I received a couple of interesting notes in my inbox in response to yesterday’s newsletter. One, coming from Kenton, down Florida way, was the ‘violin’ entry in an old Webster’s Dictionary.

And though the accompanying illustrational was quite odd indeed, the text was right-on in its characterization of the violin hold I thought. It said, ‘…held nearly horizontal with the player’s arm with the lower part supported against the collarbone or shoulder.’

It did not say, ‘held between the chin and shoulder’, as many might believe.

In another response Stephen asked ‘whether one pinches the neck between the thumb and base of the index finger horizontally, or whether the thumb should be under the neck so that you can squeeze into the notes and roll the vibrato like a cellist’.

Now it is certainly easy to dismiss the former, I’ll have no pinching of violin necks in any coaching or master class of mine. Pinching of violins or violinists is strictly verbotten.

Doing this not only tightens your hand, it severely limits your ability to get around the violin. Not a good thing.

The latter concept is almost all good, however. There is just one little thing. I like to think of the thumb and base of the index finger as forming something of a ‘V’, with the violin resting between and atop the first joint of the thumb and the base of the index finger.

And yes, I do like the idea of squeezing or, better yet, massaging the fingerboard with the fingers – note that both these images imply pliancy within the hand and fingers.

Nothing is ever stiff, locked, or unyielding in the hand.

In yet another emailed response Al referred to the sweet spot where the violin rests as a ‘birth’ for the violin. I like that.

Now, all this being said, I don’t want to give the impression that I make a religion out of the neck’s location in the hand either. When I play there is quite a bit of flexibility in my hand, and the neck may indeed rest on the thumb, at times, or deeper in the ‘V’ now and again.

Yet the exceptions prove the rule, as the old saw goes.

And a good deal of my practice is spent relaxing and balancing my left hand as I perfect challenging passages.

I want to arrive at the point of maximum efficiency, minimum effort, and minimum hand distortion for anything I do.

I certainly look to keep my chin free of the chinrest if at all possible – downshifts, as I have said, are the one exception in this.

In any case, yesterday I mentioned ‘Kreutzer for Violin Mastery’ as an excellent tool for assisting a intermediate/advanced player in freeing up his or her hold.

All the best, Clayton Haslop

Recently I’ve been hearing education discussed in various public forums as this administration implements new standards and national funding policies.

It’s a circus, but one with serious consequences.

So I’ve been mulling over the catch phrase given to the Obama program, namely, ‘The race to the top,’ as it might apply to a life in music.

Now, on the one hand, I certainly don’t have a problem with being the best one can be. Am I’m sure you feel the same.

What I do have a few reservations about, however, is the implication of self, or group improvement being a race; that we are continuously in competition with each other.

When such thinking becomes endemic within a national psyche it comes with a price, sometimes witnessed in horrifying tragedy – such as the recent student suicides in Korea preceding their national examinations – yet more often in a pervasive, underlying feeling of stress in the society.

Gradually the fun of learning and growing is replaced by a feeling that nothing is good enough.

And with this ultimately self-defeating mindset, the soul gradually forgets how to breathe.

When I practice, now, I am no longer ‘racing for the top’ – yes, I was at one time a victim of such thinking. Today I begin by merely becoming present with the feelings inherent in drawing a pure and well-tuned tone from the violin.

Only after I’ve ‘tuned in’ on this very basic level do I begin to stretch myself, and think, ‘where does it make sense to move from here.’ Sometimes this is a very easy decision, the session flows easily into an etude or piece of repertoire.

Sometimes, however, my left hand is reluctant, tight. If I were ‘racing to the top’ on such days you can imagine the frustration and impatience I could feel.

Totally counter-productive and useless.

I must necessarily inhabit in a world of incremental changes on some days, and be thankful for those just as I am for the great leaps in insight or performance that accompany others.

It all begins and ends with being present and excepting of the moment. Not in a complacent, flaccid sort of way mind you, but one that is dynamic, inquisitive and attentive to unrealized potential, small OR greatly profound.

Bottom line is, I’m sad, in a way, that our public discourse on what should or shouldn’t condition the conduct of our lives must be reduced to such simplistic, desensitizing catch phrases.

You are welcome to disagree with me, of course.

At the same time, whether you are ‘racing to the top’ or enjoying a life of unfolding potential, I do think your practice will benefit greatly through engaging with the instructional DVD programs I’ve created for your level of playing.

All the best, Clayton Haslop

Recently I have been studying a very esoteric form of Chinese philosophy called Hwa-Yen. It is the philosophical basis of Zen Buddhism.

In the process I have learned something about the way Asian language systems, Chinese in particular, conceptualize and name the objects we see in our every day world.

So this morning I was reflecting on this a little bit while I was practicing, and it struck me that my thinking about violin playing mirrors the Chinese approach to language and conceptualization very closely.

