Has it Been That Long?

I know I talk a lot about practicing.  I'd like to say one more thing about that.  Sometimes, you need to take a break from practicing.  I'm not talking about giving it up completely, just taking a break to let things percolate.  I've taken short breaks and I've taken long breaks.  (The longest was a ten year period when I was feeling quite ambivalent about making music.)  I see by the date of my last post that this break has lasted almost one year.  In that one year period have come many changes.  The cycle of endings and beginnings continues.

The thing about "breaks" or vacations, if you will, is that they have a renewing and rejuvenating effect.  They strengthen you in ways you might not expect, or even perceive until more time has passed.  I feel this way about writing.  I also feel this way about playing music.  Perhaps not at the beginning, when things are new and learning is fresh, but as we grow and change vacations are necessary.  If you form the habit of practice early on, a vacation will do no harm and the effects of practice can even continue to develop.  The caveat is:  you must put in the time before that process will take place.

So, during this break, I've managed to catch up on my Music for People certification; begin tossing workshop ideas around; making lists of things I really want to accomplish in my work; and letting go of the ties that have bound and held me back.

My new website: www.musicplayportal.com is a culmination of this process.  Music Play Portal is the umbrella title for the workshops I'm in the process of planning and presenting.  I also have a personal website www.MonnaLewin.weebly.com.  I'm planning to use that particular website to promote my creative work, alone or with others, as opportunities arise.  While some part of me says, "I have absolutely no idea how this will work!"; another part of me says, "Yes! Let's do this and who cares how it will happen!"  I'm sure you all know those two voices.  And if you don't know them both, I highly recommend you meet them!  

When those two are in balance, it's that same feeling you get when you look down a ski slope and push off.  But again, preparation is key, otherwise it's just plain fear and not exhilaration!

So, even though I've been away, "on break" so to speak, some ideas have been percolating and are now surfacing.  Vacations can be very productive!

Remarkable Day

Yesterday was a remarkable day.  I got a hug from one of my students.  That doesn't happen very often, but when it does it is impossibly surprising and wonderful.

Since it's the end of Summer and everyone seems to be feeling lazy after all the heat, we've been taking it easy in the lessons.  I realized after all the lessons were over that letting go and having fun was having a wonderful and surprising effect.  The kids were actually engaging in the creative process.  I had singers, songwriters, improvisers, composers and even some dancers in my studio yesterday!  It was total magic.

One of the tenets of Music for People has to do with music "they way it should be taught" versus the way we actually teach it.  I come from an Old School form, which I resisted mightily, by the way.  By the time I got to music school in college, I was beginning to lose the thing I have always loved about music-making.  I lost the joy.  It was becoming "a job," rather the calling that made me want to make a career in it.  There's something totally wrong with that.  I've been working--playing, really--with my own creative spark for some time now and I know how damaging it can be to squash creativity in little people.  In fact, some are in the process of losing it already at very young ages.  By tapping into my creativity, I can help guide my students into their own creativity, or maybe help keep them from falling over the creative brink.

Yesterday, I caught a glimpse of how it could be different.  Those four lessons were fast-paced and fun, but also included all the necessary information for the week.  Even my little singer wanted to also play her piano lesson.  Maybe that doesn't seem unusual, but it's often a point of resistance.  So cool that she asked to play her piece and sing along.

Until it actually happens it can be difficult to believe that it works, but making room for the creative muse is an important element of teaching and learning music.  Stepping back and watching for clues to what the students are asking to happen is a huge part of it.  Rather than trying to direct the activity, I allowed the activity to govern my approach.  While some people would disagree that anything productive was occurring, I would strongly disagree.  It didn't look like an old-fashioned piano lesson, but I don't know anyone who ever enjoyed those very much.

Rather, this was a lesson in music using the piano (and anything else we could find) in the service of loving the process of making music.

Nothing of Note

Well, the title says it all.  Nothing of note happened today.  It's been so unbelievably hot that I just had to go someplace cool for the afternoon.  The heat is actually driving me crazy.  It's no fun to practice flute when it keeps sliding down your chin.  And the piano?  Nothing feels worse than fingers sticking to the keys.  I don't even have enough energy to sing the blues.

But . . . I find that my students are also experiencing the same thing right now.  It isn't unusual to have periods of time that look non-productive.  You don't really want it to last too long, but it's pretty normal.  People, especially children, spiral in and out of learning.  It doesn't mean that nothing is happening, it just means that it isn't happening at the instrument.

That's one of the reasons that, this summer, I've included more improvisation in the lessons.  Very often, I find that small bits of the lesson material appear in those improvisations.  Usually, it's something enjoyable or even challenging.  I consider that a very important aspect of the process.  It's something that can make the lesson nearly painless.

