Fiddling Around

So far, the best part about taking violin lessons is waltzing around town carrying a violin case and looking vaguely musical. The actual "learning how to play" bit is proving to be quite a challenge.

Did I listen when the first potential teacher I called, chuckling slightly under her breath, suggested I try cello or piano instead? Was I paying attention when she confided that playing violin is actually hard physical work? That proper form must be mastered before any real music making can begin? Did I pay heed when she explained that the hands of children who start playing at a very young age actually grow differently to accommodate the various string positions? That few adults have the time and stamina to take on the commitment that is violin?

I did not. I arched my brow and did the Z-snap. "Bring it, sistah!"

And that's how I ended up on a tree-lined street with ivy clad Tudor style houses last Friday, knocking on her door for my first ever lesson, a flimsy invisible fence separating me from the two pissed off attack dogs who were obviously trained to scare the crap out of housewives turned wanna be violinists.

The first thing I learned is that the violin is a high maintenance kind of gal - there' s a lot of rosin polishing, string tightening, and chin rest adjusting before one can even begin to think about making music. And when your instrument is finally ready (*snort*), it's time to get in play position.

But don't think you can hold the bow any which way and drag it across the stings willy-nilly, readers. The violin is a demanding luv-ah, and there's a special place in hell for players who don't practice good bow hold. Of course, once your gnarled thirty-six year old digits are finally in position, you must go directly to the nearest fire station to make sure you've installed yourself correctly. Then and only then can you begin to play. One note - the "A."

But you mustn't flap your arms all over tarnation like some kind of freak show carnival fiddler. Instead, move your forearm back and forth, as though opening a door - your elbow should remain almost stationery. There! Just like that. Now make sure the horsehair hits the string at an angle, like so, otherwise it sounds like you're skinning a cat. Pretty f*cking hard, eh? Try to do all this with a "light touch," even though you're concentrating so hard that your knuckles are turning bone white and it's everything you can do to hold in that fart. Now you're ready to play.

Despite not being especially supportive of my non-traditional student status, I think my teacher is pretty cool. She drinks tea, has a dry sense of humor and a little zen rock garden in her music room. She also makes you do yoga stretches before each lesson, which seems to run counter to the attack dogs, but who am I to question the mysterious violin subculture?

My only assignment for the next week is to practice holding the bow and striking the "A" string using proper form. If I get really good at playing the "A," I'm allowed to try another note, but I must not go nuts with it. My lesson was only a few days ago, and already I'm having trouble re-enacting the bow hold and arm movements my teacher showed me. Despite watching countless instructional clips on Utube and poring over the diagrams in my Level One Suzuki book, I feel like I'm just now getting acquainted with my opposable thumb.

Readers, it looks as though I've met my match. She's fifteen inches tall and weighs about a pound.