Banishing Perfectionism
http://talentdevelop.com/articlelive/articles/1047/1/Banishing-Perfectionism/Page1.html
Eric Maisel
Creativity coach and therapist Eric Maisel, PhD is author of many books, including Coaching the Artist Within; A Life in the Arts; Fearless Creating; Ten Zen Seconds, and The Van Gogh Blues. His latest title is Brainstorm: Harnessing the Power of Productive ObsessionsLearn more about his books plus Creativity Coaching Training and Meaning Coach Training at EricMaisel.com
Also see his Meaning Solution Program
Also see interviews with Eric Maisel
By Eric Maisel
Published on 06/12/2010
“You need to play the notes correctly,” she said in a small voice. “Of
course.” I paused. “But is that the music? Many great musicians have said that if you demand that
they play all the notes correctly they can’t also make music." ... “I keep hearing ‘No heart!’ ‘No heart!’"
Tears came. “What am I supposed to do at this point? Go see the Wizard
of Oz and get a heart?” I
smiled. “Well, I have a simple solution. Feel free to play in a
heartfelt way and the hell with the notes.”
“You need to play the notes correctly,” she said in a small voice. “Of
course.” I paused. “But is that the music? Many great musicians have said that if you demand that
they play all the notes correctly they can’t also make music." ... “I keep hearing ‘No heart!’ ‘No heart!’"
Tears came. “What am I supposed to do at this point? Go see the Wizard
of Oz and get a heart?” I
smiled. “Well, I have a simple solution. Feel free to play in a
heartfelt way and the hell with the notes.”Annie had built up a wall that prevented her from making music.
She could only play brilliantly. Every teacher, every reviewer had the same thing to say about her playing: that it was technically perfect but lacked soul.
Sometimes they called her playing cold.
Sometimes they called it mechanical. Sometimes they called it boring.
They had different ways of saying the same thing, that she was a violin virtuoso who played notes and not music.
There is nothing the slightest bit rare about this.
Mastering a musical instrument at the level needed to become a world-class soloist requires so much sheer effort, especially if you lack some physical gift, that just getting the notes right is an immense accomplishment.
It is one of the little jokes of the trickster gods to make it so hard to do the most beautiful things, like sing gorgeously in your upper register, that the hardness overwhelms everything else.
Many musicians are consumed by the hardness of the thing they have chosen to do, spending a lifetime worrying about their shortcomings and the difficult passages ahead, which worrying naturally kills off their joy.
Annie, a second generation Korean-American, came to see me only reluctantly.
She made appointments and canceled them. No doubt she presumed that I had nothing to offer her, even though she ‘enjoyed my books,’ as she mentioned in her first email to me.
She understood about technical help and had worked with many violin teachers and medical specialists during her career. But how could a creativity coach help her with her playing? I suspected it made very little sense to her.
After the brief pleasantries were over I asked her, “What’s on your mind? It wasn’t so clear from your emails.”
She didn’t reply immediately. I wondered if she didn’t know or if she preferred not to say.
“I’m getting booked less,” she finally said. “I had a career that was going up and now it’s stagnating. New violinists are getting concerts that I think I should have gotten. I think … I’d thought it was about my repertoire and maybe changing tastes and all of that. Now … I don’t know.”
“Now what do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.”
“What are the two or three things it might be?”
“It might be that people don’t like me. I don’t have all the social graces. I’m not a networker. I’m uncomfortable around people and they know it.”
I nodded. “What else?”
“There are certain things that I’m obliged to play that I don’t love to play, like the Tchaikovsky and the Mendelssohn. I don’t really like anything romantic or schmaltzy or anything that might be considered ‘beautiful.’ And people like those things.”
“You say that people consider them beautiful. You don’t?”
She made a face. “I listened to Oistrakh play the Tchaikovsky about a million times. Why? Not to hear how he handled it technically. Just to hear him play it. I am completely of two minds about a word like ‘beautiful.’ On the one hand, it rubs me the wrong way. On the other … there’s Oistrakh.”
I let us be silent for a moment. The next question was not an easy one.
“Can you play beautifully?” I said.
“People say that I can’t,” she replied.
“In a way, I’m not even sure what they mean. I know they say that I’m a slave to the notes.
"But it doesn’t feel that way to me. I feel like I’m making music.
