On a recent warm autumn evening in Porto, the Russian-Armenian pianist Eva Gevorgyan performed before a crowd so spasmodic with coughing fits it may yet prove to be a locus of the next pandemic. The barking did nothing to quell Gevorgyan’s performance of Chopin, Brahms, and Schumann. Dressed in a Celedon-green sequined dress, a silken train, and matching heels, she cut from the bench, through much hand whipping and hair tossing, a gregarious and generous poise, something that won her four encores. I was already familiar with Gevorgyan as a musician less “perfectly” connected to her instrument than astrally connected to it—whatever physical technical foibles appear in her playing are offset by her innate chronomancy that renders her heavily Romantic repertoire sublime. Yet this assertive and coolly possessed performance was at times difficult to square with the young woman I had met the day before. 

Gevorgyan was born in Moscow in 2004, and has studied at the Moscow Conservatory since being accepted at the age of seven. She maintains a taxing international touring schedule, and has, by her own count, been a laureate in more than 40 piano competitions. In November, she will substitute for Khatia Buniatishvili at the CEBEF All Stars concert in Belgrade, Serbia.

We met on the eve of her Porto performance, on a sunny afternoon in the café of Casa da Musica. She wore a sheer black top speckled with white polka dots, a light blue skirt, and comfortable shoes. Her long blonde hair was tied into a ponytail that fell far below her waist. Throughout our conversation, she spoke softly, her bashfulness pierced with occasional flashes of confidence as she fussed with a paper napkin.

A jazz band had performed in the café the previous evening, and, in mentioning it, Gevorgyan touched on her newfound pursuit of the genre. “I’m practicing harmony sequences and different tonalities,” she said. “I’m trying to learn, but I’m not good enough to join a session.” This question of inability soon turned to the topic of self-confidence.


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J.R. Patterson is a Canadian writer. His work has appeared in The Walrus, The Guardian, and The Washington Post.