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Jul. 15th, 2003 01:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
violachicWell, I just taught some lessons. It was fun. My kids are good kids.
So after I taught, I decided to do some practicing. I don't practice nearly as often as I wish i did these days. But that is another story entirely.
After hitting some scales and a few old favorites, I pulled out a piece that I haven't played in awhile, Glazunov's Elegy. Its a really beautiful, moving piece of music, it has a good deal of Russian angst and has a very Hebraic sound.
I was really puffin' along pretty well with my practicing, and was really enjoying it. There were times that I haven't always enjoyed playing, but these days I really do. But I got to the end of the piece, and there were comments written in, and I recognized the handwriting.
When I was dating Paul (TOG), we played together quite a bit at the beginning. He was a built-in accompanist, which I thought was quite nifty. I jokingly said a few times that we could be the next Daniel Barenboim/Jaqueline DuPre-type duo. We even did a whole recital together once. But playing with him became increasingly frustrating.
In hindsight, I realized that there were quite a few places in our relationship where he really enjoyed pulling the "I'm older than you are, therefore I'm wiser and you MUST listen because you are just a young peon" bit. At first I didn't really mind it cos I did realize that he was older and more educated than I was, and I really did want to learn. But it became apparent that he really didn't have a lot of respect for what knowledge or talent or wisdom I did posess. And it came out most in music.
He wanted to mold what I was playing into his interpretation, very often. It seemed that he viewed himself more as a mentor/coach/teacher than an accompanist. I had, and still have, very concrete ideas of how I perform a piece of music. Interpretation has always been a strong point for me. He not only didn't care what my interpretation was, he wanted to superimpose how he thought it should sound like over anything I'd attempt. Very often he wouldn't even get through a piece with me the first time without stopping in a hundred places and giving me directives. As if he just assumed I had no direction.
I started to stand up to him about it, towards the end of the relationship. In fact, I think that is one reason why he turned into a super-sized asshole. We had decided to prepare for another recital. This time, though, I had very concrete ideas of what I wanted, both in repertoire and interpretation. From the very beginning he had different ideas. So I stood up to him and firmly but gently said that if I couldn't perform my program, I wouldn't do it. So that irked him. Our first rehearsal was really rocky. We were working on the first portion of Vaughan William's Suite. Almost instantly, he stopped and wanted to give me a lesson on how he thought it should go. When I said I wanted otherwise, he got really angry at me. We had scheduled a two-hour rehearsal, but it barely lasted forty minutes. He basically told me that I didn't know what I was talking about and that I had no talent, and no "soul" for music, blah blah blah. That was about three months before it all blew up and ended. We broke up three weeks before the recital was supposed to happen.
I was afraid to play my viola for awhile after that. So when I saw his markings in the music, I gotta tell ya, what a way to kill the mood.
So after I taught, I decided to do some practicing. I don't practice nearly as often as I wish i did these days. But that is another story entirely.
After hitting some scales and a few old favorites, I pulled out a piece that I haven't played in awhile, Glazunov's Elegy. Its a really beautiful, moving piece of music, it has a good deal of Russian angst and has a very Hebraic sound.
I was really puffin' along pretty well with my practicing, and was really enjoying it. There were times that I haven't always enjoyed playing, but these days I really do. But I got to the end of the piece, and there were comments written in, and I recognized the handwriting.
When I was dating Paul (TOG), we played together quite a bit at the beginning. He was a built-in accompanist, which I thought was quite nifty. I jokingly said a few times that we could be the next Daniel Barenboim/Jaqueline DuPre-type duo. We even did a whole recital together once. But playing with him became increasingly frustrating.
In hindsight, I realized that there were quite a few places in our relationship where he really enjoyed pulling the "I'm older than you are, therefore I'm wiser and you MUST listen because you are just a young peon" bit. At first I didn't really mind it cos I did realize that he was older and more educated than I was, and I really did want to learn. But it became apparent that he really didn't have a lot of respect for what knowledge or talent or wisdom I did posess. And it came out most in music.
He wanted to mold what I was playing into his interpretation, very often. It seemed that he viewed himself more as a mentor/coach/teacher than an accompanist. I had, and still have, very concrete ideas of how I perform a piece of music. Interpretation has always been a strong point for me. He not only didn't care what my interpretation was, he wanted to superimpose how he thought it should sound like over anything I'd attempt. Very often he wouldn't even get through a piece with me the first time without stopping in a hundred places and giving me directives. As if he just assumed I had no direction.
I started to stand up to him about it, towards the end of the relationship. In fact, I think that is one reason why he turned into a super-sized asshole. We had decided to prepare for another recital. This time, though, I had very concrete ideas of what I wanted, both in repertoire and interpretation. From the very beginning he had different ideas. So I stood up to him and firmly but gently said that if I couldn't perform my program, I wouldn't do it. So that irked him. Our first rehearsal was really rocky. We were working on the first portion of Vaughan William's Suite. Almost instantly, he stopped and wanted to give me a lesson on how he thought it should go. When I said I wanted otherwise, he got really angry at me. We had scheduled a two-hour rehearsal, but it barely lasted forty minutes. He basically told me that I didn't know what I was talking about and that I had no talent, and no "soul" for music, blah blah blah. That was about three months before it all blew up and ended. We broke up three weeks before the recital was supposed to happen.
I was afraid to play my viola for awhile after that. So when I saw his markings in the music, I gotta tell ya, what a way to kill the mood.
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no subject
Date: 2003-07-15 03:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-15 08:38 pm (UTC)I've learned to try never to give advice without first asking if it's wanted.
At my age I know what I know from my generational prespective and the advice of mentors, what I don't know I learn form those younger than me. It can be like exploring a different culture or county. And though I must watch carefully to keep my ego in check, it can be excitng. And as a writer exploring a new point of view helps me to define my own perspective.
Re:
Date: 2003-07-15 10:34 pm (UTC)