"Personal memories"
Prof. Lidia Baldecchi Arcuri
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parts I-III
(April 2012)
(April 2012)
October 13th, 1962
" It may be surprising, but my first reaction to the Maestro was one of bewilderment and his performance actually didn’t convince me. "
He came onstage targeting that “black prey”, without a glance towards the audience, barely nodding. Not yet seated, he plunged on the Schumann Sonata. Astonished, I gazed and thought, “It will be either thumbs up or thumbs down. There was nothing lukewarm about this pianist!”
Of course, the verdict wasn’t thumbs down! We were evidently in the presence of genius, but his approach gave me an impression of nervousness on his part, which in turn triggered uneasiness in me.
Years later, I learned to foresee these moments of nervous tension (that had nothing to do with public performance because actually, audiences and the stage never really bothered him; but they were caused by the most unpredictable and - for me - incomprehensible reasons.)
I don’t remember anything else of the evening. I only remember that I was totally staggered by the tsunami that had struck me.
He came onstage targeting that “black prey”, without a glance towards the audience, barely nodding. Not yet seated, he plunged on the Schumann Sonata. Astonished, I gazed and thought, “It will be either thumbs up or thumbs down. There was nothing lukewarm about this pianist!”
Of course, the verdict wasn’t thumbs down! We were evidently in the presence of genius, but his approach gave me an impression of nervousness on his part, which in turn triggered uneasiness in me.
Years later, I learned to foresee these moments of nervous tension (that had nothing to do with public performance because actually, audiences and the stage never really bothered him; but they were caused by the most unpredictable and - for me - incomprehensible reasons.)
I don’t remember anything else of the evening. I only remember that I was totally staggered by the tsunami that had struck me.
March 29th, 1965
"…This time I was psychologically prepared to receive the onslaught, but it turned out to be useless!
The moment he uttered the first tone, all was revelation. He seemed to improvise each emotion and each emotional hue carried you farther and farther away from the actual instrument that was producing it. It was not piano playing! I don’t believe I had ever heard (or have since heard) such a visionary performance of the Chopin 4th Scherzo. He had recreated the composer’s starting point.
That evening I completely succumbed to his sublime artistry, and my admiration grew constantly till the moment he left us."
November 25th-27th 1966
"… Unfortunately I was out of town and did not attend these concerts, but I heard raving reports about them: it didn’t surprise me. By this time, nothing concerning Richter’s interpretations could surprise me. ”
Reviews of the 1966 and 1969 concerts in Genoa
June 14th 1969 (conducter: Riccardo Muti)
In 1969 Prof. L.B.A. meets Richter for the first time:
" My encounter with Richter happened at Riccardo Muti’s wedding.
Shortly afterwards, he entered our home (and hearts) definitively. The occasion: Ravel’s Concerto for the left hand.
The conductor, Riccardo Muti had made his debut in Genoa one Saturday afternoon of years before and had, since then, become a dear friend of ours…"
One of the most meaningful encounters of my life
" My husband and I had been invited to Cristina and Riccardo Muti’s wedding in Ravenna..
We spent unforgettable days, not only for the event itself, but also for the uniqueness of its participants
My meeting with Richter had something surrealistic, but at the same time natural about it. This type of atmospheric situation, as well as others that highlighted some of his distinctive traits, often manifested themselves during our long friendship. I learned to recognize them, to understand them, to interpret, admire and to love them.
These same traits remained intact –albeit sublimated – in his artistic universe: he possessed hyper-sensitive reserve as opposed to a total and often surprising spontaneity; his scathing instinct was integrated by an inflexible intellect; he could be child-likely naïve or have sudden mysterious, unfathomable silences; he was indomitably curious; he was ruthlessly self-critical.
And now for the meeting itself. I’ll skip many delightful details that were later referred to me by Emy Erede, a lifelong friend of my husband’s - and Richter’s Italian agent."
