The Things People Do To Me

Just Rude

People often ask me if they can pull a string on my harp.  Sometimes they just do it without asking.  Sometimes they even do it without asking while I’m playing.  Um, hello? Ever heard of personal space? Ever heard of not touching other people’s expensive personal property without permission? Ever heard of not interrupting an inspired performance? It’s just rude. 

If you enter my harp bubble, I shoot you with my angry eyes.  

  

I’ve Probably Been Posted on Social Networks Hundreds of Times

Many of my harp adventures came to pass during my central park busking days.  I often felt like the newest New York landmark, because people would flock to me to pose for pictures.  I seriously thought about posting a sign asking for a dollar per picture.  I would’ve made bank.  I’ve probably been posted on social networks hundreds of times with captions like, “What the (insert word of choice) is this thing in central park?!”

Once a foreign couple in full wedding garb passed by, toting their videographer with them.  Said videographer took a video of said couple dancing in slow motion next to me.  I definitely should have charged them for that one. 

Karaoke

Again in central park, a little boy, who informed me that his name is Barack (I found that especially memorable, as it is a rare name and is also the name of the US President), decided that I was something of a live karaoke machine.  Yeah, I was playing Disney songs (I hope I don’t get a call from a Disney lawyer for posting that), so I suppose I should have expected as much.  It was pretty cute, but also kind of annoying.  He just stood in front of me, facing me, singing his heart out.  I wouldn’t have minded so much, but I’m pretty sure it drove some people away.  When I busk I mean business. 

  

I Probably Shouldn’t Even Share the Horror That is This Story

Once while I was tuning before high school orchestra, a cellist picked up his cello to extend his end pin.  He hit the sound board of the harp with his end pin on its way back to the floor.  It was horrifying.  Thank goodness the harp was a member of the aforementioned plywood breed of harps and not my own. 

Timber!

My most recent audience member-caused performance mishap occurred at a fundraiser dinner.  I was there with the Dothan Moonlighters, a big band.  I performed several pieces with the band, as well as several solos.  In the middle of one of my solos (of course) one of the servers walked into my stand, causing my stand, and the very heavy music book that was perched upon it, to become acquainted with the reality that is gravity.  Again I can say thank goodness, because it fell away from my harp.  (Instead it hit the back of an unsuspecting patron’s chair.  Is it wrong of me to be grateful for that?)  

Dreams Part 1

My dreams have made it clear to me that music has dug its way deep, deep, deep into my subconscious.  I think a dream specialist would have a heyday diagnosing the various issues music has caused in my life.  I'll try to make some sense of them for you and I'd love to hear your interpretations as well (PG rated comments only, please).  

I’ll start with the dream I had last night.  I woke up this morning feeling utterly baffled by it.  

I have been celebrating my recent completion of school for the past few weeks.

Look, I graduated! (Does this mean I can now go by “Master Burns?”)

The fact that I am done forever is still sinking in.  Of course, there is that sneaky little line in the ceremony about graduation being subject to the completion of all degree requirements.  But that hasn’t been a concern for me.  I knew before graduation day that I had passed all of my courses and completed all other requirements to graduate.  At least I thought I did…

Last night I found myself back at Manhattan School of Music.  Graduation was to happen in a few days, but I had procrastinated one task until the very end: the “sew a giant stuffed animal” requirement (????!!!).  Sewing a giant stuffed animal was required only of students in my particular program, the Orchestral Performance program.  A violinist in the program showed me her giant stuffed bunny.  

She clearly wasn’t a professional seamstress, but it was a good piece of work.  I, on the other hand, was due to present my work in a few hours, and had nothing to show to Glenn Dicterow (concertmaster of the New York Philharmonic and Chairman of the OP Program).  I planned to pass off this beautiful bunny, which was an Easter gift from my mother, as an original piece of work.  

It wasn’t giant, but it was something.  It was very stressful, but then I woke up.  

I admit parts of this dream are nothing short of bewildering.  But this is how I interpret it: 1.  I secretly fear that instead of my diploma coming in the mail, a letter stating that I am not eligible to graduate will show up.  2. I no longer know how to live without stress in my life.  Since I have been doing an ok job of staying calm, my dreams had to make up for the shock of tranquility my body is going through.  3. I am probably too fond of stuffed animal bunnies.          

$10,000 Wedding Cake

I’ve played at some pretty fancy events.  One of my craziest gigs was a wedding at The Pierre, a 5^th Avenue hotel (circa $800/night).  It was a magazine wedding.  Legit.  Often I am asked to play for weddings months in advance, but for this one I was asked the week of (and of course all communication was with the wedding planner.  I had no contact with any member of the wedding party at any time).  I was practically an after-thought.  They already had a small orchestra lined up for the ceremony.  Want to know what my job was? I was the hallway music.  No kidding, I played outside of the ceremony while people walked in and out.  They hardly even noticed me.  It was so bizarre.  Usually people are at least a little surprised by the sight of a harp.  But hey, the wedding cake alone cost a staggering $10,000.  It was dazzling; probably ten tiers covered in sparkling silver-tipped white flowers (all edible, of course.  I really wanted to try one.  I’m sure they wouldn’t have noticed…) I’ve been googling to find a picture of something similar, but nothing even compares.  Although for your entertainment, I did find this horrifying picture of a bride-shaped wedding cake:

I guess throwing a harpist in the hallway is no biggie when you’re used to living like that.  Nothing much has changed in the past few centuries; clearly musicians are still the low-class slaves of royalty.  This happened only a few weeks after my own wedding.  My entire wedding cost less than their wedding cake.  It’s okay, self.  You had a really nice wedding too.      




