Session #2 - A Sound in A Summer

Here a fest, there a fest, everywhere a fest, fest!

Rochester is the home of many festivals during the summer months. What this town lacks in activities during the winter as mountains of snow bring life to a crawl, she more than makes up for May-August. I attended the Rochester International Jazz Festival last Friday evening. From 4-11pm for an entire week, the streets surrounding Eastman are closed off to traffic as masses of jazz, soul, blues, bluegrass and funk musicians descend on the heart of Rochester. With multiple stages throughout the area cranking body-shaking tunes, music lovers make a point to support everyone from high school jazz bands to the big names of the festival (Natalie Cole, Bela Fleck, Elvis Costello, and more). 

I finished my voice lesson on Friday at Ms. Webber's home and needed to run downtown to the Sibley Music Library to get some music she wanted me to pick up. After I left the library I hung around for a little bit because there were only a couple days left for the festival and I hadn't spent anytime actually "attending" an event during the week like my bucket list requires. It was early in the afternoon so I listened to a high school jazz band. Then out of nowhere came a brass wail interlaced with a guitar riff. I made my way to the next street over to watch Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue finish up their soundcheck. Once they were done and the few tech guys were making adjustments, I asked a sound engineer when they'd be performing their full set. 9pm. I'd chosen my event to attend!

Trombone Shorty is a 25 year old music prodigy from the Tremé neighborhood in New Orleans. This area was one of the first so called "projects" within the USA as of the 1940s. Before that time, it was home to where many slaves would gather on Sunday to dance and celebrate their traditions prior to the Civil War. Trombone Shorty, aka Troy Andrews, grew up marching the streets with a trombone twice his size learning the gritty, in-your-face power of the brass band. He graduated from New Orleans Center for Creative Arts and quickly found a mentor in Lenny Kravitz. Trombone Shorty has made an international name for himself because he has something special to offer. Check him out here.

It never ceases to amaze me that folks my age are putting their stamp on the music industry and the arts. Wielding his trombone, trumpet, vocals, plus his ability to circular breathe (which he showed while holding tight to a pitch on trumpet for well over 3 minutes, maybe even 4 minutes, at one point in the show) Troy Andrews has created a unique sound and show that people want more of. So of course this made me ask once again... "What is my stamp on the arts?" 

This is such a hard questions for me to answer. I keep coming back to it because although I have a unique vocal quality, I confess I often wonder if I'll ever be free enough to allow the soul behind it be exposed. That's what attracts people to the arts. The human behind it all. And if scripture is truth, this human has something of worth. You, human, have something of worth.

During my lesson on Friday, Ms. Webber and I spoke quite a bit about the natural timbre of my voice and how when placed correctly has the potential to cut through an orchestra. She made the comment that some people think mezzo-sopranos are suppose to be "dark" and "lofty" sounding, but this isn't true. The idea that I'm suppose to be a Marilyn Horne versus a Frederica von Stade has always been a challenge to my identity. I think I'm starting to embrace the fact that I'm a "bright" mezzo. Quite honestly, the sound and sensation I have singing while embracing what the Lord has made my voice to be allows my personality to spring forth. Maybe that's the ticket to finding one's respective stamp on the arts. Finding the sound that fits the God-given personality. Trombone Shorty has surely found a sound that fits his enthusiastic "Ya'll gud danigh?!" (Which made me feel right at home in the South while my friend joining me got quite a chuckle!) 

My sound is coming... surely it's coming the more I make Psalm 139:14 the them of my song: 

"I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well." (ESV) 

I'm praying my sound joins us all on a more consist basis in a summer. Ms. Webber also made the comment, "Singing like this isn't something sane people do..." when I mentioned how crazed my whole body feels when I'm really singing while embracing the feeling of the correct placement of the sound for my body. When things are correct, every cavity in my body seems to be vibrating. It's quite the endorphin rush when you actually sing on the breathe and sing as yourself. 

