In your dailies, we can read, largely between the lines, a lot about the workshop participants, not one by one, but as a group. But I’d like to pull some of that up to the surface, even before your wrap-up, particularly in one area–a rather unfailing willingness to set aside fear of criticism in favor of openness and courage.

[Insert: Our praise age seems to have made us forget that it's the fear of criticism, not criticism itself, that can throttle our growth.]

Anyway, the way Ken’s designed the workshop undoubtedly has much to do with the supportive and positive atmosphere that starts out high and sustains all week. I remember still too well being in a conducting workshop–years ago–in which I had the palpable and unrelenting feeling that everyone who was not conducting at that moment was muttering, with some perverse amalgam of glee and envy, “How did he get here? I could do that much better. Hey, even you could do it better!” I don’t think that nasty spirit arose from the character of the students–with a notable exception or two–but rather from the program itself whose distinctly competitive spirit was being constantly stirred up by a “you never know who’s watching, so don’t miss your opportunity” message. That threat/tease made it tough for anybody to absorb even a healthy sampling of what the collective skills had to offer.

So RCICW has proven quite refreshing. It’s hardly been a week of unwarranted praise or making people feel good; there’s a good deal of thoughtfully expressed honesty in the room. But, the criticisms are offered–and almost always received–with discovery in mind. Good spirits abound and delight everyone, and little seems to excite everyone as much as someone else’s making some kind of breakthrough, small or large. There are shaking batons now and again, for sure (whose doesn’t from time to time?), but all those watching and listening seem intent on learning from everyone else, and not just when their own batons were the ones shaking. And that’s a testament to folks who have shown up not to put themselves on display, but to uncover new ways of thinking about the challenges of music and conducting.

[Another insert: Isn't it astounding that so many people--excellent musicians first among them--think this conducting thing is easy, something any fool can do?]

One student’s comment on day six during individual coachings struck me, however: “I’ve begun to understand I don’t have to conduct in order to demonstrate that I can conduct.” As obvious as this revelation may seem to one who’s never conducted, it’s not surprising to me that someone, even someone with a fair amount of experience, might forget it. Conductors, especially when they’re conscious of being looked at, can find their best efforts sucking them down the very path that’s going to render them ineffective. How anyone stays connected to the music when a bunch of people are commenting on the physicality of communicating never ceases to amaze me. Lots of students did just that over this last week, again and again. And if the music seemed to slip out of sight for a moment, everyone wanted it to rise up again as quickly as it had evaporated. And everyone could tell when it rematerialized–usually including the conductor of the moment. Ken didn’t need to invoke his 2007 cry of, “%$#@ the technique!” since so few conductors lost track for very long of why we were there. At least, not in those exact words.

Again, an exciting week. I learned tons every day, from my colleagues, from the unflappable and persistently responsive players and singers, and from all workshop participants. Thank you all!

David