This benefit of seeing... can come only if you pause a while, extricate yourself from the maddening mob of quick impressions ceaselessly battering our lives, and look thoughtfully at a quiet image... the viewer must be willing to pause, to look again, to meditate. ~ Dorothea Lange 

Rests are important, necessary, and even valuable. It is precisely during rests that we usually assemble the stories that we will later share through sounds, colors or words. When we give ourselves to the pause that rests offer, it gently swings us between action and contemplation. If we allow it, a pause can nurture us. Through it arrive the new experiences, images, thoughts, ideas and everything else that makes out the inventory of our inspiration. 

Artists – the same as the Earth – go through different seasons or cycles: silence, noise, solitude, multitude, stillness movement, giving, receiving, practicing, creating, working, resting, pause… We transit from season to season, celebrating with true humbleness the reality of impermanence, living times and stages, flowing. Then, after each pause, we shall once again
revalidate commitments, reaffirm intentions, reiterate goals and reactivate routines. 

Beyond our goals, the attitude and will with which we act will have a direct influence on the results we obtain. And it will be this way day after day, since achieving the greatest expression of who we are is not really a goal but a path, a process that will only end with the end of life itself. 
 
Many of us that share passion for music and art humbly and honestly accept the fact “perfection” is an unachievable goal. And yet, it is precisely towards perfection that we relentlessly move. The desire to be better each day so that we have more to offer is fuel enough to keep us in constant evolution. 

For evolution to be possible it is necessary to persistently examine our strengths and limitations. Acknowledging a limitation isn’t necessarily a denial of our strengths. It only means that we are awake, alert and with a living desire to be better each day. On the one hand we celebrate our strengths, both our inherent ones and the ones we acquired through our effort.
On the other, we also celebrate our limitations because they are not necessarily
a negative thing. We can become aware that our sound, our voice, our essence is
precisely the unique combination of our own strengths and limitations. 
 
Wanting to be better each day doesn’t mean that we judge, repudiate, are ashamed of or deny each limitation. Wanting to be better each day doesn’t mean that we will submit ourselves to a state of constant tension and anxiety because we don’t measure up to some ideal that we have formed in our heads or someone else has imposed on us. Wanting to be better each day doesn’t mean comparing or competing with others. Wanting to be better each day only means being, doing and giving the best we can each day convinced that this is good enough. 

Here I share some suggestions for possible creative resolutions for 2012, a simple list that can help us to make better musical decisions = better music. I wish you a 2012 full of joys, successes and accomplishments. 
  
1. Develop the ability to listen (without any prejudices): to ourselves, the musicians we’re playing with, other styles of music including the ones we consider inferior (we can learn what to do and what not to do from many sources), our teachers and fellow students, etc. Wisdom can be found in any place or person. 
 
2. Developing the skill to manage our ego and its need to impress or get attention. 
 
3. Develop the wisdom to be able to eliminate what is unnecessary, which is the same as understanding the great power of simplicity. 

4. Develop our ability to express ourselves to the fullest. 
 
5. Develop the will to take risks so we can discover new things about ourselves every time we play. 

6. Develop the courage to go beyond we think we can go, give more that we think we can give, offer more than we think we are expected to offer = give. 
 
7. Dedicate a daily block of uninterrupted and distraction free time to our art. 
 
8. Realize that doing something – correctly or badly – always produces some benefit. 
 
9. Not analyzing or interpreting experiences as an error or defeat. 

10. Choosing to make authentic and honest music, comprehending at the same time that there is no music that will be liked by every single person.

11. Respecting our own creative needs.

12. Respecting the creativity of others. 

13. Remain silent and attentively listen when other musicians are performing.  

14. More patience – less rushing.  
 
15. Become a peace instrument. 

I INVITE YOU TO ADD YOUR SUGGESTIONS! 

We may learn anew what compassion and beauty are, and pause to listen to the Earth’s music. ~ David Brower

                                                     © Copyright Brenda Hopkins Miranda 2012. All rights reserved.

The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.

– Anna Quindlen

After living a series of “ingoing” days my senses are activated in a spongy way, ready to receive. In these days that I am really alert and awake, I am capable of an effortless appreciation of the noble and sacred beauty that inhabits the most ordinary places and objects: plants and other living beings, bodies of water, faces, sounds, smells and colors in the environment, landscapes, and new, old, broken, placed in showcases or dumped objects.  

In these days the trees’ contorted bodies with their strange and sudden bents whisper in my ear the message of imperfection’s beauty. If I hadn’t heard this message before I could be disturbed by that very dangerous question: for what? If just like Michelangelo said, “the true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection”, if perfection is not supposed to be within our reach, what is all the struggle, sacrifice, work, study and practice for? Why dedicate a whole life trying to achieve the impossible?

