Personal Statement

Qing Li was one of the first piano students I taught while an assistant lecturer during graduate school. He was a graduate physics student, and had zero physical and musical aptitude for piano playing. I was thankful to get him through one semester of lessons, where he tried very hard to do what I asked, but still ended up sounding like he was chopping wood rather than making music.

He then signed up for a second semester. I was dismayed at the prospect of having to put my ears through more wood chopping.

Yet something remarkable happened at the beginning of that second semester. At the second lesson, Qing Li had a breakthrough! He began playing expressively, in a manner where his physical movements supported and facilitated the musical intent of the piece – and continued to do so during the rest of his studies.

This happened over 25 years ago and was my first real insight into the great rewards of teaching, regardless of the level of the student. Qing Li was an intermediate pianist, but that didn’t lessen his accomplishment, or the sense of pride I had in it.

I’ve since taught many advanced and highly talented students, some of whom were very successful in competitions and had “the right stuff” to be a professional musician. But I’ve never forgotten Qing Li, and the impact his success had on me.

It is wonderful to be feted as a performer following a concert. Nonetheless, the gratification one gets from helping people become better musicians – where they can express themselves at the instrument in a more technically capable and musically artistic manner – is definitely more meaningful and long-lasting.

I certainly didn’t think I’d ever be a piano teacher. When asked during my undergrad years by a classmate, “So, what are you going to do after finishing school – teach?”, I replied with great assurance, “Me? No, I’ll NEVER teach!”

Since these humble beginnings, I have had a variety of wonderful teachers – and a few that were not so hot, as well. In retrospect, I learned a lot from all of them. I seriously thought my first teacher walked on water and was the best thing since sliced bread; however, once I got to my second teacher, Ylda Novik, I realized, much to my chagrin, that Herr V. hadn’t taught me doodly-squat (one of my dad’s expressions).

Suddenly, I was thrust into a world of nuance, detail, and requirement that left my head spinning. I had stomach aches the first couple months of lessons – but I was thrilled by the challenge. I also loved the camaraderie that she created among her students; I am still friends with some of these people 40 years later. It was an incredibly stimulating and rich musical/social environment, and I credit Mama Ylda (our family moniker for her) with giving me the keys to the kingdom of being a professional musician.The one who unlocked the kingdom’s door, however, was my next teacher: Nelita True. Mama Ylda tragically died of cancer at age 54 during my junior year of high school. I – along with the rest of her brood – was devastated, and could not imagine myself going to another teacher.

But after about six months of grieving, I did. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I have always been someone who feels things intensely – especially music. Unfortunately, this can translate into debilitating physical tension – which, in turn, can pretty much wreck one’s musical expression, while also hurting like hell. Whereas Mrs. Novik made me aware of my tension and was able to lessen it to some degree, it still caused lots of problems: I often received only honorable mention in competitions because of my harsh sound – thus, I became her “Honorable Tommy”. Though somewhat amusing, this title was definitely a thorn in my side.

And thus my year was one of trying to play as cleanly and evenly as possible; lessons consisted of devising fingerings and redistributions towards this end, with minimal attention to interpretive issues. There was also much discussion of pedal, most notably in finding passages to use the sostenuto (middle) pedal. It was anything but inspiring work – though it was a valuable lesson in seeing that different teachers value and emphasize different things, some of which can be diametrically opposed to one’s own values and training. I do still, however, have an openness towards redistributing difficult technical passages that my other teachers did not share – so I got something out of that tedious year back in the heimat (homeland).

After a wonderful senior year back in the States with Nelita, I ended up in my home state of California for graduate work. This was at the University of Southern California (or the University of Spoiled Children, as it was referred to by some) with artist teacher John Perry.

JP was – and still is – a formidable personality: brimming with vitality, a razor-sharp wit, and one of the most nuanced set of ears on the planet. Hearing him work in studio/masterclass was often highly entertaining and revelatory, as it was here that he truly shone, transforming students on the spot with his unflinching dedication to meaningful, personal musicianship grounded in stylistic awareness. His understanding and connection to Schubert is peerless, in my opinion – in fact, his understanding and teaching of Classical style in general is something quite special, so I made sure to study a lot of this repertoire with him – especially Beethoven, to whom we both feel very connected. But we also had great lessons on Bach, Debussy/Ravel, Albéniz, Barber sonata, Chopin, Rachmaninoff – we covered a lot of ground in my time at USC. I also was privileged to work as his teaching assistant, giving me the opportunity to teach his studio during my final two years at USC. What a joy to teach top talent and repertoire!

My pianistic pedigree, as it were, is varied and colorful. My teaching reflects this mix in a way that is uniquely mine: passionate, playful, dedicated, and always challenging. I welcome the opportunity to work with anyone who loves playing the piano and is serious about becoming the best pianist he/she can be.