I'm usually not the first to jump on the bandwagon about anything. Especially things media related, like TV shows, big movie openings, the latest gadgets, and popular internet tools. I sort of take my time, see what sticks and what doesn't, and get into something like four seasons (i.e. 24) or two years later. Sometimes I just crave the bliss of quiet after a busy day.
As an aspiring artist, it's now more important than ever that I keep up with media trends and utilize those which can help my career and put me on the cutting edge. This is where I often fail. I'm not great at promoting and marketing myself, but I've gotten somewhat comfortable with the concept. My problem is now that the tools by which one does so are changing so quickly that once I settle into a groove with one thing (like having a functional website), the next thing is taking off.
Well, here are some ideas that I thought about today which have been brought to my attention by various media-savvy friends of mine.
1. YouTube. Upload current videos of various pieces to amass a following and therefore publicize your name for concert attendance.
2. Twitter. Tweet your current musical endeavors, upcoming concerts, and latest musings to help people get to know you as a person.
3. Blogging. Clearly, I'm on this one! But I never meant for it to be read for the general public. That is, I choose the setting where it doesn't come up on google searches, although of course I know that everything on the internet is fair game. At least to my knowledge, it is mainly read by my circle of friends and family. Making it a public blog linked to my website where I continue writing about my current range of topics (the intersection between my spirituality and my life as a musician, funny or important personal anecdotes, particularly interesting encounters with art/food) has been suggested and I'm still not sure about that. (If you are a stranger reading my blog, please speak now or forever hold your peace.)
4. Facebook. Yeah I'm on this one, isn't the whole world? But the more that my social circles collide on it, the less I want it to reveal about myself personally. And granted, if someone sees you perform and actually bothers to look you up on facebook, I suppose this means they want to be a part of your network in a more personal way. Connecting with your audience is a goal held by most musicians, so in theory this would be a great thing. I even asked a stranger in the audience at one of my concerts in NY how he heard about the event, and he mumbled quietly, "Facebook." But, I still don't feel that comfortable adding people as friends who I don't know personally. I once attempted to create a fan page for myself but felt completely narcissistic.
5. Instant Encore. This is a cool site where you can allow your audience to relive a concert experience by punching in a code and listening to a recording of the concert after they see it live. I don't think it has a critical mass following in the general public though. But it wouldn't hurt to try it.
Anyway, I'd love feedback from you lovely readers about how you think any of these tools might help enhance the career of an artist you might follow (actors, writers, singers, etc.) Are there any other mediums that I'm missing here? This summer I'd like to get my website overhauled and try to tap into more of these tools, so the question is not so much if, but really to help me understand how media is changing the nature of music's accessibility and the persona of any given musician. Do the latest internet tools provide a more personal interaction between artists and their audience, or does it merely give a facade of connectivity? Is there any reason to circumvent the latest innovation, or must one inevitably change with the times? What's next? Thoughts welcome.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The Competition
In about six weeks, I am going to Ithaca, NY to enter the Competition to Become the World's Best Classical Guitarist of the Entire Universe.
Ok, so it's not really called that. There are lots of competitions that take place throughout the year, but this really is the only one that matters, in my opinion. The winner gets not only $7500 and a CD recording made by Naxos, but a fifty city concert tour of America! For any classical guitarist, it's an absolute dream come true. Basically, they hand you an international concert career on a silver platter. I've had the privilege of studying with three former winners of this competition, all who were brilliant artists and phenomenal teachers as well.
It's a stretch, and I don't honestly believe that I will win this competition this year. My goal really is to make it past the preliminary round and onto the semi-finals, and I would be surprised, ecstatic, and terrified if I actually made it to the finals. But if I go and play my best and still don't make it past the first round, I will be totally fine with that because if everybody else is just better, then that's totally fair. If I go and don't play very well, I honestly will still be ok with that because just entering this thing is taking a giant step of courage for me. I even signed up last year and then withdrew my name partway through. So basically, I'm looking at it as I have nothing to lose. I am going to work my tail off for the next six weeks, and then just let things go how they go.
But why not believe that I could win this year? Confidence, at least verbalized in such a way, has never been my strong suit. I tend to think of myself more as a "realist" (or to an optimist like my husband, a pessimist) and my first instinct with things that I really, really want is to say, "Pshhh. Yeah right. That would never happen to me!"