You see, there is a subtle and interesting difference between the East and West in how ‘things’ are given names, and if you stay with me I think you’ll get something worthwhile out of it, something that may indeed benefit and shed light on your playing of the violin.

In Chinese, to give a few examples, the word for ‘train’ translates, literally, as ‘fire car,’ automobile as ‘gas car’, and bicycle as ‘foot-stepping car.’ In English, however, we have quite different and distinct words for each of these things; etymologically they are seemingly quite unrelated.

In the Chinese mind, then, the linguistic construction first identifies ‘train’ as something belonging to a group, in this case, a vehicle. This generalized term is then modified and given specificity by the addition of an adjective, in this case describing one requiring fire for operation – at least trains did in the old days.

So even from the way our language systems are constructed you can see that the Western mind tends to compartmentalize, to identify in a specific and definite way. The Eastern mind, on the other hand, seeks to generalize first, and then to differentiate; this thing is both like these AND, simultaneously, containing in something quite different.

Now let’s talk violin playing. Many violinists I have taught have wanted to ‘nail things down’ when they came to me; this is THE way the fingers of the left hand articulate, this time, every time.

And for such players it comes as a surprise that in one Kreutzer Etude I talk of the fingers lightly tapping the string, and in another of the four fingers moving as if some kind of a constant motion machine; the former implying a digital type of articulation, the latter something quite analogue.

And, in fact, BOTH and more must be available to one seeking to reach the highest levels of performance.

The world of form IS full of contradictions and the message of music is, by definition, transmitted within this same world of form.

And thought there is no getting around this, it is also true that underlying the contradictions are a great number of similarities and parallels.

So, though I say there are contradictions does not mean one surrenders to chaos. There are, after all, ways of playing the violin that are more efficient, effective and conducive to getting even wildly different types of music across than others.

The point is, however, that your technique must be fluid, dynamic, and able to embrace and effortlessly expand through a great range of textures and expressions.

So there isn’t just one way to articulate with the fingers of the left hand. And there isn’t just one way to ‘take the string’ when initiating a tone.

The challenge of a violin system, however, is to provide for all these ‘contradictions’ within something of a generalized framework, so hopeless confusion is avoided.

In short, one needs a way of playing the instrument that is BOTH superbly straight-forward AND supremely flexible and adaptive.

As proof, when we listen and watch a truly great master moving effortlessly through a vast range of expression we often can’t help but think, ‘and they make it look so simple.’ And so it has become, for them, as it must for you.

One such method, for experienced players who want to take it up a notch or two, can be found in my ‘Kreutzer for Violin Mastery’ program.

All the best, Clayton Haslop

P.S. Now, players not-quite-ready for the 42 Kreutzer Etudes would do well to take a look at my very comprehensive lessons called, the ‘Allegro Players.’

Yesterday afternoon I gave a coaching session to a very accomplished professional violinist. This is a man who, as a former member of a world-class string quartet, has toured around the world many times over.

He has also taught in major universities, in this country and his country of origin, and played in numerous professional orchestras.

He has truly lived a life of music.

Now I’m telling you this to reflect something of an attitude that I greatly admire. This gentleman is currently in his mid-sixties, and he is still seeking guidance and council from people he respects.

I was honored to work with him.

And if in the course of our session there was a central theme, it was to underscore the most valuable insight Milstein imparted to me.

Actually, if you read Milstein’s memoir, ‘From Russia to the West,’ it is there for ANYONE to see.

What he said was, ‘the most important thing in playing violin is how you Think.’

Now, I know I go on quite a bit about this. Yet it is a concept that almost cannot be emphasized too much; mainly because it is frequently understood in only a partial way.

You see, quite often I notice folks CONCEPTUALIZE something fairly clearly about violin playing, they talk a good game; yet when the violin goes under the chin and the action begins, the feedback from the body seems to crowds whatever they were thinking right out the window.

You know, it takes real presence of mind to hold an intention through the distractions presented by the force of habit or, in the case of the novice, the haze of the unfamiliar.

The mind gets easily overwhelmed, it tends to ‘run away,’ as Milstein used to say. And this tendency, in my experience, even grows stronger as we approach the critical point of a breakthrough.

And I think this due to the fact that the closer the unnecessary muscles movements are to those that ARE necessary, the greater the apparent challenge to central control; i.e. our mind.

So necessarily, the final 20% of mastery requires the lion’s share of commitment.

The good news is, and I know you’ve experienced this in one area of your life or another, the more deeply you go into something the deeper the satisfaction and meaning that comes out of it.

This is as true of drawing a long, sustained bow as it is playing a Paganini Caprice.

The important think is to burn completely, without conflict, in any endeavor. To surrender completely to an intention, until it is fulfilled.

All the best, Clayton Haslop

P.S. Recently I heard from the oldest sibling in a family of Violin Mastery learners. She had initially begun with Kreutzer for Violin Mastery, yet had moved herself back to the Beginners Circle to properly absorb the new approach to playing fundamentals. This was a mature and courageous move on her part.