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Guest post by Ingrid on the experience of studying with Dr Michael Low

Like many musicians, my journey started thanks to a fabulous piece I heard one day (and for sure so many more, but it has been a while so I can’t quite tell) that moved my heart and soul so deeply that I started daydreaming about it and about being able to do that same thing with the piano. I was maybe 10 or 13, but it took a while until I finally got to convince my parents to allow me to start learning the piano.

This led me to begin music lessons at the National Conservatoire here in Guatemala, and, as all music schools based on tradition, the curriculum included not only piano per se, but also Solfege, History, Tonal Harmony, and other subjects that are intended to nurture (and they actually do) your musical understanding and therefore your musical interpretation. A couple of years later I decided to pursue a music degree at university, and I obtained a Teacher’s Diploma in Music and a bachelor’s degree in music composition.

All of this gave me the tools to finally “play the piano”, which we normally say when we hear someone “play” that instrument. But little did I know that there is a huge dimension behind the mere study of any artistic discipline, that is sometimes overlooked and underestimated – that is, the Human Dimension, with all its intricacies and complexities.  

And why is it overlooked? Well, maybe because we usually assume that as artists (musicians, painters, writers…) that dimension is an obvious part of us, and even if that is true, no one ever prepares us for the setbacks and negative experiences that are inevitably part of the journey. As musicians we may suffer from stage fright, we may face abusive/authoritarian teachers, we may be immersed in a toxic competitive environment, we may be the target of intended mean critics, and none of that has to do with the subjects that we learn in during our studies, and that prepare us to become professional musicians – but it has a lot to do with who we are as human beings and how we practice our art.

These setbacks may lead us to reconsider our career path and that maybe we need a change. Some of us may decide to make a radical change, some of us may decide to make a small change. But all of this raises the question of how we can thrive when facing such difficult challenges.

I started searching for answers and began to read blogs where other musicians shared their own experiences in similar situations; blogs where teachers shared their thoughts on how to build a healthy technique and learning environment; blogs where authors shared their thoughts on creativity and how to foster it in your own practice; blogs that shared research based tips to better manage performance anxiety; and I found great resources in authors like Noa Kageyama, Forrest Kinney, William Westney, Graham Fitch, Penelope Roskell, Frances Wilson (The Cross-Eyed Pianist), Rhonda Rizzo, Zsolt Bognár and Michael Low.

In one of those blogs, I was particularly struck by an article that Dr. Michael Low shared where he talked about his own journey with the piano, performance anxiety and the tradition in music education. It really resonated with me, so I started following his work closely.

At some point we also started sharing our musical impressions through social media and video chat. I shared with him that I was re-studying the Brahms’ Intermezzo in A, op. 118 no. 2, and sent him a recording I made of the piece.  I remember he gave me some observations about it and his enthusiasm to work on it musically. I am not exaggerating when I say that this experience has been life changing.

I have to say I’d never had the chance to really discover and experiment with that (or any other) piece, nor I have had the chance to “think outside the box” musically speaking, because you are normally taught that there are “rules” that you must respect as interpreter, and sometimes even “fear”. There is nothing wrong with rules, but as an artist you can always trust your own criteria to use them; however, only an open-minded teacher and artist can help you discover that, and one of them is Dr. Michael Low.

It amazes me how spontaneously Dr. Low fosters that safe environment for experimentation, and how through funny examples and direct questions he challenges your own beliefs: be it about the piece or the composer or your own playing, always in a very kind and respectful manner, going beyond the surface and helping you to start thinking more as an artist than just a “piano player”. And the best part is that there are plenty of Eureka! moments, when you discover all the possibilities you have in your own hands, under his guidance.

And even if I have been in piano lessons before, there has always been a rush and a pressure to play a particular piece “perfectly”, not giving any space to really discover it (besides the obvious aspects of technique and analysis that are intrinsic to the music study), and to find one’s own voice as a musician and, most importantly, as artist. When there is too much noise outside, we get distracted from what we must look for on the inside.

After working all this time with Dr. Low and sharing interesting discussions about music, while also applying and following all of his very insightful advice in my own practice (both as teacher and as pianist), I have come to various conclusions that make me think about how we can thrive.

