Career Crossroads - Some Thoughts
It has been an interesting few years for me, career-wise – the COVID pandemic arrived in early 2020, setting the stage for what we all thought would be several weeks of disruptions to daily life. We all know what followed: a solid two years, give or take, of concert cancellations and postponements, Zoom teaching and meetings, and a strong sense of fear and trepidation that still exists today. COVID brought careers to a standstill in a wide range of fields, but classical musicians were hit extremely hard – all live concerts essentially stopped, and we quickly became a culture of video presentations from our living rooms, rehearsal studios, and, when feasible, concert halls. Income dropped or disappeared altogether, and in many cases, now, over three years after the start of this world crisis, many classical musicians’ careers have not yet rebounded.
For me, the COVID “forced vacation and career re-evaluation” was not entirely negative – prior to the pandemic, I was often at my wit’s end when it came to the stresses and annoyances of travel. The St. Lawrence String Quartet, my group for the past twenty years, had enjoyed a prosperous and adventurous career of concertizing and recording, and while the experiences of playing great quartet repertoire for audiences worldwide was always thrilling and often rewarding, the logistics necessary to make that all happen had become tedious. COVID gave me a break from that, and furthermore, the quartet’s incredible relationship with Stanford University made it possible for us to stay relevant through teaching and video presentations.
In October of 2021, the quartet was gathering its energy in anticipation of a fairly normal touring season, with fewer concerts than pre-COVID but more than we had played in eighteen months. And then tragedy struck: our amazing first violinist, Geoff Nuttall, was diagnosed with terminal stage four pancreatic cancer. I cannot adequately put into words the sense of shock we all experienced upon hearing that earth-shattering news. Intensely driven and life-loving Geoff declared that he would fight the illness with all available medical options, and thanks to the brilliant oncological team at Stanford Hospital, he pushed through the next several months with incredible determination and will to live, allowing the quartet to perform on numerous occasions. Perhaps even more significantly, Geoff’s strong will and determination made it possible for the quartet to make its final recording, two quartets by Haydn and the Korngold Piano Quintet, with pianist Stephen Prutsman (to be released this spring). In October of 2022, nearly one year after his horrific diagnosis, Geoff succumbed to the ravages of his illness. Through all of this, Stanford remained supportive and patient with Geoff and the whole quartet, a model of what one hopes an institution of higher learning can be.
It is now late April of 2023. I am no longer a young man, although many say I act and appear a good many years younger than the age on my passport. I still truly love music – chamber music in particular – and teaching has become more and more of a focus for me. But I feel that I am at a crossroads, career-wise. Am I eager to re-form my quartet with a new violinist? Would I prefer to become a more active teacher and forgo the life of a traveling artist? Does it make sense for me to rearrange my musical priorities and search for a new balance of teaching and performing (and what would that rearranged balance look like?)?
As I ponder what I believe will be inevitable change, I’m inclined to consider the following: A friend of mine, someone who is preeminent in his artistic field, recently applied for a job he thought might be perfect for him. In consideration of his reputation, he immediately became a finalist for the position and diligently and thoroughly followed all necessary steps in an effort to win the job, including what he felt was an excellent day of interviews. Ultimately, he was not chosen for the position and in fact was not treated particularly respectfully during or after the process. Baffled that his reputation did not lead to success in this endeavor, he realized that he had made a strategic error: he should not have subjected himself to a standard job search process at this stage of his career and at his age (he is well over 50). Instead, he realized, he should only consider positions presented through a direct offer from an employer or collaborator, based on his proven track record of success, professionally and personally.
I tell this story because there have been times in the past when classical musicians in my position - that is, ready for a change after having experienced a successful three-decade-plus career performing and teaching – would have been able to count on receiving one or more offers from various institutions to enter into a late career teaching situation, providing for an opportunity to share those decades of accumulated musical knowledge with a younger generation. Do such possibilities still exist for someone in my position? Will Stanford be my home until my day of retirement arrives (which would in fact be a very agreeable situation!)? The answer is unclear, but I am hopeful that I will have a chance to continue to do what I love for years to come – to share music with the world through my cello playing and mentoring. I have faith that opportunities for classical musicians, post-COVID, will remain and increase, and I will do all I can to encourage younger generations of musicians to stay the course and follow their passions.