When I was a child I used to make detailed maps of my neighborhood, showing the route that I would walk to school. My father had a map of Paris on the wall of his basement practice studio. I had absolutely no understanding of Paris (or the Turkish Empire of 1679, for that matter), but I used to "walk" along those streets. One of the things that attracted me to Henry Miller (the writer) is that while he was living in Brooklyn he had a map of Paris, and he used to follow all the streets and imagine that he was there. Once he got to Paris he knew his way around.
Our son inherited my love of maps (the above map "lived" on the wall of his room throughout his childhood). And I'm rather thrilled that all three of our granddaughters love maps.
But I digress.
This early morning, while I was rehearsing some Haydn (Opus 77 #2) for a concert in the later morning, I had the sudden sensation that playing chamber music is a little like following a map. It is particularly map-like when you are playing an inner part because you can see and hear all the inner connections.
There is just so much to see and hear in Haydn, and there are all sorts of "side streets" and changes in "landscape."
But if the goal of a chamber music experience is a performance, the "points of interest" should really be found during score study and rehearsal so that we don't get distracted by new insights during performance and cause our trusting listeners to be dragged off onto unfamiliar roads or back alleys.
During orchestral performances I have the leisure to observe the music, because my main job is to play together with my section and to follow a conductor who, like a tour guide, has the paths s/he wants the music to take mapped out.
But chamber music is different, particularly when it is by Haydn, because there is just so much to observe.
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