To Hull And Back

Humber Bridge - am I the only one who sees harp strings?

It’s been another busy week here at Rhian Evans Harpist HQ. It was great to get away last weekend and be in orchestral harpist mode once again for a couple of days. I made a guest appearance with the Hull Philharmonic, playing the harp part for the hauntingly beautiful and challenging Viola Concerto by William Walton.

Velvet toned violist Tim Ridout took centre stage with authoritative humility. His performance featured some beautifully poignant characterful playing. The sturdy musician-ship of the Hull Phil was ably steered by Andrew Penny and it was an exciting performance. I realised I haven’t performed with orchestra since February and I felt a bit disorientated at first. I gradually allowed myself the spaciousness to absorb the multi-sensory experience of working within an unknown ensemble of musicians in the stately splendour of Hull City Hall. Feeling more relaxed by the second rehearsal, I really could get used to that role again, one I fell in love with at the tender age of 15 when I first played with Clwyd Youth Orchestra. Those were the days!

I had quite a scary moment at the end of the rehearsal when I couldn’t find my car keys despite emptying all my bags and pockets thrice. I dashed down to the security desk where Nick, the super friendly security guard handed them to me with a knowing look. The bench provided wasn’t adjustable so I went to the car to get mine. I was already in harpist mode and, preoccupied by thoughts of music, left my keys in the car door. Lucky me! Hull City centre on a Friday evening isn’t such a bad place after all!

Duck plant

Garden bed-side at Wortley Hall

On Sunday, the wedding fayre I’d been looking forward to didn’t quite go as I’d intended. I’d hoped to meet dozens of clients as excited and enthusiastic about my music as I am. My morning started well, with two sets of clients I met at the most recent Wortley Hall wedding fayre, who had come to finalise their music choices. Other than a little interest for 2020 and 2021, it was a bit of a damp squib despite the glorious weather.

Wisteria hysteria

at Wortley Hall. Artichoke plant in the foreground

People drifted past as I played to my harp’s content, and my music seemed to have little or no effect on them. Perhaps they’re drafting their enquiry emails as I type. Or maybe I need to buy a guitar and take singing lessons. I know from experience these things can take time and I’m optimistic I’ll get a couple of bookings eventually.

Idyllic car park

Wortley Hall just visible through those amazing trees

It was lovely to work with Wedding Fayres Yorkshire again, who ensured proceedings ran smoothly as always. I’m extremely grateful to Paris Tyrell of WFY who, with lightning speed, generously filmed and uploaded a short videoclip of me playing A Thousand Years to Instagram. I then shared it to Facebook so I’m learning slowly but surely. It might eventually make its way to YouTube. It hasn’t gone viral yet but it certainly looks like I’m down with the millennials. Well, as down with them as a 40 something harpist can be.

I’m generally an optimist and I prefer to look at the bright side, but I admit I’m struggling musically at the moment. I have no paid playing work until mid June, a thought that worries me. I’ve sat down and done some rough calculations and as it stands, I’m not breaking even with my harp performance work. I’m afraid I’ve lost a bit of motivation too, possibly due to this. I’m a teeny tiny individual trying to integrate a gigantic competitive hungry industry, and therein lies my problem. I don’t have the business acumen or financial backing necessary to kick start my wedding business in this day and age. This has led to me losing my musical mojo momentarily. I’m not commercially driven in the slightest. I love to play, and trying to build my business has taken me so far away from my playing that I scarcely practice anymore, let alone play for my own pleasure. I haven’t touched the harp since last Sunday, and I don’t like that one bit. I’ve taken on an additional 10 hours of shop work this week to secure June, and having that work is an absolute blessing. It keeps me sane and in the black.

Obsessed with music

Bloody rusty wrought iron treble clef from a recent walk run

One thing I’ve found to be an excellent substitute for performance and sharing my music is exercise. It must be the adrenaline and the endorphin rush that follows. In a similar way to practice, it’s awkward and uncomfortable at first, but after a while I find my rhythm, and there are even moments I enjoy feeling my body jiggling about, my feet slamming the tarmac vigorously. Having been told I don’t have a runner’s physique, I’m honouring the rebel within. I love the freedom, power and independence running offers me. Besides, it’s far healthier than some other options available!

