Vadim Gluzman in an interview

"Instruments are living, breathing beings with souls, feelings, moods, and opinions."

Vadim Gluzman's exceptional artistry lies in continuing the great violin tradition of the 19th and 20th centuries, which he infuses with the freshness and dynamism of the present. His wide-ranging repertoire also includes contemporary music, which he champions and cherishes. He is a soloist in demand worldwide; live recordings and award-winning recordings made exclusively for the BIS label complement his extensive concert activity.

Classicpoint.net: As a child, you fooled your parents into thinking you practiced a lot. When did that change, and did you enjoy practicing?
I think the real reason I started playing the violin was a case of childish jealousy. My father is a conductor and my mother a musicologist. They both teach, and I wanted to get just as much attention from them as they gave their students. So I wanted to be taught by them, too. However, they deliberately chose not to teach me themselves, but instead enrolled me in a school for musically gifted children in the Soviet Union. At that time, I was living in Riga, the capital of Latvia. At the end of the auditions, they said I had a very powerful sound and I had passed. Then the jury wanted to see my hands. I was absolutely convinced they wanted to see if I had clean fingernails. The next day, they posted the list of accepted students. I was on the list, and next to my name it said "Skripka" – violin. There was no discussion or negotiation. I was told I was a violinist, and that was that. I had to accept it.
In Russian, the violin is feminine and the piano is masculine. My father had explained to me that the piano was the king of instruments and the violin the queen. What do you think a six-year-old boy would want to play, a queen? Of course not, he wants to play the king! I've decided that on my next visit to Riga, I'll ask people how they assess six-year-old hands. How do they predict their development? How can they judge whether they'll make good violinists? Because, in fact, my hands are well-suited for the violin, but completely unsuitable for the piano. My first teacher still teaches at that school; he's almost eighty now.
When we emigrated to Jerusalem after the collapse of the Soviet Union, it was a culture shock for me. Personally, musically, artistically—everything: there was a completely different attitude toward everything. What appealed to me most was my newfound self-determination, the ability to make my own decisions. Freedom is a gift from God, one that had been taken from us in the Soviet Union. Arriving in a place where democracy is practiced was like realizing I had never breathed before. Until I was 16, I wasn't allowed to breathe, and I wasn't even aware that I wasn't breathing. But suddenly I had access to oxygen, to this freedom, and it completely changed my perspective.
From a young age, I was told, "You're a violinist." The mere idea that I might question this statement was unimaginable. But when I was finally allowed to question my world, I began to doubt it. Was I really a violinist? There was a time when I believed I wasn't. If it hadn't been for Isaac Stern and Arkady Fomin (my first teacher in Dallas when I went to America to study), I probably would have given up. They were guiding figures; they dissuaded me from doubting my future and instead encouraged me to shape it.

They were taught according to the Russian school model. What do you think about this type of instruction today?
That's not entirely accurate. I studied in the former Soviet Union, but my first teacher in Riga (Romans) taught according to the German school and tradition of violin playing. My only real contact with the Russian school was a year of study with Zakhar Bron in Novosibirsk. So, I can't be considered a representative violinist of the Russian school. Nevertheless, I'm very familiar with it. There are many positive aspects, such as a high degree of professionalism from a young age and a solid foundation in technique. But there are also many aspects that I dislike. The focus is too heavily on the virtuoso repertoire; there's a lack of real performance opportunities and early chamber music experience. This results in a very one-sided education. The teaching is usually very authoritarian and based on the teacher's single "correct" interpretation, instead of encouraging students to seek and develop their own opinions, tastes, and musical direction.

Please tell us how it came about that you were taught by Isaac Stern? What did you learn from him?
I was 16 years old and had only arrived in Jerusalem two weeks earlier when I learned that Isaac Stern was auditioning children at the Music Centre. Everyone else had probably booked an audition two years in advance, but I simply went, introduced myself, and said that I wanted to audition for Isaac Stern. Eventually, he came into the room, the receptionist explained to him that a boy from Latvia had arrived, and he was kind enough to listen to me. A few hours later, I left the Music Centre with a new violin, a place at school, a scholarship, and the realization that I knew absolutely nothing about music, let alone playing the violin itself.
My close relationship with Isaac Stern helped me tremendously, even though it was anything but easy. He had this incredible energy, like a machine that never let him stop. Nothing was ever good enough, and I say that in the best possible way. He was only interested in what could be improved. It was pointless to waste time concentrating on strengths when one could instead perfect weaknesses.

Her teacher was also Zakhar Bron. She Maxim Vengerov, Vadim Repin, studied in the same class
Looking back, it was an extremely exciting time. Of course, I couldn't really enjoy it at the time; I was a teenager. But what an environment to grow up with all of them! It was basically a daily competition. It wasn't just Maxim and Vadim there, but also Natalia Prischepenko—she was the first violinist of the Artemis Quartet for a long time. … It was truly an incredibly fertile environment, and Zakhar Bron was, of course, a great inspiration. He knew how to inspire us in all sorts of ways—either by playing for us or by shouting at us—and each of us received truly individualized treatment.

