PAMOJA

Togetherness. Unity.

To paint the scene - we were leaving Tafaria en route to Gilgil on a bus with all of our KICF participants. We had just completed four intensive days of music making together. Mornings of body and rhythm work and chamber music coachings. Afternoons of lessons, performances, and outdoor activities (horseback riding!). Evenings of lectures and chamber orchestra rehearsals. Meals together that invited conversations rich with laughter and curiosity. So, on this ride to Gilgil where we were to perform four times at the Pembroke House School, Robert and I asked a question of two nearby students. To help us find a word in Swahili that held the essence of our work together. We had various parameters in the hopes that the word will ultimately find a new home in work based in Laikipia. After about twenty minutes we were given the most thoughtful list. Words and accompanying terms that allowed each to function as an acronym. They ranged from the concepts of culture to opportunity. And then we heard Pamoja. Togetherness and unity. Mic drop. That’s it. Building community, creating shared understanding, coming together. Chamber music in every way. So as I begin to reflect on our third season, I find myself returning to Pamoja. With the deepest gratitude to each faculty member and student for the willingness to enter that world - a world seeking togetherness. Asante sana.

elephants often cycle through my thoughts. certainly at the moment images of naivasha are permeated with their presence - but it’s more. perhaps it’s the connection to subterranean listening that has always fascinated me most. with a fun tangential move to their sound profile in ‘carnival of the animals.’ victor borge’s hilarious impression of the proverbial basso also comes to mind. and of course, spiritual links in numerous faiths. but it’s their eyes that seem to captivate me lately. the glimpse that can’t be encased in anything but truth. their deep connection to togetherness. their soft grandeur. but amidst so many vulnerable global scenarios they seem to radiate all that i hold close. and best of all, it’s just in their very being. there are too many african proverbs to count that speak to the magnificence of the elephant, but to imagine how they exist always leaves me hearing the most beautiful, deep harmonic language. and with that, a smile. because they can hear it, but we cannot.


‘There is a basin in the mind where words float around on thought and thought on sound and sight. Then there is a depth of thought untouched by words, and deeper still a gulf of formless feelings untouched by thought.’

- Zora Neale Hurston

CLAY

The soil receives. It’s perhaps the ultimate symbol of physical listening. It gathers nutrients, it holds light - it nurtures and protects. It tells a story of what has been and what is to come. It’s one of only a few terms that elicits a response that carries resonance across the world. For me, soil tells the story of who we are, where we are, and the world in which we live. I have only begun to reflect on our time together in Kenya. Certainly the soil there holds our collective rhythms and sounds. It holds our moments of beauty. Of understanding. It holds our questions. It holds our truths, painful and luminous. The soil of Kenya is deep in color - red clay. It carries density and never leaves one’s line of vision. This clay holds the feet of children and adults who have been forgotten, it holds the hearts of students who rise to meet every challenge with grace, it holds the possibilities for more. 

The Kenya International Cello Festival now lives in that soil. Its collective heartbeat. Its wind sounds of Lemuria. Its Brazilian landscape of Clarice Assad. Its calypso rhythms of Anthony R. Green. Its solemn hymns of Bruckner and Tchaikovsky. Its work. Its openings. 

I want to hold each student in the richness of that clay. To thank them for their unbelievable presence and willingness to find languages together. I will forever see that red clay and think of them.


I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.

Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

Langston Hughes

The Harlem Renaissance. I learned about it from my grandparents. As we drove into Manhattan and passed through the colors of Romare Beardon. The sounds of Ellington, Billie Holiday, and Bessie Smith. The words of Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes. Among so many to have shaped the movement. There was a vibrancy to all of it. It was so alive. And yet Harlem also showcased such inequity. Not the glamour of lofts purchased and remodeled. It never made sense. It still doesn’t. And in Minneapolis the history is just as, if not more troubling. Of course it’s complex. It’s layered. It’s a quilt of cycles and systems and projections and fears. Thankfully some reflection and dismantling has begun. So much remains. But the continued trauma of daily killings is more than anyone should bear.

I listened today to musicians close to Hughes bring sound to his words (he was of course a musician himself and had incredible collaborations with William Grant Still, etc), read his words silently, and improvised a bit on my own with his words on the music stand in front of me. I hope we get another Renaissance of color. Of sound. Of language. And like a burst of color, I hope it shakes people into change. Into action. Into empathy. Into learning. Into understanding. Into love.


Seeing Beneath

 

Thoughts inspired by a touching conversation with the parent of a student of mine….

I always begin with abstraction. One word. One color. One thought. That central core burns brightly and shines light, albeit uniquely, onto every connection that it generates. It allows any physical gesture or fundamental to be connected to deeper meaning. And to navigate the multiple languages fluidly. Inner architecture I suppose. For my students, it gives them the chance to find connections in anything they do. So that shift up to the D-flat becomes an exercise in openness. So that the echo on the repeat becomes the chance to sculpt intimacy in sound - and understand what that means in the body, in the mind, in the ears. So as Monserrat Cabaille works with a singer to support her sound from breath, one can weave this universal truth into her music making. The how is always in need of explanation, simplification and deep understanding. But listening to who and why will always lead my artistry and my teaching. Who was Fauré. Why did he choose G minor. Why has this dance form remained for so many years. Who am I. The list is endless. But it burns from the same flame. Connected. Thank you to my students for reflecting this process. I am so privileged to work with you.

