I recently watched a PBS documentary on Bob Ross (no relation), who gained fame as the creator and host of The Joy of Painting, a television program that ran for 12 years on PBS stations in the United States. On the show, Ross would teach viewers how to create an oil painting from start to finish in just half an hour by following seemingly easy, step-by-step instructions. The blank canvas with which he started would be gradually transformed into an impressive landscape painting by the end, rather like a cooking show that starts with a few ingredients and a stove and ends with a gourmet dish or meal.
According to the documentary, Bob Ross felt that one of his missions in life was to convince ordinary people that they could paint pictures skillfully, even if they had no background in art. He wanted to help people who considered themselves to be untalented and/or lacking in artistic skills to discover that they too could create art by following his (apparently) simple steps.
That is a powerful and beautiful message!
Mystery, Complexity, and Drudgery
It seems to me that composers and other creative artists often make the creative process sound far more mysterious or complicated than it really is. The reality, at least from my perspective, is that developing into an accomplished and mature artist takes years of drudgery.
People who wish to become concert pianists or violinists understand that the process involves years of practicing scales, studies, and progressively more challenging compositions, as well as constantly trying to improve their sound, listening to other artists, studying music theory, history, and ear-training, all the while receiving frequent feedback from teachers and others. Becoming a skilled composer is no different; you do all these things, plus spend thousands of hours composing music, until you reach a point where you kind of feel like you know what you are doing, although I admit that I never totally know what I'm doing.
When you reach this point, others might tell you, gee, I wish I had that kind of talent, when what they should be saying is, gee, I wish I had spent ten thousand hours developing my skills as a composer!
But I digress… Bob Ross empowered ordinary people to create art by demystifying the process of artistic creation, and explaining his process in a way that made ordinary people feel that they too could paint. This was a noble and tremendous accomplishment.
But can anyone compose music?
I believe the answer to this is yes, at least for anyone that is physically capable of doing so. GarageBand, an Apple software application for Mac OS X and iOS, allows users with no musical background to to create music or podcasts. You don't need much musical knowledge to use music sequencing and notation software either; all you need is a computer, the knowledge of how to use these programs, and the ability to distinguish the musical bits you like from those you don't. Naturally, as with painting, the more you do it, the more your skills improve.
This is great news for people who love music but did not have instruction in musical instruments as they grew up. It's also great news for people who did have musical instruction in an instrument, but not in composition. A lot of classical musicians are trained with little or no instruction in composition, but, should they (or anyone else) ever wish to try their hand at composing, there are ways to do this in privacy, in a risk-free environment.
Fear of Failure
A recurring theme of Bob Ross's television shows, according to the documentary, was don't fear failure, and this seems good advice for anything else in life as well, but particularly so for music.
Fear of failure can hold us back from achieving our goals. Some awareness of the potential pitfalls associated with any endeavour seems wise — we all know what can happen if you cross a road without looking — but what can go wrong if you compose music?
This calls for a list!
Things that could go wrong if you write music:
Perhaps the most likely of the above possibilities is the first: It might not be as good as you'd like it to be, at least in the early stages of your development as a composer.
But so what? If our composition isn't as good as we would wish it to be, then we try again, and keep trying again until we can eventually write music we feel good about. Sure, the premiere of Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring caused a riot, but (a) music premieres generally don't, and (b) if your premiere causes a riot, count your blessings (while taking cover), because, as the old show business saying goes, there's no such thing as bad publicity.
All great composers have had bad reviews, been harshly received by members of the public and/or their family, and many have been told been told their music is unplayable; they went on to achieve greatness in spite of this. If technical issues in your music are causing problems for performers, look closely at them to see if there is a compromise that serves your goals as the composer and makes the music more "user-friendly" for the performers. It's all "stuff" that you can deal with, and, to quote a book I have never read, "Don't sweat the small stuff."
It can sting when your music does not turn out as you had hoped, but, generally, if you work at developing your craft for long enough, you will write music you can feel proud of, and that is the only factor within your control. If you believe in your music, others are likely to believe in it as well.
And so, to summarize a ridiculously long blog post…
I am not suggesting we embrace failure, despite any appearance to the contrary in my last point above! ;) I am suggesting that fear of failure can hold a person back from accomplishing goals, and every composition brings challenges that, if negotiated skillfully, can result in some very fine music!
To return to the point of the first section of this blog, the creative process is sometimes described in mysterious language or perplexing techno-babble/jargon, and this can serve as a kind of barrier between practitioners (e.g., composers, artists) and those interested in developing skills as composers and artists (e.g., students, amateurs). Like the old joke about how to get to Carnegie Hall (answer: Practice), becoming a good composer is not very mysterious at all: You just practice, a lot, try to get lots of feedback along the way, and aim to make every piece as good as you can make it at that time. And yes, anyone can be an artist!
Mystery, Complexity, and Drudgery
It seems to me that composers and other creative artists often make the creative process sound far more mysterious or complicated than it really is. The reality, at least from my perspective, is that developing into an accomplished and mature artist takes years of drudgery.
People who wish to become concert pianists or violinists understand that the process involves years of practicing scales, studies, and progressively more challenging compositions, as well as constantly trying to improve their sound, listening to other artists, studying music theory, history, and ear-training, all the while receiving frequent feedback from teachers and others. Becoming a skilled composer is no different; you do all these things, plus spend thousands of hours composing music, until you reach a point where you kind of feel like you know what you are doing, although I admit that I never totally know what I'm doing.
When you reach this point, others might tell you, gee, I wish I had that kind of talent, when what they should be saying is, gee, I wish I had spent ten thousand hours developing my skills as a composer!
[Here's a link to another blog I wrote on this topic, in case it interests you: Talent? Skill? What's the difference?]It can seem as though composers (and other artists) sometimes play up the mysteriousness or complexity of the creative process by offering explanations that are shrouded in mystery, or seemingly designed to obfuscate. Here are silly examples of both:
Shrouded in Mystery: This composition came to me fully-formed in a dream, and all I did was write it down when I woke up!
