tax deductible massages

It's Mother's Day, and one of the many things my mother taught me was to do my own taxes, and--if I itemize--to deduct professional expenses.  Thanks, Mom!

Making music as a conductor, singer, or instrumentalist, is inescapably physical.  After I started having neck/shoulder pain that interfered with my work, a massage therapist who happens to sing in my community choir suggested that a massage might help me.  Boy, was she right.  I'm working on Alexander Technique and yoga and Tai Chi in hopes that I can learn to use my body as efficiently as possible so that I don't build up to the the kind of tension and pain that is possible; but, my lifestyle of doctoral-student-with-multiple-jobs isn't conducive to the kind of holistic realignment I really need.  So I get a massage every four to six months, just to straighten me out.  It makes all the difference in the world.  

I find that massage provides physical improvements as well as psychological ones.  The muscles get untightened to free up my gesture, and my mind gets a chance to detox as well.  I just had a massage on Thursday, and my church choir can attest to the difference it makes.  Last week, I was a grump (which I almost never am!) and this week I was just about back to normal.  They put up with me last week, thankfully, but they really do sing better when I can be in a worshipful place with them.  The end of the semester at school helps with that, too, but I can tell you that the massage, and the fact that I took time for it, put my brain back into more regular rhythm.

I haven't had the gumption to claim massages as a professional expenses on my taxes, but honestly, I couldn't do my work nearly so well without them.  

the beauty, the wonder: the International Phonetic Alphabet

There's so much to write about, but I'm dying to talk about this.

My tenth grade biology teacher assigned the entire class to write a paper.  The title of the paper was to be "The Beauty, The Wonder: The Menstrual Cycle."  So now that phrase is stuck in my head and I apply it to anything whose beauty and wonder is under-appreciated.

I love the International Phonetic Alphabet.

I love it.

Its friends call it IPA.

Yes, like India Pale Ale.  I even prefer ordering India Pale Ales over other beers, though I'm generally fond of darker beers, because when I ask the bartender for one, I get to say, "I'd like an IPA."  And in my mind I'm thinking "International Phonetic Alphabet!"

For those who have not yet had the fortune of experiencing the beauty and the wonder of IPA, here's why it's so great.  In the following sentence, there is an O in every word:

Do you know John does nothing good on the Borough Board of Hounds?

I don't know what a Board of Hounds is, but I'm dismayed at John's lack of initiative in the affairs of the Borough.  Sad.  Anyway, I can't IPA on Blogger, but suffice it to say that there are fifteen O's in that sentence, pronounced ten different ways.

Ten!

And all of those ways can be spelled with O in different combinations or without O at all.  Also, each of those spellings can be pronounced differently.

1.  do, you  (like blue but not so, possibly like dew but not sew or even sow)
2.  know, bo-ROUGH (actual O sound!  Also spelled no, doe, sew, and sow but not how, and certainly not like rough)
3. John (like FAther)
4. does, nothing, of (like gun, but not goes, not, or offer)
5. good (should, but not food)
6. on (faun, but not ton)
7. our (are? hour?)
8. BO-rough (giraffe? earth?)
9. board (like lord, but not hoax)
10. hounds (gowns, not you or Housatonic)

Because the Romans conquered the British Isles and said "whatever language they're speaking, we need to write it in our alphabet.  Our alphabet was designed to represent our language, Latin, which we speak in Rome, and why it's called the Roman Alphabet, even though the first letters are neither Alpha nor Beta and that was the Greeks, who have a different alphabet..."

They didn't say any of that, actually.  But the Romans, and then the French with their Romance language, imposed the Roman alphabet on Germanic English.  They tried to write down, for example, "th" as best they could, but there was no symbol for that sound.  So English is confusing to pronounce.  It doesn't look like it sounds.  (French, funnily enough, had the opposite track, where it used to be pronounced more like it's spelled, but now they just don't bother saying half the letters.)

It answers every question about singing--especially ensemble singing!  You don't have to worry about what the native language of a singer is, or what regional accent they have.  One symbol, one sound.

When you see [o], it means the pure part of the sound in "no," the way Mid-westerners say it. Or Canadians.
When you see [u], it's the same pure "ooo" sound as a Minnesotan might say "new shoes."
[i] is like "neat."
[I] is like "knit."

Beautiful, right?  None of that "open" or "closed," "long" or "short" confusing garbage.  One symbol, one sound.  We all agree, we all know what it means, we all sing it the same.

And that's why I love the International Phonetic Alphabet.