 

Soil

The last week. In a bubble it’s a series of horrifying acts. We have words for them - sedition, domestic terrorism among the bunch. I wish the words carried more power somehow. The same way I wish culture had more power. So, rather than engage in the horror show, I have been turning to the cello, to teaching for connection and solace. In the hopes of emboldening culture and hopefully easing some of my confusion and upset.

I lean on a world that embraces global voices, that encourages dialogue and isn’t afraid of nuance, layers and the mess that lives in between. And on historians. To voices that chronicle conditions, trends and the backdrop for weeks like this. They don’t just happen. There is a theory that genius is born of soil. I would argue that the soil that produced Mozart has its counterpart in the recent insurgence. Soil rich with fear, bigotry and the sort of privilege that doesn’t even believe it has privilege (pretty much the number one sign you got the lucky ticket in the states). So, back to the cello. Honesty in the arts whether in compositional voice or performance is what moves me and inspires me to create.

Britten’s Third Solo Suite has always offered moments of deep repose. The final Lento carries the weight of a Russian hymn for the dead (Grant repose together with the Saints is notated in the score). Its history - steeped in Orthodoxy, literature and dance (amongst an enormous list of identities within Russia). But as Russian novels take us inside the minds and hearts of their characters, Britten’s work does the same.

It’s hard to quantify the impact of Rostropovich and Shostakovich with this kind of thing. The friendships ran deep and the music wasn’t far behind. The early part of the Third Suite (Op.87) even incorporates the well known DSCH (the music spelling of Shostakovich’s name).

But this hymn seems to speak to a stark yet honest view of life. Tension exists, undercurrents are present. But the sense of an inexorable pulse and contour place us inside the sound itself. Inside of feeling and meaning. And therefore when we arrive at the final pivot to E flat major- magic. It embodies a kind of opening, a moment of inexplicable beauty.

Let’s work our way to that beauty. Even in the face of such pain and hatred. We can’t join ignorance but we can shine light on beauty. On friendship. On music.

 

The Evolutionary Link that is Max Reger

As I was fussing with the Fuge (yes, this was his spelling of the movement) of Reger’s First Suite (traveling through so much solo repertoire these days), some new questions came to mind. I guess one beauty of this pandemic has been a consistent return to deep, lasting truths. Tension and release. Gesture. Dance. Voicing. In this case I’m speaking of the Fuge itself but it could really be anything. But the interesting place seems to be the next layer. Giving life to these elements. Finding ways to craft the gesture, imagine the body, shape the sound. 

   I have been giving lots of thought to dance as of late. Partially because I have a really fun collaboration on the horizon with the James Sewell Ballet, but mostly because the concept of Gesture has been a Zoom favorite amongst my Weisman Museum colleagues. I have loved experiencing it from an archaeological and dancer lens. 

    This Fuge is interesting because the rhythmic language is in fact very simple. Repeated quarters paired with descending eighths that land softly into each cadence. As Bach often did in the Cello Suites, Reger occupied the voice of restraint. What goes unsaid remains totally compelling to me and a driving force of the movement. Plus, a really fantastic stretto and pedal point at the movement’s end look forward and back in a quintessentially Reger kind of way. 

   In the dedication to Klengel, Reger wished him luck with each of the three solo suites while expressing his hope that they found a place in his teaching studio. It’s funny how even the most brilliant perceive their works. But it’s a bit like his place in the compositional landscape. Yes, he lived a short life (43 years) and was shaped by a world steeped in Brahms (think of his consistent return to Baroque form that Reger also followed) and the chromatic pull of German Romanticism (Strauss, Wagner). With a clear rear view mirror looking at Bach. 

   It’s as though his music came to function as the ultimate bridge from the past to the future. It created the bed for Hindemith and honored the counterpoint of Bach. As Viriginia Wolf’s ‘Mrs. Dalloway’ connects us to the concept of a life in a day, Reger weaves time through sound. And although he is most often linked to other composers in the German tradition, this Fuge also took me to Beethoven.

  Given that it’s been all things Beethoven for his 250th birthday, he’s on my mind I guess. Reger’s rhythmic approach to the Fuge brought me to the second movement of Symphony Number 7. It wasn’t embraced initially because this sort of motivic and architectural approach to composition left most audiences unable to digest the profundity of the score. A rhythm was life. A rhythm was melodic. A rhythmic was harmonic. A rhythm was foreground. It was background. It embodied all possible shades and characters. 

   So as we all listen to our own heart beats, what if sound was simply a reflection of that. Of the tree’s heart. Of the baby’s heart. Of the Ojibwa. Of the Viennese. Beethoven drew upon this shared humanity (toss in the cosmos) to create a movement of tremendous meaning.

