Tian Jiang, piano virtuoso from Shanghai

Tian Jiang, the piano virtuoso, made his customary, introductory bow. The audience applauded – but solely a for delicadeza applause, as usually Cebuanos do. There was a hush, followed by total silence. He slowly touched the keyboard. Then, his fingers began to roll.

Closing my eyes briefly every now and then, I liked what I heard. It was a peculiar, curious combination – a bit classical, a bit pop, powerhouse playing and yet easy listening. It was simply stunning.

As expected, the house lights were dimmed. With some difficulty, I consulted my program while still attuned to the ongoing musical number. The program notes stated Shanghai Dream Suite, the composition of the pianist, which reflected his childhood days in his hometown Shanghai. This collection of 12 short pieces is a "tribute to my parents’ strength and love" and "a statement of my life, my temperament." I immediately understood why it is so close to his heart, why he loved it so much, why he played it so magically beautiful.

This early on, I regretted that only six selected pieces of the suite were played. But I had to remind myself that it was just the opening number to an evening with one of the world’s most exciting concert pianists.

But before anything else, let’s meet the man.

Tian Jiang could not have chosen a worst time to come into this earth, for he was born at the height of China’s Cultural Revolution that brought about the great famine. His parents – his father a singer of Western opera, his mother a dentist – were branded as intellectuals and bitterly suffered the unmentionable consequences. Despite the odds, he started his study of piano at five and gave his first performance when he turned seven. And the child prodigy was on his way to conquer the world.

He studied at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music, where he was allowed some formal training – for how can one so talented be stopped and forever ignored – and at 13, he made his professional debut at the Shanghai Spring International Music Festival.

Lucky to be among the first artists given permission to leave China after the Cultural Revolution, he continued his studies abroad. Prizes bestowed upon him include the Young Keyboard Artist International, the William Kappell International Piano Competition and the Van Cliburn Awards.

Since then, he has been concertizing all around the world, performing in London, Paris, Rome, Moscow, Sydney, Taipei, Manila and in over 45 American cities, with their respective leading symphony orchestras. Recently, he was the last featured guest performer that brought the cultural season of the Arts Council of Cebu Foundation to another end at the Grand Ballroom of the Cebu City Marriott Hotel.

Now, back to the concert.

It was time to listen to Robert Schumann’s Carnaval – all 21 little pieces from "Preambule" to "Valse Noble" to "Coquette" to "Papillons," which also included touching tributes to Frédéric Chopin, as well as the legendary violinist Nicolò Paganini, and ended with the "Marche des Davidsbundler Contre les Philistines." All these I enjoyed for the pianist played with superlative technique impossible not to be appreciated.

This was followed by a relatively short piece – the fast and compact Piano Sonata No. 3 by Sergey Prokofiev. The artist’s interpretation was simply delightfully dramatic. From the savage beginnings, it progressed effortlessly to an intense meditation and ended in a joyful ecstatic high.

Thank God, intermission came. Slowly, but very slowly, both my feet touched the ground once again.

A hasty, armchair ocular inspection of my surroundings almost convinced me I was back in China. And why not? The audience was predominantly Chinois – or shall I say Chinoy. Many came in full Chinese wear – from cheongsams with side slits to you-know-where to attractive jackets in silk brocade. Paging Marissa Fernan, Francis Onglatco, Annie Aboitiz, Gina Osmeña, Mariter Klepp, Petite Garcia, Elvira Luym and many others. Even the Cebu-based officers and staff of the Consulate General of the People’s Republic of China, led by its Consul General Wu Lianpi, came in full force. The venue was transformed into an excellent replica of those fabled gardens found in ancient cities. Red Chinese lanterns, in various shapes and sizes, were hung everywhere. Even tables had mini pagodas, stylized, of course.

And as I was on my way to greet long-lost friends, the bells started to chime to remind everyone to return to their respective seats. I quickly caught a glimpse of an impressive massive pagoda at the entrance of the ballroom, complete with ferns and other greens on a spread of tiny white pebbles carefully and artistically arranged at the base. You guessed it right. The thematic look was another inspired, brilliant execution by Teresin Mendezona, who was fast to add that Jaime Chua, an upcoming decorator with taste and élan, had also a hand on it.

The second part of the program consisted of three compositions by Chopin, namely the Scherzo in B-Flat minor, Op. 31, Nocturne in B Major, Op. 62, No. 1, and Andante Spianato et Grand Polonaise Brillante, Op. 22, Zhang Yin’s The Northwind Blows, a theme from the ballet White-Haired Girl, and Franz Liszt’s Mephisto Waltz No. 1.

By the time his quickly-moving powerful-yet-subtle-with-astonishing-evenness fingers touched the keyboard for what seemed like the very last few notes for the evening, the formerly reserved, now ecstatic audience brought themselves to a well-deserved standing ovation. Tian Jiang captivated the hearts and enriched the souls of his listeners.

One thought bothered me though on my way back home. When will I hear the other six short pieces that complete the Shanghai Dream Suite?