Designed to Obfuscate: The prime form of [0 2 3] is, as even the simplest child knows, [0 1 3]. This aptly illustrates that, on a Babbittion plane, "major" and "minor" (I herewith mimic dormant terminology with both prudence and shocking insight) trichords are indistinguishable from one another, at least aurally (visually, the difference is notoriously striking!). I manipulated both of these sets employing a cunning derivation of neo-Riemannian theory that I authored while researching North-Indian proto-tablational reductions of integer-centric, sub-sonic impulses in the steppes of central Asia on prestigious Fulbright, Guggenheim, and Getty Grants, employing retrogrades, inversions, graduate students, and, of course, post-modernist regression, with the following results: [0130230203010333333333327(!)7], and so on (I refrain from revealing too many of my secrets here in the interests of protecting my intellectual property; all too often in the past others have marauded my ideas and created works that generated untold millions for their music. I speak here of Michael Jackson, Madonna, and Justin Bieber, among others). It was thus that I genetically engineered my latest chef-d'œuvre, "Mary Had a Little Lamb." It is contradistinctive from "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," Baa Baa Black Sheep," and "A B C D" in non-trivial ways that defy explanation (I refer readers capable of understanding über-high-level theoretical constructs to Edward Cone's seminal publication, "Beyond Analysis," which MUST be followed immediately by a close reading of David Lewin's "Beyond the Beyond," although it is unlikely that people who love music will be capable of understanding either article or this erudite explanation for that matter).I made up both examples above, but if the second amused you, I highly recommend a visit to The Contemporary Classical Composer's Bullshit Generator, a clever Perl Script by composer Dominic Irving, that, as its name suggests, generates reams of random rubbish masquerading as composer's program notes.
But I digress… Bob Ross empowered ordinary people to create art by demystifying the process of artistic creation, and explaining his process in a way that made ordinary people feel that they too could paint. This was a noble and tremendous accomplishment.
But can anyone compose music?
I believe the answer to this is yes, at least for anyone that is physically capable of doing so. GarageBand, an Apple software application for Mac OS X and iOS, allows users with no musical background to to create music or podcasts. You don't need much musical knowledge to use music sequencing and notation software either; all you need is a computer, the knowledge of how to use these programs, and the ability to distinguish the musical bits you like from those you don't. Naturally, as with painting, the more you do it, the more your skills improve.
This is great news for people who love music but did not have instruction in musical instruments as they grew up. It's also great news for people who did have musical instruction in an instrument, but not in composition. A lot of classical musicians are trained with little or no instruction in composition, but, should they (or anyone else) ever wish to try their hand at composing, there are ways to do this in privacy, in a risk-free environment.
Fear of Failure
A recurring theme of Bob Ross's television shows, according to the documentary, was don't fear failure, and this seems good advice for anything else in life as well, but particularly so for music.
Fear of failure can hold us back from achieving our goals. Some awareness of the potential pitfalls associated with any endeavour seems wise — we all know what can happen if you cross a road without looking — but what can go wrong if you compose music?
This calls for a list!
Things that could go wrong if you write music:
- It might not be good.
- It might cause a riot when it is premiered.
- The audience might boo lustily, or shout, "For SHAME!" during the premiere.
- It might result in your becoming the biggest laughing stock in the history of the human race.
- It might get bad reviews.
- The musicians might tell you that the music is unplayable.
- The musicians might not play the right notes. Or they might play the right notes, but at the wrong times. Or they might totally disregard dynamics, articulations, and slurs.
- The musicians, accustomed as they are to playing music by dead people, might resent having to perform music of some upstart composer with the unmitigated gall of being alive.
- The musicians might say, "You didn't really want that F sharp in bar 41, did you?" Or worse.
- Your parents/friends/pets might not like it.
- You may be branded a formalist, and be called before the Union of Soviet Composers to explain yourself.
- You might get hit by a bus on the way to the premiere.
Perhaps the most likely of the above possibilities is the first: It might not be as good as you'd like it to be, at least in the early stages of your development as a composer.
But so what? If our composition isn't as good as we would wish it to be, then we try again, and keep trying again until we can eventually write music we feel good about. Sure, the premiere of Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring caused a riot, but (a) music premieres generally don't, and (b) if your premiere causes a riot, count your blessings (while taking cover), because, as the old show business saying goes, there's no such thing as bad publicity.
All great composers have had bad reviews, been harshly received by members of the public and/or their family, and many have been told been told their music is unplayable; they went on to achieve greatness in spite of this. If technical issues in your music are causing problems for performers, look closely at them to see if there is a compromise that serves your goals as the composer and makes the music more "user-friendly" for the performers. It's all "stuff" that you can deal with, and, to quote a book I have never read, "Don't sweat the small stuff."
It can sting when your music does not turn out as you had hoped, but, generally, if you work at developing your craft for long enough, you will write music you can feel proud of, and that is the only factor within your control. If you believe in your music, others are likely to believe in it as well.
Compare the things in the above list that actually have some likelihood of going wrong to the things that can go wrong for air traffic controllers, surgeons, or police officers; if they make mistakes, people can die. If we make mistakes, we feel disappointed or even frustrated, but no one dies.
"Failure" is all relative. If a composer goofs and writes notes that are out of range for a particular instrument, we fix it, and, in the great scheme of things, nothing particularly bad has happened. If a composer tries some crazy new thing that does not end up working very well, the composer may feel unhappy or even embarrassed at the premiere, but there's an good chance that someone will come up to the composer afterwards and say something like, "Dude, that was my favourite part of the whole piece! I really loved that section!"
A composer can (and, I believe must) take chances and try new things, and if they don't work out satisfactorily, we either attempt a fix (go back and keep trying things until we arrive at a solution that satisfies us), or chalk it up to experience and move on to the next piece somewhat wiser, assuming we have understood why it didn't work.
Fear of failure can be paralyzing for an artist; I believe, having experienced it, that it is the primary cause of "writer's block." Try to embrace the risks inherent in writing every new composition, with the knowledge that:
- Risks are an essential part of the process;
- If risks "fail" — if something you try does not succeed — the consequences are usually minimal;
- There is a solution for every compositional problem;
- The more you solve compositional problems, the more you learn;
- The solutions to compositional problems can end up being among the strongest sections of a composition; and
- There is a saying that you learn more from failure than you do from success. I don't know how true this is — I think there is much to be learned from both, frankly, and here's a link to a Scientific American article that challenges this saying — but I do believe that challenges (a nicer word than "failures," don't you think?) provide opportunities to both (i) learn and grow as artists, and (ii) improve our compositions, so, looking at it this way, they are not to be feared, but embraced!
