Composing and winged horses

As an OCA tutor, one of the most fascinating parts of my job is reading through Learning Logs and seeing how different people approach the various challenges and concepts that the courses present. I’m particularly interested in how a student’s ideas and tastes develop through the course, as well as the ‘eureka’ moments that make things slot into place for an individual student. There are many ways in which broader life experience can influence the learning process, with each student bringing a unique set of skills and knowledge to their learning experience. I have always felt that teaching is a two-way process, and that a good teacher can learn from their students, especially in terms of seeing things from different perspectives. The Learning Logs are a particularly good way of documenting aspects of the learning process, and the insights shared here can be invaluable for both student and tutor, as well as for helping tutors to understand what makes each particular student tick. This information can also be invaluable for other students who may be facing similar challenges and adventures in their own learning, and seeing how other students have solved particular problems can be enormously helpful.
One recent Learning Log entry particularly appealed to me. Marie Lester is a student on the Music Composition 1 course and has just completed her third assignment. Her winged horse analogy is appropriate to all students involved with developing creative practice and I felt it was too good not to share…

‘Recently my 5 year old son asked me to draw a horse with wings. It’s not unusual for him to ask me to draw things – and as usual, I Googled an image – this time of a horse with wings – and copied it. He was happy and proceeded to colour it in and cut it out, as his custom is. As I mused on my rather poor artistic skills and inability to draw most things without copying, I made a connection with composing. As I considered why I was unable to draw a horse (let alone a winged one!), I realised that I have only ever looked or glanced at a horse. I’ve never studied the form, the skeleton, the muscles of these beautiful creatures. (To be honest, I find most large animals rather intimidating, and am usually relieved to be separated by a fence or gate). If I had taken the time to study horses and if I had practised drawing them in the past, I may have been able to draw one immediately, at my son’s request. I could have taken inspiration from my own memories and the knowledge that had been internalised.
Suddenly, I understood the importance of studying and analysing music. My initial reaction to musical analysis was that it must be boring and laborious – and more significantly, the absolute antithesis of creativity. Although I am still very much a novice when it comes to music analysis and composing, I can say that I get it now. I see that without the study and knowledge of how and why music works (and also the reasons why at times, it doesn’t) I can’t draw from my own resources – I am forced, at best, to copy. When I study, the object of it becomes mine. It metamorphoses from being mere knowledge to the potential, the catalyst, for something new – not just a copy.
So now, I will press on to create more winged horses, musically speaking, of course.’