Express yourself

Inspired by the cooler-than-us kids over on sites like The Awl and Tiger Beatdown, Life’s a Pitch Artist-in-Residence Jonathan Biss and I decided to have an iChat conversation. The topic was meant to be Expressiveness in Classical Music Performances, which we soon found means different things to both of us.

He won’t like it, but it’s my blog, so I will take this opportunity to plug his upcoming US concert dates:  January 19th, University Park (PA), Schwab Auditorium; January 21th, New York, Carnegie Hall; January 23th, Baltimore, Shriver Hall; January 25th, Philadelphia, Perelman Theater.  His blog posts for Carnegie Hall are here.

The following iChat took place this morning. I was in the comfort of my apartment, and the Artist-in-Residence was in some Starbucks in Germany with babies screaming in the background.

11:11 AM

Jonathan Biss: So you should start us off.

Amanda Ameer: Yes. I need to change the font.

AA: PALATINO

JB: You’re purple, by the way.

AA: Obviously. [My iChat settings are indeed purple.]

JB: Secretariat!

JB: Oh. I thought we were naming horses.

AA: I’m sure you did. OK. So last week, I sent my friend a YouTube video of a musician. She can’t play video with sound at work, but she said she would watch this one anyway, since in the case of this artist, the sound didn’t matter. I remembered how once you said that a lot of artists hate when folks comment on enjoying “watching” a performance rather than listening to it, which then got me thinking about how consciously or subconsciously performing artists are more physically expressive on stage than, say, when at home practicing alone.

JB: Since this story is the starting point of the discussion, I want to clarify something: Did your friend not need to have the sound on because she doesn’t *like* this artist’s playing? .. or because watching him/her says it all?

AA: No, she said that because of the artist’s showman reputation, she was sure I wasn’t forwarding the video for any sort of musical reasons, but rather because of some physical antics on stage.

JB: Right.

AA: We could also start from a different, more positive place? Which is: I know classical musicians often get positive feedback for their physicality during performances. Audience members tell them after concert that the artist’s expressiveness helped them understand and enjoy the music.

JB: It’s an interesting question/problem. On the one hand, the great thing about music is the way it expresses very real feeling in an abstract way. And because of that, I think trying to look like the feeling you are hoping to convey cheapens it. Maybe not “cheapens” – “generalizes ” might be a better word. But at the same time, there’s no denying that there is an aspect of the experience of hearing music live which goes beyond pure sound.

AA: But don’t you feel like audiences “connect” with you more when you’re more expressive? I remember the first time I saw Hilary play, I thought, “ooo – she moves like a modern dancer.” …and then I thought, “her tone is also kind of like that of modern dance – clean lines, powerful…”

JB: This is a semantic thing, but it’s really, really important: do you mean *physically* expressive?

AA: I do mean physically expressive: body language, facial expressions…

JB: OK. Because I do think the whole point of playing music is to be expressive.

AA: …but with your little fingers.

AA: …not with your unwieldy arms, etc..

JB: The question is whether or not that expressivity (?) should spill over into the physical. So, to answer your question: I tend to think that one thing that most audiences have in common, regardless of how familiar they are with the music they are hearing, is that they have a pretty good Sincerity Gauge. And so I think that if whatever is happening physically (unwieldy arms, etc.) is a natural thing – an unconscious extension of the playing, there’s no harm in it. Perhaps it even could enhance a performance. Where the trouble starts – and for me it’s BIG trouble – is when I sense that a performer has *decided* that s/he ought to look like the music being played. Because then it’s artificial, and becomes a distraction away from the music. Not to mention that it then makes me doubt the sincerity of the music-making itself, as well.

AA: So what do you think the indicators of insincerity are?

JB: I don’t know that there are specific things I could identify; it’s more like you know it when you see it. Just like life.

AA: Thanks for the Life Lesson, Jonathan Biss.

JB: There is a complicating factor, though, which is that in purely musical terms, you do have to play “bigger” in a hall – certainly a large one – than you do in your living room.

JB: (You’re welcome.)

AA: But just because you wouldn’t, say, lean back dramatically during one passage and another pianist does…that doesn’t mean it’s insincere.

AA: “Playing bigger” as in, volume-wise?

