automatic translation,
may not be accurate
may not be accurate
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Moyse Tone Development Exercise 4B on Baroque Flute: Breath, Resonance, and Long Slurs on Traverso
Moyse Exercise 4B can be adapted very effectively to the baroque flute (traverso) to develop breath stability, resonance, intonation, long slurs, and control of fork fingerings. Using a repeated low D as a tonal anchor, the exercise helps traverso players cultivate a calmer airstream, more vocal phrasing, and greater awareness of resonance across registers.
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with Elizabeth Walker
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What Is Moyse Exercise 4B — and Why Does It Work on Traverso?
Marcel Moyse’s Tone Development Through Interpretation remains one of the most loved tone books in modern flute playing, but some of its exercises translate beautifully to the wooden traverso as well. Exercise 4B is a perfect example.
Built on a repeated low D and a gradually rising upper note, this short pattern looks simple, but it reveals a great deal about sound, breath, intonation, and resonance. On traverso, where every note responds differently and fork fingerings immediately reveal instability, it becomes an excellent daily reset. As Lizzie Walker pointed out, the real work begins even before the exercise starts: first, you must find a truly settled D. When that first D is calm, resonant, and fully centered, the whole exercise immediately gains purpose and direction. |
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How This Exercise Develops Breath, Resonance, and Intonation
The structure is beautifully simple. Low D remains the anchor throughout the entire exercise, while the upper note rises step by step: F, F♯, G, G♯, A, and beyond. The rhythmic cell combines a sustained dotted D with a lighter upper gesture, followed by the same pattern redistributed into equal quavers .
This repeated return to D is the heart of the exercise. It gives the ear a constant point of reference and allows the player to compare how each upper note changes the balance of tone and resonance.
On traverso, this becomes especially valuable because low D is one of the most stable and resonant notes of the instrument. It acts almost like a tuning fork inside the practice itself.
This repeated return to D is the heart of the exercise. It gives the ear a constant point of reference and allows the player to compare how each upper note changes the balance of tone and resonance.
On traverso, this becomes especially valuable because low D is one of the most stable and resonant notes of the instrument. It acts almost like a tuning fork inside the practice itself.
How to Practise Moyse 4B on Traverso
The structure is beautifully simple. Low D remains the anchor throughout the entire exercise, while the upper note rises step by step: F, F♯, G, G♯, A, and beyond. The rhythmic cell combines a sustained dotted D with a lighter upper gesture, followed by the same pattern redistributed into equal quavers .
This repeated return to D is the heart of the exercise. It gives the ear a constant point of reference and allows the player to compare how each upper note changes the balance of tone and resonance.
On traverso, this becomes especially valuable because low D is one of the most stable and resonant notes of the instrument. It acts almost like a tuning fork inside the practice itself.
This repeated return to D is the heart of the exercise. It gives the ear a constant point of reference and allows the player to compare how each upper note changes the balance of tone and resonance.
On traverso, this becomes especially valuable because low D is one of the most stable and resonant notes of the instrument. It acts almost like a tuning fork inside the practice itself.
The Moment Everything Changed
After several months, I eventually returned to my modern flute studies and repertoire. I remember very clearly the moment I took the modern flute into my hands again and tried to transfer this new bodily sensation into the instrument.
And suddenly, the sound I had been searching for my entire life appeared.
But what shocked me most was not the sound itself. It was the feeling behind it.
For years I had believed beautiful sound required enormous force and physical control. Now the sound seemed to emerge from something entirely different: breathing, balance, calmness, resonance, body organization, and inner release. It felt effortless. Almost unreal.
I remain deeply grateful to Renate Greiss-Armin for recognizing the importance of this transformation. Since the search for sound has always been central to her own teaching, she immediately understood what Heike Nicodemus had opened for me and enthusiastically supported the idea of dedicating an entire semester purely to sound work. Rather than immediately returning to technical pressure and large repertoire demands, she allowed me to spend an entire semester stabilizing this new sensation through Debussy’s Syrinx.
For one whole semester, two pages of music became enough.
And looking back now, I consider this one of the most important periods of my life as a musician.
Later, working with Karl Kaiser deepened this process even further. What touched me most in his teaching was the enormous respect for the individuality of each student. He created a rare atmosphere of trust and artistic freedom, where sound was connected not only to style and historical knowledge, but also to personality, imagination, and inner truth. In many ways, this became work not only with flute sound, but with the sound of the soul.