   So, as I played through the Reger yesterday, I lived with this shared humanity. That pulse weaves us through various decades, centuries, languages and vocabularies. That we are but one connection away from connection itself. So as I search for ways to color and shade the light and shadow of Reger’s Fuge, it feels more personal than ever. That we even embrace his three Solo Suites in the repertoire is because of the lineage of each cellist to whom they were dedicated (Klengel, Becker, Grümmer). Talk about personal. That each of can create impact in any given choice. Meaning.

   That’s what is leading my everything these days. I hope the playing reflects it - better get back to work to be sure. See below for some of my process!


CelloBello Blog Post

https://www.cellobello.org/cello-blog/artistic-vision/sing-paint-dance-part-1/

Sing. Paint. Dance.

Part One

I am often reminded of a statement made by Tabea Zimmerman that alluded to the idea that all instrumental problems have non instrumental solutions.
With that in mind I often advocate a number of non instrumental solutions to any issues that may arise in the course of music making. Each can be connected to one of three wings : Singing. Painting. Dancing.
On the occasions that I played with the LA opera, I was around Placido Domingo as both conductor and singer. The latter is clearly his identity in spades. But to hear him sing every vocal line in a rehearsal always echoed quartet life for me. Listening with a sense of integration -each voice existing within the context of the whole. And beyond the sense of a beautiful composite, Placido used his breath to communicate everything. Phrase length, tension within a given interval and it may go without saying, but, character.
Opera is, of course, one of many wings in the vocal arts. Lieder and its poetry continue to capture my ears and heart perhaps more than any aria. I feel on some level that Matthias Goerne is really the ultimate cellist. Or perhaps the finest cellist integrates an unbelievable baritone voice within his or her palette. Listening and singing Schubert and Schumann lieder are enough to guide the approach to thematic material in any of the string literature. Truly, sing them. In the shower, on the treadmill, anywhere! Why? Because we return to the breath and the ears. We aren’t lost in technique or physical challenge. When we sing, we engage our diaphragm in concert with our inner voice. We truly embody the sound we wish to create. And of course, as string players we connect our right sides to this relationship. We no longer spend the bow unconsciously. We distribute as we would our air supply. We find the speed and weight relationship that connects to the depth of sound we crave and we reflect that frequency in the left side if desired.
Singing is invariably connected to language on some level as well. Hearing the use of language is vital in regards to the discussion of articulation – emphasis can often be connected to the treatment of a vowel or consonance. Also most dots or tenuto markings can be sorted by listening to language. Think of the idioms of Bartok for example. Even singing his name helps to integrate this type of approach to vocalization that reflects Hungarian folk singing. Of course time period and style must also be factored in, but this relationship to singing remains a tool in that discovery process.
This kind of work is always very intentional in the sense that it’s helping physical and internal awareness. It’s turning up the volume of one’s inner Jonas Kaufman (Frederica von Stade or Barbara Hannigan would be amazing voices to incorporate too!) and helping that sound connect to its physical source.
That said, singing can be used in countless ways in practice. One rather unrefined application often helps if hesitation of any sort arises in playing. On any given note that may be a challenge to begin it often helps to sing simultaneously. So when the bow reaches the string and engages in spinning the sound, it is accompanied by vocal sound. It’s not a shock that engaging the diaphragm releases tension in the arms and connects to rhythmic impulse. But without thinking about anything like that, one can allow the body to feel release in conjunction with sound production. This goes for any dynamic range, by the way.
And just to be painfully obvious, singing is perhaps most connected to childhood and imagination. Inhibition is gone and we often can strip away layers that may be impeding the creative process. A phrase moves as it wants to move, rises and falls organically and we are at ease physically all the while. So, get singing!

The Art of Empathy

   If chamber music is the universal thread connecting each wing of music, what then, makes the consummate chamber musician? Perhaps this is always a simple answer - the willingness to listen. Under that rather large umbrella we open ourselves to a full understanding of the score, to questioning, to discovery, to communication, to imagination and from this bed, the creative process is born. But if we back up a few layers, what do I mean by willingness. 

   Aren’t we all willing? I see musicians to be driven by an endless curiosity of sound worlds, languages, colors, bodies, art, dance, rhythm, stories, culture, history, nature, emotional palettes. And in our own ways we all search for and express these layers within any given performance. But does that represent willingness? I would like to suggest that willingness in the context of chamber music listening means a willingness to listen with an empathetic ear.

   Can we truly place our ears in the ears of another? Of course not. Can we try? Absolutely. And can we play in such a way that our choices reflect this empathy? We must. And lastly can we listen as the composer may have? This represents our proverbial mountain top. The ear that hears from afar yet with the keen sense of the inner experiences of a piece (emotionally as well). I would like to dive into some repertoire to explore empathetic listening and examine willingness all along the way. And I should also mention capacity - how do we come to add more and more layers of complexity to our listening? How can we stretch this muscle? I have found some surprisingly simple exercises can address each of these questions and will include these thoughts as the repertoire is explored.

