Sing the Process

Barbara Honn was my teacher's teacher. She was on the faculty at the Cincinnati Conservatory, where she taught Bill Lavonis when he was a doctoral student. Bill was my voice teacher as I worked toward my master's degree at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Honn was widely revered as one of the great teachers of her generation right up until her death in 2023 at age 79. 

The latest Journal of Singing published an article of remembrance, including statements about Honn from her students and colleagues. One of the comments that caught my attention was by Alison Acord, one of Honn's former students who is now a professor of voice at Miami University in Ohio: 

"Another favored expression of Barbara's was 'sing the process, not the product.' She understood that most singers try to create an 'impressive' sound that is not possible because the sound in the room is so different from the sound inside the singer, even for experienced professionals. The phrase has now taken on another meaning. It's a lot like hearing 'enjoy the journey of life rather than the destination.'" 

    Alison Acord in "Remembering Barbara Honn: Reflections from Her Students and                 Colleagues," ed. Matthew Hoch, Journal of Singing 81, No. 3 (Jan/Feb 2025): 296.

I've blogged before about process vs. product, so I appreciate Prof. Acord's perspective. 

The performing arts are unique among the creative arts. For those who write novels, paint pictures, or create sculptures, their finished works can live on and be observed in exactly the same way as when they were created. A statue can be placed on a shelf or in a museum where observers today can see essentially the same piece that other people saw generations earlier. We can change the way it is displayed, but the piece itself remains pretty much the same. 

The performing arts don't work that way. A script, a score, or choreography, once written, all need interpreters to bring them to audiences. Since every interpreter has different skills and capabilities, all performances of that work will be different. So, even though something like Beethoven's 5th Symphony has been performed thousands of times over the centuries, no two performances have ever been (or will ever be) exactly alike. 

As performers, that means we should think differently about our "product" than sculptors or painters do. Our products don't go into museums. They occur in time, happening once before they're gone forever. They are, as I sometimes say, snapshots in time, reflecting all we have to give in a specific moment, which (we hope) will grow, evolve, and change over time. Our later performances of certain works will certainly differ from earlier performances of those same works as we gain skill and experience and a deeper sense of how our skills and experiences inform our artistry. 

Besides that, we are all imperfect human beings (AI hasn't replaced us...yet). Therefore, even when we lock in our choices when preparing for a performance, each performance will always be a bit different. Try as we might, we can never give exactly the same performance two nights in a row. So, if we're being honest, even our product is a process. It never goes on a shelf, unaltered for the rest of time. It is always something just a bit different and new. 

The one exception, I suppose, would be when a performance is recorded. That's the only case I can think of where a performance can be viewed multiple times without ever changing. More on that in the next blog. 

What does all this mean for us? First, we should acknowledge that our performances are experiences, not objects. Therefore, as artists, we are in the business of providing audiences something to feel in a moment rather than something they can hang on the wall and look at for years to come. This understanding can hopefully relieve some of the pressure we might feel to create perfect performances. Even if we get it completely "right" once, we'll never be able to recreate it in exactly the same way. Maybe, instead, we can focus on the process of creating something that will still feel new each time, even if it is really familiar.

For now, consider how your performing might change if you sing the process. In other words, how would your singing be different if, instead of trying to make a perfect product, you focused on sharing a meaningful, unique experience with your audience? 

How might that change your performing? How might that impact your practicing? 

How has your practicing been this week? 

Now go practice.