Guest Post: Art in Life is Art

I love music for many reasons, and one of those reasons is the ability for it to inspire relationships.  Relationships among notes, among performers who may be strangers, and relationships among friends.  There are also relationships between the music and the performer.  By living your life, you provide a lens of interpretation that can have a dramatic effect on your music.

I want to talk about my awakening of this belief and how I've applied my life experiences to a specific piece of music.  And then I'll respond to one of Alexis' earlier postings on life experiences affecting performance. 

I need to take you to a spring day in Washington, where I was in a tiny room in an old building for a saxophone lesson.  I had practiced the Karg-Elert Caprice 'X. Cubana' and had just finished playing through the piece.

"Where's the passion?"  My professor, Bob Miller, looked at me with a discerning eye.  I asked,  "What are you talking about?  Do you want more vibrato?"  [Full-disclosure: I was a freshman at this time.]  My professor laughed, or maybe it was closer to a chuckle.  "When I'm playing passionate music, I think of my wife."

He begins to play the etude, but with a soul and feeling that doesn't sound as robotic and MIDI-fied as my rendition.   After a few lines of music, Bob turns to me.  "Playing music is like holding a pretty girl's hand."  And that's when it became one of those defining moments in my musical understanding.

See, in the especially troubling time of adjusting to college life, I hadn't thought about what I was trying to communicate through my music.  I was playing rote and inconsistent because my own thoughts were transitory.  Bob Miller had told me many times that music comes from your head, out of your horn, and back into your head.  It took me a few years to figure out what he was actually saying to me.

You see, I had not thought about art in the sense of a delivery system.  Music provides a tangible format to connect ideas through emotions and experiences we've had in our lives.  In effect, your life experience becomes the engine to the work's vessel.

And this whole concept of creating art as creating a vessel might visually resemble the circle of head-horn-head.  Within this vessel, you provide a means of emotional contextualization for the person experiencing this art.  So Bob wasn't necessarily talking about music ending up in the performer's head, but anyone who happens to be opening up themselves to hear the vessel in the sound is the end result of the circle.

Playing music like holding a pretty girl's hand means to have an intention to believe fully in the act that you're doing.  Our life experiences become powerful tools to invest belief in the music we create as well as the experiences we share with other people.  Sometimes that experience is shared with a particular pretty girl.

Whenever I play 'Cubana' these days, I think of my wonderful girlfriend and I on the streets of Barcelona and all of the smells.  Never before had I been to a country that smelled like Spain did; two parts perfume and flowers to one part food.  Images of the Placa d'Espanya and particularly the awesome Gaudi cathedral come into mind.  With a title like 'Cubana', I'm safe to assume that Karg-Elert wasn't thinking of Barcelona, but the association is so strong with me that it fills my mind whenever I play that piece.  For me, that experience becomes the piece whenever I hear it.

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Now I'll respond to Alexis' post about enriching your art with your life.  Music takes many forms and shapes, and the uniqueness in which we express these forms is what makes our music making beautiful.  Beautiful in this case can mean haunting, exuberant, mystical, crushing, sublime, or any other adjective that could describe the mixture of emotions that we experience as humans.

It's the same concept that great novels employ: give enough detail to the reader to get a general sense contextualization, but leave the larger details up to the reader to fill in.  That ambiguity is powerful for making people connect and believe in the art.  But it starts with a seed based off an idea that the artist had in mind when creating.  As a performer, you're bound to the notes and inherent form of the piece, but you can provide the water that makes the seed of the music bloom to your idea of a plant.

This active enriching requires an awareness of your life and emotions.  The more you open your life to your contextualization of music, the more your music resonates with the experiences you want to share. You've taken the first step towards understanding.  Live your life and enjoy your music and both will be strengthened.

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Jeff Tecca is a saxophonist who studied at Pacific Lutheran University and received a Bachelors of Music in Composition in 2010.  He currently writes for chamber ensembles and K-12 wind bands.  Jeff also plays guitar and bass in his pop band, Paraloco.  He runs a blog about his music at bluecavalier.wordpress.com, his band's blog at paraloco.wordpress.com, and can be reached by email at jefftecca@gmail.com and on twitter at @jtecc.

