TERESA CARREÑOteresa carreño
It is difficult for me to discuss the subject of individuality without recollecting one of the most impressive and significant events of my entire career. When I was taken to Europe as a child, for further study, it was my good fortune to meet and play for the immortal Franz Liszt. He seemed deeply interested in my playing, and with the kindliness for which he was always noted he gave me his blessing, a kind of artistic sacrament that has had a tremendous influence upon all my work as an artist. He laid his hand upon my head and among other things said: "Little girl, with time you will be one of us. Don't imitate anyone. Keep yourself true to yourself. Cultivate your individuality and do not follow blindly in the paths of others."
In this one thought Liszt embodied a kind of a pedagogical sermon which should be preached every day in all the schools, conservatories and music studios of the world. Nothing is so pitiful as the evidences of a strong individuality crushed out by an artificial educational system which makes the system itself of paramount importance and the individual of microbic significance.
The signs of individuality may be observed in little folks at a very early age. With some children they are not very pronounced, and the child seems like hundreds of others without any particular inclination, artistic or otherwise. It is then that the teacher's powers of divination should be brought into play. Before any real progress can be made the nature of the child must be studied carefully. In the case of other children, the individuality is very marked at an early age. As a rule, the child with the marked individuality is the one from whom the most may be expected later in life. Sometimes this very individuality is mistaken for precocity. This is particularly the case with musicians. In a few instances the individuality of the master has been developed late in life, as was the case of Richard Wagner, whose early individual tendencies were toward the drama rather than music.
The teacher in accepting a new pupil should realize that there at once arises new problems at every step. The pupil's hand, mind, body and soul may be in reality different from those of every other pupil the teacher has taught. The individual peculiarities of the hand should be carefully considered. If the hand has long, tapering fingers, with the fingers widely separated, it will need quite different treatment from that of the pupil with a short, compact, muscular hand. If the pupil's mind indicates mental lethargyor a lack of the proper early educational training, this must be carefully considered by the teacher.
If the pupil's body is frail and the health uncertain, surely the teacher will not think of prescribing the same work she would prescribe for a robust, energetic pupil who appears never to have had a sick day. One pupil might be able to practice comfortably for four and five hours a day, while another would find her energy and interest exhausted in two hours. In fact, I would consider the study of individuality the principal care or study of the teacher.
The individuality of different virtuoso performers is very marked. Although the virtuoso aspires to encompass all styles—that is, to be what you would call an "all-around" player—it is, nevertheless, the individuality of the player that adds the additional charm to the piano-recital. You hear a great masterpiece executed by one virtuoso, and when you hear the same composition played by another you will detect a difference, not of technical ability or of artistic comprehension, but rather of individuality. Rembrandt, Rubens and Vandyke might have all painted from the same model, but the finished portrait would have been different, and that difference would have been a reflection of the individuality of the artist.
Again let me emphasize the necessity for the correct "diagnosis" of the pupil's individuality upon the part of the teacher. Unless the right work is prescribedby the teacher, the pupil will rarely ever survive artistically. It is much the same as with the doctor. If the doctor gives the wrong medicine and the patient dies, surely the doctor is to blame. It makes no difference whether the doctor had good intentions or not. The patient is dead and that is the end of all. I have little patience with these people who have such wonderful intentions, but who have neither the ability, courage nor willingness to carry out these intentions. Many teachers would like to accomplish a very great deal for their pupils, but alas! they are either not able or they neglect those very things which make the teacher's work a mission. One of the teacher's greatest responsibilities lies in determining at first upon a rational educational course by divining the pupil's individuality. Remember that pupils are not all like sheep to be shorn in the same identical fashion with the same identical shears.
