oh, Wrapper Lady! Why? You know you have a scratchy throat! You packed the little candies! Why don’t you unwrap them and put them in a napkin ahead of time?) While playing, I just thought, “Hmmm… audience…. Where are you? Why aren’t you here with me???” And then I decided that I would just have to play this concert for me, instead of for them. It’s a weird choice, but I just didn’t want to be distracted by their distraction.
At intermission, my husband came backstage and I told him about my concern for the audience. It turns out that it wasn’t everyone who had jimmy-legs… just one 9-year old boy in the third row who was all over the place, scratching his head, looking around, jumping up and down, etc. etc., but that was kind of influencing everyone else. So, Matt went up to the poor kid at intermission and asked if he might settle down a bit for the second half. Which he did! (he probably didn’t breathe after that reproach!). And I must say, the 2nd half was really, really good and I felt again that my audience was with me the whole way. Fascinating! Thanks, Matt!!!
After the concert, Matt and I ran away to the Big Island for the rest of the weekend and returned on Tuesday for me to give a masterclass. The masterclass was really enjoyable and I am happy to report that there is some great talent here in Oahu. One interesting thing about the masterclass, though, was the audience. I had a great audience for the class (parents, younger students, college students), mostly on the account that school was out (apparently, Election Day is a day off school in Hawaii!). But, more accurately, it turns out that these young pianists came to see my masterclass on Tuesday, because they are competing in a competition on Saturday that I am judging. So, they wanted to get the low-down on what I might be listening for, and what I want to hear in a performance. Hilarious!
My guess: if they really listened to my masterclass, they found out that this is what I like to hear in a performance:
-differentiated articulation
-loads of contour phrasing
-long lines… not pretty little fragments
-an emotional impetus to everything
-character differentiation and loads of contrast
-some sort of a musical story to accompany their interpretation
-imagination
-attention (acute listening) to held sonorities
-beautiful appoggiaturas
-guts!!!
-risk-taking!!!
So there.
I judge the MTNA competition all day on Saturday and then catch a red-eye flight back to Austin. I really can’t wait to get home. I’ll have a super busy week preparing fantastic music for the ACMC concerts next week (with one of my most favorite sopranos, Hanan Alattar (you will LOVE her!!!), and then I will be getting ready for my Eastern Europe final leg of my tour.
Thursday, October 28, 9:20 pm
Honolulu, Hawaii
I had such a great time in California! First off, my concert experiences just seem to be getting better and better. I really feel like I have hit a stride and that all the issues that plagued me at the beginning of the tour just have disappeared. It’s an incredibly liberating feeling, and I just think that whatever I am learning through this experience is going to be absolutely transformative as I continue my musical life. What an amazing thing!
On Sunday I had the incredible experience of playing an open-air concert at the Long Beach Museum of Art. The piano was placed on a stage in the middle of a lawn between two buildings, just east of the beach. I certainly had my doubts when the setting was explained to me, but I went in with an open mind, and boy was I pleasantly surprised! The acoustics worked beautifully (both buildings served as a great baffle for the sound to project), the weather cooperated uncannily (threatening clouds without a drop from the sky), and the audience was absolutely terrific. I would normally expect an outdoor concert to be very ‘come-n-go,’ but this audience was ridiculously attentive. They were quiet, still, attentive, and very appreciative. I wasn’t sure that it would be possible under the circumstances to actually connect significantly with an audience, but I was amazed that in the end, it was possible.
One thing that I thought was really interesting: I have been exhilarated by the experimentation with repertoire choice, order of repertoire, and the building of a program of works without interruption. But, playing in Long Beach added a whole new concept into the mix. Traditional piano recitals are always performed in beautiful pristine halls with advantageous acoustics. In the case of this concert, I was really delighted in the effect of playing in an unexpected place. Taking the piano recital out of the ‘precious’ surroundings, gave it a different kind of life. It was a thrilling experience to play while feeling the ocean breeze run through my hair, hear the sea-gulls (and motorcycles!) add an obligato counterpoint to the music, and be in the midst of a subtle but constantly changing environment. To me, and I think to the audience, it gave the music a truly alive quality… and allowed us all to be incredibly in the moment, taking in all the senses as they occurred throughout the event. It was a really really special experience. I performed my program a couple of days later in a much more traditional space (in Idyllwild, CA), but felt that I was able to bring the spontaneity of the beach-picnic concert to the concert hall. It’s all part of trying to create that transformative experience within the recital, and I feel like there are more and more elements that I can bring to the table.
