tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28535238364865772352024-02-20T15:58:27.402-08:00Fleur de LisMariah Christinemariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-31099937449954957982015-01-28T14:03:00.001-08:002015-01-28T14:03:30.475-08:00Sacrifice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Seven months later it's a snow-day, and I am finally attempting to put this experience into words. It exhausted more sighs, tears and prayers than any other physical experience I've lived through so far. I smiled through much of it, laughed at myself, learned many lessons, kept confidence in its healing (according to God's will), and just kept going... but it's been 7 months; I am still recovering, hoping for the best, still learning lessons, still praying for relief and remembering pain. </div>
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I smile through everything. I am optimistic, think the best of people to a fault, laugh through my struggles, and generally heal quickly. I also have a very high tolerance for pain (maybe a <a href="http://sciencenordic.com/redheads-feel-different-kind-pain">redhead thing?</a>). And when I do feel pain, I don't always know what to do with it. I'll unconsciously ignore it, or mask it, remind myself how many have it worse than I, wrestle through it, count my blessings, and then I move past it. I just wait it out and things work out. <i>It</i> in this case being an overuse injury, tendonitis, some ulna tunnel, definitely damaged muscles, inflamed tendons and irritated nerves.</div>
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The pain erupted to the point where I could no longer play a note on the piano. I flew home, and in one of my more desperate prayers, I received confirmation and comfort that God knew exactly what I was going through, that this ailment might not be text book, but that it was specifically given to me and that it would help me learn. That it would teach more patience, help relationships, and let me grow. I believed that, and still do, with all my hope and all my heart.</div>
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Three weeks into it, I was alone in the Chalet, sitting in a steaming bath full of epsom salts, essential oils, and my own tears, unable to lift my hands to wipe my face pr move a strand of hair ... or really do anything but sit in silence. There were so many books close by I wanted to study, phone calls I wished I could make, emotions to fill a whole journal I was dying to write, music I longed to prepare and practice, or at least a social media website I could browse! But physically, I couldn't. </div>
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Muscles hold memories, and most every day for the last 20 years has been composed of practicing the piano, harp, violin, conducting, teaching from the piano, coaching, typing, writing, and working. Even though I'd never felt real pain while playing piano or conducting, it really shouldn't have been so surprising to receive an injury. Honestly, it was long overdue--I'd never broken a bone, and never had an injury worse than bad knees and mosquito bites. </div>
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Each week that passed I would tell those who inquired after me how it was getting better, how I'd be playing again soon, how I could start my conducting doctorate program without delay. I felt directed from the Lord to continue with my plans to move and to continue with my schooling, so I also expected healing ... in whichever way the Lord had in mind. </div>
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The weeks quickly turned to months, and the ailment moved and morphed through different phases. I always needed help, and tried to ask for it, although even asking requires movement from your arms. I didn't look like I needed help, there was no cast, and I could always force movement when I needed. I somehow completed the move across the country (with a lot of help from close family), and started seeing new doctors more regularly. The excruciating reminders came less frequently as healing continued to happen, and I tried to incorporate better habits into my new lifestyle. </div>
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I'm still taking it easy-- lifting as little as possible, practicing only in short spurts, using heat and ice, sleeping with splints, and still praying. The pain no longer bothers me, and most of the therapy is over (although I have said that for months). There might be more help I can get, and it will take a long time to regain the strength I had, but I am doing well, and mostly I consider it a thing of the past. </div>
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Whether it was the 'would-you-rather' question game or simply empathizing with my heroes, as a child I had forced myself to imagine how I might live were I to go blind, deaf, or even loose my legs. And I had come to terms with each situation. I could live a happy life in any of those situations. For some reason, I never even imagined a situation where I might loose my arms. I didn't think that could happen. My arms symbolized everything God had given me-- the ability to touch, nurture, write a note, compose a song, make music, act, bless, decorate, help and create beauty. </div>
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To give up the thing with which God specifically blessed you is part of my story. Moriah, the sacred place upon which Abraham promised to give up his biggest blessing. And where he, in beginning to enact that promise, was finally able to fully receive that blessing. I promised God a long time ago that I would sacrifice and dedicate all I had to His kingdom. But promising that in my heart was different than actually enacting that promise. But part of that promise was put to the test, or enacted upon me, to a small degree these past 7 months. And as I continue to re-deserve, relearn and regain strength, I now have renewed desire to thank God for my gifts, to treasure all I am given, and to sacrifice to receive the blessings of Heaven.</div>
mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-42553107321813722212013-08-17T13:53:00.000-07:002013-08-17T13:55:24.538-07:00include 'VIOLIN' in every resume.I often avoid revealing my whole resume in simple get-to-know-you conversations. <br />
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In fact, I sometimes hide whole sections of my life story in order not to --overwhelm someone. </div>
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Well that sounds like a prideful pig!</div>
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But really, my accomplishments aren't really that great. It's just some of the simplest questions are just ... complicated for me to answer. I don't want to sound like I'm trying to impress-- and sometimes I wish that some of my talents required getting to know me before they were uncovered. whatever.</div>
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In fact, I never give the same grouping of instruments I play when I introduce myself. And I give different answers for where I'm from too. So, you might go away thinking that I'm a choir singer from Wisconsin, a harpist from Utah, or a collaborative pianist from Paris. And... depending on how you react, where you're from, or how long we want to keep talking... I might flush out the whole story. </div>
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Well, when I agreed to come visit a good friend in New England, I had no idea that her family were music lovers. I had told them the basic conducting and piano emphases at school, but it took three days for me to uncover that I played the violin. </div>
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at which point, my host says 'I think I have some violins you'd like to see.' And the hostess adds (apparently taking my word for my musical abilities) 'not just to <i>see </i>-- violins you should play!' </div>
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I honestly thought that he was kidding around with me when he mentioned Stradivarius, but I should have been more trusting. Of course I didn't sleep that night, thinking about the violins (okay, that wasn't the only reason...), but it was the next morning when we decided to take them out together. </div>
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The first violin he handed me was the small a 1732 violin made by Giuseppe Guarneri Del Gesú, called 'Ferni.' I slowly started to get used to it with slow scales, and any excerpt that came to mind, from Bach to Barber. When I started to improvise on my favorite hymns, my host returned. </div>
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This time the violin was made by Antonio Stradivarius in 1704, nicknamed the Gleni. I had dreamed about <i>touching</i> a Strad most of my life... I never imagined I would one day play on one of his violins. The power in the violin surprised me--I couldn't believe the G string sound, and the evenness between strings. The change onto the E string had a very clear darker even sonority that I had never heard before. So out came Bartok, Wieniawski, Lalo and more Bach--I just couldn't get enough of it. </div>
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Eventually the morning had wasted away and I had to leave, still smiling. What a gift!</div>
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... And I went away thinking it was such a lucky chance that I mentioned my love for the violin. </div>
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But aren't blessings most often disguised as chances?</div>
mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-34788448038628540492013-07-22T10:56:00.002-07:002013-07-22T10:57:45.964-07:00Proud to be American. European. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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While turning towards whatever has the most red white and blue in the room, we chanted the pledge of allegiance, to the flag of the United States of America for 7 years when we lived in Europe. I was definitely American, from America, with parents from America, in the American section of the school, and speaking American at home. <br />
