Before anything else : the context really matters

Short trip across town ? International flight ? Moving house with a full music room ? The “best” solution changes fast depending on that. For example, when a pianist friend moved from Lyon to Bordeaux, he didn’t even consider doing it himself. He checked pros, compared prices, and ended up using a specialized mover he found through https://demenagement-confiance.fr. Not cheap, but when you’ve spent 20 years with the same piano, you don’t gamble. Would you ?

Hard cases : the classic, but not always enough

Hard-shell cases are usually the first answer. And yes, they’re essential. A solid flight case for a cello or a carbon-fiber violin case can absorb shocks pretty well. I’ve seen one fall off a baggage cart at Charles de Gaulle. Heart attack moment. Instrument inside ? Perfectly fine.

But let’s be honest : not all hard cases are equal. Entry-level cases protect against scratches, not against a brutal impact or temperature swings. Also, they don’t stop humidity damage. That’s a big one, especially for wooden instruments. Personally, I’d say hard cases are the minimum, not the ultimate solution.

Soft cases and gig bags : convenient, risky

Gig bags are light, practical, and comfortable on the back. For daily city travel, they’re tempting. I use one for my electric guitar when I know I’ll be careful. But for fragile instruments ? Long trips ? Nope. One sudden brake in a taxi and you feel it immediately.

They’re fine if you’re walking five minutes to rehearsal. Beyond that, I find them stressful. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I like sleeping at night.

Professional movers specialized in instruments

This is where things get serious. Some moving companies specialize in fragile musical instruments: pianos, harps, double basses, even antique violins. They use padded crates, climate-controlled trucks, straps designed to avoid pressure points. It’s impressive, honestly.

The downside ? Cost. Prices can climb quickly, especially over long distances. But if your instrument is rare, valuable, or emotionally irreplaceable, it suddenly makes sense. I hesitated once for a vintage upright piano. In the end, I paid more… and regretted nothing.

Air travel : cabin, hold, or don’t even try ?

Flying with an instrument is a whole different beast. Small instruments sometimes fit in the cabin, if the crew is nice and the flight isn’t full. Bigger ones ? Usually the hold. And that’s where horror stories are born.

Airlines vary a lot. Some handle instruments with care, others… less so. If flying is unavoidable, a true flight case is non-negotiable. And even then, there’s a risk. I’ve heard musicians say “never again” after one bad experience. I kind of get it.

So, what’s the safest solution, really ?

If I had to rank them, from safest to riskiest :

• Specialized professional transport (best overall, especially for valuable instruments)
• High-end hard or flight cases with careful handling
• Standard hard cases for short to medium trips
• Soft cases / gig bags only for quick, low-risk travel

No solution is perfect. Even the best setup needs attention, patience, and sometimes a bit of luck. But choosing the right one reduces stress – and damage – dramatically.

Final thought (and a real question)

Transporting a fragile instrument is always a balance between budget, distance, and emotional value. Ask yourself this : if something happened during transport, how bad would it feel ? If the answer makes your stomach knot, you already know which solution to choose.

I’ve fallen into that trap myself. Once, at a small gallery in Berlin, I was convinced I had found a “hidden gem.” The gallerist was persuasive, the story sounded solid… but something felt off. Later, a friend told me the artist’s supposed “international exhibitions” were just small community shows. That’s when I realized : doing a bit of homework saves you from burning your wallet. It’s kind of like finding the right kitchen gear-you want to make sure you’re not paying triple for a gadget that breaks in two weeks. Speaking of that, I once used https://codepromocuisine.com to score serious deals on cookware, and honestly, the logic is the same with art : compare, check, don’t rush.

Check the Provenance

This is the fancy word for “where does this painting come from ?” A real contemporary artwork usually comes with documents : certificates of authenticity, gallery records, even receipts from previous exhibitions. If the seller can’t provide that, red flag. Imagine buying a vintage guitar without knowing who played it before-sketchy, right ?

Pay Attention to Materials

Contemporary artists experiment a lot, but they don’t usually paint on cheap canvas you’d find in a bargain store. Touch the surface if you can. Look at the back of the painting : you’ll often see the type of frame, the tension of the canvas, and sometimes even handwritten notes by the artist. Those little details scream “real.”

Look for the Artist’s Presence

A real painting often carries traces of the artist’s process. Uneven brush strokes, layers of paint, tiny imperfections-that’s what makes it alive. If everything looks too “flat,” like it rolled off a printer, maybe it did. Ever seen a print passed off as a painting ? It’s smoother, colder, almost too perfect.

