A friend of mine suggested that it might be interesting to start posting a blog about my travels and my adventures in music. I’ve never been a committed blogger, so this will be a step in a different direction. I guess I fear that my thoughts aren’t always that interesting to the general public.
But you are here! And listening. So here goes my first blog.
Today I passed by my harp teacher’s house for a cup of coffee and a mini fruit tart. This is a lady that has influenced my life in more ways than just teaching me how to be a better harpist. I spent more than an hour “chez elle” today and we didn’t mention a word about a fingering for a particular measure in a particular passage in a particular piece.
I had stopped by to translate an e-mail and talk to her about putting her CD up on CD Baby. What followed was a conversation that I hope to always remember. We were sitting in her kitchen chatting about last Monday’s concert in Sophia Antipolis with the Harpe Riviera Quatuor. It had goneexceptionally (abnormally?) well; we played well, had a great time playing, and had a very warm and supportive audience. It happens to be the last concert for the quartet because a couple of us will be changing course in the near future (myself included!). Maybe that’s why we played so well, she commented, because we knew that it would be the last concert.
She had played exceptionally well that day, almost leaving the three of us youngsters in the dust (Mutsuko Uematsu-Cuglietta, Rossi Milevska-Lamourette, and myself). She was “in the zone,” and nailed just about every note, leaving the audience both in tears and on their feet. It’s like she was pulling music out of herself that came from a place far away, and that her “being” was singing through the sound of harp strings. I should add here that this lady, Elizabeth Fontan-Binoche, is in her 80s.
She said that she felt something particular there at the concert, and that she was sure it was something there to help her (us) and give us strength- something intangible, something from above.
I feel lucky to know this woman now, as she is in her later years. It’s now when she can easily reflect on life as it comes and leaves, and how significant each moment becomes, how significant each concert can be, and how precious our lives are to one another.