Aware of the declines in financial support and in ticket sales for "classical" music concerts, I am both concerned and disappointed in the outlook for orchestras, operas, chamber music, and music training in general. Indeed it is true that academic music training has not changed much for at least 50 years, and the system of creating young musicians for performance, teaching, church, and other music related professions has overall been effective. It works and works well with academia producing gifted musicians for the myriad of musical professions needed. But what if we are training musicians for a world that is diminishing, a world that may always be present but only minimally and only in pockets of metropolitan areas. If this is true, and the signs are pointing that direction, then there are only a few options: 1) the world needs to revert back to what it was and appreciate the type of music it once supported, or 2) academia should give up and no longer train musicians (an unimaginable option), or 3) academia should adapt to a changing world.
But it is difficult to change and rather disappointing in many ways due to the benefits and substantial meaning found in classical music. Most trained musicians of which I am familiar stand for the purity and depth found in music of the great composers from the past and consider their music to be foundational to the training needed for musicians as well as meaningful for audience members. Willing and certainly capable of performing popular or commercial music, academically trained musicians generally prefer opportunities to hear and perform music from the past, music that has withstood the test of time, and music considered to be highly respected by critics, historians, and theorists. If it is true that knowledge is power, then it stands to reason that as a musician gains knowledge about music, he/she becomes influential over others, assuming a position of leadership in music by virtue of her skill and her knowledge. Subsequently, a great violinist, for example, performs at a high level music that is befitting of her skill, her knowledge, and her preference, hoping to gain an audience for her art. She is well-trained, skilled, artistic, and if she prefers the music of Mozart or Bartok, to name two highly respected composers, and she has the ability to perform their music with great excellence, then her training, her ability, and her preference for their music ought to reach a vast audience, to be enjoyed by all.
Many musical sociologists, among others, are working to address why declines in audience attendance and support are occurring and are in the process of making certain recommendations for change, including but not limited to better marketing, varied programming, environments, invoking of technology, reduced personnel, seeking larger donor base, and less formality. All these and more are part of the story, but my concern remains in the area of training and education for the musician of the future. The 2004 article from the New York Times is even more applicable today as scores of highly skilled and qualified performers seek to make a living using their gifts and training: http://www.nytimes.com/2004/12/12/arts/music/12waki.html?pagewanted=all. The argument in favor of music training as a demanding discipline that is applicable to all fields is certainly valid but also a little questionable in light of the need to prepare during college for the chosen profession. The degrees and the ability do not guarantee employment, a serious concern for all those spending great time and resources in preparation for the field of music.
While I personally believe in the "eclectic" approach to music programming and for curriculum development in our colleges and universities, I am also well-aware of the decided attitudes and feelings that many academic musicians have toward excessive eclecticism both in study and in performance. Often during my time of performing with orchestras have I overheard disparaging comments by the players toward popular music. Comments from performers such as, "junk" or "garbage" or "waste of time" or "I suppose we do this to pay the bills" are common and revealing of attitudes. Yet, in spite of the preference by many performers and established audiences for classical music, I do believe the "canon" of excellent literature is changing rapidly and what was once considered mainstream for orchestral performance is now relegated to few performances mostly for historical interest. Unfortunately for those desiring a musical world of Western Art music from the past, time marches forward and with it are societal changes in preferences and taste. Such is especially true in the arts and music in particular.
A moment of negativity: it is a sad commentary on our world when people no longer value an orchestra playing Beethoven or Brahms or Mozart and it demonstrates a lack of refinement and dedication to the craft and skill of the great masters of composition. I already miss the great music of the past and sometimes feel as though only the "top ten" most popular classical works are getting performances. It is certainly a loss and one that will likely never return except for the occasional retro moment similar to watching a VHS tape or listening to a vinyl recording. Charming and ironically rich, those opportunities are rare and although somewhat special, not all that rewarding in the end at least for the general populous. Which brings me to the big question, does art really need to reach large amounts of people or can it be great with a small but appreciative audience? If so, then academic music training should continue on its narrow pathway of focusing on the classics for those who know and love great music.
Yet somehow all this smacks of elitism and snobbery in an era when those traits are not highly regarded. Can we in academia sustain our own definition of excellence at a time when excellence is being redefined through the invisible hand of market forces? I want to say yes absolutely but deep down I also know it is nearly impossible to stop the trend of declining audiences and support for classical music.
A moment of optimism: the declines in audiences and support actually present a golden opportunity for the academy to revitalize its approach to training musicians by letting go of certain tired practices, keeping some things, and trying new ways. It may be time to parlay the old successes into something new for today's musical world. This may include commercial music, world music, technology, overseas study opportunities, choice of emphases and courses, business, and acoustics. This does not mean abandonment of classical music at all but could mean a judicious invoking of many types of music.
Yes I remain concerned with the losses and have some trouble letting go of a system that has worked for so long, and yes I am disappointed in a world that continues moving toward excessive eclecticism while losing the essence of classical music, but I am also excited about the possibilities for the future. It is a future of hope, of musical joy, and of creation, or it may be a future of forgetting the rich heritage of great music (let it not be so), but whatever the future holds, it cannot be prevented. It remains up to the academy to find a way to remind the world of the beauty of the past while forging forward for tomorrow.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Friday, December 26, 2014
Coffee, Horn, Books, Running
Sure do enjoy a good cup of coffee in the mornings when all is quiet and the world appears peaceful. While sipping on the coffee, I write, peruse articles, read the news, study the stock market, plan the day, and indulge in grand dreams for myself, my family, and my profession. With a great variety of interests, it can be both difficult and joyfully exciting to focus on any one area for very long. This makes a type of mental attention deficit disorder that is fun when nobody is around and distracting for others when surrounded by people. Just an area of weakness for me I suspect.
Horn playing has been and continues to be an important and valuable part of my life since picking it up at the age of 12. But horn playing has simply been a musical expression of myself similar to playing piano or composing or conducting or even listening to music. My horn career has included solos, orchestras, bands, chamber groups, churches, concert halls, tours, and everything in between. I love playing the horn and every time I pick it up, it feels like a best friend with whom I can share my secrets, my fears, my sorrows, my joys, and all the emotions in between. Yet I must admit that horn playing and I are not getting along as well anymore. Not sure why. Could be the slight beginning of arthritis in my muscles or the lack of consistent practice or some kind of air and embouchure disagreement, but I am just not playing at the level I once did. This is difficult to acknowledge and disconcerting in many ways. I have many horn playing friends in administration who have given up playing due to the time constraints and the inability to maintain a high level of playing. But I know other administrators who have kept playing and receive great satisfaction from being an active musician. Not sure where I will land on the spectrum but suspect there will be a time when the horn will be permanently set aside.
Books are disappearing. Libraries continue to reduce their physical collections and replace them with digital resources. Bookstores struggle to pay the bills and I rarely see people reading books. In London, book reading remains active and as many people hold a book in their hands as hold an e-reader but in our country most reading seems to be on a device of some kind. I prefer to hold a physical book in my hands. I am not quite ready to give in to the forces of the digital age and continue to prefer to buy a book and read it. The 1,000 books in my personal library can attest to my love of books of all types and, aside from the wear and tear on the back from moving them, they provide me with significant emotional and cognitive satisfaction. Yes this makes me a dinosaur but somehow I cannot let go of the joy of holding a book in my hands. But similar to horn playing, I can feel the change coming where I let go of physical books and begin to use an e-reader. Saves space, allows for ease of research, generally less expensive, lighter, easy to hold, and certainly quicker to receive, e-readers are now part of our culture's norms. Am I ready? No. Will I give up my books? Not yet. Will I begin to move toward this idea? Yes.
For years I got up every morning and started my routine of 300 jumping jacks, 100 sit-ups, and 100 push-ups. Then one morning my shoulder disagreed with me and said no more push-ups, causing me to take up running. Never being an avid runner, I had trouble imagining running more than about 1/4 mile at any one time. A friend recommended the marvelous book "Born to Run" which led me to believe I could actually run a mile or two. Now today as I write this blog, I just finished 3 miles and feel great. In the summers when I have more time and the weather is cooperating, I will run up to 5 or even 7 miles at times but in the winter months I reduce that to 3. I run nearly everyday and take a different path each time. It is usually dark when I run but I keep some pepper spray in my pocket in case a dog or something wants to have a discussion. I will not be winning any races and am not averse to walking occasionally nor sitting for a minute to remove a pebble or catch my breath. But I love the outdoors and the euphoria that accompanies adrenalin and muscle development. There will be a day when my body will tell me to stop running but that day is not today.
Such concludes this brief and boring essay of sharing my thoughts on coffee, horn playing, books, and running.
Horn playing has been and continues to be an important and valuable part of my life since picking it up at the age of 12. But horn playing has simply been a musical expression of myself similar to playing piano or composing or conducting or even listening to music. My horn career has included solos, orchestras, bands, chamber groups, churches, concert halls, tours, and everything in between. I love playing the horn and every time I pick it up, it feels like a best friend with whom I can share my secrets, my fears, my sorrows, my joys, and all the emotions in between. Yet I must admit that horn playing and I are not getting along as well anymore. Not sure why. Could be the slight beginning of arthritis in my muscles or the lack of consistent practice or some kind of air and embouchure disagreement, but I am just not playing at the level I once did. This is difficult to acknowledge and disconcerting in many ways. I have many horn playing friends in administration who have given up playing due to the time constraints and the inability to maintain a high level of playing. But I know other administrators who have kept playing and receive great satisfaction from being an active musician. Not sure where I will land on the spectrum but suspect there will be a time when the horn will be permanently set aside.
Books are disappearing. Libraries continue to reduce their physical collections and replace them with digital resources. Bookstores struggle to pay the bills and I rarely see people reading books. In London, book reading remains active and as many people hold a book in their hands as hold an e-reader but in our country most reading seems to be on a device of some kind. I prefer to hold a physical book in my hands. I am not quite ready to give in to the forces of the digital age and continue to prefer to buy a book and read it. The 1,000 books in my personal library can attest to my love of books of all types and, aside from the wear and tear on the back from moving them, they provide me with significant emotional and cognitive satisfaction. Yes this makes me a dinosaur but somehow I cannot let go of the joy of holding a book in my hands. But similar to horn playing, I can feel the change coming where I let go of physical books and begin to use an e-reader. Saves space, allows for ease of research, generally less expensive, lighter, easy to hold, and certainly quicker to receive, e-readers are now part of our culture's norms. Am I ready? No. Will I give up my books? Not yet. Will I begin to move toward this idea? Yes.
For years I got up every morning and started my routine of 300 jumping jacks, 100 sit-ups, and 100 push-ups. Then one morning my shoulder disagreed with me and said no more push-ups, causing me to take up running. Never being an avid runner, I had trouble imagining running more than about 1/4 mile at any one time. A friend recommended the marvelous book "Born to Run" which led me to believe I could actually run a mile or two. Now today as I write this blog, I just finished 3 miles and feel great. In the summers when I have more time and the weather is cooperating, I will run up to 5 or even 7 miles at times but in the winter months I reduce that to 3. I run nearly everyday and take a different path each time. It is usually dark when I run but I keep some pepper spray in my pocket in case a dog or something wants to have a discussion. I will not be winning any races and am not averse to walking occasionally nor sitting for a minute to remove a pebble or catch my breath. But I love the outdoors and the euphoria that accompanies adrenalin and muscle development. There will be a day when my body will tell me to stop running but that day is not today.
Such concludes this brief and boring essay of sharing my thoughts on coffee, horn playing, books, and running.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Joys in Artistry
Having not written a blog post in many months, I suddenly feel compelled to share my thoughts. There are events and objects in the arts that increase my adrenalin and make me honored to be a small of the arts world, works that provide great joy both personally and collectively. While preferences are often singular, in most cases I respond to the arts in expected ways I suppose. If I were the only person who loved the works of Jackson Pollock, then why would his original works be favored by collectors? So I must admit, that in spite of the desire to posit contrarian artistic views, likely my responses are similar to most people. Yet, conformity aside, individual responses are, in fact, unique to that person and whether or not the responses are the same or different from other people is inconsequential. If a person enjoys a good cup of coffee and soon learns that thousands, perhaps millions, also enjoy a good cup of coffee, this does not reduce the individual enjoyment. It makes the experience somewhat collective but it still remains emotionally and personally satisfying. I may love to see the Mona Lisa by DaVinci and I may indeed recognize that my love of the Mona Lisa is not greater nor lesser than much of the world; yet, it is still my own love and is not negated nor strengthened by the market forces of love of the work.
With a broad view of the arts that encompasses both judgment and acceptance, I tend to see the world in cultural, artistic terms rather than scientifically. Most events past, present, and future seem to be more artistically driven than scientifically conceived. Data and objective reason can shape much of our decisions, but in the end it is art that defines the human experience, making life more art than science. In spite of my comprehensive and holistic view of art, I do believe that most people think of art in terms of positive good feelings and satisfying emotions. If an oil painting, a play, a movie, a book, a piece of music is enjoyed, then it must be good art or, to take it another step, it must be art. Therefore if a work of art is emotionally satisfying, then not only is it quality art it excludes other art not satisfying or unappealing. As we follow this logic, then we must conclude several things: 1) Good art is appealing, 2) Bad art is not appealing, 3) Good art represents the finest art, 4) Bad art is to be rejected, 5) Good art has become synonymous with art, and 6) Bad art should not be considered art at all. Such conclusions are without merit and force us to accept only that art that is appealing to an individual.
I recall a heated discussion with a person showing me an artwork that was not appealing in any sense. Her conclusion in the discussion was that the work was not art at all and should be forbidden from being seen. While I agreed that it did not need to be seen, I took umbrage that it was not art. By her definition, art is only art if it appealed to her sense of artistry. While I want to respect her conclusion, I soundly disagree with it. Not only is it weak to acknowledge art based entirely on personal views, it is ultimately unfair to what the arts mean in culture.
Recognizing this as a somewhat dangerous view, I cannot help but believe that all sound is music, all sights are visual art, all written expressions literary art, and all interaction theatre art. Knowing that most if not all people disagree with the previous statement does not deter me in the slightest in my broad view of art and culture. Yet the danger in such an inclusive view of art is in its lack of criteria for excellence. If all sound is music, then is it all equal? If so, then its very equality makes it either all grand and amazing or perhaps all mediocre or even poor. The idea of all being art, regardless of the time, value, or recognized quality, seems to shout that neither good art nor bad art matters in our cultural awareness.
But I admit that I gravitate to the idea that all around me is art and that judgment is personal and based primarily on the emotional or rather the artistic impact the work makes on the individual. Which then circles me back to art providing personal and collective joy in our society. I love reading a great book or even a beautifully written sentence. Here is one: “The business of the poet and the novelist is to show the sorriness underlying the grandest things and the grandeur underlying the sorriest things.” ― Thomas Hardy. I love seeing great art such as this piece by Rubens:
My love of the music of Brahms has never stopped: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n-qMtWVf0NA, nor my love of the Sibelius Violin Concerto: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpS_u5RvMpM. Of course who can deny the theatre of Shakespeare or the power of Eugene ONeill: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTQDkNuSaJY? Yet I also enjoy the rock music of Chicago and Bon Jovi, the paintings of Mondrian, the minimalism of Philip Glass, the film music of John Williams, the detective novels of Robert Parker, and the list continues. The sheer strength of great art (defined by its impact not only on me but on thousands, millions of others as well) is balanced by art that is meaningful but not as transformational such as comic books, furniture, home architecture, pop music, light dramas.