   I would first like to explore more homophonic and antiphonal music just for the sake of clarity when weaving lines, harmonies, rhythmic profiles and sounds together. I should take just a brief moment to explain that although I am speaking to connection when playing amongst others, feeling the composite from both the inside and outside, I am not talking about blend. Blend is a commitment to unifying like material, breath, bow speed and character. The empathic ear first identifies various roles at play and then can make choices regarding unification or profile within any passage.

   The homophonic music I have chosen to illustrate empathetic listening comes from the second movement of Schubert’s Death and the Maiden. More specifically, the theme. In order to support the melodic material it’s always helpful to be aware of the intervals embedded within the tune. In this case tension exists due to the relationship between intervallic pull and harmonic stasis.

    So let’s hang out with this theme. It’s impossible not to mention the song from which the quartet draws the name - for its language and meaning are reflected in the theme and subsequent variations. In the song, Death approaches a young maiden and says to her “Give me your hand, you lovely, tender creature. I am a friend and come not to punish. Be of good courage, I am not cruel; you shall sleep softly in my arms.” 

   Schubert wrote of his inner life in a way that leaves one heartbroken when reading his accounts of life - the deepest sense of pain in existence, relationships and music. And yet in contrast to this mournful soul, he lived and created song with such a sense of fantasy and dream like innocence. And this sense of searching, longing and loneliness weave into his compositional voice along with each component of his inner polarities.

   So, back to this tune! Perhaps that empathic ear also applies to understanding Schubert as a human being and embracing his entire being through sound. Like most cellists, I always begin from the bottom and travel upwards. In this case, the chorale is grounded by a bass line that leaves one feeling a sense of the inexorable nature of time and space. 

   As George Crumb returned to this material in Black Angels, so too do so many of us as we examine the intimacy of melodic and harmonic language woven by Schubert. The first four measures offer a rather traditional progression - an antecedent function within an eight measure phrase. However, the bass line does offer a few gems worth acknowledging. The pedal point of a G is emphasized immediately - What does this tell us? How can we play in such a way to highlight this choice of Schubert? And, how does the G offer a point of relationship for the language of this theme? 

   Let’s talk pedals. The general truths we can bring to the table given the Bach suites and baroque literature is that a pedal point is most often used to emphasize the dominant chord within a key area. This creates a sense of tension upon which counterpoint can draw. It is often a bed for suspensions and various non chord tones above this immovable harmonic point of emphasis. It’s also worth noting when pedals appear in music. If we think of the d minor Bach Suite Prelude, the pedal point is on the dominant as said above and falls at the golden mean of the movement or within the peak tension of the development. 

  This all goes to say, Schubert is playing in uncharted waters. We have a pedal straight away and it’s on the root of the tonic chord. This may just be ‘sure, I get that’ to our 21st century ears and minds, but I would argue that it’s a big deal! And to compound matters the pedal is mirrored in the first violin line for the opening measure. And as we look ahead, this mirror pedal transfers between the first and second violin through the phrase. So within this tonal vacuum a melodic voice emerges. Given that the ensemble is in rhythmic unison, it’s only the intervalic relationships that distinguish roles in this instance.

   Traveling back to the bass line. We see the following progression gm, cm6/4, a passing tone of the a in the viola line brings us back to gm, then am appears but this time with two corresponding pedals each offering a point of resistance and yet openness because the friction against the root is rather interesting. The a in the first vln establishes the a minor harmony and simultaneously creates a perfect fifth with the d pedal in the second vln. Similarly, the interval between the vla and cello is a perfect- however a fourth. So, two perfect intervals sit side by side, stand together in their division yet unity. Because we have the second vln and cello holding the g minor sonority against the a minor harmony loosely established in first vln and viola.

  Let us then revisit the bass line for these two measures with this comprehensive look at the larger picture. How do we play the six G’s. I am being a bit hasty if you can believe it because we haven’t discussed the rhythmic structure as of yet. A half note followed by two quarters, while in cut time, lives throughout the phrase. Therefore we will keep the super structure of a strong bar, weak bar while honoring both the long line and the inherent strong and leading beat within each measure. 

   Now, at long last the G’s. The series of assessments we can now make involve, tesatura and sound world as they impact bow speed, contact point and vibrato. And of course attaching each of these to character, harmony, pulse and dynamic. We have a middle register in the bass voice while the melodic note in the second violin lives in the deepest register of the instrument. So, to support this D and also establish G minor while inviting the character of reflection we create our bed. This bed ideal involves a spinning sound drawn through the string, a contact point that offers a tenor like depth, and an integrated vibrato that oscillates but does not draw one’s attention away from the tone itself. 

   We have only played one note! This process is intensive, but empathy is a comprehensive experience. Living within each line to support it, weaving within the pulse and expressing outwardly in such a way that the journey of the melody is long, seamless and undisturbed. Truly, the silent architect. 

  So rather than simply feed the interpretive experience I would love to create a sort of initial check list for this process. It goes for all voices and asks the same commitment to the whole of each. And as with all things, experimentation is EVERYTHING and the ultimate arbiter must be the ears. 

