dil·et·tante

/ˌdiləˈtänt,diləˈtäntē/

noun

1. a person who cultivates an area of interest, such as the arts, without real commitment or knowledge

“Only professionals!” was what Margaret Harshaw was wont to say on more than one occasion. Yet she also could be found teaching non-professionals after retiring from teaching at the Indiana University School of Music.

I have a variety of students. Some of the them are housewives who take voice lessons for therapy. It may be a twist in my humor but I say “Well, it’s better than taking dope!” Singing gives them something to do. They just want to sing in a little group or in church. That’s fine because someone has to sing in the little groups.

The worst of it is when they think they can can take up voice lessons and accomplish as much as another woman of the same age who has devoted herself to it for years. That really makes me lose my temper because I remember the things that you “give up,” if you want to call it that, to get that which you want. And these women never gave up a thing in their lives. —Margaret Harshaw, Mastery: Interviews with 30 Remarkable People by Joan Evelyn Ames, page 45.

What did Harshaw give up?

Well the beginning of it all was the great Spanish singer and technician Manuel García. My teacher, Anna Schoen-René, was taught by Manuel García’s daughter, the legendary Pauline Viardot. The García-Viardot method is my tradition, and it is what I still teach today.

Anna Schoen-René was a real disciplinarian. Her students called her a Prussian General. When she instructed you, you did it, and you did it right away. She made a stipulation that she would not accept me as her student unless I agreed not to sing literature for two semesters, that is: no arias, no lieder, no songs—nothing but scales to build technique. Now I had already been singing quite a bit with some of the big orchestras. But I wanted the education and that diploma from Juilliard very, very much.

I thought it over well and we made a bargain. She allowed me to keep my church job and I agreed to the rest. It was very, very difficult, and I certainly would [laughs] get into a tantrum once in a while. That’s where strength of character is important. When you want something then you have to pay a price, you have to give something. So I stuck to the rules. —Margaret Harshaw, Mastery: Interviews with 30 Remarkable People by Joan Evelyn Ames, page 40.

The dilettante gives up nothing because his mind is full of his own ideas, thoughts and perspectives. He’s literally full of himself. There isn't room for anything else. If he’s in your studio, he’s spending his time collecting rather than practicing.

The price to be paid?

This can be the time that must be spent working on technique, paying for lessons, and the long-term commitment involved.

The dilettante dabbles rather than gets down to business.

I still can’t quite believe the prospective student—a woman—who approached my husband Jonathan for piano lessons, and inquired if acquiring an instrument was really necessary. Couldn’t she come over and learn to play on his piano? He said no, of course.

Beware the dilettante. She or he will waste your time.

Serious about singing? Do give me a call.