All the latest research shows that middle-aged brains are better suited and more "talented" for tackling complex tasks than younger brains. This is great news if, like me, you are pushing 50 and have a long "things to do before I die" list. I originally posted this clip on Violin Lab but wanted to share it here too. I interviewed Glen Leupnitz, a brilliant scientist who is actively involved in anti-aging research. He has multiple PHDs, developed the canine parvo vaccine and was named by the International Biographical Centre, Cambridge, England, as one of "2000 Outstanding Intellectuals of the 20th Century" for outstanding contributions to the field of medicine. I thought it would be great to hear straight from the horse's mouth why learning violin as an adult is an excellent way to combat aging. I also asked, on my own behalf, if after 41 years of playing it was still possible to improve, to "up my game" so to speak.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Is it Too Late for Adults to Learn to Play the Violin?
As I have created an entire website designed to teach adult beginning to intermediate violinists, you can guess that my response to the title question of this blog is a resounding “NEVER”. It is certainly in my business interests to be a strong advocate for adults learning to play the violin.
But that's the chicken. Here is the egg. Approximately 17 years ago, before there was ever a Violin Lab, I started an adult chamber music class at Austin Community College. I already had a booming private studio of young talented kids, and one beginning adult student, a thirty-something year old, who had played some brass instrument in junior high band, but passionately wanted to learn the violin. Leslie was her name and she was my first adult student.
She came to lessons knowing how to read music, but that was about it. She experienced a lot of anxiety in lessons, her nerves manifesting obvious tremors in each bow stroke. After our first couple of lessons, I thought for sure she wouldn't last. I saw the long, arduous battle in front of her, and many times, I must admit, I thought of suggesting that she choose another instrument, something easier, like piano or guitar. What I absolutely couldn't see then was the depth of her resolve, nor could I have anticipated what she would accomplish over the next several years, reaching a level of proficiency rivaling that of a much younger student. Although she was still subject to nervous anxiety, (it frustrated her to no end) she never let it stop her. She eventually tackled the Mozart G major Concerto, Kreutzer Etudes, and a few Handel and Corelli sonatas. As I watched Leslie develop into a competent violinist, my own ideas and feelings changed about teaching adult students. Perhaps I had bought into what our goal-oriented society tells us: that unless we can “master” or “monetize” something, then why bother doing it? And certainly, given the extreme difficulty of learning the violin, if you missed the boat when you were young, then you were better off doing something easier. We are rarely encouraged to dedicate ourselves to a goal simply to develop our artistic selves, nurture our souls, or expand our ways of thinking, detached from any outcome.
Teaching Leslie opened my mind to the idea that learning to play the violin was about self-discovery through process and opened my heart to feelings of outright jealousy.
Throughout my then 25 years of playing the violin, I had enjoyed many technical milestones and accomplishments. I had experienced the utter poetry of pulling deep resonating tones from ancient wood with a stick that felt like a feather beneath my fingertips. I had performed pieces where in pure sweet moments of transcendence I had merged so deeply with the melody that I lost my sense of self. But because I started as a child I had never experienced what my adult student had: the burning desire to learn the violin; the self-propelling passion that comes from choice, the will to continue because it was what I wanted more than anything. Those things I had never owned. For me learning to play was the byproduct of a childhood activity chosen and nurtured for me by my mother, like an arranged marriage, and later the byproduct of a vocational decision to the dilemma faced by every young adult: “What am I going to be when I grow up?”
After a few years of lessons, Leslie’s skills were sharpening and I thought it would be nice for her to play with other people, so I initiated an adult chamber music class at Austin Community College. Again, the outcome of that experience I couldn’t have imagined either. Besides being a ton of fun for me, Leslie met three other women in the class who decided after the term was over to get together once a week to play string quartets. Four women, ages spanning four decades, meeting together religiously for the next decade and a half to mine the works of great composers… talk about your outcomes. I recently bumped into Lola (the oldest member of the group who is now in her 70's) and she said the group still meets regularly, braving in weekly installments the vast repertoire of string quartets.
