The Slovenian pianist Dubravka Tomšič has long had a reputation of being among the finest pianists alive today. Yet she was not well-known in the Western world until the collapse of the Communist bloc, though she was among the few from then-Yugoslavia who studied at the Juilliard School, while still a teenager. She was also the first student of the inimitable Artur Rubinstein, who taught her for two years.
Tomšič has enjoyed a decades-long reputation not only as a pianist but also as a teacher and as a judge at major competitions. Only since 1989 has she been traveling the world as a pianist, performing regularly in major cities, including San Francisco, every few years.
During her latest visit, to San Francisco and Saratoga (where I saw her), she performed two Beethoven sonatas and all four ballades by Chopin.
Tomšič dispatched two of the most programmatic sonatas by Beethoven: the “Tempest Sonata,” Op. 31, No. 2, and “Les Adieux” Sonata, Op. 81a. Although Beethoven himself detested such subtitles like “Moonlight,” which were usually given by publishers to increase sales, Beethoven himself inscribed the word Lebewohl (Farewell) above the opening horn fifths; that sonata was dedicated to the composer’s close friend Archduke Rudolph, whom Napoléon had forced to leave Vienna.
In both sonatas, Tomšič displayed sternly disciplined tempos, laying down a concrete foundation on which she projected the lyrical lines and counterpoints. Her rigorous, sparing use of the sustain pedal revealed every detail contained in the score, while her clear delineation of layers (including the inner voices) helped create an illusion of orchestra sound. In the second movement of “Tempest,” the sounds of timpani and horns were clearly presented. Her trills and ornamentations were diamond-clear and shone like bright stars, adding sparkles to the music. She also used an extremely wide range of dynamics, from whisperlike pianissimos to fortissimos, but she never let the sound be harsh or out of context. It was all about determined, measured control.
Man on the Verge
The sonatas, completed in 1802 and 1810, respectively, were on the verge of plunging into the Romantic period from the Classical. There are temptations to let the emotions flow, with blended colors through generous use of pedals, particularly in the third movement of each. However, Tomšič only hinted at the direction toward Romanticism, despite indulging listeners in long sustains of the notes, and also creating tension in many of the surprises that Beethoven gave us. Even with such moments, Tomšič always reminded us that the music was still of the Classical period, and held the structure together by her granitelike discipline. Even the concluding chords of “Les Adieux,” after the brightly radiant cascade of octave tremolos, were modest and restrained, avoiding the temptation to end the piece explosively.
The same disciplined style was applied to the second part of the program, consisting of the four Ballades by Chopin, composed between 1833 and 1842. Here, the effect was not as successful, for the extravagantly emotional aspects of the music were largely absent. The troubled heart never beats steadily, and undulating tensions created through palpitations were lacking. While listening to these Ballades, I wanted to embark on an emotional journey, perhaps ending up in a pool of tears. Instead, I felt somewhat betrayed, with emotional phrases being placed in boxes and the lyrical lines, though clear and transparent, lacking the organic shapes that I sought in the sculpture. Emotions are a messy business, after all.
At recital’s end, the delighted Saratoga audience showed its appreciation with a standing ovation and was rewarded with three delightful encores that showed off the dexterity and clarity of voice Tomšič possesses: Liszt’s Valse oubliée, No. 1; Chopin’s “Minute” Waltz; and Liszt’s “Gnomenreigen” from Deux Études de concert.