JAVS Fall 2002

71

MY FAIR LADY: A STuDENT's PERSPECTIVE ON THE KAREN TuTTLE CooRDINATION SEMINAR

by Ashley Ham

Registration was over and I stood in the lobby of Cleveland Institute of Music reading over the packet of paperwork I had just been handed. Among other things, there was a welcoming letter from Jeffrey Irvine, a list of local restaurants, and a schedule ofmaster classes for the weekend. This last piece of paper consumed my attention for a while as I realized I would be able to play for or at least observe such viola professors as Susan Dubois, Jeffrey Irvine, Michelle La Course, Karen Ritscher, and Kim Kashkashian all in one weekend. I knew I would be taking notes as fast as I could in order to absorb just part of the viola knowledge being cir culated that weekend. Each of the teachers had very individual styles and tastes. Karen Tuttle had had such an influence on all of them that their fundamentals were very similar-even while their styles varied. They will ingly catered their styles to different students' needs in order to convey specific principles in a way the students would understand. Susan Dubois paced energetically across the room as she explained how to "let it all hang out" with one student, while Kim Kashkashian experimented with head releases on the students in one of her sessions. Michelle La Course worked with several students on the tech nique of cradling the viola, while Karen Ritscher focused on bow changes and Jeffrey Irvine had stu dents focus on their breathing. I got just a taste of the immense viola knowledge contained among these teachers, and I knew my approach to the instrument would never be the same. I was not scheduled to participate in one ofMs. Tuttle's master classes, but I sat in on one of her ses sions because I wanted to learn more about her teaching style from Ms. Tuttle herself. Watching her work with a young violist was priceless in this regard. As the violist began to play, I kept my eyes on Ms. Tuttle. She watched his motions, sometimes mimicking them on a small scale-as if to remem

ber what she wanted to say. She gave him her full attention. It was obvious she knew every note and inflection of the piece as it should be played, but it was also apparent she heard the music as he was playing it. She used the music as a key to his play ing, his playing as a key to his mind, his mind as a key to his body, and his body as a key to the music inside of him. Ms. Tuttle worked with the young violist in pursuit of a deeper sound. She knew exactly what she wanted. With her long, thin fingers, she ges tured at the player and told him to move his elbow a certain way or let his breath out. Occasionally she would jump up from her seat, walk to the violist, and physically change something he was doing. Within 15 minutes, the violist was playing with a depth and color he had not played with previously. It was as if she had lifted him up and given him a glimpse of what he was capable of-a peek of his next peak, if you will. I sat in my hard, black chair in a state of com plete awe. I wanted to play like that-but more, I wanted to teach like that. As she announced that this talented violist was through for the day, she realized that she still had time to teach another stu dent. Since no one else was scheduled, she asked if anyone in the audience cared to play for her. The opportunity was too priceless to pass up. Laying aside all nerves, I approached Ms. Tuttle boldly, as if expecting her to teach me as much as I could absorb in 15 minutes. She smiled, and I began to play. When I had finished the initial play through, Ms. Tuttle picked one aspect of my phys ical approach to the viola and worked with me until she knew I understood what she was saying. She chose my elbow as her target, and from that point on, I believe I played one note, over and over, for the rest of the lesson. Motioning at me, Ms. Tuttle told me to raise my elbow. Then, moving her arm, she showed me how to raise my elbow. To help