BY JO ST LEON
This third conversation with Robin Wilson was really intended to be the second, but young Christian Li’s milestone recording intervened. Today’s chat takes us up to the end of Robin’s school years, with fascinating glimpses into his theories of motivation and learning. There will be much more of that to come.
Although Robin is not old, his was a very different childhood than that which people of today tend to experience. He had no smartphones, iPads, or computer games to distract.
He also had diverse interests, and an outstanding ability to focus on what mattered.
Robin, we left our last conversation at the point where you had decided, aged 12, to make the violin your life. Can you say a bit more about that decision?
I actually made that decision at one particular concert. I went to hear a Bulgarian violinist by the name of Mincho Minchev. He played a Paganini concerto on a Stradivarius, and of course I’d never before heard such an instrument, or playing at that level, in a live performance.
The concert was with the local orchestra in the large town hall, and I was sitting in the front row. I was completely mesmerised and thought, I have to be a violinist! And so I made the decision that very evening.
Did you ever question that decision? Or were you completely steadfast with it?
No, from then on I was completely steadfast. I focused increasingly on the violin, although I was also intent on my schoolwork. I liked to do well academically, and I found it frustrating not to understand things. So I put time into academic study, and I was also busy — probably too busy— at school with athletics and tennis.
Really?
Yes, but I never trained for them. I was on the athletics and tennis teams, and I did enjoy those sports, but I didn’t spend time on them beyond practices and matches. From the night of that concert, I focused increasingly on the violin, and practised more.
Before that time, had you been a bit of a reluctant practiser?
I went through one stage, at the age of about 9, when I questioned whether I wanted to continue. I was distracted by other things. We owned several horses, so I rode horses too. It was time consuming, and fun – and probably easier than the violin.
The violin was fun too, but it certainly wasn’t easy. Nevertheless, my parents encouraged me to continue, and my questioning quickly subsided.
Did your teachers make it fun for you?
They did. Alan Starrett, my teacher at the time, certainly made it fun. We played a lot of duets, and the emphasis was always on character, conversation, and reaction. At that age, I wasn’t exposed to any kind of autocratic, dictatorial teaching.
If you had been, do you think your enthusiasm would have waned?
Not necessarily, but I was brought up in a family that nurtured independence. My father was an academic, and my mum did many different things. They were the opposite of helicopter parents. My brother and I had to do everything for ourselves from a very early age.
Was that a good thing?
In hindsight, I think it was a great thing. Even as a child, I was able to organise my life. I wasn’t used to being treated in an authoritarian way — everything I did was driven by my own volition. I did things because I enjoyed them, and knew they needed to be done. And I derived satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment from doing them well by myself. Whilst our parents were very supportive, it was expected that we were capable of doing things ourselves.
So nobody ever said, “Robin, go and do your practice”?
Perhaps very occasionally. There was that time when I was 9, when my mother encouraged me to practise, but it was never forced. I still had to choose it.
How much practice did you do, back in those childhood days?
In the very beginning, probably not more than half an hour a day.
By the age of 12, I was of course practising more intensely. By the time I was 14, I was very focused on the violin but I was also academically driven. I was squeezing practice in everywhere during the day — before school, lunchtime, whenever I could — to make up the hours.
Were you still with the same teacher?
I was learning from Pamela Dowsett [nee Bryce] from the age of 12 or 13. Pamela was a great inspiration — she was the teacher who really challenged me to reach a higher level. She got me totally hooked on the violin and its repertoire, and determined to progress my playing.
Do you know how she did that?
I think I was in awe of her, of her ability as a player. I witnessed firsthand the possibilities of the instrument. I remember seeing her lead our local orchestra, and hearing her perform on many occasions. She was a real figurehead and earned her students’ respect immediately.
I was also slightly scared of not meeting her expectations. Although she was very nurturing, she was also exacting and demanding.
And all those things you’ve just said, is that how you are with your students? Not the older ones, but the young ones. Has it stuck in your mind as a great way to be?
My philosophy is that young students don’t learn from fear. There’s a lot of research showing that fear inhibits the retention of information, and thus learning. Yet there need to be clear expectations that drive a will to achieve clearly defined goals.
Students enjoy surmounting challenges rather than being told everything is wonderful. So there is always a balance to strike in teaching.
I didn’t know about the research, but I’ve sat in orchestras working with many of the great conductors. It always amazed me that some of them tried to exert their will through fear and humiliation. It was crippling, and I never understood how they could believe that was the way to get the best from people.