Next week I’m off and if I have time, I’ll be putting my version of an out-of-office sign up here. I’m going AWOL and I can’t wait. I desperately need a change of scene to gain some clarity about my situation and perhaps some inspiration regarding a way forward. So there’ll be no blog post next week as I’m turning off my laptop and letting it gather dust for a few days.

See you again in June, and remember to keep loving live music! And maybe even living love music - think about it…

Wortley Hall skyline

Creative unblocking

Playing

Today is Thursday, and it’s music day! Thursdays are usually free days and I try to fill them with as many notes as I can fit in. Today, dear readers, I just haven’t been in the mood. I’ve succumbed to several seductive distractions and I’ve felt very tired, a feeling I’m convinced is down to the meteorological conditions. The weather outside is frightful, don’t let it snow. (There’s almost always a tune or twenty going on in my head!) I try to fight my fatigue by urging myself to practice. This usually follows a walk, or a bit of a run or some sort of time spent outdoors, but I don’t like getting wet and cold! Jumping in the pool for my aquafit classes ticks that box and provides the bracing boost I need to infuse my day with positive energy. I don’t have time to go to the pool every day, so I can’t wait for some sunshine so I can feel the embrace of the great outdoors again.

I have a busy weekend ahead with more playing than I’ve done for quite some time and my fingers are a bit sore. In an instinctive mood this morning, I played through two steadfast cornerstones from my solo repertoire slowly from memory to warm up and was reassured that it didn’t all sound hideous. Interestingly, the pieces sounded quite fresh. A note to my students reading this - practice has a knack of doing that! You can work like the devil and it may feel like your playing’s getting worse, but great music takes time to mature. I can convince myself that I’m the worst harpist ever if I haven’t racked up a certain number of hours’ practice during the week, which can lead to a downward spiral of no practice at all or a negative approach. Cultivating a healthy sense of responsibility is a useful tool here. So for example, I’ve got a performance/lesson coming up - how do I want to feel and what’s the process I need to implement in order to feel that way? Used well it can provide a healthy motivation. Used poorly it can be a tool for self flagellation and guilt. It’s our choice.

I have a LinkedIn account and I get email notifications from them on a regular basis. This morning’s email opened like this - “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know”. Those words fill me with sorrow and I’ll be deactivating my account as soon as I have time. I genuinely believe the best advertisement is word of mouth and from recent experience, the word of the mouth of the moment, social media, is no great shakes, at least not the way I’m doing it! There has to be a better way and I’m working on it…

I gave an interesting lesson on Monday. It reminded me how fortunate I am to have an abundance of knowledge and experience, and I’m determined to put my skills to good use. I have a very creative mind which can run riot if I’m not careful in channelling it. I think most creatives are wired similarly. The trick is harnessing that energy by becoming attuned to its ebbs and flows.

I played for an ultra chic wedding last weekend at a spectacular venue. It was like something out of a luxury bridal magazine. Unfortunately I didn’t take any photos to show you here as I had quite a lot on my mind. My car exhaust broke late on Friday afternoon, and I got it back just in time for my departure on Saturday morning. My Satnav won’t update so I was trialling an app on my mobile while carefully keeping half an eye on my Satnav, switched to silent, for some form of visual guidance. Needless to say, I arrived at my destination with plenty of time to spare - I’m always aware that incidents like the M62 drama yesterday can happen at any time. It reminded me of a wedding I was playing at a few years ago. I went to pack my car which looked lopsided. I soon realised I had a flat tyre. With the clock ticking, I called my breakdown company, and the mechanic came quite quickly considering it was a Sunday morning. My tyre was fixed and I got to the wedding just in time. I’m often criticised for leaving super early for professional engagements and this is precisely why. I’d rather be there with time to spare for a nap in my car and a coffee than be rushing or, heavens forbid, be late. There ought to be a name for this phenomenon, like Freelancer’s Fear. There probably is, I just don’t know about it. If I’m late or I don’t arrive, I won’t get paid!

