I've been feeling very stupid lately. Unable to connect with either my creativity or what I always trusted as my intelligence. I understand that this has come primarily from recurring job stress over the past year; I've been longing for activities through which I can engage the familiar parts of my mind that let me know I can still think and still learn.
I attended three fine performances in the past week without the energizing response I used to find so satisfying. But driven by something less cognitive than instinctual during this strange time, I have started doing two things that are good for me.
I discovered this by reading posts by Luciano Passuello, a philosopher living in Brazil. His website, Litemind: Exploring ways to use our minds efficiently, gently explores topics such as creativity, problem-solving, visual thinking, memory and self-mastery. I'm not usually one for self-help guides, but his articles are well-written, immediately relevant and useful, and generous to all the people whose works he has read and responded to. I can dip into his archives and find ideas that resonate. Tonight I stumbled upon "The Deliberate Practice Formula," part of a larger post about the relationship between talent and achievement.
I realized that two practices I have begun in the past six months meet the criteria he describes: taking voice lessons again for the first time in many years and teaching myself to knit. The fascinating but accidental element of these two endeavors is that while I do have to think about both of them, they each involve my body so fundamentally that too much thinking can actually derail my progress.
Now I feel just a little bit smarter, a little bit more connected to my body, and a little more nurturing of my creativity and how it is fueled by practice.
The Deliberate Practice Formula
[1] Approach each critical task with an explicit goal of getting much better at it. Set goals that are just beyond your level of competency.
[2] As you do the task, focus on what’s happening and why you’re doing it the way you are. After the task, get feedback on your performance from multiple sources. Don’t get emotional about it, and make changes in your behavior as necessary.
[3] Continually build mental models of your situation – of your industry, your company, your career. Expand the models to encompass more factors.
[4] Do those steps regularly, not sporadically. Occasional practice does not work. Consistency is the key here.
My next challenge is to see if understanding this construct intellectually gets in the way of doing and being present.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Very Old Post to "All Arts All the Time"
Your most memorable arts experience as an adult:
Ironically, it was a concert I didn't actually attend. It took place during the evening I was in dress rehearsal for a performance by "Bach and the Baroque" under the direction of Dr. Don Franklin. Our rehearsal period (the "Donathon") is short and intense, and always leaves me satisfied, feeling like a "real" musician again by the time we perform.
This was also the evening of a concert presented by the Renaissance & Baroque Society of the Academy of Ancient Music, one of the leading ensembles in the early music boom since the early '70s. The British harpsichordist Richard Egarr had just taken over as director--despite their long history, they have managed to remain fresh over the years, always staying just ahead of the early music curve. And tonight, they were in town, just two blocks away; I could have made the second half with little effort.
But I was very sick that evening and very much aware that this would be one of the last times I would be working with Franklin--he will retire after our final performance of Bach's "Christmas Oratorio" this December. I took myself directly home, to bed, afraid to risk not being able to sing the next afternoon.
When she came home from the R&B concert, my partner at the time handed me two CDs by the Academy, one of works by Handel that were completely unfamiliar to me including a sonata they had just performed that night. I was mesmerized as she described how the music had made her feel, the virtuosic playing by violinist Pavlo Beznosiuk, the absolute magic among the dozen or so musicians on the stage...
Since that time, I have listened to that CD at least ten times each week, first while reading "Moloka'i," a book by Alan Brennert about the impact of leprosy in Hawai'i during the early 20th century. For a long time, the music would conjur for me images of Hawai'ian people cut off from their homes and families...but it continues to evolve, becoming richer, more complicated, ever more brilliant with each hearing.
So, in fact, this has been one of the most memorable arts experiences I have had in quite a long while, and it hasn't ended. That's some powerful art.
What early arts experience do you still remember?
Leonard Bernstein's Young People's Concerts on Saturday morning TV (black & white, of course)
You have a weekend "All Arts All the Time" field trip. What is it?
OK, I wimp out and hop a plane to New York on Saturday morning, drink strong coffee, see a matinee and an evening performance, wake up the next morning and do the same thing, and fly back to Pittsburgh in time for a half-day of work on Monday.
Ironically, it was a concert I didn't actually attend. It took place during the evening I was in dress rehearsal for a performance by "Bach and the Baroque" under the direction of Dr. Don Franklin. Our rehearsal period (the "Donathon") is short and intense, and always leaves me satisfied, feeling like a "real" musician again by the time we perform.
This was also the evening of a concert presented by the Renaissance & Baroque Society of the Academy of Ancient Music, one of the leading ensembles in the early music boom since the early '70s. The British harpsichordist Richard Egarr had just taken over as director--despite their long history, they have managed to remain fresh over the years, always staying just ahead of the early music curve. And tonight, they were in town, just two blocks away; I could have made the second half with little effort.
But I was very sick that evening and very much aware that this would be one of the last times I would be working with Franklin--he will retire after our final performance of Bach's "Christmas Oratorio" this December. I took myself directly home, to bed, afraid to risk not being able to sing the next afternoon.
When she came home from the R&B concert, my partner at the time handed me two CDs by the Academy, one of works by Handel that were completely unfamiliar to me including a sonata they had just performed that night. I was mesmerized as she described how the music had made her feel, the virtuosic playing by violinist Pavlo Beznosiuk, the absolute magic among the dozen or so musicians on the stage...
Since that time, I have listened to that CD at least ten times each week, first while reading "Moloka'i," a book by Alan Brennert about the impact of leprosy in Hawai'i during the early 20th century. For a long time, the music would conjur for me images of Hawai'ian people cut off from their homes and families...but it continues to evolve, becoming richer, more complicated, ever more brilliant with each hearing.
So, in fact, this has been one of the most memorable arts experiences I have had in quite a long while, and it hasn't ended. That's some powerful art.
What early arts experience do you still remember?
Leonard Bernstein's Young People's Concerts on Saturday morning TV (black & white, of course)
You have a weekend "All Arts All the Time" field trip. What is it?
OK, I wimp out and hop a plane to New York on Saturday morning, drink strong coffee, see a matinee and an evening performance, wake up the next morning and do the same thing, and fly back to Pittsburgh in time for a half-day of work on Monday.
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