Tag Archives: cello

Bing Cherries

Why is it always my birthday o’clock when I glance at the time? Odd. The bobbing motion I enjoyed yesterday may have different implications than I thought. Even with my arm still, I can find comfort with the left hand angle and vibrato as long as I am playing slowly, with little or no rhythms. Once you add different note lengths and emphases, the position goes all to hell. But I think with the aid of the rhythmic bobbing, I can reconcile the distortions and imbalances. It forces a balance and symmetry to the arm/hand unit. It can be overused, as I was experiencing at work today, but maybe when used as a cherry on top of an already functional position, it adds the last crucial piece to the puzzle.
I have also been futzing with my bow grip over the last many months, moving the hand closer to the end of the bow. I wanted to use more fingers than just the index to make sound, so having them touch the frog seemed like a good start. What has also happened is my thumb has become nomadic. It varies placement anywhere from the inner curve to the corner of the frog. I think I have become more sensitive to thumb-related issues of late, so I’ve been considering the exact role of the right one. It seems to be pushing (pulling) the bow to the right and up, which ends up driving the hair down into the string. But this particular direction seems best achieved with the thumb wedged into that corner next to the stick.

originally published on 1/6/10

Mashenski

When I get it right, everything seems to hum. The fingers just lay on the string with their own weight. The vibrato only requires a gentle wiggle. I feel a warm feeling of trust and ease throughout my body. It’s like someone once said, the body is actually supposed to fall naturally into place, if only you could direct it appropriately.
These good vibes this morning were a result of last night’s practice session. I discovered a simple truth. In order to achieve a like feeling in all of the fingers, you have to arc them the same, and distance them equally from the thumb. The thumb must be willing to alter its depth. So it is deepest for the fourth finger, gradually getting shallower as you descend to one, until the thumb may not even be in contact with the neck for the first finger. I couldn’t believe how obvious it was, especially since I’d never heard talk of it.

originally published on 1/7/10

Thumbs Up

I just noticed that there’s a delightful bonus when I am at liberty to bend my thumb. I can phrase. I have somewhere to land after an up feeling. I am not up all the time. I can come down, musically and physically.
It works both ways. If I bend my thumb, it helps engender the downward downbeat arrival placement in a timely fashion. And if I strive to make the consequence of an upbeat feel and sound right, I discover that a locked thumb impedes it.

It seems to assist this when I have the thumb straight (but not bent backwards) during the upbeat. The thumb seems to play the music with me. How helpful.

Another surprising twist is that these upbeat and downbeat thumb responses need not be on upbows and downbows. They can happen anywhere in the course of a bow stroke, as long as the music calls for the appropriate inflection. It is incredible, this pliancy and independence of the thumb.

originally published on 1/22/10

Pinto

Today I realized something at rehearsal. It’s a good thing, too, and is as follows: I can incorporate the Perlmanesque approach I’ve been working on as an ingredient in my playing, rather than the whole entree. Having worked fairly steadily for the past few days on being utterly loose, I noticed this feeling cropping up this morning even when I wasn’t focusing on doing it. I was trying to be relaxed in general, but the specific Perlman loosy-goosy-handed and -armed sensation is special, so I could tell when it arrived.

It’s more organic for me to continue on in my practicing with the semi-vague goal of simple non-tension, versus the somewhat idiosyncratic Itzhak way of doing things. I don’t feel obliged to suppress the other positive influences on the health of my playing, either. They can be all friends and share space inside me, I hope.

originally published on 8/8/07

Red Rug

So after I got over being sick this last time, I had some new insights on the cello. It might have something to do with the stubbornness thing, which by the way has pretty much returned. I am finally starting to see the advantage of keeping my left shoulder about as relaxed as my right, or at least as low. It’s one of those new options I’m giving myself – broadening my horizons. All I can say is that I hope this isn’t a passing faze. Impermanence is a bitch.

I am trying to explain something more, though. In quick succession after the shoulder business, I deduced that 1) there are muscles that are useful to engage versus those that impede the goings-on; 2) there are muscles that are seemingly unrelated to the goings-on which play an invaluable role; and 3) I know quite well what I am doing, so I need to stop trying so hard because it only hinders the goings-on. Numbers 2 and 3 kind of take care of number 1 by default, so number 1 becomes an intellectual puzzle mostly rather than something actively applicable.

originally published on 1/6/08

Pan fried

I see, I see! No extraneous movements! No squirming, no fudging, no second-guessing! That’s how I will beat the beast of left arm exhaustion. It’s been there all along. I’m sure Starker harped on it repeatedly, in me and others. But now I’m ready to use it.

I see now that any moments of epiphany always involved this approach. It’s kind of like the middle way. I had to test the waters of all the edges in order to wean myself down to the simplest point of motion.

originally published on 4/25/08

Curly Q

I have naturally been trying to sort out all the info I gathered on my recent trip to Bloomington. That’s the thing about Mr. Starker — he condenses huge, complex ideas into succinct statements and demos, so you can be working through a few hours of lessons over the course of months or years. I suppose I had forgotten just how mind-altering his wisdom is. The only down side is his professorial shadow lingering over my shoulder when I teach at times. Maybe that’s not so bad.

One particular thing vexing me is the issue of the hooked first finger on the bow hand. What I have noticed is that when I let it relax and uncurl, eventually the other fingers compensate for the absence of its grip, thereby organically rebalancing the hand. I am also hoping it’s not my imagination that my left hand fingers are responding in kind to this lack of hooking and curling. The question basically is, what is the minimum amount of this shape I can get away with without sacrificing the sound or control? Writing these words is tapping my sensory imagination, as if I can connect the release in my fingers to a release in other muscle groups.

originally published on 11/9/08

Mmm

I took a few days off (George Benson doesn’t really count) and when I came back to playing, I was somewhat lost. This can be a good, refreshing feeling of newness. And it was in some respects. But I felt lost in terms of my left hand research of late. There was one thing that had stuck from the most recent investigations, though. I was noticing another option in how to make contact with the string. You could simply lay your fingers down on the string using weight or strength or something physical like that; or you can become sensitive to the electrical impulses traveling from the hand to the cello. Humans are actually alive due to some version of electricity, I’ve heard. Without it, we die. Like our heartbeat.

So instead of pressing on the string, I am buzzing through it. Zapping. Vrooming. Humming. It’s fun. And easier.

originally published on 3/23/09

Caricature

I am stubborn. But I can only see it clearly when some part of it falls away. Like my insistence that the way I like to play the cello is the only and best way, for me at least. Something happened recently, though I’m not sure what, that has changed that locked-in point of view. There are a number of possible external events which could have combined to cause it, or perhaps it’s an internal emotional or biochemical thing.
Whatever it is, I now have been granted the freedom to make headway in various areas of my playing which have been weak. What is so nice is to see the difference between stubbornness and strength of character. In my case, being stubborn prevented me from seeing options which were rather close at hand, if only I had not boxed myself into what may have been a necessary cubicle. A safety net, perhaps.

Strength of character is something very different. Maybe it’s kind of the opposite. Being able to perceive and appreciate a myriad of viewpoints. And being unstuck.

originally published on 12/27/07