The Aesthetic

Two nights ago while playing scales I noted how clangy they sounded. I'd remembered times before when I'd been able to achieve some relatively impressive cantabile and I was quite depressed at my regression. Soon after it dawn on me (not for the first time, it seemed) that I really should play my scales with the same grace I would a piece or song. I began to realise that anything worth playing is worth playing well. Or, put another way: nothing I play should ever be treated as a "throw away" when it comes to practising tonal quality. Everything—every exercise—is a proving ground for tonality.

Legato, legato, legato!

So the next day (Sunday) I practised mainly scales, and I played them as though I were playing a song. And something happened. I began to notice a whole other dimension to my playing. I was playing with such a light touch and with graceful motions. I even closed my eyes and visualized the keyboard as I played C, D, and G harmonic minor scales in contrary motion. I can't even visualize scales in parallel motion! But it began to happen then, and then even today.

So it came to me today that I really have within my hands and fingers all the control necessary to make anything I play have a decently fluid sound. So if I'm ever playing and it sounds clangy, it's because I want it to. Consequently, I have no excuse ever to have anything sound that way again. So I must take care that it doesn't. 

Such is the aesthetic, the dance of the fingers upon the keys. Kevin J. Zhu has inspired me, because he has a built-in aesthetic that is quite prodigious. He progresses way too fast for me to get a true feel for the time it takes a mortal to get to each level, though. But still, he inspires, and I learn from him.

How long til'...?

The age old question. I've been asking it for two years. Well, I recently found a video of a small child playing Maykapar's Toccatina at full speed and relatively well. Then I checked later videos from the uploader, and he records this same kid presenting a very well-executed rendition of Chopin's Nocturne in C Minor two years later. Now, if he was playing Toccatina at the very edge of his ability (not likely), as I am, then it might take me a full two years of serious practice to get the supple carpals and metacarpals necessary for playing well pieces around the level of that Chopin. (Speaking of supple wrists, watch his as he plays Liszt's Six Consolations, No. 2 another two years after that! The kid's a genius.)

Two years seems long, alas, though I know it isn't and that once it has passed, it's past: I will never have to be less good again! But, in the words of Menudo: "It's the waiting that's driving me out of my mind!"

It is nevertheless heartening to know that such improvement is possible. Yesterday I acquired (way too early) copies of the RCM Level 8 Etudes and the score for Rachmaninoff's Etude-Tableau in G Minor. The music store here was having a moving sale, so I decided to get these things now before the store moves too far away for me to frequent it anymore. These will be material for my future technical development, as I am not now ready for them.

So... I've known this, but it really came home to me recently how important it is to practise pieces well within your range as well as the ones that stretch your technical abilities. I have now returned to the John Thompson Fourth Grade Book, as I said I would. I've been replaying The Juggler and (just today) I started Bach's Little Prelude in F Major. These no longer tax my abilities, so now I get to focus on really—I mean really—making the pieces sing. I would like to make an art out of my hands' motions, make them dance. (When I work my hands, the loosening of the wrists and the muscles in the palm and forearm actually feels therapeutic, almost like a massage.) I think exploring and experimenting within the limits of your current ability must be they way to work out the aesthetic of the discipline. Maybe that's how a musician acquires depth? I hope so, and that I'm doing it right. I sort of feels right.

Touch

I think today I acquired a more delicate touch in my left hand, especially the thumb, index, and middle fingers. I also worked a bit on the same fingers in the right hand while I was practising Maykapar's Toccatina. I recognized they needed work in comparison to the way the 3-4-5 finger combo was handling the opening of the Maykapar. Yesterday, too, I worked on tonal quality and dexterity in the left hand while practising Beethoven's Sonata in F Minor (Op. 2, No. 1). I was trying to get that Alberti bass part to sound like a true crescendo-diminuendo. See how the first two bars of the picture above has the climax on one note in the middle. That's played by the middle finger, but a similar thing happens a little later requiring the pinky to sound that loud note. It turns out that using the pinky to play a note that sounds loud in comparison to the rest of the fingers isn't the easiest thing in the world. Still, it's coming along. 