Our lives are filled with tension and repose as found in all of art, both completing our emotional gaps and cleansing them at the same time. Yet no definition of art has ever been entirely satisfactory leading me to seek not after a definition but rather a response. Art is transformational and great art more transformational than average or poor art. I am changed more by the writing of Dickens than I am the writing of David Morrell (one of my favorite modern writers) and I am impacted more by the music of Wagner than I am the music of One Direction (again, another current favorite). Regardless of the emotional response, in the end I find great joy in artistry of all types, shapes, and sizes, recognizing that the finest in artistry is that which is the most transformational, often having withstood the test of time. The arts are a blast and I will always remain a great advocate for the arts in our society.
With a broad view of the arts that encompasses both judgment and acceptance, I tend to see the world in cultural, artistic terms rather than scientifically. Most events past, present, and future seem to be more artistically driven than scientifically conceived. Data and objective reason can shape much of our decisions, but in the end it is art that defines the human experience, making life more art than science. In spite of my comprehensive and holistic view of art, I do believe that most people think of art in terms of positive good feelings and satisfying emotions. If an oil painting, a play, a movie, a book, a piece of music is enjoyed, then it must be good art or, to take it another step, it must be art. Therefore if a work of art is emotionally satisfying, then not only is it quality art it excludes other art not satisfying or unappealing. As we follow this logic, then we must conclude several things: 1) Good art is appealing, 2) Bad art is not appealing, 3) Good art represents the finest art, 4) Bad art is to be rejected, 5) Good art has become synonymous with art, and 6) Bad art should not be considered art at all. Such conclusions are without merit and force us to accept only that art that is appealing to an individual.
I recall a heated discussion with a person showing me an artwork that was not appealing in any sense. Her conclusion in the discussion was that the work was not art at all and should be forbidden from being seen. While I agreed that it did not need to be seen, I took umbrage that it was not art. By her definition, art is only art if it appealed to her sense of artistry. While I want to respect her conclusion, I soundly disagree with it. Not only is it weak to acknowledge art based entirely on personal views, it is ultimately unfair to what the arts mean in culture.
Recognizing this as a somewhat dangerous view, I cannot help but believe that all sound is music, all sights are visual art, all written expressions literary art, and all interaction theatre art. Knowing that most if not all people disagree with the previous statement does not deter me in the slightest in my broad view of art and culture. Yet the danger in such an inclusive view of art is in its lack of criteria for excellence. If all sound is music, then is it all equal? If so, then its very equality makes it either all grand and amazing or perhaps all mediocre or even poor. The idea of all being art, regardless of the time, value, or recognized quality, seems to shout that neither good art nor bad art matters in our cultural awareness.
But I admit that I gravitate to the idea that all around me is art and that judgment is personal and based primarily on the emotional or rather the artistic impact the work makes on the individual. Which then circles me back to art providing personal and collective joy in our society. I love reading a great book or even a beautifully written sentence. Here is one: “The business of the poet and the novelist is to show the sorriness underlying the grandest things and the grandeur underlying the sorriest things.” ― Thomas Hardy. I love seeing great art such as this piece by Rubens:
My love of the music of Brahms has never stopped: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n-qMtWVf0NA, nor my love of the Sibelius Violin Concerto: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpS_u5RvMpM. Of course who can deny the theatre of Shakespeare or the power of Eugene ONeill: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTQDkNuSaJY? Yet I also enjoy the rock music of Chicago and Bon Jovi, the paintings of Mondrian, the minimalism of Philip Glass, the film music of John Williams, the detective novels of Robert Parker, and the list continues. The sheer strength of great art (defined by its impact not only on me but on thousands, millions of others as well) is balanced by art that is meaningful but not as transformational such as comic books, furniture, home architecture, pop music, light dramas.
Our lives are filled with tension and repose as found in all of art, both completing our emotional gaps and cleansing them at the same time. Yet no definition of art has ever been entirely satisfactory leading me to seek not after a definition but rather a response. Art is transformational and great art more transformational than average or poor art. I am changed more by the writing of Dickens than I am the writing of David Morrell (one of my favorite modern writers) and I am impacted more by the music of Wagner than I am the music of One Direction (again, another current favorite). Regardless of the emotional response, in the end I find great joy in artistry of all types, shapes, and sizes, recognizing that the finest in artistry is that which is the most transformational, often having withstood the test of time. The arts are a blast and I will always remain a great advocate for the arts in our society.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
A New Theory for Music Theory
It is not within the scope of this study to examine the history of music theory and what that entails; however, a perspective is necessary before proposing something new or different. The study of music theory follows the creation of music. When we look at early treatises on music, we realize that music (sound organized) was first created and then studied. This was followed by more music and more studies. We have to study that which has already been created. One cannot study that which does not exist. Consequently we are not studying sound in and of itself but, instead, are studying how someone else has organized the sound into music. Because theory follows practice rather than practice following theory, it stands to reason that music is first created and then studied. Thus music theory as an academic discipline is born out of the need to understand the creation or organization of sound.
Not that there have not been many bold proposals for new ways to create music based on theoretical principles, but the expected study of music theory is based on actual examples of music from history. This is how it should be and generations of music students have been indoctrinated through the system, a system that works diligently to support young musicians in their careers by providing the essential knowledge and skills needed in music. In a type of music foundation curriculum, music theory gives students the tools they need to be musically successful regardless of their chosen field in music. Based primarily on a European model, the study of music theory provides an overview and the analytical skills to understand music, to create music, and to perform music whether that is on an instrument or voice.
As a theory supplement, most schools also require a modicum of keyboard skills that in turn help in the understanding of how music is organized. Keyboard skills are a necessary part of the curriculum depending on the direction of the musical career. Traditional music education requires musical comprehension of at least two clefs which in turn provides an aural and cognitive understanding of harmony. Rather than emphasizing one set of notes that create a melody, in music theory we work to help students grasp the complexities of more than one tone at a time. Having basic keyboard skills allows to move beyond the melody only and into the world of sound and its variety as well as potential. While the argument continues to be made that having keyboard skills is also necessary from a practical standpoint, ie. the need to play the National Anthem occasionally, or provide music for events or to accompany, that argument is less valid today than in year's past.
A word, however, on the value of keyboard skills is warranted. Recent declines in skilled pianists who can accompany, play church music, provide background music, or entertain for events will ultimately result in significant alterations of current music study including the expectations for applied music. Without accompanists, teachers and students are relegated to unaccompanied performance or performance with technological substitutions, neither of which is entirely satisfactory. Meanwhile, those pianists with the aforementioned skills are in great demand with no end in sight, catapulting their position not only in the musical world but also in communities and churches where pianists are needed. Unfortunately, because the nature of piano skills requires many years of dedicated concentration and practice, taking a few courses in piano, in many perhaps most cases, will not satisfy the need for having "functional" skills in piano. Yet, it does remain true that even basic knowledge of the keyboard enhances musical knowledge for students.
Back to music theory. It is time to reevaluate not only how we teach music theory but also the purpose behind the learning of music theory. When we analyze the goals of creating musicians for the future, we may call into question many of the expectations of what it means to have a working knowledge of music theory. Has the sequence of courses in music theory become a kind of "rite of passage" or does the sequence still have meaning and relevancy in today's world? The answer is probably a little of both, leading me to question the age-old system in music theory. Of course there is no right way nor wrong way, and a student's personal goals should be considered in the process, but if we were to redesign a music theory curriculum by examining the multi-dimensioned world of music and sound, we may find that the fundamental knowledge we treasure and value has changed and needs a healthy injection of modernism.
Although doubtful that changes in music theory need be iconoclastic, any change may require abandoning some old ways in favor of something new. And experiments in new approaches to music theory and rejecting some but not all of the "traditional" curriculum are occurring in our colleges and universities. Yes, something is certainly lost when students do not learn and ultimately love the music of Bach, but there are also inevitable gains when they learn how music in films, on stage, in concert halls, and popular music is created. In the end, I believe it is worth a try.
Not that there have not been many bold proposals for new ways to create music based on theoretical principles, but the expected study of music theory is based on actual examples of music from history. This is how it should be and generations of music students have been indoctrinated through the system, a system that works diligently to support young musicians in their careers by providing the essential knowledge and skills needed in music. In a type of music foundation curriculum, music theory gives students the tools they need to be musically successful regardless of their chosen field in music. Based primarily on a European model, the study of music theory provides an overview and the analytical skills to understand music, to create music, and to perform music whether that is on an instrument or voice.
As a theory supplement, most schools also require a modicum of keyboard skills that in turn help in the understanding of how music is organized. Keyboard skills are a necessary part of the curriculum depending on the direction of the musical career. Traditional music education requires musical comprehension of at least two clefs which in turn provides an aural and cognitive understanding of harmony. Rather than emphasizing one set of notes that create a melody, in music theory we work to help students grasp the complexities of more than one tone at a time. Having basic keyboard skills allows to move beyond the melody only and into the world of sound and its variety as well as potential. While the argument continues to be made that having keyboard skills is also necessary from a practical standpoint, ie. the need to play the National Anthem occasionally, or provide music for events or to accompany, that argument is less valid today than in year's past.
A word, however, on the value of keyboard skills is warranted. Recent declines in skilled pianists who can accompany, play church music, provide background music, or entertain for events will ultimately result in significant alterations of current music study including the expectations for applied music. Without accompanists, teachers and students are relegated to unaccompanied performance or performance with technological substitutions, neither of which is entirely satisfactory. Meanwhile, those pianists with the aforementioned skills are in great demand with no end in sight, catapulting their position not only in the musical world but also in communities and churches where pianists are needed. Unfortunately, because the nature of piano skills requires many years of dedicated concentration and practice, taking a few courses in piano, in many perhaps most cases, will not satisfy the need for having "functional" skills in piano. Yet, it does remain true that even basic knowledge of the keyboard enhances musical knowledge for students.
Back to music theory. It is time to reevaluate not only how we teach music theory but also the purpose behind the learning of music theory. When we analyze the goals of creating musicians for the future, we may call into question many of the expectations of what it means to have a working knowledge of music theory. Has the sequence of courses in music theory become a kind of "rite of passage" or does the sequence still have meaning and relevancy in today's world? The answer is probably a little of both, leading me to question the age-old system in music theory. Of course there is no right way nor wrong way, and a student's personal goals should be considered in the process, but if we were to redesign a music theory curriculum by examining the multi-dimensioned world of music and sound, we may find that the fundamental knowledge we treasure and value has changed and needs a healthy injection of modernism.
Although doubtful that changes in music theory need be iconoclastic, any change may require abandoning some old ways in favor of something new. And experiments in new approaches to music theory and rejecting some but not all of the "traditional" curriculum are occurring in our colleges and universities. Yes, something is certainly lost when students do not learn and ultimately love the music of Bach, but there are also inevitable gains when they learn how music in films, on stage, in concert halls, and popular music is created. In the end, I believe it is worth a try.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
The Mystery of Collaboration
Having worked in this world of the arts on many levels, I hold the ideal of artistic collaboration to be quite difficult yet essential to the totality of the arts. The life of a musician and the life of an artist is one of singularity over solidarity, lending itself to a contained world of insular self-expression. The glorious opportunity to be in a room making music for an audience of one is a necessary part of the process of artistic growth. Individual development is a lifelong endeavor and the life of an artist requires constant improvement to the chosen craft. Like a great athlete or scientist or mathematician, an artist works relentlessly, and usually alone, to attain excellence.
This truth, however, augers against the need for the arts to make a bold and collective impact on the world through communication and public performance. Although somehow satisfying to make art or music in a room without public scrutiny, it also makes little sense other than meeting some kind of personal need. Perhaps this meets an emotional niche for the individual but there certainly is no impact on society or culture through this approach. Contrary to Milton Babbit's philosophy of the lack of a need for an audience (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Who_Cares_if_You_Listen), the arts are not sustainable without the public eye or ear.
But aside from those who produce great art in a vacuum apart from other people, there is much to gain through collaboration. This is not to take away from great pianists, guitarists, solo singers, painters, or sculptors, but it is to say that art makes room for the collective experience. Unfortunately, in the arts, mostly due to the singular focus and the sheer amount of time alone, artists struggle with collaboration. Sitting in a practice room making a multitude of musical decisions and suddenly being required to share in the decision making process is nearly antithetical to what it means to be personally expressive. Trained and talented musicians reach a point where they determine the musical goals that are within their preference zone, their experience, and their intuitive conditioning. Having to give up ownership of their expressive musical goals is akin to allowing others to drive your car or live in your home. It feels neither natural nor comfortable to do so. Most advanced artists prefer to be in charge, to retain ownership of the decisions, and to be the musical leader whether that is individually or collectively.
In spite of the repeated experiments in ensemble playing without a conductor, there seems to remain a need for a central leadership figure. This system works well (mostly, anyway) for large musical ensembles but is often not necessary for smaller groups. That said, many a rock band has experienced demise due to power struggles within the unit. As musical organizations grow, so does the need for strong musical leadership. Yet this very need begins to push against the need for collaboration, making such endeavors a mystery in the arts. Artists require a strong sense of individual expressiveness, yet many art forms, on a grand scale, require collaboration. This tension can only be healthy when all constituents recognize the ultimate goal of providing a positive artistic experience for the audience.
One of the great artistic genres that absolutely requires collaboration is in musical theatre and opera (terms that should not be used separately from my perspective). "No art form exists independently of the conditions in which it is enjoyed." (Tim Parks, http://www.nybooks.com/blogs/nyrblog/2014/jun/10/reading-struggle/, accessed 6/13/2014) and such is true in musical theatre where the preparation involves large forces and the performance space determines much of the outcome. In musical theatre costumes, sets, acting, singing, orchestra, directors, lighting, sound, literature, and ultimately audiences come together for what is one of the great examples of artistic collaboration in today's culture. And musical theatre is enjoying a substantial market share and a growing audience base.
Not that shows are easy and the amount of collaboration required is tremendous, often with many strong-willed artists involved seeking to come to agreement and consensus on matters related to all facets of the show. Artistry goals aside, in the end the goal is to communicate to people, develop an audience, and, turn a profit. When the profit motive is active, it forces the collaborative process to succeed in the end. Yet when there is no profit motive, such as collaboration in an academic institution, the process has the real potential to be a power and/or artistic struggle between individuals or groups. Sadly, when the struggle digresses into a complete lack of mutual cooperation, the result is a poor performance or cancellation of intended event.
The driving force for successful collaboration does not appear to be artistic excellence despite what artists often claim. The impetus for collaborative success may not be as lofty as we would prefer but may, instead, be public support. A small but appreciative audience is always emotionally rewarding and should not be discredited, but, when the audience is substantial and revenues exceed expenses, everyone benefits. Such is the case in collective collaborative artistic experiences. These experiences are lined with purpose that overrides individual achievement. Yet without a solid, concrete purpose, artistic collaboration will remain a mystery that is mired in abstract and often self-serving emotional regions.
This truth, however, augers against the need for the arts to make a bold and collective impact on the world through communication and public performance. Although somehow satisfying to make art or music in a room without public scrutiny, it also makes little sense other than meeting some kind of personal need. Perhaps this meets an emotional niche for the individual but there certainly is no impact on society or culture through this approach. Contrary to Milton Babbit's philosophy of the lack of a need for an audience (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Who_Cares_if_You_Listen), the arts are not sustainable without the public eye or ear.
But aside from those who produce great art in a vacuum apart from other people, there is much to gain through collaboration. This is not to take away from great pianists, guitarists, solo singers, painters, or sculptors, but it is to say that art makes room for the collective experience. Unfortunately, in the arts, mostly due to the singular focus and the sheer amount of time alone, artists struggle with collaboration. Sitting in a practice room making a multitude of musical decisions and suddenly being required to share in the decision making process is nearly antithetical to what it means to be personally expressive. Trained and talented musicians reach a point where they determine the musical goals that are within their preference zone, their experience, and their intuitive conditioning. Having to give up ownership of their expressive musical goals is akin to allowing others to drive your car or live in your home. It feels neither natural nor comfortable to do so. Most advanced artists prefer to be in charge, to retain ownership of the decisions, and to be the musical leader whether that is individually or collectively.
