9/11/11

Following the events of September 11, 2001, I found myself unable to stop thinking about the destruction of the Towers and the suffering that happened there. The idea of lives extinguished in the most horrifically painful way took over my consciousness. I played my first solo recital as an adjunct faculty member at the University of Richmond on September 23, 2001. At that point, I still couldn't stop thinking of planes striking great structures. Those images changed my way of hearing and interpreting my repertoire on that occasion, and I prefaced the concert by saying so. The program was Bach's E Flat Minor Prelude from the first book of the Well-Tempered Clavier, Debussy's prelude "The Sunken Cathedral", Liszt's Petrarch Sonnet 104, and the F Minor Sonata of Brahms. I added "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" as a closing meditation.

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When I first heard about the second plane, it seemed inevitable to me that we would respond to these events by going to war. As I experienced my shock and grief at what happened on that day, and as I reflected on its impact on my own understanding of my art, I thought that 9/11 would be the defining event for my generation of artists in the United States. Perhaps that has come to pass, but so much has happened since 9/11 that has moved us away from the grief and, in some ways, away from the possibility of healing, that I'm not sure if 9/11 itself has become the theme I expected it to be.

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While watching footage from that day this weekend, my sense of the immense grief of 9/11 was renewed, although I still can't get myself to accept (for more than a few moments at a time) that those events really happened . I accept them as facts of history, but the parts of my mind and heart that could try to feel the maginitude of their human significance seem inaccessible to me. This has generally been my experience of grief: at some point, my system simply stops trying to make sense of what has happened. Maybe that's what is meant by "acceptance." But when I closely observe my inner workings, I haven't accepted anything. I just don't seem to have the capacity to grieve non-stop indefinitely.

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I played Bach's F Minor Prelude from the second book of the Well-Tempered Clavier for offertory at church on this tenth anniversary of 9/11. As I prepared and as I played, I thought a bit about "Why Bach?" and as we drove to church, I noted that I was not the only one who turned to Bach on this day. As names were read at Ground Zero, Bach was played on the flute.

Why Bach? For me, it's not because of his context or some detail of his biography. While those things may affirm my faith and assure me that the human experience and the experience of art transcend any single time and place, what I discovered in the midst of the living and researching of playing the music is that somehow Bach's music is a gift from God. It ministers to us, and we intuitively turn to it at times like this. As such a gift, it seems to be able to convey the pain of the individual as well as the grief of the entire race while also sounding a note of hope.

As I played, I realized that my generation can find an authentic voice in interpreting our work, our music, and the great classics of our civilization in light of 9/11. No other generation can do this and noone can define what it is to do this but us. Perhaps this is a profound truth that each generation learns. As Fleisher puts it, the structure of the musical work is a vessel into which we pour our feeling.

As I grieve and seek to console others at the piano, I learn afresh how to phrase, how to wait, how to aspire, and how to end.

January 2010

We've been enjoying a beautiful and much-needed, snow-induced sabbath these last few days. There are at least four inches, and some places, seven inches of snow in our region, plus layers of ice. It's a quiet time and great for eating homemade muffins and drinking coffee.

Last weekend I played two recitals with my good friend Jeremy McEntire at University of Richmond and Randolph Macon. I hadn't played at Randolph Macon before and enjoyed St. Anne's Hall, which is a small timbered church building with a nicely responsive Steinway and a warm acoustic.

One of the works we played was Rachmaninoff's Vocalise. I've played the piece many times with various instruments and voice. I always wonder at its falling lines, especially the long descent at the beginning. This aspect of falling is one of the things about Russian music that has mystified and depressed me by turns.

One of the lectionary passages for the day was Psalm 130 which begins, "Out of the depths I cry to thee, O thou Eternal." As I thought about that reading and Vocalise, I thought of a new way to understand those falling lines. I can hear them not as our sinking down but Christ's coming to be with us in the depths of our human experience. This removes the desolation and replaces it with hope, strength, and empathy.

UR Music Department: An Appreciation

I wrote the following for the Univerity of Richmond Music Department newletter this summer.

In the fall, I will be joining the faculty of Chowan University in Murfreesboro, NC. I’m taking this last opportunity to write for News and Notes to express my appreciation for the colleagues with whom I have been privileged to work these last seven years in the Music Department at UR.


First of all, I shall always be grateful to the faculty members who voted to hire me, thereby giving me a great place to learn and work, not to mention financial security and health coverage, for the better part of a decade!


Next, there are the many individuals who have contributed to my development as a professional and as a person:

Dr. Anderson who has been a model administrator and mentor

Mr. Becker whose remarkable artistic openness and friendship have helped my developing sense of self and value as a pianist

Dr. Riehl whose impeccable musicianship has consistently inspired me to strive for a higher level of music making

Dr. Longobardi whose ability to be nurturing and challenging at the same time sets a goalpost for my own classroom teaching

Dr. Fairtile whose joy in hard work and willingness to support and enhance the faculty’s efforts brightens up any trip to the library

Dr. Cable whose concern during my mother’s final illness was comforting to me

Dr. Pellegrinelli who took the time to be a friend and whose intellect has taught me to think better

Dr. McGraw who knows how to be super-competent and easy-going at the same time

Dr. Broening whose quiet commitment to family, teaching, composing, and Third Practice is amazing

Dr. Kong who leads the way as a musician who is totally invested in the work of department and in the welfare of her colleagues (I’m especially grateful for the many times she has recommended me for pianistic work in Richmond.)

And Kathy Panoff whose behind-the-scenes work and advocacy for the arts are so important

Finally, there are the many adjuncts that do so much of the musical work of the department. I appreciate the camaraderie and performances we have shared that have been both entertaining and enlightening.

Thank you all for many good years – years I will remember dearly.