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It wasn't until we moved to America that I no longer felt American. Leaving Europe / coming to America was hard on all of us. I remember walking around town one last time, lingering at church for the last time, riding my bike around the streets one last time, walking through every room in the house one last time, and staring up at such a deep blue clear sky the day I left my heart there and flew away. I have returned to Europe about once a year since then, and each time that I leave, I feel that familiar pang in my heart. <br />
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The difference is that the world here (in Europe) is generally built around centuries of history-- a history without modern conveniences. Their whole lives don't circulate completely around technology. Streets were built for walking and riding -- not always planned for cars (this is why their cars are normal sized-- tiny to Americans!). Theaters and opera houses were their primary form of entertainment. Their lives centered around their church services and their outdoor market. Because of this, large squares/plaza/platz/places, parks, churches, and opera houses are at the heart of towns. The field workers in the feudal systems lived on the outskirts of each town, allowing beautiful fields to frame each town even nowadays. Every community was self-sufficient enough to have their own baker for bread everyday, fisherman, butcher... Most often, with stores taking only the bottom floor of the living quarters. The stores fit in around their lives. Oh, I could probably go on for some time-- do you get the point? Somehow, this life seems more simple. <br />
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Most of the US was really shaped after the industrial revolution, with efficiency in mind. Land zoned for housing is completely apart from commercial land which is completely apart from farming land. Full blocks of commercial buildings are points of interests and destinations instead of a part of life. So much of the layout of the land is for the sake of efficiency. It costs so much to erect a performance center in specific zoning from scratch, that making ends meet seems more difficult. Everyone is trying to get something bigger and better, faster and more immediate, more convenient, and prove themselves-- as if they have something to make up for! The cars, the roads, the buildings, the houses, the portion sizes (!), the TVs, the cities, and metropolises... Sometimes these things are so overwhelming and overstimulating. Of course I am speaking generally. <br />
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But generally, you do shop once at a super market for food to last several weeks. Because of this, you need a larger fridge. We drive everywhere (Palo Alto excluded), so destination shopping is no problem, we only have to carry bags to our cars. Once you hit farming fields, they seem to go on and on, assembly-line-like, and crops even start looking all the same. Bigger, better, better tasting, so we don't need much more variety. We have big fridges, washers and dryers, stores, AC units... and it's quite comfortable.<br />
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So many in our culture would opt for the efficiency, the grand scale, the driving everywhere. But so much of me longs for the former, the l'Etang la Ville, the public transportation, simple, smaller life. Sigh. Of course I'm very proud to be an American. But I'm always struggling with this duality. And I'll probably go back and forth my whole life.<br />
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... so incase you happen to be a suitor... you may or may not need to reconsider ;)mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-59506567905452873732013-07-17T15:29:00.003-07:002013-07-17T15:29:45.832-07:00bicyclettes & horloges<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yes, those are ALL bikes. Welcome to Berlin! It's just like when we lived in Bergen op Zoom--grandmothers in dresses with baskets full of groceries on their bicycles. But what has surprised me has been the bicycles on the S & U bahn train lines. The combination of public and personal transportation is everywhere here! Pretty smart if you ask me. There was not a day when I did not wish that I had a bike to get around with. </div>
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All in all, I was quite impressed with the public transportation. My weekpass was under 30 Euros and I was constantly in the busses, the underground train and the overground train. What I did forget was the hour + that it takes to get everywhere. TIME! </div>
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Speaking of time, the German people seem to be very organized and exact. All of our players were early for rehearsal, and apparently if you might let them off a few minutes early one day, they would think it an insult. As a culture generally, they do like to work. for their allotted time. But their arms are open wide when they want to have some fun.</div>
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My host mom mentioned that when tehy moved to Munich for three years, they brought their grandfather clock. Clocks are also important to this culture, they are everywhere! On buildings, in stations, as decoratie works of art... and I love it. What is it about two hands spinning that is very lovely? </div>
<br />mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-76158103138525179022013-07-17T04:04:00.001-07:002013-07-17T04:09:35.943-07:00Enter Berliner Symphoniker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We moved to Grazer Platz 2 once we were ready for the orchestra to come join us: a beautiful hall with high ceilings, stained glass windows letting in floods of light on both of the sides, carpet, and a sort of chapel & crucifixion statue off to the side.<br />
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The magic of such grand music played by such talented players in such a beautiful environment was overwhelming to me. Maestro Gessi must have sensed this on my face, and explained to me how this hall was used for international radio during the Cold war, and was also important during WWII. <br />
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The chamber orchestra, made up of the principle strings and wind section in the Berliner Symphoniker, have joined us. I still can't even believe it. They are incredible players, human beings, diligent rehearsal technicians... Their rehearsal ethic was a joy to watch and work with. Wow.<br />
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Our program with them is<br />
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Mozart Symphony no. 40 KV 550<br />
Schubert Symphony no. 5 D 485 and<br />
Respighi Antiche Deanze ed Arie -- Suite No. 3<br />
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I can't write fast enough to keep track of everything that I'm learning during the masterclass. The wand lessons might be over, but there is still so much that I am learning! Many reminders, many new things that I need to post in my conducting blog before I forget them All of the music that we are working on is from the Viennese tradition, where the music is so delicate, aristocratic, and grand. "The Viennese live, and let others live. They are always inviting & appreciative."<br />
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At my first 'competition' playing the violin in America when we moved back at age 12, the judge told me that he really enjoyed my interpretation of Bach. Then he started to talk me into getting a baroque violin, a baroque bow, and focusing solely on Baroque music... </div>
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well that didn't happen. But what is wonderful about this world is that through studying new cultures, new places, understanding new points of view and new ways of life, you better understand the composers with those backgrounds. Studying German music in Germany is worth much more than the tuition that I paid to do this program. I feel very lucky.<br />
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mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-90557549788092914712013-07-15T01:30:00.001-07:002013-07-15T01:54:09.963-07:00Respite<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Most days here have been pretty overcast, but one of my days here when I happened to spend the whole day out of doors the sun was beating down all afternoon. I did indulge in a gelato at the Sony center, but that didn't seem to refresh my feet which were sore and swollen from being up on them all day long. But when you are in a place like Berlin, you can't afford to stop and get off your feet! Every corner you turn, there is more history, modern and ancient architecture, the Reformation, the Wars, the aristocracy, picturesque parcs... :) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">While walking around one of my favorite dirt pathways alongside the Spree river, I spotted a children's play set behind the trees which blocked my pathway from the reality of the city. I didn't even have to hop the fence as the gate was open to this deserted playground. So I made myself at home and grabbed a swing. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">It was simply wonderful. I thought back to all the hours that I spent on swings as a girl, and took a break. As I swung higher and higher, I could see across the river to beautiful red roofs (above) and if I could look far enough down the river to the left, I could see Berlin's Dom peeking through the trees. Wow. It is a sight to see. So happily situated, guarded from the city noises, swinging through the air alone with my thoughts... it was quite magical actually. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">After seeing the outside of the Dom, I decided that I was definitely time to go visit. From the outside, so many of the churches here look like big beautiful Catholic European churches. But so many of them have white stark interior, helping you focus on the sermons instead of the sculptures and stained glass I suppose. (If my churches were latin, I'd want some stained glass too!) But this church was just as grand inside as anything I have ever seen. And yet it was also different from anything I'd seen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Instead of the apostles and the Madonna towering over every corner, the reformers stand around the center dome: Friedric Weiss, Philip Grossmütig, Zwingly, Luther, Melanchthon, Calvin, Albert von Preuswen, and Joachim II. My favorite of the characters were the relief sculptures between the reformers of great miracles-- Daniel, Paul, Stephen & Peter acting according to the word of the Lord. I've seen so many churches of this size and grandure, but I am rarely touched in this way. The feeling in that church is very special. As I was finally preparing myself to have to go (I usually have to drag myself out of churches), an organist started to play. It was so glorious that I had to wait and worship in this place just a little longer. </span></div>