  • There is not just one answer, nor a right or wrong one, but there are some general thoughts that are worth always keeping in mind:
  • Music is a lifelong learning career/experience where one of our biggest enemies is the obsession with perfection
  • Kindness, in every aspect: with ourselves and with others, is a life changer as it creates wonders
  • Patience with our own artistic growth, as no path is the same as other and there is no one-size-fits-all solution for such big endeavor

As Vincent van Gogh wrote to his brother Théo, in a letter from May 1882, with relation to the meaning of being an artist:

“(…) Those words naturally imply always seeking without ever fully finding. It’s the exact opposite of saying ‘I know it already; I’ve already found it’. To the best of my knowledge, those words mean ‘I seek, I pursue, my heart is in it’.” 

This article is translated from the original Spanish, which you can read here:

Lesson with Dr Michael Low (Spanish version)Download

Dr Michael Low is a pianist and teacher based in South Africa. If this article has piqued your interest in his work, why not come along to a masterclass at Coach House Pianos London showroom on Saturday 1 June to observe Dr Low teaching advanced amateur pianists in a variety of repertoire. The event is hosted by Frances Wilson AKA The Cross-Eyed Pianist.

Further details/tickets here

Coach House Pianos London Showroom

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I admit it, I’m a fervent auto-didact, a “self-teacher” whose answer to “how do I do that?” is to either reach for a book or more likely these days, look it up on Google or YouTube.

For me, self-teaching goes hand-in-hand with mastery as both require a willingness to stick to the task with a deep sense of purpose and intent.

Self-teaching – the process of educating oneself without the guidance of a formal teacher or instructor- is a powerful tool that can be used to acquire new skills, deepen existing knowledge, and pursue personal interests. One of the main benefits of self-teaching is that it allows for a customised learning experience. Traditional music education often follows a one-size-fits-all approach, which tends not to treat each student as an individual, with their own strengths and weaknesses. With self-teaching, you have the freedom to choose the materials, resources, and speed of progress that work best for you. This can make the learning process more engaging, effective and, importantly, interesting.

Why is self-teaching important for the musician? Self-teaching can be a great way to build self-motivation and self-discipline. When you take responsibility for your own learning, you develop a sense of ownership and pride in your achievements. This can be a powerful motivator and can lead to increased confidence and self-esteem. More importantly, self-teaching encourages creative thinking, problem-solving, and curiosity – all useful skills for the musician.

My own experience of self-teaching has been extremely positive and motivating. When I moved away from London five years ago, I left behind several very important teachers and mentors, who had supported, encouraged, and inspired me while I was studying for professional performance diplomas, having returned to the piano after an absence of nearly 25 years. Having studied with two master teachers for nearly 10 years and received mentorship from several other significant pianist-teachers, I felt ready to “go it alone” and cease piano lessons altogether. I would not have felt sufficiently confident to do this had my teachers and mentors not instilled in me a sense of trust in my own musical instincts, secure technique, and a strong awareness of my own interpretative choices and artistry as a musician. Thus, I had firm foundation on which to continue my musical studies on my own.

It may take me longer to work out certain technical issues at the piano, but the process of self-teaching encourages one to find a way through a problem, which in itself becomes a useful learning tool. I also feel liberated from the sense that there is a “right way” to play certain repertoire; interpretative choices are down to my own knowledge and appreciation of the music.

Self-teaching does come with its own set of challenges, one of the biggest being staying motivated and on track. Without the guidance of a teacher, it can be easy to lose focus or become discouraged. To overcome this challenge, it is important to set clear goals, create a practice schedule, and seek out trusted friends and colleagues who can provide feedback and encouragement.


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Guest post by Jill Timmons

These days we hear a lot about the allure of talent: gifted, extraordinary, special, something extra, blessed, graced, anointed, enviable. And as we know, the arts have been a particular repository for dazzling talent display.

Talent can be a kind of entry card. In music and dance we have such iconic artists as Arthur Rubinstein, Jascha Heifetz, Rudolf Nureyev, Margot Fonteyn, Taylor Swift, Fred Astaire, and the list goes on. There is a near religious fervour surrounding these folks who are perpetually confined to an archetypal pedestal – heroic figures living in a rarified alternate universe on Mount Olympus. To the lay person, it can seem almost magical that fame and fortune are readily available to those with exceptional talent. Often, there is a special entitlement afforded to these luminaries, and it may appear that with a bit of talent, we could all partake of these benefits. For some, there is the belief that talent alone should offer some measure of reward, a kind of requisite entitlement. Therein lies the shadow side of talent: acquiring something without the necessary earning of it.