"Sometimes I think they’re just making it up, using that language as a way of saying that they prefer somebody else’s playing to mine.”
I nodded. “That could be. But tell me … you do feel free to drop notes and miss notes?”
She raised her head and stared at me.
“I do not! Why would anyone feel free to do that? That ridiculous! That’s the first thing you need to get right. And … and … ”
“Were you going to say, ‘And the only thing’?”
She shrugged angrily.
“Many great musicians,” I continued, “have said that if you demand that they play all the notes correctly they can’t also make music. You’ve heard that said?”
“Of course! But I don’t take that seriously. That’s not what they mean! They mean, ‘If I was a little off tonight, here’s my excuse. I was making music.’ It’s just a kind of excuse! They don’t mean it.”
I waited. “What if they do mean it?” I said.
“They can’t!”
I let the silence be.
“You need to play the notes correctly,” she said in a small voice.
“Of course.” I paused. “But is that the music?”
“The music is notes in a score. I think about them, I figure them out, I play them, the strings vibrate and move the air—it’s notes and sound waves.”
“No heart?”
“I keep hearing that! ‘No heart!’ ‘No heart!’ I keep hearing that!” Tears came. “What am I supposed to do at this point? Go see the Wizard of Oz and get a heart? I’m really tired of hearing about this!”
I smiled. “Well, I have a simple solution. Feel free to play in a heartfelt way and the hell with the notes.”
Annie stared at me. “Everybody would rip me apart if I did that.”
“Would they?”
“They would!”
“If you missed one or two notes in a concerto but brought tears to their eyes?”
That thought startled her. “If that were the trade-off … ”
“Who knows? We’re not talking about terrible playing. We’re talking about free playing. Make a mental calculation. How many notes would it cost you to play more freely?”
She thought about that a long time. I could see her playing in her mind’s eye. Every once in a while she made a face—there was a missed note! Finally she sighed.
“I don’t know. Maybe a few. Not that many.”
“But you could sense the difference? Between playing correctly and playing freely?”
“In that split second I could. I don’t know if I would with a violin in my hand.”
“Agreed!”
“I suppose I have to try it.”
“Agreed.”
“You know, I’m not really sure I know what we’ve been talking about.”
I nodded. “Just think Oistrakh. You understood that perfectly.”
She sighed. “Maybe. Maybe not. Let’s see when I try to play something.”
“Maybe the Tchaikovsky?” I laughed.
“No,” she said, almost smiling. “But … maybe something beautiful.”
~~~
From the ericmaiselnewsletter · Maisel on Sundays - See his site for link.
His more than 30 books include Coaching the Artist Within, Creativity for Life, Creative Recovery, Fearless Creating and The Atheist’s Way. Learn more about his books plus Creativity Coaching Training and Meaning Coach Training at EricMaisel.com
His latest book is Brainstorm: Harnessing the Power of Productive Obsessions
Also see his Meaning Solution Program
Photo from Los Angeles Times story Esperanza Spalding, liberation fighter for jazz.
She could only play brilliantly. Every teacher, every reviewer had the same thing to say about her playing: that it was technically perfect but lacked soul.
Sometimes they called her playing cold.
Sometimes they called it mechanical. Sometimes they called it boring.
They had different ways of saying the same thing, that she was a violin virtuoso who played notes and not music.
There is nothing the slightest bit rare about this.
Mastering a musical instrument at the level needed to become a world-class soloist requires so much sheer effort, especially if you lack some physical gift, that just getting the notes right is an immense accomplishment.
It is one of the little jokes of the trickster gods to make it so hard to do the most beautiful things, like sing gorgeously in your upper register, that the hardness overwhelms everything else.
Many musicians are consumed by the hardness of the thing they have chosen to do, spending a lifetime worrying about their shortcomings and the difficult passages ahead, which worrying naturally kills off their joy.
Annie, a second generation Korean-American, came to see me only reluctantly.
She made appointments and canceled them. No doubt she presumed that I had nothing to offer her, even though she ‘enjoyed my books,’ as she mentioned in her first email to me.
She understood about technical help and had worked with many violin teachers and medical specialists during her career. But how could a creativity coach help her with her playing? I suspected it made very little sense to her.
After the brief pleasantries were over I asked her, “What’s on your mind? It wasn’t so clear from your emails.”
She didn’t reply immediately. I wondered if she didn’t know or if she preferred not to say.