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</span>mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-6504305497680118482013-07-15T00:47:00.000-07:002013-07-15T00:48:12.716-07:00'I fear a cage...'<span style="font-weight: normal;">Sometimes I don't like zoos because all the animals have to be caged up. My favorite zoos are... Safaris. National parks. Well, ya, stuff like that. But I felt very much the same in Berlin's Instrument Museum. Looking at all these instruments was Not what they were made for. It's like making a lot of delicious courses for a fancy dinner, and keeping them in a glass fridge so no one can eat them. yup, this first one is a stradivarius. </span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;">I really enjoyed the museum because of the works of art worked into the instruments, and then i also simply love the history of the instruments (which I should know both the piano and violin's ancestors better than I do). Most of the museum was made up of pianos ( well, variations on pianos to be more precise... Virginals, cemballos, harpsichords; violins (as well as a few variations there too), but there were also a few organs and harps. I play all those instruments! Maybe I only take notice of the instruments I play. Ya, there were a few random bassoon and flute ancestors now that I think of it....</span><br />
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I was strangely touched at a saying on three of the keyboard instruments: 'Soli Deo Gloria.' (If you look carefully, I included it in one of the above pictures.) How many countless times have I consecrated my music to the Lord? I love this saying, engraved & painted on beautiful instruments. It is so faithful, beautiful, sincere. I might not want to paint on my Fazioli, but in my heart I will keep that dedication. I will only make music to glorify God. <br />
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mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-66376383815042084262013-07-11T18:03:00.002-07:002013-07-11T18:03:33.746-07:00Swish and Flick <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yes, you might think I'm talking about transfiguration class. Not so. Conducting is way harder than transfiguration. But the movements do have to be just as precise. Aristotic teacher Maestro Lior Shambadal (chief conductor of the Berliner Symphoniker) had only given me a 'we already know you're a romantic' to my first comment, but Maestro Romolo Gessi (conductor of the Vienna Chamber Orchestra) gave me a 'perfetto' for my switch and flick rebound. I <i>live </i>for compliments from Maestro Gessi. <br />
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You should have seen us all, about 4 women and 20 men practicing isolated 'baguette' (that is a reference to <a href="http://musique88.blogspot.be/2011/07/choosing-wand.html">this paris adventure</a> incase you missed that) technique, swooping our arms this way and that, balancing coins while we isolate one arm from another, and controlling the tip of our wands...<br />
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I my audition with them (yes, here! although that's just the door to the courtyard), they asked me to do several things that I had never done-- and never expected to do either. I have a lot to learn if I'm going to be on the same page as all the European conductors. I still can't believe that they are letting me conduct with them.... I feel so far behind sometimes. <br />
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But there is much to be said for an eager student. While walking home after 11pm, I pulled out my wand and started to practice some of the circle exercises ('on guard' to any strangers in the little alleyways!), and continued all of the exercises upon arriving at home, including waving my arms around like a crazy person on the ground. Ya, at the end of the day, when half of us look bored and the other half dead, I'm still soaking up as much information as possible, intently staring from the conductors to my score to the students. I'm so glad that they value thirst. Thirst for knowledge I mean. and I most definitely get that from my parents. Good thing they value that. And good thing they somehow can feel your innate musicality even when I can't show it perfectly yet. mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-73315206363019958312013-07-11T17:50:00.001-07:002013-07-15T00:47:32.917-07:00Princesse à Berlin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was charmed at once. Perhaps it was coming to a European city I'd never been to before. It was definitely these slate steps leading up to the side door to my abode for the week. May have been the bird calls everywhere. Or simply the fact that I made it to my destination after being in many modes of transportation for a few hours. <br />
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Of course, a tall dark handsome man only slightly older than me showed me inside, and I was immediately offered 'house shoes' (in France we call them <i>chaussons</i> and of course they were required for all of our classrooms in the wintertime). Charmed again. I couldn't help but smile. I was full of dust and grime from a full day in Brussels and much travel but I already had a bit of a tour of Berlin from the public transport and already had a glimpse of the beauty in this place. <br />
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I was led up two stories to a very, very skinny staircase which leads up to my tower. The attic is yours, princess. I love it already. My attic consists of two rooms and five windows, a persian rug on my floor and an antique desk armoire for me to put my things in and use as a desk. Of course in the morning I flew open the windows and sang to the world outside (no, I'm not kidding) (and don't worry, I didn't call in any rodents) (and don't worry, I definitely stopped when I realized the father was watering the garden directly beneath me).<br />
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The best part is not my attic though. They have a Mariah room. I mean, they have a music room! Complete with cello, bass, flute, harp, and piano. Of course it's a German piano with an extra octave string a centimeter above for every note that resonates sympathetically with the playing of the piano. Although it could use a tuning & technical touch-up, it was a pleasure to practice for a few hours. And they did make me promise that I'd play the harp before I left. How could I not feel like royalty when served by such generous, kind, previous mission presidents, always serving kind of people who make my favorite breakfast every morning? This is going to be a good trip.mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-11129543808189938802013-07-08T03:53:00.001-07:002013-07-08T03:53:22.403-07:00Race cultureI did it. <br />
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I was out of breath, but I knew there was one more lap left of the Wisconsin Hills Middle School track, and I HAD to keep on running (determination, or (what I like to name my stubbornness) has been a trait for many years...). 8:32 for the mile. I didn't even mind when the other seventh graders made fun of my tomato face. I made it to average. phew. Gym was often a mixture of humiliation, determination and desperation. I am not a runner, never have been a runner, never wanted to be a runner. But I did always try.<br />
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10 years later and I am paying to run a race. Paying? to Run?! yes, completely ridiculous. Especially when I haven't run for 5 years since I hurt my knee (running). But several of my siblings and father were running a half marathon after the family reunion, and there was a 5k option. Why not? Even if I couldn't train, I was walking a lot (all over NYC and now over Provo) and I tap for an hour or more every day.<br />
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Saturday morning, I woke up at 4am, 4:30am and then 5am before I made myself get out of bed an hour later. Christmas morning, anyone? I finally left with just enough time to get there, with the coordinates of the race. Well, the streets didn't all align the way I thought they would, and before I knew it, I was in going off towards another town. My mom always says that you have to get lost three times in order to have fun. ok. <br />
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The lines of parked cars served as my guide as I left Edwinea (our Toyota Sienna) at the end of the line. Of course the parked cars didn't lead me exactly to where the race started. Really? really. Even after getting lost, I might have been on time if I had been able to park at the starting line. But after jogging all around the parked cars for and asking several mothers for directions, I found it! (ten minutes late!) well, I couldn't stop now, and they let me start my clock 10 minutes late. But I will forever be grateful for those ten minutes. <br />
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My oldest brother Adam had started the half marathon much earlier that morning, and caught up with me for the last 500 yards of the race, and we sprinted to the finish together!<br />
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On the other side of the finish line, everyone was so happy! The free food, massages, drinks, give-aways, the kind people, the congratulations... Every one was so pleasant. It is such a beautiful sport when each is happy for each other. I couldn't believe how many people that I look up to were there as well! And not only my own family (which was well represented) but friends from previous wards, study abroad programs, family friends... the whole event was such a happy one. I couldn't believe that I'd never experienced race culture before. And I loved it.<br /><br />(ps, sorry this was saved in my drafts... so a year later when I'm starting to write again...)<br />
