#MusicalMondayMemories #8: From the back of the second violin section
/#MusicalMondayMemories #8: From the back of the second violin section
I wasn't a prodigy. I didn't have a gorgeous tone and play full concertos at age 5 and go on to have a life of success (or misery - where do those prodigies even go?). I played duets with my teacher, and played my first Messiah at age 7 instead.
I grew up reading music with my multi-instrumentalist parents and brother, started playing in a community orchestra at the back of the second violin section when my feet still dangled, and at 13 sat in the same place in a professional orchestra that was housed at the university in town. When listening back to recordings of myself, I used to be amazed they wanted me there at all.
A few years into freelance life as a violinist, Town Quartet was playing regular shows at the Starry Plough Pub in Berkeley, CA. We mainly played casual venues for the atmosphere of enjoyment and camaraderie of chamber music, with a few more serious concert series performances here and there. Unknown to me, this time around a fellow violinist, Joseph Gold, was watching and would write a review of us for the Piedmont Post. Here is a tidbit from the review:
“To show their all-encompassing abilities, they played one of the greatest works in the repertoire, Schubert’s monumental Death and the Maiden. The Town’s interpretation could give any of the big name quartets a run for their money. Once again, Patzner’s cello was divine, as was the viola of Jacob Hansen-Joseph (aka Cassadesus). The violinists, Mia Bella D’Augelli and Corey Mike, take turns at 1st violin. Judging by their performance at the Starry Plough, D’Augelli’s bright tone complements the quartet best when playing 2nd violin.”
If you know Death and the Maiden (which I played 1st on that day), you’d know I have some work to do. I didn’t see the review until a couple years later, but I had known for years my tone wasn’t yet all that lush (yet).
If not for being seen as inadequate in some eyes beyond my own, I may never have learned how to yearn for more from myself. It felt for a long time like I was always the runner up, like when I graduated from high school in 2009 and got a scholarship to go to Interlochen Arts Camp because someone turned it down. Mind you, I was 15 turning 16 and I went. Insert complaints about wearing uniforms and sleep deprivation and lack of wellness support here.
That’s the strange guilt I always carried around in my head. The little voice of suppression saying, you don’t belong here, you didn’t have enough talent or work hard enough or sound good enough.
I was a quiet kid and some people automatically assumed I was intelligent based on the fact that I didn’t talk and liked to read. I like to think I was just soaking everything in, biding my time until passions rose inside me and I couldn’t push them down, until I was a little less stiff as a person and as a musician.
I learned from a young age to listen and fit into a section. I learned to wait before I spoke, and usually didn’t speak in the end. I hesitated, waiting for a conductor. Now, I’m learning to share what I care about, to intentionally push down the part of the brain that self-censors. There is so much research going into this right now, finding the root of creativity, learning how to rewire your own brain and teach yourself to find the flow state. Performance coaches make exorbitant amounts of money. I don’t have the cash for a performance coach, but what do I have at my fingertips? Myself.
What I have learned in 23 years of playing music is, if it scares you, do it. It’s all a magical mixture of happenstance and putting yourself out there, letting yourself be uncomfortable and learning. Now, I hesitate a lot less. My gut doesn’t wrench every time I think about doing something new.
I just got calls for a couple gigs and they would never have happened if I hadn’t played for people and spent 8 weeks preparing for an audition after my first 2 months here of not playing. I didn’t win the audition, but I got on the sub list. A coincidence is that this first set I am going to play with Portland Symphony Orchestra includes Stravinsky’s Firebird, which I only played once before, a portion of which is in a video that went viral because a woman was startled by a very loud part of the piece (read about that here: Firebird Scream www.musicmiabella.com/mmm/musicalmondaymemories-3).
When I moved to Maine and took 2 months off of playing violin, it was the longest break I’ve ever taken. For July and August 2019, I hardly touched the instrument. No gigs, a couple duets with my mom when my parents came to visit, but that's it.
I didn't know if music was the thing. I didn’t know if I could deal with the stress of being a freelancer again. Running from thing to thing day after day, not knowing if someone would ever call me again if I said no. For Eric and I, our move was a serendipitous combo of wanting to live lives we built from the ground up and learning from the devastation of family deaths. We felt stagnant in Oakland, and then, a year ago today (MLK Jr Day), we put an offer in on a house, and here we are, living in Standish, ME.
Back to not knowing if music was meant to be my pursuit. It was really scary to grapple with this. I’ve played violin since the ripe old age of 3. Basically, chamber music was my only regularly-scheduled social interaction for college and the years after. Music was all I did. But was it the most important part of my life? I thought it was, but now I’m not so sure. And now I love every moment of playing. Even scales.
I am working inside my mind to solidify personal goals, and now I can articulate what I value the most in life. Sounds/music/creativity is definitely up there, but family and nature and community are more of the top echelon.
Shoutout to my mom, Barbara, who has been my absolute biggest supporter as a musician. She drove me every week to lessons when I was a kid. We played in the same community orchestra, the Paradise Symphony Orchestra, with whom I played that fateful Messiah at age 7. She often drove 3 hours to just see me do a noon concert in college (5 minutes of playing!), and would even sit not in the front row when I was super scared and didn’t want to think about anything. We finally got to play some chamber concerts together over the past couple years, and I look forward to many more!
Here is a video of Dawn Harms and I playing the Bach Double Concerto in 2016 with Paradise Symphony Orchestra. (My mom is the only wind player, helping hold down the bass line on bassoon, and I see kids in the orchestra which is great.) Dawn plays in the San Francisco Opera orchestra among other intense exploits, and we had the same violin teacher as a kid, Kenneth Skersick. He lived in Paradise, CA, and was in his 80s/90s when I took lessons from him. I have wonderful and calm memories from our lessons. I also remember playing a duet with Dawn as a kid and loving her energy. She is a blast to work with! While on stage for the Bach, I was able to sink into her sound and enjoy her inspiring freedom of motion.
Another part of the homecoming on this stage is that my other teacher from my hometown area, Joel Quivey, is the current PSO concertmaster. He was also a calming force of a teacher, like when he introduced me matter-of-factly to the 4 Brahms symphonies during my last year of high school and had me buy all the first violin parts. I am now finding them very useful recently for audition and performance preparation.
When I later showed this video to Ken’s wife, Marie, on a visit to southern California, she was 102, still walking, and thrilled. The Skersick family was an inspiration and a joy to be around, and while Ken passed away in 2012 and Marie in 2018, their impact on my life - and the cookies I ate in the kitchen after lessons - will last forever.
More memories to come.
Thanks for reading (and listening)!