Get your copy of The Musician's Personality here!

Extra, extra! Read all about it!

You can get your copy of The Musician's Personality: How Intention and Free Thinking can shape Artistic Freedom here! 

For a sneak peak, here's the book's preface:

From the beginning, The Sensible Flutist has been about my personal journey. When I began the blog in 2010, I was asking a lot of questions and while I thought I had definitive answers, my perspective has evolved as I’ve sought to find my unique voice and path. My ability to flesh out my thoughts on the blog led to the development of a network of likeminded colleagues on Twitter. Two years later, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting several of these influential people who want to make the world a little bit better by breaking down the barriers present in our art.

The basis of this E-book spans a series of posts I wrote for The Sensible Flutist between June 2010 and August 2011. This book seeks to connect the pieces of my progression. It presents these posts as an expanded guide for you, the reader. For the sake of space, I am not republishing these posts verbatim but I am expanding the ideas as a call to action for my readers. These posts relate as much to my own evolution as a musician as they do to encourage those who may find themselves asking the same questions. If you are struggling to find your individual voice, read on to find out how to balance your education with your free-thinking creative self, the musician’s personality.

If you download the book, please let me know what you think and please spread the word!

Many thanks,

The Sensible Flutist

The Stages of Practice: the Taper

Remember my Practice like you Train post last summer?

With my Philly gig coming up in a couple of weeks, I'm quickly approaching my taper which is something I didn't mention in my previous post. In addition to varying your weekly practice into different types of "runs," consider the training stages as well.

In the winter, a lot of runners take time off from training and either build their base mileage (their foundational weekly mileage level) or run their current base mileage at a slower pace. Now that we're less than a week away from spring, a lot of runners I know are in training for their spring races. Training usually consists of easy runs, speedwork and long runs. At the end of training, runners go into a taper. They back off on their mileage and rest in between easy miles.

What does this mean to us as musicians, especially when learning a new recital program?

First off, I haven't prepared a full recital program since my college days. I've caught myself gravitating towards the way I used to prepare in college. It was focused and one-dimensional and I had successful recitals, but I'm curious to see how much more efficient I can make my practicing while incorporating all the other stuff I've learned since then with a full program.

I have found that the more into the "zone" (super focused, worried about technical aspects of the instrument, less self-aware) I get, the more self-doubt creeps in. I don't like this because it leaves me feeling tense and anxious.

Instead, I'm working for a few more days on the music on specific spots and then it will be a process of looking at the whole and really feeling the music flow. What do I want to communicate when I get on the stage on March 31? What is it that I have to say with the music I've chosen?

I'm finding myself doing a lot of listening and assimilating and not so much playing right now. Mental practicing has been especially useful and effective, too.

It feels good to reach this point of preparation and feel secure in the work that I've done. I'm increasingly excited to finally share myself with the world in my own self-produced show.

Listening to your body and mind during the stages of preparation for any performance is crucial for success. Trust that you can move to the next stage of your practice and have the faith to let go in order to freely give your music to the world.

Practice with your head, perform from your heart

While I’m trying to separate from my ego (read my previous post here), I’m beginning to answer some of my own questions about how to practice for performance and artistic success.

There’s lot of great resources about practicing, but you are ultimately responsible for integrating what works for you into your performance.

A simple reminder to ourselves should be, “Practice with your head, perform from your heart.”

When I begin feeling like I’m too much in my head during my practice sessions, I tune in to my heart. This is one of the reasons why I have to practice in a room with a view. It helps me stay connected to the outside world plus the natural beauty keeps me refreshed. There’s nothing like nature to get you out of your head and encourage gratitude for the gift you have to share.

We must practice fine, technical details to access a higher artistic level; however, we must also practice finding our heart if we are to play on stage the way we really want to and as well as we know we can. Because practicing is such a solitary activity, we tend to constantly instruct ourselves rather than staying inclusively aware of the music and the body. Humans are not designed to be solitary creatures. Music is one way of staying connected and our practicing should nurture that.

