Being a violinist has its contents and discontents. But mainly it's a game of contentment.
That much was made clear when German-born violinist Jolan Friedhoff performed the Adagio and Presto from Bach's Sonata for Unaccompanied Violin in A minor at The Bee.
Local audiences will recognize Friedhoff as assistant concertmaster with the Sacramento Philharmonic this past season. She is on the music faculty at the University of California, Davis, and is on leave from the Saar State Opera Orchestra in Germany, where she is assistant concertmaster.
Here are some of her responses to questions posed after her Bee performance.
Tell me about the pieces you played.
These are two Bach sonatas. They're bread-and-butter pieces that all violinists have to study. Bach wrote three sonatas for unaccompanied violin and three partitas, and they always come together in this big, thick book. It was required to play some of these by memory in order to get your degree in music school.
Are they easy to play?
They're not, because in the first movement, Bach writes the harmony in a way that I have to accompany myself. There is a lot of chordal playing. That makes things very difficult.
How much of what you do is creative, and how much is just repetition? How do you feel your creativity shows?
You practice for precision. The artistic element comes when you're playing and you develop your interpretation of a work. But first you need the groundwork of knowing where to place those notes. It's then that you start to build lines and phrases, and you start expressing sound and color. That's where the artistic part comes in. Everything else is just hard work.
How important is competency in taking it to the artistic level?
To rise to that level is quite a long battle. And you're never sure if you've won it. It comes with solid technique.
When did you begin to feel that competency?
It was very late. I would say it was about 15 years ago.
How many hours do you practice a day?
I don't actually practice that many hours a day anymore. Early in your career, when you are developing your muscles and brain, practice involves putting in six hours a day. You have to have that to conquer this recalcitrant instrument. After that, you can slough off.
How did you start out with music?
I started out as a ballet dancer. I was supposed to become a ballerina, so I started classical music very late, but I always played the violin in a youth orchestra. My whole family is musical. All of my siblings played, so I could not get out of it. And then, suddenly, I had a very good violin teacher at the University of Utah, where I was majoring in ballet. And he said, "Honey, music is a lousy career – but dance is even worse!"
What kinds of music do you listen to when you're not playing?
Oh, I hardly listen to music. I'm so plagued by music in my head that I want to get away from it. I listen to news broadcasts.
Tell us about your violin.
It's a modern Italian violin made in 1976. I got it when I was studying music at Indiana University. It was made by Sergio Peresson, a famous Italian violin maker. My violin teacher at Indiana was buying one, so I begged my parents to order one for me. As a result, I didn't have to go through that terrible dilemma that musicians go through about how to get a good instrument. I paid $5,000 for it about 30 years ago, and that was a lot of money back then. It's probably worth $50,000 now. But to buy a violin of this quality in an old instrument, you would probably pay over $100,000.
What conductor would you like to have over for dinner?
If Leonard Bernstein were alive, I would have him over for dinner, and for quite a few evenings. He was, for me, the top conductor. For someone alive today I would chose another one of the greats – Seiji Ozawa.
What has been the strangest place you've ever played?
Our trio was invited once to tour with this medical group from Germany. We played in Amman, Jordan, in very stressful conditions, with a very out-of-tune upright piano. Everything was loud, I could hardly hear my instrument.
How many black dresses do you own?
Tons. It's all I have, virtually. As part of an opera orchestra, you play four nights a week in the pit. And for that we wear long black.
Call Bee arts critic Edward Ortiz, (916) 321-1071.
