What We Are Every Day
[Originally published February 13th, 2022 via my newsletter]
Greetings from Boston! This week has been a big one, with two grad school visits and the last of three piano auditions over the course of three months. Pictured above is the beautiful, winding staircase in the historic Edwin Abbot House, also known as the Zabriskie House, at Longy School of Music of Bard College. Pictured below is intimate Houston Hall of Boston Conservatory at Berklee, where my last audition was held. While the two schools contrast in their approach to music education–one more rigorous and classical, and one more tailored to the individual–they each hold a rich history, founded in Boston in the mid-19th and and early 20th centuries, with many notable alumni and faculty to boot.
Last night while catching up on highlights from the Winter Olympics, I empathized hard with the athletes as they embarked on their runs down the slopes or routines on the ice. There is so much build up to that one moment. They'd done everything they could to prepare. They had the physical ability to do what was required of them. When it came time to perform, barring any extraordinary circumstance, it really just came down to the mental component of it all. Calming their nerves, clearing their mind, relaxing, and not overthinking it. And even for the best of the best, the chance of failure is inevitably a possibility as they're pushing their skills to the max. After all, no risk = no reward (or in this case, an Olympic medal).
A few minutes before my audition, the department head walked by and reminded me to have fun. That's just about the best advice one could give in that setting! As I sat waiting to enter the recital hall, I asked myself a similar question to what I asked myself in the midst of a track workout last week. What am I afraid of? Before any big meet, I try to remind the high school athletes I coach that running is what they do every day. As in, even if they're about to run in a giant competitive meet, the actual act of running and racing is something they've practiced, prepared, and really ingrained in themselves to do. Same motion, new setting. I am a pianist every day.
Logically knowing all those things, that didn't take away from how wild it was to go from practicing for months on my little upright piano at home, all by myself, to playing a gorgeous seven-foot Steinway grand piano in a beautiful recital hall, accompanying and collaborating with some seasoned and accomplished musicians including a vocalist, violinist, and clarinetist. I pushed my own musical skills to the max in learning some difficult repertoire, and performing it with people I met that morning. Did I have fun? Yes. Was it nerve-racking as all get out? Also yes. One thing you can't exactly replicate in practice is having a wildly beating heart, shaking hands and fingers, and being so intensely focused that time actually slows down, sort of like being in the Matrix. The whole thing was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
I thought I would feel amazing after the audition no matter what. I'd been practicing the material for ages and finally it all culminated in a singular, twenty minute performance, come what may. I'd been looking forward to feeling a sense of relief and a weight off of my shoulders. I did all I could from my end, and all that's left now is the waiting. However, the adrenaline in my system continued to run following the audition, and honestly a day later it still is! I think it all stems from having done something far beyond my comfort zone–being in the spotlight, being judged, and setting myself up for the possibility of failure or rejection.
I also happen to know from experience that the more you do this kind of thing, the better you get at it. My last classical piano audition before this was in 2003, nearly twenty years ago. My undergrad senior piano recital was in 2007. It didn't seem like a big deal then, because I played in auditions and festivals once or twice a year as a young student, and juries every semester as a college student. I grew accustomed to it, and I know it's possible to get to that point again with some practice. It's like that with racing, it's like that with public speaking, and it's like that with interviews–all things that at some point have made me want to disappear into a hole!
Some big decisions will be made over the next couple months, but it's looking more and more like all roads are leading to Boston: a place rich with history and full of possibilities. As I tried to envision what life as a student there could look like, I thought about a question Ashley Hall, a career coach and trumpeter on the faculty at Longy, asked me during my visit: what parts of my Portland life would I want to bring with me to Boston? As I ventured outside of the energetic, bustling city and found calm in a solo walk among the trees, snow, and quiet in the nearby Fells reservation, which has over one hundred miles of trails, that answer was crystal clear.
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