I spent the break on the couch in the sunroom, working on the gallery review for Topics in Modern Canadian Art, reading the Nutcracker conductor's score (I'm up to the part where Clara dances with the nutcracker in the party scene), working on The Book and enjoying Tom's new CD player. On Thursday night I found out that Lynn had passed her final exam in her surgical tech program with the highest grade in her class--in the words of the email that I sent to her the next day, "I erupted with shrieks and cheers--and threw myself back into my dancing with a vengeance." The Met broadcast a performance of R. Strauss' (the Thus Spake Zarathustra guy) Der Rosenkavalier yesterday and I recognized some of the tunes thanks to the Met Opera Brass' second album, Waltzes, Songs and Festive Scenes--track one is a Waltz Suite from that opera and track ten is the Final Trio. Thanks, MOB! Although this is the second time that I have heard that opera, the MOB was still a few months away from releasing Waltzes when I heard it for the first time. Thanks to them, I was humming along with the familiar pieces. I also celebrated the fact that Lynn has been playing the violin for fifty years (wow). I don't know when the anniversary is beyond the year (sometime last year or this year), so I decided a few months ago that I would celebrate during Reading Week. I also photographed Mom for my independent project.
On Saturday, I burned my journal from when I was twelve. This is the one and only time that I plan to commit such an act--there were some things in that journal that I want to keep secret forever and I have been wanting to burn it for a year or two. I'm more or less fine with other people reading the other journals and diaries that I wrote--the one that I burned was the only one that, when I think about it, makes me think, "really?? I wrote that?! I thought that?!" While I plan to live to be somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and five, I admit that I think about that journal in the context of what will be found after my life is over. What will I be comfortable with people reading? Not that journal!
March twenty-ninth will mark the tenth anniversary of the day that I told Lynn that I'd been thinking about quitting violin lessons. She'd been away for a couple weeks and although I'd talked about it with Mom, I needed to discuss it with Lynn--both because she was my violin teacher and because I just knew that talking with her about what was going around in my head would make me feel better (sometimes, talking with a specific person is all it takes).
That day, almost as soon as we were in her music room I said that that there was something I wanted to tell her. I can't remember if I'd tuned my violin by that point or not (tuning was always one of the first things that we did), though I remember that I'd taken it out of its case, put the shoulder rest on and tightened the horsehair on my bow.
When was thinking about the conversation in the weeks leading up to it, I thought that it would just be a fifteen-minute thing--NOPE! We spent about forty-five minutes (my lessons were an hour each by that point) discussing what I was going through (half of me wanted to quit, half of me didn't, which made for a big mess in my head and I was very conflicted and upset as a result), and Lynn was very supportive and kind and held me when I needed to cry. This is one of those times when I wonder how the heck I ended up with such an awesome violin teacher (this local guy who my mom approached when I was begging for violin lessons when I was six or seven wasn't taking on any new students at the time but knew someone who was--Lynn. Just think if that guy had had an open spot...).
As I talked, my voice shaking the whole time, I paced back and forth between Lynn and the piano (a baby grand, if I'm not mistaken--I found out that there are more than two sizes of grand pianos a couple nights ago). By the time we moved onto cramming a lesson into the remaining fifteen minutes, I felt much calmer about the whole situation. Thanks, Lynn. (Though it was basically the eye of the storm, as I spent much of the next afternoon sobbing.)
That was the first of three (so far) difficult times that Lynn has seen me through--the other two were the death of my granny in '06 and my current struggles. Let's face it: she's awesome. I think everyone should have at least one friend like that: someone who they can be completely themselves around and to whom they can go with everything. I have a few other friends like that, but Lynn's the one who stands out every time.
The best part: not only is this a gush-about-Lynn-to-other-people situation (not uncommon)--but as she's a reader of this blog, she gets to read it (hi!).
Even with my boycott of the Sochi Olympics, some news has still filtered in--especially Team Canada's double hockey win (both the women and the men took home the gold). During this year's Games, I've really appreciated CBC's coverage: while they do have the broadcasting rights in Canada, they have also talked about the negative side of the Games, including Russia's treatment of the LGBT community (which is why I won't be taking in a performance at the Mariinsky or Bolshoi anytime soon: even if I left my pride pin at home, I still wouldn't feel safe in Russia) and the environmental impact of this year's Olympics (it's awful).
