Special moments at a lesson
Special moments during a lesson. “Artistic Time” and “Everyday Time”
Rachael is taking a lesson.
I have come to realize that the times when I am most useful to the student is while they are in the midst of playing; not after they have come to a pause. Once the student has stepped back out of the river of time that flows when sounding the piece, it will be too late for her to take my feedback and transplant back into the living flow of sounds she created, where it will do the most good.
The time to strike is in medias res – in the midst of things. The student is then in what I call the “artistic time the flow of ” and not in the flow of what, in contrast, I call “everyday time”. When the stops playing, or a few moments later (although it can be much longer) she simply switches realities, and is back in the everyday. The transition is so automatic that usually the person does not know it is happening: “oh, there is piano again in front of me; there’s Joe again sitting by my side; there’s that awful looking chair he’s sitting in …”. But most of all — there’s “me” again, someone sitting on a piano bench: for if we are immersed in the artistic flow of time we may easily forget where we are, who we are, or even that we are. While playing all that seems to exist is the sound of the music.
During the artistic time the student is in an altered state. If there were a special “artistic-time-clock” available, she would notice it was set to zero when she starts playing, and then continues to marks off time during the duration of her playing. It stops a moment or a longer after she stops playing. At that point she looks at the real clock on the wall, and gets re-synchronized with the time flow of the real world: Oh, it’s 1:30, time for lunch.
The relation of these two times, “artistic” and “everyday”, is expressed by the poet Edna St. Vincent Millay at the beginning of the “On Hearing a Symphony of Beethoven”:
“Sweet sounds, oh, beautiful music, do not cease!
Reject me not into the world again.
With you alone is excellence and peace, … ”
Art (and I might say nature too) has the ability of putting the person into the flow of artistic time, who then may stay in it for a period of minutes, hours, or longer.
If I can join her in the artistic time, what I do or say has a good chance of being absorbed into the fabric of that artistic time, and of staying in that time whenever she plays.
Related to this, there are also brief moments during a lesson, when the teacher can speak directly into the innermost recesses of the student psyche. Moments like these do not occur at every lesson. I can best describe it as something that arises as an unforeseen crack in the fabric of time. A moment later and that opening usually seals over.
The teacher has to alert to when and if such an opening occurs. Something is said or done inside the lesson, that unexpectedly causes the student to let down all the shields and defenses, leaving them open for a moment to new ideas. At such a moment the teacher can carefully and compassionately say something that the teacher has, for some time past, been careful not to say to the student: things that hover near where the student’s personality and musicality intersect.
To take advantage of such a moment, the teacher has to be fine-tuned to the student during the lesson, and remain so as continuously as possible.