When I watch someone working out a problem in an improvisation, I know that they will retain that information and be able to apply it to a written piece of music.  I find it very rewarding to watch the "Aha" moment when the student actually performs a complex move on the instrument.  Spiral out and spiral back.

Relax, Breathe . . . .

I've been thinking about relaxation and breath for the last few days.  Again, drawing from the WSJ article on Yo-Yo Ma.  He says, 

"With every year of playing, you want to relax one more muscle. Why? Because the more tense you are, the less you can hear.  So the more you can collect that energy and be unblocked and be totally present, the more you can say, 'I'm here because I really want to be; there's no other place I'd rather be'. and if you really mean it, that's not bad."

'Relax' and 'breathe' are two words I continually bring into my lessons and my personal practice.  I find that tension, whether mental, emotional or physical, inhibits performance.  Tension occupies the mind with matters of little importance when one is doing something creative. 

This often arises during lessons, for instance, and it can also occur during performance.  For a student, each lesson can feel like a little mini-performance with the additional stress of being asked to change something.  That's when the mind interferes, breathing changes subtly  (or not so subtly) and everything probably falls apart.  The answer is 'breathe and relax.'  Flutists and singers get more in depth training on breath control techniques, but they also experience the same tension as any other student.  Considering they have nothing, or nearly nothing, but the breath and their own structure, tension anywhere can cause problems.

Practicing relaxation during a lesson and then at home can make it easier to release tension during a performance when the stakes are higher.  If you don't know what relaxation and breath feel like, you probably won't be able to achieve that state when all eyes are on you.  So, the easiest thing to practice with is a simple scale that you know and that won't cause mental interference.  If you've played one so many times that you can do it asleep, that's the one you want.

So, as I've been working on a very simple Music for People technique using chromatic, long tones against a drone, I've made a practice of becoming aware of tension and how it can affect my playing or singing.  Long, slow tones played in a relaxed state can help you become aware of the complexities of your sound against the drone sound.  I've been experimenting with various types of  drone tones from brain and cell frequencies to cello drones.  They all have wonderful overtone qualities.  Sometimes, I am able to create other overtones on top of those depending on how I produce my tone.

The purpose of this practice is two-fold: 1. it is a wonderful ear training exercise; and 2. it is the kind of exercise that allows me to practice relaxation and breathing.  I treat the scale as a piece of music, rather than just a series of notes.  I play the most beautiful tone I can muster and listen with love rather than criticism.  I notice how each note feels to be played against the drone and I notice when it needs to move or change in some way.  The minimal nature of the scale allows me to enjoy playing within the sound and where discover how changes in my tone from hard to barely there whispers create wonderful nuances.

Quite honestly, I've never played scales of any kind with this much interest or beauty.  In school, they were a necessary evil that had to be tolerated because the grade depended on knowing how to play them in a certain way.  And not a very pretty or interesting way, I might add.  This is something different.

Breathe, relax, play, listen, release the tension, do it again until it is effortless. When I do that, I look up and five minutes have been spent on one octave, maybe two, but they were lovely, quality scales.  I feel as though I am inside the sound versus being the source of the sound.  Moreover, I really want to do play them again.  I really want to be here playing this scale, because there is no place I rather be and nothing I'd rather be doing.  And that's not bad.

Thank you, Yo-Yo and Yoko.

I took a field trip to NYC on Friday.


My spur of the moment decision was based on a recent article I read in the Wall Street Journal featuring Yo-Yo Ma in which he discussed the idea of "reinvention" and "change."  The article started me thinking about how it's important for anyone involved in creative endeavors to experience art in new ways. 

I couldn't decide which museum I wanted to see, it's been so long.  Would I go to the Met?  The Gugg? MoMA?  Did I have enough time to get downtown? No.  I finally decided by proximity and time limitations to go MoMA.  I'm glad I did and I have Yoko Ono to thank.

Among other things, I viewed an exhibit of female artists, which I loved.  One stood apart, both physically and conceptually.  Throughout my visit, I kept hearing what sounded like intermittent screams.  I thought it must be some kind of video or audio installation.  Then I found it.  In the six story mezzanine were two speakers and a microphone.  At the microphone was a woman who leaned in and screamed at the top of her lungs.  She encouraged her friend to try.  On each of three attempts, the first woman encouraged her friend to do it again, louder.  

As I looked around, I noticed the words Voice Piece for Soprano with the instructions "Scream. 1. against the wind 2. against a wall 3. against the sky" printed on the wall behind me. I'd heard about this work, but never thought I'd have the opportunity to participate.  I watched people encouraged, dared, prodded by friends and family walk to the mic and follow the instructions.