Of course, a lot of this concertizing means connecting with musical colleagues and friends. This week was a particular treat because I got to hang out a ton with my good, the fantastic conductor and arts administrator, Andreas Mitisek. Highlights were: strategizing the ACMC 30th Anniversary Celebration, making plans for a celebratory ACMC perform-a-thon, masterminding a Philip Glass collaboration, and my all time favorite…. playing four-hand piano music first thing every morning. Andreas and I have been friends for about 12 years now… we first met when I playing the piano for Austin Lyric Opera and he conducted Strauss’ Salome. We’ve certainly worked on some awesome projects together (The Diary of Anne Frank, and Schubert’s Winterreise are a few), but when it comes down to it… some of the most fun we’ve had is just sightreading Mozart Sonatas for Piano four-hands. Talk about spontaneous music making… what a hoot!
OK… that’s about it for now. I’m in Honolulu tonight and will play University of Hawaii tomorrow. The great thing about being here is… well… it’s Hawaii! Dang… this place is beautiful! But I’m also thrilled because this is the only leg of my tour that Matt, my husband, has been able to join me on. This is sure to be a great time… and interestingly enough, it will be Matt’s first time hearing my recital since the beginning of my tour! Should be a blast.
‘Til next time.
Sunday, October 24, 7:36
Long Beach, California
Today I have a 3:00pm concert. By and large, my concerts have all been in the evening (and will continue to be). When they are at night, it gives me all day to prepare, which means I can take things very slowly. But today, prep needs to be a bit more condensed.
I’ve been lying in bed for the last 45 minutes going through my program with my eyes shut: seeing myself performing, envisioning the keyboard and my fingers as I play, and solidifying the memory in the process. I’ve always felt that visualization away from the keyboard is one of the most important steps in memorization. It’s when you find out if you really know what you are doing, because if you can play your music without the aid of the piano, well then, you can certainly do it at the piano. Visualization creates an incredible sense of confidence and assurance.
Which made me think…
Someone at the Texas Guitar Quartet Concert yesterday (which was great! And packed!) came up to me, told me they were enjoying my blog, but also thought that I was much ‘cooler’ than I portrayed myself to be, and that I must really exude myself as the ‘fearless leader’ at all times. I told him that it was OK to be fearless, but it was OK to be honest too.
I think we often think that performing artists are super human… that the best don’t deal with nerves or fear or insecurity. That their confidence is without bounds and that they live for the stage. I would never dare to say that there aren’t artists like this, but I don’t think that this is the norm. And I DO believe that the confidence, security, and fearlessness, if achieved, is achieved through experience and process. I was realizing that it might sound strange to my readers for me to be so candid about this process, but to me, I’m so extremely happy to be sharing it, because I feel like I am feeling the transformation in the midst of this experience. If I just told y’all that I had another awesome performance that I felt super about (like all the others), well… there wouldn’t be much room for that transformation, would there?
This is not a gossip column. But I remember rehearsing in a hall shortly after one of my favorite pianists performed a fantastic concert. When I went to practice, I noticed there was a note on the inside of the piano. It said:
Breathe
Sing
Stay in the moment
Don’t rush
I was shocked that this person… this esteemed artist… would have to remind himself of these things. I would never have guessed that he had any nerves of any kind or any doubts. And yet… this was his little method of relaxing, and staying calm in the midst of his performing. It taught me a lot about honesty, acceptance, and resilience.
