OPUS 1
Possession
When I find music I really love, I want to possess it. I don’t mean own the physical score- I mean I want it to occupy my mind, body, and soul. I want to play it, yes, of course. But I don’t mean I want to know the notes- I mean I want to mold the sound myself.
It’s clumsy at first, but with patience and practice, the shapes, colors, and textures present themselves. I play it on different instruments, sing it to myself in wake and sleep- it lives with me. Through countless reiterations, I lift a bit here, refine a bit there, nudge things back and forth.
Once it’s mine, the audience receives a rendition that sounds inevitable- the sculpture released from the stone.
Preparation
The stage is the ultimate interrogation. If I have prepared, it will show. If I have prepared, but feel unprepared, it will show. If I have done everything within my current abilities to prepare, I hope for the best, and that’s all I can do.
Everything is preparation. Not just the motions I made in the practice room, but equally, what I thought about leading up to the performance. All the practicing I’ve done in my lifetime, the music I’ve listened to, books I’ve read, and how I treat my mind, body, loved ones, and enemies- it all comes out.
There is no deception in performance. On stage, I am facing myself.
Passion
I was recently asked by a younger musician friend, “Don’t you ever get tired of it?” My response: “Tired of what?”
Art and beauty is one large entity I approach with a variety of tools. I alternately cultivate breadth and depth, being pulled one way or another by an inner current, which is more or less a whim.
I know I’ve found an area I want to explore when I watch someone else doing it. I feel something very akin to jealousy- like an obsessive attraction.
Permission
Best to just do the thing, I always say, even it’s (gasp!) amateur-ish at first. The most likely reaction is that most people won’t care, or notice. If it somehow provokes someone enough for a response, I might be onto something.
I’ve pursued some endeavors without too much reservation- I learned organ on the job, created arrangements from my imagination, started a flute band. Why not?
But it was different with orchestral auditions, a realm that strikes fear in the most stoic. I dutifully took my place in line and waited, faithfully purchasing those lottery tickets.
Eventually, I found my way into that world- but not by standing in line. It was then that I discovered what I was really waiting for: external validation as a musician, artist, and human being, which turns out to be a lot like seeking the gold at the end of a rainbow.
[fine]
Alyse Hokamp 