R u t h P h i l l i p s
Cellist
h o m e l a b o u t l w r i t i n g s l w o r k s h o p s l c o n t a c t l l i n k s
T h e B r e a t h i n g Bowthe importance of breath in cello playing
As cellists, when approaching the subject of our
musical voice, we must start -- as perhaps we must
also end -- with the breath. Within the meaning of
the Greek and Latin words pneuma, psyche, and anima
sits the connection between the spirit (or soul) and
the breath (or wind).
It is hardly surprising that so much spiritual
practice centres on the breath, for within the
simple act of inhalation and exhalation sits the
fundamental paradox on which forms such as Buddhist
meditation, Yoga, the poetry of Rumi, and the
cantatas of Bach are built. Consciously working with
the breath challenges a materialistic society that
is addicted to having and holding, in that
everything, including life itself, once taken in,
has to be let go of. Consequently it challenges a
musical climate that has become fixed in that
materialism.
The in-breath followed by the out-breath is
expansion and contraction which is the essence of
bowing; it is receiving and giving inspiration which
is the essence of performance; it is tension and
release, flow and ebb, life and death, control and
abandon. It is, in effect, our greatest teacher.
Why, then, when I asked dozens of string players --
some fresh out of college and others experienced
professionals -- whether their teachers had ever
mentioned breath, did 90% say no?
In order to bring the seminal importance of the
breath and the direct link between the breath and
the bow-arm into their awareness, I have developed
the following process for cellists. When doing this
work, it is essential to develop a spirit of
interest and compassionate observation throughout.
As feelings and thoughts arise it may be necessary
to repeat certain steps of the process in order to
maintain this spirit. It is a meditative process,
which can be utterly transformative. It emphasises
the quality of attention given to the breath and
invites us to notice how it and the music move us
rather than us moving it.
- With the instruments down, I ask the group to
sit in a circle with their arms loosely hanging by
their sides, and to start to breathe into the sides,
front and back of their ribcage. As they breathe in,
they observe the arms being pushed out to the side
by the expanding side ribs and the shoulders gently
rising with the clavicular expansion. On the
out-breath they observe the release of the shoulders
back down and of the arms back into their sides.
- I play a legato melody from a piece of music
they know. (Saint-Sans' The Swan works well.) As
they listen to the melody I ask them to feel the
expansion and contraction of the phrase in
connection with that of their breathing, allowing
the arms to float up and out as the musical tension
builds and then to fall back to their sides as it
releases. Thus, through the gentle amplification of
the breathing, the seeds of bowing are sown.
- Next, we repeat the previous exercise but this
time with the cellos resting in the playing position
against the torso. I ask the students to observe any
change in their breathing pattern. Almost without
exception, these occur due to the sudden proximity
of the instrument. The most common change for
cellists is that they start breathing into the upper
chest, cutting the breath off where the cello meets
the body, as if the instrument replaces the body. In
my experience, feelings of anxiety, shame, and of
being ungrounded are also common. At this point,
whether consciously or unconsciously, we enter the
psychotherapeutic landscape.
- Having observed these physical and emotional
changes, I then invite the students to explore the
bodies of the cellos and their own bodies through
touch, creating one living, breathing instrument. As
I continue to play the melody I suggest tracing the
concave/convex curves of their own bodies and those
of their instrument. I encourage them to touch the
belly of the cello and their own belly, the neck and
their own neck, and to feel the strings mirroring
their vocal cords as they touch their throat. I
suggest the image of the cellos ribcage as capable
of expanding with the breath of a phrase as their
ribcage does, and encourage them to bring this to
life through their touch.
- The next step is to introduce the bow. With
the left hand at rest on the neck of the instrument,
the student takes the bow gently in the right hand,
which rests on the lap. The
listening/breathing/observing is then repeated. At
this point, because of the physical contact with the
bow, it is common for the head to jump in with
thoughts of up bows and down bows. As a result, the
simple breathing pattern is often upset and panic
can set in.
- As I play the melody one more time, I ask the
students to play open G strings on each half-bar,
allowing the breathing and bowing to become one with
the slow pulse of the music. It becomes startlingly
clear at this stage that pulse, or metre, is the
body of the music. Pulse becomes the physical/earth
element and is understood as different from the
intricacies of rhythm.
- The final stage is to play the melody all
together. At this point the student becomes aware of
the different kinds of stress that can be
experienced as the body opens and closes, tenses and
releases, and how there are moments in music of
stressed expansion (up-bow ) and stressed
contraction (down-bow). This challenges the common
decision to dole down-bows out to every musical
accent and brings a whole new emotional realm to
bowing.
These exercises are not intended literally as a way
of playing -- i.e. breathing in when there is
tension in the music and out when there is release,
or indeed breathing in time to the music -- but
rather as a process towards freedom and groundedness
in performance. The idea behind all breath-work is
not to be bound by our breath, but for an awareness
of it to liberate our physical and emotional
responses. There are times when we will actively
draw on this connection; times when we need extra
support or release such as starting a movement (the
most natural preparation for starting -- or
'releasing' into -- a movement is to breathe in,
letting our arms follow that motion, and to play on
the out-breath, just as a singer would do), or at
specific moments of expansion, emphasis or climax in
the music. This will be conscious only at first as
we change our habits and holding patterns.
Eventually it will become second nature and
breathing out or holding the breath before playing
will feel as unnatural to the cellist as it would to
the oboist or the singer.
Working in the manner described above with our
breath can heal the divide between our physical
body, the body of the instrument and the body of the
music. It grounds us in matter and, being grounded,
we can safely begin to explore the other elements of
music making. Without such grounding the emotional
and spiritual demands on the performing musician can
be terrifying.
It can also have a profound effect on stage-fright.
Joseph Zinker says:
"Energy is blocked most often by fear of excitement
or strong emotions. The physiologic blockage
accompanying fear of excitement is frequently in
respiration."
After several weeks of group work all my students
reported that they were enjoying performing for the
first time. They were not nervous but rather aware
of having extra energy available to them, which they
had learned to ride. The two that habitually took
beta-blockers had chosen to stop because they wanted
to be in contact with this energy rather than
blocking it.
Ruth Phillips. August 2003
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