Five-Year Check-In

Last Day of Year 5 (and MY BIRTHDAY!!!)

I've been playing from John Thompson's Fifth Grade Technique book. Working on some technical exercises from composers like Mozart, Handel, Bach. Also some carry over pieces from last year. I still have the Nocturne in C Minor and Waltz in A-flat Major (L'Adieu) by Chopin, Consolation 2 by Liszt. 

I was playing a bit from Handel's Suite 14--one of the technical exercises--and it's surprising how simple it sounds and yet how much it shows that my fingers have yet to learn. I guess it's of a baroque persuasion and as such is like finger food--full of technical challenges that, when overcome, increases your prowess as a pianist. At least, that's what I'm hoping. 

Yesterday it was actually starting to solidify. It took a while to really get under (into) my fingers. At least 3 weeks or so. (It's very short.) I can feel my fingers relaxing into it more. 

Oh, and I have audio. It's error riddled, but hopefully the quality of tone will show its progress. 

Four-Year Check-in

Last Day of Year 4 (and MY BIRTHDAY!!!)

Yeah. Apparently I only post once a year now. Luckily, that's not my practice schedule!

It's the first hour of my birthday, and it seems I can't get to sleep. I'm pretty much Level 9 RCM now. Figured it out this past week. I'd probably cop a merit in the Level 8 exam, based on my playing and less-than-stellar knowledge of the scales and arpeggios. I play them at speed, but I'm not great at the melodic minors (especially the contrary motions) and the dominant and diminished arpeggios.

Currently working on

• Chopin's Nocturne in C-Minor
• Mozart's Rondo alla Turca
• Liszt's Consolation 2

Still no Rachmaninoff yet. Maybe next two years might be a better estimate. I've heard RCM Levels 9 and 10 together take 3 years.

Three-Year Check-in

Last Day of Year 3 (and my BIRTHDAY!!)

I am reminded that I bought my digital piano three years ago as a birthday present to myself. (It arrived a day late). Yesterday, on the penultimate day of year 3, I found I had attained a solid level of competency in playing Maykapar's At the Skating Rink and Karnov's Dance of the Elves. I was also beginning to speed up Burgmuller's The Storm (though I haven't finished memorising the entire thing yet). I kind of fell off practising a bit in the past two weeks because of moving--which included packing and shipping the piano overseas. So that's understandable. But I'm now back into the swing of things. 

I also noticed that my reading has improved. I am still no longer illiterate. I have yet further to go, but this is heartening and a good place to be at my current RCM-8 level. 

Still Going

I never stopped.

I'm working consistently on Maykapar's Toccatina, Karganov's Dance of the Elves, Maykapar's At the Skating Rink, and Burgmuller's The Storm right now. They're coming along well so that it actually feels like I'm working at the right level--which is a good thing. I'm also continuing my sight reading work, though I often supplement or replace some of the lower-level sight reading with reading I necessarily do while learning new pieces. Relatedly, I've also been trying to "re-learn" Chopin's Prelude in E Minor and so have been mixing sight reading with that task. I'm also still practising his Waltz in A-flat. But... I've also abandoned some pieces.

Texts I've fallen off learning/practising:

• Bach's Prelude in C Major
• Kabalevsky's Etude 
• Grieg's Little Bird
• Left-Hand Etude (though I'm advancing toward it in the RCM text)
• Schubert's Scherzo in B-flat
• Beethoven's Sonata in F-minor

Nevertheless, I'm still looking to resume the John Thompson Grade 5 book--that's what practising Bach's Prelude in C Major and Schubert's Scherzo in B-flat was all about. Maybe I should just move on to the Cui (Orientale) and call it progress, because I find that I'm learning The Storm with speed and alacrity, and this sloth in learning the other two might just mean I'm not all that interested. Sigh... I want diligence! Not this wishy-washy behaviour.

I also think I need a new technical regimen. The current one feels tired and old; it needs rejuvenation. I need to practise the black-key minors in contrary motion. I've learned C#, but I'm just intimidated by trying the other four. One of the problems with starting contrary motion is that it tends to undermine the level of confidence I've usually just achieved in having "mastered" the parallel motion. Suddenly I become clumsy again, and the whole thing just gets disheartening. It makes me feel like I've regressed--though that could never be farther from the truth. 

