Paris, France

February 7, 2010
Dear Readers,
Welcome to 2010 and to the new decade!
When I began this particular writing project in my mid-teens, it consisted of snail-mail postcards sent from
every city I visited for nearly an entire school year; the class of third graders in upstate New York that
received the postcards would then learn about every city I sent one from, as part of their social studies
curriculum. At the end of the year, their teacher a family friend compiled all of those postcards into a
booklet, giving a copy to each student as a souvenir. When I got my copy, I was surprised at how much
content was crammed into those short messages. Reading through them, I was reminded of many things
that I had forgotten. It was fun to revisit those trips.
When the third graders became fourth graders and their teacher retired, I wanted to continue writing
postcards, but in some way that would reach more than a single classroom. My idea was to post them on my
website for several elementary school classes to read, so I sent digital postcards: I posted a single picture
from each city I visited, accompanied by a short text. I was happy for kids across the United States to see
what it was like in little glimpses to be a traveling musician, and also what it was like for someone not so
much older than they were to be out and about in the world. In each postcard, I would try to add details that
caught my eye, because I was pretty sure those were the things that they themselves would notice, had they
been traveling alongside me. I called that part of my site, Postcards from the Road.
After a couple of months of posting these digital postcards, grown-ups started coming up to me after
concerts and telling me that they too were following the postcards. I was bowled over! Now that were well
into the 21st century, that reaction may seem nave, but the Internet was still a new thing to me at that time
and the word blog didnt even exist. I had not realized how accessible a single artists website could be.
From then on, I wrote for everyone. Over time, I added more pictures per post and the texts grew longer,
until eventually the entries could hardly be called postcards. They were more like letters. Or a travelogue. Or
a journal, with photos. So I renamed this section of my site, Journal.
I would now like to return this feature to its roots, to the postcard format. I hope to post more often, and
keeping the content short and sweet will make that possible. Dont get me wrong: I love writing long-format
journal entries and will probably revert to that from time to time but I have missed the postcard aspect
that these writings had, say, a decade ago.
I think you will enjoy this new take on the old form. Bon voyage, one and all!
From the road,

Hilary

Mystery Glasgow, UK
February 8, 2010
Dear Readers,
As some of you may know, I have had my own YouTube channel for over a year now. At
times, I mediate little games and hold question-and-answer sessions there. Ive also
been interviewing (through my computers built-in camera) a fair number of my
colleagues and composers, and you can find those interactions on that channel as well.
Inept though I may be at learning anything technological, I enjoy the chance to
communicate through a visual media, in addition to the writing I do for this site.
Id like to try something corny here that the YouTube site enables me to attempt: Id
like to host a little identify-this-picture game! At the end of some of the next few
postcards I will post on this site, I will tack on an extra, ambiguous photo I took in that
particular city. Anytime within the week that follows, you can post your guesses as to
what it might be, on my YouTube channels comment page. I will then, after that week
has passed, read some of the most memorable and accurate guesses in a video post,
along with the correct answer. Some of the answers will be very obscure!
I am excited to give this a go. There was something similar in a childrens magazine
that I received every month when I was a kid, and I would get a kick out of figuring out
what the picture showed. Im curious to read what you come up with. This, here, is our
trial run; the game can only work if you pitch in, so please guess away!
Here is the first photo, from Glasgow last week. The deadline is midnight, Wednesday,
February 17. Go to www.youtube.com/hilaryhahnvideos to post your conclusion.
Good luck!
Hilary

Paris, France
February 9, 2010
Dear Readers,
Greetings from Paris! Tiny flakes of snow are falling outside my window. Last night I
played the Sibelius concerto at the Theatre des Champs-Elyses. Having endured an
encounter with some sort of stomach flu, I gave the concert my best shot. Theres
nothing like the combination of adrenaline and a fever to rev up a performance!
Ive brought another concerto on this tour: Prokofiev 1. When my teacher, Jascha
Brodsky, was a student of Eugene Ysae in Paris in the 20s, he entered a competition
in this city. He was required to provide a repertoire list with his application. Ysae urged
him to include that Prokofiev concerto, which was very new at the time. When Mr.
Brodsky protested that he didnt yet know the piece and, moreover, had never heard it,
Ysae said not to worry, that the judges would simply be impressed theyd never
select it for him to play in the competition.
Of course, once Mr. Brodsky got through to the final round, they asked him to perform
the Prokofiev with orchestra. This left him just a few days to learn the whole concerto
(no mean feat!). When he peeked out at the audience from backstage before the
concert, he saw no one less than Prokofiev himself sitting in the front row. Despite the
shock, Mr. Brodsky got through the competition. Afterwards Prokofiev introduced
himself. He and Mr. Brodsky liked each other, and they wound up working together a
couple of times during Mr. Brodskys stay in Paris. This particular concerto of Prokofievs
became one of Mr. Brodskys favorites, and he made sure to teach it to me. Since I
cant actually go back in time (if I could, Id pick Paris in the 20s and early 30s), the
next best thing would be to play that concerto here. That would be a great sentimental
moment for me.
Paris is my favorite city to walk in. I feel like I can go forever, on and on and on,
through back streets and neighborhoods and museums and along the Seine, and get
lost, and just keep walking, and it wont matter: there will be yet another street to turn
down, yet more architecture to admire. A couple of days ago I almost made it to
Montmartre before turning back for rehearsal. To see everything Im interested in
seeing in Paris, Id probably have to spend a year exploring. Im happy to take it a
couple of days at a time.
From the road,
Hilary

