"His music was always present in moments that instigated change"
A personal essay by pianist Alice Sara Ott on Chopin and his influence on her art
By Deutsche Grammophon
Written by Alice Sara Ott
When thinking about what Chopin means to me and to my life as a musician, I have to say that although his music only accompanied my path periodically, I find it interesting how it was always present and relevant in those moments that instigated change.
At the age of 19 I signed with Deutsche Grammophon and I knew then that one of the cycles I wanted to record was the complete waltzes by Chopin.
Apart from being fascinated by the rhythmical unevenness that made these waltzes so different from ballroom waltzes, these works that Chopin wrote over the course of his entire life gave me the opportunity to gain a bigger picture of him as a composer.
There is no other composer who manages to switch so elegantly between different moods and it always amazes me how his music never becomes overly emotional. It’s almost like seeing a tear roll down a face without any emotion and it is this subtle expression of sadness and darkness that shakes us to the core.
When I look back at this recording of the Chopin waltzes and that period in my life I see a mirror of my musical upbringing. Aside from trying to learn a part of the vast repertoire of classical music,
my education was not only focused on studying the score, but also on how to learn and uphold the traditions and rules that surround the music. I learned how to structure concert programmes around one or two main works and how to combine composers and their works based on musicological backgrounds. Back then it would never have crossed my mind - nor would I have ever dared - to break apart a sonata or an opus.
Alice Sara Ott (2015) by © Astrid Ackermann/UnitelDeutsche Grammophon
The rules didn’t only exist around how to play or programme this music. I also naturally grew into wearing formal dresses on stage, usually really grand robes, and for a while I even enjoyed wearing them. But it didn’t take long until I started to feel detached in a weird way, as if I was part of some historical period performance. It was so different from what I wore normally and what my generation would wear when they dressed up for special occasions. There were generally not many people of my age in the audience. It took me a while to understand that the prerequisite for education and etiquette made classical music exclusive to a certain social class and age group. In classical concert halls the audience is expected to be educated. To know how to behave. How to dress. When to applaud and when to be silent.
Alice Sara Ott (2021) by Deutsche Grammophon and Pascal AlbandopulosDeutsche Grammophon
My dilemma between what I had learned and my wish to reach people beyond this little exclusive bubble led into a personal crisis in my mid twenties. I suddenly didn‘t know anymore how to identify myself as an artist and how I could fit in as a classical musician. It started to affect my playing and confidence and made me question why I had fallen in love with music that was kept so distant from the generation I was part of.
A majority of the works that I was playing were written decades and centuries ago. And these composers have always challenged, redefined and pushed the boundaries of music itself and everything that surrounds it. Why would I try to hide the very music that had such an impact on me in the here and now behind museum glass, increasing the distance between it and people of my generation?
It was around that time that the Icelandic composer Ólafur Arnalds reached out to me. He had been playing around with the idea of recording Chopin’s music from a different perspective and had liked my recording of the Chopin waltzes. At that time I was still sceptical towards every approach that seemed new and experimental but I agreed to a skype call with him, with the intention to decline politely at the end.
Óli and I clicked from the first second and our conversation - that was supposed to be 20 minutes long - went on for hours. It turned out that we shared a passion for single malt whiskeys and that we both had very personal memories linking our late grandmothers to Chopin’s music. At the end of our call I accepted his invitation to come to Reykjavík. We had no concrete plan. We just started to record some works by Chopin in his studio, playing around with microphone settings, trying to capture a close and intimate sound. And one day we went on a hunt for bar pianos.
In every bar where we found an old upright piano, we made a deal with the owner that in exchange for buying two glasses of whiskey they would let us play and record on that piano. The pianos were out of tune, the recording environment not perfect, but that was exactly what we were looking for. We wanted to get away from the almost sterile perfection of modern recordings. After I left, Óli started composing and recording music inspired by the Chopin pieces we had recorded, which he then connected with our recording material. The result was The Chopin Project.
Later that year we went on tour. We had drinks on stage, talked to the audience and played our programme in a relaxed and cozy setting. Seeing so many young people in the audience, casually dressed and clearly feeling included, made me realize that it was not the music itself that presented an obstacle to people, but the way it was so often presented. I slowly started to regain my confidence and remembered the passion for music which I had lost.
This experience was the beginning of a transformation inside me that slowly started to take shape. I began to change the formats of my programmes. I learned that the standard bright lighting in concert halls makes the audience feel rather exposed and that I can navigate the atmosphere during the concert by using different light settings. How a few words to the audience, with which I describe personal emotions and stories that I associate with the music, can create a relaxed atmosphere. And help the people relate to me as a person.
I am 33 today and although my love and passion for Chopin’s music has not changed, the way I see my responsibility as a classical musician has taken quite a shift. It will always be very important to me to stay true to the score and the composer's intentions, but instead of trying to place myself in the past, I want to find ways to bring the past into the present and put it in the context of our time. This year I recorded my tenth album, Echoes Of Life, with Deutsche Grammophon, and Chopin’s Preludes Op.28 form the core of the album.
The Preludes are 24 individual character pieces, which resemble life to me, as I think that life is made up of little moments that are all connected through us and our experiences. I chose seven contemporary compositions to intersperse the Preludes, which I associate with some of my most personal and vulnerable experiences. With this concept I wanted to show how fluid and versatile music can be and that our perception of it depends on how it is contextualized. I am convinced that it’s actually the contemporary pieces that confirm how modern, provocative and timeless Chopin’s music is.
I am in no position to say what’s wrong or right. But what I know is that my deep love for classical music and my wish to share the relevance of it with everyone has led me to where I stand right now. Even if I might “fail” with some of my ideas and experiments, I will never stop trying to push the boundaries. Music is for me the ultimate communication tool, that can go beyond linguistic, cultural and social barriers and it doesn’t need rules, dress codes or education.
Let’s not limit ourselves in how we choose to identify and communicate with it.
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