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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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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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The decision to leave one’s piano teacher and move on can be a difficult one, especially if the relationship is longstanding. I have written more about this subject here. 

Ann Grogan, a poet and adult pianist, contacted me after reading my article to share her own thoughts on the issues surrounding the decision to leave a teacher, and I am sharing a excerpt from her article on this subject here:

In appreciation because they help me reach my goals, I fall into a kind of deep music-love affair with each of my teachers. Music and piano lessons open up my heart and emotions, and make me feel raw, vulnerable, and exposed in a way that other kinds of art lessons have never done. Music is special in this way, at least for me.

THE DANGER OF BEING OVERLY IMPRESSED: Sometimes this specialness causes me to set aside what I note is out of place in a lesson or in the teaching relationship, in favor of long-term hopes and dreams. That is usually never a good thing to do. I’ve learned to speak up earlier and more often when I’m fairly certain I’m not enjoying something I am trying to learn or a particular approach the teacher insists I apply.

In one case, I’m certain that I was initially overly-impressed by a teacher’s many published CDs featuring original compositions and pianistic talents in a preferred musical genre that was not mine, and another teacher’s stature as a well-known professional pianist with ubiquitous “how to” vlogs. However, I failed to do my due diligence and had no clue about their teaching ability in general, or if their approaches and policies were compatible with what are certain basic requirements I have for piano lessons.

For many seniors, the process of learning the piano is critical, in that it must function in the nature of a partnership and not a top-down affair. Being overly-impressed hinders my ability to observe what is happening as lessons unfold. I stray from my desire to learn in partnership with my teacher. Sometimes I continue studying with the teacher beyond what is reasonable and productive.

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Guest post by Jessica Yeartie

To our benefit, there are usually several paths one can choose to arrive at the same end result. Doing so in the traditional way or manner, and the unconventional way. Whichever decision you make is incumbent on the most comfortable way for you in accomplishing something.

To me, I am always seeking the easiest and most convenient way to do something, however I would not perceive myself as lazy. I am just conservative and selective with how I spend my energy. The only thing I exercise to the brink of exhaustion on a daily basis is my brain and thought processes. I can usually just take a nap to recuperate when necessary.

When I had decided I wanted to learn the piano, I knew seeking out a professional teacher to personally instruct me was out of the question, financially and time-wise. My mentors and research consisted of pianists who posted helpful videos on YouTube for beginners and affordable piano books and exercises I could purchase from Amazon.

Due to my circumstances, these choices suited my situation best and I made the best with what I had at my disposal. If aspiring pianists have the funds to hire a personal instructor, I would highly encourage you to do so.

Many tactics I did not learn until much later would have been made aware to me had I had someone to overlook my practice sessions and provide instant feedback I could apply on my own time. Though I think I have gotten on fine enough considering the circumstances.

Like everything in this universe, there are pros and cons when we make these choices. When we choose one thing over the other, we are knowingly sacrificing what could have been had we chosen differently. Sometimes the fear of ¨what could have been¨ can cripple us so much that we just do not make a choice at all.

Some have the opportunity to experience both but I cannot say if that is the default when it comes to decision-making. Although, I can say that hard work can certainly aid with filling in the gaps where personal instruction could have been well-utilized.

Pros

Learning anything outside our immediate area of expertise is a struggle, to say the least. Fortunately the individuals who would consider themselves to be of a more independent nature could definitely benefit from the self-taught avenue.

Adhering to Your Own Schedule

Going solo means you do not have to refer to someone else for when a task should be completed. Finding ways to manoeuvre around each other´s, sometimes very busy, schedules can be time-consuming and hard to negotiate.

Also, life is still going on around us. Many of us have outside responsibilities that come first before giving precious time to what most would consider a hobby. Things like family, relationships, work, household duties, etc. are more than enough to keep the average citizen occupied for the majority of their week.

Of course we definitely need sleep as well, especially me. We are not machines that only need to be recharged when we are feeling fatigued at the end of a long, busy day. Being self-taught can eliminate some of these issues.

