Arts Institute Blog

By Michelle

Over Winter Break, I spent a few hours designing a “Student Guide to Practicing Success,” a one-page piece of paper created out of sheer necessity. You see, my students aren’t very fond of practicing. They want to look at the music in the lesson, play it (or attempt to play it), and then forget about piano until the next week of lessons. And every week, they come back with the same mistakes, and the result is an unfortunate lack of progress. This semester, however, I want to instill the habit of practicing from the very beginning lesson, so I created a list of checkpoints students can follow at each and every practice session.

But as I was making the handout, I began thinking about my own practicing habits when I was younger. Looking back now, I know my time spent at the piano as a young student was far from adequate. And then I thought of the amount of activities my students are involved in any given week. My one student is on the swim team, takes Chinese lessons, has two dance classes per week, takes part in her school choir, and then takes a hour of piano lessons on top of that. Do I want her to practice every day? Of course. Do I truly believe she will always be able to fit it into her busy schedule? No. But I hope she will try.

We all know that practice perfects our craft. Whether it be art, dance, drama, writing, music, history, psychology – you name the discipline – practicing brings us to higher levels of excellence, and instills discipline and a hard work ethic into our lives. We make goals for ourselves, and in the process, our character, as well as our craft, grows, changes, and matures throughout the process.

During Winter Break, when the scarcity of a piano made me re-evaluate my own practicing desires as an adult, I realized that I now crave my practice times. The hours I spend with the piano have come to mean more to me than just practicing. They are my hours to work through problems, to reach into the music itself. Practicing is no longer just a preparation for the next lesson or recital. It is my time to grow and learn, both as a musician, and as a person.

While I still plan on handing out my practicing guides to my students this week, I think I may change my focus. I want them to realize that practicing doesn’t have to be a chore. It can be fun and exciting. And just maybe, they will someday see that the twenty minutes they spend each day at the piano can affect all the other areas of their lives, teaching them that practice really does make perfect.

by KatieK

By Michelle

The questions began when I was quite young.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I answered by saying I wanted to be everything: a doctor, a school bus driver, a singer, and whenever my family played Life, I even wanted to be a teacher. And then I started getting older.

“What are you going to do with music? Teach, right?”

It was incessant. Teach, teach, teach. As if that’s all you could do with music. What about playing the music, or researching music history, or doing anything other than teaching? It frustrated me when I got the question, followed immediately with the assumption that teaching was the only thing I could do – and even more, was exactly what I wanted to do.

You know where this is headed – there was the year I realized that I had to teach to make money, which was followed by several more years of teaching piano lessons – unenthusiastically, I must admit – to little kids who needed, more than anything, a teacher who could inspire them to play the music they loved. But I failed them, because I thought teaching was ignoble. I thought it was for those people who couldn’t find anything else to do with their musical background.

How backwards I was.

You probably know how this ends – you keep trying something, and you somehow figure out it’s not so bad. And to top it off, you even like it. A lot. Cliché, I know, but true.

Over the past year and a half, I have been lucky to meet teachers who have inspired me, who have taught me that teaching is one of the most rewarding and challenging positions in the profession. Teaching requires the use of all the skills you spend years acquiring in your private studies, and then those skills must be delivered to your students – who range from five-year-olds to senior citizens – in the simplest way possible. And no one method works for everyone. You have to constantly reevaluate what you are saying, doing, and showing to your students.

In short, as the famous saying goes, to teach is really to learn twice. You learn how to effectively communicate and how to cater to different personality types and psychological dispositions. And you learn how to share music with others in new ways.

But the students also teach me patience and humility. And they show me the joy in learning and discovering new things.

So, what will I be doing with music? Teaching is high up on the list….

By Natalie

By Michelle

Fall break has come and gone – much too quickly, as usual – and the School of Music has swiftly returned to a flurry of preparations for recitals and concerts.  Upcoming performances, plus semester juries looming (closer than we think) at the beginning of December, make the practice rooms quite busy at this time of year. But we keep at it, because we know all our hard work will pay off in the end.

A year and a half ago, when I announced to some family friends that I would be going to graduate school, they got very excited. “Oh, what are you going for?” they asked. They thought I would study something that, upon graduation, would make me rich in no time. “For piano performance,” I told them with a smile, as I watched their looks of excitement melt to concern, and almost disapproval.  I was hurt at first, surprised at their reactions. But later, as they left, I noted the irony as they turned up their car radio before they drove off.

Last time, I talked briefly about the opportunities for music majors in the professional world. So now, I’d like to ponder a different question: Why music? Why is it that, even during this difficult economic time, the numbers of both elementary-level and adult music students in the Community Music School at USC continue to rise? And why are an increasing number of students not only entering universities to pursue their bachelor’s in music, but also going on for their master’s and doctoral degrees within the arts? Why are composers continuing to write new pieces, and why has the radio never ceased to find a new song to air? There has to be some reason.

