Understanding

Most lessons with Galimir involved a lot of playing and very little talking. I would play a large section, get comments, then go over it again with more frequent stops. When the repertoire for the lesson was of a virtuosic nature, which was his preference, it made for a very tiring hour.

I soon learned to anticipate these lessons. As we were exchanging pleasantries at the beginning of such an hour, I put down my violin and began stretching my forearms, hands and fingers. Mr. Galimir’s conversation trailed off as he watched my demonstration, and finally he fell silent. I looked over at him, and he looked at me as though I were growing a third arm out of my head. “What--is--is this a modern dance?”

I laughed, “No, I’m just stretching.” Seeing that his face was blank, I continued, “You know, it’s like athletes. I’m about to play Paganini, and my muscles have to be warmed up just like an athlete’s.”

“Are you going to the Olympics?”

I endeavored to explain further. “Well, if the muscles are cold, they won’t work the way they’re supposed to, and you can get hurt. I’m trying to stay healthy.”

His eyes and mouth at this point were drooping, and he simply shook his head. I barely heard, “I just don’t understand you.”