The Maestro had entered surreptitiously into the last row of pews after the wedding function had already begun – obviously not to disturb or to be noticed! After the ceremony, if I remember correctly, we were about 100 guests waiting our turn to be shuttled to the lunch venue, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Emy Erede who, with a twinkle in her eyes, whispered, “There’s someone who wants to meet you.” I generally take even strange events within my stride, and followed her with no particular expectation. To my complete utter astonishment, there in front of me - incarnate –appeared Sviatoslav Richter. I recuperated sufficiently to stammer some sort of lapidary salutation followed by a courageous entire phrase: “Maestro shall we be meeting again at lunch?” Equally lapidary, he answered. “No, at dinner.” And that was that! At dinner I found myself seated at his left, Emy Erede on his right.
Decisive events often “tiptoe” into one’s life. Our friendship was to continue, till the end, in this discreet reciprocal atmosphere of loyalty and esteem.
The Maestro had entered surreptitiously into the last row of pews after the wedding function had already begun – obviously not to disturb or to be noticed! After the ceremony, if I remember correctly, we were about 100 guests waiting our turn to be shuttled to the lunch venue, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Emy Erede who, with a twinkle in her eyes, whispered, “There’s someone who wants to meet you.” I generally take even strange events within my stride, and followed her with no particular expectation. To my complete utter astonishment, there in front of me - incarnate –appeared Sviatoslav Richter. I recuperated sufficiently to stammer some sort of lapidary salutation followed by a courageous entire phrase: “Maestro shall we be meeting again at lunch?” Equally lapidary, he answered. “No, at dinner.” And that was that! At dinner I found myself seated at his left, Emy Erede on his right.
Decisive events often “tiptoe” into one’s life. Our friendship was to continue, till the end, in this discreet reciprocal atmosphere of loyalty and esteem.
In the photo: the Church of Sant'Agata Maggiore in Ravenna
... dinner with Richter...
THE DINNER
" The dinner took place on the top floor of an ancient palace of Ravenna. Actually, it was the meeting place of a group of melomanes and gourmets who came from every walk of life, each bringing the raw materials or the capacities and talents that better served their goal: good food and opera! temporary partition divided the cooking area from the dining area, which had been furnished with long rustic tables and benches.
They called themselves Gli Amici del Camino (Friends of the Fireplace). In great display on the wall hung a gigantic photo of Pellegrino Artusi, legendary idol of the local Italian cuisine. A temporary partition divided the cooking area from the dining area, which had been furnished with long rustic tables and benches.
" The dinner took place on the top floor of an ancient palace of Ravenna. Actually, it was the meeting place of a group of melomanes and gourmets who came from every walk of life, each bringing the raw materials or the capacities and talents that better served their goal: good food and opera! temporary partition divided the cooking area from the dining area, which had been furnished with long rustic tables and benches.
They called themselves Gli Amici del Camino (Friends of the Fireplace). In great display on the wall hung a gigantic photo of Pellegrino Artusi, legendary idol of the local Italian cuisine. A temporary partition divided the cooking area from the dining area, which had been furnished with long rustic tables and benches.
Towards the end of the gourmet treat, a rhythmic drumming on the tables began that slowly developed into a “fff” crescendo and a stadium- type rooting of “Richter…Richter…Richter….!.
The Maestro, seated at my right, tried to escape the unexpected spotlight, (as he had done slipping into the church), but the rowdy insistence finally won over: he suddenly jumped to his feet, took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and dashed towards a rickety old upright and sat down. After him dashed a group of the members, and to my astonishment my own husband, who appointed himself…conductor! How brazen could you be, I thought to myself embarrassed… instead everyone else was delighted (above all Richter and Muti!). Naturally they began with favourite operatic choruses chosen (by the chorus members!) at random: Richter (the orchestra) and the chorus were conducted by my husband.
At a certain point, a sort of operatic competition was sparked off, the competitors being: Nino Rota, Jacopo Napoli (then Director of the Milan Conservatory) and Sviatoslav Richter. They started challenging each others’ knowledge of Opera, pushing each other off the piano bench, hoping to play something that the others wouldn’t recognize. About an hour or more later, the “laurel wreath” was acknowledged - and Richter won. By the way, they didn’t certainly propose well-known arias…out would come I Lombardi Act 1, scene 2, or other such off-the- beaten- track repertoire. In his early years, Richter had accompanied opera for a living and had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the field. By memory.