As you practice today, try tuning in to a deeper source beyond your brain’s mental chatter. Whether you go to a spiritual place or visualize an image that you can use to diminish the chatter, use it often. You’ll find that this type of practicing will connect you more with your audience while performing as well as make practicing itself more enjoyable.

Ghost Ranch

I spent a week in August on Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu, NM. Aside from where I grew up in Southwest Virginia, it felt like the most secluded place I had ventured.

It was amazing.

Enveloped in nature and music, I performed for Keith Underwood, had amazing conversations with like minded people (now friends), hiked and ran and ate some great food. The week began with culture shock (4 years stuck on the east coast will do that to you) and by the end of the week, I felt at home and energized.

I had kept hearing about the effects of Ghost Ranch on its visitors, but it sounded a little mumbo jumbo to be honest. I'm a transcendant type but those experiences still sounded too spiritual.

But I understand now. I'm on the path to making some great changes in my playing because of Keith and spending a week mostly disconnected from the daily grind and technology helped release some emotional blocks. My week at Ghost Ranch combined everything I value - music, fitness, transcendence. Instead of having to fight to balance those values as I do in my daily life, they all combined effortlessly there.

On my way back to Albuquerque to fly home, my friend Allie and I stopped in Santa Fe. I was in search of turquoise, but instead I found a great bracelet. The artist who made it said the bird symbolizes independence and free spirit. I wear it as a reminder of my independence as a person and the type of free spirit I want to cultivate in my performances as a musician and artist.



It also serves as a reminder of that week. It was such a transforming experience that I have plans to go back next year if my schedule allows.

Peeling back the Layers

Since I began seriously playing again, I have struggled with performance anxiety in ways that I don't recall ever experiencing. I have read books, talked to my teachers, and sought multiple performance opportunities in order to practice the skill of performing.

But I still feel like I fail. Why?

Interestingly enough, I had an epiphany sitting in my car listening to the radio. P!nk's song, "F'in Perfect," was on and I really started listening to the lyrics. All of a sudden, I realized that the negative performance experiences I had as a child are still affecting me emotionally and psychologically.

On a personal level, you can hide behind a shell of yourself. As a musician and an artist, you must lose that shell. Losing it can induce anxiety and self-doubt. There are different types of performance anxiety as listed in my colleague Marion Harrington's article; however, when I read these, I found that I couldn't exactly define how I suffer.

I began my musical journey as a singer. As a kid, I sang all the time. I would sneak into my brother's room, play a record, and sing along. If I didn't know the words, I made them up (I especially remember "La Bamba").

As I got older, I began singing in public. I could easily get up and sing in front of a church full of people. I was singing because I loved it, and I didn't have any preconceived notions about what I was supposed to do. I didn't start developing preconceived notions until I began entering talent shows at school.

I grew up in rural Southwest Virginia which is very religious. I sang anything my mom could find a taped accompaniment for, which was usually gospel or Christian contemporary music. And that's what I sang for my talent shows. The rejection that I remember most is a school assembly that I sang for. I don't remember the song, but I do remember looking up into the bleachers and seeing a boy mocking me.

I never tied this experience to my flute playing, but I think that it is a factor in how I deal with my anxiety. As I got older, I began burying more of my true self in order to fit in as most of us do. I have an "old soul," and I had only a few close friends. Because I find myself caught in the middle between those my own age and those older than me who I'm closer to in maturity, I have built layers of walls to protect myself from getting hurt in relationships with others.

We all build walls. Breaking them down in order to perform without fear is perhaps the most difficult part of our job.

Ultimately, this realization peeled back one more layer of my psyche to figure out exactly why I get anxious when I perform. My ease as a singer and a natural performer has evolved into a nervous adrenaline rush that affects my entire performance. It has struck at the beginning, in the middle, and sporadically.

How do I start to let go and enjoy the music?

My most recent post (Opening the Heartspace) is a step in the right direction. I actually started writing this post several months ago, but I've been letting it simmer. There was something there that although realizing that my childhood fears have followed me into adulthood, it doesn't explain everything.

