Bösendorfer in Wonderland
- Jeeyoon Kim
- Apr 2
- 4 min read
Last week, I traveled from NYC to the small town of Jasper, Indiana, for a concert. The stark transition—from San Diego's sunny spring weather to the heart of winter on the East Coast, and from the bustling energy of New York City to a quiet Midwestern town—was quite the shock to my system. Yet, as soon as I landed at the Indianapolis airport, I felt a comforting sense of familiarity. I know this place like the back of my hand. Jasper is nestled about two hours south of Bloomington, but despite living in Indiana for over 15 years, I had never visited it before.
Last August, a friend from Indiana texted me urgently, saying tickets for the concert sold out within hours of being released. In fact, he couldn’t secure one in time. Really? I was intrigued. Something about this mysterious little town piqued my curiosity.
The concert presenter arranged for me to stay at the nearby Hampton Inn. While it wasn’t a luxurious five-star hotel, it was, surprisingly, the best Hampton Inn I’ve ever stayed at. As someone who travels often, I’ve grown quite picky about accommodations, but everything here felt just right. Later, I discovered that this location is ranked as the #1 Hampton Inn in America. In Jasper, Indiana, of all places!
The morning of my presentation for middle school students, I was in the hotel lobby, reviewing my notes over breakfast, when a hotel employee approached me with a friendly smile.
“Hi, Jeeyoon! How’s your morning going? You’ll be playing for the students at 9 a.m., right? Do you know where you’re headed?”
I was startled by how much he already knew about me and my day’s schedule, but I smiled and replied, “Oh! Yes, thank you. I’m not sure if the facility is open yet, but I’ll head over soon.”
He quickly said, “Let me call Danny and check.”
Danny? Who’s Danny?
A few minutes later, he returned to let me know the hall was ready and asked if I needed anything else.
When I arrived at the Jasper Arts Center, the parking lot was empty, and a man emerged from the building with open arms, theatrically exclaiming, “Welcome to Jasper Arts Center, Jeeyoon!”
This was Danny—our mystery man from earlier—who cheerfully guided me through the facility, explaining its history. Then I saw it: a Bösendorfer Imperial piano gleaming under the stage lights like a rare jewel.
If you’re unfamiliar with this instrument, let me explain. The Bösendorfer Imperial is a high-end piano from Austria, unique for its extra keys and extended length—97 keys instead of the standard 88, and 9 feet 6 inches long compared to the typical 9-foot concert grand. A brand-new Imperial costs at least $350,000. I’d only encountered this “beast” once before, years ago, in a fancy mansion, and it left quite an impression. My initial reaction was: What a beauty! But I hope I never have to play one for a concert.
Why?
After playing standard 88-key pianos since I was four, a piano is like an extension of my body. I don’t have to think about where the keys are; I just know. But the Bösendorfer’s unusual proportions throw everything off. Even its logo placement—off-center on earlier models—can make it feel disorienting. Among pianists, we jokingly call it a “nightmare instrument.”
Because of its price, I’d never encountered one on a concert stage.
Until Jasper.
Apprehensive, I approached the piano and struck a few notes, bracing myself for confusion. Wait… They centered the logo properly this time! Even better, the extra keys were painted black, eliminating visual confusion. Bösendorfer must have listened to pianists’ complaints. Thank goodness! The piano’s deep, cello-like tones and remarkable clarity instantly won me over. I fell in love with it and felt grateful for this rare encounter.
The following day’s concert for the public was set up as a “Backstage Concert,” with the audience seated right on stage with me, while the rest of the hall was draped off. It felt as if we’d all tumbled into Wonderland and found a secret musical hideaway.
For 90 minutes, the music flowed uninterrupted, and the connection was palpable. I felt as though we were walking together through a pristine snow-covered field—a path I’d traveled countless times, yet it felt brand new, spiritual, and awakening.
After the performance, sensing the audience’s lingering curiosity, I casually suggested a Q&A session right there on stage.
The questions were thoughtful and heartfelt:
“How do you find inspiration?”
“What’s your process for choosing the artwork that accompanies your music?”
“What music do you listen to when you want to relax?”
“How did you come to the U.S.?”
“Will you come back to our town?”
“What advice do you have for young musicians?”
We stayed and talked for another hour, connecting and sharing. By the time I returned to my hotel, it was nearly 11 p.m.
The next morning, as I looked out the plane window at fields of cotton candy clouds on my way back to San Diego, I felt a profound sense of fullness. It’s the kind of fullness that comes only when you’ve poured your heart into something, connected with an original source of energy, and given everything you have.
Music heals us.
That’s what I was reminded of during this precious experience.
See you in Maine for the next weekend performance!
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