Between Expressiveness and Meditation: on Simonas Poška´s recital.
- Eleni Ioannidou
- May 29
- 8 min read
Updated: May 31
Simonas Poška comes from a family of artists. His father is a well-known painter and his mother an actress. The child likely inherited the spirit of artists and theater people and fostered it in a loving environment, as he began appearing in front of the camera as a child actor on television at a young age and lending his voice to dubbing films. Until one day, he discovered the grand piano.
The piano is an instrument that has fascinated artistic souls all over the world for centuries. Numerous films and literary works tell of the supernaturally strong human love for this instrument. In "The Piano" by Jane Campion, the mute protagonist Ada McGrath finds in a grand piano the instrument with which she can express herself in New Zealand of the 19th century, far from civilization. In "The Pianist" by Roman Polanski, the protagonist Wladyslaw Spielmann, owes his survival in the face of an inhumane totalitarism, persecution and war to this instrument and to music. The piano, this large, loud harp with its rich, brilliant sound, capable of conveying profound harmonies with two hands, both loud and soft (fortepiano), complex and mysterious messages as if they were not only melodies, but also poems or paintings, dramatic as a scream, but also lyrical like a prayer, capable of imitating natural sounds like birdsong or the rustling of a forest, this instrument offers a powerful instrument for the expression of a sensitive soul and spirit. It's no wonder that not a single composer exists, except perhaps Wagner, that has not written masterpieces for this instrument, that will last forever.
So, one day in Vilnius, the young boy discovers this instrument and knows exactly what he wants to dedicate his life to: communicating with his piano. It is a conscious, profound decision. Not because he wants to have a career, earn money, tour the world, and enjoy the prominent status of stars like Lang Lang, record labels, interviews in the best newspapers, contracts, and powerful agents. He does this to engage with the literature of the great masters from then until now, or to take philosophical journeys through time and space, just like those masters before him, with this instrument. And to share everything he discovers—his human emotions and spiritual enlightenments, his exuberance and meditations—with an audience, no matter where: at a university, in a salon, in a concert hall, for his friends or for the President of France.
The artist's humble honesty is immediately palpable, from the first moment Simonas enters a stage or a room until the last moment he leaves: the listeners and spectators are swept along with him on a journey that is far more than simply a piano recital: it is an immersion in mysterious worlds beyond time and place, which other composers have explored before him, and which he now re-enters and conveys. Deep parts of the spectator's soul are touched, and they sit riveted to their seats for hours, forgetting time. Young or old, politicians or workers, they listen, think or feel, suffer or rejoice, and this doesn't let up for a minute, until the concert ends, or perhaps even afterwards.
Simonas sometimes speaks of "catharsis" when explaining the works to his listeners. It is a term from ancient Greek theater, the art of his mother. For the Greeks, actors were like priests; the amphitheater was the temple of the god Dionysus, who stood for wine, liberation, and renewal. An amphitheater stands next to the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, next to the temple of the god of health, Asclepius, at Epidaurus. For the Greeks, Catharsis was that mysterious moment near the end of a tragedy when the spectator is "purified"—his mind is enlightened, he recognizes a hidden truth about himself and the world, and heals.
Motionless, as if in silent reverence, as if watching a tragedy in Epidaurus, a German-Polish audience listened to Simona Poška for almost two hours on May 21st, 2025 in the salon on Augustastrasse in Görlitz and in the large "Muza" hall in Nowogrodziec as part of the "Music with Joseph Ignaz Schnabel" festival on May 23rd, 2025. Time seemed to no longer matter. It could last 30 minutes or 3 hours; the listeners/viewers followed the narration of a well-conceived musical tale with open hearts, and not a single one seemed to glance at their watch. Enthusiastic, they left the salon and asked for a recording (which the Ars Augusta Society prepares for every concert) as a souvenir. In Poland, the generous, soulful Slavic audience expressed their gratitude for the emotions conveyed with continuous ovations, and not only after the program, which progressed from a Beethoven sonata to Liszt's Dante sonata, but also after the encore, a reconciliatory Liszt Consolation, they all stood together again, grateful. The evening's moderator, the equally witty and multi-talented musicologist, musician, and painter Mariusz Urban, bid farewell to the audience with the apt remark, "The Consolation ("pociecha" in Polish) was just the right ending; otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to sleep."
But what was it about the program, prepared by the artist in collaboration with the festival's artistic director, that had such an impact on the audience? As Mariusz Urban said, it began with a "Sonata quasi una Fantasia" by Beethoven (No. 13, Op. 27) and ended with a "Fantasia quasi una sonata" by Franz Liszt ("Apres une lecture de Dante" from "Années de pèlerinage"). In between there was a great deal of fantasy and structure, Apollonian lyricism and Dionisian pathos: two Nocturnes, Op. 27, and the Scherzo No. 1 by Chopin with the Lullaby in the central section, two Concert Etudes S.145 by Liszt, and two pieces from the "Années de pèlerinage,"
Franz Liszt's "Years of Pilgrimage" Mariusz Urban called this cycle by Franz Liszt a "suite". These are meditations on places and spiritual figures in Europe, such as Geneva and Rome, such as Dante and Willhelm Tell. With artistic sensitivity, Mr. Urban gave the concert the apt title "Between Expressiveness and Meditation," and that was precisely what this concert was about: expressing the feelings of the human soul or pictures and meditating on the human drama. The musician and actor did all of this so perfectly on the Yamaha grand piano in the "Muza" hall that at the end it was truly impossible to sleep unless Consolation No. 3 promised the listener comfort and hope. This is the Hope that the festival's artistic director has called for as the common thread for this year's festival. In her welcoming address in the program for the 17th edition of the festival, which was officially opened with this concert, she wrote about the Year of Pilgrimage 2025, which celebrates the Catholic world under the motto "Pilgrims of Hope." We are currently experiencing dark, dramatic times in Europe. We need hope, and culturally active pilgrims can give us that.
