This quote, to which I have referred in a previous article entitled “Celebrate Your Skill,” is also the source of The Lightbulb Moment for this week as well. 

I like this quote because I think it describes what a pianist does when learning a great piece of music. When we first open a score, we see only notes, rhythms, dynamics, articulations, and other markings on a page. However, behind all of those symbols is something much greater: the music itself. In a way, the composer has placed the music inside the score, just as Michelangelo believed that the statue was already inside the stone. Our responsibility as pianists is not simply to play the notes correctly, but to discover what is hidden within them.

This discovery takes time. When I begin studying a new piece, I do not immediately try to make it sound beautiful. First, I have to understand what the composer has written. I look carefully at the rhythm, harmony, phrasing, dynamics, structure, and articulation. I ask myself why a particular note is important, why a phrase moves in a certain direction, and where the music is trying to travel. Just as a sculptor removes pieces of stone that are hiding the figure inside, a pianist has to remove the things that prevent the music from becoming clear. Sometimes those things are technical problems; sometimes they are habits, exaggerations, or simply a misunderstanding of the score. The more deeply we study, the more clearly the musical image begins to appear.

Still, there is an important difference between simply following the instructions and truly discovering the music. Two pianists can play exactly the same notes and yet give completely different performances. This is because the score gives us the structure, but the pianist must bring that structure to life. The score is the house, but the performance adds the furnishings that turn it into a home. We have to discover the character of the music: whether it is joyful, mysterious, passionate, playful, tragic, or intimate. We have to understand how one phrase connects to the next and how the smaller moments fit into the larger architecture of the piece. This is where interpretation begins. We are not changing the composer’s music; rather, we are trying to understand it so deeply that we can reveal something that was already there.

For me, this is one of the most beautiful responsibilities of being a pianist. We are not simply reproducing something that already exists. We are helping the listener see and hear it for the first time. The composer gives us the stone, so to speak, and the score contains the shape of the statue. Through study, imagination, discipline, and experience, we slowly uncover it. When a performance is successful, the listener may forget about all the hours of practice and all the technical difficulties behind it. They simply hear the music and feel that it has come alive. That is the moment when the pianist has done what Michelangelo described: discovered what was already inside and allowed it to be seen.