Ailene Mary Nase, a tribute

I had begun asking for piano lessons when I was around three. "You may start once you are in kindergarten," my parents had said. Apparently, after the first day of kindergarten, I asked, "when do I start?" 

The natural choice was to have me begin with Miss Nase. She was, at that time, my mother's teacher. I was obsessed from an early age with watching my mother practice. 

Lessons when I was young were my favorite thing of the week. Reading came quickly and I would play the piano every time I walked past the instrument (which at that time was a Kimball Artist's Console). 

There are so many things which I owe Ailene. But of primary importance, or what I have carried with me into my professional career, are: stage presence, form, analysis, theory, the need for imagination, open-score reading, and an absolute passion and love for music, the making of it, and the need to put that first. 

I studied with this woman for ten years. I think she mostly enjoyed me, except when I was being stubborn and opinionated. (This has been known to happen on occasion). I remember one lesson where I was assigned multiple movements of a Clementi sonata. At that point in my life, I didn't want to play any slow movements. So I ripped the slow movement out of the book and hid it in my piano bench at home, and went back the next week to the lesson, outer (quicker) movements prepared and no slow movement. When she asked me about it, I told her that my book didn't have one. (I remember a stiffled smile - I wasn't fooling anyone).

She instilled in me the importance of knowing theory very well from the beginning. We worked on it from day one, along with ear training. One of the questions that I've never been able to answer is that, at one point after moving back to PA from Oberlin, I inherited five of her old students. ALL of them had either perfect pitch or very highly developed relative pitch. How she developed this continues to be a mystery, but mathetmatically, 80% of a small group is a very high number of musicians to have that level of pitch memory. She herself was an accomplished choral conductor, so the importance of many facets of the "total musician" - strong rhythm, strong reading skills, theory, really good ears, score reading, improvisation - were strengths in her teaching. These are strengths I have to this day, and I can't possibly begin to show how much gratitude I have for her teaching in this way.

I also remember her tirelessly rehearsing us before recitals, about how to walk to the piano, how to bow, how to sit, how to thank the audience. She insisted on Sunday "formal" attire for her recitals, and they were beautiful. After the recital, we were all given a carnation for congratulations, and then had a reception. 

Ailene taught (at one point, but not all at the same time) both of my parents and three of my siblings. She was also completely identifiable and unique - white Mercedes, distinctive perfume, always dressed so beautifully for lessons, beautiful manicured nails (she didn't play a lot in the days when I was studying with her). I can still remember her dog and also her lovely home (decorated like a French parlor). Her "studio" was a finished garage which held a Baldwin piano and a harpsichord, which her father had built for her. She was the one that introduced me to harpsichord playing, and that is another bug which really stuck. 

Her support for the arts and of people's participation in music is another thread which is strong through my core, even today. 

When I received word that she passed away, when I was in Germany, it put me into a more contemplative but also state of incredible gratitude and grace. This woman had given me, and so many other musicians, so much to be thankful for. My concerts in Germany in my mind were offered in dedication for *her* - her life, her passion for music, her looking after me (musically) for a decade. In re-reading her obituary, my affinity for vocal music wasn't something that sprung up at Oberlin. It is, essentially, "mother's milk," for she understand vocal music, line, and counterpoint in genuine way.

She even passed at eighty-eight years, which shows her true dedication to the piano.

PHOTO: Miss Nase, how I remember her ... 

)For more information, please visit http://www.williamsbergeykoffel.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=837:-nase-ailene-mary&catid=34:obituaries&Itemid=65)

Portraits and Dedications

Coming to Europe has always felt like a homecoming. Many Americans certainly can lay claim to European heritage: my own ancestors came from Italy, Wales, Switzerland, and (former East) Germany. Moreover, much of the music and literature which classical music students in the USA study comes from continental Europe. Even the cuisine of Germany has permeated the area of the country where I was raised. 

Part of the "Albuquerque meets Darmstadt" project is to present composers who are currently living and working as composers in Germany (and that have a tie in some way to either city). I had the distinct pleasure of meeting with composer Cord Meijering, director of the Akademie für Tonkunst, DA. 

His pieces are called "Portraits and Dedications." I got to hear the full story about his time at the Macdowell artist colony (New Hampshire, USA) and the people he met. I loved the tales - artists creating things out of frozen spiders; a Pulitzer Prize elderly author going for walks in the rain and hiding in the mist (she also often repeated herself - her "piece" shows it); a literature professor from the Pacific Northwest who had a quirky, wonderful sense of humor. 

Composers need a "point of entry" and why not start with living, breathing, people? 

PHOTO: the Akademie für Tonkunst (musical arts) sign. 

Art by Accident

If you google “Art by Accident,” you might come up with an article discussing a Kafka short story (“The Hunger Artist”), and then listing Tim Burton, George Lucas, and Robert Plant. I don’t think that you can put Franz Kafka in the same class with these three men … 

But I have given serious thought to “artistic things created by accident.” Such as a work of art, which gets altered or damaged in some way, and then it is because of its flaw that it becomes famous. 

For example, think of the crack in Philadelphia’s Liberty Bell. It might be the only bell that is famous because of its non-function.

Two things cropped up in Eureka Springs which brought this idea to mind. We luckily stayed there two days - so after the day of the longest drive, we stayed put. (One of the many things on the trip that we did right). 

When we were having an espresso break in Eureka Springs, we sat at a table which was decorated in mosaic. Not just any mosaic - mosaic that was made from broken pieces of pottery and China! It was fascinating to see the different colors, textures, and origins of the dishes. It is a good idea for a future project! 

The other photo was one that Zheng took of a biker bar, leaving Eureka Springs’ downtown to return to our hotel. I love the photo … clearly not the right aperture or shutter speed, but it's fantastic!

 

Zheng of the Ozarks

The halfway point to our travels was Eureka Springs, AR. It’s a little out of the way, in that you’d really have to search to find this place. But I knew it would be right up Zheng’s alley, and so we went there. It’s also not particularly expensive, if you plan it right (one hotel night was $49.99, for example) so it fit our budget pretty well. 

The Ozarks are the closest thing that America has to the Swiss Alps. That is, if the Swiss Alps had motorcycles.

I spent two summers (’09 and ’10) as a vocal coach at Opera in the Ozarks. I did pay a quick visit back to “campus,” held at a place outside of the town called “Inspiration Point." Many things have changed since I was last there (new Executive and Artistic Director).

Time and hindsight has proven my two summers, especially the first one, very fruitful. The first summer was the one that helped me discern whether to start a doctorate and “what was I supposed to do with my life.” Long walks on a nearby hill, and lengths of time drinking coffee on the “slab” helped solidify what would be an eventual plunge into the Eastman DMA program. This summer was two summers before I would really have a life-changing spiritual experience in Hungary, but now, I see my time in Arkansas as a prelude to some long rambles through Europe (summers of 2011 and 2012).

Zheng was fascinated by the Old Western feel, the shopping, the individuality of the place, and restaurants, and of course, finding Jesus. The “Christ of the Ozarks” statue is, of many things, unforgettable. 

PHOTOS: From Eureka Springs and Inspiration Point.