Please give me some feedback and I'm really grateful to hear your advice~ : )
My childhood ended when I got my piano the year I was four. My mother seduced me in this with a splendid, shining dark wooden piano. A four-year old was not expected to know all the things she was going to give up in the following 10 years. The biggest reward from that year on was a day without piano. A loving mother with extreme patience otherwise managed to act like a cruel dictator whenever it's time for me to sit before the piano. The year I past the highest level test of professional piano proficiency was also the year I went to boarding school. I was finally free as a bird. For three years, I didn't even stir the air around that piano. I didn't know at that time that it would come back in my life as such a different character during my freshman year.
My familiarity with so many pieces of classic music showed in our music classroom, my stable performance in our school choir as baseline pitch to others, and my effortlessly won first place medals in three school singing contests revealed the secret that I know piano. A best friend dragged me into a rock club. I was transfixed the moment she led me into the underground rehearsal room.
Deafening mixture of drum, bass guitar, and accordion, dynamically positioned performers, and the thick dust in the unclaimed corners created a surreal world that resonated with my heart beat in a way I never felt before.
The setting was totally different from solo piano. It was hard for me at the beginning, not because I had to pick up what I had left three years ago, but because I had to rock the art of balance: the balance between my piano and all other instruments and the singer. I've played piano over ten years, it was first time I got blister on my fingers for trying to hit the perfect chord. The biggest challenge was to lead the beat but stay as background note. But it was all rewarded when I finally got there: the perfect coordination with other players and the powerful sum of emotions gave me goose bumps. I fell in love with piano again.
Comparing with the journey of searching for the balance with other instruments, I felt the balance of performing for myself and the audience came natural. On our concert, not all the songs on our play list were performed perfectly. Guitar cord was dropped once; the singer forgot his words; and the lighting had a litter malfunction. All these incidents would mean serious trouble on a classical concert, but it actually added some twist on our stage. Every one walked to the front row and sang along. That was the most fulfilling moment in my piano life.
I finally found the meaning of playing piano. It is not a requirement to label myself as an elegant woman. It is not a dazzling skill to impress others. It is not even a media to express myself. For me, it is something to share. Piano came back alive because I shared it with other players in my rock club and the engaging audience. I think I just unlocked my potential of being happy and meaningful.
My childhood ended when I got my piano the year I was four. My mother seduced me in this with a splendid, shining dark wooden piano. A four-year old was not expected to know all the things she was going to give up in the following 10 years. The biggest reward from that year on was a day without piano. A loving mother with extreme patience otherwise managed to act like a cruel dictator whenever it's time for me to sit before the piano. The year I past the highest level test of professional piano proficiency was also the year I went to boarding school. I was finally free as a bird. For three years, I didn't even stir the air around that piano. I didn't know at that time that it would come back in my life as such a different character during my freshman year.
My familiarity with so many pieces of classic music showed in our music classroom, my stable performance in our school choir as baseline pitch to others, and my effortlessly won first place medals in three school singing contests revealed the secret that I know piano. A best friend dragged me into a rock club. I was transfixed the moment she led me into the underground rehearsal room.
Deafening mixture of drum, bass guitar, and accordion, dynamically positioned performers, and the thick dust in the unclaimed corners created a surreal world that resonated with my heart beat in a way I never felt before.
The setting was totally different from solo piano. It was hard for me at the beginning, not because I had to pick up what I had left three years ago, but because I had to rock the art of balance: the balance between my piano and all other instruments and the singer. I've played piano over ten years, it was first time I got blister on my fingers for trying to hit the perfect chord. The biggest challenge was to lead the beat but stay as background note. But it was all rewarded when I finally got there: the perfect coordination with other players and the powerful sum of emotions gave me goose bumps. I fell in love with piano again.
Comparing with the journey of searching for the balance with other instruments, I felt the balance of performing for myself and the audience came natural. On our concert, not all the songs on our play list were performed perfectly. Guitar cord was dropped once; the singer forgot his words; and the lighting had a litter malfunction. All these incidents would mean serious trouble on a classical concert, but it actually added some twist on our stage. Every one walked to the front row and sang along. That was the most fulfilling moment in my piano life.
I finally found the meaning of playing piano. It is not a requirement to label myself as an elegant woman. It is not a dazzling skill to impress others. It is not even a media to express myself. For me, it is something to share. Piano came back alive because I shared it with other players in my rock club and the engaging audience. I think I just unlocked my potential of being happy and meaningful.