More faculty videos

The Oberlin Conservatory has a shocking wealth of interesting musical discussion on display in videos of interviews with many of the school's most interesting and articulate faculty members. I think many of the topics that arise are great jumping-off points to thinking about music, and art in general (case in point: Tim Weiss' comment that "if it doesn't evolve, it's not an art form.")

Tim Weiss and Lewis Neilson talk about the contemporary music going on at Oberlin, which I participated in quite a bit as an undergraduate. When I talk about my Oberlin experience, I always say that I played way more Birtwistle than Beethoven, and that was just fine with me. They are both pioneers in the field of contemporary art music and they care a great deal about their students.

I also worked closely with Jan Miyake and George Sakakeeny and played numerous inspiring concerts with Monique Duphil. All the interviews can be seen here.

Michel Debost speaks

My dear former teacher has a great video interview featured at the Oberlin Conservatory webpage. You can view it here.

I particularly empathize with what he says about not knowing exactly why he fell in love with the flute, much in the same way we don't know why we fall in love with other human beings. It just happens, and there is little choice in the matter.

You can hear some of his students playing pieces -- including the Hue Fantaisie, a piece which is familiar to at least a couple of my students.

I miss him so much.

The big switch

As I welcome many of Jessica Sherer's students to my studio, I feel compelled to write about the very real, very difficult transition that is switching to a new music teacher. Our teachers are very important to us. They inspire us, help us with our problems (often both personal and musical), and provide insight into our playing and our lives.

I had a new flute teacher every two years of my development, from when I began lessons at age 11 to the end of my graduate degree. It was like clockwork! In total, I have had six teachers. Every time I moved on to another teacher (and I never left a studio because I didn't like my teacher - it was always some other circumstance), I felt a mixture of excitement and fear. What new things would I learn? Would they like me? Would they think I was good? Would they change me? Would they make me play things I didn't like?

Some transitions were easier than others. But in the end, I felt I always learned more by switching instead of staying with the same person for many years. Not only did I hear a lot of differing opinions, I learned how to learn from different people.

One teacher in particular was very difficult for me to get used to. He talked a lot, he talked very fast, and told me in one of our first lessons that I didn't know what I was doing.

Didn't know what I was doing? Excuse me? I'd been playing for more than ten years!

I was convinced he thought I was going nowhere. He was incredibly tough on me, and I ended up playing exercises that I used to think were easy v e r y s l o w l y.
He contradicted everything a previous teacher told me. He even made a backhanded comment about one of my old, beloved teachers that I took to be an insult! We pretty much didn't get along for the first year. But I couldn't deny that my playing was changing, and for the better.
The second year, somehow, we came to an understanding -- we even began to like each other! Now we still talk on the phone, and I ask his advice on many topics. He literally revolutionized my flute playing in so many ways, and I owe winning several auditions to his guidance.

What I described is probably the worst that can happen, but it turned out okay. Having had so many experiences with new teachers, I try in my own teaching to make the transition as easy as possible. I don't usually switch old etudes or warm-up plans right away. I try to work within the previous teacher's framework for a while and gradually ease the student into the work plan I have for them. I never disrespect old teachers - they are often my own friends and colleagues!

Different is exactly that - different. Some teachers work better for certain learners, and we need to make decisions accordingly. For Jessica's students, I welcome you, and I'm excited to get to know you!

Haven't we done this in lessons?!

For those who have experienced my "you blow air, I move the keys" exercise in lessons, check out this YouTube video of two guys in Israel performing the Bach Badinerie that way!
A little silly.
I personally love the expressions on the face of the man moving the keys.
Thanks to Alex Conway, a studio-mate from Oberlin, for sharing it.

Practicing in the Great Beyond

It has been almost a full year since I graduated from the master's program at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. For many conservatory-trained students, the first year out of school is potentially the most difficult year, musically, financially, and psychologically. It's been no less for me, and I feel this is a natural time for reflection. In one year, I have faced many obstacles: a knee injury, a chronic respiratory infection that didn't leave for four months, moving to a brand-new city where I knew three people, and the onset of student loan payments! Somehow, I overcame all of these to take seven auditions, compete in the finals of a national competition, and establish a teaching studio! In the coming year, I have a South American tour to look forward to, as well as connections to new students at Pacific University.

Musically, it is the first year in my entire life as a musician when I have not had regular weekly lessons with a teacher. It has been a challenge (and a blessing) to begin to teach myself in earnest. I am the only one responsible for my own progress. I don't have someone wagging their finger at me because I haven't been doing my long tones. It is entirely on my shoulders -- but my teachers from the past are still with me in every practice session. I can hear in my head what they would probably say. I assign myself exercises that they would have assigned.

Interestingly, the most difficult part of teaching myself has simply been the lack of positive encouragement I show myself. I would usually leave my lessons feeling uplifted, like I had a lot of work to do, but that I was fundamentally a good musician, a good person, and that I would figure things out in the week to come. In my solitary practice, I am my worst, most cruel critic. I feel that my next step in my own practice is to find nice things to say about myself! Otherwise, my practice begins to take on a self-flagellating tone. And music becomes something that hurts, something that is to be feared and resented.

The best book I've ever read about practice habits and practice psychology is The Perfect Wrong Note. William Westney outlines a philosophy of practice based on creative problem-solving, not perfection. Of course, "perfection" is the goal: but being constantly perfection-oriented in practice is often counter-productive. Not only does it increase tension (and thus the likelihood of injury) but it also closes doors to possible round-about solutions.

For my students, I hope to impart a sense of lifelong learning and the ability to solve your own problems. I can offer guidance and possible solutions, but only you will be able to know which ones will work best for you. You will probably think of things that I've never considered! That way, whether you enter a conservatory, go on to be a professional, or quit the flute in high school, you will have the ability to pick up and play autonomously.

Launching

Welcome to Footjoint. This is a blog primarily for my students, fellow musicians, and other interested parties. I'll be talking about my own experiences with teaching, practicing and performing.
Enjoy!