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!