Sigh again...

Despite all this sighing, I know I'm getting better every day. I really feel like soon I'll be ready for RCM level 9--not exam level, but to tackle the work that will eventually get me to exam level. I am forever in awe of this gradual path that has the ability to take me from my current level of mere competency to one of advanced pianism. It's unbelievable sometimes, but I just have to remember to trust the process. It worked for many others, and it'll work for me too because I'm not special.

Dare I Say...?

Dare I hope I have attained a new level of facility? I noticed a greater ease playing that C# minor nocturne run passage last night, and that without much warm up. All I did beforehand was play through L'Adieu with a few repeats of trouble passages. There's still roughness in the run though. It's not fluid, as I would like, but even this ability to play it without missing the C# keys after every other octave is an achievement. I fully expect to go back to playing it today and have my hopes dashed with a few wayward notes. Errors one thought previously fixed always crop up to throw you. I won't be daunted. I'm still struggling with stuff like that in Kabalevsky's Etude in D--the fiendish one with all the arpeggios. And I'm still maintaining my poise and actively defending against despair where that etude's concerned. Arpeggios are my nemesis. I think it's time to reverse the direction: practise them with a vengeance and become their nemesis!

I realised a couple days ago that no matter how much I think my hands have become looser since September (2016) or so, I still have a far way to go. I also understand that I have no idea what looser will look like until it actually occurs. My left hand is improving. I've returned to practising Bach's Prelude in C with just the left hand. It's working out well, I think. A little awkward because much of it is played on the right side of the keyboard, but still doable. It's a beautiful song, and I should learn it. 

I also found out my sight-reading is about at RCM Level 3, which is not where it should be, but it's definitely a whole lot better than it was. At least now I'm on the grid--the ladder--though perhaps a couple rungs lower than I should be. Technically I should be reading at RCM Level 5 if I'm truly considering myself a level 8 player. But I figure that will come with continued practice, which I will certainly do! Especially now that I realise I'm not illiterate anymore.

Laters...

On Having Attained the 2.5-yr Mark

So I admit to being 3 weeks late on this, but this is still close enough. 

I've been doing this non-stop for two and a half years. It seems unreal. Almost as though no time has passed since then, though I remember lots of days of sitting at the piano.

What can I do now that I couldn't do before? Today I noticed a... gap?... in my scales. I was playing at a certain pace, and literally felt a lot of slack in the technique that marked the capacity to speed up and still maintain the integrity of the scales. Now, I've been practising scales and arpeggios religiously since September 2015--so about a year and 8 months--without really seeing much of a difference beyond simply learning more of them (with a million more to go!) and playing them a bit more fluidly. So I think what happened (finally!) is the kind of thing orthodontists see all the time. The braces have done their disciplinary work, but now, in order to continue that work, they must be tightened. I tightened my C minor (harmonic), D major, and D minor (harmonic) scales today. Yay!

And the discipline continues...

Otherwise, I'm still sorta working on Kabalevsky's Etude in D. It's still hard, but I have to believe it's getting there even though I trip over the same technical bits every single time. And I've learned (though not quite polished) Karganov's Dance of the Elves. It is very fun to play and I like it very much. I even started playing it at a higher speed today and it wasn't so bad at all. I've also begun learning Little Bird by Edvard Grieg. It requires a lot of left-hand work, which I appreciate very much. And it has been giving me a good work out. I recall that last week it was nearly impossible to play those trill-ish 32nd notes (which I played as though they were 16ths to begin). Now I can actually play them right at least 80% of the time--maybe more. I recall yesterday while playing them marvelling that they could have been so difficult before. So I would have to say that's measurable progress, though my hands still feel far from capable. 

I also felt my ability to play that inverted E-major scale passage (extracted as a technical exercise from Chopin's Nocturne in C# minor) improve in the past couple days. I went from discouraged frozen-hands one day to noticeably-more-fluid loose hands the next. They weren't kidding about the darkest part of night being just before dawn, were they? 

