june 6, 2017 | 11:59pm, 9m | contact high

tonight, after a 16 year old student performed a tarantella in my studio recital, he returned to his seat and exhaled to himself an exhilarated, proud, exhausted, relieved breath, a kind of “whoo” exhalation, like he’d just landed on the ground after a skydive. and I thought to myself, catching this moment, “yes, that’s the feeling. that’s what I’m peddling.” that rush comes afterward, but only if the performance aligns with performer’s expectations. not everyone’s performance tonight aligned, so to speak. not everyone accessed that rush. i said to francesco on our way out, “if you’re super prepared, it’ll go okay. if you’re semi prepared, it’ll go not-so-great. and if you’re not prepared, it’ll be a train wreck.” this universal truth drives my practice every day, and keeps me up at night. i wonder if i have adequately sealed the space that keeps the floodwaters of embarrassment safely on the other side of the door, while also chasing that “whoo” feeling, too. but when i host a student recital, i get to observe the crucible, watch my students at their most creative, squirming out of mishaps, learning about the consequences of poor practice, but of course, most importantly, discovering pride and that sweet, just-off-the-roller-coaster-and-i-want-to-do-it again feeling. and with each student, i feell it too, a contact high for that continues from the first student to the last. falling asleep as i type. coming down. crashing. that happens too.