Filling Up at the 2011 Southeastern Harp Weekend

Two weeks ago I was off to Asheville NC for the 2011 Southeastern Harp Weekend. Imagine being surrounded by 150 people who love what you love, who have the same challenges and triumphs of learning to play, and who totally understand why you must buy that gorgeous piece of music you just heard despite the stack of music still sitting at home in your practice room from last year.  Imagine a vendor hall filled with harps and harp makers from across the USA and Canada, all just thrilled that you want to sit down and try out one of their creations. Add in harp clinicians presenting workshops on beginning to advanced harp technique, sight-reading, jazz and pop harp, composition, harp care and string replacement, Welsh, Irish and Scottish harp music, early music and historical harp, liturgical harp, performance anxiety, and therapeutic harp, plus two nights of concerts by the presenters. Set all of this in a wooded retreat center under clear, crisp October skies, with oak, dogwood, sycamore, and maple leaves reaching their peak of fall color. That’s the Southeastern Harp Weekend.

I’ve always been excited about going to this conference. Each time I was sure that this would be the year that one of the presenters would share the secrets that would make learning to play the harp easier. Or else I would finally find out what was the critical skill I lacked, that once developed could allow me to make progress faster than my slow plodding pace.

But this year was different. This year I wasn’t looking for magic or miracles. This year I’ve learned that there are no secrets, there’s just sitting on the harp bench and doing the work, and that learning to play the harp takes as long as it takes, period. And I’ve learned that there’s nothing wrong with me, that I don’t lack any arcane ability or knowledge that everyone has but me.

This year, I left behind my suitcase of worry, judgement, frustration and doubt that usually accompanies me to harp workshops. Instead, I relaxed and enjoyed the conference atmosphere and energy. I met new harp friends and spent time with old harp friends from previous harp weekends. I heard wonderful music played by gifted harpists. And I came away from each workshop with at least one new little kernel of technique that I can work with now that I’m home, including a couple of new strategies to help my sight-reading, and new arm exercises to help my hands stay relaxed while playing.

I also have a new tuner I can see, a new one-pound music stand that doesn’t fall over from the weight of my music notebook, and new music that seems to be within my grasp now, instead of a year from now.  Alas, the beautiful Salvi pedal harp did not come home with me, despite its special conference price of $10,000. Even without the Salvi, as I drove home Sunday evening I was happy-tired, filled up with music and friends, with harps and laughter.

Next year’s Southeastern Harp Weekend is already scheduled: October 26-28, 2012 at the Lutheridge Conference Center in Asheville NC. And yes, it’s already on my calendar.

It’s Harp Ensemble Time

I’m back from my first harp ensemble class of the semester. It’s that time of the year when I voluntarily torment myself with eight weeks of sight-reading impossible music, learning entirely new, way-too-advanced repertoire, and performing in a concert, complete with solo, at the last class.

This semester’s music will require an investment in a new roll of “white-out”tape so that I can remove from my scores all those notes I won’t be playing – they will be rushing by me much too fast to be anything but a blur. Downbeats are my new goal – if I can catch the downbeat at least every other measure I’ll call it successful.

One of the new people asked me why I keep doing this, why I keep signing up for a class that is so far out of my comfort zone, I need a separate zip code to be reached there. I gave her a lot of reasons: Being in the harp ensemble is like getting an extra 90 minute lesson each week. There’s more time to discuss theory and to practice techniques. There’s the opportunity for making myself practice sight-reading. There’s new repertoire to learn. There’s the camaraderie with the other harpers who’ve been a part of the ensemble all these years.

But as I rattled off these reasons for coming back every fall, I knew that none of them were why I keep returning. The truth is that even if I’ve whited out 7/8ths of the notes in the score, even if I’m playing only one note per measure, contained in each autumn’s harp ensemble is the bountiful joy of making music with others. And that makes it all worthwhile.

Joy and downbeats. More than enough to keep me coming back.

Inviting Doubt In For Tea

Nanci, a fellow harpist and a subscriber to Heart To Heart, left an inspirational comment on my last post, Just Go Get Some Work Done.  She wrote “I need to accept my doubt and keep moving through it and just accept that doubts are part of the process.” Reading her comment made the mental champagne corks pop in my head, in a grand celebration of finally seeing the obvious.

