Today’s post continues the Piano Pedagogy Series with Part 2 of four interviews featuring Chinese concert pianist and teacher Chenyin Li. In this post, we discuss Chenyin’s advanced study, research and her repertoire.

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You won a full scholarship to study with Tamas Vesmas at the University of Auckland. Tell us about your experience studying in New Zealand?

It is another interesting story how I came to study in New Zealand. At that time my professor at the Central Conservatory, Prof. Chen Bi-Gang, introduced me to a Taiwanese music patron, Dr David Yu, a successful doctor who had emigrated to New Zealand. He was also an accomplished amateur artist himself. On one of his visits to the conservatory he heard me perform, and afterwards expressed a wish to support my further studies.

By then, I had already enjoyed some success on the international stage: I had won second prize at the Maria Canals International Youth Piano Competition in Spain, been selected as one of the youngest participants in the Osaka International Chamber Music Competition with a piano trio, and had represented China in a group of four young artists touring the United States for two months, which included a performance at the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. These opportunities only confirmed my professor’s conviction that my future lay in studying in the West — in his words, “to learn Western music from its original source.”

It is important to understand the special bond between a student and a principal teacher at the conservatory. Most of us were full boarders, going home only for the summer and winter holidays, so our teachers were not only our musical mentors but, in many ways, our guardians. Professor Chen took that role very seriously, and it was largely through his encouragement that I decided not to continue solely in China but to pursue my education abroad.

At that moment my sponsor, Dr Yu, appeared at exactly the right time, making the introduction to Tamas Vesmas at the University of Auckland, where I was offered a full scholarship.

Tamas Vesmas was a truly wonderful teacher who nurtured me to build a bridge between China and Europe, even though we first met in New Zealand. Of Romanian origin, he belonged to a generation of pianists shaped by the French school, yet also rooted in the great Hungarian tradition. He had studied with Dinu Lipatti’s teacher, Florica Musicescu, during the 1950s and 60s, and later in Paris with Yvonne Lefébure and Monique de la Bruchollerie. That extraordinary mix of influences gave him a unique perspective, and it was something he passed on generously to his students.

His devotion to composers such as Brahms, Bartók, and Debussy left a lasting imprint on me. Perhaps because of his own experiences studying abroad, he was deeply understanding and supportive of my challenges, particularly at the beginning when I could hardly speak a word of English. At eighteen, arriving in New Zealand and suddenly thrown into a university environment, the language barrier felt daunting. But he cultivated me with patience and kindness, guiding me through those first difficult months until I began to find my footing.

Soon I was welcomed as though I were one of the Kiwis myself, and by the time I graduated I had won the title of New Zealand Young Musician of the Year in 1997. That period in Auckland was formative not only for my pianistic growth, but also for the cultural openness and resilience it fostered in me.

Next, you studied with Joan Havill at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London where you earned the Premier Prix, a Master’s Degree, and the Postgraduate Concert Recital Diploma. How did this experience shape your playing?

As I mentioned earlier, after winning the title of New Zealand Young Musician of the Year, I was very fortunate to receive a generous prize, which included two round-the-world air tickets sponsored by Cathay Pacific. I used this opportunity to audition at all the leading conservatories in the United States — Manhattan, New England, Juilliard, and the University of Indianapolis — as well as the major institutions in the UK. Along the way I arranged consultation lessons with many leading piano professors, and it was through this process that I first encountered Joan Havill, who left a lasting impression on me.

Studying with her marked another level of refinement in my development as a pianist. Whereas Tamas Vesmas had encouraged me to explore a broad artistic range of expression, Joan Havill was meticulous in her focus on detail: sound quality, clarity of voicing, and structural coherence. She also guided me in building a much more extensive repertoire, one that could properly equip me for a professional career. Beyond the piano, she pushed me to widen my horizons — entering auditions, competitions, and concerts — and was instrumental in extending my career path. Most crucially, she instilled in me the importance of never taking anything for granted, especially as a female pianist, where the path can often feel even more challenging.

Tell us a little about your time at the Guildhall and how did it differ from your experience as a student in China and New Zealand?

Thinking back on my time at Guildhall, the biggest difference compared to my experiences in China and New Zealand was that this was the stage where everything became “real.” I was now doing postgraduate studies, which is often the point where young artists begin to face the practical struggle of making a living and standing on their own. In my case, this was in a foreign country, with all the additional challenges of trying to be accepted and to settle down in the UK.

At the time I was still travelling on a Chinese passport, which I began to find increasingly restrictive. For a pianist, international travel is a basic requirement — to attend competitions, masterclasses, and concerts, particularly in Europe. The administrative barriers made this side of my life as demanding as the artistic challenges I faced. In other words, I came to realise that the practical realities of life were just as testing as the pursuit of a career itself.

So while I was expanding my studies, I was also trying to put down roots in the country I had come to love and to which I felt deeply indebted, not least because of Guildhall’s continuous support over many years. It was a long period of development, but I have always believed, as many great artists advise, that one should study for as long as possible. The path of becoming an artist requires far more time than any single degree can provide.

During those years I applied for every scholarship, bursary, and competitive audition that I could. Funding opportunities were limited, but I was extremely fortunate to receive scholarships throughout my studies, which meant that I could devote myself fully to music. I didn’t have to take weekend jobs in cafés or kitchens to make ends meet; instead, I was able to channel all of my energy into furthering my art. The support I received — large and small — made a tremendous difference, and I have always tried to use it to the fullest to develop myself as a musician.