One of the most remarkable cases of a pronounced musical individuality was that of the late Edward MacDowell, who came to me for instruction for a considerable time. He was then quite youthful, and his motives from the very first were of the highest and noblest. His ideals were so lofty that he required little stimulation or urging of any kind. Here it was necessary to study the pupil's nature very carefully, and provide work that would develop his keenly artistic individuality. I remember that he was extremelyfond of Grieg, and the marked and original character of the Norwegian tone-poet made a deep impression upon him. He was poetical, and loved to study and read poetry. To have repressed MacDowell in a harsh or didactic manner would have been to have demolished those very characteristics which, in later years, developed in such astonishing fashion that his compositions have a distinctiveness and a style all their own.
It gives me great pleasure to place his compositions upon my programs abroad, and I find that they are keenly appreciated by music lovers in the old world. If MacDowell had not had a strong individuality, and if he had not permitted this individuality to be developed along normal lines, his compositions would not be the treasures to our art that they are.
If the teacher discovers a pupil with apparent musical talent, but whose nature has not been developed to appreciate the beautiful and romantic in this wonderful world of ours, he will find it quite impossible to alter the pupil's individuality in this respect by work at the keyboard alone. The mundane, prosaic individual who believes that the sole aim of musical study is the acquisition of technic, or the magic of digital speed, must be brought to realize that this is a fault of individuality which will mar his entire career unless it is intelligently corrected. Years and years spent in practice will not make either a musician or avirtuoso out of one who can conceive of nothing more than how many times he can play a series of notes within the beats of the metronome, beating 208 times a minute.
Speed does not constitute virtuosity, nor does the ability to unravel the somewhat intricate keyboard puzzles of Bach and Brahms make in itself fine piano playing. The mind of the artist must be cultured; in fact, quite as cultured as that of the composer who conceived the music. Culture comes from the observation of many things: Nature, architecture, science, machinery, sculpture, history, men and women, and poetry. I advise aspiring music students to read a great deal of poetry.
I find great inspiration in Shakespeare, inspiration which I know is communicated to my interpretations of musical masterpieces at my concerts. Who can remain unmoved by the mystery and psychology ofHamlet, the keen suffering and misery ofKing Lear, the bitter hate and revenge ofOthello, the sweet devotion ofRomeo and Juliet, the majesty ofRichard III, and the fairy beauty ofA Midsummer Night's Dream? In this wonderful kaleidoscope of all the human passions one can find a world of inspiration. I am also intensely fond of Goethe, Heine, and Alfred de Musset. It gives me pleasure to compare them to the great masters of music. Shakespeare I compare to Brahms, Goethe to Bach and Beethoven, and Heine and Musset to Chopin and Liszt.
Vivacity and brilliancy in playing are largely matters of temperament and a fluent technic. I owe a great deal in this respect to Gottschalk. When he came back to America fresh from the hands of the inimitable Chopin, he took the most minute pains to cultivate this characteristic in my playing. Chopin's own playing was marked by delicacy and an intensity that was apart from the bravura playing of most of the artists of his time. Gottschalk was a keen observer, and he did everything possible to impart this style to me. I have used the studies of Czerny, Liszt, Henselt and Clementi to develop brilliancy with pupils.
It should be remembered that the root of all brilliant playing lies in one thing—accuracy. Without accuracy any attempt at brilliancy must result in "mussiness." It is impossible to explain these things by means of books and theories. Remember what Goethe says: "Alle Theorie is grau, mein Freund" (all theory is foggy or hard to comprehend). One can say fifty times as much in twenty minutes as one can put in a book. Books are necessary, but by no means depend entirely upon books for technical instruction.
Individuals who are careless possess a trait that will seriously mar their individuality as musicians and artists. Carelessness is so often taken for "abandon" in playing. "Abandon" is somethingquite different and pertains to that unconsciousness of technical effort which only comes to the artist after years of practice. To play with "abandon" and miss a few notes in this run, play a few false notes in the next, strike the wrong bass note here and there, mumble trills and overlook the correct phrasing entirely, with the idea that you are doing the same thing you have seen some great virtuoso do, is simply the superlative degree of carelessness.