It's time to let go of negative thinking. I want to believe that I can win, and not feel like I'm on some sort of ego-trip or that I'm being ostentatious about anything. It's time to stop embracing false humility and believe that God can do anything through me because doubting the possibilities is in essence doubting his power.
The other day, the parking shuttle driver saw my guitar case and asked what it was. I told him it was a classical guitar.
He said, "No kidding! Are you good?"
I paused. Then, a sudden surge of confidence. "Yeah! I'm good!" I replied enthusiastically.
Usually I wouldn't say something like that. I might typically say something like, "I'm alright" with a chuckle, or "Uh, I guess.." but for the first time that day, I decided to give confidence a shot.
This summer I am giving confidence a shot in my own small way.
Ok, so it's not really called that. There are lots of competitions that take place throughout the year, but this really is the only one that matters, in my opinion. The winner gets not only $7500 and a CD recording made by Naxos, but a fifty city concert tour of America! For any classical guitarist, it's an absolute dream come true. Basically, they hand you an international concert career on a silver platter. I've had the privilege of studying with three former winners of this competition, all who were brilliant artists and phenomenal teachers as well.
It's a stretch, and I don't honestly believe that I will win this competition this year. My goal really is to make it past the preliminary round and onto the semi-finals, and I would be surprised, ecstatic, and terrified if I actually made it to the finals. But if I go and play my best and still don't make it past the first round, I will be totally fine with that because if everybody else is just better, then that's totally fair. If I go and don't play very well, I honestly will still be ok with that because just entering this thing is taking a giant step of courage for me. I even signed up last year and then withdrew my name partway through. So basically, I'm looking at it as I have nothing to lose. I am going to work my tail off for the next six weeks, and then just let things go how they go.
But why not believe that I could win this year? Confidence, at least verbalized in such a way, has never been my strong suit. I tend to think of myself more as a "realist" (or to an optimist like my husband, a pessimist) and my first instinct with things that I really, really want is to say, "Pshhh. Yeah right. That would never happen to me!"
It's time to let go of negative thinking. I want to believe that I can win, and not feel like I'm on some sort of ego-trip or that I'm being ostentatious about anything. It's time to stop embracing false humility and believe that God can do anything through me because doubting the possibilities is in essence doubting his power.
The other day, the parking shuttle driver saw my guitar case and asked what it was. I told him it was a classical guitar.
He said, "No kidding! Are you good?"
I paused. Then, a sudden surge of confidence. "Yeah! I'm good!" I replied enthusiastically.
Usually I wouldn't say something like that. I might typically say something like, "I'm alright" with a chuckle, or "Uh, I guess.." but for the first time that day, I decided to give confidence a shot.
This summer I am giving confidence a shot in my own small way.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Compadre by Astor Piazzolla
A first take on the required piece for a competition I'm doing this summer. I'm giving it a run tomorrow for a concert in Orange County. Sorry about the barking. Aiko has impeccable timing. (I didn't actually kick her at the end, although I wanted to- it was just a nudge...)
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Declaration of Attempt to Become a Writer
Can the dancer be a photographer, the potter a musician, the actor a sculptor?
Perhaps one language just isn't enough. Sometimes, the things that want to be said exceed their medium. I have a general sense of restlessness that goes through its peaks and valleys of activity. In the past, I've attributed it to too few amounts of meaningful personal interaction, general mental boredom, and lack of intellectual stimulus.
But what if it is really none of those things, and instead, the restlessness is an uneasiness created by potential for another form of expression that hasn't yet been realized? A medium that has been under my nose for my entire life, but not honed into a craft, not refined in the fire, not given the chance to speak much of the heart?
I really believe that there's an artist inside of everyone, and that connecting with this part of yourself is an essential aspect of understanding the Creator and yourself as a work of art. I gravitated towards the guitar at the age of five, for some reason unbeknownst to me. It pulled me and called me, and I was given the means with which I could answer. But I've always hungered to do more than just that; ironically, speaking without words has not always satisfied me. After much pondering, I'm going to take some of my friends' encouragement seriously and give writing a real shot. I just got the green light to do a minor field for my degree at USC's journalism school in arts criticism. We have a phenomenal Pulitizer prize-winning visiting professor on faculty right now who used to be the music critic for the Washington Post. And, his approval of my writing was a huge boost to my confidence. I sent him an academic research paper and to contrast, of all things, my blog entry about ramen- and he said he liked it enormously!