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<br />mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-90806719874852659552012-04-27T05:56:00.001-07:002012-04-27T05:56:27.018-07:00First few days of tour...The clouds finally parted to reveal green grasses and quaint brick and white houses encircled about by little curvy roads dotted with colorful little cars driving on the wrong side of the road. <br />
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The painful lines of customs and baggage usually end in my running off on public transport, carrying around luggage through many transfers and across many squares. But while in a big group, we are transported by a double decker coach directly from the airport to the hotel. it's quite nice. <br />
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London shimmers with rain and 'mist' (as I call it), covered with puddles and cigarette butts. I've run a few times already to make deadlines and find our way to the nearest tube station. Mostly I love the diversity here, accents, colors, food and traditions from across the world. It is wonderful. I am so grateful for all I learn from different cultures. <br />
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Tuesday. <br />
Shortly after seven, I pulled open the tapestry-like curtains to see the green park gated by rod iron and a magnificent cream and white building with detail . I smiled. <br />
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We watch the changing of the guards at Buckingham and walked around London for a while, just soaking in the architecture, the city, the people, the stores... And I am happy. And it didn't even rain while we were standing there for the duration... And the band played 'New York' in front of the queen! I also spoke to several French tourists, it is so fun! They are Everywhere! <br />
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We traveled to Milton keynes for our first concert. And what a first concert! The church was small enough that we could constantly see the expressions of the attentive audience. We sang better than we ever have and appreciated the favorites of the crowd that night, Jerusalem and Come Come ye Saints. <br />
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Day Three, Wednesday <br />
. Cambridge. For all the times I've been in Oxford, I don't ever remember being in Cambridge. It is gorgeous. For hours we crawled around the little cobble stoned alleyways quaint stores and in the pouring rain. We slipped into British accents, because some how the awfulness of being wet all day is lessened when you are British. <br />
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Each college is grander than the last and the architecture keeps on getting more and more intricate. The chapels are sometimes open to the public, and we all spent some time in Kings College chapel before rehearsing with Dr Stephan Cleobury.<br />
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We found the oldest church in Cambridge, a tiny stone structure nestled in the most beautiful cemetery, and sang a quick I am a child of God there. We slipped through the Trinity College as if we were students to see the Wren library. The arches, books and paintings were quite enough for me to be overwhelmed but the other treasures of Newtons letters, AA Milne's original Pooh, and an 8th century vellum Epistles of Paul just took me over the edge. <br />
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Yes, we were sopping by now, but I did want to see the bridge of sighs, so we took a back route behind the backs of the college, getting our shoes more muddy than ever but reveling in the green grasses contrasting with the brick and stone facades. The river was especially beautiful, and each bridge had its own charm (especially this bridge of Sighs... I was thinking of Jeremy of course).<br />
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The chapel we sang in was absolutely gorgeous, singing all of our Spanish renaissance pieces to the appreciative crowd, and somehow came out of the rain looking and sounding gorgeous. I'll have to upload pictures later on.<br />
<br />mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-5856894166536031822012-03-23T17:32:00.002-07:002012-03-23T17:32:34.801-07:00Because I Have Been BlessedBYU Devotionals. are wonderful. <br />
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While driving up to BYU as an incoming Freshman, my father and I discussed goals I was making for my BYU experience. He asked me to make a goal to go to every devotional and forum of my undergraduate career. My dad only needs hints at advice, and I am already acting on it. <br />
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As far as undergrad went, I missed one because I was out of town, and watched two on TV because of timing. There may have been a few at which I was frantically finishing homework and not giving my wohle soul to be taught... but on the whole, much of the growth I have experienced since coming here has been spurred by devotional and forum speakers. and they have also given me the opportunity to perform countless times.<br />
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Well 6 times so far this semester--whether it was conducting the opening hymn, singing with Singers, Womens Chorus, conducting University Chorale, or accompanying a soloist. I'm not going to add up past semesters.<br /><br />Last week, Lori Bikhazi sang my arrangement of Because I Have Been Given Much. (It couldn't be broadcasted to the world because I don't have the copyright to the words, but you can watch the performance of my arrangement here: <a href="http://vimeo.com/38511278?utm_source=internal&utm_medium=email&utm_content=cliptranscoded&utm_campaign=adminclip">video</a>)<br />
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I have performed my arrangements at devotional before, and accompanied soloists many times, but it was different this time because Lori and I have worked on this piece in our apartment countless times, refined the arrangement, the piano, the build-up, the spirit, the vocal line--and the words we feel so deeply. <br />
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Immediately following the devotional, Dean Jones (composing professor) came down from the stand to congratulate me and ask whose was the arrangement? He passed on his compliments. <br />
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I was the most grateful recipient of his compliments-- they meant the world to me! Many others in attendance have asked me about the arrangement, and I have even received several emails asking who did the arrangement, and where they can access it. If compliments from a real artist can be so meaningful to me, I should give them more often.<br />
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Well, this arrangement and the attention that it called for has been a catalyst for more hymn settings, and a renewed desire to polish several arrangements and sell them in book form. So I'll finish composing this summer, practice and and it'll be on its way. I'll keep you posted. <br />
<br />mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-17992906454333425382012-01-01T15:05:00.000-08:002012-01-06T08:28:28.116-08:00University Chorale Fall 2011<br />
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Along with teaching Sight Singing, assisting in BYU's Women's Chorus, conducting Stake Choir, singing with the SCO Renaissance Choir, accompanying and singing in BYU Singers, I teach and conduct University Chorale. and I love it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Vih9CGOGMDpdctMAaGBtAScKOTglXvFDMOqkHGhkXnKoohaW8WeEMjcawtTvccKD6SRbLnqOlop47AYCa8r9T_m0qm_hhHa4xkjcT7WqMmUvnPZBvh2nS-9h2fScGip2nLUR869Ql4My/s1600/IMG_0052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Vih9CGOGMDpdctMAaGBtAScKOTglXvFDMOqkHGhkXnKoohaW8WeEMjcawtTvccKD6SRbLnqOlop47AYCa8r9T_m0qm_hhHa4xkjcT7WqMmUvnPZBvh2nS-9h2fScGip2nLUR869Ql4My/s320/IMG_0052.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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1st miracle. Lorie, in the teal and white. I foolishly didn't order professor copies of the music that the bookstore ordered, so I went to the bookstore to buy my own copies of the music. Well, I went to check out, and the my cashier said that she had seen so many students check out with this music and it looked so wonderful-- what was included in the packet? I told her all about it, and that I conducted this group. She was so interested, and for some reason, I felt like I should invite her to sing with us. So I did. She joined our choir and was a wonderful addition for the alto section as well as the girls around her. She was such a positive support to me the whole semester long, I could hardly look her way without smiling. She so enjoyed singing with us, and her joy was contagious. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3YUUkQaqQXOdAilnpd5gNmVv8Ba66B7GfO1NG6E4QF4wXFQyUbdEpbVuPLiypASbHZ5bLZTy8T9gRUiPtBjZt18SYjAWuPI847gLyVvpnFUSSbAstHB4O2oXvaJ17qD_ARrnej3e25Sy/s1600/IMG_0037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3YUUkQaqQXOdAilnpd5gNmVv8Ba66B7GfO1NG6E4QF4wXFQyUbdEpbVuPLiypASbHZ5bLZTy8T9gRUiPtBjZt18SYjAWuPI847gLyVvpnFUSSbAstHB4O2oXvaJ17qD_ARrnej3e25Sy/s320/IMG_0037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Second miracle. Missionaries. About a dozen students in Chorale received their mission calls this semester or are actively awaiting them to go off into the world serving the Lord. I was so grateful that they sang with us while preparing to leave. There are so many opportunities to testify through song in Chorale as well as on missions. Joe, playing the reorder here, is one of those awaiting his call to serve. He plays a dozen instruments and was so positive in his support of choir. We sang for a devotional when Elder Callister spoke, and he brought a book to be signed by this general authority as he spoke to us. Elder Callister willingly complied and I was so impressed by Joe's bright faith and excitement as he prepared to serve the Lord. