Musical Matters

On "Feeling" - In Music and Life

by David Jacobson on 12/28/10

On "Feeling" - In Music and Life, by David Jacobson

An oft heard entreaty from teachers of music to their students is the heartfelt directive to play with “feeling.” Their plea is filled with hidden meaning. It is at one level an admonishment, at another a challenge, at another a mystery.

What does it mean to play with “feeling?”

If queried a teacher will usually respond,

“The music means something. You don’t feel it.”

Or,

“ This should be more intense.”

“This should be quieter, more serene.”

“This should have more grandeur.”

“This is a minor key, it should feel sad.”

This is a Major key, it is a surprise.”

Etc.

What is “feeling?”

We normally associate the word with emotion, meaning an emotional response to the action and interaction of ourselves with the “stuff” of our lives - the world “outside” us. Our internal, psychic thermometer measures and labels our “feeling” about a situation, a gauge by which we determine who we are. Is this what is meant by “feeling” in an artistic sense?

Are those “feelings” an aesthetic response to what surrounds us or a sentimental indulgence?

What is the difference? Is it an important distinction?

I believe so. Not only in living one’s life, but also in understanding what constitutes artistic expression.

We usually separate the two - by that I mean living from art. There really is no such divide, although in our society we have relegated the study of art to being an impractical waste of energy.

Art is the contemplation of beauty. To live fully one must live within its sphere. The awareness and sensitivity required to do so is not only the source of all “feeling” in art, it is also the only path to the subtlety and intimacy - the “feeling”- necessary to have real relationships with people. It is only on this level of awareness that our embeddedness with all of life is obvious, and comforting. It is only on this level that we can live with one another and our surroundings and find meaning. Meaning intrinsic to ourselves - that we are all one; meaning that makes life an entirely different experience from finding purpose in the pursuit of the phantasm of seeking outward approval, a form of mental illness whose symptoms include voracious consuming and desperate accumulation, with the tacit hope of buying meaning, friendship, or distraction.

A mind unaware of beauty is dangerous. There is no anchor of sensitivity. Logic without “feeling” may be quite efficient, but with an effectiveness that destroys any human component. Don’t we want to be the masters of our lives? Or do want to become reliable machine-people?

“Feeling” without rationality is apt to be just as stupid. Emotions based on our “experience” are likely to have no more truth in them than the ravings of a lunatic, a mind unhinged from any anchoring - “outside” - reality.

An aesthetic interaction with the world is the essence of all art. The creation of art is our attempt to see what “is” from a whole mind, a mind that is perceptive and responsive, open to what unfolds under its scrutiny and free to be carried where it must. There is no separation of “feeling” and reason - rationality - at this level.

By “feeling” I do not mean emotionalism. I mean emotion. Emotion - feeling - is a natural accompaniment to a mind that is clear. But to “see” in this sense one must free oneself from preconceptions.

I remember reading in Salvadore Dali’s book on painting, The Fifty Secrets of Master Craftmanship, that to accurately see a subject to be drawn or painted he advised students to render it through a device that he concocted which, by the manipulation of mirrors, depicted the subject upside down, thereby making the artist’s gaze free from preconception and enabling him to perceive the form without the filter of familiarity.

This is the constant danger in art and life. Can we see accurately? If not, if our “feelings” have nothing to do with reality, what do our “feelings” about anything mean?

Can we see anything for what it is in itself? If we could we might have a chance to see what our “real” feelings are.

Everyone has feelings, emotional responses. We have feelings about everything we encounter. Those feelings are usually a brew made up of the potpourri of our conditioning, the mere whiff of the outside world being the trigger that starts an avalanche of thought, a symphony of theme and variation, unfortunately always based on the same theme - our inherited identity, the frame through which we “see” the world - which blocks us from seeing or feeling anything but the reflection of ourselves.

Have you noticed the “feelings” you have about your name? Is your name you? Who gave you your name?

If someone pronounces your name incorrectly, or purposely makes fun of it, I would venture to say “feelings” would suddenly appear. How rational or real are the preconceptions in your mind that call to action the cascading thoughts born with the maligning of “your” name? Are you seeing the situation clearly enough to have a pure perception, or “feeling” of the moment, that has nothing to do with your image of yourself?

