08 September 2010

Only Human

Last summer, a local chamber music festival hosted master classes for music students in the area.  My teacher and I decided it would be good performance experience, so I signed up and set to readying some pieces for critique.


            I put in the necessary work, so naturally I felt prepared.  I was confident; playing in front of people wasn’t something I found nerve-wracking anymore.  I did my usual warm-up beforehand, a slow run-through of the three pieces I had prepared.  Environment shock wasn’t a worry; I had played in the space before.  Everything felt normal.


            By my calculations it should’ve gone well.


Preparation can only take you so far, though.


            About two or three beginner students were queued up to play before me.  As it usually happens, the professor running the class overestimated how much time he had with the younger students, and took longer to get to me than I had expected.  I had played with long stretches between my warm-up and performance before, I wasn’t too worried about the lapse.  When it got to be my turn I mounted the stage, sat before the piano, and started to play the Bach I had prepared.


            Sometimes one tiny hitch throws everything else off kilter.


            I barely made it through the piece, having stumbled more times than I cared to count and in spots that should’ve been fine.  The teacher gave some feedback, as expected in a master class, but most of it was basic stuff that would’ve normally appeared in the piece had I played it normally.


He then glanced at his watch and informed me we only had time for one other piece.  This further upset my inner balance: I had prepared to play two other pieces, not to choose between them on the spot.  Throw that on top of my mediocre performance and I was positively frazzled, I couldn’t focus.  The second piece suffered the consequences.


By anyone’s standards, it was a disaster.


I’d never performed so poorly before. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, it just wasn’t.  I felt terrible.  Students are encouraged to stay for the entire class, but I was so disgusted I excused myself early and walked home.  As I walked barefoot through my backyard I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself.  How could I’ve screwed up, and so badly? I picked my way up the driveway, trying to scrape some consolation together with little success.  As I unlocked the back door music met my ears; we must’ve left the CD player on when we left.  It was almost like somebody changed the track on purpose:


We’re only human, yes we are, only human so far…

1 comment:

  1. I love this post, Grace. I think we've all been in this type of situation before at some level and some point in our lives. It's an awful feeling, but sometimes necessary as a learning experience. Life is funny that way.

    Glad you like Hobart and William Smith! We met a couple in Hawaii this summer that met each other while in college there. He was a phenomenal underwater photographer.

    ReplyDelete

Leave some comment love