Suppose your raison d’être is to perform Oscar Peterson solos note for note. The potential for creativity and innovation here is endless. First of all, nobody’s doing this. Even if there was, he/she wouldn’t be able to mimic Oscar exactly; there would always be room for “improvement.” Improvement would require creative, innovative thinking.

Innovation is simply “the introduction of something new”.  It could be a new idea, method, product or perspective. The best copycats need to be creative, disciplined thinkers. They require new, innovative ideas in order to be better than other copycats. The person who figures out how to best mimic Oscar Peterson is no different than the person who invents the best photocopier. They’re both innovators.

The person who mimics Oscar Peterson is no less innovative than Miles Davis. Yet, the jazz community doesn’t encourage copycats. Why?

Innovation can be subtle; it can also slap you in the face. It depends on what you already know, and what turns you on. A copycat will slap you in the face if you don’t realize he’s copying. Even if you know he’s copying, his methods may still impress you, if that’s what turns you on. Then again, if copycats don’t interest you, no matter how innovative his methods are, you won’t care.

The jazz community isn’t interested in copycats. Fine. But that doesn’t make them any less innovative or expressive. When the community encourages “innovation,” they’re really referring to innovation within a narrower field – a field dictated by taste and tradition.

I recently wrote about my friend and collaborator, Kornel Wolak. I claimed that he’s the most spontaneous classical musician I know.

I’m sure this statement raises some eyebrows; spontaneity and classical music are often considered diametrical.

But it’s possible!

Classical music is notoriously structured and rigorous. This is evident just by examining its notation, where everything from notes, dynamics, phrasings, articulations and tempos are marked. But despite its rigor, musical notation cannot capture every possible variable.

Also, there are multiple ways to interpret classical notation, even within a certain style. A musician could play the same passage with two different interpretations – both could be acceptable within the style.

Also consider what happens when a classical musician or ensemble “makes a mistake”. Where the mistake occurs, and how the musician(s) correct themselves, add variances to a performance of classical music.

Though small, narrow, and perhaps undetectable to the untrained ear, these variances allow the artist a certain amount of freedom and adds “unknown” factors to a performance. This is where the potential for spontaneity lies. I say “potential” because not all artists will have the ability or desire to take advantage.

Spontaneity, or perceived spontaneity, lends a kind of magic to a performance; it’s in every artist’s best interest to at least consider its advantages. They include an enhanced connection between the performer and the music, as well as the performer and the audience.

Nevertheless, as I wrote in my previous post, spontaneity in classical music requires three things: 1) Artists with extremely high levels of discipline, 2) Artists willing to rehearse rigorously/obsessively and 3) Artists who are willing to take risks.

Artists with Discipline

The best classical musicians are already extremely disciplined. But spontaneous performers require an even deeper understanding of themselves and the music they play.

Improvisers often liken improvisation to the regurgitation of a vocabulary. Improvising within a classical framework is no different; performers can build their vocabulary on all of the possible variances I discussed earlier. For example, if there are multiple ways to interpret and perform a particular passage, a spontaneous musician should be familiar with them. Eventually, all of the possibilities will amalgamate in the moment during a performance.

But really, the process can be deeper and more organic than this. Suppose, when interpreting a particular passage, you liken it to “falling in love.” Of course, there are many different ways to fall in love, and the notation may have the flexibility to communicate those differences. The spontaneous classical musician needs to be aware of the notation’s flexibility, as well as how it relates to “falling in love” (so it would help if he/she has experience with love!).

In the moment, the musician can say: “how am I falling in love today?” and have the ability to capture that through music. That’s one example of spontaneity in classical music. It not only requires extreme discipline, but also an intimacy with life and living.

Obsessive Rehearsing

Apply the idea of vocabulary development to ensemble music. If a soloist is spontaneous in how he/she interprets a particular passage, the accompanist needs to know how to react (and vise versa). There’s only one way to achieve this: with obsessive, rigorous rehearsal.

What do I mean by obsessive?

I mean the willingness to rehearse one page, or one passage of music for hours on end. There is no limit to the potential variances in classical music (as discussed above), so there should be no limit to how members of an ensemble can communicate, interact and play off one another. This takes many, many hours of dedicated, disciplined rehearsal.

When Kornel and I rehearse, we start by fitting the notes together – that’s easy. Next, we explore and bounce ideas off one another. For example, Kornel may play a certain passage one way, I’ll follow, and we’ll rehearse it a million times. “Until it works” as Kornel says. Then he or I may recommend playing it differently. We’ll rehearse that a million times too. In the moment, we’ll know a multitude of ways we could perform this passage, and we’ll be able to react accordingly.

In a sense, we’re striving to unlock our personality from the music. Personality can be attributed to spontaneity. Classical musicians are often more rigid in how they perform music so the potential for showing their personality is lost

Taking Risks

Of course, all this discipline and rehearsing is useless unless the performer is willing to take risks in front of an audience.

Spontaneity is risky because it exposes your personality, and it’s impossible to vibe with everybody!

It’s also risky because spontaneous performers are explorers. When you’re exploring, you’re bound to make “mistakes,” or play something inconsistent with what people are familiar with (i.e. the written music). This may be intentional or not, but either way, you’re exposing yourself on a deep level. For one thing, it’s easier for audiences to hear what you know and what you don’t know.

