I've always had trouble with this aspect of playing piano. We applaud great players. We see them as artists, as geniuses, and as products of some incredible internal inspiration. But are they really? So much of classical instruction is forced into us. This is right. This is wrong. Over, and over, and over. If I taught a dog to juggle using electric shocks, would you applaud the dog for being brilliant?
I recently played a piece for a new teacher. He remarked that he that my playing was beautiful, and that I was, "clearly a passionate player." I don't mind a compliment, but the only problem is I know what I went through with that piece with my previous teacher: 1000 details, all required of me, all had to be there, played exactly as was insisted. I was a good doggie, and I learned well, and so I was able to recite my training for my new teacher. "Passionate"? Don't make me laugh - I hate that friggin' piece now!
Like I said, I'll take a compliment on my playing, but I can't help but think: Why in the world do I deserve the credit? It's not my interpretation, it's someone else's, forced into my hands. Go thank him for it. All I did was submit myself and allow my musical love and inspiration, the thing I hold most dear in the whole world, to be chopped up into little pieces and molded by someone else's hands. ANYONE COULD HAVE BEEN MADE TO DO IT...given enough voltage, of course.
Perhaps one day I will be beaten down enough to let it all go: My love, my ideas, my inspiration. Every inch of it. Maybe then I'll be seen as "brilliant" too.
Problem is, I'll know better.