To one whose individuality is marred by carelessness let me recommend very slow playing, with the most minute attention to detail. Technically speaking, Czerny and Bach are of great value in correcting carelessness. In Czerny the musical structure of the compositions is so clearly and openly outlined that any error is easily detected, while in Bach the structure is so close and compact that it is difficult to make an error without interrupting the movement of some other voice that will reveal the error. The main consideration, however, is personal carefulness, and it makes little difference what the study is, so long as the student himself takes great pains to see that he is right, and exactly right, before he attempts to go ahead. Most musicians, however, would say that Bach was the one great stone upon which our higher technical structure must firmly stand.
Some individuals are so superficial and so "frothy" that it is difficult to conceive of their doing anything serious or really worth while. It is very hard for the teacher to work with such a pupil, becausethey have not realized themselves as yet. They have not looked into their lives and discerned those things which make life of most importance. Life is not all play, nor is it all sorrow. But sorrow often does much to develop the musician's character, to make him look into himself and discover his more serious purposes. This might also be accomplished by some such means of self-introspection as "Christian Science." Although I am not a "Christian Scientist," I am a great believer in its wonderful principles.
The greatest care must be taken in developing the individualities of the superficial pupils. To give them Bach or Brahms at the outstart would be to irritate them. They must be led to a fondness for music of a deeper or more worthy character by gradual steps in that direction. In my own case I was fortunate in having the advice of mature and famous musicians, and as a child was given music of a serious order only. I have always been grateful for this experience. At one of my first New York concerts I had the honor of having Theodore Thomas as first violinist, and I well remember his natural bent for music of a serious order, which was in a decided contrast to the popular musical taste of the times.
Every composer has a pronounced individuality. To the experienced musician this individuality becomes so marked that he can often detect the composer's style in a composition which he has never heard. The artist studies the individuality of the composer through the study of his biography, through the study of musical history in general and through the analysis of individual compositions.
Every music student should be familiar with the intensely necessary and extremely valuable subject of musical history. How else can he become familiar with the personal individualities of the great composers? The more I know of Chopin, Beethoven, Scarlatti or Mendelssohn as men, and the more I know of the times in which they lived, the closer I feel to the manner in which they would have wished their compositions interpreted. Consider how markedly different are the individualities of Wagner and Haydn, and how different the interpretations of the works of these masters should be.
Strauss and Debussy are also very different in their methods of composition. Strauss seems to me a tremendous genius who is inventing a new musical language as he goes. Debussy does not appeal to me in the same manner. He always seems to be groping for musical ideas, while with Strauss the greatness of his ideas is always evident and all-compelling.
In closing, let me say thatTime,ExperienceandWorkare the moulders of all individuality. Few of us close our days with the same individualities which become evident in our youth. We are either growing better or worse all the time. We rarely stand still. To the musician work is the great sculptor of individuality. As you work and as you think, so will you be. No deed, no thought, no hope is too insignificant to fail to influence your nature. As through work we become better men and women, so through work do we become better musicians. Carlyle has beautifully expressed this thought in "Past and Present" thus: "The latest Gospel in this world is, 'Know thy work and do it.' Blessed is he who has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness. He has a WORK, a life purpose; he has found it and will follow it."
1.Why should imitation be avoided?2.Should individuality in playing be developed at an early age?3.Should individual physical peculiarities be taken into consideration?4.In what way was Edward MacDowell's individuality marked?5.How may individuality be developed through poetry?6.What studies are particularly useful in the cultivation of brilliant playing?7.What is the best remedy for careless playing?8.How must superficial pupils be treated?9.Why is the study of musical history so important?10.What may be called the sculptor of individuality in music?
o. gabrilowitscho. gabrilowitsch
Ossip Gabrilowitsch was born in St. Petersburg, February 8, 1878. His father was a well-known jurist of the Russian capital. His brothers were musical and his first teacher was one of his brothers. Later, he was taken to Anton Rubinstein who earnestly advocated a career as a virtuoso. Accordingly he entered the classes of Victor Tolstoff at the St. Petersburg Conservatory, then under the supervision of Rubinstein himself. His frequent personal conferences with the latter were of immense value to him. Thereafter he went to Vienna and studied with Leschetizky for two years. He has made many tours of Europe and America as a piano virtuoso and has also appeared as an orchestral conductor with pronounced success. He was a great friend of the late Mark Twain (Samuel L. Clemens) and married one of his daughters.
