Showing posts with label essay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label essay. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Writing Home: Reflection Papers and Journaling to Deepen Your Music

Charles Rosen, Frontiers of Meaning
N ow I’m supposed to write a paper reflecting on my playing and my learning process, which in turn are reflections of my literacy and adherence [or not] to the assignments. If I have to write this reflection paper of my reflecting on my reflections, I will ... do badness to something or someone. I have no idea what to write.”
  —  Anonymous.
If you’re in school, then chances are your assignments include writing one or more ‘reflection papers’ this semester. The task of writing an essay on your own experiences and applications and first-hand gleanings forces you to collect and distill and categorize: you critically evaluate your experiences and place them into context; the narrative form forces you to write about your own impressions and explain the context into which they fit. Quelle horreur!

Reflection papers aren’t a pedagogical punishment. Throughout your career, you can and should invest in improving your musicianship through regular journaling. This is in addition to whatever other activities you engage in for performance, composing, producing, engineering, arts marketing, artist management, presenting, teaching, listening—whatever you do musically. Writing ‘reflection papers’ is just one way for you to harvest and preserve the experiential learning that you do in those other activities. It’s a way to connect the work with the learning.

Why journal? (Why blog?) Mostly to keep yourself learning and growing, and to force yourself to clarify your thinking and revisit and retest your convictions—especially ones that may never’ve been fully thought-through in the first place. Consider it as a dimension of your training, just like practicing on your instrument(s)—it keeps your mind from getting old or rusty or atrophied. Use it or lose it!

W    hen I don’t practice for one day, my fingers know it; for two days, my friends know it; for three days, and the whole world knows it.”
  —  Ignacy Paderewski.
Journaling is about the shape and meaning we assign to our experiences. Our stories are about who we are, where we’ve come from, and where we think we’re headed and why. What you want to do is get ideas and explore ideas. You want to assemble evidence and counter-evidence, and critique the quality and strength of both.

How to go about it? I think it helps to have at least one or two examples as ‘benchmarks’ to serve as guides and reminders of the writing qualities you admire. For me, the epitome of writing that is at once erudite, elegant, and entertaining is pianist Charles Rosen. His little 1994 book ‘Frontiers of Meaning’ is, for me, iconic. Kyle Gann’s ‘Music Downtown’, emblematic of journalistic bravery. Alex Ross’s ‘The Rest Is Noise’ has a different tenor but serves to remind me of how wide our palette can be. Arnold Steinhardt’s ‘Indivisible by Four’, reminds me of grandfatherly patience and generosity in the life lived and the life written-about. You don’t have to write books as they have done. But our own writing will be better if we look frequently at how our favorite authors write.

The best book I know that specifically covers journaling and reflection papers as a practice for working artists is Buck’s. If you’re looking for practical guidance on how to go about writing a reflection paper (whether for your class assignment, or independently for your own professional growth), I recommend you pick up a copy. Check out the other books below, too.

Ultimately, critical analysis and interpretation aren’t detached acts; not value-neutral reportage. No, as a kind of psychological counterpart to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle in physics, the acts of observing and journaling change the things you are observing and their relationships to each other. The personal change is the source of the value in writing reflection papers: the change enables further growth in your playing or composing or listening. Paradoxically, the infinite regress that Anonymous complained about above is actually the whole point of the exercise. Rather than ending in confusion, the process makes you figure things out; makes you figure out how you figured them out; makes you figure out how ‘figuring out’ works. A different dimension of professional practice. A different kind of rehearsal. Quelle horreur!

O  ur doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.”
  —  William Shakespeare.



Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Elena Urioste: Violin Against the Commodification of Everything

Elena Urioste
Elena Urioste delivered a remarkable performance of Bruch’s Concerto No. 1 in G minor, Op. 26, as part of the student recital at The Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia last night. Elena, a 20 year-old Mexican-Basque violininst, began her violin studies in Philadelphia and made her debut as soloist with the Philadelphia Orchestra at age thirteen as winner of the Albert M. Greenfield Competition. Since then, she has appeared as soloist with major orchestras throughout the United States. Urioste made her Carnegie Hall debut as a featured soloist in the December 2004 Sphinx Gala Concert, and has returned as a soloist in the 2006 and 2007 Galas. She has performed in recital at Carnegie’s Weill Recital Hall as the youngest musician ever selected for the Young Performers Career Advancement Showcase.