This weekend I’m climbing back into the old orchestral saddle and although I feel underprepared by my standards, I’m really excited about playing a beautiful orchestral work and being part of a bigger group of musicians again. Preparing for it has reminded me of my love and passion for orchestral playing and I do feel some sorrow and regret that fewer opportunities come my way these days. I’m on an exciting journey! I’ve enjoyed the discipline of the preparation and the immersion into the music that’s required for a solid performance. I’m nowhere near where I’d like to be with it but I know it’ll be more than good enough. Like one of my teachers Germaine used to say, “On ne peut pas être au four et au moulin”…

Wishing you a great weekend, hopefully with a few more radiant rays of sunshine. Perhaps I’ll see some of you at the Wortley Hall Spring Wedding Fayre on Sunday. I can’t wait to share my harpbeat with you!

Me, Rhian Evans Harpist

at Wortley Hall. Image - John Steel Photography

A More Solemn Note

Thursday was a busy day.  I had two jobs on, a funeral reception at noon and La Bohème in the evening.  It was one of the hottest days of an exceptionally hot summer.  With a to do list the length of my leg, I got myself into a bit of a state the night before.  On Tuesday I heard of the cruelly untimely death of a lovely colleague who was only in her thirties, a car incident.  My head won't quite deal with it, it's too close to home.  I keep seeing her beautiful face and laughing eyes.  A true professional and a brightly quirky ray of sunshine, she had recently met a man and she seemed very happy.  It has tainted my week and beyond with an unshakeable sorrow.  I was meant to be working with her the week after next.

Dread full sight

Will it take 24 minutes or 24 hours?

I am often told I leave ridiculously early for work.  Setting off at 7.30 to make a journey that should take an hour and forty, I was optimistic that I'd arrive at my coastal destination and maybe even have time for a stroll on the beach and a toe dip in the sea before starting to play at midday.  It was the day the lorry crashed into the bridge on the M6.  I arrived at the hotel a hot bothered heap just after 1, my record of over thirty years of never being late for work tarnished by a motorway.  The M6 and M62 are at the top of my list of least favourite motorways (I don't think I have a favourite, not in this country anyway), and in 2010 I pranged my car on the latter on my way to Leeds for the opening night of La Bohème.  Maybe there's something about me and Puccini operas.  I still got there with time to spare though.

I wish I'd had time to take in the simple elegant beauty of the art deco hotel where the funeral reception was being held.  I had been a prisoner of the unnatural air-conned ambience of my hot cramped sardine tin car for the worst part of 6 hours.  My relief was immense at the contrast between this and the cool dark interior of the lobby and the sea views presented in all their glory through the dizzyingly high glass walls.  The pure candour of potent lilies placed on plinths was refreshing.  There was a giddy feel of the Great Gatsby about everything.  

Death has been an underlying theme this week.  It's something we avoid thinking about and it can become a preoccupation.  Take La Bohème, the opera I've been working on.  It whisks you through a whirlwind of emotions that change from exuberant joy to tragedy in an instant and of course, Mimi dies at the end.  One of the most popular operas of all time, it's clear that its theme and characters are relevant and resonate with most people.  Bohème always brings up thoughts of my Dad and his premature death when I was 27.  A loyal member of the town choir in his retirement and with a love and passion for music to rival my own, he would have been blown away by Puccini.  How many conversations I've wished to have with him, and how our relationship would have grown with our mutual maturity.  There is regret but that's just how it is.  In the brief time I spent at the funeral do on Thursday, I heard the popping of corks and saw people enjoying their canapés, the expression in their eyes covert, mysteriously shaded by their sunglasses.  There isn't just sorrow at a funeral, thankfully it's a celebration of a person's life and how much richness they brought to ours.  The nostalgia was tangible.

Coin toss

The clock was ticking - where was I?