You’re also more likely to “lose” your audience with spontaneity. When performers and listeners meet, it’s around a figurative common-ground. In jazz music, the common-ground is in familiar tunes (among many other things). In classical music, the common-ground is in well-known pieces composed by well-known composers. But unlike jazz musicians, classical performers don’t take liberties and make drastic departures from the common-ground, nor does the audience expect them to do so.

Making departures from the common-ground is always risky because not all listeners will have the skill or desire to keep up. It’s especially risky in classical music because it’s not common practice.

A skilled improviser however, knows how to balance between establishing common-ground, exploring, developing and building trust without excluding too many people (more on this later!). The point here is that there’s more at stake with spontaneity; improvisers put it all on the line. But the risk has great potential for reward.

It’s often suggested that classical music doesn’t support improvising or spontaneity. I think this represents a narrow view of spontaneity. This topic warrants deeper reflection and I plan to explore it in greater depth in the next few weeks.

In the meantime, I’ll say that classical musicians have much to learn from jazz improvisers!

(and vise-versa!)

How do you travel to the grocery store?

Consider your mode of transportation, route, pace, time of day, choice of clothes and anything else related to getting from point A to point B.

Consider which of these variables remain fixed for each trip, and which are flexible. For example, you may always walk to the grocery store but take different routes. Or maybe you always take the shortest, quickest route but always travel at different times of day. And do you always travel to the same grocery store?

If you observe say, the last 10 times you traveled to the grocery store, you’ll probably notice some general patterns. Those patterns make up a framework or structure. Further, you’ll also notice factors that are generally inconsistent, without pattern and structure. I think of these things as being free and spontaneous.

This is what interests me: Structure and Freedom!

‎”The choosiness of human beings in picking their mates has driven the human mind into a history of frenzied expansion for no reason except that wit, virtuosity, inventiveness, and individuality turn other people on. It is a somewhat less uplifting perspective on the purpose of humanity than the religious one, but it is also rather liberating. Be different” – Matt Ridley, The Red Queen

I’m becoming more convinced that finding the right balance between structure and freedom is an individual’s key to leading a fulfilling, creative life. As Matt Ridley suggests, it may even be the meaning of life!

The grocery store illustrates the concept of structure and freedom. As you can imagine though, structure can be observed everywhere and in everything.

Consider the layout of a grocery store, its location, and the organization required to mange it. Consider jazz music: spontaneity is a much-celebrated characteristic in jazz, but at the core of jazz tunes, jazz bands and jazz venues are common patterns, frameworks and structures. Consider the practice habits of a jazz pianist: how she practices, what she practices, and every minuscule movement of her fingers.

All of these things are governed by a balance between structure and freedom. Further, changes to any of these things can be interpreted simply as a realignment of structure and freedom.

Suppose the jazz pianist wants to improve her finger technique. She’ll have to impose more structure on her fingers and practice routine. Suppose the grocery store is suffering from poor worker morale. The manager will have to introduce new policies to motivate workers. Maybe this means imposing new rules and loosening old rules. Maybe this means replacing the manager with someone who balances the workplace differently.

Having an optimal balance between structure and freedom is extremely important and may be responsible for learning, inspiration and creativity. Here’s one of my favourite quotes from Stravinsky’s Poetics of Music:

“I experience a sort of terror when, at the moment of setting to work and finding myself before the infinitude of possibilities that present themselves, I have the feeling that everything is permissible to me. If everything is permissible to me, the best and the worst; if nothing offers me any resistance, then any effort is inconceivable, and I cannot use anything as a basis, and consequently every undertaking becomes futile.”

This idea fascinates me because it’s one of those universal, all encompassing, foundational, concepts. It applies to running a business and dating as much as it applies to learning and music making.

My reflections here are only scratching the surface, and you can expect the relationship between structure and freedom to be a major theme in my writing over the next while!

A few months ago, I wrote a series of posts on creativity, deliberate practice and structure.  I’m actually quite excited about these posts; they seemed to have set a foundation for more thoughts and writing.

For this reason, I’ve compiled them into one long post so its easier to read and easier for me to refer students to.

Also, I should mention that these ideas aren’t only for musicians – they apply to all creative activities.  The first few sections are music specific, but if you’re not music literate, keep on reading!  It eventually broadens when I reflect more specifically on creativity and structure.

Hope you enjoy!

- – - -

A Simple Exercise

Sometimes, when students play for me, I hear that they’re not playing through the changes.

More specifically, they’re playing vertically, rather than horizontally or linearly.  More specifically, suppose they’re playing this:

Rather than this:

The first example neglects the voice leading that’s inherent in the progression.  The second example not only acknowledges the voice leading, but toys with it too.

I usually prescribe the following exercise, which at first seems easy, but my students come back next lesson so frustrated, they say they want to “strangle me.”

Check it out; here are the rules:

• Pick a tune.  Preferably a blues to start.
• Left hand plays roots; right hand improvises.
• Rhythmically, you must improvise steady, constant 8th notes (no rests!).
• You’re only allowed to move by step (intervals of a 2nd), no repeating notes!
• Chord tones must land on all downbeats.

The be-bop scale is recommended because it helps determine the chord tones; but it’s not mandatory.

A chorus though the blues may look like this:

Try it!

Exploring the Simple Exercise

Though I’ve set rigid rules, there’s still opportunity for the player to make creative decisions.  This dynamic is very significant, let me demonstrate:

Suppose the exercise, with the rules I’ve imposed, is too difficult.  Mistakes are commonly made, improvement is sluggish and a foundation for more linear playing – which is the purpose of this exercise – isn’t being established.  The choices made available to a player are very strict, but maybe they’re being presented in an unfamiliar context and there still may be too many choices for him/her to focus.  Let’s consider some of these choices.