So, I’m going to keep on being honest about this process… not so that it shows that I’m a lesser musician or artist (the last thing I’d want is for you to feel like I’m less worthy of respect!) but so that it can demonstrate to you the process that almost very artist goes through on the road to self-assurance and reliable brilliance. Stay on for the ride… it’s a good one! I’m still a fearless leader… just a calculating one!
Need to get back to visualization again. Then I’ll practice, go to the space to try out the piano, go to the gym, eat, take it easy, and play-play-play!
Thursday October 21, 10:58 pm
Austin, TX
First off, I just wanted to thank some of you for the comments about my blog. I’m really excited that you are enjoying my writing and learning something from what I have to share. I certainly am learning a ton from this experience and the naturally enthusiastic teacher inside of me is thrilled that others can benefit as well. I welcome all comments, of course! Email me if you’d like at michelle@austinchambermusic.org. I may not answer right away, but I definitely will read!
And speaking of that natural teacher inside of me… I have really been enjoying my masterclass experiences while on the road. Each place I have performed, I have given a masterclass (a public lesson to multiple students), which have been fascinating and really fun. I really love giving masterclasses… it’s a bit like speed dating, I imagine. Both people have just a short time to make a great impression, show their best attributes, be funny and charming, and leave a strong impression. On my end, I love the challenge of making a BIG difference in a young musician’s playing in a super short period of time. Certainly, you can’t fix everything, but I find that I tend to focus on a few really important ideals:
1) First of all, I always start a masterclass with the “RULES OF GUEST ARTIST MASTERCLASSES” (very dramatically stated). Actually, there’s just one rule. I tell students that for the next twenty to thirty minutes, they must do everything I tell them to do to the greatest conviction of their powers, but after I leave, their teacher is the boss and they need to do whatever they tell them to do (no, “But Dr. Schumann said….”). The fact of the matter is: I’m not trying to be dictatorial, I’m simply trying to impress on them that an idea is only possible if we really believe in it… if we really commit to it. Only then can we be sure if it can actually work or not. And in this exercise, I try to make them realize that their practice time needs to be about experimenting with many, many different ideas (original, borrowed, or stolen) and it’s in that experimentation that we learn to regularly open the doors of interpretive possibilities.
2) For me as a listener and audience member, I am most interested in being transported… being emotionally moved. With young musicians, the biggest challenge is to get them to find a way to make this happen. So many musicians are musical and have generally good ideas. But what I try to get young musicians to understand is that whatever they are trying to communicate, generally, they’re not trying hard enough. It takes tremendous effort to be convincing… to live the music, and not just “play it.” In masterclasses, we sometimes take apart a phrase one motive at a time and see how it’s all constructed to ultimately discover what it is that is being said. I’m pretty picky, and I ask a lot of questions (which young musicians generally don’t like to answer), but when I can plug into their imagination, exciting things begin to happen. And the great thing in a masterclass is, when exciting things begin to happen, everyone hears it. Then the feedback loop is immediate and extremely gratifying…. audience is happy, performer is happy, and teacher is giddy-happy!
3) Well, I’m not sure what is next. Frankly, everything is next. Rhythm, articulation, voicing, posture, sound origination and development, touch, weight, arm rotation, technique… oh goodness, there’s no end! But, obviously, I can only choose one or two of these topics to explore with a student publicly. And in the end, it’s still all about achieving the ultimate communicative aspect of performing.
So, this is first time in my blog that I am actually writing form Austin. I’ve been home for a week and in that time I have been pretty busy working on festival planning. More about that later, but I can tell you that I’ve been in touch with dozens of amazing artists and this year’s festival which will definitely be a blockbuster!
I arrived back in Austin in a bit of a whirlwind last week and performed for UT Forum on Friday after catching a plane in New York at 6:00 am. It’s not my favorite thing in the world, performing 2 hours after flying (there’s something weird about the dehydration from flying that makes playing the piano feel totally foreign, esp. on international flights), but I still had a great time. I performed just half my program (2nd half) and then answered some terrific questions. It was a super exchange, and I sold a boat-load of CDs afterwards, so that was a hoot!
