Linda Chatterton

I just got back from Kansas City, where the National Flute Association’s annual convention took place. I really like Kansas City - people are friendly, and I have fond memories of several restaurant visits - so I was looking forward to eating my way through the weekend as well as catching up with flute colleagues from around the country.

I was invited to perform a couple pieces and also present an abbreviated version of my performance anxiety talk, “It Sounded Better at Home!” On Thursday, I played Paul Schoenfield’s “Achat Sha’alti” and “Ufaratsta,”  and on Friday, I performed Reza Najfar’s “La Persienne.” Susan Snyder-Nunn was my pianist for these pieces, and we pulled everything off admirably with a bare minimum of rehearsal time.  These convention recitals end up being whipped together at the last minute with a pianist you usually first meet right before you rehearse together, which is usually right before you perform together…obviously not the best arrangement, but you do what you have to do….and Susan was more than up for it, so it all worked out in the end.

“La Persienne” is a very cool piece: while its structure is “classical,” the music itself is very Middle Eastern sounding (for lack of a better description). The first movement uses intervals of the fourth and fifth in the melodic themes, and the second movement is a Persian “avaz,” or song. It’s very mesmerizing and haunting. The third movement is a rhythmic and technical tour de force based on the Persian instrumental “charmezrab.” After you get done playing this complete flurry of notes for five minutes, the piece ends on a high F, which is always very satisfying to crank out successfully at the end! I listened to a lot of chramezrab performances on YouTube (what did we ever do before YouTube?), as I wasn’t particularly up on my Persian music before this, and that was incredibly helpful (and interesting). The title of the piece, “La Persienne,” does not translate to “The Persian,” as I originally thought, but describes traditional Persian bamboo curtains, called “persiennes” in French. Reza Najfar was inspired by a painting of bamboo curtains his brother did, and “La Persienne” has a quote from 12th century Persian poet Omar Khayyam at the top of the first page, which translates to: “When the curtain falls, neither you nor I remain.”

Aside from my performances and presentation, I had a great time chatting with a lot of folks I hadn’t seen for at least a year. The highlight, though,  was eating at my favorite KC restaurant, Le Fou Frog, while catching up with John Wittmann, Yamaha Artist Relations manager and all-around great guy, and then stumbling upon this extraordinary bar called The Cashew. This place is fantastic: the second floor has a room off the main bar area that resembles someone’s 19th century living room - oriental rug, wood paneled walls, comfy leather furniture, fireplace, crystal chandelier - except that the walls are decorated with completely bizarro paintings that give off a demented Alice-in-Wonderland vibe, and one of the walls is completely knocked out with a huge garage door is in its place…so when it’s open, you feel like you’re in a giant doll house looking out over the Kansas City skyline. Too cool!

Ah, I always think my summers are going to be laid-back and easy (an idea I probably got from summer vacation when I was an impressionable eight-year-old), but it always seems like I’m actually way busier in summers than in the “regular” concert season. This past month I’ve been completely swamped with finishing up my CD (I swear CD production must be akin to having a child: it’s a hundred times more work than you ever thought it was going to be, and you vow to yourself during the process that you’re never going to do it again, but, a year later, you’re thinking along the same lines of “wouldn’t it be great to…?” again…) and also teaching at a wonderful music camp down at Gustavus College in St. Peter, Minnesota.

I’ve been teaching at Lutheran Summer Music Academy, which is a month-long camp for high school musicians. I have to say I had the best time teaching there! My students were absolutely wonderful, and I’ve had a lot of fun teaching students who were bright, creative, interesting, and very amenable to new ideas. This has been the final week of LSM, and I spent the last couple days at Gustavus listening to student recitals; my students performed quite difficult music (Mozart concerti and some of the French conservatory pieces) in a very short amount of preparation time, so I’m very proud of all their hard work! The only thing I’m not sorry about leaving behind is the obnoxious 75 mile commute from Minneapolis, although I did rediscover my love for the music of Stevie Ray Vaughan en route.