(The following conference was conducted in English.)
"Modern pianoforte teachers in many instances seem to make deliberate attempts to complicate the very simple matter of touch. In the final analyses the whole study of touch may be resolved into two means of administering force to the keyboard,i. e., weight and muscular activity. The amount of pressure brought to bear upon the keys depends upon the amount of arm weight and upon the quickness with which the muscles of the hand, forearm, full-arm and back permit the key to be struck. Upon these two means of administering force must depend whatever differentiation in dynamic power and tonal quality the player desires to produce. The various gradations of tone which the virtuoso's hand and arm are trained to execute are so minute that it is impossible for me to conceive of a scientific instrument or scale to measure them. Physiologists have attempted to construct instruments to do this, but little of value has come from such experiments.
"Only a comparatively few years ago thousands of teachers were insisting upon having their pupils keep the arms in a still, even rigid, condition duringpractice. This naturally resulted in the stiffest imaginable kind of a touch, and likewise in a mechanical style of playing that made what has come to be known in later days as 'tone color' impossible.
"At this day the finger touch as it was formerly known has almost gone out of existence. By finger touch I refer to the old custom of holding the hand and forearm almost rigid and depending upon the muscular strength of the fingers for all tonal effects. In fact, I so rarely employ the finger touch, except in combination with the arm touch, that it is almost an insignificant factor as far as my own playing is concerned. By this the reader must not think that the training of the fingers, and particularly the finger tips, is to be neglected. But this training, to my mind, is not so much a matter of acquiring digital strength to produce force as to accustom the fingers to strike the notes with the greatest possible accuracy and speed. This belongs rather to the realm of technic than to that of touch, and behind all technic is the intellect of the player. Technic is a matter of training the finger tips to attack and leave the keys under the absolute discipline of the brain. Touch has a much broader and wider significance. It is touch that reveals the soul of the player.
"Touch is the distinguishing characteristic which makes one player's music sound different from that of another, for it is touch that dominates the player'smeans of producing dynamic shading or tone quality. I know that many authorities contend that the quality of tone depends upon the instrument rather than upon the performer. Nevertheless, I am reasonably confident that if I were to hear a number of pianists play in succession upon the same instrument behind a screen and one of these performers were to be my friend, Harold Bauer, I could at once identify his playing by his peculiarly individual touch. In fact, the trained ear can identify different individual characteristics with almost the same accuracy that we identify different voices. One could never forget Leschetizky's touch, or that of many another contemporary pianist.
"No matter how wonderful the pianist's technic—that is, how rapidly and accurately he can play passages of extraordinary difficulty, it is quite worthless unless he possesses that control over his touch which enables him to interpret the composer's work with the right artistic shading. A fine technic without the requisite touch to liberate the performer's artistic intelligence and 'soul' is like a gorgeous chandelier without the lights. Until the lights are ignited all its beauty is obscured in darkness. With an excellent technic and a fine touch, together with a broad musical and general education and artistic temperament, the young player may be said to be equipped to enter the virtuoso field.
"As I have intimated, if the fingers are used exclusively a terribly dry tone must result. The full-arm touch, in which I experience a complete relaxation of the arm from the shoulder to the finger tips, is the condition I employ at most times. But the touches I use are combinations of the different finger, hand and arm touches. These lead to myriads of results, and only the experienced performer can judge where they should be applied to produce desired effects.
"You will observe by placing your hand upon my shoulder that even with the movement of the single finger a muscular activity may be detected at the shoulder. This shows how completely relaxed I keep my entire arm during performance. It is only in this way that I can produce the right kind of singing tone in cantabile passages. Sometimes I use one touch in one voice and an entirely different touch in another voice. The combinations are kaleidoscopic in their multiplicity.
