Вера Дулова. Воспоминания. Статьи. Документы

Like every graduate of the Paris Conservatory, I thought the most difficult things were behind me. Even though M. Jamet congratulated me on my unanimous first prize at age 15, he added, “You will play well in ten years.”

What clairvoyance! All I needed to do was to work, but I didn’t know how to attain the summits or how to focus my efforts. Everything seemed hazy. In effect, many of my questions were answered at the Israel Competition. Each morning at 7:30 A. M., I would hear “the Russians” warming up with the slowness of a dancer who starts on her barre with the demi-pli'e, pli'e, battements tendus and upward to the more complicated exercises. I was impressed by such patience and perseverance. If there was a way to become a virtuoso, this was surely the way.

At this time in my life, I had the habit of playing my repertoire with great speed and not worrying about the state of my muscles, my tendons or even less, the skin on my fingers. The methodical and organized preparation of these Russian competitors brought back to me the teaching of Pierre Jamet that I never followed! I had actually convinced myself that these insidious and boring exercises were for the less-gifted students!

When I returned to Paris, I eagerly consulted all of the 'etudes that “slept” in my mother’s library. (My mother had been a student of Marcel Tournier.) From that moment on, the method of Coeur became my Bible and the exercises of Larivri`ere my daily prayers. And thus, I started to become more disciplined in my work. As the months passed, I acquired a solid technique, and because of this, I became more serene in my musicianship.

Mme. Dulova remained for me the ideal successful woman in her art. (The ideal masculine image in my eyes was Pierre Jamet.) It seemed that she was a soloist in all senses of the word. She gave recitals, played concerti with orchestra, was soloist with the Bolshoi Theater and also shared her knowledge as a teacher. How could I not hope to imitate her? She was a complete artist.

When the first time came that I was invited to sit at the same table with Mme. Dulova as a juror for an international harp competition, I could not hide my pride. Suddenly, the one who had been a judge to me became an accomplice with me in the destiny of other young people. I redoubled my attention so that I wouldn’t make a mistake in my choices. This very special way of evolving at her side as a judge was given to me many times in England, USA and France, and each time I learned something from her.

At this point in my memories of Mme. Dulova, I would also like to speak about the quality of human rapport, admiration and affection that I witnessed between many “great” artists of the harp world. I cannot name them all, but I think of Phia Berghout, Pierre Jamet, Marcel Grandjany, Nicanor Zabaleta and so many others. They were deeply kind and determined to bring the harp to a better state of awareness in the world. They made us love music. It was a time of respect and friendship between harpists. We were faithful to these exceptional people. This attitude seems to have changed in many of today’s young musicians. The teacher is expected to provide magical solutions for the student to play well without having to work-or perhaps, just barely.

One can give all the advice in heaven and earth with competence and seriousness, but unless it is applied by the student, the result will be mediocre. During the recent master class given by Susann McDonald at Maubeuge, I was happy to hear her ask the students, “Do you play ёtudes?” What a great joy it was to hear this very young Dutch student reply that she had finished studying the&udes by Bochsa, Damase and Dizi. The result was there! She played remarkably well for all of her 12 years. This is the quality of work that we saw with Mme. Dulova and her students.

This photo could be that of my parents, as both gave me sincere advice and love. When Pierre Jamet left us I felt the need to visit Mme. Dulova. I made the decision to go to Moscow in 1997, and when I arrived Natasha Shameyeva (a friend for 30 years) let me know that “Madame” was waiting for me and that I needed to hurry because we could not make “Madame” wait! Her apartment reflected her immense personality. The quality of her furniture, the paintings and her personal belongings transported me instantly to the Russia of the Tzars. A dinner of great quality was offered to Natasha and me, and then relentless questioning about everyone in France. I was always amazed by her elephantine memory. After that, Mme. Dulova scolded me because I had disobeyed a career plan that she had suggested for me.