Auditions are a fact of life if you would like to join a professional orchestra. There are fantastic books and articles with tips on the mental preparation and stamina needed to make the most of this very specific kind of job interview, but the beautiful and confident execution of the excerpt list is mandatory for audition success.
    Each type of orchestra will have a different audition list that covers the various styles of repertory and different musical and technical demands. Verdi and Puccini excerpts will be required for opera positions; Delibes’ and Tchaikovsky’s ballet music are used for ballet orchestras.
    A piccolo chair will also be required to play flute from time to time, so there will be flute excerpts to perform on most piccolo auditions. Audition lists may have two or three flute excerpts or a more comprehensive list including a Mozart Flute Concerto and many standard principal flute excerpts. Three of the most common flute excerpts are Debussy Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune, Beethoven Leonora Overture No. 3, Op. 72, and Brahms Symphony No. 4, Op. 98.
    Some orchestras tailor the flute component of the piccolo audition to target the kind of flute playing piccolo players will perform on the job, such as the second flute solos in Ravel’s Ma Mère l’Oye (Mother Goose) or Dvorák’s Symphony No. 9, Op. 95 as well as excerpts showcasing low register tonguing. The Mendelssohn Scherzo from A Midsummer Night’s Dream and the third flute part to the Dance of the Reed Flutes from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Ballet are common examples of low register articulation seen on the job and on audition lists.
    Most audition lists require a solo piccolo concerto, and the Vivaldi Concerto in C Major is the overwhelming choice, analogous to the Mozart concerto for most flute auditions. Vivaldi requires virtuosity and rock solid rhythm in the outer movements. The second movement is often on audition lists as it gives a committee the chance to hear expressive playing and some creativity with ornamentation and style. Working with an accompanist is always helpful when preparing the concerto component of an audition.
    Since the piccolo made its debut in orchestras during the latter part of the Classical period, there are only a few excerpts from this period commonly seen on audition lists: Beethoven Symphony #9 (the Turkish March section) and Rossini overtures. The Beethoven excerpt showcases intonation between the octave Ds that are the foundation to the melody, and the entire passage shows the player’s ability to crescendo throughout the long and somewhat repetitive melody. The Rossini overtures need dexterity in articulation and technique, requiring a light touch and good sense of phrasing. Both Semiramide and La Gazza Ladra are favorite excerpts for opera orchestras and symphonic jobs, so learn both of them. Mozart’s operas have a few tricky piccolo parts especially The Magic Flute, Act 2.
    The Romantic period has two composers who commonly make the audition lists: Tchaikovsky and Berlioz. The Scherzo from Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4 requires brilliant technique in both the first woodwind tutti entrance and the famous but short solo passage that follows. It is a rare audition list that does not include this solo. The Damnation of Faust, Menuet de Follets (Dance of the Sprites, piccolo 1) showcases a lyric style at the beginning and brilliant articulation at the Presto. Both sections frequently make the audition lists.
    The 20th century is where the majority of piccolo excerpts come from on audition lists. Shostakovich wrote many different kinds of solos for the piccolo, from heartbreaking soulful adagios to lightning fast high and sardonic passages. Symphonies 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 and 10 are all quite common. The slower solos are always transparent and require creating an atmosphere with gorgeous tone colors and accurate intonation. Often Shostakovich writes with very long, sustained soft notes, so be sure to practice long tones that prepare for these musical demands. The presto passages require rhythmic integrity and usually range well into the third octave. Make sure the tone quality is full during the fortes, never forced.
    Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite, 1919, Variation de l’oiseau de feu, is a common excerpt that showcases technique and ensemble skill. This piece is very intricate and accurate rhythm is vital as the parts really dovetail from one line to the next. To get a feel for the ensemble playing, play this variation as a duet with another flutist.
    Ravel wrote quite well for the piccolo and several of his compositions frequent audition lists: Bolero, Mother Goose Suite, the Piano Concerto in G, and Daphnis et Chloé. Each excerpt highlights a slightly different piccolo skill but both the Piano Concerto (opening measures) and movements four and five from Mother Goose (Petite Poucet and Laideronnette) feature the low register. Bolero is placed on lists so that committees can hear how softly and in tune piccoloists can play on the tricky passage with horn and two piccolos (3 measures after 8-9). The Daphnis excerpt is usually the “sunrise” passage at the opening of the suite. Make sure to project this mid-register solo and be careful to mark the rhythmic differences between triplets and duple rhythms.
    The Bartók Concerto for Orchestra and Prokofiev’s Lieutenant Kije usually round out the list of solos which are virtuosic in every way. The Elegia movement has some of the most beautiful and delicate writing in all of the literature while the last movement has a tutti passage that goes all the way up to high C. The Kije Suite excerpts are usually from movement one (Birth of Kije) and the Troika, 51-52. Contrast is the name of the game here too, since each solo is a polar opposite, from delicate to bold and spunky.
    Preparing for an audition means listening to the entire work, not just the 10-second clip you will perform in the audition. Study the entire part and its place in the full score. Good consistent practice habits are important, and it is important not to tire the lips when working on the extreme high register passages. Record yourself frequently, play for colleagues or coaches, use a metronome, tuner and pencil to mark corrections, and try to enjoy the process of preparation. Make these excerpts your friends, and play them on a regular basis so you will be prepared.

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Shostakovich Piccolo Excerpts

Slow/Adagio/Sensitive Excerpts
Symphony No. 5, Mvt. 1, Measures 41-42, 45-46
Symphony No. 6, Mvt. 1, Measures 4 before Circle 9 through Circle 10
Symphony No. 7, Mvt. 1, Measures 14-18
Symphony No. 8, Mvt. 4, Largo, Measures 60-66
Symphony No. 9, Mvt. 2, Final 18 measures
Symphony No. 10, Mvt. 1, 69 to end
Symphony No. 10, Mvt. 3, Largo

Fast/Brilliant/Technical Excerpts
Symphony No. 8, Mvt. 2, Measures 65-118 
Symphony No. 9, Mvt. 1, 8 measures before B to 14 measures after B.
Symphony No. 9, Mvt. 3, Circle A, measures 1 – 8 and 8 measures before F.
Symphony No. 10, 1 measure before 156 through 158.

