For the last fifty years of taking my violin with me on stage, the composer that marked every turning point within those years has been Bach.
I played Bach’s Double Violin Concerto with my teacher Mr. Toshiya Eto when I made my debut on stage, when I was 12 years old. At fifteen, I played Bach’s Unaccompanied Sonatas when I won a competition as the youngest ever champion, and the music profoundly and fatalisticly, steered my destiny. At twenty, I experienced a setback because I precisely couldn’t play the unaccompanied sonatas. Then at thirty, it was also Bach who restored my confidence.
I had a period of not playing the violin at twenty, and after making a comeback two years later, I had to go through seven distressing years. Those days of not being able to play as I wished was truly nightmarish. I felt like being punished by the god of music or a demon dwelling upon the stage, for not touching the violin for a while. Yet, it was indeed Bach’s music that stayed quietly beside me while my heart sank into a bottomless swamp of “frustration” and “despair” which I could not escape from. So, I played Bach night after night, just for myself.
Solaced and saved by Bach’s profound prayers, his brilliance kind of soaked into my body and soul throughout my twenties. I had turned 30 when I realized that I had grown a little stronger.
It was then when my professional instincts finally returned on stage.
I finally saw the light after moving forward step by step through a long, long tunnel in total darkness, believing in Bach’s guidance along the unknown paths.
That is why Bach is the most irreplaceable composer for me.
After regaining my confidence, I have given recitals of Bach’s complete six unaccompanied sonatas and partitas (lasts for three hours in an evening ) every five years.
I started doing this since my 20th anniversary since debut, so this year marks the seventh time.
I hold the recitals in several venues each time, but it may well require a lot of will and stamina
from the audience too.
For me, practicing days towards the performance is like a training for spiritual discipline, a period facing my inner self. I look deep into my heart and embrace my own weakness.
On the day of the performance, standing alone in the centre of the vast and empty stage, I close my eyes to enter a state of transcending time and space. I slowly begin to feel a vacuum state…
This year, I will be performing the full six-piece recital in Kyoto in November and Tokyo in December. (I will also perform in Kitakyushu, a normal length recital featuring three selected pieces from the unaccompanied work in November.)
They are not easy recitals to do.
I enter the zone only when I push myself close to the absolute limit, both physically and mentally.
When I step onto the stage for the performance, that agony of being unable to play comes back. I will immerse myself once again this year in the world of Bach, feeling the presence of a muse or a demon, upwards on my right.