I'm still working on the G^♭ Major scale in contrary motion. That started coming together a bit better today, especially since I began feeling freer to practice the tone of the notes and to make the thumb crossings smoother. My wrists have loosened up a bit more to facilitate this, and this looseness shows up also in the C minor run in Haydn's Menuetto (pictured above-right) and the F minor run in Beethoven's sonata. It also shows up in a better handling of the first run passage in Mozart's Sonata in C, which I still occasionally use as an etude and a dexterity measure to sort of see how far I've come. So I guess I'm making some progress. 

Nevertheless, Onward! like it's the first day.

Random Update

Today I played C Major arpeggios and felt good about them. I was hitting the right notes most of the time and moving with more speed and confidence across the octaves. Again my body was moving along with my hands—though I suspect it might now be too much and I will soon need to tone that down.

I also read through a bunch of songs in JTMCP 3, including Bach's Prelude in C, Clementi's Sonatina, and Thompson's Tarantella. Played through Massenet's Melody, too—especially the beginning (refrain) which I memorised and was actually trying to play decently. I ended with some finger exercises. For the left hand, I used Burgmuller's Ballade and for the right Maykapar's Toccatina. Felt my 3rd and 4th finger loosen up when playing trills because I tried to work that technique at slow and medium speeds. I guess my read through the first part of The Skaters inspired this work out. It helped. 

Two-Year (Late) Check-in

I haven't posted in a few weeks, but I've been practising! That, at least, hasn't stopped.

It's been two years, one month, and (almost) two days since I started this journey, and I'm still happy I'm doing it. I've struggled with a lot of things, not the least of which are the technical aspects of practising—scales and especially arpeggios. I've been finding my progress with the latter to be slow and they are in general just harder than scales. Motivation to do them lags behind that of scales, which I do in small bits (but thoroughly) every day. I might end up doing arpeggios only 4 or 5 times a week. Maybe 6. 

I've recently (two days ago) switched the fingering for playing minor arpeggios that begin on white keys with a black in the middle (like Cm and Gm). This has made a huge difference in my ability to play accurately. I'd been doing 1-2-3-5 in both hands as with their major counterparts, and switching to 5-4-2-1 in the left hand has decreased a lot of the awkwardness and mild contortionism involved. (This was usually in the "descending" motion toward the low end of the keyboard, when the fingers 1-2-3 would find the gap between notes a tad too wide.)

I've also just now (in the past week or two) detected a general improvement in my body's ability to move in such a way that it facilitates the speed with which arpeggios cover the keyboard. Before, I wasn't moving my torso sideways fast or evenly enough, and I also didn't move automatically closer to the piano at either end of the six-octave arpeggios. Now I find my body more limber and almost eager to move—even shift!—for the sake of the exercise. That's heartening to me, because in general I'm too phlegmatic and, well, lazy actually. Even my elbows have begun to raise themselves and remain that way throughout my practice session. 

Scales have their challenges too, of course, not the least of which is the fact that so many of them exist! I'm working on G^♭ Major in contrary motion and have been for quite a few weeks. It's hard. I'm to the point where I play them without errors (but not fast) if I look at my hands, but mess up about once or twice when not looking. I did have a feeling of near mastery yesterday, though, when I was playing G minor harmonic in contrary motion. I had it down so well the dynamics were starting to come out: I was almost playing it with style!

O that G^♭ Major might become like that one day... 

I've also been working on D^♭ Major along with the G^♭, but it has proved a bit easier. I do need to give it more attention though. Still haven't really touched the black key minors yet. The volume!!! (cf. The horror!)

Having found my level (RCM 7), I've been working on one of the studies, and I've sight read Beethoven's Bagatelle a couple times. I'd like to work on Bertini's C minor study too, but right now I'm still memorising Maykapar's Toccatina, so... (sigh). It'll happen though, especially since my sight reading has improved enough that I don't fear reading at all anymore. (I'm at the end of the Piano Adventures 3B books—almost the last page, since I'm skipping the Pachelbel Canon in D entries because I despise that damn song.)

I hope to return to blogging about my John Thompson series soon. I'll be revisiting many songs I've played before because I've demoted myself. I may have to begin again with the fourth grade book actually, even if I start somewhere in the middle. Schubert's Scherzo in B^♭ (the second entry of the fifth grade book) is a level 8 RCM exam piece, so the second half of the fourth grade book seems about right.