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeea0Q9rqr2NKMQXsJ6pT_hiNsFa42IEGhjgnM5K3jd2ZFHvrqW6EERJPHXkVTQgysQRZpMYMOUkOZtdGtS5rur5Itmg8zfm1Pzd0DHNphjCeWvdpdc1x48HgBVJDyA7wkp_zleKqKpqW/s1600/IMG_0049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeea0Q9rqr2NKMQXsJ6pT_hiNsFa42IEGhjgnM5K3jd2ZFHvrqW6EERJPHXkVTQgysQRZpMYMOUkOZtdGtS5rur5Itmg8zfm1Pzd0DHNphjCeWvdpdc1x48HgBVJDyA7wkp_zleKqKpqW/s320/IMG_0049.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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One last picture from our concert, conducting Handel's The Many Rend the Skies from Alexander's Feast. We are just starting up again for another semester where I can be more organized, more musical, more enthusiastic, more planned and more faithful.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxlwRupK2V1VsxlwYQNbvEYxko6uuLAgGmIYn3i3EX6vOEO6OgQ7DQvFZEEZ79RzVSEyRtwyeRcz1FXzD8m1Eo4K1NzpZ1ilexw2tj93tl6dCaNdsQZsG0Bslrxkb04bGvmOiP06N1Q4Q/s1600/chorale+clip.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxlwRupK2V1VsxlwYQNbvEYxko6uuLAgGmIYn3i3EX6vOEO6OgQ7DQvFZEEZ79RzVSEyRtwyeRcz1FXzD8m1Eo4K1NzpZ1ilexw2tj93tl6dCaNdsQZsG0Bslrxkb04bGvmOiP06N1Q4Q/s320/chorale+clip.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-74315492755185661102011-12-24T00:12:00.000-08:002011-12-24T00:14:22.528-08:00Filled<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSArPhYAzPWe4k6ucfl409q-mpk_VbV1DRvUfeW0VcvpPDpGXNKLJZtjdhTtTE6aUjngGOxpSrIZom1pVwQWxvO7N8SbfPBhv-xhuxQjlQzAIiIiR5SQicARkO9FCFJCsl6HaXbKKeYvZ/s1600/Christmas+tree+decorations+in+Disneyland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSArPhYAzPWe4k6ucfl409q-mpk_VbV1DRvUfeW0VcvpPDpGXNKLJZtjdhTtTE6aUjngGOxpSrIZom1pVwQWxvO7N8SbfPBhv-xhuxQjlQzAIiIiR5SQicARkO9FCFJCsl6HaXbKKeYvZ/s320/Christmas+tree+decorations+in+Disneyland.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Filled with Carols, both felt and sung<br />
Filled with twinkling of the candles & stars<br />
Filled with smells of spices and Warmth<br />
Filled with feasts of Words and of bread<br />
Filled with favorite stories of renewal and good will<br />
Filled with the Joy of human's love<br />
Filled with the Spirit so palpable, I cry<br />
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Filled with a heart swelling as great as this world<br />
Filled with Love from the dear ones nearby<br />
Filled with Thanks for comforts and rest<br />
Filled with admiration for Joseph, now 206!<br />
Filled with inspiration to do better and be more--<br />
Filled with Song. Hope, and Joy.<br />
Filled with family's laughter and Trust<br />
Filled with surprises & anticipation for what's next<br />
Filled with memories to make any lifetime content<br />
Filled with traditions, both old and the new<br />
Filled with newness, lists and goals<br />
Filled with empathy for those feeling remorse<br />
Filled with courage to start again, persevere<br />
Filled with Giving, sharing, partaking<br />
Filled with a mind, open for increase<br />
Filled with thoughts I could ponder for years<br />
Filled with Charity. Serenity, Peace.<br />
Filled with fresh Vision from the True guide<br />
Filled with recognition of what's given and required<br />
Filled with humility for particular gifts of Light<br />
Filled with Faith and engendered confidence <br />
Filled with Desires so deeply rooted in my core<br />
Filled with Emotion, Christ-like and human<br />
Filled with Wonder, awe and cheers<br />
Filled with Gloria's, praising God above<br />
Filled with Rejoicing for goodness imparted to me<br />
Filled with astonishment at how far these feelings reach...<br />
<br />
Memories and traditions from the past, Love and serenity in the moment, and awaiting the brightest future... This is how I feel today. <br />
<br />
Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas.</div>mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-15734055859921545802011-09-22T21:46:00.000-07:002011-09-22T22:01:34.632-07:00OverwhelmedI'd already sung several songs with BYU Singers and even played on the 10 ft Fazioli that BYU's trying out but I had not been nervous beforehand. For a moment, I was alone in a forgotten corridor of the H-FAC and said another prayer... <i>Father, I don't deserve this. I don't deserve this honor. but please help me.</i> Concert Choir was filing off stage, and I could hear the risers creaking with Women's Chorus members milling into place. It seemed like forever until the creaking and clapping stopped and it was my turn to walk on. First the accompanist, then me, then Jean Applonie. I bowed with my mentor and then stepped onto the podium. <br />
<br />
Being in the middle of the de Jong concert hall stage was not intimidating whatsoever, but I could never have been prepared for what I saw next. I looked up and saw 185 beautiful women, shining... their sparkly tops, their bright faces, their eyes full of anticipation for their part of the concert and their minds focused on each reminder... bright red smiles of people I love. and so I raised my hands. Overwhelmed.<br />
<br />
I was full of energy, hopefully channeling it into my conducting and to the girls I work with. Elbows up a little farther. look into their faces-- JOY! then slow down, flexible wrist. the meaning of the piece. and more joy. and it was over. I just looked at them. <br />
<br />
I must have smiled (how could I not?) but forgot completely what I was supposed to do for a moment. The hall was full of applause, so I stepped down from my pedestal and motioned a hand to recognize the beautiful singers and bowed. They are glorious. <br />
<br />
The last number of the concert was sung with all of the combined choirs and I was lucky enough to accompany them 'Of the Father's Love Begotten.' Dr. Staheli always motions for me to stand before he even turns around (perhaps it makes up for so many invisible accompanists) and when he does, it is so easy to smile at the audience. especially after knowing and loving one more choir. mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-88852966085095639782011-08-28T20:52:00.000-07:002011-08-28T21:20:26.156-07:00San FranciscoConcert Series at the Presidio, San Francisco Debut
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog6mibZqxxZiI6nU__CBg-yRiwksABqEmzu0TeODmhGs7CAK8D5K0QgMawealLGsBn0VTbmTzV7TAfTvyKCv_Gwmmh7Zt4DJTRWYtAVSWRmcLZN4nLkrarwcFxHwGE1bZtiF_knKK8hYX/s1600/IMG_0007.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog6mibZqxxZiI6nU__CBg-yRiwksABqEmzu0TeODmhGs7CAK8D5K0QgMawealLGsBn0VTbmTzV7TAfTvyKCv_Gwmmh7Zt4DJTRWYtAVSWRmcLZN4nLkrarwcFxHwGE1bZtiF_knKK8hYX/s400/IMG_0007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646121573080183650" /></a>
<br />Debussy:
<br /> l'Isle joyeuse
<br /> Reflets dans l'eau
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<br />Poulenc:
<br /> Napoli Suite
<br /> Barcarolle
<br /> Nocturne
<br /> Italian Caprice (intermission)
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<br />Ravel: Ondine
<br />Chopin: Nocturne Op. 27.2
<br />Prokofiev: Sonata #1 <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57_3MR5IuGxD9RyfpxR5qdhENMrs492UPHE95LZxizH884UVim3MSP0zof-gwMwvGxXh8B83iiXanEttXDIuF8Xe68ku4M0Deb11-E_WhksI7AdflRdEbDp_pB6gWnLP-t2k67EJXT9JN/s1600/IMG_0023.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 360px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57_3MR5IuGxD9RyfpxR5qdhENMrs492UPHE95LZxizH884UVim3MSP0zof-gwMwvGxXh8B83iiXanEttXDIuF8Xe68ku4M0Deb11-E_WhksI7AdflRdEbDp_pB6gWnLP-t2k67EJXT9JN/s400/IMG_0023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646121580490053570" /></a>
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<br />The clapping was enthusiastic at the end of the Prokofiev both nights, and many were standing. On Friday night, an older gentleman in the audience ran up to present me with a handful of beautiful wildflowers! So, I gave an encore:
<br />
<br />Marciack
<br /> Île St. Louis from <span style="font-style:italic;">Impressions de Paris</span>
<br />
<br />This was the last piece that I studied with Monsieur Marciack in Paris. He composed two books of "Impressions de Paris" for his students to play. He cried at one of the last performances I gave while studying with him, and I wondered, 'why would someone cry to music?' Although I studied another one or two of his works with Christina Van Dohm in Antwerp, I put the books away when I moved to Wisconsin. For some reason, I packed them with me when I went off to College (not sure what I was thinking) and found them again when I was living with my Grandmother during the Spring term.
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<br />I looked through the pieces, and was reminded of many early musical memories associated with Monsieur Marciack, his handwriting, his music, his mannerisms, his laugh, his love for me... and then I played through the Île St Louis. I started to cry at the end of the first line and cried during the whole piece. It reminded me of everything that was Paris, everything that I learned musically there, every pain I had felt leaving, and every pain I had felt there. I was reminded of how many 'weird' things I did that were simply cross-culture conflicts and how much I loved Paris, Music, Monsieur Marciack, and how blessed I was to have all of those things.
<br />
<br />After each performance, the audience greeted and congratulated me in the foyer and to my surprise, I noted accents (especially European) from the majority of the audience members. They thought that Marian Marciack might have been a famous French folk song, Schumann, a Song without Words, MacDowell or Gottschalk... he would be flattered. Others told me they felt it was my prayer. It was.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAUNEBtkszWJYm0M6Ix57IkFKkYtb7XQSBrqnQ9z1gcjfZwroe34BZu5uLKJqGFljAVVYyeHjvREfcFBTyMXCjYGschv5yx3htVINCZSXAxjsBpZgXs-1i5MLsBkVVYDbmE-InP1E7jpE/s1600/IMG_0025.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAUNEBtkszWJYm0M6Ix57IkFKkYtb7XQSBrqnQ9z1gcjfZwroe34BZu5uLKJqGFljAVVYyeHjvREfcFBTyMXCjYGschv5yx3htVINCZSXAxjsBpZgXs-1i5MLsBkVVYDbmE-InP1E7jpE/s400/IMG_0025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646121578576023554" /></a>Liz Olson, my best friend from High School surprised me by attending both concerts and took me out to see her favorite spots in San Francisco, favorite roads, favorite ice cream place, and favorite real San Fransiscan restaurant. She and many other audience members asked when I would be coming back? soon in any case. If this was a 'debut,' that simply means 'beginning' (it's french, of course). So I will return. with friends. and perhaps more musical instruments. ;) see you then.
