The questions we should ask (Perseverance, Part 3)

I am constantly amazed by the people that I work with. (This, among many things, stamps me as a "collaborative musician" as opposed to "soloist."). I admire their individual talent, their own paths, and their own drive (or lack thereof).

One of my current charges is a young, very talented post-undergraduate singer who is starting to take some auditions for some appropriate-level things (some competitions, professional chorus). During our last session, she asked,

"How long does it take for me to find out the results of something?"

I laughed, not at her, but because of the honesty of the question. I reflected for a couple of minutes, and answered in the following way:

"I have sometimes known before leaving the audition room that I got a job. On the other end of the spectrum, there are certain opportunities that I have played for, that I have never heard from again."

After we both got a chuckle out of this, she thanked me for my honesty. The perseverance that this field takes is not for the faint-at-heart. However, in these exchanges, my heart is done right by people who are now a generation (!) behind me. I feel like it was just yesterday that I had graduated from Oberlin and was making mistakes every two seconds, in almost every way possible.

The overall theme of the conversation, "You just never know." Make each audition the "performance of a lifetime." That will yield dividends far greater than any of us could imagine.

The picture that I have attached is of one of my own "milestone goals." It's a shot of the back of the Wiener Staatsoper from the wonderful art collection which flanks it.

Master class, TCG Nordica

On Monday, Ellen and I had the immense privilege of giving a joint master class at TCG Nordica (I posted about this location last week, after my Welcome Dinner and practice sessions there).  On the docket that day was:

Schumann, Quartet Opus 44 (first and second movements, with a different pianist per movement)

Dvořák, "American" Quartet

Lunch Break 

Chausson, Opus 21 for Solo Violin, Piano, and String Quartet

Mozart, Quartet in C Major, K. 465 ("Dissonance")

I took the pieces with piano, and Ellen took the string-only pieces.  It was wonderful to talk to the groups about things I've thought about for years about this kind of repertoire (and what Dr. Barr and Professor CR in particular have definitely worked on with me during my time at Eastman).  

The Chausson is a less familiar piece (and composer) to me, but the late-19th-century French-but-Wagnerian style is now familiar territory.  And I'm no stranger to Schumann, and his virtuosic piano parts, his intimate qualities, his devotion to an incredibly vocal line, and a quirkiness and fantasy that brings me back, with delight, every time I get to play his music.  

I adored working with the piano students and the string players of the Kunming Orchestra.  The second violinist of the Chausson had said in a later conversation, 

"You weren't here long enough."

I cannot begin to say how true that feels.  And ... I have been invited back for a three-month (!!) residency in Kunming, dates and arrangements to be decided, but, I am excited about it.  I'm forever telling my students and colleagues to "get rehired."    

The picture is a photo of the morning session string players, pianists, and Ellen and I.