Advice from a Juilliard trained violist and teacher
As a Juilliard-trained violist and teacher, I’d like to share some lessons I learned from studying at one of the world’s most competitive conservatories. Through the ups and downs of my career since graduating, I’ve found myself repeating these tips learned from experience to my students and to myself. I hope these ten snippets of advice can help you in your musical journey!
1. Ear training is essential.
You absolutely have to spend time training your ear. This includes recognizing intervals by ear, singing in solfège, hearing small differences in pitch, and clapping rhythms in time with an underlying beat.
I make all of my students learn the simple—but surprisingly hard—-clap-and-ta rhythm exercise that I learned at Juilliard: clap the underlying beat while saying the syllable “ta” for each rhythm written on the page. It’s a simple exercise, but the key is that you can’t fake it. At Juilliard, we used the Starer Rhythmic Training book.
Playing music well relies on strong ear-training skills developed through exercises like this. I was terrified of performing in front of my peers in every ear-training class at Juilliard, but those experiences had one of the most positive impacts on my development as a musician. Thank you for the torturous learning, Dr. Ott.
2. Slow practice is good practice.
My time at Juilliard was limited and precious, and I constantly felt I had more to do than time allowed. I tried to practice efficiently by relying on repetition, but rarely did I slow down and zoom in on the details. I told myself I didn’t have time for that level of focus. After all, why play something slower if it already sounded pretty good near tempo?
Until a wonderful—but brutally honest—teacher put me on the right track, I didn’t realize how my approach was holding back my accuracy. Similar to ear training, practicing slowly forces you to confront your weaknesses head-on. Set your metronome to half speed or even slower, and work one note at a time. When you go that slowly, it’s much harder to lie to yourself or pretend something is “just good enough”. If it doesn’t sound right slowly, it’s won’t magically improve when you speed up.
Another benefit of slow practice is that it makes it easier to pinpoint the real cause of a problem. Maybe a wobbly string change is causing a fuzzy sound, or your pitch is too high before a shift, leading to an intonation issue in the next position. Practicing this way requires immense patience, and it may feel like you’re getting less done, but it consistently provides higher-level results faster than rushing ever will. It’s worth your time, trust me!
3. All musicians experience some form of performance nerves.
Classical music, in particular, caters to perfectionists—people who hold themselves to extremely high standards and tend toward constant self-criticism. I saw this in everyone I met at Juilliard to some degree, and I personally fell into the trap of self-criticism constantly while I was there.
Don’t be fooled by outward appearances—I believe everyone experiences some level of performance anxiety, imposter syndrome, or fear of judgement. You’re not alone. It’s human nature to care what others think, and playing an instrument is an incredibly vulnerable act. I would even argue that it would be unnatural not to be nervous.
Learning an instrument is a massive investment of time, energy, and resources. Every musician risks potential failure every time they play in front of someone else. Expectations are high, especially when performing for people who know the instrument and the music deeply. I have countless friends who struggled with nerves and anxiety struggles that I never knew about because classical musicians often hide their fears, feeling ashamed of them.
There’s much more to say when performance nerves become debilitating—as they did for me at Juilliard—but that’s another subject. For now, trust that the musicians around you understand what it feels like to be nervous and can empathize with you.
4. The attitude of your teacher/mentors can make or break your experience and potential for success.
I was lucky to have a supportive, steady, and non-judgmental teacher at Juilliard. However, teachers, like professionals in any field, have a wide range of personalities and teaching styles. I am grateful that I felt genuinely supported and cheered on by my mentors, even, and perhaps especially, in the moments when they gave me harsh critiques.
In my own experience as a teacher, I am genuinely delighted that every one of my students has decided to dedicate a large portion of their precious time to learning an instrument. I’m already proud of them, no matter how they play or how much time they had to practice before the lesson. Taking lessons is a vulnerable experience: you are putting yourself in front of an expert and asking for feedback, which requires courage and resilience. I believe it is a teacher’s duty to respect that vulnerability, not take advantage of it.
A good teacher will never be judgmental or angry at a student based on their performance. Mistakes and failures are a necessary part of learning, not an opportunity for embarrassment. Unfortunately, there are judgmental, manipulative, or simply unsupportive teachers out there who can damage a student’s mindset. At best, this is disheartening; and worst, it can be psychologically devastating.
If a mentor makes you feel terrible about yourself, don’t continue working with them. It’s just not worth it. Your mental health is far more important than any potential help a teacher may offer.