At the end of the improvised competition, the greater part of the guests began to take leave. Richter came to me and with great simplicity said, “We’ll be seeing each other again in Genoa within two weeks time. I’ll be playing the Ravel left hand Concerto…even though I shouldn’t really do it!”(Emy had previously informed me that Richter’s wife, Nina Dorléac, had telegraphed him not to play it!)
I asked him if he would be our guest. “Naturally” he replied… and so it was to be ever since. What a rare privilege to have lived such unrepeatable experiences
The Maestro, seated at my right, tried to escape the unexpected spotlight, (as he had done slipping into the church), but the rowdy insistence finally won over: he suddenly jumped to his feet, took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and dashed towards a rickety old upright and sat down. After him dashed a group of the members, and to my astonishment my own husband, who appointed himself…conductor! How brazen could you be, I thought to myself embarrassed… instead everyone else was delighted (above all Richter and Muti!). Naturally they began with favourite operatic choruses chosen (by the chorus members!) at random: Richter (the orchestra) and the chorus were conducted by my husband.
At a certain point, a sort of operatic competition was sparked off, the competitors being: Nino Rota, Jacopo Napoli (then Director of the Milan Conservatory) and Sviatoslav Richter. They started challenging each others’ knowledge of Opera, pushing each other off the piano bench, hoping to play something that the others wouldn’t recognize. About an hour or more later, the “laurel wreath” was acknowledged - and Richter won. By the way, they didn’t certainly propose well-known arias…out would come I Lombardi Act 1, scene 2, or other such off-the- beaten- track repertoire. In his early years, Richter had accompanied opera for a living and had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the field. By memory.
At the end of the improvised competition, the greater part of the guests began to take leave. Richter came to me and with great simplicity said, “We’ll be seeing each other again in Genoa within two weeks time. I’ll be playing the Ravel left hand Concerto…even though I shouldn’t really do it!”(Emy had previously informed me that Richter’s wife, Nina Dorléac, had telegraphed him not to play it!)
I asked him if he would be our guest. “Naturally” he replied… and so it was to be ever since. What a rare privilege to have lived such unrepeatable experiences
A memorable appointment occurred on that 14th of June! Richter plays (for the first time) the Ravel Left Hand Piano Concerto, with Riccardo Muti conductor. A recording of the concert was published on the Stradivarius label, and our blog also refers Muti’s own testimonial. Such was the success, that the entire Concerto was encored at Richter’s own request, bypassing the orchestra’s understandable perplexity .
(ndr. The Italian recording includes the encore).
....I remember the rehearsal and evening this way:
" He had promised to see us again soon, and so it was. Notoriously allergic to telephoning, ha had Emy Erede do it, inviting us to the rehearsal of the Ravel Concerto with Riccardo Muti conducting."
Upon arriving, one of his usual unpredictable surprises awaited Me.! He asked ME (!) to test the acoustics from different points of the hall. I timidly gave my opinion. He had the piano position altered and the rehearsal began.
He was visibly unsatisfied, but rehearsal time was up (the Union representative, member of the orchestra, was already pointing towards his watch…) Richter called Emy Erede and they confabulated. She came back, sat by me and said, “Unbelievable, he wants to pay the orchestra’s overtime, but he absolutely wants to repeat!” The orchestra thought twice about it, refused the offer, and the rehearsal proceeded. I was to witness many of these events which confirmed his complete detachment from the economic aspect of his profession and money “tout-court”. (“It’s not interesting”, he would always conclude.)
An after-dinner concert followed on our terrace (of course strictly with persons he already knew). That was the first of his many entries in our home for many years to follow.
It was early morning and the merry company was, at this point, enjoying the warm spring evening, when the Maestro suddenly took me by the hand and asked me to show him my house – which I did gaily! When we came to the kitchen terrace, amongst my herb vases he saw one that contained basil. I imagine he was not acquainted with it, because he asked me if he could taste it. I explained the Genoese specialty: pesto. He was as delighted as a child caught with his fingers in the jam. A moment later my husband appeared in the doorway, saw the scene, turned to me and without the slightest hesitation exclaimed, “Why don’t we start all over again? (at three in the morning!!) Make some pesto with trenette (a type of pasta) for everyone.” It was a “yes or yes” type of a situation, and so I did. The company livened up again at the fanciful idea and Richter ate the pesto-without pasta – by the spoonful. He was also like that!
