Getting It Right
By Robert Beck
Nora called to tell me there was a technician working on her piano, and the scene reminded her of my West Side Rag paintings. He would be there for two more days. Did I want to paint it? Of course.
It was last minute, but I’m usually prepared for that. I have full paint kits stored everywhere I regularly visit, and one in the trunk of my car. Everything but the pole to slide down when the bell rings.
When I arrived at her apartment, I was faced with a partially disassembled upright Steinway. The technician, Stephen Eriksson, was in the process of leveling the keys. There wasn’t much space in the room, so I set up where I fit.
I had a piano when I was a kid. My friends invited me to go get an upright nobody wanted and have fun sledgehammering it in a field. I appealed to my parents, and it ended up in the family room of our split-level instead. In spite of good intentions, I didn’t spend much time with it. My teenage modus operandi was already set in place, and there was no room for piano practice. I never advanced past chopsticks. Five years later, I got my own apartment. My parents moved eight years after that. I don’t know where the piano went.
My primary painting issue was how to convey the piano-insideness without getting lost in details. There are something like 20 gismos that work together to get each keystroke to sound the strings — felts, catchers, back checks, dampers, hammer butts, spring rails, jacks, wippens, and a bunch more. One of the pedals moves all the hammers at once to alter the impact. Another changes the damper action. There are a lot of moving parts, and every one of them must be inspected, adjusted, and, if necessary, replaced. Nora bought the piano when she was twenty years old, and it had been a long time since it had a top-to-bottom service. The tuning would have to be done multiple times until it stabilized. That reconditioning disposition was my subject.
Putting Stephen in the painting was important. He was working the whole time, measuring, calibrating, repairing, and listening. Then he would play. Often a repetition of one or a few notes, but occasionally he would surprise us with gorgeous, full passages that would end abruptly as he moved on to the next task.
All those parts had to work in concert for it to sound right. Stephen showed me the tool with small teeth he uses to soften the brightness in the piano’s voice by fluffing compacted interlocking hairs of the hammer felts. Just one of the things he did to make the old Steinway perfect again for the Debussy that Nora loves to play.
* * *
See more of Robert Beck’s work and visit his UWS studio by going to www.robertbeck.net. Let him know if you have a connection to an archetypical UWS place or event that would make a good West Side Canvas subject. Thank you!
Note: Before Robert Beck wrote West Side Canvas, his essays and paintings were featured in Weekend Column. Read Robert Beck’s earlier columns here and here.
Subscribe to West Side Rag’s FREE email newsletter here.
That was so beautiful
Very cool and reminiscent of a by gone time when real craftsmen plied their trade. Wonder how many of them are left?
Thankfully we live in a city (and a neighborhood) with a lot of musicians, music students, music teachers, dancers and dance classes that need live accompanied- so, a lot of pianos that need tuning and conditioning. Good piano tuners have work – bot the regular visits and the urgent needs type. It’s a wonderful trade to watch at work.
Mr. Opperknockety, the plano tuner, puts his tools away, declares the piano to be fixed, renders his bill and leaves. But the next day, the piano’s owner notices that the instrument is still badly out of tune. They frantically call the tuner and implore him to return to fix the problem, To which the tune replies,, “Sorry, Opperknockety tunes on ly only once!”
Thank you. This is always my favorite column.
I’ve had my “piano tuned” in many a ways over many a year – but the ones most similar to your wonderful essay were from growing up.
We had a baby grand in the living room. It was just like you describe it….the notes…the passages…the plinking…such a complicated thing inside there.
Once again you have captured a savory moment we all might have missed remembering…..Thank You from
Your Biggest Fan
I remember when you could hear professional musicians playing piano around the UWS, especially in warmer months when the windows were open. There was someone across the street from us who used to play Gershwin.
My father got a vintage upright piano from a second-hand dealer on the UES when I was about 11, and I took lessons for 5 years. The piano tuner eventually told us that due to some kind of fundamental problem with the piano’s insides, it would keep falling out of tune and needed more substantial changes that he could provide.
Even slightly out of tune, the sound that came out of it was beautiful and mellow.
(I don’t envy the neighbors who had to listen to me practice scales, though.)
Your artistic observations and paintings are always engaging, creative, detailed, and informative.