It is not every day that I boast of having received high praise. But last night, after hearing me play the "Moonlight" Sonata a listener said that it was the first time he had ever heard all three movements make sense as an integrated work.
This constituted high praise because he is a professional pianist, because he had given up on that piece, and because he put his finger on the most challenging aspect of the sonata: what to do with that second movement that seems so out of place between the radical first and third movements.
This, I told him, was the last problem I solved, having despaired of ever getting it to happen and knowing that it would not happen all by itself.
I love playing for a small audience who give me such concrete feedback. I know that the juices are flowing both ways starting with the first note. What a privilege.
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Friday, June 6, 2014
A Town's Roofs in Autumn
Living with this rug displayed on my living room floor is like living with a three-dimensional Schiele painting, rendered all the more vivid by being down to earth, so to speak. I have grown to love its colors, its irregularities. Crafted of recycled wool and alpaca. It can be yours for the bidding: www.tonalrefraction.com But hurry, the auction is finalized Monday June 9.
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| October Splashes detail |
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| October Splashes closeup |
Ghosts in Our Hands
Today's lesson on the "Moonlight" with my computer-animator student revealed an important aspect of the perniciously invasive basis of traditional piano pedagogy.
After many hours delving into the mysteries of this great work I had him select a measure in which there seemed to be notable difficulty. He chose a measure of arpeggiation near the end of the first movement. As we worked I realized why so many serious piano students get sick of the great repertoire.
At the first lesson on a piece we are given fingerings. I maintain that the hand is the instrument, even more, perhaps, than the actual piano. Fingering is, then, the ultimate art of playing the instrument. I never write in a fingering unless I find that it reveals some cryptic element in the line that habit is likely to obscure every time I refresh my acquaintance with the piece. I can think of particular measures in Beethoven and Brahms that fit that bill.
Your hand is your very own and must freely reflect the action of your inner ear. No one else's, thank you very much.
After many hours delving into the mysteries of this great work I had him select a measure in which there seemed to be notable difficulty. He chose a measure of arpeggiation near the end of the first movement. As we worked I realized why so many serious piano students get sick of the great repertoire.
At the first lesson on a piece we are given fingerings. I maintain that the hand is the instrument, even more, perhaps, than the actual piano. Fingering is, then, the ultimate art of playing the instrument. I never write in a fingering unless I find that it reveals some cryptic element in the line that habit is likely to obscure every time I refresh my acquaintance with the piece. I can think of particular measures in Beethoven and Brahms that fit that bill.
Your hand is your very own and must freely reflect the action of your inner ear. No one else's, thank you very much.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
I See Klimt; Others See Monet; What Do You See?
Come see for yourself: It's up for auction. Info and bidding
at www.tonalrefraction.com
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| Seasons of Blue |
Specific Sounds and Nils Vigeland
Last night I had the privilege of hearing the world premiere of a wonderfully engaging work by Nils Vigeland. Scored for the unlikely combination of harpsichord, glockenspiel, flute, and cello, it evoked all possible references to the sound world of each of the single instruments and of every possible permutation of their combined sounds: in pairs, trios, and as the full assemblage.
I was literally on the edge of my chair, an experience all too rare in an era of self-conscious avoidance of the substantive nature of sound itself while pursuing the refinements of compositional technique and other irrelevancies.
I want to be engaged via the ear in every manner of mood and possibility. It was all there. Thanks, Nils!
I was literally on the edge of my chair, an experience all too rare in an era of self-conscious avoidance of the substantive nature of sound itself while pursuing the refinements of compositional technique and other irrelevancies.
I want to be engaged via the ear in every manner of mood and possibility. It was all there. Thanks, Nils!
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Again The Influence of Klee? Perhaps....
Your bids are invited: www.tonalrefraction.com Seven days remaining.
"Bricks" crocheted of recycled fibers while riding New York City mass transit. It beats getting mad at traffic delays. One of the seven String Improvisations on sale now.
"Bricks" crocheted of recycled fibers while riding New York City mass transit. It beats getting mad at traffic delays. One of the seven String Improvisations on sale now.
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| Full Spectrum mostly wool 71" x 44" |
Listening: The Missing Element in Music Appreciation
Without listening music has no meaning. The listener brings as much to the sense of a work of music as does the composer or the performer.
This observation was demonstrated very intelligently by Viktor Zuckerkandl, whose work set me off on my life's journey of relating music to human beings and via music relating myself to others--family, friends, the population at large, whoever would take it in.
We do not take listening seriously in contemporary culture. It is almost frowned upon as being too intimate an activity, like Emily Dickinson's secret, sitting in the middle and knowing while everyone else dances around in a ring supposing.
Music does not consist of themes and forms except via the craft of the composer. It is the composer's job to organize vibrations however she finds sensible so as to compel listening on the part of anyone who will take them (i.e., the vibrations) in.
All too often music is performed as though it is a matter of getting the punctuation correct rather than even the performers having to listen to the sounds they make.
Thus they become the vassal with the pea-shooter aiming peas into the open mouth of King Midas so that he can swallow the peas without chewing them, digesting them before they turn into gold and break his teeth. (Cf. Milt Gross: Nize Baby, a brilliant collection of "ferry tails.")
This observation was demonstrated very intelligently by Viktor Zuckerkandl, whose work set me off on my life's journey of relating music to human beings and via music relating myself to others--family, friends, the population at large, whoever would take it in.
We do not take listening seriously in contemporary culture. It is almost frowned upon as being too intimate an activity, like Emily Dickinson's secret, sitting in the middle and knowing while everyone else dances around in a ring supposing.
Music does not consist of themes and forms except via the craft of the composer. It is the composer's job to organize vibrations however she finds sensible so as to compel listening on the part of anyone who will take them (i.e., the vibrations) in.
All too often music is performed as though it is a matter of getting the punctuation correct rather than even the performers having to listen to the sounds they make.
Thus they become the vassal with the pea-shooter aiming peas into the open mouth of King Midas so that he can swallow the peas without chewing them, digesting them before they turn into gold and break his teeth. (Cf. Milt Gross: Nize Baby, a brilliant collection of "ferry tails.")
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