“I’m getting booked less,” she finally said. “I had a career that was going up and now it’s stagnating. New violinists are getting concerts that I think I should have gotten. I think … I’d thought it was about my repertoire and maybe changing tastes and all of that. Now … I don’t know.”
“Now what do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.”
“What are the two or three things it might be?”
“It might be that people don’t like me. I don’t have all the social graces. I’m not a networker. I’m uncomfortable around people and they know it.”
I nodded. “What else?”
“There are certain things that I’m obliged to play that I don’t love to play, like the Tchaikovsky and the Mendelssohn. I don’t really like anything romantic or schmaltzy or anything that might be considered ‘beautiful.’ And people like those things.”
“You say that people consider them beautiful. You don’t?”
She made a face. “I listened to Oistrakh play the Tchaikovsky about a million times. Why? Not to hear how he handled it technically. Just to hear him play it. I am completely of two minds about a word like ‘beautiful.’ On the one hand, it rubs me the wrong way. On the other … there’s Oistrakh.”
I let us be silent for a moment. The next question was not an easy one.
“Can you play beautifully?” I said.“People say that I can’t,” she replied.
“In a way, I’m not even sure what they mean. I know they say that I’m a slave to the notes.
"But it doesn’t feel that way to me. I feel like I’m making music.
"Sometimes I think they’re just making it up, using that language as a way of saying that they prefer somebody else’s playing to mine.”
I nodded. “That could be. But tell me … you do feel free to drop notes and miss notes?”
She raised her head and stared at me.
“I do not! Why would anyone feel free to do that? That ridiculous! That’s the first thing you need to get right. And … and … ”
“Were you going to say, ‘And the only thing’?”
She shrugged angrily.
“Many great musicians,” I continued, “have said that if you demand that they play all the notes correctly they can’t also make music. You’ve heard that said?”
“Of course! But I don’t take that seriously. That’s not what they mean! They mean, ‘If I was a little off tonight, here’s my excuse. I was making music.’ It’s just a kind of excuse! They don’t mean it.”
I waited. “What if they do mean it?” I said.
“They can’t!”
I let the silence be.
“You need to play the notes correctly,” she said in a small voice.
“Of course.” I paused. “But is that the music?”
“The music is notes in a score. I think about them, I figure them out, I play them, the strings vibrate and move the air—it’s notes and sound waves.”
“No heart?”
“I keep hearing that! ‘No heart!’ ‘No heart!’ I keep hearing that!” Tears came. “What am I supposed to do at this point? Go see the Wizard of Oz and get a heart? I’m really tired of hearing about this!”
I smiled. “Well, I have a simple solution. Feel free to play in a heartfelt way and the hell with the notes.”
Annie stared at me. “Everybody would rip me apart if I did that.”
“Would they?”
“They would!”
“If you missed one or two notes in a concerto but brought tears to their eyes?”
That thought startled her. “If that were the trade-off … ”
“Who knows? We’re not talking about terrible playing. We’re talking about free playing. Make a mental calculation. How many notes would it cost you to play more freely?”
She thought about that a long time. I could see her playing in her mind’s eye. Every once in a while she made a face—there was a missed note! Finally she sighed.
“I don’t know. Maybe a few. Not that many.”
“But you could sense the difference? Between playing correctly and playing freely?”
“In that split second I could. I don’t know if I would with a violin in my hand.”
“Agreed!”
“I suppose I have to try it.”
“Agreed.”
“You know, I’m not really sure I know what we’ve been talking about.”
I nodded. “Just think Oistrakh. You understood that perfectly.”
She sighed. “Maybe. Maybe not. Let’s see when I try to play something.”
“Maybe the Tchaikovsky?” I laughed.
“No,” she said, almost smiling. “But … maybe something beautiful.”
~~~
From the ericmaiselnewsletter · Maisel on Sundays - See his site for link.
His more than 30 books include Coaching the Artist Within, Creativity for Life, Creative Recovery, Fearless Creating and The Atheist’s Way. Learn more about his books plus Creativity Coaching Training and Meaning Coach Training at EricMaisel.com
His latest book is Brainstorm: Harnessing the Power of Productive Obsessions
Also see his Meaning Solution Program
Photo from Los Angeles Times story Esperanza Spalding, liberation fighter for jazz.