Courtesy of Francis Marciano/Flickr.

Courtesy of Francis Marciano/Flickr.

Ever since moving to Los Angeles in 2006, I’ve spent so much time in my car that I gave the car a name: Junípero for Father Junípero Serra, the Franciscan monk who created California’s mission system. Junípero has taken me to visit many of those missions and has transported me, and my oboe, to countless performances across California.

I make my living by teaching oboe part-time and performing as much as I can. My home base is in L.A., where I teach students in private lessons either at my home or theirs, coach double reed band sectionals at Paul Revere Middle School, and pick up odd jobs playing in church services, college performing groups, and occasionally on recordings for movie soundtracks or songs. With all these different gigs, taxes are a nightmare. But it’s good to be working. As a freelance traveling musician, there’s a lot of uncertainty about when I’ll get the next job (and where).

One steady gig is with the Fresno Philharmonic. It’s a fairly small orchestra and doesn’t have the budget to hold auditions for every available position so they fill them with substitute musicians from San Francisco or Los Angeles—cities where freelancers like me can find enough work to make a living.

The orchestra provides a hotel for many of us who come from out of town and don’t have families to go home to after rehearsal. Because we are away from our homes and normal commitments, we have time to spend together. It can be a lot of fun. After a recent Saturday morning rehearsal, we were free until the next day’s concert at 3 p.m. The bass trombone player wanted to start a beer brewing operation in his garage. So about 15 musicians went over to help clear out his garage and build a new storage shed, in exchange for beer and BBQ. It was like an old-fashioned barn-raising party.

In other places where I’ve worked, it’s been harder to connect to the community. Two seasons ago, I had a temporary position playing second oboe and English horn for the Tucson Symphony. I won an audition for the one-year position, which carried the possibility it might become permanent.

When I first got to Arizona, the only people I knew were in the orchestra. Most had families and busy lives so it was difficult to rely on them for socializing. I felt pretty isolated until I found a great roommate on Craigslist. We explored the city together and she came to my performances. It’s always nice to know people in the audience and to get a non-musician’s perspective on a concert, which is often so different from mine. Unfortunately, my position didn’t become permanent.

I liked having a kitchen when I was in Tucson. As a performer, your physical well-being is important, and cooking for yourself when you’re away from home is a real luxury. Fresno has a delicious array of food options, including Thai, Vietnamese, Indian, and Mexican, but it can be difficult to have no choice but to eat every meal out. Once, I overslept the day of a concert due to daylight savings and had to settle for a noontime breakfast of Chicken McNuggets and Coke.

When traveling, my performance is most affected by how the reeds of my oboe respond to variables like humidity, altitude, and temperature. Tucson has a much drier climate and higher elevation that L.A—so for most of the time I was there, I was freaking out about making reeds for my oboe. Professional oboists make their own reeds from thin pieces of wood, tied together—hence “double reed”—and scraped to precise measurements. It is a long and painstaking process and your efforts can be derailed by the weather. Oboists have a reputation in the music world for being neurotic and eccentric—and the Arizona climate wreaked havoc on my already precarious sanity!

While I travel quite a bit, I sometimes work closer to my L.A. home as a substitute in the Pacific Symphony in Orange County. It’s a much shorter drive to Costa Mesa than to Fresno, but Pacific Symphony duty means sitting in rush hour traffic for an entire week. It can take two hours to travel those 45 miles—especially when you build in an extra cushion to arrive, get situated, warmed up, and ready to play exactly on time. It is not an option to be late to a rehearsal or a concert.

As a freelancer, if you are late or don’t play well, you most likely won’t be asked to play with that group again. It can be stressful to feel as though any mistake you make will cause you to lose income. If you come to depend on the money from a particular gig, and then lose that gig, it can do a number on your finances.

I am happy to be able to perform, play music with friends, and make a living in the field I studied in school. But I can’t say that I like the instability or lack of a regular schedule. Not having a routine can be hard on the body, especially with regards to eating and exercising. My income varies drastically from month to month. It’s very difficult to plan ahead since I don’t have a set schedule. As I look to my future, I think that if I am unable to secure stable work in an orchestra, I might consider another career. But for now, I’m ready to pack my oboe and head off in Junípero for the next performance.

 
Gabrielle Castriotta is a musician and educator living in California. She enjoys hiking and traveling, as well as making questionable attempts at Pinterest DIY projects.

This was originally published by Zócalo Public Square on 11/14/2014.

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