And so, to summarize a ridiculously long blog post…
I am not suggesting we embrace failure, despite any appearance to the contrary in my last point above! ;) I am suggesting that fear of failure can hold a person back from accomplishing goals, and every composition brings challenges that, if negotiated skillfully, can result in some very fine music!
To return to the point of the first section of this blog, the creative process is sometimes described in mysterious language or perplexing techno-babble/jargon, and this can serve as a kind of barrier between practitioners (e.g., composers, artists) and those interested in developing skills as composers and artists (e.g., students, amateurs). Like the old joke about how to get to Carnegie Hall (answer: Practice), becoming a good composer is not very mysterious at all: You just practice, a lot, try to get lots of feedback along the way, and aim to make every piece as good as you can make it at that time. And yes, anyone can be an artist!
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37 comments:
I strongly agree that anyone who puts the time in can indeed be a composer (or likewise an artist). One point that stood out was writing music that is impossible to play.
Back when I was about 15 or so I would write music for guitar all of the time. The only problem was that it was pretty much impossible to play (and not idiomatic at all, even though I the guitar was my instrument...). I would get feedback from listeners online as well as my own attempts at trying to play what I wrote. I would then take that advice and that knowledge that it was unplayable and apply that to my next piece/song that I worked on.
The only reason that I was able to later write music that made sense for the guitar was because I made these mistakes in the first place!
I've been a composer for as long as I've been a musician, and I also agree that creating art is something anyone can do. I basically hold the opinion that if I can do it, anyone can. Refining the craft of composing, to me, was even easier than refining the craft of my instrument. Not to say that I am "refined" in either respect, but making progress as a composer does not include being hyper-aware of obscure muscles of my body. I guess I could also say if I can play flute, anyone can compose. If you have the incentive to learn and a some people who are willing to give feedback who might catch that which you won't when you're starting off, you're golden (as they say).
Obviously there are certain things which you cannot teach. Though anyone who dedicates the hours and hours of practice will definitely improve and become better and better at what they practice. Some people seem to have a greater musicality than others, though maybe that is simply due to their approach and/or their immersion in their craft.
I struggled with the fear of failing. I still do from time to time. But if you avoid things just because they stress you out or freak you out, then you won't get anywhere. You get better at things by plugging away at them, and not by shying away from the opportunities that present themselves to you. That's something I've definitely learned in the past and it's definitely helped me out quite a bit!
I definitely agree with this idea that anyone could be an artist! I actually somewhat dislike the term "talented" when I hear it from certain people. It's kind of the experience where a family member or friend hears you play or hears something you write for the first time and says "You're so talented! Where do you get it?" As if musical ability just comes to you from somewhere. Well it does, it comes from hours spent practising.
There's even often times where my parents still don't fully understand it, even after years of watching me play and spend time practising. Sometimes when I say I need to practice they will say "Don't worry you'll be fine!" Of course they are also my parents and definitely biased!
Either way, that's always my answer when someone gives this response of "you are talented" after a performance (or even sometimes after a guitar lesson I teach) as if talent is just something you have or don't. I believe the actual thing that people have or don't have, is drive. If you have the drive to practice, put time into music, and strive towards a goal, talent is just a bi-product of the work you put into that.
Hi, You explained the topic very well. The contents has provided meaningful information thanks for sharing info. FEAR OF FAILURE
I adore this entry! It is humourous and inspiring and captivating. The first time I applied to MUN Music (shortly after, I withdrew my application, only to apply again the following year), I stated in my writing sample that I intended to compose. Over the course of that in-between year, I realized how ridiculous that was. I had never written anything, how could I possibly compose at a university level? Now, in my final semester, I have begun composing and have realized that it's not all mystery, it's not all divine intention, and it's not all so technical as those who follow the BS Generator would have us believe. I deeply regret my decision to refrain from composition until this point, and I am left with a conviction that all musicians (and non-musicians, if they are so inclined) should at the very least try their hand at composition. The process of composition is exciting and has the potential to be so rewarding! My little piano students start composing almost as soon as they begin lessons, and it is such a joy to watch them create their own music. It is rudimentary and uninspired but it is theirs, and they are proud in a way that only children can be. It is so refreshing to observe the utter lack of self-consciousness they possess; they don't have that fear of failure that holds back so many older would-be composers (yours truly included).
I will totally agree with the point that anyone can be a composer. However simple, a G C D song with some obvious lyrics about how life is hard, DO constitute a composition! (See every country music song ever written).
And though I look down on it, the simplest of compositions are absolutely something that SOMEONE can be proud of. And I am definitely not so high and mighty that I can take that away from them. To compose is to express yourself the best you know how, and whether that be using complex set theory or drumming your fingers on your dashboard... Everyone is a composer.
I guess it takes a great human being like Bob Ross to understand this. He clearly has the inherent ability to believe in everyone he meets, unconditionally. This fantastic ability is all too few these days. There aren't many Albus Dumbledore's or Gandalf's around anymore - and we perhaps should take it more upon ourselves to see the potential in people.
I've never heard of this show by Bob Ross but it sounds fantastic. I've always been someone growing up who was absolutely garbage at drawing, painting, I'm not even a good colour-er. And yet so many other people in my class were just naturally good at it. I always thought," Oh well, I'm good at music. That's art. So that's okay. I'm just bad at visual art." But no one ever said the difference. I think shows, and ideas like this are very important for many individuals.
Of course, talent is definitely something that exists. Some people are naturally good at specific things, but this will only get them so far. You see it all the time with YouTube celebrities. People have raw-talent at something, and BECAUSE it is raw (untrained) talent, people are amazed, go wild, and then in a month or so you never hear from them again.
It is the motivation and love the art that drives to success. Instant success is not success at all really.
