Skip to main content

Committing to the Gesture

What was I doing before? I resolved this week to commit to every gesture and every note I play in the orchestra, even though it was "just" a pops concert. And having made that resolution my playing felt completely different. Had I really been that uncommitted? I always have the goal of taking the high road in performance, and going for the full fingering, the quiet entrance, the special color, the effortless slur.

The impulse for my resolution was, embarrassingly, America's Next Top Model, which I watch on my computer only when nothing else that I follow has new episodes and I cannot stand the thought of making reeds without distraction for one more minute. It is a very silly show, but I love that they speak of the craft of modeling as if it were important, and that the most successful candidates are the ones who understand how to use their bodies in performance - to make their gestures and facial expressions mean something - which translates to their photo shoots and subsequent advancements.

I also think about watching dancers and figure skaters, and the way that the truly good ones make me believe that the arm motions required by the choreography are the way that they really feel. They HAVE TO to stand on their tippy-toes at that point, or to spin meaningfully in beautiful turned out positions.

So I decided that I was not going to throw anything away. Every phrase was worth playing well. All the way to the last note. Even if it was buried in a big orchestra tutti. Even if it was the middle of a rock and roll tune. I was going to commit to each gesture and care all the way through.

If you had asked me last week, I would have said that I always try to play my best. That would have been true, but somehow the new mental images changed the game for me, and I played differently. I played better. I also took more artistic risks, and spectacularly botched one very gentle and beautiful chorale with an attempted entrance that was softer than I could manage. Not a perfect success, in other words, but I am excited and inspired to keep playing with this new performance approach. Thanks, Tyra!

Comments

  1. Wow - very inspiring post! I'm in the middle of a 6 week show, and the only symphony thing coming up is Christmas pops and everyone's favorite Messiah! How many times I have played this stuff, but I'm all inspired to make every note count now. Maybe I should check out America's Top Model?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Well, just remember that I warned you how silly it is. Thanks for reading, and writing!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Blog has MOVED

 Have you been waiting ... and waiting ... and WAITING for a new Prone Oboe post?  Don't wait here anymore!  The blog has moved to https://jennetingle.com/prone-oboe/  and will not be updated here on Blogger anymore.  Please come and check me out there!  I love you all - stay safe out there!  Jennet

How Do You WISH You Could Describe Your Reeds?

In Reed Club last Monday, we took a moment before we started scraping to set some intentions.  We each said one word - an adjective to describe what we WANTED our reeds to be.  An aspirational adjective. Efficient was a word that came up, and Consistent . Dark and Mysterious . Mellow . Predictable .  Trustworthy .  Honest .  BIGGER . Reed affirmations actually felt helpful - both in the moment and in the results we found as we worked.  I don't know why that surprises me - I set intentions at the beginning of the year, at the beginning of the month, at the beginning of a run, in the morning before I work.  I love a good affirmation.  I love WORDS.  But I'd sort of forgotten about the possibility of applying one to the mundane work of reed-making.   You don't have to know exactly how to GET to that result.  But having clarity in your mind about what that result is?  Helps you to stop going down unhelpful rabbit holes...

Micro Rests

 For oboists, endurance is a huge problem.  We can play an endlessly long phrase, because of the way the instrument is constructed, but we can really only do that a few times in a row before our embouchure starts to get fatigued.  We develop a buildup of air that feels exhausting to hold onto, and the thought of sustaining that kind of energy over  an entire page of music, much less a 45 minute recital program, is intimidating.    There's almost always a lesson, a week or two before a jury or a recital, where my student comes in and says, "I just can't DO this! I can play every detail in my music, but I can't put the whole thing together!  My mouth comes right off the oboe when I try - I'm going to fall apart in front of the audience, and it's going to be terrible!"  Look, I'm putting this on my students now - but there's a moment a week or so before MY performances that feels exactly the same! I have not outgrown this moment of panic. And at that...