Artist or Fundamentalist?

Just now, while searching for information among old emails from Vienna: Language of Lieder, I ran across a message that I sent to our students during the 2018 program. Consider.

Dear Talented Ten,

First of all, know that each of you is making strides towards finding and developing your own artistic center. Parallel with and essential to that process, your abilities as singer, actor, interpreter of literature (technique, you might say) are moving forward – sometimes dramatically so!

It occurs to me that some of you (since you are all so young!) may be unclear or confused, because you perceive differences of opinion and method between two or more of your teachers here. As I said at the beginning, know that we are not in lock step, though there are essential things that are common in our work. At the same time, each artist/teacher has unique preferences.

Put the above individuality together with the fact that each of you is a “moving target” in each session, and it becomes even more difficult for you to find absolute, fundamental “rules” about artistry.

Failsafe, dogmatic instructions for the “correct” performance of anything are suspect, at best. You’ll be wise to stop looking for the perfect interpretation of anything.

For example, something so basic as tempo: One teacher may give you a faster tempo, perhaps because you are lethargic, lost in your head. Another teacher may insist on a slower tempo on the same piece, to help you find gravity and more intense delivery of the song’s essence.

Your privilege and your responsibility is to synthesize the various input you receive – finally coming up with performances you are convinced honor “the rules,” yet they will be marked with your own fingerprints, your own DNA.

Think of a cake recipe. Some ingredients are essential, or you have a cookie instead of a cake, yet there is plenty room and need for customization. True, a freshly-prepared hamburger at McDonald’s will be consistent under any authorized Golden Arches, but you are still eating a Mickey D’s burger – generally not the most nutritious or interesting meal.

I’d be delighted to talk with any of you about these ideas. Know that this program exists to give you tools, knowledge, skill, experience, exposure – all things that you incorporate to be an artist, not merely a conveyor of others’ preferences. One cannot be an artist, while holding a Fundamentalist mindset.

I’m proud of what you’re all doing in these weeks! EE

Who am I? Artistic and Professional Identity

Here are some comments drawn from the recently-updated Teacher page at my website, elemeley.com. Who I am as a teacher is essentially based on my personality, personal attributes, beliefs, experiences, and encounters with others throughout all those experiences. It is essential for artists to somehow quantify and describe that sum total of who we are, what we’ve done, and what we do now. I invite you to visit that Teacher page for the full context.

I am gifted with a lifelong love of singing and a deep love for teaching. For thirty-four years at Westminster Choir College, I served on an unparalleled voice faculty, largely agreeing on what constitutes good singing and good teaching, offering opinions to each other generously. Those significant years with prized colleagues coincided with a decades-long career singing opera and concert, under New York artist management. Throughout my forty-year career (full-time teaching at the college level), I have worked diligently to grow as an artist – both as a performer and in the teaching studio – and am deeply grateful for all the successes in both areas. I find the pursuit of both streams to be complementary and mutually supportive, although strategic management and thoughtful balance are essential.

Specifically, I believe my strongest abilities and goals are to:

  • Establish rapport with a broad range of personalities, through strong communication skills,
  • Ascertain essential abilities and needs presented by a student, with the knowledge and experience to offer on-point technical instruction for short- and long-term growth, seeking better coordination of breath management with tonal goals,
  • Guide students towards efficient and effective use of their bodies and athletic sense to sing with optimal strength and expressive freedom,
  • Share my inherent musicality, strong musicianship, aesthetic sense, and learned stylistic choices (including well-honed language skills, particularly in English and German) to help students be at home with a broad range of repertoire. My background as pianist and conductor also help me to bring pianist and singer more closely together as a performing ensemble.

Doctoral study at Indiana University School of Music (completed all coursework for the degree D.Mus. in voice performance and literature) gave me abundant opportunity to learn and grow as a singer. I was cast in no less than five roles of the IU Opera Theater during my three semesters and two summers of study in Bloomington. In addition, the focus on voice literature allowed me to broaden the pedagogical training that I received in my undergraduate years at Baylor University, where my excellent voice teachers were Daniel Pratt and Carol Blaickner-Mayo. During my work towards the MM in voice at Southwestern Baptist Seminary School of Church Music, I studied voice pedagogy with James C. McKinney, whose book, The Diagnosis and Correction of Vocal Faults, still appears on voice pedagogy bibliographies. Further, I was a soloist and the pianist for his highly-regarded Men’s Chorus at that time. During the years that I was Assistant Professor of Voice at Southwestern, I taught McKinney’s basic Voice Pedagogy course for one semester in his absence.