<br />mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-67597063894873854742011-08-21T12:53:00.000-07:002011-08-28T20:36:05.493-07:00meeting Kirk Richards<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xJwesTGZsG9iU2LcwnXP9WlVk9nxqq8bVA4iXzHuIgj4CFExyWFjC_8k9n_2vjRueDIwWOWysRMSa3kxWuFdo21CGm6JdmIOTzjcIWablR0gzMx_4SvkLkOyZbPc22lplDH9lXRSfHuk/s1600/gethsemane.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 159px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xJwesTGZsG9iU2LcwnXP9WlVk9nxqq8bVA4iXzHuIgj4CFExyWFjC_8k9n_2vjRueDIwWOWysRMSa3kxWuFdo21CGm6JdmIOTzjcIWablR0gzMx_4SvkLkOyZbPc22lplDH9lXRSfHuk/s400/gethsemane.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643400100178210066" /></a> BYU's Museum of Art has always been one of my favorite places. To meditate, to enjoy great artists, to have stimulating conversations with tour guides, to sing, to play the piano, to eat...
<br />
<br />The first exhibit that I attended repeatedly and even obsessively was entitled Beholding Salvation. The ten minute changing period between classes in the H-FAC would give me at least five minutes in the MOA. That is when I first encountered <a href="http://jkirkrichards.wordpress.com/">Kirk Richards</a>. His painting Gethsemane captured and held my attention so much--perhaps that is why I had to return so often. But even upon returning, I'd spend a bulk of my time in front of that painting.
<br />
<br />So many pictures of the atonement show Christ suffering at a tree, but rarely do I feel his pain and see the blood he shed. Layers of red, brown, gold, and sin slapped onto the canvas screamed of His emotion. His suffering. and the saving angel rising up in white sang of such comfort. The exhibit also carried his Baptism of Christ, another favorite of the exhibit.
<br />
<br />Lisa, my good friend and tour guide had invited me to the opening gala and mentioned that Kirk Richards had been there, but alas, I had not had the good fortune of meeting him there.
<br />
<br />well, several years later, he came back to BYU for campus education week. I of course bought an affordable (for a starving musician) little Gethsemane print (the texturing of the oil is of course lost, but it will always remind me of the original) as well as several postcards of his work, and shook his hand. What an honor! He took the time to to ask me about myself, my life and dreams and accepted my compliments congenially and graciously.
<br />
<br />While looking at the few originals and prints in the Bookstore, an older woman started a conversation with me. She took such interest in my connections to BYU Singers, to music, to Palo Alto, to Wisconsin, to Paris, to redheads... and then asked, 'have you eaten yet?' well no... 'how about I treat you to dinner!' Of course she wouldn't accept a 'no' for a drink or fries but invited her husband and oldest son to come join us the the cougar eat and talk with me.
<br />
<br />However unexpected the encounter was, and however moving the art was, my education week finished with me thinking how there are so many wonderful people in the world.mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-37044262230732269402011-08-11T20:41:00.000-07:002011-08-11T21:07:57.956-07:00BelongingOne of the reasons I love france so much is that so much of me grew up there--despite my American blood and nationality, I will always feel that I belong.
<br />
<br />Real friends that are excited about my passions make me feel like I belong.
<br />
<br />There are 134 operating temples for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (not including the temple announced for Paris, FRANCE!); and yet, when I went to work on my shift yesterday with the kindest ladies in white of the Wednesday 3B session in the Provo, Utah temple, I just felt a rush of comfort, of home, of happiness. It is there I belong.
<br />
<br />I just signed a real contract for fall / winter semesters at a big, lovely place and feel so happy having included God in the decision-making process, having made a decision, and having come to terms with each part of the decision. I finally have a wonderful roommate, a place to live, to work out, and a ward where I can belong.
<br />
<br />Freeing up my conducting this summer with Dr. Shapiro has given me great leave to 'create' more than ever. I finally feel that I really belong in front of a choir or orchestra.
<br />
<br />Today might have been the first time in my life that I listened to a radio station by myself other than a classical station. It was liberating. and it wasn't bad music either. I was happy being myself and didn't change the radio station right away. I like who I am, I love my fetish with classical, modern classical, musical theatre, and jazz--but I can listen to whatever I want in the moment. My tastes are a part with me. and I belong in who I am.
<br />
<br />The day started with biking around Hobble Creek, and ended with driving back up the canyon to the setting sun. It was behind the mountains when I got here, but the moon was just rising. I put down my things and ran outside. The moon was shining exactly upon my balcony. and the sun has kept the earth warm enough for my bare feet. I of course ran down the stairs, and around the yard, singing to my heart's content with the trees and curtsying to the stars coming out. I twirled as the breeze brushed through my hair and the wildflowers bid their goodnight. I couldn't stop smiling. I feel loved and I belong.
<br />
<br />I best be off to the Fazioli for a Chopin nocturne tonight. yes, I belong there too.
<br />mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-12890880437456145882011-08-02T21:28:00.000-07:002011-08-02T21:33:20.445-07:00Underground Parisian Music<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9AwHpnBvDLkzfRq4oZUyad_CfuNSXGMNXLBKA_gSWYJsVP_-0sKUJoe7naAbXs25dKLOfB7eXW0WITuL7svmYHz5VL4qZNSi5NpYdVMvMrOVXEbmEIT7y3LmklHhXnJC56hDusab8f_-u/s1600/IMG_0105.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9AwHpnBvDLkzfRq4oZUyad_CfuNSXGMNXLBKA_gSWYJsVP_-0sKUJoe7naAbXs25dKLOfB7eXW0WITuL7svmYHz5VL4qZNSi5NpYdVMvMrOVXEbmEIT7y3LmklHhXnJC56hDusab8f_-u/s200/IMG_0105.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636482677656370626" /></a><br />When we’re not above ground getting live performances, there’s always more underground—the metros are full of musicians. Most of them can’t really play, but every now and then there’s a Great accordion player, or the Navaho-looking guy who plays several different types of South American flutes with percussion accompaniment. And I give money to any of them more often than I do the other beggars. On this trip, most of the metro instrumentalists I heard were violinists… and I was not impressed with one of them (all pickiness aside. Honestly). Disappointment. Ah well. <br /><br />But there’s not only Metros in the underground. <br /><br />It’s going into the jazz piano bars with the gypsy guitarists with their fellow accordion and bass players. Never seen such quick guitar fingering. And jazz is always better in a crowded, smoky dark room late at night. By far the best quality music you can find in the underground.<br /><br />And then underneath the bridges and along the seine, there are groups of friends who come together with dozens of instruments to throw folk songs together, dancing, clapping, singing and playing. Most of them needed work (especially the clarinetist…) but it never detracted because of the ambiance. It was so much fun to on the quai with them, and so often that is what music needs to be about—a good time.mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-1546139739138549512011-08-02T11:53:00.000-07:002011-08-02T21:33:06.615-07:00respite in sound<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifHeqm8T9EXG07nbEw6g9-CipJvdKOn2HIL00I-rc8SyEADyAfDdZ8VDQ5-3-lUk-AgT2-AFOFfVZjxl0MG3sdviY5jEKzJylegHG-rHb8qrHsoqRi0uuaKiMfKTNw-yOH0w5TafHZD-At/s1600/IMG_0119.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifHeqm8T9EXG07nbEw6g9-CipJvdKOn2HIL00I-rc8SyEADyAfDdZ8VDQ5-3-lUk-AgT2-AFOFfVZjxl0MG3sdviY5jEKzJylegHG-rHb8qrHsoqRi0uuaKiMfKTNw-yOH0w5TafHZD-At/s200/IMG_0119.