JB: By “bigger” I don’t mean louder. I mean that the gestures have to be more defined. And that’s where the danger of doing something self-conscious comes in.

AA: Why would you be thinking about gestures at all, though?

JB: Uh-oh. Which question do I answer first?

AA: I don’t know – let the iChat spirit show you the way.

AA: The Spirit of the iChat <—— my yacht.

JB:
I’ll go chronological. No, obviously another pianist might do something
physical that I wouldn’t, and it could be totally sincere. (One of the
many reasons imitation is bad – it is almost by definition insincere.)
That falls in the category of Things an Audience Can Smell.

JB: OK, so clearly I’m the Not Funny (=boring) iChatter here.

AA: Imitation as in, gesturing the way one’s teacher would?

JB: OK, another semantic problem. I meant *musical* gestures.

AA: Maybe I don’t know what you mean by “musical gestures,” then?

JB: Occasionally that might have a physical aspect, for a technical
reason, but that’s another story. Phrasing. The shape of a line. That
kind of thing.

AA: But an audience can’t SEE the shape of
a line. This is my point: would they understand your phrasing better if
there was some visible, physical action attached?

AA: I also find this fascinating in light of the popularity of HD broadcasts.

JB:
I mean, don’t you think the primary reason people come to concerts is
probably that they suspect that they can have an experience that is
based on sound?

AA: Did you see that the LA Phil had a
live broadcast in movie theaters last weekend? I didn’t go, but do you
think Dudamel put on a show for the cameras? Did the orchestra
musicians?

JB: I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who would claim to never have had an emotional reaction to some music.

JB: I didn’t see it.

AA: Does it change music-making if you know you’re on movie screens worldwide?

JB:
 The question is complicated by the fact that he is a conductor. He
doesn’t produce sound! Therefore, his primary – no, only – means of
persuasion is physical.

AA: I didn’t see it either, but in principle it’s an interesting
concept, right? Opera in the movie theaters is one thing–it’s
theatrical–but orchestra concerts?

JB: But I’m talking about him persuading the musicians here, not the audience.

AA:
I went to Renee Fleming’s recital last night. For the first half, I sat
in the dress circle, and then for the second half, I moved downstairs
(at Carnegie) to the orchestra to sit with a press friend who had an
extra ticket. It was a totally different concert! Sure, she’s a singer,
so the physical expression is different, but when you’re playing at
Carnegie next week, do you think about reaching the cheap seats, all
the while connecting with the people in the front row? Maybe the larger
question here is how much do artists even think about connecting with
the audience during a performance.

JB: Again, I do. But I think about it only in terms of pure sound.

JB:
I think given that the whole point of a concert is that you are playing
music *for people*, you have a responsibility to think about it. And I
think just about every performer I know feels – rightly or wrongly –
that they can sense the level of attention in the audience.

AA: But if you’re thinking about connecting with them, is that
inherently insincere, in a way? Wouldn’t the purest form of performance
be watching you practice or something? Without knowing we’re
there…((creepy))?

JB: That’s a really interesting question.

JB: First of all, I want to again clarify that I think that there
are two types of “connecting” here. One is about sound, the other is
about physical gesture.

AA: Well if we’re just coming to your concert for sound, why don’t
we sit at home in our Dartmouth sweatpants and listen to your CDs?

AA:…for free

AA:…with hot cocoa

AA: I realize there is something
exciting about a live performance vs. a CD, so to clarify: why don’t we
just listen to a radio broadcast of you playing live in your studio?

JB:
 And (maybe not?) incidentally, I think it’s really interesting that
already in this conversation, I’ve twice used a word (expressiveness,
gestures) which I meant only to be about playing, and you – not a
musician, but much more than a casual observer – thought it could only
mean movement.

JB: Well, there is such a thing as the
atmosphere of a concert hall. It’s a really hard thing to discuss,
because no one knows exactly what accounts for it.

AA: I won’t take it personally that you’re forgetting my Harp Career of Destiny, but yes.

JB: I think you’re using “destiny” a *bit* lightly, here…

AA: Also–another Life Lesson–you can’t account for personal taste. And there are sometimes thousands of audience members.

JB:
For those of you keeping score, we’re now 1:1 on Life Lessons. Yeah, not
only can you not account for taste, but you shouldn’t try to control
the experience of the audience.

