An Artistic Anthology Of Success, Failure And Everything In Between! Erin Canavan
It�s funny how things in life can influence you and stay with you forever. These things, I�ve noticed, come from your childhood and filter through your adolescence � that one area of interest through high school, the thing that makes you a �category� in the Secondary School Social Standings. In my case, these experiences were all about the performing arts. My first ever experience of the arts was when I was four years old � a performance of the The Nutcracker at the civic theatre in Cairns. I was enraptured by the beauty of the performance � the languid movements of the dancers, the beauty in their steps and the grace in their facial expressions and extensions of their limbs. Understandably, this awe and intense passion for dance segued into ballet lessons � complete with pale pink shoes, hairspray-shellacked bun and matching rehearsal leotard and skirt, in a becoming shade of lavender. I remember being so excited to go to lessons, but while my teacher was touched by my enthusiasm, she was less than thrilled with my progress. After a month of lessons, it was recommended to my parents that I �find another hobby.� Because my fine and gross motor skills were so much slower to develop than the other kids, I wasn�t progressing at a fast enough rate. And, upon reflection, Miss Leticia Pollinelli did have a point (nevertheless, I was inconsolable about my lack of dancing prowess for quite some time). So for a while, I wandered, semi-despondent and restless, through my early formative years, reading and swimming the occasional lap of a pool. And then, in Year 5, another artistic opportunity presented itself. One day, I traded in my cream recorder and picked up the shiny black �liquorice stick� known as a clarinet. And my parents paid dearly. Literally, yes (music lessons were- and still are � so expensive!), but figuratively, too. For my first month of lessons, they had to tolerate �music� of the most rudimentary kind � squeaks of a broad melodic range and remarkable register. Couple that with the chimpanzee cheeks and subsequent redness brought about by an underdeveloped embouchure, and I think we were all regretting the whole instrumental music endeavour. But then, one day, something clicked. My fingers suddenly buzzed with a new energy and raced up and down the keys with more speed than before, my cheeks stayed sucked in and everything seemed to flow more smoothly. Apparently, this sudden aptitude seemed to translate to my teachers as �she should totally do AMEB exams.� Well, wasn�t that a fun suggestion! My fifth grade exam in particular (incidentally, the last I did before pulling out of a university audition and putting the licorice stick to rest entirely) was not an enjoyable experience in any way, shape or form. In these exams, you begin with your accompanied pieces, the accompanist leaves and you start the aural and technical elements of the exam. Once my lovely accompanist left, it was just me and the English examiner with coke bottle rimmed glasses who sipped moodily from a mug of tea with a face like a cat�s butt. Good times. And of course, he asked me the most difficult scale with the most complex articulation pattern. Plus it was nowhere near up to speed. I clearly remember what he said to me once I�d finished that botched attempt at �musicality.� He eyeballed me and hissed nastily, �well, we certainly stuffed that one up, didn�t we?� I fumbled the rest of the way through the exam and proceeded to go home, slam the door and cry for three hours. I kid you not. And yet, I still managed to scrape a credit, which was the single good thing to come out of the entire experience. One of my more enjoyable high school musical (sorry, no pun intended), experiences was Eisteddfod. Sure, the politics were intense and the solos were nerve-racking, but the ensemble work was by far worth the anguish of the other sections. The most vivid memory I have was my final ensemble section for Year 12 � the last time I�d perform in that way again. The paradox of a gaggle of private school girls wearing fancy blazers busting out a video game theme song (we�d chosen the Super Mario theme) was so appealing to me. And we finished on a high. Add to that with an awesome experience at �band camp� with an ensemble outside of school and the best time workshopping and performing on Music Tour, and the good stuff far outweighed the bad. The icing on the top of my performing arts cake was my experience with Drama � I won my Year 7 public speaking competition with a spoof journalistic expose about McDonald�s (my newsreader name was Sandra Sultry), topped off with an impromptu speech entitled �if I were Prime Minister for a day,� in which I dispassionately discussed how I would ditch textbooks and algebra (I hated Maths at the time. Still do), and traditional education methods entirely. And winning that, and trying, succeeding and occasionally, failing throughout these artistic experiences, gave me skills, insight and most importantly, memories that I will treasure (and cringe at, in some cases,) for a lifetime.
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