As an artist, I stumble over the recognition of my own talent. To say that I am gifted strikes a difficult chord, so to speak. It feels like self-aggrandizement, ego inflation, and entitlement. Yet, if I don’t recognize my talent in an authentic and detached fashion, dare I say strategic, I would not be able to serve my gifts, perhaps my mission, and a sense of meaning and purpose to my life – making things better in the world through music. It’s a reminder, that the arts often contain paradox – two things can be true. I’m reminded of M. C. Escher’s lithographs where stairs simultaneously ascend and descend!

It is difficult to explain that talent and work go hand in hand. There can often be a disconnect (entitlement) between the temporal reality of musical study and the concrete requirements for what one may wish to achieve. As I regularly remind my students, there is no cramming for the concert, or for serious artistic growth. It’s a kind of marathon, and you wouldn’t just train for a few hours on Saturdays to take on those twenty-six miles!

Artists are individuals with varying skills and proclivities. While I might be a quick sight reader, it took me several months to learn J. S. Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Moreover, it wasn’t until I had performed it 6 times, that I really set to work! I had to marshal all my patience through this process, even with decades behind me as a professional pianist (perhaps some free-floating entitlement here!). These concepts are difficult to convey when entitlement is at play.

Add to this the fact that mostly our elementary and secondary education systems are now reduced to teaching to the test (reading and maths), and there is very little space in the curriculum for the arts, the creative process, and the fundamental human act of original thought. The notion of talent becomes a kind of bromide instead. Very little may be required to be considered talented. With that comes the risk of instant gratification, the dumbing down of quality and artistry, and a core understanding about what the arts require and what they can offer humanity.

Case in point: church music. This is by no means a declaration of any sort of religious affiliation. Consider, however, some of the greatest musical works from western European art music created by the likes of J. S. Bach, Mozart, Schubert, Bernstein (the Mass), Fauré, Poulenc, Elgar, and so forth. While there are still places where you can hear this exalted and compelling music, much of the American protestant church has withered into a kind of musical pablum: two chord changes with Jesus words. It doesn’t take much to master the ability to perform this music, nor does it require from the listener any level of artistic sophistication. It’s satisfying much in the same way as a bowl of Doritos. Oddly enough, many of the folks who deliver this music are often hailed as very talented.

For those of us who are educators, we can often encounter in our students that shadowy world of entitlement. It’s not just with the children we teach, but adult students as well. I recall one client who was a physician by profession. He had always wanted to play the piano at the advanced level, and so after reading Malcolm Gladwell’s edgy book, ‘Outliers: The Story of Success’, he asked me if after 10,000 hours of practice he could play one of the Chopin Ballades. Meanwhile, he was struggling with an early intermediate-level Haydn Sonata. Nonetheless, I lauded his efforts, and reminded him that the development of technic and musical capacity takes time – its own time, and that his responsibility would be to practice intelligently and regularly with a goodly amount based upon his goals, to follow my instruction, and to remember the long game. His sense of entitlement, however, overrode what I had hoped would be a gentle yet pointed reality check. He assumed that since he had weekly lessons, he was highly intelligent and disciplined, was committed to those 10,000 hours, and that in working with me he was entitled to have access to the advanced repertoire through some sort of short cut. Sadly, that sense of entitlement prevented him from serving his talent, of making a strategic plan in his practicing and study, honestly assessing his challenges along with his achievements, and trusting that together, he and I could move the cause forward. It would, however, require the long game as it does for most of us.

With young students, the struggle is more systemic. Parents are often driving their children to overload their schedules: A’s in everything, numerous sports, extra curriculars that might be the ticket to getting into Harvard or Oxford, and a schedule with every hour accounted for. Where is the time to daydream, to imagine, to create something original? Who will teach them the value and efficacy of this? Where is the education for the sublime, for beauty, for the inherent power of the arts to uplift humanity? How do they discover their own gifts, and more importantly how do they humbly serve music? How can they become inner directed, avoiding the distractions, the pressures to conform, and the seductions and misinformation that float around in the outer world?

Nurturing one’s talents takes time, commitment, appropriate education, inspiring and skilled mentors, confidence, patience, a keen work ethic, self-reflection, humility, and the long view. Moreover, one must acquire the ability to be ruthlessly honest about one’s work. What are my strengths? How can I build upon those? What led me to fluency in a performance? Conversely, what are the barriers to my progress? What blind spots do I have? Am I open to learning new things? Is my practice time allotment sufficient and effective for my goals? By the way, my definition of practicing is rehearsing solutions to musical and technical challenges. If you are not rehearsing solutions, what is it that you are drilling? Never mind those 10,000 hours! Can you measure yourself by what you strengthen in your own work? One can learn a great deal from mastering a new capacity! What is your artist vision and is it undergirded by a searingly honest and doable plan?