One possible explanation lies in the universal ability of music to convey the deepest passions and sorrows of humanity. As evidenced throughout history, music has always played an important part in communities around the world by providing an outlet for individual and community expression. Although the creation and performance of such music varies greatly from culture to culture, with genres ranging from religious pieces in the church, to work songs in African villages, to popular songs on the weekly Top 40, and to the large variety of western music, these diverse areas of music ultimately give voice to deep, universally-felt emotions which words oftentimes cannot express.

The following quotes, however, can perhaps give you an even larger glimpse into the power of music, and why, even in uncertain economic times, music continues to thrive.

 “Music can name the unnamable and communicate the unknowable.” ~Leonard Bernstein

 “Music creates order out of chaos: for rhythm imposes unanimity upon the divergent, melody imposes continuity upon the disjointed, and harmony imposes compatibility upon the incongruous.” ~Yehudi Menuhin

 “A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence.” ~Leopold Stokowski

“What I have in my heart and soul must find a way out – that is the reason for music.” ~Ludwig von Beethoven

By Phil C

AI Blog

For many of us, the indispensable economic enabler of writing is teaching. And, given the job market and our status as artists-not-yet-discovered-by-Oprah, that mostly means teaching first-year comp. As a colleague recently posted on Facebook: “Student paper conferences=the price I pay not to be a starving artist.”

And in a lot of ways, it’s a natural fit. Whether we use the technical rhetorical terms or not, our writing lives are governed by rhetorical considerations. We obsess over form and style. We worry about ethos (do I want the speaker of my poem to sound this standoffish?), pathos (have I given the reader enough reasons to be invested in this character’s fate), and logos (does it make sense for Suzy to join the circus in chapter six?). We live and die by metaphor. And, though we don’t always put it this way, we’re highly aware of our audiences and their needs—even if the audience is just our own readerly compulsions and interests. To teach, we simply have to learn to talk about these things self-consciously—which, in fairness, is disruptive to some writers’ processes, but, for many of us, less so than doing shift work would be.

All that said, there are adjustments to be made. One of them is squaring one’s own composition processes with the assumptions about process that are endemic to this profession. The default position in rhetoric and comp circles seems to be to honor one writing process above all others: the full draft-upon-full draft-upon-full draft process. Write your way to a thesis, we’re told (and told to tell our students). Make an outline, cover the territory the outline outlines, then carefully prune and revise.

There are writers who work this way, and, judging by the creative-writing prompt books and craft guides that I’ve read, they may be in the majority, since this is also the advice often given to first-time story writers. (I have no idea what first-time poets are told, or even how well the notion of “drafting” helps poets explain to themselves what they do.) But it is most emphatically not everybody’s process. Tom Robbins claims to polish and repolish each sentence till it’s done, then he moves on to the next. When the “draft” is done, the novel is. One might think this process invalidated by Robbins’s use of it, but Cynthia Ozick does the exact same thing. So, according to interviews, do/did Harold Bloom (it shows) and the late Stephen Jay Gould (not so much). Marilynne Robinson says simply, “I don’t draft.”

Similarly, a lot of writers, at least those who give interviews, seem to have set working hours (Garcia Marquez works mornings, James Baldwin wrote all night), but some very fine ones don’t, including, again, Robinson, as well as the novelist David Rhodes, who told me that he works when he feels like working. This is exactly what we’re supposed to tell our first-years never to do.

My process, insofar as I understand it, seems to be a mixture of both of these things. I start writing one story. I fiddle with it for several days. At some point I make a plan, which I try to cover, but I soon find myself bored by the whole thing. Yet there’s one paragraph that intrigues me. I take that and move it somewhere else and try to imagine a new story around it. This time, I make a plan and it works. I’ve done good work by sentence-to-sentence improvisation and also by trying to fulfill some larger design. I’ve done some of my best work over many drafts and over one draft.

Several years ago I was at a gathering of comp people. The workshop facilitator encouraged us to write about our own processes, and I uncovered what has proven, in the years since, to be a valuable insight about mine: at the time, I wasn’t approaching my (mostly unfinished and unsuccessful) fiction pieces in the same way I approached my (often finished and, to that extent, successful) nonfiction pieces. (At that point, my nonfiction writing was going well enough for me to have gotten my name onto the masthead of Paste Magazine under “Contributing Editors,” whatever that’s worth. It stayed there till issue 14 or 15, whereupon the editor I mostly worked with left, the book-review section got poleaxed for several issues, and I went to graduate school, my dreams of graduating from freelancing to being a jetset rock-magazine-book-critic likewise poleaxed. This blog posting was written over multiple drafting sessions. This digression survived both of them. So much for the magic of revision.)