In spite of the repeated experiments in ensemble playing without a conductor, there seems to remain a need for a central leadership figure. This system works well (mostly, anyway) for large musical ensembles but is often not necessary for smaller groups. That said, many a rock band has experienced demise due to power struggles within the unit. As musical organizations grow, so does the need for strong musical leadership. Yet this very need begins to push against the need for collaboration, making such endeavors a mystery in the arts. Artists require a strong sense of individual expressiveness, yet many art forms, on a grand scale, require collaboration. This tension can only be healthy when all constituents recognize the ultimate goal of providing a positive artistic experience for the audience.
One of the great artistic genres that absolutely requires collaboration is in musical theatre and opera (terms that should not be used separately from my perspective). "No art form exists independently of the conditions in which it is enjoyed." (Tim Parks, http://www.nybooks.com/blogs/nyrblog/2014/jun/10/reading-struggle/, accessed 6/13/2014) and such is true in musical theatre where the preparation involves large forces and the performance space determines much of the outcome. In musical theatre costumes, sets, acting, singing, orchestra, directors, lighting, sound, literature, and ultimately audiences come together for what is one of the great examples of artistic collaboration in today's culture. And musical theatre is enjoying a substantial market share and a growing audience base.
Not that shows are easy and the amount of collaboration required is tremendous, often with many strong-willed artists involved seeking to come to agreement and consensus on matters related to all facets of the show. Artistry goals aside, in the end the goal is to communicate to people, develop an audience, and, turn a profit. When the profit motive is active, it forces the collaborative process to succeed in the end. Yet when there is no profit motive, such as collaboration in an academic institution, the process has the real potential to be a power and/or artistic struggle between individuals or groups. Sadly, when the struggle digresses into a complete lack of mutual cooperation, the result is a poor performance or cancellation of intended event.
The driving force for successful collaboration does not appear to be artistic excellence despite what artists often claim. The impetus for collaborative success may not be as lofty as we would prefer but may, instead, be public support. A small but appreciative audience is always emotionally rewarding and should not be discredited, but, when the audience is substantial and revenues exceed expenses, everyone benefits. Such is the case in collective collaborative artistic experiences. These experiences are lined with purpose that overrides individual achievement. Yet without a solid, concrete purpose, artistic collaboration will remain a mystery that is mired in abstract and often self-serving emotional regions.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
The Pebble
Not sure how it happened, but this morning as I finished 2/3 of my morning run, a pebble got in my shoe. I suppose it occurred as I ran along the highway where the road meets the land and the man-made material moves into nature leaving behind loose pebbles and rocks along the way. And one of those little guys jumped into my shoe, making me quite uncomfortable.
I kept going and the pebble moved as I moved. Sometimes under the large toe but other times within the empty spaces between the toes or under the arch, the pebble kept altering positions. Several steps later it would move again somehow landing in the wrong spot for any kind of comfort. Comfort is an unusual word in running since there is virtually nothing comfortable about the process. Pain accompanies virtually every motion and between the huffing and puffing, aching legs, and hurting muscles I did not know existed, it seemed silly to worry about a little pebble.
Yet every few steps there was the pebble again. Painful enough to announce its presence but not quite bad enough to warrant stopping to remove it. So I kept plugging away with the end getting nearer and the pain increasing. Imagining sitting on a curb, removing my shoe, emptying the shoe of the little demon but also knowing the challenge of standing up again, I elected to keep going. In my advancing years, I have developed a problem with standing up from a place near the ground. This is primarily why I prefer a standing desk and why I can run more easily than play games on the floor.
The goal of completing my run was greater than the vicious little culprit I began to call Lucifer could cause. It kind of reminded me of the old story about the man who spent a cold night on a mountain who watched a fire several miles away and imagined himself near the fire all night long. Could my imagination conquer the reality? Maybe.
Finally seeing the domicile and knowing I could soon stop, I began to relish the idea of removing the shoe, seeing Lucifer in the flesh so to speak, and defenestrating him forever. Into the house I entered huffing and puffing but oddly joyful the experience was over, I sat on the chair and removed the shoe. I walked to the trash can and decided to empty the shoe in my hand, smile evilly at Lucifer and say goodbye. Expecting the item to sneer or attack in some way, I looked in my hand and saw a tiny little pebble. Without any histrionics, I threw it away, reflecting how ironic that such a small, insignificant pebble could create such emotional turmoil. There is some kind of a lesson in all this that needs no further articulation. Thus ends the pebble in the shoe for today.
I kept going and the pebble moved as I moved. Sometimes under the large toe but other times within the empty spaces between the toes or under the arch, the pebble kept altering positions. Several steps later it would move again somehow landing in the wrong spot for any kind of comfort. Comfort is an unusual word in running since there is virtually nothing comfortable about the process. Pain accompanies virtually every motion and between the huffing and puffing, aching legs, and hurting muscles I did not know existed, it seemed silly to worry about a little pebble.
Yet every few steps there was the pebble again. Painful enough to announce its presence but not quite bad enough to warrant stopping to remove it. So I kept plugging away with the end getting nearer and the pain increasing. Imagining sitting on a curb, removing my shoe, emptying the shoe of the little demon but also knowing the challenge of standing up again, I elected to keep going. In my advancing years, I have developed a problem with standing up from a place near the ground. This is primarily why I prefer a standing desk and why I can run more easily than play games on the floor.
The goal of completing my run was greater than the vicious little culprit I began to call Lucifer could cause. It kind of reminded me of the old story about the man who spent a cold night on a mountain who watched a fire several miles away and imagined himself near the fire all night long. Could my imagination conquer the reality? Maybe.
Finally seeing the domicile and knowing I could soon stop, I began to relish the idea of removing the shoe, seeing Lucifer in the flesh so to speak, and defenestrating him forever. Into the house I entered huffing and puffing but oddly joyful the experience was over, I sat on the chair and removed the shoe. I walked to the trash can and decided to empty the shoe in my hand, smile evilly at Lucifer and say goodbye. Expecting the item to sneer or attack in some way, I looked in my hand and saw a tiny little pebble. Without any histrionics, I threw it away, reflecting how ironic that such a small, insignificant pebble could create such emotional turmoil. There is some kind of a lesson in all this that needs no further articulation. Thus ends the pebble in the shoe for today.
Tuesday, June 03, 2014
The Schlock Factor
Just finished a marvelous piece by Jody Rosen titled In Defense of Schlock. In this extensive essay, the author outlines criteria used to define and defend musical schlock in popular genres. He discusses the musical properties associated with schlock and addresses context, themes, and textual content for the music we often associate with schlock. Basing much of his argument on Don't Stop Believing by Journey, Rosen points out the need for schlock in our lives as exemplified by the staying power of much of the music. While the essay reads a little like a historical listing of favorite schlock hits (which he addresses as well), overall he covers the subject quite well and reminds us of both the diversity of the listening public and the power of nostalgia, melody, harmonic simplicity, and quality popular singing styles. This highly recommended essay (http://www.vulture.com/2014/05/jody-rosen-in-defense-of-schlock-music.html) serves as a springboard for expressing my concerns with arts programs and curriculum in today's higher education.
Most people like schlock in music but trained academic musicians generally do not (I do apologize for the gross generalities and am well aware of many exceptions to the statement). Although Rosen's article is in defense of schlock, in spite of its emotionally satisfying musical content, schlock leans toward the musically simplistic side. As tends to happen in all disciplines, the more one knows and understands, the greater becomes the desire for depth of expression. This is the normal process of education and at times it does have a down side. Moving from the concrete to the abstract or the known to the unknown has the tendency to make us emotionally and intellectually dissatisfied with the known or the concrete examples of the discipline. Not that simplistic music, literature, art, or science are problems in and of themselves, and often humans desire simpler expressions of thought, but education in its purest form is designed to demand and to create a comprehensive understanding, perhaps solutions, of complex problems. This means in music that academically trained musicians find themselves in study of Beethoven, Brahms, Stravinsky, and Messiaen over the music of Journey, Lionel Richie, Barry Manilow, and Katy Perry. Such is the normal progression of education.
But as we become more educated about music, we also fall into a trap of exclusion, marginalizing that which does not meet our criteria of excellence or complexity. This is grand and adds to the mystique of excellence which we tend to propagate by virtue of our training and ability. Preferring to live in a world of musical complexity, avoiding schlock when possible, and expressing that music which meets our criteria of time and musical advancement, we find ourselves in the untenable position of performing music for those with equal education and preferences. Again, there is nothing negative about such a practice and, in spite of the lack of strong market forces, we enjoy and prefer advanced culturally refined music.
Our exclusionary curriculum is well and good for producing like-minded students and patting ourselves on the back for our knowledge and our rejection of schlock. But how far can our rejection of powerful market forces sustain our current curricular practices? There is a reason that Don't Stop Believing continues to be revered and enjoyed by so many. It has passed the test of time, at least in the short-term, and is a beloved song in spite or because of its simplistic message and its musical content. Admittedly, there are several works in the classical genre that seem to lean on the "schlocky" side of music, and their frequent performances have become mundane and predictable, adding to their oft disparagement by academic musicians. The musical content may be rich with intellectual and expressive depth, but their popularity has taken them to the level of Don't Stop Believing in terms of commercialism. Music such as Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring by Bach, Rachmaninoff's 2nd Symphony, Brahms' Lullaby, Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, and Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata are but a few of the examples.
It may be time, however, for the academic community of musicians to stop looking down on the schlock and, instead, embrace it as a vital part of today's curriculum. Not that we want music of the Carpenters, Air Supply, Chicago ballads, and Katy Perry (all of which I enjoy) to rule the day, but we do need to find musical ways to reach people and make an impact on a world that seems to love schlock and all that accompanies it. Without any kind of exposure of commercialism and popular music of today, we teeter on brink of a dark hole of music curriculum that may one day join the archaic world of drive-in movies, typewriters, horse and buggy, and jousting in woods. This is a call to action and that call goes out to schools of music and music faculty to recognize the value of a judicious usage of schlock in the curriculum. We will make an impact on the world when the world responds to what we do. A comprehensive music program must include a comprehensive look at music in its entirety without the rejection of that which does not meet the prescribed criteria. It is time to consider the schlock factor!
Most people like schlock in music but trained academic musicians generally do not (I do apologize for the gross generalities and am well aware of many exceptions to the statement). Although Rosen's article is in defense of schlock, in spite of its emotionally satisfying musical content, schlock leans toward the musically simplistic side. As tends to happen in all disciplines, the more one knows and understands, the greater becomes the desire for depth of expression. This is the normal process of education and at times it does have a down side. Moving from the concrete to the abstract or the known to the unknown has the tendency to make us emotionally and intellectually dissatisfied with the known or the concrete examples of the discipline. Not that simplistic music, literature, art, or science are problems in and of themselves, and often humans desire simpler expressions of thought, but education in its purest form is designed to demand and to create a comprehensive understanding, perhaps solutions, of complex problems. This means in music that academically trained musicians find themselves in study of Beethoven, Brahms, Stravinsky, and Messiaen over the music of Journey, Lionel Richie, Barry Manilow, and Katy Perry. Such is the normal progression of education.
But as we become more educated about music, we also fall into a trap of exclusion, marginalizing that which does not meet our criteria of excellence or complexity. This is grand and adds to the mystique of excellence which we tend to propagate by virtue of our training and ability. Preferring to live in a world of musical complexity, avoiding schlock when possible, and expressing that music which meets our criteria of time and musical advancement, we find ourselves in the untenable position of performing music for those with equal education and preferences. Again, there is nothing negative about such a practice and, in spite of the lack of strong market forces, we enjoy and prefer advanced culturally refined music.
Our exclusionary curriculum is well and good for producing like-minded students and patting ourselves on the back for our knowledge and our rejection of schlock. But how far can our rejection of powerful market forces sustain our current curricular practices? There is a reason that Don't Stop Believing continues to be revered and enjoyed by so many. It has passed the test of time, at least in the short-term, and is a beloved song in spite or because of its simplistic message and its musical content. Admittedly, there are several works in the classical genre that seem to lean on the "schlocky" side of music, and their frequent performances have become mundane and predictable, adding to their oft disparagement by academic musicians. The musical content may be rich with intellectual and expressive depth, but their popularity has taken them to the level of Don't Stop Believing in terms of commercialism. Music such as Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring by Bach, Rachmaninoff's 2nd Symphony, Brahms' Lullaby, Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, and Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata are but a few of the examples.
It may be time, however, for the academic community of musicians to stop looking down on the schlock and, instead, embrace it as a vital part of today's curriculum. Not that we want music of the Carpenters, Air Supply, Chicago ballads, and Katy Perry (all of which I enjoy) to rule the day, but we do need to find musical ways to reach people and make an impact on a world that seems to love schlock and all that accompanies it. Without any kind of exposure of commercialism and popular music of today, we teeter on brink of a dark hole of music curriculum that may one day join the archaic world of drive-in movies, typewriters, horse and buggy, and jousting in woods. This is a call to action and that call goes out to schools of music and music faculty to recognize the value of a judicious usage of schlock in the curriculum. We will make an impact on the world when the world responds to what we do. A comprehensive music program must include a comprehensive look at music in its entirety without the rejection of that which does not meet the prescribed criteria. It is time to consider the schlock factor!
Monday, June 02, 2014
Inventory in the Arts
An area of concern for the future of arts programs is in inventory acquisition and general maintenance. Unlike other disciplines that simply require classroom space with basic desks, chairs, technology, and minimal materials, the arts demands an extensive inventory of materials in order to function at a high level. In art departments we find photography equipment including black rooms, enlargers, clean up facilities, ceramics, wheels, sculpture equipment, easels, canvases, open spaces, tools, printers, large desks, special lighting, in addition to normal classroom space and a gallery. Theatre departments need large spaces, a workshop complete with tools, lumber, and props, a costume shop, lighting, sound equipment, chairs, music stands, risers, steps, and nearly unlimited makeup. Classrooms require not only desks, but mirrors, space, and advanced technology.
Music departments must have soundproof practice rooms, quality pianos that require frequent tuning, music stands, specialty chairs, libraries, instruments for concert playing as well as marching, uniforms, risers, temperature controlled facilities, acoustical requirements in concert halls and rooms, various sized classroom space to include desks, technology, and open areas. Music facilities must also have computer labs, recording technology, and multi-media equipment.
Music, art, and theatre facilities require significant storage areas, unusual requirements for safety (consider hearing health in music), and, although not necessarily required, decor that reflects the rich heritage of the arts as well as the progressive nature of the disciplines. When we consider the inventory needs and unique requirements for the arts, it should come as no surprise when budget managers and financial examiners become concerned with the fiscal demands of the arts in higher education. Although most of these initial expenses become long-term assets, there are also ongoing expenses related to inventory development to match program goals. To put it plainly, arts programs are expensive in comparison with other disciplines.
Justification for the arts in society and in higher education often takes the emotional side, and we hear how the arts makes the human complete, meeting emotional needs, rounding out the human being, relating to our sensitive side, providing cathartic release, allowing for human expression, and the list of benefits to the heart and soul are nearly endless. While all this is true and should not be marginalized, at the same time, these arguments somehow seem weak in light of the constant economic pressures of our culture. When funds are short, the arts get shorted. Such is reality and it is doubtful whether that will ever change. Donors enjoy supporting the arts, and most people value the arts, but when funds are allocated across several areas, the arts are generally not treated as they may deserve. And yet, in light of the inventory demanded, regardless of how the arts are perceived, most institutions have already provided a great deal of resources into the arts. Another way to look at this is that arts programs require assets that aid in production.
