By Merlin Thompson
A Matter of Breathing: Lessons from My Studio
By Dr. Merlin B. Thompson
Human beings breathe somewhere between 12 and 20 times every minute. In one hour, that’s close to a thousand breaths. In a full day, anywhere from 17,000 to 30,000. Put all that air together and you’d have enough to fill a small swimming pool—roughly 2,000 gallons. And yet, most of us make our way through our routines without sparing a single thought for the act that sustains us second by second. Breathing simply happens.
For music teachers and our students, breathing is never “just” breathing. It’s foundational. It shapes timing, phrasing, articulation, intention, and emotional colour. And while vocalists and wind instrumentalists are the most obvious examples of musicians who depend on breath for sound production, I’d like to suggest something broader, especially for the many piano teachers reading this: breathing is essential for every musical instrument.
In my own piano studio, breath plays a simple but powerful role. I’d like to share a few real-life examples that reveal how awareness of inhaling and exhaling can influence flow, tempo, phrasing, tone, dynamics, and even students’ overall confidence. These stories might inspire you to experiment with breathing strategies in your own teaching whether you work with beginners or advanced performers.
Flow, Wobbliness, and a Figure Eight
Six-year-old Rachel has been taking lessons for several months and her finger strength is still under development. As a result, many of her pieces sound unsteady. She plays with little hesitations here and there, almost like her fingers are unsure what to do next. You might recognize this kind of wobbliness in your own studio: the musical line stops and starts, not because the student doesn’t know the notes, but because they’re missing the physical control to make things happen.
One day, instead of talking about notes or fingering, I simply ask her:
“Rachel, what can you tell me about flow?”
Without missing a beat, she extends her right arm and slowly traces a figure eight in the air—a perfectly smooth, continuous shape. Her creativity delights me. I join in, tracing the same motion alongside her until we’re moving in parallel. The figure eight has its own rhythm, its own trajectory.
“Let’s add our breath,” I say. “Let’s make our breath match the flow.”
Rachel inhales and exhales gently as she continues the motion. Nothing forced. Nothing exaggerated. Just a natural, unbroken cycle.
Then I ask her to play Mary Had a Little Lamb—but this time, to take a breath before beginning and let her breathing carry her through the piece.
There are no rules about where to breathe. The act of breathing itself—not the placement—is the point. The continuous cycle of inhaling and exhaling gives her fingers something to ride on, almost like a small boat carried forward by a gentle current. Her fingers don’t magically stop wobbling, but now the wobbliness has somewhere to go. Breathing in and out adds a layer of awareness and momentum different from her usual focus on playing from one note to the next. Breathing invites her to move through the music.
Accents, Air, and the Two-Step Gesture
A very different example comes from John, an older student preparing a short march. The piece consisted of multiple two-bar phrases, each starting with an accented downbeat in the right hand. But John’s accents lack definition. They aren’t crisp. Instead, they land with the same weight as surrounding notes.
Rather than addressing the issue through verbal explanation alone, I demonstrate a two-step process using breath:
Step one: on the upbeat, I inhale while lifting my right hand above the keyboard.
Step two: on the downbeat, I exhale as gravity pulls my hand into the keyboard—like someone jumping off a diving platform.
The effect is immediate. The inhale creates anticipation. The exhale creates release.
“Try it,” I say. “Breathe the accent before you play it.”
In just a few moments, John’s accented downbeats have more substance and intention. His body understands the shape of the sound before it happens.
This technique has an added bonus as it provides a visual confirmation of what’s going on. Each time audience members see the performer inhale and lift a hand above the keyboard – we know something is going to happen. We join the performer in the alignment between breathing, gesture, and sound. The interpretation becomes heard and witnessed.
Whispering, Shouting, and Dynamic Contrast
Ashley, a teen student, recognizes the need for greater dynamic contrast in her performance of a romantic selection. Her playing is expressive, but most of her dynamic range lives in the “moderate” zone. Nothing too soft. Nothing too loud. So we turn our attention to her breathing.
“Watch what happens when you whisper,” I suggest, “Can you see how whispering uses the least amount of air possible.” When she inhales/exhales using only a slip of air, her body takes on a somewhat restrained state. Her tone follows suit: more cautious, less volume.
Then we explore the other extreme.
“Now fill your entire body with air. Let your lungs expand, your ribs widen. Try breathing from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. Let’s see what happens to your sound,” I continue.
Her forte transforms instantly. It isn’t just louder. It is alive. The expansion of breath creates an expansion of sound.
This is where breath and dynamics intersect beautifully: soft playing is supported by subtle, minimized breaths; loud playing invites an exuberant, whole-body breath. Students feel the difference long before they master it technically.
The Takeaway: Breath and Expressive Sound
As music teachers, we know how important technique is. But sometimes it’s the subtle pieces of technique that bring out the artistry hidden inside our students. Breathing is one of those pieces. It’s like the quiet foundation beneath expressive tone. It directs energy. It supports the core. It guides phrasing, flow, and dynamic shape. Even at the piano, where breath does not produce sound directly, intentional breathing is an absolute must-have for expressive sound.
Whether you teach beginners who need momentum, intermediates who need something new, or advanced students striving for expressive nuance, I hope you’ll consider inviting breath into your lessons. Ask students to trace a figure eight. Ask them to inhale before an accent. Ask them to feel the difference between a whisper-breath and a full-body breath. See what happens when students explore a playful breath, a serious breath, a mysterious breath, a trusting breath.
You may be surprised at just how much musical magic happens the moment breath becomes part of the conversation.
Where in your own teaching do you naturally bring up breathing? Where might breath awareness be missing or overlooked? Think about specific students, pieces, or moments in lessons when intentional breathing could make a meaningful difference.
When observing your students, where do you see signs of held breath, shallow breath, or breath that disconnects from the musical moment?
What gentle prompts could help students return to a more natural, supportive breathing cycle?
