July, 2007

I am looking forward to another week at Windswept Music Workshop. I enjoy reconnecting with long-time friends from around the country, as well as meeting new people. And I love knowing that when I head south on Interstate 35 at the end of the week, I will be changed somehow as a result of our convening. The classes I attend, the responses of participants in classes I teach, conversations over a meal, and yes, even the committee meetings all have a way of fine-tuning my perspective.

So as I think about the Windswept experience, I am considering what it is I will take home with me this summer. I anticipate that our intensive work with Creative Motion® concepts throughout the week will stimulate new and creative applications of those ideas in my “real life” music-making. I always find that after a week at Windswept I am suddenly acutely aware of a particular aspect of myself as a musician. Some years I find myself emphasizing the various layers of rhythm in music I play or teach. It is a great boost to my teaching as I challenge myself to find creative ways to help my students become aware of the energy of various meters in music. How will I set up a lesson so a beginning piano student learns to associate 3/4 with a particular physical feeling of swing? Other years I return home enthusiastic about helping students discover melodic energy in their music. And still other years find me urging students to listen with their entire bodies to harmonic shifts in music. Even technical skills get an extra dose of Creative Motion as we experience the lateral motion of an ascending scale, or the changing body balances as a harmony progresses from IV to I.

Just as a week of intensive Creative Motion study rejuvenates my teaching, it also impacts my performing. I find myself ruminating on topics of discussion throughout the week of Windswept, considering how an idea might play out in a program or a particular piece of music. After attending a class last year focused on the energy pattern of a recital program, I found myself looking with fresh perspective at my September recitals. I did not ultimately change the music or the order of presentation, but it was interesting to consider how the energy of the recital flowed.

So as I pack my bags at the end of Windswept Music Workshop, I know I am also taking with me a fresh perspective on the application of Creative Motion principles in my music-making and teaching. But I think there are other things I take, as well. During the week of Windswept we attune ourselves to the energy of the music we hear and perform. We determine whether a particular piece of music is characterized primarily as a physical piece or an emotional one, a mental or a spiritual expression of the composer. This exploration of traits of musical energy inspires me to consider the energy traits of other experiences in my life. I find myself noticing the energy of a conversation, for example. The tone of voices, the physicality of the expression, the percussive or melodic nature of the words chosen, and of course, the energy with which the conversants listen - all of these contribute to an energy pattern that is experienced as primarily mental, emotional, physical, or spiritual. I find myself watching a niece and nephew play a pretend game, noting the incredible balance of energy between the two of them as each responds to the other’s statement of (pretend) fact that will guide the game. Even working out, which we usually associate with purely physical energy, can be experienced as more mental (“What do I do next in this training circuit? How many reps?”), emotional (“I love to work out!” or maybe “I hate to go to the gym!”), and even spiritual (“I feel centered as I move into this balanced posture.”).

I’ve been planning and planting flower beds this spring, noting that gardening, too, has an energy about it. I love to consider how the colors and textures will combine to form an exuberant burst of life in the landscape . . . or perhaps a restful retreat will be what I want to create. At times such planning feels very mental - particularly when I am considering light and water requirements - and at other times quite emotional. One might assume that gardening is primarily physical - and sore muscles attest to that! - but it also has a spiritual energy about it as the gardener prepares the soil to accept a new little plant, urging it to grow with watering and feeding.

Martha Russell wrote, “ . . . feeling registers itself on one of three planes: the Vital plane; the Emotive plane; the Mental plane. In dramatic expression the lower body corresponds to the Vital plane, the middle body to the Emotive plane and the upper body and head to the Mental plane. . . . The Vital and Mental terminologies explain themselves. The Emotive, however, must not be confused with the merely emotional; it signifies more nearly thought-feeling.” 1 We explore these expressive modes of music in classes at Windswept, focusing on where and how we sense the energy of a piece of music - at the edges (fingers, toes, head), in the vital area of the lower body, or in the more emotive region of the torso. But expressive modes, as with traits of energy, are apparent in any number of arenas. I often experiment with expressive modes as I practice a new piece of music, noting how it feels to play a particular passage with vital energy, as opposed to a more mental energy. Or perhaps I will play from my emotive center, which yields yet another shade of expressive color. Have you ever experimented with responding to certain challenges from the various planes in your body? If you approach a conflict from an emotive plane, how is the outcome different than when you come at it with a more mental energy? Mrs. Russell wrote her own analysis of Western history from the vantage point of these expressive modes. She notes that entire eras may be characterized as primarily Vital (for example, the period of the Roman Empire), while others are more Mental (Renaissance through the Baroque era), and still others are Emotive (such as the Age of Enlightenment). So as I pack my bags at the end of this week of Windswept, I will take with me an attunement to the expressive modes and traits of energy present, not only in music, but in all of life.

