The past month has been quite an exercise in discipline, obedience, and perseverance, and it's been fun to share about the progress I've made as a result of preparing for this competition. Yesterday, as I was running my program for the umpteenth time, I had a moment after I played a piece and said to myself, "Wow. That was fun!"
To be able to play something difficult without the burden of difficulty is one of the most joyous things I've ever experienced as a guitarist. I imagine it feels like being on the course of a marathon and not feeling fatigued, skipping and jumping to the finish line.
God continues to affirm me through this process. This morning, our pastor talked about David, a harpist whose skill, heart, and character led him to play music with healing power and be called "a man after God's own heart." I was reminded that with this investment in my skill, God will continue to open doors in my career, and that he is satisfied with me right here and right now, before I have even set foot onto the competition stage.
"Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will serve before kings; he will not serve before obscure men." -Proverbs 22:29
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
La Joia by Vicente Asencio
"La Joia" means "the joy" in Catalan, the native language of Vicente Asencio, an obscure Spanish composer whose music I have come to adore. His music is filled with rich French Impressionist harmonies (a la Debussy and Ravel) mixed with the valor and precision of Spanish flamenco rhythms. You can almost hear the castanets, imagine the dancers on stage, and feel as though you're observing a private moment of romantic tenderness in the melodic interludes. This is not a perfect take, but just wanted to share. It's the last piece on my preliminary round program.
When I first learned this movement I didn't feel much joy due to its difficulty. It seemed more to me like the joy that results at the conclusion of some sort of crucible, hard-earned and not flippant or happy-go-lucky at all. This has really made me reevaluate the real meaning of what joy is- that it is something that does not come easily, but is the result of one sacrifice that was made for us on a cross long ago. The result is a blissful freedom that is sweet and exhilarating all at once.
When I first learned this movement I didn't feel much joy due to its difficulty. It seemed more to me like the joy that results at the conclusion of some sort of crucible, hard-earned and not flippant or happy-go-lucky at all. This has really made me reevaluate the real meaning of what joy is- that it is something that does not come easily, but is the result of one sacrifice that was made for us on a cross long ago. The result is a blissful freedom that is sweet and exhilarating all at once.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
An exercise in tenacity
I suppose there is no point in setting a goal for yourself if you don't really go for it and do everything that you can think of to get yourself there. I read the pianist Lang Lang's autobiography earlier this year, and the determination that he exhibited to get himself into the best conservatory in China, albeit forced by his obsessive and domineering father, included practicing into the wee hours of the night with no heat, living in poverty to pay for piano lessons, and being separated from his beloved mother from early childhood to live in Beijing near better teachers. I found it hard to fathom wanting anything that badly in life. Some consider me a pretty hard worker, but my work ethic is nothing compared to his story and the story of so many other determined musicians out there.
With less than two weeks left until my competition, I am struggling with staying motivated and inspired. It comes and goes, varying with factors as arbitrary as my mood, the weather, the condition of my nails, and what I ate for breakfast. For the time being, I'm making my own efforts to do prepare my best, which includes slow practice, mental practice, small sections, running the pieces in their entirety, videorecording and critiquing myself, and scheduling extra lessons with my teacher, who was kind enough to see me all the way until next week. This week, I'm giving a few informal performances to friends who are willing to sit through 12 minutes of guitar music and hopefully make me a little nervous so I know what to expect when the pressure is on.
Undoubtedly one of the harder things about this competition is that the preliminary round is in front of a jury of about 5 judges in a normal classroom where you can see their faces and expressions and hear them writing stuff while you play. This can be really nerve-racking for me. Ironically, I'd much rather play for an audience of 1000 people where you are alone on a stage, there is physical space to separate you from the audience, the world can disappear, and the crowd at least appreciates your effort even if you make mistakes. With competitions, there is very little grace in that regard and it is harder to focus on simply expressing yourself through the music because you know that their only job is to critique you and determine whether you deserve to get to the next round.
So today I did a funny exercise. I turned the iMovie camera on, and staged my entrance into the room 7 or 8 times. I imagined how I would feel right before walking into the room and tried to make myself a little nervous. This actually worked as I felt a little more tense and noticed my heart beating slightly faster. I walked to my chair, sat down, got settled, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I started the first piece and stopped after about 10 seconds. With an instrument as naked as the guitar, any tension caused by nervousness in your hands can really alter the sound of your playing. Tensed right hand fingertips will lead to a harsher, thinner sound and less accuracy in plucking the correct strings at the right time. Tension in the left hand can make you buzz, slide off a string by accident, make your stretches less flexible, or cause you to completely forget where you are going. These are things that have all happened to me before, and the goal of this exercise was to help train my body to deal with it better. Though I felt silly imagining the judges sitting in my living room and giving a fake hello and smile to them, by the last time I went through with the exercise, I felt a good rhythm and played the first 10 seconds with much more ease than I did the first time. My dog found this whole shenanigan to be very curious, lifting her head and perking up her ears whenever I would walk out of the room, and going back to her nap on the couch whenever I started playing.
I will probably never run a marathon during my lifetime, nor do I have the desire to do so, but this certainly feels like a marathon- and right now I feel like walking. Which is perfectly fine, right? Maybe for just one mile?
With less than two weeks left until my competition, I am struggling with staying motivated and inspired. It comes and goes, varying with factors as arbitrary as my mood, the weather, the condition of my nails, and what I ate for breakfast. For the time being, I'm making my own efforts to do prepare my best, which includes slow practice, mental practice, small sections, running the pieces in their entirety, videorecording and critiquing myself, and scheduling extra lessons with my teacher, who was kind enough to see me all the way until next week. This week, I'm giving a few informal performances to friends who are willing to sit through 12 minutes of guitar music and hopefully make me a little nervous so I know what to expect when the pressure is on.
Undoubtedly one of the harder things about this competition is that the preliminary round is in front of a jury of about 5 judges in a normal classroom where you can see their faces and expressions and hear them writing stuff while you play. This can be really nerve-racking for me. Ironically, I'd much rather play for an audience of 1000 people where you are alone on a stage, there is physical space to separate you from the audience, the world can disappear, and the crowd at least appreciates your effort even if you make mistakes. With competitions, there is very little grace in that regard and it is harder to focus on simply expressing yourself through the music because you know that their only job is to critique you and determine whether you deserve to get to the next round.
So today I did a funny exercise. I turned the iMovie camera on, and staged my entrance into the room 7 or 8 times. I imagined how I would feel right before walking into the room and tried to make myself a little nervous. This actually worked as I felt a little more tense and noticed my heart beating slightly faster. I walked to my chair, sat down, got settled, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I started the first piece and stopped after about 10 seconds. With an instrument as naked as the guitar, any tension caused by nervousness in your hands can really alter the sound of your playing. Tensed right hand fingertips will lead to a harsher, thinner sound and less accuracy in plucking the correct strings at the right time. Tension in the left hand can make you buzz, slide off a string by accident, make your stretches less flexible, or cause you to completely forget where you are going. These are things that have all happened to me before, and the goal of this exercise was to help train my body to deal with it better. Though I felt silly imagining the judges sitting in my living room and giving a fake hello and smile to them, by the last time I went through with the exercise, I felt a good rhythm and played the first 10 seconds with much more ease than I did the first time. My dog found this whole shenanigan to be very curious, lifting her head and perking up her ears whenever I would walk out of the room, and going back to her nap on the couch whenever I started playing.
I will probably never run a marathon during my lifetime, nor do I have the desire to do so, but this certainly feels like a marathon- and right now I feel like walking. Which is perfectly fine, right? Maybe for just one mile?
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