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Piano Tuition |
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Composition / Thory
Tuition |
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Lecture Recitals |
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Seminars / Lectures |
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EDUCATION
Piano Tuition |
"Where the spirit does not work with the hand there is
no art"
Leonardo da Vinci
I had little formal education at the piano until I was
19. It seems to most people a miracle that I have managed
to develop as much as I have in the space of less than
10 years. However, there is no doubt in my mind that with
the right guidance a lot more is achievable in even less
time. When I examine my musical education I consider myself
very fortunate to have met my piano teachers (Margaret
Murray McLeod, Murray McLachlan and currently Peter Feucthwanger)
but also extremely fortunate to not have been influenced
significantly by other less able or less committed tutors.
Performing at the keyboard in front of many silent people
who listen attentively can be a glorious opportunity to
make Art. But it can also be a highly stressful activity,
especially when lacking experience or when being judged
by an examination, audition or competition panel. A performer
is dealing with millions of calculations, thousands of
notes and their ordering and placing, sophisticated coordination
problems, physical exertion, issues of dynamic shaping,
melodic phrasing, harmonic voicing and structural development,
the insecurities of balancing muscular, analytical, aural
and visual memories and an almost infinitely multi-directional
understanding of time. And then one must bring that something
extra to make the music speak.
Furthermore, the performer needs to be in complete psychological
command during performance. A moment of doubt can lead
to a disaster in any performance and recovering requires
immense faith in one’s ability. And when a solo
performance is built up as the occasion when an individual
is to recite, there can be no expectation of forgiving
compassion on behalf of the audience towards a recitalist
who suffers, say, a major memory lapse – this being
the most common phobia amongst soloists. In short, to
avoid humiliation and unpleasant emotions during a performance,
a pianist must be both confident and focused on the music
– a master of performing from the very first performance.
In this light, a significant part of teaching is about
developing the students’ confidence in order to
allow them to perform freely in front of an audience.
This is generally achieved by encouragement, positive,
constructive suggestions and putting concert activity
in a more global perspective than that of personal embarrassment
or achievement. Music, the pupil must be reminded, is
not about anyone, but about itself – glorious triumphs
and agonising defeats belong to the arena, not the concert
hall.
Peter Donohoe once said in a masterclass that the difference
between saying “Try doing this and see what you
think” and “Don’t do that, it’s
not very good” is immense, even though what you
are asking the student in both cases is to reconsider
a musical idea. It cannot be stressed enough that shouting
“No!” and “Don’t” at people,
or employing sarcasm and criticising in place of inspiring
confidence is nearly criminal and only diminishes any
chances of development for the student. Regardless of
how talented, resilient and unharmed students may seem,
they are extremely vulnerable psychologically during a
lesson. Alas, the piano world seems to have inherited
and preserved authoritarian antics as if they were an
indispensable part of its aesthetics – this kind
of museum fetishism is indeed responsible for many more
evils than virtues.
For every one healthy, successful pianist, hordes of neurotic,
insecure pianists with incapacitating egos are produced
every year, most of them unable or unwilling to play music
in public on a regular basis. These are the very same
people who have developed their gifts to a high standard
and who could, if unhindered, make music of the highest
order and generously contribute to music making. What
is standing between us and communicating a musical message
to others?
Answers are often as complicated as the questions which
seek them. An aphoristic statement here would not be the
answer, because the question is indeed more complex for
some pianists than for others. It will suffice to write
here that whatever stands in the way is by no means immovable
as the many brilliant examples of wonderful artists show
us. Again, the unconstructive quarters of the classical
music world, with their elitist 19th century leftover-philosophies
may argue that great artists have been blessed, chosen
by the Gods! On the contrary, the simple truth (backed
by scientific evidence, personal experience and “theological
intuition”) is that it is the rest of the world
who have their musical gifts taken away by years of harsh
criticism, lack of confidence and negative musical development.
But if we happen to suffer from such a fate, there is
nothing to suggest that our condition is irreversible.
In paedagogic terms, every student merits individual consideration
and a serious attempt to address the nature of the questions
concerning his or her playing. All musicians of this world
deserve to reach their full potential and the role of
the teacher is not anything other than assisting whole-heartedly
in this pursuit.
As a teacher I believe that to teach the piano is to make
other human beings look at the 88 keys of the keyboard
in wonderment every time they come near the piano and
to teach one’s self to be humbled by the knowledge
which will always elude us, even more so every time a
new discovery is made. The rest of the teaching happens
all on its own with practical advice and guidance stemming
from natural, pleasant discourse. Ultimately, the aim
is not to know everything but to become aware that we
can only know and play so much; only then can music commence.
In the words of John Cage,
“there is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess
nothing”.
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