If not, if your reaction is based on preconditioned paradigms, you inhabit the world of sentimentality.

Sentimentality is worked-up sensation through the spinning of the mind, a mental state that evokes “feelings”, but feelings which are a mirror only of our own fears and prejudices, not derived from a relationship with anything outside the echo chamber of our conditioning.

Holidays. They carry the weight of the past, the burden of tradition, the comparison of time gone by, of aspirations unborn, of advertising and merchandising, of ideals, etc.

This puts the mind in a state of excitation and confusion, a whirlpool of conflicting realities between what is, what was, and what should be, leading to a romanticized and highly emotional state of mind expressing itself in tears, numbness, or a contrived, forced elation. None of this psychic maelstrom may be cognizant to an individual, but nevertheless because of the inherent conflicts within his mind, a person may be carried by the frothing of his emotions through a plethora of states within a ten-minute span, never knowing where he will land.

This is more akin to a dream state than a true, “feeling” response. A person may genuinely have “feelings,” but these feelings may have little or nothing to do with what is happening aside from his imagination. These feelings are a reflection of the thought-engine, the “program” of his own mind. They are entirely about himself, the outside world - as much as can be noticed in this state - being the ignition to a sentimental reverie about himself.

Sentimentality is based on manipulation and the usage of emotionalism for effect, usually to gain an advantage. Its outward expression is always overdone because it is habitual, ritualistic, mannered, studied, and self-centered, divorced from rationality because it is a storm created entirely from within the bubble of a conditioned mind. Only peripherally is the exterior world noted. Sentimentality is the source of all “ham-acting” - overdone expression that draws attention to the performer in opposition to the material, the play, the music - in both the theater and musical performance.

In the arena of our lives sentimentality can transform an object of “care” to a center of hatred within the same embrace. The wrong look, a deja vu moment of distress, can send the mind racing in other directions because there is no grounding, no real "self” that can experience life unafraid of the opinions and directives of the programmed mind. Fear of another’s opinion blocks direct perception.

And direct perception is the key to true “feeling” in art performance and life.

Our thoughts are words. Words create feelings. Words also create a false, imaginary self, an ego, that in turn creates fear of others, self-imposed limitations, and creative blocks. This “constructed” ego blocks pure perception. In any recreative, performance art, the transcribers ego must get out of the way, otherwise there can be no direct “feeling” or communion with one’s subject. How does this work in practice?

As an example, in the world of theater the words of the script are, in essence, the psychological description of the character an actor plays. The words are the products of the character’s thought process, and it is in the words that the truth of the character must be found.

Are not words our thoughts? Our thoughts, which are words, are the contents of our minds. Thoughts create actions. The actor, to be as “real” as we are or he is as “himself,” must become one with the words of the script. Those words must take over his body and mind. Interference of his own mental words - his own thoughts - tangles the psyche of the character he portrays with his own “self”, his own programmed paradigm, and creates a conflict which blocks true “feeling.”

Therefore, the actor’s task, his challenge, is to make the words his own, as if he created them. But to do that he has to be able to let the words take him over and flow so naturally from him that in answer to another character he can think of no response other than what is in the script. The “feeling” for the material is inseparable from this process. It is a by-product. How much room is there for his ego?

The actor has to train his mind and body to be a supple, subtle conduit for pure contact with the subject - the character he portrays. He must develop and train his voice to be a powerful and malleable instrument of expression, train his body to respond in concord with his needs to interact with other characters with naturalness, and be aware of his movements on stage. This all constitutes technique. To achieve contact with his subject - the part he plays - requires that there be no impediment to the actor’s expression of the “feelings” of his character. To do this requires the focus of his entire being. The actor’s “feeling” for the play and the part he portrays is inseparable from that attention. It is born from the melding of his psychic and physical forces in interaction with the whole, the material and other characters.