I'm really excited about this opportunity and have no idea what will come out of it. I don't even promise that I'll write anything good, or that I'll have the guts to share it. But, if this works out, I'll be taking his writing workshop in the fall. I'm not a natural critic, and am hoping that delving into the world of arts criticism will help me begin to articulate the nuances that make any work of art excellent, moving, shocking, or beautiful. I believe this will make me a better musician as well. I'm craving a new set of weapons to wield, and thinking about the possibilities unleashed by the power of the pen has me incredibly inspired.
Perhaps one language just isn't enough. Sometimes, the things that want to be said exceed their medium. I have a general sense of restlessness that goes through its peaks and valleys of activity. In the past, I've attributed it to too few amounts of meaningful personal interaction, general mental boredom, and lack of intellectual stimulus.
But what if it is really none of those things, and instead, the restlessness is an uneasiness created by potential for another form of expression that hasn't yet been realized? A medium that has been under my nose for my entire life, but not honed into a craft, not refined in the fire, not given the chance to speak much of the heart?
I really believe that there's an artist inside of everyone, and that connecting with this part of yourself is an essential aspect of understanding the Creator and yourself as a work of art. I gravitated towards the guitar at the age of five, for some reason unbeknownst to me. It pulled me and called me, and I was given the means with which I could answer. But I've always hungered to do more than just that; ironically, speaking without words has not always satisfied me. After much pondering, I'm going to take some of my friends' encouragement seriously and give writing a real shot. I just got the green light to do a minor field for my degree at USC's journalism school in arts criticism. We have a phenomenal Pulitizer prize-winning visiting professor on faculty right now who used to be the music critic for the Washington Post. And, his approval of my writing was a huge boost to my confidence. I sent him an academic research paper and to contrast, of all things, my blog entry about ramen- and he said he liked it enormously!
I'm really excited about this opportunity and have no idea what will come out of it. I don't even promise that I'll write anything good, or that I'll have the guts to share it. But, if this works out, I'll be taking his writing workshop in the fall. I'm not a natural critic, and am hoping that delving into the world of arts criticism will help me begin to articulate the nuances that make any work of art excellent, moving, shocking, or beautiful. I believe this will make me a better musician as well. I'm craving a new set of weapons to wield, and thinking about the possibilities unleashed by the power of the pen has me incredibly inspired.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Oh, the humanity
Today, I got rear-ended on my way to school. The damage was not that significant- a displaced bumper and a small dent. But I was pretty upset, only because the guy apologized to me, told me he would pull over, and then drove away speedily.
This threw my day into a bit of a haze, until a friend brought to my attention another hit and run accident that happened near campus last night. A driver ran a red light and hit two USC students while they were walking in a crosswalk, proceeded to stop only to remove the body of one of the victims from the hood of his car, and drove away. One of them died- an undergraduate student that was only 19. I can't imagine what her family is going through. I saw an interview with her mom on the news and it was so devastating. Read the story here.
Are we so numb to the well-being and livelihood of others that walking away is the easiest thing to do? Even if they are strangers? I put myself in the shoes of either driver from the above accidents. The temptation exists to just drive away, pretend not to notice, put it in the back of your mind and move on so you don't have to "deal" with the repercussions of your actions. And though my first instinct is to say that behavior like this is sickening with no regard to human life or decency, I know that I have done this in some form or fashion so many times when I have walked by someone who is hurting, hungry or broken, or run away from the consequences of my own sin. The choice is the same. The condition of sin runs deeper than we know. But the great tragedy of being human is that we are capable of so many things beyond our comprehension. We are capable of death, destruction, beauty, and compassion all at the same time.
More than ever, this realization makes me want to live my life loudly, with fierce passion for what I do, not letting anything stop me from expressing that there is always something worth living for, that people are worth caring about, and that humanity has always and will always be in need of a Savior.
This threw my day into a bit of a haze, until a friend brought to my attention another hit and run accident that happened near campus last night. A driver ran a red light and hit two USC students while they were walking in a crosswalk, proceeded to stop only to remove the body of one of the victims from the hood of his car, and drove away. One of them died- an undergraduate student that was only 19. I can't imagine what her family is going through. I saw an interview with her mom on the news and it was so devastating. Read the story here.