The nonfiction-writing process that worked for me, back then—and to a lesser extent now—was to a) start thinking about something, b) take a walk, c) picture myself saying impressive things about my topic to a large crowd including several comely members of the opposite sex, d) go home and write a few stupid notes, e) wrinkle my nose, f) decide that I’d work better at a coffeeshop, g) go to a coffeeshop and end up reading Pauline Kael for several hours, h) go record shopping, i) go to bed, j) write more stupid notes every few days, k) perhaps move across state lines. After a few weeks or months, though, while repeating step b), I’d have some near-perfect sentence—lapidary, rhythmically complete, as lean and compact as a triathlete’s tummy—drop into my head, and the whole essay would, over a few additional days, work itself into shape around that one right sentence. (My “perfect sentences” were of course no such thing—the instant these pieces turned up in print, I’d see that as plainly as anyone—but they were good enough to kick something loose in my head.) It occurred to me, that day, in that roomful of comp people, that maybe the problem with my fiction was that I kept trying to will it into being via exactly the kind of minister’s-son application to planning and drafting then being advocated by that same roomful of comp people. Maybe, without giving in to laziness (perfect sentences don’t tend to come during a drunken “SpongeBob” marathon), I needed to wait for those sentences that I fell in love with to appear.

The comp person leading this workshop of comp people wanted us to share our insights, in that Quaker-like mania for group disclosure that always motivates people who are attracted to ideas like “knowledge is socially generated! The era of the individual genius is over!” So I shared mine. Here’s the interesting part—the workshop leader broke his own rule of noninterruption in order to discount what I’d had to say. “And isn’t it always the ‘perfect’ sentences that you end up throwing out,” he said, smiling the coercive smile of a game show host.

Process is awesome. But we need to be honest about the variety of processes that are out there. Creative writers are a valuable source of information about this variety, a diversity that, if we allowed ourselves to wrestle with it in full view of our colleagues in rhet/comp and literature, and in full view of our students, might benefit us all.

By KatieK

I was thankfully looking forward to Fall Break at this half way point in the semester.  But I feel like it never even happened!  When I last left you, my fellow classmates and I were building and performing Cosi by Louis Nowra.  The show went beautifully, played to some very intimate audiences, but finished with a strong, full house where we had to turn people away (let this be a lesson to go early, and not wait until the last performance if you can!)  Though this play takes place during the 1970’s, it coincides with similar events in our country today.  The play occurs during the Vietnam War.  We are again at war today…  Lewis (the University Student hired to direct the mental patients) needs a job - anything.  He even tells his girlfriend Lucy he is doing this job because he “needs the money.”  I think during these tough economic times we can all sympathize with that.  What a great time to be a student!  

I actually left a full-time, well-paying job in order to go after my dream of becoming an actor.  Everyday I am thankful to be here learning about my craft instead of remaining behind that desk.  Still, it was a tough decision, and some don’t have that choice.  But if you do, I say “go for it!” I will spend the rest of this school year and all of the next pursuing my MFA in Acting, and I couldn’t be happier.  I am lucky to have the support of my family, as well as wonderful professors and 7 other colleagues to play with everyday.  It is no easy task, either.  We just got an update of how the rest of the semester will go…

Now that Cosi has closed, we are moving on to our next shows.  Some of us will be performing in the Lab Theatre on Wheat Street in Naomi Iizuka’s Language of Angels (Nov 19-22).  Based on a Japanese Noh play, it is a modern-day ghost story set in rural North Carolina.  It artistically follows a group of friends after one of their lot goes missing, and shows how some deal with it, some grow from it, and some can’t seem to move on.  The rest of us will be in Longstreet Theatre’s Radium Girls (Nov 13-22) which tells the story of the young dial painters in the 1920’s who discover that their employer, the US Radium Corporation, is knowingly poisoning them.  It is an episodic drama that follows one young worker on her quest for justice and compensation in the shadow of Big Business.  We will be rehearsing these shows in the evenings.  During the day however, we will continue with Voice, Movement, and Suzuki Training classes, but add in THREE more shows: In Acting Process we will work on Anton Chekov’s The Seagull (directed by Steven Pearson), in Special Project Class we will work on A.R. Gurney’s The Dining Room (directed by Jim O’Connor), and also continue work on our “thesis project” which will be Solo Shows written and performed by the 8 MFA Actors (more on those in the Spring)!  Whew! The rest of the semester is going to be tough!  But I know that we are all in the right place, doing what we want at the right time.  In these stark economic times, it is typical to be stretched a little thin.  The fortunate thing is that we are spreading ourselves around things that we enjoy doing, and I think that is important to keep in mind.