Here’s an example:

There are only three solutions, or choices a player can make.

Well, you could argue that there are five, but I don’t like these two:

For every two notes, a player has 3-5 choices.  For every four notes, a player will have many more.  How many solutions are there for:

The point is to understand that there’s opportunity to be creative, especially over more diverse chord progressions and in different meters.  If the exercise is too difficult, it’s probably because there’s too much creative opportunity, and all the possible choices are overwhelming.

I can make it easier; I can impose more rules.  Instead of playing over a tune, play over one chord, indefinitely.  This narrows the field considerably.  Players can relax and focus on navigating through one chord with one scale.  Ideally, the choices they make will become intuitive.  They’ll start recognizing patterns in the sounds, fingerings and images on their instrument.

This is the essence of discipline, deliberate practice and creativity.

Deliberate Practice and Structured Activities

An exercise like this, with potential to improve performance, fulfils Geoff Colvin’s criteria for deliberate practice (from Talent is Overrated):

• It is designed specially to improve performance
• It can be repeated a lot
• Feedback on results is continually available (assuming the player is getting feedback)
• It’s highly demanding mentally
• It isn’t much fun

Actually, this list is mostly derived from Dr. K. Anders Ericsson’s 1993 publication The Role of Deliberate Practice in the Acquisition of Expert Performance.  As a side note, this publication is also where Malcolm Gladwell got “10,000 hours” for his book Outliers.

Here are a few quotes from Ericsson:

“On the basis of several thousand years of education, along with more recent laboratory research on learning and skill acquisition, a number of conditions for optimal learning and improvement of performance have been uncovered.  The most cited condition concerns the subjects’ motivation to attend to the task and exert effort to improve their performance.  In addition, the design of the task should take into account the preexisting knowledge of the learners so that the task can be correctly understood after a brief period of instruction.  The subjects should receive immediate informative feedback and knowledge of results of their performance.  The subjects should repeatedly perform the same or similar tasks.”

“The instructor has to organize the sequence of appropriate training tasks and monitor improvement to decide when transitions to more complex and challenging tasks are appropriate.”

“In contrast to play, deliberate practice is a highly structured activity, the explicit goal of which is to improve performance.  Specific tasks are invented to overcome weaknesses, and performance is carefully monitored to provide cues for ways to improve it further.”

This is what interests me: structured activities.

There is clearly a relationship between deliberate practice and structure.  Tightening, loosening and modifying structures facilitate learning and development.  The rules I imposed in my simple exercise are good examples of crafted forms and structures for an activity.

The challenge for musicians and teachers working to improve skills is in knowing what structures to impose, and subsequently, adhering to them.  Adhering to structure is synonymous with discipline.

In regard to the exercise I’ve presented, am I certain that these rules and structures are ideal to achieving more linear improvising?  No.  There may be better ones, and I’m sure we could derive many other exercises with different rules, but all fashioned to achieve the same goal.

Furthermore, what amount of structure is optimal for learning? If an exercise is too easy, a player won’t improve her skill level.  But if it’s too difficult, a foundation for learning can’t be established.  Structures designed for deliberate practice have to be both challenging and manageable.

Is it possible to measure an optimal balance between the two?  This is how I picture deliberate practice:

I see that Ericsson has published numerous articles since 1993; hopefully they’ll shed some insight; I’ll be checking them out over the next few months.

Creativity and Structured Activities

What rules would I have to impose to take away all possible creative choices?

In the context of my improv exercise, this is easy.  I can instruct the player to play only two notes, over one chord, for one measure.  It would have to look like this:

As far as the notes, the chord and duration are concerned, there’s zero opportunity for creativity (You could improve this slightly by adding a third note and increasing the duration to two measures).

What about the other extreme?  What rules and structures would I have to remove to allow full creative freedom?  This is more difficult for two reasons.

First, it depends on the player’s skill level.  Creativity is dependant on one’s ability to process and react to all this information.  To improve this we impose rules, and then remove them.

The second reason can be expressed using Stravinsky’s words from the Poetics of Music:

“…my freedom  will be so much the greater and more meaningful the more narrowly I limit my field of action and the more I surround myself with obstacles. Whatever diminishes constraint, diminishes strength.  The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one’s self of the chains that shackle the spirit.”

This seems counter intuitive.  To optimize creativity, one may think the best way would be to simply remove all rules, structures and boundaries.  But you can’t take this too far. In the context of my improv exercise, yes, you could remove all the rules I outlined for my simple exercise.  But as it turns out, no matter how many rules you remove and loosen, the choices a player makes will always be governed by other structures, boundaries and “unwritten rules.”  I’ll write about these later.

The point is that creativity can be hindered by structure, but it also requires structure.  The inverse is also true, if you replace “structure” with “freedom.”  Creativity can be hindered by freedom, but it also requires freedom.

Considering all of this, the dynamic between creativity and structure can be expressed in a graph.  It would look something like this:

Three Reflections on Creativity

So how does creativity relate to structure?

1) Improving Creativity in the Short-Term

The answer to this question depends on the player’s skill and their familiarity with the structures governing their choices.

When I first give my students my simple exercise, their capacity for creative improvising is almost zero.  After a week, this will improve slightly.  After a lifetime of deliberate practice, their capacity to navigate through, and be creative within this specific structure will be more significant.

