From August 2001 - July 2002, I traveled independently throughout several cities in Europe, including Salzburg, Berlin, Vienna, and Paris, with a short rendezvous in Turkey.

The Fellowship is awarded to undergraduate seniors for a year of independent study abroad, with the intention of causing the fellow to think outside of her/his preset environment, and possibly to rethink her/his perception of the world at a fundamental level.

The stated intent of my fellowship was to study "Modern Legacies of Historic European Violin Schools."

Typical of myself, I took the Watson admonition to rethink everything seriously and literally.

Consequently, my voyage began as a study of violin pedagogy, but became a larger analysis of my role as a musician, teacher, and human being.

I diligently followed my stated plan for four months, but increasingly grew discontented with what I was seeing. I was tired of hearing Tchaikovsky Concerto, and the fundamental lessons I derived from all the lessons I was observing were 1) listen, and 2) observe.

It seemed to me that I could be my own teacher if I followed these two principles.

Alongside this realization, however, was a deeper dissatisfaction with the musical volcabulary that formed the standard violin repertoire.

As I traveled, I also visited museums, met people from all over the world, grappled with Sept. 11, wrote volumes, and thought about language, people, cultures, dialects, and communication.

What is language? What is the fundamental element of sound?

It became clear to me that major and minor scales were insufficient to describe my experience on this planet.

I turned to visual art. I looked at the brush strokes of oil paintings, and I experimented with oil pastels.

It occured to me that learning to play violin with the standard repertoire is not about expressing oneself; it is about learning a skill, and performing the music of the composer.

I became frustrated, and stopped playing.

I began playing a mental game: "If I were to create my own musical language, what would it sound like?"

Since music is sound, and sound is vibration of molecules, I became fascinated by very small sounds. Fundamental sounds, such as bowed rope, glasses clinking, grinding rocks; molecules of sound.

I also realized that if I was going to express myself, I was going to need to become comfortable with whatever came out of myself. I was terrified of "sounding bad."

Eventually, I got the nerve to try improvising, and with time, the sounds coming out of my mouth and out of my violin became something I wanted to hear. I told myself, "If I want the good stuff to come out, I'm going to have to let the other stuff come out too."

My journey became the journey it was supposed to be: to reassess everything.

In New York, I have spent the past several years since the Watson implementing the ideas born during my fellowship year.

As a teacher, I try to open up worlds, ears, minds, and hearts. As a person, I try to learn how to be a listener, a thinker, to really love and care for people in my life.

As a performer, I have created, and continue to develop my own improvisational musical language.

As a result of this voyage, with music as my guiding force, I have developed musical partnerships and friendships with people whom I otherwise would never have encountered on a meaningful level.

Every day of my life I am thankful for this opportunity, and i hope to share it through teaching and through performing.