(Also been having the flu for the past 5 days or so, and I neglected to practise for more than about 15 minutes yesterday because of the illness. I'm surprised I haven't missed more.)

There ought to be much more to say. It's been so long. I'd been planning on learning Bach's Prelude in C (from WTC) with just the left hand. It was coming along pretty well, too! But I haven't touched that in a couple weeks... not since Orlando and Disney World.

I'm still doing the daily sight reading. Right now I'm reading some late-beginner Christmas tunes, which is pretty fun since I (as the rest of the world) love Christmas songs. Yesterday when looking at the score to Liszt's Six Consolations while it played on YouTube, I found that the text didn't look quite so vertiginous and, in fact, seemed almost readable. So I'll just keep doing that and hope that eventually all the moving parts will coalesce. I'll do that with the rest of my piano regimen as well.

Just. Keep. Moving.

Same old...

Same old song. Literally. I'm still working on the first three etudes of Level 8 and L'Adieu. Sigh. I'm nearing the end of memorization for the Chopin though. And I'm liking the way I'm playing it, though of course there's always room for improvement. I've just in the past two days got to a point in the Kabalevsky D minor  Etude where that first third--which was the hardest part--is consistently better. Not perfect, but I'm not fumbling on the damn arpeggios quite so much.

I'd been lax in my practice of Haydn's Menuetto in the last couple weeks and noticed today upon my return to it that though the note playing deteriorated a bit (from forgetting, I suppose) and it wasn't as cantabile as I would like, I was playing most of the song without even looking at my hands... which is kinda weird because it isn't something I've aspired to do with a song I've memorized. But I just kept on not looking even when I told myself (it was okay) to look. I figure that's got to be a sign of ... something (positive, I hope). I also caught myself not looking at all at my fingers when doing the A-flat major scale (in contrary motion). Also a good sign, I hope... though I messed up a lot on the second octave--those end bits that join the first to the second octaves going outward. I was less shaky on the journey back to the middle.

Sigh. This is a long journey indeed, but I think I'm progressing and not stagnating--though it might feel that way being on the same three songs for three

months.

I can't go on. I'll go on.

I just wanted to use that Beckett quote from the novel I'm currently writing about. I don't actually feel discouraged in any way that I might be tempted not to go on. No way. I've gone too far--and seen to much progress!--to give up now. I feel kind of nondescript right now. I'm improving yes, but slowly. I had to get wrist bands and guards because my right wrist was hurting, but they helped a lot and now I feel none of the pain at all. I thought I'd hurt it somehow while playing piano, but I realized that wasn't the problem at all. It hurt because of the heavy water filter jug I lift daily while making coffee! So I started being a lot more careful with that.

Otherwise, I'm just working hard on the first three RCM Level 8 etudes and doing my new technical exercise regime--the one I mentioned 2 or 3 blogs ago. I feel like I make noticeable progress every day, but also that I'm still really far away from being able to play well and with confidence. So in that way, the title fits: my progress seems asymptotic. Except I'm nowhere near the tail of any kind of piano progress. I still have trouble with the Etude in D Minor, and at several of the same spots, but I find I am playing it consistently faster. So I think that's progress, though it doesn't really feel like it while I'm in the middle of it.

On Having Attained the 2.33-yr Mark

In the previous "On Having Attained" post (January 3, 2017) I listed the scales I'd learned and also those I'd as yet failed to learn. I've been working on the minor scales I'd been lacking. The new schedule has me practising B, C#, F#, G#. E-flat, and B-flat all in the harmonic minor mode. I've been doing all but B minor in parallel motion though, since I hadn't even learned those at all yet. Yesterday's B minor in contrary motion went pretty well. I was practising it aesthetically, trying to make it cantabile and remove all rigidity from the turns. It gave my left hand a tiny bit of a workout, though I recall getting up from the piano thinking my right hand was (as always) gaining technical ability faster than my left. The penultimate thing I played was Maykapar's Toccatina, and I was doing it veeery slowly. But with that piece being heavy on the right hand, the work out felt a bit lopsided when it ended. Haydn's Menuetto was last, and I could tell my left hand was a bit heavy (i.e. uncontrolled) in some of the sections. 