Munich, Germany
February 10, 2010

Dear Readers,
Im again in transit, on my way out of Munich. Last night we played at the Gasteig, the
Philharmonic hall where I made my German debut half my life ago. When I woke up this
morning, there was a thin layer of snow on the ground, and traffic was inching along. A
driver with glasses a college professor would wear was finishing up a giant chocolate
bar as he paced stiffly outside his taxi. Im used to Germany being cold, but I have
rarely seen it decked in snow. It seems like every concert season, I hit consistent
weather: one year Ill experience all the warm snaps in the countries I visit; another
year it rains every week I travel; or some other year its consistently unseasonably
cold.
I think this year may be my snow year (that became apparent in Nashville, with three
straight days of snow unheard of in those parts). Of course, such a year can only last
until spring, so perhaps that title is a bit ambitious. But I have never had a snow year
before, so for at least another month, allow me the indulgence.
From the road,
Hilary

Vienna, Austria
February 11, 2010
Dear Readers,
So, this is my postcard from Vienna. Where it is you guessed it snowing!
Last night I played Prokofievs 1st violin concerto, and now I am on my way to
Belgrade. I forgot to mention in my Paris postcard that on this tour, I am wearing a
dress I bought in Paris years ago, in a boutique not too far from the Theatre des
Champs-Elyses. The dress I had planned to wear needed emergency repairs; while
that one is being fixed up at the gown hospital, this one was yanked out of retirement
for another tour of duty.
It is interesting to me that being comfortable with ones clothing actually makes a
difference onstage. Similarly to getting to know a piece of music, getting to know a
dress is something that takes time. (Please pardon me if my English seems strange;
German is permeating my thought process.) Unfortunately for this particular hem, I
now wear shorter heels than I used to, so I have not gone a concert on this tour without
treading on the fabric but playing in this dress is very comfortable and familiar and
nice.
Today is the 20th anniversary of my first full recital. Tonight will also bring my Serbian
debut. There will always be places and pieces I have not played, cities I have not yet
visited, and that is something I am glad of, as I will never run out of things to do in my
career. In honor of this anniversary, Im going to prepare as an encore a piece from
that first recital program: the Siciliano from the g-minor solo sonata by Bach.
From the road,
Hilary

Belgrade, Serbia
February 12, 2010
Dear Readers,
Greetings from Belgrade, as I leave it, and here endeth my European tour with the
Royal Scottish National Orchestra and conductor Stephane Deneve. There is snow

everywhere I look, as I pass through a national park outside the city. This has been a
very busy, enjoyable tour. Now I am heading to yet another city to do some press in
connection with my new Bach albums recent release: a short TV feature, two radio
interviews, one newspaper interview, a phone interview, and a special CD signing. Due
to all of the travel and the tight performance schedule, I was unable to do many
signings on this tour, which I regret. But I really wanted to be well prepared for every
performance, and I feel good about how the concerts went.
The orchestra was a great entity to collaborate with; they and Stephane were reactive
and lively. Lots of ideas were going around onstage as we performed. Now they and
their instruments are on their ways home, as I continue onwards.
From the road,
Hilary

Stuttgart, Germany
February 27, 2010
Dear Readers,
This has been a week of steps forward in my professional life. I performed the Menotti
concerto for the first time, here in Stuttgart, and it has entered my set of currentfavorite pieces to play. I am very excited about the concerto: it is pretty and dramatic
and lyrical, and fits the violin so very well that it doesnt get in its own way or in the
way of anyone trying to interpret it. For some reason, it is rare to come across a piece
so inherently natural to the instrument for which it was written. Although I dont have
any more Menotti concerts in the coming months, I cant wait to perform it again next
season.
On another front, my next album, Higdon and Tchaikovsky Violin Concertos, is
progressing nicely; I am at this very moment sitting in a lounge in the Copenhagen
airport taking a break from listening to the Higdon in its post-production state. There is
still a lot to do with the album package design, finalizing the text content of the
booklet, polishing the balances and mastering but it is well on its way, and I can
hardly believe that this album will be finished soon. It will be my twelfth feature album.
Steady work really can accomplish many things!
Looking out the window of this lounge, I was pleasantly surprised to see Ole Bulls
picture on the tail of an airplane; he was a famous Norwegian violinist who lived from
1810-1880. He would probably be astonished to encounter an airplane, not to mention
his photo on one, but it is nice to see a country taking pride in its musical history.
From the road,
Hilary

