He has to be seen on the podium, without any baton, as naked, the body and the look in total symbiosis with the music. This music, it looks like he carves it as it is born. That he kneads it, caresses it, hugs it in a loving gesture, makes it rise like a paste, injecting into the mass of strings a delicious unctuousness. Sometimes, too, he holds it in suspension with his fingertip, like a question. Then abandons himself in pianississimi at the edge of the audible. Or release it in a wonderful blast effect.
But we must also see him in the intimacy of an interview. Warm, open, relaxed. Far from the cold mood that we lend to some of his ancestors, the Toscanini, Karajan or other Boulez. “He is hyper-sensitive, very human,” confirms French flutist Juliette Hurel, who has been performing in her Rotterdam orchestra since 1998. “When he arrives, it's a ray of sunshine. He knows everyone. He is not stingy with hugs. And when he conducts, his gestique is clear as water of rock.” These words corroborate what we perceive of him on stage. “He communicates a lot with the face," she insists. “With a smile, he will make a musician play better. Which is more effective than flipping it off, like some other leaders would do!”
Traduction libre par CNS d’après Google