The day before that (Feb 2 - Groundhog Day!) I was practising the first part of Solfeggietto in the morning and it sounded so so harsh and uneven--much more so than previous practices--that I lamented my progress for the rest of the morning. But then when I returned to it in the evening, I was playing it better. It was the first thing I played when I returned to the piano, so I wasn't sure I could attribute the difference to having warmed up. I hadn't. Plus I had been a good deal warmer in the morning while playing it because I'd been playing for quite a while before I began Solfeggietto. So... piano progress is weird. 

Last night, almost immediately after lamenting my left hand's lack of suppleness, I started (absently at first) drumming my left hand fingers on the desk and suddenly noticed it was a good deal more supple than it's ever been. I recall having a similar surprise moment with my right hand several months ago and been reckoning ever since with my left hand's lagging behind the right in this respect. I never thought, however, that I'd see this improvement happening on precisely the same day I get up from the piano thinking, and actually saying aloud, "My left hand sucks!" It's early in the morning right now, so I don't know what today's practice will bring, but I do hope yesterday's final events augur well.

It's weird how it feels like no time has passed since I first began. But that actually helps me proceed--as always--as though it were the first day.  

Over and out.

The Hump

I've had setbacks and discouraging days in the 17 that have passed since my last post. But I've also been good at reminding myself that such days will come and I'm usually wrong about how bad I think I sound. For example, about a week ago my notes sounded harsh again. I've been playing L'Adieu, and after having it sound better than I expected one day, the next day I couldn't get it to sound euphonious. Cantabile. I didn't even give myself the credit of playing without pedal (though pedal is indicated for the most part). So I am obviously too hard on myself.

I got better at the F Major scale today. And I finally began using my laminated, wall-hung schedule: started a regimen last Monday, January 16, 2017. I've slowed pace a bit with the second RCM etude--the Kabalevsky one in D minor. It looks simple in the picture (see previous post), but it is quite a bit harder than Agitato. It's so difficult, in fact, that even though the schedule has me practising three (maybe four) times per week, I'm going to have to increase that to daily. It's just that hard, and the progress I make each time isn't all that noticeable. I keep having false starts with sections I thought I'd got solid the previous day, and the transitions between sections even within phrases is difficult, because the hand playing arpeggios and the one doing the closer passage work often exchange their foci. The switch is usually so jarring to my brain that the tenuous hold I have on the simultaneous coordination of two very different types of techniques comes to a crashing halt. I feel like I'm always having to regroup. But I continue with the "hump," because I know that once I've got this etude down I'll have become a stronger pianist. 

I think I am getting noticeably better with arpeggios, but they are still very challenging. Yesterday my right hand kept messing up the C minor arpeggio! The old third finger kept missing that E-flat on the way back down. smh. It's hard when you're doing a technique you think you already know and even that's not working out. Makes you feel like you've regressed. However, in keeping with the concept of improvement, I did have some good results with the B-flat major arpeggio yesterday, too--although, the fingering turned out to interfere with that of the G-minor arpeggio I thought I'd mastered in the same difficult etude I've been working on: Etude in Dm!! That's also another difficulty with piano. A wrong note in one song (or technical exercise) is a right note for another one. So your next practice piece might actually derail the achievements of your previous practice! And it does no good to argue that this means there's no such thing as a wrong note. Context counts! But being able to switch easily between each context is what I'm ultimately after--so in the end the rigmarole (wringer!) makes me a stronger player. That knowledge is somewhat comforting. Sigh. So, I repeat to myself O'Brien's adage:

Carry on...

Progress

It seems this RCM Level 8 book is about right for me. I am finding the etudes just challenging enough to be making appreciable progress every day. I know, for instance, that being able to play a full few bars of the second etude (in D minor) means that I've improved because the stretches for the arpeggios (and their conjunction with close finger passages in the other hand) was too difficult to do even at andante when I first started looking at it. I've also noticed that now, about six weeks after I started it, the fluid aesthetic I'd been practising regarding my hand motions has become solidly integrated into my general technique. I find evidence of it now in older pieces I'd practised before November 26 and in new pieces I've taken up since. This is good, since I'd been wondering if I was always going to have to be actively working for that kind of fluidity in my playing. Still, I know it's necessary always to keep refining it. I know it might be exaggerated right now and may need to be tempered in the future.

