Gravity

This entry is part 3 of 17 in the series Guiding Hands

I was about ten when a family friend suggested to my parents for me to study with a new piano teacher. Prof. Xiao Èrhuà (蕭而化), dad’s old friend and the chair of Music Department at National Taiwan Normal University, recommended Prof. Wu Emane (吳漪曼, Wu Yi-man). Although she didn’t usually take young students, she agreed to meet with me.

Prof. Wu’s father Wu Bochao (吳伯超) was a renowned music educator. As Communist army continued to gain ground, Prof. Wu fled to Taiwan with her mother while her father left behind to prepare for the resettlement of National Music Conservatory from Nanjing to Taiwan. He boarded Taiping steamer (太平輪) on January 29, 1949, the day before Chinese New Year’s Eve. Shortly before midnight, with the lights off due to the curfew, the steamer collided with a cargo ship Chienyuan (建元輪). Wu Bochao was among the 1500+ victims.[1] Prof. Wu enrolled at NTNU for a short period of time and went on to pursued higher education and piano studies in the US and Spain. Later, she returned to Taiwan and devoted her energy to educating young musicians.

She lived with her mother on a quiet street between our house and NTNU. I went with mom to our first meeting full of apprehension. I wasn’t Ms. Lee’s best student but was content studying with her. I didn’t really understand why I needed a new teacher. Having to play for a total stranger, knowing that she would be evaluating me, did not make me a happy camper.

A petite lady answered the door. Her dark short hair and straight posture gave her a stern aura. Her clothing was plain but elegant. She invited us in. I can’t recall what I played for her on that day. Whatever it was, she was able to tell that I was a sloppy reader and had some bad technical habits. But I had a good musical sense. She told me and mom that some changes must be made before we could move on with new repertoire.

When I returned for my lesson, the first thing she asked me to do was to relax my arms. She lifted her arm and allowed it to drop naturally onto the keyboard. Then, she picked up my arm. As she let go of her hand, my arm froze in the air, stiff like twisted tree limbs. She let me feel the weight of her arm and asked me to just let go. Still, my arm remained locked in position.

Then, Prof. Wu demonstrated, by using fingers, wrists, arms and the entire body, the possibilities of creating different dynamics and colors were endless. She showed me how distance and speed would also affect the sounds. I was awestruck, but at the same time overwhelmed.

The transition was a rough one, mostly because of my left-brain approach of learning ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. There were also a few “detours,” when Prof. Wu, running out of ways to guide me, sent me to work with her colleagues. Eventually, after a few years, I figured out how my body worked and was able to follow her instructions. I remained in her studio for over a decade.

One afternoon, not long after I started studying with Prof. Wu, I showed up for my lesson. Her housekeeper told me that she had some important appointment and couldn’t get home in time to teach me. We soon found out that, with a civic ceremony, she married Prof. Robert Scholz, an Austrian pianist, twenty-eight year her senior.[2] They moved into a building in an alley on the opposite of the street from us. She worked downstairs; he, upstairs. Since there was also a big age difference between my parents, Prof. Wu felt close to my mom and, therefore, my family. Years after my move to the States, she would still drop by to visit my mom.

Not having children, Prof. Wu treated all her students like her own. She worried about our well-being, about our schoolwork and, most of all, our spirituality. A devout Catholic, she would invite theologians and scholars to give speeches at her home.

In the decades since my “graduation” from her studio, I have made plenty adjustments to my technique. However, the first thing I do with every new student is to pick up his/her arm and quickly release it. Gravity is the best friend of pianists. And, Prof. Wu was the person that introduced it to me.

Prof. Wu passed away on October 24, 2019.


[1]Historic Sea Tragedy
[2]Robert_Scholz_(pianist)_Wiki

Discipline

This entry is part 4 of 17 in the series Guiding Hands

Lots of things happened in the months before I turned 13. I was accepted to Wesley Girls’ High; I was anxiously getting ready to leave home. During this transitional period, Prof. Wu sent me to work with Ms. Lin Pai-Ho (林百合) a well-known pedagogue. A successful teacher of her own right, Ms. Lin was close friends with many other teachers. She knew their technical and stylistic preferences well. Henceforth she became the go-to person when another pair of ears and hands were needed.

Ms. Lin came from a musical family. Two of her sisters were also piano teachers. A tall lady, when standing by the piano, she always seemed like a giant statue towering over me. Even with big glasses softening her facial features, there was still a seriousness about her. Yet, even back then, I knew that she cared about all her students deeply.

In the years that I studied with her, Ms. Lin moved a few times. Every apartment that she lived in had a few small rooms where upright pianos were placed for students to practice or warmup for lessons. From time to time, Ms. Lin would get tied up with other students’ need and forgot that I was still practicing and waiting. It was in those little rooms, facing the piano alone for long hours, that I gradually figured out how my fingers and arms worked. I graduated from lifting fingers to playing scales; from simple pieces to more demanding works.

Knowing that I had limited time to practice at school during the week, Ms. Lin often had me over to do some extra work on weekends. Her goal was to set me on the right path so I could eventually return to working with Prof. Wu. She was patient and very detail-oriented. Still, my slow progress often frustrated her. Whenever she asked me if I was serious about continuing, I knew that I must work harder—not so much about spending more time at the keyboard, but more about working correctly.

I learned the importance of tenacity and organization in those years. Listening to the sounds of other students playing through the doors, I knew there were many kids more talented than I was. I understood that, in order to be competitive, I must work effectively. Studying music became a conscious choice and an enterprise for me.

I remained in contact with Ms. Lin years after coming to the States. After retiring, she picked up Chinese calligraphy and painting. One holiday season, I received a collection of postcards with her artworks. From time to time, I would pull these cards out of my drawer and imagine the beautiful hand movements that created them.

墨蝦 (Fresh Water Shrimps), 2000
蟠桃何紅點頦 (Peach and Rubythroat), 2000
香遠益清 (Lotus Pond), 2001