I hope you do, too.

training and artistry

For most people, music is fun, a hobby, entertainment.  They don't lead others, so they don't understand what it takes to lead others, and it would never occur to them that special training might be required.  And so they hire their accompanist or the section leader to be their conductor.  Sadly, the odds are slim that an excellent accompanist or singer is also an excellent conductor, yet those who hired him or her have not read my blog and therefore don't know enough about conducting recognize lousy conducting when they see it.  Worse still--and this a problem that makes me want to put on a cape and intervene for the good of the world--the members of the ensemble don't know enough about conducting to recognize lousy conducting when they see it.  Those poor singers, suffering under the flapping elbows of a flute player who thought she could conduct because, hey, how hard could it be?  You beat time and cut them off, right?  


Oh, the humanity!


I've spoken before about all the things a conductor is.  They need more than musical skills: leadership, pedagogy, the physical skills required to make clear and expressive gesture, etc.   And yet, the really important thing for any conductor is to be an artist.  Conductors who lack training might still be excellent if they are thoughtful artists.  But imagine how effective they could be if they cleaned up their gesture, learned something about teaching, watched some videos of themselves on the podium to see how others see them...


Excuse me while I fetch my cape.


Okay, here's me saving the world a little bit--
To anyone who is hiring a conductor: look for someone with training, and look for artistic vision.  (It helps if you have established an artistic vision already.)  If you can find a conductor with lots of training and artistic vision that jives with yours, hire him quickly and pay him well!  Trust in the value of training.  Expect your leader to be an artist who will bring inspiration to every rehearsal.


To individuals who are conducting ensembles but have little or no training (I mean YOU, church organists!): get thee to a summer workshop!  You will be sooooo glad you did.  And so will your ensemble.

batons

In the public consciousness, a baton is part of the definition of a conductor, along with crazy grey hair, white tie and tails, and wild arm flailing.  A description of a performance might say that an ensemble played "under the baton of so-and-so."  In reality, some conductors use batons, some don't, some do both.  Certain pieces, or movements of pieces, may call for a baton and others for hands.  In case you can't imagine conducting without a baton, here's me in a short clip I created for the "Thoughtful Gesture" paper presentation on campus (which is the reason for the odd annotations).




It seems to me that longer batons were standard about fifty years ago, as used by this satirical jerk who flails, but you don't see these crazy long batons much any more.  This one seems to be about twenty-four unnecessary inches long.



I have been a non-baton person for most of my career, but recently I've taken it up again and I must say I prefer it.  The major benefit for me is that it creates an additional hinge, requiring less work for my shoulder.  I object to the potential phallic power symbolism of a baton, but the ease and flexibility it offers is really quite nice.  For example, it allows me more possibilities in subdividing beats because tiny gestures can be perfectly clear at the tip of a long, slender baton, when they might be more difficult to see in my short, soft hands.

I should talk about subdivision some day.

The baton I use most is a small, twelve-inch natural wood one.  It's an unusual baton.  Most batons are white--convenient because they show up in a dark performance space.  I have a sixteen inch white baton that I used back when I was conducting musical theater more often.  But for my usual gig on a well-lit stage, I like the near flesh color of the wood.  It seems more organic, less stick-ish.  It's also shorter than average: fourteen inches is closer to average, and sixteen is common.  When my conductor friend Matt rolled his eyes at my twelve-incher, I said, "What?!  It's cute!"  He said "sure, for you, but I'd look downright silly holding that."  He's right.  He's six-foot-five, and proportion matters.

I should talk about proportion some day.

Back to some baton basic facts: wood is the most common baton material, though it's often painted white.  Most baton handles are wood, though you can get them in a lightweight metal from some companies, and others make a cork handle, which is also good for preventing oxidation in that bottle of wine you didn't finish.  A good quality, expensive baton will be balanced like a knife, where the handle weighs about the same as the blade (shaft), so that you don't feel the weight of it in your hand.  It won't warp quickly, though eventually it will probably develop a curve that's weird and distracting and you'll have to replace it.  So some batons are fiberglass.

So, should a conductor use a baton?

Maybe.

Last week, I attended the performance of the University of Connecticut Symphony Orchestra, directed by Dr. Jeffrey Renshaw.  About a hundred measures from the end of the final movement of the Chaikovsky Fifth Symphony, the tip of Dr. Renshaw's baton caught in the binding of his score, sending the baton end over end onto the floor in front of the second violins.  He shook his head to himself (probably the only people in the audience who noticed this were the other conductors) and finished the piece with his hands.

My musicologist friend Heather came to my office to read me Arturo's Baton, a children's book in which the brilliant conductor Arturo loses his baton and doesn't know what to do.  (SPOILER ALERT!)  Somehow, it doesn't even occur to him until the last three pages that the baton isn't the conductor, he is, and that he'll do fine without it.  Which he does.  Then he finds the baton in his sock drawer or something.

Should a conductor use a baton?  Yes.  Except when he shouldn't.  Or doesn't want to.  Or loses it.  Or flings it across the stage by accident.