So back to the original question, if I may wax rhetorical. Is it too late to embark on a journey that will stretch you emotionally, mentally, and physically? Is it too late to engage in an art form, an ineffable vehicle for personal expression that does not rely on emails or facebook status updates? Is it too late to learn you have perseverance and determination you never knew you had? I guess the question really is: Why wouldn’t you learn to play the violin as an adult?
But that's the chicken. Here is the egg. Approximately 17 years ago, before there was ever a Violin Lab, I started an adult chamber music class at Austin Community College. I already had a booming private studio of young talented kids, and one beginning adult student, a thirty-something year old, who had played some brass instrument in junior high band, but passionately wanted to learn the violin. Leslie was her name and she was my first adult student.
She came to lessons knowing how to read music, but that was about it. She experienced a lot of anxiety in lessons, her nerves manifesting obvious tremors in each bow stroke. After our first couple of lessons, I thought for sure she wouldn't last. I saw the long, arduous battle in front of her, and many times, I must admit, I thought of suggesting that she choose another instrument, something easier, like piano or guitar. What I absolutely couldn't see then was the depth of her resolve, nor could I have anticipated what she would accomplish over the next several years, reaching a level of proficiency rivaling that of a much younger student. Although she was still subject to nervous anxiety, (it frustrated her to no end) she never let it stop her. She eventually tackled the Mozart G major Concerto, Kreutzer Etudes, and a few Handel and Corelli sonatas. As I watched Leslie develop into a competent violinist, my own ideas and feelings changed about teaching adult students. Perhaps I had bought into what our goal-oriented society tells us: that unless we can “master” or “monetize” something, then why bother doing it? And certainly, given the extreme difficulty of learning the violin, if you missed the boat when you were young, then you were better off doing something easier. We are rarely encouraged to dedicate ourselves to a goal simply to develop our artistic selves, nurture our souls, or expand our ways of thinking, detached from any outcome.
Teaching Leslie opened my mind to the idea that learning to play the violin was about self-discovery through process and opened my heart to feelings of outright jealousy.
Throughout my then 25 years of playing the violin, I had enjoyed many technical milestones and accomplishments. I had experienced the utter poetry of pulling deep resonating tones from ancient wood with a stick that felt like a feather beneath my fingertips. I had performed pieces where in pure sweet moments of transcendence I had merged so deeply with the melody that I lost my sense of self. But because I started as a child I had never experienced what my adult student had: the burning desire to learn the violin; the self-propelling passion that comes from choice, the will to continue because it was what I wanted more than anything. Those things I had never owned. For me learning to play was the byproduct of a childhood activity chosen and nurtured for me by my mother, like an arranged marriage, and later the byproduct of a vocational decision to the dilemma faced by every young adult: “What am I going to be when I grow up?”
After a few years of lessons, Leslie’s skills were sharpening and I thought it would be nice for her to play with other people, so I initiated an adult chamber music class at Austin Community College. Again, the outcome of that experience I couldn’t have imagined either. Besides being a ton of fun for me, Leslie met three other women in the class who decided after the term was over to get together once a week to play string quartets. Four women, ages spanning four decades, meeting together religiously for the next decade and a half to mine the works of great composers… talk about your outcomes. I recently bumped into Lola (the oldest member of the group who is now in her 70's) and she said the group still meets regularly, braving in weekly installments the vast repertoire of string quartets.
So back to the original question, if I may wax rhetorical. Is it too late to embark on a journey that will stretch you emotionally, mentally, and physically? Is it too late to engage in an art form, an ineffable vehicle for personal expression that does not rely on emails or facebook status updates? Is it too late to learn you have perseverance and determination you never knew you had? I guess the question really is: Why wouldn’t you learn to play the violin as an adult?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Violin Playing: How to Practice
I have an aversion to routine. Any task that smacks of repetition soon becomes a chore. That's probably why I haven't achieved any degree of success in the "Domestic Arts". Doing laundry, dishes, traveling the same worn paths to after-school activities often puts me in a funk of existential angst. So how have I become a professional violinist, a vocation that is clearly built on layers of routinely repeating repetitive repetitions?