Urioste has collaborated with David Kim, Philadelphia Orchestra concertmaster; pianist Christopher O’Riley; and conductors Keith Lockhart and Shlomo Mintz, among others. She has been a featured artist in the International Young Artists Music Festival, the Kingston Chamber Music Festival, the Sarasota and Aspen Music Festivals, as well as the Festival International de Musique in Sion, Switzerland. In 2007 she was first prize winner of the Sion International Violin Competition. Also this year she won both the senior (2007) and junior (2003) divisions of the national Sphinx Competition, as well as the Kennett Symphony Concerto Competition. Urioste has appeared on NPR radio programs From the Top and Performance Today, and the Spanish language television network, Telemundo. Miss Urioste is a student at The Curtis Institute of Music where she has studied for the past four years with Joseph Silverstein and Ida Kavafian. On 25-SEP-2007 she performed at Carnegie Hall.

Bruch’s idiomatic German romanticism resembles that of Brahms rather than Liszt. The strength of this single work, Bruch’s Violin Concerto in G minor, is, perhaps more than any other part of his oeuvre, the thing that insures Bruch’s continuing relevance today. This Concerto is scored for solo violin and a standard classical orchestra consisting of two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, timpani, and strings. The performance at The Curtis Institute was one with piano transcription/reduction of orchestral parts performed by pianist Hugh Sung. Hugh performed with a device that resembles a MuseBook® digital sheetmusic device. Hugh created his digital score-rendering set-up using his own custom page-advancing pedal and off-the-shelf products, including Grahl’s PDF Annotator® software and a Fujitsu Stylistic® Tablet PC. The incisiveness and grace of Hugh’s accompaniment were admirable. My impression is that the use of the digital display with pianist-controlled advancing of pages reduces the burden of rehearsing and performing such complex works somewhat. More information about this is made available by Hugh on his website. In 1993, Sung joined the faculty of The Curtis Institute of Music, where he currently serves as Director of Instrumental Accompaniment and its world-renown Student Recitals Series.

Hugh Sung
The Concerto’s structure is unusual for a Romantic piece. The first movement (Allegro moderato) is a Prelude, and is improvisatory rather than introductory. The slow second movement—admired for its melody—is lyrical and impassioned: Elena’s technical ability and interpretive insights are well-illustrated here. The Adagio builds upon and develops the theme, and the finale (Allegro energico) opens with a restatement of the theme—in double stops—followed by the second subject, lyrical and immanent and full of conviction. This Concerto is the epitome of German Romanticism.

More than this, the entire piece is ‘essayistic’ in its intent and form, and this aspect provides a wonderful vehicle for the sensibilities that are part of Elena’s Basque heritage. The Concerto is narrative: non-fictional but subjective. It has reportorial qualities, but the first-person story does not merely narrate: it implores us to follow and empathize.

Bruch is a predominantly personal essayist, and this Concerto is surely a fragment of reflective autobiography—Bruch, 30 years old at the time he composed this piece, looking at the world through the prism of music. In this highly personal idiom, Elena is in her ‘element’. Such an essay doen’t allow its scope to be limited or prescribed. It claims for itself a right—a latitude, a freedom. It takes an idea and runs with it. It is oblivious to what others have said and done. It catches fire. It starts more fires in combustible material along its way. Elena’s playing in this recital was positively incendiary.

Her account of the Bruch Concerto did not begin with a reasoned argument or didactic exposition. She began with what she wished to assert, said what’s on her mind, and stopped where it felt complete—which is not necessarily where there’s nothing left to say. In fact, Elena Urioste’s performance of Bruch’s Concerto No. 1 Op. 26 leaves us knowing that there is much more that could be said.

Elena's assertions are not deductive logic nor do they converge on a reductionist conclusion. In her hands, the essay has an emphaticness that is convincing, but it is a persuasion that engages us—that enlists us in continued vigilance and action.

Musical understanding then amounts to more than merely unwrapping what Bruch meant to say. It amounts to taking up the cause that this Concerto propounds, as Urioste recounts its tenets to us.

Elena enables us to grasp what Bruch thought and felt, yes. But, more than this, she persuades us to care about it. Her performance is in fact an essay about the necessity of essays, an essay against the commodification of culture, against objectification and disenfranchisement, against disparities. It is not a dissertation ‘about’ people and their plight. It is instead a forceful, lyrical polemic that asserts what it means to be fully human.

Bravo!

L uck and play are essential to the essay.”
  —  Theodor Adorno.








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