   This list is simply a series of questions. Perhaps the answers will remain enigmatic but in time clarity will rise to the surface and as with all things, we will aim for simplicity. In thought, in sound and in understanding. Not to patronize, but will we will examine the big picture, travel with our deepest curiosity through the score and arrive back at this largest scope. And this may feel a daunting process but I would offer the frame of infinite discovery. 

  Bear with me as I take a small tangent. I am one who is incredibly drawn to art and the Dalí painting The Persistence of Memory comes to mind. The oozing clocks take on various symbology but perhaps most of all Dalí asks us to ponder time, its elasticity, its existence altogether and far beyond that what this reveals about the unconscious relationships we have to each other, ourselves and the world. This is what I am asking of you....place yourself in the score as Dalí places himself in this work. Find the smallest ants and illuminate their meaning. Hear your colleagues and their voices within the largest kaleidoscope of color and character. And debate. What does it all mean and how can we create the sound we want? 

  I haven’t addressed an overarching concept that will be at play rather quickly in this process. Role and balance. The soprano, alto, tenor, bass voicing is also linked to a timbre and balance that creates the homogenous sound of one voice spreading its sonic wings. This homogeneity isn’t required when roles or articulations shift but in this case, the melodic voice simply offers a more opaque color within the chorale. So, to achieve this sound each voice must create a certain warmth and openness that brings in the sound from colleagues and finds the dance of overtones that allows the sounds to blend into one unified yet layered voice.

   So, let us return to the questions. Upon the first overview of a score, tempo and character choices begin to lend themselves to sound imagination. Let’s keep it simple; allowing the connections and threads to unfold. 

Who, What, Where, Why, How.

If we can apply each of these modalities to our process we can effectively craft the river of thought that allows for softness and flexibility with which to gather our most receptive listening. From that space, our capacity to envision beyond ourselves, live in empathy of our colleagues, the sound and ideas, is endless.

A short list of where one might begin.

Who -

This is all about roles. Who are we in the context of harmony, melody, rhythm. Who initiates the sound? Who leads (of course this will be everyone)? Who is this composer? With whom do I share the same rhythm?

What -

What is the length of phrase? Direction within? Contour? Articulation? How do they relate to the character? What is our overarching narrative and what sound world aligns with this vision. What is the language of the composer and is it reflected in the sound?

Where -

 

Where in our bodies is the source of the sound? Where are we sending our sound? Where does this repertoire fit within the context of this composers life? Where are we going with this phrase?

Why -

Why are we connected to each other, ourselves and the music? Greater purpose. Why does this all matter?

How -

How can we effectively break down the score, our own parts and the rehearsal in such a way that we come to conclusions and practice discovery as well? How can we honor the score, the style, our role and each other in the playing? 

And the next layer :

Who -

Who among us is expressing empathy in sound? Who is supporting the line with her articulation and contour?

What -

What can I do to stay flexible? What can I do to nurture balance in the group sound?

Where -

Where is empathy felt and experienced in my body?

Why -

Why does the music ask this type of listening of me? Why should I continually return to empathy?

How -

How can I contribute to a culture of empathy in each practice or rehearsal session?







   

Absorption

Absorption. Discovery. Simplicity. The recipe for awareness as it lends itself to creative thought and performance is known to be layered over years of practice, personal interpretation and supreme dedication. However I would like to approach it as a process in simplification. This doesn't come easily and is the result of numerous stages of growth and development. One image that I would like to carry through this discussion is a seemingly all black painting of Ad Reinhardt from 1963.

Having grown up with a grandfather who was steeped in all things art, it was not out of the ordinary for us to stand in front of this painting at the Museum of Modern Art each and every time we visited Manhattan. We (my twin sister and I) would quietly stand there, taking it in, listening to the other visitors quietly whispering their opinions and with the guidance of our grandfather, began asking ourselves the battery of questions it tends to ignite. 

What is happening in this painting?

What does it mean?

Why are people are so frustrated by it?

How did he do it?

How did it make me feel?

I must admit I always loved it. From the first moment I stood in front of it, I felt as though I was looking inside a cave within an imaginary mind. As though the darkness was backlit and shining with inner life. As though shadow had been given the foreground and perspective had just shifted to place us inside art or feelings rather than as the casual external observer. As a 6 year old I just said this to my sister : we are inside the cave. Who knows exactly what I meant, but it was a visceral response to the shift in reality and space. Almost viewing the world through another's eyes.

Why does any of this matter? Because I had the supreme luck of meeting this work of art with uninhibited eyes, ears and heart. I absorbed it like one takes in nutrients. Without thought. Nothing separated me from the art. I put myself in it almost immediately. Made it personal. Became curious. Asked questions. Made sure it was on our go-to list on every trip into the city. It became part of me. It evolved. Grew. Deepened. Connected itself to more disparate thoughts and feelings. It even came to reflect much more light than dark over the years.

