Today, I picked up a violin for the first time in ten years.
I was never amazing, but I was good enough. Good enough to be on the second desk of first violins in youth orchestra. Good enough to have a go at the Four Seasons. Good enough to tackle some Lutoslawski. Not good within the framework that I measure my professional musical life by, but not bad either.
A few things were challenging. My left arm isn’t enjoying it very much. Crossing strings is more difficult than I remember. I’m starting to get the knack of vibrato back in my second and third fingers, but not my first and fourth.
To be honest, I was more surprised by how much I remembered. The last of my three thirty minute practice sessions culminated with an attempt at a Kreutzer caprice and… to some extent, it was like my arms and hands knew what to do.
I’ve really enjoyed today. I’m never going to be a professional violinist and this work is all about taking joy in the process.
We talk about it all the time in the music world: competitions, auditions, high pressure performances - we are encouraged to focus on the process and not on the outcome. It is a way of rationalising what can otherwise be an overwhelming weight of expectation focussed on a very short moment in time. But it is easier said than done when what’s on the line is not just first prize, a job, or being asked back to that venue, but being able to make your rent that month, or (heaven forfend!) being able to afford a holiday.
Practising an instrument without that expectation - and actually without the expectation of ever being good - has allowed me to take my time. Things that I get frustrated by in singing practice because they are ‘taking too long and the concert is next week and I’m never going to be ready’ can take as long as they like in this process. For example, I spent thirty minutes practising open strings, trying not to hit any of the others as I moved my bow back and forth. Just basic work focussing on control, quality of tone, and ease. I do take the time to do this work with my singing, but it’s hard to enjoy it when the stack of music to learn is glaring at you from your desk (or your iPad - I’ve modernised in the last few months). And after thirty minutes of open strings, I felt really proud of the progress I’d made, whereas when I do the vocal equivalent I feel annoyed with myself for not being able to execute it perfectly already!
So, although I said there wasn’t a defined outcome to this process, perhaps there is: to learn to enjoy the process.
*If you’re really interested, you can find a blog I wrote here (during Covid) when I talk about how much I love the process of singing practice! It wasn’t a good time in a lot of ways, but when you take away the pressure of performance, the joy really does come back…