Today's bus was another direct-to-Halifax bus (though it stopped in Moncton to pick up more passengers), and was possibly the nicest bus that I've encountered. The only thing it was missing was a wifi connection (it had plugs, though, which meant that I could work on The Book). While en route, I finished the gallery review--all I have to do is proofread it, print it off and hand it in on Thursday. As a result of the bus being direct, I arrived in Halifax about two hours earlier than expected. This evening I'm going to go through the readings for tomorrow's Contemporary Indigenous Arts class, edit the photos from the shoot with Mom and do whatever other prep I have to do for the rest of the week.
While we're on the topic of a certain awesome violinist, I might have stumbled across the program for her M.Mus. recital. I'm hunting down the various pieces on YouTube, and the first one is way too awesome to not share.
Showing posts with label violin lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label violin lessons. Show all posts
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Sunday, December 8, 2013
life, death and art
The countdown to the final day is in full swing.
Monday: I spent much of the day decompressing from the trip to Elsipogtog. Turns out, Laura and I had gone at the right time, as the protesters had another confrontation with SWN and the RCMP. This one wasn't as major as the one that grabbed headlines in October, thankfully.
I also had another meltdown related to what I've been going through this semester. I could feel it bubbling just under the surface after I read the thing that triggered said meltdown that morning. I waited until late that afternoon before talking with Jake and Alex about it--and crying. And Chris (another tech) now knows some of what I've been going through this semester. This time of year is busy for everyone, techs included, so I'm really thankful that they managed to find time to comfort me.
Tuesday: I had another appointment with Joan--my last for this semester. And I discussed the events of the previous day with her (it was one of those times where, yes, I had an appointment the next day--but I needed to talk with someone right then).
That day Mom told me that she wanted some of my photos from Elsipogtog for the Christmas newsletter. She also wondered why some people are pro-fracking, which I happily researched (see here and here).
Wednesday: Crit Day. I did really well and I'm proud of what I've accomplished this semester. To paraphrase Neil Gaiman: going through a hell that keeps recurring? Make good art. I'm going to deviate from talking about the crit to share this passage from that address with you guys because it's so awesome: "Fourthly, I hope you'll make mistakes. If you're making mistakes, it means you're out there doing something. And the mistakes in themselves can be useful. I once misspelled Caroline, in a letter, transposing the A and the O, and I thought, 'Coraline looks like a real name...'
"And remember that whatever discipline you are in, whether you are a musician or a photographer[!!!], a fine artist or a cartoonist, a writer, a dancer, a designer, whatever you do you have one thing that's unique. You have the ability to make art.
"And for me, and for so many of the people I have known, that's been a lifesaver. The ultimate lifesaver. It gets you through good times and it gets you through the other ones.
"Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do.
"Make good art.
"I'm serious. Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art. Cat exploded? Make good art. Somebody on the Internet thinks what you do is stupid or evil or it's all been done before? Make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, and eventually time will take the sting away, but that doesn't matter. Do what only you do best. Make good art.
"Make it on the good days too."
And now, back to the blog post.
While my crit went well, I had to rewrite part of the contextualizing statement. I was okay with that, though I'd planned to be done with the thing: once I'd gotten the final draft down to seven hundred and fifty words and was happy with it, I planned to never touch it again. Turns out, I had to dig it back out after all. I spent the afternoon rewriting the statement during the open studio.
Mom had told me that she and Tom were going to work on the annual Christmas newsletter the next day, so I chose photos from the Elsipogtog trip, edited them and wrote a couple hundred words on the experience. I sent everything that night.
Thursday: I worked on the statement and some other things that needed to get done, including getting some Christmas presents. Early that evening, I found out that Nelson Mandela had died and I emailed Mom with the news. She hadn't yet found out. As I was writing this on Saturday night, I was listening to CBC Music's Essential Classics channel and as I was writing about what happened on Thursday, the folks at CBC had Barber's Adagio on. I wanted to include something in this post to honour Mandela, and the Adagio is perfect. Thanks, CBC!
And this, from another wonderful human:
Friday: I didn't get a whole lot done, which I wasn't thrilled about. Though I managed to finish the contextualizing statement. That evening I went to an end-of-semester/birthday/some-classmates-are-done-this-semester-and-are-moving-away party. I was there during the first half of said party, while it was still fairly small and intimate. We played music on the host's (Greg, one of my classmates) turntable and iPad Mini and iPods from a couple of his friends. This was the first record that he put on. Also, I tried blueberry wine for the first time. I liked it and would happily have it again, but I was expecting more of a blueberry taste.
That day, SWN finally backed down. I wish I could go to Elsipogtog again just to give everyone involved with the protest a high five. However, the fight isn't over: SWN will be back. Some sources are saying in '15, others say they don't know when the company will try again.
