On Technique

"It doesn't make much difference how the paint is put on as long as something has been said. Technique is just a means of arriving at a statement." (Jackson Pollock) 

This writing is inspired by some of my dear friends who just survived the music camp and now are struggling with the technique in music-making process and got caught in what I called "technique hysteria". 

I suffered technique hysteria early 2005, when I just got back from Berlin. I spent my last four months there improving my technique with a very good professor and she was giving me a lot to think about as well as to train. When I started my lessons with her, I didn't think I was going home four months after, but the class was abruptly ended, and then I was left with a huge question mark on about every little details in music-making. Is my fingers quick and strong enough now? Do I have a supple wrist to support my movement? Do my thumbs move with as much flexibility as other fingers? Am I relaxed enough? Do I have some bad habits I didn't realize having? There were questions after questions and at one point, I was blocked. I was so scared of playing anything, even the easiest music, because all of a sudden, I became so aware of every single thing. My brain couldn't get the big picture, and it was always about the minute parts which compose music, not the music itself. 

I must tell you, it's the most frustrating period in my musical life. And it's all because of a devil called technique. 

Here's what Picasso said about technique: "the more technique you have, the less you have to worry about it." Okay, very true. This makes total sense. There are people in this world to which technique comes naturally that they sometime couldn't explain it and they never have to worry about it. They're like the most gifted handyman who has all kinds of hammers and bolts and nuts in their belt and can use it to make everything, from door to window to wooden sculpture. But not everyone is born with this kind of gift, and I think this shouldn't stop us from doing an artwork, or anything we want to do.

Artists, and in my case musicians, who are frustrated with their limited technique should always come back to elementary school and go to drawing class. Why do first-graders love drawing class so much? Because they can do whatever they want, and create whatever it is that's in their mind, without worrying whether the result would look very much like what's in their mind or...not at all. In short, screw technique. They have fun, and they create, and they say something with whatever they possess. And do you know when drawing class isn't fun anymore? The moment you realize that your friend has some hidden magic in his hands which can create chicken that looks like chicken, whereas your hand can only produce chicken that looks like chicken nugget. But no need to be sad. Normally when you realize this, you also realize that you're not head over heels in love with drawing class and you're more than happy to try your hands on soccer or poetry. 

But what if you're so in love with one particular form of art and you know that your life is meant for it but your technique isn't supporting your love for it? First of all, you must remember what Martha Graham said. "Great dancers are not great because of their technique, they are great because of their passion." Okay, this will sound too good to be true. You need more than passion to be great. You need to work super hard. But I've seen many people who have enormous talent in music and still they are not the best musicians because they lack passion; that one flame, the fuel that drives them from within. Second of all, you learn the tools you need to be good in what you do. Of course, if you're not a natural-born pianist like Horowitz, you will have to go the extra thousand miles to be able to play Traumerei as lovely as he did (with the risk that you still can't be able to play as lovely as he did), but it doesn't mean that it is not possible. And you might have to learn all your life to be good, but if you want to be true to yourself, then you shouldn't mind spending all your lifetime to learn. 

I'm not saying here that technique isn't important. I'm just putting it back in its place, and I think technique is a tool to express. If you can learn the right stuffs, it's great. But if not, the person to stop you is yourself. With music, before anything, and like every other thing in life, you have to know what you're going to express before you pick the right tool. It's like a surgeon. You have to know what you're going to cut and why before choosing the right scalpel. And if you don't know your intention, your tools will be useless. So if your mind is creative enough, you will always find the right tools to explain what's on your mind, what you feel when certain music hits your soul, and what you want to say with it. And cultivating this is more important, I think, than anything else. And to do that you must go beyond correct hand position and all science to make good music. To do that you have to fall in love, have a heartbreak, talk to people, get connected, smell flowers, hug trees, feel the wind in your face, laugh, cry, give a lot of hugs, and live life to the fullest.

Because

Oh, because you never tried

To bow my will or break my pride,

And nothing of the cave-man made

You want to keep me half afraid,

Nor ever with a conquering air

You thought to draw me unaware --

Take me, for I love you more

Than I ever loved before. 

And since the body's maidenhood

Alone were neither rare nor good

Unless with it I gave to you

A spirit still untrammeled, too,

Take my dreams and take my mind

That were masterless as wind;

And "Master!" I shall say to you

Since you never asked me to.

Sarah Teasdale

Life, in Perspective

"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal." (from an Irish tombstone) 

Last week, just one day after the camp and a few hours after I wrote my last blog, I was killing time in front of my computer, feeling uncertain about days to come and thinking what I will do next year if there would be no camp. I supposed mum already smelled my erratic thoughts and so she took a precautionary step: she went upstairs, gave me those nocturnal lecture and told me off. As a desperate attempt to shut her up, I told her to give me a break. 

But sometimes, life presents you with so big a challenge and you can't even ask for a break. 

A day after this, a good friend of mine lost her husband in a tragic accident. I won't tell you how tragic because I can't bear re-telling it, but the moment I heard the whole story, I got down on my knees and prayed to God that my family and my closest friends would be saved from such tragic occurrence. It was devastating. I can't imagine how devastating it would be for my friend, who must go through this hell and back. And yes, she has to go back, because she's got two handsome little men counting on her. Life must go on, even without a beloved partner on her side.

Now, I have to admit, when my BFF gave me the news, my problems seem so small, so embarrassingly diminutive that I almost regretted writing about it in my blog. I can't even begin to compare my life as a single woman who is free and still able to do whatever I want and choose the path I want to take with some married friends of mine who have to make sacrifices every day and put themselves seconds. Of course, it's all about choices, but I always believe that the best thing in life is to be free, and although at some point people will want to trade that freedom with some other things in life, things that are also as beautiful as freedom, it will never be the same. What's more difficult is when you have traded this with something that worth more than your freedom, then you have to lose it. 

But life's like that. People lose things every day, sometime they are precious and bigger than life itself, but you must continue living. Life was kind enough to give me a week break, to make me re-think about my life and what I really want to do (at least for the moment) and then live up to it, but I know that there are many that are less fortunate, and because of this I feel grateful, and for this I wish them the best of luck.

What I know for sure is that things that are missing from our life will be replaced. It won't be the same, of course, because no two living entities are ever identical. But there are only three possibilities. God either gives you better, or bigger, or more. In any case, God won't let you down. And I sincerely hope that my dear friend will find a replacement even more valued, cherished, and prized than the one she said good-bye to. And it is true, that deaths will leave us a wound that will not be healed, but memories always sustain us throughout the most difficult moments in life. And in good time, we rise again. 

Reluctance

...

Ah, when to the heart of man

Was it ever less than a treason

To go with the drift of things,

To yield with a grace to reason,

And bow and accept the end

Of a love or a season?

("Reluctance", Robert Frost)

It's over: my fourth camp.

I can understand now why the Chinese omits 4. It's a deadly number. At one point the camp felt almost deadly to me, but as I learned from past experience, everything always ends up well. My cellist-friend Damien used to say, there's always a solution to every problem. If not, things will fix themselves. Like every other things that happen in this world.

Things started to get better when Kim arrived on site. She is super fun, super easy and such a bundle of positive energy that she started to outshine all things grey and gruesome. The presence of Rafael, the youngest camp member ever, also lift my mood because I just love babies. And Kim turned out to be an excellent teacher and mentor. The fact that she is also a mother made her gave 150% of her energy to take care all the young pianists and to make sure they developed something during the camp. With her around, the rest of the camp went by so quickly, almost too quickly for me. 

Yesternight, we had a super-long concert to wrap this year's project. I started the concert on time, at 7.30 pm, and we ended at 10 pm. The best performance by Bandung's own Anime String Ensemble closed the concert with Britten's Simply Symphony, which was well-directed and well-rehearsed by Berlin Phil's Micha Afkham. The energy he lent to the ensemble lift up their whole presentation, resulting in a perfect ending for the night. 

So, all's well that ends well. 

What's coming now is post-project depression. 

Call me drama queen or whatever, but honestly, it's always quite difficult for me to get through the emotion after a season is finished. Sometimes a season can fly, I've got fantastic people that could make fantastic music; sometimes situations can get the better of me and I can't do anything but praying that it's all over, but all those experience are always good experience, and after all, I always remember the good things (and that's why I don't learn and do the same thing over and over again). And because good things make you happy, leaving them behind makes you sad. The only way to get over it is to actually start working again on a project, or a new season. I've been thinking that for the past 4 years since I started the camp, I never had a proper vacation. But then I realize that I'm not good at taking vacation. I'm supposed to have a week-break now before I start teaching again, but already my mind is sketching plans for the next few months, and my index finger browsing music scores. For me, this is very effective in overcoming the blues. And it's productive. 

But I'm afraid this time it's going to be more difficult because I've promised my parents to stop after this, and now I feel kind of lost. On the bottom of everything, I love what I do, and if you lose something you love, or if you are deprived of the object of your affection, you ought to feel lost for a while. It's valid for any case of loving. But if I may elaborate, there are lots of reason why I love doing this. Planning a season always gives me direction because then I will know what to do for the next few months, what to prepare, who to call or write, or even when to take a pause for a while, which is a good thing to do in between projects. Then because planning means preparing, the German side of me loves it because preparation means less stress. On top of them, I am good at it and this gives me a sense of self-worth. And apart from all of these, I love connecting and working with musicians friends. It makes me feel like I'm not so alone, that I'm a part of something. 

Unfortunately I now have to find another way to be happy without doing this one particular thing that I love the most. I still have teaching, which I love more and more, although teaching can be a delicate stuff, and it's important to check the balance from time to time because teaching can take a huge chunk of your time, and before you realize it you don't have time to do anything else for yourself. I'm also thinking about going back to studying, adding some more solo as well as chamber music repertoires and step up on stage instead of the back of it, reading more books about music, musicians and music-making, and listening to more music. I imagine, the next season will be a more quiet one, with less people to see and manage, and less places to visit (in fact, I might be staying at home the whole time), but it will be less risky and less stressful for people around me. For me, after being used to risk and stress after 7 years, next season will be less exciting, to be sure, but maybe, there will be something else awaiting me. 

I heard that when God closes the door, He will open the window. I could maybe say that this is the end of an era, and a door has been closed behind me. But no matter how much we've lost, we always end up getting more. I know I have to accept the end, even if my heart is heavy, and still seeking. All good things must come to it, sooner or later. And when it does, it doesn't mean that bad things will follow. It is very possible that better things will come.

I'm hopeful.