While now looking back merely two decades ago I can say with high confidence that my life (as a musician) changed for the better, it most certainly did not seem so back then; many decisions were made on a whim and I haven't realized the full extent that such choice entails. Didn't know I actually need a performing instrument and assumed I can just get by via theory & composition alone, and only when during the first week of York University I realized what predicament I have proactively put myself into. So I hastily enrolled in a class that I know very little about: Free-style improvisation and musicianship. I believe soon after I demonstrated my proficiencies (perhaps a lack thereof would be much more befitting. Not my words! Professor Casey Sokol did mention how my completely blank state (ha-ha) would be what he saw me as an ideal candidate to fully experience and be transformed in his class, without much if any prior pianistic pedagogical indoctrination.)
Improvisation: Undergraduate, year 1 (2002-3)
Improv year 1 CD 1
Improv year 1 CD 2
Improv year 1 CD 3
Essay: Relationship between creativity in my life and creativity in my music (Feb 25th, 2003)
As we are currently living, regardless of being predestined or free-willed, we must exercise our nature of creation by making choices. No matter which one held true, either reacting from the stimulation of senses or living seemingly inconsequentially from the outside world, in essence, either way, we would still have to respond. Hence when we are making choices it seems best to react directly and unequivocally to every event occurred in our lives, as it would appear to be most natural. Consequently, not only do I believe so dearly that music and life are indeed related and thus mutually influential, but also interrelated with everything else in reality towards my creative processes. Their respective strength and weaknesses are coexistent, and the change of one aspect would certainly affect the other. The following investigation of the connection between my concert of life and my musical performance would to some degree reveal my creativity.
Religion is the tool that I use predominantly as the measuring stick to evaluate my life and my music. Most, if not all decisions made, even though sometimes problematic, are related to my faith and belief in God. At a very young age, the idea of music as the instrument to connect and communicate with transcendence is deeply rooted in my life. Later being reinforced with the experience (or rather the rapture) of serving in many different musical positions in a Protestant Church, the idea of music (sacred or secular) as the language of transcendence has become the major axiom supporting my tautology in answering the question of “why I make music”. Response to my faith not only gave me the impulse to initiate but also to use it as my guideline in most, if not all musical compositions of my own.
The first idea that comes into my mind, in connection to my musical creativity with my religious life is the one-dimensional continuum. I would describe that as my general principle that governs how I should play. If I am truly improvising, ideally the music is constantly fuelled by enchanting creativity that derives from continual feedback, while simultaneously using my senses and intellect equally to realize (with ease) various stimuli I have encountered. The concentration of mind required is immense-the whole event takes up every single available space, actual or imaginary. The continuum would not perform so well if music becomes broad, as exaggeration would create nothing but a distraction, yet this mindset in ideal situations would achieve pinnacle triumphs. This idea is similar to the Zen artist’s preparation for drawing the ‘O’s, discussed in Nachmanovitch’s book Free Play: Improvisation in Life and Art: “That mysterious factor of surrender, the creative surprise that releases us and opens us up, spontaneously allows something to arise.” (P.30).
Besides my religious faith, my cultural background as a landed immigrant from Hong Kong has also affected how I reason. As a Hong Kong Chinese myself, I was trained not to focus on how to make things work, but rather concentrate on how to make things best. We Chinese as a race through history have learned to be good survivalists-optimizing whatever resources we possess, either many or few, while unadventurous on originating new thoughts. The word PASSIVENESS is clearly spelled in many Chinese lives. We rarely invent-that age is long gone, and what we have now is certainly all we could (and should) have. Concurrently, as a Christian, the core of my belief is that we have already been granted everything we need, even to the point of salvation! Somehow this idea has strangely strangled the breath of my innovative mind: I have always believed that as the creation has been completed, the rest is merely a series of imitations and improvements.
Thus my playing styles are mostly static, along with trivial, unimportant variations; many of my improvisations are loops of replications from a similar style, and there are times when my inability of playing something “new” causes more frustration than the joy of playing freely. The doubt of “am I truly improvising?” would occasionally emerge which would negatively affect my playing style into incoherent, expressionless sounds that offer very little musical significance. This over-righteous ego of mine, although could be occasionally useful as a hammer to knock down some obstacles, currently from my best judgment it is merely an uncontrollable force that causes more trouble than enlightenment. The dread of being uncreative often brings nothing but anxiety into my playing.
When reflecting on my past and contemplating how I have lived my life, it brings me even more trouble: Although there are sparks of genuine creativity shown in my music/writing composition (in Chinese, of course), many of my accomplishments are based on my drone-like, mechanical precision. From answering the math question correctly to performing music meticulously and precisely, the most success I accomplished was attained without utilizing the creative mind that I have always ideally wanted.
I would suggest that such obstacle is due to the flaw, the imbalance produced as a by-product of being brought up in the Chinese tradition: goal-oriented (dismisses the importance of understanding, but rather focuses on the consequence), practical on deed yet being guided by an idealistic mind, and meekness as a virtue, where many Chinese overact and transform this customary character into excessive passiveness.
My overacting hypersensitivity shaped by my cultural and religious imbalance in fact impedes several areas of my general performance: 1. creativity. As the book "Free Play" stated that “ One of the blocking bugaboos is being overwhelmed by...Geniuses or starts are set up as unattainable goals we cannot possibly match. These personalities are so much more spectacular than you that you might as well keep your mouth shut to begin with.” (P.135) 2. clarity. While I have opportunities to play with others there is an underlying creed that overrules my judgement: do not offend anyone-keep every liaison smooth. Consequently, I rarely take up the leadership part, as disputes created within the group would be inevitable when one leads, while falsely believing all disagreements are counterproductive; and 3. courage/audacity developed from unnecessary fear. All of the above disorders are important aspects that affect the ability to improvise successfully.
I have also acknowledged the fact that my nerve-wracking paranoia acts as the overlord of my being. It was so severe that the book Free Play has quite precisely put out: “it can be profoundly depressing to seem to be off-course all the time... ‘We’re 2° off course to the left.’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ ‘We’re 1.3° off course to the right.’ ‘Oh, I’m a failure!’ ‘We’re 1.5° off course to the left.’ ‘Oh God, I‘m going to kill myself!’ ” (P.131) Whereas my self-doubt has repeatedly reached that critical level, nothing I can benefit from it.
In addition, within my playing experience, there is a genuine vicious circle, consisting of 1. action 2. doubt/anxiety 3. inaction and 4.reassurance/hope: As I audaciously start improvising, certainly errors would arise-yet my idealistic mind cannot accept the failure, and consequently force myself retreating into playing (even replaying) materials that I am familiar with, such as traditional, conventional polyphony. Subsequently, as I am playing recognizable material it would naturally diminish my fear, and guide me towards a successful course. Such achievements, unfortunately, cause me to believe a hoax created by myself, giving fallacious optimism and deceptive assurance of myself being able to “improvise” competently.
However, even though my pessimistic character has negatively affected how I look at my accomplishments and failures, I have acknowledged that all these processes take time (and patience) to develop and ripen for cultivation. The many failures I have encountered recently did not discourage me from continuing experimenting and trying novel ideas, for I have learned that the biggest mistake that I could ever make is getting disheartened and giving up. There is truly nothing to lose.