Artistic Inspiration: Horowitz and the Humanization of Virtuosity
Written: Jan 04 '05 (Updated Feb 02 '05)
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Pros: A wonderful glimpse into the world of musical genius, containing a wealth of delightful information...
Cons: ... which means that no, there are no cons.
The Bottom Line: Lovers of music, of the piano, and of art for art's sake, this should not be missed.
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| slarter's Full Review: David Dubal et al - Evenings With Horowitz: A Pers... |
There is a world of beauty beyond our experience, beyond the mundane and the everyday, that most of us are seldom aware of. Every now and then, however, we attain a glimpse of the transcendent—a shaft of sunlight on a curl of ocean foam, the graceful billow of a wind-blown curtain, a few perfectly-constructed notes of music. The great musical virtuosi are those who can, when at their best, create those sublime moments. They have within themselves the capacity to shatter the boundaries of art, to craft music of such beauty that the soul quivers to hear it. This is not mere technical skill, but something much deeper—a technician plays the music; a virtuoso owns the music, thereby engendering something altogether new, something magnificent. In our hyper-kinetic, information-saturated world, we may have lost the capability to produce true musical geniuses. If we can, their subtle voices are subsumed in the strident siren song of the media, their very art harnessed to the maleficent money mill that drives our culture. Sometimes we must look to the past for inspiration, to a time when art could still be something relatively pure and untrammeled. Perhaps this is what David Dubal had in mind when he wrote Evenings with Horowitz. Perhaps by sharing a little of the soul of “The Last Romantic”, he sought to recapture the Golden Age of the piano, at least for a short while. If this was his goal, then he succeeded.
Vladimir Horowitz was called “The Pianist of the Century,” in a century that boasted many excellent pianists. Born in 1903 near Kiev, he began playing the piano at age six, entering the Kiev Conservatory for formal studies at age nine. His talent was obvious early, and at his graduation from the Conservatory he played the monumental Third Piano Concerto by Rachmaninov. From there, he went on to charm first Soviet Russia, then Europe, finally moving on to America. For the first few chapters of his book, Dubal explores Horowitz’s early life and his tempestuous career. It was not until 1974 that the author finally managed to meet the great pianist, and after that it would not be until five years later that he would interact with Horowitz and his wife on a more intimate basis. After an interview with the maestro for the New York classical radio station of the time, WNCN, the groundwork was laid for a more casual relationship. Dubal made a favorable impression on the Horowitzes, and soon became a regular guest in their home.
The remainder of the book is a delightfully episodic recounting of some of the many conversations the author shared with Horowitz. For three years, the two spent evenings together, dined together, and spoke of music together. Dubal commanded a prodigious knowledge of the piano literature, and was able to constantly delight the maestro with morsels of trivia about the great composers and pianists. For his part, Horowitz was much more than a virtuosic performer; his knowledge of the literature was phenomenal, and he had met or had some sort of connection with many of the most important artists and composers of the turn of the century. He had played for Scriabin when quite young, enjoyed a close friendship with Rachmaninov, and was respected by Prokofiev and Barber. He married the daughter of Arturo Toscanini, the most brilliant and demanding conductor of his time. As a young man in the early 20th century, he was in an unmatched position to learn from and appreciate the Romantic milieu, and the towering piano works of the late Romantic composers. All of this showed in his words and in his playing.
Perhaps the most wonderful aspect of Evenings with Horowitz is the incomparable wealth of information presented within its covers. The two pianists, the young and the old, between them have such a masterful knowledge of piano music and its history that even the scraps of their conversations are full of enchanting tidbits. The dialogues ranged from intricate deconstructions of particular piano works to discussions of the life and times of the great composers. Horowitz idolized Rachmaninov, his friend, and was wildly enamored of Ferruccio Busoni, who had sadly died before the young Horowitz could meet him. It was Franz Liszt, however, who was held in the maestro’s highest esteem. Of him, he said:
“I must tell you that Liszt was the greatest of them all in the piano. We cannot even estimate how high he is.”
In truth, it was almost solely due to the indefatigable Liszt that the piano became established as a solo concert instrument. For that, he has been forever enshrined in the memories of the great pianists. Many times over throughout the book, intriguing bits of information like this come out in the conversations, and the setting is so natural, so easy, that the reader absorbs the delightful facts almost without thinking. The end result is wonderfully educational.
Great art, however, never comes without cost. This is reflected in a discussion of Schubert late in the book:
“…in the last year and a half of Schubert’s life, his genius flowered. The Ninth Symphony, the Octet, the Winterreise, the String Quintet, the last piano sonatas. It was a miracle, a magic fountain… And during much of this time, he was physically wretched, dizzy with headaches.”
Schubert died at thirty-one. Horowitz, at the time of the conversations, was in his eighties. He also, though, was an often-unhappy man. He was terribly narcissistic, and could be cast into a depression by one poor review among a hundred acclamations. He both loved and hated his fame; he was legendarily quixotic, regularly canceling concerts at the last minute. His genius was powerful, but it was also terribly isolating. His relationship with his wife was difficult (she was Italian, and the daughter of Toscanini, after all), and his true friends were few. Toward the end of the book, Dubal tells of his eventual split with the Horowitzes: he felt that he had become almost property to them, and the time they asked of him was becoming more and more difficult to provide. In the end, eleven months after their separation, Horowitz died.
My face froze, my hands shook, and my heart pounded. I was dazed. My spiritual father was dead. The pianist of the century was no longer… I took a deep breath, walked to the piano, and played Schubert’s Mourning Waltz and Chopin’s Farewell Waltz. I went to the lectern and told the audience that Vladimir Horowitz had passed away that afternoon… I saw wet eyes in the audience.
Genius is ineffable, artistic genius even more so. There is nothing in the world that can so touch the human heart as art. Even in art, music, for me, is transcendent. A painting can arrest, images can linger in the mind, literature can give words to the depth of human experience, but music is sublime. We exult in crashing crescendos and weep at aching adagios. Even those who do not appreciate classical music can feel the primal rhythms that pound from nightclub speakers. Music speaks to the body and to the soul. In every generation, there have been a few artists who can create music of the most excruciating beauty; these are the virtuosi. For the generations of the 20th century, Horowitz was the epitome of pianistic virtuosity. In Evenings with Horowitz, we are allowed a privileged glimpse into the life of one of the greatest artists of our time. If you love art, if you love music, if you love the piano, this book may provide you with a rare glimpse into that world of beauty beyond your experience. Dubal loves the piano, and he loved Horowitz. This book is his tribute to the maestro.
© SL, 2005
If by some dispensation a man born deaf were to be given hearing for a single hour, he might well spend the whole time with Horowitz. Indeed, when I listened to Horowitz for the first time, it was almost like that—as if I had never heard the piano before—as if the instrument itself had never known what it could do until Horowitz came along.
—James Hilton, quoted at the beginning of Evenings With Horowitz
... As Jan reminded me, she and Angie are hosting the Artistic Inspiration Write-Off (details here). She thought this might be a nice addition, and was so nice about it that I decided to go ahead and indulge her. Why not check out the write-off and its participants if you're interested? ...
Recommended:
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