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636483070220192898" /></a><br />I’d been sitting in an airport for a extra day now, but when I started walking down the left aisle to my seat, scanning both letters and numbers for 30J—I heard it. I don’t think that it was possible that I could have been as happily distracted hearing or doing anything else.<br /><br />Solfège (fixed do) automatically started in my head—several different voices at the same time during a gamelon-like-rhythmic section. The hanging or ghost tones in the melody (as it morphs through timbre) kept on being picked up by the strings’ harmonies as Phillip Lasser taught us. The cello and bass ‘do’ to ‘sol dieze‘ and back again automatically kept my conducting hand steady. I heard Bach and Brahms’s counterpoint without their progression. five-tuplets in the harp while feeling the triplets in my eyes. And then the recapitulation wasn’t a perfect repeat as it left out the diminished ninth. Cuing! to the horns, then the clarinet. <br /><br />It is Debussy. Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune. <br /><br />what a beauty.mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-4918412431772544912011-08-01T15:10:00.000-07:002011-08-02T00:19:44.779-07:00Hannahbel~ Sisters ~ <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPTwf9PrKIFqZ_zs5RmUIW7Zun9betdcvUVzbe0JQDjpdYJKzivJE11jgEV3wobQc-jJEy79XRvz8_dDpMjc_I8ECFXnOoAwDTVpwkRD-3DD3x6cRRcNd4xrqxIJ_12H7wDetSg4QTCbv/s1600/IMG_0073.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPTwf9PrKIFqZ_zs5RmUIW7Zun9betdcvUVzbe0JQDjpdYJKzivJE11jgEV3wobQc-jJEy79XRvz8_dDpMjc_I8ECFXnOoAwDTVpwkRD-3DD3x6cRRcNd4xrqxIJ_12H7wDetSg4QTCbv/s200/IMG_0073.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636016532538901602" /></a><br /><br />Yes, we had to go half way around the world to see one another, but we overlapped a whole week in Paris. the days of babysitting, and driving and holing the 'little girls' hands down to disneyland are now meeting up after flying alone internationally alone and ready to explore in the big city. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgW6fy9sXL9t_CxG0-7PT9TWXBDLmtk69DkA4c5SR1aIhumYJv23mrWucPtU7Vjat6hcbxrnr16-XkbjgsjrqdcpvxqFFXwXSV9eSGhk9FtiQ4WRqyHOlRL6pddJt3G8ru3dSnJMVnWRSg/s1600/IMG_0101.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 153px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgW6fy9sXL9t_CxG0-7PT9TWXBDLmtk69DkA4c5SR1aIhumYJv23mrWucPtU7Vjat6hcbxrnr16-XkbjgsjrqdcpvxqFFXwXSV9eSGhk9FtiQ4WRqyHOlRL6pddJt3G8ru3dSnJMVnWRSg/s200/IMG_0101.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636015417383657346" /></a><br /><br />so she stayed out with me and my friends to experience the 'night life' of paris. Walking across the Seine at night, seeing the Eiffel sparkle at midnight, getting the after-concert Berthillion or Amarino or Hagen Daas. Of course she was adored by all the EAMA students, and came to several of our concerts. She was my biggest supporter, that's for sure. and while I sung Sunny's songs to open the last concert, It was wonderful to look straight at her in the middle of Salle Franck. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3OKw9pFBksTq8GTMU_oV8skc-G7Q86AYb_D7t7wUMzflyxAGDwVnCdsvXJVLiPxd6u8a3R-Jd07BnkQ5XYTAMu9fnDwB_pobn7JdCYjv1RcdZFid6MpQ3ZKM45S-LV9ByWClrwdno0Pw/s1600/IMG_0087.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3OKw9pFBksTq8GTMU_oV8skc-G7Q86AYb_D7t7wUMzflyxAGDwVnCdsvXJVLiPxd6u8a3R-Jd07BnkQ5XYTAMu9fnDwB_pobn7JdCYjv1RcdZFid6MpQ3ZKM45S-LV9ByWClrwdno0Pw/s200/IMG_0087.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636015414206017650" /></a><br />yes, the Opera house quarter is one of my favorites, and Hannah and I walked around for quite some time (right by the big APPLE store, yeay!), got several postcards took this beautiful lunch (wouldn't think we got the very cheapest stuff on the menu: this is a pumpernickel bread sandwich with large amounts of Chevre, some greens, figues, and spiced onions (curry and possibly saffron?). it was beautiful. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhQXUM6YTfB03EHbAmctaR6KRK05ynuiBzVA1N2Fg9LCR0ncrpkAmY7FLpCizuh1Vo4zvqNjvH1zNCVayrr3s3UAYNx1AjNNMvm5no76Fq7cW8uskU34XjBFH2v4t6ZVWoqyjqnWnJMPt/s1600/IMG_0086.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhQXUM6YTfB03EHbAmctaR6KRK05ynuiBzVA1N2Fg9LCR0ncrpkAmY7FLpCizuh1Vo4zvqNjvH1zNCVayrr3s3UAYNx1AjNNMvm5no76Fq7cW8uskU34XjBFH2v4t6ZVWoqyjqnWnJMPt/s200/IMG_0086.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636015409848290130" /></a>And what is a trip to Paris without Angelinas? We woke up early and walked along the seine by the Louvre to share a hot chocolate while I looked over my counterpoint and conducting homework for the day (waiter really liked that actually)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4GcaxLeeBAACRQ_KpoQc_4b3iGZAov4A-yktXjV5gbTtGUy0WyfCztBi3piqz5HcS5409Y2Bv7xgN-OWmp0TJ1iFyHWxwavkX048LjL5iZ-CkFpUrZNGjzAJEHvy9Y3dp_iQHkqybuY4/s1600/IMG_0075.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4GcaxLeeBAACRQ_KpoQc_4b3iGZAov4A-yktXjV5gbTtGUy0WyfCztBi3piqz5HcS5409Y2Bv7xgN-OWmp0TJ1iFyHWxwavkX048LjL5iZ-CkFpUrZNGjzAJEHvy9Y3dp_iQHkqybuY4/s200/IMG_0075.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636015399872080178" /></a> <br />Hannah I miss you already! Thanks for so many great times!mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-69474892147503251002011-08-01T15:00:00.000-07:002011-08-01T15:10:25.759-07:00Dr. Shapiro & faculty<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlMwU0_g4gfTlwpds56kep2KVQyMLCHonmy5pR1ulGA99CWb9F3ktlah6KTjlfwJuFhNL3RKJrGWJdZfAp-C_q_g49VtBxZb3DhhJVLic3yXGmStSv42neBIZb3k_lhz2tRqyKtIM_p8X/s1600/IMG_0112.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlMwU0_g4gfTlwpds56kep2KVQyMLCHonmy5pR1ulGA99CWb9F3ktlah6KTjlfwJuFhNL3RKJrGWJdZfAp-C_q_g49VtBxZb3DhhJVLic3yXGmStSv42neBIZb3k_lhz2tRqyKtIM_p8X/s200/IMG_0112.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636012864269037298" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdgMSn7lZ-Bcg6oz5XARZ_Q3h1-1C4BbqcJHsw8TZqyUJCX9zdGLvBnR8hUFjPVcit6jf3PyLVDqB4oyTaGWcaw7UBJKx4yh9Sj3-zi3pHDtL1MW8vWVSap6EP67PQl-VyXDiyg6ddm78/s1600/IMG_0117.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdgMSn7lZ-Bcg6oz5XARZ_Q3h1-1C4BbqcJHsw8TZqyUJCX9zdGLvBnR8hUFjPVcit6jf3PyLVDqB4oyTaGWcaw7UBJKx4yh9Sj3-zi3pHDtL1MW8vWVSap6EP67PQl-VyXDiyg6ddm78/s200/IMG_0117.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636012855607830786" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbRf1wihMyHexma5W-Z0tWuAml-0ypOurZuCNU2CT1LrNASeuGwaiAbOR-304SyesoblnpjiZVdnIERDXmljHjZOGx5VI7wJE_9WzG8fJnR7PGEige7yd5yDpASb989xG9xhZkGT15SyCe/s1600/IMG_0114.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbRf1wihMyHexma5W-Z0tWuAml-0ypOurZuCNU2CT1LrNASeuGwaiAbOR-304SyesoblnpjiZVdnIERDXmljHjZOGx5VI7wJE_9WzG8fJnR7PGEige7yd5yDpASb989xG9xhZkGT15SyCe/s200/IMG_0114.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636012848286157954" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51e34hi1leanMneAPxIjytNhjMUYZtyBiV5EREA-pAbfiG9w9_rzEYM7iHQ9SKlDqTEGMDs2bcXi-H2RqoaVp3uqe_pEogtecuIiNdjBzpLHN6MapEVtBQrona-1eyXqC1kQNSHtUcMO_/s1600/IMG_0103.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51e34hi1leanMneAPxIjytNhjMUYZtyBiV5EREA-pAbfiG9w9_rzEYM7iHQ9SKlDqTEGMDs2bcXi-H2RqoaVp3uqe_pEogtecuIiNdjBzpLHN6MapEVtBQrona-1eyXqC1kQNSHtUcMO_/s200/IMG_0103.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636012845338117218" /></a>mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-53334745074702872102011-07-21T13:56:00.000-07:002011-07-21T14:48:24.135-07:00A Stained-Glass Window<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtnNO4Z7vW7WwcO0XD-FkZ6OW-ajs_YE7XWeaeijazDbgf8EfifHpt3S__G_haTiSDm9EbKBiFJQSJl8FqCCCV11m80b70gPBwPWpuJWRFsRSCWCmz9Csn1j-dXxiL4dFGIsJGXlkz7qI/s1600/stained+glass+harpist.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtnNO4Z7vW7WwcO0XD-FkZ6OW-ajs_YE7XWeaeijazDbgf8EfifHpt3S__G_haTiSDm9EbKBiFJQSJl8FqCCCV11m80b70gPBwPWpuJWRFsRSCWCmz9Csn1j-dXxiL4dFGIsJGXlkz7qI/s200/stained+glass+harpist.