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    There has been a lot of press lately about the concept of grit, which can be summed up as perseverance against difficult odds. Other words and phrases associated with it are resilience, determination, self-confidence, long-term vision, having a thick skin, never giving up, and getting right back on the horse. As a flutist I have certainly needed a hefty helping of grit over the course of my career in the music world.

Grit and Failure
    How many auditions do you think it might take to win a position in an orchestra? I lost dozens of auditions over almost twenty years before winning one for a major orchestra. I also auditioned numerous times for an excellent local orchestra while in school before being accepted. I was even rejected the first time I tried to get into music school but applied again the next year and succeeded. For graduate music programs, I was turned down by every place I applied so I got a job instead. Careers generally consist of many failures, along with a few successes.
    Rejection and failure are not fun, but they really mean nothing in the long term about you or your playing. You could have zero prospects one day and a job the next. The same audition committee may love you one day and reject you the next. I have found it helpful to consult lists of famous people who had spectacular failures at different points in their lives. It is what you build over the long haul that matters, so just keep on applying, auditioning, brainstorming, practicing, networking, and studying. When you are rejected, of course it is important to try to learn from it and take steps to remedy any issues. At the same time you should go right on to the next opportunity, as if nothing happened. It is exactly the same mentality as when you ignore mistakes in concerts so they do not affect what comes next.

Grit and Being Judged
    As a first-year college student, a pianist friend set up a reading session for the Prokofiev Sonata after learning I played the flute. After a decidedly weak reading on my part, my friend said to me, “I thought you were an up-and-coming young flutist.” At first, I was crushed and insulted. Of all the nerve! However, it ended up igniting an unwavering determination to become a better flutist. Any sort of negative judgment – bad grades, dirty looks from conductors, or a bad review – is a chance for you to develop stronger self-confidence and self-awareness and to work harder.

Grit and Goals
    At my first college band audition, the director asked me what my goals were. I said, “I want to be the best flutist I can be.” I truly meant it. That was my one goal at the time; I never gave a thought to competitions, auditions, or being a professional flutist. I remember the director giving me a skeptical look, and years later, I realized most people must have said something about their career path.
    I think specific and lofty career goals are absolutely necessary and I always have several in the works. However, your overarching goals should always and forever be musical ones: to try to make the music leap off the page, to move the listener to imagine and feel a whole world, to honor the composer’s vision in the very best way you can. These are lifelong musical challenges that are a great joy, but pursuing them to the limit requires the utmost in grit. Because musicality is so personal and all-encompassing, it takes incredible dedication to continually imagine and search for something beyond your own limitations.

Grit and Practicing
    The challenges you face in the practice room mirror the challenges you encounter in the music world, but on a micro, personal level. Practicing involves dealing with setbacks and concentrating on your goals, but it starts with a burning desire to express the music as fully as possible and to conquer the technical issues that get in the way. The refusal to be mediocre – which I found in myself after the Prokofiev experience – is the foundation of musical grit and will give you the strength you need to do the necessary work.
    As with rejection and failure in the outside world, view any playing problems as simply temporary roadblocks and no reflection on your overall abilities or potential. The reality is that there will always be seemingly insurmountable challenges, and excellence is achieved incrementally, in manageable steps. Your current level of achievement does not matter; we are all equal in the face of things we cannot do yet.
    My most recent practicing success is developing a wicked fast triple tongue, for a piece that I have owned since high school and put off learning until last year (Gigue by Georges Hüe). Another item still on my to-do list is learning circular breathing, and it will happen. For especially daunting tasks, take a long view and keep going. The more you feel a sense of mastery with something that originally looked completely impossible, the easier it will be to climb the mountain next time.
    While practicing, you must develop the grit to truly acknowledge and accept when something does not sound good. It is all too easy to ignore a missed note in a scale, vaguely wish that a pianissimo release hadn’t cracked, or give up on ever being able to tongue in the low register. Stopping and acknowledging the issue takes courage. (See “Self-Examination” by Mark Sparks, Flute Talk, September 2014.)
    Then be willing to try to understand and describe the most minute aspects of the displeasing musical situation. This kind of analysis is also something most people naturally avoid, and it takes grit to break down the resistance. Nobody wants to feel incompetent, so it is helpful to keep your descriptions of what you are hearing neutral and specific. This allows you to really dig into the work of what to do to fix this.
    As you practice, the burning desire to make the music wonderful will take you past the urge to give up in frustration. Celebrate every small improvement, listen closely to every failure, and keep believing that somehow, you will prevail. This will lead your practicing (and your musical life in general) to become a highly creative process where all kinds of crazy ideas are flowing and being tested. If nothing is working for a while, determination, resilience, and blind faith will keep you going.

Not Grit
    Grit does not mean ineffectually beating your head against the wall. Sometimes it is better to change course in the face of overwhelming difficulties. For example, I have read that if you are being dragged out to sea by the waves, you should try to swim sideways rather than against the current. If you are horribly blocked with a musical or technical issue, an entire piece, or a career goal, give it a rest, rethink it in a big way, or take a lesson on it with an expert – but change something. 
    Grit also does not mean unrealistic, unhealthy perfectionism. Every time you play there will be many imperfections because we are all human. Grit also does not involve forcing yourself to practice excessive hours or ignoring warning signs like pain and numbness, which can easily lead to physical injury. It is not gritting your teeth, forcing things, or working yourself so hard that you end up with stress and tension, or never feeling good enough.