No matter how brilliant a mind, there will be a substantial, regular time commitment required if one is to develop artistry. For example, with musicians, the development of technic can take many years. I may dream of playing Beethoven’s Waldstein Sonata, but without the necessary technique, a grounding in historical performance practice, and a willingness to musically serve that style period, it will remain aspirational. No amount of will, talent, or entitlement will achieve that objective. Ask the artists at the top of the industry and they will regale you with stories of decades of practice, study, self-reflection, perseverance, sacrifice, challenges, luck, and yes, the long game.

So, in moving forward, how do we eschew entitlement in our own artistic work and that of our students? It may be that the way out is through. That Zen saying speaks volumes about the process required. In my own teaching, I have observed that when a student really wants to achieve something, they are apt to work for it if they can lift the veil of entitlement. It’s what I call concrete teaching. It’s a black and white approach (no pun intended) with weekly achievable goals, a constant check-in on reality, and that ruthless honestly. We ask our students as to how practicing is going? What is the quality of one’s practice time? Is it sufficient? Are we rehearsing solutions to musical and technical challenges? Are our musical goals congruent with our skills and time available? Needless to say, these points of practice apply equally to our own artistic work.

Moreover, all musical compositions have dues that one must pay in order to master fluency. It is relative to one’s skill and experience of course. The more experience you have, the more accurately you can assess the work ahead that is required. Back to the Goldberg Variations.

When I received an invitation to perform it, I had a year to prepare. I figured I could learn it in roughly three months with three to four hours of practice most days. I had other performances and professional tasks, but that time frame seemed appropriate. Wrong. It took me five months to learn it, during which time I had the flu, was preparing to move, and received a contract to write a book. Needless to say, I learned a great deal from that experience. Clearly, one’s musical skills and capacity are realized by the amount of time needed in order to learn a piece of music. This measurable and temporal reality may be your greatest weapon in combating entitlement: yours, or your students!

Speaking of students, the overarching concern that most music educators harbor is usually with sufficient and regular practice for their pupils. Moreover, that practice time must be informed, efficient, and consequential. As most of us know, many hours can be spent at the piano, even 10,000 hours, but there must be conscious awareness of how one is practicing. In those hours of practice, ideally, we become our own best teacher, and we train our students to embrace this concept as well. Mindless, disengaged drill at the piano does not engender mastery. One tool, however, can move the cause forward. If your student is motivated and is not under the spell of entitlement, they can greatly benefit from what I call a “mock practice session.” I periodically take an entire lesson time (usually one to two hours) and guide the student in what constitutes effective practicing. I am experientially teaching the student how to practice effectively and efficiently. This session is recorded for the student to review between lessons. Often, the student discovers that in a short period of time a great deal can be achieved in learning the score. Moreover, I remind students that they can continue this exciting path to mastery if they practice like they did in the lesson!

Ultimately, whatever way we approach the nurturing of talent, we need adequate time. This can be challenging in our cluttered and distracted world. I still struggle with this every now and then. There are, however, myriad solutions. Time management is a powerful tool, especially if you can review your schedule on a weekly basis. You are in charge, after all. As a side bar, I highly recommend Cal Newport’s groundbreaking book, ‘Digital Minimalism’. You will find a wealth of information, advice, and strategies to remain artfully engaged in your environment, but not possessed or distracted by the endless commotion from the digital world.

Lastly, I will leave you with several thoughts. My sense of music making is that it is 80 percent work and 20 percent talent. And moreover, the making of that music is not about me. I am merely the vessel. But without me, fully present, humbly prepared, and devoted to the composer and audience, that music remains on the page. It is indeed a sacred mission. In the final analysis, there is no entitlement, only devotion to the highest level our talent can take us. Music then becomes an act of service.

Jill Timmons is a leading performing arts consultant, serving individuals and nonprofits. As an international artist-educator, her work is sculpted by the ever-changing global market. The second edition of her book The Musician’s Journey is published by Oxford University Press.

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Guest post by Katrina Fox

The pandemic has been a huge challenge for piano teachers, not least in the inherent isolation of learning the piano being exacerbated by the lack of opportunities for group work, duets in lessons, and of course live performance. However, necessity being the mother of invention, many of us have latched onto live digital performances and performance recordings as a way of creating performing opportunities and encouraging performance. This has become a permanent part of most teachers’ offerings.