I was privy to the artists' thoughts as we continued to visit :

At first glance, Abstract Painting may appear to be a monochromatic black canvas, but a careful look reveals that this painting is a three-by-three grid with squares in varying shades of black. Ad Reinhardt once said, “There is a black which is old and a black which is fresh. Lustrous black and dull black, black in sunlight and black in shadow.”1 To create the work, Reinhardt mixed black oil paint with small amounts of red, green, or blue and allowed the paint to sit for several weeks in order to separate the pigment from the solvent. He would then pour out the solvent and use the remaining concentrated paint to apply a completely smooth, matte surface that left no trace of the artist’s brush. Reinhardt explained that he hoped to achieve “a pure, abstract, non-objective, timeless, spaceless, changeless, relationless, disinterested painting—an object that is self-conscious (no unconsciousness), ideal, transcendent, aware of no thing but art.”2


So, again, why is this story at all relevant? It was the living example of learning for me. Absorption. Discovery. Simplicity. The first two words in this triangle of processes are personal experiences, the third is a relationship orientation. Simple is the relationship to the piece of art or music that we are aiming to reflect. Not muddied with study, but enlightened to the point of clarity. This is final stage of the three terms on purpose - although in many cases it is cyclic. 


Our initial love of sound or an instrument or piece of music is without thought. As we begin to understand that sound, that instrument and perform that music we live in absorption and discovery en route to rediscovering the simplicity of our initial love or response.


I would like to enter the present now. As a performing cellist and teacher my compulsion is to dig. Get to the source. Find the opening into new ways of seeing, hearing, feeling in order to surround performance and ideas with more depth and meaning. Often this is figurative but don't discount the literal nature of this exploration as well. We can't hope or dream of being an exceptional player with any sort of realistic expectation of this being fulfilled. If so, the world would be teaming w rock stars (I use the term for amazing performers in all fields). Contrary to much popular belief, greatness remains rare. And should be rare. It isn't easy, it isn't linear and it certainly isn't going to happen in 140 characters or fewer on twitter. 


So, with students I feel archaeological and anthropological. I look for trends, patterns and ruins. I look for context that helps me tap into their absorption mechanisms. I look for what recreates the most uninhibited response to themselves, the cello and a piece of music. To that end I would like to describe four varieties of absorbers that I encounter on a regular basis. And as with any labeling system this is not a box within which everyone will fit. It is however a basic template to reflect my experiences. The point of developing understanding is to guide the second stage of learning - discovery.


My four archetypes of absorbers are :


The Painter

The Sculptor 

The Singer

The Athlete


When woven together we get the mind of a player. When used well, we get the mind of an interpreter with the skills to execute internal sound and vision. We get the mind that can ask why, know how and engage others in the sharing and communicating process. In fact we become the observer and invite that little girl into our world as the Reinhardt painting did for me. 



Let's dive into the absorber profiles. With each, I will offer a definition followed by examples of how one's playing and thinking is reflective of the mode. As a cellist, I will begin by sharing the tendencies seen while at the cello but as we all strive to be vocal story tellers on some level, I will also translate the tendencies into broader patterns of thought, sound  and physical sensitives.


Painter.

Imagine Rembrandt, Monet, Cezanne, Gaugin, Picasso, Jackson Pollack, Rothko, Dali....what is it that all of these artists share in common? The painter represents his vision in color and atmosphere. This can be a still life of peaches as in the case of Cezanne. Or Picasso's Guernica. This is not necessarily realism, it may be conceptual. It may be driven by internal energy or character association. But it is externally created by putting color to canvas. 


We have an organic relationship to the bow in the string world. It's called our emotional paint brush for a reason. Our voice. How one spends the bow is the most direct connection to how one hears sound, rhythm, character. The core relationship to sound is through our right side. If we draw that thread further, sound connects us to our inner voice which brings about the deeper physical connection to breath and more specifically exhalation (a discussion for the discovery process). 


Now, this is well and good to imagine but how do I recognize and define the musical painter modality? Here is what I see and hear in this absorber. This list is in no particular order - hierarchy is not at play but rather, mode of sensitivity.


-A student who is very sensitive to register as it impacts bow speed

-A student who sees color with depth, saturation, detail when playing certain pitches or in certain keys. (This is asked of all students, but Painters offer a vastly different level of explanation than the other modes)

-A student who adjusts the bow first when playing and what they deem as an unpleasant sound occurs

-A student with a large field of vision (sees form/architecture easily)

-A student who has clarity in the sound story of a piece. Almost as though one watches them paint with an image in mind.

-A student who might be defined as observant. Big picture. Right brain dominant.

-A student who latches onto the idea of gestures and rhythm. Think of a painter moving his brush with intent and groupings for impact.


Ok, who am I really describing here? This is a musician who learns from the outside in. Who absorbs by knowing the full scope. Who wants to know why things are isolated in practice because it must have a place in the painting. Who dreams in color and will welcome sound experiments without the feeling of frustration. Who will need the full connection in order to feel part of the process within the piece he is playing. Who will relish telling you what he sees and wants.


I will walk you through a couple of stages of this mode of sensitivity or absorption. A very young beginning student will clearly only exhibit these tendencies in a skeletal fashion, but they will shine through. He will play Twinkle, Twinkle and if asked 'what sort of sound do we want here?' will answer something like :  


It should look like the ocean.

