From rainy Seoul

Finally taking a little break in Seoul after the busy and quite a stormy season.
April 27 Scriabin concert was probably the most difficult one for me in many aspects of preparation. 

Knowing this composer is almost hypnotic, being captivated by his compositions is almost like being possessed, and I was extremely drawn to the realm of his emotive depth. And at the same time, I was facing the biggest fear in my life: 

My beloved grandmother passed away soon after the concert.
She was my world. Raised me very closely, loved me endlessly, and she was the foundation of my strength. Losing her was like losing myself, and not being able to be with her when she was hospitalized was pure torture for me. I was debating to cancel my concert, and run to her in Korea, but I had to choose between my will against hers. I still don’t know if my conscience was completely clear. Perhaps I prioritized the concert to her. Didn’t I? 

Life is surreal, and living is cruel. No matter how much I loved her, I could not be her, could not die for her. 

Between two human beings, you never know anything because I am not you, and you are not I. That empathy you feel might be for your own projection to define whatever you have to in yourself. The concept of “we” is illusion to lay you in the comfort zone, but all of “we” are alone. So I resist to accept consolation. Who would dare understand…
But I know there was love. That love we all fail to convey….
I know that the core of all the chaotic human connections, some really look for this love. Perhaps all of us, but not realized.
My attempt to perform for the listeners is somewhat an irony. I resist people, and almost despise that superficial connection, yet I do urge to bring out what we all long for, what we all are deprived of.
Till we meet again, dearest grandmother, soon. 

On the pont des arts, Paris

Whenever life brought me new substances in my path, either in connection with others or in the unforeseen events, I had always sensed them much ahead of time. My inner voices, when I was in tune with myself, have somehow guided me to recognize those and intuitively prepare in accordance. Many things passed me by, but for those I cared, I had always predicted them, and they leave foot prints.

Most of the time, my interest lies in the minority, or in the discovery of a new perspective in the majority. And I am solemnly alone in the process of digesting, and I choose to be alone. Solitude is a gift to me in the search of freedom, and freedom does not necessarily need a test in the network of community if I know exactly what I am free from. 
I am not a good sharer of heart, and I refuse to be consoled. But I do like giving, and enjoy it without expecting anything in return. 
The more I want, the more I resist. Resistance creates intensity, and intensity brings stronger results. But after all, what matters is what it is for. As without that realization, everything is nothing but a distraction.
Truth doesn't have versions. It does not trade or compensate. And sometimes it is so simple that brilliance makes scoffs at it. But it is good for my soul, and it is endearing. 

I recently encountered Arcadi Volodos' playing. Recently? - yes, recently. I don't normally listen to other pianists unless there is something I find intriguing about them or in their playing, and that sort of thing can be grasped in a very short moment. But in this case, I purposely postponed listening to his playing and saved my zeal, to have it at the very right time of my musical life. About ten years between now and then, I had a chance to listen to him live in Berlin where he was the artist in residence at Konzerthaus. It was to me the best concert I have ever heard in my life. And he has influenced me ever since a great deal the way I listen to music. His Schubert Sonata was out of this world, and I didn’t have to stay for his virtuosic encores. Indeed, I didn’t want to hear more after his Schubert. It was overwhelming enough in the sincerest and enchanting way. 
Then I thought to myself, that if I heard him ten years back, I might have had a different reaction, and probably have not appreciated it as much as now. 
Timing in life is so important, and sometimes it feels like it is everything.
And when it is in accordance with the core of me and its clock, when I have not missed it, a great revolution can come alive, in the life full of surprises and adventures.