Simonas Poška began with Beethoven's "Sonata quasi una fantasia" Nr. 13. He elegantly evoked Beethoven's classical spirit, which, with slow and faster sections, expressed the revolutionary spirit in Europe at the beginning of the 19th century. But after Beethoven came Romanticism, and composers like Chopin and Liszt departed from the order of Classical music. Sorrow and dream resonated in Chopin's nocturnes. Still elegant, the artist knew how to continue to honor Beethoven's spirit while avoiding evoking too early the drama. Only at the end of the first part of the concert did the spirit of the revolution finally emerge in Scherzo No. 1: an unbridled, fast tempo for the first part, ruthlessly loud chords like the cry of the Polish composer, who, in Paris, recalled the sad fate of his occupied homeland and meditated on the traditions and spirit of his people in the beautiful Christmas carol "Sleep, Little Jesus" (Lulajże Jezuniu). In his description, Mariusz Urban quoted passages from a letter the composer wrote in Paris: he lamented how, in his room and his instrument, he found refuge from the superficial Parisian society, where he gave free rein to his true emotions and homesickness.
But after the revolutionary romanticism of Scherzo No. 1, the artist came to the composer with whom he probably feels a spiritual affinity: Franz Liszt. This composer repeatedly finds a place in his concerts, and with his music Simonas has won several prizes in competitions. The passionate Hungarian, who traveled through Europe as a concert pianist and ended his life as a priest, is perhaps a kindred spirit for Simonas Poška. He had even played the role of Franz Liszt in the project "Wanderer" of Ars Augusta society, dancing and acting there, and with "Valee d'Obermann" he described Caspar David Friedrich's famous painting "The Wanderer by the Sea of Fog." The piece was his own choice at the time.
The artist curates his programs carefully because he has a feeling for dramaturgy and knows that every place and every time deserves a special program. At the concert in Nowogrodziec, the 23-year-old performed another premiere in his repertoire: "Les cloches de Génève" and "Aprés une lecture de Dante." Mariusz Urban explained that "Cloches de Génève" is linked to a quote by Lord Byron. The great poet, like many other artists of his time, was a pilgrim to Geneva. Geneva is the birthplace of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and Voltaire also lived close to Geneva for a long time. The Romantics made pilgrimages to Geneva to honor the philosophers of the Enlightenment, because the Enlightenment was a milestone in European history, just like Christianity. In "The Bells of Geneve," Franz Liszt lets us experience a musical image: we see the Dionysian poet of "Don Juan," meditating while listening to the church bells across the lake in the morning. "I live not in myself, but I become / Part of what is around me." The demon-tormented poet, who sought healing for his soul during his pilgrimage, understood in Geneva that the key lies in liberation from the ego and surrender to a universe beyond the self. Simonas played this piece wonderfully slowly, with feeling, and almost like a painter or photographer. The difficult, dry acoustics of the space were no obstacle: even the last seat in the hall could clearly recognize the well-painted melodies, loud and soft, dark shadows and luminous highlights. The voicing worked well. What magnificent musicality and feeling for the mathematics of sound this young man has!
Alle The "journey" culminated in the "Dante Sonata." The 20-minute work is a narrative of unparalleled human drama, inspired by Dante's "Divine Comedy" and his journey from Hell to Paradise and back to Earth. Works with a deep philosophical meaning can't be performed often; philosopher-artists like Simonas are needed to decipher them. Without in-depth study, this music is superficial and can't truly unfold. It seems boring. But it is truly a universe within itself. Mariusz Urban was able to perfectly describe this in words before Simonas confirmed it with his music. The chords "Diabolus in Musica" begin Dante's journey through the Inferno. The repeated interplay between hellish drama, trumpets of resurrection, hope, Beatrice, and the harmonies of paradise, until everything culminates in an ever-increasing struggle between hell and paradise, in the soul of Dante, or Hugo (whose poem "Apres une lecture de Dante" inspired Liszt's work), with a triumphant integration of devilish chords (the shadow side) with heavenly harmonies (the higher self). Catharsis.
All these thoughts would not have been possible if not for this delicate, childlike man with the incredible strength, generosity, self-confidence, and courage. But also modesty, because he didn't want to impress for a single minute, but rather give sincerely.
He spared no emotion. Under the powerful striking, one key of the Yamaha grand piano could not withstand the pressure. Liszt, too, was known for breaking piano strings while playing. The audience was even disappointed if he did not destroy any. Surely, like Simonas, Liszt was also capable of achieving a barely audible pianissimo. Demonic and angelic, forte and piano, a perfect circle was completed; the concert was a success.
I'd like to write one last thing, as an encore, about this artist. He is not just a musician. He is also an actor. When he plays a concert, you can see him reciting like a great actor monologues on the piano. He enjoys acting, but Simonas Poska ultimately chose music as his language, not theater. He knows that music, not theater—the harmonies of Messiaen, the paintings of Debussy and Ravel, the philosophy in the music of Liszt—has greater power and speaks a more universal language. With that, he wants to leave his mark on this world.
Hopefully, the young Lithuanian will have the opportunity to leave this mark everywhere: in a house with a piano, in a village´s piazza or in a huge concert hall in a metropolis. It would be desirable for this musical pilgrim to fill every space with his playing, emotions, meditations, and make this world more balanced and more peaceful than before.
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