In general, I feel like I am learning a tremendous amount from this whole experience and feel like my playing is getting to a level that I might not have been able to achieve without this particular regime. In retrospect, I am just so grateful for the wonderfully integrated experience I had last week in NY, and I’m looking forward to more repeat experiences like that. Practice this week has been great… calm, aware, inspiring, and easy. I can’t wait to play the program again! On Saturday I leave for L.A. right after the ACMC concert featuring the Texas Guitar Quartet at the Mexic-Arte Museum at 2:00. My flight leaves at 5:00 pm, so there should be plenty of time to take in their fantastic concert! You should too! In California, I will play at the Long Beach Museum of Art and then onto Idyllwild Arts Academy where I will perform and do masterclasses.
Until the next time!!!
Friday October 15, 12:04 am
Ahhh… so many stories to tell! But since it is midnight and I’m going to have to leave at 3:30 am to catch a flight back to Austin, I’ll have to focus on the highlights.
First off, I had a fantastic experience playing my program tonight at the State University of New York at Fredonia. Finally, everything seemed to align. My headspace was terrific… I felt like I was ‘being’ the music, as opposed to ‘playing’ the music. All my resources were directed at communicating the various stories and emotions inherent in the music and I felt totally present, engaged, and alive. Man…. I just love that.
This was the fourth live performance of the program, and it was the first one that really had the feeling I was going for. Even last week in NYC, I just wasn’t that pleased. Besides the outcome of the concert (audience seemed to love it and I had some great exchanges) I just really didn’t have that good of a time myself. I was still caught in the mindset of trying to control everything and intellectually trying to plan and coach myself the entire time. Ugh. The one good thing is that I don’t think anyone had a clue that I was not enjoying myself. People commented on my total engagement and the passion that I brought to the music. Well. Bully for me.
But tonight! Ahhhh… tonight! There was no such crap. Just purely engaged music making. I’m so relieved! It’s so nice to have fun and to actually enjoy myself despite the pressure, stress, and impending pitfalls of live solo performance. And it’s nice because this whole tour, I’ve been trying to analyze what I can do differently in my process to hopefully gain a better experience… and now… I get to look back on what got me to this place and how I made this experience happen. Here are a few thoughts:
1) Well, obviously, I can’t discount the fact that I’ve now had several repeats of the program in similar performance circumstances. There is absolutely no way to reconstruct the performance atmosphere in your practice room, so the only way to learn about how to manage the live setting, is to just get out there again and again and again. Now…. I do perform a LOT! But what I’m learning is that it’s not about the amount of performances of any program, but the amount of performances of a particular program, if you want to get to a place of comfort with that performance.
2) I brought a totally different aesthetic to my practicing this week. As opposed to previous weeks where probably 85% of my practicing was geared towards “saving my ass in the face of disaster” and 15% was “happy music time,” I switched the proportions dramatically. I spent about 80% of my practice creating stories for my pieces… like little films to go along with each work… I really tried to act out the films in my head while playing the music … and truly feel the emotional impact of the music in real time. In fact, I started talking while I was playing the music and suggesting a simple script. And maybe this sounds ridiculous… but it wasn’t ridiculous. It was awesome, awesome, awesome! I still gave myself about 20% nuts-and-bolts practice, but when it came time to perform, I was no longer double guessing myself, but rather living the imagined scene. There just wasn’t any room in my brain to not be engaged with the music.
3) And now, a couple of interesting physiological things. I had been taking Inderol (a beta-blocker) for my previous solo performances. It helps my heart from racing and prevents the monster butterflies in my belly. But, I have really begun to see that my problem isn’t physiological. My fingers don’t shake (nor do my legs), I don’t get cold and clammy hands, and my breath isn’t out of control when I perform. My issue is in my silly brain, only. So, tonight I figured that I would just blow off the drugs. And it was so nice to just be ‘whatever’ I was going to be. And what do you know? I didn’t have the heart racing or the butterflies… but I did have a very imaginative brain… and maybe the Inderol was hampering that a bit before? I don’t know…but I’m very happy with the switch.
