Year of the Shed (2012)

After a few tumultuous years in a row, it is time for me to settle down and hit the shed. I am thankful to have worked with so many creative artists over the years; it’s time to close the practice room door and focus on my own art.

Practice is the Path. The Path is Practice.

The seven precepts:

1) mindfulness and sincerity

2) every day

3) (no electronics)

4) Shugyo

5) read

6) log

7) private

The most important aspect of quality practice is to be fully aware of both your effort and the subsequent results. Mindfulness is a skill that is difficult to attain and even harder to sustain, but critical to growth in any artistic field. Sincerity of purpose is easier to achieve, but is often fleeting and superficial. We should not practice for fame or popular acceptance; we should strive to practice for its own sake. Practice is the Path. Enjoy the challenges and the frustrations; embrace the suffering.

Another extremely difficult aspect of practice is to complete a session every day, not most days, but EVERY DAY. The future is a myth, there is no tomorrow. really.

I will be incorporating a new aspect to my practice this coming year, no electronics. As the pilot says, “if it has an on/off switch, please make sure it is in the off position.” Not sleep mode or silent. Power down. Addictive distractions have been avoided since the beginning of time. I will try to learn from the wisdom of our ancestors.

Shugyo, (literal definition: “daily practice”) has become a word I associate with my own creative exercises for the trumpet. I find it helpful to practice self generated etudes, exercises and compositions in order to develop an individual voice as an artist. Often I will continue practicing live composition (improvisation) along similar lines as these unique written exercises. (see more on Shugyo)

As an educated artist, I continue to read books related to my field. This is extremely valuable to my creative work; knowledge is food for the muse. And yes, they have to be physical items, you know… books. (review guideline number 3)

Back as an undergraduate music major, when I first held myself truly accountable for my own practice, I began to record my work in a practice log. For me, it’s very simple. I write down the date, instrument, start and end time (always rounded down to the 5 minute mark). Some people write detailed goals and lists, it doesn’t really matter, whatever is helpful. This act becomes a physical representation of your effort. Even when you may be on a virtual plateau of artistic growth, the log represents a tangible effort, something that can keep your ship moving through the calm winds.

Finally, keep it to yourself. OK, OK, it's ironic on an open blog post… but it’s true. Your practice is personal. No one really cares how or what you do, as long as your results are aesthetically pleasing. Practice is Religion. Have faith in your practice.

Remember, the secret to longevity in a music career is to do it for a long time.

Teaching Philosophy

[August 2010] There are two distinct and separate elements needed for successful instruction: Knowledge and Inspiration. The teacher must develop and retain a deep knowledge of the subject matter that far exceeds the student’s current grasp. This is the simple truth upon which all instruction is based. The teacher must also provide inspiration for the student to pursue that knowledge. The old saying, “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink” may be true, but students are not horses. The inspiration to learn and improve is far more valuable than an encyclopedic vault of facts. There is a false assumption that all university students are highly motivated and somehow self-inspired, this is not the case. It is critical for university professors to lead by example and to inspire students through actions, not just words. This principle is the foundation of my own teaching; I will not ask anything of a student that I myself do not put into action. I am passionate about my chosen path and I wish for my students to find that passion for themselves.

As an active performer, educator, historian, composer and arranger, I understand the fluidity of this art form called jazz. The music is in a constant state of flux, evolving and growing due to new cultural influences and technological innovations. Jazz is alive and well and it is equally important for students to understand its history as well as its potential future. There are more musicians around the world playing jazz today than at any other point in the history of the genre. My role as a teacher is to convey this understanding to my students, and to rouse within them the confidence to value their own contributions to the future of jazz.

Lastly, students must understand the reasons behind any action. In essence, they must ask, “Why?” They must understand beyond mindless parroting of practiced dogma. The essence of students’ further development as musicians and valuable members of our society relies upon their ability to apply the given instruction to their individual paths. Without understanding the philosophical underpinnings of the various methods, there can be no hope for independent and creative thought. This is the reason I teach. I want others to possess the mental tools for self-discovery. I am a people person, social yet thoughtful. I am artistically and theoretically challenged by my students, and seek to inspire them to surpass their wildest dreams through critical thought and dedicated action.

- Dr. Kelly Rossum

Shugyo

What a view! This is what I see as I practice each day. This photograph was taken in late October from Fort Tryon Park overlooking the Hudson River. Some days are just amazingly beautiful up here on the hill. I can see the George Washington Bridge to my left and just barely see the Harlem River connecting off to my right. This is the perfect place to play, partially because I’m directly over the Henry Hudson Parkway (HWY 9A), which means that I will never bother anyone with my obnoxious trumpet calisthenics.

The first priority in realizing the life (my life) of a jazz musician is to maintain and ensure the highest level of personal performance, in other words: Be Ready. At any moment, you may be asked to play for or with musicians who can radically change the course of your career. Every time you place the horn to your lips, you are essentially “auditioning” for your next gig. There’s a phrase, “You’re only as good as your last note.” There’s some truth in that.