It should sound like wind in the forest.

It should sound like a cheetah moving through the tall grass.


I am not inventing any of the above responses. Again, remember this idea of uninhibited absorption. They simply know how it registers with their insides and they express. If a child is particularly quiet, I will ask a series of questions -


Do you hear the sound as creamy?

Do you think this sound has a face?

Is this sound heavy?

Is this sound far away or close?

Do you see a color when you hear this sound?


The Painter will see a color, understand perspective (most likely the sound the will be close to them) and they may have personified it as well. Again, full canvas. They will be sensitive when creating the sound to make sure that their body is finding what they desire. I also notice a rather easy sense of focus given to contact point and speed/weight issues.


As a student develops this sensitivity will expand. And it will be a student that loves to know about harmony and form - to make choices around all of the context they can find. Often biographical information about a composer and stylistic elements related to a time period will also factor into choices.


Where Painters will need guidance is in the final decision. They are options people and their sense of palette grows with every new bit of information or experiment in the practice room. So, it is imperative that as a teacher, I help them settle on a voice that is their most honest and connected - inevitably the best sounding. 


Trust. Subconscious physicality will always arrive from simplistic approaches. So, although this student will crave imaginative work and exercises, the way to help them ground their playing is to apply simplistic thoughts to their bodies and full range to their creative stomachs. I try to feed them as a chef would feed a diner....a starter in our terms opens the ears and the senses of the body. It may be an arpeggio or scale. It's mission is two fold, connection to inside and outside. Body and mind. So, I feed questions about the key, the color, the atmosphere and the sound world. The simplicity that follows for the body is put in terms of bow weight and speed as it connects to register. The rest is their ears being given the chance to connect the dots. If sound is navy blue it must have a slower speed and more weight. They do the heavy lifting of defining an internal sound and I carry them across the finish line. The full meal for them will involve understanding the overarching form of a full work and making choices along the way that reflect what they hear and understand internally. 


This type of learner is lost without connections. Details must be attached to broader concepts and physicality must be connected to sound, pulse or an element that is fundamental to creating the total product. My final comment on the painters is to not be fooled, their imaginations need just as much TLC as their trust of simplistic physical gestures. Think of new vantage points for them. Perspective shifts. Ages of characters. Time of day. Light and shadow. Past, present or future as it relates to the pieces they play. Abstract or still life or, etc. Help them push their visualization bec if they see it, they hear it. 

The Sculptor

Meet the student who thinks with his hands. Who molds and shapes everything with ease. Who may not hear what he wants, but has a picturesque hand shape! The tactile nature of playing and body awareness is the way the cello connects to this student, player, person. 

This will be something that makes early study seemingly easier in the physical sense. A bow hand will look and feel like a mold, as will the left hand arch. In a way this is tempting to see as an athletic experience, but sculptors are feelers. This means rhythmic gestures and sound may randomly fall off track while the hands are getting sorted. 

If you can imagine the Rodins Michelangelos and Serras of the world for a moment with me - they saw shape within a mass of rock or stone. Their vision was the mold. This student sees demonstration in that sense. Their ears will of course play a role, but their modeling and focus will be supremely on the hands. 

The benefits cellistically will help shifting, vibrato and balance in the hands. It will also mean that this type of student can feel 'softness' in the drop of the hand to the string, vibration of the string under the finger - therefore if asked it will become instinctual. It also means that conversely if changes or adjustments are requested that will be achieved through the touch. 

If that means away from the cello, and often does, I tend to head in this direction. To play my left hand on the student's forearm. To let them 'ride' my hands when playing - on both slides. This basically means placing their hand directly on mine while playing a passage on their instrument.

This seems idyllic and often can be a feeling of ease from the teaching perspective. Just demonstrate the shape and feeling and, presto chango! But like all coins, we have two sides. The question that this student leaves with me is : how can I weave and thread the ears to the hands?

This is of course a rhetorical question of Shakespearean depth. There is no formula for connections. I have found two methods to be most helpful. One, pulse work and two, contextual learning. Both basically create a sculpting experience out of playing itself. Making it a rather seamless transition into instrumental playing. 

Pulse offers an entire lifetime worth of discussion. So, rather than tackle it as a full entity, I will keep thinking of it as a tool in aiding the Sculptor connect ears and body to hands. 

I tend to think big-to-small in my own mind so in the hopes of communicating to a student with supreme honesty, I put the concept in my language and then we work on translating it together into terms and feelings that make the most sense to them. So, our first task will be conducting beat patterns of review repertoire. I would suggest 3/4 and 4/4 to begin simply because they offer the best connection to simple movements. If we conduct in 4 I will guide the arm while singing. Then I will sing while my student conducts. Then I will conduct while my student sings. You get the idea. Training wheels for pulse connection. I always make it a point to say (strong, weak, strong, weak as it will translate eventually to strong and weak measures). Following that we will move in gestures - meaning large sweeping motions that reflect the phrases. An ideal piece for this to begin would be in the Suzuki literature something like Allegro. The gestures begin as two bar arches (done with the arms while singing) and then graduate to four bar units. This will ground the hands of the sculptor. 

