I can certainly pin point my formative years and specific life changing moments. It's hard to forget them. Sometimes they serve as a rite of passage, others are traumatic events that can leave us forever tainted. Some remain engraved in our memories as the happiest days of our lives.
My dad always told me to enjoy my life as a student. And that I did, to a fault.
I spent my college years obsessing over a cylindrical metal object with holes and keys: the flute. Pierre the slightly arrogant gold flute, Sparky the playful but twisted silver one and Hercules (aka Mariah) the piccolo. And five of those summers were a privilege at the Aspen Music Festival and School. I still have all the programs, an endless myriad of pictures, lifelong friendships, and exponential personal, artistic and professional growth.
During my summers there I wore a fedora and I was nicknamed Indiana Jew. I hiked, I jumped off of a cliff (paraglide), I pseudo-climbed mountains experiencing epic views of the continental divide, I cooked to make money, ushered, had a few love affairs, drank too much, gorged in the local gourmet cuisine, house sat, became a dog walker, developed a love for 70s tunes (at the Tipler), I organized a rafting trip, I learned that I loved working with kids (thanks to a wonderful Debbie Barnekow whose dog Sadie threw up on me), lost weight, gained weight, was featured on one of those wedding shows, and developed a crush on my roommate and had my heart broken.
Oh yes, and then there was the music.
I could name drop for days: conductors, musicians, administrators, lecturers, etc. But the first time I was introduced to David Zinman was a day I would not forget. Bonita Boyd, my teacher at Eastman where I did my undergrad had played under his baton for many years at the Rochester Philharmonic. She introduced me to him and his wife as they were walking their enormous but quirky poodle.
There were many influential musical and aesthetic moments. Whether it was playing Prokofiev's Classical Symphony at superhuman speed - I felt as smoke should come out of my keys and the woodwind section should spontaneously combust - earning the first flute fellowship, and blasting the alto flute part on the Rite of Spring, David Zinman conducting.
David Zinman recently and abruptly quit, although it was brewing slowly like the orgasmic cadence in Tristan's Prelude. The festival was recently shortened for a week, the CEO fired and rehired, faculty cuts and disagreements as fundraising goals were missed and tensions arose out of financial concerns. This is not unique to the Aspen Music Festival (pause) and School, but rather general economic difficulties that plague almost all arts non-profits. What would Michael Kaiser say to this? How would he handle it.
I think we are all watching to see what Alan Fletcher, the president and CEO will do. Or is he perhaps the next in line to go elsewhere. Most non-profits are revolving doors, although I remember Aspen being quite stable during my time from 1997-2001. Whether it was Dean Hal's presence and his dog Copland, I am thrilled that I was given the opportunity to experience Aspen.
So, who will follow David Zinman? Any guesses?
Pictures:
1. Flute studio with Nadine Asin and Murry Sidlin after a performance of Steve Reich's Vermont Counterpoint for way too many flutes, piccolos and altos.
2. My first catered lunch at Martha Aarons masterclass.
3. A drive to independence pass with roommates, sushi chef from Takasushi and friends.
4. Martha Aarons and I after a ridiculous performance of Prokofiev's Classical Symphony
5. Flute section with Mark Sparks after honking the hell out of Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin.