Another important concept we explore at Windswept is that of phrase form. From impulse to climax and on through the cadence of the phrase, the flow of energy defines a piece of music. At Windswept we focus on that energy and the instantaneous flight of energy from the impulse to the climax. In a piece of music we sense the down-up spring of energy on the first harmonic beat of a phrase and instantaneously feel that energy carry us all the way to the climax. Thus, the energy of impulse-to-climax is experienced as a whole unit. And then between the harmonic beats of impulse and climax we often experience other, smaller, bursts of energy as we move from harmonic beat to harmonic beat.

It seems natural to apply the concept of phrase to music I am studying and teaching. But phrase form, like Creative Motion itself, is a much larger concept. Every activity in which we engage has its phrase form. Breathing - that most basic of human behaviors - is a perfect example of phrase form; the inhalation corresponds to the impulse-to-climax segment of the phrase, while the exhalation of air parallels the release occurring at the climax of the phrase and on through to the beginning of the new phrase. Breathing is an organic experience of phrasing. Each breath is a phrase, and illustrates the sequence through which any phrase moves: beginning . . . rising action (inhalation) . . . climax . . . falling action (exhalation) . . . end . . . juncture (i.e. beginning of new phrase). 2 Indeed, breathing is such a fine example of phrase form that we engage in activities that focus on the breath - such as the Ah Breath and Yawn exercises (detailed in Creative Motion, pages 28-29) - as a way to more fully experience the concept of phrase in music.

In the Foreword to A Music Lens on History we read,

Every activity or complete unit of experience, no matter how large or small, can be thought of as a phrase. Simple actions may consist of a single phrase, while more complex activities will be made up of a number of phrases which, taken together, form one large phrase, but the structure of phrase-form is always the same. 3

When I consider a lesson I teach, I realize it has its own phrase form. A typical lesson begins with greetings and catching up with the student’s activities since the previous lesson. We then move to technique or literature, or even some theoretical question the student has. As the lesson progresses, we move from piece to piece, checking progress and comprehension of concepts and technical challenges presented in the music. Usually, about two-thirds of the way through the lesson we come to the high point of the lesson. This could take the form of performing a favorite piece, tackling a new section, or “polishing” the piece. At any rate, the energy of the lesson changes at that point as I tie up loose ends and bring the lesson to a close. So the phrase of this lesson might be



where each new activity has the energy of a harmonic beat. Thus, there are bursts of energy throughout the lesson, though only one harmonic beat will have the energy to carry the lesson forward to the climax. In my example, as in most lessons I teach, the initial greeting and catching up on the student’s life has a definite energy, but it is rarely strong enough to launch the lesson. It feels more like a part of the previous lesson’s phrase - a part of the cadence of the last time we were together, and therefore an upbeat to the current lesson. Activities or the order in which they are presented may change, but each one definitely has the energy of harmonic beat. At the climax, there is always a definite sense of change as the lesson moves from high intensity to a more relaxed feel. The phrase of the lesson has a very long cadence - from the climax of this lesson to the impulse of the next lesson several days later.

There are, of course, numerous phrase experiences we have every day, whether completing a project at work, running errands in an efficient manner, working out the schedule of family activities for the week, or planning and executing a trip. An awareness of the form of the phrase might just change the outcome of it. The writers of the Foreword to A Music Lens on History, all of whom were Martha Russell’s students, describe four women preparing brown-andserve rolls. Each of the cooks prepares the rolls according to the instructions, but lack of awareness of the phrase form, faulty governing idea, and moving through the phrase with undue tension ruins the meal for three of the women. The one who has a clear governing idea - that is, who is aware of the impulse and climax of her phrase, as well as all the smaller harmonic beats along the way - is the successful cook.

So as I pack my bags to return home from Windswept, I want to be sure to include a sharper perception of phrase in all its manifestations in my life. A fresh perspective on Creative Motion principles, new insights on traits of energy and expressive modes, and an awakening to the force of phrase form in all activities and endeavors - all of these I will take home with me after my week at Windswept. And one more thing I’ll pack . . . a feeling of connection with the people who make up Windswept. Whether it is reconnecting with long-time friends, or forging new relationships with those I will meet for the first time, it is the connection of friend to friend that I will take home with me at the end of the week. I’ll be including all these things in my packing. I hope you will, too!

Dr. Mary Ann Fritz
Creative Motion Alliance, President

1. Martha Stockton Russell, A Music Lens on History (Baltimore, MD: John D. Lucas Printing Co., 1952), 5.
2. Alexandra Pierce and Roger Pierce, Expressive Movement: Posture and Action in Daily Life, Sports, and the Performing Arts (New York: Plenum Press, 1989), 169.
3. Helen Buckler, Opal Gilpatrick, Anne Niles, and Florice Tanner, Foreword to A Music Lens on History by Martha Stockton Russell (Baltimore, MD: John D. Lucas Printing Co., 1952), iii.
4. Buckley, et. al., v-vi.