The Hourglass Method for Learning Music: Part 3a - Details
In my last article I discussed the Big Picture portion of the Hourglass method, in this article I’ll take a dive into details. Unsurprisingly, this part of the model is complex enough that I've divided it into two articles. This post will focus on more general considerations of detail work, and the next more on nuts and bolts.
Detail is where music comes alive. It's also where we hear the individual stamp of an artist's personality. A great artist plays every note with intention and nuance, which is why their recordings demand repeated listening. Every time I come back to a Tabea Zimmerman recording after an interval, I'm astonished by how I can hear even more subtleties and inflections in her playing. Not just every note, but every PART of every note of her playing is infused with meaning, as if she can hear and consider a note in more dimensions than I'm even aware of! (Can you tell I'm a fan?!)
If I have been diligent and attended to the steps I outlined in the Big Picture, then the detail work is easier. Not easy, mind you, but easier! Because if I've asked myself what this music is about, and I've got at least a fuzzy picture of what the music as a whole is like, then I can start sketching in details and filling in the gaps. This method of sketching the big picture out and filling in the details is similar to how I was taught drawing - lightly sketch the outlines of objects to get a lay of the land, then fill in more and more detail. The dangers of starting with the details, and not the big picture, are clear here - if I'm drawing a face but obsesses about the detail of an eye without having drawn the rest of the head, then chances are my eye will be of grotesque proportions! Similarly, if you’ve taken the time to think about the big picture, you have established a framework onto which you can more successfully "hang" all the details. (N.B. this is similar to how a memory palace is constructed)
General Limitations to Detail Work
The detail phase could potentially go on ad infinitum, but it is limited by several important factors:
Commitment
It may seem strange to start with this one, but I believe commitment is the sine qua non when it comes to detail work, and music-making in general. This includes general commitment to my own standard of playing, but it could also be more specific - to a particular piece I'm playing, for example. If I am not fully committed to my musical vision of a piece, or to a high standard of playing, then all the other factors in this list will collapse like a house of cards.
During an interview in the Violympics, Augustin Hadelich was asked how he approached a piece that he didn't connect with instantly. His advice was to find at least one thing to love about a piece. This is challenging and wise advice, and requires a musician with the emotional flexibility to go beyond their initial impressions of a work and search for something they can appreciate about it. (Great advice for working with people, too!!!) If I can find even one thing to a love about a piece, I will be more motivated to approach the piece with the care it deserves.
I believe commitment is an underrated factor, often taken for granted by teachers and other players, and not discussed often enough in our community. For several long stretches in my own musical journey, my commitment to music and my playing was low, VERY LOW. So while I could hear that there was more to be done, I didn't CARE enough to put in the necessary effort to sound better. Commitment to our craft can be influenced by any number of factors - physical and mental health, stress, a sense of mission and other issues. Taking the time and effort to nurture my own commitment to our craft, and cultivating it in my students, is of paramount importance.
The flip side of being committed to my musical vision is that I always need to be open and ready to receive information that could improve my musical vision or understanding of the instrument - even if it runs counter to my views. This seems like an oxymoron - I need to fully commit to my interpretation, but also realize there may be something I DON'T KNOW that could completely alter that interpretation, and to have the presence of mind to recognize and happily receive that information.
As a teenager, I knew nothing about historical performance practice in Bach, so all throughout high school I played it his music very romantically. Hearing it on a period instrument was a mind-blowing experience for me, and completely changed my outlook on how it should be played. If I had stuck to my "this is the way I play Bach" convictions, I would be a lesser musician for it! We must hold our musical convictions firmly, but not so firmly that we can't be open to new ideas.
Time
While I would love to practice and attend to every detail in every performance, I need to have reasonable expectations of what is accomplishable in the time frame I have to prepare. "Reasonable" is a hard word for musicians! But many times the stress accumulated in practice can stem from unreasonable expectations of what's possible in a given time frame, or a given practice session. Certainly I should challenge myself to do as much as I can, but if I have unrealistic goals then I will find myself practicing without focus, and worse, anxiety will creep into the practice, further depreciating my focus. This means that preparation for an important performance needs to start as early as possible, both to limit stress and to maintain a healthy learning pace.
Imagination
If I can imagine a sound, I can find a way to play it, or at least to move towards it. The more musical detail I can imagine in my playing, the more compelling a musical picture I can paint. Therefore it stands to reason that I should should take steps to encourage and stimulate my imagination regularly, whether that be by going to concerts, improvising, learning other styles or experiencing works of art in other mediums. Of course this applies to my students as well!
Sensitivity
I am limited by my awareness - by how well I can hear, feel and understand my own playing. I can't play a detaché stroke with less effort if I'm unaware that my right bicep is tense. I can't fix the intonation of a note if I can't hear it's out of tune. Nor can I improve my rhythm if I can't sense that my pulse is ragged and uneven. Working to increase my awareness of specific aspects of my playing should be a part of my practice routine. When it comes to awareness, I should regularly evaluate my particular strengths and weakness (intonation, cough cough!). I should be vigilant when it comes to blind spots in my own awareness! Recording helps with this, as does playing for colleagues.
Technique
If I can hear what I want to do, but I don't know HOW to execute what I'm hearing, then there is a gap in my technique. The technique/imagination relationship is not a one-way street. If I can imagine a new way of playing something, I may "invent" new ways of executing it technically on my instrument. But if I improve my technique I may also be able to imagine other sounds!
I recently went through a phase in my playing where I spent a lot of time working on technique for technique's sake. This has some value, but too much of this work devolves into parlor tricks, like, "look what I can do!" A more beneficial, rewarding and ultimately productive approach is to develop a technique that is constantly in service of the music I am interpreting.
So there's a broad look at details (oxymoron alert!). In the next article I'll examine some more specific strategies for working on details and how I organize it in my own practice.
Tell me in the comments, how do you approach detail work in a piece?