"I have never been in favor of the many automatic and mechanical methods of producing touch. They are all dangerous to my mind. There is only one real way of teaching, and that is through the sense of hearing of the pupil. The teacher should go to the piano and produce the desired tonal effect,and the pupil should listen and watch the teacher. Then the pupil should be instructed to secure a similar result, and the teacher should persevere until the audible effect is nearly the same. If the pupil, working empirically, does not discover the means leading to this effect, the teacher should call the pupil's attention to some of the physical conditions leading to the result. If the teacher is unable to play well enough to illustrate this, and to secure the right kind of touch from his pupils, he has no business to be a teacher of advanced students. All the theory in the world will never lead to the proper results.
"Rubinstein paid little or no attention to the theory of touch, and, in fact, he frequently stated that he cared little about such things, but who could hear Rubinstein's touch without being benefited? I believe that in teaching touch the teacher should first give his model of the touch required and then proceed from this positive ideal, by means of the so-called Socratic method of inducing the pupil to produce a similar result through repeated questions. In this way the pupil will not be obliged to resign his individuality, as would be the case if he followed strict technical injunctions and rules.
"For the same reason it is advisable for the pupil to hear many fine pianists. He should never miss an opportunity to attend the concerts of great virtuosos. I can frankly say that I have learned as much from hearing the concerts of great performers as I have from any other source of educational inspiration. The pupil should listen intelligently and earnestly. When he hears what appeals to him as a particularly fine tonal effect, he should endeavor to note the means the pianist employs to produce this effect.
"He must, however, learn to discriminate between affection or needless movement and the legitimate means to an end. Consequent upon a relaxed full arm is the occasional dropping of the wrist below the level of the keyboard. A few great players practice this at a public recital, and lo! and behold! a veritable cult of 'wrist-droppers' arises and we see students raising and lowering the wrist with exaggerated mechanical stiffness and entirely ignoring the important end in which this wrist dropping was only an incident.
"I am continually amused at the thousand and one different ways of striking the keys that teachers devise and then attach with the label 'method.' These varied contortions are, after all, largely a matter of vision, and have little effect upon the real musical results that the composition demands. Touch, as I have previously said, all comes down to the question of the degree of weight applied to the keyboard and the degree of quickness with which it is applied. In rapid octave and staccato passages the hand touch is largely used. This is the touchmost dependent upon local muscular activity. Aside from this the combination of muscular and weight touch almost invariably obtain.
"I desire to reiterate that if the ideal touch is presented to the pupil's mind, through the medium of the ear, he will be much more successful in attaining the artistic ends required. The pupil must realize clearlywhat is goodandwhat is bad, and hisaural sensemust be continually educated in this respect. He should practice slowly and carefully at the keyboard until he is convinced that his arm is at all times relaxed. He cannot make his sense of touch too sensitive. He should even be able to sense the weight or upward pressure which brings the pianoforte key back into position after it has been depressed. The arm should feel as if it were floating, and should never be tense.
"When I am playing I do not think of the arm motion. I am, of course, absorbed in the composition being performed. A relaxed arm has become second nature to me. It comes by itself. Players are rarely able to tell just how they produce their results. There are too many contributing factors. Even with the best-known performers the effects differ at different performances. It is impossible for the performer to give a program repeatedly in identically the same manner. If he did succeed indoing this, his playing would soon become stereotyped.