Saturday: Saturday was the Met's first radio broadcast of the season: Verdi's Rigoletto, which was wonderful as always. I've missed the Met (and their wonderful orchestra, complete with a horn section that could give the BSO's violin section a run for its money when it comes to knocking peoples' socks off), so it was great to hear them again. Here's Questa o quella from act one (the Met's current production is set in Vegas in 1960):
I spent the day getting a bunch of things done.
Sunday: I worked on several things not related to school, including my packing list and a surprise for the techs, as I want to thank them for supporting me through this semester's bumps and scrapes.
Today marks ten years since my worst violin lesson ever. I hadn't practiced all week, and Lynn knew right away. It took her three tries to get me to tell the truth--the first time I don't think I really gave an answer, the second time I probably said something along the lines of "maybe...?," the third I admitted to what I'd done. I'll never forget her telling me that the lesson was a waste of money (hers don't come cheap, but they're so worth it as she's a really good teacher). And I'll never forget the times that I wanted to find a small corner in her house, curl up into a ball and sob--and the times that I came close to tears on the way home. Simply put, I was miserable. For the last few years, I've been suspicious that that lesson was an early sign of what would culminate in me quitting lessons in April 2004. I can't believe it's been ten years.
The next time I write, I'll be enjoying a much-needed and -deserved break at home. And a week after that is Nutcracker weekend for the BSO. Here's a version of the entire ballet that was performed as a concert (you read that right--no dancers were involved in this performance). My god! We're only two weeks away from Nutcracker weekend!!! **squeals**
Monday: I spent much of the day decompressing from the trip to Elsipogtog. Turns out, Laura and I had gone at the right time, as the protesters had another confrontation with SWN and the RCMP. This one wasn't as major as the one that grabbed headlines in October, thankfully.
I also had another meltdown related to what I've been going through this semester. I could feel it bubbling just under the surface after I read the thing that triggered said meltdown that morning. I waited until late that afternoon before talking with Jake and Alex about it--and crying. And Chris (another tech) now knows some of what I've been going through this semester. This time of year is busy for everyone, techs included, so I'm really thankful that they managed to find time to comfort me.
Tuesday: I had another appointment with Joan--my last for this semester. And I discussed the events of the previous day with her (it was one of those times where, yes, I had an appointment the next day--but I needed to talk with someone right then).
That day Mom told me that she wanted some of my photos from Elsipogtog for the Christmas newsletter. She also wondered why some people are pro-fracking, which I happily researched (see here and here).
Wednesday: Crit Day. I did really well and I'm proud of what I've accomplished this semester. To paraphrase Neil Gaiman: going through a hell that keeps recurring? Make good art. I'm going to deviate from talking about the crit to share this passage from that address with you guys because it's so awesome: "Fourthly, I hope you'll make mistakes. If you're making mistakes, it means you're out there doing something. And the mistakes in themselves can be useful. I once misspelled Caroline, in a letter, transposing the A and the O, and I thought, 'Coraline looks like a real name...'
"And remember that whatever discipline you are in, whether you are a musician or a photographer[!!!], a fine artist or a cartoonist, a writer, a dancer, a designer, whatever you do you have one thing that's unique. You have the ability to make art.
"And for me, and for so many of the people I have known, that's been a lifesaver. The ultimate lifesaver. It gets you through good times and it gets you through the other ones.
"Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do.
"Make good art.
"I'm serious. Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art. Cat exploded? Make good art. Somebody on the Internet thinks what you do is stupid or evil or it's all been done before? Make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, and eventually time will take the sting away, but that doesn't matter. Do what only you do best. Make good art.
"Make it on the good days too."
And now, back to the blog post.
While my crit went well, I had to rewrite part of the contextualizing statement. I was okay with that, though I'd planned to be done with the thing: once I'd gotten the final draft down to seven hundred and fifty words and was happy with it, I planned to never touch it again. Turns out, I had to dig it back out after all. I spent the afternoon rewriting the statement during the open studio.
Mom had told me that she and Tom were going to work on the annual Christmas newsletter the next day, so I chose photos from the Elsipogtog trip, edited them and wrote a couple hundred words on the experience. I sent everything that night.
Thursday: I worked on the statement and some other things that needed to get done, including getting some Christmas presents. Early that evening, I found out that Nelson Mandela had died and I emailed Mom with the news. She hadn't yet found out. As I was writing this on Saturday night, I was listening to CBC Music's Essential Classics channel and as I was writing about what happened on Thursday, the folks at CBC had Barber's Adagio on. I wanted to include something in this post to honour Mandela, and the Adagio is perfect. Thanks, CBC!
