Ο Μπάρενμποϊμ γράφει σχετικά με τα 1α του πιανιστικά βιώματα:
I studied with my father till I was about seventeen. I believe I was fortunate in not having to change teachers. Many instrumentalists move from one teacher to another and each time learn a different method of playing. You have to forget what you were told by the previous teacher and adapt yourself to a new method. This may even apply to technical matters- some teachers tell you to play with a high wrist, others with a low wrist, with flat fingers or with curved fingers, and all these changes reduce the directness and spontaneity of your playing.
For me, learning to play the piano was as natural as learning to walk. My father had an obsession about wanting things to be natural. I was brought up on the fundamental principle that there is no division between musical and technical problems. This was an integral part of philosophy. I was never made to practice scales or arpeggios. What was needed to develop my abilities as a pianist was done exclusively through playing the pieces themselves. A principle that was hammered into me early, and which I still adhere to, is never to play any note mechanically. My father’s teaching was based on the belief that there are enough scales in Mozart’s concertos.
I often meet musicians who try to solve certain problems in a technical, mechanical way first, and then try to add “musicianship” , like cream on top of a cake. The two must be linked from the very beginning because the technical means used to overcome certain physical problems will influence the expression.
From Barenboim's autobiography A Life in Music. p.6
Είναι άκρως ενδιαφέροντα όσα λέει.
Με έβγαλε από ένα πολύ ενοχλητικό δίλημμα - αν κάνω καλά που διδάσκω η ίδια τα παιδιά μου. Όχι ότι είναι το ίδιο
Αναφέρεται με αρκετή λεπτομέρεια στον τρόπο διδασκαλίας του πατέρα του, αποτέλεσε για το μεγάλο αυτόν πιανίστα σημείο αναφοράς - με τα όσα πλεονεκτήματα και μειονεκτήματα της (δεν υπάρχουν αυθεντίες, το πιστεύω ακράδαντα).
Αυτά και άλλα πολλά προς συζήτηση φέρνουν τα λόγια του στο μυαλό μου... εσάς?
I studied with my father till I was about seventeen. I believe I was fortunate in not having to change teachers. Many instrumentalists move from one teacher to another and each time learn a different method of playing. You have to forget what you were told by the previous teacher and adapt yourself to a new method. This may even apply to technical matters- some teachers tell you to play with a high wrist, others with a low wrist, with flat fingers or with curved fingers, and all these changes reduce the directness and spontaneity of your playing.
For me, learning to play the piano was as natural as learning to walk. My father had an obsession about wanting things to be natural. I was brought up on the fundamental principle that there is no division between musical and technical problems. This was an integral part of philosophy. I was never made to practice scales or arpeggios. What was needed to develop my abilities as a pianist was done exclusively through playing the pieces themselves. A principle that was hammered into me early, and which I still adhere to, is never to play any note mechanically. My father’s teaching was based on the belief that there are enough scales in Mozart’s concertos.
I often meet musicians who try to solve certain problems in a technical, mechanical way first, and then try to add “musicianship” , like cream on top of a cake. The two must be linked from the very beginning because the technical means used to overcome certain physical problems will influence the expression.
From Barenboim's autobiography A Life in Music. p.6
Είναι άκρως ενδιαφέροντα όσα λέει.
Με έβγαλε από ένα πολύ ενοχλητικό δίλημμα - αν κάνω καλά που διδάσκω η ίδια τα παιδιά μου. Όχι ότι είναι το ίδιο
Αναφέρεται με αρκετή λεπτομέρεια στον τρόπο διδασκαλίας του πατέρα του, αποτέλεσε για το μεγάλο αυτόν πιανίστα σημείο αναφοράς - με τα όσα πλεονεκτήματα και μειονεκτήματα της (δεν υπάρχουν αυθεντίες, το πιστεύω ακράδαντα).Αυτά και άλλα πολλά προς συζήτηση φέρνουν τα λόγια του στο μυαλό μου... εσάς?
