Thoughts on a Pandemic Semester
It seems totally unthinkable that just this past March, our worlds ground to a complete halt. What is perhaps even weirder—and perhaps contradictory—is that we are more or less three months away from next March… what the heck??
For everyone in every part of society, this time has been challenging—I will spare the sermon here as we’ve all received it at one point or another, and would like to talk specifically about what a semester of music school has been like through a pandemic. I feel like I am not the best person to make broad assertions on society through this time, but am eminently well-qualified to chat about what’s going on at the faculty.
In a masterclass I attended this past semester, a guest speaker made the comment that, ‘this should be your best practice year ever…’. From the outset and outside, I would dare to agree. Rehearsals have all but evaporated, schedules have become more free—it seems like the recipe for a year of head-down, hardcore shedding. However, I’ve noticed a couple of things as I myself have tried to have ‘the best practice year ever’.
First, and maybe most importantly, we’re tired. I’m not sure exactly where it all comes from, but more than one person has made the comment to me that even though their schedules are lighter, there’s ‘less’ to do, fewer rehearsals, shorter days, everyone is in a state on constant fatigue unique to this year. I suspect that it has to do with the greatly increased time spent on the computer, perhaps.
Second, if there’s one thing this pandemic has done to music students, it’s made us realize how incredibly social what we do is. I’m not simply talking about the Duke after a concert. Rehearsals are social. Busy practice rooms encourage socializing. Even walking in the building most days will bless you with a sweet little chat before you’ve even made it to your classroom, practice room, or office. There’s something quite stark about walking into the lobby of the Edward Johnson Building and not hearing the sandwich machine going off, Professor Sallmen sprinting across the lobby clutching a burrito, or bumping into friends and colleagues. I know practicing has always been a somewhat solitary, head down affair as it should, but it’s gone far past solitude and entered loneliness, at least for me.
Lastly, there is the ever-present feeling of futility. Perhaps it is my young naïveté speaking, but in the past I’ve tremendously relied on concerts and the like as a barometer to my practicing, lessons, and work ethic. Public performance is probably the most visible way to demonstrate the fruits of our work as musicians, whether it is through composition or performance. With these missing for the past several months, it feels to me as if we’re climbing a ladder with its top in the clouds, unending. Musicians have always embraced a certain lack of certainty in their lives, but this is really just something else.
I was originally scheduled to perform a Concerto with the UofT Wind Ensemble this past December 10th, though that date was called into question as early as April and I knew it had been called off for quite some time previous. However, watching it approach then recede in my calendar was… tough, to say the least.
What are we practicing for, at this point?
Credit is due where credit is due, though. Many professors have gone far above and beyond to ensure that the quality of instruction this year has remained as close as possible to a ‘normal’ year. Online learning has spurred innovation in teaching delivery, and it’s been pretty fun and insightful to try and cobble together virtual performances, presentations, and the like. Some teachers have been slower, some caught unawares, but I’ve endlessly appreciated the work put in to trying to make things work.
I will say that I strongly reject the idea that this year is just ‘different’, and the quality of instruction is the same—it simply is not. The practicable skills we are learning are far diminished from what they might be in a normal year. The bridges we might have been able to build to our colleagues and new classmates are much more tenuous, or non-existent. I think the line that was being dished out initially was that of ‘it’s just a weird year, not a bad one’, but I have come to really hate this idea, after watching concerts, recitals, lectures, masterclasses, and lessons pass by. I don’t mean to indict anyone, because there is no one to indict. Nor do I mean to say that there is nothing to be learned this year; an example I might cite as a counterargument is the rapid embrace of technology by many who might not have otherwise learned the accompanying skills. These days, we all live and die by quality audio and video documentation, so I’m glad to have acquired those skills.
But it’s been tough for everyone, too. Musicians live in our bubbles, so focused on rep and concerts and performances, that it’s easy to forget the pandemic steamroller didn’t just whack us as a sector. I try to imagine what a small family business might be going through right now, as an example. Adding to that, even within our bubble, everyone has been slapped in the face fairly indiscriminately—some schools were able to weather restrictions a little better due to location, some schools worse so. Some orchestras were able to continue with outreach in half-decent way, but no one on this side of the pond is filling concert halls right now. I often think I am uniquely shit on by current circumstances… but that’s definitely more of that naïveté speaking.
There’s a little holiday ramble for you. Feel free to reach out to me at any time for a chat (samuelkerrmusic@gmail.com).
Best wishes,