My fear when it comes to failure is that I will not be taken seriously afterwards. It's one thing to be told that your skills need refining, but another to be essentially be told that your ideas are foolish and, worse, that your apparent inability to recognize this reflects on your artistry and musical intelligence. To overcome this, I try to remember that in music, there is no final word. No single individual's response determines the quality of a piece, every piece can be refined after initial completion, and no failed piece is a verdict on past or future work. I do prefer to make my mistakes in pieces that are not publicly performed, but it is inevitable that pieces of mine will be performed that do not represent a high level of artistry. I just hope to learn from my mistakes, and to maintain a confident, open-minded attitude to let the world know that I am always eager to improve, that I won't give up, and that my failures don't define me as an artist. Hopefully, they'll give me a second chance!
Fear of failure is definitely a limiting factor in many decisions people make in all aspects of life. Some people have mastered this fear more than others, but failure is something everyone has worried about at some point. I almost didn't take this course as I had never composed anything before and had no idea what I was doing. Quite honestly, it really is scary doing something you have absolutely no idea how to do. However, I cannot think of any instance where I have thought to myself, "Wow, I really wish I hadn't done that thing I was really scared of doing" (that comes to mind, anyways). This is because things typically turn out better than we expect in instances such as this. I continue to have no idea what I am doing when it comes to composing, but I am increasingly glad I took this course, especially as my worst fears (public ridicule etc. ) have not come to pass.
I found the idea of demystifying the creative process very interesting as I have noticed there is sometimes an attitude of condescension among musicians towards non-musicians (or among very talented musicians towards those less so). Obviously, this is the kind of attitude had by many who are experts in their field when among those who are not experts and it is by no means limited to musicians. At any rate, this condescension puts even more space between a performer and their audience, which I think kind of defeats the whole purpose of music (at least, if one perceives the purpose to be sharing with others and expressing oneself in a meaningful way) This cannot be achieved if those we are trying to share with have no idea what we are trying to express. Granted, sometimes this does occur unintentionally. But the point is, for the most part, as performers and composers, we should be trying to communicate with our audiences as clearly as possible. Otherwise, if people enjoy our music, it will be by some fluke and not because they are genuinely moved by what they hear.
It'd be a shame for any potential composer to be turned off by the idea of composing because they're lacking these mysterious qualities that some people talk about. Some kind of Bob Ross version of a show for music might help!
As for fear of failure, obviously this is something that anybody in almost every profession can struggle with. I really like the idea of embracing risk. Without people taking risks we wouldn't have the same kind of music we have now. I think encouraging people to take risks, with things like your last list, would go a long way to helping people approach risk.
I would agree that the practice of composition could use some de-mystifying. Perhaps one of the reasons that composition is viewed in this way has to do with modernism. To a person who is unfamiliar with the unusual sonorities and range of possibility of modern music, it may sound alien and perhaps even jarring. This person may then assume that there is some special process of understanding that is far beyond their capacity to understand that makes this music enjoyable. Their next reaction would then be to feel anger that they are not included in this exclusive group of intellectuals who are pretending to like something that is obviously unlistenable.
Maybe an important step to ensure the survival of this wonderful musical tradition would in fact be to develop a way to include the public (and educate them) in the composition process. Or simply to inform, as Dr. Ross mentioned, that it is in fact a developed skill, not an innate talent. I think most people can and would be turned on to modern classical music if they felt that appreciating it was within their capacity, which obviously it is!
I would agree that the practice of composition could use some de-mystifying. Perhaps one of the reasons that composition is viewed in this way has to do with modernism. To a person who is unfamiliar with the unusual sonorities and range of possibility of modern music, it may sound alien and perhaps even jarring. This person may then assume that there is some special process of understanding that is far beyond their capacity to understand that makes this music enjoyable. Their next reaction would then be to feel anger that they are not included in this exclusive group of intellectuals who are pretending to like something that is obviously unlistenable.
Maybe an important step to ensure the survival of this wonderful musical tradition would in fact be to develop a way to include the public (and educate them) in the composition process. Or simply to inform, as Dr. Ross mentioned, that it is in fact a developed skill, not an innate talent. I think most people can and would be turned on to modern classical music if they felt that appreciating it was within their capacity, which obviously it is!
I'm interested in the Scientific American article mentioned here, "How You Learn More from Success than Failure." It is a remarkably short article, and lacks much in the way of detail. It also refers to monkeys and a "two-choice visual task." We are talking about humans and creative processes. Although monkeys are relatively similar to humans, they cannot follow instructions to learn from their failures, and they cannot tell us what they are thinking about when they either fail or succeed. However, I think the difference in the task is more important. Composition is not something with one right answer and any other possible answers are wrong. It is a creative process, where the outcome is largely subjective and many factors go in to whether or not it is a success.
We talked about failure this week in my Seminar in Performance Issues class, and there are a couple of things I gleaned from that which I think would be valuable here. The first is a Ted talk by Elizabeth Gilbert - http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_success_failure_and_the_drive_to_keep_creating#t-422348 - it is only about seven minutes long, and she talks about the impediments that can arise from both failure and success. She is an author, but her talk is equally significant for composers. She discusses how her passion is writing, and how it means more to her than her ego, and calls her writing (as in the act of creating) her home. Here is a quote from the talk: “The only trick is that you've got to identify the best, worthiest thing that you love most, and then build your house right on top of it and don't budge from it. And if you should someday, somehow get vaulted out of your home by either great failure or great success, then your job is to fight your way back to that home the only way that it has ever been done, by putting your head down and performing with diligence and devotion and respect and reverence whatever the task is that love is calling forth from you next. You just do that, and keep doing that again and again and again, and I can absolutely promise you, from long personal experience in every direction, I can assure you that it's all going to be okay.”
I think that challenge is a wonderful word. It is much better than "hard", and fundamentally different than "failure." There is an inherent risk of failure in anything that is hard or challenging, but the word challenging implies that it is not only hard, but also an opportunity. It is an opportunity to do something meaningful, as well as to learn and grow. It is connected to a growth mindset rather than a fixed mindset, where people are more likely to learn from their mistakes because they believe that they can improve (I think I've heard about research that people with growth mindsets have more positive reactions to failure than people with fixed mindsets, but I'm having trouble finding that right now).
