I've been learning piano for almost two years now. From the beginning, it's been one of my favorite ways to spend time alone. There is one aspect of my education that wasn't highlighted by neither of my teachers or any resources I came across, yet I found tremendous value in nonetheless: pure free play.
Benefits of free play
As literal play
Free play transforms the instrument into a toy: an object of pure pleasure not to be afraid of. Pianos are expensive pieces of equipment, require care when moving around, etc. My mind tends to use the price of something as a proxy for its "toy-ness", i.e. the more money I spend on something, the more serious I orient myself in relation to it, and the less I treat it as a toy. This association is stronger for things I have little lifetime experience with, like musical instruments.
As a fresh beginner, this meant that whenever I sat down at a piano, I was nervous and even intimidated. Hitting the keys randomly and loudly seemed like disrespect. The irony is that pianos are built to withstand large strikes because sometimes that's a volume you want. Even now, as someone who leisurely plays, I need to remind myself that it's okay to assume the mentality of a child that's out to simply play and have fun.
As a quick start to playing
Free play can be done from the very beginning. Most people, even without having touched an instrument, have listened to enough music to be able to strike a note to a beat. A piano's black keys also conveniently form a pentatonic scale in G-flat major. Such scales have the property that you can hit the keys in almost any configuration without much dissonanceThis is because such scales lack minor seconds and tritones, which are generally the two most dissonant-sounding intervals.. So immediately, you can produce something that sounds decent, no matter how simple.
As a supplement to formal practice
Free play is a nice break from the usual learning and practicing of repertoire. It loosens you up physically and emotionally, and can be a nice way to start and/or end formal solo practice. I like to think of free play as the stretches I do before the training jog that is practicing my pieces.
As a world without mistakes
Free play dramatically lowers the stakes by very leniently redefining what counts as an error. With specific pieces, there are so many elements that need to be replicated to a tee: pitch, tempo, volume, balance, dynamics, silence, voicing, fingeringFingering is actually very important, and one should try to be sensible with their fingering when free playing. I felt that I ran the risk of developing bad fingering technique and muscle memory if I didn't pay sufficient attention, whereas more musical elements like melody came more naturally., etc. With free play, a mistake is simply whenever it doesn't sound good. Any fumble—a wrong key due to the slip of the fingers, a longer than intended pause, forgetting to clear with the pedal—can be salvaged by the next choices you make, and so your mistake may end up making sense in context.
As a scratch pad
Free play enables experimentation and exploration. Sometimes I'll intentionally try to find the most "awful" combination and sequence of keys, and see if there's a way to place them where they aren't so awful. Music is very contextual, and so it can be a fun challenge to see how to craft a context around repetitive tritones, for example. It feels like exploring a musically uncharted territory. You don't have a specific piece to serve as a map. There is no specific melodic line to serve as a path. You just make one and see what you find. There will be times when the music you make will sound unpleasant, but you simply forge ahead, hoping that in the long run whatever you create will come to a satisfying conclusion. There's even a mild monkey-at-a-typewriter effect where you may stumble upon a nice melody that you will save for later. In this way it can assist in composing. And even if it sounds bad, it is likely that what you just played is perhaps the only time that music has manifested. This confers a sense of proud ownership, no matter how ephemeral and amateurish. I like to relish in that, because perfect is not only the enemy of the good, but also the fun.
As a measure of progress
Free play serves as a qualitative measure of your ability. As time went on and I developed more dexterous hands and a better musical sense, I noticed that the quality of my free playing improved. Formal practice not only led to an ability to perform pieces but also greater comfort and confidence with the instrument when improvising. I wish I recorded myself free playing from the beginning, but if I had, the differences in my ability between then and now would be very apparent.
As a reminder
Free play reminds me why I started learning: to play music and have fun doing it. Throughout my (continued) learning, I've maintained a teacher, which I found necessary for learning proper technique and having someone to be accountable to, the latter being a strong driver of personal progress. But teachers are teachers—they give homework and chastise you if you come to the lessons unprepared (as they should). That can be a source of useful stress, but stress nonetheless, and if one is not aware, the whole reason why you wanted to learn can escape you. In the beginning, the simple pieces you learn are, well, simple, and often just for learning as opposed to performance, so it can be a while before you reach a point were you can comfortably play a real repertoire. This can make learning as a beginner—and even as an intermediate player like me—feel like a chore, which is demotivating. Free play has been my remedy. Maybe it can be yours too.