Today I was fortunate to be invited to teach an introductory body mapping session at a high school flute workshop. It’s not my first time doing this type of thing, so I was prepared to have a bunch of shy high school students who don’t know each other yet—especially when the session happens at 9:00 AM.
I started by talking about how every sound we make on an instrument or with our voice is a result of movement somewhere. We say, “I’m practicing my flute,” but we’re really practicing moving our body. The flute is the same each day. (Well, we can argue the fine points of this…humidity, temperature, etc….) The point is that the fingerings don’t change, the key spacing doesn’t change overnight and we don’t show up having to play with our hands reversed. There is a movement or a set of movements that will give you every sound that you want to make on the flute.
The goal when practicing is to have an idea about how you want the phrase, the section, or the entire piece to sound. You’ve looked at the score, studied the harmonies, figured out the rhythms and the meters, have applied what you know about performance practice of the time and about the particular composer. Basically, all the stuff that you go to music school to learn how to do, which most high school students don’t really grasp yet. You’ve made choices about phrasing, dynamics, tone color, tempi, and vibrato. Then, you chose the movement tool from your tool box that gives you the sound you desiring to produce.
At first, students might not even know that they have such a tool box, which is fine. We all don’t know what we don’t know. Over time, they add more tools to their tool box. When they learn to match the tool to the sound, they become remarkably consistent in their execution. For example, if they want a fast, spinning, shimmery vibrato, this is what they need to do with their body to make that sound happen.
Next, I asked them to raise their hands if they’ve ever been told by a flute teacher, band director, or orchestra conductor that they move too much. Half of the hands went up. Then, I asked them to raise their hands if they’ve been told they don’t move enough. More hands went up. Then, I asked how many of them have been told both of those things at different times—moving too much AND somebody else says you’re not moving enough. Probably one third of the hands went up. So what does this mean? What are we supposed to do when presented with this information? How are we supposed to move?
First of all, holding still is not the answer. Sound is created by movement. If we are using muscular effort to hold still and also using the same muscles to move, we are sending both STOP and GO messages to our brain. We’re working against ourselves. I had the students make some sounds on their flutes with the instruction of, “you’re frozen; no extra movement whatsoever.”
On the other hand, if the movement is completely outrageous and distracting to the audience, that’s also a problem. If the audience is wondering why are you flapping your elbows so much, swaying back and forth in an obnoxious manner, or quasi-conducting beat patterns with the end of the flute, then this is not helping the quality of your performance in any way. The visual presentation is getting in the way of what your audience is hearing. Plus, you may, again, be working much harder than necessary. Making music on an instrument or with your voice is already hard enough. We don’t need to make it harder by making choices that don’t align with how our bodies are designed to move. I had the students play again with movement that is 100% obnoxious and completely over the top. Not surprisingly, both of these didn’t sound great, but the obnoxious movement sounded better than the frozen version.
So, back to the question of how to move appropriately and still follow the Goldilocks rule, which is not too much, not too little, just the right amount and no more. I offered a movement strategy that has both a standing and seated version. In my college class, they have chosen to call it the “sideways shifteroo.” I first learned this from my friend and colleague Vanessa Mulvey, and she calls it a lateral weight shift. The goal is super slow spinal movement to avoid being locked into place or moving way too much.
For the standing version, start with equal pressure between both feet. Slowly shift more weight into your right foot. Make sure your head and ribs stay central. What I don’t want is your head following the weight shift. When you have shifted to your right foot, you’ve actually done a mini-side bend with your spine. Then shift back to your left for equal weight between both feet. Then shift more weight to your left foot and you’ll feel the mini side-bend in your spine again but in the opposite direction. The idea is go so slowly that audience can hardly see you moving. You are using the floor and your feet to change what’s happening in your entire body.
For the seated version, start with both feet flat on the floor and your sitz bones or rocker bones (the bottom of your pelvis) going straight down in the chair. This maybe a little bit or substantially more forward than you might usually sit. Start with equal weight between the right and left sides. In the same manner as the standing version, slowly shift weight to the right side while keeping your ribs and head facing forward. Don’t go so far that the left side lifts up away from the chair. Then, shift back to equal weight, and then, carry on to the left side. Again, slowly, slowly, slowly. Here, you are using your contact with the chair through your pelvis to make a change in your body.
My college students report that the seated version of this is incredibly helpful for long orchestral rehearsals. Many of them are string players and don’t get the amount rest that wind players sometimes get in the course of an average rehearsal. My goal is to turn my students into serial fidgeters—always moving so they don’t get stuck, but not distracting the audience or other people on the stage. This technique is also good for traveling, when there’s lots of time seated and/or standing in long lines.
For my high school students today, it felt weird. Of course it feels weird! You haven’t learned how to do it yet! Their brains will be so stuffed full of flute information by the end of their 5-day workshop! All I want them to remember is that making music is a whole-body activity, movement is required, and it’s their choice!
One additional side quest for the teachers who are reading this: word choice matters. For example, you might have a student who is moving around in a manner that is not helpful and you say, “You’re moving too much.” This statement can be 100% accurate for that particular moment, but often students take that info and apply it to everything from now to the end of time. They overcorrect in the opposite direction. This is what leads to the frozen students who are afraid to move at all. This is so common in my experience with musicians. I understand, we want to do what the teacher or conductor is asking. If you can be more specific in your comment, it can prevent this over-globalizing effect. You might say to your student, “Do you know that you are showing every beat with the end of your flute when you just played that tricky part in the middle?” You can then inquire why they are making that choice. They might not even be aware of what’s happening. You can then offer other suggestions like, “What if you moved only on the downbeat? What if you did that movement at the start of each phrase? What if you saved it for the most dramatic moment of the whole piece?” You, the teacher, can be doing some sideways shifteroo during your long teaching days and you might find that you feel better than usual at the end of the day!
Happy moving to all!