"The teacher should, from the very beginning, seek to avoid stiffness and bad hand positions, such as crooked fingers or broken-in knuckles. If these details are neglected the pupil is liable to go through his entire musical career greatly hampered. I would earnestly advise all teachers to discourage the efforts of pupils to attain virtuoso heights unless they are convinced beyond the possibility of a doubt that the pupil has marvelous talent. The really great performers seem to be endowed with a 'God-given' insight in the matter of both technic and touch. They are unquestionably born for it. They possess the right mental and physical capacity for success. No amount of training would make a Normandy dray horse that could compete with a Kentucky thoroughbred on the race course. It is a pitiful sight to watch students who could not possibly become virtuosos slave year after year before an ivory and ebony tread-mill, when, if they realized their lack of personal qualifications, they could engage in teaching or in some other professional or mercantile line and take a delight in their music as an avocation that they would never find in professional playing.
"To some, the matter of touch is of little significance. They are apparently born with an appreciation of tonal values that others might workyears to attain in vain. Those who imagine that touch is entirely a matter of finger tips are greatly mistaken. The ear is quite as important as the organs employed in administering the touch to the keyboard. The pianist should in reality not think of the muscles and nerves in his arm, nor of the ivory and ebony keys, nor of the hammers and strings in the interior of the instrument. He should think first and always of the kind of tone he is eliciting from the instrument, and determine whether it is the most appropriate tonal quality for the proper interpretation of the piece he is playing. He must, of course, spend years of hard thought and study in cultivating this ability to judge and produce the right touch, but the performer who is more concerned about the technical claims of a composition than its musical interpretation can only hope to give an uninteresting, uninspired, stilted performance that should rightly drive all intelligent hearers from his audience hall."
1.What are the two means of administering touch?2.State the effect of a rigid arm upon piano playing.3.Can a pianist's playing be distinguished by touch?4.How do the muscles of the shoulder come into action in piano playing?5.How should the sense of hearing be employed in piano playing?6.How did Rubinstein regard the theory of touch?7.When is the hand touch generally employed?8.How should the arm feel during the act of touch?9.Does the virtuoso hamper himself with details of technic during a performance?10.What should be the pianist's first thought during the moment of performance?
Leopold Godowsky was born at Wilna, Russia (Russian Poland), February 13, 1870. His father was a physician. When Godowsky was nine years old he made his first public appearance as a pianist and met with instantaneous success—success so great that a tour of Germany and Poland was arranged for the child. When thirteen he entered the Royal High School for Music in Berlin as theprotégéof a rich banker of Königsberg. There he studied under Bargeil and Rudorff. In 1884 he toured America together with Ovide Musin, the violin virtuoso. Two years later he became the pupil of Saint-Saëns in Paris. In 1887 and 1888 he toured France and visited London, where he received a command to appear at the British Court. In 1890 he returned to America and made this country his home for ten years, appearing frequently in concert and engaging in several tours. In 1894-1895 he became head of the piano department of the South Broad Street Conservatory, Philadelphia. He then became director of the Piano Department of the Chicago Conservatory and held this position for five years. In 1900 Godowsky appeared in Berlin and was immediately recognized as one of the great piano masters of his time. In 1909 he became director of the Master School of Piano Playing connected with the Imperial Conservatory of Vienna (a post previously held by Emil Sauer and F. B. Busoni). His success as a teacher has been exceptional. His compositions, particularly his fifty studies upon Chopin Etudes, have won the admiration of the entire musical world.
leopold godowskyleopold godowsky
"It is quite impossible in a short talk to earnest music students to do more than discuss a few of the more important points in the subject proposed. It may safely be said at the start, however, that the popular conception of technic is quite an erroneous one and one that deserves correction. It is highly necessary that the student should have a correct attitude of mind regarding this matter. First of all, I distinguish between what might be called mere mechanics and technic.
"The art of piano playing as a whole seems to divide itself into three quite distinct channels when it is considered from the educational standpoint. The first channel is that of mechanics. This would naturally include all that pertains to that branch of piano study which has to do with the exercises that develop the hand from the machine standpoint—that is, make it capable of playing with the greatest possible rapidity, the greatest possible power, when power is needed and also provide it with the ability to play those passages which, because of fingering or unusual arrangement of the piano keys, are particularly difficult to perform.
