Is learning to play the violin a science or an art? Most people would probably give a quick, confident answer of “well, it’s both” and never give it a second thought. I would argue that even the question begs clarification, as in my mind, “learning the violin” is a different matter from really being able to “play the violin.” Though my answer to my own question does lean in a cumulative direction, I believe one of these categories clearly precedes the other. I hope I can create a convincing enough argument as to why.

I recently announced that I will be taking a hiatus from teaching for the first time this Fall. This is kind of a big deal. I started teaching when I was 17 years old; in fact, I have never known what prolonged adult life is like without a studio. Even though I was a nomad in my twenties, I always had students when I lived anywhere longer than six months. I taught out of music stores. So, even when my local housing situations changed, as they often did as a renter, my studio location would remain intact.

During this time of transition, when I anticipate ending my private studio for a time (I’ll probably come back to it, as I have truly enjoyed it), I’ve had chances to reflect on the type of teacher I have been over the past couple of decades. Some teachers, my childhood teachers included, are very good at teaching technique—at teaching the how. I admire that greatly. For that’s really what’s going to make you a good player: just do what the experts tell you to do and you’ll succeed. But is playing well really your only goal? Or do you want to understand what makes everything tick? The complication is, for those with inquisitive minds, we don’t want to just take others’ word for it. We don’t just want to be good players, we want to be good thinkers. We don’t only want the how, we want the why.

I always appreciated learning the why, so that’s the way I teach. I frequently have adult students, so I know they can handle learning the reasons behind what they do. Plus, that’s the part that fascinates me. I’m good at teaching the why, each and every week—to get my students to think about what they’re doing. In fact, it’s not uncommon for me to explain something and then say, “Do you know why that is?”

It’s not just, “put your finger here” or “move your bow like this.” Granted, explaining why takes more time. But it’s time well spent. I like that I know reasons behind why vibrato should be done with a backward hand motion only, why it benefits you to keep a curled bow hand pinky, why it’s easier to crescendo on an up-bow, etc. And I like to explain the background information and philosophies to my students.

My personal experience colors my next argument: I would argue that learning to play the violin is, pretty much always, first a science, and then an art. In that specific order. And here’s why.

Think about what the connotation in your brain is when you hear the word “science.” I think of words like “hypothesis” and “experiment” and “study.” Art, on the other hand, connotes words like “beauty” and “masterpiece.” When someone sees an Olympic figure skater and perhaps is led to comment, “he makes it look like such an art,” they mean it’s something they can’t quite put their finger on as to how it happens. When you’re an artist, we think it means you are doing something done with finesse and polish, born of a natural sense of intuition. (Of course, all of this comes from extensive training, but I’m getting ahead of myself here.)

Basically, when something is an art, it just seems to come naturally, with beauty and talent to the wielder. Now, any artist with any sense is going to know they’re not going to be able to naturally “feel” what to do in the moment, particularly in regard to their own weaknesses, until they’ve tried out different methods that lead them to succeed—or fail—and learn from that.

You have to have the confidence to experiment. In regards to learning the violin, you probably won’t figure out on your own when to be in the lower half of the bow until you’ve had some experience doing a similar passage in a less-effective way and thought about why it didn’t work. Some of that experience comes from others telling you. Some of it comes from simply watching what the masters do. Some of it comes from experimentation; from trial and error. And the dreaded word, practice. Over decades. Then, after you are making an informed decision, you can forget about the reasons and method in the moment. This hearkens back to another post I wrote. But exploring this topic further belongs to the future.

I seriously didn’t have the confidence that I knew what to do with the bow (in terms of placement on the string, or in what part of the bow itself) in most situations, independent of what others were doing, for a long time. And I mean a very long time. I mention the phrase “independent of what others [are] doing” because sometimes others are wrong!

It’s ok to realize that if you don’t know everything, chances are, your neighbor doesn’t know everything either. You know more than you think you know. Believe that! Ironically, this can give you the confidence to admit what you don’t know and go back to the basics of experimentation and study and asking questions (science) until you graduate to the level where playing the violin truly feels like a natural and beautiful art.