Are we so numb to the well-being and livelihood of others that walking away is the easiest thing to do? Even if they are strangers? I put myself in the shoes of either driver from the above accidents. The temptation exists to just drive away, pretend not to notice, put it in the back of your mind and move on so you don't have to "deal" with the repercussions of your actions. And though my first instinct is to say that behavior like this is sickening with no regard to human life or decency, I know that I have done this in some form or fashion so many times when I have walked by someone who is hurting, hungry or broken, or run away from the consequences of my own sin. The choice is the same. The condition of sin runs deeper than we know. But the great tragedy of being human is that we are capable of so many things beyond our comprehension. We are capable of death, destruction, beauty, and compassion all at the same time.
More than ever, this realization makes me want to live my life loudly, with fierce passion for what I do, not letting anything stop me from expressing that there is always something worth living for, that people are worth caring about, and that humanity has always and will always be in need of a Savior.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Ramen inspiration.
It's hard to keep blogging when you haven't had a profound thought in awhile.
And then, out of the blue, inspiration comes. Ever had one of those meals where you just couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards? That whatever you ate brought your taste buds such sweet pleasure that you felt like you'd just discovered a new addiction and were teetering in a hazy area between enthusiasm and obsession?
Well, I had one of these moments this weekend in the food court of Mitsuwa supermarket in West LA. An unassuming place for an amazing meal? You bet. Usually, this is also the best kind.
This ramen turned my whole perception of the art of Japanese flavors upside down. Santuoka, a Japanese ramen chain, exists at three different Mitsuwas in southern California and I feel blessed with good fortune. A salty pork-flavored broth with just a hint of sweet seafoodiness to balance. Perfectly chewy noodles that curled so beautifully in my spoon. Rich and fatty slices of pork to top, along with some pickled seaweed, fresh scallions, and (could it be?) fish cake that actually tasted like fish. I was floored by this umami perfection, and ended my meal by verbalizing this to my husband who was in an equally dumbfounded stupor. "It's perfect," I said. He nodded in between slurping, causing several drops of the precious broth to alarmingly fall to the table. Not wanting to tolerate any more waste, I picked up my bowl and drank every last drop of the sweet soup afterwards and considered ordering another, so delicious was this incredible nectar. We barely said two words during this meal, usually a sign that the food is good- especially when the two words were the ones I mentioned above.
But this was not just a fleeting moment of bacchanalian satisfaction. I felt inspired from this ramen. It made me believe that I could do anything. My perspective on the world began to shift. In a moment while slurping down noodles with my burnt tongue, I had an important realization. Thoughts become things. This ramen was once a thought. Now it is a thing. I'd just had a week where I wasn't doing much, feeling uninspired and lazy from an uneventful spring break. But this superhuman food brought me to my feet, recharged and ready to take on the world as a new woman. I can do anything. Thoughts become things. My thoughts can become things, too. I CAN DO ANYTHING! SLURRRPPPP!
To top it all off, they have double matcha green tea soft serve in the same food court. I haven't been this happy in weeks.
And then, out of the blue, inspiration comes. Ever had one of those meals where you just couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards? That whatever you ate brought your taste buds such sweet pleasure that you felt like you'd just discovered a new addiction and were teetering in a hazy area between enthusiasm and obsession?
Well, I had one of these moments this weekend in the food court of Mitsuwa supermarket in West LA. An unassuming place for an amazing meal? You bet. Usually, this is also the best kind.
This ramen turned my whole perception of the art of Japanese flavors upside down. Santuoka, a Japanese ramen chain, exists at three different Mitsuwas in southern California and I feel blessed with good fortune. A salty pork-flavored broth with just a hint of sweet seafoodiness to balance. Perfectly chewy noodles that curled so beautifully in my spoon. Rich and fatty slices of pork to top, along with some pickled seaweed, fresh scallions, and (could it be?) fish cake that actually tasted like fish. I was floored by this umami perfection, and ended my meal by verbalizing this to my husband who was in an equally dumbfounded stupor. "It's perfect," I said. He nodded in between slurping, causing several drops of the precious broth to alarmingly fall to the table. Not wanting to tolerate any more waste, I picked up my bowl and drank every last drop of the sweet soup afterwards and considered ordering another, so delicious was this incredible nectar. We barely said two words during this meal, usually a sign that the food is good- especially when the two words were the ones I mentioned above.
But this was not just a fleeting moment of bacchanalian satisfaction. I felt inspired from this ramen. It made me believe that I could do anything. My perspective on the world began to shift. In a moment while slurping down noodles with my burnt tongue, I had an important realization. Thoughts become things. This ramen was once a thought. Now it is a thing. I'd just had a week where I wasn't doing much, feeling uninspired and lazy from an uneventful spring break. But this superhuman food brought me to my feet, recharged and ready to take on the world as a new woman. I can do anything. Thoughts become things. My thoughts can become things, too. I CAN DO ANYTHING! SLURRRPPPP!