The same is true in music. The performer trains himself to become a perfect pipeline of inspiration coming directly from the music, and through him, to the audience. To do this requires that the artist have no physical or mental antagonism to the free flow of expression, expression which is one with the material, not added on by design. To do this requires technique. Without technique - skill that has become internalized - there can be no direct communion, hence no true feeling.

The “feeling” is the melding of the beauty of the sound, the subtlety, the nuance, the flow, the play of the rhythm, the organic understanding of the material, the physical presence and energy of the performer, the ability to create a “world” for an audience, the passion to work to that end, the pulling together of one’s entire being for the purpose at hand. This is what constitutes feeling. It is not achieved by admonishment, or via sophisms such as play with grandeur, or in a piecemeal fashion. It is a mind-set.

The artist seeks to give to others a direct line to the essence of the subject being illuminated through himself. Since we all are in relationship with one another and everything else - because the world is one indivisible system - if an artist can create an atmosphere in an audience which begets self-forgetfulness, of suspended disbelief that the situation is contrived, the artist’s mind can convey a direct experience with the music normally “outside” the capability of the auditors. To accomplish this transference the artist’s task is to “clean” himself psychically and physically from any impediment to expression, becoming one with the essence of what he performs. He must trust his intuition and inspiration. Two of the greatest impediments in artistic endeavor is a mind not free to run with intuition, and a public numbed to subtlety by the pursuit of distractions, the very purpose of which is to anesthesize the mind.

Art is study in the true sense of the word - looking with magnified attention at and into the subject and oneself. There is no end to discovery - as there is no center to a point - and it is this journey into the depths of the subject that is the source of true “feeling.” The main element necessary in art to convey true “feeling” is the possession of enough passion to get to the truth, the essence, of the subject of study.

Sentimentality in art is a result of a superficial and lazy attempt to “sell” a subject in the hope of acquiring something from another. “Feeling” is applied, lacquered on with brushstrokes hastily believed in, desperately borrowed from a source sanctioned by public opinion. All this is done to acquire outward approval. That something may be money, applause, recognition, but it is the sentimentalist’s main drive - ambition - to reap a benefit or advantage from his efforts.

The source of the sentimentalist’s actions are all outside themselves. What they feel is regulated by their concocted and inherited persona, through which they measure their effectiveness, which is, essentially, how well they are getting their message across. They sell. The only “feeling” they possess is a creation of their machine-minds comparing their programming with what comes “at them” from outside. Additionally, and paradoxically they can’t see what is truly outside because the filter of their minds blocks the outside world.

Since their inherited and programmed persona is a collection of paradigms meant to please and serve the societal values, power structures, and expectations in which they are embedded, their direct feelings, their intuitive process, their ability to have insight - which can only come from a break in the programming - is muffled, or deadened completely. For a person of this level of psychic development aesthetic feeling is not possible.

It is this sort of person that our society is manufacturing. And manufacturing is the correct word, because of the machine quality of both the process of indoctrination and the end-product - the machine-citizen.

The machine-citizen is the perfect guard dog and supporter of any power structure. Unable to see beyond their need to fit in and please those around them - their family, friends, authorities - they live in a hall of mirrors, their minds seeing what others see, their goals being what others want, their feelings the interaction of these elements, with nary an outside, perceptive insight having a chance of gaining entrance.

Freedom from inherited paradigms is not a loss of self. It is freedom from the limitations of one’s conditioned thinking - a false ego with no real “self.” When one speaks of the loss of ego as being a crucial component of art, the ego lost is the constraining, limiting factor. Loss of this ego allows one to stand against the crowd, to be unafraid of authorities and opinion, and to harness insight and perception as one’s microscope peering into the complexities and subtleties of life, and to have the freedom to express “feelings”- emotion that derives from care - in the highest sense of its meaning, a combination of reason and sensitivity. That is true intelligence.

So the dictum by teachers of art that a student play music with feeling, or act a part in a play with feeling, or paint or write with feeling, is not so easily met. If one doesn’t live with genuine feeling and communion with the world, one has no chance of having anything but a sentimental, contrived, and ultimately frustrated response to that demand.

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On Teaching the Violin by David Jacobson of San Francisco Institute of Music

by David Jacobson on 12/15/10

An interview with David Jacobson, founder of the San Francisco Institute of Music, about teaching the violin.