Saturday I helped with a garage sale that the small group I'm attending held. It was such a delight to chat with the ladies, play with their kids, and eat some zweigles hotdogs! Zweigles is a family owned, Rochester tradition. The zweigle hotdog I had on Saturday was the best hotdog I've ever had. (And this says a lot considering hotdogs are a bit of a guilty pleasure for me... Oh the things you folks are learning!) 

Later that evening I joined a couple new friends for their church's 20s and 30s group bi-weekly sand volleyball event. I don't think Holly and Robyn were expecting my aggressiveness on the volleyball court... It helps that I played center and right hitter for 4 years. I ended up being placed on an all men's team on the "more competitive and skilled" court. Ha! It was great fun and welcomed chance to break a sweat and banter for a couple hours. 

I'm realizing that I'll be talking about food in just about every post... There is just something about summer and fall that makes me savor flavors, colors, and nature a little bit more than the winter. I opted to cook dinner for the roommates tonight because they have done an excellent job filling my tummy. 

Italian pepperoni and vegetable quiche, parmesan sweet pepper and spinach salad, with mixed honeydew and cantaloupe  

I pray you eat well and continue find your respective "sound" this summer too, no matter what age you are, leaving a God-given fingerprint in your sphere of influence.

A Break In...

Egg timers are a valuable resource in the practice room. Upon suggestion from a musician friend, I've set a timer on my phone or laptop during practice sessions to allow myself time to recuperate and refocus. This is my new practice habit that I've begun this week and is working splendidly:

Morning Practice Session

45 minute - practice

30 minute - break

45 minute - practice

Afternoon/Evening Practice Session

30 minute - practice

30 minute - break

30 minute - practice

(If I'm alert, I squeeze in another 30 minutes...)

This is the equation for a successful day of intentional, calculated, focused practice. Many studies have determined that the best way to practice an instrument is in thirty minute to one hour increments. I actually read one such study as an undergraduate and eventually split my time into one hour increments. However, further decreasing each session by 15 minutes has somehow done the trick. 

To all my undergrad music friends who read this... START THIS PRACTICE HABIT NOW! Please learn from my mistake. I now realize I wasted precious time in college "practicing" when I was really creating and solidifying lazy singing habits. Is it tedious? Yes. Do you have to set specific goals for each session? Yes. Is it worth it? Yes. Check out this study, suggested by my friend Tim, about deliberate practice that, I believe, is worth the read for musicians.

Looking back on the past couple of years working in the admissions office, I've seen this habit taking shape without my knowing it. Sitting in a cubicle is very, very difficult for me. If you know me at all, you know I like to be on the move in my work environment, unless it's a rainy morning. When working in the admissions office I would perform focused work for 45 minutes to an hour until I couldn't sit still or started daydreaming. Then I'd walk around, chat a little, etc. and back to work I'd go. 

Systematic work is quite fulfilling and, I think, God-honoring. Proverbs 18:9 says:

"Whoever is slack in his work is a brother to him who destroys." (ESV)

Ouch! If that's not a kick in the pants, I don't know what is. I think it's all important to understand that with this hard truth, the Lord knew before the beginning of time how we would be wired psychology and emotionally. He also knew what tools we would need in order to not slack off in the job He's given us. He gave us the gift and tool of Sabbath! What gift/tool has He given you so you can avoid being "a brother to him who destroys?" He's given me the gift/tool of 30 minute "sabbaths" between practicing. So I'll set that timer that reads "a break in..." and work diligently knowing the gift that lies ahead. 

At the risk of offense and belaboring the point, I'm going to take this one step further. It's not just having a "sabbath" that makes the difference, for we can even slack in resting by resting unwisely.

(On a sidebar... I long for the days when every shop and restaurant was closed once a week allowing people a day of rest. I wonder how much more peaceful and productive our society would be were this still practiced?)

In other news: it's strawberry picking season here in Rochester. Below you'll find a glimpse of the treasures some of the Mapes ladies, Mapes is the last name of the sisters I'm living with whose immediate family also live in Rochester, uncovered earlier this week:

The Mapes ladies are all quite talented in the kitchen. It's been a week of sweet treats around the house. I think I'm going to need to add another mile to my jogging route...

