Since I've never been to Australia before, I got curious about where in Sydney the house is where I rented a guest room for the months of July and August, and about the location of the University of New South Wales (UNSW), where I will be spending a good amount of time. Google Earth makes this research easy enough, so I'll share of little of what I found out. (Click on an image to make it open in a larger window)
Below is a bird's eye view of Sydney and Sydney harbor. I've put yellow stick pin markers for the location of the Opera House, Sydney's central train station, UNSW, and the location of my apartment.
Below is a closer look at the region of UNSW and my apartment. The track you see just north of the University is the Randwick Racecourse. Horse racing, I presume.
An even closer view of my neighborhood (called Coogee) reveals that I will be just a stone's throw from Coogee Beach! Well, the landlady did say I could be on the beach before I was properly awake in the morning. It's not a large beach, but it is supposed to have a very nice local feel to it.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Thursday, May 31, 2007
WHEN AN ORCHESTRA PLAYS, MAGIC HAPPENS
Several years ago when I envisioned taking a sabbatical, I imagined that the months leading up to it might feel like an easier time, with a break from the orchestra schedule on the horizon. I also imagined that I might feel like coasting along and not practicing very much in the last few weeks before it began, in anticipation of the free time. Surely, I thought, a year in which I would have six months off would feel like an easy year.
Well, pretty much the opposite of that has happened. We went through a lot of repertoire through the winter and spring, and it didn't feel particularly easy! More than that, though, as the beginning of the sabbatical has come nearer and nearer, I have found myself savoring the moments in the orchestra, because such magical things happen there. Tonight's concert had Brahms' Third and Fourth Symphonies on the program, and since the contrabassoon only plays in two movements on each of them, I had the luxury of sitting pretty much right in the middle of the action and listening to the interplay of the melodic lines, the cross rhythms Brahms sets up, and the delicacy as well as the power of the orchestral writing, for essentially half the concert. Words cannot really describe the experience of sitting in my spot of the orchestra and listening to everyone around me playing full out. It's magic.
I suppose it has helped that I scheduled myself to play on a recital (along with my sister Barbara) at the International Double Reed Convention on June 15th. And that I will be playing for the live-recorded sound samples that we will analyze in the research project in Australia. Preparing for a recital (or an audition for that matter) is one of the best ways to not just be engaged, but to actually get enthusiastic about playing. The good side effect of exploring new playing territory for myself is that it makes me better appreciate all the great playing that happens on a regular basis all around me in the orchestra.
Well, pretty much the opposite of that has happened. We went through a lot of repertoire through the winter and spring, and it didn't feel particularly easy! More than that, though, as the beginning of the sabbatical has come nearer and nearer, I have found myself savoring the moments in the orchestra, because such magical things happen there. Tonight's concert had Brahms' Third and Fourth Symphonies on the program, and since the contrabassoon only plays in two movements on each of them, I had the luxury of sitting pretty much right in the middle of the action and listening to the interplay of the melodic lines, the cross rhythms Brahms sets up, and the delicacy as well as the power of the orchestral writing, for essentially half the concert. Words cannot really describe the experience of sitting in my spot of the orchestra and listening to everyone around me playing full out. It's magic.
I suppose it has helped that I scheduled myself to play on a recital (along with my sister Barbara) at the International Double Reed Convention on June 15th. And that I will be playing for the live-recorded sound samples that we will analyze in the research project in Australia. Preparing for a recital (or an audition for that matter) is one of the best ways to not just be engaged, but to actually get enthusiastic about playing. The good side effect of exploring new playing territory for myself is that it makes me better appreciate all the great playing that happens on a regular basis all around me in the orchestra.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Sunday, May 27, '07
Today is S-minus 7 days before my sabbatical begins. I have another week of concerts to play with the New York Philharmonic, and the three different programs we will play next week include Brahms symphonies #1, 3, and 4, as well as the German Requiem and the Haydn Variations. It's a full week of some of the most gratifying contrabassoon playing there is.
Today is also the day of a memorial concert/celebration in Los Angeles for my beloved teacher, Norman Herzberg, who passed away in February of this year. Mr. Herzberg was more than just my bassoon teacher. He was a mentor to me in my life and professional career in more ways than I can list here, so my thoughts today are with his wife Leah and family, as well as the many other bassoonists who will be gathering to celebrate his life and career. I am sorry that I am unable to be present at this memorial. It will be a once-in-a-lifetime gathering of distinguished bassoon players.
I view the research project I have planned for my sabbatical as carrying forward some of the things that Mr. Herzberg taught to his students throughout his career. He insisted that the bassoon be played with clarity of articulation, and he taught how to achieve that. In my research project, I hope to show what clarity of articulation looks like on paper, by computer analysis of note beginnings (which are called note transients in the acoustics world). So my research project rests on the shoulders of my teacher Norman Herzberg, and I hope it will carry forward the work he did in his life.
IN MEMORY OF NORMAN HERZBERG:
Below are two pictures of Norman Herzberg. The first is of him and the bassoon class at the Music Academy of the West in 1978, when I first studied with him. From L to R: Norman Herzberg, Stephanie Przybylska, Mona Trytten, Arlen Fast, Rona Schiffman, Terry Ewell.
The second picture is from my last visit with him in late October of 2006.
Today is also the day of a memorial concert/celebration in Los Angeles for my beloved teacher, Norman Herzberg, who passed away in February of this year. Mr. Herzberg was more than just my bassoon teacher. He was a mentor to me in my life and professional career in more ways than I can list here, so my thoughts today are with his wife Leah and family, as well as the many other bassoonists who will be gathering to celebrate his life and career. I am sorry that I am unable to be present at this memorial. It will be a once-in-a-lifetime gathering of distinguished bassoon players.
I view the research project I have planned for my sabbatical as carrying forward some of the things that Mr. Herzberg taught to his students throughout his career. He insisted that the bassoon be played with clarity of articulation, and he taught how to achieve that. In my research project, I hope to show what clarity of articulation looks like on paper, by computer analysis of note beginnings (which are called note transients in the acoustics world). So my research project rests on the shoulders of my teacher Norman Herzberg, and I hope it will carry forward the work he did in his life.
IN MEMORY OF NORMAN HERZBERG:
Below are two pictures of Norman Herzberg. The first is of him and the bassoon class at the Music Academy of the West in 1978, when I first studied with him. From L to R: Norman Herzberg, Stephanie Przybylska, Mona Trytten, Arlen Fast, Rona Schiffman, Terry Ewell.
The second picture is from my last visit with him in late October of 2006.
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