And suddenly, the sound I had been searching for my entire life appeared.
But what shocked me most was not the sound itself. It was the feeling behind it.
For years I had believed beautiful sound required enormous force and physical control. Now the sound seemed to emerge from something entirely different: breathing, balance, calmness, resonance, body organization, and inner release. It felt effortless. Almost unreal.
I remain deeply grateful to Renate Greiss-Armin for recognizing the importance of this transformation. Since the search for sound has always been central to her own teaching, she immediately understood what Heike Nicodemus had opened for me and enthusiastically supported the idea of dedicating an entire semester purely to sound work. Rather than immediately returning to technical pressure and large repertoire demands, she allowed me to spend an entire semester stabilizing this new sensation through Debussy’s Syrinx.
For one whole semester, two pages of music became enough.
And looking back now, I consider this one of the most important periods of my life as a musician.
Later, working with Karl Kaiser deepened this process even further. What touched me most in his teaching was the enormous respect for the individuality of each student. He created a rare atmosphere of trust and artistic freedom, where sound was connected not only to style and historical knowledge, but also to personality, imagination, and inner truth. In many ways, this became work not only with flute sound, but with the sound of the soul.
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Sound Begins Before the Instrument
One of the most striking ideas emerging from my experience is the realization that sound production begins long before the flute itself.
Today I often tell students that perhaps ninety percent of sound happens before we even touch the instrument. Sound begins in:
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This idea became symbolized for me by a sculpture in the Karlsruhe zoo: Der Flötenspieler by Christian Elsässer.
Many years ago, the flute itself was stolen from the sculpture. What remains is a flute player sitting in a beautifully relaxed position, playing an invisible instrument.
I immediately felt a deep connection to this image. To understand how to play the flute, sometimes we first need to learn how to play without the flute.
Many years ago, the flute itself was stolen from the sculpture. What remains is a flute player sitting in a beautifully relaxed position, playing an invisible instrument.
I immediately felt a deep connection to this image. To understand how to play the flute, sometimes we first need to learn how to play without the flute.
Breathing as Organized Energy
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Another very important stage of my journey came through breathing work in Vienna during masterclasses with Jean Michel Tanguy and daily breathing sessions led by the Japanese vocal professor Akihiko Mori.
This work approached breathing from a deeply physical perspective: back muscles, intercostal muscles, abdominal support, diaphragm coordination, and especially the balance between activity and release. One particular exercise remained unforgettable for me. In photographs from the course, it looks as if I am pressing my fist into Akihiko Mori’s stomach. In reality, however, the exercise worked in the opposite direction: the person breathing had to organize the entire body against this resistance using only coordinated breath support and abdominal organization. |
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The goal was never brute force. It was organized energy.
At the time, I understood these ideas mostly intellectually. Only later, after my traverso work with Heike Nicodemus, did my body finally understand them physically. And together, these experiences became the real key for me.
At the time, I understood these ideas mostly intellectually. Only later, after my traverso work with Heike Nicodemus, did my body finally understand them physically. And together, these experiences became the real key for me.
A Different Way to Begin Practice
Perhaps the most practical consequence of this whole journey is the way I now think about the beginning of practice itself.
Instead of immediately starting with scales, technical exercises, or repertoire, I first try to ask very simple questions:
For me, swimming and observing nature became essential ways of restoring balance. For someone else it may be walking, yoga, stretching, breathing work, silence, or simply slowing down.
The specific activity matters less than the internal result: a return to physical harmony and calmness.
Once the body truly remembers this state of “I feel good,” it becomes possible to recall it surprisingly quickly through memory and imagination alone. And when this internal state returns, the sound often changes immediately and naturally.
Instead of immediately starting with scales, technical exercises, or repertoire, I first try to ask very simple questions:
- How do I feel today?
- Am I balanced?
- Is there unnecessary tension?
- Is my breathing calm?
- Does my body feel organized and available?
For me, swimming and observing nature became essential ways of restoring balance. For someone else it may be walking, yoga, stretching, breathing work, silence, or simply slowing down.
The specific activity matters less than the internal result: a return to physical harmony and calmness.
Once the body truly remembers this state of “I feel good,” it becomes possible to recall it surprisingly quickly through memory and imagination alone. And when this internal state returns, the sound often changes immediately and naturally.
