Ms. Grimaud, did you feel connected to the piano from the very first times that you played it?
Definitely. My parents had been looking for an extracurricular activity for me, because I seemed to be unfulfilled in school. They tried sports, dance, all sorts, and the last option was music. When I was seven they took me to a music exposure class where there was a teacher who was playing simple melodies on the piano and having kids sing along. She had an upright piano, and that’s where I tried to play it for the first time. At the end of the hour, when my father picked me up, she said, “I think she's gifted for music. It would be a good idea to get her started on the piano.” Later I took piano lessons with an older lady in Aix-en-Provence, and from then on, I was captivated. I remember it clearly as this pivotal point, I had the feeling that I’d made an encounter that was going to shape the rest of my life.
Did your parents also sense that this was an important encounter?
That was a bit more gradual. My teacher said to my parents that for anything serious to happen, I would have to have an instrument at home to practice with in between lessons. I think my parents were a little skeptical, but when it seemed to stick beyond the novelty aspect, my dad rented a little upright piano and that's how I began. My life was never the same after that. It captured my imagination, my attention… I think I must have instinctively felt that I wouldn't have enough of a lifetime to get to the bottom of this instrument. I couldn't let go of anything once I was interested in it.
“I fell in love with the sustain pedal, because for me, it was a way to just keep the sound going and not let it escape.”
What was it that captivated you so much? Was it the sound? The touch?
Both! The resonance of the sound, and then that tactile quality, of course, because I quickly realized the different ways your touch can change the sound. If you just push the key down vertically, or if you pull with the flesh of the finger towards you, or if you engage your shoulders or your forearms or your wrists… It felt so physical, which was satisfying. I fell in love with the sustain pedal. I'm still known as a bit of a lead foot when it comes to the pedal because for me, it was a way to just keep the sound going and not let it escape.
It seems to me that you find solace in the sound, and invite your audience to do the same.
I like that word, “solace,” because yes, I do find comfort in the focus and the craftsmanship aspect of working with this instrument. The more you do that, the more you increase your odds of something really artistic taking place. For example, a goal of mine when I'm playing a public performance is a moment of communion. It’s to do with harmony, equilibrium, something that is never really fully attained because it’s very ephemeral. And a lot of things have to come together for this to happen — the acoustics, the instrument, the ambience in the hall, the audience’s energy, your own mental and emotional and physical makeup on that day… I believe that does affect you on a cellular level. That's really what I'm after, and what I value above all else, even though it's not going to last. It's about that moment when time stops.
Is there pressure on you to provide that moment of harmony every time you perform?
Well, there’s so many things which are so fragile that they will disappear if you try to hold on to them. And so sometimes, if you want it too much, if you try too hard, you're going to be to be missing out on that element of vulnerability, which has to be fostered for something really special to take place. It’s not really something that you can make happen, so even though I want nothing more than for that to happen every time and as much of the time as possible, I haven't really found a recipe. All you can do is really increase your odds and make yourself receptive to whatever might happen. You have to go out there in a spirit of full disclosure, honesty, giving everything that you have at that moment, without restraint and without any sense of self preservation.
What about when you’re accompanied by an orchestra? Is it easier to feel that sense of achievement when you’re playing together with other musicians?
Oh, when you have a really beautiful evening together with an orchestra on stage, there's something extremely exhilarating about sharing that together. The trust, the shared freedom when you make music together, accessing that higher level… The nice thing is that as a musician, sometimes when you go to the city where an orchestra lives and performs, you play with them many times and so you can create connections that go beyond the stage. The synergy, the excitement. You are surfing on each other's wings.
Those kinds of true collaborations must be very precious for you.
Of course, the beautiful thing is that collaboration is a mutual choice and that always makes me happy, no question. For me, it’s not something to be taken for granted. My relationship with Rolex, for example, has lasted over 15 years now. To be part of that inner circle… It’s something that has been very stimulating for me, particularly as a solo pianist because it can be a lonely job. What makes the Rolex community so special is their commitment to the transmission of knowledge and their support of greater endeavors. That is, for me, essential. Their sponsorship of the arts is admirable enough, but their support in the field of ecology and the environment and a healthier planet… That is what makes me feel grateful that I'm part of it.
The alignment of values is really the root of great partnerships.
Exactly, issues like these can bring people together, and it's wonderful to be part of an organization like Rolex, who has those values at heart and stays true to them.
Does their recognition also give you more confidence in your artistic vision?
Every time someone trusts you, it propels you to new levels. It’s just a natural reaction because the last thing you want to do is disappoint them. And so every action you choose going forward is something that is more far-reaching. And as grateful as I am for what I do, and as much as I realize it is an absolute privilege, I sometimes have difficulty rejoicing after a solo show. I'm more the type of character that fixates on what could have been different, what could have been better, how to go about it next time. I rarely feel able to bask in the glow of a solo recital. And so to be worthy of this recognition and trust from Rolex, it’s a great honor. Feeling free to express myself… That’s the most you can ask for.
How else are you fueling your growth as a musician? Does it also have to do with exploring the music itself?
Yes, I'm pretty obsessive, and so I never like to leave well enough alone! The great classical masterpieces are really like sacred texts that you barely have enough of a lifetime to truly explore. There are so many layers of depth, it's not something that is over and done with, even after a beautifully balanced performance where everything worked as it should. There's always more to it. I don't usually like to go into it from a place of, “Well, you know, let's play from what's already acquired.” I often like to dismantle the piece, take it apart, like a car mechanic, literally take everything apart and then choose to put it back together a certain way. It’s a deliberate act. It’s not the same as what I did last time, it’s not what muscle memory leads me towards. Because with interpretation, there's so many different options, and they're all really equally valid. There's so many different things you can do, you can honor a piece in many different ways. And that's what makes these interpretations of a piece so beautiful and so lovable.
“It’s about time stopping during that fraction of a second where this emotion is felt.”
The opera singer and fellow Rolex testimonee Benjamin Bernheim describes interpreting music in different colors, singing with a different palette.
Right, there’s an infinite amount of variation so I have never found it difficult to keep that freshness. And it really is incredible to be able to find this level of interest and renewed curiosity about something that you know — but you never know it quite as well as you think.
You’ve said that those great masterpieces of classical music, like those by Brahms and Bach, resonate with you due to their great expressive complexity, their pure expression of the soul. Is that something you are striving to achieve in your own playing?
Yes, absolutely. If not for that, then what else? Because otherwise it’s just about the Olympic aspect of the performance in terms of it being nicely packaged and effective and convincing and impressive. All of this is wonderful already. It can be really exhilarating to witness someone in the act of being in total control of their instrument. But I do think that in the best of cases, it's more about time stopping during that fraction of a second where this emotion is felt; where you just hold your breath and something happens which is not from this world. And for me, there have been quite a few moments where I feel blessed to say that this has taken place, where words are superfluous, where it seems as if you're outside of your body and into something that is above or beyond this immediate world that we live in. It reminds me why I do this.
Does your work as a wildlife conservationist also create those divine, out of body emotions for you?
It’s a cause that is very, very important for me. My work with wolves has definitely given me strength. Working with animals in general is such a gift, because it reminds you to live in the moment. You interact with them on their terms, and it’s the same kind of attention and concentration you need when you work on a piece of music. You have to be one hundred percent there; physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. That is the only way. It’s easy to get self-absorbed, but working with animals really reminds you that there’s a bigger world out there, how to navigate it, how to protect it for future generations. And in my opinion, there are many, many different ways to go about it. And that is perhaps the greatest lesson of all: everyone can choose how they want to give back. But giving back is a must.