Reykjavik, Iceland
March 7, 2010
Dear Readers,
Greetings from Reykjavik! I am, as this city would indicate, in Iceland! This is my first
trip here, and I seem to have arrived in an in-between season: not right for Northern
Lights, dogsledding, trips into the interior of the country, etc., but there is still so much
to experience, and I am glad to be missing the vast majority of tourists.
I went to a dinner at the American Embassy, got a tour of the Icelandic Parliament,
hung out with musicians, visited a recording studio, saw Europes largest-volume
waterfall and my first geysers, rode on an Icelandic horse (small and furry), and went
snorkeling for the first time in a drysuit in near-freezing water in the very rift between
the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates. When I got out of that water, my face
was so cold that my mouth, lips, and chin wouldnt work, which was a strange feeling;
and then my guide and I went to hop off of a little cliff back into the water wed just
snorkeled in. That was funny because we inflated our suits beforehand with oxygen
from a tank so I bobbed up like a cork as soon as I hit the water.
Surprise, surprise it was snowing! The shore areas of Iceland arent typically so much
colder than the rest of Europe due to the Atlantic currents, but the wind was fierce and
the snow blew almost horizontally much of the time. With all of the volcanic rock on the
ground, the landscape was barren and beautifully rugged, just black and white this
time of year. It was interesting to see everything on the surface of the ground so cold
when a wealth of thermal energy is practically boiling right under everyones feet.
There are hot springs and pools in nearly every town, and the hot water and all of the
heating in the buildings and houses come straight from the ground.
I had a great time here. The main purpose of my visit was to work with the Iceland
Symphony Orchestra and conductor Benjamin Schwarz. They were wonderful
colleagues. I am so glad I made the trip.

From the road,

Hilary

Pittsburgh, PA
May 9, 2010
Dear Readers,
Ah, the things people do in airports. This man went where he shouldnt have during a
layover, and I just happened to have my camera on and pointing in his direction!
Now that my island hopping is over for the time being, I am back in the States for some
work on home soil. This week I played in Pittsburgh, with the Pittsburgh Symphony
Orchestra and conductor Manfred Honeck. I realized when I arrived that a lot of my
former classmates are in the orchestra! It has been a number of years since I was last
here, but I used to play with this orchestra a lot. The first time was when I was 14, with
Lorin Maazel, whom I had been introduced to by the concertmaster Andres Cardenes
not too long before. That was more than half of my life ago! As a result of that long
connection with this orchestra, and with their concert hall, I feel very comfortable with
how they play their style and approach and with Heinz Hall (named like the food
company; the Heinz family was supportive of the arts). This week was an old home
week of sorts, and I got to catch up with nearly everyone Ive known for so long. Now,
Im off to Dallas. Warmth, here comes summer!
Hilary

Dallas, TX
May 17, 2010
Dear Readers,
Dallas is a city of buildings, museums, and parks. This week, I was out and about
enough to get my first sun of the summer, which I had to cover up a little bit before
walking onstage in my red strapless dress. Time to hit the sunscreen.
Artistically, this Dallas week was amazing. Jennifer Higdons violin concerto, which I
recorded for release in the fall, won a Pulitzer Prize not too long ago, and these were
the first concerts of that piece since then. Conductor Jaap van Zweden did a great job
with it, as did the orchestra. It feels like the longer this concerto is alive, the quicker
the musicians pick it up, although no orchestra knows it any better than the one before
did. Maybe every piece has a certain ethereal presence that matures with age. At any
rate, it was an invigorating set of performances to take part in.
The weather in Dallas was beautiful; this seems to be the pleasant-climates part of my
concert season. I loved the constant snow a while back, but this is welcome too. Rain
dumped on me only one day this week. Other than that, it was sun and warmth all the
way.
Hilary

