Sunday, February 8, 2015

Jet Lag's Infrequent Glory

One of my colleagues in the string quartet here has an unusual schedule of waking up at 3am every morning.  He then does exercises, takes a bath, practices, and I'm sure does various other things before greeting the day.  (He also doesn't eat until lunch time.)

These days of waking up at jet-lag-o'clock I can sort of see the pleasure.  I didn't get out of bed until 6:30am, but was in some sort of awake state long before that.  And then I exercised and did a Feldenkrais lesson and read some New York Times Op-Ed pieces and listened to some contemporary string quartets.  All this put me in a perfect mood (along with a pot of green tea) to start a newly inspired practice session (with freed hips and new ideas about dramatic articulations) at 10am.  Some days just flow.  Even a visit to the mall this afternoon went smoothly (even enjoyably?) and without any internal breakdowns on my part, something perhaps unprecedented. 

So thank you, jet lag, for this day.  I've been pretty down on you in the past, and maybe some of it wasn't entirely deserved.  Actually I think it was all deserved.  But it does seems proper to balance the karmic scales a little.  I'll give you this one.  And now for another early bedtime.  




Friday, February 6, 2015

San Diego Symphony Audition Personal Report for HPAC (Reflection on the Audition Process)

Because Japan is far away from the country where I am trying to take auditions, HPAC has a benefit as part of its contract which gives core members audition grants to help pay for international travel.  And part of getting that audition grant is to fill out a form and write a personal report about the audition.  The form asks for information about one's age as of the first day of the audition, how long one has been at HPAC, the audition date and venue, when results will be given, and a line where one has to circle "Pass" or "Fail."  It's like those notes in middle school, "Do you like me?  Circle Yes or No."  (Or so I've heard.)  After one has "Failed" an audition it can feel a little harsh to have to circle it.  There's no "Failed, but I killed it," or "Failed, but hey I learned a lot."  Nor is there a "Pass, woohoo it's about time!"  It's just "Pass," or "Fail."

I assume the rest is fodder for the personal report which is supposed to accompany the form.  No one is really sure what this is supposed to be.  It seems open to interpretation.  It could be short and simple such as, "I ate a hot dog right before.  Not gonna do that again!" And maybe this is what they would prefer, since no one reading this report is a native English speaker.  But I happened to meet a good friend of mine at the audition, and it prompted us to get in touch over Skype this morning, and it was great to talk with him about the process of taking auditions.  He has taken several more than I and having some great experiences and thoughts in the process, ones that I have been reflecting on for myself.  It was a stark contrast from Japan's stark contrasts.   I had been wanting to reflect on this past experience and HPAC's personal report just happened to coincide with the timing.  Perhaps not what they were looking for, but it's what I have to give.  And here it is: 

San Diego Symphony Audition Personal Report

When we are faced with a goal, it is easy to become obsessed with conquering it. The outcome becomes the sole focus of our endeavor and the measure of success is diminished to two possibilities: success or failure. Along these lines, when taking auditions, musicians often find themselves in a mentality of singular purpose: to win. Most certainly, to be awarded the honor of playing in an orchestra, of synthesizing one's love with one's livelihood, is a dream most people cannot imagine, nor dare to do so. Work is work. Play is play. Certainly it cannot be possible to escape the reality that life must be filled with passionless hours in order to fuel the meat of living.

As musicians face the possibility of overcoming this barrier, it is easy to become greedy, to hoard the outcome. To be sure, in order to enjoy a life of financial security as an orchestral musician one must appeal to an audition committee and be offered a position. One must win. This is the goal.

Or is it?

With this audition I absorbed a new perspective of the process. While one does not take auditions to not win them, winning need not be the only focus; such a mentality can even be detrimental to the desired outcome. When one approaches an audition with such a singular focus, one forfeits one of the greatest privilege of musicians: to love what we do.

There are a lot of talented musicians and cellists in America. It is often a long process of subbing in major orchestras, taking lessons with symphony musicians, networking, and taking many, many auditions before one is ready and ripe to win. Many people look at such a process as grueling, stressful, and sacrificial, yet there is a benefit to the seeming impossibility of the endeavor: the process itself becomes elevated. To focus solely on the outcome is to be crushed many times. To enjoy the process is to walk the path of fulfillment.

Certainly, one must work towards winning. One must become the best instrumentalist and musician that they are capable of being, must go down many paths of internal and external growth to cultivate themselves, to walk up to that gate and ask again and again, “Is it time? Am I ready?” It is a practice of respect to do the best, and be the best that one can be. And this is one of the beautiful things about this process. How often do we have the opportunity in life to reach out towards perfection? To live with the cultivation of it for month and years? It is a never ending process, and it is a privilege to be able to embark upon it through these auditions.

Every audition committee is different. Certainly it is a requirement that everything one plays be in tune and in time. But committees differ in their preferences. I think that to play to what one thinks a committee will want to hear, to play to the goal of winning, will only hamper the process. At least this is true for me. To play towards the goal of winning is to open oneself to self-doubt and the unknowns of the committee's preferences. However, the more that I can prepare for an audition with the intrinsic goals of discovery in the music and growth in my capabilities of that expression, the more the fear of failure turns into the desire to search for more.