In the short term and in the context of my improv exercise, improvement in a player’s capacity to be creative can be expressed as such:

2) Improving Creativity in the Long-Term

Thus far, I’ve presented these relationships as if learning to be creative evolves linearly.  This has been useful up to this point, but I realize that creativity has to be considered more holistically with structures interacting on many levels.

For example, if a player wants to learn to play through changes, he/she will have to do much more than practice my improv exercise.  There also needs to be a familiarity with many other musical concepts.  Knowing what a 12-bar blues is, knowing what an F7 is, and knowing how to play an instrument would all contribute to a player’s ability to play through changes.

Likewise, when a player practices my improv exercise, they’re also practicing things that aren’t directly related to the exercise’s primary objective.  This includes technique, the piano (for pianists), fingering, theory and time.

Considering the holistic nature of creativity, after many months and years of deliberate practice and learning how to navigate through many exercises, a player will be more comfortable and more creative with less structure.

3) An Alternative

At this point, it would be a good idea to step back and examine the meaning of “creativity.”  Sir Ken Robinson defines creativity as “the process of having original ideas that have value.”

Consider the term “original ideas.”  It’s important to establish a context here so that it doesn’t appear too abstract.

Having an idea that’s considered original depends on the conditions in which the idea was formed.  I may have an idea that’s original to my experience, but old news to you.  Additionally, consider a composer who writes music in the Baroque style.  His/Her ideas may not be original in a broad, historical context, but creative, original work could still be achieved within the nuances of the style.

Originality and creativity are relative to experience.  They depend on our fluency in, knowledge of, and relationship with the structures in which we live and create.  Whenever we expand our relationship with structures through deliberate practice, we are consequently being more original.  Likewise, a person’s assertion that something is creative will depend on his/her own knowledge of structure.

With this in mind, here’s another way to view creativity:

• We are all equally creative.
• We are all constantly working at our highest, creative potential
• There’s no such thing as “improving creativity.”
• Original ideas are a consequence of deliberate practice
• We differ only in that we operate within different structures.

It could be represented as such:

Again, representing structure on a left-right, linear, x-axis isn’t totally appropriate.  Structure is more holistic and always interacting on micro and macro levels.  But it will do for now.

Six Reflections on Structure

Let’s explore the idea of “structure.”  I’ll admit I’m unsure if the word ‘structure’ is the best for characterizing this idea and consequent relationships. I also thought about using ‘form,’ ‘formula,’ ‘boundaries,’ ‘rules,’ ‘restrictions,’ and others.  ‘Structure’ seemed most appropriate, but I’m open to suggestions!

I’m going to move away from applying this idea only to music.  This is where it gets interesting!  These ideas are interacting everywhere I look and in every activity I observe.

1) Purpose defines structure.

Structure depends on purpose; it depends on getting from Point A to Point B.

Without purpose, conscious or subconscious, we can’t achieve anything, and therefore will have no structure to achieve it.

Once there is purpose – for example: “Travel to the grocery store,” or “write a song,” or “increase happiness” or “pass on genes” – a structure, through which it can be achieved, begins to take shape.

2) Available options vs. unavailable options

The reason purpose and structure are essential is because they’re the first step to separating available options from unavailable options.

Quick!  List all the ways you can travel to the grocery store.

Unless you have wings, flying won’t be on your list; it’s an unavailable option.  So is playing Xbox and traveling to the drug store.  There are plenty of available options though:

Having the ability to actively distinguish between “available” and “unavailable” further solidifies structure.

Notice that it’s just as much fun listing unavailable options!  This represents a confident knowledge of the current structure and can contribute to our ability to further shape and expand it as we please!

3) Expanding Structures

I wrote previously that originality and creativity are relative to experience.  They depend on our fluency in, knowledge of, and relationship with the structures in which we live and create.

I proposed that a person who is deemed “more creative,” really isn’t.  He/she only has more flexibility and knowledge of structure.  Even with limited knowledge, or restricted freedom, there is still a plethora and perhaps an infinite number of ways to navigate through structure.

Nevertheless, more knowledge, experience and deliberate practice expand structure, further increasing the number of ways to navigate through it.

In listing the ways you can travel to the grocery store, suppose you didn’t think – until I mentioned it – that you also have the option to crawl backwards, or take 2 steps forward, 1 step back.  You just increased your vocabulary; you expanded your structure.

Likewise, suppose you want to travel to the grocery store, but don’t know where it’s located.  Getting from point A to point B is impossible with your current knowledge.  After you look it up on a map and get directions, point B is within reach.

4) Structures Within Structures

I’ve written previously that representing structure as part of a point A-point B, left right, linear process isn’t totally appropriate.  Structure is more holistic and always interacting on micro and macro levels.

These relationships are very complex.  For example, walking to the grocery store first requires the ability to walk, one foot in front of the other.  How fast should you walk?  Do you have good walking technique?  Walking is itself a complex activity made possible though intricate biological processes.

(Can’t see the video?  Click here)

Furthermore, on your way to the grocery store, you’ll probably want to wear clothes.  While you’re thinking about ways to travel to the grocery store, you can also think about all the different combinations of clothes you can wear.  Plus, how many different ways are there to put on a sock?

Suppose you’re on your way to the grocery store.  What if you bump into a friend?  How would that change things?

And why are you going to the grocery store?  Maybe you’re hosting a dinner party.  You’ll need structure for cleaning, decorating, cooking, entertaining, conversing, connecting and waving good-bye to name a few.