It's nearly my birthday and nowadays they're more a time for reflection as well as looking forward.  As I review my year and think back to where I was twelve months ago, five, ten, twenty years ago, I think and feel it's ok to be where I am now.  I often feel I'm in a limbo state, neither here nor there, and learning to live with that is where my challenge lies.  Like driving, there's a feeling of urgency about getting somewhere instead of just saying what the **** and embracing the crap, and recognising the magic moments.  Sometimes I can't see them unless they grab me firmly and smack me in the face.  Take the funeral for example.  All I could see on Thursday was the disappointment at letting people down and the stress of such a horrendous journey.  Now, with a step back, a day off and some breathing space, I remember the staff who were calmly efficient and helpful, and the daughter of the deceased who was sympathetic and understanding and gave me a hug when I arrived with my flustered apologies while my harp was roasting away in the car.  Then there's the lady who complimented me on my crazy trousers and another lady who thanked me for my music.  An extra special mention goes to the hotel guest who offered to help me move my harp and gave me a hug after we had both tried to work out an alternative route to the alternative route that lay snaking menacingly ahead of me.  

A major magic moment turned out to be the route I eventually took through the Forest of Bowland, a damn finer sight than the miserable offerings of that unmentionable motorway.  After driving like I haven't for about ten years, I allowed my focus to shift to the breathtaking goosebump views that awaited after the long zig-zag climb up steep swirling B-roads in my heavily laden car.  Driving through quaint deserted picture book villages with their immaculate askew architecture and lifestyle magazine cottage gardens made me vow to return for a day trip on a road less travelled.  I apologised for disturbing the peace as I slowed through the village.

Unforeseen events like this also bring the worst out in people.  Take the man in the red prestige car who decided it was a good idea to drive within touching distance of mine as we went winding our way along the canopied backroads on the scenic route.  At a safe convenient moment I decelerated and indicated for him to pass.  He honked angrily at me as he zoomed past in his hurry to get to his destination.  I admit to a certain smugness while driving a safe distance behind him as I caught up to the slow moving queue we had now both joined which continued for the next 10 miles.  Who knows?  Maybe he was rushing to hospital?  He certainly risked lives and limbs.  I saw him negotiate a junction by crossing in front of another moving car with milliseconds to spare.  From this point, having shouted and sobbed myself almost hoarse, I felt a sense of acceptance fall over me.  I had phoned the opera fixer and discussed possible options and I was doing everything within my means to get there safely in time.  I stopped looking at the clock and the Satnav timer.  Even if I just made it for the second half, I was determined I'd get there.  I did.  With 23 minutes to spare.  I tuned, got changed, put on some lipstick, got harp 2 out of the hot car to the cooler backstage area and blocked everything out as I got on with Puccini.  Thank god for music!

HQ

Sight of relief

This week

What a difference two seasons make!  I had my last alcoholic drink just over six months ago and I just don't miss it.  I never ever thought I'd write those words.  I use wine for cooking and last night had to throw over half a bottle away as it had been open almost 2 months.  Only a snifter (a gift) of homemade sloe gin, a dram of vodka and some orange liqueur remain.  Ooh those celebratory Cosmos...  Hmmm.  I have coped with the challenges, joys, disappointments and the humdrum of daily life for half a year without my former go-to crutch.  Following the anti-climax of another potential project amounting to nothing last week after almost 3 months' preparation and groundwork, all of which was enjoyable and enriching, I realise my resilience is at an all time high.  Managing and developing my business is a challenge.  Doing that without my newfound sobriety is an impossibility.  I know a brilliant alcohol dependency coach if anyone needs one.  You really have to want to stop though, he doesn't take any prisoners.

Inclusive

It's been a while since I applied for jobs

Monday got off to a flying 6am start as is the norm these days and it turned out to be a bit of a grumpy day off.  I was intending on getting some precious practice hours in ahead of my happily harp centred fortnight but my brain and body just refused.  The weather was warm but by no means itsy bitsy and after a quiet week, my weekend revolved around a job application I had toyed with over the past ten days.  It's a position I think I would love and excel at.  I felt I ticked most of the boxes apart from a couple of fundamentally important requirements and with the memories of shift work still clear in my mind and body, I decided I had nothing to lose by just going for it. I was very clear from the outset about my lacking in the criteria the job demanded, avoiding any guilt about wasting the company's time.  I've only completed an online job application form once before so that was a valuable learning curve in itself and quite an enjoyable one once I familiarised myself with it.  The process involved bouncing from one document to another on my laptop and finally down to my duvet on the lawn on Sunday morning where I had my brain splurge in trying to convey with utmost honesty why I was a musician and human being worth knowing about even if I wasn't the ideal candidate for that particular job.  6pm came and I got my head down, only occasionally coming up for air, a cat stretch and some fruity nutty brain snacks.  I was hungry but I know that I fall into a bit of a postprandial stupor after my evening meal.