In relation to failure that famous people have faced, and harsh criticisms that have been wielded against famous composers, I have two recommendations. The first is a short video of examples of people who got harsh criticisms or major rejections before moving on to be extremely well thought of in the field that the failure was in - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ydeyl0vXdP0. The second is a book - The Lexicon of musical invective : critical assaults on composers since Beethoven's time by Nicolas Slonimsky. It is essentially the opposite of the quotes that you find on the back of a published book - it is the most negative critiques of famous composer's famous works. It is nice to look at these kinds of things every once in a while - it is a reminder that even these extremely successful people were not always so successful. They failed, too.
I definitely believe music has this stigma around it that only musicians can participate in the creation and performance of music. And, you know, it is scary going into unfamiliar territory and trying to do something you’ve never done before. With people that have composed better before and knowing you may not ever be as good as the “pros”, it is very intimidating. But I believe anyone at any age can start making and playing music. I think it’s most important to let people know that masterpieces don’t happen overnight or even in a day. It’s ok to think it through and leave it for a while and come back later. In most cases, time away and time with your compositions is crucial to the development of something you can be satisfied with. It reminds me of advice I saw on an interview with Ed Sheeran I saw, and he basically said that not everything you write is going to be good, but in order to get to the good stuff, you have to write the bad stuff too. That comes with everything in life. theres a balance of good and bad, but you can’t let the bad intimidate you and keep you away from something that has the potential to be great.
Many composers want to add a sense of complexity to their work, but making simple steps to create original music can help encourage anyone to make art and create an outlet for stress, happiness, anger, or any other emotions. Painting is for the eyes, music for the ears, but both are for the SOUL.
This is a an excellent post for anyone to read, especially first year university students, because it lays out the reality, but doesn't crush spirits either. It's also great for people who are experienced artists, just as a reminder incase you get lost in your own self criticism, which can be at times quite mentally exhausting. However, self criticism, if you understand and use it properly, can be extremely beneficial for yourself. I tend to find that most good artists are quite self critical, but it's posts like this that remind you to just relax sometimes, and remember nothing is written in stone. If a project doesn't work out, then thats fine. Learn from what you discovered in doing that project and use it in developing your skills. I mean, that mainly works for artists who are just getting going. It may not be as forgiving for a seasoned artist to have a project go quite poorly, but even still, it happens FOR SURE.
I also just think Bob Ross was awesome! I love watching his show, because you can tell he simply enjoys it so much. It's also quite something to watch how his process unfolds. It leads me to wonder what kind of success a show about composition might have. Structured in a similar way, perhaps just short, 3-4min pieces, but you get the process of coming up with an idea and then seeing how that idea unfolds a generates into fully formed musical ideas. Or perhaps, you could have a different character or scenario for each episode and based on whatever it is, you come up with piece fitting the topic, perhaps it would need to be more like hour long episodes. For example, one episode could be called "Snow Storm" and you just come up with musical ideas that could evoke the setting or feeling of a snow storm, then show how you formulate those ideas into a short piece of music.
Anyway, just a bit of rambling on an idea that could be cool. Lots to hash out for sure if it were to be realized. Closely statement: Bob Ross is Boss.
I wholeheartedly agree with the points you have discussed in this post. In my experience, accepting failure is an important part of everything we do in life. Life is all about risk, and if we don't risk failure sometimes, it is borderline impossible to succeed, and therefore be happy. Risking failiure and failing is always better than doing nothing at all. Though failure is seen as a bad thing, in my eyes it is usually far worse to do nothing, and neither fail or succeed. As you said, we can learn a lot from our failiures, which means that the more we fail at something, the more likely we are to succeed on our next attempt. When composing I try to take the Bob Ross approach, and avoid overcomplicating the process. Instead of spending all my time thinking about what to compose, and whether or not an idea will work, I usually just try it out and see what happens. The worst possible outcome is that I hear the playback on Finale or hear the performance and maybe I'm not as happy with it as I thought I might be. In terms of Finale playback, that is a very simple failure to deal with as I can just delete or change the measure and try again until it sounds okay to me. And if something in performance doesn't sound as I imagined it would, then I will learn from that experience, and make further changes to the piece as a result of that "failure." (Although, I'm not sure if I would call a performance a failure jut because certain elements don't turn out exactly as I hoped that they would). At the end of the day, the process of learning a new skill such as composition is always so much more productive and enjoyable if we accept and anticipate that we are bound to fail somewhere along the way. Nobody is perfect at anything, especially not when they have just started learning about it. As a new composer, I love that there is so much I don't know about composing. Learning about composition every day just makes it more exciting, and failing occasionally just makes my successes that much more satusfying.
I totally agree that firstly, anyone can become a musician/composer and secondly, that fear can hold someone back from achieving greatness. I really like your list of things that "could" happen to a composer. Although all points are put on the same list some seem ridiculous compared to others, when put into perspective like this it becomes easier to handle the overwhelming feelings one can get when overthinking a situation. It is super important to recognize that failure is apart of the process of learning, that is a lesson I really came to grips with in the past year when I picked up my new hobby as a car enthusiast. I keep asking questions and getting things wrong but after doing so for long enough now I know enough to impress people at parties (similar to how I use my theory knowledge). I like how you compare surgeons and police to composing, the risks are extremely different (in other words the risks are much more dire for them) but yet they do not have the option of not going to work. Composing however is a gift and a curse for its "work at home" aspect since you are your own boss and will power is a finite resource. So if the biggest issue that can arise is somebody commenting "hey I did not like ____ in your piece" then a composer needs to learn how to think around these so called "haters". The nice thing about this is once a person does this once it gets easier and easier. Of course there is always going to be an acception and sometimes those bullies are gonna know exactly what buttons to push to put you down but that's where the composers love of music reminds them why they should keep pushing.