Well, of course! Doubt is just part of the luggage on this trip. Sometimes it’s the size of a steamer trunk, sometimes it’s small enough to fit handily in the overhead compartment, but it comes along, uninvited, as part of the tour.

Doubt’s intensity rises and ebbs much like the tides, though I’ve discerned no predictable rhythm. But I can expect Doubt to show up with the same certainty as I expect the sun to rise. Rather than despairing when Doubt shows up yet again, rather than being scared by its words, and frantic about disproving its message, I might as well say, “Oh, hello, there you are, back again. Come on in, sit down, have some tea.”

As Nanci said, I need to accept Doubt. Recognize Doubt as one of my companions and make room for it at the table. Get acquainted with it, learn it’s features. Listen carefully to what it has to say, so that when I hear its words, I’ll know it’s Doubt talking to me, and nothing more.

When I invite Doubt in, when I quit running scared from its presence, it ceases to be a cause for drama or decisions. Doubt’s arrival does not require that I change what I’m doing, or that I make judgements and conclusions about my future abilities or inabilities, or that I give up my dreams.

Feelings come. Feelings go. Doubt is just one more feeling, as ephemeral as its whisper. All I need to do is breathe, and say “Welcome. Would you like some tea?”

Just Go Get Some Work Done

It’s been a challenging day here in my head. Between Tuesday’s start of harp lessons and my accompanying reflections on progress or lack thereof, and Wednesday’s chorus class where I wouldn’t have found an alto line if it had been gift-wrapped and handed to me, I was teetering on the edge of a black hole of discouragement and futility, and contemplating whether I should chuck music and spend the rest of my life watching M.A.S.H. reruns.

But on some days I am exceptionally lucky and the universe sends me exactly what I most need to read and hear.

The first rope to pull me back from the edge was Philip Bradbury’s post on The Write Site, Apple Cider, Doing It Badly and Writing.  If you are feeling discouraged about learning how to do something or about making any kind of change or improvement in your life, read it. He reminded me that whatever I’m working on, “as I keep doing it badly, I keep getting better.” And I can’t argue with this advice, passed on from his father-in-law:

“If you want to do something, even if you do it badly, NEVER GIVE UP!” 

The second rope saving me from a life of television is this week’s practice tip from Molto Music, Do SOMETHING Everyday. Here’s what helped:

Can’t decide what to practice today?  Then, do exactly what you did yesterday.  It doesn’t matter if you feel you are improving or not.  Due to the natural shape of the learning curve, you won’t notice improvement on a daily basis anyway.

By being conscientious and paying attention to the details of your playing, you will be making improvement–whether you recognize it or not!  Much of our practice time is spent building muscle memory, and your muscles need a constant reminder of the sequences they need to go through to play accurately.

Even if you are not consciously aware of this process taking shape, it’s important to give your muscles the practice they so desperately need.

There’s no rule stating you have to or you’re supposed to or you should play through a whole piece flawlessly.  That’s called performing!  Most practicing is about focusing on small details.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.   Just go get some work done.

Let me tell myself again:

“It doesn’t matter if you feel you are improving or not. . . . By being conscientious and paying attention to the details of your playing, you will be making improvement–whether you recognize it or not! “

Ok, I think I’ve got it. . . .It doesn’t matter if I feel that I’m improving. It doesn’t matter whether or not I recognize improvements. It matters that I show up for chorus, that I listen well, follow my score, sing when I can. It matters that I show up at the harp and pay attention to the details of producing beautiful rolled four-finger chords and even tremolos. If I keep working, I’ll get better. As I keep working, I improve. It only matters that I don’t give up.

I’m surrendering custody of the remote control. It’s late, and I need to go get some work done.

Another Year Of Harp Lessons Begins

I’m just back from my first harp lesson of the semester. It’s the start of my eighth year of harp lessons. It’s another opportunity to joust with the critical voice that would like to take me down by saying, “You really should be further along than this.” And another opportunity to counter the offensive by remembering that there’s no schedule for progress and mastery, that it takes however long it takes.