Follow up:
Well, I guess my memory exaggerated the size of the cake.  Turns out my husband took a picture of it. 

So it was only six tiers.  But still.  

I Play the Giant Oven Mitt

 Question.  What does this look like to you? (Seriously, comments welcome!)

 When I was a child I thought that the back bump looked like a shark fin.  I used to run around with my case over my head, pretending to be a shark.  But now I mostly think it looks like a harp with a case on it….

 Once I was waiting in an apartment lobby with my harp, which was covered.  Someone walked by and asked if it is a picnic table.  

Really, person? 

Well you never know in this world.   Maybe there is a picnic table out there shaped like a harp.  I definitely haven’t seen one. 

The most popular comment is that it looks like a giant oven mitt.  Now that I can see.  

I guess that’s pretty cool.  I really like to bake, so I’ll go with it.  Imagine the amazing food an oven mitt that large could produce.  

Stand

Music stands are useful in a lot of ways, but no stand should be reduced to this.  Shame, MSM.  Shame on you.    

Plywood

On rare and glorious occasions I am asked to play gigs that provide a harp for me.  It is a liberating thing to show up to a rehearsal or a concert having brought nothing but my backpack.  However the harps that are provided for these things are usually.…well, they suck.  They’re kind of their own breed of harp.  I used to joke that the harp at my high school was made of plywood.  The thing resonated about as much as plywood.  That’s how they all are; they’re the plywood breed of harps.

People ask me if it throws me off to play on unfamiliar harps.  I like to compare it to driving an unfamiliar car.  Driving an unfamiliar car can take some getting used to and similarly playing an unfamiliar harp can require some adjusting.  The stiffness of the pedals and responsiveness of the strings can vary from harp to harp.  Also harps can have horrifying little surprises nestled in their apparently innocent facade, such as wire strings that make a horrible buzzing sound when played too loudly, false strings that just won’t make harmonics, and pedals that pop out of place.  It takes a bit of playing around to discover the quirks of each harp.  But on plywood harps it doesn't really matter.  I usually give up on making any good music on them and just try to get the notes out.  Poor harps.  I do pity them.  Most of them spend the greater part of their lives locked away in pitch black closets, probably crying in the despair of uselessness with only creepy insects and arachnids to comfort them.  Once I was playing a plywood and I noticed a spider crawling around my feet.  I’m 95% sure it crawled out of the harp.  Imagine being forced to lean an instrument on yourself knowing a spider might crawl onto your shoulder and down your shirt. 

47 Strings

47 strings is a lot of strings to deal with.  47 strings is a lot of strings to keep in stock.  I've always tried to keep a full set on hand, but...well, you know.  $$$$$$$.  

Once I was competing in the Utah State Fair Music Competition and a string broke on my harp.  I was going to keep playing, but the judges stopped me.  They said I could replace the string and continue where I'd stopped.  I ran out of the room to search for the string in my spares, but it was not there.  I returned to report that I did not have the string and they sent me away in shame.

Every judge wrote "ALWAYS HAVE A FULL SET OF STRINGS" on my comment sheets.  Well, ya think, judges? Be more constructive with your feedback, please.  

The sad thing is I still don't have a full set of strings on hand at all times.  You know.  $$$$$$$$$.  

How

Usually when I tell people I am a harpist they say, “{choose one or several: wow, cool, really?, that's awesome}!…….(their face grows contemplative)…..how did you get into playing the harp?” Often, especially if said person is female, they answer their own question by including, “I’ve always wished I could play the harp.”  Based on my unofficial research (aka the number of women who have told me they wish they could play the harp) becoming a harpist is the childhood dream of 90% of the world’s little girl population.  The harp is the epitome of elegance, the harp is the instrument of angels, the harp is a rare and exotic instrument of legend.  The harp is,  frankly, awesome.  So the short answer is I got into playing the harp by wanting to really badly.   

The long answer involves a bit of practical inspiration (ha, am I really associating the word “practical” with the harp?).  My grandparents had a small Paraguayan harp in their home.  One of my earliest childhood memories is staring at the strings of that harp.  My Uncle Dave schlepped it all the way back from Brazil when he returned from serving a mission there for the LDS church.  It was an incredibly sweet gift for his parents and it changed my life.  I pestered my parents to get me a harp for years until they finally thought I was old enough to start lessons.   

Somehow I was born in one of the harp capitals of the world.  Lyon and Healy, my favorite harp company, has two stores in the U.S.  One is in Chicago.  That’s where they actually make the harps.  Big city; makes sense.  The other one is in Salt Lake, where I grew up.  In New York City where I currently reside (that big city where all things are supposed to be possible) it is not possible to go to a store and come home with a harp or even harp strings.  But in Salt Lake City it is possible to go to a store and come home with a harp, strings, music, a tuning key any color of the rainbow, harp jewelry, harp Christmas ornaments and any other harp accessory you can imagine.  Throw in a harp-shaped cookie cutter.  Only your imagination of harp merchandise is the limit.  (I love you New York, but you're really letting me down here...) So my parents took me to a music store one day and we came home with this baby:

That's how I got into playing the harp.