4) This might be very, very random… but I went to the gym about four hours before my performance. I ran for about 20 minutes and did some squats and free weights. I’m not sure if it was a deciding factor in my good mindset for my performance, but dangit… it felt great! Some good blood-flow and a bit of a sweat and I think it cleared my head a good bit too. Who knows? But I think the pre-concert workout might be a keeper.
I do want to share about my super-tastic Canadian family Thanksgiving (which, I haven’t partaken in since leaving Canada 14 years ago… and now, strangely, only after I just became an American!) and I also want to tell you about how much fun I am having giving masterclasses everywhere I go… but for now, I need to rest my head for a few hours before being homeward bound. Tomorrow, I fly at 6:00 am and arrive in Austin at 10:45am, just before playing my program at 1:30 for the lovely folks at the UT Forum. Should be another interesting experience!
Friday October 8, 12:15 am
I’m in New York City now and having a really interesting time. Got off my flight and headed straight to Lincoln Center to meet my sister for a concert with New York Phil: Joshua Bell playing Sibelius Violin Concerto, and a world premier by Magnus Lindberg.
OK, I can’t write too much here, because I do need to sleep, with tomorrow being a concert day and all… but I can’t resist some amazing observations.
First of all… I hear all the time from people in Austin, “well, they would never do that in New York.” This is a big thing to say if you don’t like something in the arts elsewhere… point to New York and say “pooh-pooh, tsk-tsk.” I heard it this summer from a concert goer who absolutely hates that I talk to audiences, introducing music, before and during concerts. OK… I know that by and large, people like my introductions… they tell me they like hearing about the music… they like learning about what to listen to… and they like having more of a personal connection to the artists playing the music. But, one particular concert goer sent me a ravenous email this summer telling me that this habit of talking during concerts just needed to stop… and that they “simply do not do this sort of thing in New York.”
So, I had a nice chuckle to myself when NY Phil conductor, Alan Gilbert (really great) came out on the podium and spoke at length about the music we were about to hear… along with music excerpts from the orchestra. It was great… informative, but kind of casual and informal, with a few endearing personal quips here and there. He spoke about sound, and crafting motifs in Magnus Lindberg’s piece (Kraft) and Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun. The audience was totally attentive… rapt on his words and laughing lightly at all of his little jokes. Oh New York audiences! What have you come to!!! How do you put up with this???
I found it fascinating! The orchestra played beautifully and I, along with the rest of the audience, was grateful for the insight into the music.
Another amazing observance: after the first movement of the Sibelius Violin Concerto, about three-quarters of the audience immediately erupted into enthusiastic applause. What??? Clapping in-between movements? This would never happen in New York!!! Wait a minute…. I’m in New York. And I’m telling you, this was not an uneducated audience. This was an audience who knew that it is irresistible to not clap after the first movement of the Sibelius Violin Concerto. It ends with so much excitement… and Josh Bell played it virtuosically and with huge power and command. How do you not applaud that in the moment? The audience did not clap between the 2nd and 3rd movements (which ended softly and calmly) and then erupted at the end.
You know what I think? I think somewhere along the line, this New York audience was told that it’s OK to clap after a movement that feels like it deserves some accolades. Just go for it. And they did… and it felt totally right. Good for you, New York! Keepin’ it real!
Tomorrow is my New York recital and I’m pretty pumped. Lots to take to the table with all this reflection and inspiration. Can’t wait to share.
Thursday, October 7 2:15 pm
AUS-JFK flight
It’s been a good week of reflection and preparation for my New York concert this Friday. I’ve been thinking a lot about my frame of mind during performance. I’ve pretty much decided that the double-guessing crap needs to stop. It’s hard to make it stop, though, because part of the practice preparation involves ‘preparing for the worst,’ with the idea that if you prepare for the worst (i.e. have a massive memory slip) that you will be prepared to just pick it up and carry on in a blink of an eye. But, how do you prepare for the worst and then pretend like the worst isn’t possibly going to happen? It’s almost as if you need to practice in a certain way (for comfort, safety, survival) and then forget about it… totally… and in the moment, just let the music speak with the widest imagination possible.
