I am a Romantic pianist. I use this term to broadly refer to the nineteenth-century aesthetic of flexibility, improvisation, and virtuosity that accompanied much of pianistic performance at that time, and that remains embedded in the textures of Romantic objects, texts, histories, and materials that still echo today.   

 

As a Romantic pianist, I do not solely perform nineteenth-century music, although most of my current projects revolve around experimental revivals and negotiations of artistic material from this period. I also do not claim that any of my performances posses historical “authenticity” — or that they fall under a revival and extension of the (earlier) HIP movement’s hopeful umbrella — but acknowledge that the essence of Romantic art and contexts inspires my own modern interpretations and performances as channeled through no one’s spirit and hands but my own. 

 

My interest in this period is not, however, simply fanciful, accidental, or idealistic; I also recognize, and sometimes worry about, the impact that Romantic ideologies of aesthetics have had on subsequent generations of artists, and that have trickled into and shaped common discourse more powerfully than ever today. Precisely for a significant number of the newest creations in and outside classical art, modern interpretations of Romantic genius, inspiration, intimacy, and depth have become prerequisite for successful artistic promotion, artistry, and discourse — even criticism. I am invested in sustaining an open critical discussion that interrogates these values about the tragic artist, their obligatory vulnerability, the composer’s ultimate authority, the monument’s shiny eternity, yet also the institutionalized obfuscation of practical mechanics and creation, that shadow receptions of modern performance and art across genres and cultures. Ultimately, I am interested in challenging unquestioned and ubiquitous expressions, interpretations, and promotions of broadly Romantic art in favor of free, daring, yet intelligently aware takes. 

 

More particularly, I am fascinated by Romanticism’s perhaps most poignant problem — that of capturing the extraordinary, the pinnacle, the innermost, the most flamingly inspired moment of performance — and making a replicable habit or document out of it. This feat is a near-impossibility and, in my view, the expectation that a simple declaration — or even, the mere basking in the light, or shadow, of certain texts — are not enough to guarantee that effect. Today, something more, not less, is required, to give new breath to this Romantic project, which seems never to go out of style. That is why it is part of my mission not to segregate the senses, especially the visual, in my performances, particularly of music from this period — not as a distraction or overcompensation for a lack of quality that I am worried I will not achieve musically, but because I think the notion of confessional performance being, to borrow from John Stuart Mill, “overheard” — stumbled-upon greatness — rarely enjoys the alignment of such lucky stars as to be entirely, or even just lightly, unmediated, or a perfect flow-state outpouring. All too often, that pesky thing called context — or, the graininess of the moment — presents its unavoidable friction. 

 

As a performer, I accept the imperfections, risks, and disruptions of the present. And from this perspective, it is easy to leave room for the possibility that a performance might fail. Or, if the standard is not to be one where elation, exuberance, or elevation are the point, that it might, perhaps, offer something different — alternatively, a new thought, or a familiar memory, or a pestering concern, to be solved, or not, or a random but interesting interjection, a spicy swerve of invention, or even a lackadaisical struggle with boredom (and so much more). 

 

Most of all, I am committed to multiplicity and options: the more ways to think about something, the better; the more inconsistent, the more interesting; and the more information and education, the more content for the arsenal of shareable repertoires, expressions, and ideas . Within music, I read scores unseparated from other materials that make up their relevant context — and I do not hold dogmatic ideas of their ultimate truth, which does not exist. Reading scores in context already opens up a magnified world of possibilities — but my intention is not to footnote every artistic choice I make. I fully acknowledge that my approach also brings personal idiosyncrasies and experimentations to the forefront — for, after all, isn’t that the point?