As of late, the inner
musings of my mind have taken to developing theories. Just as I have moments of
discovery in my lessons (usually whilst squatted in a duck position singing
scales), my strands of thought slowly ravel into a deliberate tapestry of
question and answer within itself, and carrying eccentric yet completely
logical sense to back it.
For instance, I have a theory that my clumsiness is directly linked to being left-handed. Hear me out:
The whole world is designed for right-handed work. We are taught to walk on the right side, the handles and blade angles of scissors and knives are for right-handers, computer mice are on the right-hand side…just to name a few. Therefore, as a left-hander, I have had to learn how to do everything backwards. And then there’s the fact that I was taught the right-handed way to do things like knit and throw/kick a ball, so then I am just even more mixed up! Add then that the gravitational pull is clockwise, i.e. the right, (I am not sure if that is correct, which could be a flaw in my theory.) in the northern hemisphere, I have to go in the opposite direction than I was programmed to go. Thus, why I am so clumsy I usually can’t walk straight even if completely sober!
The evidence is real, too… Which hand did I burn…twice? The right. Which hand did I stab last month while cutting an avocado? (long story…) The right. Therefore, I have concluded that perhaps I should consider moving to somewhere on the other side of the equator. Then, the gravitational pull would be in my favor. Ridiculous? Sure. But you can’t deny its logic.
My most current developing theory: We as a society breed perfectionism. That may seem like a fairly harsh statement, but I feel it is true. In some form or another, at least. This is especially true in music…which is ironic, being that live performances are more exhilarating than recordings because of their spontaneous, fleeting nature and vibrancy of beauty that you can feel; there is a literal conversation happening between performer and audience response. Engineered recordings, on the other hand, can almost create a barrier with their lack of flaw; I sometimes feel uneasy when it is too perfect, too measured. Very ironic indeed because…
From an early age, we are scolded for doing something the “wrong” way, for forgetting to dot an ‘i’ on our paper, assignments are handed back covered in red ink, your hand slipped on the piano and pressed the wrong key… And I was certainly the kid that would be angry and in tears if I got less than an “A” on anything. In fact, it took me an entire year of college to realize that a “B” was still an acceptably good grade. My family would also pay vivid testament to my incessant need at age three for my socks be folded precisely the same. (Yes, I do agree that genetic make-up and predisposition must clearly play into perfectionism to some extent.)
Now, I am by no means condoning a slack in learning things solidly and strictly. On the contrary, I think that is extremely important and necessary. In this career, you cannot just be good…you have to be exceptional. What I am saying is that perhaps we (and certainly I know I am incredibly guilty of this!) take things a little too far, becoming afraid of making mistakes and, thus, completely missing the point of musical expression.
That fear can be crippling. It furthers self-doubt and fuels anxieties. What if I fall? (Definitely something I completely will do – and have done multiple times – on stage!) What if I miss that note? What if I forget the words? What if they don’t like it? What if I crack on the high note? Was it good? What if I skip three pages in the score, and everyone gets off because of me? What if I come in late on that entrance? The list of questions like this is endless! If you notice, they are almost always a “what if” scenario, which means it hasn’t even happened, so how do you even know it will?!
And what makes that fear even worse? That people will “know” if you #$%! up. And even worse than that? The critics in the audience that are just waiting for you to make a mistake that they will then take and place in ink for the world to read about even after the fact. Or at least, that is what we think.
I have a friend that is certain to point out the flaw in anything…the singer that sang a bit sharp at the end of that phrase, the singer that splatted on the high E-flat, etc. This drives me batty! Because who cares if they sang that ONE NOTE a bit sharp or their voice cracked ONCE in an entire two-hour performance?! If everything else besides that was stunning, who cares?! The knock-you-back-to-earth reality of that is, not many. Those that do are perhaps just afraid to acknowledge the greatness of the other 99% of your performance. And when we berate ourselves for that stupid mess-up, perhaps we are the ones afraid of acknowledging the good.
All my life, I’ve struggled with perfectionism. I am afraid of making mistakes, even in a lesson or coaching…the place where it is especially okay to take risks and fall flat on your face. I call this “diligent student” syndrome. It’s the reflex to please, seek approval, and essentially, be “perfect.” This is even more ridiculous than my left-hander theory! Get real, Sam! How do you expect to learn and grow with that tension and mental block (whether conscious or unconscious)?! Do I really care if they “approve” or think it is “good”? Part of me does, the rest definitely doesn’t. But it’s that part which does that holds the fear.