Do Some Quick Research

Thanks to the internet, you can type an artist’s name and see if they actually exist outside of the gallery’s walls. Have they been exhibited ? Mentioned in art magazines ? Even Instagram can give clues. Be wary of names that appear nowhere else-it doesn’t always mean fake, but you should dig deeper.

Trust Your Gut (But Confirm It)

Honestly, sometimes your instinct tells you something’s wrong. The story doesn’t add up, the seller is pushy, or the price is “too good to be true.” Listen to that feeling, but don’t rely on it alone. Pair intuition with facts, and you’ll avoid most traps.

Final Thought

Collecting contemporary art isn’t just about money-it’s about connection. When you stand in front of a genuine painting, you feel the intention, the energy, the risk the artist took. And that’s priceless. But still, let’s not be naïve : the art world is full of smoke and mirrors. Stay curious, double-check, ask questions. After all, recognizing a real painting is a skill you build over time-like learning to cook a perfect risotto or finding your favorite jazz album. The more you dive in, the better you get.

Let’s dig in. No fluff, just useful stuff.

Can You Really Learn Piano Alone?

Short answer: yes. Long answer: yes, but it depends on your goals.

If you’re aiming to play pop songs, accompany yourself singing, or impress your friends with a moody Yann Tiersen piece — totally possible. Want to get into jazz improvisation or classical interpretation? It’ll take more structure, more patience, and probably more mistakes.

And that’s okay.

Method #1: The App Route (But Not Blindly)

There are tons of apps now. Simply Piano, Flowkey, Piano Marvel, etc. Some are honestly great to get your fingers moving and to learn the basics: reading notes, playing with both hands, rhythm. If you’re a total beginner, they can give you a solid start.

But here’s the trap: don’t just follow the app blindly. Apps are designed to gamify learning. That’s fun, sure. But it can also make you skip important stuff — posture, technique, ear training.

Tip: Use apps like you’d use a GPS. Great for direction. But check the road signs yourself.

Method #2: YouTube — Heaven and Hell

Let’s be honest. YouTube is a goldmine. Some of the best piano teachers in the world post content for free. Tutorials, theory, technique breakdowns — it’s all there.

But also… chaos. You risk getting lost in a rabbit hole of “How to Play Let It Be in 10 Minutes” videos without ever understanding chords or hand independence.

Best advice? Pick two or three good channels. Stick with them. Don’t chase every shiny thumbnail.

Method #3: Learn Songs You Love (But Know When to Struggle)

Play stuff you enjoy — otherwise, what’s the point? But don’t avoid hard things forever.

A common trap? Only playing what’s comfortable. You’ll get stuck. You need challenges that force your brain and hands to coordinate. That first moment when you play a four-note chord properly? Addictive.

Start with: simple left-hand patterns + recognizable melodies. Think Beatles, Adele, or Studio Ghibli soundtracks. Beautiful and accessible.

Method #4: Train Your Ears — Not Just Your Eyes

Here’s something most self-taught pianists skip: ear training. Don’t.

Start noticing intervals. Try to play melodies by ear. Sing a note, find it on the keyboard. Record yourself — yes, even if you cringe at your own voice. It’s a game changer. It connects your brain and your hands in a whole new way.

The Boring Stuff (That’s Actually Not That Boring)

Posture. Hand position. Finger numbers. I know, it sounds super basic. But bad habits early on = real pain later.

I once practiced a piece for two weeks only to realize I’d been using the wrong fingering the whole time. Fixing it? Took another two weeks. Don’t be like me. Watch one or two good tutorials on posture and warm-ups. Just once. It’ll save you time.

How Often Should You Practice?

Honestly? Even 15 minutes a day can do wonders. The key is consistency, not marathon sessions.

Practice tired, and you’ll just reinforce mistakes. Practice focused — even just a bit — and you’ll improve faster than you think.

And don’t beat yourself up if you skip a day (or a week). Life happens. Just come back.

Common Pitfalls to Avoid

• Only playing songs you already know — you’re not learning, you’re rehearsing.
• Ignoring rhythm — use a metronome, seriously.
• Comparing yourself to others — you’re not in a competition.
• Rushing hands-together practice — slow it down, then speed up.

So, Is It Worth It?

Definitely. Is it frustrating sometimes? Yes. Will you feel stuck? Probably. Will it feel incredible the first time you play something you love, hands together, smooth and clean?

Absolutely.

Learning piano on your own is like building a secret skill. One key at a time. One song at a time. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen if you stick with it.

So go. Sit down. Touch the keys. Play something — even if it’s wrong.

That’s how you start.