Tokyo, Japan

June 3, 2010
Dear Readers,
Konbanwa! Im on the train on my way from a concert in Nagoya back to Tokyo, where I
depart this country tomorrow evening. As you can gather, this was the last concert of a
tour. The tour, specifically, was with the Philharmonia Orchestra and Esa-Pekka
Salonen, and we played the Tchaikovsky violin concerto, which was just pre-released in
Japan along with the Higdon. (The official worldwide release comes this fall.)
I spent a day at the beginning of my trip doing interviews, and then the orchestra
arrived and we had concerts in Hyogo (near Osaka), in three different venues in Tokyo,
and in Nagoya. It is wonderful that Tokyo has so many halls and such an interested
audience; there are hardly any other cities in the world in which a tour can continue
without leaving town. These Japanese audiences were strong, and so many people
came to the post-concert signings afterwards hundreds and hundreds each night! I
think my signature got a little sloppy by the end of tonights session. As the lights
speed by outside the train window, I am both tired and exhilarated. Tired because this
is the end of a busy tour; exhilarated because this is the end of a truly satisfying
concert season and tomorrow I go somewhere far away, where there are lots of birds
and insects and very few people, for my vacation.
Hilary

London, England
July 29, 2010
Dear Readers,
I am currently in a swanky lounge in Heathrow airport. I am leaving London. My face is
all sorts of shiny colors because I just spent half an hour painting various products onto
it in the Duty Free mall. I was particularly enthusiastic with the bronzers. Even the back
of my left hand is sparkling. Beyond my hand, someone is negotiating a deal via cell
phone, and another mans legs stretch shoeless over his suitcase as he naps. I notice
that no one has chosen to sit in full view of his bare soles. In the aisle to my right, a
little boy is giving a cowboy action figure a high-speed piggyback ride.
Why am I in London? Two nights ago, I played at the famed Proms festival in their
traditional all-Beethoven program, with the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Bremen.
We had been on the road a week already, performing the Mendelssohn concerto in
Hamburg (in sweltering heat) and in Kiel, and the Beethoven concerto in Bremen. I love
working with this orchestra and its conductor Paavo Jarvi. Being onstage with them
feels like such vibrant chamber music. It was a particularly vivid experience with them
in Royal Albert Hall, in front of 6,000 people! We were all excited and energized, and
what was really neat was that the orchestra didnt become more cautious when their
adrenaline was pumping; they dove right in to the music and played it for all it was
worth.

Yesterday, after a good nights sleep following a fun post-Proms reception, I donned my
concert dress once again, for a photoshoot with no audience. Now Im off to another
continent.
Hilary

Lanaudiere, Quebec
August 1, 2010

Dear Readers,
Happy August!
I am flying out of Montreal on my way from the Lanaudiere Festival in Quebec. It is an open-air
amphitheater-style venue, very much like for those of you in the Cleveland area (hello Encore
students!) the Blossom festival but smaller. There is a covered audience seating area and a lawn
space beyond, stretching up a natural hill. The sound is as good at the very top of the hill as
anywhere else in the venue. Remarkable acoustics!
I am sad to be parting ways with the orchestra and their conductor Paavo Jarvi, but I have some
souvenirs: interviews for my YouTube channel with Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie principal cellist

Tanja Tetzlaff, one of their three concertmasters Daniel Sepec, and Paavo. While I had my
computer and semi-decent lighting arranged, I filmed my answers to some viewer questions as
well: about avoiding neck and chin pain with the proper chinrest and shoulder rest setup, and about
my next recording: Higdon and Tchaikovsky violin concertos, to be released in the States on
September 21. I then tried to upload Tanjas interview but YouTube didnt like my computer and
wouldnt let me upload any video. My grasp of technology is a work in progress.
Off I go, now, to join forces with an industrial designer to create a more ergonomic chinrest. Longsuffering necks, jaws, and chins, rejoice!
Hilary

Salt Lake City, UT

September 26, 2010
Dear Readers,
On my flight to Salt Lake City a few days ago, I was seated next to a sweet old woman. She would
turn to me every so often with a beatific smile to ask a question in Spanish or to offer a cookie or a
cracker or her spare snack napkin. Towards the end, she pulled the biggest pout I have ever seen
when her daughter wouldnt let her undo her seatbelt as we landed. Now, on my flight out of Salt
Lake, I am surrounded by people sleeping or reading. I am unusually the only one with an
electronic device. This is Sunday. Maybe everyone is in relaxation mode.
I was in Salt Lake for concerts with the Utah Symphony Orchestra. I had initially thought of visiting

state parks in the days before rehearsals, but the release date for my new album was set for
Tuesday the 21st so I put my attention to pre-release activities. (I took a long hike with the
grasshoppers yesterday to get my dose of nature.) Composer Jennifer Higdon and I held a release
party on Monday at Housing Works Bookstore Caf in New York City, and we did interviews around
town before I left for Utah. Something new seemed to be happening every day. On Wednesday
after this weeks first orchestra rehearsal, I listened to my first segment on NPRs All Things
Considered over the hotel clock-radio. The album hit the ground running. Now Im back to the
10-11 season.
This is the start of the concert season, so I get to play in gala kickoff concerts for a few weeks. I
love these events. The public is enthusiastic and the musicians are fresh off their summers. This
week, Thierry Fischer began his run as music director and conductor of the Utah Symphony, so that
brought an added wave of invigoration. He and the orchestra put a lot of effort into the preparation
and performance of the Tchaikovsky Concerto, and we all had a great time.
Hilary

