I recently returned from a small music festival outside of the city, where we had 12 days to rehearse and present three concerts of completely different repertoire. It was crazy, exciting, at times stressful, and a great learning experience.
In four days, we put together a concert of the medieval Carmina Burana, a Bach cantata concert in about two and a half rehearsals, and then a fully staged world premiere chamber opera in only four days! AND we threw four masterclasses in there. I walked in feeling inadequately prepared and nervous about accomplishing so much in so little time. (Personal history has continually proven that my feeling of being "unprepared" exists primarily in my head, and one day, perhaps, I will begin to believe it!) However, with several deep breaths and a level head, I faced each rehearsal head on, offering the best I was able. After this experience, I feel like I can do anything. That was certainly a test of how much one can handle...which is far more than you ever thought. And there will always be a learning curve, no matter the level of preparation or amount of available time. Not allowing that to hinder our growth and make us shy away from the work is a defining characteristic of a professional.
We always wish we had more time for this or for that, but sometimes, life and this career throw you a situation that may not be what we deem ideal. Nonetheless, we have a job to do, so we set to it. A challenge to be embraced. Yes, there will be mistakes (and believe me, I owned plenty of those!), but it is the reminder that it is always a process. Learning music is a process, rehearsals are a process, and performances are still a process. That last one is the real kicker. It is ingrained in us that performances are like final exams, a product to present. We feel pressure to be "perfect," to be "beautiful," to be the "best." The truth of the matter is, all of those are subjective measurements.
Music is never static. Rather, it is in constant motion. Our art exists on a canvas of time. Unlike a stroke of the paintbrush, a melody cannot be pinned down. Without voice, it is mere black print on a page. Each moment, each note, can never be repeated exactly the same because that exact moment will never exist again. A "product" implies completely finished, unchanging. A performance, on the other hand, is an opportunity to share the process with others. The audience becomes a participant in our process, which is one of the joys of performing. They are ready to be entertained, inspired, to laugh/cry with you....so let them! It is their process as much as ours. Perhaps, this is their first time at a medieval concert (it was my first time singing one!) or their 1000th opera. Either way, whatever happens in this particular performance will be heard for the first time.
In those 12 days, I learned many things, both positive and negative. Above all, I realized: (1) I can handle a lot; (2) despite the sacrifices and how taxing it can be, I still want this very much and think I could handle the jet-setting life; and (3) I need to perform more. My soul is fueled by music, and I know this is where I belong. It feels so natural to be in that element. It won't all happen at once and doesn't need to. It will unfold in due time. No, I am not really sure "what's next," but I do know that I'll be back at the piano, continuing my process. (And perhaps, I'll come up with a brand new topic to write about for once!)
Cheers!
Cheers!
(Oh, and of course, we made sure to squeeze some shenanigans into the schedule...golf club frequenting, cave and rock adventuring, wedding crashing, 1am beach time, etc!)
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