There's something more. Perfectionism.

When we're children, we don't try to be perfect. We are able to perform without expectations or pressure. We sing/play/dance simply because we love to do it. Somewhere along the way, we learn that this isn't good enough. We must be perfect. We must please others. And when someone laughs at or mocks you, then you begin avoiding that which used to give you so much joy.

My experiences make me who I am today and I know who I am as a person, but the more I can break down the walls that I have built around myself to protect myself, the more true artistry will emerge in my teaching and on stage.

Here are some resources to help you overcome the "lizard brain" (as Seth Godin puts it):

Elizabeth Gilbert on nurturing creativity


Seth Godin's Linchpin

Personal Music Therapy

For those of you that follow me on twitter and Facebook, you know that my grandmother passed away recently. Even though I had prepared myself for the inevitable, her passing was still painful especially since she was my last living grandparent and she was my favorite.

As I did for both my grandfathers' services, I played my flute. My grandparents were so proud of my accomplishments, and I am so proud of my family's musical heritage.

Because of these past performances, my mother and uncle wanted my brother and I to play what we had already done once before. My grandmother was treated to an encore performance of what my brother and I had played for my paternal grandfather, and what I had played alone for my maternal grandfather. And more so than the times before, playing during my grandmother's funeral service was perhaps the most therapeutic experience I've had in my life.

My brother played on the mandolin that our paternal grandfather (a bluegrass musician himself) left him, handmade in 1997 by a local man. We chose "Amazing Grace," a simple but powerful tune that resonates so well in the hills of Southwest Virginia. Because of our lack of time and the expected yet unexpected timing of my grandmother's passing, we didn't have time to prepare anything else; however, playing with my brother, products of our family's musical influence, I could do nothing else but hug my brother when we finished.

Unlike past services, I had to play again. This time "The Lord's Prayer." I was happy to play unaccompanied because it meant I could let my emotions guide me without straying from the song's intent. Emotionally charged throughout, I was able to stay focused on the task at hand - performing to honor my grandmother's memory.

The climax was the most difficult moment of the song, as I felt a huge swell of emotion within. I was able to finish, and that moment became a lesson in resilience. No matter how low the valley, we all have enough strength to get through the toughest moments. Since I wanted to use my performances to "converse" one last time with my grandmother, I stayed aware of my family to invite them into reflection but I also stayed within myself.

Interestingly, I did not have to cope with any performance anxiety. I want to figure out why this type of emotional performance did not affect me in the same way as my other performances do. Instead, I think I played the most musically I have in quite some time and that gave me peace and helped calm the self-doubt I've been wrestling with recently. It reminded me of all the qualities that my grandmother passed on to me: strength, courage, resilience, compassion.

Moments of grief come and go, but the fact that I was able to perform not once but twice for my Nanny will comfort me for years to come. Being able to play for a relative's funeral is not easy, but the healing benefits are very important in the grieving process.

Flutronix: Review

Through a chance meeting on myspace, a unique duo was born. Brooklyn based Flutronix is a classically trained pair of outstanding flutists that have made the crossover into a widely appealing electroacoustic fusion. Allison Loggins-Hull and Nathalie Joachim are combining their passion for the flute and composition and forging a new way, creating more accessible pathways for people that may not otherwise know about classical music and engaging new audiences as a result.

I was pleased to receive a copy of their Kickstarter funded debut album. Mesmerized from the onset by the layers of sound in Joachim's piece "Crazy," the album delivers a diversity of styles in each track from electronica to hip-hop to reggae. As a fan of Steve Reich, I particularly enjoyed the loops in "Stacked" which is reminiscent of Reich's "Vermont Counterpoint."

This album was arranged to showcase the duo's multiple influences without tiring the listener. The vocals in "Aware" and "Wander" further showcase the duo's compositional and multimedia abilities to produce two intriguing duets between flute and voice. I also enjoyed the more virtuosic flute pieces, "Bit of Everything" and "Pray." For flutists, the licks sound so familiar (like Taffanel and Gaubert familiar) but made cool by pairing with electronica.