Beyond Grit
    Determination and resilience only go so far, and musicians should cultivate other important, softer attributes, such as openness to different experiences and ideas, the sensitivity to tap into our emotional core and imagination, and appreciation of the beauty of art, nature, and life. All the finer aspects of humanity are much more important to making music than grit, but we cannot fully develop our potential without it.

Developing Grit
    Can it be learned? I think we all have it, but are stronger or weaker in different areas. For example, someone may stick to their goals but not have the perseverance to fully work out important musical details. Each of us can probably benefit from further developing one or more of these aspects of grit:

    •    Strong desire; goals that mean everything to you; trying for the moon no matter what.
    •    Calm, unshakable belief that you can do it; using rejection and judgment as motivation and learning.
    •    Insisting on and searching for the highest standards; goals achieved one step at a time.
    •    Looking very closely and honestly at what is not working well or sounding good.
    •    Perseverance through tens of thousands of failures, large and small, every day.

    I highly recommend that you read the wonderful classic novel True Grit, by Charles Portis, which was the inspiration for this article. It is not long, and the writing is deceptively simple. It is the story of a young woman in the Old West who sets out to avenge her father’s death. She does not flinch and keeps her vision strong no matter what happens on the wild frontier. Hers is the kind of attitude that will see you through all the ups and downs as you build a fulfilling musical life.

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    The first time I met Arnold Jacobs was after a concert the Chicago Symphony gave in Quincy, Illinois in the mid-1970s. Jacobs had been the soloist in the Vaughan Williams Bass Tuba Concerto. This performance was one of the first by a tuba soloist that I had ever heard. Obviously his performance was memorable for me since I can recall it so many years later. His tuba sound sang through the melodic lines, his intonation was impeccable, and his accuracy was perfection.
    Jacobs, a graduate of the Curtis Institute of Music, played in the Chicago Symphony from 1944-1988. Besides his unparalleled career as a performer, he was remarkable teacher. Jacobs served on the faculty of the Bienen School of Music, Northwestern University for many years and each summer between 1980-1998 presented a weeklong masterclass on breathing for wind players and singers. Many of my colleagues and students benefitted from this class.
    In the late 1980s I was practicing with my son who was a beginning horn student. During a practice session, several questions arose that I was not sure that I had the correct answer to, so I called Jacobs explaining that I was a flutist and not a brass player. Ordinarily I would not have called him out of the blue, but Jacobs had championed my husband’s brass music, so I felt he might be willing to talk with me. He was extremely cordial and certainly helpful.
    Before I had a chance to ask my questions, Jacobs mentioned how similar the tuba and the flute were in air usage. He explained that both instruments required the highest air flow of all the wind instruments. He talked about the two types of basic breathing techniques that we employ in playing wind instruments, all the while making sure that I understood his concepts at every step of the way. 
    He remarked that many brass players develop problems in their playing because they rely too much on the embouchure to do the work and not the air stream. He felt a moving air stream was the key to expressive and pain-free playing. Jacobs remarked that many brass players (both student and professional) found their way to his studio to learn this concept.
    Jacobs continued the conversation sharing his teaching philosophy. He said that after a tubist had played for him and he had assessed the situation, he fixed the most obvious problem before going on to the next.
    For musical issues, he instructed his students to “play like a child,” meaning that they should play exactly what they saw on the page. Too often players chip the front of a note, put swells on long notes, do not play clean intervals, change the articulation, or do not follow the dynamics. Playing exactly what you see is accurate playing.
    At this point, he asked, “And, what were your questions” to which I replied, “I believe you have answered them.” What a teacher! Obviously, my call was not the first of this type that he had received.

Air Flow
    As Jacobs pointed out, both the tuba and the flute require a high flow of air to make a good sound. For beginning students, playing with fast air may make them feel light-headed or dizzy until they become accustomed to the constant blowing. Playing with fast air may also be tiring for some, whether they are a novice or experienced performer. However, Jacobs was correct. Fast air directed at the correct angle improves most players’ sound.
    Take the headjoint holding it at each end with the thumb and index fingers. Keep the area in front of the embouchure hole clear so the air is free to move from the blowing edge in an unrestricted manner. Keeping the embouchure hole level, bring the headjoint into the chin. When instructing flutists, I am careful to say in the chin rather than on the chin. Placing the headjoint on the chin may result in the headjoint being too low for optimum results. Play a series of dotted half-notes followed by a quarter rest, f, while keeping the needle or dial still on a tuner. At this point do not worry about whether the note is flat or sharp. The goal is to expel an even stream of air. As you become proficient, work on playing the note in tune with even air.
    If the tone is airy or without core, keeping the embouchure hole level and your head balanced on the spine, angle the air stream toward your left toes. Notice how you use your upper lip, lower lip and/or tongue to do this.  When executing this exercise, I think of blowing so intensely that my air is putting the silver of the headjoint tube into vibration.

Abdomen: In and Out
    When Jacobs asked me if I knew about the two types of breathing techniques, he was referring to the motion of the abdomen. To experience these two types lie on the floor on your back. Breathe normally for a few seconds to become aware of your breathing cycle. For the first type of breathing, inhale letting the abdomen rise toward the ceiling. As you exhale, pull the abdomen in. This is the type of breathing we use most often when playing. Then after a few breaths, explore the second type of breathing. On the inhale tighten the abdomen pulling abdomen toward the floor. On the exhale push the abdomen toward the ceiling. In playing good performers use both type one and two. Experiment to see whether a passage sounds better with each one. I find that type two works best for me on passages where I need to let the air out very slowly for a long period of time. I also use this type of breathing when I am moving a grand piano all by myself.