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631925537206021234" /></a><br />I followed Karen Kimmett upstairs to a small chapel I'd never seen before. Even at 8, I was enamored with architecture and the little stained-glass window in the corner enthralled me. My mother had accompanied me to this rescheduled violin lesson by car (usually I went by metro with the au pair) and we drove through down-town Paris during the sunset. Having seen it so long from the underground, my awe was pricked by my mothers excitement already--what a special day! And since it was so late, the conservatory was quite empty, just awaiting adventure. <br /><br />Now that the setting was right, she had me play again. A part of such beauty, I was moved by the music. She'd paint another picture, and I would play again. And to a French schoolgirl to whom compliments are banned, she kept smiling and said (in her french canadian accent), 'we should play all night, you just get better and better!'<br /><br />Today I was again moved by music. I had prepared the Brahms 'O Heiland reiss die Himmel auf' intellectually, musically, technically--I'd memorized the translations and held a vision of what I wanted it to sound like. But Dr. Shapiro knew that I was not where I really wanted to be. He reminded me of the musical skills, the solfege, and the hearing that were quite natural to me. He spoke of various dilemmas with other students which I did not have-- 'I still don't know why you want to hold something back.' Back to being an actress. How would you address God in a song like this? <br /><br />I showed him, and then blurted out, 'but I can't possibly do that while I conduct!' but I already knew I only had to go there in my spirit (French word for mind = esprit; same as spirit). So I thought back to the times in greatest distress when I have called for Heaven to break open and for God to extend his Almighty hand to help me. and so we worked the music, over and over again. Hearing texture, chord color, register and entrances instead of beats or bars. Trying to express true music.<br /><br />There were only a handful of minutes left in Chorale (required for all students at EAMA), but he hadn't forgotten about me--Brahms, everyone! May I present to you Mariah Wilson. <br /><br />We only had time for the first section, but it was beautiful. I received the music, and realized that I was prepared. It really was beautiful. I sang along to both the soprano and alto parts perfectly in my head, cued each entrance and pled with the Lord. Before we did it again, he whispered to me, "You need to use the intensity with which you look at and hear the women's parts with the men's. and ... be moved by the music." <br /><br />So I closed my eyes. I already love the music. I have already spoken to God in this manner. so I went there. I didn't think about one cue, but they all came out just fine. funny how that always happens. and the Choir sounded incredible. So many musical problems fixed themselves. and I was moved. <br /><br />Phil Olson would always say, 'You have to move yourself before you move an audience." and you know, I am often moved (even to tears) while singing, but I have never experienced that depth of emotion while conducting. I was truly transported--just as I was in the little chapel of the conservatory fifteen years ago.<br /><br />A friend said he looked up and (****!,) was practically terrified with the gaze he met. Dr Shapiro said he'd pay money to see that again. But really, all that matters was that I am starting to break down these barriers in a medium I am still becoming familiar with, and I can be moved once again.mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-58558779622972139882011-07-17T12:42:00.000-07:002011-07-17T15:42:37.609-07:00Musique à Paris<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIUT0t4tMZTxlNGuIQN5cekPUN1Jhn5yzqVEX6Z9TYW4NL6m8eWuwOWShC_9gqbvdxwxVCMMOMl_8OqCFuniKQ-ceVtr7Tiin6iXa6AGX6YIzm7ifpgPACoVZ7psYwQLKY4vmU0AioHkC9/s1600/desdimona.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 315px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIUT0t4tMZTxlNGuIQN5cekPUN1Jhn5yzqVEX6Z9TYW4NL6m8eWuwOWShC_9gqbvdxwxVCMMOMl_8OqCFuniKQ-ceVtr7Tiin6iXa6AGX6YIzm7ifpgPACoVZ7psYwQLKY4vmU0AioHkC9/s320/desdimona.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630409081126993634" /></a>The incessant rain turned us away from our plans to see the night show at Versailles Chateau and instead we ran through the clouds to find tickets to one of the the two operas in paris, both closing on Saturday: Cosi Fan Tutte and Othello. At the old Opera House (Palais Garnier), Cosi was already sold out, and the chances of getting through the stand-by line were so slim, we decided on Othello at the Bastille. <br /><br />There are two lines to buy day-of tickets. One is for full price tickets- whatever's left. Once that line is completely through, they start on the 'student' line and sell all tickets for 25 Euros. We (of course) divided and conquered to be in both lines to secure places. But once the full price line went through, the only tickets left were over 105 Euros. So we moved to our places in the student line, hoping... <br /><br />Yes. We had 9 of us in 170 euro seats as music students in Paris, hearing the best pit orchestra I have ever encountered. Congratulations to maestro Marco Armiliato. The 3+ part cellos in the end of act 1 and most of act 2 break your heart, the tutti strings' pizzicati never more artistic, the solo english horn / oboe so mournful... we all cried for Desdemona--Tamar Iveri. if not for her goodness, her pianissimo high La's. I was enthralled. <br /><br />We have been completely spoiled here as far as musical performances go. Within a week, we've had the opportunity to hear:<br /><br />- Randall Scarlata, Baritone, with Benjamin Boyle on the piano performing the Dichterliebe, Faure's Horizon chimérique, Barber songs as well as Boyle's own Passage des rêves<br /><br />- April Clayton, flute, with Teddy Niedermaier and Philip Lasser on the piano playing 'Jacques le Romain,' Bach's Sonata in em, Philip Lasser's Sonata (magical! Absolutely Loved it), and Prokofieff's famous Sonata for flute.<br /><br />- and Emile Naoumoff: Nadia Boulanger's prodigy, pianist, theoretician, virtuoso, teacher and composer (you know, the kind that write piano concertos at age 9, whose parents fled from behind the iron curtain to let him study in Paris, and who solfege both books of the WTC in all keys for fun). We listened to him speak for two hours, but he could have gone on all day. He played Nadia's Lux Aeterna, Lily Boulanger (her sister)'s Pie Jesu, and Nadia's 'To the New Life.' His briliance extends far beyond the keyboard's connection with his fingers. He is the music. It was incredible. Wish we'd heard more. We'll have to come back. Plus, if we were always satisfied, why would we need to keep living and discovering?mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2853523836486577235.post-72508013668541623812011-07-17T07:44:00.000-07:002011-07-17T07:56:08.089-07:00Metamorphoses of ConductingTiffany (Princeton) is squatting on the ground, weighing down my ankles to ground me. Nicholas (London) is standing at my left, getting hit in the arm every down beat, and Dr. Shapiro (NY) is keeping my back straight and growling at me every other bar—I am in Charge! RAAA. Cave woman! POWER! RAAA! KILL the baby seal with your downbeat!<br /><br />I’m starting to develop this crazy rage in my eyes (suitable for this music), but when Audrey (Harvard) giggles at my 'douceur' being transformed into a feline I cannot keep a straight face. Last time, I played a porcelain doll hearing beautiful music while conducting the sweetest 4 beat pattern you'd ever seen, and now, I am a lioness, every muscle rippling as she prowls through her kingdom.<br /><br />When the first theme comes back with full orchestration, I stretch my arms as far as they go (trying to stay grounded) and bore holes into my orchestra in Salle Debussy.<br /><br />My orchestra. meaning two pianos, eight hands (at least) and the leftover voices solfeging the viola, bassoon or horn parts. Fixed do of course. <br /><br />boy, is this fun. and boy, do I have a lot of work to do as a conductor.<br /><br />oh, and ps. one of the three grand pianos in Salle d'Indy was Debussy's.mariah christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00788782145425462098noreply@blogger.com3