I didn’t notice that, as my space had become more neglected over the years, including my teaching space, my life was becoming less fun. The peeling paint on the walls of the building I rented to teach music was becoming mirrored by the peeling away of self-respect and confidence I felt in my teaching. Fast forward to many years deep in a relationship with a wise and amazing visual artist/brilliant environment-creator and I have learned that a clean space with lots of light, beautiful art on the walls, and a vase with fresh flowers in it is half of creating...
But, DO Practice Though
Having written two posts already about releasing the guilt surrounding practicing and taking a more relaxed and focussed approach I must now make an argument for, in support of, and cheerleading practicing. In an impromptu speech to my students at a Jam Recital I was heard to say, “I know I don’t require practicing to participate in our community. But, that doesn’t mean ‘don’t practice.’ Take a moment to remember how good you would like to be at your craft. Your ultimate vision. Then weigh that against how many years you have left in your natural life and see if,...
The Dreaded Practicing HOTDOGS
Do you remember why you signed up for music lessons to begin with? Was it to feel cool? Free? To express what was deep inside of you? I have noticed a deeply ingrained “bait and switch” that happens in traditional music lessons and I want to make sure to point it out to as many music students as I can because what is at stake is too precious to lose. Imagine you get this great inspiration to learn an instrument or to sing. You saw a concert or an amazing song popped up on your streaming device that made you...
Why you shouldn’t practice very much.
Growing up as a classical violinist, I was taught there were only two reasons to pick up my instrument; practicing or performing. Nobody said it outright. But that’s what one did. I hated practicing. To me, practicing was defined as “the absence of going to the mall with one’s friends.” For that matter, in my young mind, “performing” meant one or two hours of stomach flutters and sweating palms, followed by 5 minutes of terror, trying to play a piece I suddenly couldn’t remember, for either a panel of judges or an audience of parents who were probably squirming and...