[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]So…. as the title of this blog post suggests, this is not a happy post. I am not in a particularly good mood.

I do a few things in my life…. I play the cello. I give concerts. I also teach music to kids.

A lot of the kids I teach are disadvantaged. ‘Disadvantage’ is a pretty loaded word. It could mean loved children in remote areas. It could mean kids in foster care. It could also mean a family who have just had their oldest child stabbed to death over 100 times by an ice addict.

Read that last sentence again. That was me this week.

Now add this into the mix. The family know the other family of the ice addict, because the community is close.

And these children are sent to school on Monday. And the lovely, lovely teachers that I work with pick up the pieces, and continue on. And it is stuff like music that makes these kids who are grieving and whose world has just been turned upside-down smile for a little while.

And yet I feel like I’m sticking a band-aid over a gaping wound that continues to bleed.

And the charity I work for has to fight and fight and fight to get money to continue.

And yet over $200 million dollars is given to athletes to go and run very fast or swim very fast (actually, they did neither of those things particularly fast, did they?). Or politicians spend a whole lot of money debating superannuation laws so that the rich can remain so.

And the kids I see are coping with stuff like this. What will happen to this family now? What will happen to these little people?

I can guess. You see, the oldest one will get lippier. And she will go to an overcrowded high school, where the teachers are drowning in paperwork and don’t have the time to help her, or the inclination, because they are being criticised left right and centre. And so she will be ‘asked to leave’, or branded as trouble, and become known as ‘difficult’. There will be fights in the community. There will be retaliations. And none of it will be reported, because it’s commonplace.

And the people who are trying to do good will become burned out, because they work for next-to-nothing, and slowly give up.

And the rich will continue to get richer. And renovate their homes. And send their children to schools with three swimming pools, and a shooting range, and continue to be frightened of ‘the blacks’, or ‘the Muslims’. And the media will make us more scared, and not say the truth. And the superannuation rates will only help the wealthy.

Have I made you shake your head in worry? Or disbelief? I stand by all that I’ve said.

Is it hopeless? Right now, I feel it is.

Probably tomorrow I’ll have the strength to do it all again.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

I have said it before – and I’m going to say it again (in fact, I’m going to say it now) – I have a huge amount of help to run my life in the way it runs. It’s all been a bit busy over the last 4 weeks or so -lots of travel (not as glamorous as it sounds. I don’t like being on planes much, and travelling with a cello is pretty stressful. You are also a sitting duck for nutters to want to talk to you…), lots of radio and print interviews, lots of ‘being in the public eye’.

And there are numerous people who do all sorts of things for me – and so I want to write about them today. People who fix my website for me when the updates don’t talk to the plug-in (I think. I’m not sure. I am a bit of a Luddite, and my eyes started to watch for passing squirrels when this was being explained to me….). Someone who tweaked a CD booklet for a re-print when they had mountains of work to do. A friend who picked me up from the airport when I was feeling pretty wiped out, carried my bags and then took me out to lunch. Someone who very quietly calmed me down when I was being spoken to pretty awfully and could have exploded (with dire consequences). Someone else who does all the cleaning and runs the house when I’m away so I can come back to a warm, well-stocked house. Friends who manage the bar for me at concerts.

The list is pretty endless. These are just the ones I am thinking of now.

If any of them are reading this (I’m not sure if they do) – I thank you hugely.

And if they aren’t, I still thank them hugely. If you see them, please thank them as well. They’ll like that!

My musical life is divided into two – I am both a teacher and a performer. People often ask me if I prefer one part over another – would I like to give up the teaching? Or maybe stop the madness of performing? But I love them both equally, and cannot imagine stopping either.

I was reflecting on why I liked them both – and do you know, it’s the same reason.

Music for me is so special. I love it. Classical music most of all, but I love most things musical (possibly ‘Rage Against the Machine’, any thrash metal and Wagner excepted. And possibly Justin Beavor Beiber.). And I love the process of sharing it.

This week I have had some fabulous experiences sharing music. I watched a class of children SERIOUSLY get into hitting rhythms on wheelie bins, and loved watching their grinning as they did it. (Some people would say this isn’t music, but I disagree…) Then I was working with a very large choir of school children sing an African song for an assembly, and loved watching them all groove away and sing (including some lanky boys who are a bit too-cool-for-school who just couldn’t help themselves). Then I went out to the country for three days of musical madness to teach some delightful kids new songs, drum patterns, chime bar pieces and musical games. I also had a class of 32 pre-schoolers (argh!) – and watching these little people play instruments for the first time is chaos – but incredibly excellent too!

And then on the weekend I played a Bach Suite at my yoga studio. About 50 people turned up and really listened and loved it.

And writing this, I wonder just how many people get a chance to do this. To share what they love with so many people.

I feel really lucky, you know.

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….