This is an English translation of an article published in Nikkan San on May 16, 2019, as a part of my column, “The Way of the Pianist.
Have you heard of “Social Sculpture? It is to think of the society as a huge piece of art, and each one of its citizens its artists in cooperation. It was propagated by a German artist, Joseph Beuys (1921-1986).
I started playing the piano when I was two and a half. But I only started being able to share my music rather recently. If I were to try to explain the difference between the two, Beuys’s concept comes in handy: Playing the piano was more for myself, whereas sharing my music is doing my part in the creation of our Social Sculpture.
When I was struggling with stage fright, there were few mantras I repeated to myself. To keep my obejectivity from wanting to lose itself into the music, I kept repeating “Do your job,” “It’s just music.” Because the scariest thing was to be too into the music. It would put me in a other-wordly state of consciousness, where a slight touch of a wrong note, or a cough from an audience member would startle me back to reality, throwing me off, forgetting the music. I was still just “playing the piano” then. However, my mantra shifted to “the audience wants the music, not the pianist,” when I started to play fundraise conserts for the victims of natural disasters, like the earthquake/tsunami in Tohoku, Japan in 2011. I was able to realize that the success of a concert is not the perfect execution by the performer, but if the music resonated with, and connected, everyone. And what makes the resonance and the connection happen is honesty and humanity of all those that are present. That’s when my stage fright started easing off, too.
However, before I was able to come to this realization, there were those who kindly found music in my piano playing. For example, there was my neighbor who, one day out of the blue, knocked on my door. I barely knew her name. She came to thank me. She had been taking care of her dying parent, and it was difficult. Whenever I started practicing, she would out to the backyard to weed, and cry to my playing. I was just surprised at the time. Now, remembering her, and thinking of her going out of her way to share the story and thank me, makes me tear up a bit. She, and others like her, also taught me what music is, and can be.
Let the power of music heal us all.