Re-entry - Returning to the Stage; Metamorphosis (6)

Journey to Metamorphosis

This piece comes at the end of a longer process I had been thinking of as a journey toward metamorphosis. From here, the work continues with the return to the stage.

Re-entry traces how practice, listening, and attention reshape my relationship with sound over time.

After many years, I recently returned to preparing a full program and placing it on stage.

What stood out to me was not so much the music itself, but the process surrounding it. Time moved differently. Days passed quickly, filled with preparation, teaching, rehearsing, and conversation. Before I fully realized it, the concert week had arrived.

That week unfolded with an intensity that felt both demanding and unexpectedly light. Long days, late nights, and early mornings followed one another without pause. And yet, despite the workload, there was very little tension. Serious work existed alongside laughter and openness. Everyone was focused, but not rigid.

I don’t think that kind of environment is common.

When people are committed not to appearances, but to learning and change, the atmosphere shifts. There is less need to explain everything. Some things are allowed to remain unspoken. That alone can create a sense of ease.

Standing on stage again after a long interval, I noticed that the most challenging part was not playing, but the moments just before. Not because of the music, but because returning to something after a long time always asks questions that don’t have immediate answers.

What helped was narrowing my attention. Not thinking about the whole performance, but only what came next. One step, then the next. That was enough to move forward.

On stage, I was not alone. Support was present in practical, concrete ways — shared preparation, quiet encouragement, someone nearby turning pages. These small things mattered more than I expected.

Looking back, what remains most meaningful is not the performance itself, but the reminder that work like this is rarely carried by one person alone. Preparation and execution may be individual, but the conditions that make them possible are often shared.

A short performance clip from this concert was shared on Facebook by a colleague, and I’ve linked it here for those who are interested in seeing a brief moment from the performance.

👉 https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid02mhEgUZ2jwt6qfpTcRGnXBVyZSSasaaxsfX94rN57CcUaWvvDyiGM562z5eqSDRXWl&id=100003671909093

Some time has passed since then, and the effects continue quietly. Changes like this tend to unfold gradually.

Returning to the stage has reinforced something I already sensed: progress does not always come from pushing something away. Sometimes it comes from allowing experiences, past and present, to coexist and inform one another.

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These reflections grow out of ongoing work at the piano, in teaching, and in performance.