As musicians around the world prepare to commemorate the bicentennial of Ludwig van Beethoven's death next year, I find myself reflecting not only upon the extraordinary legacy he left behind, but also upon the profound influence he continues to have on my own life as a pianist. Two hundred years after his passing, his music remains remarkably alive. It speaks to us with a sincerity that transcends time, culture, and language. There are few composers whose works continue to challenge, inspire, and transform performers with such enduring power. For me, Beethoven is not simply a towering figure in the history of music; he is a trusted companion whose voice has accompanied generations of artists in their lifelong pursuit of truth through music.

For every musician there are certain places that exist first in the imagination long before they become part of one's own story. Suntory Hall has always been one of those places for me. Long before I had the privilege of walking onto its stage, I knew it as one of the world's great concert halls, a place where many of the artists I most admired shared their music. It has welcomed legendary pianists, conductors, and orchestras from every corner of the world, and over the decades has earned a reputation not only for its extraordinary acoustics but also for the spirit of artistic excellence that fills the hall. To perform there is to become part of a tradition that has inspired generations of musicians.

When people think about the greatest pianists of the twentieth century, names like Vladimir Horowitz, Arthur Rubinstein, and Van Cliburn often come to mind. Yet another remarkable artist deserves to be remembered alongside them: Ruth Slenczynska. Although she may not have become a household name, she was one of the most extraordinary musicians of her generation. Her career lasted more than ninety years, making her one of the longest-performing concert pianists in history, and she remained devoted to music until the very end of her life.

When it comes to American conductors, many of them earn reputations that are almost as famous as the music they perform. People like Leonard Bernstein, James Levine, and Marin Alsop are considered titans in the field, and have done much to advance our awareness of repertoire of all kinds.

French chefs have a practice of cooking that is known as mise on place. The term literally means “put in place”, and refers to the preparation and organization of ingredients and equipment before you start cooking in order to make the process as efficient as possible.

Fanny Mendelssohn's “June” from Das Jahr has the subtitle “Serenade”, and from its opening measures evokes the intimate atmosphere of a summer evening.

Fanny Mendelssohn's May from her piano cycle Das Jahr ("The Year") is for me one of the most wonderful musical portraits of spring in the Romantic piano literature.

As I think about Leopold Mozart, the father of Wolfgang who died today in 1787, I feel it is important to look at his role not just as father, but also a valuable educator.

With Suntory Hall being where I will perform on Sunday, June 28, 2026, I thought it important to find out as much about the space as I could. There is a fascinating history associated with it, and I am very happy to share some information about it with all of you.

It seems hard to imagine, but this is actually the 200th post I have written on this blog since I began it a little more than a year ago. In that time there have been many, many people who have helped with my progress as a musician, and to whom I owe a debt of gratitude.

The last time I posted a few weeks ago, I was getting ready for my Carnegie Hall solo recital debut on Sunday, May 3, 2026.  Since that time I have returned to Japan, and am preparing for my concert at Suntory Hall on Sunday, June 26, 2026.  For all of my friends in Tokyo, I look forward to seeing you there.

Yesterday I was at Carnegie Hall for a rehearsal, and I must tell you it was one of the most thrilling moments of my life to be on that stage and anticipating my solo recital debut this coming Sunday.

This quote from the poem is thought to be a satire of the unpredictable weather of April. As you can hear in the music, the melody starts off gentle and warm, like the arrival of spring, then abruptly shifts to a dramatic, fast passage (the tremolo in the left hand in the middle section sounds like thunder to me), and these sections alternate as the piece progresses.

With just about a week remaining until my concert at The Church in Sag Harbor—and less than a month until my solo debut at Carnegie Hall—I find myself right in the final stretch. At this stage, my work feels less like mere "practice" and more like a quest to discover even more exquisite nuances within these pieces, deepening my love for them even further. While I often uncover new things to cherish through my discussions with Mr. Cosmo, I also believe that stepping out on an adventure can be a source of great inspiration.

After practicing on the electronic piano in my apartment this morning, I headed over to Mr. Cosmo’s apartment. There, I enjoyed his delicious, authentic espresso and practiced on his piano, focusing primarily on Liszt’s Réminiscences de Norma. As I practice, I occasionally listen again to arias performed by Maria Callas or Joan Sutherland, constantly searching each day for ways to improve my interpretations.

This morning Mr. Cosmo kindly took me to the market in Maywood.

My first lesson with Mr. Cosmo after I arrived in New York was on the Bach “Sheep May Safely Graze” transcription by Mary Howe.

Last week Mr. Cosmo and Mr. Alexander surprised me and my mother with tickets to see Verdi’s La Traviata at the Metropolitan Opera in New York.

As I prepare this piece for Carnegie, I am working on bringing out both its narrative and romantic qualities. 

With today being the last day of the celebration of Women’s History Month, I would like to focus on the career of another pioneering conductor, JoAnn Falletta.