A Talk with Josef Hofmann (Part I)

INSPIRATION IN PIANO PLAYING

Americans naturally feel a peculiar interest in the art of Josef Hofmann, for they have seen it grow and develop from the wonder child of ten to the matured artist, who stands to-day on the mountain height of his profession. There must be thousands in this country who remember the marvelous exhibition of piano playing offered by the little Polish boy during the season of 1888, when, as a wonderful child prodigy, he was brought over to make his first tour of America.

He was such a little fellow, with such a serious face, as he came upon the stage in his simple sailor suit and climbed on to the piano stool. But we soon forgot all else, after the orchestral prelude, when he began to play. Ah, then it was no longer a tiny child, in a blue sailor suit; it was a man, who grappled with those handfuls of notes and flung them out into space with such sureness and freedom.

That powerful, singing tone did not belong to the puny strength of a child of ten. Neither did that sympathetic reading of the score, that understanding of the meaning of the music. No human power could have taught him these things ; it was inborn genius. No wonder people went wild with excitement and split their gloves in vociferous applause.

It was almost beyond belief. The climax came when this mite of a boy began to improvise on a theme handed up to him by chance from any one in the audience. Then his powers were tested and not found wanting. People shook their heads and said such precocity could not mature; that the lad would probably never be heard from in the future. In this they were vastly mistaken. The child prodigy retired from the footlights and spent seven or eight years in close study. Then he emerged into the light and returned to us a full-fledged artist. But that was not the end.

Josef Hofmann was never content to stand still; it was only a milestone in his upward flight. He has always been at work, always progressing, never content with present attainments. Each year we have watched his growth, have felt his art become finer, more expressive, more subtle, until at the present moment it seems wellnigh perfect. Yet the artist does not take this view.

"There are still difficulties I have not yet overcome, limitations beyond which I have not passed. I have not yet all the power I desire, nor always the ability to express every shade of emotion I wish to portray. There is still much I hope to accomplish in the expression
of emotion and inspiration in piano playing."

Admissions like these, coming from the lips of such a musician, are further proofs of the humility of the truly great artist. Mr. Hofmann, in spite of pressing concert engagements, permitted me to come and talk over with him some of the phases of pianistic art. I found him in his apartments overlooking the park. A fluffy white poodle took great interest in the entrance of the visitor, but was cautioned by his master, who held up a warning fore finger, "not to be a bore."

"You will meet my family by degrees," remarked the artist, smiling: "first my dog, then Mrs. Hofmann (who entered later) and my little daughter, Josepha." This little girl of nine has marked ability along artistic lines, and is already doing creditable sketches in water color.

We spoke first of the little Polish boy, who aroused such a furore in America at the age of ten.

"That was in '88," said Mr. Hofmann. "At that time I played the Mendelssohn Concerto in G minor, also his Capriccio, and the Beethoven
Concertos in C major and C minor."

"Do not forget the improvising, which seemed so marvelous to us then."

"Oh, yes, I improvised, of course."

"Surely one who has such a perfect technic, who has solved every technical problem, can accomplish all one desires in interpretation."

"It goes without saying that an artist inthese days must have a great technic: that is where piano playing really begins. But I do not consider that I yet possess a perfect technic, for I still have limitations. The artist, however, must allow the public to guess his limitations. There is as much art in choosing the right kind of compositions as in playing them. There are still some pieces I would not attempt; some that require more power, for instance, than I now have. The player should never urge his force to the limit ; he must always keep something in reserve. If the tone is at its utmost capacity of production, it will sound hard; there must always be some reserve power back of it. Rubinstein was capable of immense power, for he had a very heavy hand and arm. His fifth finger was as thick as my thumb think of it! Then his fingers were square on the ends, with cushions on them. It was a wonderful hand, and very large besides. Yet with all his power, one felt he had more in reserve."

TECHNIC STUDY

"I do no technical work outside of the composition, for the reason that I find plenty of technic to work on in the piece itself. Every passage that presents the least difficulty is studied in minute detail, with well raised fingers, clear distinct touch, always taking care to put the finger down exactly in the middle of each key, not on the side of it. The piece is studied with every kind of touch, tempo and dynamics studied till the player has command of every possible variety of tone, touch and degree of power or delicacy. When all these things are under control, he is ready to interpret the composition."

IDEAL INTERPRETATION

"I repeat that only when the player has control of the means, has he the true freedom to clearly and adequately express himself. Then his interpretation takes on the nature of an improvisation."

"There are many circumstances which influence the artist's interpretation. His prevailing mood at the moment, the piano, the mental quality of the audience, the acoustics of the space he has to fill, and so on. I play very differently in the concert hall from what I do at home in my study. When before an audience, I must take into account all the things I have mentioned. If I am to fill Carnegie Hall, my scale of dynamics is quite different from the one I use in a smaller space. There must likewise be corresponding differences in touch and tone color."

"You speak of the spiritual side of piano interpretation. To bring out that side surely depends on the absolute freedom and untrammeled condition, both mentally and physically, which one is in."

"I can affirm, therefore, that I do not know, beforehand, how I shall be able to play the piece, until I have tried the space, the piano, the hearers and myself. I may be able to control every point, and to express myself with perfect freedom, and then I may not. There are times when it seems I have nothing to say. The notes of the piece are there, an inanimate skeleton. It is like a dinner table, daintily laid out, where the viands are wanting, and the listener goes away unfed."

TWO KINDS OF PIANISTS

"As I see it, there are two kinds of pianists. The more numerous sort may master every note, finger mark and sign of expression with commendable exactness; everything is thought out in the privacy of the studio. When they come before an audience they merely transfer this conception to the larger space, playing just as they would at home. They always try to play the piece in precisely the same way."

"I cannot believe this is the only way. I cannot do it myself and my master Rubinstein never did so. He never played a piece just as he had played it before ; I cannot do this either."

"The other kind of artist, and their number is small, I admit, never play the piece twice in just the same way. They strive for the control which gives absolute freedom of expression. They realize how many forces react on the artist upon the platform even the temperature! If I am playing the Appassionata Sonata on a sultry day, the passion may be somewhat milder than it would be if the temperature were more bracing."

"It is of course necessary to plan a model in the studio, though the performance in public may differ from it, as it admits certain elements of improvisation. This results in a higher artistic mastery, because it is within certain limits free, spontaneous, and personal. This freedom of interpretation presupposes the artist's mind and taste to be so well trained as to warrant him in relying on the inspiration of the moment. But back of it all must be his logical plan of action. I think I can say I belong to this small class of pianists who yield to the inspiration of the moment and improvise the composition at the piano."

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