Why are you hosting a dinner party?

I’ll stop there; you get the idea!   The point is to appreciate the sheer number of structures we are engaged in.  Also, because of this complexity, it is difficult to fully specify the nature of these structures.  Structure is symbolized as a solid line in my diagrams; maybe it would be more properly represented as a dotted line.

5) Taking Structures for Granted

My dog (named Jazz), has a keen sense for some structures we take for granted.  Jazz loves car rides; he gets very excited about the prospect of getting in a car.  So when somebody’s leaving, Jazz is right there, hoping he can tag along.

It’s funny though; Jazz knows when I’m leaving before I’m consciously aware that I’m “getting ready.”  There’s something about my pace, speech patterns and movements through the house that he picks up on and gets excited about.

We can’t help it: We take many structures for granted and are completely ignorant of others. We’re totally oblivious of the millions of neurons firing in our brain at any given moment.  We don’t usually think about blinking, or breathing or scratching an itch.

We’re born into structure; our bodies have inherent limits.  You might consider life and death the ultimate structure.

Another structure we often take for granted is language.

In some ways, language is impenetrable; we’ll never escape how it shapes our thoughts and minds.  But in other ways, structure in language is shady and permeable.  When you listed all the ways you can travel to the grocery store, you may not have thought of:

• With a friend
• Using the longest route possible
• Wearing shorts
• On the way to the library
• Vigorously

There is weakness in the words “ways” and “travel.”  One can be liberal with their interpretations.  Or in other words, they enable one to mold a structure as they please.   This paradox of language is at the heart of this Buddist koan (from a post I wrote last month).

6) Modifying Structure

This is slightly different from expanding structure, which I wrote about in the previous post.

Rather, modifying structure is meant to mange creative freedom.  One reason to manage creative freedom is to optimize deliberate practice, which I already wrote about in the first three posts.

Another reason is to optimize purpose, whatever that may be.  To optimize purpose, one must first have good knowledge about available and unavailable options.  Then, he/she makes available options unavailable, and vise versa.  Here’s an example:

You’re going to the grocery store and you’re in a rush.  This eliminates walking, crawling and baby steps from your available options.  In weighing your options, suppose you decide to focus on running.  There’s still much creative work to be done!

What route will you take?  How fast will you run?  What shoes will you wear?  How will you get home with all the groceries?  Are you in shape?  If you truly want to optimize purpose, you may consider a fitness regimen to train your body appropriately.

Or maybe it should look like this:

This relationship between available and unavailable, positive and negative is very important.  Remember this graph?

When you reach the top of the red line, you’ve optimized purpose and creative freedom.  Another way to understand this point is through the relationship between positive and negative options.  The top of the red line signifies an optimized balance between the two.

Though I’ve mentioned the difficulty in specifying nature of structure, one can’t help but wonder if there’s a consistent ratio between positive and negative in all things beautiful.

Structure and Education

These ideas, concerning structure and creativity, are evident everywhere I look.  I’m convinced that any theory about human activity, the arts, beauty, practice and creativity, would have to acknowledge this concept of structure.

The other day, while checking out at the grocery store, the young cashier (or should I say, the “grocer punk”) examined one of my items, turned to me, and said: “There’s no price tag on this!”  This prevented him from scanning the item.  Since it wasn’t in his structure to figure out what the price was, he was stuck.  So I said: “Does that mean it’s free?”  He got the hint and called for a price check.

(Can’t see the video? Click here)

These kinds of things happen all the time, when a person’s knowledge of structure is unsuitable or insufficient for the task at hand. In language, we attribute this to a vocabulary shortage.  In music, especially in jazz and improvisation, we often liken our learning to “building a vocabulary.”  This is a useful analogy for jazz musicians and educators, but it can be carried further to all activities involving any amount of creativity and spontaneity.

You may think traveling to the grocery store is a habitual, mundane and uninspiring act.  It doesn’t have to be!  In fact, there is endless possibility for creativity, spontaneity, meaning and beauty.  If traveling to the grocery store is dull and uninspiring, you’re working within too much structure.  Loosen up!  Build your vocabulary!

Teaching Structure

Though I’m scratching the surface here, these ideas form foundational principles for art, artists, beauty and much more.  So, while exploring these ideas further, the parallel question is: How do you teach structure?

This is an important question; knowing more about structure is key to leading a meaningful, purposeful life.  It’s also important because of its relationship with deliberate practice.  The more you know about structure, the more you know about learning and improving skills. In a sense, teaching about structure is akin to teaching people how to teach themselves.

This relates to one of my teaching principles: I teach my students how to learn.  This implies a pedagogy that involves an exploration of structure.  Students will face frustrating, meticulous exercises (like my simple exercise), but we’ll also discuss bigger issues such as practicing, inspiration, time management, aesthetics and more.  It’s more difficult to encourage discipline in these bigger issues, especially in a classroom, academic setting!

But regardless, teaching about structure requires some balance between the micro and the macro.

Exploring Structure

There’s only so much that can be achieved in a private lesson.  Teaching about structure is difficult if there’s no opportunity or environment in which people can explore it.

