By Carol Rodland

I am thinking it is safe to assume that with the possible exceptions of Robin, Dillon, and Zoey, no one in this room will ever forget the first time they met Karen Tuttle.

Without going into too many details here, let’s just say that in my own case, at age 19, in chronic and excruciating pain, I had clearly reached a dead-end in my viola-playing life. At the urging of Jeff Irvine and Lynn Ramsey, whom I had met that summer in Aspen, and to whom, for this, I am eternally grateful, I had set up that meeting with KT as a last-ditch effort to save my viola-playing self, before giving it up and heading off to a purely academic and non-music-related course of study.

I blasted passionately but incredibly tensely through the exposition of the first movement of Brahms f, actually, maybe it was only the first page, when she walked over to me, put one hand on my head and untwisted my neck while poking my left wrist in and prying my thumb off the neck of the viola with her other hand, and said, “Sweetheart, if you just take care of this, this, and this, you will be just fine.”

Although I was slightly terrified, I believed her instantly and trusted her utterly. Those incredible eyes of hers bored straight into my soul and she radiated a confidence and conveyance of unconditional love that left no possibility for doubt on my part. My life started over that day. I am sure many of you have similar stories.

Karen’s revolutionary dedication to fully experiencing, exploring, and helping others to develop a completely comfortable and one can perhaps even call it an organic approach to the physicality of musicality has fundamentally altered the lives of so many of us in this room. Even back in 1987, when I first met her, classical music was in large part an elite and even cerebral “sport”, fully ensconced in its lovely ivory tower. One was indeed passionate about classical music, but one sacrificed everything, including physical and emotional health, for one’s art. You weren’t a real artist unless you were suffering, right?! Oh, how 19th century of us! Karen was way ahead of us.

I can still hear her—“if it hurts, it’s WRONG!”

“It has to feel like JAZZ in your body.”

And then she would sing. And oh, how beautiful it was, and oh how joyful was she as she sang…Up until I met her, I think I had always sort of subconsciously kept my own singing past as well as my love of great jazz as separate from my viola playing.

I learned quickly that for her it was all connected. Everything. She insisted (and exemplified utterly convincingly in her own life) that you needed to search out “TRUTH” wherever you could find it and then you needed to apply it to your own life in any way you possibly could. Whether it was the teachings of Reich or Dounis, the playing of Primrose, Casals, or Tabuteau, or the singing of Kathleen Ferrier or Sarah Vaughan, or even Tiger Woods’ golf swing—you absorbed it into your life and you then incorporated it into your music-making.

Because music was a joyously essential part of life.

Karen was an inspiration on so many levels. Her excellence as a violist—oh, that thrilling sound of hers—and her masterfully intuitive pedagogy—they are legendary. She got people to do things they never dreamed possible. By helping us to get out of our own way, she helped us to find our true voices as musicians. This in and of itself would make a hugely powerful legacy.

But of course we all know she was so much more than that. That thing she did at every lesson– when you walked into the studio—where she made you feel you were the most important person to her in that moment, for that hour, and that you were loved no matter what you did. Don’t get me wrong—I know she LIKED you more in that moment if you played in tune and really went for it musically…but you knew, regardless of what came out of your instrument, that she always LOVED you, and being embraced by that radiance of hers just made you do it better!

In other words, it wasn’t just her extraordinary musical and pedagogical talent and beauty that inspired us. It was her person. It was her passionate love for her family, her utter joy in taking a swim followed by a glass of cold white wine overlooking the mountains in Banff, her lip-smacking relish while eating a piece of homemade carrot cake, her visceral engagement and accompanying physical gestures while listening to a piece of music…She was fully engaged in living her best life every minute of every day, and she was utterly committed to helping us do the same. She also insisted that we help each other on that path, and thus we learned in her studio the importance of being a good colleague.

Karen was truly a woman far ahead of her time. When I think back on what she accomplished and when she accomplished it, as a woman in the field of classical music, I am awed all over again. It simply wasn’t done! But she did it. Knowing the context and the times in which she did it, makes it even more amazing. And she did it all with such complete humility. She was so busy living her best life and searching for truth that she didn’t realize the magnitude of what she was doing!

Every day, in our work and in our lives, we all continue to be inspired by her. We still bask in her joyful radiance, growing and learning, as she would have us do! What a gift. What a life.