On Teaching
    Jacobs is certainly correct when he suggests that teachers should fix the most obvious problem first and then move on to the next obvious problem. When fixing a student’s problem, be sure he or she understands what is incorrect and what is correct and how to make an improvement. Fixing most problems has to do with breaking a bad habit or what I like to think of as learning a better habit. Patience is the key for both teacher and student. I usually start an assessment by checking the player’s setup. This means checking flute alignment, foot placement, head balance, flute balance in the hands, and the angle of the flute in relation to the body. Until these issues have been addressed there will always be problems in a flutist’s performance. These could manifest in tone production, intonation issues, and technical facility. Once these problems have been mastered, I listen for sound, rhythm, and musicianship. After making an assessment, teacher and student should make a plan to work on problem areas, remembering Jacobs’ instructions about fixing one thing at a time.

Play Like A Child
    Once a year, I remake my playing. This means I go back to the basics and examine everything that I am doing. I select a beginning method or tutor and begin on page one, pretending that I am learning the flute for the first time. I read all of the instructions on each page, secretly hoping that I can find some unknown treasure that will help me improve my playing. I use a tuner and a metronome and play exactly what is on the page (playing like a child) as accurately as I can. I especially listen for the attack, the duration of the tone, and the release of the note. I listen for the connections between the intervals and make sure that my slurs are legato and no extra notes are sounding because of poor coordination. I think about vibrato and practice counted or measure vibrato on each note in one of the exercises. I listen to be sure that the vibrato does not stop when I finger a new note but is continuous like a violinist’s left hand is when vibrating throughout the range. The results from this rebuilding are always better than I expect. If you have never tried this, then I suggest you give it a go. You will be pleased.
    Every once in a while I think about my conversation with Jacobs and what it meant to me as a teacher and as a parent who was practicing with a child. He is a model of what we each should strive for as a professional performer and teacher. If you would like to read more about Jacobs and his work a number of his students have written about his teaching. One of my favorites is Arnold Jacobs, The Legacy of a Master edited by M. Dee Stewart (published by The Instrumentalist Publishing Co.)

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    Attending a summer masterclass presents new opportunities both musically and personally. As an adult, I have attended classes to learn to play the Baroque flute, to work with an esteemed pedagogue from England, and another to learn how to play traditional music. For college I wished to study with a certain teacher, but I was not accepted to that college. However, I was able to attend his masterclasses for two summers. This exposure gave me the opportunity to learn from him and to apply his concepts to my college experience. I can say that those two summers completely changed my outlook on music and flute, making graduate school and a professional career possible.
    Musically you will be able to study with different teachers and hear a wide variety of styles of playing which will ideally stretch your ideas of flute performance. Observing a master flutist teach will widen your knowledge of pedagogy by allowing you to observe the impact of teaching while enlarging your knowledge of the flute repertoire. Perhaps you will notice the difference in how some flute tones project better than others. Practicing and performing in a new environment helps you learn how to take criticism, make rapid changes in your playing, and listen more intently. Summer programs often offer a variety of additional classes such as chamber music, jazz improvisation, flute repair, body mapping, Alexander Technique, music theory, music history, performance enhancement, among others. Best of all, a summer masterclass program offers the chance to devote yourself 24/7 to music and the flute. It also offers the opportunity to meet new friends who share a passion for the flute. 

Benefits for Student Flutists
    Classes located on a college campus provide the opportunity to immerse oneself in a university environment and experience some independence that can be good preparation for going away to school. It gives students preparing for college a chance to experience the culture, size, and ambience of a campus. If you are interested in studying with a particular teacher at the masterclass, this allows a longer period than a single lesson to discover his or her teaching style. Often college admissions counselors are available to share information about financial aid, application procedures etc. Classes in a distant place are also an opportunity to expand your horizons.

Benefits for Adult Flutists
    A summer masterclass offers the opportunity to work with a master flute teacher who may not be generally available for private lessons. Some classes are located in beautiful places that are chosen for nearby tourist attractions that provide a special ambience for the class. Other programs offer a chance to travel internationally to gain a different perspective that comes from experiencing another culture, language and artistic environment. 
    Masterclasses and music camps are available for flutists of all ages, abilities, and budgets. When selecting a masterclass, consider the travel time and cost as well as your experience level and preparedness. Consider the specific opportunities presented. Who is the masterclass teacher? How many performers, participants, and auditors will be there? How many times will you perform? Are private lessons offered? Are the accommodations appropriate for you?

Preparing for the Class
    A month or so in advance, choose repertoire appropriate for the class. Research everything about your music, including historical background about the composer and style period, and perhaps details about the composition’s premiere. Analyze the form, the key, and make note of any unusual things that appear in the composition. Look up unfamiliar terms in the score and listen to multiple recordings of the piece. After studying the full score, read through the piece with a pianist, if appropriate. Depending on how many times you perform in the masterclass, you may need several pieces. You will glean the most information from the class if each of the selections is from a different style period and genre. Anticipate what questions the teacher may ask. Inevitably, you will be asked about the story you are trying to convey and what the piece means to you. Prepare for the class as if you are performing in a recital.

At the Class
    Bring an open mind to the instruction. Expect that the teacher may share new or different concepts and novel ways of describing well-known ones. Enjoy the new perspective. Expect to invent a new practice or exercise routine and to reconsider your work ethic.
    Always ask for permission to record (video or audio) your performance. If making a recording is denied, then ask a colleague to take notes for you. Then return the favor for him.
    When not performing in the class, you will be listening to others. If possible bring scores of the repertoire that will be performed by other flutists. Make notes in the score or in a notebook or practice diary of the teacher’s comments. Make sure to have multiple sharpened pencils.
    Plan well in advance for the private lesson segment of the program. Bring repertoire that you have prepared as well as you can, but have not yet studied with another teacher. Have a list of questions. Be ready to try new ideas.
    Remember you may learn as much from watching and listening to other flutists as from performing. Say thank you three times more than you think you should, to the teacher, the pianist, and the organizer of the class.

