Beethoven’s “Hammerklavier” Sonata at The Kennedy Center; pianist Chaeyoung Park wrangles the beast in her DC debut
There’s something quite brutal about a solo piano recital. The instrument’s 200+ strings hold over 20 tons of cumulative tension, pitted against a cast iron frame. This potential energy is most palpable in the moments just before the pianist emerges from the wings. The Steinway Model D sits center stage as a latent beast, the concert hall a coliseum full of elders with their expectations and judgements at the ready. Maybe I’m guilty of letting my own naked concerto stress dreams cloud my experience, but every time a pianist programs Beethoven’s “Hammerklavier” Sonata, a slight David and Goliath vibe enters the mix. From the austere technical parameters of Debussy’s études to the feral counterpoint of the “Hammerklavier,” on Sunday afternoon at The Kennedy Center, pianist Chaeyoung Park guided the audience through an adversarial program with creativity and abandon. Kudos to Daniel Kellogg, president of Young Concert Artists, who gave a warm and informative introduction to the artist and program.
Manuscript of Debussy’s Étude, pour les cinq doigts d'après Monsieur Czerny
It’s been a very long time since I’ve heard Debussy’s Études featured prominently on a recital program. Park’s choice to open with an out-of-order handful of the Études was refreshing, a mouth-watering relish tray of textures to prime the senses for the two larger works to follow. Debussy composed the two books of Études in 1915, shortly after contributing to an edition of Chopin Études for Durand, an authoritative French publishing house. Like those of Chopin, Debussy’s studies require the pianist to build crystalline structures of sound while both hands are multitasking and stretched in the most awkward positions. The first Étude is pour les cinq doigts d'après Monsieur Czerny (for five fingers and after the Austrian composer/pianist, Carl Czerny, who was also a student of Beethoven). Chaeyoung Park’s deadpan delivery of the short piece’s lazy stepwise monotony was sharply contrasted by rebellious dissonant interjections, like an impatient student eager to skip their exercises and jump full-speed into the fun stuff. Said student gets their way in the end as the piece swirls wildly into a snide fortissimo C Major chord. Park’s impossibly quick mind and equally adept fingers proved the perfect match for Debussy’s mercurial late style.
Albrecht Dürer's "Study of Three Hands"
In pour les huit doigts (for eight fingers), Debussy asks the pianist to avoid using their thumbs. His direction gives a nod to the paintbrush lightness of early French keyboard technique. Modern pianists must grapple with the practicality of this limitation on a Steinway grand. Owing to the heavy action of the modern piano, strategic use of the weighty inner part of the hand is crucial to navigating the instrument. I remember bringing this Étude to my teacher in college. Without thinking twice, I proudly used both thumbs throughout. My teacher swiftly told me to go back to the practice room and rework the piece without thumbs, as was intended by the composer. Of course, I followed the orders, but I could never shake the feeling that I liked my thumb version better. Chaeyoung Park made her statement, deploying both thumbs and using just a touch of pedal to levitate fistfuls of thirty-second notes, which twisted and turned like leaves on a strong breeze. Pour les sixtes (for sixths) is the most obvious ode to Chopin, particularly his Barcarolle and D-flat Major Étude. Park used a radically spare amount of pedal in the fiendishly difficult, quiet repeated sixth passages. Her willingness to take timbral risks gave rise to distinct characters in the music à la Commedia dell’arte. Overall, Park played with superhuman clarity, which would have pleased Debussy, who hated being lumped in with so-called “impressionist” composers.
Beethoven’s 1817 Broadwood Fortepiano in the Hungarian National Museum
From the initial death-defying left-hand leap, in his “Hammerklavier” Sonata, Beethoven dares the pianist to push beyond physical and emotional limits. The appearance of this piece on a program can seem like a flag that the pianist in the ring is about to accomplish some kind of athletic feat. Before her rendering of the monster work, Chaeyoung Park shared that every time she performs the “Hammerklavier,” she learns something new about herself as an artist and as a human being. Her remarks set the tone for a blistering yet vulnerable performance of Beethoven’s most jaw-dropping piano sonata. The first thing I noticed about her interpretation was her observance of the composer’s perilously speedy metronome markings. Most pianists would sooner engage in scholarly debate about the disrepair of Beethoven’s metronomes before attempting to execute the first movement at the given half note = 138. The artist called to mind the growling bass register of earlier instruments by observing Beethoven’s blurry pedal markings, which often sustain through chromatic chord changes, creating a cosmic haze of sound. Park’s most pedal-laden playing of the afternoon was in the “Hammerklavier,” a choice that excited me more than it should and one that allowed her to unleash the full resonance of the instrument, particularly in the fugal finale.
Translated by Stanley Appelbaum
Among the myriad heart-stopping moments in Park’s program, the most memorable was when she generously returned to the stage to play an encore of Dame Myra Hess’ transcription of Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” from Cantata BWV 147. Every pianist has a piece that feels like home. Sometimes, the home piece is used to get to know a new instrument before an important performance, like cooking your favorite recipe for a new friend. Other times, it’s played without a single person in earshot. Chaeyoung Park’s reading of Hess’ transcription was reverent and deeply personal. It transported me to a place of gratitude—for this art form, for being human, and for the artist, who shared a part of her soul so we could all share an experience.