And this, from another wonderful human:
Friday: I didn't get a whole lot done, which I wasn't thrilled about. Though I managed to finish the contextualizing statement. That evening I went to an end-of-semester/birthday/some-classmates-are-done-this-semester-and-are-moving-away party. I was there during the first half of said party, while it was still fairly small and intimate. We played music on the host's (Greg, one of my classmates) turntable and iPad Mini and iPods from a couple of his friends. This was the first record that he put on. Also, I tried blueberry wine for the first time. I liked it and would happily have it again, but I was expecting more of a blueberry taste.
That day, SWN finally backed down. I wish I could go to Elsipogtog again just to give everyone involved with the protest a high five. However, the fight isn't over: SWN will be back. Some sources are saying in '15, others say they don't know when the company will try again.
Saturday: Saturday was the Met's first radio broadcast of the season: Verdi's Rigoletto, which was wonderful as always. I've missed the Met (and their wonderful orchestra, complete with a horn section that could give the BSO's violin section a run for its money when it comes to knocking peoples' socks off), so it was great to hear them again. Here's Questa o quella from act one (the Met's current production is set in Vegas in 1960):
I spent the day getting a bunch of things done.
Sunday: I worked on several things not related to school, including my packing list and a surprise for the techs, as I want to thank them for supporting me through this semester's bumps and scrapes.
Today marks ten years since my worst violin lesson ever. I hadn't practiced all week, and Lynn knew right away. It took her three tries to get me to tell the truth--the first time I don't think I really gave an answer, the second time I probably said something along the lines of "maybe...?," the third I admitted to what I'd done. I'll never forget her telling me that the lesson was a waste of money (hers don't come cheap, but they're so worth it as she's a really good teacher). And I'll never forget the times that I wanted to find a small corner in her house, curl up into a ball and sob--and the times that I came close to tears on the way home. Simply put, I was miserable. For the last few years, I've been suspicious that that lesson was an early sign of what would culminate in me quitting lessons in April 2004. I can't believe it's been ten years.
The next time I write, I'll be enjoying a much-needed and -deserved break at home. And a week after that is Nutcracker weekend for the BSO. Here's a version of the entire ballet that was performed as a concert (you read that right--no dancers were involved in this performance). My god! We're only two weeks away from Nutcracker weekend!!! **squeals**
Sunday, June 7, 2009
taking violin lessons again
Old String
It's been forever--I really must do a better job at updating this blog.
As I mentioned before, Mom and I went to a concert of the Passamaquoddy Bay Symphony Orchestra on Mother's Day and I decided to try my hand at joining the orchestra. Well, this past Thursday was the first rehearsal of the new program (which is really cool--they'll be performing it in August in Machias and Eastport, ME, and St. Andrews and St. Stephen, NB). I thoroughly enjoyed it--I was in the second violins, right smack in front of the French horns which turned out to be not so bad (it was actually kinda cool). I also learned some stuff about playing different notes on the horn.
However, I was also having a hard time with the music: I kept getting lost (my sight-reading isn't the greatest), and I felt like I was in over my head. In the end, the concertmaster, Alice, gave me the boot. I went over to the conductor, Trond (who's concertmaster of the Bangor Symphony Orchestra), and asked him what he thought (while trying to fight off the tears) and he agreed with Alice.
I told Malika (one of the violinists) about it and she and her mom, Lee-Anne (oboe), talked to Alice but there wasn't much they could do (the concertmaster is second-in-command).
On the way home the floodgates opened and I sobbed on Malika's shoulder. She agreed with me that it wasn't fair, that the orchestra does give the impression that anyone can play (there are no auditions for one thing), and said she'd do what she could to get me in. She also offered to teach me.
Yesterday I decided to take her up on that offer (though I had decided to not push it with the orchestra) and my first lesson in five years is a week from Saturday. We'll be working with stuff that I already have (Wholfart études, Suzuki Violin School, Royal Conservatory of Music, etc.), as well as some stuff that she has, like Kreutzer études, which are standard repertoire, but I never did them (they're mentioned in The Mozart Season). She also had me copy the music from the PBSO so that once I learn a few more things I can learn those pieces (I'll give her back the originals). I also have some questions about what some of the symbols mean.
My first lesson is on the twentieth (a Saturday), which feels weird since aside from a fiddle group I was in about seven or so years ago, I've never had lessons on the weekend (Lynn doesn't teach on weekends because that's when the BSO rehearses).
For now I view this strictly as a summer thing since I'll be going to NBCCD in the Fall and I'll probably be too busy getting used to university life to focus on music lessons (which Malika totally gets since she's just three years older than me).
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