Reflections - Piano Sisters
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| Byeol Kim's Hands and Reflection - photo by Anita |
My sister Anita, in her home on a New Jersey mountain top, was watching the online performance at the same time. I’d emailed her about Virtu(al)oso, Piano Cleveland’s Global Piano Competition for Artist Relief. While dunking my hands in sudsy water, I anticipated nine nights of sharing expert piano playing with my sister—six with five contestants each for the first round, two with three candidates each for the final round, and the closing award ceremony. Apart yet together.
At the end of Otal’s performance, my cell phone chimed to alert me that an email had arrived from Anita. Watching Virtu(al)oso, then, would be more than mentally sharing with my sister. We could chat throughout the performances without hearing a single scolding “shhhhhhh.” Wiping my hands, I clicked on her message.
A: I love to watch their faces. You can tell if someone is into the music or just playing notes. The first pianist is in a world of music and truly felt the chords. This one sways a lot, but her facial expression barely changes. [Tian Tang from China]
J: I don’t like her dress. Though she had such a high, delicate speaking voice, her piano voice comes across strong.
A: Her dress was not a good color on her. Her fingers on the keys were not as good as I expected. Flat fingered a lot. This guy [Elia Cecino from Italy] has a nice selection and plays well, but again, those flat fingers. Miss McCarthy would have my fingers black and blue from hitting them with a ruler.
Miss McCarthy had been our piano teacher in Titusville. As a first or second grader, I walked from Elm Street School to her house for lessons during my lunch break. My memory of piano lessons was munching a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while sitting on a cushioned bench and listening to the slow plink of notes made by the student before me. Anita must be right that Miss McCarthy was strict. One day, instead of walking to her house, I carried my lunch home.
Mom waited for me at the door. “Why didn’t you go to your piano lesson?”
Uh-oh. Miss McCarthy must have called. I lied. “I don’t feel well.”
Mom sent me to bed.
Forcing myself to be as quiet as the whole rest Miss McCarthy taught me about, I heard Mom say, “She must be sick. She didn’t complain when I put her to bed.”
If Anita had been the student before me, the music accompanying my lunches would have been better, and I couldn’t have skipped the lesson. Older than me by two years, she would have marched me to Miss McCarthy’s.
I would have listened to her then, and as I read her emails about the piano competition decades later, I enjoyed the sound of her voice in my head.
We chatted.
A: This one is a little drama queen so far. [Fuko Ishii from Japan]
J: He's kind of dancing with the piano. His phenomenal fortissimo section gave me chills. [Han Chen from Taiwan]
A: This guy’s going to get his nose stuck in the keys. [Lovre Marusic from Croatia]
We cheered.
A: Bravo!
J: Well done!
A: WOW, double BRAVO.
We chose finalists.
A: Another night of good competition and some great artists.
J: I’m fogged tonight. Can’t remember which ones I liked. Probably all of them except the drama queen. So 1 [Han Chen], 3 [Madoka Fukami from Japan], and 5 [Zhu Wang from China]. Do you think 4 [Martin Garcia Garcia from Spain] should be on the list?
A: No, I was not impressed with him. This one [Zhu Wang] is much better technically. His only fault is he needs to iron his shirts.
Choosing just six finalists from the thirty contestants challenged us. Because the pianists had survived the first cut from one hundred fifty-eight applicants living in thirty-three different countries, all played technically amazing performances. On top of that, the first round stretched over six nights. As their fingers blurred through presto passages, their performances blurred in our minds. To compensate, we relied on the email comments to refresh our memories, and I deferred to Anita’s judgment on modern selections which made me want to plug my ears.
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| Madoka Fukami - photo by Anita |
Real life obstacles ratcheted up these challenges.
Doggy duties pulled Anita away sometimes.
After she retired from her job in school district administration, Anita became a foster mom for Tibetan Terriers. She fostered Tibetans with health issues, fell in love with them, and adopted many. She cared for up to seven dogs at a time. She’s down to four now. She also arranged emergency care for Tibetans in trouble all over the nation.
A: (Friday) I missed a little in the middle because the boys needed a potty break, and I didn’t want to clean it up.
A: (Her first email of Saturday night arrived fifty minutes into the performance) Having issues with a rescue tonight so being interrupted and not seeing much of the performance.
A: (Her second email arrived a half hour later) I hope that is the last call tonight. I have been listening off and on but haven’t been able to watch.
With dogs under control, emails became the issue. Our Piano Competition string had added one email after another from the first performance through the fourth night. As Martin Garcia Garcia played a composition he’d written about the pandemic (Abstract XI in E Major, Op. 1), I typed our ninety-ninth message—Gmail’s count not mine. Minutes later, Gmail posted we’d written six messages.
Yikes! Where had the others gone? Did Gmail trash the string when we hit a hundred? I clicked menu items.
Not in the trash.
Not in the inbox.
Fretting I’d never remember our choices, my phone chimed with an answer. Anita’s next email came with a microscopic trail of old messages under it. Only the computer trail had disappeared. Without answering Anita, I squeezed my eyelids until my face muscles ached and read the teensy blue print to scribble a list of our choices. (Note: In fairness to Gmail, I would find the computer emails tucked in an “Anita Keepers” file several days later.)