I admit, I would have enjoyed it immensely if I gone to my lesson having mastered rolled four-finger chords, and the combined glisses and harmonics of one piece, and the quick two-finger tremolo in the second piece I’m working on. And I’d be thrilled if I had awakened one recent morning able to sight-read and sight-play something more complex than first-grade piano pieces at tempos faster than 50 beats per minute. Alas, none of that has happened.

So today we worked on the rolled chords, and the two-finger tremolo. Again. Both are better due to the work I did on them this summer. And my teacher continues to find ways to help me get my fingers to cooperate with what the music would like them to do. The rolled chords and the tremolo were better at the end of my lesson than they were at the beginning.

And that’s the point. It’s not how many years I’ve been taking lessons, not how long it’s taking me to finish these two pieces, not that I’m still working on rolled chords. It’s that I’m still working, still learning. It’s that I am blessed with a teacher who sees and inspires the progress I make, who continues to believe in me and my harp journey. It’s that I am still in love with the harp and the process of learning to play.

I had a good harp lesson today. . . . . .

Harping A Year Later

A couple of months before starting this blog, I tumbled headfirst into a complete muddle about playing the harp. I’d just returned from a harp workshop with Marta Cook, an awe-inspiring Irish harper. Something about the workshop (perhaps that all too common experience of everyone seeming to play the tunes but me?) left me in total confusion about where I was going with the harp, if anywhere at all. I wasn’t going to be an “Irish” harper or a “celtic” harper, or any kind of harper at the rate it was taking me to learn how to play. I doubted that there was any point left in taking lessons, doing exercises, working on sight-reading, or any other harp skills, given it seemed that I would never be able to just sit down at the harp and play a tune.

I spent a lot of time mucking about in this mire. One of the results, after my teacher’s urging, was starting this blog. The other result was finally putting words to why I was still going to lessons, still practicing, still trying to teach my finger muscles how to move together to create beautiful sounds on my harp. All of these activities, activities that felt so fruitless, were so that someday, I could pull my harp onto my shoulder and play music I really love. And so that someday, I would be able to play in a way that expressed the beauty, soul, and emotion of the music along with my love of the harp, and so that I could make music with others.

A year later, to my delight and amazement, I am closer to these goals. A year later, I feel confident about being able to play the harp, and about being able to get better. I’m not despairing about whether I will ever be able to sit down and play a tune, any tune, because now I do. And so, I’ve been thinking about what happened to create such a change.

This year it took me weeks of working to remove a hiccup between the first and second measures of Danza de Luzma. But I did it. And in getting rid of this hiccup, I finally “got it” that if I just keep working on either a technical or an expressive glitch, I really can make it better. My fingers can and will learn to do what is required of them, if I keep my focus and do the work. I finally felt confident that I would learn to play, that I would be able to learn to play, by persistently working on one small step at a time.

This experience, with an added extra helping of grace, helped me give up thinking that there was something wrong with me, something missing that other harp students have, some critical lack that made me take so long to master a new technique, solve a problem with my playing, or learn a new piece. The experience of fixing this hiccup helped me give up bewailing and being frustrated by how long I take and how much I must work and practice to learn something new and get it solidly in my head and fingers. I finally got it (like a whack on the side of the head) that it takes what it takes. Period.

The confidence that I will learn a piece, that I will learn the skill I need to master, also allowed me to relax about how long it takes. Since I now know that I will “get it,” keeping at it and continuing to work on the same thing no longer feels futile, no longer leaves me desperate for secret harp tricks and magic fairy dust to make it happen. I know I will make it happen.

And, I finally did what my teacher and every other harp workshop presenter I’ve ever been to said to do: “Write down your repertoire list and play each piece on it every week.” I only started with four tunes that I could “sort-of” play. But I worked on those and got them presentable, and played them every week. I went back to tunes I worked on before and forgot, relearned them, and added them to my list. I did the same with every piece I worked on this year. By never letting a piece completely fall out of my fingers, I now have 15 tunes that I can sit down and play. Some will need a little extra polish if I’m going to drag them out for a gig. But for most of them, I can sit down at my harp and let them spill out of my fingers. . . .

Just like the young girl I wrote of in my very first post, the one who played The White Cockade, the girl who just sat down and played her harp.

Happy Birthday, Heart To Harp!

