Bright and early this morning I had my final examination of the term: performance jury. This is a time to shine and show off what has been developing musically throughout the term.
My jury repertoire: Brahms Sonata in E minor, mvts. 1 and 2; Bach Suite in C M, prelude and bourree; Popper Etude #6.
The week hadn't started as a very good body week. It was being uncooperative, achy and tense. This of course made me nervous but I knew it was too late for a deferral and things were not so bad that I couldn't play. As they say, the show must go on. And it did, with a little help from a refreshing yoga session on Wednesday night.
8:20. Going first is always nerve-wracking. I arrived at school early enough to run through some difficult sections in my pieces and to make sure my memory work was paying off.
9:00. The panel had arrived: my teacher, the cello department head and a violin instructor. And not to forget my wonderful accompanist.
Brahms. These movements went along lovely, I feel like I controlled the peak quite well and saved my (almost) best for today.
Bach. The prelude started out wonderfully. I felt like I was actually expressing what I intended and that is a great feeling. At the top of the second page I knew there was trouble developing. My bow hand was getting tired and the hardest part was yet to come. Try as I might I could not get myself to relax enough to circumvent the inevitable.
I'm assuming that every string musician's nightmare is dropping their bow in performance. In practice I hadn't dropped my bow for a couple weeks, but that was usually because I stopped playing to stretch before that could happen.
It's a little surreal when the thing you're afraid of happening actually does and you have to cope with it. I did lose complete control of my bow, but I managed to keep my cool, pause and continue to the end of the prelude. All my right arm strength was gone and as a result the grand ending was not so grand.
When wearing your heart on your sleeve, composure is tough to maintain.
I'm not sure what I expected them to say, but certainly my teacher was impressed that I made it to the end. I couldn't keep myself from crying, I think my confidence was pretty much shot at that point. With today being the culmination of what has been developing over the year, it seems appropriate that even my physical difficulties would show their face. The panel didn't ask me to play more, and I wasn't sure I could.
Hugs always make the world feel like a better place and days a little brighter. The hugs from my teachers confirmed what I already (and always) knew: It's not the end of the world.
On the whole it wasn't a bad experience. I can say that in the future I won't cry if I lose control of my bow in performance; I've done it now and it's not so bad. I feel really good about what I could play and I feel sad that I couldn't play more. As odd as it sounds, I don't feel finished at all. Not even a sense of relief that it's over. I just want to keep playing and studying music.
The day you discover the thing that you love to work on doing will probably be the best day of your life.
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