Megan Yim - Vignettes of a Pianist

2020 Golden Brick Road Publishing House Inc. Trade Paperback Edition

Copyright 2020 Golden Brick Road Publishing House

Copyright 2020 Megan Yim

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Published in Canada for Global Distribution by Golden Brick Road Publishing House Inc. Printed in North America.

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This collection of moments both big and small is dedicated to my parents. Though clich and probably predictable, I just cannot thank them enough, and I can only begin to scrape the visible layer of what they have given me. I say visible because most of a parents work for their children, I realize, is unseen and oftentimes unspoken. My gratitude for them extends far greater than any feeling Ive ever known, and largely because they have given me the gift of music.

Growing up I have always been lucky. I have been blessed and privileged in my environment, and I hold ownership to that. Having music in my life has paved a road for me filled with speed bumps, potholes, collisions, and forks where I have had to choose. Though this road has not always been easy, I have decided to treat them as fortunate moments. The fact that I have the privilege of feeling failure and defeat in the act of learning music is itself a luxury that a great deal of individuals do not have. The one thing I know to be sure, is that it always led me somewhere.

Of course, I have never been on this road alone. To begin, I have to thank my parents for both, literally and figuratively, driving me. All the drives to and from lessons, exams, recitals, competitions, and buying books. All the late night lessons and early morning exams.

I am grateful everyday for the gift of music. I am grateful because I can share it with the rest of the world: with my students, peers, and friends. I know that wherever I am in life, I will always have this gift with me, tucked inside my heart, ready at any moment.

So thank you, mom and dad, for giving me the gift of music. Thank you for paying for every lesson, driving me to every engagement, and sitting at every performanceeven when most of them were complete disasters. Thank you for loving me and supporting me unconditionallyeven when the road seemed to have ended (but in fact, had just started). Thank you, also, for taking a backseat when you knew to, and not overstepping and helping me decide what to do with my art.

Thank you for letting me follow my dreams.

By: Megan Yim

Dear Reader,

The following is a series of seemingly trivial but defining moments in the life of a pianist. I wrote this because too often in life we glorify our successeswhether it is being on the podium, receiving a diploma, or even a high mark. And while these are admirable and great achievements that deserve a book all on its own, this collection deviates away from those moments. Instead, here, youll find descriptive scenes that most, if not all, pianists will experience during their studies.

If youve opened this book and you find that you are not a musician or a person in the arts for that matter, I encourage you to still keep reading. I hope that it will bring to light a different angle towards composing a life in the arts, and the poetry that runs through the multifaceted moments that we experience on a daily basis.

The life of a musician is a hard one. But that is not to undermine the life of anyone else. We all have hardships and we all have struggles. This book is a closer look into that of a pianists. That although we may shine on stage and glisten on video; that although our walls are adorned with large thick sheets of paper, framed, with our names printed in fancy lettering and signed by important people; and that although we are known as artists and magicians who solve some of the worlds toughest issues surrounding mental health. Our lives extend beyond the surface of our polished careers. Our stories have more chapters with footnotes and references than what is on the page. We are filled with complex and unsought experiences. In Vignettes, I hope you get a glimpse of these experiences. It is mine to share, and I invite you to view them.

vignette

/vin'yet/

In literature, a vignette (pronounced vin-yet) is a short scene that captures a single moment or a defining detail about a character, idea, or other element of the story. Vignettes are mostly descriptive; in fact, they often include little or no plot detail. They are not stand-alone literary works, nor are they complete plots or narratives. Instead, vignettes are small parts of a larger work, and can only exist as pieces of a whole story.

Notably, the word vignette comes from the French vigne meaning little vine, and the term specifi cally arose for the small vines drawn on the pages of printed texts.

So, much like the vines on the page, vignettes are little sections of a much bigger work.

It is a feeling you get. A desire to learn more, play more, listen more. Black and white keys make the soundtrack of my life; governing my every endeavour, success and downfall. Though there are eighty-eight of them, there are only twelve different truly unique sounds, but represented in different octave intervals. For the pianists life, we spend our time building a unique relationship with every key: understanding the tone, use, and impact it may have for each respective piece. For me, the keyboard is divided into three parts: bass, middle, and high. The middle is the home base. Here is where we find middle C from the very first lesson. Here is where we take the first steps as a musician and we expand from there.

The bass is owned predominantly by the left hand. On occasion, it will get the spotlight and play a deep, supportive melody. But the majority of the time, the bass is the backbone of the piece. There may be chords, widely broken chordal accompaniment, or a waltz bass line. Though typically undesired, the left hand and bass section is the reason why our music sounds as good as it does. The bass lines give the music a depth of soul, balance from the melody, and a quality that represents a much more authentic and humble vibrance to your music.