Give It a Try
    Check out the Directory of Masterclasses in this issue of Flute Talk. The masterclasses are listed by state and country. Expect to meet many people and make new friends – networking is the name of the game. The flute world is small so it is likely that you will have many mutual acquaintances.

Masterclass Organizers
    If your event is not in the annual directory this month, please contact us at editor@flutetalkmagazine.com to be included in the online version and an addendum in the April issue.

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    Have you ever felt uninspired, or felt as if you have lost the excitement of playing? In the long process of learning to play, I think we all have felt this way at one time or another. Sometimes the reason for these feelings can be hard to find. If you are down in the dumps about playing, it is useful to know how the forces of inspiration work in your particular case, and to understand some of the barriers to them, should they arise.

Gifted
    As a musician your most precious gift is inspiration. This energy is what you must possess to develop your skills and remain motivated. It is made of goals and dreams, experiences, ideas and hopes. Whether you are inspired to perform, sound like your favorite players, or just try to be the best, it is the force which transforms your talents.
    Knowing what to do with your inspiration is a talent in itself, and inspiration alone is not enough to result in great performance, nor is just loving music and the flute. The whole recipe needs a catalyst, some ephemeral ingredient to activate everything so that your inspiration is clear, alive, full of energy, and captivating. This ingredient is spontaneity. As the Hollandaise transports the lowly egg to the heights of Eggs Benedict, so does spontaneity take the merely correct performance to the realm of the beautiful.
    The problem is that the freshness that was once felt about the music can become dull or faded. At times it feels as though the barriers to spontaneity in performance just go up, not to be overcome. Like the Bluebird of Happiness, does spontaneity haphazardly alight at random times, more often in the practice room than not? When the time comes to perform, are you too self-conscious, nervous, over-practiced, or blocked to really be able to let go the way you want to? How can inspiration be revitalized? Is spontaneity in playing something that musicians can learn to control?

Inspiration, Experience, and Intuition
    To understand inspiration and spontaneity flutists should first look to themselves instead of simply how they play or practice. The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines inspiration as “something that makes someone want to do something or that gives someone an idea about what to do or create: a force or influence that inspires someone.” Sounds pretty mysterious. It could be that many people do not have the opportunity, resources or permission to feel inspired about something, perhaps because beauty in their lives is inconsistently present or obscured by burden. To feel inspired is a gift indeed.
    Inspiration is rooted in possibility, or the idea of creating your own reality. It is also about perception, how you see the world around you, being open to experience and to new things. Influences can be important. This is essentially a positive and creative state of mind.
    Of course there are limits because people cannot control everything, and negative things do happen, but in terms of visualizing a different turn of events you have more control than you think. There are always choices, and choices open the doors to possibilities. For example, let us say you had a bad plane flight, but instead of getting upset about that, you chose to get to know your seat partner and made a good friend for life. Suddenly the reality of the bad flight seems a mere annoyance. You are rewarded for your attitude when your new friend asks you to go into business with him and create a new restaurant, which is wildly successful.
    The outcome may not be this dramatic, but the result is the same; you had emotional doors open instead of being stuck in a bad mood, or thinking of the past or worrying about the future, therein missing opportunities. Forgetting to stop and smell the roses is not just regrettable; for artists, it may be a threat to their development. At the very least it does close those inspiration doors. If it is indeed a force, then inspiration is more closely related to the spiritual than the mundane, which leads back to the music. For musicians, our technical and tonal skills, acquired through patient repetition, should serve our inspiration.When playing, strive to create not only an accurate version of the piece, but the spiritual world of the piece as you see it.
    Inspiration takes direction not only from knowledge, but on the emotional level, it is guided by intuition, which is what you know without understanding why; a type of power that guides you towards certain things. Intuition is like a gateway to your true self, and as a musician, you must trust it. For example, it can guide you to practice a certain way at a specific time, or tell you how to phrase, or what tempo to play. It may have guided you toward music in the first place. Using intuitive practice is important: it is positive and creative. Practicing intuitively is fun especially regarding tone. Try inventing various challenging tone exercises. You can even base them on your favorite tunes. However, do not practice this way all the time; like most things, zu viel ist ungesund, or too much is unhealthy. Intuition is always powerful but it can also be disorganized, inappropriate, and directionless unless it is backed up by knowledge.

Spontaneity, Process, and Barriers
    Intuition also leads to spontaneous action. Spontaneous is defined as “something done or said in a natural and often sudden way and without a lot of thought or planning.” It is the volitional aspect of intuition. In a split second you see the rose and without thinking about it, experience its beauty and the complexity of its fragrance. This is similar to the way you have an immediate emotional response to the music upon hearing a piece you like.
    In performance you should ideally be responding to the music; to the composer’s spontaneity and creativity. Composers indicate their intentions for the piece as best as they can, through the notes, dynamics, and other indications. Examine the piece from the point of view of finding where the composer may have spontaneously come up with a new idea. This can be fairly obvious many times, such as in the example from Prokofiev’s Sonata for Flute and Piano, Op. 94 below.

    In this passage, Prokofiev has transformed motives already introduced, which along with the change in dynamic, result in a sudden shift in mood. The dynamics and rhythmic character of the music are the cues here. It is not hard to make the passage sound spontaneously energetic, but experiencing it in the context of spontaneity is substantially different than replaying it with the same old set of previously established expectations.
    Sudden shifts not accompanied by a change in the dynamic or prominent change in the form are even easier to take for granted, and can go unnoticed unless you highlight them somehow. Such a shift is shown below.

