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Many Strings - One Journey My own violin learning path
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Chapter 3: Cardinal's Song |
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The Stanford mascot is neither
bird nor Catholic dignitary but refers simply to the color. I prefer to
think of it as a bird. Anything to improve the memories of my two years there!
I was eighteen as an incoming junior and immediately had to scramble for
housing (which I found out wasn't guaranteed). The loss of one scholarship due
to some administrative glitch made it imperative that I search immediately for
a part-time job. I found a morning job in the grad library and would rush to
class afterwards, some quarters on bicycle, some quarters without. I had the distinct
impression most of my fellow students were zipping around the
spread-out campus in late model sports cars. I didn't like the quarter system, which lacked continuity, in my opinion. This system, the delayed start getting my violin lesson, and then the long hot summer back home in Pasadena without lessons amounted to far fewer lessons per year! Little guidance was offered me as a transfer student. My disinterested counselor informed me that music was a "nice cultural major for a woman." |
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My diet of Kreutzer Studies continued with a new edition by Carl Fischer edited by Singer (perhaps I didn't have room to take my sheet music accumulation on the train with me, perhaps I wanted to start fresh with a book of etudes that had a cover). Incidentally, International Edition covers seem to bear the test of time more robustly than either Schirmer, Fischer, or Peters covers. None have disintegrated! What interests me now is to note the overlap in Kreutzer assignments between the two books: This overlap begins with #2, the Jack Benny etude. In my Schirmer assignment I'm asked to play it for tone, with relaxed vib. On October 13, 1970, newly arrived at Stanford, I am requested to play it collé, fingers only. Previously studied #6 and #7 are also checked off in the Fischer but undated, without amplifying explanations. The slurred 16th note etude #9 was assigned both times. My earlier editions says to play with good fingers, 4 notes, then 12 notes to a bow, then long & short rhythms - 3 other rhythms. It apparently took several lessons to complete the etude. My later Schirmer edition assigns #9 concurrently with #2, asking me to hold fingers down whenever possible and to use elbow for shift & string crossings and maintain thumb opposite 2nd. Previously studied #10 and #11, and #12 are circled but not elaborated on. #11 says 6-72, which would have been close to graduation time. I am also assigned the string crossing etude #13 twice. The earlier editions has arms and fingers as its code words. The later editions states to keep fingers curved at frog. #14 is apparently studied twice, with far less explanation the second time than the first. The Fischer edition then assigns #15 and then jumps to parallel octave etude #24, neither of which I'd studied before. |
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#34, another double-stopped 16th note study, is assigned both times, without slurs, MB, the first time, the second time with instructions to maintain correct bow position, hold fingers down whenever possible. This was marked April 13, 1971. Twenty-five years later, April 13 would become my wedding anniversary date. After that, the Kreutzer Etude assignments fizzle out. I wonder whether that's often the case? I believe Heifetz said that if you can play all Kreutzer etudes competently, then you can play anything. Suffice it to say that I didn't finish them.... At the right is the latest Carl Fischer edition with updated cover. |
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| In the winter and spring of 1971, I am introduced to unaccompanied Bach via the A Minor Sonata No. II. I begin with the 2nd movement, the Fuga, and am advised to take it easy. The teacher marks up the lower, original version, which is given in tiny notes below the Rust-Trieger version in this Peters edition. I am told to play the Andante from memory, with even, undulating bows. Did I ever play from memory? I don't remember....I am also told to play the following Allegro smooth from memory, with code words left elbow/left thumb, deeper in hand (neck), index square, 4th flat! Even though I had to play from those darned little original notes, much of it is re-marked with the slurs of the edition above! Below are other editions of the Bach Sontatas and Partitas, a handsome urtext by Henle Verlag and a surprisingly inexpensive version offered, surprisingly, by Mel Bay. | ||||||||
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| Looking at my old copy of the Bruch G minor Violin Concerto, I now come closer to unraveling the mystery as to who was my violin teacher when. It is marked 1/20/71, and I know for certain I studied the Bruch with the good-humored Professor Kenneth Goldschmidt, who recognized that the melancholy Bruch would appeal to me. | ||||||||
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| I worked hard on the Bruch Concerto and sometimes, while practicing it in the dining room of my dorm at Florence Moore, a talented young violinist named Mark, who was a year ahead of me, would offer some pointers. He later became Concertmaster of the San Francisco Symphony. | ||||||||
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I chose to study chamber music
over joining the Orchestra while at Stanford. There was a convoluted reason
for this, aside from the fact that I loved chamber music. While still at PCC,
my father had a sudden change of heart about his recommendations for my future
and encouraged me to switch my major to something more practical than music. Because I'd made up my mind to
continue with music, I
refused to do so. But I feared that I would not be placed favorably in the
orchestra, and that, should I end up in the periphery of the ensemble,
it would verify that I should not have majored in music. Such are the complexities of the
teen-aged mind!