My teacher at Indiana University was the esteemed Margaret Harshaw, known as a strong technical teacher. In fact, my study with her continued periodically until her passing in 1997. Not only the lineage of Miss Harshaw back to Garcia, but a shared link from my valued teacher and mentor, Jack Coldiron, extends back through Mack Harrell to Garcia. Harrell and Harshaw were studio-mates when they were taught by Anna Schoen-Renée, who had herself studied with Pauline Viardot-Garcia.

Of immense influence on me were my lengthy residences in Vienna. After two summers of study there, I took a semester leave from Westminster Choir College in spring 2011 and lived, studied, and performed in Vienna for six months. That time inspired me to re-create for others my own experiences in the City of Music, so I launched and administered the summer program, Vienna: Language of Lieder, which ran from 2012 through 2019, before the pandemic forced us to shut down our boutique program. It is those times of learning from, coaching with, teaching with, and getting to kmow wonderful colleagues – among them Norman Shetler, Walter Moore, Robert Holl, Carolyn Hague, Michael Pinkerton, Deirdre Brenner, Wolfgang Holzmair, and others – that brought my love for and abilities with the German repertoire into sharper focus.

The Song Recital

I have recently been in a couple of conversations about program-building: what is it, how to do it, what is important, etc. Ironically, Facebook reminded me yesterday of a post from 2016, in which I praised a student and his pianist/coach, with the following words.

“What a glorious recital this afternoon by my student…, and pianist… It was an imaginative program, sensitively offered and expertly carried out. In many ways, it represented the best qualities of the unique gifts of the song recital: honest, not [merely] a ‘cookie-cutter’ program, uniquely appropriate for the place and artists.”

Although I don’t remember writing those words, I still believe them to be true. “Honest” assumes that the performers are good actors, capable of choosing truth as needed to deliver the material; i.e., one accepts the truth of the scene portrayed, determines the qualities and personality of the character (if from a larger dramatic work, or a character-driven cycle like Winterreise, etc.). The singer personalizes in a way very much like the “method actor.” Of course, remember that song repertoire typically calls for a story-teller, rather than a singer consistently representing a single character.

A number of teachers and artists suggest that even a personal narrative, perhaps a poem written in first person, should be characterized. At times, this approach can help the performer to be even more effective, perhaps freeing them from embarrassment or inhibition. I find that those personal statements (including when one sings Scripture or liturgy, from the viewpoint of one who is a faithful believer) can be most powerful when delivered simply, directly, and with the uniqueness of that individual voice.

A cookie-cutter or academic program – oratorio aria, early English group, German group, French group, opera aria, lighter Great American Songbook, etc. – should not always be avoided, but that rather standardized format can potentially distance everyone in the room from the fresh, truthful core of the songs and dramatic excerpts (arias) selected. A conspicuously or subtly thematic collection of repertoire can fit into such a format, and that can be effective.

The honesty alluded to earlier will be more apparent if the performers at least have an arc or continuous link of some sort in mind, even if not on the printed program. However, don’t overlook the effect that groupings of repertoire, even the way the titles appear on the page (font and other editing choices) will influence how the listener perceives the experience. Giving the program a title can be helpful in preparing the audience, but a sentimental, immature, or over-used title can have the opposite effect.

The last consideration, “uniquely appropriate for the place and artists,” must be strongly taken to heart. Even younger, less-experienced artists need to put themselves in the seat of their anticipated audience when planning a program. Not only should the program-builders assemble repertoire that suits themselves, that fulfills them, that displays their abilities, etc., but they must remember their role as educators. Performers must take seriously the responsibility of building audiences for future recitals, by offering an enriching yet entertaining experience to the listener.

To perform a program of repertoire that is uniformly obtuse, remote, or unreasonably difficult to process for the particular audience in the room can be taken as disrespectful or demeaning, as though they are not expected to engage because comprehension is so far out of reach. On the other hand, a program of overly familiar, simplistic, merely “pretty” music can have the similar effect of distancing the audience from a valid and enriching evening, due to boredom.

Balance must be sought. The wise artist can find repertoire that is overall engaging for both the performers and the listeners. In my opinion, usually the risk to take is that too much of the repertoire is accessible, comprehensible, likable, and appealing. This can be done with integrity and artistic gravity. It’s largely a matter of personal honesty and awareness of others. Selfishness has no place on the program.

A final, practical word about overly intense, thematically-organized programs: if artists are presenting a series of programs to essentially the same audience, each program can be strongly focused on a single style, composer, poet, language, theme, or subject. However, if it’s likely that the majority of listeners will hear the artists only on that one occasion, how smart is it to perform for 60-90 minutes in one artistic “color” that excites some but alienates others? Not a good idea for anybody, certainly not for building audiences. I suggest that a uniquely appropriate and less-familiar cookie cutter could serve well.