    Here Prokofiev modifies the material through sequence, but the harmonic shift is unexpected 5 bars after 1, and creates the impression of rather suddenly reducing the energy of the passage. A slight change in the color of the tone would be necessary to show this, even though a change in dynamic is not indicated. Try to make the tone a bit less directly focused without subtracting too much sound. Avoid pushing the tempo.
    Shifts like this can be difficult to communicate, but occur all the time, in many styles. Whether the composer intuitively got to this point, or not, it must sound as if he did so. Even if you don’t feel spontaneous, view the action in the piece as spontaneous action, and react to it.
    This is telling the composer’s story, which musicians filter through their own lens for the listener. The need to communicate is key because in the case of spontaneity, this desire is strong enough to short-circuit the thought process. However, it is still more complex. We want to be seen and heard by others telling this story, and we want to tell lots of people at the same moment.
    As there are hindrances to feeling inspired, there are many barriers to spontaneity. It is risky. It feels vulnerable, and maybe others will not like it, or will not understand. Maybe you will feel nervous and fail, or appear inappropriate. Fear kills spontaneity like water on a flame. The inspiration, level of your skills, and the desire to communicate must be strong enough that they override fear.
    Regarding performance, it is easy for education to block spontaneity. Study of history and theory, until they become internalized, can be a distraction from the music, or seem to be irrelevant to playing. Things can get so intellectualized that playing your instrument can feel like getting lost in a maze. You can lose sight of naturalness, and the basic inspiration which attracted you to the music in the first place. To make matters more difficult, students are constantly corrected, or receive conflicting information that adds to the confusion about how to play. The mechanics of playing and hours of practice to develop skills can act as a barrier to spontaneity.
    It is also easy to become desensitized to the true sound of your own playing and the music itself. Musicians listen to the same music so many times, that they may think they understand it well, but this is often not the case. For example, I frequently teach the Mozart G major concerto, and I have discovered that often students do not know the accompaniment well. In Mozart’s music it is the messages in the accompaniment that tell almost everything about how to play the solo part. The two cannot be separated or the music becomes one-dimensional or inappropriate. Interestingly, in spite of this lack of true familiarity with the piece, many of these students are weary of it. They have become desensitized to it due to a one-dimensional view. They should look more deeply at each passage of the piece, as in this example from the first movement.

    Play this passage with piano and listen carefully to the harmony in measure 50. The momentary transfer to the parallel minor, G minor, casts a gentler feel to the beginning of the measure before moving on in the previous tonality. It is easy to miss if you have not studied the harmony. At the beginning of the bar, briefly and rather suddenly play a bit softer and make the articulations very gentle and expressive. If this were an opera aria with text, this would have the effect of creating a secret twinge of regret, subtle misgiving, or sadness in the mind of the character singing the aria.
    By understanding in depth the details of a familiar passage, you become more involved with the work, more sensitive to it, and reinspired to play it. You rediscover it. Your appreciation of the piece becomes multi-dimensional, and spontaneity can play a greater role in practice and performance. The goal, it seems to me, is to reexperience the messages of the music every time you play it.
    Looking at the big picture, desensitization is also part of the modern lifestyle. Taking the time to truly appreciate something complex is not really what people are encouraged to do these days. We may just look for something new because there are new things out there; and new things can be inspiring, but in performing classical music, musicians should ask themselves if they are just bored with a piece because they actually have not really studied it. Hurrying on to the next thing sometimes means not stopping to smell the roses, and the door to inspiration or new ideas can slowly close.

Not Always Spontaneous
    On the other hand, planning how to play something is necessary, especially in the learning process, and spontaneity sometimes is not productive, especially without knowledge. Technique should serve an interpretation, and repetition is important. This is certainly true in competitions or auditions, where reliability and consistency are necessary to produce a desired result. One has to learn to perform securely in demanding circumstances, and play things the same way over and over. Certain kinds of spontaneity can also be very risky in orchestra auditions, where brevity of the excerpts is a factor, and consistency is rewarded. Trying something a new way, or playing at a new tempo may feel fresh, but often ends in disaster, or at least sounds unstable. The preparation for this type of performing can be difficult, as you can lose sight of spontaneity in your playing.
    If you are preparing for an audition, make sure you play other repertoire sometimes just for fun, or perform in another context as well to keep inspiration fresh. Once, after having worked for a couple years mostly on audition repertoire, I had the sudden opportunity to play a full recital, something I had not done recently. I found it nearly impossible at first to focus on anything larger than a few phrases and wanted to fuss with each note. Spontaneity was out of the question, much less the ability to conceptualize the entire form of a movement. I finally made the adjustment, but it took a lot of work on the larger issues before focusing on the details. It was educational, because as I obtained a bigger view of the piece, spontaneity became easier.
    In orchestra as well, spontaneity is often inappropriate. Taking your colleagues by surprise is usually a bad idea, unless they are very bored. Most conductors rehearse with a specific result in mind, and one has to be able to reproduce that result. In solo passages, there may be a certain license for freedom, and the occasional maestro may actually like small variations from one reading to another, but in ensemble passages, spontaneity puts too many cooks in the kitchen, and you know what happens then.
    The basic question is: how can serious study, complexity, repetition, consistency, and the risk of desensitization coexist with spontaneity? To be continued…

The post Reflections on Inspiration and Spontaneity, Part 1 appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

    Born in a small town in Portugal, Adriana Ferreira participated in the Concours de Genève Flute during the last two weeks of November 2014. She performed ten pieces on four programs. While the first prize was not awarded, Ferreira tied with Yubeen Kim for second prize. She also won first prize in the Gazzelloni Competition in 2014. She has previously been awarded first prize in the 2010 Nielsen Competition and third place in the Kobe Competition in 2013. Ferreira is currently playing co-principal flute in the National Orchestra of France.