"In the second channel we would find the study of the technic of the art of playing the instrument. Technic differs from the mechanics of piano playing in that it has properly to do with the intellectual phase of the subject rather than the physical. It is the brain side of the study not the digital or the manual. To the average student who is short-sighted enough to spend hours hammering away at the keyboard developing the mechanical side of his work, a real conscious knowledge of the great saving he could effect through technic, would be a godsend. Technic properly has to do with Rhythm, Tempo, Accent, Phrasing, Dynamics, Agogics, Touch, etc.
"The excellence of one's technic depends upon the accuracy of one's understanding of these subjects and his skill in applying them to his interpretations at the keyboard. Mechanical skill, minus real technical grasp, places the player upon a lower footing than the piano-playing machines which really do play all the notes, with all the speed and all the power the operator demands. Some of these instruments, indeed, are so constructed that many of the important considerations that we have placed in the realm of technic are reproduced in a surprising manner.
"However, not until man invents a living soul, can piano playing by machine include the third and vastlyimportant channel through which we communicate the works of the masters to those who would hear them. That channel is the emotional or artistic phase of piano playing. It is the channel which the student must expect to develop largely through his own inborn artistic sense and his cultivated powers of observation of the playing of master pianists. It is the sacred fire communicated from one art generation to the next and modified by the individual emotions of the performer himself.
"Even though the performer may possess the most highly perfected mechanism, technical mastery which enables him to play great masterpieces effectively, if he does not possess the emotional insight, his performances will lack a peculiar subtlety and artistic power that will deprive him of becoming a truly great pianist.
"Exercises for the mechanical side of pianoforte playing abound. Czerny alone wrote over one thousand opus numbers. There have also been valuable attempts to provide books to assist the student in his technical work, but it should always be remembered that this depends first of all upon understanding and then upon the ability to translate that understanding to the instrument.
"There can never be any exercises in the emotional side of the student's work other than the entire literature of the instrument. One may as well try to capture the perfume of the flower as define the requirements of the emotional in pianoforte playing. A great deal may be done to inspire the student and suggest ideas which may bring him to the proper artistic appreciation of a passage, but it is this very indefinability which makes the emotional phase one of the most important of all. Attendance at the recitals of artistic pianists is of great help in this connection.
"The student, however, may learn a vast amount about real piano technic and apply his knowledge to his playing through the medium of the proper studies. For instance, in the subject of touch alone, there is a vast store of valuable information which can be gained from a review of the progressive steps through which this significant phase of the subject has passed during the last century. The art of piano playing, considered apart from that of the similar instruments which preceded the piano, is very little over one hundred years old.
"During this time many significant changes have been made in the mechanism of the instrument and in the methods of manufacture. These changes in the nature of the instrument have in themselves doubtless had much to do with changes in methods of touch as have the natural evolutions coming through countless experiments made by teachers and performers. Thus we may speak of the subject of touch as being divided into three epochs, the first being that of Czerny (characterized by a stroke touch), the second beingthat of the famous Stuttgart Conservatory (characterized by a pressure touch), and the third or new epoch which is characterized by weight playing. All my own playing is based upon the last named method, and I had the honor of being one of the first to make application of it when I commenced teaching some twenty years ago.
"In this method of playing, the fingers are virtually 'glued to the keys' in that they leave them the least possible distance in order to accomplish their essential aims. This results in no waste motion of any kind, no loss of power and consequently the greatest possible conservation of energy. In this manner of playing the arm is so relaxed that it would fall to the side if the keyboard were removed from beneath it. Since the hand and the arm are relaxed the back (top) of the hand is almost on a level with the forearm.
"The high angular stroke which characterized the playing of the Czerny epoch and which could hardly fail to cause tired muscles and unbearably stiff playing, is seen very little in these days. By means of it the student was taught to deliver a blow to the keyboard—a blow which permitted very little modification to the requirements of modern technic.
