Skip to main content

Wabi-Sabi

I was listening to Seth Godin's podcast on Wabi-Sabi and Quality and Right Effort, and I was moved by it. 

Wabi-Sabi is a Japanese term for the beauty of imperfection.  For the natural facts of impermanence, of incompleteness, of imperfection and decay.  The art is in accepting and embracing the beauty of flawed reality.

What could be a better metaphor for my entire career?

Performing on the oboe is special and magical BECAUSE the oboe is not your friend. There's always SOMETHING that goes wrong with an oboe - water, sticking keys, REEDS.  The reed is made from organic material with a mind of its own.  Even the very best, most beautiful sounding, most effortlessly responsive reed has flaws. It's really never going to be as perfect as you want it to be, and the barrier is not just the oboe or the reed but also the humanity of the performer.  What you see in a live oboe performance is the eternal struggle of human against a resistant inanimate object, and when things go well there's an element of miraculousness to it. 

I know in my heart that live performance is different than recording a CD.  I know that live performance is never perfect, and could always be better if only the performer was less fallible, less human.  And still I felt a little bit guilty and terrible when I left the stage, and when I first heard the recording that was made of my Mendelssohn Concerto performance.  Since then, and since listening to Seth, and since talking it out with some colleagues, I'm coming around to the principles of Wabi-Sabi. 

I am really really proud of the work I did on my Mendelssohn OBOE Concerto and of my performance with the Lake Shore Symphony Orchestra. It was so exciting. The orchestra, the conductor, and I were so well in synch, feeling the piece so well together, and I just loved my experience.  It was not perfect, though, and things happened.

But I AM proud of myself, and the orchestra, and this performance.  In this spirit, and now that you have read my full disclaimer, I'm going to share it. 

Here's the "highlight reel" - ten minutes of the parts I don't have to cringe about when people see.  I'm sharing this unabashedly all over the place. 



Here's the full performance.  If you would like to watch 30 minutes of mostly very good playing, with a missed high A and some water problems and a couple of finger-fumbles and a little bit of fatigue towards the end, I am proud to have you watch it.  Because the imperfections are what makes it human, right?  The flaws are part of the whole, and part of the beauty.

Please be kind.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Idle Thought

I should be practicing right now. Putting in the hours to prepare for my audition on Monday. But this morning before I left home to teach I chose to use my time making a chicken salad that we could eat for the rest of this busy week, and now after my Notre Dame student I am cheerfully enjoying my lunch at the local coffee house, Zoe snoozing beside me in her car seat. Sometimes it's healthier to use your time taking care of yourself instead of your reeds. Or at least I hope so...

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.  Reminds you to seek something beyond competent, beyond

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

We took a vacation this summer.   This is not news to anyone in my life - anyone who knows me or especially Steve on Facebook followed along with all of our pictures.   We took our travel trailer out to Arizona - via St Louis, Tulsa, Amarillo, Roswell, Santa Fe - and then stayed a week in Clarksdale and Flagstaff and visited some ancient pueblo ruins, Sedona, Jerome, the Lowell Observatory, the Grand Canyon.   We swam in swimming pools, lakes, and icy mountain streams.   We hiked.   Eventually we came home again, via Albuquerque, Amarillo, Tulsa, and St Louis. (our inventiveness had somewhat worn out).   After a week at home we took another trip, and drove to Vermont via western NY and the Adirondack Park (stayed an extra day to hike a mountain), lived four days in East Franklin VT, and came home via Catskill and eastern Ohio.   This vacation felt different from all of our previous ones.   In the 21 years we’ve been married, I can name only one - maybe two trips we ever took t