I really needed this post. In our single reeds studio we often talk about "progress over product" that we have to focus our energy on getting better not the being better. If we focus too much on product we will feel more of this "block". I have felt it in both practicing and composing (and writing, and exercising and eating well and reading etc etc etc). There is a cultural narrative of talent that is pervasive and I think damaging. I think it comes from a capitalist mindset where if one cannot make a practice productive IE a product IE sell, then there is no point in doing it at all. This is crazy. To make art is to be human. You don't HAVE to be a pro to get some enjoyment out of it. It can still be a meaningful practice to compose, even if you don't get played at Carnegie Hall. This is what Bob Ross wanted to tell us. That doing art is good for the soul and we should all do the art that makes us happy. Even if we are not that good at first.
One of the hardest times I find with "composers block" is starting something new. Cause usually I have just finished something that maybe I'm proud of and I see that product and go "wow that's nice" but don't think about the process that went into it. And it's the process that will make the next piece good too. I feel the same when beginning a new piece of repertoire on my instrument. I have just played a recital where many hours went into feeling competent at the piece and now this new piece shows how much work still to do. It can be disheartening BUT would anything feel as satisfying if we didn't have to work for it? I don't think so.
Anyways. Thanks for this post. I needed this reminder.
I forgot to write my name in the last post. IT WAS HOLLY WINTER! I WROTE IT.
Thanks.
I have great admiration for Bob Ross, and I believe that many people can benefit from his point-of view. Fear of failure exists in everyone to some degree, it is often paralyzing, and too often do people miss out on beautiful things in their lives because of it. I spent a few months working with a barbershop choir, the majority of people were over the age of 65, and they all loved to sing. However, many of them told me they only discovered this joy very late in life, because they believed they "weren't any good". These brave souls were the lucky ones who eventually did find it, but many do not. I was lucky to begin singing at a young age, before I got the chance to be afraid of much. Fear of failure seems to take on a bell-curve shape, being at its weakest early and late in life. These days I'm concerned it's reaching its peak for me, but people like Bob Ross have helped me overcome it every step of the way, allowing me to keep making happy little trees wherever I go. None of the "trees" I come up with, whatever it is I might be doing, are ever perfect, but it's important to make time for them anyway.
PS If you've ever painted along with the show, it's very impressive how easy he makes creating the happy little clouds and trees feel. But I think a lot of it comes from something else Dr. Ross said in the blog: that you have to believe in your own music, then others likely will as well. Part of Bob Ross' gift was not just showing you the technique, but how he made you believe in your tree. No matter how it turned out, it was unique and it was yours and you loved it, and I think that mindset grows the best trees.
As someone who grew up hearing the wisdom of Bob Ross, (and also grew up with a mother who had a very similar outlook on life as Bob Ross) I am totally familiar of the concept of not fearing failure. Just recently we had a composition assignment that I realized I had done completely wrong! (yikes) but I presented it anyways, and it turned out that there was actually a lot of salvageable material in there. The point is, if I had let my fear of failure make me scrap my project, I would've got rid of a totally awesome piano piece.
I agree that it is super important for composers to not fear failure, because often times something you believe sucks, someone else (most likely your mom) is going to think its a treasure.
I agree that fear of failure can oftentimes cause us to be deadlocked and not do anything at all. It is damaging to us because sometimes failure is what allows us to see clearer and to improve. I think this fear is something we have all gone through. There have been times in which I have felt intimidated in comp seminar and did not want to present my piece, but the times when I've felt this I've seemed to receive the most positive comments about my piece. At first I felt like I was missing something that I thought everyone was getting, but I was encouraged in the end and given constructive feedback. Perhaps I never would know what others think about my music if I never presented it, but it is always rewarding in the end to take that risk, because even if you don't get the best reviews, it will cause you to reconsider some choices and figure out how to make a piece better. Allowing the fear of failure to get the best of us I think just puts us in a state of ignorance in which we'll never know what others think. And I think it's extremely important for the growth of a composer to hear the feedback of his/her peers.
Bob Ross is truly a treasure. I really enjoyed reading this post, and can relate immensely to some of the points you raise - especially regarding the persistent fear of failure that is felt by musicians. The negative conception of failure is very heavily ingrained within our society, and therefore is within all of us (sub-consciously if not anything). This means that we must actively work to change our perspectives, and learn to value failures for what they really are - a tool you can use to better yourself. Embracing this mindset would relieve some of the anxiety that comes with trying new things, and it diminishes the power failure has over your well-being.
My mother would often use the saying "don't make a mountain out of a molehill" on me as a child, when she knew I was overthinking and obsessing over something to the point of self destruction. This was something I always found quite reassuring, and I believe it may be helpful for many people in their relationship with failures and short comings, as it reminds you to take things at face value, learn, and more on.
Its okay to have "happy little accidents", but its also okay to have "unhappy little accidents" or even "unhappy hefty accidents" - if it means you learn something, and better yourself as a result.
I agree, embracing our failures is important because not everything we write is going to be awesome in the way we want it to be, but it can still be awesome in the sense that we can learn from our mistakes and improve our writing.
Even though I write a lot, I'm still very new to the composing world. It can be tempting, after writing a piece that I am proud of, to write the same style of piece over and over again. Why mess with success? But stepping outside of the comfort zone and taking those risks is important. Even if those new pieces in the new style are complete disasters, at least I'll learn something from every one of them.
I remember watching Bob Ross reruns on TV as a kid, and can remember my total lack of ability to recreate any of the landscapes that seemed to come together so effortlessly on the screen (perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I was using watercolours on an 8.5”x11” sheet of printer paper rather than oil on canvas, and had no understanding of the properties of any of the constituent materials, but I digress). I felt there was a mysticism behind the results of every simple brushstroke, as though the already-complete image was pouring from the brush regardless of where he laid it, even as he assured and reassured the viewer that everybody is capable of creating such well-crafted art.
So it seemed, initially, with composers I admire: how does Steve Reich build such overwhelming walls of rhythm and harmony with what seems like simple overlapping melodic fragments? How are Takemitsu and Lutoslawski able to superimpose seemingly disconnected planes of activity onto one another to create such interdependent and distinctive combinations of sounds? These questions seemed unanswerable to the point where I was afraid to investigate or synthesize my interests as a composer, for fear of creating the musical equivalent of a watercolour-sogged piece of printer paper in an attempt to recreate the vibrant landscapes provided to me by the artists I look up to.