Brainstorm breakfast

The best starting place.  Spot the photobomber

Shortly after 10pm I realised with horror I'd omitted one section.  How did that happen?  I frantically looked through my notes and couldn't find anything.  After I calmed down, the response to this question flowed freely and with the irresistible 11.59pm deadline, I pressed the button at 11.09.  I could have read my increasingly blurring words an umpteenth time and tweaked and re-tweaked to the wire but my leftover curry was consumed just before midnight.  Hyperactively exhausted, I ate and I wondered to myself why I didn't get round to doing it sooner.  That was nipped in the bud and I reassured myself that the outcome isn't important.  Going through the whole process is what mattered.  When's the next one?  I feel a sense of achievement today even though I know I'm up against hundreds if not thousands of work thirsty candidates who are equipped with far better skills than me, and it was an important step I had to take in my journey - still putting myself out there.  I was surprised to receive an email copy of my application as soon as I sent it.  I can't bring myself to look at it yet, but it will be useful for reference in due course.

Meditation irony

Too much time at my computer fried my brain and my body this weekend, but Pilates and a day off ironed most of that out

Thanks Mike!

My minimal (for now) attic office table with the remnants of my makeshift extra table from the weekend's work endeavours.  No wonder my back ached.  It looks a bit like a boardroom doesn't it?  It will once I've tidied up

Never one for half measures, I've set myself the challenge of a 5 part Facebook quiz week to help me get used to recording and video so that I'm not putting the same stuff up on my page all the time.  I've already rescheduled it twice after unrealistically planning to get it started yesterday.  I'm all about sharing my music and my love and passion for it while pushing my boundaries and learning new skills, and trying to make all that fun.  I've got a messy music desk piled with manuscript for the coming few days which I can't wait to delve back into.  I also get to savour the fruit of another challenge I set myself a few months ago - get my body in just good enough shape for a bikini.  No, I'm not off on holiday just yet, but I was told when I was offered this work that there's a pool onsite that we can use in breaks.  That's what lured me into Aquafit, which I will obviously maintain as I can't imagine a week without it.

Whoops!

It happened again...  A dress fit for business practically threw itself at me

My shopping trip was short and to the point.  The first shop I wasn't even planning on going to provided the bikini (blue and pink!) I ticked off my list at a bargain price of £6, so even if I do bottle out, which I won't, I can still wear it round the house when the weather gets tropical again.  I'm always on the lookout for blacks and I know I'll find plenty of use for that new little best friend.  At that price, there was no way I could walk away.  I came back and crashed onto my sofa and dreamt heavily.  I could have stayed there all evening but I roasted my chicken for the week and arrived only slightly late for Pilates, my mood as dark as thunder.  It was great to iron out my body and mind's creases and my lateness meant I missed those horrible monkey squats which stoke my anxiety, maybe because my legs are still quite weak and perhaps due to a fear of falling?  Or hurting my back?  There were a few postures that roused giggling (who said Pilates is all seriousness?) amongst emphatic groans and strenuous huffing and puffing (who said Pilates is easy?)  We finished with some thrilling vertiginous swooping and I felt my body and soul start to smile again.  There's something cathartic about group physical activity.  I'm so glad I didn't stay on my sofa.  Fred was back from almost two months driving through France and Spain and looking like a native with his olive toned skin.  He introduced me to a man who's high up at the local golf club and he took a few of my cards.  We share a surname!  We must be related...

This week?  Bring it on!

He-bee

How many bees can you see?

He-butterfly