Are there ways to reduce inventory requirements without any loss of quality in arts programs in higher education? Unlike a business where the goal is to keep inventory moving, in the arts the inventory is capitalized for long-term minus depreciation without turnover. This converts initial expenditures into long-term assets reflected on an institutions financial statements. Other than those needs to address technological progress, maintenance, or new instruments, the inventory requires normal replacement in a given year. Yet because of the nature of progress in the arts, there must be constant attention given to equipment to meet the educational requirements. In the future, music, art, and theatre programs need to find ways to reduce or at least maintain the inventory while insisting on high quality programs.
This may require sharing of resources, utilizing technology to a high degree, regular maintenance, and shared facilities when possible. Such practices will require careful scheduling, advance planning, strategic goals, and targeted programs. In addition, careful use of facilities and resources could mean creative allocation of traditional equipment and an increase in technology and media in classrooms and labs. It would be wise to study the possibilities of combining certain assets in the arts, particular at the development stage, while keeping inventory well-maintained and controlled.
Music departments must have soundproof practice rooms, quality pianos that require frequent tuning, music stands, specialty chairs, libraries, instruments for concert playing as well as marching, uniforms, risers, temperature controlled facilities, acoustical requirements in concert halls and rooms, various sized classroom space to include desks, technology, and open areas. Music facilities must also have computer labs, recording technology, and multi-media equipment.
Music, art, and theatre facilities require significant storage areas, unusual requirements for safety (consider hearing health in music), and, although not necessarily required, decor that reflects the rich heritage of the arts as well as the progressive nature of the disciplines. When we consider the inventory needs and unique requirements for the arts, it should come as no surprise when budget managers and financial examiners become concerned with the fiscal demands of the arts in higher education. Although most of these initial expenses become long-term assets, there are also ongoing expenses related to inventory development to match program goals. To put it plainly, arts programs are expensive in comparison with other disciplines.
Justification for the arts in society and in higher education often takes the emotional side, and we hear how the arts makes the human complete, meeting emotional needs, rounding out the human being, relating to our sensitive side, providing cathartic release, allowing for human expression, and the list of benefits to the heart and soul are nearly endless. While all this is true and should not be marginalized, at the same time, these arguments somehow seem weak in light of the constant economic pressures of our culture. When funds are short, the arts get shorted. Such is reality and it is doubtful whether that will ever change. Donors enjoy supporting the arts, and most people value the arts, but when funds are allocated across several areas, the arts are generally not treated as they may deserve. And yet, in light of the inventory demanded, regardless of how the arts are perceived, most institutions have already provided a great deal of resources into the arts. Another way to look at this is that arts programs require assets that aid in production.
Are there ways to reduce inventory requirements without any loss of quality in arts programs in higher education? Unlike a business where the goal is to keep inventory moving, in the arts the inventory is capitalized for long-term minus depreciation without turnover. This converts initial expenditures into long-term assets reflected on an institutions financial statements. Other than those needs to address technological progress, maintenance, or new instruments, the inventory requires normal replacement in a given year. Yet because of the nature of progress in the arts, there must be constant attention given to equipment to meet the educational requirements. In the future, music, art, and theatre programs need to find ways to reduce or at least maintain the inventory while insisting on high quality programs.
This may require sharing of resources, utilizing technology to a high degree, regular maintenance, and shared facilities when possible. Such practices will require careful scheduling, advance planning, strategic goals, and targeted programs. In addition, careful use of facilities and resources could mean creative allocation of traditional equipment and an increase in technology and media in classrooms and labs. It would be wise to study the possibilities of combining certain assets in the arts, particular at the development stage, while keeping inventory well-maintained and controlled.
Friday, May 30, 2014
The Case for the Performance Major
Much has been discussed and written related to the problems of the music performance major in colleges and universities. Presenting an argument for the performance major based on employment statistics is futile and it is the responsibility of parents, counselors, advisers, and teachers to be clear on the job prospects of making a living in the area of musical performance. While it is difficult to examine the data, most studies seem to point to less than 5% of performance majors succeeding in their field beyond college. As small colleges seek to define their degree offerings, it must be noted that large conservatory type of experiences are also recognizing the job futility of the music performance major. From a purely pragmatic standpoint, it begs the question why the degree exists at all. Yet there is more to the story.
A college degree was never intended as a vocational training certificate for employment. Although there is plenty of justification for such a concept and many opportunities for such training, a college degree, particularly in classic liberal arts environments, is intended for broad-based philosophical experiences leading to white collar positions of leadership, teaching, medicine, sciences, writing, and the list continues. Granted the performance degree is considered more of a professional degree than it is a liberal arts degree, the delivery of the degree falls within the scope of most liberal arts institutions in that the requirements include a General Education core of classes outside of the music offerings. A student learns how to perform on a given instrument or voice but also learns basic other knowledge applicable to a variety of careers.
Given the economic challenges of employing the sheer number of performance majors that exist in our colleges and universities today, how can we continue to encourage or even justify the pursuit of such a credential? There may have been a time in history when the number of performance majors only slightly exceeded the number of full-time positions available, but that time is in the far past and to claim otherwise is to be unaware of the current musical dynamic. This does not mean there are few positions in music available after graduation, but, sadly, most of them are not within the design of curriculum pursued in the performance major. In other words, students may be preparing for a world that no longer exists, at least in the forms of the past. Why do we have the degree?
The answer lies in the rather nebulous but certainly valued concept of discipline. The pursuit of excellence in any field requires discipline that is relentless, unswerving, focused, and directed. In the military, discipline is demanded through cleanliness, precision, timing, and expectations. In sports, individual discipline serves the team through reaction time, perception, dedication to the goals, and the ability to make quick and decisive decisions. There are few skills more applicable to all areas than is the skill of discipline, fortitude, and stamina. It is through discipline that we learn to excel, to grow, and to achieve at a high level, reaching great heights of success and battling through the difficult and often bumpy road of life.
The pursuit of musical excellence demands personal discipline that includes individual practice, collective rehearsals, and cognitive study. Practice involves hours each day for many years in order to reach a level of excellence that is both competitive with other performers and expressively satisfying to listeners. Such achievement requires complete mastery of all technical demands such as notes, rhythms, dynamics, articulations, phrasing, and musical sensitivity. The hard work demanded from performance majors takes on significant proportions in relation to many other majors. While we all enjoy hearing a great performer on a stage, we must also be mindful of the years of dedicated effort to reach such musical artistry. Such mastery does not come easy and musical accomplishments, while mixed with talent, are the result of disciplined application of excellence over a period of many years.
But ability aside, and knowing the difficulty of earning a living as a professional performing musician, how does the performance major benefit the person? The answer lies in the pursuit of excellence through discipline as being transferable to other areas and professions. The act of total dedication to excellence, working out difficult passages, blending artistry with technical challenges, learning large amounts of literature, and preparing for performance forces a person's will and stamina to work together for a goal. For some that results in opportunities to perform in public and to make a living as a professional musician. For others that could mean using the fortitude it took to master a skill and turning that ability into something in business, medicine, law, the sciences, while maintaining the love of music.
In a recent graduation speech, Jim Carrey encouraged students to pursue their dreams and love what they do. In contrast, another speaker disagreed, admonishing people to pursue a discipline where they can find success. Somewhere in both these ideas, lies the truth for most people. Here are some links arguing for each side:
http://www.fastcompany.com/3026272/leadership-now/the-secrets-to-career-contentment-dont-follow-your-passion
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/cal-newport/follow-your-passion-is-bizarre_b_4350869.html
http://www.businessinsider.com/andreessen-whatever-you-do-dont-follow-your-passion-2014-5
http://elitedaily.com/life/motivation/the-10-reasons-you-should-follow-your-passion-and-not-the-money/
Follow your passion completely but keep a plan B in mind that will still allow you to use your love in some kind of way. Mostly, apply yourself fully to the task and use relentless discipline to achieve excellence in all endeavors.
A college degree was never intended as a vocational training certificate for employment. Although there is plenty of justification for such a concept and many opportunities for such training, a college degree, particularly in classic liberal arts environments, is intended for broad-based philosophical experiences leading to white collar positions of leadership, teaching, medicine, sciences, writing, and the list continues. Granted the performance degree is considered more of a professional degree than it is a liberal arts degree, the delivery of the degree falls within the scope of most liberal arts institutions in that the requirements include a General Education core of classes outside of the music offerings. A student learns how to perform on a given instrument or voice but also learns basic other knowledge applicable to a variety of careers.
Given the economic challenges of employing the sheer number of performance majors that exist in our colleges and universities today, how can we continue to encourage or even justify the pursuit of such a credential? There may have been a time in history when the number of performance majors only slightly exceeded the number of full-time positions available, but that time is in the far past and to claim otherwise is to be unaware of the current musical dynamic. This does not mean there are few positions in music available after graduation, but, sadly, most of them are not within the design of curriculum pursued in the performance major. In other words, students may be preparing for a world that no longer exists, at least in the forms of the past. Why do we have the degree?
The answer lies in the rather nebulous but certainly valued concept of discipline. The pursuit of excellence in any field requires discipline that is relentless, unswerving, focused, and directed. In the military, discipline is demanded through cleanliness, precision, timing, and expectations. In sports, individual discipline serves the team through reaction time, perception, dedication to the goals, and the ability to make quick and decisive decisions. There are few skills more applicable to all areas than is the skill of discipline, fortitude, and stamina. It is through discipline that we learn to excel, to grow, and to achieve at a high level, reaching great heights of success and battling through the difficult and often bumpy road of life.
The pursuit of musical excellence demands personal discipline that includes individual practice, collective rehearsals, and cognitive study. Practice involves hours each day for many years in order to reach a level of excellence that is both competitive with other performers and expressively satisfying to listeners. Such achievement requires complete mastery of all technical demands such as notes, rhythms, dynamics, articulations, phrasing, and musical sensitivity. The hard work demanded from performance majors takes on significant proportions in relation to many other majors. While we all enjoy hearing a great performer on a stage, we must also be mindful of the years of dedicated effort to reach such musical artistry. Such mastery does not come easy and musical accomplishments, while mixed with talent, are the result of disciplined application of excellence over a period of many years.
But ability aside, and knowing the difficulty of earning a living as a professional performing musician, how does the performance major benefit the person? The answer lies in the pursuit of excellence through discipline as being transferable to other areas and professions. The act of total dedication to excellence, working out difficult passages, blending artistry with technical challenges, learning large amounts of literature, and preparing for performance forces a person's will and stamina to work together for a goal. For some that results in opportunities to perform in public and to make a living as a professional musician. For others that could mean using the fortitude it took to master a skill and turning that ability into something in business, medicine, law, the sciences, while maintaining the love of music.
In a recent graduation speech, Jim Carrey encouraged students to pursue their dreams and love what they do. In contrast, another speaker disagreed, admonishing people to pursue a discipline where they can find success. Somewhere in both these ideas, lies the truth for most people. Here are some links arguing for each side:
http://www.fastcompany.com/3026272/leadership-now/the-secrets-to-career-contentment-dont-follow-your-passion
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/cal-newport/follow-your-passion-is-bizarre_b_4350869.html
http://www.businessinsider.com/andreessen-whatever-you-do-dont-follow-your-passion-2014-5
http://elitedaily.com/life/motivation/the-10-reasons-you-should-follow-your-passion-and-not-the-money/
Follow your passion completely but keep a plan B in mind that will still allow you to use your love in some kind of way. Mostly, apply yourself fully to the task and use relentless discipline to achieve excellence in all endeavors.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Applied Music Teaching
The concept of apprenticeships has existed in history since the beginning of time when children were taught by their parents and eventually studied a craft or skill with a master. Identifying an interest or a talent is the first step followed by seeking out a teacher to help hone the skills and develop a young discipline into the next master. In movies we see great examples of this in Karate Kid, in Return of the Jedi, in Back to the Future, and in Rocky. During the Olympics we watched teacher after teacher remind students what to do and how to approach the event. We know many young builders working with master craftsmen to build houses, buildings, and entire communities. It is the teaching process and the benefits of individual learning cannot be overstated. One could argue that the classroom experience is but a shadow of the gain that could and does take place in individual instruction. While there is certainly something positive about collective experiences as well as community learning, every opportunity for one to one learning should applied due to its extensive gain.
This idea is especially true in music learning where a student seeks out a master musician to learn how to be a better musician with a measure of independence while reflecting the excellence of the teacher. Prior to the growth of the academy, young musicians found experienced musicians and sat at their feet learning how to be a performer, composer, leader. Dating back to the middle ages, Guilmant Machaut had students as did Giovanni Palestrina in the Renaissance. Johann S. Bach taught students throughout his illustrious career and we often read about Beethoven's harsh treatment of his students. With the growth of the acclaimed virtuoso, we find disciples of pianists, violinists, flautists, and many great singers beginning in the 18th century and growing rapidly into the 19th century.
The 20th century continued the idea of apprenticeships, professional training, and applied teaching in the academy. A precursory study of the teachers at the Paris Conservatory reveals a list strong in composition, theory, organ, piano and voice but slight in brass, woodwind, and percussion. A closer look, however, does reveal several teachers on various instruments but there is suspicion, albeit without evidence, that these teachers were both performers and teachers without full-time positions at the conservatory. Obviously respected as performers, students desired to learn from them through the Paris Conservatory system, and the Conservatory obliged by providing individualized instruction for the students.
This is a solid educational ideal and one that has withstood the test of time as an educational system. Individualized instruction is strong and is an essential part of becoming a master at a given task. Becoming a performing musician must include individualized instruction as a part of the training as a way to emulate a master while defining one's own style and expression. Students benefit from the careful attention and teachers generally enjoy the opportunity to send a discipline into the world of musical performance.
But a closer look at the economic problems of such a design begins to crumble in the face of reality. Studying with an individual is economically troubling for an institution concerned about efficiency, salaries, benefits, and mass production. Because the heritage of music training involves a heavy set of courses in applied music, institutions find themselves in a predicament of employing teachers working with very few students over the course of a semester. Compared to large classrooms of 30, 60, 90 or, in some cases, hundreds of students, applied individualized instruction in music is very costly. While the gain is in the level of instruction and the opportunity to reach students in ways that large classes cannot, at the same time, there is no questioning the economic burden that individualized instruction places on an institution.
Schools often rely on adjunct instruction to off-set the costs associated with applied teaching usually resulting in less loyalty to the school and potential resentment by the teacher. Admittedly, often adjunct teachers are currently "practitioners" in the field of music performance and can provide teaching insights that are current and relevant, which ironically contributes to the rise of adjunct instruction. Quality instruction (and its antithesis) is true regardless of the employment status of the teacher. That said, full-time faculty, accreditation issues aside, fulfill greater roles in the life of a university than do part-time faculty due to committee work, service to the institution, and research. Now we arrive at the opportunity--is it entirely fair to an institution to compensate a full-time wage to an instructor who teaches very few students during the course of a semester? If not, how do we maintain the tradition and integrity of the applied teaching experience while presenting an economically viable instructional model?
It will require a new model of teaching and one that will probably need to include technology, group instruction, reduced face to face time, altered performance expectations, and significant motivation of the student. It may also require rethinking the requirements for individual achievement as related to different degree programs. Web resources continue to multiply and not to take advantage of public domain sheet music, video instruction, curriculum lists, repertoire ideas, and nearly unlimited teaching techniques is to ignore a vibrant world of music education. Other possibilities include video conferencing, recorded files, and chat rooms. Applied teachers may need to consider ways to teach more students during the course of a week or two weeks without adding hours to the teaching time. Students will need to glean more and apply the lessons diligently, being thoroughly prepared for each lesson and benefit from the limited time or collective experience. These ideas and more will need to be embraced by institutions and individual teachers if the applied lesson is to remain as a teaching concept over time.
