I am playing a Bach suite at a concert in a few weeks, and I picked up the cello to practise again for the first time after a little break. I wondered how it would be…. would I find it hard to concentrate? Would I not be able to play in tune very well? Would it be one of those days where the time seemed to tick away really slowly, and it would be like dragging my feet through thick mud?

It was an absolute pleasure. I was practising Bach’s fifth cello suite, and it was glorious. My fingers were fine, and I could play in tune (well, most of the time!). But what made me smile was how much I was enjoying unfolding this music….. again.

I have performed these suites many times. And every time I find something different in them. Something new that makes me fall in love with Bach all over again. It reminds me of his genius. Completely.

I was giving a radio interview last week, and I was asked to define my relationship with Bach. How on earth does one do that? Is it like the student and their guru? Is he a friend that is there, always?

We are not equals, me and JSB. He is definitely on a pedestal. A large one.

But I like to think of him as a friendly teacher. And I love that his music always has something new for me. Some new little gem for me to discover, or new way of saying something.

Thanks, John. I appreciate you. Especially today.

 

I have a very good friend called Judith White, who is a visual artist. She lives in inner-Sydney, with her photographer husband, in a converted warehouse. Their home is wonderful – it’s like walking into a gallery – there are paintings and sculptures everywhere. It’s completely wonderful. And I like talking to her about things, because she sees things completely differently to me – she’s really affected by colour, and light, and the way things are placed in a room. Watching a sunset over a beach with her is so different to watching it by myself – I almost spend more time watching her respond to the changing sky than the actual sunset itself.

I love her work – I am very proud to say that I own some, and its in my living room.

We work together sometimes, as performers, in a program called ‘The Painted Bach’. I play a cello suite, and she paints a visual response to it. Of course, this is not the same process for her as the way she ‘normally’ works, as she needs to create canvases very quickly – but it’s been really well-received by audiences, and a great thing for the two of us to do. (It’s surprisingly noisy for methough – I am playing, and there is the most amazing array of sounds behind me as she paints with brooms and huge brushes. There is the noise of dripping paint, and then squelchy sounds as she walks through the paint puddles…. She’s a very noisy associate artist!)

We’re off to perform ‘The Painted Bach’ in Perth, as part of the Perth winter festival (she also has a big exhibition there), and I suggested to her that she might consider creating some work that was a response to different Bach pieces, over a longer period of time to include in the exhibition too. I never thought she’d say yes – but she did. Last Friday was the first prelude we did together (from Bach’s second suite), and today will be another one.

So I arrived and sat in her studio. Had to wrap up warm, as there’s no heating. And played for her. I didn’t realise how many times she’d need – I must have played this piece over 20 times. Sometimes she stood and just listened, looking at the canvas. At the start she ripped paper and stuck it to the blank canvas. Other times she painted with paint, other times crayon. Sometimes she poured buckets of paint down the sides of the painting.

It was incredibly wonderful to watch my friend create art. Hard for me not to respond – I tried to keep playing the same way. It was inspiring, and exciting, and felt wonderfully authentic. And through it all, her lovely husband took video and still footage – so we’ll have something to show you all once he’s put it together. It was an excellent way to spend Friday afternoon.

And I can’t wait to do it all again….

I’ve been doing lots of concerts over the last fortnight. All with my dear friend and fellow cellist David Pereira. I love playing with David and the concerts have been a real delight.

I’m not sure if you are aware (you mightn’t be, if you’re not a performer), but just after a concert, anyone who have just performed is incredibly vulnerable. You’ve just poured your heart and soul and then some into the last hour or so, and you are really raw.

Here’s a plea to anyone reading this…. if you talk to a performer directly after they have just performed, be careful. Because although you think you might be ‘joking’, it doesn’t always feel that way to us…. Here’s a few examples of what has been said to either David or me directly after we have just played. (You see, we remember them…. and sometimes they affect us badly.)

“I have to sit up the back of your concerts, because I don’t like how you look when you play. It’s too distracting.”

“Why don’t you wear lipstick?” (that was to me. No-one has said that to David – yet. I hate lipstick.)

“I have only come to this concert to hear David Pereira.” (that was said to me….)

“Are you aware you ended two of your sentences in your introductions with prepositions? I thought you might like to know that…”

“Do you have as many strings on your bow as Rachel? She’s so much louder than you….” (that was said to David)

“Why do you have your hair like that?”

“Shame about your first note, really…. Oh, well.”

We joke about them. Sometimes to audience members, but mostly to each other. I’m sure if you met us both the day after, and said any of those things, it would probably be alright. But it’s really hard to take just after we have played….

I’m just saying…..

Last weekend I went for a long drive. (Well, I got driven…. big thank-you to my long-suffering driver!)

I went to a beautiful place in western NSW called Mount David (via my favourite cafe to get some freshly-baked doughnuts). You go to Oberon and keep on going for a bit more, if you want to go there yourself – it’s very beautiful. I recommend it.

David Pereira and I had been invited to play at a concert series up there that is run by an amateur violinist I know. About 45-50 people descend on this beautiful house on a Sunday afternoon, and musicians play for an hour or so, and then everyone has cakes and sandwiches and tea and sparkling wine. (I know! Sounds great!)

David and I were going to rehearse the day before (and eat the doughnuts), and stay overnight, and perform the next day. It was the perfect thing to do for me. Just perfect. The air was cold and crisp. The food was home-cooked, and just kept appearing. I was warm inside the house. I didn’t have to do any washing up. And on both days I went for two long walks around this property – and it was heaven. Cold, but so very beautiful. The company was excellent. The audience was really appreciative.

The concert went really well – and we’re looking forward to playing the same program this weekend in Sydney, Yass and Canberra.

And the doughnuts were fabulous.

In January this year I recorded a CD. I went with a little team of people to a fabulous studio in the middle of nowhere, and spent three days pouring my soul into some microphones. Some people like this process…. I am not one of those people. I had a lovely team of people with me, and David (the other cellist I was recording with) is a dear friend of mine and I love him dearly. But it was still an unpleasant and draining time for me.

However, this post isn’t about how much I hate recording. I’ve written that before, and don’t need to do it again. This is about what has happened over the last week.

Just before a massive storm hit Sydney (how’s that for timing?!), I was delivered 5 large cardboard boxes by a very friendly courier man.

 

 

And then the madness began. One afternoon, while listening to various CDs (no – not mine!) I packaged up all the bits and pieces for the people who had pre-ordered CDs (and goodies as rewards for some of them who had given me lots of their money to help with the project). My living room was a bit of a mess, and I got very good at wrangling CD mailers. 

The next day I spent emailing people to see if they wanted to listen to a copy. I contacted various people from ABC-FM, music festivals around the country, reviewers from magazines and radio stations… all sorts of people. This wasn’t new – I’d done it all before with the last CD I had released. But this time, instead of silence, I got emails back! It seems people are interested this time. I’m not sure whether it’s because they know David Pereira’s name. Or maybe they’ve heard mine, or the concert series. Some people were interested in the amount of Australian music that’s on the disc, and the fact that there are two pieces on there that have never been recorded. Maybe because we got funding from the Australia Council?

I don’t know. And don’t really care. Getting it to people is a hard thing. It’s taken a lot of time sitting at a computer. But now lots of CDs have gone out into the world – released like little butterflies.

So if you are reading this, and have your own copy – thank you. Thanks for helping us. Thanks for helping me. I hope you like our playing. We did our best…..

And if you don’t like it? Well…. you now have a bright yellow drinks coaster. Or a bird-scarer for your trees. Or a small, breakable frisbee.