I went to Oberlin College and Conservatory. My majors were Organ Performance and French. In my Junior year, actually my fourth year (due to the dual degree), I performed a 30 minute, memorized recital on Oberlin’s Fisk Opus 116 of French music. Couperin, Franck, and Dupré. Three works, all of which were not insubstantial. I had been studying in France the year before with Marie-Louise Langlais, so my idea was to make this recital a sort-of capstone to that experience. Also, since the Junior Recital was required to be memorized, I wanted everyone to see me perform without page turner and stop assistant, and the traditional venue for the Junior Recital, Warner Concert Hall, features a Rugwerk where you cannot see the performer (it’s the division in the bottom front, there). That was simply not flashy enough. I definitely wanted the show aspect of walking out there all alone, sitting down, and playing.
I waited downstairs in Finny Hall as people arrived. My teacher, Dr. Mitchener, came down to give me a last minute pep talk, and then the stage crew escorted me to the side stage doors and I walked out and into the organ (the console is only reachable through the organ!). Someone addressed the audience. I don’t remember who it was-Mr. Mitchener? Another person? I remember doubling over in the organ, ready to throw up from anxiety and dread-maybe being ‘on display’ was a bad idea after all. Oh my god I was so nervous. I had never experienced a level of stage fright like this before. But it was only a passing moment, because then the audience was clapping, I opened the door by the console, bowed, and sat down.
You hear people talk about flow states a lot these days, or, at least, in my corner of discourse, you do. I think I was in a flow state, because honestly, it went really well. And I don’t think I did that on my own-the hundreds upon hundreds of hours of practice for these particular pieces, and thousands of hours of preparation to get to that point definitely kicked in. Of the three pieces, I think I am most proud of the Franck, Fantaisie en La. This is looking back at it 15 years out, however. Next, I nailed the Dupré Prélude en Si Majeur but I had a memory slip in the fugue. Which, to this day, I’m still pretty impressed that I even finished it. What was I thinking programming that music? Good grief. I was in the middle of my push-through-everything era, and still mostly believed that music was a meritocracy, that is, those who were the ‘best’ got the jobs. Spoiler alert: it’s not. It’s much more about who you know and how you work it (and what your gender is). But that’s another story for another day.
Ultimately, I had a lot of support and encouragement and congratulations after my recital. It was not enough, however, because of one simple reason: all my self-worth was tied to EXTERNAL acknowledgement, not INTERNAL knowing. Sure, I felt good for a few days (though that ended pretty quickly when my long-term boyfriend showed his true colors), but just as every other attempt at chasing success and recognition, this one failed, too. It wouldn’t be until I was in my thirties, reading the work of Dr. Brené Brown, that I would realize and truly grapple with how much of my pursuit of music was to make up for my lack of self confidence. I had to learn to start liking what it was I did play and how I played. And then, I gave it up. I have hardly practiced in almost a year. That picture of me above is from my last Sunday at my church job. Over this past year, I’ve invited myself to practice and it’s been enjoyable, but I can’t find the drive in myself to tackle serious repertoire or make it a daily or even weekly habit. I have wondered if that’s because I don’t have easy access to an organ, or because lifting the veil on how the church and music world structures actual function finally stole that bit of joy. I’m not sure. I don’t feel like I’m actually missing much, though. Organ feels like a room in my house I can go to if I would like, however I just don’t currently feel the need or desire to go in there. Still, I look back and am proud of what I did and particularly of who I am today.
My days are filled with teaching young musicians how to find their own self in the midst of music study. That looks like technical and musical instruction, but not how I usually experienced it. I ask students what they want to do, I give them choices on how to practice their song, and I walk them through the steps and process of getting from where they are to closer to where they want to be. I teach this way in large part because I had bits of this throughout my studies, but it was never as encouraging or emotionally available as how I provide it. It did push me hard, and bring out some amazing playing. But would I still be playing now if it had all been different? I do not know. I suspect that I still would have spent those years searching external validation and terrified of trusting myself. So really, I do not blame my teachers at all. Honestly, they were validating even if they did push me; I was maybe never going to have the mental health during that time to be my best self. And now that I’m out of it all, I choose the latter. I can’t say that going back into the music world would destroy my mental health, but it certainly did me no favors. Maybe it’s just a trigger with little basis in who I am now. Or maybe it’s true. It doesn’t matter, because I’m setting it all aside, regardless. I hope this next year I get to play occasionally for different services around town. I hope I practice a little bit. But mostly I hope to continue choosing myself and being able to give generously because I am well.
Actually an Artist 
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