Last week, I fell upon the notebooks of lesson transcriptions from my two very dear times studying with János in Hungary. Those pearls of wisdom he imparted to me resonate even more now than they ever did, and not surprisingly, there was a repetition in his words about this exact topic: It’s okay to make mistakes, and stop trying to be “perfect.” I will leave you with two quotes from those notes:
For instance, I have a theory that my clumsiness is directly linked to being left-handed. Hear me out:
The whole world is designed for right-handed work. We are taught to walk on the right side, the handles and blade angles of scissors and knives are for right-handers, computer mice are on the right-hand side…just to name a few. Therefore, as a left-hander, I have had to learn how to do everything backwards. And then there’s the fact that I was taught the right-handed way to do things like knit and throw/kick a ball, so then I am just even more mixed up! Add then that the gravitational pull is clockwise, i.e. the right, (I am not sure if that is correct, which could be a flaw in my theory.) in the northern hemisphere, I have to go in the opposite direction than I was programmed to go. Thus, why I am so clumsy I usually can’t walk straight even if completely sober!
The evidence is real, too… Which hand did I burn…twice? The right. Which hand did I stab last month while cutting an avocado? (long story…) The right. Therefore, I have concluded that perhaps I should consider moving to somewhere on the other side of the equator. Then, the gravitational pull would be in my favor. Ridiculous? Sure. But you can’t deny its logic.
My most current developing theory: We as a society breed perfectionism. That may seem like a fairly harsh statement, but I feel it is true. In some form or another, at least. This is especially true in music…which is ironic, being that live performances are more exhilarating than recordings because of their spontaneous, fleeting nature and vibrancy of beauty that you can feel; there is a literal conversation happening between performer and audience response. Engineered recordings, on the other hand, can almost create a barrier with their lack of flaw; I sometimes feel uneasy when it is too perfect, too measured. Very ironic indeed because…
From an early age, we are scolded for doing something the “wrong” way, for forgetting to dot an ‘i’ on our paper, assignments are handed back covered in red ink, your hand slipped on the piano and pressed the wrong key… And I was certainly the kid that would be angry and in tears if I got less than an “A” on anything. In fact, it took me an entire year of college to realize that a “B” was still an acceptably good grade. My family would also pay vivid testament to my incessant need at age three for my socks be folded precisely the same. (Yes, I do agree that genetic make-up and predisposition must clearly play into perfectionism to some extent.)
Now, I am by no means condoning a slack in learning things solidly and strictly. On the contrary, I think that is extremely important and necessary. In this career, you cannot just be good…you have to be exceptional. What I am saying is that perhaps we (and certainly I know I am incredibly guilty of this!) take things a little too far, becoming afraid of making mistakes and, thus, completely missing the point of musical expression.
That fear can be crippling. It furthers self-doubt and fuels anxieties. What if I fall? (Definitely something I completely will do – and have done multiple times – on stage!) What if I miss that note? What if I forget the words? What if they don’t like it? What if I crack on the high note? Was it good? What if I skip three pages in the score, and everyone gets off because of me? What if I come in late on that entrance? The list of questions like this is endless! If you notice, they are almost always a “what if” scenario, which means it hasn’t even happened, so how do you even know it will?!
And what makes that fear even worse? That people will “know” if you #$%! up. And even worse than that? The critics in the audience that are just waiting for you to make a mistake that they will then take and place in ink for the world to read about even after the fact. Or at least, that is what we think.
I have a friend that is certain to point out the flaw in anything…the singer that sang a bit sharp at the end of that phrase, the singer that splatted on the high E-flat, etc. This drives me batty! Because who cares if they sang that ONE NOTE a bit sharp or their voice cracked ONCE in an entire two-hour performance?! If everything else besides that was stunning, who cares?! The knock-you-back-to-earth reality of that is, not many. Those that do are perhaps just afraid to acknowledge the greatness of the other 99% of your performance. And when we berate ourselves for that stupid mess-up, perhaps we are the ones afraid of acknowledging the good.
All my life, I’ve struggled with perfectionism. I am afraid of making mistakes, even in a lesson or coaching…the place where it is especially okay to take risks and fall flat on your face. I call this “diligent student” syndrome. It’s the reflex to please, seek approval, and essentially, be “perfect.” This is even more ridiculous than my left-hander theory! Get real, Sam! How do you expect to learn and grow with that tension and mental block (whether conscious or unconscious)?! Do I really care if they “approve” or think it is “good”? Part of me does, the rest definitely doesn’t. But it’s that part which does that holds the fear.
Last week, I fell upon the notebooks of lesson transcriptions from my two very dear times studying with János in Hungary. Those pearls of wisdom he imparted to me resonate even more now than they ever did, and not surprisingly, there was a repetition in his words about this exact topic: It’s okay to make mistakes, and stop trying to be “perfect.” I will leave you with two quotes from those notes:
“It is very important that you know I do not expect you to be perfect...especially the first time. You are allowed to make mistakes. I expect it. It is enough if you are [genuine] in your practicing. We all strive for 100%, but we never get there. It is impossible. We must aim to grow and to remain consistent and move higher. That’s how you must measure improvement/progress, not at how far it is from perfect.”
“The ‘aim’ is never the technical work. The aim is the expression. It is the music. It is very important that the technical work is correct, but that is never the aim.”
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