In going through the memories we treasure, we should not forget to mention a valuable pianist, who, even though only over a brief span of time, succeeded in making a name for himself, in line with his mastery.
His name is Dino Ciani.

Born in 1941 in the city of Fiume (he died in a car accident in Rome in 1974), he entered the Genoa Conservatoire, where his inborn qualities as a pianist were immediately recognized, as was his for feeling for music, which even then placed him on a par with the masters of the keyboard. His agile yet vigorous performing brought him to the attention of world critics, so that the young musician from Fiume soon found himself at the centre of interest and curiosity.
After concluding his piano studies first with Marta del Vecchio and then with a diploma at the Conservatorio di Santa Cecilia in Rome, he went on to further his studies at the legendary school of Alfred Cortot. He learned all his great teacher’s secrets, completely absorbing his sonority and his intense reading of classic authors, discovering the details of a method of interpretation that was deeply rooted in the school of Chopin and the French style.
After these studies, carried out with diligence and sensitivity, Dino Ciani initiated a career that was soon marked by success and enthusiastic reviews. Ciani himself, however, basically remained a perfectionist and a methodical musician, never one to trade quality for facile success.

He constantly shunned sensationalism and had no taste for the ephemeral. He faced the piano as a challenge, always striving to find the right interpretation, trying to understand and grasp the psychology of the composer through the printed score. To gauge his capacities and establish to what extent he deserved the praise he was receiving, Ciani took part in the 1961 Liszt-Bartók Competition in Budapest (one of the most important piano competitions), where he was awarded second prize.
This was an extraordinary result, considering that, at 20, he was the youngest participating pianist, which proved the level of skill he had attained after years of intense training under a teacher of the likes of Cortot. In a few years Dino Ciani shot through every stage of international pianism, ideally competing with the great pianists of his time and developing his own individual style that distinguished him among others. His discreet, intimist manner of playing could be referred to no particular school, and emerged through a personal un-academic reading of classic compositions which under his touch seemed to gain new dimensions and original lines of interpretation.

He travelled a great deal, visiting musically sensitive countries like Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Switzerland, Germany, the Netherlands, Canada and Spain. He knew how to create a spiritual dialogue with his audience, conceding very little to virtuosity, exploring uncharted intimist sonorites. One characteristic of Ciani was his refusal to specialize in a single composer, which left him in a boundless but arduous territory, yet he was not disheartened by the foreseeable difficulties of giving full development to so many different piano styles.
He gave a memorable rendition of Beethoven’s 33 Variations on a Theme by Diabelli, whose vehement yet limpid sonorities only he seemed able to extract in their completeness, thanks to a perfect combination of balance and thought, born of a great sensitivity refined over the years. Many other composers proved congenial to his style and interpretation. Ciani could adapt with surprising ductility, moving from composers of the eighteenth century to the early twentieth century - a very large expansion, in which Ciani, however, was always comfortable, as he possessed a solid cultural background and could offer a personal view of the composers he dealt with. His interest for a more modern pianism, less softened, lead him to plan a performance of Ferruccio Busoni’s Concert for a main piano and several strings, winds and percussion instruments. Unfortunately the project was interrupted by his untimely death. By choosing this rare work by Busoni however, Ciani showed his modernist side – he apparently had no intention of remaining confined to dated piano literature, with no new creative stimulus. Even his performance of Claude Debussy’s Preludes, which he recorded for Deutsche Grammophon, conceiving them as miniatures made of sound, is dense with crystalline sonority, showing once again how he could go beyond fashions and typical academic interpretation. With his tall, slim figure and his fair hair always well-combed, Ciani recalled certain Renaissance images, an impression enhanced by the magnetism that surrounded him during his performances. This is not to create an aura of mysticism or of disproportionate greatness; it is only a dutiful tribute to an important figure in twentieth-century music who did not live long enough to leave further evidence of his undeniable qualities.

Official critics have always viewed the performer with an alert eye, rightly appraising him during his lifetime. But Ciani always tried to avoid the media, preferring validation and constant study to the brilliant lights of prestigious salons. A character of the old school? Not so. Just a serious professional, deeply conscious of his role in the world of music.

After his death a international piano competition was established to preserve the name and the memory of a prominent figure in Italian music. There remain, fortunately, a number of quality recordings, bearing witness to his approach to music, which has become a subject of study for young piano schools. Actually, his method of understanding musical pages of the past remains valid still today, because he combined a historical reading of the works (the traditions and styles of the time) with an analytical study of the composers, trying to find an original and personal interpretation. Ciani had reached international fame. French television included him in the serial programme “Great Interpreters”, paying tribute to his temperament and his balance as a first-rate artist. One fact that I consider revealing in his life as an artist is his decision to perform the entire series of Ludwig Van Beethoven’s Sonatas.

This event took place in 1970 in Turin, and it calls for further reflection on Ciani’s identity as an interpreter. Beethoven’s works contain all the facets of a tormented composer who interiorizes his suffering and conceals it from view. In the folds of his pages he leaves room for freedom of thought and small pockets for virtuosity. The rest consists chiefly in the happenings of daily life. These same shades can be found in the musical and artistic philosophy of Dino Ciani, who from this point of view is Beethoven’s perfect equivalent. It is his ductility as a complete interpreter that keeps him alive today, although the passing of time has weakened the memory of having lost a worthy successor of the legendary figures who made the piano the wonderful instrument it is.