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I can think of few better ways to spend a Monday lunchtime, especially a very rainy Monday lunchtime in June. It was a pleasure to duck away from the milling shoppers on a very greasy, wet Oxford Street, and slip into the plush, civilised embrace of the Wigmore for a concert by two charming Frenchman (François Leleux and Emmanuel Strosser) of music for oboe and piano by Britten, Poulenc and Dutilleux. I was “off duty” yesterday, i.e. not reviewing, merely meeting a friend to enjoy some quality music, followed by a chatty lunch at Comptoir Libanais, just across the road from the hall.

It’s a while since I heard live woodwind, and, from my vantage point in row B, I was able to enjoy the physicality of the oboist’s performance. It was wonderful to hear his breath actually being pushed into the instrument, and the click-clacking of his fingers on the keys as he wrought a huge range of colours, moods and shadings from the music. Britten’s Six Metamorphoses, a work for oboe alone, was introduced with great humour, and played with wit. The Poulenc Sonata was both wistful and jazzy, while the Dutilleux contained nods to his contemporary, Olivier Messiaen. The musicians were clearly good friends, evident from the ease of their body language as they performed. They were genial and smiling, and we, the audience, smiled back.  An encore “by a very famous French composer [Saint-Saens]” (more smiles and good-natured laughter) was generous and humorous.

I have never been to an indifferent concert at lunchtime at the Wigmore; and I have been to some truly superb lunchtime concerts. The 2pm end time means there is still time for a late lunch: a while back a friend and I went to the restaurant at the Wallace Collection for lunch, which was really wonderful treat.  Often you can pick up a ticket on the door, and the lunchtime recitals are excellent value at £12 (concessions £10). Go on, try it. You know you want to.

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The Upper Class at Bay, tapestry by Grayson Perry

It’s about time we stopped referring to Grayson Perry as “the transvestite potter who won the Turner Prize”. That was then (2003); this is now, and Perry, by his own admission, hasn’t made a pot for ages. Perry, who is articulate and highly engaging on any subject, and who has always used his art and craft to comment on contemporary society’s mores, hypocrisies, and preoccupations, has now turned his keen artist’s gaze and curiosity onto taste and the British (which is, of course, synonymous with class) in a television series and an exhibition at Victoria Miro Gallery in north London of six monumental tapestries inspired by Hogarth’s social commentary ‘The Rake’s Progress’.

Read my full review here

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This post was prompted by a conversation over the weekend with a piano friend of mine: we were discussing ways in which students can free themselves from the constraints that prevent them from giving their all in a performance situation, and the expression “playing naked” came up, which I thought very appropriate. It refers not to a means of dealing with performance anxiety where one imagines that the entire audience is naked (an empowering way of turning the dynamic in a stressful situation), but to giving oneself permission to stand back from the music, to let go, and to play with passion and commitment.

If you are naked at the piano, whether literally or metaphorically, there is nowhere to hide, and you must do everything in your power to distract the audience from your “nakedness”. (Those of us who perform, and who suffer from the anxiety of performance, may well have had the dream/nightmare where we are in a performance situation without the protective carapace of clothes.), So, do you run screaming from the stage, or do you face up to the challenge?

Playing “naked” means:

  • Stripping away inhibitions, over interpretation, unnecessary gestures, and pretentions
  • Giving yourself up to the music
  • Playing with heart and soul
  • Believing completely in what you do
  • Fearless and focussed performance
  • Playing “for the love of music” (Rostropovich), with a vibrant sound and charismatic rhythm which radiates authority and emotion
  • Precise execution from well-honed technique
  • Crafting confidence and developing a positive response to stress
  • Finding meaning, desire and depth in your performance

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by Catherine Shefski

As adult pianists we all know how hard it is to carve out practice time every day. Our days slip by  full of errands, phone calls, appointments and chauffeuring kids. Sometimes whole weeks or even months fly by while we’re bombarded with family emergencies, travel, or job obligations. But we’re constantly nagged by that inner voice that tells us that consistency and time at the piano are required for steady improvement.

For the past few months I’ve been very lucky to have a lull in activity on the home front. With my daughter happily off studying abroad and two sons away at college, I chat with them often and know that they are safe, healthy and independent. For five months I was able to fill my non-teaching hours at the piano preparing for each week’s Go Play Project recording. But now things are heating up. I’m getting ready to launch a new website and learning everything I can about marketing, branding and book proposals. I’m preparing students for their annual National Guild Auditions and Spring recitals. And I’m getting excited about my daughter coming home to finish high school and start the college search and application process. My time at the piano these days is limited.

When I do find the time to sit down at the piano I aim for deliberate practice. But I also find that more often than not, simply finding the easiest way to play a difficult passage is often the best way. The shape of the phrase leads me to find the best fingering or hand movement. Awkward hand positions are  made more comfortable by simply moving the hand into the black keys. Large leaps are spot on when   I move my arm in an arc and look before I leap. Cantabile comes from the fingertips along with a freely suspended arm and close listening. Fast octaves? For me it’s all in the rebound. Playing the piano is not hard work. It’s not about getting in shape or building muscles. In fact it’s the opposite of the “no pain, no gain” rule of sports. When you’re doing it right, it feels good.

So to all those pianists who are bombarded by life’s obligations, take heart. Piano playing is not always about how regularly you practice or how long you practice or even how deliberate you practice. It just might be  about grabbing that half hour before a student arrives at the door, or those first minutes of daylight with your morning coffee, and ‘coming home’ to the piano. It’s about sinking into the keys and expressing yourself through your fingertips. It’s about deep listening and communication. And in the end it just might about the child leaving home for college or the military. Or about the recent break-up or new romance, the death in the family or the new baby’s birth.

 

Catherine Shefski is pianist, teacher and blogger who is currently recording one piano piece a week for The Go Play Project.