Jan Jiracek von Arnim, who was appointed as the mdw’s youngest-ever professor of piano in 2001 and assumed artistic directorship of the International Beethoven Piano Competition Vienna in 2011, talks about proper breathing, dancing lessons’ beneficial impact on music-making, and his ambivalent stance toward competitiveness in the arts.
The International Beethoven Piano Competition has been held at the mdw every four years since 1961, with this year set to witness its 17th edition. Allow me to begin with a personal question: If you had a chance to speak with this competition’s namesake, what would you want to know from him?
Jan Jiracek von Arnim (JJA): There’d be a lot! But I’d be most interested in asking him about his sometimes mysterious tempo markings. To this day, there are a few metronome numbers that we haven’t really been able to understand. One theory out there holds that either his metronome malfunctioned or he read it wrong. And there’s also an interesting report about how a score once got lost en route to London, whereupon Beethoven resent it with entirely different tempo indications. So that would be really interesting. But even so, I’m someone who really likes to immerse himself in letters and other documents. And for this reason, Beethoven already speaks to me in his own words rather than just through his scores—either by way of texts he wrote or through things like the reports left to posterity by people including his student Carl Czerny.
Regardless of how well one knows the sources: To what extent can Beethoven’s actual intentions can be discerned? There is, of course, that continuous teacher-to-student tradition that extends into the present, particularly in Vienna. But things have also developed over the generations. So how close to him can one actually get in an interpretational sense?
JJA: I like comparing that to mountain-climbing. You don’t actually conquer a mountain; when you reach the summit, it’s only ever as a visitor. And when I engage with Beethoven’s music as a performer, it’s much the same: I can attempt to get close, to shine a spotlight on it and feel it. But I always tell my students that they also need to look at facsimiles of the composer’s own notation. At the mdw, one huge advantage we have is how very close we are to the primary sources—and one job of ours as teachers is to make clear how we have to return to those over and over again.
Doesn’t that also entail paying some attention to the question of just what instruments were available to Beethoven?
JJA: Absolutely! It’s unbelievably instructive to do your own research on how the instruments to which he had access sounded. At the Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe Hamburg, there’s a Brodmann fortepiano from 1815. If you use it to play the so-called Moonlight Sonata, you’ll notice when you jump to its lowest key in the fast third movement how there’s this sharp metal ornament positioned directly next to that key. You’d feel a bit scared going truly all-out on that note—and that’s the kind of thing you’ll only learn by playing on such an instrument. Another aspect is the clacking sounds produced by the hammers, which become something almost like a stylistic device in this movement. You don’t get those on a modern piano, of course, and the true effect of Beethoven’s pedalling is also something that can only be realised on an old instrument.
You initially mentioned tempo. Czerny reports that tempo was the first aspect that Beethoven would want to know about following a performance. Does a performer hit upon the “right” solutions here more through intuition or more through historical sources?
JJA: My mother was an organist and also directed church choirs, so my original musical home is in sacred music—for which reason I find pulse and breath very central. You can’t lead a singing congregation without taking that into account. So whenever I ask myself what tempo is the right one, I’ll typically start from the idea of a singer’s breath or a violinist’s bow.
What aspect, apart from that, is most important to you in interpreting Beethoven’s music?
JJA: Clear lines! I notice quite a lot, particularly when teaching abroad, how some pick-up notes or ornaments will often get turned into these big expressive effects and outbursts of subjective emotionality that are rather inappropriate. Chopin said: “La dernière chose, c’est la simplicité.” [Simplicity is the highest goal.] And in Beethoven’s music, as well, it’s necessary to deal closely with every figure—but you then have to let go and allow things to flow. That’s ultimately the name of the game.
What do you tell students to do in order to achieve this simplicity based on exacting work?
JJA: I’ll often suggest they go to a Viennese dancing school. If you learn how a waltz has to swing, that knowledge can do a huge amount for your playing. I also advise them to do lots of singing, perhaps as part of a choir, as well as to study songs—including folk songs, which were of great importance up to the Second Viennese School.
What gets paid special attention at the Beethoven Competition? And what do contestants need to bring to the table?
JJA: Showy effects and virtuosic excesses won’t get you very far with us. It’s not about faster, higher, farther. And I’d add, here: I’m familiar with lots of competitions, I’ve won a few myself, and I’m on lots of juries. Every competition is just a snapshot. Nobody can tell me that a person who won a first prize somewhere in 1973 is automatically the best forever. I’ve always been critical of what goes on in this respect, but you do have to look closely and be discerning. There are some competitions—and their existence probably is justified—that are marketing-oriented from the get-go and make that clear to their juries. In such cases, the point is to find somebody who can serve as a mascot for the event and will go on to have a big career in terms of CDs, media, and so on.
And then you have events that are after something else, which is a category in which I’d include the Beethoven Competition. We view our event as more of a festival and define ourselves as a podium where the competitors can introduce themselves and possibly end up playing in the Musikverein’s Golden Hall—which is something many musicians dream of. We also concentrate exclusively on Beethoven’s works for piano, which is something no other competition does. It is, of course, a unique tradition and a special obligation that we have here in Vienna, and we’re very happy about how the mdw has always held true to us.
What’s your present-day take on your own experiences playing in competitions? And how have your wins—like at the Cliburn Competition in 1997—ended up affecting your career?
JJA: I’m still grateful for those experiences, despite how the headline of first interview I gave following the Cliburn Competition read: “I hate competitions.” I view it as a mixed bag. Rankings in music are questionable to begin with—but in that kind of context, at least, there’s no better way. Still, I view the major benefit of a competition—and this is also what I tell my students—as lying in the necessary preparation and in thinking about who you are as an artist and how to best present yourself. Cliburn was a great experience for me, and I still maintain friendly contact with around ten of the talents from back then. That win—along with others, like at the Busoni Competition—did help a great deal, of course, seeing as it opened certain doors. I was able to give my Viennese debut at the Konzerthaus, and Vienna just is a special place. After those competition wins, I did a whole lot of concertising—which was great, but it ultimately moved me to think about whether I really wanted to end up spending my life living in hotels. And that wasn’t what I wanted to do long term, so I’m now very happy teaching at the mdw and internationally while being able to deliberately select what concerts I play. In this respect, I’ve managed to strike a balance that works well for me.
Veranstaltungstipp:
17. Internationaler Beethoven Klavierwettbewerb Wien
Finale: 24. Mai, 14.30 Uhr Musikverein Wien, Großer Saal
Tickets: musikverein.at