Once I started actually practicing composition, the process of trying out ideas and having them fail/negotiating compromises with performers in order to make my music work pulled back the veil a bit on what was previously a (somewhat intentionally, in my opinion) mystified and oblique artistic practice. It isn’t a channelling of the heavens or the perfection of a compositional algorithm that makes the work of the artists I love great: it is the thousands of hours they spent trying (and often failing) to bring into reality the ideas they love, and their willingness to take risks to do so, and the development over years of their ability to solve the problems presented to them in response to those risks.
The arts can often be a place where people attempt to gate-keep in order to maintain a false-sense of superiority. This leads to people pretending that there is some innate ability you must have in order to make art in order to keep their “club” exclusive.
A lot of the time when composers have described their process in mysterious term, they are doing so in order to create a specific public image. They want to be seen as transcendent people in the vein of the romantics. This can cause a lot of problems when people see this behaviour, believe it is accurate, and as a result doubt their ability to create great art. This kind of fakery is prevalent throughout art. In order to maintain a specific image, Salvador Dali would go out and attend extravagant and costly events even when he was in debt. Because people have a specific idea of what a great artist is, it can cause people to do silly things like Dali. Hopefully people like Bob Ross can show the masses that you don’t have to be pompous or mysterious to create great art. You can just be a regular person who explains their methods in a way that anyone can understand. There is no great secret to creating good art and anyone who pretends that there is doesn’t understand that good art is really made through hard work, dedication, and support (with a healthy dose of chance).
It was comforting to read that you never totally know what you’re doing. It can be disheartening as a composer to not know where to go next with a piece. It can even make one unsure if they should even be calling themselves a composer. Do I really know enough about composing to be one? How much do you need to know, really?
This kind of imposter syndrome is so prevalent in the arts, it is so nice to watch Bob Ross and have him validate you as an artist. He makes me feel able and confident. I think the arts are so often put on a pedestal by those proficient in their craft that it makes beginners feel as though skill is something unreachable. It is so important for artists and art educators to stress the importance of practicing, and to explain that being proficient in an area is not something a special group of people are just born with (as elitists may want us to think). Consistent practice and a growth mindset is the only combination that will produce skill. It is not something unattainable or mystical or God-given. Bob Ross really drives that point home.
This resonated with me as a fear of failure is actually one of the things that I struggle with the most, and it’s the root of a lot of my anxieties. A lot of time this can cause me to spiral into how everything could go wrong and tends to turn me off from either finishing things or allowing them to be seen by anyone else. For example, I often find it difficult to write comments like this one as I know that it will be public for people to read should they care to do so.
This is why I found the list of things that could go wrong within the post to be particularly entertaining. Lately, I’ve found fear of failure much easier to cope with when I let myself approach it from the “what’s the worst that could happen” angle, which lets me come up with the most ridiculous scenario, and then think about it logically. Most times there is no logic to it and it’s reassuring that if my worst-case scenario is so outlandish that it is extremely unlikely or outright impossible to happen, then the actual things that can go wrong should definitely be something that I can deal with.
Ultimately, failure is inevitable at some point, and if you just keep pushing away the things that could make you fail, you won’t do anything. So, this line of thinking has helped me to present both compositions and performances without the constant anxiety of failure, even If I haven’t had enough practice to be confident in my success.
I definitely would have to agree with the points made in this post. I for one have often found my failures within music to be the most valuable learning experiences. When I came to MUN, I had only been playing the double bass for about a year. So to be thrown into a program with a hundred other people who had spent their entire lives up until that point meant that I had a lot of catching up to do. The music we were playing was often far beyond my skill level and there were many failures on my part in my first couple of years. But these constant failures pushed me to want to improve and work much harder than I had ever before in order to feel like I truly belonged in the program, a feeling which never really hit me until about my third year (although there are some days I still have my doubts).
I feel the same way about composing. I mentioned this before in other posts but I do not consider myself to be a composer. However, now that we are a month into the course I am starting to get into the swing of things. Everything I have written up to this point I have felt is not very good. But when it comes time to present my work in class, the consensus seems to be that some of it isn't good, but other things are. And really I think that is all you can hope for as a beginner at anything. With each mistake I make I know not to do that in the future, and am one step closer to becoming a proper composer. I suppose I only have about 9990 hours to go.
Failure is definitely a topic that I struggle with to a great degree, I found that once I got into music school, my anxiety surrounding failure increased tenfold due to insecurities I held about my voice, and the minimal classical training I had before getting accepted to MUN Music. I commonly think about what failure is, and over the course of my time in the music school the answer I have come to thus far is simply "giving up". I believe society views failure as getting a bad grade in a course, or messing up a note or even a full section in a song you are singing in front of an audience, but I don't necessarily agree with this, I view that as a learning opportunity, and it only becomes failure if you give up on yourself and don't try again. Certainly mistakes can be embarrassing or hard to come to terms with, but you will feel much better about yourself and ultimately more confident if you keep working instead of throwing in the towel. I failed a calculus course in first year of music, I grappled with not attempting it again and dropping my Business Major, but instead I sucked it up and took the course last term and passed with a much better score. I cannot begin to explain how great it felt to overcome that hurdle, instead of giving into failure. A piece in this article that I find very relatable is the point "your parents/friends/pets might not like it." I struggle with this bit a lot: I write music on the side as a hobby but I am far too critical of my work to show my friends or family what I am working on as I fear a negative reaction out of them. To pour your heart into something and then hear negativity surrounding that work can be devastating to you, and as such most of the hobby composing I have worked on, has only been heard by my ears. It is counterproductive to be so critical of my work, as there is no way for me to improve if nobody can give me an opinion on a piece, but it is a mind game, as much of life is. It's certainly true that risks are all part of the process, and it is certainly something I plan to improve on, taking this course has helped tremendously with getting over the anxiety of sharing my work.