Honestly, I can't answer that question, but I do know that the hours I spent in a practice room becoming a classical violinist went beyond merely playing notes over and over hoping for a better outcome. My most potent discoveries and epiphanies came when I approached the formidable task of "improving my violin playing" in the way a scientist goes about uncovering hidden truths behind incomprehensible phenomena, or an engineer searches for the most efficient mechanical system.
I no longer think of practicing as practicing (although I still say "I have to practice"), but as discovery. I unleash my powers of analysis and creative problem solving, and believe that there are truths and answers that I have yet to understand. So I dig, compare, try out different mental commands, hoping that I'll find just the right thought or elbow angle to produce the results I'm after.
In my next several video blogs I will share some of my practice methods, old favorites that have helped me and my students get more out of "practice". And I invite any of you readers to share your brilliant observations and discoveries as well.
--Beth Blackerby
founder and creator of www.ViolinLab.com
Honestly, I can't answer that question, but I do know that the hours I spent in a practice room becoming a classical violinist went beyond merely playing notes over and over hoping for a better outcome. My most potent discoveries and epiphanies came when I approached the formidable task of "improving my violin playing" in the way a scientist goes about uncovering hidden truths behind incomprehensible phenomena, or an engineer searches for the most efficient mechanical system.
I no longer think of practicing as practicing (although I still say "I have to practice"), but as discovery. I unleash my powers of analysis and creative problem solving, and believe that there are truths and answers that I have yet to understand. So I dig, compare, try out different mental commands, hoping that I'll find just the right thought or elbow angle to produce the results I'm after.
In my next several video blogs I will share some of my practice methods, old favorites that have helped me and my students get more out of "practice". And I invite any of you readers to share your brilliant observations and discoveries as well.
--Beth Blackerby
founder and creator of www.ViolinLab.com
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Too Much Pachelbel Cannon?
Had Johann Pachelbel known that three centuries later his beautiful Cannon in D was to float millions of brides down the aisle to the marriage alter, he might have planned his estate better. In my career alone I have cycled those heavenly harmonies thousands (maybe just hundreds) of times to the elegant rustling of bridal trains.
The Pachelbel Cannon is a perfect example of "simple is beautiful". A repeating eight-note cello line underpins florid melodic passages, one following the next, like in a round. The intricate interwoven melodic textures over a hypnotic pulsing bass line have made the Pachelbel an eternal favorite.
Here is my quartet playing the top #1 bridal processional. We originally shot this for a promotional video for our quartet website (Barton Strings).
For anyone who would like to count all twenty eight iterations of the cello line ....

The Pachelbel Cannon is a perfect example of "simple is beautiful". A repeating eight-note cello line underpins florid melodic passages, one following the next, like in a round. The intricate interwoven melodic textures over a hypnotic pulsing bass line have made the Pachelbel an eternal favorite.
Here is my quartet playing the top #1 bridal processional. We originally shot this for a promotional video for our quartet website (Barton Strings).
For anyone who would like to count all twenty eight iterations of the cello line ....

Friday, May 7, 2010
"The Lover's Waltz" by Jay Unger
One of the members on ViolinLab.com requested that I play "The Lover's Waltz", a work written by Jay Unger and Molly Mason, the same composers who wrote "The Ashoken Farewell". It is such a lovely piece. I invited a good friend and talented musician to join me for this little presentation. I hope you enjoy it.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
ME, ME, ME
One of the members of www.ViolinLab.com posted a request to "hear my story". It is not at all illustrious. So for the very few who would like to know of my humble violin beginnings, this is for you.
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