Montreal, Canada
April 6, 2012
6 April 2012

Dear Readers,
There can be a lot of bureaucracy traveling between countries. Going to and from
Canada is pretty straightforward, though there was a form to fill out on the plane (see
my airplane neighbor, a Swedish-born teenager, in action in this photo) and I stood in
line at immigration, during what must have been the airports equivalent of rush hour,
for an hour and a half on the way in. On the way out American customs on the

return trip is on Canadian soil theyve got it down pat. Between the airport helpers
efficiently scanning boarding passes and luggage tags every step of the way, and my 8
am arrival at the airport this morning, all I had to do was fill out a form, walk, and send
my stuff through the security checkpoint x-ray machine. They had the old metal
detector machines, too, which take no time to do their work. Super fast experience in
all.
I was surprised to see a pilot ahead of me in the security line with a giant bottle of
water; the guards didnt even blink and he took it to the gate with him. No one on the
flight crew had to remove their liquids and gels, either. I guess I could see how there
would be double standards, but I had not seen it blatantly before. I was also surprised,
when I got to the passport official (American), that he was not familiar with the
Montreal Symphony Orchestra. I dont expect anyone to have heard of most
orchestras, but this is a big orchestra with a large local following, and it is in the same
city as the airport. Dont you normally hear about organizations that are a recurring
part of the citys cultural life, even if you dont go to see them? I can imagine how that
might happen, though. Maybe he was feigning ignorance to catch me out, or perhaps
he just moved here. Maybe the language barrier kept him from noticing the OSMs
presence before. Maybe now hell recognize it, the next time he sees a banner or an ad
for a concert. He could be a new audience member soon, you never know.
I was surprised one more time when the same passport official pointed to his computer
screen and asked, Are these your bags? There, at the end of his finger, were two very
clear pictures of my luggage! Amazing! Id never seen that before. It was impressive.
Hilary

Montreal, Canada
April 5, 2012

5 April 2012
Dear Readers,
This will be more like a letter than a postcard.
A while ago, I hit some photography roadblocks, and my down time was getting
entirely consumed by new-record production, computer issues, general off-the-road
busy-ness and tour prep, and other forms of communication (YouTube interviews,
article authoring, and snail-mail postcard writing).
Recently, though, the photography and computer situations were resolved, and Ive
finally loaded a bunch of images from the past months onto my somewhat new
computer. I look forward to sharing what I remember of their context, as well as the
pictures themselves, in the next series of Postcards from the Road. Ill go backwards
and forwards a bit, but well land in the present eventually.
A happy update, to keep this postcard current: Packing for travel is no longer
distressing. I usually avoid unpacking once I arrive in a city; if I put something in a
drawer, I am liable to forget it there. For some reason, I hadnt realized that by taking
things out of my suitcase, I was unpacking after all into chaos. I admit that to live on
the road, it is important to take things out of the suitcase to use them! Whats changed
is that I now return things to the suitcase as soon as Im finished using them. Im
packing in increments, without even noticing. If Im ready to go at the drop of a hat and
my belongings are organized, packing doesnt hang over me all week. After the last
concert in a city, I can unwind by watching a TV show or reading or making a phone
call, as opposed to spending unneeded time preparing to leave. The result is that I
dont feel sad when its time to take off. Its the same principle as keeping the house
clean in case you want to have guests over. Take out the stressful part, and the
interesting aspects can be fun again. Isnt it funny that a little change of routine can
make such a difference?
I have to thank my cousin for this little improvement. We were talking about cleaning
house and she made a good point about the connection between an organized
environment and an organized mind. Smart cookie!
After tonights concert, the final one of this visit, I had a nice late snack, worked, and
watched a TV show online. And wrote what you are reading. How is this possible? My
suitcases are sitting by the door, packed.

Hilary

Paris, France
September 26, 2011
Dear Readers,
It was so hard to pack today. In the past, a few years ago, I didnt mind packing, but
now it has gotten to the point where I cant focus when Im trying to gather my things
and I feel sad and cant get out the door. I almost missed my first flight. I had plenty of
time, and I had a packing list and everything, so that wasnt the issue. For some
reason, these days, I dont enjoy leaving in general. It doesnt matter where Im going
or where Im departing from. For example, I am on my way to Paris, one of my favorite
cities. I am excited to go, I am looking forward to the place and to the collaboration,
and this week will be great! But I did not want to get on that first plane. Once Im in the
cab, its fine.

