Behind Fred Hersch there’s a view of Central Park. Billows of lush trees buffer the bright, sunny green of the Sheep Meadow, bracketed by the scaffolds of two skyscrapers-in-progress. It’s a lovely slice of New York summer. Except that it’s a few days before Christmas, and Hersch is speaking (via Zoom) from his apartment in SoHo—some 60 blocks from the Park.
“This woman I went to high school with named Susan Wides, she took this photo,” the pianist explains. “It’s like an extra window in the apartment. I have a lot of art, and 90 percent of it is people I know. Everything on the tables or on the wall has a story.”
He holds up a wooden sculpture of a cartoonish bulldog: crazed eyes, filthy snout, tongue lolling out. “That’s like, essence of dog,” he says. “I’ve got about seven carvings by this guy.”
The symbolism of Hersch living a life surrounded by art is obvious. Still, the fact that most of it is the work of friends and acquaintances adds another layer to that symbolism. There’s already a kind of intimate exchange between an artistic creation and its consumer, which can only be amplified when one has a personal relationship with the creator.
Intimate exchange is Hersch’s own creative focus these days. Three of his four most recent releases—including his current one, , with esperanza spalding—have been either duo or solo recordings. (He’s slated to make another solo album in May for ECM Records.) The fourth, last year’s , featured seven