Upon arriving, one of his usual unpredictable surprises awaited Me.! He asked ME (!) to test the acoustics from different points of the hall. I timidly gave my opinion. He had the piano position altered and the rehearsal began.
He was visibly unsatisfied, but rehearsal time was up (the Union representative, member of the orchestra, was already pointing towards his watch…) Richter called Emy Erede and they confabulated. She came back, sat by me and said, “Unbelievable, he wants to pay the orchestra’s overtime, but he absolutely wants to repeat!” The orchestra thought twice about it, refused the offer, and the rehearsal proceeded. I was to witness many of these events which confirmed his complete detachment from the economic aspect of his profession and money “tout-court”. (“It’s not interesting”, he would always conclude.)
An after-dinner concert followed on our terrace (of course strictly with persons he already knew). That was the first of his many entries in our home for many years to follow.
It was early morning and the merry company was, at this point, enjoying the warm spring evening, when the Maestro suddenly took me by the hand and asked me to show him my house – which I did gaily! When we came to the kitchen terrace, amongst my herb vases he saw one that contained basil. I imagine he was not acquainted with it, because he asked me if he could taste it. I explained the Genoese specialty: pesto. He was as delighted as a child caught with his fingers in the jam. A moment later my husband appeared in the doorway, saw the scene, turned to me and without the slightest hesitation exclaimed, “Why don’t we start all over again? (at three in the morning!!) Make some pesto with trenette (a type of pasta) for everyone.” It was a “yes or yes” type of a situation, and so I did. The company livened up again at the fanciful idea and Richter ate the pesto-without pasta – by the spoonful. He was also like that!
August 9th, 1971
Piazza San Giovanni, Cervo, Imperia
" We saw him arrive escorted by Sandor Vegh. He had a blue sea-captain’s cap tipped on his head. When he spotted us he opened his arms to their full extent and broke into a broad smile that suddenly turned terribly serious as he approached us. His first words were, “Tonight I’m going to play very badly.” My husband, extremely quick on the draw, answered, “Certainly, Maestro!” The answer – unexpected – offset him, so he gazed at us with his typically melancholic smile, waved, and off he went.
Before going on, I must divert to a rather interesting episode that preceded this extraordinary evening. Several days before, I had been invited to Milan for lunch at the home of the Baronessa Lanni della Quara where Richter often lodged when in town. As I entered, I heard the Schumann Symphonic Etudes in the distance. The Maestro was practicing what was to be the opening piece of the Cervo concert! Naturally my ears perked.
What I heard was one of the most peculiar and astonishing practicing I had ever imagined! Richter performed the composition, without pauses, from the beginning to the end, time after time again… We lunched without him to the faint background sound of Schumann. I had arrived late morning and left in mid-afternoon. He was still performing non-stop when I left. One of the times we later met (I don’t remember exactly when), when I asked him he explained the reason. He had always placed the “Etudes” in the last position of the first half, or somewhere in the second half of his programs. In Cervo for the first time, he had placed it as the opening piece. That was his way of understanding the “feeling” of its performance without prior contacts through other music!!!!
To get back to the evening in Cervo, the audience was already seated in the Piazza with no piano in sight. Finally the smaller pieces of the instrument slowly appeared, followed by the adventurous arrival of the principal body down the narrow steep ways of this medieval “borgo”, perched on a cliff--top that almost drops onto the sea. Vegh’s home was directly on the right-hand side of the Piazza and…on the edge of the cliff. Richter was hosted there and it was there that we went after the concert: but the concert still didn’t start. About another endless hour went by… the reason? The Maestro wanted the darkness to fall and the moon to rise!
Whatever his method of practicing, once he placed his hands on that keyboard, nothing else mattered. He seemed to have a “gold mint reserve” always ready to be lavishly spent. Artistically and emotionally he was a bottomless pit!
I find it impossible to even attempt to describe the three Chopin Nocturnes, but we all then fully realized the reason for his wanting… darkness to fall and the moon to rise.
