Some parts of practice involve passages you simply have to figure out - pull it apart a little, inspect how it works - before you will be able to play it. I find this especially true for melodic passages, or sections with a vocal quality. I love this kind of practice. I feel confident in my abilities to make decisions in this kind of work, and look forward to experimenting with phrasing and color, searching for my own message.
Then there is the rest of practice.
Most of my work for this concerto so far has been what I can only describe as glacial. Each session I chip away at these complicated, finger-twisting passages, pulling them apart like the worst kind of etude work. All in the hopes that the slow, gradual addition of this work will eventually payoff in mastery of the passages.
A colleague described this kind of mindset as practice faith: you have to, in a way, suspend your anxieties and have faith that eventually it will all come together -- as long as you put in the work. Unfortunately, there is still no replacement for the work itself!
What kind of experiences have you had that might resemble practice faith? Or do you have another midset that you find helps you maintain your sanity through the "scunt work" in your practice?
The first time I read this I thought you meant rest as in resting of practice. the feeling of rest in practice or the rest between practices when things settle into the body and new connections are made. I like thinking about rest amidst the work of it, recuperation that allows for inspiration, while still having to do the work to get there.
ReplyDelete