Category Archives: Art, Theatre, & Film

Play Dreams

It’s happened. I’ve had a play dream about orchestra.

Play dreams, for those who have never been involved in theatre, involve a variety of disasters revolving around the production which is rapidly approaching. They trick you by showing up even when you are fully confident in your abilities and the show. By dragging themselves out of your subconscious, they make you second-guess yourself, create your own doubt, and generally weaken that supreme confidence you worked so hard to construct inthe first place. Essentially, play dreams are paradox-creators. They’re self-fullfilling prophecies of the worst kind.

This one wasn’t completely awful, though, since for some reason Ceri was sitting next to me. No clue what she was doing in the cello section – without an instrument, no less, although she had a music stand (which I didn’t) and a good chair (which I was also missing). No, she didn’t have a sax.

I was sitting in the first chair (naturally – play dreams go right for the way to make you panic the most) and the whole thing began without me having my music out and ready, because the damn music stand kept swinging back and forth and wouldn’t support my music properly (this, at least, is based in fact), nor was there a chair available that was the right height. I didn’t even have my cello out of the case before Andras began conducting.

And, to make matters worse, he began with the Bizet.

I should have sat back and let them go. After all, it’s the first movement of the Bizet I detest.

I woke up with that annoying racing heart feeling that’s always worse in the middle of the night. My sense of time was so messed up that I thought it wasmorning, but it was only an hour after I’d fallen asleep. So I slept again to have more vaguely bad musical dreams until I woke up this morning and realised that the concert is not in fact a week away. It’s on Monday.

I’ve been meaning to practice for the past three days, and something always comes up – my husband doesn’t do something out of the house like he said he was going to, I fell asleep on the floor because my back hurt, I lost track of time, etc etc etc. I have a dress rehearsal tonight. I get half an hour this morning, then Saturday, then Sunday, then that’s it. My parental units are in town for the concert and I’m spending the day with them on Monday.

Actually, that’s lots more time than I thought I’d have. For some reason I thought I’d have to cram in a half-hour on each weekend day and that would be it. I can play a lot more than that. Good.

Enough delaying. I’m going to go practice now.

(Including today: two more days. And today isn’t the regular eleven-hour shift from hell since I must leave early for this dress rehearsal.)

Resolution

Rehearsal last night was gruelling. We just didn’t seem to be completely there; all a bit off, not listening to one another, the usual “I’m tired” symptoms. I sat next to someone who did his CEGEP degree in music performance… and I was better than he was. At least I obeyed tempo markings and dynamics. My old stand partner has moved up to sit next to our principal cellist. I’m already sitting closer than I was last concert, but that’s by attrition! With a summer off, however, and two hours of practice a day, I think I can deserve a second chair. I know I’m better than I was when we began; I want to improve even more. And you now what? As much as I love Beethoven and Mozart, I miss Bach. I’m looking forward to getting comfortable with JSB again this summer.

I had the strangest dream last night: I woke up to Stuart McLean and Tom Allen sitting in my old bedroom, and they told me about a writing exercise where if I wrote a thirty-page piece, and if I pledged ten dollars, my company would match it and then CBC would double-match it. The topic was something about Asian educational deprivation.

I told you it was strange. What was stranger was that I didn’t think it odd that these two CBC hosts would be sitting in my old bedroom, chatting until I woke up.

War Wounds

One of the good things about teaching workshops is that suddenly you have money again, despite the infrequency of the payment, and despite how the total is dependent upon how many students register. Last night’s gain went immediately to bills, of course, just like that last few have, but the next one I’m reserving to have my fingerboard restained and my bridge replaced. I took a good look at it today and saw to my dismay that not only was it warping (the wood piece holding the strings off the belly of the instrument is curving over), it’s twisting as well (i.e., it’s warping to the side as well as horizontally, meaning that as a result the pressure on it is more uneven than usual) thereby increasing the possibility that the bridge could collapse, or slip and slam my strings down on the cello proper, creating cracks and gashes and even holes. No need to explain how that can (a) bring down the value of the instrument, or (b) really reduce the playability and sound quality. A cello with a hole in it is just a piece of wood. Not to mention a huge knife in a cellist’s heart. I believe this is the original bridge, and since my cello is approximately as old as I am, that’s quite the life for a bit of wood about five inches by four inches.