For chamber music, I had an opportunity to study Mozart Sonatas, Schubert Sonatinas, and Beethoven Sonatas for violin and piano. I played from Peters editions for the Beethoven and the Mozart and from a Schirmer edition for the Schubert. Below are more costly Urtext Henle editions of the Mozart and Beethoven Sonatas. |
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| For the Mozart Sonatas, I studied #4 in E minor systematically with a teacher. I also made a stab at the beginning of #10 in B flat major, but the marks are in my own less disciplined handwriting. Years later I would get particular enjoyment out of hearing Anne-Sophie Mutter play the E minor in recital, with a haunting opening bare of vibrato. | ||||||||
| I studied the second of the Schubert Sonatinas in A minor, although it is the legato opening of the first sonatina that first enters my mind. I may have studied that too, but my score is unmarked. The second sonatina looks more jagged and difficult. | ||||||||
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Memorable too was studying the
8th Sonata with a different chamber music partner. Our coach would only be
available for a couple of sessions, but he was the illustrious Professor Adolf
Baller,
who had teamed with Yehudi Menuhin for 15 years. Since Menuhin had been my idol
as early as when I was five years old, by association, so was Adolf Baller, although I'd never
gazed at his picture as I did with the young Menuhin. Unfortunately, on the day of my
appointed lesson, I came down with debilitating cramps, but I would have been
mortified to miss the first of my two coaching sessions, so I came, my face
pale with pain. My chamber music partner then whispered something in his ear,
and Professor Baller gallantly offered me a chair.
Of the 8th Sonata, he asked how fast I thought I would be able to play it. He then suggested that this particular sonata was difficult to perform. I didn't tell him that I had not been asked, inspired, urged, invited, or required to perform yet at any time at Stanford. It seemed junior and senior recitals were encouraged only for budding virtuosi. Several years ago, after I moved to Northern California, I remedied this situation by playing duo Baroque Sonatas on alto recorder with my husband Bert in the Quad. I hope nowadays that Stanford requires recitals of all music majors! |
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| A weekend in November 2003. I visited Stanford again for the first time in 31 years, bearing sheet music and a different instrument. I played movements from Baroque Sonatas with my husband Bert. Never too late to shine! |
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| At the end of my junior year at Stanford, I was informed by my "Advisor" that I had completed the requirements for the major. I found this difficult to believe, since I did not yet feel a musician, but needed to plan how I was going to spend my second year. For about a day, until I stepped into chemistry class, I went pre-med (everyone was doing it!). When that seemed ill-advised, I thought it would be nice to go to Stanford in Vienna but lacked the funds. Subsequently, I drifted into some peculiar psychology classes during my second year and also tried out French. A fledgling early music department may have been started around that time on the graduate level; I don't think I was eligible for classes but did sit in on one of their ensembles (they needed some violinists willing to play without vibrato). Later, early music would become a meaningful addition to my musical life. | ||||||||
| TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 4 | ||||||||
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These pages were created between January 21 and January 27, 2008. Key words: learning violin, violin learning path, violin learning journey, Many Strings, One Journey, Dorothy Barth, traditional violin study, violin performance, violin pedagogy, violin teachers |
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