{"id":2171,"date":"2010-12-31T14:48:07","date_gmt":"2010-12-31T13:48:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kennethwoods.net\/blog1\/?p=2171"},"modified":"2012-07-01T12:27:58","modified_gmt":"2012-07-01T11:27:58","slug":"my-2010-january-with-dvorak-and-dragons","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kennethwoods.net\/blog1\/2010\/12\/31\/my-2010-january-with-dvorak-and-dragons\/","title":{"rendered":"My 2010- January with Dvorak and Dragons"},"content":{"rendered":"

2010<\/p>\n

January<\/p>\n

January 23rd was always destined to be the most important date of the first month of 2010.<\/p>\n

It was to be the day that I once and for all liberated myself from my fear of the Dvorak Cello Concerto.<\/p>\n

As a young cellist, the Dvorak had been my favorite piece since the first time I heard it. I nearly wore straight through the vinyl on the LPs of the\u00a0Harrell<\/a> and Rostropovich’s recordings which I had in high school. I went out and bought the music and started trying to teach it to myself in spite of the reluctance of my teacher to work on it with me.<\/p>\n

However, when I arrived as a freshman to Indiana University, a little piece of my soul died when I discovered that there were about 50 other cellists floating around who could play it better than me. At 18, I was largely technically self-taught, and had a lot of work to do to catch up with others who had had a fantastic technical grounding from an early age. With many years of hard work and study came hard-won confidence, and over the years I’ve let go of most of the scars of that first realization that everyone was better at 18 than I was. Still, the Dvorak somehow remained emblematic of that feeling of being an impostor, and I avoided playing it for over 10 years after my freshman year at IU, when I crashed and burned on it in a masterclass. Other, ostensibly more challenging pieces got taken up and played with panache, but Dvorak stayed at arms length.<\/p>\n

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Big bad Tony D- creator of the one dragon I couldn’t seem to slay<\/p><\/div>\n

Somehow, in the summer of 2000, I got mad enough to tackle the first movement for a conducting masterclass at Aspen with David Zimnan. I played, and Shizuo Kuwahara <\/a>conducted, and for once, DZ had kind things to say. I had gotten away with it.<\/p>\n

Then in 2009 I got asked to play it with an orchestra near Manchester. I dithered a bit (one never says “I’m not sure I can play it, and am concerned that trying to play it may trigger an existential crisis, so may I dither for a few weeks” but instead says “YES! I would love to,can I check my schedule and get back to you”), but decided after much soul searching it was time to kill this particular dragon. The concert was schedule for January 23rd.<\/p>\n

It wasn’t ideal timing- the fall of 2009 was full of big projects and big changes. I left the Oregon East Symphony and joined Orchestra of the Swan. Suzanne was pregnant and Samuel, our son, was rapidly coming into his own as a real personality. Finding time and energy to work on such a big project seemed almost impossible. There were also illnesses and setbacks in our extended families. Somehow, I got to work on it, and managed to stubbornly work at the thing with a sort of grim-faced determination throughout the holiday. Suzanne was due on the 10th of January, so it took a super-human level of understanding for her to let me slip away to the studio for 90 minutes a day. Gradually, however, the piece came together. I started running it and recording it, and gradually I started to think I could finally do it justice. Insights came (Dorothy Delay was right- playing sharp helps), rants were inspired,<\/a> and technical obstacles went away. I had the dragon in my sights.<\/p>\n

January 10th came and went, and I kept practicing. I couldn’t believe the baby was keeping us waiting- second babies are supposed to be more prompt, but not this one. Sue was finally taken into hospital for induction. For several days I stayed with her all day until being booted out at the close of visiting hours, then would come home exhausted and do a last bit of practice.<\/p>\n

One after another, induction methods failed. I got more and more nervous. Finally on the 22nd, we got the word- the doctors were going to try one last super-induction trick that evening, and failing that, it would be a C-section. I had always known January 23rd would be a big day. Now I knew the true reason- it was nothing to do with getting back my claim to a favorite piece, and everything to do with meeting my daughter. I called around and found the orchestra another cellist who was playing it the same week who could fill in (yes, see “cancellations” in the previous post<\/a>).<\/p>\n

Once I’d let go of the Dvorak, I could focus on being a husband and an expectant dad, and the ending of the story was a happy one.<\/p>\n

Is there a sublime irony in the fact that the first time in my life I felt totally ready for the Dvorak Concerto that I didn’t actually get to play it? Yes<\/p>\n

Did that bother me at all as I held Esther on her Day 1? No.<\/p>\n

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Esther- way cuter than Dvorak<\/p><\/div>\n

That night, when the midwives sent me packing, I got home to a nice bottle of red wine, and a large, scary-looking dragon, lying dead next to my cello on the living room floor.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

_________________________________<\/p>\n

Any cellist needing a humility transplant, and I mean ANY cellist, can just watch this footage of the great Daniil Shafran playing the 1st Mvt. It’s enough to bring any inadequacy dragons back to life with a vengeance, but the pain is well worth it. Speaking of pain- look at the bandage on his 2nd finger. Talk about playing through pain!<\/p>\n

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