Further reflections on practising during the coronavirus pandemic in the form of three poems by pianist Beth Levin
Look at a page of music
as a space to breathe
dissect the voices see where they lead
as if you are a camel in the desert
and music eternity
Perhaps you’ve looked over
performances from the past
been interviewed even zoomed a concert
Perhaps you’ve reached out for a future engagement
Now is the real process
a musical phrase an inhaling and exhaling of time
a lonely escapade
Let the slow new work begin to live
ask why and why of the music more often
the urgency of a recital date gone
but another urgency taking its place
one’s drives and demons propelling the work forward
into the unseeable, incalcuable unknown
Rubato
To play in strict time is bracing
no meandering off like a python out of its cage
“Keep the left hand steady
said my teacher
slacken a bit in the right”
a subtle direction
at twelve I knew the idea must be felt
in the body
Some days you just need latitude
notes in the margin crossed out
a furtive amble away from the tour guide
a hidden escape clause
The trick is keep the underpinnings solid
a left hand of resolve
allowing for creative fluctuation
Poem
There was a time I’d decide whether
to jump double dutch in front of the house
or in the back alley
Once I climbed a tall Sumac
got lost in the hilly park grass of Fairmount
lay down and took a nap
Time was a pomegranate
its seeds popping
rich dark red
Time the ropes
looping upward, lapping, interlocking
a sine wave in air
The aroma- the ripest melon-
inhabits me as I lace my shoes
How to Practice While Sheltering from the Virus
Brooklyn-based pianist Beth Levin is celebrated as a bold interpreter of challenging works, from the Romantic canon to leading modernist composers. The New York Times praised her “fire and originality,” while The New Yorker called her playing “revelatory.” Fanfare described Levin’s artistry as “fierce in its power,” with “a huge range of colors.”
The Cross-Eyed Pianist 