AA: So while one person may love a grand (physical) gesture, I’d be sitting in the audience rolling my eyes.

JB: (Which is a kind of physical gesture.)

JB: I really want to go back to the question of whether thinking about connecting to an audience is “inherently insincere”.

AA: Okee dokee.

JB: So, musicians sometimes talk about “stage makeup.”

JB: And just to preempt any remarks, that is a Metaphor.

JB:
It’s not just a question of the size of the space. There’s also the
fact that you (the performer) know the music. You know how you feel
about it. That means that your need to hear the music/your feelings
clarified is reduced. So to communicate those things – which again, is
the point! – you need to try to fill the role of the listener.  The
listener who doesn’t have the advantage of knowing what you know, because
he isn’t you. You could argue that that would necessarily produce some
self-consciousness, but I don’t think there’s anything in that formula
which is insincere. But as soon as you go beyond that point, and start
thinking about how people are *reacting* to what you are doing, the
danger of insincerity is there.

AA: So you perform because you
feel strongly about the music and want people to feel your
interpretations of the music? You have something to say about it, and
feel so passionately that you want to convey these musical opinions and feelings to others? Because if we
had met in high school, for example, I probably wouldn’t have picked
you as the guy who wanted to be on Carnegie Hall’s stage alone for two
hours. But clearly there’s a desire to connect with an audience,
because you’re making a career out of performing.

JB: That’s true. But it’s slightly different from the scenario you just laid out.

AA:
I do see your point about wanting to convey something but not wanting
to think about how people will react to what you’re conveying.

JB:
I perform because I feel strongly about the music that I play.
Naturally, what I try to convey is what I feel about the music. But I
don’t have the need for people to feel what I feel. I think that by
doing the work, and living with music, and being as honest as possible
on stage, I’m laying the groundwork for each audience member to have
their OWN reaction.

JB: You know, I have had audience members
tell me how much they love watching me. I’ve been absolutely berated
for my movements being distracting. And I’ve been told that I’m
off-puttingly still when I play. And I can honestly say that in none of
those scenarios was I thinking about what I was doing physically.
(Beyond what I need to be thinking about for purely technical reasons.)

AA:
Well that’s the other thing: Maybe some of the most (physically)
expressive artists really do need to be that physical to get the sound
they want across, and there I would be in the audience faulting them
for it, just on the principle that I think they’re “faking it.”

JB:
I also think that for some artists, they need to be demonstrative to
feel free when they play. It might not even be about sound production. I think that anything a performer needs to do to feel
connected to the music s/he is playing as absolutely fine. And it was
really instructive for me to be lectured (after an Orpheus concert!) by
an *irate* audience member who thought I was too physical, and was sure
it was intentional. Because I honestly have never thought about a
physical gesture other than in purely pianistic terms. (For me, that
kind of self-consciousness is the enemy.)

AA: 2:1 on Life Lessons….”Self-consciousness is the enemy.” -Jonathan Biss, pianist

JB:
So now, when I’m at a concert, and I feel inclined to raise an eyebrow
at something a performer is doing with his/her face/body, I remember
that story, and I’m a little less quick to jump to conclusions.

AA:
But you are self-conscious to the point that you want audience members
to enjoy the experience of your concerts. Or to at least
experience…something.

JB: Is that self-consciousness?

AA: It’s consciousness, anyway.

JB: Very. Different.

AA: Because again, if you didn’t want to elicit a response, you wouldn’t perform, right?

JB:
Of course, that is true. But, look. I love music. I want to play. I
want people to listen to music. Those are the principal things. I’m not
going to deny that the desire to play for people, and to communicate My Ideas
to them is there, but it’s not the primary thing. And in fact, it
shouldn’t be the primary thing. Because – and this is the peculiarity
of classical music – we’re not playing our own music. (Which is not an
ideal situation, btw. But that’s another discussion.) So while my
personality comes into it, rightly and inevitably, it’s not the central
point.

JB: I have to go!

AA: To do what, Communicate?

JB: I have to go be (hopefully) musically expressive and (possibly) physically inexpressive with The Gewandhaus Orchestra.

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Thus endeth the iChat. I leave you with a photo of Jonathan bowling. That’s what he gets for making light of my harp non-career. N.B. the unwieldy arm(s).