On June 7, award-winning classical Pianist Jeeyoon Kim performs at Carnegie Hall with her new performance project 시음 /si-úm/ (pronounced shee-oom). The project combines music, poetry, and photography, and is part of a 30-city national tour. We spoke with her about the upcoming recital, her passion for surfing, being a best-selling author, and more.
You started playing piano at the age of 4? I think there are a lot of us who started something similar and lost interest, moved on to something else, or quit altogether. What was it about piano that not only held your interest, but became the kind of passion that you’ve continued to pursue through your education, teaching others, performing, podcasting, etc.?
I started the piano when I was four years old, but I don't know whether I chose it or it chose me. I listened to my inner voice whispering that love of music to me and exercised that love by working hard for life. At this point, the piano is an extension of my body and my soul mate.
For me, the piano is the queen of all instruments, a perfect chameleon. It can be completed on its own or work in beautiful harmony with other instruments. It can imitate the most thunderous sonority of an orchestra yet can produce the most sensitive and intimate sound. Whatever I do, I always hear the beautiful voice of the piano singing in my head. I believe in the innate power of music to connect and heal people. I can’t think of a better instrument to convey that message to the world than the piano.
Your book is called “Whenever You’re Ready: How to Compose the Life of Your Dreams.” which also became a best-selling book in Korea. Where did the idea for this book come from? Why was this something you wanted to write?
In the final moment, when I’m backstage about to meet an audience, I note that someone with a hand on the stage door always waits for my cue. “Whenever you’re ready…” they tell me. At that very moment, I gather a tremendous amount of courage and strength through my fear and negative voices. When I nod with a smile, a beautiful stage opens for me to walk toward the crowds.
Through this book, I wanted to demystify many assumptions that people might have about what I do and share the tools to prepare for the stage mentally, emotionally, and physically. Through my teaching, I realized that there are many tools in life that people ignore even if they know of them. With warmth, honesty, and compassion, I wished that through the lens of a concert pianist and fellow human being who also has struggles, people might be inspired and motivated to pick up some of the life tools that worked for me and hopefully use them in their green rooms when they perform on their stage of life.
You’ve been recognized for your talents as both an artist and an educator, with numerous awards, and you’ve also attracted younger fans to classical music. Why is it that you think you’ve been able to draw younger people into enjoying classical piano? What are you doing differently?
Many older generations experienced classical music as the main source of entertainment at home or at the local theatre when they were growing up. In the world of so much stimulation in which we live, the younger generations need a little more guidance or at least the first experience of being guided into classical music. It is not that they wouldn’t be interested in classical music, but they have never had a chance to experience it properly. I talk to the audience like a friend who happens to be a concert pianist, as if I am inviting them to my living room to hear me play a piece that I am passionate about. I assume nothing. I guide each piece on stage and embrace it as a journey we would take together.
I create a bridge by sharing my feelings about the piece, struggles, victories, stories, and emotions connected to the piece, then open a path for them to get into their stories and feelings about the music as they listen. My goal is to be a vessel for the music so that music can get its core message as directly as possible. The more they connect with me, the easier it is for them to bypass me, the pianist, and get to their souls directly communicating with the music. They finally get it when they are properly given the opportunities, and they think that the music of Beethoven and Chopin is ‘cool.’
Your bio says that you are dedicated to pushing the boundaries of traditional classical music to connect with new audiences. How would you describe what some of the boundaries of traditional classical music are, to you? And why are you dedicated to pushing those boundaries?
About 300 years ago, classical music was the pop music of European culture. A musician like Chopin might be one of your friends, introducing his new compositions at a cocktail party, but the wall between a performer and the audience has grown higher as time passed. Over the years, many unspoken rules and traditions have been created around the culture of classical music. When one attends a classical concert, there is the assumption that one knows a lot about classical music, you should wear formal attire, you would know who Chopin was, and there is a performer who would never interact with the audience and disappear after the concert, program notes explain the background of the piece like a history book, and there is always an intermission of 15 minutes after 45 minutes of music before another 45 minutes of music.
As much as I am familiar with these traditions, I am also aware that these assumptions and rules could drive a potential new audience away from giving classical music a try, thinking that it is only for a particular type of people or their grandmothers. I want to break the barrier down as much as possible without changing the content. Classical music is about raw human emotions that existed 300 years ago, and that are the very same emotions that we feel today. I want to let people know that this amazing gift, like mountains and rivers in nature, is available to everyone. I push these boundaries so that more people can experience the beauty of classical music and benefit from it.
Your concert program, Si-Um, connects poetry and music with black and white film photography. How do the works and the art forms relate to one another?
To me, music is like poetry with notes, and poetry is like music with words. These two vastly different yet similar art forms share many common grounds in which they both lie in a constant process of creating, searching, editing, polishing, and revisiting. Yet, both ultimately strive to communicate human emotions. Black and white film photography is also similar. With a film camera, you don’t have thousands of free tries like digital cameras. You set, prepare for it, come back to the same spot multiple times to get one shot, then go into a darkroom and develop images from the negatives. I find all three art forms - classical music, poetry, and black and white film photography - accentuate the beauty of the ‘slow’ process. I’ve attempted to combine these art forms in my si-úm concert with one goal in mind: To enhance the experience of the music.
Did the featured poets write the works specifically for the project, or did you find poems that were already written?
Some were newly commissioned for this project. Some were already written—about 70 to 30 ratio.
What is one thing people would be surprised to find out about you?
The fact that I surf every day and love to ride gliders. To me, surfing is like making music, following an organic shape of phrasing with ever-changing waves, and being at one with nature. I love watching the sunrise from the water, seeing dolphins swimming by, and pelicans catching fish for breakfast. I try to observe what nature teaches me and express it in music.
How do surfing and music cross over, connect, and enhance each other?
I think music and surfing are both spiritual. Whenever I perform, I connect with people in the 4th dimension, where no time exists, and our souls are connected through music. In music, I find a deep connection with nature, where I become one with the universe.
In both surfing and music, there is a sense of weightlessness. In classical music, there is a sense of inner pulse like a heartbeat; there is a sense of sonic structure where you reach the climax, build up to the climax, and drop and turn from creating the musical phrasing. I find in music I truly become weightless, meeting my soul floating in musical phrasing in which I ride a sonic wave, whereas in surfing, I feel there is weightlessness physically riding a liquid wave.
In music, no matter how much you practice, each performance is unique in that moment. The very note I am playing is determined by how I played the note prior. I have to listen to every note to create a musical phrasing and be totally present in the moment. In surfing, no one wave is the same. I have to adjust and follow the rhythm of each wave and feel the right pathway each time.
As a pianist, I face a different instrument on stage at every venue. I have to get used to it and make beautiful music out of it no matter what. Each piano has different characteristics and strengths. Perhaps different surfboards are like different pianos. They play different tunes, and I need to change my approach completely. It goes the same with different breaks in the waves. I find different concert halls are like different breaks: each looks different and sounds different. The environment and the audience are different too.
I find that both music-making and surfing require me to be in the moment and flexible in mind and body. I love that aspect of it. Most of the time when I perform, I close my eyes. I can feel the music, and now as a surfer I also feel the sensation of riding the waves in my mind. I believe that it does make me a better musician and better person in the process.