The point is, the baton doesn't matter.  But it's a nice option.

Maestro Bernstein

The image at the top of my blog is of Leonard Bernstein, composer, teacher, conductor, and generally extraordinary artist. As a conductor, he is famous for his expressiveness unbridled by technical restraint. Thanks to YouTube, I can let him speak a little for himself:






Anything I say about him or what he does feels a bit trite, but I must say that my goal as a conductor is to be that kind of artist.  Some day.

Bernstein heard truth in music, perceived expressive intent with great clarity, and was able to embody that intent completely and fully, with his whole self.  He sort of has a reputation as a jerk who flails because his technique is so wacky and funny to an outside observer.  Certainly there are criticisms to be made of his interpretations, but I'm simply in awe of him. I think his interpretations are romantic because he feels things that way.  Is it objective musical truth?  Nope.  It's subjective, Bernsteiny, intimate, personal truth.  A performance by him has compelling perspective. Right or wrong, I don't know, but deeply moving because it is him, his humanity.  As in the clip below, he gives truthfully of himself without fear or apology and it's powerful.


The orchestra is playing the pants off of that piece.  As much sound as they can make, as much intensity as they can play, they are giving it to him.  The intensity of his giving compels them to do the same.

Which is why he's in the picture at the top of my blog.  When I say "thoughtful," I mean considerate as well as cognitive, perceptive as well as well-planned.  His gesture speaks to his ensembles and to us because it is the truth, and the truth has an unmistakable ring to it.

This is the most subjective post I've written so far, and the most controversial point I will ever make.  Bernstein has his detractors, who think he imposes himself on the music.  I think he makes art.  He connects his humanity to his work, and that's what I think it's all about: meaning, music, and conducting.

familiarity, neuroplasticity, and receiving ability

Conducting doesn't work unless the conductor accurately expresses what she intends to express.  And even that depends on the musicians in the ensemble interpreting the expression accurately and translating it into musical expression.  I've already described how mirror neurons facilitate empathy, which is how you feel what other people feel.  That means that we are built to communicate in this way.  Our brains are, as they say, hard wired to empathize.

That is the reception of unintentional "spontaneous" signals--a system of signals that all humans share biologically.  We all have blood and muscles that change when we feel different things, and we all have brains that can perceive those changes in others.  Dr. Buck, my guide through the nation of Communications Science, has explained it in thorough detail, but stuff conductors want to know is this:

Receiving ability has somewhat to do with emotional intelligence--that is, some people are naturally better than others at deciphering the signals of others.  But it can be improved through the education of attention, which brings me back to mirror neurons, empathy, and neuroplasticity.

Neuroplasticity is one of my favorite words.  It sounds like our brains are crawling around inside our skulls, changing all the time.  Which they are.  Slowly.


Like intelligence of any kind, our awareness of emotion levels varies according to our aptitude and according to our training or, in this case, “education of attention."   Practice of Eastern philosophies like meditation, for example, is credited with enhancing an individual’s ability to sense our own internal states, including emotions.  My point today is that education of attention is also applied to the ability to receive communication from others. Receiving ability is linked to mirror neurons. That they fire when we observe something we have experienced, suggests that  our brains can also infer intention from observed action based on our own experience performing those actions with intention.

Familiarity, a result of the education of attention, enhances our ability to understand what we see.  Daniel Glaser’s research has demonstrated that familiarity—particularly expertise—increases the strength with which our brains react to observed behavior. Ballet dancers’brains reacted strongly to watching ballet. Caporeira practioners’ brains reacted equally strongly to watching Caporeira, a form of martial arts from Brazil. Each group reacted moderately to watching the other’s activity, but members of neither group reacted with weakness to either, as did control the brains of control subjects who were experts in neither discipline. This suggests that familiarity increases our capacity to connect to what we observe.

Based on this tendency towards stronger neural response to more familiar stimuli, it is no surprise that a study (which I'll discuss in detail later) found that conductors were better interpreters of conducting gesture. Not only do they cognitively know what to do, they are also biologically prepared to respond strongly.

What does this mean for conductors?  It means we need our ensemble members to be experts at recognizing expressive displays, at reading our displays in particular.  How do we educate their attention and develop their empathic capacity?  That's another post.

letter to my students

The undergrads in my choral conducting class have their final exam today, so I wrote them an e-mail yesterday.

If you have any last minute questions, I'll be on campus this afternoon, or you can always call or e-mail me.  In general, though, the work is done.  Getting up in front and waving your arms around is the smallest part of the work of conducting.  Preparation is what makes that work: crawl inside your score, get to know it deeply and thoroughly; use the information in the score to imagine the story and the emotional journey of the song; teach your body to make every gesture you want as clearly as you want.

Score.  Imagination.  Gesture.  

Have fun tomorrow,

Amelia