This is my first international trip since the concert season started last week. This is a
thrilling time of year; it is gala month. Last week was very intense for me, after three
months off: a performance at NPRs Tiny Desk Concerts, two interviews, three
rehearsals, getting back into playing-with-orchestra shape, doing the business side of
this career, writing two articles for publication in the fall (one for Gramophone, one for
The Strad), making sure my new gowns are ready, learning a piece to perform with
OrchKids, and playing the gala season opener with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra
and Marin Alsop. But it kicked me back into the saddle, and here I am! In an airport, on
a layover, contemplating buying an ice cream snack from the stand in the middle of
the concourse as I try to keep track of everything else I should be doing at the
moment.
Hilary

Madison, WI
March 21, 2011
Dear Readers,
To set the record straight: This is not a blog. This is, in fact, a non-blog. Anyways
I am up in a plane. Surprise! This time I have earplugs and am on my way out from
Wisconsin. I had a little trouble this morning remembering where I was. I love Madison
and have enjoyed being there for two days, but I have been in so many other places
lately that I had to run through a mental checklist in order to confirm that I was indeed
in Madison. There is a certain blissful feeling that comes from being in contextual
suspense. It never lasts long, because curiosity gets the better of me. But it is
liberating to be both anywhere and nowhere, for a few seconds at least. This morning,
it was so sunny that I thought I might be in L.A.
Last night brought my first recital in the 2010-11 season. It is great to be back in the
saddle. Afterwards I had a pleasant ice-cream-social meet-and-greet with students from

the university, a good way to round out the evening. I am happy to report that a helpful
stage crew member timed the concert last night, and the verdict is in: our program this
season is shorter than is my wont, so it is verging on a normal length that wont
exhaust audiences. It is also a really fun bunch of pieces to play. We are currently
working up some encores we havent performed in a while. That is the current
challenge as is keeping my strings in shape. Two of my strings were in the process of
breaking yesterday afternoon, but they held through the concert. Today will bring fresh
reinforcements.
This flight started bumpy and is apparently going to be bumpy when we land. A small,
demure man seated next to me, in a jacket reading Sharon, was gripping the armrest
half an hour ago. Everyone is pretty relaxed now, though. Many people are reading
about the protests in Madison this week. From what I can gather, the governor has
been trying to pass a bill against collective bargaining, and the unions are mobilizing to
prevent it. I heard that 50,000 people marched on the capitol building today. Teachers
have been calling in sick in order to protest, and lots of supportive car-horn honking
has been ringing through the streets. On my way to the airport, I saw hundreds of
people carrying signs.
Note: I have lost both my camera lens cap and my memory card reader in the past few
weeks. The road is like a sieve. When I find or replace those items (the lens cap was
last seen in a snow drift somewhere up north), I will post pictures again.
Hilary

New York, NY
March 21, 2011
February 16, 2011

Dear Readers,
I am up in a plane without my earplugs again, my head wrapped in a scarf to block the
sun streaming from the window in the aisle ahead. The pianist Simone Dinnerstein is a
few rows back, studying a score. She introduced herself in the airport in New York an
hour and a half ago, before we boarded the same flight, at the very instant I opened a
salad container that threatened to spill onto the floor. She is going to Madison, WI to
play with the orchestra; I am going to play a recital with Valentina tomorrow.
I am a little frazzled. I have been juggling lots of repertoire in the past month or so,
while being ill with that laryngitis/fever/flu/cold/sore throat thing that has been going
around (thank you, restaurants and airports!), and this switch today is the most
mentally challenging. The Curtis Orchestra and I played the Higdon Concerto in
Philadelphia two nights ago and in Carnegie Hall in New York last night.
The Higdon violin solo part takes a unique (to that work) combination of complex
mindset and muscle memory. The recital program I am playing starting tomorrow is
varied, with different requirements for each piece. Antheils first sonata calls for a
clinically logical approach to memorization; I have to adopt my best guess at the
composers thought process in order to remember it. Of course, the music in the
Antheil is really fun to play, so that is a separate part of the experience. Charles Ivess
fourth sonata needs a certain kind of rhythmic memory alongside musical expressivity,
because the piano and violin parts are simultaneously uncoordinated in a way that has
to be precisely worked out while conveying emotion. Beethovens Spring Sonata is
classical and lyrical through and through. Kreislers Variations on a Theme by Corelli
is a short character piece that is at once showy and charming. And Bachs Partita #1 in
b minor comes in four pairs of movements, so the concentration it draws out of
performer and audience is hypnotic and intense. And that is only my perspective! In a
recital, the pianist adds a whole other dimension, because we are an integrated duo it
is not just my preparation that leads into the performances, it is also hers and ours
together. So that is what I am trying to wrap my head around at this moment.
I dont normally change so abruptly to a recital tour from a concerto engagement, but
in this case, the Curtis Institute was a co-commissioner of the Higdon and part of the
inspiration for its creation, the wonderful conductor Juanjo Mena is busier than I am,
and Carnegie Hall is in constant demand. We wanted to perform the Higdon together
this concert season, but this Monday and Tuesday were the only two days all year that