Frankly, kids had the easiest time, followed by teens and a few adult men (not quite soprano).  I stood there wondering what it would take for someone, me, to walk to the mic and let out a good scream.  Could I do it?  Most people had someone there to hold their hand, so to speak.  I was alone and it would certainly draw attention.  Finally, I circled closer and waited for the mic traffic to clear, took a deep breath, checked my gut and strode to the mic.  The guard  posted in the space walked with me and asked if I needed help raising the mic.  Nope. To get a good solid scream, I know you have to "gut it out" and that takes some leaning!  I took my breath, closed my eyes and gave it my best shot.  The guard shot me an approving grin and nodded.  I think I actually scared a few people.  I even heard what sounded like a disapproving "wow."  From a man.  Mission accomplished! 

I like to think Ms. Ono would be proud of my effort.  I know I am.  Finally, permission to do the impermissible. Permission to call attention.  Permission to intrude, be rude, be honest, be wrong.  Sometimes, a work of art is life changing and I think that is the point. 

I've come away from that experience changed.  Screaming in public with such permission is liberating; like overcoming the ultimate stage fright.  It really is not much different from the first time someone invites you to play music by improvising.  It's liberating.  You just want to do it over and over because it feels so good.

Living with Failure

Today I wrote, what I thought was a very nice piece. Took me a long time to write, too.  Then Disaster!

Learning curves come to mind.  We all have learning curves to overcome.  My teacher and mentor, David Darling always reminds us that there is no "good" or "bad" only levels of experience.  So, after spending an hour on my post, my level of blogging experience killed it.  I am a new blogger the same way my students are new musicians.  I struggle with this, they struggle with reading a jumble of lines and spaces that are supposed to mean something to them.  Just as I wish I had hit the [SAVE] button, or had not included crazy formatting, they wish they could play what they hear inside themselves.

That is one of the reasons why I give them opportunities to play improvisations.  Improvisation is one way for them to "mess around" with sounds and harmonies.  All judgment is suspended;everything is accepted.  It gives them the confidence to deal with learning abstract ideas like what written notation has to do with sound, strengthening and controlling young fingers and ear training.  It gives them experience to reach their goals.  Most of them don't realize they have goals only because they find it difficult to articulate what they want.

I've been working with chromatic scales today.  I found a wonderful drone (now lost to me) on YouTube against which I practiced playing flute.  I found a new level of sound quality and relaxation through that simple exercise.  So, I'm going to post this and try to relocate that wonderful drone.  Tomorrow is another day!

Every Day a New Day

I've been away from my blog for quite a while now.  Two dead computers in as many weeks didn't help.  Anyway . . .

Writing, for me, has always been a difficult process.  There is skill involved in formulating ideas and then verbalizing them so that others can understand the meaning.  I never considered myself a writer until I was encouraged by my NYU professors.  After years of putting off the inevitable, I'm here putting thoughts and words together, trying to express something coherent about that which I love:  Music--an art so abstract that very often words lose all meaning.  Every day I look at that fancy diploma from NYU and ask myself what I'm going to do about it.  I worked hard to achieve my goals at NYU and every day my diploma looks down at me and asks, "have you done anything worthwhile today?  Have you lived up to the goals and dreams you had then?"  I will admit that each day that I have nothing written here feels like a disappointment.  Whom do I disappoint?  Myself.  

I often feel the same ambivalence about playing music.  I put it off and then feel disproportionately guilty for failing to create something daily.  It's time to stop the nonsense and sit down and make something every day (with maybe weekends off for R&R).  With that in mind, I hope you will indulge my use of this space in the service of my Art, as well as my continuing development as a musician, teacher and facilitator.  I'm not one for keeping journals anymore, but this may act as a record of my process.  After all, once the core curriculum is understood, every art is a process.   

In the ephemeral world of music, we're often left without evidence that anything actually occurred except perhaps snippets of a memory or a feeling.  The artist's hospitality allows us to ride the wave of their creativity into and out of that experience.  Receiving the experience is different from that of expressing and giving life to music, yet the two are joined and become greater through the sharing.  Participating in creating spontaneous music with others is an altogether different type of experience and process requiring openness and acceptance of the participants.  Here, I find that two ideas are important regardless of the experience, the first is non-judgment, the second is the release of expectation.

Judgment and expectation impede any artistic experience.  I know this from personal experience.  I know this, because these are the two evil characters that stop my creativity in its tracks.  I know this, because, lacking openness to new experiences, builds rigid mental constructs.  Once that happens, creativity idles, dies, or at the very least becomes so walled up that nothing new can develop.  As a teacher and facilitator, I am sometimes shocked by the young age at which these two attitudes sometimes develop.

Creativity, like life, requires light, air, nourishment.  It can grow wonderfully wild, or it can be trained gently into classical beauty.  Either way, it becomes something that lives and breathes itself forward.  So, in the end, perhaps I'm writing to inspire myself and you all are welcome to come along.