By the end of the day yesterday I was a mass of semi-vibrating protoplasm, and—wait—could I be slightly allergic to something in the Music Room? Yesterday and today my eyes were stinging during the afternoon session, making it hard to see my scores. To avoid that drama, Bénédicte and I decided to do the thorniest songs early in the day, when we had two brain cells to rub together (and I could still see). This meant two duets for the guys, one by Robert Beaser and the other by Jeffrey Stock; a song by William Bolcom accompanied by two pianos; and a few other things that required us to be fresh.
The Jeff Stock piece is a setting of Walt Whitman’s “We Two Boys Together Clinging,” a vigorous, rhythmic piece, quite declamatory. It’s written for four-hand piano, and I premiered it with Michael Barrett in in 1996 when we commissioned ten composers to write ensemble pieces to pair with the Brahms Liebeslieder Waltzes. Béné is sharing the piano honors this time with our Rising Stars pianist Zoey Zhou. In some of the Caramoor residencies I have more contact with the apprentice pianist than in others. It depends on many factors, some personal and some practical. We have two onstage pianos at Caramoor; I am the sole proprietor of the stage left Steinway but Béné shares the one on stage right with the Rising Stars pianist. They therefore have much more physical proximity to one another, and this time they are also playing Jeff Stock’s duet. It evolved that Béné has taken on the role of Zoey’s principal teacher for the week.
Today Béné noticed something Zoey did before her hands touched the keys, a kind of forward lurch which she was probably using to help engage her back muscles. I, seated across the stage and blocked by two nine-foot pianos, had not seen it. Béné, of course, dove right in, explaining why this was actually cutting off some of Zoey’s sonority and control, and lightly holding her by the shoulders so her experience of the piano would start calmly at the fingertip, growing into the arms and shoulders as needed. It was like watching a car get its tires realigned. The change in Zoey’s sound was startling. She’s a delicate player, and a delicate young woman. But suddenly Schumann was warm and graceful, not spindly and notey. And while Zoey may never attain the brawny fortissimos of Martha Argerich (that’s OK—mine aren’t exactly competition-winners either), her crescendos actually filled the room.
I was feeling guilty that I had not been engaging with Zoey enough, or teaching her anything. Her physical distance in rehearsal, compounded with her shyness, felt like a gulf I couldn’t breach. So I was surprised and gratified by what she said to me after rehearsal today. I had just taken her picture and she leaned forward to say that this experience at Caramoor was extremely meaningful to her. “I want to thank you for this. So many of my teachers…they act like doctors, they identify a problem and then they tell you what to do to solve it. But no one has ever worked with me like this. Music…it’s…it’s so much more than I thought it was. You and Béné…I just had no idea.” Her voice trailed off.
Attempting to imagine Zoey’s experience of the last few days, I thought back to the teachers and colleagues who opened my mind to new worlds. As you might remember, I never went to music school. My education was cobbled together from playing in voice studios, acting studios, and language classes; accompanying some experienced colleagues; and studying with just a smattering of piano teachers and coaches. I tended to learn best by absorption rather than explicit instruction (I apparently don’t like being told what to do), and my teaching style reflects that. But working with Bénédicte Jourdois, my skills have expanded. I love her decisiveness, and I emulate it. She’s helped me expand in the years we’ve taught together, proving that you never, ever stop learning.
I’ve noticed Zoey watching and listening in the hall and taking notes when I am at the piano. I think back to my “aha moments” when one detail, one choice, one perception, one explanation offered by a teacher opened up a thousand others, making me suddenly feel sure-footed and confident. Students can work the same miracle on me, and today Zoey Zhou did just that for me.
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