Those students demonstrating a need for individual instruction may need to pay more for that privilege or teachers may need to understand the institutional economic challenge of individualized instruction. Although nobody wishes to see a decline in quality of instruction nor quality of performance, there is little doubt that the historical model of one teacher for 12 to 18 students per semester is unsustainable for most schools carefully examining revenues and expenses. The institutions that demonstrate financial savings while increasing quality instruction will be the ones with the competitive edge. Such a concept will require taking a risk, carefully assessing the results, and maintaining the enthusiasm for teaching and learning.
This idea is especially true in music learning where a student seeks out a master musician to learn how to be a better musician with a measure of independence while reflecting the excellence of the teacher. Prior to the growth of the academy, young musicians found experienced musicians and sat at their feet learning how to be a performer, composer, leader. Dating back to the middle ages, Guilmant Machaut had students as did Giovanni Palestrina in the Renaissance. Johann S. Bach taught students throughout his illustrious career and we often read about Beethoven's harsh treatment of his students. With the growth of the acclaimed virtuoso, we find disciples of pianists, violinists, flautists, and many great singers beginning in the 18th century and growing rapidly into the 19th century.
The 20th century continued the idea of apprenticeships, professional training, and applied teaching in the academy. A precursory study of the teachers at the Paris Conservatory reveals a list strong in composition, theory, organ, piano and voice but slight in brass, woodwind, and percussion. A closer look, however, does reveal several teachers on various instruments but there is suspicion, albeit without evidence, that these teachers were both performers and teachers without full-time positions at the conservatory. Obviously respected as performers, students desired to learn from them through the Paris Conservatory system, and the Conservatory obliged by providing individualized instruction for the students.
This is a solid educational ideal and one that has withstood the test of time as an educational system. Individualized instruction is strong and is an essential part of becoming a master at a given task. Becoming a performing musician must include individualized instruction as a part of the training as a way to emulate a master while defining one's own style and expression. Students benefit from the careful attention and teachers generally enjoy the opportunity to send a discipline into the world of musical performance.
But a closer look at the economic problems of such a design begins to crumble in the face of reality. Studying with an individual is economically troubling for an institution concerned about efficiency, salaries, benefits, and mass production. Because the heritage of music training involves a heavy set of courses in applied music, institutions find themselves in a predicament of employing teachers working with very few students over the course of a semester. Compared to large classrooms of 30, 60, 90 or, in some cases, hundreds of students, applied individualized instruction in music is very costly. While the gain is in the level of instruction and the opportunity to reach students in ways that large classes cannot, at the same time, there is no questioning the economic burden that individualized instruction places on an institution.
Schools often rely on adjunct instruction to off-set the costs associated with applied teaching usually resulting in less loyalty to the school and potential resentment by the teacher. Admittedly, often adjunct teachers are currently "practitioners" in the field of music performance and can provide teaching insights that are current and relevant, which ironically contributes to the rise of adjunct instruction. Quality instruction (and its antithesis) is true regardless of the employment status of the teacher. That said, full-time faculty, accreditation issues aside, fulfill greater roles in the life of a university than do part-time faculty due to committee work, service to the institution, and research. Now we arrive at the opportunity--is it entirely fair to an institution to compensate a full-time wage to an instructor who teaches very few students during the course of a semester? If not, how do we maintain the tradition and integrity of the applied teaching experience while presenting an economically viable instructional model?
It will require a new model of teaching and one that will probably need to include technology, group instruction, reduced face to face time, altered performance expectations, and significant motivation of the student. It may also require rethinking the requirements for individual achievement as related to different degree programs. Web resources continue to multiply and not to take advantage of public domain sheet music, video instruction, curriculum lists, repertoire ideas, and nearly unlimited teaching techniques is to ignore a vibrant world of music education. Other possibilities include video conferencing, recorded files, and chat rooms. Applied teachers may need to consider ways to teach more students during the course of a week or two weeks without adding hours to the teaching time. Students will need to glean more and apply the lessons diligently, being thoroughly prepared for each lesson and benefit from the limited time or collective experience. These ideas and more will need to be embraced by institutions and individual teachers if the applied lesson is to remain as a teaching concept over time.
Those students demonstrating a need for individual instruction may need to pay more for that privilege or teachers may need to understand the institutional economic challenge of individualized instruction. Although nobody wishes to see a decline in quality of instruction nor quality of performance, there is little doubt that the historical model of one teacher for 12 to 18 students per semester is unsustainable for most schools carefully examining revenues and expenses. The institutions that demonstrate financial savings while increasing quality instruction will be the ones with the competitive edge. Such a concept will require taking a risk, carefully assessing the results, and maintaining the enthusiasm for teaching and learning.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Writing about music
Throughout my education and into my career, I have read an untold number of books and essays on music. But aside from informational type of writing such as biographies, analytical descriptions, historical perspectives, lists, scientific properties, and cultural impact, none has ever been satisfactory. Let's take a quick look at some descriptions of Beethoven's 5th symphony. The power, concentration and white-hot compression of Beethoven's music is staggering. The first movement creates its tumultuous organic chemistry of interrelationships from the atomic particles of the notes it started with; in different guises, the four-note rhythmic idea permeates the rest of the symphony as well; then comes the elaborate variations of the slow movement, and its teeming effulgence of string writing that is a lyrical, long-breathed structural counterpoint to the first movement's explosive fragments (http://www.theguardian.com/music/tomserviceblog/2013/sep/16/symphony-guide-beethoven-fifth-tom-service--accessed 5/10/2014).
Here is another from January 1, 1841: Beethoven’s symphony in C minor had closed the programme. Let us be silent! How often we hear it in public, but also in our deepest self, and how it projects its force upon all people of all ages, just like the great natural phenomena, which leave us in awe every time they appear. This symphony alike, will still resound centuries to come, for as long as there will be man and music (http://www.all-about-beethoven.com/symphony5.html--accessed 5/12/2014).
Such is also true of writings on popular music or even film music. Here is a review and fairly critical description of the music from The Alamo: The majority is made up of a score that has its stirring moments (like "General Santa Anna"), but often drags along in an impersonation of the almost 200-minute film. The touches of old west/Mexican flavor are also relatively effective, yet completely typical and not very original. Fans of The Alamo or Wayne -- who as Crockett contributes one other melodrama-steeped monologue -- should find some interest in this soundtrack. But its hit singles are available elsewhere, and Tiomkin's score hasn't aged very well (http://www.allmusic.com/album/the-alamo-original-soundtrack-mw0000199761--accessed 5/14/2014). This brief description includes factual information but also tries to impose subjective opinion on the reader. Such is true of most descriptions of music.
Why is it so difficult to write about the actual sound that we call music? Why do words seem inadequate to describe the experience of hearing music and give it actual meaning? Is it due to the personal nature of sound which causes individual interpretation? When we listen to music or even when we apply meaning to any sound, we bring our interests, concepts, and experience to the table and search for meaning to what we have heard. As I was completing the previous sentence, I sneezed. Since nobody heard it (and, yes, it really did make a sound!), I was not subjected to the inevitable "Bless You" or concern about a possible illness or allergies. The sound is usually quickly interpreted, meaning given to it, and causes a variety of emotions from people. Such is true of all sound.
Thinking through this I realize that music, by its subjective nature, cannot be described adequately nor universally. This does not make such efforts futile but, rather, reminds us that emotional descriptions of sound are, indeed, personal and driven by individual human responses. Yes there are many collective responses to sound apart from the association generally ascribed to particular sounds, but on deeper introspection, sound and music become personal without broad social generalities. Group think influences aside, the very properties of music require individual ascription which, unfortunately, negates successful writing about the subject. Most writings on music, as mentioned earlier, fall into rhetorical hyperbole meant to elicit similar emotional reactions to the writer.
If I write that "the soaring melody of the song Stardust lifts the listener to a sublime atmospheric state that is powered by harmonic invention, tension and repose, and merges naturally to a text that is inspiring, noble, and poetic," then I write from my own perspective and seek to convince the reader not only of my experience but also to encourage a similar view. Such is true of most descriptions of sound. We cannot objectively describe sound without invoking an emotion attached to the sound, and the emotion is personal and individual.
This, however, does not mean we should stop trying to write about music. On the contrary, this very element gives music and its descriptions greater curiosity and interest. Although emotional responses to sound and to music remain subjective, their very qualities make them ironically valued. Objectively inadequate at best, it is still wonderfully colorful to read about music, listen to music, describe music, and give it meaning.This is probably why music will continue to be a vital part of the human experience.
Here is another from January 1, 1841: Beethoven’s symphony in C minor had closed the programme. Let us be silent! How often we hear it in public, but also in our deepest self, and how it projects its force upon all people of all ages, just like the great natural phenomena, which leave us in awe every time they appear. This symphony alike, will still resound centuries to come, for as long as there will be man and music (http://www.all-about-beethoven.com/symphony5.html--accessed 5/12/2014).
Such is also true of writings on popular music or even film music. Here is a review and fairly critical description of the music from The Alamo: The majority is made up of a score that has its stirring moments (like "General Santa Anna"), but often drags along in an impersonation of the almost 200-minute film. The touches of old west/Mexican flavor are also relatively effective, yet completely typical and not very original. Fans of The Alamo or Wayne -- who as Crockett contributes one other melodrama-steeped monologue -- should find some interest in this soundtrack. But its hit singles are available elsewhere, and Tiomkin's score hasn't aged very well (http://www.allmusic.com/album/the-alamo-original-soundtrack-mw0000199761--accessed 5/14/2014). This brief description includes factual information but also tries to impose subjective opinion on the reader. Such is true of most descriptions of music.
Why is it so difficult to write about the actual sound that we call music? Why do words seem inadequate to describe the experience of hearing music and give it actual meaning? Is it due to the personal nature of sound which causes individual interpretation? When we listen to music or even when we apply meaning to any sound, we bring our interests, concepts, and experience to the table and search for meaning to what we have heard. As I was completing the previous sentence, I sneezed. Since nobody heard it (and, yes, it really did make a sound!), I was not subjected to the inevitable "Bless You" or concern about a possible illness or allergies. The sound is usually quickly interpreted, meaning given to it, and causes a variety of emotions from people. Such is true of all sound.
Thinking through this I realize that music, by its subjective nature, cannot be described adequately nor universally. This does not make such efforts futile but, rather, reminds us that emotional descriptions of sound are, indeed, personal and driven by individual human responses. Yes there are many collective responses to sound apart from the association generally ascribed to particular sounds, but on deeper introspection, sound and music become personal without broad social generalities. Group think influences aside, the very properties of music require individual ascription which, unfortunately, negates successful writing about the subject. Most writings on music, as mentioned earlier, fall into rhetorical hyperbole meant to elicit similar emotional reactions to the writer.
If I write that "the soaring melody of the song Stardust lifts the listener to a sublime atmospheric state that is powered by harmonic invention, tension and repose, and merges naturally to a text that is inspiring, noble, and poetic," then I write from my own perspective and seek to convince the reader not only of my experience but also to encourage a similar view. Such is true of most descriptions of sound. We cannot objectively describe sound without invoking an emotion attached to the sound, and the emotion is personal and individual.
This, however, does not mean we should stop trying to write about music. On the contrary, this very element gives music and its descriptions greater curiosity and interest. Although emotional responses to sound and to music remain subjective, their very qualities make them ironically valued. Objectively inadequate at best, it is still wonderfully colorful to read about music, listen to music, describe music, and give it meaning.This is probably why music will continue to be a vital part of the human experience.
Monday, May 12, 2014
High School Yearbooks
Cleaning out our storage building as we anticipate relocating soon, I came across my old high school yearbooks. Surprised they were there due to my thinking they had been discarded, I glanced through them with vague interest. I recall walking around asking friends and even those I did not know well to sign them. Girls tended to write long, sweet, and somewhat personal notes while boys would sign only or perhaps offer some pithy saying meant to be philosophically profound. Sadly, I remembered very few of the people in the yearbook and as I glanced at the pictures of teams, organizations, campus events, teachers, and other students, none of it meant anything to me. Other than the emotion that I did not have to relive my high school years again, I wondered why we have yearbooks at all.
Not that it wasn't fun to see my friends of those years looking thin, healthy, vibrant, eager to conquer the world that awaits them. Seeing faces from the past and looking at all the groups made me a little nostalgic but not for high school but more out of curiosity about the people. Careers? Family? Health? Location? I do hope the best for everyone and I hope life has been great for them. I myself had a great time singing in choir, playing in band, playing chess on the chess club, staying active in church, playing sports rather averagely, hiking, camping, fishing, and dancing very poorly.
I suppose yearbooks provide a historical record and memories of the past. But there is a danger they pose as well. High school seen as a chapter in the extensive book of living is the correct perspective and yearbooks provide that very chapter. Activities aside, it is the people that made a profound difference in those years and it is the people that continue to impact our lives in so many significant ways. But a yearbook seen in terms of the activities has little value other than to provide good or sometimes bad memories of successes or disappointments during the the high school years. Because we all need affirmation occasionally, it is agreeably beneficial to reflect on the successful activities of the past. And, further, because we all learn from failure, it is also agreeably beneficial to take a few moments to examine the events where success was but a dream and the life lesson came later.
The danger comes in relying on the past as the primary mirror of one's life accomplishments. I have an acquaintance who was a highly regarded and recognized football player in high school. He was fast, strong, and led his team to victories while earning individual medals for his athletic prowess. It was a high time in his life, but unfortunately he had trouble moving forward from there. 40 years later he admitted that he remembers the glory days but noted that his medals now reside in a trunk unseen, neglected, and no longer valued. Did his past shape his future in a positive way or did it define him and ultimately hurt him?
Reflecting further on high school, I realize those were great times (most of the time) and I am happy to have a record of the past. But for me, I choose to avoid the trappings of living in the past, and, instead, I insist on a life that progresses forward. Smiling at the yearbooks, enjoying the moment, thinking of the people and the activities of high school, I shut the books, box them up, and shrug off yesterday. It is today that counts and it is for tomorrow that I plan. Goodbye yearbooks, thanks for the moments of reflection.
Not that it wasn't fun to see my friends of those years looking thin, healthy, vibrant, eager to conquer the world that awaits them. Seeing faces from the past and looking at all the groups made me a little nostalgic but not for high school but more out of curiosity about the people. Careers? Family? Health? Location? I do hope the best for everyone and I hope life has been great for them. I myself had a great time singing in choir, playing in band, playing chess on the chess club, staying active in church, playing sports rather averagely, hiking, camping, fishing, and dancing very poorly.
I suppose yearbooks provide a historical record and memories of the past. But there is a danger they pose as well. High school seen as a chapter in the extensive book of living is the correct perspective and yearbooks provide that very chapter. Activities aside, it is the people that made a profound difference in those years and it is the people that continue to impact our lives in so many significant ways. But a yearbook seen in terms of the activities has little value other than to provide good or sometimes bad memories of successes or disappointments during the the high school years. Because we all need affirmation occasionally, it is agreeably beneficial to reflect on the successful activities of the past. And, further, because we all learn from failure, it is also agreeably beneficial to take a few moments to examine the events where success was but a dream and the life lesson came later.
The danger comes in relying on the past as the primary mirror of one's life accomplishments. I have an acquaintance who was a highly regarded and recognized football player in high school. He was fast, strong, and led his team to victories while earning individual medals for his athletic prowess. It was a high time in his life, but unfortunately he had trouble moving forward from there. 40 years later he admitted that he remembers the glory days but noted that his medals now reside in a trunk unseen, neglected, and no longer valued. Did his past shape his future in a positive way or did it define him and ultimately hurt him?