It’s incredible that one year ago today I posted my blog’s “About” page, and one year ago tomorrow I wrote my very first blog post. The passage of time becomes more and more non-linear the older I get. . . so not only do I feel like I’ve been doing this blog forever, but I also feel like it was no more than a few weeks ago that I started.

When, out of a conversation about how I figured out some harp technique, my friend Deb and my teacher suggested that I do a blog about learning to play the harp, I totally brushed them off. I remember saying, “Nobody is interested in what I would have to say about learning how to play the harp.” To which my teacher replied “You’re wrong! Other adult harp students would be very interested in your experiences. In fact, anyone trying to learn any instrument would be interested in how you’ve approached learning the harp as an adult.”

I didn’t believe her. I didn’t think that anyone would be interested enough in my harp journey to read something I might write about it. But her idea for doing a blog got planted in my brain anyway, and just would not leave me alone. So, a couple of weeks later, the blog name came to me while I was re-uping my caffeine level at the Habitat For Humanity coffeehouse around the corner from my old office. Then I found WordPress, and decided “what the hell, I’ll register a blog and see what happens.”

As in all things related to harp, my teacher was right. A year later, there’s been over 3000 page views of Heart To Harp, and so many wonderful comments from people who’ve read my blog – comments from those who are also on the harp and music journey, from friends who read to see what I’m up to, and from those who have stumbled onto my blog from posts about my garden, the weather, retirement, and the WordPress weekly photo challenges.

And I have stumbled upon wonderful blogs, read wonderful writing, and found kindred spirits amongst both other bloggers and the visitors to my blog who kindly share their thoughts and feelings in their comments.

In the midst of all the blog posts, all the writing, and all the sitting with my feelings and thinking about my experiences so I can write, I’ve found myself growing from an unsure, stumbling musician-wanna-be to become someone who most days claims being a musician who plays the harp. And the recorder. And who sings. And who loves it all, despite having yet to find the magic fairy dust that would make it easy.

So here’s to the start of year two, and the ongoing blogging adventure!

I’m Hooked On Music Notation Software – And It’s Free!

I’ve been arranging tunes to play on my harp ever since I figured out that the thing my teacher called a “C major root position triad” was the very same “C” chord that I used to play on my guitar, and that if I followed the C-triad with other triads starting on F and G, I could play all my old folk songs from back in the ’60’s. Yahoo!

The inspiration for doing my own arrangements was to have tunes simple enough for me to play. Other people’s arrangements always had too many of those unruly little black dots to keep track of, and required pretzel fingers to play them. Then I had a workshop with Janet Harbison, who taught that no matter what your harp skills may be, you do not have to play other people’s arrangements of traditional tunes. You learn the melody, and then “dress” the tune according to what you are able to do on the harp.

Gradually my tunes have become more complex, and more than I can successfully keep track of while I’m working on them, or when I’m playing them. So I’ve been writing my arrangements by hand, just like the nuns taught me. And rewriting. And cutting pieces of the various versions apart and taping them together in new sequences. And forgetting which is the latest version. And growing a bit more batty in the process.

Last week I started looking at options for music notation software. I knew that there was an inexpensive version of at least one program, but I heard that it limited what you could do with it. And as one of my aims as a retired person is to never have to work for anyone ever again, the other programs cost way more than I wanted to pay. But my internet search turned up a free music notation program, MuseScore, which runs on Windows, Linux and Mac OS X platforms.

I prowled around reading software reviews, watching YouTube reviews posted by MuseScore users, and watching a few of the MuseScore video tutorials. The reviews were positive, the instructions understandable, and the tutorials clear and easy to follow. Compared to what I’ve heard from users of other music notation software programs, this one looked like it would be a breeze to figure out how to use and that it would do everything I needed.

I’ve been using it for a week, and I’m hooked. The “getting started” information really did get me started. With computer software, I am very much a learn-it-as-I-go-along person. I want to learn how to use a feature when I need it, not before. Every time I needed to move beyond the basics of entering notes, such as having a tie between notes, or a gliss symbol beside a chord, I found exactly the how-to information I needed in the instruction handbook.  There is an extensive forum of information available for more in-depth problem solving. When I reported a problem that I couldn’t figure out from the posted information, I got an email with the answer from an actual human being. The program’s music synthesizer does a totally passable job of playing what I’ve written. I love being able to immediately listen to a change and decide if I like it, without having to go try it on the harp.

