Pianist Han brings insight and intelligence to connoisseur program
Pianist Jimin Han’s recital Sunday evening in Zankel Hall was a refreshing reminder that there is more than one way to play the instrument.
Of course, every pianist’s fingers press the keys, but not everyone does that the same way. On a concert scene where sonic power has become a predominant quality, Han plays with understated but compelling musical intelligence. Her hallmarks are a light touch that opens up the form and structure of the music and adds a warm glow, thoughtful and quietly confident.
The program reflected her smart playing and focused passion. It was an uncommon collection of pianistic music, pieces that took advantage of what the instrument can do and challenged the skill and thinking of the musician. And the program was a connoisseur’s selection, nothing famous from the 19th century, not the most frequently heard composers, but terrific ones. That meant music by Samuel Barber, Aaron Jay Kernis, and Paul Schoenfield before intermission, and after, three Korean composers: Bumki Kim, Heejung Park, and Unsuk Chin.
Han opened with two Barber works, Ballade, Op. 46, and Nocturne, Op. 31. The “big” name on the program, Barber’s reputation somehow doesn’t translate into piano performances, and his most well-known keyboard work is Souvenirs. These are excellent pieces, though, hinting at roots in Schumann and Chopin while absolutely belonging to the world of 20th-century American music. Han followed the Ballade’s shifts from delicate lyricism to turmoil and back, her internal balance of expression and attention to form was ideal for this. Without any heavy statement, she revealed the narrative in the music.
The Nocturne is a gorgeous little work; it sounds like someone dancing with the growing dusk, and Han’s playing was lovely. It was followed perfectly by Kernis’ “Lullaby” from his Before Sleep and Dreams suite. As Barber stretched and turned, Kernis drifted into repose over an insistent obstinate. Han coordinated these lines with care, and as darkness settled over the middle section, she conveyed but held back the lingering nightmares.
She finished the first half with three selections from Schoenfield’s Pecadilloes: Allemande, Fughetto, and Waltz. Schoenfield, who died this past April, was a concert pianist and wrote beautifully for the instrument—his pieces have the sound of a love for how the piano sounds and what it can do. The Allemande was a vibrant opener, and Han played the fantastic Fughetto, a kind of barrelhouse classical piece, with verve, and pressed the dazzling modernism of the Waltz.
Kim’s The Wave was a clear, smart piece of modern impressionism, a depiction of waves and their turmoil that moved from the representative to the abstract and back again. While the concept may be clichéd, the music had an attractive sincerity, another fine fit for Han’s musical personality. That was the same with Park’s musical narrative, The Little Blue Bird Dance Suite. The music was based on a Korean folksong that tells the story of a peasant revolution in the late 19th century, this piece following the short life and sad death of a baby bluebird.
The piece had the qualities of both children’s and ballet music, with depictions of fluttering wings in little trills, and spry rhythms as the bird flew, then was chased by a hunter. Han give this path from naïveté to tragedy a smooth, logical flow, and Park joined her on stage for grateful bows.
The finale was Chin’s six Piano Etudes. These superb and pianistically demanding works challenge the pianist in both bravura ways—range, speed, coordination—as well as in the subtle ones of closely woven and twisting fingering, texture, and clarity. Some of these, like the second, “Sequenzen,” and the third, “Scherzo ad libitum,” have a debt to Ligeti’s Etudes and pose the same difficulties of flowing complexity spread all over the keyboard. Others, like the opening “in C” and the finale “Grains” need just as much, if not more, thinking as physical agility.
Han’s playing was deeply impressive. There was a real measure of understanding here. Music that requires so much focus and physical skill can turn the details of performance into sheer effort, but Han still held onto a great balance of force and care. She kept on the side of letting all the notes work together, rather than just showing what her hands can do, and one heard how fine were both the composing and her musicality.
Han came out for an encore, the “Hesitation Tango” from Souvenirs. While not as well played as the rest of the concert—she seemed understandably drained from the Etudes—it was a fitting way to wrap up a stimulating evening.
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