This week, I'm continuing solo travels - this time, in Romania. I've been everywhere from the Transylvanian mountains to the Black Sea, and something keeps coming back to mind.
Earlier today, I was watching an international cello competition in Bucharest where musicians would play solo for slots of half an hour.
The sheer rehearsed movements these players did with their hands astounded me - but what stunned me further was the fact that these were aspiring musicians. They were incredibly good at their craft (speaking as a musical layman), and all the little humanities crept through at the same time. Breathwork and visible physical stress as their set carried on. Wiping their brows and physically adjusting in front of an audience between pieces. Some looking up at the lights or at the walls, anything to not see the people in front of them as they perform just as they did in their practice room.
The process was just as evident as the music itself - it wasn't a touring orchestra selling out entire halls; every set was a single musician fighting solo with the instrument they knew best. Every little bit of their work was laid bare and put to the test.
I keep thinking about it even now. Soloists have nowhere to hide and nobody to blame but themselves. It's humbling and inspiring.
Be well,
Michael Kirsanov