If you’re new to this blog, I’ve been writing for the last three weeks about my experiences in Italy, where I’ve been attending an early music workshop. Welcome!
Today, I had my last lesson with Maestro. I was eager to show him how I played the slow first movement of Marcello’s Sonata #1. At my previous lesson, he’d instructed me on phrasing. He said I needed to play with more “direction.” So, phrasing was one of the things I focused on as I practiced. I worked hard, playing my sonata again and again, all the time thinking: Direction. Direction.
I was the second student to have a lesson this morning. I sat primly in front of the class, closed my eyes, took a deep yogic breath and began. Phrasing, I thought. Direction. I played through to the end of the first movement and then sat waiting for Maestro’s appraisal. “Oh dear,” he said, not unkindly. “It was worst than last time!”
So we worked some more on phrasing, then I played the second movement, doing somewhat better. There was a moment of chaos when a wasp flew into the room and Maestro took a nose dive. He was literally kneeling on the floor with his arms over his head, still grasping his recorder, until a fellow student, Juan Carlo, could shoo the insect out the window. “I’m a boy of the town, not the country,” he said, getting up and dusting his knees off. “I am afraid of these . . .” his voice trailed off as the English word failed him.
A group of us have been getting together to play every evening for two hours, so I spent my last evening in Urbino playing with them. Then I went to a concert under the stars in the courtyard of the palazzo. It was a lovely, balmy evening, and the music was exquisite. And when I left, a family was playing Italian folk tunes on mandolin and guitar at the square, and people were gathered around, singing and dancing. It was past midnight, and there were more concerts to go to. Music everywhere.
And so, my ten days in the magical kingdom of Urbino comes to an end. I swear, time doesn’t move in this place. It was built in the 13th century, which was about when I arrived. . . wasn’t it? There’s a timeless, dreamlike quality to this place. It feels like I just arrived yesterday and have been here forever.