How did you begin playing flute?
    I started playing the flute by chance. When I was six years old, I asked my parents if I could play the piano. They found a teacher and I began lessons. Then, when I was eight, after watching a local amateur band playing in the street, I asked if I could join the wind band. I was given some lessons without an instrument, but they soon decided to give me a piccolo. They had a vacant flute position, but I was very small and could not hold a flute, so they bought me a piccolo. I started playing and took lessons with the conductor and another musician in the band, who were both clarinet players. Two years later my parents bought me a flute. I remember I had to play Rossini’s William Tell Overture flute solo in the band the day I got the flute. There was not a music school in my small town, so a year later I took an audition for a professional music school, Artave, and was accepted. When I was twelve, I moved with my parents to the city of Vila Nova de Famalicão to study flute at this school.

What were the steps that took you to the National Conservatory in Paris at age 17?
    I entered the flute class of Joaquina Mota in Artave when I was twelve. I had already studied piano for six years, so I continued with it as a second instrument. When I was thirteen, my teachers often spoke about string players, so I entered the CCM Conservatory, near Artave, to learn the violin. It was difficult, and for me it was clear that the flute was my real instrument.
    When I was fourteen, I auditioned for the European Union Youth Orchestra and was admitted into the Summer School, so I got to play Mahler’s 7th Symphony under Bernard Haitink in Porto. That is something that I will never forget. I could not have started my orchestra experience in a better way and I met such wonderful young players who encouraged me to study abroad.
    I also attended some masterclasses in Portugal that were very influential, especially one with Michel Debost and another with Vicens Prats. Both told me that I should continue my studies abroad, if possible in Paris. So, three years later, as I was finishing high school, I auditioned for both the Royal Academy of Music in London and the Paris Conservatoire. I was admitted to both and decided to continue my studies in France, with a scholarship from the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation (Lisbon).

What was it like to study at the Sorbonne, the Paris Conservatory, and as an exchange student at the Hans Eisler Academy in Berlin?
    At the Sorbonne University, I studied and received a bachelor’s degree in Musicology. Besides that, I completed a bachelor’s degree, a master’s, and am finishing the 3rd cycle called Artist Diplome in flute at the Paris Conservatoire. I did the exchange in Berlin through the conservatoire. So I spent two years in Paris, one year in Berlin and then returned to Paris where I finished the master’s in flute and am now completing the Artist Diplome.
    In the Paris Conservatoire, I took flute lessons with Sophie Cherrier. We had to prepare a new concerto or sonata each week, plus an etude. We had a one-hour lesson each week. At the beginning that was quite new for me because during my studies in Portugal, I had more than one week to prepare pieces. Now I realize how important this routine was for me because I now feel more confident that I can learn a new piece much faster. In lessons with Vincent Lucas, we played tone and technique exercises as well as orchestral excerpts. We had two one-hour lessons per month. Some technique books were the core of study: Paul Taffanel & Philippe Gaubert Exercices Journaliers (Vol. 4), Matthieu André Reichert 7 Exercices Journaliers and Arrigo Tassinari Esercizi Tecnici di Perfezionamento. I also chose to have piccolo lessons with Pierre Dumail and Baroque flute lessons with Jan de Winne.
    Now in the 3rd Cycle, the Artist Diplome, I am specializing in contemporary music, so I am no longer in the flute class. I play mostly contemporary chamber music under the direction of Hae-Sun Kang, a violinist. This has been such a discovery, but unfortunately because of my orchestra work, I cannot be as present as much as I would like to be. However, working with composers, giving the premieres of some works, and playing with electronics has been a real fantastic challenge. I worked for one year with two composers at the IRCAM in Paris, and we premiered their pieces there, one for piccolo and electronics (I was told it was the first piece ever for this combination), and another for bass flute and electronics. That was amazing, I learned a lot about the possibilities we have today in music. (IRCAM is the French Institute for Science about Music and Sound, founded by Pierre Boulez in 1977.)
     At the Hanns Eisler Academy in Berlin, in the flute class of Benoît Fromanger, the organization was similar. We always had an etude lesson, where we played only etudes, and another lesson playing repertoire, normally the following day. The etude lesson was really challenging, but very important.
    In both schools the flute class is always listening to the lessons of their colleagues, like in a masterclass. For five years until the end of my master’s degree, I listened to almost all the lessons of the other flutists in the class, and it was a fantastic way to continue absorbing what I learned in my own lessons. In the same way, always having an audience was very valuable and helped me to feel comfortable on stage.

What words of advice did your flute professor Sophie Cherrier give you about competitions that you found especially helpful?
    She is a great music professor, but she also cares a lot about our human side. She always told me (and the class in general) that we should only enter a competition or take an orchestra audition if we have achieved a high level of ability and if we are prepared. Too many competitions or doing them too early, can destroy someone’s goals and musical personality. On the other hand, she always tells me to be positive – for getting through the first round, for playing a piece that I like in public (even if it’s in a competition), for always trying to do my best. These words of advice are really valuable to me. 

How did you come to play with the French National Orchestra?
    I got this job when I was 21 and started the six month trial the day of my birthday, when I turned 22. On that day, the orchestra played the “Happy Birthday” song at the beginning of the rehearsal for me. That week I was playing first flute, and the program included the Beethoven Leonore Overture No. 3 and A Hero’s Life by Richard Strauss. Our main conductor, Daniele Gatti, was conducting that week, and it was the opening concert of the season of the Champs Elysées Theater in Paris. I think I have still never felt such responsibility as on the day of that concert. Being in the orchestra meant that what I was playing was just not important for me, but for the group. For the first time I felt that I was part of a micro-musical-society and felt very satisfied and grateful for that.

