Andrey Gugnin, pianist

Who or what inspired you to pursue a career in music and who or what have been the most important influences on your musical life and career?

I think the music itself does and is. Let me elaborate.The process of either playing onstage or practising (listening to a lesser extent) has been, for me, a continuous and amusing source of new knowledge — knowledge in a broad, abstract sense, something that makes your consciousness expand. To be honest, it’s hardly possible to describe accurately the ineffable quality of this sensation. Sometimes, just sitting at home and fully absorbed in practice, after some time I feel I’ve learned something truly new about myself and the world, and the music, for that sake, seems like a pretext for this process of learning. Going further, and making perhaps a rather bold generalisation and simplification, I think that particular quality of endless epistemological capacity might be a valid criterion to separate art (not just music) from craft. 

What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far?

In many ways, it’s the nagging thought that you could do better, which is a direct descendant of vanity and the desire to be liked. In other words, staying pure and alert to what you feel — not to what you imagine others would want to feel. Resetting yourself to that prime state of wonder and openness, and maintaining firm discipline in practising. 

Of which performances/recordings are you most proud?

I’m quite satisfied with my first album, recorded for Hyperion Records with an all-Shostakovich programme—both sonatas and the 24 preludes. I’m delighted it will be released on vinyl this September (if I must occasionally feed the monster of vanity inside, let it be with that sort of thing). Fancy, huh?! I’m also pleased with my latest recording, coming out this September with exactly the programme I’m playing at the Oxford Piano Festival—ballet suites from Stravinsky and Tchaikovsky. 

Which particular works/composers do you think you perform best?

I’d say Russian music (inevitably): Shostakovich, Prokofiev, Rachmaninov… Stravinsky and Tchaikovsky, of course (not to put a bit of extra pressure on myself, knowing I’ll play them at the festival!). It’s generally easier to integrate the musical texture of Russian composers into my inner self so I can bring it back to life (which performing is, in a way — reviving the dead symbols written on paper). In the end, though, it’s all about that integration. Sometimes it takes longer, but once the process is complete and the musical transplant isn’t rejected, it’s ready to re-live with you, no matter who the composer is or what the piece may be. In practice, whatever I’m playing at the moment becomes extremely dear to me. Therefore it’s hard to say what I perform “better” since the music becomes part of my self-consciousness. It’s like trying to compare different facets of yourself. 

What do you do off stage that provides inspiration on stage?

That rising flow which appears (not always, sadly), when it feels as though it’s not you performing the music but music itself being performed by you — this is a truly astonishing feeling. Closely linked to that is the miraculous sensation of what comes out of the piano somehow exceeds not just your real-time prediction but anything you could have imagined. This exact experience of going-beyond, expanding the epistemological bubble I mentioned earlier. 

How do you make your repertoire choices from season to season?

Setting aside chamber music and orchestral works (where I’m mostly asked to play specific pieces), solo programming is a bit hectic. The piano repertoire is so vast and rich that choosing a particular programme can be puzzling (Imagine a kid in a candy store faced with an enormous array of sweets). Partly because of this, lately I tend to pick a single composer and build a mono-programme. Recently I played Liszt’s 12 Transcendental Études and B-minor Sonata. Similarly with Chopin, his 24 Études and his B-minor Sonata (it might seem like a lack of imagination, but I’d rather use my imagination inside the piece than outside by choosing it). 

Do you have a favourite concert venue to perform in and why?

Wigmore Hall, because I’ve never played there, hahaha! 

What do you feel needs to be done to grow classical music’s audiences?

I’m not sure anything specific needs to be done per se. I feel the percentage of people interested in the arts has been pretty stable for centuries. It’s just how it is. I’m a bit of a fatalist here. 

What is your most memorable concert experience?

There have been quite a few, but off the top of my head: Julian Rachlin performing Gubaidulina’s violin concerto with the Concertgebouw Orchestra and Klaus Mäkelä. It was magnificent. 

As a musician, what is your definition of success?

When the number of empty seats in the audience is less than the occupied ones. 

What advice would you give to young/aspiring musicians?

Consider your relationship with what your teacher tells you, the instructions he or she gives. It must be understood, you can’t take literally everything a teacher says. The moment something about music is spoken or shown, it becomes an inevitable reduction or even appear as a false insight into the ineffable (yes, I like this word) nature of it. For example, a teacher tells you you’re rushing at a certain spot and maybe even starts to tap the rhythm with a pencil. As a good, obedient student, you align the beats with the teacher’s tick-tock. Good boy/girl. You did it. But was it enough or, bigger question, did it make things better? In the worst case: 1. the teacher can’t say anything more (though, I bet, still having an itch of dissatisfaction) because the request was executed perfectly, 2. while the student now focuses on an external task, placing cell bars on a tender musical texture, he is moving away from that ineffable (yes) core of the music. Perhaps it wasn’t about rushing at all but about the deeper sense of pulsation — how to sync your inner existential flow with the music to make it live. Oh, well, agogic is often under-appreciated, being hidden in the shadow of the “bigger” task of hitting the right keys.  Additionally, you can never over-stress the importance of correct fingering. And, frankly, countless other things. It’s an endless list, an endless path. Yet it’s also fun, joyful, and adventurous. That’s not to be forgotten too. 

What’s the one thing in the music industry we’re not talking about that you think we should be?

It is discussed, yet still… Funding and government support for the arts—and classical music in particular—must be much higher. Although the arts are almost never profitable, they should be recognised, I believe, as the pinnacle or front line of human civilisation (at least Western civilisation), which indirectly pushes it forward. 

What’s next? Where would you like to be in 10 years?

I have several recording projects coming later this year and next, which I’m eager for. Also new programmes to learn, new places to visit, new flights to track… And I love flying! I “collect” unusual trips like Manila–Melbourne, Geneva–Townsville, Osaka–Bilbao… They make me tremble with excitement, despite my naughty yet loyal travel companion—jet lag. Ten years from now, I’d like to be alive, healthy, rich, and happy. 

What is your present state of mind?

Whimsical and exhausted.

Andrey Gugnin appears at this year’s Oxford Piano Festival on 31st July. Find out more

gugnin.com