You were the first student at Guildhall to be awarded a Doctorate in Performance (DMA), and your thesis was published in 2010 by the academic publisher VDM as Memorisation: The Essential Guide for Pianists. How have you subsequently utilised your thesis? Do you frequently give presentations about memorisation?

There were several factors that made my doctorate possible. First of all, it came at a very opportune time. The Doctorate in Performance was a newly introduced degree at the GSMD, part of a wider process of formalising higher qualifications in the arts. I happened to be at exactly the right point in my career to take it on, and I was already becoming deeply interested in the subject that became my research focus: memorisation in piano performance.

At the time, I was under enormous pressure, preparing multiple strands of repertoire simultaneously. Some of it was for major international competitions, each requiring four demanding rounds of music that had to be brought to the highest standard and performed with absolute reliability from memory. Alongside that I was preparing recital programmes and chamber music, all of which placed extra demands on time management and consistency. I never felt I was naturally gifted at organisation, so I needed a system to help me cope. Memorisation quickly became the central issue.

The breakthrough came during the Scottish International Piano Competition. Under the stress of learning so much new repertoire at once, I realised that the traditional methods of memorising I had relied on simply did not give me the foolproof security I needed on stage. Psychologically too, I never felt fully confident before walking out to perform. It was at that point I began experimenting with a broader set of mnemonic strategies — essentially “coding” sequences of music in different ways to aid recall.

These could take many forms: linking a passage to a specific fingering pattern, fixing it visually by keyboard geography, using a photographic memory of the score, or relying on an aural anchor point. Each pianist can combine these elements differently depending on their strengths or weaknesses. In practice, it becomes a complex but flexible memory system, with multiple safety nets ready to activate if something falters in performance. This was the foundation of my doctoral research.

It was a bold idea at the time, but one that proved successful in practice, and I was eager to continue exploring it. When the DMA became available to apply for, I couldn’t imagine a better framework: it allowed me to test this system across a wide and varied repertoire, while also experimenting with fellow pianists.

I have benefited from this research ever since. It has completely reshaped how I approach learning a new piece, and it gives me confidence when walking on stage with a challenging programme, knowing that even if mistakes happen, I have ways to recover.

I also use every opportunity to share this with my students, many of whom face the same anxieties about memorisation. Performing without the score remains a standard expectation for pianists, and having a reliable memory system can be a real safeguard in the high-pressure environment of the concert stage.

What memorisation tips do you consider the most fundamental for students?

I think the most fundamental advice I can give to any pianist about memorisation is: do not rely solely on muscle memory. Of course, as we practise and improve, repetition inevitably leads to a stage where our hands “know” a passage and seem to move almost automatically. But this is never foolproof on stage. For anyone considering a professional career, it is simply too risky to rely on this method alone.

There are many different ways of internalising a score, but the essential point is that the music must also be consciously preserved in the mind, not left in an unconscious, automatic state. You should always be aware of where you are, what you are doing, and what comes next. I often compare it to travelling on a journey from point A to point B: even if you are moving continuously, you must know exactly where you are on the route, what is just behind you, and what is coming up ahead.

That said, no method will ever completely eliminate mistakes. The first step is to accept that as human beings we are bound to make them — especially under the pressure of performance. The goal of memorisation is not perfection, but resilience: to minimise mistakes, and above all to ensure that they do not derail the performance when they occur.

Another crucial element is mental practice. Pianists often rely too much on physical practice alone. But you should also be able to sit away from the piano and run through the piece in your head, note by note, as precisely as possible. This mental rehearsal strengthens memory far more deeply than finger work alone.

Finally, I would remind students that even the best memorisation system is not an end in itself. A perfectly accurate performance is not the ultimate goal. What matters most is expression — communicating the character of the work and its message to the audience. I have had occasions where I played almost note-perfectly, but left the stage unsatisfied because there was nothing beyond the accuracy. To me, that feels like failure. Memorisation is a tool that supports artistry, not a substitute for it.

What is your favourite piano repertoire?

It is always difficult to answer this question, because once you are deeply engaged with a particular repertoire, you become absorbed in its distinctive beauty and style, and inevitably form a kind of bias in its favour. Each work seems, in the moment, to be the most rewarding.

That said, I often return to the classical repertoire — Beethoven and Schubert in particular — which never leaves me unsatisfied. Their works have a completeness and depth that always bring a sense of fulfilment, even though in many ways I feel naturally attuned to the Romantic repertoire.

Through my former teacher Tamas Vesmas, I also developed a real love for Bartók. I am continually drawn to the honesty of his music and the raw, richly textured harmonic language he employs. And finally, I have spent a great deal of time with Ravel, and there remains a strong wish to complete his works more fully in my repertoire.

What repertoire would you still love to learn?

Like many pianists, I played a great deal of Chopin when I was younger, but at the moment I feel a real revival of passion for his music. There are still areas of his repertoire I would love to explore more fully. I have played many of his larger works, but never quite enough of the so-called “smaller” ones — the Mazurkas and Nocturnes in particular — which contain such richness and depth. I would also like to complete the few Scherzos and Impromptus I have not yet studied, so that I can eventually perform the complete cycle of Ballades, Scherzos, and Impromptus.

I have performed both of Chopin’s big sonatas several times, but one important omission remains: I have never yet learned his Concerto No. 2. It is almost surprising to admit it, but it is a work I have always longed to study, and I know that at some point it must find its place in my repertoire.

www.chenyinli.com