Photo by Juan Pablo Serrano Arenas on Pexels.com

No Time Constraints

Typically, teachers expect you to have practiced a certain amount during the week and present that to them when you see them next. Sometimes, the pressure of performing and getting in the required time for a full practice session can be tiresome and anxiety-inducing.

While I immensely enjoyed taking a piano close as a Junior in high school, I hated the weekly tests the teacher would grade us on for the song he selected. I always performed so much worse during the exam than when I was practicing and it frustrated me to no end.

Also, my school did not have enough pianos for each student to have their own so our allotted time slot was much shorter time to accommodate our larger than average classrooms. Now that I practice in the comfort of my own home, I can take as much time as I need to make sure I fully understand a concept.

Working at Your Own Pace

Slow-learners and fast-learners are the bane of the other´s existence. We all have that one subject or skill we excel in and get mildly irritated when others are not. At least that was the case for me in the past. I was even more irritated when I did not understand something and everyone else did, leaving me behind while I struggled.

Some concepts take longer to comprehend than others so rushing them can exacerbate their feelings of inadequacy, leading them to eventually quitting.

On the contrary, moving too slowly can lead to boredom. It is hard for a professional and newbie to come to terms with their individual skill levels and find a way to move forward that satisfies both of their needs.

Working alone means you can work as fast or slow as you need. You can speed up when something comes easier to you or take additional time for more difficult roadblocks without feeling like you are infringing on someone else´s time while still moving forward.

Cons

On the other side, there are some hiccups one should take into consideration before taking the plunge. While there is a considerable amount of freedom that comes with being self-taught, there are also some factors one should think about. Determine whether or not these possible setbacks are something you are willing to take on during your progression.

Lack of Support

One thing that makes starting a new hobby so exciting is meeting new people who have the same passion as you. This can be said about starting a new sport, joining a club at school, or attending weekly community gatherings for a specific project.

What all of these activities have in common is a group of individuals that are physically present. You have others you can converse with as the two of you are working while establishing a relationship.

In the beginning stages, learning an instrument can be kind of isolating if you are teaching yourself. Having a teacher present can remind you that they are there to help and support you when you eventually hit a wall. We can sometimes lose motivation when we have no one holding us accountable.

Lack of Foundation

If you are anything like me, you tend to want to skip the ¨boring¨ stuff and tackle the more exciting lessons. The problem with this is you hit a plateau much quicker due to a lack of knowledge in basic strategies you should have focused on to begin with.

We all have songs in our heads we really want to learn so we convince ourselves, prematurely, that we can learn it at our current level only to receive a slap in the face when you realize you cannot even play both hands at the same time without being out of time.

It takes a responsible person to stave off instant gratification and spend time on the more mundane, but important, aspects that are the very foundation of what they can accomplish in the future.

Little to No Feedback

Unless you asked someone to watch over you who is well-versed in piano and the proper form, you do not have much immediate feedback so you would have to refer to second-hand resources for clarity.

Playing in front of someone can be extremely nerve-wrecking but it is worth it to learn in the early stages which behaviours need to be corrected so they do not turn into bad habits that are nearly impossible to break further down the line.

Don´t shoot yourself in the foot by relying on your intuition in unfamiliar territory. There are lots of resources and videos out there that will inform you on better ways to play arpeggios or the perfect posture to maintain when practicing.

In Conclusion

We are all different. Some thrive in solitude while others, in the company of others. I do not regret that I chose to be self-taught however I definitely believe I could have benefited greatly from having a stable authority present to help me when I struggled.

Ideally, I think the best situation would be to experience both. Have a teacher as a novice player then gradually become more independent as you improve. That is just my opinion, though.

Whatever decision you choose is ultimately up to you unless you have parents who insist on paying for your lessons. I hope whatever path you choose leads you to victory.

Keep playing!

Jessica Yeartie is a US-based writer and blogger.

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