“Improv Episodes” is a series of multimedia journal entries, documenting my journey of learning improvisation. It is a product of my internal reflections and conversations with my friends and mentors in different settings. This work is produced as a part of my independent study, supervised by Professor Peter Susser, at Columbia University.
Preface
It takes a lot of courage for me to start this project. Even at the very moment of writing this sentence, I feel vulnerable. As an Asian kid growing up, I learned that I should deal with my feelings and struggles independently. As a classically trained musician of 17+ years, I was instilled with the idea of always showing my best self on stage and leaving the sweat and tears in practice rooms. While I become more open about myself as I grow older, nothing that I encountered before is as scary as sharing my process of learning improvisation.
I was introduced to improvisation around three years ago. I was a freshman in college. I knew many talented players back then, but I had never met anyone like Avi. We played in a string quartet together. One day, when I arrived a few minutes early to the rehearsal, Avi was playing the piano (their primary instrument). I was immediately drawn to their sound world. The harmony, texture, melodies, and colors were so rich and beautiful. I was deeply touched by the sound; my brains started to fill with questions. I began to wonder about the time period and the composer of the piece. It sounded familiar—reminiscent of the Romantic era with an addition of modern taste—but unique at the same time.
After Avi stopped, I earnestly asked them about the name of the piece. Instead of confirming one of my hypotheses, I received a shoulder shrug with “I came up with that just now at the piano.” At that moment, I put on a surprised Pikachu face, and said “WOW! I don’t think I can ever do that.”
While I immediately dissociated myself from the definition of a music genius (someone like Avi in my opinion), I was fortunate to get a deeper insight into Avi’s sound world. I played the first violin part in Avi’s string quartet piece, Valse Sans Espoir, while Avi played the viola. Avi’s composition was full of creativity and imagination. However, their rhythmic, melodic, and harmonic languages were so rich and crazy that the piece was incomprehensible to me, despite recognizing every note in the score.
Frustrations followed the initial excitement. I could not make sense of my struggles with comprehension. At the time, I had been playing violin for 14+ years and tackled a few difficult repertoires along the way. Incomprehensibility had never occurred to me. I never thought about it. However, by interacting directly with the composer, a new door opened. Uncertainties and opportunities lay in the darkness ahead. Driven by my responsibility as the first violin and a tint of curiosity, I was determined to find a path in the mysterious space.
To develop a clear musical understanding of the piece, I adopted the approach that I usually used to learn classical or romantic repertoires: deconstructing the music. I asked Avi about every note, every mark that I failed to understand in contexts. Nevertheless, improvisation was ingrained in Avi’s musical practice. Avi could not answer all of my questions in the way that I anticipated them to be answered. For a long time, I tried to get Avi into my framework and became upset when they were unable to do so. Do improvisers know what they are doing? If they do, why can’t they articulate their mental processes?
Little did I realize that musicality cannot be fully spoken.
My reluctance and insecurities associated with reconstructing my framework became a mental block that prevented me from exploring the unknown. To be sure, I have always held high respect for Avi and their works. However, I found myself critiquing the integrity of improvisation, which inevitably translated to my view of Avi’s composition. The translation was a subconscious occurrence. I thought I was doing everything for the sake of music, but I was cruel, selfish, and insensitive in my approach. I was deconstructing every cell of Avi’s music, pressuring them to have all the answers, and shaking their confidence as a musician, composer, and improviser to the very core. The analytical framework that I was proud of prevented me from seeing Avi’s composition as what it is--a piece of art imbued with feelings, struggles, and experiences unique to the composer. I became judgmental because I was lost.
Once, when I struggled to convey the feelings in Avi’s piece, our chamber coach Judy jokingly told me, “play as if you were improvising.”
I figured improvisation was about freedom--an intriguing but amorphous concept that prompted me to think beyond the pages. I became curious about improv. I began to look for meaning.
But what does improvisation mean?
Aside from challenging rehearsals and my mixed feelings about improvisation, Avi and I became good friends. We started volunteering together to play music for seniors every week. The car rides for those few weeks were so special to me. I got to know Avi as a friend, not just a quartet member and composer. Coincidentally, hanging out with Avi deepened my understanding of their music, and playing their music helped me understand them.
The door to the new musical world was half open. I came to understand that music becomes a process that unites one’s mind, body, and inner self in improvisation. It is introspective, personal, and vulnerable. In improv, music becomes us, and we become music. Playing music together allows you to know a person. Improvising enables you to know yourself.
I was fascinated by the musical and philosophical implications of improvisation, but I was hesitant to try. The exact reason I did not know. I was still sitting comfortably in the realm of classical music—I did not see the need to get out of my comfort zone and turn my world upside down.
However, I found a sign of strange courage in the age of pandemic. COVID-19 challenged me to rethink my roles in society. The urge to find answers became my initial motivation to learn improvisation. I wanted to experience the world from a different angle.
On my journey of learning improvisation, I see the beauty of trying. I witness the power of music to bring people together. In late January 2021, I officially started my independent study with Professor Susser. He speaks honestly about my work, giving me feedback that propels my growth as a student, artist, future educator, and future scholar. I also received overwhelming support from my peers. Around the same time in January, I started weekly jam sessions with my friend Heli on Monday nights. I could hardly believe that the first session was one and a half months ago. As of today, our sessions are joined by my friends Avi, Aly, and Ian as regular members and many occasional guests. Because of improvisation, I created a space (even though it is on Zoom) that I share with some of my favorite people in the whole world. They teach me so much about music, improvisation, and life. On my journey of exploring improvisation, I begin to work on my weaknesses—instead of being afraid of them. I am becoming more confident, more courageous, and happier.
As I experience a massive personal transformation, I am discovering the beauty of improvisation to break the confines of language and communicate across cultures. A few weeks ago, I encountered a journal article, "At a Refugee Camp: New Ways to Improvise," by Johnna Wu. She quoted George Lewis, a Columbia University professor, and composer, on the topic of improvisation: he "elucidates the idea that improvisation is a way of reacting for the sake of interacting in one's constantly evolving environment—and that it helps us understand the human condition" (Wu 2016). I could not have agreed with Professor Lewis more. If you think about it, aren't our lives improvised? We only have a vague conjecture about the future until we finally reach the moment. Our lives are also made up of a series of interactions—the acts of talking and listening in various forms—with ourselves, others, and the environment. Since improvisation fosters and facilitates this type of interaction, I now firmly believe that learning to improvise can help us solve problems, communicate better, and have more fulfilling lives.
Remember my initial response after hearing Avi's improv?
"WOW! I don't think I can ever do that."
I think it is time for me to change the game. I want to demystify the concept of improvisation. I will share the excitement, joy, and fun of learning improv with you, but I will not hide from you my struggles and a sense of instability that always associates with improvisation. As an educator wannabe, I will show you my methods, rules, and systems. I will let you know what worked or did not work for me. Maybe you will try some of my ideas too.
As I start the journey of sharing my improvisation episodes, I am challenging myself to be honest, open, and flexible. I have a feeling that my goal in life is to make improvisation accessible for everyone. It is still relatively early to say that. I am still a little bit scared. But from improv, I am learning to go with the flow. To some extent, we are experiencing something together. It is scary, but endearing. I am so happy to have you here, if you can’t already tell.
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