On CVs (directors cut)

Basic info

Name, age, phone number, email, etc. 

...and all the other communication channels I'll be checking five times a day while waiting to hear from you.

Short introduction

Jenna Ristilä is one of the most important people in the world. This season she performs in all the right places, and teaches future Richters. Ristilä is also working on multi-dimentional cross-over projects that will reinvent music. This job/grant would help her unleash her true potential.

Actually Jenna Ristilä works on enough things to pay most of her rent, but if you would give her this job/grant, she'd pay all of it.

Education

The highest possible grade from all the things. I was in schools, took courses, performed and generally kicked ass. 

Let's skip my music history grades. And the second theory course. And why the graduating took so long. Focus on the positive? Right? 

Attended several summer courses by highly prestigious professors and learned so much about music and technique. 

Yes, attended several summer courses; met awesome people and drank cheap red with them, tried to explain Finnish sauna culture to foreigners, had a teenage crush or two, and sang Der hölle Rache as a drunken karaoke chorus version. Oh yes, and went to some piano lessons. 

Work 

Ristilä has performed around Europe. In Finland she is one of the most sought-after lied pianists of her generation.

Alright, Ristilä has once sung karaoke in Berlin, and sometimes singers need her for things.

She loves teaching, and has developed a variety of experimental methods that include finger yoga, vlogging, continuous self-assessment and holistic personal growth. 

She does love teaching and she tries her best not to traumatize her students. 

Other interests

Raw organic power smoothies, volunteering in a soup kitchen, learning Japanese, and pilates. 

In order of importance: sleeping, eating, books, wine. 

Editing

Choose a font that captures the essence of your identity. Serif or sans serif, that is the question. I'm warning you though - this is one of the hardest parts of making a cv and could take hours. (After trying out tons of cool things, you'll return, exhausted, to Times New Roman. But you have tried.) 

The picture

Do you have folder after folder full of pretty pictures of your face? Great! Just pick one and slap it on the cv, and you're done! If, however, you do not have this get out of jail free card and you're forced to consider a photo shoot instead - then you should definitely read my next blog post. It'll tell you all you need to know.

On Audiences

1) Friends and family

They are your cheerleaders sans pompoms. Filled with pride, armed with flowers they sit and listen to you doing whatever it is you’re doing. Afterwards they’ll tell you you were wonderful, you looked terrific, well done you.

They’re the all-important support network you need to stay sane, so appreciate all the compliments, do a twirl in your concert gear, and smile to the camera. You earned it by being onstage, no matter what you did there. Just going there was brave enough for now.

2) Colleagues

After the performance they come to thank you, and seeing them approach you immeadiately start pouring out all that went wrong with the performance. Yes, you’re very aware of your shortcomings, yes, you know it wasn’t that great. Only if you happened to play superbly well, you might find the courage to say “oh it was quite okay I guess”.

Usually your colleagues want to congratulate you instead of mocking you, and on a purely theoretical level you know this (having congratulated other colleagues yourself). However, the adrenaline of the performance turns you into a mad conspiracy theorist, so in your ears “it was great” sounds like “you’re an ape”. It’s all in your head. Remember that.

3) A jury

You’re playing, and suddenly from the corner of your eye you see one of them write something down. Immediately your mind starts racing: was it the phrasing, balance, rubato, my face, my shoes, what? WHY DO THEY HATE ME? It takes all your willpower not to run away crying, but you soldier on.

The jury member was probably writing down a note to buy milk after the exam, or he was drawing a completely innocent flower, or a chicken. He’s being paid to hear you out and say intelligent things after, he’s done this a million times already, he’s tired and wants coffee. Also he’s a kind person who doesn’t particularly enjoy crushing other peoples hopes and dreams – he’d rather give some generic, inoffensive feedback. But you don’t know this, so hearing the sound of his pen your soul shatters to a million pieces and your blood pressure reaches record heights.

4) Children

They are the best and the worst audience. You never have to guess whether they liked or hated you – you’ll notice it from the things they shout and/or throw at you mid-performance. If they like the show, you feel like you've discovered the true meaning of music and you dance all the way home.

Let’s not think about the other option.

5) The person paying you

The thank you -handshake after the performance is not just a handshake. It’s a code to be encrypted: Was the handshake firm enough? What did that raise of the eyebrows mean? Was the smile approving, did the “let’s be in touch” sound a tad sarcastic?

Will I get to do another concert here ever again?

6) Non-musicians that aren’t related to you

They just sit there and enjoy. Plus they’re not obliged to talk to you after, which is great, too.

7) Critics

“Mr. Critic, please say nice things about me, please. Put those nice things on the front page and you can have my soul and my children.”

8) A full house

Oh the joy, oh the nerves! You’re shaking, but you feel like a million dollars when the hall bursts into applause in the end. Everyone loves a full house, but it takes a real connoisseur to love…

9) …an empty house

Nobody showed up, but you play anyway. Hell, why not grab a drink and make a party of it. The walls will like your stuff.

On Critique

“You should have your left foot closer to the pedals.”

“You should have played Liszt instead of Chopin.”

“You’re very musical but you have zero technique.”

“You have a good technique but no personality.”

“Your playing is way too robust for such a delicate piece.”

“You had no dynamic range whatsoever.”

“You’re not together even with yourself.”

“You have to start developing your personality to a different direction.”

“I’m sure you understand why **** deserved to be in the finals instead of you.”

“You play like a schoolgirl.”

“Your final exam was way too easy. It shouldn’t have qualified at all.”

“It’s been so frustrating to teach you, because you don’t seem to be able to learn the simplest things.”

We all have a Library of Hurtful Quotes; these are a random selection from mine. There have been master classes after which I’ve cried in the toilet, and competitions after which I’ve wanted to quit playing. So often I’ve thought I’ll never be good enough. And yet I play. The schoolgirl without personality who can’t learn anything. I play.

As performing musicians we get criticized a lot. Some of it we need, and some hurts like hell. Sometimes these two apply to the same comment. I could give you the context of each of the quotes from my collection – which of them I thought I deserved, and which felt totally uncalled for – but I won’t. Instead I’m asking you to share some quotes from Your Personal Library with me. What kind of sentences do you hear in your head when you’re not sure of yourself? And how do you shut them out?

I’m still learning how not to give a fuck. Taking advice from Nike my goal is to just do it, and take in critique only from those colleagues and friends whom I trust, and who are sincerely trying to help me. And while I’m trying to get there, it would really help if the Whole Classical Music Industry had more warmth and tolerance to it. So please, share a quote or two and remember: a kind word here, an encouraging word there, and who knows, maybe someone will return the favour when you need it the most.