As a classical flutist with a non-musician spouse, I am constantly searching for music that will appeal to my husband while also being able to appreciate it for its artistic value. He enjoyed Flutronix's offerings as did my brother-in-law. I was excited to share this with them if for no other reason than to give them an example of great flute playing within a context they could appreciate.

I hope that Flutronix will continue this project, and that their creativity will inspire others to pursue their unique projects. You can purchase Flutronix's album from their website (http://www.flutronix.com/) in addition to iTunes and Amazon.

Check out these other links:

http://www.facebook.com/flutronix

http://www.wqxr.org/blogs/q2-blog/2010/jun/02/brooklyns-darmstadt-flutronix/

http://www.myspace.com/flutronix

http://www.youtube.com/user/flutronix

Shifting the Focus back to Expression and Creativity

I've been having a conversation on Twitter with @MazzaClarinet otherwise known as Marion Harrington, a professional clarinetist and motivational author (http://marionharringtonclarinet.com/). The conversation began as a discussion of the importance of academia on musical interpretation and the positive or negative impact it has on one's natural inclinations and this discussion has transformed into one about the sacrificing of musical expression for technical perfection.

Students that enter college to study music must take an assortment of theory and history lessons in order to develop a framework for them to become better musicians. It's critical to a student's development to have this academic education in order to return to music with a enlightened view of its structure and historical context; however, viewing music in strictly academic terms will render the music void of any expression whatsoever. I discussed this point in an earlier post (http://sensibleflutist.blogspot.com/2010/06/personality-of-musician-deeper-look.html). I would go further than I did in my previous article, and state that having a certain amount of talent paired with a solid musical education will produce a musician with a heightened sensitivity to the music.

From this, the conversation took a turn towards the question of creativity and how so many performances nowadays are technically accurate or "note perfect" but lacking in musical expression. For flutists, the current focus leans toward technical superiority and perfection. My guess is that this focus extends through all woodwinds because of the physically emcompassing requirements of playing a wind instrument. We get so wrapped up in the physical and technical side of playing the instrument that we forget why we committed ourselves to music in the first place. I certainly didn't start playing the flute because I wanted to learn to control my breathing or have fast fingers. I began playing the flute for the expressive powers and potential it holds.

I attended several masterclasses over the summer, and most of the focus was on technical aspects of flute playing. This approach is ingrained in me so much that I find it incredibly difficult to listen to beautiful flute playing without scrutinzing every detail rather than appreciating the beauty; however, by the same token, it's difficult to find recordings that give you a glimpse into the whole package. Encouraging young musicians to attend live performances is one of the most important steps we can take to shift the focus from technical playing to free and creative.

So what other ways can we start changing this focus? We're musicians with a creative urge to find solutions. We are always looking for solutions to improve and do things better. I think that flutists (and any other instrument that falls into this perfection obsessed category) should take the opportunity to listen to vocalists, pianists, and stringed instruments. Attend masterclasses for other instruments than your own - it's eye opening to see how they approach their music. Take the universal musical ideas you learn from them, and apply it within your own playing. Go to solo recitals of other instruments.

Improvisatory exercises are extremely useful when exploring the bounds of your own creative musical expression. When you take away the visual, your heighten your other senses and the music begins to become a natural, non-thinking extension of who you are. I really enjoy attending jazz concerts to see and hear the freedom of these musicians. I strive for the same freedom in my playing. As David Thomas (@DTClarinet) stated on Twitter, playing a piece of music is a "recreative" process, but also takes imagination. I think that pairing the improvisatory freedom of non-thinking with real imagination will increase your control over a piece of music and bring out expressive qualities in your playing that will engage your audience in a real-time narrative.

The beauty of music lies in its ability to engage the entire realm of human emotion, and express happiness, sorrow, anger, tell a narrative or paint a picture. By engaging the self through creative and imaginative self-exploration, we break the mold and become free-thinking, musical individuals.