What makes an environment conducive to exploring structure?  I can think of two things: good students and good teachers.  There needs to be someone who asks: “Why?”  There also needs to be someone, or something, or some circumstance that can answer: “Because…”

I’ll elaborate, but first watch this video:

(For the impolite version, click here.  It starts at 6:20)

Every consecutive “why” explores the prospect of a bigger, meta-structure.  Every consecutive “because” confirms its existence.  The cycle continues until it bottoms out with “I don’t know,” “God,” or something similar.  If Louis CK answered, “I don’t know,” to all of his daughter’s questions, he would be inadvertently capping her perception of structure.

Children are brilliant explorers of structure; their obsessive questioning is probably related to this.  Their disobedience is probably related too, as they explore/test rules, boundaries and possibilities.

Sometimes parents have a difficult task in finding the right balance between structure and freedom.  For example, if rules need to be set, how rigid should they be?  How severe should the punishment be? If they’re too rigid and too harshly enforced, they’ll stifle exploration and creativity.  On the other hand, rules and structure are essential for exploration and creativity!

How do you balance?

Structure, Society and the Arts

So then, what makes an environment conducive to exploring structure?

A parent’s influence (as mentioned in the previous post) is huge, but it’s only part of the story.  Having an environment conducive to exploring structure depends on larger, cultural, societal issues too – not just for children, for everyone!

I’m writing these words in a very busy coffee shop. Tomorrow, I may go to a different coffee shop, or a library.  In a little while, I may go home and practice.  On second thought, I may go grocery shopping.  Then again, I may do neither; there are so many things I could do!

The fact that I have the freedom to do these things is significant.  Furthermore, I have countless options, and am free to explore them as I please.  This is due to major cultural and societal factors giving structure, giving freedom, and encouraging exploration.

Well, they encourage exploration up to a point.  That point is typically where cultural norms and/or laws get broken!  Just like parents, society needs to find a healthy balance between rigidity and leniency.  This balance relates to all activities, from shopping at the grocery store to issues in ethics and morality.

Structure and the Arts

I’ve heard many reasons why it’s beneficial to fund the arts.  One is because it has a positive impact on the economy.  Another reason is because it has a positive impact on the creative economy.  The arts enrich lives, inspiring creativity and innovation.

Creativity and innovation are a result of the dynamics inherent in structure.  Presumably, we support the arts because we want society to expand its structure – to make connections and draw parallels between structures that represent “the arts” and structures that represent other activities.  Funding the arts then, to stimulate a creative economy, is about funding connections.

But when society refers to “the arts,” it’s likely referring to architecture, dance, media-arts, music, theatre, visual arts, writing and/or some combination of all these.  This is a very narrow list.  It’s important to realize that if one of the goals of arts funding is to spur creativity and innovation, then cobbling, carpentry and barbering are equally capable.  The connections are what’s important, not the activity.

Furthermore, spurring creativity and innovation in artists doesn’t necessarily mean more studying, more practicing or more creating.  It could mean working on a farm for 6 months, or taking squash lessons!  I doubt an arts organization would ever fund such things, but if the goal is to make more connections, these activities are worth considering!

Interestingly, the lines between artists, artisans, craftsmen, tradespersons and the like are blurring.  But this is inevitable when you consider the nature of beauty and creativity – they’re all related in how they master and manipulate structures.

Check out these videos of Kevin Martin and Jonathon Power.  Both are master artists; their finest moments are certainly works of art and beauty.

(Can’t see the videos? Click here)

Something occurred to me the other day.

If you recorded and analyzed how I spend time during lessons, you would see that most time is spent talking and discussing.  Very little time is spent playing.

When I compare this to how my university piano teachers conducted my lessons, the observations are the same: lots of talking and less playing.

I know this isn’t the norm for all teachers, but considering my own university experience, and the nature of teaching music in academic settings, I think this is also an issue outside of my own private studio too.  We should be more mindful; the consequences run deep.  They’re at the heart of every student/teacher relationship and the cultivation of healthy learning environments.

When I write “playing”, I’m referring to any time the student and/or the teacher are physically playing music.  The student could be playing what he/she has been working on, the teacher could be demonstrating, the teacher could be performing, or the student and the teacher could be playing together.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with talking and discussing.  But sometimes students need different inputs.

It may not be enough to simply say: “A G7 is G-B-D-F.”  Students may also need to hear the sound of G7, or feel a G7 on their instrument.  The sound, sight and feel of a G7 being played can fill expressive gaps left behind from talking.  Through playing, the connection is strengthened; the metaphor is enriched.

But playing has an even more important function.

Consider this:

Last year, I lost a contest to Keith Jarrett.  We were competing to make a point with my student. I got to the student first, but she was unconvinced when I tried to pass on this lesson.  A few days later, she heard Keith say the exact same thing and “Eureka!” – she got it.

Keith convinced her because he’s the stronger role model.  She grew up listening to his records, listening to him play.

On the other hand, if my student had grown up listening to Chris Donnelly, the outcome may have been different.  In fact, I’m sure my student hadn’t even heard of Chris Donnelly until she began studies at UofT.  Our relationship began with talking, not playing.

This is a problem.

The Importance of Role Models

Having role models is important for optimal learning. I wouldn’t be a jazz pianist today if it wasn’t for my first jazz teacher, Anthony Panacci.  Anthony played for me in every lesson.  We played together in every lesson.  I was nine.  He was my hero.  He established this role model dynamic through playing, not talking.

I may have become a classical pianist, but my teachers never played for me, ever.  Lessons weren’t as much fun as jazz lessons; too much talking, not enough playing.  I didn’t have role models in the classical world.

