When she first walks on stage, there's nothing "grand" about French pianist Hélène Grimaud. A slender woman, she prefers to perform in neutral-coloured pants and jackets -- eschewing flowing gowns, glittering jewellery and other attention-drawing devices.
When Grimaud appeared with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra last November, her muted colour scheme made her blend in to Roy Thomson Hall's grey interior. But from the moment she launched into Mozart's Piano Concerto in D Minor, K. 466, she stood out as the focus of attention. Swaying with the beat and tossing her mop of blond hair out of her eyes with a flick of her head, she seemed utterly absorbed in the music.
Her intense approach to performance has served her well: Just out of her 20s, she has performed with many leading U.S. orchestras, from Boston to Los Angeles, and also with such major European ensembles as the Berlin Philharmonic, the London Symphony and the Orchestre de Paris.
As well, she has recorded CDs with the New York Philharmonic, London's Royal Philharmonic and Berlin's Staatskapelle Orchestra. This Saturday, she returns to Canada to play Schumann's Piano Concerto in A Minor, Op. 54, in her debut with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. (The program will be repeated on Monday.)
The New York Times called her "fiercely purposeful," and in Paris, Le Figaro suggested she was "the most fascinating artist of our time." In a world full of talented young pianists, Grimaud's artistry is establishing her as a leader of the pack. But perhaps this is only to be expected: She is, after all, the concert pianist who runs with the wolves.
When not on stage, she can be found at the New York Wolf Center -- two fenced-in acres about an hour's drive from Manhattan that she and several volunteers operate as a conservation and education facility. Currently home to three B.C. wolves, the Westchester County site is never far from Grimaud's thoughts.
"My acceptable quota of absence is no more than 10 days a month," she says, explaining how she combines the demands of a concert pianist's career with her commitment to the animals she cares for.
In person, Grimaud is unimposing, speaking fluent English with a soft French accent -- only the arresting brightness of her eyes reveals her inner energy. And lest anyone think that her lupine interest is merely the eccentricity of an artiste, it should be noted that she holds a university degree in animal behaviour. She's as serious about her wolves as she is about her music.
"The wolves are individuals," she continues, warming to the subject. "One is gregarious and the other two are absolutely paranoid, but at the same time they have an ability to work as an extended family. It's interesting to see the gap between what they are and what people perceive them to be. Bears are a lot more dangerous to humans. I think wolves represent the dark side of human nature for a lot of people -- a side of nature that we can't quite control."
If this "dark side" is intimidating to many, Grimaud embraces it. She's happy to enter the compound and feed the animals with road-kill donated by local state police.
So what's the connection between her wolves and her music? Grimaud muses over the question before offering an enigmatic answer. "I'm sure there is a connection, because you can't dissociate what goes on in your life," she begins tentatively. "But it's hard for me to pinpoint it and say what it does. I think it helps to put things into perspective. To be in contact with nature in this way, and to have this sort of responsibility, has really helped me to be a lot more philosophical about whatever happens in this life."
In part, her fascination with wolves is a facet of a larger affinity with the United States. She made her U.S. debut at the age of 18 with the Cleveland Orchestra, soon found herself drawn back to the Land of Opportunity.
"When I was in Europe, I always felt somehow closed in," she says, pointing out that she has been an official resident of the United States for three years, but was an informal one for several years before that. "In Europe you can't get on the road and go for more than a few miles without coming to another town."
She also seems to like Canada. Since her first engagement in this country 12 years ago in a Vancouver recital -- an event fondly remembered by Grimaud -- she has played with the TSO, the Montreal Symphony and Ottawa's National Arts Centre Orchestra.
Grimaud has acquired a reputation for limiting her repertoire, with an emphasis on German romantics. Curiously, French music is largely absent from her programs. ("It somehow didn't stay with me," she remarks.) But her decision has made it possible for her to focus on a small number of works.
"I'm very slow moving. But when I was younger it was the opposite: I'd work on something for three weeks and play it, and I couldn't stand to play it again. It was done. Now I seem to want to stay with pieces that I work on. I'm never finished, and I always find new things in the music."
This is, to be sure, a more concentrated approach to concertizing than many musicians bring to the business. But it's consistent with the intensity of this pianist from Aix-en-Provence, who began studies at the late age of nine and by 13 was taking advanced lessons at the Paris Conservatoire.
As a result of her self-imposed limitations on repertoire and travel, she gives only about 30 or 40 performances a year. But she wouldn't have it any other way -- she has work to do at the wolf centre. When asked about her plans, she mentions her desire to commission a new work from a prominent contemporary composer, and then adds: "I'd like to go back to school and get a PhD in biology. My vision is for the wolf centre to grow as much as possible."