ANECDOTES , STORIES
I was 21 ...
... when I set foot for the first time in Paris, coming from Lyon, my native province. To take lessons with Ms. ANCELIN. As soon as I entered the hall of the Conservatory, I heard wonderful sounds. So wonderful that I wondered what instrument it could be. Not the flute! Impossible..! Too handsome ! I was captivated and above all impressed. But I knew well inside me that it was beautiful and well the sound of the flute… I sat on a bench where it took me 2 good minutes to finish convincing myself that it was indeed flute sounds. Who did come from the room on the left where I was supposed to come and introduce myself. I got scared. I wanted to go back to Lyon straight away. Fear of ridicule. Fear of this new world. I needed another 15 minutes to force myself into the room, after having managed my cold sweats: the price of the TGV ticket and the sums involved represented a lot of money for my mother. I could not decently abdicate. I presented myself in front of the room, I knocked, I entered. And what I heard "live" changed my life ...
After brief presentations of use ...
..., I sat down and listened to the different students. My level was much lower than what I heard… 1 hour later, my turn came. It was fairly brief. In barely 2 minutes, Mrs. Ancelin, a radiant woman with great vital force, made me understand that I could not join the Conservatory. That I had absolutely no level. I'll skip the details, but I literally implored her, forcefully telling her "Trust me Madam!" Please trust me! You will not regret it ! " She has accepted. And fixed me a new probationary appointment 1 month later.
I worked...
... hard. Scales, arpeggios, fingerings, exercise of mechanism, posture, sounds, studies, breath… I only had as a guide the precious advices of Sophie DUFEUTRELLE, my teacher in Lyon, but above all what I had heard at the Conservatoire in Paris. I rejoiced at my progress. I cried over my defeats. I was driven by a phenomenal force. A month later, I presented myself again in front of the one I admired already for having heard her only once. I played her the pieces she gave me to study. She stirred, smiled, raised her arms to the sky. She asked me to stop and put my flute down. She hugged me very tightly, stamped her feet, laughed. She said to me "You, at least, you keep your word". She added something like “What you just did is amazing”. Once the session was over, I left. I sat down in a square. And I collapsed. I cried a lot. I, the child of the "city", finally entered the Conservatory! From Paris !
Never give up.
Persevere.
I was 17...
... when I entered the National School of Music and Dance in Villeurbanne (Lyon).
I was lucky enough to benefit from the teaching of two flute masters.
My «real» first courses were given by Serge SAITTA. An authentic artist passionate about Baroque Music, he has obviously given me a very strong passion for this music that I still mostly practice today, thanks to his deep knowledge of «the art of playing the flute». He was indeed one of the pioneers of the re-discovery of this repertoire alongside Barthold KUIJKEN or William CHRISTIE, to name but a few.
But the technique of the modern flute, especially that of the 19th and 20th centuries, was taught to me by Sophie DUFEUTRELLE. By her passion, her rigour and her curiosity, not to mention her contagious good humor, she set me on the path of demanding and open to new music, was my patient advisor for several years, to whom I know I owe a great deal today, and allowed me to follow the Masterclass of Pierre-Yves ARTAUD, specialist of the contemporary flute and a new approach to the repertoire.
The ENMD of Villeurbanne was also for me the time of my first «contract» thanks to Antoine DUHAMEL, then Director of our school, with whom I also took courses of harmony and composition.
The city...
... in which I grew up was, to say the least, infamous. Even the police only entered in cases of force majeure ...
Coming home at night was always tricky, even dangerous. Especially with my flute, or my cello. From the bus stop to my HLM block, I had to take a dark road. Then walk along a city that was even "hotter" than mine. The strategy was appropriate: to take the sidewalk opposite, it was to show that I was afraid. I would be therefore sure to be approached by a gang. To walk on the sidewalk of this sensitive city while looking down was a bad idea: again, it was taken for fear and too often ended in trouble. It was therefore necessary to pass very close to these "bands" with your head held high. Respond to them as briefly as possible without reacting to their verbal attacks. And look them straight in the eye for a second. Especially no more. Because an ill-chosen word or a too insistent look was taken for a provocation and it ended badly. Once the "dangerous" zone was passed, it was necessary to respect a simple rule: not to turn around ... With exceptions, but that was a question of the sixth sense. In short, it took a lot of "tact" and diplomacy.
Arrived in my city, it remained to hope that another band was not sitting right in front of the entrance to my stairwell ...