Reflecting further on high school, I realize those were great times (most of the time) and I am happy to have a record of the past. But for me, I choose to avoid the trappings of living in the past, and, instead, I insist on a life that progresses forward. Smiling at the yearbooks, enjoying the moment, thinking of the people and the activities of high school, I shut the books, box them up, and shrug off yesterday. It is today that counts and it is for tomorrow that I plan. Goodbye yearbooks, thanks for the moments of reflection.
Friday, April 18, 2014
The problems with branding and marketing the arts
It was with interest I learned that Steve Jobs avoided using or even permitting the usage of the words "branding" and "marketing" due to their implication of the need for something beyond the excellence of the product itself. A great admirer of Steve Jobs yet not unaware of his harsh treatment of employees, I prefer to learn from the qualities that grew Apple into the powerhouse it is today while rejecting some of his managerial techniques of the handling of personnel. That said, Jobs' had a good reason for disallowing the words branding and marketing. He believed that a quality product requires little outside marketing other than normal advertising presenting facts and benefits.
Yet almost regardless of the profession, we do hear about the need for branding and marketing as a way to extend the customer base. In the arts, we do not enjoy thinking much about the customer (the audience) since we prefer to transmit our art because of our own creative desire to be expressive, but, in truth, without a customer, we have no art other than the self-satisfaction of the personal expression. The art becomes meaningful when others find it to be meaningful in some sense. Without the customer, the art makes little difference in the world. Without a customer, art is entirely personal (certainly a beneficial practice with a great deal of merit) and geared primarily for self-improvement (nothing wrong with that). The customer keeps the economy moving while the lack of a customer likely results in fiscal and possibly artistic stagnation.
Herein lies the tension: should art be about the customer and ultimately the economic gain? Or should art be about the emotional self-expression and personal creativity apart from any kind of economic responsibility or desire? Obviously both are true to an extent and whichever way one leans ultimately defines the outcome and possibly the judgment of the work itself. Should art have any commercial value whatsoever or does it lose its integrity when it is sold to the masses? Is it possible that some, perhaps most, readily accept that great art has a limited audience and, in spite of the weak economic outlook, creates and retains its own value through excellence apart from its mass appeal?
But this all seems rather silly, does it not? Value of any object is determined not by its inherent (and often self-proclaimed) worth, but rather by what another person is willing to trade for the item. Trade usually but not always takes the form of cash, but trade can also involve time, objects, investments, even emotional sacrifice. The wheels of progress keep turning due to the give and take of trade. Although often a despicable idea particularly to the artist, such ought to be true about art. My value as a musician, painter, conductor, actor, writer, teacher is not determined by own nebulous and subjective assessment but rather by the value ascribed by other people whether tangibly or intangibly. This is not to negate personal value, a necessary and valid trait useful not just for emotional stability but also to encourage development and improvement, but self-absorption aside, external value is the driving force behind all economic growth.
Yet in a way there remains suspicion about marketing and commercialism related to the arts and many artists fear that to market the arts is to cheapen the art form and its purpose in the world. Others, however, embrace the economic benefit of the arts and recognize the need to trumpet the arts culturally as well as commercially. Wrestling with maintaining artistic integrity while making an economic impact through the arts, in the end, I do subscribe to the Steve Jobs concept of a good product should not require a excessive branding nor marketing since the product should speak for itself. Create a quality product that is needed and wanted and the demand for that product will drive it forward without having to rely solely on branding and marketing.
This concept minimizes marketing as the solution to the problem of a decline in interest in the arts. As in all things economic, we must return to the product creation and remind ourselves that the product will sell itself through demand. Such is true in the arts as well. It is wise to remain suspicious of excessive commercialism but it is equally astute to avoid the trappings of art as being primarily isolated events operating in a vacuum of self-absorption. Steve Jobs may be correct to allow the quality of the product be decided by the people.
Yet almost regardless of the profession, we do hear about the need for branding and marketing as a way to extend the customer base. In the arts, we do not enjoy thinking much about the customer (the audience) since we prefer to transmit our art because of our own creative desire to be expressive, but, in truth, without a customer, we have no art other than the self-satisfaction of the personal expression. The art becomes meaningful when others find it to be meaningful in some sense. Without the customer, the art makes little difference in the world. Without a customer, art is entirely personal (certainly a beneficial practice with a great deal of merit) and geared primarily for self-improvement (nothing wrong with that). The customer keeps the economy moving while the lack of a customer likely results in fiscal and possibly artistic stagnation.
Herein lies the tension: should art be about the customer and ultimately the economic gain? Or should art be about the emotional self-expression and personal creativity apart from any kind of economic responsibility or desire? Obviously both are true to an extent and whichever way one leans ultimately defines the outcome and possibly the judgment of the work itself. Should art have any commercial value whatsoever or does it lose its integrity when it is sold to the masses? Is it possible that some, perhaps most, readily accept that great art has a limited audience and, in spite of the weak economic outlook, creates and retains its own value through excellence apart from its mass appeal?
But this all seems rather silly, does it not? Value of any object is determined not by its inherent (and often self-proclaimed) worth, but rather by what another person is willing to trade for the item. Trade usually but not always takes the form of cash, but trade can also involve time, objects, investments, even emotional sacrifice. The wheels of progress keep turning due to the give and take of trade. Although often a despicable idea particularly to the artist, such ought to be true about art. My value as a musician, painter, conductor, actor, writer, teacher is not determined by own nebulous and subjective assessment but rather by the value ascribed by other people whether tangibly or intangibly. This is not to negate personal value, a necessary and valid trait useful not just for emotional stability but also to encourage development and improvement, but self-absorption aside, external value is the driving force behind all economic growth.
Yet in a way there remains suspicion about marketing and commercialism related to the arts and many artists fear that to market the arts is to cheapen the art form and its purpose in the world. Others, however, embrace the economic benefit of the arts and recognize the need to trumpet the arts culturally as well as commercially. Wrestling with maintaining artistic integrity while making an economic impact through the arts, in the end, I do subscribe to the Steve Jobs concept of a good product should not require a excessive branding nor marketing since the product should speak for itself. Create a quality product that is needed and wanted and the demand for that product will drive it forward without having to rely solely on branding and marketing.
This concept minimizes marketing as the solution to the problem of a decline in interest in the arts. As in all things economic, we must return to the product creation and remind ourselves that the product will sell itself through demand. Such is true in the arts as well. It is wise to remain suspicious of excessive commercialism but it is equally astute to avoid the trappings of art as being primarily isolated events operating in a vacuum of self-absorption. Steve Jobs may be correct to allow the quality of the product be decided by the people.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Moral behavior and Satan
Sunday morning in church the pastor spoke on sin and how the devil finds ways to move into our lives and affect our moral behavior. He spoke eloquently and dramatically in a sermon filled with compelling wisdom and accurate scriptural references. The sermon was a reminder of the activity of Satan in the world and how all of us are subject to the whims and wiles of the devil, not unlike the marvelous book by C.S. Lewis called The Screwtape Letters where Screwtape describes the ways he tricks humans into sinful actions. The sermon was well-delivered and I actually felt fear that Satan would show up ready to get me for my sins. As a relatively successful administrator in a faith-based institution, I do not take sin nor poor behavior lightly and I am sincerely appreciative of the reminder that Satan is alive and well in the world. It does not take long to recognize the problems of evil in the world and all one needs to do is watch the news or read a newspaper, and whether a person interprets the evil as the hand of Satan or the failings of man, there remains a moral conduct problem in our culture.
But looking at this sermon sociologically, and this certainly may not be the best way to look at this issue, I have to wonder if fear is an effective but not preferred motivation for good behavior. Before proceeding, there is no doubt that negative motivation is an effective deterrent for poor conduct and all of us tend to follow the laws partly out of preference to avoid punishment for breaking them. We pay taxes for police protection and we expect them to uphold the laws, yet we tend to push to the edge of traffic laws, allowing the thought to enter our minds, "I hope I don't get caught!" Although heavily debated, it seems as though our inability to govern ourselves as a society requires some sort of judicial system and punishment to protect citizens from evil. We may occasionally resist the law, but in the end we respect it to a degree and recognize that without the law we would live in a perpetual state of anarchy (yes I realize my libertarian friends will quickly argue that we would be better off!).
For centuries philosophers have written extensively about moral behavior and a study of historical literature from Dante, Bunyan, Shakespeare, Dickens, and contemporaries including Camus, Dreiser, Roth, and Doctorow have provided further insights into human behavior. Yet no solution to the problems accompanying human destructiveness is clear. If fear is the primary motivation for moral conduct, then the result will be continual resentment, paranoia, and suspicion. Do we behave so as to avoid the alternative which is some kind of pain? Or is it possible to promote an environment whereby excellent moral behavior is the choice regardless of the consequences of poor behavior?
Assuming we live in a rational world where people make decisions that are both self-serving and collectively beneficial, it stands to reason that quality moral behavior is best if chosen without coercion and particularly without fear. We, as a society, will choose to avoid negative behavior and, instead, will be motivated by the positive forces that improve us both individually and corporately. Sin and Satan may be part of our lives but only love, tolerance, and forgiveness can improve us. There is little to gain from postulating a practice based on fear but everything to gain from practicing a life full of compassion, right choices, and respect for each other. Laws are needed and commitment to protection of the weak is a sign of refinement, but ultimately good behavior belongs to the individual.
But looking at this sermon sociologically, and this certainly may not be the best way to look at this issue, I have to wonder if fear is an effective but not preferred motivation for good behavior. Before proceeding, there is no doubt that negative motivation is an effective deterrent for poor conduct and all of us tend to follow the laws partly out of preference to avoid punishment for breaking them. We pay taxes for police protection and we expect them to uphold the laws, yet we tend to push to the edge of traffic laws, allowing the thought to enter our minds, "I hope I don't get caught!" Although heavily debated, it seems as though our inability to govern ourselves as a society requires some sort of judicial system and punishment to protect citizens from evil. We may occasionally resist the law, but in the end we respect it to a degree and recognize that without the law we would live in a perpetual state of anarchy (yes I realize my libertarian friends will quickly argue that we would be better off!).
For centuries philosophers have written extensively about moral behavior and a study of historical literature from Dante, Bunyan, Shakespeare, Dickens, and contemporaries including Camus, Dreiser, Roth, and Doctorow have provided further insights into human behavior. Yet no solution to the problems accompanying human destructiveness is clear. If fear is the primary motivation for moral conduct, then the result will be continual resentment, paranoia, and suspicion. Do we behave so as to avoid the alternative which is some kind of pain? Or is it possible to promote an environment whereby excellent moral behavior is the choice regardless of the consequences of poor behavior?
Assuming we live in a rational world where people make decisions that are both self-serving and collectively beneficial, it stands to reason that quality moral behavior is best if chosen without coercion and particularly without fear. We, as a society, will choose to avoid negative behavior and, instead, will be motivated by the positive forces that improve us both individually and corporately. Sin and Satan may be part of our lives but only love, tolerance, and forgiveness can improve us. There is little to gain from postulating a practice based on fear but everything to gain from practicing a life full of compassion, right choices, and respect for each other. Laws are needed and commitment to protection of the weak is a sign of refinement, but ultimately good behavior belongs to the individual.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Academic Financing and the Problem in the Arts, Part 1
As we wade into the financial challenges of the arts in academia, it would be helpful to have a basic understanding of how institutional finance operates. The basics of running a business are similar to running an academic institution. It is all about revenues and expenses and one needs to exceed the other in order to stay solvent. Customers, and at some point a further discussion is needed on who are the customers, must have a demand for the product and be willing to pay for it. Demand is created when the product is beneficial to the customer and the customer believes the value of the product is greater than the expense. Such is true of basic economic practice.
When we begin to look at institutional finance, we must consider additional factors such as endowment yields, inventory, capital, depreciation, insurance, grants, funding sources, budgets, salaries, property needs, and taxes when applicable. Funding sources can include but are not limited to student tuition, fees, residence halls, gifts, and funds that flow through institutions in various forms such as financial aid and governmental grants. The sheer complexity of accounts ultimately demonstrates a complex web of expenses that are managed through a typical institutional governance structure that involves a board of trustees, a president, vice-presidents, deans, chairs, and other responsible parties within the organization.
Academic institutions tend to operate broadly, being satisfied when the end of the year ends with more money left than spent. Because most academic institutions are considered "non-profit," it is essential to keep money flowing by demonstrating a constant need for growth and improvement. Accreditation also plays an essential role in the process and ensures students are receiving quality instruction and an overall positive experience that involves advising, protection, health, resources, and a myriad of student requirements. But whether a school is large, small, for profit, non-profit, private, or state, in the end the school must have students to keep its doors open. Because personnel costs are generally 50% or more of the expenses of an institution, academia depends on a series of quality teachers within a variety of disciplines that encompass the institution. While it is hoped that most disciplines support themselves through student numbers, there are some areas in academia where the expenses are greater than the revenues whether or not enrollment numbers are high. Such is true in the fine arts.
It is in discipline specific areas where academia and traditional business part ways. A low producing area or product would either receive more attention to bring it to the level of success or be evaluated for possible removal from the process. If the expenses for the area are greater than the revenues it contributes to the business, then changes would be made.The product itself would be studied for ways to generate greater revenues and/or reduce expenses. In the business realm, earnings and financial ratios are carefully studied with comprehensive scrutiny over every area of the business. In academia, however, we tend to look at the whole, knowing that the sum of the parts contributes to the entire institution, ignoring, at least to some extent, the differences in expenses of the parts.
There are many disciplines in academia that do not require a substantial outlay of funds to operate at a high level. Given that individual personnel costs, within certain discipline parameters, do not change from discipline to discipline, many areas do not require extensive inventory, budgets, capital improvements, nor advanced facilities to operate. Taking advanced technological needs out of the picture, there are disciplines that need classrooms with desks, basic projection, a computer, wi-fi connection, a temperature controlled environment, and a teacher for each class. Variables in size, scope, and mission aside, there are many inexpensive academic disciplines operating within most institutions of higher learning. Thankfully, these are the areas that allow for the more expensive disciplines to remain a part of the whole. Which brings us onto the fragile ice called the arts. This is not to say the arts are the only expensive discipline on campus, but they are certainly near or at the top of the pile, or to say it another way, they are skating on thin ice with the potential for serious cracks.
While at some level we know that the arts contribute positively to the cultural experience of society and the immediate community, and that the arts are an essential part of the academic experience, we are also aware of the expenses that an arts education requires. There are five additional requirements for running an arts program that most other disciplines do not have: 1) Large inventory, 2) Scholarships, 3) Unique facility requirements, 4) Individualized instruction, and 5) Extensive contact hours. But before diving too far into these challenges, let us take an analytical look at some projections for the future as though looking at a stock for growth patterns.
According to Jim Cramer, there are three requirements for understanding whether an individual stock will grow: world economy, sector growth, and company health (Get Rich Carefully, Blue Rider Press, 2013). Using these ideas in arts analysis, we find a rapidly changing world, decline in classical art interest, and a generally healthy but self-serving company. When we factor in the five expensive requirements for running an arts program in higher education, we are skirting the edge of an untenable situation regardless of the size, scope, or mission of the institution. Continuing down the slope without dramatic changes in approach could result in closed programs, lost personnel, significant tension in administration, and, in some cases, failed institutions. The time to make changes is upon us. Those who can change may survive, but those who cannot will be added to the long list of archaic disciplines once taught in colleges and universities. We are in a cultural crises in the arts that will be driven by economic data more than emotion. Although not a hopeless situation, it is critical that we in the arts come to some conclusions that will save a valued discipline which is an essential part of both higher education and ultimately contributes to societal refinement.