But what I'd really like to record is that on January 6-7, 2017 I noticed that the run passage I started working on as a kind of etude in September has finally begun to lose the patched character it used to have as a result of the thumb crossings. It's the passage from the end of Chopin's Nocturne in C# Minor, which is an RCM level 9 piece, and which I've been preparing for (in advance) by practicing that run. I know this will likely increase in difficulty once I switch back to my own piano—which has keys of the right size and weight (larger and heavier), but getting the thumb crosses solid is a good start. And it took four months! Granted, the scalar passage in Haydn's Menuetto from the E-flat Sonata took over a year to get smooth, so this marks improvement of about sixty-six percent--more perhaps, because it's a harder/longer passage. Patience... 

Incidentally, I had also (in early December) previewed the descending arpeggios of Chopin's Nocturne in C Minor and found them incredibly difficult. I started practising one of them 3 or 4 days ago, and I find that it's getting somewhat better. I'm not sure of the fingering yet--maybe I'll find a better way. But it's funny how the impossible gradually becomes less so.

I haven't practiced this LH piece in a few days—Felix Swinstead's Study in D Major. Though I'd only learned the first four bars, I've very likely forgotten most of the notes. Sigh...

Nevertheless... Onward!

On Having Attained the 2.25-yr Mark

I started practicing the RCM Level 8 etudes on December 17, 2016. I've memorised the first (Rowley's Agitato, left) and am working on perfecting it, but have also started memorising the second piece. This one is harder and requires a leap in coordination. I've also finished learning all the major scales in parallel and contrary motion (finally got to B-flat major last week!) I also have all the white-key harmonic minor scales down, and all except B-minor in contrary motion. Still need to work on that and the black key minors. 

Arpeggios have been a bit on hold since I've been home for Christmas, since the keyboard here has slightly smaller keys and I don't want to learn the fiendishly difficult arpeggios at the wrong scale—wrong hand spans, thumb crossing spans, and all that. But that difficult second etude from the RCM book has arpeggios in several keys, so I think that'll fill the gap. And I hope it won't take to much effort to readjust to the correct sized keys when I have to in a week. 

Chromatics, dominant- and diminished-seventh arpeggios... When, oh when will I be able to get to these??

Periodically, I feel a rise in my abilities. Usually this alternates with a sense of being overwhelmed and a feeling of non-progression. Around December 30/31, I felt that again--a sense of improvement that validated my decision to return to piano. The impetus for this feeling might have been my trying out one of the run passages from Chopin's Nocturne in C Minor and not finding it impossible. I've been thinking it might be time to start on his Waltz in A-flat (L'Adieu). It's an RCM level 8 piece, so it might be right at my level, and when it comes to songs I like I've usually thought maybe I should wait until I've surpassed its level before learning it. That way I'll do it justice. Dunno. It's probably the first (easiest) of the long list of songs I've been waiting to be able to play, and I've waited 2.25 years man! Well, it's among the first, at least, since the E- and B-minor preludes are among them, and I guess I didn't wait as long as I should have to tackle those. Return to them, you say?

Aye aye!

This Can't Be the End...

... is an encouraging statement to me. In the last couple weeks I've shown marked improvement in tonal delicacy just by actively attending to the way I play and vowing never to allow my hands to play harsh notes. At least, not without attempting to correct them. I have (of course!) noticed that even despite my vigilance, my ear invariably detects harshness in my playing. I choose to consider that the result of an ever increasing sensitivity of the ear and contributory to an overall increased aesthetic sensibility. Again, I opine: a good thing.