I found a treasure of my own today at the advice of Dephanie Lilite. After not allowing myself to venture out much this week due to work, I took a much needed break in Highland Park for lunch today. Highland Park is a wonderland of oversized trees to climb, groves to read books in, secret trails to explore, and even a castle with sunken gardens to admire. For more information on the park click here.

The Warner Castle in Highland Park

The grove where I picnicked

Enjoy those little sabbaths, my friends. Without them we are zombies, with them we are a charismatic* success. 

*charisma in Greek means "grace, favor, or gift"

Sidewalks and Stanislavski

Sidewalks. What a profound creation! My southern counterparts, we are sorely lacking in the sidewalk department. While we have wide-open spaces to roam (I can't help but think of the Dixie Chicks' song "Wide Open Spaces" anytime I use the phrase), the joys of side-walking are coming alive in my heart.

Sidewalks provide safety and security while allowing freedom to engage nature and people. I liken sidewalks to God's moral will, which was one of the subjects addressed in this morning's sermon at Northridge Church. When we dwell in the safety and security of the moral will of God, we are given freedom to engage life without fear of failure. I like sidewalks because they have boundaries yet trail ahead  endlessly making the next turn one of my choosing, but it must continue on another sidewalk.

I actually had the thought yesterday as I was walking, "All these Rochestereans that drive to the beach [at Lake Ontario] don't know the sidewalks they are missing!" Even this morning chatting with a girl, Kristin, at church I mentioned the joy the sidewalks are bringing me. Her response, "I have never given the sidewalks a second thought!" I quite enjoy exchanging perspectives with new friends.

I am technically living a 15 minute walk from the Lake Ontario beach in a northern suburb, Irondequoit. Yesterday was my first solo journey to the beach... it was wonderful.

The sidewalk along Lakeshore Drive

Overlooking Lake Ontario

You might note the book joining me at the beach yesterday. It's a study on the works of Stanislavski. Stanislavski was a 19th/early 20th century Russian actor and director who developed acting techniques and theories which have become foundational in the scholarly study of acting. Why am I studying theories and 'systems' of acting? As I enter graduate school I'm required to take several diagnostic tests within a two day period prior to the beginning of classes to evaluate my level of performance in all areas related to music theatre. Acting is one of these exams. So, Stanislavski and other counterparts are becoming my acquaintances.

The majority of my days in Rochester consist of practice and study, study and practice. This is the daily life of an artist. I am eternally thankful for the past two years I've spent without study, because maturity in age and life experience truly translate to academia. There is a fervor and excitement to grow in knowledge and character.

If you are of a praying nature, you may begin even now to pray for God's glory on my diagnostic exams in August. Here is the list of exams:

Music Theory
Music History
Aural Skills
Diction
Acting Placement
Voice Leveling Performance

Session #1 - Gumball Machines

I had two titles in mind for this post. The one you see above and this one, "There Are Humans in New York."

After talking with young musician friends, there seems to be this trepidation when meeting a superior musician for the first time. I know I have it! We young musicians are still figuring out that the great maestros, voices, composers, and professors are not automatons. They are humans. I'm pleased to inform you that Ms. Webber is a human.

Humanity is more of a blessing than perfection. We need mortality to allow ourselves to be saved.  And how blessed that saving is! Coming to a point of being able to say you, and I, and we are flesh and bones, homes with squeaky doors, cars with scratches, is a most freeing moment. The squeaking becomes melodic and the scratches glisten while loving grace becomes all the greater. It's grace that allows for perfection and nothing more. Mortality asks for grace which refines toward perfection. I fear that as musicians seeking perfection, we often forget our humanity and the most important link in the chain is lost. Grace.

I had a wonderful session with Ms. Webber this afternoon. She is very gracious and in her words, "I think this is a good fit and a good investment." There are many moments of exciting sensations, and I gather sounds as well, when I simply let the air take it's natural course instead of requiring it to navigate the pathways of a tight labyrinth.  But I'm quickly reminded that it's what happens in the practice room that sticks. So it's to 428 I must go with the analogy of gumball machines...