It is becoming more common in Europe to appoint co-principal players in an orchestra. How does that work in the National Orchestra of France?
    Yes, in the majority of the European orchestras there are two principals, but in my orchestra there is a different variation on this. I haven’t found a similar one anyplace else. There is a Super Soliste (Principal), who plays in half of the program and decides in which concerts he or she performs. Then, there are two Solistes or Co-Principals; I am one of them. We share the other half of the program, so we each play first in a quarter of the program, and we also play second. There are two piccolo players who also play second. One of the requirements of my job is that I also play the alto flute parts, and I am very excited about that. I really enjoyed playing the alto flute part in the Rite of Spring by Stravinsky. At the beginning I thought I wouldn’t like the instrument but I discovered I do.
    One of the things that I like the most in my job is the flexibility in that I get to play first, second, alto and occasionally piccolo. That really helps me understand the function of what I am playing. Now, when I play solo pieces, I hear in a different way. I am much more aware of the musical relevance of what I am playing (melody, harmony, accompaniment, general texture, etc.)

What words of advice would you give to flutists thinking of entering competitions?
    I would tell them to do it because of the pieces they are going to learn and because they will play fantastic music with others. The most important part is learning and the journey, and that is independent of the results.

What are the benefits of competitions and what are the negative aspects?
    For me, the preparation, the amount of repertoire needed and the aspects I learn about music and myself are the most important things about competitions. On the other hand, doing a competition is really very tiring and stressful. However, those aspects only help us to build ourselves better as musicians and flutists.

How did you prepare for the Geneva Competition?
    Since I was playing in the National Orchestra of France, I found it more difficult to prepare for that competition because I didn’t have as much time to practice as I had before. My colleagues in the orchestra were very helpful and found ways to give me more time to practice. I was still studying at the Conservatory at the time, so I prepared the Geneva competition under my professor, Sophie Cherrier. At the end of July 2014, I was attending the James Galway Flute Festival in Switzerland and after his class, I started working. At the same time, I was preparing for the Severino Gazzelloni competition in Italy that fortunately included some of the same pieces. Then in September I started work with my orchestra, so I prepared the repertoire for Geneva during some free weeks I had in October and November.

You had to perform a total of ten pieces and nearly everything had to be played from memory. How did you accomplish this?
    Ever since I started playing the flute, my teachers have always insisted on playing by memory, so I am quite comfortable with that. In general, when I know a piece by heart, I play it better, as I feel really free. In the third round, we did play with the music for the Debussy Sonate for Flute, Viola and Harp and the contemporary music piece for solo flute and ensemble that won the 2013 Geneva Composition competition.

What were your favorite pieces at the Geneva Competition?
    My favorites were the Claude Debussy Sonate for Flute, Viola and Harp, the Luciano Berio Sequenza and the Händel Halle Sonate No. 3. (For a complete listing of the required repertoire for the Geneva Competition: )

How much time were you given to rehearse at the Geneva Competition?
    The first round was flute solo, but then for the second round, I had two 30-minute rehearsals with harpsichord for a Händel Sonata and one hour rehearsal with piano for the Prokofiev and Demersseman. For the third round, I had a 90-minute rehearsal with the Ensemble Contrechamps for the contemporary music piece for solo flute and ensemble and a 45-minute rehearsal of the Debussy Sonate with Viola and Harp. For the final round, I had a 90-minute rehearsal for each concerto two days before, and a general rehearsal on the morning of the final.

Are there pieces you would like to learn but have not yet found the time?
    Yes, the more I learn new pieces, the more I regret not having the time to learn more. To begin with, I would like to learn the J.F. Barnett Sonata that my colleague Michel Moragues has recorded and the Otar Taktakishvili Flute Sonata as soon as I have time, besides many chamber music pieces with strings. (J.F. Barnett (1837-1916) English composer. Student performance of the Sonata available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycwoFxkKMew.)

How do you structure your practice routine?
    I enjoy starting my practice time with a melody. I think it is the best way to keep remembering, every day, why I chose to be a musician. Then I work on phrasing, staccato, breathing and other aspects through the gamme exercices of Taffanel and Gaubert. Most of the time, I have to say, I create my own exercises, depending on what I want to work on. I do a small exercise and then play it in every tonality. That is my way to keep practicing scales. Then I work on the solo and orchestra pieces that I have to prepare. Some books have been very helpful, especially the ones of Marcel Moyse and Trevor Wye and the three I worked on regularly in Paris – Reichert, Taffanel & Gaubert and Tassinari. Regarding tone exercices, I use the principle of playing small melodies as a way to improve my sound and changing colors, but of course, some books were very important, especially De la Sonorité by Marcel Moyse and the Tone, vol. 1 in Trevor Wye’s series.

What pieces did you perform at the 2011 NFA Convention in Charlotte?
    I performed in the concert Flutists from Portugal, that also featured the Japanese flutist Kayoko Minamino who is principal flute in a Portuguese orchestra. I played the Francis Poulenc Sonata and the Andre Jolivet Chant de Linos with a fantastic pianist, Timothy Carrey. I also played the bass flute in Conversazione by Raymond Guiot in a concert dedicated to Trevor Wye with Kayoko Minamino, Tomomi Matsuo, Paul Edmund-Davies, and Ko-Yu Wang.

What are your upcoming plans? 
    I am preparing two CDs, one with the Geneva Chamber Orchestra and another with piano (because of the Gazzelloni competition). It is not yet decided what will be on them, but among others, I would like to record the Franz Doppler Hungarian Fantasy and an Antonio Vivaldi concerto.
    Besides orchestra concerts, I am going to play a piccolo piece by Italian composer Franco Donatoni and a piece by Bach at the Monte-Carlo Spring Festival, four concerts in Portugal with Orquestra XXI, a project of Portuguese musicians living abroad, some excerpts at a Concert Promenade in an exhibition about Pierre Boulez at the Cité de la Musique in Paris, a concerto with the Geneva Chamber Orchestra, some recitals, and in six months both CDs should be recorded.

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