5. Performance practice is essential.
I had absolutely horrible stage fright while studying at Juilliard. Every time I played in front of anyone, it felt like an opportunity to be proven unworthy of my place at such a highly respected institution. I tried everything I could to try to lessen my anxiety about performing, without actually doing the thing I feared.
But the reality is that nothing can replicate the experience of performing in front of someone else. No matter how well something goes in the practice room, it feels entirely different when you’re playing in front of an audience. The stakes are just different. There’s only one solution: practice performing.
This can happen during a lesson, a mock performance for friends, or a recital in front of an audience. To increase your chances of success in your next audition, create as many nerve-wracking performance situations as possible. Consider what feels scary to you: if playing in front of a fellow musician makes you nervous, that’s a good opportunity to practice performing. If you’re completely unafraid to play in front of your mom, however, that probably won’t do the trick.
You have to practice being uncomfortable. Sorry, it’s the only way!
6. Always ask for advice.
This year, I was lucky enough to be invited to audition for an open viola position in the Berliner Philharmoniker. Their performances have inspired me my whole life, so I wanted to make the best impression possible. I asked a colleague to listen to me play and give me brutally honest feedback. One of the first things she pointed out was that my bow was not straight. I laughed and felt a bit embarrassed.
Even Juilliard-trained violists need advice and to keep practicing basic technique! Every day is an opportunity to learn from other musicians around you, so keep your ears and your mind open. We’re never done learning. We have to re-teach our muscles how to play our instruments every day. Practicing basic technique isn’t over just because you’ve mastered it once. Stay humble, and strive to continuously grow, learn, and relearn.
7. Beware of how you define success and failure.
Trying to advance in classical music can be dangerous because there’s no peak perfection you can reach that guarantees you’ve finally achieved the success you were aiming for. When I got accepted to Juilliard, I told myself I had to practice harder than ever and that I couldn’t afford to take any breaks. I beat myself up for every moment that I spent doing something I interpreted as unproductive: taking a long lunch break, meeting friends for a drink instead of spending the evening in the practice room, taking a nap because I was too tired to focus, or not practicing on my day off. I considered these moments failures of discipline and blamed them when I didn’t achieve my goals.
Predictably, I ended up burning out and having a complete mental breakdown that took years to recover from. I’m not convinced that this harsh self-talk made me work any harder than if I had spoken kindly to myself. An unending drive for success and perfection is a trait that drives many of the world’s best musicians, but it can also be immensely damaging. There is no limit to how much we can push ourselves, so sometimes it’s best to draw a line in the sand.
Which leads me to my next point:
8. Permit yourself to take breaks.
Breaks are essential to productivity. We are not machines. For musicians, this applies not only to both physical breaks from playing, but mental breaks as well.
One of my mentors at Juilliard once told us to never, ever, take a day off. I felt guilty thinking about all the days I hadn’t opened my instrument case. From that point on, I started considering each day that I didn’t practice as a failure.
That mindset did not make me a better musician. It also contributed significantly to my previously referred to mental breakdown. Our brains need breaks, and our muscles need breaks. The standard work week is five days, not seven, for a reason.
Regular practice is important, but a few days off will nurture a healthy mind and body. That in turn will support a longer, more sustainable musical life.
9. It’s not that serious!
I learned this the hard way, by going too far in the other direction. When I was at Juilliard, I took music very seriously. Every moment felt like an opportunity for approval or failure—whether I was playing for my teacher, my peers, or a public audience.
But music is supposed to be fun! The experience of making music is meant to be an opportunity for connection. My most cherished musical memories are moments when I felt a deep connection with the people around me.
There’s a bonus to this mindset: when you approach music with passion and enthusiasm, feelings of fear and pressure begin to fade. If your goal is human connection, little things that could be seen as failures no longer feel as heavy.
A colleague once said to me: “Musicians are all chasing the feeling they had when their heart first opened.” Music-making isn’t a test—it’s a privilege and a joy.
10. Music is about life, not the other way around.
I’ve heard writers say that you can’t write well if you haven’t gone out into the world and experienced it, because then you have nothing to write about. I think the same is true for music: you can’t make deeply impactful music if you don’t allow yourself to live a rich and beautiful life outside of the practice room.
Many of my best performances happened on concert tours, where the music was mixed with travel, bonding with other musicians, and the excitement of discovering new places and experiences. We depend on our connection to others and to the world around us to grow as people and musicians.
This might sound obvious to some, but many musicians need the reminder—and the permission—to cultivate identities outside of music. When I allowed myself to give equal priority to my time in and out of the practice room, I not only found greater success in my career, but also happiness and stability in my life. Valuing other parts of your life as much as practice is a necessity, and a joyful one at that!
Happy practicing!