I heard a WNYC podcast “RadioLab” a while back that focused on the mindset of successful athletes. They did a study on competing athletes to see how they thought on and off the competition grounds. They found that winning athletes were ultimately superstars not simply because they were faster or stronger than their competitors, but because they could ultimately psyche themselves out by telling themselves they were unbelievably fantastic and truly believe they were the greatest athlete in their field on the planet. The RadioLab folks wanted to test how these athletes thought off the field and gave them an “Honesty Test” of sorts. You’ll have to check out the podcast yourself for details, but essentially, the athletes were given a series of questions… questions that, by and large, are embarrassing to answer truthfully, but ultimately prove the honesty level of the person in question. Overwhelmingly, they discovered that successful winning athletes were also big time liars. Go figure. What it proved in the end, is that the ability to tell ourselves that we rock the planet, and believe it, gives us the power to overcome huge obstacles. Mind over matter. Easier said than done.
Well, the last thing I want is to be a dishonest person, but I think it would behoove me to start telling myself over and over again that I am super ridiculously awesome at the piano and that I can do things that no other person could dream of doing on my instrument. I think it would feel a bit artificial at first, and if it really sunk in-which is key to the success, I think-I could turn into the most ego-maniacal person that ever lived. However, it seems to me that “preparing for the worst” is no less artificial. I mean, the worst never really happens. It certainly never happens in my practice room and my performances are overall pretty darn successful. So, it seems that I’m already lying to myself by expecting to suck, when I just don’t really suck. And performing in a way which I simply avoid sucking just frankly isn’t very fun. So, the next few days are going to be about me thinking, and expecting me to be the biggest baddest piano rockstar that ever lived. Awesome.
I arrive in New York at 5:00pm and will pop on the subway to meet my sister (who lives in Canada) at Lincoln Center to catch New York Phil. with Joshua Bell at 7:30. He’s playing Sibelius, which is totally my favorite violin concerto. There is also a world premiere of Magnus Lindberg’s. Should be great. It’s all reminding me of a few years back when I studied at Tanglewood. Josh Bell played Beethoven with Boston Symphony that summer and hung out with all the ‘fellows’ afterwards, and it seems to me that a lot of Magus Lindberg’s music was performed that summer. I remembered just loving it, so tonight should be super fun. More later…
Saturday, October 2 12:05 am
Just trying to settle down after a pretty jam-packed day. Calming down after a concert is a bit of a trick for me. I think there is something about the snapping and popping gymnastics of the brain that occurs during a concert that is simply hard to put the brakes on. I’m always wired after a concert… and that can lead to late nights!
I started practicing this morning in the hall at about 9am. The hall at Southern Illinois University is small but nicely resonant. The piano, a Steinway Model B (7-foot) was receptive and had a rich sound in the mid and low registers. The very top register seemed to be a little dead, but to be honest: I’m not one to spend a huge amount of time complaining about pianos. It’s just frankly such a crap shoot that I’m usually relieved and thrilled to have an instrument that is relatively problem-free. My greatest effort then goes into making the piano sound as terrific as I possibly can. Any effort used to pooh-pooh the piano and complain just takes away from the effort that I have left to make a great sound, so I let it go… quickly… and move on.
On this tour, what I am most curious about is the progression of my performance experience. As I mentioned before, I am so used to ‘one-off’ performances. I learn a huge program, perform it once or twice, and then move onto the next huge program. Here, I’ll get to experience the same program over and over again, and I’m just so curious about how that will change things for me. In order to really document the progression, I’ll have to be very candid. And, if you want to know the truth … musicians are just not often very open about how they feel about their own performances. We’re taught very early on to keep that private. I remember having a performance when I was very young and not being very happy with it. I cried afterward at the reception and my teacher pulled me aside and growled, “never-ever let your audience see your tears!!!.” And frankly, since then, I’ve always maintained, at minimum, a ‘satisfied yet modest’ impression after my concerts. But, for the sake of this blog… I’m going to kind of let the cat out of the bag for a few months and see what comes of it.