My situation in Minneapolis was luxurious in that I could see on my calendar when the Big Gigs were scheduled, and could prepare accordingly. I would keep my skills at a decent level through teaching and practicing in the office, and then would crank up the practice intensity during the few weeks before a show.

In New York, every day must focus primarily on the horn. Currently, I have no teaching commitments, so I have the opportunity to really explore the trumpet again. I’ve gone back to a system of intense practice called, “Shugyo.” This is something that I started in November of 2002 after reading “Blowing Zen” by Ray Brooks. It is a well-written, highly enjoyable story about discovering the shakuhachi, its music, and its deeper cultural significance. It is among the top three or four most influential books dealing with music that I’ve come across, probably because it isn’t really about music at all.

“Shugyo, which means “practice,” comes from the word shugendo, or the “ascetic path to realization,” and describes spiritual exercise or training. It can take any form, just as long as deeply focused discipline is present and ki energy is developed.

My chosen form of practice was to hike up Mount Takao each day, and, once at the top, play shakuhachi for six hours, then hike back down again. My aspirations weren’t so lofty as to become an “awakened one” but simply to increase my physical strength, vastly improve my musical skills, develop ki, and learn more about discipline.” – page 163, “Blowing Zen”, Ray Brooks

In 2002, I set a goal of playing three hours a night after my teaching was done. I would play from 9:00pm until 12:00 Midnight, hoping to make a straight 60 day stretch (with the exception of performance conflicts). During this time, I was writing specific exercises for the trumpet based on Nicolas Slonimsky’s “Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns.” These original exercises became the exclusive musical content of my sessions. The shugyu lasted slightly over a month, yet in this time I managed to unearth more personal resources than I ever expected.

Over the years, my definition of shugyo has changed to consist of focused practice EVERY DAY, not just a 60 day block. The time frame is now more flexible along with the content of each session. I still play from the original shugyo material as often as possible, however my musical focus can shift depending on my needs.

Here in New York, I have adopted one important aspect of Ray Brook’s original shugyo; I am playing outside. So far, the weather has been relatively mild (compared to Minnesota!). There have been a couple of cold rainy days, and on those days I am reminded of the book and smile.

“Shit! What am I doing up here? It’s absolutely ludicrous standing here. Sixty days! And me supposed to be a man of no goals! Why would anyone in his right mind spend his time standing on the side of a mountain in the pissing rain? I could have stayed at home and done my sixty days at my own temple. Prat! It’s bloody embarrassing. I’m freezing, my legs are aching, and my back is killing me. I bet I’m the only fool on this mountain today.” – page 164, “Blowing Zen”, Ray Brooks

I’ve found that the act of preparation goes a long way in executing a successful practice session. As I walk up the 80 stairs of the Alpine Garden and then wind my way up and around the path to the Cloisters, I can clear my mind of the buzzing and begin to think about why I’m up here. The park is an oasis of nature in an urban landscape. There are a couple of cats that live in the park and a black squirrel that I’ve named Charlie. When I reach the overlook, I sit on one of the benches and lay my case to my right side. Take out the horn. Breath, focus, breath, open your eyes, go.

“A painter seats himself before his pupils. He examines his brush and slowly makes it ready for use, carefully rubs ink, straightens the long strip of paper that lies before him on the mat, and finally, after lapsing for a while into profound concentration, in which he sits like one inviolable, he produces with rapid, absolutely sure strokes a picture which, capable of no further correction and needing none, serves the class as a model.

A flower master begins the lesson by cautiously untying the bast which holds together the flowers and sprays of blossom, and laying it to one side carefully rolled up. Then he inspects the sprays one by one, picks out the best after repeated examination, cautiously bends them into the form which exactly corresponds with the role thay are to play, and finally places them together in an exquisite vase. The completed picture looks just as if the Master had guessed what Nature had glimpsed in dark dreams” – pages 41 and 42, “Zen in the Art of Archery”, Eugen Herrigel

These routines are not mindless. Every motion both creates and requires focused concentration. If you can achieve this state BEFORE you begin a task, the quality of your subsequent actions, in this case a practice session, increases tenfold.

I’ve been climbing these steps since September. Now it’s become a welcome part of my life. Practice is a daily challenge with no immediate reward and no applause.

“Shakuhachi is not really an instrument that one can take up casually just for entertainment. It takes infinite patience and great presence of mind to learn it. If played with passion and without motive, it can become much more than just a musical instrument. For me, it’s been a valuable tool that has helped to unfold the deeper, more important questions of life. It’s been a fine teacher, and many times the harshest of mirrors,” he added, laughing loudly again. “As you study, don’t be concerned about ‘Am I getting better?’ Just practice for its own sake, and let progress take care of itself. Don’t corrupt the beauty of learning by becoming attached to an end goal.” – page 58 and 59, “Blowing Zen”, Ray Brooks

One day at a time.