Rhonda Ringering, Pianist and Piano Teacher

Monday

Get up before dawn

Practice three hours

Eat lunch/answer email/prep dinner

Drive to rehearsal #1. Two hours later, drive to rehearsal #2

Get groceries on the way home.

Make and consume dinner

Exercise

Wine/good book/hot bath

Bed

Tuesday

Get up 30 minutes earlier than Monday

Teach 7:30 AM lesson

Answer email from 8:30 – 9:00

Teach 9:00 AM lesson

Practice from 9:45 – 10:45

Yoga

Lunch

Teach 1:00 lesson

Practice 2:00 – 3:00

Answer email/phone calls/prep dinner 3:00 – 3:30

3:30 – 7:00 teach lessons

Eat dinner/walk/wine/good book/hot bath

Wednesday

See Tuesday…delete early morning lessons; add in several hours of writing

Thursday

See Tuesday, but delete 7:30 AM lesson, and early afternoon lessons.

Insert early afternoon accompanying gig and/or writing time

Friday

Get up before dawn for coffee and meditation

Drive to gig (adjudicating/accompanying/background music/concert)

Answer email/make phone calls/do some writing

Do the gig

Drive home after 10:00 PM in a rainstorm

Saturday/Sunday

Either repeat Friday or have a day to “debauch” with baseball or DVD’s of old TV programs

Week 2

Take elements of Week 1.  Delete some activities and some of the every other week lessons, add editing a professional music journal, marketing concerts/writing/Cascades Classical music competition, working on websites/doing routine office work, billing, banking, bookkeeping, lesson planning…and then there’s the Real Life stuff of gardening, cleaning, grocery shopping, cooking, exercising, caring for family, friends, pets, and belongings, spiritual pursuits…

A month ago a high school student asked me what he could do with a music degree.  I told him he could be a wine maker.

After I elicited a startled laugh from him, I went on to tell him the truth of being a freelance musician: we get paid to do what we love, but no one is going to create the job for us. We have to create it for ourselves from the gifts and resources we’ve been given and from the circumstances of ability, location, age, and life responsibilities.  We have to become experts at creating multiple income streams.  We have to become savvy self-promoters. We have to accept that nothing—not even the biggest dream—comes without a price.

I’ve been luckier than most.  I was raised in a family that valued education and had the chance to go through college and (eventually) graduate school.  I have health, a supportive (and self-sufficient!) husband, and I have few financial burdens.  We chose to be child-free, to live under our financial means, and to live a life that focuses on acquiring experiences, not belongings.  I’ve been blessed with a passion for playing the piano, teaching the piano, writing, and a keen desire to work for myself.  I learned early on that I do not make a good employee. My performing and teaching has taken me all over the globe (mostly on luxury cruise ships). My writing has appeared in local and national publications and has brought recognition and awards.  Every day I get to sit down and sink my hands right into the creative fire that is art.

The price I’ve paid for this luxury? Well, the most obvious is the ability to earn a high income. I’ve never been a “starving artist,” but I will probably never grow financially rich on my income.  Another is the lip-curling disdain I get from some people who see me as someone who just teaches piano out of her home for a little “pin money.” These people will never see me as a professional, no matter how many performances or recordings or publications I have or how much education I receive.  And then there’s the little issue of never getting sick time, vacation pay, the irritating reality of FICA, and the endless round of paperwork the IRS requires because I had the audacity to create my own job rather than take one from someone else…

So why do it?  At this moment I am writing in my living room.  The house is silent, although in forty-five minutes another piano student will arrive for her lesson.  The sun has come out after nearly a day of rain and the neighbors’ daffodils are blooming with extravagant abandon.  Finches crowd the bird feeder.  I got to run my errands in the early afternoon—the best way to avoid long lines.  I’ve taught some lessons, worked on my novel, practiced some new music, and got to enjoy a home-cooked lunch. I decided my schedule, I chose my studio space, and for most of the day, I have been up to my elbows in the creative fire of art.  Call it a Fool’s Paradise, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

After much dreaming and scheming, pondering and planning—not to mention a lengthy and painful birthing process–No Dead Guys is launched. A small independent record label, No Dead Guys (http://nodeadguys.com/), features great contemporary music (with a tune and a beat). My newest CD, A Spin On It, is one of the first albums to appear on this label. It, too, had a lengthy and painful birth. It will finally be released on Saturday, February 4, 2012, from 1:00 PM to 4:00 PM at Montinore Estate Vineyard (http://montinore.com/) in Forest Grove, OR
.
Both of these ventures are examples of heart-over-head decisions. Passion for new music and affection for the composers who write it won over common sense and self-preservation. Call it a positive by-product to being a middle-aged classical pianist with no aspirations of fame or fortune—I get to play, record, and promote what I love. There are no managers to consider, no expectations to meet—just my fingers, the piano, and the newly-crafted notes that come to life as I strike the keys.

All artists—in our halting and stumbling way—seek to serve their art to the best of their abilities. We know we’re unworthy and that we have cracks and warts and proverbial feet of clay, but we stumble on, knowing that each imperfect attempt may bring something truthful and beautiful to life.

Some artists may find this process creative and easy; I find it consists of much doubt, plenty of swearing, and frequent vows to “never do anything like THIS again.” Still, on this lovely day as I sit watching the waves and writing from a dear friend’s beach house, I feel joy, and maybe even a little cautious hope.

This past weekend I had the honor of attending a concert featuring the music of all women composers.  They had a full house of enthusiastic listeners—male and female—who represented so many branches of the arts—music, dance, visual arts, writing, and theatre.  As a friend commented, she was “blown away” by how amazing and vibrant everyone was. It was impossible to avoid comparisons with several unhealthy and bitter musicians I have encountered over the years.

At risk of making a sweeping statement, I am going to make a sweeping statement:  Art is so powerful that we either allow it to humble us into being better human beings or will we allow pride or rage or fear to turn us into monsters.  Art—like religion—taps into the deepest parts of human beings and that power will either soften and transform us or harden us into musical “terrorists” who destroy others in the name of preserving the art we think we must protect.

For every amazing and inspiring artist I know, there seems to be a shadow collection of monsters who—twisted by their own insecurities and rage—turn on those around them with cruelty and the intention to destroy.  Teachers and mentors are no exception.  In the piano world, artistic savagery has been known to destroy musicians—guaranteeing they will have little or no interest in making music ever again.

The inspiring musicians know that music is not a product; it is a relationship.  Each of must fall in love with the pieces we play and allow that passion to bring us to deeper and deeper understanding of the composer and the score.  If our encounters with music are shaped by fear and shame, we will be defensive and emotionally detached from the score.  We will be unable to make deeper and deeper commitments to the demands of the music—technical, intellectual, and emotional—and the music will not permeate and change us as it should. In the end, the music we fight to protect will end up being one more dead language that no longer to speaks to people today.

Bitter and angry art comes from bitter and angry people.  We are responsible for our own actions and words.  No one can “make” us be cruel or “make” us humiliate another human being.  Regardless of circumstances, we each have the duty to do what we need to do in order to be civil and professional members of the human community.  It is not others’ fault if we do not get the performing careers we think we deserved, make as much money as our friends, or have accolades piled up at our feet.  We need to be grown up professionals who know how to manage ourselves and our jobs with dignity and humanity.

Art is the language of the soul and working artists are the guardians and tour guides of this sacred realm.  We are the midwives who help birth the love of it in the next generation.  Through our hands runs unimaginable power—power that is not ours to own or misuse.  This power will either transform and heal or destroy. The choice is ours.