Gumballs are not sucked out of the machine into an expectant child's goodie sack. They are poured into the sack. This is how air enters an open rib cage. If it were up to us to suck air in, we would all be dead. All we have to do is open our sack and let the air pour itself. Much like the Spirit. We open and it pours.

I pray your Friday evening is safe and in good company. I'm going to muse over a Lifetime movie and cup of tea with my roommate :)

428

"Again and again and again and again..." This is the thought pattern of an aspiring artist. Repetition. Not just repetition but concerted, focused, deliberate repetition. I am not one who likes to whittle. Quite frankly, I don't know many people who are. Yet it's those that take the time to whittle little by little that somehow create the most intricate and meaningful works of art. This is my whittling season.

Have you ever watched a woodcarver? I had the opportunity to watch a wood craftsman on a regular basis while working at an 1880's pioneer themed amusement park, Silver Dollar City. Hours and hours spent chipping away at a small wooden box, but what a result! Little by little is more effect for the detailed woodcarver than chunk by chunk.

I practiced at Eastman today. It was much quieter than I had expected. In fact, during my first session I only heard the faint sound of a flute and violin on the floor above me. During my second session this afternoon I was audience to a full-bodied soprano voice ricocheting off the parking garage wall and into my practice room. Each phrase was an unending sigh.

MY practice room, 428. I've deemed this MY room because on occasion I can feel the vibrations in my head and chest aligning to send a laser of sound smacking the parking garage wall next door. My voice can ricochet too. Not consistently in a full-bodied timbre, but that will come with the whittling. More importantly I've deemed this MY practice room because of Isaiah 42:8. It reads:

"I am the Lord; that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to carved idols." 

What better scripture reference, if I may call it that, sealed plainly on the door to where much coveting and idolatry of a superb instrument takes place. Yet, He alone must receive the glory! When I enter 428 my agenda must fall out the window. It's written on the door. 

In other news... We had a wonderful dinner with friends last night. Fresh, summer salads and fruit at the house followed by Abbott's Custard and a walk along the pier in Charlotte. Now, for all  of my readers from the south, be aware this is pronounced [shar-lot] with the accent on the second syllable, not [shar-let] with the accent on the first syllable. I am learning all sorts of new pronunciations! 

Dephanie Lilite, a dear friend, gave me a bucket list for my summer. After consulting with the ladies, I'll definitely be checking everything off the list and then some. I look forward to sharing the checkmarks with all of you!

Mailing Address

78 Shorewood Dr.
Rochester, NY14617

Correspondence is always welcome :)

Finding My Rochester Rhythm

First, I must say that I never planned on being a "blogger." My mom has always said, "Never say never because then you will." This blog is one more tally for mothers' wisdom.

The idea of a blog has always caused me a little angst. Will people read it? Is blogging one more attack from technology on authentic community? After all, it's much easier, not better, to spout thoughts into cyberspace than to a human who will assess and riposte. None the less, here I am with my first post. Blogging is the most efficient way I can update friends and family on the goings on in Rochester. Who knows, maybe I'll fall in love with it... but I'm not ready to hold my breath just yet.

Here it goes:

I'm in Rochester, NY! Praise the Lord! I was blessed with a seemingly quick 21 hour drive over two days. Thanks to the OBU admissions office for preparing me for the road and suggesting audiobooks, along with prayer upon prayer from all of you!

My dear friend, Tim, posed me with this simple but profound thought on my journey northward - "We are just Christ followers who happen to like music. Who get to express our relationship in notes." This truth along with Psalm 91 are the theme for my journey.

I arrived in Rochester yesterday evening at 5:30pm to a warm and welcoming church family, Northridge Church. Check them out here. I love the Body of Christ. As I get the opportunity to travel more and more, I'm consistently in awe of unity by the Holy Spirit. Popular quotes of laughter or music being the universal language pale in comparison to the language of redemption.

My hostesses are absolutely wonderful. Simply a joy to be around and examples to be followed. Karen and Allison have welcomed me with open arms as one more in their family of 8, including the two brother-in-laws. Their home is darling and exudes tenderness.

It is truly going to be a haven this summer.