Everyone has superstar role models like Oscar and Keith, but generally, such artists are inaccessible.   It’s not enough to listen to their records and hear them play once a year when they’re passing through town.  Students need to see and hear their role models play frequently; they need to speak with them; they need to study with them; they need to live with them.

This is important: The proliferation of artists, art and arts education is dependent on role models on every level.  Every point on a hierarchy of accessibility should be filled with role models, from teachers in pre-schools, to professional musicians, and to beacon fires like Keith Jarrett.

Maybe you’ve heard of Anthony Panacci, maybe you haven’t.  What matters is that an artist like Anthony – someone who doesn’t have Keith Jarrett’s fame – can make all the difference.

The Importance of Playing

“Chris Donnelly is a professor at the University of Toronto.” For some, this looks like quite the distinction.  But in the jazz world…*yawn*…who cares?  Can Chris Donnelly actually play!?

Playing is the best way for artists to assert their experience.  Listening is the best way to measure it.  Unless your specialty is public speaking, no amount of talking can equal the value of playing and doing.

The strongest role model relationships are developed first through playing.  Hearing them speak can be a bonus, but it can also be disappointing.  We don’t listen to our role models speak because they’re good speakers.

The Problem

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I’m becoming more mindful of the function and importance of playing.  The role model dynamic depends more on playing than on talking and discussing.

But here we are, students and teachers, in formal academic settings, talking and discussing!

In addition to this, not one of my students attended my CD release in March. In fact, I’ve never seen any of my students at my performances. They don’t hear me play!  This is part of the problem.

I’ll grant that it’s becoming more difficult, with the shortage of performance venues, to hear me (and other musicians) perform live – this is also part of the problem – but we cannot let this unfortunate circumstance disrupt the role model dynamic.

Then again, why would my student want to hear Chris Donnelly play?  Who’s Chris Donnelly anyway!?

I currently have a student from Regina, Saskatchewan; I’ve never performed in Regina before.  I doubt anybody in Regina even owns a Chris Donnelly record.  My student was more likely to hear Keith Jarrett’s music than Chris Donnelly’s.  So it’s unfair to put sole blame on the student; he’s never had the opportunity to hear me play and the role model dynamic hasn’t had the opportunity to take hold.

But this student has traveled across the country and is now studying with Chris Donnelly; he should, in principle, be interested in my music.  It’s a cyclical argument, with deeper issues at play.

Solutions for Students:

Hopefully you understand, I’m using my name merely as an example to demonstrate the issues; this isn’t a cynical rant.  I’m actually optimistic about the future – I believe it boils down to playing and reinforcing the role model dynamic.

For students, here’s the thing: I’m teaching at the University of Toronto. I can play.  My fellow faculty members at UofT, my faculty cousins at McGill and elsewhere can all play too.  You should be milking every last note from our music.  If you’re not enthusiastic about our music, you shouldn’t be studying with us!  You should be studying with your role models.

I can’t tell you who your role models should be, but I can tell you that you need them for every stage of your life, for everything you want to accomplish.

I can also tell you that local artists are underappreciated. But compared to the superstars, they’re equally talented, equally deserving of recognition, and equally vital to the proliferation of artists and art.

Figure out who your local heroes are and seek access to them.

Solutions for Teachers, Performers and Artists:

Play’s the thing.

Here’s another point: You’re not a messenger; you’re the message.

Sometimes during lessons, I make note to play and talk only about my music.  “This is what I’m working on, this is one of my tunes, this is how I composed it, and this is what it sounds like.”  I have not yet implemented this approach, but it would be valuable for my students to transcribe my solos, learn my tunes and perform them.

Ultimately, when I talk or play, I’m communicating information about me.  Of course, I’ll play/talk about Monk, Bach and John Taylor, but really, any idea I communicate and put to use at this instant is nothing but a reflection of me and a reflection on now.

A community with a solid role model dynamic doesn’t need to worry about “teaching tradition.”  That will happen naturally. Learning about tradition is inherent in studying with role models.

We’re more than a lecturer; we’re living the music as our role models were.

Be the message.

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One last point: This problem encroaches on deeper issues with art, education and society.

If students are traveling across this massive country to study with artists they’ve never heard of, the problem extends to the function and efficiency of music institutions.

It extends further: Celebrating international superstars, while neglecting or exploiting local artists, is part of the problem.  Conversely, celebrating local artists, but presenting narrow incomplete programming, is part of the problem too.

Anytime art is distributed through concerts, performance venues, festivals, radio broadcasts, magazines, newspapers, blogs, recordings, and the like, the role model dynamic between audiences and artists is initiated.  This should be done responsibly.

As I’ve said twice already, the proliferation of artists, art and arts education is dependent on role models on every level.  The distribution of art should reflect this.

The entire community should reflect this!

Usually, when a piece of music moves me, I’m inclined to study it to death.

Occasionally though, I come across some amazing pieces of music that I deliberately won’t study.  I’m afraid that doing so would upset the novelty; familiarizing myself with its intricacies would take away some of the magic.

Can you relate?  How so?

For me, two pieces of music come to mind:

First, Bach’s Fugue in C# minor from Well-Tempered Clavier Volume 1.  This piece makes my blood boil (in a good way!).  Here’s Glenn Gould playing both the prelude and fugue – the fugue starts at 2:40:

(Can’t see the video? Click here)

Second is John Adam’s Phrygian Gates.  This is one of the most beautiful pieces of music I know; I’ve never heard anything quite like it.  It’s also a monster; pianists beware!

