Dusting the keys
A ten-minute return to the piano
Hello and welcome to The Notes Between! If you subscribed before this name change, you’ll know this Substack publication as ‘Afterlight’ - a name that started to feel a little too abstract, melancholic, perhaps…
With my love of the piano steadily taking over my life lately, music being such a big part of my heart, and always feeling drawn to the in-between moments in photography and life, ‘The Notes Between’ felt a bit more in line with my writing.
Thanks for being here, and I hope you enjoy today’s post! - Katy
Just ten minutes. That’s all I set myself. Pull up the stool, place my hands on the keys, and play.
‘But the piano deserves more than that, what will ten minutes get me? The goal ought to be higher if there’s to be a goal at all…’ I nodded at my inner perfectionist and carried on.
It’s Friday 8th November 2024 as I begin to write this, and I’ve just reached Day 50 of playing the piano for ten minutes every single day - a goal I set myself, well, fifty days ago somehow. It also happens to be World Pianist Day, a title I’ve been slowly returning to.
The piano was a big part of my life growing up, with grades and competitions, from a cheerful upright to a blissful baby grand and a growing wall of certificates. But then a big gap formed, and I’ve been trying to find my way back ever since.
After years of drumming fingers on my lap with memories of pieces that never seemed to fade - a reminder of the power of muscle memory - I finally started to return; a digital piano this time, since the entrance to my home is such an awkward angle, a ‘real’ piano never had a chance at moving in. But the silver lining? A pair of headphones, the freedom to ease my way back without awkward mistakes floating into the air, and inevitably landing in my neighbours’ ears.
As much as I felt myself reconnecting, there were long stretches of time when the piano stool became one of those surfaces - the place where miscellaneous belongings sit before they return to their rightful homes. The surface limbo. Things waiting to arrive.
Then the dust began to form. With no lessons or exams to aim for like I used to have, and nothing resting on my piano playing, I could afford to play on and off. It’s not making me money, it can wait. It’s just a hobby, it can be further down the list. Right?
There was a sadness that came with each wiping of the keys. The passing of time marked in the dust, and how clearly it could be heard in the rust of my playing.
Finally, my daily ten-minute ritual arrived - something I never imagined would make such a difference. Ten minutes a day, an idea I’d often heard from other creatives, but one I’d always dismissed, batted away with a strong belief that if you’re going to do something, for god’s sake, jump all the way in. Do it properly. Do it with full intention and a worthwhile amount of time, a list of goals and go on your way. Not ten minutes. Ten minutes sounded embarrassing, pathetic, and pointless. Ten minutes felt like giving up.
They sure are strong feelings for an object that’s meant to bring joy. Why so all-or-nothing? A past experience of strict music teachers, probably. A history of being around adults with perfectionistic tendencies, most definitely.
But I wanted to entertain the idea. Going into this new practice, routine, ritual, I felt myself split between two voices: all-or-nothing, and why not try something? To reach a more dust-free, piano-filled life, maybe ten minutes a day could be the way.
Before I knew it, ten minutes turned into twenty, thirty, even forty minutes…and there were days when the hours would pass me by and I’d have to pull myself away. But the calendar continued to say Ten, and it still does - I know that the goal of ten minutes is what keeps the stool warm. The hands of the clock giving me just enough of a check-in with an old friend, a brief ‘Hello, where shall we go today, then?’ With no opportunity for pressure to creep in, and no reason for it to, either. The notes already exist; I’ll reach them when I’m ready.
Some days are headphone days, and some are volume-up with the-windows-open days. There are days when I feel my brain expanding and something I’ve been trying to reach finally clicks - I’m immersed in Learning Mode. And there are days when those ten minutes offer a little refuge during a difficult day, my piano becoming the rock that it always deserved to be.
Thirty weeks later
Since starting to write this, I’m happy to share with you that this daily practice/ritual continues to grow. Over thirty weeks on! I’ve never stuck with a daily creative practice this long in my life. Especially something that I ‘don’t have to do’ (although the impact it’s had on my confidence and my heart would beg to differ - I’m sure I’ll write more on this).
Some of the piano pieces I’ve enjoyed learning during my daily ten minutes so far
Currently learning
Beauty and the Beast - a beautiful arrangement by Charles Szczepanek - this is way beyond my level, but I felt like a challenge. I’m loving every second of it (once I got past the nostalgia pulling at my heart, making me pause every few bars…!) If I can learn this by the end of the year - and confidently - I’ll be very happy.
Perfect Day by Patrick Watson - an arrangement of Lou Reed’s song, from the movie Perfect Days by Wim Wenders.
Patience and self-trust - a lifelong lesson through the keys 😌
Do you have a daily creative practice, or have you been wanting to start something similar? What’s calling your name?
Drop me a comment and say hello - I’d love to hear from you 😌
Love the new title Katy and reading your writing...'my piano becoming the rock that it always deserved to be.'
Katy! So pleased to read lines from you again on Substack and how amazing you have been sticking with such practice! Ten minutes a day can make a difference indeed. Maybe one day I will try the same with my dust-collecting piano 🙈 And I loved that line - …some days are volume up window open days… I imagine you shining on those with confidence as your music fills the whole street. 🤍