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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.
