Steve Clark is a member of both the American Matthay Association and the American Liszt Society and he appears frequently in recital.
Students from his studio have been declared winners and finalists in
state, national and international piano competitions. He is a
nationally recognized clinician in the field of music technology and
the creator on numerous Internet-based resources for musicians
including web pages such as The Piano in CyberSpace and Internet
mail lists: Pno-Ped-L and Chopin-L. He serves the Georgia Music
Teachers Association as chair of the Committee on Technology and the
Music Teachers National Association as National Chair of Student
Competitions. Mr. Clark serves on the faculty of the Schwob
Department of Music at Columbus State University where he teaches
Piano, Piano Pedagogy and Music Technology.
Steve Clark
School of Music
Columbus State University
Columbus, GA 31907
706.568.2049
CLARK_STEVE@colstate.edu
From time to time we hear tales of an epiphany of some kind in piano playing. Often times this takes the form of a "Damascus road" type of experience, prompted by the guru teacher du jour, in which one truly sees the light, rises above all myth, and finds oneself on the short cut to artistic mastery of the instrument. Of course I engage in a bit of hyperbole here, but the zeal with which many seem to constantly seek for novelty in piano playing is difficult to exaggerate.
I suppose it's only human nature, a product of our advertisement saturated society or perhaps the industrial revolution (always a convenient target) that we are susceptible to the promise of a quick fix. We find ourselves trying to sit as low as Glenn Gould, mimicking the gestures of Horowitz, or something of that sort, in an attempt to instantly transform our playing. Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of experimentation at the keyboard, but looking back, it's pretty comical the extent to which we will go, and more to the point it is astonishing the amount of credence we automatically give to things new.
I doubt anyone seriously disputes that decades are required for the cultivation of artistry at the piano, yet somehow we just can't help ourselves when it comes to the latest fad of transcendental meditation, beta blockers, or whatever. Kept in proper perspective there's certainly nothing wrong with most of these things, but often times pursuit of a novel approach becomes the principle driving force in one's quest for artistry and that can lead to an unfortunate discounting of the importance of our great heritage as pianists.
Unfortunately, pursuit of the novel so permeates thinking in some pianistic circles today that it is not unusual to hear remarks such as, "There's nothing new about that" or "That's been done before" impatiently offered as the sole basis on which important concepts are rejected. This clearly indicates an under-appreciation, misunderstanding or a down right lack of knowledge about many of the core ideas long held as indispensable parts of the pianists' art.
Sadly too, a closer inspection of these so-called newly discovered "truths" often reveals them to be nothing but clever, and in some cases not so clever, repackaging of positions advocated by renowned teachers of the past. The famous English pedagogue Tobias Matthay (1858-1945), whose writings are prolific, has often fallen victim to such treatment.
Anyway, I think it is safe to say that we would all be delighted to have the ability to play now as Myra Hess or Rachmaninoff did in their day and we should keep in mind that new and different certainly does not always equate with best. Hindemith is definitely newer and different than Beethoven, but not necessarily better.
In the eloquent preface to his edition of the Goldberg Variations, Ralph Kirkpatrick says regarding phrasing, "we might define phrasing as the exposition through dynamic and agogic means of the relationship, relative value, and expressiveness of the notes comprising a melodic line or harmonic progression". Rarely has this been so well expressed, but we should ask ourselves, are these ideas still prominent featured in modern performances and when is the last time a performance so impressed with such playing?
I think what bothers me most, that which I consider to be the "mark of the beast" so to speak, is the use of speed as a substitute for inflection, articulation and coloring in performance. Don't get me wrong, when the need arises, I'm never in favor of sparing the horses, but displays of this type are far too frequent these days and our field is being led into a veritable arms race in power playing which is leaving behind all hint of subtlety, nuance and artistry in playing.
On the positive side anyone who listens to Moura Lympany's (a pupil of Tobias Matthay) recording of the complete Preludes of Rachmaninoff on the Erato label will know just what I mean. This performance captures a range of expression totally which is unheard today, it is ever so subtle in the variety of articulations and the conceptions are completely in touch with the intention of the score and compelling in every sense of the word.
As we consider outstanding artists of the past this leads to the interesting question of whether there is really one essentially basic approach to playing the piano that will work for all, or if each of us plays the piano in ways that are significantly different? As artists, the notion that we are all unique is so firmly engrained in our psyche that this might at first strikes a sympathetic chord with us. If, however, we continue with this assumption, then readers should continue no further because nothing I, or anyone else, could say would matter much to anyone else's own particular situation.
If, on the other hand, a single basic approach to the instrument works for all, that begs the question of whether each new generation discovering the art of playing the piano is in fact rediscovering it? While adoption of the position that pianists today are merely rediscovering how to play the piano does not address all possible conceivable complications, by far the vast majority of the ones outstanding are merely perceptive in essence. Simply because an idea is new to you does not mean that it is in fact a new idea.
In fairness, let me hasten to add that I know the answer to this dilemma is not entirely an "either-or" proposition. I am aware that we all have at least minor differences of both a physical and especially a psychological nature that contribute in ways to our own unique approach to the piano. I do not, however, believe these differences rise to the level of requiring a totally novel approach to the instrument. Therefore, as tempting as it may be to continue the never-ending investigation of new ideas, certainly at this stage of the game we should see through this gimmick approach to our art and get on with the joy of rediscovery.
Toward that end I offer as an apt starting point a complete list of the writings of Tobias Matthay for those interested in exposure to the thoughts of a truly renowned teacher of the past. A roster of famous Matthay pupils would include such great pianists as Clifford Curzon, Myra Hess, Eileen Joyce, Moura Lympany, Eunice Norton and Irene Scherer. Performances by most of these outstanding artists are currently available on compact disc and each disc is a complete education in and of itself on what we as pianists should be about today.
Finally, my intention here is not to shut the door on the possibility of discovery, but rather to regain a more proper perspective on it, to dispelled any concern that our inheritance as pianists is in some way irrelevant today and to suggest the possibility of rediscovering of our past as fertile ground for pianists of the future. We should be able to recognize the fact that the way to play the piano has already been discovered and that what we are doing, no matter how new the experience may seem to us, is actually rediscovery of how to play the instrument. Now is the time that we as pianists and mature artists must reclaim the rich heritage that we have lost, both the sake of ourselves and our art.
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