Вера Дулова. Воспоминания. Статьи. Документы - стр. 30
In 1965, international competitions were rare, and I didn’t have any immediate solutions for my life after failing to win the competition. When I returned to France, Pierre Jamet (who was also on the jury of the competition) had but one wish – to invite Mme. Dulova to Gargilesse. From that time on, I watched for every Bolshoi tour to France and never missed a chance to hear the great harp cadenzas of Tchaikovsky, Glazunov and others. During that time, Mme. Dulova also helped me prepare the Gliere Concerto before I recorded it in 1977.
At last the summer came when Mme. Dulova played at Gargilesse, and it was a moving experience for me. It is hard to say what impressed me most, but it had to do with the way that all of her being was in harmony with the music she played. Even now as I write, I remember her extraordinary quality of gestures, and I can also see the expressions on her face. For Mme. Dulova, only the essential part of music counted, and no easy effect had a place in her work. I was excited to discover another way of playing, to hear another literature, and to feel that this perfection would only be accessible by technical work and diligent musical research.
When I was a student of Pierre Jamet, he never played recitals. (He gave his last concert at age 90 interpreting the Debussy Danses with Pierre Boulez.) M. Jamet would always teach us how to correct a fault or improve our technique or musicality, but the profession seemed to me vague and inaccessible. It was difficult for me to see clearly what road I should take. From Mme. Dulova, I began to better understand how to build a real professional life. I observed her in concert and saw her surrounded by her students and admired by the many professional harpists who gathered at the Holland Harpweeks or Gargilesse. I remember her kindness to her colleagues and the respect she inspired by simply being herself. I remember how the students looked up to her and waited to hear her commentary on their presentation. It was bad luck for the student who had not played the way Mme. Dulova had wanted them to play! On the other hand, one or two words of praise would suffice to illuminate the faces of Natasha, Emilia, Tatiana (or any of her students), when the “Madame” was happy.
After quite a few years of meetings and some professional growth by me, it seemed clear that Mme. Dulova had integrated me as one of her children. Because I lost my mother when I was very young, I have always believed that Heaven sent a few substitute mothers to me, and Mme. Dulova was definitely one of them. But let us return to the shock I experienced from my first contact with the Russian School.