Choices, Revisited

I have written here in several posts about the defining activity of making choices. See About Practice for an example.

Just now in the middle of a spy thriller TV series (Jack Ryan, Season 3, if you must know), this conversation between two colleagues: “You [messed] up.” “I made choices.” “There were better ones.”

There are always alternatives to choices we make in singing, in other engagement, and in living. Other choices may range from somewhat harmful or less helpful, to destructive, to abject deal-breakers.

To become the honest and wise person/artist – in evaluating a performance, an activity, a relationship, or a career – never choose to see yourself as a failure, even if the episode in question blew up for the whole world to see. Rather, identify the bad choices, find better ones, and choose differently in the future. This is how growth works.

Sometimes we look for what or whom to blame (not the best idea), but we can prepare for future success if we take responsibility for our past choices and strategize accordingly for the future. See Observations, not Excuses for more insights.

I wish you immense growth in your own endeavors, and of those for whom you are teacher, mentor, parent, and/or friend.

The Fine Line a Performer Must Respect

Here follows a recent Facebook comment that I contributed, re: a friend’s critical post about a famous tenor, renowned for his recitals and recordings. I will come back here in future days to expand this blogpost. Meanwhile, I invite you to read and then “talk amongst yourselves” for a while!

“…the real question is this: at what point does a performance cease to be of an artist recreating what others have created, with that artist’s unique personality in a supporting role? In a day of countless recordings, etc., performers easily go overboard with revealing themselves via contrivance of music/text – trying to be different – rather than honoring the truth of the art over their own headspace.”

Still Good Insight

This from a Facebook post of past years. I believe it’s a great place to start reforming our interactions. Consider.

Friends, I just had an insight that I feel inclined to share. Without going through the process of observation and thought that lit this bulb in my head (a mundane series, actually), here’s the essence: We are each called to love and help all who are in our circle of contact (even this cyber circle). No, we cannot ignore the world’s suffering and the severe needs of our country; we must work together for a greater peace and social justice (churches and other organizations need our collective and individual help).

Yet, it is those nearest us who will more immediately and significantly feel/benefit from our help and influence. Obviously, this means family, coworkers and associates, those we deal with at the gas station, in the market place, etc. For those of us who are artists, performers, composers, conductors, educators, etc., it is obvious that we are in a position of great influence and sharing, through the gifts of art and knowledge. I hope that you will join me in this awareness, and we can make a tangible difference in lives all over the world during this Advent/Christmas/Hannukah/holiday season.

An Argument for Knowledge in Art

Music, other art, literature – all things that bring a degree of joy/enjoyment, refreshment, inspiration, clarity, etc. – these gifts are valid and potentially powerful when taken in casually or with no real preparation. If the audience member has at least a sense of what is about to take place, they can expect a deeper, more engaging, and longer-lasting experience.

As I have often said to my students, when we understand essentially how a process works, we’re more likely to let it happen (to some degree, even the intricate physio-acoustical processes that enable good singing). This realization helps singers to engage vocal and performance techniques more easily and powefully; they are less likely to manipulate the voice, to inhibit artistic expression or truth. As I’m fond of saying, the imagination does its work to unite various tasks into a singular performance – no pushing buttons or flipping levers.

It strikes me today that music which is immediately attractive or enjoyable can be even more deeply powerful – to some degree, life-changing – if the listener has the slightest bit of knowledge about style, historical context, composer, poet, even the performers. A general overview from a Music Appreciation class or found in effective program notes can be so valuable. The simple opening of the mind before listening can open the heart even more powefully for greater enjoyment as the music is taken in.

Thoughts about “Muscle Memory” and Flow in Performance

I recently posted a meme on Facebook, borrowed from musiciansunite.com, on the merits of “muscle memory.” Here is a link to that statement, which I believe to be essentially true, presenting a vital approach to preparation and performance.

As posts on FB tend to go, a few friends have agreed with the concept, and a few rightly suggest that muscle memory – just one level of memory that we call on as performers – does not allow us to securely recall text, or that it is not alone sufficient for solid memorization. Please read on for further thoughts on what we may call “muscle memory,” actually much more than what it seems to be. You will see below that I describe the imagination as the connector of technique and meaningful, artistically-based performance. I suggest that “muscle memory” is essentially what develops through effective, frequent, and dedicated practice – particularly practice that engages “performer energy.” What may first be seen as the pianist’s fingers busily playing the notes of a Bach Invention – with no visual memory of the musical score and no apparent thought process guiding the intricate movements of those fingers – may be the first awareness of “muscle memory,” yet it actually encompasses far more.