Maybe the reason is that in the trying we discover our own greatness. Maybe when we become able to recognize and admire the greatness in others we obtain the ability to see ourselves as we really are. Maybe it turns out that the journey is nothing more than a way to return to ourselves. It is possible that French writer and author of “The Little Prince”, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, was thinking something like this when he declared that “perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away”.

Each time we demand perfection from art we are committing an act of misunderstanding. For me it is enough to remember all those acrobatic concerts, “perfect” recitals, flooding with “correct” notes and virtuosities being swung on stage, but that have left me cold inside because that “something” was missing, that certain element that cannot be expressed with words. These are concerts with certified and appropriate credentials, but that have left me with a hollow and empty feeling. Nonetheless I have been to concerts squirted by “errors’, “accidents” and even “horrors” on which I have spontaneously jumped from my seat, had goose bumps, or a fugitive scream or tear.  

Could it be that the artist’s soul is more exposed through the honesty of imperfection? Could it be that imperfections serve as a wordless bridge that connects the messenger with the recipient? I don’t mean to say that by definition “perfection” and “accuracy” are unwanted or negative qualities. It is simply that a long time ago I realized that that “something” I wish to receive from art doesn’t depend on them. In my experience of art perfection is definitely not a requisite to be profoundly touched and even transformed by it.

It would be impossible to estimate the amount of hours a musician (like me) spends listening to and watching videos of the GREAT artists in music history. However, before slipping down the unfair cliff of comparison we have to bear in mind the fact that all that material we appreciate and which arouses our admiration is the product of an intense process of picking and editing.  These recordings and videos are not the whole story. They represent a selection of the best moments in the artistic lives of those GREAT artists.

All the concerts that that artist ever played are not there. All the takes that were recorded of a song are not there. Sometimes even all the notes that were played in a recording are not there, since some got to be edited and left out. All the practice hours, repeating the same phrase over and over again, of playing it really slow or with one hand at a time (for pianists) are also not there. Through that material we don’t get to know all the inevitable “errors” and “accidents” that the artist had to experience in order to discover, grow, get better and become who he/she ended up being. For all these reasons, comparing ourselves with the recorded work of the GREATS is one of the cruelest acts we can commit against ourselves.

On these days that trees whisper in my ear, reminding me that perfection is more like an arrow pointing the way towards excellence, it’s very important not to confuse the two. Perfection and excellence are not the same thing. Excellence is a quality that manifests itself when the participants of an experience are receptive to it and recognize it. Even when amongst the most dissonant, grotesque and chaotic sounds, a dynamic ear has the capacity to find the beauty of excellence if so wishes and decides. On the other hand perfection is nothing else than a direction towards which we can travel even if we never really get to that destination.     

Being aware of or remembering all this once in a while liberates me from the unnecessary pressure that self-imposing an unreachable goal is and what’s even better, it brings back the joy of art. So it is that every one of my small daily actions generates movement and allows me to feel the joy of knowing that I can do something today a little better than I did it yesterday, of feeling something and being able to express it as best as I possibly can, of having the privilege of touching the soul of another person with my art.  

In art there is no “one size fits all”. In art there are no shortcuts or magic wands. No matter how much they tell or explain, in the end we have to feel it, live it, and experience it ourselves. Art is a tremendously personal labor. It is possible that when I reach the end of the road it won’t matter too much how much I struggled, sacrificed, worked, studied and practiced because there is and will only be one way in which I can play, create or improvise: mine.

And then all this, for what? To find and make my voice sound. 

                                                        © Copyright 2011 Brenda Hopkins Miranda All rights Reserved.

Lo que es realmente difícil, y realmente maravilloso, es desistir de ser perfecto y empezar el trabajo de convertirte en ti mismo.
– Anna Quindlen 

Luego de vivir una serie de días “hacia adentro” los sentidos se me activan esponjosamente, listos para recibir. En estos días en que estoy realmente alerta y despierta, logro registrar sin mayor esfuerzo la belleza noble y sagrada que habita en los lugares y objetos más ordinarios: plantas y otros seres vivos, cuerpos de agua, rostros, sonidos, olores y colores en el ambiente, paisajes, objetos nuevos, viejos, rotos, colocados en vitrinas o echados a la basura.

En estos días los contorsionados cuerpos de los árboles con sus extraños y súbitos dobleces susurran en mi oído el mensaje de la belleza de la imperfección. De no haber habido escuchado este mensaje antes pudiera inquietarme ante esa tan pregunta peligrosa: ¿para qué? Si como decía Michelangelo “la verdadera obra de arte es sólo una sombra de la perfección divina”, si la perfección no se supone que esté a nuestro alcance, ¿para qué tanta lucha, sacrificio, trabajo, estudio y práctica? ¿Para qué dedicar una vida entera a tratar de conseguir lo imposible?