were possible for everyone combined. The orchestra did a great job. They were so
prepared, and the many solos written into the orchestra parts sounded terrific. Juanjo
was going back and forth between Philadelphia and Baltimore during rehearsals: on
Friday he had a concert in Baltimore; Saturday two rehearsals in Philadelphia and a
concert in Baltimore; Sunday a concert in Baltimore in the afternoon and a rehearsal in
Philadelphia in the evening. And now he is rehearsing in Baltimore again, as I write. But
he was completely focused and committed in our preparation, and he worked from the
start on musical elements of the piece that often dont get addressed until the last
minute.
I am very glad we did those performances. It brought an experience full circle for me:
when I was a student at Curtis, barely into my teens, I made my Carnegie Hall debut
in the Curtis Orchestra, at the back of the second violins, next to the anvil being used
in the New York premiere of Ned Rorems Piano Concerto for Left Hand. I warmed up
in the same room the orchestra warmed up in last night, and I was as excited as many
of the students were yesterday to play in that hall. It didnt feel much different last
night, except that I now know the acoustics rather well and am 18 years older. Some of
the students onstage this week werent even born when I played that concert.
Last night in Carnegie Hall, I had a new experience. During an orchestral tutti (when
they play without me), I was looking out at the audience when I saw a flash of white fly
diagonally down from my left to my right and out of sight. I thought that maybe
something had caught the light and created an optical illusion, until I looked over and
saw that Juanjos hands were empty and everyone in the first row was smiling and
craning their heads in the direction of the flash. His baton had gone flying, as it turned
out, and only inches in front of me! In the middle of the second movement, during
another orchestral tutti, I looked over to my right and noticed the baton in an audience
members lap. She appeared to be sound asleep. I must have seen wrong, as I met that
audience member at the signing after the concert, and she was very much awake.
I also broke a bow hair last night, but that is relatively normal.
I cant remember if I related the tale from Lucerne of my breaking a string during the
final movement of the Tchaikovsky concerto and, as per Leonard Slatkins suggestion in
that moment, finishing the performance on the concertmasters violin. This has been
quite the season for unexpected occurrences.

Hilary

Leipzig, Germany
March 21, 2011
January 21, 2011
Dear Readers,
There is nothing like the feeling that your heart is going to pound its way out of your
dress while you are playing the violin onstage in front of thousands of people. It is
rather exhilarating. This happened to me the past two nights. A couple of times each
night, I felt like I was going to pass out. I had to remind myself to breathe. Stage fright?
No. It was a combination of daytime cold/flu medication and the hypersensitive
adrenaline rush that naturally occurs when I am performing something somewhat
unfamiliar. The piece in question is Vieuxtempss Concerto #4, a work I have known
longer than most: I first learned it when I was nine. But I have not performed it often
with orchestra, and in performance is when I get to know something inside and out. You
can only practice to a certain point and then you have to begin garnering stage
experience.
The famed Gewandhaus and its orchestra have undergone many transformations over
the years. An earlier incarnation found Vieuxtemps himself performing this very
concerto, about a century and a half ago. I am violinistically related to Vieuxtemps, and
I found it significant that so many years after he died, one of his students students
students (me) has the chance to come together with such a historical orchestra to play
a work he wrote for himself and for violinists of his future. I wonder what he would have
thought of modern concert life: the clothes, the advance planning, the programming,
interpretations, and technique.
The Gewandhaus orchestra has a warm, recognizable tone. It was wonderful to be on
stage with that group and to listen to them in surround sound. I dont know if audience
members realize how vivid and distinct an orchestras notes are from the inside. It is an
experience completely different from the integrated wall of multicolored sound heard in
the hall.
Next I return to Menotti. I practiced it this morning in a security-restricted area of the

airport, and now I am in the airplane turning over the Higdon concerto in the back of
my mind.
Hilary

Paris, France
March 21, 2011
January 15, 2011
Dear Readers,
As I leave Paris for Leipzig, I am in a small plane with a view of a peach-and-rose
sunset. This week has not felt like winter. The weather has been more like early spring.
But one thing that reminded me that this is January was the sales (Les Soldes). All
over France, at certain times, clothes in nearly all stores are 30 to 50% off. It is like one
day everyone wakes up with the same idea to clear out old inventory. Shopping areas
teem with eagle-eyed bargain hunters. Products lie waiting in bins. The whole scene
looks, in a commerce sense, somewhat sordid. But of course I joined the masses, and it
was a fascinating cultural experience, and I exercised my French, and my suitcases
gained weight.
I was in Paris for three rehearsals and one concert of the Menotti concerto with the
Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France and conductor Pietari Inkinen. Pietari and I
have done quite a few concerts already this season: a tour with the NZSO in the fall
covered more than a dozen European cities. I have also been working with the OPRF
every couple of years for half my life. Plus, the extra rehearsal this week was a luxury.
As a result, the concert felt terrific. The audience asked for two encores!
In my down time between musical activities, I ate tasty dinners, walked miles through
Paris (easy to do), practiced, listened to the first stage of post production of my
upcoming Ives sonatas album, and went to the Pantheon and saw the pendulum
Foucault installed, as well as the tombs of Hugo and Voltaire and Rousseau and the
Curies and many others, and read about other revered figures in French history. I
visited a bookstore. Cooked. Rested. Had good fun and good times.
Hilary