When we begin to look at institutional finance, we must consider additional factors such as endowment yields, inventory, capital, depreciation, insurance, grants, funding sources, budgets, salaries, property needs, and taxes when applicable. Funding sources can include but are not limited to student tuition, fees, residence halls, gifts, and funds that flow through institutions in various forms such as financial aid and governmental grants. The sheer complexity of accounts ultimately demonstrates a complex web of expenses that are managed through a typical institutional governance structure that involves a board of trustees, a president, vice-presidents, deans, chairs, and other responsible parties within the organization.
Academic institutions tend to operate broadly, being satisfied when the end of the year ends with more money left than spent. Because most academic institutions are considered "non-profit," it is essential to keep money flowing by demonstrating a constant need for growth and improvement. Accreditation also plays an essential role in the process and ensures students are receiving quality instruction and an overall positive experience that involves advising, protection, health, resources, and a myriad of student requirements. But whether a school is large, small, for profit, non-profit, private, or state, in the end the school must have students to keep its doors open. Because personnel costs are generally 50% or more of the expenses of an institution, academia depends on a series of quality teachers within a variety of disciplines that encompass the institution. While it is hoped that most disciplines support themselves through student numbers, there are some areas in academia where the expenses are greater than the revenues whether or not enrollment numbers are high. Such is true in the fine arts.
It is in discipline specific areas where academia and traditional business part ways. A low producing area or product would either receive more attention to bring it to the level of success or be evaluated for possible removal from the process. If the expenses for the area are greater than the revenues it contributes to the business, then changes would be made.The product itself would be studied for ways to generate greater revenues and/or reduce expenses. In the business realm, earnings and financial ratios are carefully studied with comprehensive scrutiny over every area of the business. In academia, however, we tend to look at the whole, knowing that the sum of the parts contributes to the entire institution, ignoring, at least to some extent, the differences in expenses of the parts.
There are many disciplines in academia that do not require a substantial outlay of funds to operate at a high level. Given that individual personnel costs, within certain discipline parameters, do not change from discipline to discipline, many areas do not require extensive inventory, budgets, capital improvements, nor advanced facilities to operate. Taking advanced technological needs out of the picture, there are disciplines that need classrooms with desks, basic projection, a computer, wi-fi connection, a temperature controlled environment, and a teacher for each class. Variables in size, scope, and mission aside, there are many inexpensive academic disciplines operating within most institutions of higher learning. Thankfully, these are the areas that allow for the more expensive disciplines to remain a part of the whole. Which brings us onto the fragile ice called the arts. This is not to say the arts are the only expensive discipline on campus, but they are certainly near or at the top of the pile, or to say it another way, they are skating on thin ice with the potential for serious cracks.
While at some level we know that the arts contribute positively to the cultural experience of society and the immediate community, and that the arts are an essential part of the academic experience, we are also aware of the expenses that an arts education requires. There are five additional requirements for running an arts program that most other disciplines do not have: 1) Large inventory, 2) Scholarships, 3) Unique facility requirements, 4) Individualized instruction, and 5) Extensive contact hours. But before diving too far into these challenges, let us take an analytical look at some projections for the future as though looking at a stock for growth patterns.
According to Jim Cramer, there are three requirements for understanding whether an individual stock will grow: world economy, sector growth, and company health (Get Rich Carefully, Blue Rider Press, 2013). Using these ideas in arts analysis, we find a rapidly changing world, decline in classical art interest, and a generally healthy but self-serving company. When we factor in the five expensive requirements for running an arts program in higher education, we are skirting the edge of an untenable situation regardless of the size, scope, or mission of the institution. Continuing down the slope without dramatic changes in approach could result in closed programs, lost personnel, significant tension in administration, and, in some cases, failed institutions. The time to make changes is upon us. Those who can change may survive, but those who cannot will be added to the long list of archaic disciplines once taught in colleges and universities. We are in a cultural crises in the arts that will be driven by economic data more than emotion. Although not a hopeless situation, it is critical that we in the arts come to some conclusions that will save a valued discipline which is an essential part of both higher education and ultimately contributes to societal refinement.
Friday, March 14, 2014
The Ensemble Experience
Among the great joys of being a musician is the opportunity to participate and perform with a musical ensemble. It is the age-old concept of individuals working collectively to solve a problem by applying skill, fastidiousness, and emotion to sound. Musical ensembles are in effect manifestations of society and culture attempting to uphold independence while operating congruently, ideas that can be found in virtually every part of our culture. When we dine together at home or a restaurant we are acting on the principle of social polyphony whereby each person participates in the eating to meet his own needs while allowing and encouraging the group experience to include not just the actual eating but talking, sharing, passing food, and working to conform to the group needs while retaining the independence of the act.
Having dined with large groups in banquet settings, I am always intrigued by the general timing of the experience. Most finish the salad within the same few minutes, the main course, the dessert, and most require refills of drinks at the same rate. This is yet another example of the congruence that occurs when in social settings. The same is true when we drive down the road, put on our clothes, manage our lives, and the list of independent yet congruent activities is extensive. Granted that many actions remain purely individual, there is no question that we enjoy and respond to the idea of collective goals. In a sense, we are dependent on those opportunities to join with other people either in social engagement or in accomplishment of some worthy task.
Such is true in the musical ensemble. The euphoria that occurs from playing in an outstanding ensemble and performing for an appreciative and eager audience is difficult to put into words. It is simply an incredible experience and one that I wish all people could have at some point in their lives. Certainly a powerful experience, I can point to hundreds of great experiences as a performer, conductor, and composer, in bands, choirs, orchestras, and many combinations of smaller organizations. There is something magical and boldly unified that occurs when each individual uses skill and excellence to bring out the finest in music. Many amazing sounds work together to provide music to audiences and give them a similar sense of the euphoria that accompanies music ensembles in their product.
When choirs are singing, strings are playing, bands are marching, it is as though the challenges of the world take a back seat to the experience on the stage or field. The music ensemble serves as a shining example of how people can work together for a common purpose and instead of promoting non-conformity or individuality, ensembles are promoting unity, harmony, and congruence. Add in the power of collective dissonance that occurs within the sound of the music, and we have an aural representation of the tension and repose that exists in culture today.
In spite of the individual and collective euphoria and the positive responses from audiences everywhere, there is an economic threat to the music ensemble. At the professional level, it is expensive. Plain and simple. If an orchestra could be paid as one unit, receiving a large sum based on a substantial percentage of ticket sales, and subsequently distributing the sum among the players, all would be well. This would likely result in performers determining what to perform and how to generate interest in their skills. Some concerts would pay very little and cause musicians to reevaluate the product. Other events would be financially rewarding, resulting in happy performers who directly influenced the final result. While the players would not know in advance how much they would make, they would also have great interest in the audience and its response to the concert. No longer would we see disinterested professional performers collecting a paycheck regardless of the ticket sales.
Musicians enjoy performing, people enjoy large ensembles, and the result ought to be a successful experience for both performers and audience members. But it may be time for professional musicians to accept that the market needs to determine the economic reality of the worth of the music ensemble. This will require a paradigm shift of thinking, of management, and of considering how one's talent and skill can be converted to economic success. Recognizing there are many definitions of success and great monetary gain is rarely achieved by artists, at the same time, it is difficult to reconcile the "starving" musician with the general enjoyment of ensemble performing. Regardless of the talent level, no musician is entitled to a career based on his/her own sense of worth. Careers are made when there is a demand for the skill. Such is true of the musician.
The music ensemble is a substantive experience with a long and rich heritage and it is here to stay in our culture. Whether that is true at the professional level, however, is questionable and only time and the market will prove its power and worth. Meanwhile, the amateur and school ensemble continues to thrive at a high level and provides tremendous feelings of joy for those in the ensemble as well as the audience. As a model expression of independence and collective congruence, few other concepts compete with the music ensemble.
Having dined with large groups in banquet settings, I am always intrigued by the general timing of the experience. Most finish the salad within the same few minutes, the main course, the dessert, and most require refills of drinks at the same rate. This is yet another example of the congruence that occurs when in social settings. The same is true when we drive down the road, put on our clothes, manage our lives, and the list of independent yet congruent activities is extensive. Granted that many actions remain purely individual, there is no question that we enjoy and respond to the idea of collective goals. In a sense, we are dependent on those opportunities to join with other people either in social engagement or in accomplishment of some worthy task.
Such is true in the musical ensemble. The euphoria that occurs from playing in an outstanding ensemble and performing for an appreciative and eager audience is difficult to put into words. It is simply an incredible experience and one that I wish all people could have at some point in their lives. Certainly a powerful experience, I can point to hundreds of great experiences as a performer, conductor, and composer, in bands, choirs, orchestras, and many combinations of smaller organizations. There is something magical and boldly unified that occurs when each individual uses skill and excellence to bring out the finest in music. Many amazing sounds work together to provide music to audiences and give them a similar sense of the euphoria that accompanies music ensembles in their product.
When choirs are singing, strings are playing, bands are marching, it is as though the challenges of the world take a back seat to the experience on the stage or field. The music ensemble serves as a shining example of how people can work together for a common purpose and instead of promoting non-conformity or individuality, ensembles are promoting unity, harmony, and congruence. Add in the power of collective dissonance that occurs within the sound of the music, and we have an aural representation of the tension and repose that exists in culture today.
In spite of the individual and collective euphoria and the positive responses from audiences everywhere, there is an economic threat to the music ensemble. At the professional level, it is expensive. Plain and simple. If an orchestra could be paid as one unit, receiving a large sum based on a substantial percentage of ticket sales, and subsequently distributing the sum among the players, all would be well. This would likely result in performers determining what to perform and how to generate interest in their skills. Some concerts would pay very little and cause musicians to reevaluate the product. Other events would be financially rewarding, resulting in happy performers who directly influenced the final result. While the players would not know in advance how much they would make, they would also have great interest in the audience and its response to the concert. No longer would we see disinterested professional performers collecting a paycheck regardless of the ticket sales.
Musicians enjoy performing, people enjoy large ensembles, and the result ought to be a successful experience for both performers and audience members. But it may be time for professional musicians to accept that the market needs to determine the economic reality of the worth of the music ensemble. This will require a paradigm shift of thinking, of management, and of considering how one's talent and skill can be converted to economic success. Recognizing there are many definitions of success and great monetary gain is rarely achieved by artists, at the same time, it is difficult to reconcile the "starving" musician with the general enjoyment of ensemble performing. Regardless of the talent level, no musician is entitled to a career based on his/her own sense of worth. Careers are made when there is a demand for the skill. Such is true of the musician.
The music ensemble is a substantive experience with a long and rich heritage and it is here to stay in our culture. Whether that is true at the professional level, however, is questionable and only time and the market will prove its power and worth. Meanwhile, the amateur and school ensemble continues to thrive at a high level and provides tremendous feelings of joy for those in the ensemble as well as the audience. As a model expression of independence and collective congruence, few other concepts compete with the music ensemble.
Friday, March 07, 2014
The Danger of Being Our Own Audience
After reading an article about the problems of academic writing, I began to ponder several of the comments the author made and how this is related to academic music training. Near the end of the article, he mentions that "professors are their own audience" (http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/books/2014/02/why-is-academic-writing-so-academic.html). He also postures that academia is becoming marginalized due to insularity and a shrinking academic target primarily serving itself. While he does not address technological advances as contributing to the issue, I would further contend that academia is being forced to change due to the inherent suspicions of the validity of the intellectual life. While it pains me to say, I fear our culture is losing faith in the wise, highly trained professor of the past.
If the information found on the Internet is superior in most respects to the information gained from sitting in a classroom listening to one person offering astute but also narrow and limited truth, why do we still need the system of academic training? The answer lies, of course, in the personal connection of one human being to another. But as culture marches forward, that desire for connection is morphing from reverence for the brilliance of one person to more of curiosity about people in general. Because vast information is found with the fingertips in a matter of seconds, the level of respect and awe for individuals is being subjugated by admiration and respect for machines.
This is not, as the Luddites would insist, a sign of the slow dehumanization of culture but is rather a shifting away from dependence on individual knowledge. Ironically, I posture that the Internet has actually made all of us more human and aware of each other's frailties and insecurities, as well as strengths. Rather than holding up a scholar as unparalleled in his field, we acknowledge that his or her brilliance is likely matched with her own set of frailties or weaknesses. Such is the case of everyone. Students may sit at the feet of the intellectual imparting information but deep down they realize that more information is available in the tablet sitting on their laps and that the person in front is probably struggling with complicated personal issues that inflict all people in some form or another.
Not that this is a problem at all. Some would see this change as the downfall of education, but I see it as an improvement of the process. Vast and instant information from the machine, human insights from an individual, awareness of weaknesses, and acknowledgement of success and skill. All these and more form the educational process and the opportunities abound unbridled for personal growth using a combination of technology and human interaction.
Returning to the problem in the arts, if we are unable to make this shift in education, the arts will continue to see a remarkable decline in its own value, arrogantly extolling its own worth by supporting itself and becoming its own audience--a diminishing proposition at best. Are we pretending that our art is valuable by simply attending our own programs and making the bold statement that what we do is the "right" kind or "best" kind of music? Is this similar to the problems of academic writing that has little relevance and reaches a very small audience? Is an entirely "classical" music curriculum being inadvertently defenestrated only to reside in academic communities that have lifted themselves onto their self-made pulpits and are trying to preach to the very few who will listen?
It is time for academic music training to embrace an eclectic curriculum that is bathed in both the classics and the popular world. Preparing future students to perform music that has a limited audience is likened to teaching a chef to prepare a dish that only a few other chefs will eat. While it is the right of a chef to prepare what he or she so chooses to prepare, it is also the right of those who indulge to accept or reject it. The study of culinary arts seeks not to insist on food only other chefs prefer but, instead, to provide skills and basic truths that can be applied and extended through innovation and creativity with the aim of pleasing the tastes of the people.
Have we in academia forgotten our audience? Granted that an audience is comprised of a vast and complex mosaic of preferences and desires and virtually any attempt to meet all those needs is likely going to fall into a bottomless pit of mediocrity and failure. But in our efforts to present the finest music in the best way, have we become delusion about our influence and our worth in the world? As we emphasize excellence and quality literature in our curriculum, the world seems to be marching to a different cadence. The more we demand the public to march to our tune, the less the public seems to respond. Our reaction to this problem is not to find people where they are or to seek out their preferences for sound, but, rather to become our own applause for what we offer. We clap loud and we clap long for ourselves while the world walks out the door to find something different.
Much of life as a scholar in academia is spent teaching, researching, and serving institutions and communities, knowing there is little notoriety or public acknowledgment of the practice. While no academic intends to divorce his or her discipline from economic reality nor from public opinion, to ignore such realities is to fall into banality and institutional selfishness. Even worse is to become our own fan club propagating generations into the same banal trappings. How do we correct such action? It will require a substantive evaluation of music curriculum and an acceptance of a changing world. Mostly it will require letting go, at least to some extent, of the art music we hold so dear and allowing the market to guide the direction of musical needs for the future. Can this be done with integrity, with rigor, with respect for the heritage of music? Time to roll up our sleeves and give it a try.
If the information found on the Internet is superior in most respects to the information gained from sitting in a classroom listening to one person offering astute but also narrow and limited truth, why do we still need the system of academic training? The answer lies, of course, in the personal connection of one human being to another. But as culture marches forward, that desire for connection is morphing from reverence for the brilliance of one person to more of curiosity about people in general. Because vast information is found with the fingertips in a matter of seconds, the level of respect and awe for individuals is being subjugated by admiration and respect for machines.
This is not, as the Luddites would insist, a sign of the slow dehumanization of culture but is rather a shifting away from dependence on individual knowledge. Ironically, I posture that the Internet has actually made all of us more human and aware of each other's frailties and insecurities, as well as strengths. Rather than holding up a scholar as unparalleled in his field, we acknowledge that his or her brilliance is likely matched with her own set of frailties or weaknesses. Such is the case of everyone. Students may sit at the feet of the intellectual imparting information but deep down they realize that more information is available in the tablet sitting on their laps and that the person in front is probably struggling with complicated personal issues that inflict all people in some form or another.