Based on my limited reading of learning theory, brain function, and other scientifically-based considerations, yet allowing that scant knowledge to be enhanced and enlightened by my forty-plus years as singer and teacher, I am convinced that the ability to perform music (including vocal music) from memory in a fluid and effective manner is characterized by minimal specific thought of memory or technique (this level of engagement may be described as “in the zone”). Notice my use of the word “minimal,” since conscious thought frequently has an essential role to play in performance, primarily with memory or technique. The issue of balance – so much at play in any kind of engagement or performance – is vital here for performers. The artist who seeks consistency and excellence in performance must not be inextricably tied to conscious and effortful thought. Neither should that performer fear the need to think consciously and specifically about detail of music or technique on occasion, even while they are engaging with the audience.

The ability to perform without inhibiting and tension-inducing dependence on intellect (left-brain, as one theory suggests) is based on three levels of preparation:

1. The material has been accurately learned, based on good teaching, strong musicianship, diligent attention to textual elements, and repeatedly thorough and imaginative exploration of the music in question. To the highest degree possible, the material has been “loaded into” the artist’s consciousness effectively and accurately. Yes, that initial inputting process may be altered later (correcting mistakes or choosing alternatives), but that will necessitate significant, repeated work at the second level.

2. The second level is practice. To some degree, such practice is based on conscious application of technique, but as much as possible and as soon as possible, the artist must practice performing. This means that “performing energy” is called on frequently – in much the same way that it is in live performance – so that the artist accesses his/her abilities via the imagination. In this process, “imagination” describes a state of heightened concentration and commitment to fluid, effective, and truthful performance. In this optimal state, conscious thought is relatively narrow in focus and may be hardly noticed. Here, so-called “muscle memory” is able to function well, without interference from conscious thought of technique, personal insecurities, or other inhibition.

3. Throughout the pursuit of practice and performance (including with a live audience), the artist develops trust in the process, and in his/her own abilities to repeatedly engage effectively in performance. Boris Goldovsky wrote about “razor blade moments” this way: just as a gentleman who is shaving may drop the razor (let’s say a single-edge, potentially dangerous blade) into the sink, he will take a moment to focus, to avoid injury as he deftly picks up the razor. Goldovsky said that an artist may have one or two such moments each night on the stage. We as performers should not be alarmed or fearful of failure at those times. Rather, we recognize the need to think specifically at that moment, expecting success, so that the flow of performance is not disturbed.

The trust that an artist develops in the material and in their abilities allows the audience to trust the performer, as well. The stage is then set for an effective and satisfying experience for all in the room.

NB: Trust is not developed merely with the application of positive thinking/imaging, nor is it found in the momentary engagement of superior intellect. However gifted or bright the performer may be, trust is the fruit of effective work done beforehand. See this post for more ideas on trust and confidence.

On Retirement from Academia

Today’s Commencement exercise for the brave, graceful, gifted, and committed class of ’21 who have completed their studies at Westminster Choir College, was for me the end of a chapter. Although my retirement is formally effective on June 30, I consider May 14, 2021, to be retirement day, happily so. 

Clearly, a new version of Westminster is shaping up, primarily due to the dedication, abilities, and intense work of my beloved faculty colleagues. I sincerely wish a meaningful and productive future for this new entity.

For thirty-four years, I was honored to be part of a great tradition that so enriched my life and that of my family, in deep and vital ways – an institution that made the world a somewhat better place. In my view, the recent existential battle that we fought for nearly five years is over, and we did not prevail. I’m honored to have been in league with courageous faculty, alumni, students, and the prized Rider University colleagues who stood with us.

With deep gratitude for what has been, and in hopes for a bright, new future for Westminster, I’m moving on.

Elem Eley, 5-14-21

Audio Post Preview: Musical Line…

I sometimes talk to myself (doesn’t everybody?!) with my phone recorder running, exploring ideas for posts here at Kavbar’s Blog. Often – certainly in pre-pandemic days – these little brainstorms come as I drive/drove home from teaching at Westminster Choir College.

This particular audio note has lanquished in my Evernote files since June 23, 2015, when I was in Vienna for the fourth installment of Vienna: Language of Lieder.

I just listened to my words, and find the content very interesting, even worth the consideration of you singers, conductors, and other musicians! Since I am so enthused at the moment – also too lazy today to turn this 2.5 minute clip into a better-organized and polished article – I share it with you here as is. Please remember that I am merely talking “out of my head” and have not even edited or trimmed the audio, merely uploaded the clip to SoundCloud.

This is simply my rambling from one day nearly 6 years ago. I promise that I will turn it into a proper post one of these days. Enjoy!