The Art of the Violin
There is no DVD called “The Art of the Viola.” (Insert viola jokes here.) But there is one called “The Art of the Violin,” and watching it is heartbreaking. This is not news (the DVD came out five years ago), and there is nothing to link to here — this is about sound and memory.
There's footage of Elman, Kreisler, Ysaye, Thibaud, Milstein, Heifetz, Stern, and Menuhin, as well as others. And there are stories of prodigies who died too young and whose names are unfamiliar to us. Itzhak Perlman and Hilary Hahn comment on the clips, Perlman evoking over and over again with narrowed eyes and thumb-pressed-against-finger fine gestures what the sound of these players meant to him. Hahn is (still is — and she's a blogger) completely American and straightforward.
Both Perlman and Hahn talk about sound and character — a lot. Everything is varied and intentional for these players. Heifetz made other violinists want to give up, with his composed demeanor, impeccable left hand, and fast-sweeping bow. Menuhin was the most natural player anyone had ever seen, and there are wonderful clips of him as a pre-teenager in San Francisco. Kreisler stands on the deck of an ocean liner, legendary and craggy. Milstein fiddled and experimented, never stopping, like a watchmaker, looking for the perfect fingering that would make everything clear.
The key thing, the thing to remember, is that each of these guys sounded entirely just like himself. You could tell who was playing without hearing the name. Like paintstrokes or tricks of words, each one of these violinists had a musical personality that was instantly identifiable to the people who listened.
I remember seeing Menuhin give a master class on the Bach Chaconne. As he was playing, he stopped and bowed. He said, “I bow because this moment is the center of this great work.” And then he slowly took up his violin again and played, sounding only like himself.