So, next month, I’ll take my baby in to the luthier and leave her overnight, then bring her home to get used to the new bridge which should be good for at least another ten years or so, depending on how extreme our weather gets (wood responds to everything!). This fall before orchestra begins again, I should think about replacing the strings again too; it will have been about three years since this set was put on, and strings stretch and lose their tension after a while. They probably should have been replaced before (once a year is proper maintenance), but strings are like socks – I wear them out, and in my mind they should last longer than they do.

Bits

I’m having a lovely taste of what this summer might be like. I have today off, since I took a co-worker’s shift on Monday. It’s sunny; I have all the windows open. I read a whole book. (Witch Boy, by Russell Moon. Odd.) I doodled about on my laptop. I played my cello for two hours straight. (Much black stuff came off onto my fingertips. Ew. But wow, what a workout. I’m looking forward to keeping this up.) I walked to the pharmacy and did some postal stuff I’d been meaning to do.

I feel fantastic. And I still have a couple of hours before orchestra.

I also moved the coffee table out of the middle of the living room. It just seemed like the thing to do. It’s almost as if with more room in here, I’m in a better mood. No, it doesn’t make sense. Without the table, though, I feel more relaxed, less stressed, less shut in, I suppose. And there’s room for me to lie down on the floor with the laptop, or to set up my cello without moving a bunch of stuff around. When I was a teenager I used to move my room around when I felt like it; it gave me a sense of control over my environment and the freedom to move physical furniture around to reflect my mental furniture. It’s amazing how different life can seem just because you’ve switched the positioning of things around you.

Youth And Talent

I love promoting interest in the arts. I particularly love promoting the arts to young people.

In this case, however, it sounds like the young people are at a point I’ll probably never reach in my lifetime.

CBC Radio Two is broadcasting a series of performances across the country called Up and Coming, a series that showcases a variety of musical talent aged nineteen and under. I’ve been listening incredulously as violins, pianos and cellos stream out from my speakers and repeatedly distract me from my at-home work today. The final straw came when I heard the best rendition of Chopin’s Fantaisie impromptu I’d ever heard, and listened in astonishment when the host told us that the performer was an eleven year old girl from Montreal. Eleven!

These kids are phenomenal, and I love that CBC has created this new forum for young talent to be heard and appreciated. It’s an audition process, naturally. If the jury selects you to perform, you also are entered into a people’s choice type of contest. Those listening at the live concerts, and later on the radio, can vote for their favourite. The winner receives a scholarship to a music program in Banff, Alberta.

These kids out to be national treasures. I mean, just think of how much their brains must be worth already – and they can only get more valuable. Musicians tend to insure their instruments fanatically; maybe they should insure their heads, too…

MIA Resolved

I got my music folder back!

Yay!

The fire alarm went off this morning. Twice. I’m in a surprisingly good mood, regardless. Despite wrist pain (rehearsal was intense, but I walked out feeling much better about myself than I had in weeks. Practice actually does help. Wow.), back pain (no surprise there), and the knowledge that I have an eleven-hour day ahead of me… I’m remarkably chipper. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I had breakfast with friends (what else do you do when the fire alarm has you all up at an ungodly hour?) and that one of the stand-offish store cats jumped on my lap to cuddle this morning. It’s sunny, too, which always helps!

Last Straw

I’ve been patient, and good, and did I mention patient? Today, however, was the proverbial last straw. I made new copies of my music yesterday, and as I played it through I made new notes about fingerings, bowings, etcetera. However, my music stand (my $12.99 special purchased over fifteen years ago along with my flute) just doesn’t stand up to supporting paper whilst writing. It swings madly back and forth, which means I have to lean the cello across my body, kind of clinch it between my ribcage and my thigh, then put the bow between my teeth in order to be able to hold the stand steady with my left hand and write with my right hand. Then I have to switch the pencil and the bow, sit up, and grab the cello before it topples over.

Today, that changes. Today I go to the bank, take out $50, and sail up to Italmelodie and buy that lovely solid-table music stand. I will be an irritating customer first, however, and take it apart in the store to make sure it collapses in a portable fashion. (No, wait, that’s pointless; it comes in a flat box, so of course it collapses in a portable fashion. Italmelodie staff, you are hereby saved from an irritating customer. Consider yourselves fortunate.)

Since I will be in the neighbourhood, Ceri and I will munch and have coffee too. Life is pretty good.