It seems that I have always been a pianist. I can’t remember a time in my life before music, or before playing the piano was an integral part of my identity. When I was four or five, my kindergarten teacher reported to my parents that I would accompany the class on the piano every morning when we sang. They were quite surprised, because at the time we didn’t even have a piano in the house! But they soon found me a piano teacher and bought a piano, and the trajectory of my life began to take shape.
My first piano teacher, the late and beloved Jean Gray, built upon my ear’s natural abilities by starting me off with “sound and rhythm” classes, not piano-playing or music-reading ones. This, I think, has informed my whole identity as a musician: music as play, as sound, as an instinctive and creative activity, not as a scribbled code on a page needing deciphering (this is the literal meaning of the French word for reading music, “déchiffrer”). Since the beginning, unprompted by teacher or parent, I have always made up music, improvised, and played by ear; this is the basis of my musicality. (Of course, this can come in handy in entertaining friends and family, and it has also provided great fulfillment as a means of self-expression. Today I will sometimes improvise in a concert, I have more-or-less improvised the music for a film, and I hope to further develop this part of my musical life.)
Aside from this, though, my education was, I suppose, fairly traditional. I was blessed with teachers (I should single out William Browning, with whom I studied in the crucial years between the ages of 12 and 17) who encouraged me to be and to believe in myself, but who didn’t neglect the more rigorous aspects of music-making: instrumental technique, interpretative rigor, disciplined practice. I can’t say that I always succeeded in living up to the highest standards, but the seeds were planted in me, and today I know much better how to strive towards their attainment.
At seventeen I arrived in New York, doing what just a few years earlier I had thought ridiculous – going to school for music. It seemed like such an unacademic activity. But there I was, in exciting Manhattan, at the Manhattan School of Music, studying with the late, great Viennese pianist, Robert Goldsand. Being surrounded by other musicians, being in New York and on my own – this was of course a life-changing event. Mr. Goldsand was unfortunately past his prime, and for better and for worse I was not given very strict guidance. People often tell me that my playing is different and full of unusual ideas. If this is true, I think it that it is mostly because no teacher killed my individuality, and also because I conscientiously avoid listening to recordings of pieces that I am studying. Every one of us has a greater or lesser capacity to understand, and sensitivity to, music, and a great musician will never be made out of a less-talented one; however, everyone should have something unique to offer. Too often it is precisely this which is obliterated by interpretive convention and fashion, by lack of listening to one’s inner voice, by uncritical acceptance of others’ ideas (musical and philosophical), and by over-deference to others, particularly teachers. I often argued with my teachers, and this was not always easy, but I learned from them while always striving to be myself. I believe that everyone, not just artists, must find their own truths, even if this means rediscovering the same ones as one’s predecessors. This is, and is the pleasure of, the artistic journey.
After graduating, knowing that I needed to improve and feeling that I needed a teacher to do so, I spent several “years in the desert,” looking for the right mentor. I learned a lot from many people, but never found the yearned-for guru. I went back for a Master’s at the Manhattan School, studying with my friend David Buechner. There are not many people with his technical mastery or his expressive power, and somehow both of these resonated with me (in fact, there are many pianists – although not as many as people think – with great techniques and musical wonderment, but with David I somehow felt that his style could be relevant to mine). I think that I was quite influenced by this charismatic, curious, intelligent musician.
However, I didn’t feel as though I was learning everything that I wanted to, and so David suggested that I find someone else. This is how I had the great honor of becoming one of the few students of legendary pianist Eugene Istomin. Mr. Istomin was very different than all of the other teachers that I had had, much stricter in a way, with standards that were uncompromising to say the least. I will always remember the year we spent working together as a pressure-filled, but very rewarding, one.
After graduating and spending a few years free-lancing in New York, I had the opportunity to move to France.
For many reasons, coming to Paris was a turning point in my artistic development. Being left to myself, escaping from the hotbed of New York, breaking from the past, practicing every day on the same piano, all were very important. But most of all, probably, was luck. I had certain performance opportunities that I had never had in New York. There is no better way to develop as a musician than by performing, and the great increase in the number of concerts that I’ve given since being in Europe has led me to a mastery that I had never before known. And something else changed in my performances. I don’t know how I started speaking to the audience (probably inspired by my old classmate Harry Connick, Jr.), but somehow I started to do so, and so developed a fairly unique way of giving concerts, introducing in a quite informal but sometimes pedagogic way the music that I play. For me it’s natural to want to do as much as I can to ensure that the audience understands the music, and though the most important way of doing this is by giving a clear and convincing performance, a little oral preparation can go a long way. And it’s a lot of fun. In any case, it was in Paris that I can say that I came into my own as a concert pianist.