Intention and Emotional Inhibitions that affect it

So sorry for the 2 week gap in blogging, but my lone computer began acting up and I was blessed to get another one so soon. So now I have a new computer that I can dedicate exclusively to my online musical activities.


I stirred up an interesting debate among several flutists on Twitter the other morning when I tweeted about a statement I'd heard the night before. I jam with a group of amateur musicians that just love music and come together to improv and play a variety of folk tunes. I enjoy it because it's such a different environment from a professional aspect, which I find refreshing. In a former life, I would have refused to join these people but I now see it as a unique opportunity to play just to have fun with no pressure.


This violinist, who is a music major at a university out west was discussing why she must practice to the group and stated that as you get closer to the "ideal," you're able to play with more freedom. I agree with this statement in the sense that if you obtain a technical mastery over the instrument, you have a greater awareness of what the instrument can do for maximum expressiveness. I disagree with the statement in that there is no one "ideal." We are constantly shaping ourselves as musicians and our musical identity is always a work in progress. In this mixed group of amateurs, the reaction was one of, "Well, what's the ideal?" Even without a strong music background, they already sensed that there is no true ideal.


While jamming that night, I was tired and didn't feel emotionally involved. I still got something out of going; however, I noted the heightened emotional state of the others there. I am a very private person that has a hard time showing emotion to anyone other than my husband. There are certain tunes, especially some Appalachian folk tunes (from my SW Virginia upbringing), that can bring me to tears. Patriotic outpourings of support for members of the military of any type make me cry. But why is it that I have such a hard time expressing myself, whether it be on a personal level or a musical one? Why do I sometimes feel disconnected from the music even though I, as a classically trained flutist, can interpret the music and present it in a neat package?


Because of this observation from the night before, I continued to tweet, "I'm jealous of amateurs that love music so much, they can play with no cares." Yes, they may be blissfully ignorant, but they love it and that's what I strive to preserve in my own music making. I think it's hard as a professional musician to maintain that element. It could be why even though I'm classically trained, I am very interested in branching other to other genres of music such as folk music that I can connect with on a deeper emotional level. Branching into other genres means interacting with musicians that may not have the same background or education that I do, but they do it for the love of it and invest a lot of themselves into their art. Their varied experiences can help me along my musical metamorphosis.


The debate then took this turn towards the question of professional versus amateur, and what we as professionals know versus the ignorance of amateurs. I am a very open minded person when it comes to hearing new ideas. I think that a young, budding professional can watch an amateur and examine why they do what they do and perhaps draw from that. How amateurs connect with music on a purely emotional level is a lesson to be learned for those of us that once felt that same way, and have lost a connection with the music.


As far as this "ideal" this young violinist referred to, what is it? I think as musicians and artists, we should be constantly exploring new ideas in our playing and never stop learning. I believe that our musical lives are cyclical, and that is the one thing I love most about music. With the number of fantastic flutists in the world today, we have a huge abundance of ideas that can keep things fresh for us.


With all these new ideas, we must have a strong sense of who we are musically with mastery of our instruments in order to keep those new ideas from throwing us into confusion. I discussed this in an earlier blog post (http://sensibleflutist.blogspot.com/2010/06/personality-of-musician-deeper-look.html). Open mindedness will keep you from boxing yourself in. Don't be afraid to explore new ideas, and see where they lead you. New ideas will only propel you further in your musical journey, and encourage freedom.

Should we incorporate everything we discover? No. Young students should be given a strong foundational musical education so that they are able to make decisions for themselves as they advance in their studies. These young musicians already love music. They wouldn't be devoting themselves to learning an instrument if that wasn't the case. Hopefully, they have teachers that allow them to creatively explore the limits of their instruments and lead them to perform with freedom and expressiveness.

On a professional level, we shouldn't box ourselves in but allow ourselves freedom. I contribute my own struggles with the difficulty I have displaying my emotions for the world to see. That's an issue in my own performances that I am working through, and which is why a lot of my focus is on this topic at the moment. Allow your students freedom and creativity within an intelligent framework to preserve intention. We flute players must allow musicality and freedom to shape us who we are as musicians, and not who can play the fastest.