Quizá la razón es que en el intento descubrimos nuestra propia grandeza. Quizá cuando obtenemos la capacidad de reconocer y admirar la grandeza en otros es que logramos vernos como realmente somos. Quizá resulta que el viaje no es otra cosa que una manera de regresar a nosotros mismos. Es posible que el escritor francés y autor de “El Principito”, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, estuviera pensando algo parecido cuando exclamó que “la perfección se logra no cuando no hay nada más que añadir, sino cuando no hay nada más que quitar”.

Cada vez que le exigimos perfección al arte estamos cometiendo un acto de incomprensión. Para mí basta con recordar todos esos conciertos acrobáticos, recitales “perfectos”, inundados de notas “correctas” y virtuosismos columpiándose sobre el escenario, pero que me han dejado fría por dentro porque ha faltado ese “algo”, ese elemento que precisamente no se puede expresar en palabras. Son conciertos cuyas credenciales están debidamente certificadas, pero en los que me he quedado con una sensación hueca y vacía. No obstante, he asistido a otros conciertos salpicados por “errores”, “accidentes” y hasta “horrores” en los que he saltado espontáneamente de mi asiento, se me ha erizado la piel, escapado un grito o fugado una lágrima.

¿Será que queda más expuesta el alma del artista en la honestidad de las imperfecciones? ¿Será que las imperfecciones sirven como puentes despalabrados que conectan al mensajero y el receptor? No es que ahora digo y pienso que la “perfección” y lo “correcto” son indeseables o negativos por definición. Simplemente, que hace tiempo que me di cuenta que ese “algo” que deseo recibir del arte no depende de ellos. Definitivamente en mi experiencia del arte la perfección no es requisito para que me toque y hasta transforme profundamente.  

Sería imposible calcular las horas que un músico (como yo) pasa escuchando grabaciones y viendo vídeos de los GRANDES de la historia de la música. Sin embargo, antes de resbalar por el injusto barranco de la comparación hay que tener en cuenta el hecho de que todo este material que apreciamos y nos provoca admiración es el producto de un intenso proceso de selección y edición. Esas grabaciones y vídeos no son la historia completa, sino que representan un escogido de los mejores momentos en la vida artística de esos GRANDES.

Ahí no están todos los conciertos que ese artista ofreció en su vida. Tampoco están ahí todas las tomas que se grabaron de una canción. A veces ni siquiera están ahí todas las notas que se tocaron en esa grabación, sino que algunas fueron editadas y dejadas fuera. Ahí no están todas las horas de práctica, de repetir la misma frase una y otra vez, de tocarlo todo lento o con manos separadas (si es pianista). A través de ese material no llegamos a conocer cada uno de esos “errores” y “accidentes” inevitables que ese artista tuvo que experimentar para descubrir, para crecer, para mejorar, para ser quien resultó ser. Por todas estas razones, pretender compararnos con grabaciones de los GRANDES es uno de los actos de mayor crueldad que podemos auto-infligirnos.   

En estos días en que los arboles me susurran al oído recuerdo que la perfección es más bien como una flecha que apunta hacia la excelencia, pero que es sumamente importante no confundir estos términos. La perfección y la excelencia no son la misma cosa. La excelencia es una cualidad que se manifiesta cuando los participantes de una experiencia están receptivos a ella y la reconocen. Aún hallándose entre los sonidos más disonantes, grotescos y caóticos, un oído dinámico tiene la capacidad de encontrar la belleza de la excelencia si así lo desea y decide. La perfección por otro lado no es otra cosa que una dirección u orientación hacia la que podemos transportarnos aunque nunca lleguemos a ese destino.

Estar consciente de todo esto o recordarlo de vez en cuando me libera de la presión innecesaria que significa imponerme una meta inalcanzable y lo que es mejor aún, me devuelve el gozo del arte. Así, cada una de mis pequeñas acciones diarias produce movimiento y permite que sienta el gozo de saber que hoy puedo hacer algo un poquito mejor de lo que lo hacía ayer, de sentir algo y poder expresarlo tan fielmente como me es posible, de obtener el privilegio de tocar el alma de otra persona con mi arte.

En el arte no existe el “one size fits all”. En el arte no hay atajos ni varitas mágicas. Por más que nos lo cuenten o expliquen, al final uno mismo tiene que sentirlo, vivirlo, experimentarlo. El arte es una faena tremendamente personal. Posiblemente cuando me acerque al final del camino no importará demasiado lo mucho que luché, me sacrifiqué, trabajé, estudié y practiqué porque sólo hay y habrá una manera en la que podré tocar, crear o improvisar: la mía.

Y entonces, todo esto ¿para qué? Para encontrar y hacer sonar mi voz. 

                                                        © Copyright 2011 Brenda Hopkins Miranda All rights Reserved.