Not that this is a problem at all. Some would see this change as the downfall of education, but I see it as an improvement of the process. Vast and instant information from the machine, human insights from an individual, awareness of weaknesses, and acknowledgement of success and skill. All these and more form the educational process and the opportunities abound unbridled for personal growth using a combination of technology and human interaction.
Returning to the problem in the arts, if we are unable to make this shift in education, the arts will continue to see a remarkable decline in its own value, arrogantly extolling its own worth by supporting itself and becoming its own audience--a diminishing proposition at best. Are we pretending that our art is valuable by simply attending our own programs and making the bold statement that what we do is the "right" kind or "best" kind of music? Is this similar to the problems of academic writing that has little relevance and reaches a very small audience? Is an entirely "classical" music curriculum being inadvertently defenestrated only to reside in academic communities that have lifted themselves onto their self-made pulpits and are trying to preach to the very few who will listen?
It is time for academic music training to embrace an eclectic curriculum that is bathed in both the classics and the popular world. Preparing future students to perform music that has a limited audience is likened to teaching a chef to prepare a dish that only a few other chefs will eat. While it is the right of a chef to prepare what he or she so chooses to prepare, it is also the right of those who indulge to accept or reject it. The study of culinary arts seeks not to insist on food only other chefs prefer but, instead, to provide skills and basic truths that can be applied and extended through innovation and creativity with the aim of pleasing the tastes of the people.
Have we in academia forgotten our audience? Granted that an audience is comprised of a vast and complex mosaic of preferences and desires and virtually any attempt to meet all those needs is likely going to fall into a bottomless pit of mediocrity and failure. But in our efforts to present the finest music in the best way, have we become delusion about our influence and our worth in the world? As we emphasize excellence and quality literature in our curriculum, the world seems to be marching to a different cadence. The more we demand the public to march to our tune, the less the public seems to respond. Our reaction to this problem is not to find people where they are or to seek out their preferences for sound, but, rather to become our own applause for what we offer. We clap loud and we clap long for ourselves while the world walks out the door to find something different.
Much of life as a scholar in academia is spent teaching, researching, and serving institutions and communities, knowing there is little notoriety or public acknowledgment of the practice. While no academic intends to divorce his or her discipline from economic reality nor from public opinion, to ignore such realities is to fall into banality and institutional selfishness. Even worse is to become our own fan club propagating generations into the same banal trappings. How do we correct such action? It will require a substantive evaluation of music curriculum and an acceptance of a changing world. Mostly it will require letting go, at least to some extent, of the art music we hold so dear and allowing the market to guide the direction of musical needs for the future. Can this be done with integrity, with rigor, with respect for the heritage of music? Time to roll up our sleeves and give it a try.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
The Clash in Education
Higher Education is struggling to determine what is quality education and what is the role of the digital communication in an educational institution. The age old system of a highly qualified scholar standing in front of a class of eager students learning amazing new things that combine the brilliance of a teacher with that of an excellent textbook is under question. We have watched the anomalous online course creep into a catalog almost like arthritis makes its way into our bodies. It starts subtly, almost nonchalantly until one day you realize your joints are hurting and not functioning quite as well. What began as very slight difference became ubiquitous and serious.
But unlike arthritis, a debilitating problem that grows worse with aging, online courses are not diseases of destruction (regardless of the suspicion of some faculty), slowly making their way through education until all is in ruins, online courses are simply another mode of delivery of information, and they are changing the entire face of education due to their quality and to their convenience. Online courses allow for targeted learning outcomes, assessments, objective and subjective responses, dialog, socialization in a digital format, textbook and research access, and great variety of learning opportunities. When we consider the three concerns of education, cost, convenience, and quality, we realize that online courses, in spite of the suspicion of quality, meet a minimum of one of these concerns with the possibility of two.
For hundreds of years, education has been about students seeking and finding quality teachers and being willing to pay for the privilege of learning from them in a direct experience. Teachers have responded in kind by waiting patiently and comfortably for students to sit at their feet learning. Institutions supported the brilliant teacher by providing classrooms, desks, bookstores, residential halls, meals, student life experiences, and diplomas to certify accomplishment and achievement. This remarkable system worked and culture responded well by richly rewarding those with degrees through increased salaries and societal refinement.
But is the system slowly crumbling before our eyes like drive-in theatres or dial telephones? Are we going to lose the idea of an eager student seeking out the wisdom of a learned scholar? How do we combat this trend or should we even try? Assuming the past is gone and the system no longer functions as it once did, it is time to alter the system of education and take it to the students. And many institutions and people are doing that very thing. The digital world allows for the exporting of the sage scholar to the people, allowing for great convenience for the learners and, in most cases, the teachers. While this does not answer the question of cost nor quality, it does solve the issue of convenience.
Because of the free market system, pricing remains at the discretion of the teachers or, in most cases, the institutions seeking after a market share of students. While pricing and cost is integral to the process of education, it is beyond the scope of this particular diatribe. We may often believe the hamburger at the local restaurant is overpriced, but it is our choice to pay the price, request a lower price, or seek another locale. The same is true of education. Admittedly, it seems rather maudlin to reduce education to a consumer mentality but at its core, maybe such a commodious interpretation of education is not entirely wrong.
Now we need to address the idea of quality. If quality is dependent upon the personality and verbal communication skills of the collective wisdom of individual teachers, then online courses have little chance of surviving. It is true that the physical presence of a teacher in front of actual students at one time did define quality education and even the judicious invoking of technology interfered with that process, and that such remains the attitude of many and the prevalent practice of traditional education. But social media demonstrates each day that the digital world provides a strong element of human connectedness and that we benefit from others in spite of long distances. One may argue that social media is not learning an academic discipline, but there is no doubt that the potential for learning in a digital format is real and active.
A closer look at what quality means in education as determined by longitudinal studies, collective data, employment records, and standardized testing will ultimately reveal the truth. Meanwhile, higher education continues to feel the strain of a "traditional" face to face approach versus the convenience of online learning. Whatever the end result, which will probably be some kind of hybrid system for younger students and mostly online for older, there is no doubt that technology has dramatically disrupted virtually everything about our educational practices. But somehow we humans keep demanding human contact and for that reason, and maybe that alone, there is still value in the face-to-face experience. We still want to "shake the hand" of the leader we are following, and we still enjoy personal interaction. As in most cultural clashes, society and education will probably land on the planet that embraces both the gain of personal contact while benefiting from all that technology has to offer.
But unlike arthritis, a debilitating problem that grows worse with aging, online courses are not diseases of destruction (regardless of the suspicion of some faculty), slowly making their way through education until all is in ruins, online courses are simply another mode of delivery of information, and they are changing the entire face of education due to their quality and to their convenience. Online courses allow for targeted learning outcomes, assessments, objective and subjective responses, dialog, socialization in a digital format, textbook and research access, and great variety of learning opportunities. When we consider the three concerns of education, cost, convenience, and quality, we realize that online courses, in spite of the suspicion of quality, meet a minimum of one of these concerns with the possibility of two.
For hundreds of years, education has been about students seeking and finding quality teachers and being willing to pay for the privilege of learning from them in a direct experience. Teachers have responded in kind by waiting patiently and comfortably for students to sit at their feet learning. Institutions supported the brilliant teacher by providing classrooms, desks, bookstores, residential halls, meals, student life experiences, and diplomas to certify accomplishment and achievement. This remarkable system worked and culture responded well by richly rewarding those with degrees through increased salaries and societal refinement.
But is the system slowly crumbling before our eyes like drive-in theatres or dial telephones? Are we going to lose the idea of an eager student seeking out the wisdom of a learned scholar? How do we combat this trend or should we even try? Assuming the past is gone and the system no longer functions as it once did, it is time to alter the system of education and take it to the students. And many institutions and people are doing that very thing. The digital world allows for the exporting of the sage scholar to the people, allowing for great convenience for the learners and, in most cases, the teachers. While this does not answer the question of cost nor quality, it does solve the issue of convenience.
Because of the free market system, pricing remains at the discretion of the teachers or, in most cases, the institutions seeking after a market share of students. While pricing and cost is integral to the process of education, it is beyond the scope of this particular diatribe. We may often believe the hamburger at the local restaurant is overpriced, but it is our choice to pay the price, request a lower price, or seek another locale. The same is true of education. Admittedly, it seems rather maudlin to reduce education to a consumer mentality but at its core, maybe such a commodious interpretation of education is not entirely wrong.
Now we need to address the idea of quality. If quality is dependent upon the personality and verbal communication skills of the collective wisdom of individual teachers, then online courses have little chance of surviving. It is true that the physical presence of a teacher in front of actual students at one time did define quality education and even the judicious invoking of technology interfered with that process, and that such remains the attitude of many and the prevalent practice of traditional education. But social media demonstrates each day that the digital world provides a strong element of human connectedness and that we benefit from others in spite of long distances. One may argue that social media is not learning an academic discipline, but there is no doubt that the potential for learning in a digital format is real and active.
A closer look at what quality means in education as determined by longitudinal studies, collective data, employment records, and standardized testing will ultimately reveal the truth. Meanwhile, higher education continues to feel the strain of a "traditional" face to face approach versus the convenience of online learning. Whatever the end result, which will probably be some kind of hybrid system for younger students and mostly online for older, there is no doubt that technology has dramatically disrupted virtually everything about our educational practices. But somehow we humans keep demanding human contact and for that reason, and maybe that alone, there is still value in the face-to-face experience. We still want to "shake the hand" of the leader we are following, and we still enjoy personal interaction. As in most cultural clashes, society and education will probably land on the planet that embraces both the gain of personal contact while benefiting from all that technology has to offer.
Thursday, February 06, 2014
A rare personal story
Uncomfortable sharing personal stories related to health, I have decided to allow a little vulnerability to enter my blog with the idea that this entry may be a benefit to someone else. Without going into great and unnecessary detail, on January 6 I went to the Emergency Room at 4:00 a.m. due to extreme abdominal pain. After several tests, the physician in charge informed me of a deep vein thrombosis in my mesenteric vein, which I was later told is a very rare condition. In other words I had a blood clot. Not fully understanding the difficulty of this problem, I believe my first reaction was one of confusion, after all, what is a blood clot and why would it contribute to abdominal pain?
Keep in mind I had never been in the ER before and in fact had never spent any time in hospital other than visiting friends and family. I am 53 years old, in good shape, generally healthy, aside from an occasional ear infection and the beginnings of arthritis, and lead the life of an academic who enjoys the outdoors and being productive. When the doctor informed me of the blood clot, I recalled my time at the bodies exhibit in Dallas when I learn about the 60,000 plus miles of blood vessels in our bodies and thought one little clot was insignificant. Yet when he informed me I was in an emergency situation and would be transported immediately to Scott & White for surgery, I realized things were serious. By this time, I was more or less fuzzy with pain-killers and had trouble checking into reality completely. Soon I was strapped down on a gurney, loaded into an ambulance and headed down the highway. Still in pain mixed with pain killers, it was difficult to process what was happening.
The trip was fairly short, although I admit it is difficult to remember very well. I do recall the attendant telling someone that "the patient is calm, cooperative, and has a high tolerance for pain." I tried to get her attention to tell her she was completely wrong, but things were happening so fast by this time that I was not sure where I was much less anyone else. After some more painkillers, I recall a room where people moved quickly including nurses, attendants, physicians, and finally surgeons. One doctor asked me several questions that I had trouble processing. Luckily my wife and mother were near to clarify the confusion. The surgical team came in and said the blood clot was very deep, in a sensitive place, and that surgery would be possible but difficult and posed serious risk. In addition, the recovery time would be extensive. They recommended dealing with it medically rather than surgically. Soon I was admitted to the hospital and taken to the top floor where I spent the next six days as a human pin cushion. I had two IVs, blood taken from both arms many times, and lots of terms I could not comprehend. The first three days are hazy as I spent them on painkillers. By the fourth day, I could carry on a conversation and actually remember it. The meds were aggressively dealing with keeping the internal organs alive while working to dissolve the blood clot.
I was released after six days, came home, and went to work the next day. But for one week I gave myself two shots per day in the stomach and remained on a liquid diet. Now 4 weeks later, I am still on blood thinners and checking my levels periodically at the lab. We hope the clot dissolves within the next few months or that the body adjusts itself to the different blood flow. On the downside, if the clot decides to move to a different location, the result could be devastating. I now feel great, have lost nearly 20 pounds (needed to), and have my energy back. Yet I am well aware of the dangerous situation I was in and, in a way, still am in at this time.
In spite of the concern, I am keenly committed to living my life fully each day with energy, optimism, kindness, and productivity. Looking at things a little differently, but not dramatically so, each day is a special gift and not one to waste nor to take for granted. There is much to do and much to learn, many things to accomplish and many ways to make a difference in the world. Mainly I am ever more thankful for my family, friends, doctors, job, church, and the Lord who makes all things possible. May the journey continue!
Keep in mind I had never been in the ER before and in fact had never spent any time in hospital other than visiting friends and family. I am 53 years old, in good shape, generally healthy, aside from an occasional ear infection and the beginnings of arthritis, and lead the life of an academic who enjoys the outdoors and being productive. When the doctor informed me of the blood clot, I recalled my time at the bodies exhibit in Dallas when I learn about the 60,000 plus miles of blood vessels in our bodies and thought one little clot was insignificant. Yet when he informed me I was in an emergency situation and would be transported immediately to Scott & White for surgery, I realized things were serious. By this time, I was more or less fuzzy with pain-killers and had trouble checking into reality completely. Soon I was strapped down on a gurney, loaded into an ambulance and headed down the highway. Still in pain mixed with pain killers, it was difficult to process what was happening.
The trip was fairly short, although I admit it is difficult to remember very well. I do recall the attendant telling someone that "the patient is calm, cooperative, and has a high tolerance for pain." I tried to get her attention to tell her she was completely wrong, but things were happening so fast by this time that I was not sure where I was much less anyone else. After some more painkillers, I recall a room where people moved quickly including nurses, attendants, physicians, and finally surgeons. One doctor asked me several questions that I had trouble processing. Luckily my wife and mother were near to clarify the confusion. The surgical team came in and said the blood clot was very deep, in a sensitive place, and that surgery would be possible but difficult and posed serious risk. In addition, the recovery time would be extensive. They recommended dealing with it medically rather than surgically. Soon I was admitted to the hospital and taken to the top floor where I spent the next six days as a human pin cushion. I had two IVs, blood taken from both arms many times, and lots of terms I could not comprehend. The first three days are hazy as I spent them on painkillers. By the fourth day, I could carry on a conversation and actually remember it. The meds were aggressively dealing with keeping the internal organs alive while working to dissolve the blood clot.
I was released after six days, came home, and went to work the next day. But for one week I gave myself two shots per day in the stomach and remained on a liquid diet. Now 4 weeks later, I am still on blood thinners and checking my levels periodically at the lab. We hope the clot dissolves within the next few months or that the body adjusts itself to the different blood flow. On the downside, if the clot decides to move to a different location, the result could be devastating. I now feel great, have lost nearly 20 pounds (needed to), and have my energy back. Yet I am well aware of the dangerous situation I was in and, in a way, still am in at this time.
In spite of the concern, I am keenly committed to living my life fully each day with energy, optimism, kindness, and productivity. Looking at things a little differently, but not dramatically so, each day is a special gift and not one to waste nor to take for granted. There is much to do and much to learn, many things to accomplish and many ways to make a difference in the world. Mainly I am ever more thankful for my family, friends, doctors, job, church, and the Lord who makes all things possible. May the journey continue!
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