But... it is December 2016 and I'm still nowhere near ready to play my first Rachmaninoff—as I had hoped in a previous blog entry. I've made a list of what I consider to be the most accessible of his works. I've based it on my listening, my perusal of Henle's library and the difficulty level assigned to each piece or album it contains, and the RCM levels at which some of these pieces occur. This is what I've come up with:

1. Prelude in B Major (Op. 32, No. 11)
2. Prelude in F# minor (Op. 23, No. 1)
3. Melodie (Morceaux de Fantaisie, Op. 3, No. 3)
4. Elegie (Morceaux de Fantaisie, Op. 3, No. 1)
5. Prelude (Morceaux de Fantaisie, Op. 3, No. 2)
6. Prelude in D Major (Op. 23, No. 4)
7. Prelude in G-flat Major (Op. 23, No. 10)
8. Prelude in E-flat Major (Op. 23, No. 6)
9. Etude-Tableau in G minor (Op. 33, No. 8)

As is evident, my current RCM-7 level is no match for the "easiest" (ha!) of these. But I remain undiscouraged. Heartened, even, for it was two days ago that I recall watching some kids playing their ABRSM (post) Level 8 pieces extremely well and thinking, "Good thing I have three more years to develop that kind of flair." Good thing, I said! And I marked it, because never had I before revelled in the idea of requiring more time to develop. But I did in that moment, and spontaneously. 

I think that's a sign both of my accepting my current level and of my growing contentment with the progress I'm making. I finally have confidence in my ability to reach somewhere good,* and in the fact that I have already reached somewhere good. I'm happy to take the circuitous path to that "somewhere" because I want to develop a real visceral connection to piano playing—to really know it, experience it, understand it...

* Nice diction, treenataniesha!

The Aesthetic, pt. 2

So I've been adhering to my desired regimen of aesthetically driven practice. I never allow a note to leave my fingers without first subjecting the joints to some kind of disciplinary action. I'm really trying to wring as much delicacy as possible out of my fingers' action upon the keys. This means a lot—lot—of slow, controlled note-strikes, where I try to imbue my joints with something like shock absorbers (which I expect is just a generally increased sensitivity of the muscles controlling them). But this means I don't allow my fingers to bang upon the keys anymore. I try to let every one down easy in its turn. 

And it's not just difficult, but it's also sort of arresting in a certain sense. I realise I have to sacrifice progress (in a direction toward the final note of the score) for progress in a more vertical direction regarding my ability to get various levels of sound from each strike of a note. I like it, because it means I am now able to produce the soft sounds I've wanted. But I keep wondering how long it will take for me to produce these sounds without having to think about it. How long before I can take that increased dynamism for granted and move on to gaining more technique? I really haven't been committed to this for all that long—it's been exactly seven days!—so my impatience is kinda unwarranted. 

This new form of practice also means something for the way I move my hands and the kind of support my wrists provide. I find the motions—even contortions—are more deliberate and quite extreme. Still, I am always careful that everything I do is ergonomic, and I think it's even helped with a weird crick I'd had in my wrist for about a week or so. I move my hands as though outlining a lemniscate (rather than a circle), and that seems to create the most fluid motion on the keys. The circling of the wrists (which is often recommended as prophylaxis against carpal tunnel, etc.) actually seems to hurt, not help. So I don't do it. 

I'm a bit surprised at how committed I've become to this type of fluid wrist and finger action in my practising. It's making a real difference in the aesthetic of my playing, though, which is actually really important to me. I mean, it's actually making me play in a way I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to—though as yet ever so slowly and tentatively. I want to make not clangy noises on the piano but music. I don't want simply to strike a string of correct notes; I want them to depend from a string of fluidity whose aesthetic is both audible in the texture of the sounds as they light upon the tympanum and visible in the motion of my hands across the keys. And because I dare to dream of poetry, I'm willing to wait to play a song until I have the delicacy of touch necessary to truly make it sing. (Chopin's Raindrop Prelude is a case in point. I've loved that song for two years now, have acquired and looked at the score, but haven't touched it.) Consequently, I'm still working with Maykapar's Toccatina, Bach's Little Prelude in F, Loeschhorn's The Juggler, Haydn's Menuetto, and recently I added CPE Bach's Solfeggietto. These are pretty much all songs I'd played before, but with much less grace and aesthetic sensibility. This time I won't be done with them until they sound really fluid and light, like I'm playing with a feather for fingers, and with the utmost legato, even with my feet off the pedal! 

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.