(As explained in the previous post, the Greater Spokane Allied Arts and Music Festival was held the second week in May when the lilacs were in full bloom. The photos here were taken last week at our farm when the lilacs were at their peak.)
It
was my second year at the festival. We arrived early at the hall and were
allowed to enter the room between performances of the class ahead of mine. A
darling little girl in a pretty light blue dress finished playing and remained
on the bench. “Thank you, that’s fine,” said the adjudicator, an old man. The
little girl didn’t budge. After an awkward moment, the adjudicator said again,
“That’s fine. You can get down now.” And with that, the little girl burst into
tears. She had wet her pants.
In
college, I took flute lessons, and my instructor assigned a certain piece that
I should prepare for jury at the end of the semester. “Oh, so I’ll memorize
this,” I said. To which he responded with some vehemence: “No! Only piano
students are asked to memorize, which is totally stupid in my opinion.” He went
on to say that in life, you will never be asked to play from memory, but you
will be asked to sight read, accompany groups, play for church, etc. He also
pointed out, which I believe, that memorizing actually detracts from performance.
After refusing to participate, I gave no more thought to the Greater Spokane Music and Allied Arts Festival, and I heard no more about it. For me, it had ceased to exist. However, I found their website and discovered that it does indeed continue to this day. In 2001, the name was change to Musicfest Northwest, and it’s one of the largest festivals of its kind in the United States. KW
3 comments:
What an interesting snippet from the life of a young girl. I presume you weren't among the one who relieved herself at the piano. Did you follow her in performing? How did you feel about the pressure. I'm sure your dad was in the audience.
The little girl was in the class ahead of mine, and as I recall she wasn't the last to play. No one did anything to relieve the tension in the room. The adjudicator kept his eyes on his papers, making him seem remote to those who would play before him, while the volunteer assistant undertook to clean the area. Anyway, the damage was done to that class and the next. If you weren't there, someone told you about it.
You know, when a student plays at a recital, he's among friends, but when he plays for the purpose of critique, it's another thing. And if the student doesn't know her piece well and struggles to perform before a group, then she doesn't need an adjudicator to give her the answers about her performance. You have to know your music well before you begin to interpret and individualize.
Well, I panicked before (and during) recitals. A prodigy I wasn't. And I had no idea you underwent such stressful experiences. And it's all the harder when the people we really want to please are our parents.
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