Indeed. I’ve had many teachers since Pamela, and so experienced many different approaches, from strict and frightening to nurturing and encouraging.
I’ve also spent time watching other teachers. I really don’t believe that it’s necessary to upset students, or potentially psychologically damage them, in order to teach them the violin. Although it requires tremendous discipline, you can motivate through stimulating a love of music. If you can generate genuine enthusiasm about music and the instrument, and sequence the technical and musical progression as well, learning is not onerous.
How do you do that?
Well, it’s not easy, and as a teacher one refines the process over a lifetime. Really, it is dependent on the overarching approach of one’s pedagogy; I believe technique should be developed as a means to the music. We probably need a whole session to unpick the details of that!
With Pam, the environment played a large part. She had a studio of students and created a buzz amongst them. Everyone was excited, and working hard. It was inspiring for me. Being connected with the university and having lessons there; sometimes going to her house and seeing walls lined with books and music; hearing her play the piano — she was a wonderful pianist as well — the whole experience opened a window to an exciting world. I found myself inspired and in awe.
Did that make you practise harder?
Definitely. As soon as I started working more, the repertoire opened up. I was excited about what came next.
I started listening to my dad’s collection of LPs. He had recordings of many of the great violinists: Oistrakh, Menuhin, Kogan, Heifetz, Milstein, and more. The record player was in a room that was separate from the living room, a private area where I used to go and lie on the floor and just listen. It was tremendously inspiring.
That motivation feeds into itself. I was getting switched on to the music, and trying to progress my playing in earnest. It was exciting.
Then, in my final year of school — year 11, I didn’t do year 12 – aged nearly 16, Pamela Dowsett moved to Wellington. Her former student Tessa Peterson took over her job at the university. I learned from Tessa, who was a wonderful musician, for a year.
At the end of that year, still aged 16, I went straight to Otago University and began a music degree.
Can you think of one thing from each of those teachers you studied with during your school years, that you have taken forward into your life?
From Sydney Mann, I learnt that as a teacher you have to be able to sense, at every moment, whether a child is comprehending what you’re saying. It’s very easy, when you teach students of all ages, to forget that concepts that are important and familiar to someone older might not be relevant or comprehensible to a younger child. So whilst a teacher must build knowledge and understanding, it has to be delivered in a way that enhances the child’s experience.
Alan Starrett taught me the importance of the joy of music making; of musical character and emotion. Also the importance of demonstrating — playing to and with a student from a young age. We had fun and he was very encouraging in lessons.
And do you do that with your students?
I certainly try. I often have a former student of mine, Kyla Matsuura-Miller, work with my younger students. She’s a very nurturing person — firm, but with a colourful personality. She has an innate sense of music and all its joys. I get her to play duets with them and encourage listening and reacting. It’s all about bringing in that ensemble experience early on.
And in Dunedin, did you have those opportunities?
I joined the Dunedin Youth Orchestra when I was about 13 — that was my first experience of an orchestra. Unfortunately, apart from school ensembles, I didn’t have the chance to play in a string quartet until I was 15.
Rupa Maitra, my teacher from the age of 11, taught me an incredible amount. With her, I really began to understand the building blocks of music and the importance of systematic practice. And then Pamela Dowsett continued that, alongside developing a sound technique. It was with her, I studied all the Kreutzer etudes.
I really had a desire to work for Pamela, to gain her approval. That was important, because I respected her and revered her ability, so her approval was my gauge of whether or not I was achieving what I needed to. So I learnt from her that gaining the respect of the student and inspiring them to work for you is a very powerful aspect of teaching.
As a young thing, what was the music you loved the most?
I remember listening to my father’s records, and they were all the great violin concertos. Brahms, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky; there was also Milstein playing solo Bach and Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos. He had a wonderful recording of Goossens and Menuhin playing the Bach Concerto for Violin and Oboe.
Of course, this music is just a small part of the musical canon — the radio was always playing in our house, and I was quickly drawn to the broader Classical repertoire. But in the early days, my love of music began with those great violinists.
Robin, thank you so much for this fascinating glimpse into your development, and the little titbits of pedagogical philosophy. I’m so looking forward to going into more depth with that, and also your feelings about the importance of music to humanity. That seems especially important now, as the world begins to open up after two years of such scarcity in our profession.
I suspect we are on the threshold of enormous change, but that’s for next time.
Visit us again to read the next instalment of Jo St Leon’s Conversations with Robin Wilson.
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