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Horowitz’s Hands
by Scott Wollschleger
Vladimir Horowitz was a brilliant musician. His pianism was powerful. But what was the source of his power? The common answer would be to attribute his power to his technical ability. But we find other pianists who posses great technique while lacking the kind of power that is found in Horowitz’s playing. Horowitz was sometimes criticized for his erratic and temperamental way of performing. Sometimes he would make mistakes. His playing could be described as wild.
Horowitz was a hyper-sensitive person. His nervous temperament led him to doubt himself. He withdrew numerous times from public life. But only a person with such a heightened nervous system partnered with an accomplished technique could produce such an individuated and riveting way of making music. Listen to how Horowitz plays the opening part of Mozart’s Piano Sonata K330. His hands seem to caress each note of the melody, drawing each note out like a point in in space. The piano sounds like a singing bell. Notice how his left has remains nearly motionless atop the keys, gurgling like a calm brook, as he plays the Alberti bass accompaniment.
In his hands we find a combination of fluid grace and violent force. In this short film we see him playing at regular speed then in slow motion. His is hands look almost like living creatures, existing all on their own:
Horowitz was very particular about his piano. He toured around the world with his very special 9-foot concert grand piano. I had the good fortune to play on Horowitz’s piano at a salon in New York. I was immediately surprised by the vibrations that moved through my entire body, particularly my hands, when I would strike a note or chord. The amount of vibration I felt was much greater than what I was normally used to. The lower notes had a splashing quality, like firing a cannon ball into a body of water.
I was told that Horowitz had special adjustments made to his piano that would allow for this extra splashing effect. I believe that it was not only this splashy sound that Horowitz enjoyed but also the feeling of vibrations shooting through his hands and body. When he performs it is as if these splashes of vibration pass through his body and are coupled with instantaneous moments of chaotic nervous impulses in the hands themselves. A resonance point is created between sound vibrations and nervous impulses. These moments are like leaps into the unknown. Horowitz deforms the music into sound itself. (It may be worth noting that it is within these moments the music seems to be the most "out" of time.) This way of playing disorients our perceptions for a moment. When we come back to our footing we hear the music anew. We are enlivened.
Horowitz was a hyper-sensitive person. His nervous temperament led him to doubt himself. He withdrew numerous times from public life. But only a person with such a heightened nervous system partnered with an accomplished technique could produce such an individuated and riveting way of making music. Listen to how Horowitz plays the opening part of Mozart’s Piano Sonata K330. His hands seem to caress each note of the melody, drawing each note out like a point in in space. The piano sounds like a singing bell. Notice how his left has remains nearly motionless atop the keys, gurgling like a calm brook, as he plays the Alberti bass accompaniment.
In his hands we find a combination of fluid grace and violent force. In this short film we see him playing at regular speed then in slow motion. His is hands look almost like living creatures, existing all on their own:
Horowitz was very particular about his piano. He toured around the world with his very special 9-foot concert grand piano. I had the good fortune to play on Horowitz’s piano at a salon in New York. I was immediately surprised by the vibrations that moved through my entire body, particularly my hands, when I would strike a note or chord. The amount of vibration I felt was much greater than what I was normally used to. The lower notes had a splashing quality, like firing a cannon ball into a body of water.
I was told that Horowitz had special adjustments made to his piano that would allow for this extra splashing effect. I believe that it was not only this splashy sound that Horowitz enjoyed but also the feeling of vibrations shooting through his hands and body. When he performs it is as if these splashes of vibration pass through his body and are coupled with instantaneous moments of chaotic nervous impulses in the hands themselves. A resonance point is created between sound vibrations and nervous impulses. These moments are like leaps into the unknown. Horowitz deforms the music into sound itself. (It may be worth noting that it is within these moments the music seems to be the most "out" of time.) This way of playing disorients our perceptions for a moment. When we come back to our footing we hear the music anew. We are enlivened.
I have never seen anything like that in my life. I am really stunned. Thanks for giving this. I am impressed by the idea (and your demonstration) of the hand being a part of Horowitz' body while yet also being an independent creature. I wonder how he accomplished this. Is there something we all can learn from it? Would we benefit if we too create independent, unique, and new creatures in our bodies? Might we develop them in our minds? Make conceptual personae, if you will, or wild mind animals, and let them live their own lives, birthing thoughts we otherwise never would have conceived?
ReplyDeleteThank you for the comment. Yes, I think the idea of developing new wild creatures in our bodies could benefit other artists who use their bodies to create. In some way I actually think most great artist already do this to some extent. We should wonder about Bacon's eyes or Pollacks feet(he moved around his canvasses that were placed on the ground)
ReplyDeleteIf I understand your post accurately, it seems like you are describing a simultaneity happening with Horwitz and his piano, where there is an inseparable energy loop between the vibration of the piano and his nervous system being articulated through his body?
ReplyDeleteIt also seems to imply that Horwitz and the piano become each other with no causation, simply a being of energy flow, where they are one, inseparable, and neither one controlling the other.
Thanks for your insightful comments. Yes, an energy loop of sorts - that would be the point of resonance I mentioned. But also there are these injections of pure chance or chaos from the nerves. And this is what makes the music alive. I like to think of these moments of chance as tiny catastrophes or leaps into the unknown. It may be seen as "taking risks" with the interpretation. I see Horowitz's hands and his piano as very separate and different. But they do interact dynamically. The separation forces the hands to become something other than just a regular hand you make eggs with. For me, the piano and Horowitz could only be-as-One flow if they both remained totally still and quite or if they were both dropped into a vat of molten hot lava. Instead both piano and Horowitz are making "Big Bangs" every instant. So the energy flow that is happening is wild. (I hope Corry does not mind me using the term)
ReplyDeleteI like 'big bang' (and the use of 'wild'.) The big bang is the ultimate explosion. When something explodes, there is a chaos of forces tearing at every direction. There is time leading up to the explosion. If we go to the limit just right before the explosion happens, there is no extent of time before it occurs. And the forces have not been released yet through any extent of space. Yet they are completely on the verge. It would be ultimate intensity. Pure difference contracted so much that it lies below time and space, at a 0 point if you will. Then the bang. From this, time will extend, and so will space. Horowitz hands will fill the air with new sounds, sending ripples of difference and heterogeneity throughout the performance space. When I see Horowitz hands, I see something radically new being interjected into the world. Something did not come and take the place of his hands. They are still his hands. But something was elevated from his hands. His hands raised to another level. On one level they are hands. On the next level they are something new, we might call them new living creatures. Each moment he plays, he explodes creation into the world. If there is any violence that I detect, I think it would be the violence of creation, the forces that impose newness and difference into the world. His body otherwise seems to be working cooperatively, even if parts are operating autonomously.
ReplyDelete