The context that has proven to be most helpful is again related to tactile experiences. Finding the highly resonate pitches in first, second and fourth positions to begin. Similarly, finding the sensation of vibration along the stick as the bow connects to the string. Like the conducting, the larger the sense, the finer the hands respond. This goes for all absorption types, but the source of all body motion is critical for the sculptor. The feeling of energy transfer as it travels through the hands connects them to the entire body. 

And although it may seem indirect and certainly applies to all types, this type of absorber responds very well to compositional anecdotes and personal information about repertoire. The origin of the dance, the colleagues of the composer and what that might look like in today's musical landscape.

The Singer

Sound. Sound. Sound. This absorber is guided from within the inner ear. All efforts are made to simply, find and create that sound on the instrument. Meaning, if things are to be altered in the playing (even physical) it must be approached from a non instrumental stance. 

The singer is connected to vowels and consonants. To vocal shades and colors. And cellistically will be very sensitive to vibrato and sound quality straight away. This will lend itself to discussions of bow distribution -air bowing an inch above the string while  singing to create the relationship between the voice and bow use is the connection worth exploring initially. Because it will prove to be very organic and they will immediately feel a new level of connection.

The singer is basically in need of tools and principles. How to mold the inner voice to feel the length of a phrase and tension and release. Given my background I steer this ship from the bass line. I play the bass while this student plays/sings while emphasizing structure and direction. This is essentially what I refer to as archery practice. Where is the arrow headed is an experience to determine the point of interest or length of phrase. This allows the bow to be the ultimate captain of the ship. This is again, a non instrumental task - phrase length, gesture hierarchy - played out through the use of the bow and therefore, sound. Circular thought processes help in this case so this student can begin and end with sound. 

For this type of absorber, the use of open strings is invaluable. Again, this goes for all types, but in this case the voice to bow connection is the biggest game in town. I should take a moment to say that by exploring the type of absorption most aligned with a student you are introducing them to themselves. They will feel in their minds and bodies and new layers will unfold. It's the jumping off point for incorporating new ideas while retaining their sense of safety and trust. So, open strings will be as important as scales. Or as I refer to them, scales for the right side. The absorption of the knuckles, the rotation of the upper arm and the passivity of the bow hand will give them the 'o' vowel and the depth they will more than likely crave. 

As their musicianship develops this type of absorber may lean towards one type of intensity - fire at all times. So, continue to emphasize purity of ring, vibrato as color not sound itself and variety. You must stretch their inner voice and therefore inner color wheel, emotional palette. The great Artur Schnabel provides the source material for this absorber. Meaning. Adjectives. Emotional range. And then the communication of each through sound, pulse, interpretation. 

This student is already open to a wide emotional landscape, but will be in need of operatic training in a certain sense. Vocal exercises on the cello for shifting, breathing exercises for diaphragm action and release. Characterization and imagination. This will be the trampoline into the world of the Singer.

The Athlete

The final of the absorbers is the Athlete. Numerous pedagogues speak to the athletics of playing and even to student archetypes that reflect said athleticism. I will share my thoughts on what the Athlete looks like as a mode of absorption. Repetition and precision are hallmarks of a great athlete. This is of course a massive reduction of what it takes to be a great athlete. As I discuss the synthesis involved in achieving artistry, vision will be term that appears and reappears. This fusion of skill sets and mental landscape as it interacts with the inner imagination provides the backdrop for a layered, conscious, artist. This is not dissimilar for any great artist (all professions included). That said, I will leave that for later in my rambling and stick to the task of dissecting the Athlete.

Repetition. This student will latch onto 'do it again' as though a Nike slogan were embedded in his retinas. There may not even be an off switch - meaning if asked how many times he should successfully recreate an exercise or phrase or something specific, the response may be 100. Keep in mind a general student response will range from 5-10. Therefore this student MUST be informed of purpose and intent at all times. Also, check points must be in place. For example, after every ten octaves played, take five deep breaths and say a helpful reminder of the point of the repetition. A post it on a music stand will rarely be more valuable than with this absorber.

Precision. This student will often view success as a synonym for precision. More specifically, technical proficiency is often his internal measuring stick. So, the left hand will be focus number one. The inner dialogues will say : 'Did I play the right note and was it in tune?' This is not a bad thing, but it must be steered. Meaning does not lie within precision. And as long as that remains clear, the Athlete will simply be the ultimate puzzle piece practicer, strategist and a sort of student who can lay the foundation for physical proficiency. So, this absorber can be pushed immediately to identify passages to extrapolate from a piece as practice points, two to three ways they might be broken down and things of the like. And this will open up their creative process. How to flip a passages upside down and backwards to make it more challenging will give them the ultimate space and freedom when it comes time to play things as written to explore other areas of their minds and ears.

Ultimately, we absorb along side. And as we find a student’s instinctual mode of expression, we balance and enhance. Let’s get teaching!