That neighbor walking past my house with his dog: did he hear snatches of my music through the window, and is that a smirk on his face?
Using the body in piano practice
“It’s tendonitis,” the doctor said, cradling my left arm. “Playing a lot of tennis?”
When I enrolled in adult piano lessons in my early forties, after a twenty-five year hiatus, my piano teacher, Stephen, pointed out that I held my shoulders scrunched up towards my neck.
For over a year, while studying Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude in my adult piano lessons, I often stumbled into an A-flat trap. In the expansion of the dreamy, opening melody, I launched off a bass A-flat into nowhere, flummoxed on which notes I should strike next.