And on the fifth night, worse trouble loomed.
A: Unfortunately, we are in line for the hurricane tonight and tomorrow. There is a weird smell with the wind. Sweet but not pleasant. This [Isaias] is the worst storm since Superstorm Sandy to hit the area. The power company has called me for 2 days to bottle water. The county has called the last 3 days telling us the shelters will not be opened because of COVID and to preplan.
J: Yikes. I hope the forecasters are wrong. Hang in there.
A: We will be safe, but maybe a little blown and wet.
The forecasters weren’t wrong.
Isaias pelted New Jersey with rain and knocked out Anita’s power before noon Tuesday, the final day of the first round. The county management called her to say her power would be off for days and she should go to a hotel.
She didn’t. She stayed home with her Tibetans. No internet. No landline. But she had her cell phone.
A: Cannot see. No power.
A: I might be able to watch a little from my cell phone.
A: Saw first part of Bach. Will listen in and report at intermission.
Visualizing Anita peering at pianists on her tiny phone screen, I doubted she could see their hand posture or facial expressions. I would have to be her eyes. I neglected the dishes, scribbled notes, and sent a long email about the first two contestants during intermission.
J: First player [Abuzar Manafzak from Azerbaijan]
Bach/Liszt prelude: Rounded hands. Bounced on the piano bench. Accurate, flat dynamics.
Bach/Liszt fugue: Not much variation in tones. Looked like he strained the notes through his face.
Rachmaninoff: Rounded hands. Face showed effort, not passion. Soft touch to slamming bangs.
Prokofiev: Rounded hands. More life. Short, dynamic, and lovely. His best.
Second player [Michael Lu from the United States]
Wearing a mask.
Schubert: Rounded hands. Had energy, excitement, and dynamics.
Price (Cotton Dance): Lively. Sparkled. He seemed to smile through the mask. Crossed hands over several times. Fun.
Schumann:. Fingers blurred. Excited. Sat still, no swaying. Passionate. Ended strong.
With three more artists to go, I watched, washed, and wrote notes. Hanging up the dish towel near the end of the fifth player’s performance, I tapped computer keys to record the soggy notes while Martin James Bartlett concluded his performance with Rachmaninoff. Doubting the pianist at first because he grimaced and made funny faces like Alfred E. Newman, I expected Martin to burst out laughing at any moment. But, he was masterful. He bounced on the bench playing chords, swayed with melodies, and earned my ratings of awesome, awesome, and awesome again. He would definitely be a finalist. While I debated the three pianists in the middle, Anita emailed.
A: Like your comments.
A: Got to see some on phone
A: My picks are Anna [Anna Han from the United States] and Martin [Martin James Bartlett] from England. Going to bed. Finding my way in the dark. Will see your comments in a.m.
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| Encore Performance by Byeol Kim - photo by Janet |
Sheesh. Of course Anita was right. She had made quick, decisive choices using only her tiny phone screen.
Anita didn’t have power the following day when the judges announced their six finalists, but, because she had a battery pack to keep her cell phone charged, she found the post as soon as I did. The judges chose three from our list.
Martin James Bartlett, a masterful pianist who brought every song to life and entertained with unique facial expressions.
Byeol Kim, a gifted pianist who played with emotion and pedaled in neon green spiked heels.
Madoka Fukami, a talented pianist who played Bach distinguishing all the fugue voices and kept a solemn face above her kimono and white socks.
Friday, the first day of the finals, Anita sent good news after lunch.
A: We just got power. Hope it stays on.
It did.
We chatted.
We cheered.
We chose the same three pianists we’d selected from the first round.
A: Bartlett and Kim, then Fukami and then all the others.
J: Those are my top three too. But this guy [The leaner—Lovre Marusic from Croatia] might place.
A: Technically, I agree, However on crowd appeal, not so much. Tomorrow at 7 we will see how right/wrong we have been in our choices.
Monday came after what seemed like ten nights. I booted up the computer, tied on my apron, and washed dishes while glancing over my shoulder.
On the computer screen, hosts repeated thank you, thank you, thank you.
My stomach tightened. I told myself it didn’t matter who won because all the pianists were excellent. And I’d had an eleven day virtual vacation with my sister chatting via emails. We’d already won. Nevertheless, I bit my lip and waited.
Beyol Kim took third place and played an encore from her home.
We hadn’t chosen the second place winner, Arseny Gusev from Russia. While he played his encore, I silently chanted Martin has to be first.
A host cleared his throat and announced, “The first prize winner is . . . “
Sheesh. Do people always have to pause before the name?
“ . . . Martin James Bartlett from the United Kingdom.”
I hooted.
All three cats scratched the wood floor with their claws and dove under the sofa.
A: YES YES YES
J: Ditto! We picked him!!! We’ll have to watch for his name in the news.
A: Wonder how he felt when he found out he won. That little smile?????
Now, when I stand at the sink, submerge my hands in soapy water, and gaze through the window at rabbits nibbling clover, I remember the camaraderie of listening to piano performances with Anita. And I crack a little smile.
Martin James Bartlett - screenshot by Janet
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