Essays - Introduzine: Guido Agosti

OPUS - Faculty of Music Student Journal

(Vol.15 No.5, p.7, 1980)

Maestro Guido Agosti at the University of Western Ontario

Now and then we are reminded of how truly ‘symphonic’ our lives are, how certain themes, which seemed so full of promise, vanish soon after the exposition, or become simply accompaniment figures; how, instead, insignificant motifs later take over an entire development, or generate a whole new movement, while other themes reappear in unexpected places….

In Italy, for a little piano pupil of my generation it was common to dream (sometimes in an air-raid shelter) of attending one day the Corso di Perfezionamento at the Accademia di Santa Cecilia in Rome. The magnetic names were Casella, Zecchi, Agosti. I never went to Rome. Instead—after lots of water flew under the bridges of the Tiber—I found myself in London, Ontario, persuading innocent Canadian students to cross the ocean and to absorb some ancient wisdom in the Tuscan landscape. More than a dozen of them attended maestro Agosti’s summer courses at the Accademia Chigiana in Siena. So, the Agosti theme in my life developed through another generation.

In 1973 I served as the ‘Presidentessa’ of the Ontario wing of Canadian Music Competitions. Among the members of the international jury that year were M.me Jeanne-Marie Darré (whom I used to listen to from the distant students’ seats at the Salle Pleyel in Paris in the mid 1950s), and…Guido Agosti. A luncheon and conversation with these dream figures from my growing-up years, at the Courtyard Café in Toronto, remain in my memory as having been molto vibrato indeed….

Students’ reactions and comments in the expectation of the March 7 master classes here at UWO, prompt me to say a few words. There are artists who refuse to give short-term classes altogether, believing the ‘cosmetic job’ – which alone is possible in the restricted time allotted - to be useless; and, that the expectations of ‘instant refill’ which such encounters create are dangerous and wasteful. Other artists believe instead that the contact with an eminent figure, however brief, can only be beneficial, creating as it does a heightening, an alertness, which get lost in the school routine of weekly lessons. As in everything, it is not the experience, the event, which is important, as what that experience is made to serve.

In most students’ preoccupations I read still the North American obsession with having to be liked, with pleasing, with impressing others; the need for reassurance, for praise, for having one’s views and prejudices confirmed, agreed upon; the desire to test oneself; the craving for approval. Many years ago, in another OPUS article I described the reaction of a fine Yugoslav violinist who, after being profusely praised and reassured at an audition with a Master, packed up his violin and never came back for lessons. The compliment, he felt, only addressed his limits, not his potential. A true compliment is ‘neither alms, nor a bribe’ but the examination of greater possibilities in the music and in oneself; it is to enter the dimension of action, not of reaction: to be given a fresh opportunity to see and hear more, better, to re-examine one’s assumptions and prejudices through someone else’s views and even, possibly, prejudices.

But what about the terror of being put down in public? Alas, that is the test of one’s fortitude and dedication, of true equipment for a life in which put-downs by critics, colleagues, agents, etc. is just part of the package. Legendary cellist Pablo Casals, as a little boy, reprimanded the illustrious professors who had first put him down for his youth, in front of the class, before hearing him play, and later, of course inviting him to study with him. Casals too, never went back. But not many are as immune to intimidation as he was.

Human beings are inclined to show-off their ‘mud-pies,’ and to delight in having them appreciated, in sharing the achievement. It is good when someone helps with the water, lends us a spade, tools, new moulds. Humans cry when their mud-pies are stepped-on. But that is life… Sometimes it happens by accident, or by ignorance, sometimes wilfully. We call maturity the ability to distinguish and react accordingly. Or, better, to act upon the event fruitfully, rather than, by reacting, revealing only one’s needs, one’s craving.

I’ve of ten told the story of Bartók who, it is said, wanted very much to meet Debussy, but was told he should not try, as Debussy could be very rude. But Bartók persisted, and was told that Debussy had actually thrown out a visitor. “Do you want to be kicked out by Debussy?” he was asked. “Yes” Bartók replied. It is who does the kicking that matters. Another legendary musician, violinist and teacher Joseph Gingold of Indiana University, told me how totally unimportant to him had been Toscanini’s behaviour, his temper, his insults, when Gingold was concert master of the NBC orchestra: just to learn from Toscanini, to be in his presence, mattered.

It is hard for everyone, for innocent students in particular, to learn that none can either give or take away self-esteem. Yet, only the truly gifted seem to be able to act upon experience, rather than going through their days reacting to other peoples’ reactions. They move on, finding pleasure in their mud-pies.

The visit of an old Master who radiates his contact with a larger musical world, both in the past, and in the present, is a wonderful opportunity for students to test, yes, but only their skill, and to enlarge upon it, to respond to someone’s perception of the music as an alternate possibility, if not as a revelation.

It is a chance to test one’s ability to distinguish… St. Paul prayed for his friends to have “the gift of true discrimination.” Ah, but isn’t that the business of schools and teachers to achieve? Does our school make it so? Do we?