Sunday, February 17, 2013

Theorbo Does Bach








  Last week I went on a mini tour to Nashville, TN with a classical/pop chamber group.  I drove close to 18 hours in 3 days, played four concerts, and had a blast.  The only attention that Mr. Bach received, however, was during sound checks: a little Allemande here a little Sarabande there.  Within 12 hours of my return to Chicago, I immersed myself once again in the wonderful world of Bach, and it was good.
I share a teaching studio at Northwestern University Academy with an amazing guitarist who helps organize the Segovia Series at NU.  After teaching one day, he told me about an upcoming recital featuring Hopkinson Smith on the German lute (a.k.a. theorbo) performing the first three Bach Cello Suites.  There was no way I could miss this. Despite my crazy weekend of traveling and performing, I  canceled my teaching and decided to treat myself to an afternoon of baroque bliss. 

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Macro versus Micro: Pointillism in Music


 


  I've always enjoyed afternoons spent at the art museum. While attending the Cleveland Institute of Music, I would often stop in during practice breaks just to admire a few of my favorite paintings. Unfortunately, the Art Institute in Chicago is not free of entry as is the Cleveland Museum of Art, so I don't go as often as I would like, and if I do, I plan on staying several hours as not to waste $23. I am a musician, but I find it refreshing and exciting to allow other art forms to inspire and influence my own.

  On a recent visit, I found myself thoroughly mesmerized with Seurat's famous painting Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. At first, I simply stood back and enjoyed the beauty - the lively colors, the content, the mood, the fashion, etc. Soon I inched closer and closer to the painting (well, as close as those grumpy security "officers" would allow) to examine the millions of tiny dots that Seurat used to create this masterpiece. Upon close inspection, this technique of pointillism seems so unnatural, contrived, detailed, and compartmentalized; but from a distance, the myriad of dots melt together into one unified and realistic work of art.  This seeming dichotomy of micro and macro must exist in art. 

  As I have been studying the Suites, I find that I often get lost in the details, but Seurat’s painting reminded me that this is a crucial step in creating art.  Every harmonic movement, melodic motif, articulation, bowing, dynamic, etc. is like the dots in pointillism. The micro must be addressed in order to create the macro. The challenge is to release one’s self from the details, step back, and look at the big picture. 

Saturday, February 2, 2013

A Blog is Not a Dissertation

 
It has been exactly one week since my last post.  Yes, I have been busy, but this is no excuse.  The truth is that I am overwhelmed by the enormity of this project.  Thankfully, I now realize that I was completely missing the point of blogging, thereby sabotaging my own project.
 
On Thursday evening, the previously mentioned handsome Latino man, who I am proud to now call my boyfriend, took me out to dinner.  As we sat in the dimly lit room of Lula Cafe in the heart of Chicago's Logan Square neighborhood, we talked about everything from our shared love for food to our dream vacation destinations.  We also talked about blogging.
 
It just so happens that the handsome man who sat across from me at Lula's is a a very skilled, professional writer.  He is very supportive of my project and gave me some great advice that I believe will help me continue in my journey.
 
In discussing the blog, I couldn't help but reveal my excitement over certain discoveries I had made  in my studying and practicing.  I also couldn't help but disclose my frustration over my inability to make decisions and failure to write another post.  I shared how I listened to and compared several recordings, how I found materials from years past when I first started this project, how I started researching which video camera to buy so that I can record my interpretation of each movement.