I have always been very interested in composing, but my fear of not being able to write anything good had always stopped me from even trying. My mindset was "it's probably better to not write anything at all than to write something bad." I have since gotten over this (sort of), but only because I was forced to compose for an assignment in my post-tonal theory class. Afterwards, I was like ...maybe this actually isn't terrible? Anyhow, this post really has me thinking about my toxic thinking patterns, and how maybe I could have discovered my interest in composition a lot earlier if I wasn't so intimidated by it in the first place. A quote from this post that really stuck with me is as follows:
"Compare the things in the above list that actually have some likelihood of going wrong to the things that can go wrong for air traffic controllers, surgeons, or police officers; if they make mistakes, people can die. If we make mistakes, we feel disappointed or even frustrated, but no one dies."
This brings me an immense sense of comfort. As an anxious person, I'm always worried about messing up, playing the wrong notes, being a disappointment, or just doing things wrong in general. But knowing that my compositions will never cause anyone's death (hopefully), or any other kind of terrible consequence, is very comforting.
An interesting thing to think about is that sometimes when I'm notating in Finale, I'll input a note/rhythm incorrectly by accident, and it may end up being my favorite part of the piece, or the beginning of a new idea. This goes to show that sometimes you don't need knowledge or skill to create something that you like. Sometimes it just happens by accident.
This article is another one that I truly did enjoy reading. The reference to fear being a hold back is honestly one I can relate to massively. As someone who relases music and content for the public to judge with free will however they want, it can get very frustrating and terrifying at times posting things that you put all of your time and effort into because if the turnout isn't a positive one you can feel discouraged or hurt that you're not good enough. I find a lot of times I hold back really good demos of music just because I dont like one part of one lyric or even one high hat and honestly its my killer as far as releasing music goes. Although this is the case, I do find this article does inspire me to taker the jump, maybe there is no fear In releasing what I have, just because it doesn't get a million views does not mean it isn't good work, it just hasn't hit the right audience but with every release I am one step closer to finding them. I appreciated the read on this one today! It gave me a new inspiration to take the jump. And cmon, who doesn't love bob ross?????
What really comes to me after reading this article is how often Bob Ross would say "Happy little accident" and I feel like I need to incorporate this saying into my composing more often. I tend to have a pre-constructed idea in my head of what I want a section of my compositions to sound like and if I plug it in wrong, I tend to flip out even if it sounds great. I've had many "happy little accidents" throughout this course, but I got rid of them instead of letting them be, and this post has made me realize I should probably be more open to these moments. I've noticed this habit in many areas of my life outside of school and composing as well. I get fixated on projects until they are as perfect as I originally perceived them (which is extremely unrealistic)... and sometimes when I make a large mistake I'll give up entirely. I call these "perfectionistic tendencies" and it tends to be what I use when interviewers ask for strengths and weaknesses. In general, Bob Ross is someone I feel I should look up to more frequently.
I'm finding some challenges in my latest piece for singing bowls and percussive ensemble. I feel at times I am treading over very foreign ground that I am not at all used to. I could stop and write something different, but that would be the right thing to do. I love the challenges that come with composing, this is a big reason I compose. I need to tell stories and better myself through my music that I create.
The singing bowls create immense limitation but it is that challenge that helps me to keep on going. Elements from the Nepali, Bhutani, Indian, and Chinese culture through Buddhism help me to structure the piece and the geometric formation of the bowls helps me to find relations between the fundamental pitches.
This has been the most minimalistic piece for me and the most experimental becuase for the most part, I am not afriad of failing...part of this attitude I learned back in 2021 from Bob Ross and now Thich Nhat Han.
I vaguely remember seeing my parents watching The Joy of Painting on TV while I was still living in Connecticut and even then I enjoyed watching Ross paint even if he didn’t hold my attention for the duration of the show (I was less than 5 years old, so what else is anyone supposed to expect haha). 16 years since then, I’ve developed considerably both artistically and musically and have learned to admire what little I remember of Ross’s philosophy on life and creativity. I feel I need to be reminded of the “don’t fear failure” philosophy frequently in regard to performing. If I play a wrong note, who cares? No one got hurt. Move on. But it’s harder said than done. The same thing can be said about composing or any activity that involves making something new. When you’re doing these sorts of things in a space where everyone around you is expected to give some sort of feedback, the “don’t fear failure” mindset becomes crucial.
Growing up, I would occasionally play piano in front of people but was never confident so I was petrified of failure and didn’t know how to learn from it so learning how to pull off a successful performance didn’t feel possible until late in my second year at MUN. Composition was less stressful because I was encouraged to keep creating from a visual perspective going up through school so that made me feel like I had good artistic instincts and it was okay that I felt confident with it. Since my degree, I’ve been working on translating my instincts for visual art (which has been quite successful so far) into what I put on paper for composing. So far I think it has been working.
The last thing I wanted to say on this blog is that I personally don’t find the process of creating something or the process of getting good at creating mysterious because I’ve done it so much throughout my life so far that I’ve learned that artists of all mediums just do it with no real intention of starting a riot at it’s reveal/premiere. The thing is, is that those people have something to say and starting out, obviously, you’re not going to be the best at translating what you have to say to your craft right out of the gate but they hone their skills and develop ways of conveying their thoughts and feelings which naturally improves over time.
I love Bob Ross. I've followed along with one of his episodes with my friends before, and it turned out pretty nice. So his message that even those with zero artistic skills can follow along and succeed is tried and true.
I also really liked the point about those who are successful in their field being often vague in their descriptions of how they got to that point. I agree it's usually because they've put an ungodly amount of time into their craft. So saying that the skills just came naturally or they're great works appeared to them in a dream saves a lot of time. But it's certainly not helpful for those who may be interested in starting their musical journey. I think with proper guidance, even those with very little musical talent can compose. With the help of amateur software like Garageband. But I'm not sure there can be a Bob Ross of composition, leading you step by step on how to write a song. I'm sure there can be, but I'm not sure it would be as effective. As a big part of composition is coming up with the music yourself, rather than replication.
As for fear of failure, I can personally attest that most of it is in your head. I think you can only fail if you give up. If you compose something and you think it's bad then it's just not finished. Or if in the composition process, something goes “wrong”, it could end up working in your favour and improving the final result. Bob would call these “happy accidents''. So I agree that while wanting to create something you deem “good” is important, don't let fear of failure or any missteps along the way hold you back, that's not the Bob Ross way.
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