After the concert we went to greet him. He was visibly satisfied (a rare event!). My husband couldn’t resist and let the occasion slip by: he embraced him, looked him in the eyes and said, “Maestro, that certainly is what I call bad playing!” The Maestro looked at us and melancholically smiled. "
November 23rd, 1974 Teatro Margherita, Genoa
The seated ballerino
" I believe it was on this occasion that Emy Erede informed us that she could no longer follow the Maestro, but that she was sure that we would have appreciated the person she had chosen to be her substitute. Milena Borromeo thus entered our lives and we certainly did learn to appreciate her! Emy also told us of Richter’s desire to be with us, and I was more than happy to organize the after-concert get-together.
As for the concert, I was not yet acquainted with the Miaskovsky Sonata, but I knew exactly what to expect from the performance of Shostakovich and Prokoviev. As usual, it was even more.
What I did not expect though, was that I would be hypnotized by Richter’s feet! I’m not speaking of his extraordinary pedalling (that perception was delegated to my ears), I’m speaking of the agile, complicated movements that he applied to balance his body in relation to the position and to the energy he wanted to transmit to the keyboard. In slow motion, I’m positive that a beautiful choreography could have been traced. He was a seated ballerino! I realized that during the entire evening, this illuminating discovery had made me completely ignore his hands. Could this be one of the secrets that “made the difference”? What I had seen that evening marked a turning point in my pedagogical and instrumental evolution!
He later confirmed my observation by explaining how the whole technical mechanism started from the floor.(This is an example of one of his many comments on technique; which obviously contradicts the grapevine gossip that “talking about technique” with Richter was taboo; actually, it was he who always started the discussion). The whole conversation started when, upon entering my home, he saw Beethoven’s Op. 106 on my music rack. He sat down on the bench and looking at the score, succinctly commented, “Unplayable!” Being acquainted with his performances of the Hammerklavier, I just looked at him and didn’t say a word. He continued.
“Finally a piano bench at the right height. Wherever I go, they want me to sit on the floor. Lidia, how can you do that if we must walk on our hands. To do that, everything starts from the floor and you must think upside-down. Are we or aren’t we acrobats?
The few words were branded in my mind, his tone lingered in my memory, and suddenly the actual vision of the workings of the balance of the entire body on the hands became my fundamental research. He was talking about body weight, not arm weight! What a revolution.
I’m referring this episode for the pianists who may eventually read these memories. As the Maestro would have said – pointing his index – “Investigate”!
Of this concert I still conserve his autograph on my copy of the Shostakovich Preludes and Fugues.
Even though during the following period he was absent from the Genoese concert scene, Richter came many times to Liguria when on his Italian tours. I went to Milan several times and was present in Mantova when the Decca label recorded a series of concerts in that acoustically miraculous theatre.
One of the Milanese concerts (1983) is also unforgettable for me. The concert included the César Franck Piano Trio ( with Oleg Kagan, violin, and his wife Natalia Gutman, cello) and of Debussy’s “Images” Book 2. Our encounter came about after an original opening “à la manière de…Richter”. Backstage an impenetrable crowd was waiting. Emy Erede picked us out and whispered us the name and address of a restaurant. It was the period in which he enjoyed dressing an ample black, red-lined cape. His fans didn’t know yet, but Richter had already surreptitiously slipped away, helped by the darkness and …his black mantle! When we walked into the restaurant, he was already seated and greeted us merrily: he was apparently very pleased with his “operatic” exit from the backstage confusion.
He was particularly loquacious that evening; a relatively long period had elapsed since our last meeting. My husband instead was in lively conversation with Natalia and Oleg Kagan.
The following anecdote comes to my mind because it might be interesting for its technical implications: I told him of a concert I had recently attended during which – after the attack of the very first chords of the Brahms Second Piano Concerto – WHAM! the string broke. He put on an all-knowing expression: “Naturally”, he quipped (imitating precisely the gesture of the pianist concerned), “he uses his stiff forearm instead of his body. I’ve never in my life broken a string!!” He followed the statement with one of his typically naïve expressions which signified: “Really, it’s the truth, don’t you believe me? "
Below: two postcards from Richter addressed to his friends Lidia and Domenico Arcuri.