This post is part of a series I’m writing about lessons that Music-in-Canada can learn from Hockey-in-Canada.

• Lesson #1: Hockey Brings People Together
• Lesson #2: Hockey is Anytime, Anywhere!
• Lesson #3: Hockey is Spontaneous
• Lesson #4: Hockey is Simply Structured
• Lesson #5: Hockey Creates Feedback Loops
• Lesson #6: There are No Undergraduate Degrees in Hockey
• Lesson #7: Hockey Supports Connection and Feedback

Here’s #7:

Hockey Supports Connection and Feedback

If I want to clap, I’ll clap.

If I want to heckle, I’ll heckle.

If I need to cough, I’ll cough!

Can you imagine attending a hockey game, where the crowd made no noise except to applaud when the home team scored? Can you imagine everybody giving you a dirty look if you applauded at the “wrong” time?

Making noise is part of hockey culture.  But crowds don’t make noise for the sake of making noise; it’s more symbolic than that.  Hockey, and sports in general, are open to crowds connecting and responding in any manner that fits their needs.

Of course, there are limits – fans can’t bring their own skates and jump on the ice!  But it’s clear that the vocabulary available to hockey fans is massive compared to the vocabulary of symphony audiences.  This includes clapping, heckling, cheering, socializing, analyzing, eating, drinking, standing and leaving whenever and however they want.  And if this isn’t how you like to connect and respond to hockey games, you can always stay home and watch it on TV!

One of hockey’s advantages is in its ability to accept a diverse amount of feedback from spectators.  In fact, spectators are given so much freedom that they can be creative with their feedback.  Examples include fans showing up with signage and fans wearing funny outfits. Creative feedback strengthens the feedback loop (Lesson #6) even further.

Check out this short, hilarious video:

(Can’t see the video? Click here)

Compare this to music performances, particularly the symphony or opera.  If you’ve ever been to the symphony, you know that any kind of bodily movement is frowned upon.  Methods for giving feedback are few in number and rigidly structured.  Further, unknowingly breaking concert etiquette is a reason to feel embarrassed and “ignorant.”

The differences in audience feedback between hockey and music symbolize hockey’s cultural dominance over music in Canada.  Of course, music performances can still be wonderful, life-altering experiences.  There’s nothing inherently wrong with experiencing symphony concerts in this manner.

What concerns me is whether symphony concerts and operas are providing optimal experiences for listeners.

The issue extends to audience development as well.  If concert audiences are diminishing, and arts support is dwindling, and organizations want to support a healthy arts community, they should prioritize creative feedback from audiences – not just applause and $$$!

Here’s another book I’ve added to my recommended readings: Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

Flow is “the state in which people are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter; the experience itself is so enjoyable that people will do it even at great cost, for the sheer sake of doing it.”  Essentially, this book is about achieving happiness (or flow) and explores the conditions under which it thrives.

The first few chapters concern the nature of happiness and consciousness.  For me, the most interesting chapters were on finding flow in the mind, the body and in work.  Really, there’s potential for flow in all activities!  Whether walking to the grocery store, playing a game of chess, climbing a mountain or practicing the piano, finding flow is dependant on structuring these activities, setting goals, measuring progress, keeping concentration, developing skills and raising the stakes.

In society, two things that make flow difficult to experience are anomie and alienation.  Anomie means “the lack of rules.” Alienation is the opposite and refers to “a condition in which people are constrained by the social system.”  This dichotomy is very similar to the freedom/structure relationship inherent in the creative process.  I’ve written about this relationship previously here and here.

Though society plays a role in influencing the balance between anomie and alienation, individuals carry some responsibility too.  Mihaly uses the term “autotelic” to describe personalities capable of controlling consciousness and transforming ordinary activity and experience into flow.  Autotelic experiences are self-contained, pursued for their own sake, not for their consequences.

Here’s a graph that I found interesting – there are parallels here to ideas about deliberate practice.  It’s especially useful if you’re crafting lesson plans for yourself or your students:

I presented attempt #1 under the assumption that readers were, after reading my post, totally anticipating pure deception in music.  Under those circumstances, I think that’s the closest one could come to pure deception.  I hope you were disappointed!

Though it’s possible to deceive listeners using only sounds, ingenious deception in music will consider all circumstances surrounding music making.

This becomes clear when you consider music as a verb, not as a noun (as in Christopher Small’s book Musicking).  The meaning of music and musicking then, is in complex connections and relationships between performers, listeners, sounds and circumstances (among other things).

For example, suppose you’re attending a performance of choral music in a traditional concert hall.  The stage is empty.  At the beginning of the concert, only the conductor walks on stage.  She raises her hands and begins the first piece.  Unbeknownst to you, the choir is actually assembled behind the audience, which is where they sing for the rest of the concert.

This is deception in music too, but has nothing to do with the organization of pitch and rhythm.  It takes advantage of the expectations that performers sing on the stage, and sounds come from the front of the concert hall.  It’s all in the context of musical performance.

When you consider all the circumstances surrounding music making, it’s actually quite easy for performers to deceive their audience.  It becomes much more difficult to deceive if your focus is strictly concerning the organization of sound.

Nevertheless, I’ve taken up the challenge!  In the following excerpt, I’ve done my best to position the deception in the sounds, and only the sounds.  I hope listeners feel deceived no matter the context in which they’re listening.  Please have a listen.  What do you think?

Download the Mp3 here: Deception in Music #2

Listen to it here: