Fantasie Impromptu Chopin
I go far too fast, having an awful time slowing myself. So far I can only see it as a whole and when I know and say I must break it down first it is all confusing again. Badly related rhythms, blurred and tragic, either way. Yes, I can play it. I can't play it well. My hands are wayward.
I don't really know if I am trying to get anywhere, I don't know if I am trying to learn anything, all right, I don't know what I'm doing at all. I haven't touched the shiny metronome in probably a hundred and eighty six years and everything about that says I don't care enough. But I woke up very late this morning, I went to sleep very late last night; my throat wheezing head throbbing and whole self chilled. Is that an excuse? The fever is all in my fingers now. My wayward fingers.
*
I have to teach a lesson in a little while. The reason I couldn't possibly teach anyone other than my own sisters is that I always sit with my bare feet up on the Spinet and my notebook in hand, pencil scribbling or tapping a rhythm out between all my gentle advice, all my well meaning falsity: Go slower... not so fast... You should probably practice this week with the metronome the metronome I haven't touched in a hundred and eighty six years...I go far too fast, having an awful time slowing myself. So far I can only see it as a whole and when I know and say I must break it down first it is all confusing again. Badly related rhythms, blurred and tragic, either way. Yes, I can play it. I can't play it well. My hands are wayward.
I don't really know if I am trying to get anywhere, I don't know if I am trying to learn anything, all right, I don't know what I'm doing at all. I haven't touched the shiny metronome in probably a hundred and eighty six years and everything about that says I don't care enough. But I woke up very late this morning, I went to sleep very late last night; my throat wheezing head throbbing and whole self chilled. Is that an excuse? The fever is all in my fingers now. My wayward fingers.
*
2 comments:
Like waves... that's what I imagine to be the way to learn the music... the gentle undulations of the ocean... and me amongst the waves... to reach the top where I can see how it is supposed to be... the sound I start to hear reveals a trace of the beauty of the black on the page... and then dips down into confusion where all I can see around me is walls of water where my hands learn and my brain thinks far too much. It is a wall we scale... our mind. During a time when the notes are engraved on our souls... one eighth note, one phrase, one theme at a time... and when our soul knows it, and our fingers know it, then our ears and our brain take a backseat... and do nothing but listen to the music they tried so hard to interfere with...
And I teach in barefeet too... lol... feet on the floor so I can bend forward with my nose peering over my students shoulder...lol... my own teacher told me I have to practise in shoes... but I hate it... and would consider taking my shoes off in the exam :-) Not sure how that would go over though...
You write very beautifully. I am trying to reach that place, but am still wallowing at times in the thinking stage the difficult learning part when my mind is trying to find where it should be. that is the crux.
For graduation I nearly did take off my shoes to play but relented to propriety and got through it suprisingly well; still, at home I am ever barefoot, it doesn't feel right otherwise; I love the feeling of the actual touch of the pedals, making somehow the whole piano seem closer - as for teaching, when my fit hit the floor and the peering begins, she knows it's business!
C
Post a Comment