If you missed Cosi or if you had the privilege to see it, I would also like to invite you to the next show at the Center for Performance Experiment (located in Hamilton Gymnasium at the corner of Pickens and Pendleton Streets).  An original work by our head professors Steven Pearson and Robyn Hunt called Flight.  I am excited to see how they will use a replica airplane in the space!  You should check it out (as well as the other amazing shows I mentioned), too!

By Michelle

Music majors. You’ve seen them before, taking up the entire sidewalk with their oblong cases as they walk towards their building at the edge of campus. Or you’ve heard the screeching of a flute at some ungodly hour, and your gut instinct takes you across the hall to explain – politely – that your Halo game is much more important, and satisfying, to listen to at the moment. Or maybe your morning showers come complete with opera singing in French or German, courtesy of the music major on your floor. 

But contrary to popular opinion, music majors are not crazy (at least, most of us aren’t…), and, as in most cases, there is more to them than meets the eye. Yes, we spend hours locked away in practice rooms or sitting in ensembles, but our contributions and interests span across the entire spectrum of disciplines.

For example, think back to some of the epic movies of the past several years – Pirates, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars. Where would we be without the music? Definitely not riding across Rohan or blowing up the Death Star.  Or think about your friend’s ballet. It would never seem quite together without the rhythmic pulsations coming from the orchestra.

Therefore, for music majors, the career opportunities are truly endless. Besides composing for video games, TV, and movies, jobs come in the form of recording engineering, arts administration, music therapy, teaching, performing, collaborating in small and large ensembles, or directing church choirs. Others research pedagogical methods, music psychology, and musician wellness, or write for numerous music publications. We get the opportunity to network with musicians around the globe, and even travel for competitions, performance, and conferences. In short, our lives are constantly in flux, but they are always full of new discoveries, new people, and new places. Throughout the semester, I hope to introduce you to the world of music, and then give you some entertaining and inspiring stories about both the major and the professional world.

Hope you enjoy the ride….

By KatieK

Greetings, Arts Lovers!  My name is Katie, and I am a 2^nd year graduate student pursuing my MFA in Acting.  I wanted to share with the Arts Community about what my fellow 7 actors and I are working on through this blog.  There is much to tell, and rarely do I have free time as you’ll read on about, but I feel it is important to learn about the various capacities of art that are going on in our community, so here goes…

A typical day for a graduate acting student begins at 10am.  The 8 of us all teach 3 times a week, either Beginning Acting (THEA 170) or Movement for Actors (THEA 372) at USC.  We then have a short break for lunch and begin our afternoon classes, which go until 5pm.  Our classes include: Voice, Movement, Character Development, Acting Process, and Suzuki Training (a Japanese Acting Technique using physical movement to teach focus, connection, spatial relationships, etc.  This definition does not do it any justice, so contact our professor, Robyn Hunt, if you are ever interested in watching!) We then have 2 hours to have dinner, exercise, read, talk to family, nap, or however we feel we need to spend the time that day, and then we go into a 4-hour rehearsal for our next show.  We end at 11pm, return home to eat, exercise, read, talk to family, do homework, correct our students’ papers, etc.  We rehearse all day on Sunday, as well.  Sleep?  What’s that?  But that is typical for Graduate School, isn’t it?

Now for news on our next exciting project: We are proud to announce the inaugural performance of the Center for Performance Experiment!  Taking place at Hamilton Gymnasium (Near Gibbes Green at the corner of Pickens and Pendleton Streets), we 8 actors, and a very lucky Senior Undergraduate Actor are performing Louis Nowra’s Cosi.  This is an Australian play set in the shadow of the Vietnam War.  Here is our program description: “Lewis, a young director looking for purpose and meaning in his life lands a job directing a group of extraordinary people…in a mental hospital.  Against surprising and touching odds, a motley band of players emerges ready to perform Mozart’s opera Cosi Fan Tutte. But can they sing?  And who speaks Italian?  Nowra’s endearing comedy is a sometimes startling play about personal dreams, madness, ambition, disappointment, creativity and transformation.”  Dress casually and comfortably, and arrive early, as we have a limit of only 45 seats available per show!  We have a special free preview on Wednesday, September 30^th at 8pm, and run October 1^st and 4^th at 8pm, and October 2^nd and 3^rd have two showings at 6pm and 10pm.  All shows are $10 at the door.  We appreciate any support by the community and friends, and hope to share our work and laughs with you at this inaugural presentation.

I look forward to sharing more about the MFA Program’s classes and developments.  We are continuing to learn and grow as actors, and want to honor ourselves, our teachers, our audiences, and the playwrights with GOOD WORK.  See you at the show!