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….

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…..