There
was a good deal of music in our home. My mother used to sing my
siblings and I to sleep using old Lutheran hymns. She played records
and I remember how we loved Mantovani's orchestra and Peter, Paul and
Mary. We were big fans of Jim Croce, too. Those were the days.
My
dad was a professionally trained accordionist and percussionist. He
donned a long-haired wig to play the drums in rock gigs with
different bands.
We
grew up listening to him play Begin the Beguine and many, many
other tunes on his large accordion. My dad was a fabulous
accordionist. He also taught himself to play about five other
instruments.
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| Mr. Nightingale's Moonsong, 5x7 watercolor by Elise, 2017. Private Collection. |
I
grew up sitting inside of my dad's base drum, while he played on his
drum kit. He wouldn't strike the drum when I was inside it. My dad
often practised with his drum sticks on our car dashboard. It was a
form of relaxation for him, although it didn't do the dashboard any
favors...he drummed holes in them!
When
I was six, I remember asking my dad for a guitar for Christmas. “Dad,
would you buy me a guitar for Christmas?” “You mean a play
guitar,” he said. “No, I mean a real guitar,” I replied.
I
must have seen someone playing guitar on TV, and thought if you
strummed a guitar, the sounds you wanted would just automatically
come out. Hahaha. Little did I know, it was slightly more complicated
than that!
"You
mean a play guitar,” my dad repeated what he'd said the first time.
“No,” I insisted, “I want a real guitar.”
So,
Christmas arrived. All the presents were opened and no guitar...my
dad, grinning, disappeared into the hall and came back bearing a
large gift, it had been hidden because of it's revealing shape...I
had my real guitar for Christmas!
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| The Supervisor at Work, 5x7 watercolor over graphite by Elise, 2016. Private Collection. |
My
mother had also gotten me some real guitar lessons. I took lessons
from age six to age nine. I think they may have been weekly, or every other week.
I remember learning to play things like “Old MacDonald Had A Farm”
and “Big Rock Candy Mountain”...I learned about measures, full
and half notes in the treble clef, frets, how to tune the guitar and use a
pick.
My
teacher told my parents I was the best guitar student he had ever
had, of any age! I was a very determined child. I practiced and was
prepared for each lesson.
Then,
we moved to Vermont when I was nine and I said goodbye to my first
guitar teacher. I don't remember his name.
We
had a piano then and I began to learn to play it a little. Reading
the base clef was more difficult, as I had learned only treble clef
for guitar.
Then
my dad, who understood chord theory very well, the circle of fifths,
augmented and diminished chords, arpeggios and scales of all kinds,
gave me a few lessons. I would sit next to him while he played and
watch his hands fly over the keys. He taught me about scales and
corresponding chords.
It
was dad who had us start singing for an audience. He would have us
come forward and sing with him while he played the piano at church.
“His Sheep Am I” was one of those early songs, when I was around ten years old. After my dad left,
we continued to find unique songs to sing for our tiny church
audience.
"The
Christian Girls have a Special,” our pastor would happily announce.
A “Special” meant music that was not necessarily in the regular
church service. Sometimes we chose those songs after getting to
church. Other times we would practice on our way to church, in the
car. My mom would sometimes groan and tell us we sounded terrible,
practicing. Then she was usually amazed when our songs would
miraculously come together at the last minute for the presentation!
We
had very kind, elderly church folks who would smile and nod, enjoying
my sister's and I, as we tried to harmonize. We never outgrew the
“Christian Girls” title either. Even in our thirties, we were
known as “the Christian Girls.”
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| Healing the Soul, 5x7 watercolor and pen & ink by Elise, 2017. Private Collection. |
Being
extremely shy, I didn't like being in front of an audience. Only in
my thirties would I finally become comfortable in front of people,
after years of forcing myself to teach children. Early on, I would
drop my head and try to hide behind my music or hymnal. My mother
told me I needed to raise my head up, so my voice could be heard. So,
then I would lift my music up in front of my face and hide behind it
that way.
I
don't know why I was so afraid to be seen, but I was. Filming myself
now is a challenge, but I'm trusting the message is more important
than the fear I have of what people might think.
My
younger sister quickly became an excellent sight-reader and highly
accomplished pianist after we began taking regular piano lessons. She
has a huge musical gift. These lessons lasted two years, with our fun
piano teacher, Miriam, coming to our home every two weeks.
I
had glasses by then and really struggled to read sheet music.
Memorizing music was easy, once I learned it, but sight-reading was
very difficult for me. So my younger sister became our accompanist.
She could sing alto, emphasize someone else's part, all while playing
the piece! She went on to have a twenty-year piano teaching business.
We are very proud of her musical accomplishments.
My
older sister has a great high voice, and a fabulous talent for
writing beautiful lyrics and song poetry.
Each
of my sisters are professional musicians today.
I
remember standing next to my older sister, singing hymns at church,
and thinking her voice was my voice. She could sing tenor an octave
high...but hearing anything besides the main melody was extremely
difficult for me. I couldn't distinguish words in English songs on
the radio, either, until I was around twenty-five years old. All I
heard was the melody.
Hearing
and seeing in great detail were not my strong points. So, to be
painting and singing today is just a little funny. Our Father takes
our weaknesses to show Himself strong.