I will admit that solo piano performance is an animal unto itself. I’ve reached an excellent amount of comfort in my collaborative playing (even soloing with orchestra), but the comfy solo piano performance experience still evades me. I think it has a lot to do with just simply being alone on stage and learning to not be self-conscious, even though eyes (and ears) are all on you… and only you. Through this tour, I’m kind of on the search for that performance holy grail: the feeling that you are at one with the music and that nothing could get in the way of that. It makes me crrrrazy that I’m not there yet, but I’m hoping that I will get closer in the coming months.
So, you must be wondering… what is the issue? For me, I’m pretty sure it’s not in the preparation… it’s not in the lack of ability… it’s not in the lack of guts. I have a problem that a lot of musicians have: my brain is evil. It likes to play tricks on me… no matter how prepared I am and how well I know the music. Take for instance the first piece on my program… the Bach Chromatic Fantasy. OK… I memorized the crap out of this piece. It is strategically analyzed and fully intellectually integrated into my consciousness, the muscle memory is very reliable, and I have built a dozen or so “safety” places that assures survival at all costs. I can play it fast, I can play it slow, I can play it backwards one phrase at a time. I’m pretty sure there are no stones left unturned. And yet… this is the conversation that my brain tries to engage in while I am performing this piece:
Michelle’s Brain: “Oh… that was pretty good… but do you really know the next chord?”
Michelle the Performer: “Shut the hell up… yes I know it… there…”
MB: “OK, whatever… what about this upcoming scale… is it the harmonic minor?… or the melodic minor?… or is that the crazy morphed major plus a lowered seventh scale?”
MP: Arrrghhhhhh! ummmmm… the crazy morphed major plus a lowered seventh scale…ummmm… there! Shut uuuuup!
etc.
I have a problem with double guessing, and when it happens, it kind of takes some of the fun out of my performance experience. But, then there are times, when I am just totally engrossed and there is no thought process… just singing, imagining, listening, exploring, and story-telling. And that’s fun. The other way… not so much. On the bright side, I feel like I do know my music well enough to combat my brain, and even when I am combating the banter, I feel like I am still able to say something musically substantial. But, frankly, this is about my experience, and if the audience is having a good time, well… I should be having a good time too! So, my journey towards that has begun.
Tonight’s performance had plenty of moments of that head-struggle. The Bach had a ton of the above mentioned evil conversation. Usually about 10 seconds of that alternating with 30-40 seconds of musical bliss. The Corigliano Fantasy on an Ostinato and Mozart C Minor Fantasy both felt remarkably present and in the moment, and I thought I was in heaven when I started the McIntyre Butterflies and Bobcats. My head was so clear and I felt so calm and amazingly present. But then I acknowledged how great I felt (always a mistake), and my evil inner twin came out again and bugged the crap out of me for the next three-quarters of the piece. Dangit! Second half… all felt pretty great, but the Chopin Fantasy just felt too much on the edge. Again, I know this piece, but when my brain starts doubting me, it just get so exhausting and annoying. Thank goodness those moments are surrounded by really inspired music making, because I would go crazy. How it’s seeming to manifest in the Chopin is that I just start playing certain passages much too fast and sometimes my sound gets a bit hasty-feeling because of it. My goal: to just be present with this piece that I love so much… to hear and enjoy each sound that I make and respect the small notes individually as they go by instead of seeing them as a wash of technique.