The Traverso’s Lesson
I often describe the traverso as an instrument of unusual honesty.
It immediately reveals excess tension, imbalance, and force. It cannot easily be dominated physically. Instead, it constantly invites the player toward listening, balance, release, and natural resonance.
For this reason, traverso playing can profoundly transform not only flute technique, but the entire philosophy of sound production itself.
I gradually discovered that the deepest control often comes not through increased force, but through deep release.
Sometimes the best practice is actually to put the instrument down entirely:
It immediately reveals excess tension, imbalance, and force. It cannot easily be dominated physically. Instead, it constantly invites the player toward listening, balance, release, and natural resonance.
For this reason, traverso playing can profoundly transform not only flute technique, but the entire philosophy of sound production itself.
I gradually discovered that the deepest control often comes not through increased force, but through deep release.
Sometimes the best practice is actually to put the instrument down entirely:
- to breathe,
- to move,
- to observe,
- to reconnect with the body,
- and only then return to the flute.
Click a note on the staff to explore
Click any note on the staff to see its interval, traverso focus, and listening question.
Try This in Your Own Practice
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1. Begin Before Playing
Before touching the flute:
Sound begins before the instrument. |
2. Recall Natural Movement
Remember how swimmers, singers, or animals breathe and move. Nothing is excessive. Nothing is forced. Try bringing the same balance and economy into your phrasing and breathing. |
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3. Recall your “Feel-Good-Moment”.
Bring to mind a moment in your life when you felt completely well, safe, and happy. A time when there were no worries or inner tension – only ease. It could be a memory from childhood, playing with someone you love, traveling, or simply being outdoors. It might be skiing down a mountain, watching birds over the water, collecting shells by the sea, or quiet moment of celebration with family. Let this memory become vivid again. See it, hear it, and most importantly, feel it in your body. Notice how your breathing changes when you return there, how your posture and internal rhythm naturally soften and reorganize. Allow yourself to fully re-enter that state of harmony – with yourself, with others, and with the world. Stay with that feeling for a moment. Then gently return, carrying this sense of ease into your voice and sound as you move to the next step. |
4. One Note
Play a single D for several minutes. Not just a long D - but a beautiful D. Your own D. Observe your “I feel good”:
I also love this quote I heard once: “In art, everything was already there once. Everything. Except you.” If we apply this to sound: each of us has our own individual, unique sound. In art, there has already been so much beautiful sound. Everything has already been. But there has never been you and your sound. You must hear it first - truly hear it, feel it in your body - and only then play it. |
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5. Reduce Effort
Choose a very simple phrase. Gradually reduce physical force while maintaining resonance and projection. Often the sound becomes freer with less effort. |
6. Remember the Feeling
When the sound feels open and natural, stop for a moment and memorize the physical sensation. Learn to recall this inner state before practising. |
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7. Put the Flute Down
If practice becomes tense or physically forced, stop for a moment. Breathe. Move. Reset your body. Drink a cup of tea, or even go for a walk. Then begin again calmly. First, you feel good. Then you sound good. And in the end, you can share your sound with your audience and make your audience feel good. |
That is why we make music.
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Bella Kublanova is a flutist, traverso player, conductor, researcher, and curator based in Karlsruhe, Germany. Born in Vladivostok in the Russian Far East, her life and artistic path reflect a continuous process of cultural transfer across countries, traditions, centuries, and artistic languages.
Alongside her work as a soloist and chamber musician, she is also active in choral and orchestral conducting and has been a Bulgheroni Artist since 2014. Performing on both modern and historical flutes, her artistic work explores the relationship between sound, breath, body awareness, historical performance practice, and musical communication. As an ambassador of Karlsruhe’s musical heritage, she is deeply engaged in the rediscovery of the 18th-century Karlsruhe Court flute repertoire and develops interdisciplinary projects connecting historical and contemporary music. Her current research focuses on transcultural and transhistorical processes of musical exchange and cultural transfer. Her artistic approach is shaped by a lifelong search for a sound that feels alive, free, and deeply human. “Karlsruhe even has several sculptures dedicated to flute players. I always smile when I think about this. I warmly invite everyone to come here — to walk through the city, to visit the zoo, to discover these hidden musical treasures, to breathe this special air, and to make music together. Come as my guests: we can walk together through Karlsruhe, visit the flute player statue, and share this beautiful sound.” |
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