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| My sisters and me, circa 2000, perhaps. |
But
back in our teens and twenties, my sisters and I would sing for
funerals, weddings, churches and special occasions. This was before
cameras could film, before social media...sadly, we don't have much
footage of all the songs we sang, just our memories.
I
have always had a BIG voice, but it wasn't always on key, and the
tone was terrible. I was often reminded by my well-meaning family,
“Elise, tone is more important than volume.” I
listened to them, but then usually shrugged off this constant
constructive criticism, because I didn't really understand what was
meant by this comment. And I really didn't care too much, either! I
sang to share a message. I also sang to make a joyful noise to the
Lord, and the louder noise I made, the better I often felt. Dopamine.
When
I was nineteen, we found a new classical guitar teacher. Peter was
wonderful. He taught us for two years. We had lessons every two weeks and I practiced HARD, a
couple hours every day. I remember telling my mother that I didn't
know WHY I wanted to learn to play the classical guitar so badly,
when the songs didn't even have words, but I just HAD to do it. She
told me it was okay. I put words to some of the classical pieces, to
give them more meaning.
After
awhile Peter told me I could become a professional classical
guitarist. He said I had both the technique and memorization ability. I considered this idea, but didn't want to HAVE to practice
five hours a day. I felt this would turn music into work, and ruin
the sheer joy playing music always gave me.
So
I chose to become a visual artist instead. My music became the place
I went for fun, for a brain break when I'd hit the wall, painting.
If
I had worked until I could no longer focus, I'd go downstairs and
play either the piano or guitar, and when I felt better, I'd return
to my painting. Music has been a HUGE help in the work I do as an
artist.
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| Yellow Rose Impression, 5x7 watercolor by Elise, 2017. Private Collection. |
There were times when I was very injured. I couldn't play the guitar when my wrists or shoulders were sprained...but eventually those injuries would heal. When my knees and ankles were sprained, I'd play music all the more. The piano and guitar became my friends. I would play when everyone else has gone out, making as much noise as I wanted. There was no one home to complain.
After
five years of doing many other things and not playing piano, I went
back to this instrument around age twenty-two. I felt strongly there
was music inside me and even if I never played as well as my
younger sister, I needed to play again.
This
time I tried to play without reading music, using what I knew of
scales and arpeggios. And eight years after working diligently on
this method, I felt I went through a sort of “wall.” I began to
gain more unconscious fluidity and sense of my own style. It was
special, to feel I had been given a musical gift, after all those
years of just tagging along, behind my highly talented sisters.
When
I was in my early thirties, I did a gallbladder cleanse. We had been
studying the gallbladder and I figured I'd experiment on myself. I
was shocked to learn I had gallstones. During this lemon juice and
olive oil cleanse, I felt both the eustacian tubes in my ears drain.
Who would think the ears are connected to the gallbladder? This was
news. But after this cleanse, I was much more able to hear tone and
stay on key while singing.
Just
recently I learned the gallbladder is connected to stored emotional
issues surrounding your dad. Wow, funny thing, I have had a lot of
issues in this regard.
When
I was thirty-six, in New Zealand, I was staying with a family who was
singing in a large choir of 600 people. I joined them, and choir
members at practices sitting around me started saying, “you have
such a beautiful voice, can I sit next to you?” I was shocked! Me,
have a beautiful voice? My family had always said I had a voice that
sounded like a cow bellowing!
So,
it was a long time before I learned others thought I had a
nice-sounding voice. That was nice. But it didn't change the fact
that I sang for God, to praise Him. I've never really been interested
in singing pop music, or in performing per say. I sing to share a
positive message. My desire is to use my voice to praise God “with
my whole heart, to be glad and rejoice in Him, and sing praise to His
name,” as David said he would do in Psalm 9:1-2.
I
remember attending many free local university bands and singing
groups, and some symphonies for the Fourth of July, too. But we
didn't have a lot of money to attend big concerts.
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| My sisters and me, aka "The Christian Girls" =) |
Our
family used to have a large eclectic collection of beautiful musical
CDs in styles from around the world. This was before the days of
iTunes and downloading music to your iPod or computer. I don't think
I've personally purchased more than half a dozen CDs in my lifetime.
Making
music was more important and more affordable than going to listen to
someone else's music. Same with art. While I really enjoy art museums
and my Facebook feed of beautiful artwork today, I grew up creating
art, not studying art history.
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| Clarity and Hope - Revealed by His Spirit, 5x7 watercolor and pen & ink by Elise, 2017. Private Collection. |
Today
I'm in a bit of a rut. I play my memorized classical pieces. I can
play and sing worship songs continuously for around two hours...and
these are what I am hoping to record.
I
had another head injury last November, hitting the top of my head
very hard on a ceiling while moving...after this injury, I had some
brain fog and playing became difficult – I felt fuzzy. It came to
me that I may not be able to play for ever, and so I am trying to
have a memory of the songs I love.
I
have sung worship songs to God in private for many, many years. He
has seen and heard me. Now I feel it is important to expand the width
and breadth of my listening audience, so many others might hear and
perhaps be encouraged, too, that the King of Glory might be praised.
This is my new You Tube channel: Elise at Painting Glory
With
gratitude for the great gift of musical expression,
I
remain your artist-friend,
Elise