I first came across this phrase while reading a book about Dorothy DeLay, the extraordinary teacher and mentor to many of the world’s concert and orchestral violinists, among them Itzhak Perlman, Midori and Sarah Chang (as well as my friend and wonderful violinist, Leslie Shank, of the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra). Dorothy DeLay said that before she said anything in critique of a student’s playing, she would ask herself, “Is it true, is it kind, is it necessary?” If her criticism didn’t meet this criteria, she wouldn’t say it.  She also marked up a student’s scores only ever so lightly in pencil with the things he or she needed to improve upon; when the student had fixed the issue, the light pencil markings were erased, with absolutely no trace alluding to previous mistakes.

I’ve often thought about “true, kind and necessary” words with my own students. I love teaching - the times in my life that I have a good balance between performing and teaching are when I’m happiest - and I strive to be helpful and supportive while giving honest feedback. And every student, of course, is different, so wording something so that a student really hears what you’re saying is sometimes a challenge…but, I think the “true, kind and necessary” standard is a good standard to live by - as a teacher, and also simply as a person.

Hi, I thought it would be fun to enter the world of blogging and share with people a little bit about who I am and what I do as a professional flutist. I guess my first post is pretty big news - I’m betting later posts won’t be nearly as dramatic - in that I was recently chosen to receive my second McKnight Fellowship for Performing Musicians. The McKnight Foundation is very generous in its support of the arts here in Minnesota, and it’s programs like this one that certainly make me happy I’m an artist living in Minneapolis!

This prize, which is for $25,000, is administered by the MacPhail Center for Music and is awarded based on performance excellence. From 120 applications, nine musicians were selected to perform in a live final audition (no pressure there!), and of those nine, four were chosen to receive awards. Besides me, the winners were: Gao Hong, an internationally known Chinese pipa soloist; Sarah Kwak, First Associate Concertmaster, Minnesota Orchestra; and Arek Tesarczyk, Cellist, Minnesota Orchestra.

Since everyone’s been asking me how I will use my windfall, first, I’ll be finishing up and promoting my CD of American music (John Jensen, my stellar accompanist in the final round, is my pianist on the CD). I hope to have a fun and free CD release party sometime in the fall in the Twin Cities.  I’ve been really fortunate to receive a number of grants to help with the production and promotion of my CD: I’ve also received funding from the Minnesota State Arts Board and the American Composers Forum.

I’m really excited about my CD, even while in the midst of the tedious work of editing the thing; the pieces on it are really wonderful works written for flute. The CD includes Lowell Liebermann’s sonata, Edie Hill’s “This Floating World” for solo flute, Aaron Copland’s “Duo for Flute and Piano,” Roberto Sierra’s new sonata (I believe this is also the recording premiere, which is very cool), and two lovely pieces by Paul Schoenfield: “Achat Sha’alti” and “Ufaratsta.” “Achat Sha’alti” is one of my favorite pieces, and it was great to record it. (I’m also looking forward to playing it at the National Flute Association Convention in August down in Kansas City.)

The only thing I’m really stuck on with the CD is a good title - it’s hard to come up with a good title! “American Flute Music” sounds a bit run-of-the-mill, if accurately descriptive, as does “Linda Chatterton - Flute” - so if anyone has any clever suggestions, please send ‘em my way!

Maybe I’ll write a future post about all the interesting things that flit through your mind in the week before you have thirty minutes to convince a panel of judges that you are indeed deserving of a enormous sum of money. (I do these presentations on performance anxiety called “It Sounded Better at Home!” and find it’s very interesting to check out my own thoughts while going through the same issues I sympathize with in everybody else.) But when all is said and done, I had a great time playing in the final round, was extraordinarily pleased that I won, and had a fantastic time celebrating with my very supportive sweetie that night by indulging in the nine-course Chef’s Tasting Menu (complete with matching wine flight) at the exquisite La Belle Vie.