One thing I learned tonight. Despite some of my brain struggle, the audience really loved the performance. I got a great ovation and afterward students, faculty, and other audiences members let me know what a special experience it was for them. What I’d like to do is carry this realization with me: even when I am struggling inside my head, my music is still coming out and it is affecting people in great ways. People are enjoying it and having a good time (even if I think I’m a disaster). So, maybe I can learn to let go, since it’s not really as desperate a situation as I feel it is in the moment. Can I learn to trust myself and my process? Can I learn to just let go and let it be? Can I learn to be the music, instead of do the music? That’s what I going to go for…
Thursday, September 30 11:30 pm
It always seems to go this way. I’ve been thinking all day that I’m going to start a blog today to chronicle my fall tour, and all day I’ve been thinking there’s plenty of time to sit down and write. And now, after a full day of travel, practicing, and surviving a lovely 4-hour allergy attack in the midst of it all, I’m now getting to share my thoughts at 11:30 pm. Well, I suppose it would have been unusual if it were to have happened any other way.
So, I’m on a solo piano tour this year. You might ask… what for…. why now? As many people know, in addition to being the Artistic Director of Austin Chamber Music Center, I am also Associate Professor of Piano at University of Mary Hardin Baylor. After 7 years of teaching there, I received a semester-long sabbatical with the express purpose of me getting’ out there and making some heads roll. So, I am on the road, off and on this August – December, promoting the solo CD, Imaginations, that I recorded and released a year ago. No panicking though! I’m still firmly rooted in Austin and doing all the things you’re hoping I’m still doing… only more! The story of my life…
I was really happy to play my solo program through, pretty unexpectedly, this past Wednesday. Margaret Perry at the Austin Lyric Opera invited me to give a little talk at her new series, “Insights” (talks by creative leaders in Austin.) I began introducing my program and saying that I was going to play parts of it. After my intro, the group of 30 or so people begged me to play the whole program, which I was more than happy to do.
You see, I’m trying out something new these days and I’m excited and encouraged by the intrigue that it is generating. I’ve taken a diverse group of pieces, mostly “fantasies,” from all different eras and placed them together in some un-conventional ways. What’s the impetus behind it? A few things:
1) I love new music, but sometimes I get frustrated by the fright-factor that new music often elicits. I wanted to create a program that places works by classic composers right next to music created during my lifetime and try to demonstrate that the pieces are not so different from one another. I’m exploring the Fantasy genre, because it is a genre that exists in all eras, and it was the preferred genre for experimentation and ‘out-of-the-box’ thinking. Many times, the Fantasy is the most radical musical projections of a composer. So, to place the radical works of Bach, Mozart, and Chopin, right next to the works of John Adams, Fazil Say, John Corigliano, David McIntyre, and Philip Glass, seemed to me a great way of breaking down barriers.
2) It seems to be a pretty conventional thing for pianists to order their recital programs strictly chronological. I’m not entirely sure why… but the standard protocol is usually something like: Bach, Mozart (or Beethoven), Chopin (or Schubert, or Brahms), then Prokofiev. I decided to create a program that destroys those expectations and mixes it all up. Bach starts out the program, but then I jump back and forth between then and now. Bach-Corigliano-Mozart-McIntyre-Say-Adams-Chopin-Glass. It’s a totally different experience, and in my mind, I feel like it binds the past and the present in a comforting and almost inevitable way.
3) OK, don’t get me wrong here. I think applause is a good thing. Strike that, I love applause. But I sometimes feel like I wish there were applause when “you’re not allowed to applaud there!” and I sometimes wish we could just go off in silence when nevertheless “it is now time to applaud!” Sometimes I feel like the applause disrupts the moment… takes us outside of the music and forces us to acknowledge the “doing” instead of the “feeling.” I decided to design a program so that I talk in the beginning to introduce the music, but once the music starts, one piece morphs into the next for the entire first and second halves. So, I try to create a space and keep that space and not let it be disrupted by thunderous hand-slapping when it doesn’t really work. It also helps me connect the ‘old music’ to the ‘new music’ in ways that are subtle and sometimes not immediately distinguishable… which I love.
4) Finally, if you have been to my concerts before, you know that I pretty much abhor the mentality of the “artist as untouchable.” I feel that what we do is highly personal, and the best thing we could ever hope for in playi
