JAVS Fall 1993

33

FORUM

I have a student named Robert who asks questions, lots ofthem, many ofwhich stimulate my thinking in new directions. His questions are not the usual ones: "Do you start this phrase up bow or down bow?" and 'Yow fast does this piece go?" His questions are rather more significant: "What is the deep structure ofthis musicalphrase?" '1n a musicalphrase structure, what are its interpretive boundaries?" 'Yow do you learn to sight-read?" This last question led to my article "Let's Review: Sight-Readingfor String Players"published in American String Teacher, Winter 1993. Robert's latest big question was, "What does it really mean to be a violist?" Here is my reply: Why play the viola? Why not the violin, where the student can become a star with an enormous solo repertoire? Why not playa wind or brass instrument? What about the percussion instruments?-at least the performer will always be heard. We who chose the viola know that it was for the sound-the distinctive, beautiful, mellow quality that only a viola can pro duce. Most of us started on the violin and soon learned that its often piercing, some times strident quality left us edgy and unsatisfied. Some of us tried other instru ments as well, the piano, for example, and found its mechanistic response not human enough. In fact, the viola is our voice-the only voice we will ever need to express ourselves. The sound of the viola has been vari ously described as dark, woody, autumnal. Yes, it is all of these, and sometimes sorrow ful, melancholy. But it can also be joyful, playful, and lighthearted. A violist can express a multitude of emotions through the instrument: calm and repose as well as anxiety and excitement. Our range is wide; we can enjoy the higher tessituras, but there is nothing as satisfying in this world as a resounding open C!

The vibrations of the C string go right up through the jaw into the head; the entire skull resonates with this note. It is at the moment this note is played that the violist experiences the most instantaneous knowl edge of selfhood, of personal validation. A few years ago I played an outdoor chamber music concert, and just before the beginning of the concert, a bee flew into my viola. It was buzzing around inside. What to do? I grabbed the bow and played the loudest open C I could muster. In a few seconds, the buzzing stopped, and I shook the insect out of the...,body of the viola. The vibrations had stunned it into submission. Need I say more? A violist knows the physical effort necessary to produce music. The instrument is bigger and heavier than the violin, and requires considerably more effort to pla~ (The last time I tried to play the violin, it seemed like a toy in my hands.) Violists know about fatigue, about sore fingers and tired muscles. A sports medicine consultant will tell you that repetitive motions are the most difficult for the human body to sustain, and the most injurious. Look at the viola part in any ensemble composition. What do you see? Repetitive motions. Finger placement and stretching are more demanding than on the violin because of the greater distance between the notes. Applied bow pressure and weight are also more effortful because the strings are thicker, and have more mass to set into vibration. These technical details we learn through experience, through constant seeking of new and better ways to improve the physical performance of the music. What about the role of the violist in the musical kingdom? It is true that we seldom have a chance to be the star, but for most of us the supporting role feels right. We under stand the responsibility of making the violinist and cellist look good in the chamber music ensemble by giving them the most support possible. When playing the accom-