The Fortepiano by Johann David Schiedmayer

Johann David Schiedmayer, a renowned instrument maker, was born in Erlangen in April 1753. He studied with Johann Andreas Stein in Augsburg and then became Court Instrument Maker in Erlangen. He moved to Nuremberg in 1797 where he established his workshop and died on 20 March 1805. As Schiedmayer's first biography, published in 1821, succinctly states:

Here the pupil seemed to surpass the master, striving with tireless zeal to bring his fortepianos to the highest possible degree of perfection.

These few words briefly summarize the outward course of his life.

The rapidly growing reputation of the young piano maker in Erlangen is reflected in the accounts of his contemporaries. Hereby, a description published in Cramer's Magazin in December 1783 of a fortepiano completed that same year is of particular interest. It refers to the surviving instrument No. 7 - the very instrument heard on this recording.

The seventh instrument was acquired by Herr von Kerpen, Canon of the Cathedral Chapter in Würzburg where it was received with particular acclaim. The agreed price was 300 florins. It left my workshop on 5 December 1783, and I personally travelled with it to Würzburg.

This instrument is one of a kind, not only because of its exquisitely crafted and tastefully designed case, executed with the utmost painstaking care, but also because of its extraordinarily ingenious, light, and even action. As responsive as the finest clavichord, it speaks with perfect egality in every register, from the lowest bass to the highest treble; in the upper register, it sings with the silvery tone of a flute, while the bass when struck with detached touch resembles the sound of a bassoon. Without the use of any stop or foot pedal … the instrument can swell gradually from the gentlest pianissimo - the faintest breath of love - to the most overwhelming fortissimo. With nameless speed, the hammers strike the strings and, thanks to the swiftest release, rebound again fast as lightning.

Schiedmayer's instruments found their way to cities such as Riga, Trieste, Livorno, Dresden, Leipzig, and Hamburg. Every instrument was built entirely by his own hand, and the construction of a single fortepiano could take up to ten months. This extraordinary investment of time is reflected in the exceptional craftsmanship and precision of his work, qualities that continue to distinguish his instruments to this day.

- Micha Kämmle

 

Mozart and the Glass Harp

The glass harmonica, the predecessor of the glass harp, was a well-known instrument in Mozart's Vienna. Its popularity was closely connected with the era's fascination with the supernatural. The physician and healer Franz Anton Mesmer used the glass harmonica as part of his treatments. An accomplished performer himself, he employed its sound to induce a relaxed, hypnotic state in his patients. Mozart was captivated by the instrument's unique timbre, a fascination that later mainfests in his Adagio and Rondo for glass harmonica, flute, oboe, viola, and violoncello (K. 617).

The primary difference between the glass harmonica and the glass harp lies in their construction. Whereas the glass harmonica consists of nested glass bowls mounted on a rotating spindle, the glass harp is made up of tuned drinking glasses arranged side by side on a board. The rims of the glasses are set into vibration by moistened fingertips.

The music aesthetician Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart wrote:

The lyrical player is made for this instrument. If lifeblood seems to drip from the tips of his fingers; if every note he plays is a heartbeat; if he can convey rubbing, gliding, and tickling, then let him approach this instrument and play.

In Katrin Klose's compositions, however, the glass harp is not employed as a historical instrument. Its sonic possibilities are treated freely, making it less a reconstruction of historical practice than a quote to Mozart.

 

Sylvia Ackermann and Katrin Klose in Conversation

Katrin: Sylvia, the idea for this project came from you. How did it evolve?

 

Sylvia: I have been playing historical instruments for many years, and I love them and everything that comes with them - the artistic research, immersing myself in the lives of composers, finding my way into another world and another era. But I'm not particularly conservative, so I also wanted to create something contemporary. I wanted to catapult these compositions into the present while allowing them to remain historical at the same time. The idea of thinking about historical instruments in a modern way fascinated me. I'd had this project in mind for years and was always searching for the right composer. Three years ago, I happened to perform one of your works in a competition, without knowing you personally. From that moment on, I knew I wanted to ask you.

 

Katrin: Why Mozart? Why his slow movements? What is it about them that fascinates you?

 

Sylvia: Mozart has become my special field because I have these very special instruments for his music. The Schiedmayer is the Mozart instrument. It has remained virtually untouched over the centuries, and no one presumably played it for more than two hundred years. It was discovered in a cellar in the 1990s and immediately restored to the condition it remains in today. That means we can encounter Mozart's original sound world through this instrument, and that is what fascinates me.

And yes, Mozart is my favourite - but I can't really explain why. It's like love: you simply can't explain it.

For me, slow movements are always a composer's most personal statements. A sonata-form movement - with its exposition, development, and recapitulation - is something every composer has to master. It is where compositional technique is put to the test: how do you invent ideas, develop them, transform them?

But nobody tells you how to write a slow movement. As a performer, here I always feel most free. My main aspiration is to "sing" on the keyboard, even though the piano cannot literally sing. I connect the notes, and when I play, I feel like a singer.

 

Katrin: What was it like for you to perform contemporary music on this particular instrument?

 

Sylvia: It almost felt like liberation - to finally be allowed to play completely contemporary as well. I simply felt wonderful playing it. It was the realization of an idea I had carried with me for years. It was almost paradise.

 

Katrin: So, free from the constraints of historically informed performance?

 

Sylvia: No, it's more metaphysical - or philosophical. A genuine kind of freedom. Not freedom from something, but simply freedom. I don't feel constrained by historically informed performance at all. On the contrary - that's exactly what I love about it. My love for the instrument, the composer, and the music itself is what makes me feel free.

 

Katrin: Did it feel like entering new terrain - or even a wilderness?

 

Sylvia: I wouldn't call it a wilderness. Rather, I encountered something I had imagined—and then you composed it. It's like meeting someone for the first time and immediately feeling as though you've known them forever.

That's how your music feels to me – that’s ideal.

 

Katrin: How would you describe the process from the initial idea to the finished programme?

 

Sylvia: The longest part was finding a composer who was genuinely interested in the concept. Once I met you, everything happened very quickly. We chose the movements together, you composed, I experimented with them .Then Izabella joined us and improvised, bringing an entirely new musical dimension. Of course I practised, you continued composing. And together we discussed everything and revised it. Looking back, the whole process feels remarkably effortless.

 

Katrin: Yes, that's true for me as well. At first, though, it was quite technical. I had to get to know the instrument - I had no experience with the fortepiano. I first needed to understand its various timbres and registers, to discover what makes it unique so that I could honour those qualities in the compositions. I also came to understand Mozart in a completely new way. I'm not specialised in Mozart’s music, but through this project I learned a great deal about him.

Naturally, the pieces took time to emerge. It wasn't a lengthy process. It unfolded gradually until, at some point, it became completely clear what each piece needed to be. Most of them were actually written in a single day. With miniatures like this, that kind of process is possible.

 

Sylvia: The slow movements are your source of inspiration, whereas Izabella's improvisations deliberately set themselves apart from them. Her music opens up yet another dimension. It's an unintended one - which is something I also love about life: when unexpected things happen and not everything is causally connected.

The two of us forged the overall concept together, experimenting with it throughout, and then Izabella, with the glass harp, became the element that added yet another layer of fascination.

What makes this collaboration stand out is that each of the three of us contributes something highly indiviual. It is precisely this combination that gives the project its unique identity.