March 20, 2025

dispatches from pianoland

can you see me?

I wrote a thing a while back about how pianists can feel invisible. It’s strange that it happens as we sit next to the biggest thing in the room (um - the piano). Not only that, but we strike it, make it sound. And yet we can simultaneously disappear behind it.

That doesn’t happen to me much. I don’t know how to put this, but at the klavier tbh I’m kind of a big deal.

But it did happen the other day.

A visiting composer attended a rehearsal of their piece at my school, where we’re preparing for this big performance at a conference. I was playing the piano for the ensemble in lieu of the orchestra. From the beginning of the rehearsal I tried to catch the composer’s eye, because I like this piece and wanted to connect with them. They had introduced themselves to the conductors in the room and to various graduate students, but I couldn’t seem to draw their attention. No matter, it’s a big room with lots of folks. So at the break, I went up to them to introduce myself.

“Hi,” I said, sticking out my hand. “We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Kathy.”

“Ah, hey. Nice to meet you.” They took my hand. They did not say their name. They looked past my right shoulder at someone else - I saw them make eye contact.

I try again. “It’s great to play your piece.”

Their hand is limp in mine. “That’s nice. Great to meet you.”

Last attempt: I call out our mutual home state. This gets me my first eye contact! Well what do you know, we say. We exchange home towns and briefly spoof the regional accent.

And then, they’re gone. To talk to someone more - adjacent their discipline? in their age range?

Or just…someone who’s not the accompanist? You know: number two.

(I mean I am great at doing stuff)

You may think this is mostly a story of my ego (I’m so vain, I bet I think this song is about me). I’ve got one for sure, so fair point.

Maybe it’s a one off, you say. A composer person wasn’t into you at one moment. What’s the big deal?Fair question.

But see, I was just freaking determined to have a conversation with this person.

Why?

Because it was a rehearsal, and I had just played the shit out of their composition, on a giant black box of levers in the middle of the stage, in the middle of the choir. It’s not like they could have missed me.

Because I am twenty years their elder, well into the part of my life where my white hair, like my piano, disappears me one moment and gains me compliments the next. Because I’m thirty years into a professional life where protocol has always dictated greetings for every musician in the room. Because I’m forty years into a practice that buffets pianists every day in between you’re the best and total invisibility.

Invisibility, visibility - for accompanists, it changes up a lot.

You’re the best is often given to pianists in gratitude. But it also often appears as prelude to a request for a favor, disappearing just as quickly if we can’t come through.

I guess I don’t really want to turn this into a big piece. Just - don’t be dumb in rehearsals, musicians! Introduce yourselves to your coworkers, how hard is that?

And really, again, today and always, consider how you treat the ubiquitous pianists who are filling every bench in your long day of rehearsals, from your lesson to your large ensemble. Do you see them and treat them in your rehearsals as fellows, as something other than a reflection of what you need from them in the moment? Something between everything and nothing?

Just asking as I write this in the waiting room at my service station.

I’m the one over here with the white hair who looks like your mom.

I won’t ask questions about what you expect from her - yet.

thanks for reading.