Digital exams – love them or loathe them – are here to stay, and have incontrovertible benefits such as being accessible to all pupils, including nervous adults, those living in remote areas without easy access to an exam centre, and those who simply don’t ever want to endure a live examination experience but nonetheless value the feedback. Digital festivals and events have also provided pupils with a greater breadth of musical experiences from the awesome Compose Yourself! created by Alison Matthews and Lindsey Berwin, to June Armstrong’s Play for the Composer.

So what are the benefits to pupils and teachers of a carefully thought out programme of performance opportunities throughout the year?

  • Motivation to practise FOR something – and for something perhaps more meaningful than an exam. These experiences allow pupils greater choice in what they play, but still provide a goal to work towards. The fact that this goal is not a summative assessment – a pass/merit/distinction that despite being a mere snapshot can come to be worn as a proverbial badge of honour or dunce hat – makes it all the more valuable. Constructive criticism without a numerical mark or grading is perhaps more likely to be received without invoking defensive feelings and therefore internalised and acted upon.
  • A feeling of community. Within most teaching studios most pupils never or rarely meet each other. Everyone taking part in the same event – be it digital or live – can build a sense of community and common enterprise. During the lockdowns I hosted monthly Zoom concerts. Whilst the quality was not always ideal, there was a clear motivational and social benefit. Themed sessions such as “bring your pet”, “wear your PJs” etc, built a sense of fun and allowed pupils to see each other, albeit on screen.
  • A sense of shared responsibility. This year will be my second year doing an Advent “virtual busk”. Everyone records a Christmas song which we post every day of Advent to raise money for the local homeless hostel. (Last year we raised over £1500.) All pupils know they are expected to perform well for this; there is a sense of responsibility for everyone playing their part in this event. Yes, it is a small amount of pressure, but everyone is given plenty of time, and I feel a small amount of responsibility for ensuring they are all up to scratch is a positive thing and engenders a sense of responsibility.

So if all these benefits can be drawn from digital events, which are probably more easily accessible to teachers and pupils, then why bother with live events? One important benefit of live performance springs to mind:

Taking risks. With live performance, more so in front of an audience than in front of an examiner, the sense of personal risk is an important part of the experience. My personal experience is that pupils have become increasingly risk-averse over the last few years. The reasons are probably outside the scope of this article, but perhaps reside in our education system and its focus on testing, results and “success”. I find many pupils are inclined to avoid trying rather than to risk making a mistake, especially in public. This affects their ability to communicate through their music and invest it with their own personal involvement. I’m sure we can all agree that this is not a healthy or happy mindset. Live performance in festivals seems to be a varied experience with some finding the atmosphere friendly, while others find it very competitive – perhaps not the ideal place for nervous, or dare I say it “average” performers?

It is this last point that has been bothered me sufficiently to galvanise me into action. Certainly, where I live on the south coast of England there is not a wealth of local, accessible music festivals and performance events for pupils to participate in. There is also a real lack of suitable venues with decent instruments that are affordable and available at appropriate times. All my pupil “concerts” thus far have been very tiny occasions hosted in my home for a small handful of pupils at a time. Larger, less local occasions tend not to appeal to any but the most serious students.

Hence the creation of Play Piano South – one of a handful of local piano groups that has sprung up in recent months, each with its own character, aims and events that are suited to its local profile. My vision for Play Piano South is local informal live events that pupils can participate in regularly such that performing becomes a natural and non-threatening part of their piano education. Removing any form of competition, grading and adjudication makes everything easier to administrate. It also removes the threat of judgement, allowing young pianists the freedom to focus purely on the performance experience itself, without any formal “outcome”. Mistakes due to nerves, or any other reason, can be left behind without consequence and processed appropriately and proportionately with a view to improving the experience, without the pressure to improve a grading or mark.

The Play Piano South Facebook group acts as a meeting place for teachers in the region to share their events – either for other teacher’s pupils to attend, or just to showcase their events for others to learn from. Collaborative events allow teachers to share the burden of organising and hosting an event and can make a decent venue with a good instrument more feasible as more pupils can attend and share the cost of hire. Such a model also allows a regular performance schedule to grow that is very local and easy for pupils to attend. I believe this regularity and sense of community will make performing become a natural and integral part of learning the piano for all pupils – not just the most gifted or well-resourced.

In my own studio, my pupils will continue to benefit from the many new and wonderful digital performance initiatives that have developed during the pandemic. These will be complemented by a regular programme of informal concerts which will be open to the pupils of any other teachers who wish to participate.

Do check out the Play Piano South Facebook group and get involved!

Katrina Fox is a piano teacher in Bournemouth (bhpiano.co.uk), and the founder of Piano Hub South