A week later, my arrangement for The Grenadier and the Lady that’s been languishing in my music notebook for months, because I couldn’t face figuring out which of the five pages was the current working copy, is finished. I’ve got the melodies for two more tunes notated and I’m ready to start on the left hand parts. The only downside so far is that I’ve spent so much time at the computer working on these three tunes, I’ve not done any real practice all week!

Recording My Harp Practice: What I’ve Learned So Far

Having spent nine months selecting a new digital recorder, and now having the basic instructions for recording and play-back deciphered, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to turn on the recorder, sit down at my harp, and play.

The first thing I learned was that I’m much less nervous about playing for my new techno-friend than for a real, live person. Knowing I could completely delete a file and any mistakes I made was very comforting. So what if I totally flubbed that second entrance? Select File 01 -> Delete, and it’s as if it never happened! Oh, to have that capability at a real performance!

Some technical points were immediately evident when I hit “playback”. I repeatedly cut short the long notes at the ends of phrases, which then makes the following phrase sound rushed. And my tempo is not as steady as I imagine it to be – I heard the delays where I’m trying to find and land on the correct strings. No wonder playing in harp ensemble always feels too fast. I’m mushing and slowing the tempo when I practice. So it’s back to playing with the metronome, for sure.

But the real surprise was how beautiful the music sounded. What can be heard at the front of my harp is totally different from what I hear while I’m playing. Suddenly, I understood the complements I received when I played at my friend’s studio, and seven months later, I believed them. I could hear what my audience heard. The tunes I played really were beautiful. Not perfect, but beautiful.

I know some of that beauty comes from the rich, resonant, velvety sound of my harp. But the beauty also comes from my arrangements of these lovely tunes, from how my fingers touch the strings, from my playing. It’s an amazing and sweet thing to hear and believe that I can play the harp beautifully, and play beautiful music.

Recording My Harp Practice: Welcome To My New Digital Gadget

Over and over again, at harp lessons, in harp workshops, on music practice websites, I’ve heard the same thing: If you want to truly evaluate how you are doing and track your progress, you have to record your practice sessions.

Great idea, but the little pocket dictaphone that was quite adequate for recording rhythms during my African drumming days was totally not up to the job of recording a harp. Or any other musical instrument. So I had to decide on buying some sort of new recording equipment – a task much more daunting than actually hearing myself play.

I’ve spent months reading about digital recorder choices on various music practice websites, as well as reading a small encyclopedia’s worth of on-line reviews and recommendations. I’ve accosted people in public using digital recorders and asked them to tell me the pros and cons of their particular recorder models. I’ve asked every harper and harpist I’ve met what they use to record themselves. After nine months of indecision, cleverly disguised as “research,” I purchased a Zoom H-2.

The first feature I love, which will definitely prove what an old fart I really am, is that the Zoom H-2 comes with a manual – a real, hold-it-in-your-hand, printed-on-paper manual, written in English with sentences that contain nouns, verbs, objects, correct punctuation, and real English words, not made-up techno-babble. When a technical word or concept is introduced, there is an accompanying side-bar that explains it!!!! I did not have to spend hours delving deeper and deeper into a manufacturer’s website, toggling from one screen to another, to find out how to use this thing – I was up and running in under 20 minutes. The navigation through the menus takes a bit of getting used to, but anyone who can navigate through a word processing program can learn the menu and file layout without major brain-strain.

The most amazing thing about this little silver box the size of a 1960’s transistor radio (remember those?) is the sound quality. Absolutely stunning. The high’s, mid-range and lows are equally clear and resonant, both with recording solo harp and recording a multi-instrument ensemble. Several on-line reviews discussed being able to use the Zoom H-2 to record CD’s. I can believe it, given the sound quality I captured in the very unaccommodating acoustic situations where I did my recording.

The price also surprised me. With some savvy on-line shopping I got the whole package for under $150.00, including an extra, larger SD memory card.

So that’s my new digital gadget in a nutshell. Next blog post, I’ll write about what I’ve learned so far, having recorded and listened to some practice sessions.