My goal in future auditions is to develop this outlook. The San Diego audition was a new level of success for me in the process and the way that I played, even though I didn't advance. I look forward to continuing on the path.  

Groundhog Quartet

After a month of focusing on preparation for an orchestral audition, I got to bring all the refining skills of the process to quartet rehearsal.  Perhaps I will just continue to take orchestral auditions for this reason alone:  to become better at what I do through demanding standards of orchestral committees and thereby enjoy it more, to come closer to my own ultimate way of performing and expressing.  This past Groundhog's Day I watched the Bill Murray movie of the same name with a group of people in California and I couldn't help but be reminded of the audition process and the journey of practice in general.  Living something over and over again, trying in one way for awhile and being completely wrong, and then another and still not getting it, and then another and another until accepting that that is life.  And then wake up with Andie MacDowell in snow-covered Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania.   But in the meantime, learning to ice-sculpt, and memorize French poetry, and for me, enjoy quartet a little more.

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Travel's Rub

I'm sitting in Tokyo's Narita airport, waiting to board my final flight back to Osaka.  It's about 3:30pm local time, but 11:30pm in my body.  Traveling has such a puckering quality to it.  Holding on and letting go all at once.  Meeting people and loving them.  For an hour as conversations and observations open them on a plane, for a week of sharing meals together, for years of checking in through all of life's circumstances.   Loving them and letting go of them. 

I got caught up in the woman next to me this morning.  Someone I'd never met before and never will again, a unique expression of life's difficulties and pleasures.  She told stories of her father and his children's hospital Boy Scout group, how he included everyone and made them feel welcome despite any medical problems.  She told me he was dying and she was going to see him.  She called her husband as we entered the runway before take-off, gave him a quick message about a health-related call.  He has prostate cancer.  And then she started scratching her palms and I saw how nervous she was and that's when I started talking to her and learned all of this and more.  She spoke loudly and softly, laughing openly and whispering words like "terrorist."  And when we got off the plane, there was no goodbye.  She was off to the life she had to meet, off to her next destination.  And I said goodbye to the cellist I had met, who live in Rio de Janeiro and was spending his holiday at home in New York until returning for the next orchestra season in Brazil.  Maybe we'll see one another again at a another audition.  I've met two more people in the world.

And in the background of all of this are the memories of the places and people that I'm leaving in California.  The opening of lives there.  And the arrival again in Japan, to meet the friends that I have here and opening that space a little further.  And yet in the end, all of these will close, just like the people that I met on the plane.  I left California and the people there, and will leave Japan and the people here.  Letting go to hold on again to let go again.  Little deaths.  Traveling is a practice in living in the space between past and future, a nowhere land, one which intersects with the nowhere lands of many of other people.  

It seems like a healthy response of the body to experience the jet lag of travel.  What would happen if we switched so easily from one place to the other that we didn't feel the rub of the change?  

From here, a week of recovery from a week of being elsewhere, a hazy state of not being in one place until I land again.  I miss California and the friends and family there.  What a wonderful feeling, to miss.




Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Birthday in San Diego

It was so wonderful to be able to spend my birthday in San Diego with my Andrew's parents.  They have been such wonderful hosts this entire week.  This morning they took some time from their busy work schedule to take me to Torrey Pines Nature Reserve.  We walked through the peaceful trails of pines and cacti and down to the beach.  There were whales in the water and pelicans flew overhead, grazing the cliffs.  The sand sparkled with black iron deposits and deeply colored stones.

And then this evening they treated me to an incredible dinner at Stone Brewery.  A beautiful restaurant with graceful fires and ponds and delicious food.

And shortly after we walked in the door, two friends rang the doorbell and carried in two different cakes to share.  It has been so wonderful to be among friends and family this week.  Tomorrow, early in the morning, I'll be leaving again and returning to Japan.  It's been so short, but the time gets shorter and shorter until I'll be returning for good.

on the beach at Torrey Pines

Dinner at Stone Brewery 

Monday, February 2, 2015

Audition Completion

And finally the audition is done.  I've grown a lot and feel like I've started the next phase auditions, of having control and awareness in them, of having a method of preparation that leads to an accurate performance of my abilities.  It's an exciting new step and I'm looking forward to continuing to learn from them, for my own sake and for those of my future students.  There is a standard list of excerpts, and I'm starting to see them as my children.  They are still young, but most of them are at least in adolescence now, and a few are turning into beautiful people.  It's exciting to watch it happen, to be a part of it and to be outside of it.  They will develop with me and without me.  And during auditions it is the time when I become a parent and appreciate them and love them, with awareness but with as little judgment as possible.  There will be more growth to come.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Pre-audition

Tomorrow is the audition and I can feel the nerves starting to creep in.  I know there is no real danger here.  In my mind I feel that I have a good grasp of self-respect for the work I've done, and honesty on what more there is to do.  And yet, my stomach is concerned.  It always happens.  Perhaps I can start to think of it as a good friend, one that will give me the vigilance and energy to do what I need to do.  May I be confident in the work that I've done.  I'm thankful for this process and what it gives to me as a musician and a person.