Do you have any tips on how to deal with stage fright?
Stage fright – it's quite simple, I just don't worry about it. Of course, I get nervous like everyone else, and of course, it affects my performance. The only remedy I've found over the years is to go on stage, again and again. Experience is the best recipe. Go on stage as often as possible. There's absolutely no other way. You're anxious at the beginning, that's perfectly normal. Even if you're only standing in front of 10 people, you're almost too nervous to speak. That's normal. But normal is good; I don't see anything wrong with it. Frankly, if you know how to deal with stage fright, it only improves the performance. Every now and then, I manage to channel the so-called "nervousness" and transform it into creative inspiration. It won't diminish your performance if you've learned how to handle it. And you learn that by doing it. You can learn to make stage fright your friend. Be close to your friends. And even closer to your enemies. And maybe one day you'll realize, truly realize, that we only produce sound, hopefully beautiful sound. We don't perform surgery, we don't build buildings, we don't manufacture products. What we do harms no one, even if we do it badly. If you truly love what you do, if you can't live without music, the day will come when accumulated experience compensates for the nervousness. I tell everyone who asks me this question: Find every possible opportunity to audition, and don't think about the money, at least not in the moment. A retirement home, a church, a synagogue, or any other performance venue. And then just play.

You travel the world extensively to give concerts. Is there a funny story you can share with us?
My favorite funny moments always happen during rehearsals, or sometimes even during concerts, when the musicians are playing pranks on each other. Unfortunately, these stories can't be retold; you have to experience them yourself. But one funny moment comes to mind. A few years ago, I got the start time wrong for a concert at the festival in Colorado. I barely had time to open the violin case, tune the violin, and get on stage. I had already played half of Prokofiev's Sonata No. 2 when I realized I'd forgotten to change my shoes and was wearing white running shoes with bright yellow stripes. It was incredibly difficult not to laugh, and I'm sure many in the audience were wondering about my choice of attire.

You play the legendary 1690 Ex-Leopold Auer Stradivarius. Can you tell us something about this wonderful instrument?
The Ex-Leopold Auer violin was made by Antonio Stradivari in 1690. The instrument was named after its former owner, a Hungarian-Jewish violinist who was one of the most important violin teachers of the 19th century. His students included legends such as Heifetz, Elman, and Gorski. Auer lived from 1845 to 1930. He lived in Russia for half a century and served as an imperial court violinist to three tsars.
Mary Galvin and Geoff Fushi, the founders of the Stradivari Society, heard my recital debut at the Ravinia Festival. They must have liked what they heard because when I got home from a tour a month later, I had a message on my answering machine inviting me to Chicago to pick up a violin that had just become available. I traveled there the very next day. When the violin was handed to me and I began to tune it, I had a distinct feeling that someone was watching me from behind. I turned around and saw a huge portrait of Leopold Auer staring back at me from the wall of the Bein & Fushi shop!
I realized that I found the Russian connection incredibly inspiring. I was trained in the Russian tradition, and that tradition was founded with this instrument. Yes, I love this historical reference point that this violin offers me. But I think that while I'm closing this circle, I can also begin something new. I strongly believe that instruments are living, breathing beings with souls, feelings, moods, and opinions. A relationship with an instrument is comparable to human relationships in many ways. As in any relationship, you influence each other, leaving pieces of your soul in the other. We certainly leave our mark on the instrument. Whoever has played this violin since Auer before me—Leonidas Kavakos and Dylana Jensen—has left a part of their soul in the instrument.
The violin is a part of my body. Words cannot describe how beautiful this instrument is. It allows me to run 15 times faster, dive 15 times deeper. The first time I held this violin in my hands and produced sounds with my bow, I understood that my life had changed.
This violin possesses every imaginable, and sometimes unimaginable, shade of color and intensity, from the darkest, deepest, most intense colors to the brightest, lightest, most heavenly sounds! To have such a vast range is the greatest gift for an artist. It constantly inspires me to seek new sounds and interpretations.

You recently recorded Brahms with the Lucerne Symphony Orchestra. What is your relationship to the composer Brahms and the works you recorded?
It's important to remember that it was a modern piece when Joseph Joachim played it. Thanks to his curiosity, his forward-thinking approach, and his faith in composers like Brahms, we have this repertoire. Of course, I'm not saying that Brahms couldn't have written this concerto without Joachim, but it would have been a different piece without his influence. Many years ago, when I first played this concerto with an orchestra, I went on stage and the orchestra played the opening tutti. I remember suddenly having this question in my mind: "Who gives me the right to play this music?" That had never happened to me before, neither during practice nor in rehearsals. Only when I was standing in front of the audience did this thought hit me like a cold shower. But I realized that I couldn't carry the weight of all the great interpreters who had played this piece on my shoulders. That would be paralyzing in a way. All I can do is convey how I feel about this piece, as honestly as I can.
By now, I've played almost everything Brahms composed for violin, and I've even dared to record some of his works. It goes without saying that he is one of the greatest composers humanity has ever produced. Every single work is a masterpiece, without exception. Every time I play the Brahms Violin Concerto, for example, I feel as if I'm coming into possession of a perfect palace with extraordinary exterior and interior architecture. My task is then to furnish it with furniture and decorations in such a way that the beauty of the palace is highlighted, but at the same time, I make it unmistakably my own. It's a delicate balancing act, a great challenge, but it brings incredible inspiration and satisfaction.
The sonata touches me more deeply than almost any other work by Brahms ever could. There's something incredibly intimate and profoundly moving in it that defies description. It is one of Brahms's most introverted works, and that makes it all the more emotionally powerful and impressive. Inner turmoil is the most painful, and that's how this work feels.

What interests you besides music?
I love to read and always have three or four books in my suitcase. So far, I don't read electronically. My taste is quite broad; I read pretty much everything from biographies, historical books, and novellas to crime novels.

Interview by Florian Schär | Classicpoint.net | October 3, 2017
© Photo: Marco Gorggreve