Do you think that it's crucial that a teacher be a good violinist to be good at teaching the violin?

Who can possibly teach what they cannot do? Moreover, it is a fact that for all instrumental playing the entire future possibility of accomplishment lies in the beginning, the foundation, because both technique, and musical thinking and understanding, is based on the variation of simple principles. The more perfect these underlying skills and concepts, the more possibility for mastery. Mastery is the ability to play without antagonism, either muscular or mental.

Does one need to be a virtuoso to be a great teacher?

One needs to be a virtuoso of some instrument. A master player can see through the complexities of music. They are masters because they see simplicity within what appears to be difficulty. Chopin was taught the piano by a violinist.

Do you think that there is such thing as a student with no talent for an instrument?

Learning an instrument is a combination of teacher skill, parental interest, and a student with an open mind. None of these conditions just happen, nor can a student just "do it." To find a skilled teacher is rare enough, to help a parent know enough about music to help a student's learning process is another hurdle, and to overcome the fear in everyone that they are incapable is the greatest gift a teacher can bestow on any student.

Do you think that there's such thing as a person with no sense of pulse?

Not as long as they are alive.

What do you do to help a student who struggles with rhythm?

Rhythm is innate. After all, without it we couldn't walk or talk. So one must separate the difficulty of learning rhythm as a conceptual understanding of what is printed on the page from the innate feeling that is in one's body. The two must be brought together.

You place a lot of emphasis upon technique in your teaching. Do you also encourage the students to play scales and other rote exercises?

In reality technique and the ability to express oneself musically are inseparable. I believe that even exercises are music. I encourage students to play everything musically. Nothing is played in a rote fashion. There should be thought behind every note. After all, many accompanying figures in pieces are repetitive and rather simple, not unlike etudes. But there is a way to play everything musically. Part of Chopin's approach to teaching the piano was to have a student play a single note with as many as twenty variations. A great actor could say, "How are you?" in perhaps twenty different ways with twenty, or maybe even more, shades of meaning.

What is talent?

Talent is the lazy mind's explanation for skill that seems inexplicable. Yet a close look a "talents" will show they are an amalgam of several circumstances fortuitously brought together - a supportive cultural milieu, interested or at least supportive parents, hard work, fine teaching, and a mind free enough to run with intuition.

Everyone has talent. Talent is a small blip of wonder compared to the miracle within everyone of being part of life. Can anyone explain how they grow? That is real talent that is inexplicable. Nearly every aspect of great playing is explainable. As a matter of fact we have spent the last ten years analyzing the methodologies of some of the most unexplainable masters of the past, the results of which will be published in my book, Paradigms Lost.

What do you think of the Suzuki Method?

Shinichi Suzuki was a great humanitarian with a wonderful idea - namely, that anyone can learn to play an instrument. He observed that children learn easily and naturally. He noticed that a skill as complex as learning a language, Japanese, for example, is acquired unconsciously by any child embedded in that milieu. Therefore, he reasoned that musical skills must also be transferable with similar ease. But this begs an important question - do they learn correctly?

While we agree that a child does learn many things more easily than an adult, the entire process of acquiring expert skill on a musical instrument is fraught with potential dead-ends. In fact, Suzuki's own theory is his most powerful nemesis. Children learn with the same ease both what is correct and incorrect.

We do not believe - and all of our experience with Suzuki-trained students has not proven us wrong - that it is possible to learn to play any string instrument or the piano in a class setting. The skill-set needed at a foundational level is too complex and subtle to be meted out in a wholesale format. The entire future ability of a student lies in the first few steps. If these are not completely correct, it is nearly impossible to overcome learned, built-in limitations. In most cases, it takes only a couple of years with an incorrect approach to ruin a student's entire musical future, devotee or professional, unless a student has the extraordinary luck of finding a great teacher and has the will at age seven or eight to relearn how to play. A four-year-old can learn French, but if his teacher adds a Texas drawl to the French accent he passes on to students, it misses the point, and by age ten will be nearly impossible to be rid of. I am sure that Suzuki was well-intentioned, but his method is really an "arts and crafts" approach to music.