"In my experience as a pianist and as a teacher, I have observed that the weight touch allows the greatest possible opportunity for the proper application of those all-important divisions of technic without which pianoplaying is not only inartistic, but devoid of all interest. Weight playing permits nothing to interfere with discriminative phrasing, complicated rhythmical problems, the infinitely subtle variation of time for expressive purposes now classed under the head of agogics, all shades of dynamic gradation; in fact everything that falls in the domain of the artist pianist.
"In weight playing the fingers seem to mould the piano keys under them, the hand and arm are relaxed, but never heavy. The maximum of relaxation results in the minimum of fatigue. In legato playing, for instance, the fingers rest upon the fleshy part behind the tip rather than immediately upon the tip as they would in passage work when the player desired to have the effect of a string of pearls. The sensation in legato playing is that of pulling back rather than striking the keys. In passages where force is required the sensation is that of pushing.
"Much might be said of the sensibility of the finger tips as they come in contact with the ivory and ebony keys. Most every artist has a strong consciousness that there is a very manifest relation between his emotional and mental conditions and his tactile sense, that is his highly developed sense of feeling at the finger tips on the keyboard. However, the phenomena may be explained from the psychological standpoint, it is nevertheless true that the feeling of longing,yearning, hope or soulful anticipation, for instance, induces a totally different kind of touch from that of anger, resentment or hate.
"The artist who is incapable of communicating his emotions to the keyboard or who must depend upon artifice to stimulate emotions rarely electrifies his audiences. Every concert is a test of the artist's sincerity, not merely an exhibition of his prowess, or his acrobatic accomplishments on the keyboard. He must have some vital message to convey to his audience or else his entire performance will prove meaningless, soulless, worthless.
"That which is of great importance to him is to have the least possible barrier between his artistic conception of the work he would interpret and the sounds that are conveyed to the ears of his audience. If we obliterate the emotional side and depend upon artifice or what might be called in vulgar parlance "tricks of the trade," pianism will inevitably descend to a vastly lower level. By cultivating a sensibility in touch and employing the technical means which will bring the interpreter's message to the world with the least possible obstruction, we reach the highest in the art. Those who would strain at gnats might contend that with the machinery of the instrument itself, intervening between the touch at the keyboard and the sounding wires, would make the influence of the emotions though the tactile sense (sense of touch) is wholly negligible. To this I can only reply that the experience of the artist and the teacher is alwaysmore reliable, more susceptible to finer appreciations of artistic values than that of the pure theorist, who views his problems through material rather than spiritual eyes. Every observing pianist is familiar with the remarkable influence upon the nerves of the voice-making apparatus that any emotion makes. Is it not reasonable to suppose that the finger tips possess a similar sensibility and that the interpretations of any highly trained artist are duly affected through them?
"Indeed, Individuality, Character and Temperament are becoming more and more significant in the highly organized art of pianoforte playing. Remove these and the playing of the artist again becomes little better than that of a piano-playing machine. No machine can ever achieve the distinguishing charm that this trinity brings to pianoforte playing. Whether the performer is a 'genius' who has carefully developed the performance of a masterpiece until it evidences that distinguishing mark of the authoritative interpretation, or whether he is a 'talent' who improvises as the mood of the moment inspires him and never plays the same composition twice in anything like a similar manner, he need not fear the rivalry of any machine so long as he preserves his individuality, character and temperament.
"The fault with many students, however, is the very erroneous idea that genius or talent will take the place of study and work. They minimize the necessity for a careful painstaking consideration of the infinite details of technic. To them, the significance of the developments of Bach, Rameau, and Scarlatti in fingering means nothing. They are content with the superficial. They are incapable of comparing the value of the advances made by Von Bülow, Tausig and other innovators whose lives were given to a large extent to the higher development of the technic of the instrument. They struggle laboriously at the keyboard, imagining that they are dealing with the problem of technic, when in reality they are doing little more than performing a drill in a kind of musical gymnasium—a necessary drill to be sure, but at the same time quite worthless unless directed by a brain trained in the principles of the technic of the art.