Prof. Sarpero reports: For twelve long years Richter does not return to Genoa. During this period he tours Europe and gives more than 100 concerts, many of which in Italy. He furthermore goes to Japan and then makes a legendary tour of Siberia. On May 8th, 1986, he makes his return to Genoa with an all-Chopin recital, It remains one of my most intense memories of Richter performances of Chopin that even his best recordings cannot equal.
...The reviews report: “a triumph – without reserve! "
May 5th, 1986
Teatro Margherita, Genoa
" That evening we were all seated in the same row, one after the other: my husband, my pupils , and I.
Finally he had returned! What a return it turned out to be…
The first notes – the beginning of the Polonaise-Fantasie – were an absolute, unimaginable miracle. Not even he himself had ever managed such an achievement. The notes that follow the initial fundamental octave, (written in small type in the score and usually interpreted as a melodically melismatic passage), came out of the thin air as slowing-down and fading harmonics of the fundamental sound! We all simultaneously turned to each other, gaping. At the end, the applause didn’t merely break out, it exploded.
He faintly acknowledged the “explosion” and while it was still going on, dove into the first of twelve Etudes chosen: the Op. 10, n.1. I remember the left hand octaves as smiting bell-tolls and the savage right hand arpeggios. We were not only listening to piano playing: we were witnessing something visual as well. At the end the audience gave a standing ovation and I found myself Germanically stomping my feet. Suddenly Milena Borromeo appeared and signalled me that the Maestro wanted to speak to me. What could he possibly want this time? (A call during intermission usually meant that he was unsatisfied with his performance..) Impossible, I thought; instead that was exactly the case! He judged his performance ruthlessly, then added, “I can’t come to your house afterwards.” I just gazed and said, “That’s no problem. The only problem is that, according to what you just said, I must conclude that I’m deaf, I don’t understand the Etudes, and that I don’t understand Music in general! How can I be your friend?” He looked at me querulously and calmed down. Not I.
The four Ballades that followed were, and remain unequalled for all who were present with me in the hall. I returned backstage and stared at him. He smiled his melancholic smile and said, “Now I can come.”
He left at three A.M.
The particularly long 1986 Italian tour continued with the recorded Mantova concerts held in the Bibiena theatre (photo).
...digression...
Mantova concerts
" Many memories come back to me of the Mantova concerts (besides the renewed joy of seeing the the beauty of this relatively small Italian “provincial” town.)
The local Communal administration had closed off the traffic near the theatre for the occasion (rare sensitivity, indeed, in our times).
This Teatro Bibiena had been inaugurated by the young Mozart, and Richter had discovered it (and its miraculous acoustics) during one of his previous explorations. His enthusiasm had induced Emy Erede to organize a series of concerts and the Decca recordings there. I personally don’t believe the recordings do justice to the “live” concerts. Apparently, during the recording sessions Richter also was not at all satisfied and it took all of Emy’s patience and tact to carry the project to its end!
Another anecdote comes to my mind because of its peculiar musical slant. It was a remark the Maestro made after playing an all-Schumann program which had included the “Paganini Études”. Again I was called during intermission, which immediately distressed me because of its usual implications. Instead he was smiling and with the expression which he usually assumed when saying something he knew to be original for me, said: “I love these Études because they are so Italian! And you know, Schumann is never Italian; he’s always so German”.
He also loved to pose musical questions to me “out of the blue”; especially abstruse and difficult ones! Once he suddenly asked me if I had the score of Hans Pfitzner’s Opera “Palestrina”. I gazed and said Noooo! He immediately pointed his index finger and said, “Why it’s the only Opera that talks about a musician: INVESTIGATE!” When I saw the score, the mere bulk of it scared me away and upon our next meeting I confessed my cowardice to him. He had a great laugh! (I think he did it on purpose). I have since heard the Opera several times: it’s lengthy but very, very beautiful and interesting. "
Transl. by L.B.A. from "Sviatoslav Richter in Liguria: 1962 - 1992", Concerti e Ricordi personali, by Guido Sarpero and Lidia Baldecchi Arcuri. Edit. C.G.
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