Relishing Every Detail: Like Reading Poetry

This post is a tribute to a young adult whom I have taught, can you believe it, for fifteen years.  How have we lasted so long as a working team?

The answer lies hidden in the question, if you substitute "learning" for "working."  I have learned as much from him as the other way around.  He causes me to examine continually all the assumptions I have ever had about what it means to derive satisfaction from playing the piano.

We are in the midst of savoring the details of Beethoven Sonata in D, Op. 10, No. 3, a tremendous challenge on every level.  Simply by following the train of his disorientations we arrived at a deeper sense of the first movement than would have been possible by concentrating on fingering, tempo--the usual suspects or, as I identify it in a recent post, the surface of the sound.

I come away from such a lesson refreshed, inspired, eager to get to more substance on my own, without depending on my students to "inspire my fascination" (to quote a line from Broken Nose by Rachelle Garniez).