Nor is it possible to learn correctly with Suzuki-based private lessons. Expertise is not a product of playing one's way through all the levels of Suzuki books. Musical training is a science, a science perfected in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century in Europe, primarily France and Russia. The greatest performers of classical music have all been trained with a European, Russian approach.

Yet, despite the shortcomings of Suzuki's methodology there are many positive aspects of his approach to his credit. His involvement of parents in a child's learning process is an invaluable insight. His questioning of society's idolatry of the unexamined mystery of talent is a much needed step forward. Moreover, his method invites people to learn an esoteric skill with the promise of a system that can transcend the difficulties commonly associated with learning a musical instrument such as the piano or the violin. Thousands of people took lessons that would probably never have done so. As I discussed, the core of his method - deep knowledge of how to play the instruments - is lacking. But the promise of taking the haphazard element out of the equation, the idea that there is real knowledge that can be transmitted and that all is not left to the mysterious process of "talent,"is a powerful invitation for many more people to successfully take part in learning how to play music.

I have presented in my book an analysis of playing that will work for anyone and for any instrument. Can this beginning be expanded upon? Can we create a school that fulfills Suzuki's hope that anyone can learn to play an instrument well? I believe so with complete certainty.

Some parents may argue that they just want to "expose" their children to music. Yet to learn correctly or incorrectly is often the same tuition. However, learning incorrectly not only prevents all future development, it also prompts most of us to label a student untalented when the built-in ceiling of advancement is quickly and inevitably reached, and the judgment of inherent inadequacy (that one forever internalizes) has been imprinted on the mind of both a child and their parent. Unfortunately, this usually has nothing to do with the innate ability of the child.

If it was possible to learn to read or do math in such a way that all future development beyond a child's level was blocked we would have a good idea of what usually happens when a child is "exposed"? to music. In music both ineptitude and expertise reside within each of us. Good or bad teaching can call forth either one.

In fact, good teaching is difficult to find anywhere, and since all future possibility lies in the beginning steps, good teaching is not good enough. SFIM takes this fact very seriously and to insure the talent within us all is released employs a scientific approach to training young musicians. In music, expertise is based on the perfection of basic skills which, through variation of those very same principles, create virtuoso technique - mastery. We have analyzed and distilled the methodologies and basic thinking, both musical and physical, of the great musicians of the past and present. This knowledge allows our students to develop quickly, yet on a firm pedagogical framework. Our teachers cooperate and share knowledge with one another.

We are always reviewing and improving our approach. We emphasize and encourage students to have a well-rounded educational experience, and to that end have developed a course of study that significantly reduces the practice time traditionally assumed necessary to the acquisition of expertise. Our approach allows our students to explore life and its opportunities yet still learn music to a masterful level.

What is a bel canto approach to instrumental mastery?

Groves dictionary defines bel canto as "fine singing." There is a great deal of argument over what the term means. But I will say how I employ the term.

Essentially, I believe that bel canto means smooth connection between notes. This is what you hear in the greatest singers, for example, Renata Tebaldi or Enrico Caruso. The greatest instrumentalists of the past imitated this approach. Jascha Heifetz, Fritz Kreisler, Nathn Milstein, Vladimir Horowitz, Sergei Rachmaninoff, even (which may surprise some people) Glenn Gould, all played in this style.

It so happens that this approach is not only more satisfying musically, but is also physically and athletically correct. This allowed these performers to play without physical or mental antagonism, consequently allowing them to reach levels of expression unequaled in our present day because this approach, for reasons that I explain in my book, has been lost. We are attempting to bring it back.

Some students learn more easily with an analytical approach, while others are more suited to a physical method. How do you adjust to these different learning styles?

To have deep understanding one must look in many ways. Playing is a mind-body system.

Do you place much emphasis upon arm weight in bowing in your teaching? For all string instruments the weight of the right arm is, basically, down. From the "down" weight the sound is released by the spinning of the string. Too much down pressure will ruin the sound. In fact, the bow moves across the strings.

Does the left hand play a key role in sound production?

