It was a triumph of determination, technique and sensitivity. That was how Artas Balakauskas won kudos from the audience for his interpretation and execution of Prokofiev's Piano Sonata No. 8, in a recital performed last Sunday at the Goethe Institute.
When he lifted his fingers off the keyboard in the last movement of the work, he had triumphed by the superiority of his art and strength of mind. The recurring triplets in the bass, signifying the tenaciousness of danger, were appropriately dark. The fighting between protagonists in the treble above kept listeners alert.
The demands of the last movement, once described as "a killer", indeed were exacting. He had to switch speed and weight dramatically from a fast vivace to a relentless allegro ben marcato then back again to vivace.
The first movement, though quite different in mood, called for similar versatility, starting with a yearning, proceeding to fury that was defiantly dissonant, before returning to another slow-fast coupling. The second movement heard the pianist enjoying the pulse of minuet, the genteel swaying infectious to listeners fond of dancing .
In terms of the largeness of the work, the moments of anguish and conflict, and the significance given to the dance, the sonata had something of the orchestral music Prokofiev set to the ballet Romeo and Juliet based on Shakespeare's tragedy.
Listeners could not go home singing the Prokofiev sonata as some could to the ballet music but they had been inspired by Balakauskas' courage and triumph.
If the sonata was something of a beast, Scriabin's 24 Preludes Op. 11 were a beauty. Though dreams were pre-eminent, the preludes also carried moments of sober recollection and rage.
Perceptively, Balakauskas brought home an important novelty of Scriabin, overturning the convention about the basic difference between major and minor keys. Hence we heard as much sadness in the preludes written in major keys as in the minor keys, some even more so.
Chopin hovered over the preludes in the structure of the overall work, and in the brevity of each piece. The Pole was also there in mood, notably the preludes in B minor and F-sharp minor. But Scriabin's preludes showed that he had developed his own language, and sonorities.
Balakauskas persuaded the Scriabin preludes to sing, having understood the language of the master and his intentions. He also impressed listeners with the colours the then-new sonorities paint, as well as with the mood and momentum of each piece. The challenge of playing through the preludes was to switch from major to minor keys, changing textures, colours and mood.
The two preludes placed close to the middle of the opus _ in E-flat minor and D-flat major _ might have been the most memorable as stunning contrasts. The first was fast and furious, the second at peace. Also unforgettable was the opening prelude in C major, which was poetry.
Balakauskas deserves plaudits for presenting an unusual programme, and taking on a difficult task. Prokofiev's eighth sonata has been rarely heard in Bangkok, and this reviewer does not remember anyone performing all these Scriabin etudes in toto.
Balakauskas should do more to open up the Russian and Eastern European repertoire to his listeners in Bangkok, without however abandoning the works he loves. Endowed with the round tones he learned from the Tchaikovsky Moscow Conservatory of Music, and the deft finger technique he acquired from further studies at the Ecole Normale in Paris, he is well equipped to do so.
Expert in voicing, articulation and interpretation, this pianist gave a performance that was polished and passionate. He should be encouraged to perform more.