Lyon, France/Lucerne, Switzerland

March 21, 2011
January 10, 2011
Dear Readers,
Happy 2011!
I am in a train from Basel. The dusky view out the window is greying with fog, and I am
tired. Yesterday I had two concerts in Lucerne with the orchestra from Lyon and
maestro Leonard Slatkin. Afterwards we were treated to a wonderful gourmet dinner at
the private home of a musician, and I went to bed rather late. Earlier in the week, we
had also played a couple of concerts in Lyon. The repertoire was the Tchaikovsky the
last time Ill play that piece for quite a long stretch. Looking at the itinerary for the rest
of the season, I see Menotti, Vieuxtemps 4, Mozart 5, Higdon, and many recitals. For
extracurricular activities, I will be working on the post-production of an album of all four
Ives sonatas I recorded with my recital partner Valentina Lisitsa last year. Lots to keep
me busy.
It is a strange feeling to bid temporary adieu to this concerto. My time with it over the
past few years has been rather intense: returning to it after a decade-long break,
performing it, and recording it. The actual sessions came kind of in the middle of this
span of time, so that the piece for me is not defined by the recording. But the recording
certainly brought it to a different focus. I am a little sad to be putting this piece aside,
but other things await and I am excited to get to them. In addition, when I put a piece
away for a while, my concept of it changes during that time, so that when I do pick it
back up, what I experience is a surprise. For that reason, repertoire breaks are
necessary and intriguing.
On to Menotti now, in the centenary year of his birth. I had no idea Id timed that
concerto so well in my calendar. I simply wanted to learn it and perform it, and then
everyone was talking about a hundred-year anniversary. Kismet!
Hilary

Portland, OR
October 6, 2010
Dear Readers,
I have just left Portland, Oregon, after a marathon week. It started with my Vegas
concert last Thursday, continuing to Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday concerts.
On top of that, on Sunday morning I played an informal spur-of-the-moment fundraiser
for the organization Mercy Corps, which is based in Portland. Last night, the Oregon
Symphony and I played in Salem, at Willamette University.
It was great to work with this group and their music director Carlos Kalmar for these
four concerts. This was actually my Portland orchestral debut. Funny that it has taken
this long but thats advance scheduling: sometimes it works logically and other times
it has its own plans. The orchestra and Carlos were really on their toes, and that made
the concerts a real joy to be part of. It felt like all interpretive possibilities were open,
and that in turn left lots of room for imagination and spontaneous ideas.
Side notes:
After the first rehearsal, a musician brought her 3-week-old baby backstage and was
presented with a handmade blanket from a group of women in the orchestra: each had
knitted one square and then one of the violinists had sewn all of the squares together.
That was a sweet moment to see.
I broke more bow hairs in this Portland engagement than in any other week I can recall.
It must have looked dramatic, but I have no idea why it happened.
Now I turn to Sibelius. The new album will keep the Tchaikovsky percolating for the time
being.
Hilary

Las Vegas, NV
October 1, 2010
Dear Readers,

Greetings from Las Vegas, where fortunes are made and lost and classical music
sometimes finds its way into the calendar. I was here this week to work with the
orchestra of the University of Nevada Las Vegas. The audience was very enthusiastic
and the students magnified that energy, giving our performance of the Tchaikovsky
concerto their all, and we had a great time.
I enjoy coming to Vegas, although I am not by any stretch of the imagination a clubber
or a gambler. The weather is always warm, the people-watching is superb, the
accommodations are fittingly campy, and the shows (particularly Cirque du Soleil) are
superb. Its like a zoo with exhibits of free-range people. There are so many good
musicians here; I like eavesdropping at the lounges and listening to the bands or the
jazz singers or pianists. This is a town of professional entertainers. And shopping. The
sales are on this week, but I can only look at so many products before I begin to feel
hypnotized.
This week I gave myself a bit of a mental breather, focusing my musical life only on the
rehearsals and concert. In my spare hours, I explored, wandered, bought half-price
cardigans, and watched movie after movie. It was nice to take those luxuries of time.
Hilary