To top it all off, they have double matcha green tea soft serve in the same food court. I haven't been this happy in weeks.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Ode to Unemployment
Well, it's nearly official- Paul received an offer package from his future employer this morning!
We are excited that a new chapter is beginning. I've read in the news recently about how stressful unemployment is for so many people- particularly for men when the burden of provision in our culture is still heavier upon them. But not for this one. I suppose Paul and I are different in that I always need something busy and "productive" to do, and he is content and cheery whittling away the hours on various other types of activities- including, but not limited to, playing fetch with the dog, video games, reading random things on the internet and then telling me about them, writing music on Garage Band that sounds like electronic eurotrash, putting that music to a slideshow featuring pictures of our dog, playing basketball with the Filipino high school kids in our neighborhood, doing transcriptions on Sibelius for me, listening to audiobooks, and today, the most bizzare thing of all time: he voluntarily went shopping for me.
I have a concert this weekend in New York for which I've been picking an outfit for. I bought a new top at a sample sale last week and was having second thoughts about it. He wasn't totally sold on it either, but I decided I would just wear it since it was a sample sale and I can't return it anyway. I like it just fine and I really don't care all that much. I also don't have time to hit the mall between now and Saturday and things approrpiate to wear for a performance are hard to find for me.
So he insisted this afternoon to head to Macy's and basically raided the women's department. I told him my sizes, and that I generally like long-sleeve tops that have some sort or sparkle or interesting sleeves or something a little flashy for the stage. What did he bring home? About 20 different tops with some sort of sparkle or interesting sleeves in more colors than the rainbow can hold, including mustard yellow, pale gold, and magenta. He said he would return whatever I didn't want. Unfortunately, after trying on these nearly 20 different tops that were all pretty unflattering, I have decided to stick to the original top that I bought at the sample sale and fire him as my personal shopper.
Well, I was pretty blown away at his willingness to subject himself to the mall in an effort to help me, and we had a pretty good laugh when I tried on the mustard yellow top that made me look like a Star Trek character, the pale blue frilly top that should have been part of a clown costume, and the magenta top that I am convinced was some sort of maternity wear. All I can say is that I am excited for his new job to start and I am certainly glad that it's not in the fashion industry.
We are excited that a new chapter is beginning. I've read in the news recently about how stressful unemployment is for so many people- particularly for men when the burden of provision in our culture is still heavier upon them. But not for this one. I suppose Paul and I are different in that I always need something busy and "productive" to do, and he is content and cheery whittling away the hours on various other types of activities- including, but not limited to, playing fetch with the dog, video games, reading random things on the internet and then telling me about them, writing music on Garage Band that sounds like electronic eurotrash, putting that music to a slideshow featuring pictures of our dog, playing basketball with the Filipino high school kids in our neighborhood, doing transcriptions on Sibelius for me, listening to audiobooks, and today, the most bizzare thing of all time: he voluntarily went shopping for me.
I have a concert this weekend in New York for which I've been picking an outfit for. I bought a new top at a sample sale last week and was having second thoughts about it. He wasn't totally sold on it either, but I decided I would just wear it since it was a sample sale and I can't return it anyway. I like it just fine and I really don't care all that much. I also don't have time to hit the mall between now and Saturday and things approrpiate to wear for a performance are hard to find for me.
So he insisted this afternoon to head to Macy's and basically raided the women's department. I told him my sizes, and that I generally like long-sleeve tops that have some sort or sparkle or interesting sleeves or something a little flashy for the stage. What did he bring home? About 20 different tops with some sort of sparkle or interesting sleeves in more colors than the rainbow can hold, including mustard yellow, pale gold, and magenta. He said he would return whatever I didn't want. Unfortunately, after trying on these nearly 20 different tops that were all pretty unflattering, I have decided to stick to the original top that I bought at the sample sale and fire him as my personal shopper.
Well, I was pretty blown away at his willingness to subject himself to the mall in an effort to help me, and we had a pretty good laugh when I tried on the mustard yellow top that made me look like a Star Trek character, the pale blue frilly top that should have been part of a clown costume, and the magenta top that I am convinced was some sort of maternity wear. All I can say is that I am excited for his new job to start and I am certainly glad that it's not in the fashion industry.
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