Their are only two hands that can make the sound, and both are equally important. The left hand stops the string, shortens or lengthens it, thereby changing the pitch. The position of the fingers on the string is crucial to both the production of sound and intonation. A slight cushion must be formed at the tip of the finger. The fat of the finger creates a round sound. The pressure of the finger on the string affects the cleanliness of the tone, as does the angle of the bow to the bridge which must be 45 degrees, the wood turned away from the bridge.

How important is good posture?

Without correct posture none of the muscles of the body work correctly and efficiently. Good posture is crucial for all athletic endeavor.

Some students are introverted, some are extroverted some more analytical, and some more intuitive. How do you, for example, bring out the personalities of the more introverted or analytical types?

If one is concerned with expressing the music and can immerse oneself in that process, there is nothing to overcome.

Do you encourage your students to play in an orchestra while studying with you?

I encourage students to play music with, and for, other people. Obviously, some of the greatest music ever written is orchestral and to experience that music fully one must play in an orchestra. An unfortunate aspect to orchestral playing is the reliance for musical expression on the direction of a conductor, whose presence may be necessary to organize the students efforts and teach them the piece of music, but ultimately teaches them to play for his approval, thereby bypassing their direct interaction with one another and the music. In addition to this, a conductor's job is to beat the beats, ironically the very thing which is the destroyer of a musical line.

Do you tend to dictate musical interpretations?

I teach them general principles within which they can find their own nuance.

How do you reveal the emotional depth of a work to a student who may not be able to relate to its emotional content due to lack of life experience or youth?

Youth does not preclude emotional depth. In my experience it is the other way around. Adulthood and the need to please often kills our ability to feel.

Do you encourage your students to listen to recordings?

Recordings allows us to have Horowitz play in our living rooms. Or on another night we may want to visit with Caruso. In France painters learned to paint by spending the day in the Louvre and copying the great masters. All learning of a skill is done through apprenticeship. If a student could truly imitate Horowitz or Heifetz he would have to be a master.

What do you do when a child is forced to play an instrument by their parents?

Children are forced to go to school, the point being to educate them. I am quite sure they would prefer to play video games and watch television all day. The condition of being forced is the interplay of parent with child. Their are many ways to look at a child's disinclination to do something.

Do you think that the study of music is important developmentally for children?

In school the subject matter that children study is overwhelmingly cerebral. For the most part they memorize facts, occasionally within careful circumscribed parameters practice critical thinking, and often engage in some form of sports.

To play music on a high level requires, and makes conspicuously evident the fact, that our minds are inseparable from our bodies. Playing an instrument is a physical dance by the body around a musical instrument controlled by the brain in such a way that the utmost expression is released with the least possible physical antagonism, a free flow of mental-emotional energy.

To accomplish this feat of coordination a student must develop an ability to see through apparent complexity to the simple underlying structure which is the foundation of the music. Music is essentially theme and variation, and no matter how seemingly complex, to the trained practitioner is ultimately found to be a building made of simple elements. Because of this combination of the mental and physical and the control and awareness required over both elements, yet allowing and encouraging emotional freedom, musical study must develop the brain more holistically than our traditional educational training ground.

Do you encourage students to go into the music profession?

We teach the art of music, and any art has nothing to do with the practicalities of our lives, which is an unfortunate comment on our society. Art is the contemplation and expression of beauty, an aspect of life without which we are nothing but machines. Teaching an art is more than passing on a skill. Leonardo Da Vinci said that learning to draw is learning to see the world. Learning to understand and play music is confronting your physical, mental, and emotional limitations and attempting to go beyond them.

To do that we have to see ourselves in ever expanding paradigms. This gradually helps us understand the world. It is this "seeing"? that is the action that allows one to do. The seeing is the doing. So art is about perceiving what is true, although what is true is never static. To learn to play an instrument as a means to play in an orchestra or band is not learning music itself and seeing where that takes you. In fact, learning to understand music has no relationship to anything practical at all.

Art is a way out of the practicalities which form the structure of our society. It is a doorway to a different world, and the price of admission to this world is the direct perception of beauty.

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