Two weeks ago my friend Suzanne and I visited David Steinbuhler, founder of the D.S. Standard Foundation and builder of custom piano actions living in Titusville, Pennsylvania. The “action” of a piano includes the keys and hammers and all of the other moving parts. The name makes sense because this is where all the action happens! (Fun fact, this part of the piano has more moving parts than a car!) David custom builds piano actions with narrower key sizes, allowing the pianist to reach further distances while maintaining a more relaxed, less stretched, hand position.
Many people inquired about our visit to Pennsylvania, and over time the story evolved to center upon the great injustice of small-handed pianists’ lifelong battles with an instrument that is too big for their body. The problem can be summed up using the “If it fits I sits” meme. In this meme a cat sits in a box, basket, or bowl, even if it does not actually fit in the box, basket, or bowl. Inversely, small-handed pianists stretch themselves onto the traditional sized piano keys in spite of discomfort, increased risk of injury, and technical barriers. In both cases it doesn’t fit, but in only one case is it actually funny.
My friend Lia who works in DEI pointed out that the limiting lack of options in keyboard size is an accessibility issue. David Steinbuhler framed the lack of key size as “piano’s darkest secret,” citing the viral YouTube video that turned me onto his work in the first place. As much as I wanted to dislike this video for its dramatic and clickbaity title, the pain, struggle and suffering as a result of consistently trying to mold oneself to work with an instrument that is intended for bigger people is undeniably real and undeniably dark. I know that the impossibility of playing full chords and octaves on a traditional keyboard absolutely contributed to my own physical and mental health issues. Unable to play successfully without pain, I simply assumed something must be wrong with me.
Upon playing my first piece on a D.S. Standard piano, I experienced rage; How come no one told me I had small hands and that having small hands puts me at an increased risk of injury? Why wasn’t this struggle more frequently acknowledged by teachers? Why are so few people doing something to solve this problem? All this time I thought I had poor piano technique. I desperately searched for the missing pieces in my kinesthetic understanding, eventually completing an entire four year Feldenkrais training program with the hopes that I would finally be able to play Rachmaninoff and Graceful Ghost Rag without pain. Perhaps I needed a more flexible bridge of my hand? Perhaps I needed to find yet more release? Was it my breathing? My posture? At times in my life it probably was all of the above, but after even correcting those problems the pain and difficulty remained. (I also recognize that there is always more room for technical improvements!)
After playing the D.S. Standard keyboard, I realized that a one-size fits all piano keyboard robs small-handed people of many valuable experiences. Small-handed pianists miss out on:
A sense of comfort and ease in repertoire containing big chords and octaves
A sense of ease in the learning process; the necessary workarounds for small-handed pianists require extra time and mental effort to apply. Small-handed pianists must frantically open, close, release, shift, and hope their hands feel like opening to the fully stretched position. Many small-handed pianists require a greater investment in lessons and therapies to protect or recover from injury.
A sense of fluidity and continuity in movement and phrasing; the necessary technical workarounds often feel frantic and disjointed as the requirement to release rapidly takes away from the ability to connect and move through notes.
A sense of security, groundedness, and presence; small-handed pianists may be overriding subconscious and fully warranted fear signals because of the way that stretching strains the wrist. This may lead to anxiety and difficulty being fully present while playing. (How can we be fully present when we are overriding the messages our body is sending us?) The challenge of having small hands itself creates a greater sense of risk, raising the stakes and causing psychological stress.
The ability to execute a desired interpretation; With small hands, voicing is more difficult, notes must be dropped, blocked chords need to be broken and rolled, and held notes must be released early.
Access to the complete library of piano repertoire; I’m not at all sad about refusing to play Schubert’s Der Erlkonig due to my hand size, but it is a bummer to have had to give up on performing Rachmaninoff and other big repertoire. Repertoire can be adapted for small hands to a certain degree, but many people will decide to abstain from a piece due to fear, frustration, self-preservation, but also self-compassion.
I love listening to Lugansky’s Rachmaninoff recordings and I’ve long felt he achieves a unique three-dimensionality in his playing, creating an orchestral and full-bodied sound with unparalleled complexity. Guess what? Luganksy has enormous hands! The depth of his playing displays his intellect and keen listening skills, but we cannot discount the fact that hand size makes it possible for him to express his ideas with clarity and effortlessness. The body must be on board with the task, otherwise it is impossible!
A friend once confided in me regarding her daughter’s difficulty executing interpretational ideas. This young student was able to clearly explain in words many beautiful and creative musical intentions for dynamics and phrasing in her repertoire, but none of this was evident in her playing. She struggled to summon enough motor control to put her ideas into action. Her technical difficulties had to do with a lack of skeletal stability amidst profound hypermobility, but to some degree the predicament of “interpretation versus body” will also be true for small-handed pianists. Even when a person has a high level of body control, it’s impossible to completely compensate for the stretching and technical workarounds. These things will impact the sound. At the same time, we must make do with what we’ve been granted anatomically. In this way each piece truly becomes an expression of the whole person who is expressing it.
As I played the D.S. standard, the soundscape my ears had been longing to hear was suddenly beneath my fingers, unfolding with virtually no mental or physical effort. The experience of hearing chords that were previously broken or rolled, played as one block chord, made me want to simultaneously cry tears of joy and sadness. I knew that the delightful sense of ease and excitement would be short-lived. When would I meet a piano that fits my body again? Would I ever own one of my own? Did I even deserve it?
Despite my fears, I also experienced an enormous sense of relief from knowing that an alternative keyboard exists. Linda Gould, who was the first professional pianist to play one of these, apparently remarked with joy, “It IS easy! My own reaction to the newfound sense of ease was “This feels like cheating.” I seem to have linked the lifelong, Sisyphean sense of struggle with the feeling of success. This bogus association was not easy to let go of, even in the face of newly found ease. I became highly suspicious of the fresh and sudden sense of effortlessness. What happened to “no pain no gain”? Am I still good enough even if I don’t struggle?
While playing, a bizarre thought popped into my head; the two Rachmaninoff Etudes-Tableaux I play were really intended to be pedagogical repertoire for children and the whole world had been lying to me about their level of difficulty. The last time I felt that same sense of ease was when I was a child playing Clementi and Mozart Viennese Sonatinas so it’s only natural that I associate effortlessness with childhood repertoire. It’s like my small-handed struggles had led to a lifelong sense of arrested musical development. I found myself perpetually asking, “When will I finally grow up to play like the adults do?”
Opening one’s hand requires muscular effort, thus a closed hand position reduces physical tension and encourages softness and responsiveness. Soft muscles are also more sensitive to physical sensations. As I played the D.S. Standard, I noted that I was constantly able to achieve a specific resting hand position that I was taught to look for in my Bach playing; lift the hand slightly above the keys and allow the fingers to retract to a slightly curled position. I was delighted at how my hand naturally remained in this supple, yet active, retracted position.
People make changes to their physical environments for ergonomic purposes all the time. It was a change to the physical environment that allowed this “ideal” in hand position to become the norm for me. Once the environment changed, the new hand position became readily available rather than something I had to search and strive for; no additional thought or practice was required. It was like setting up a ramp for an old dog to more easily climb into the bed. The ramp keeps the dog’s hips happy and healthy just like a piano with narrow keys keeps the players forearms and wrists happy and healthy.
As I processed the many emotions that came up during this experience, I considered writing letters to all of the major piano manufacturers pointing out the bias built into the lack of options and asking for change. Their products are anti-small people. It is a form of gate-keeping, as people with small hands, who often but not always are women or people of certain ethnic heritages, are barred from playing advanced repertoire at a high level of proficiency. According to David Steinbuhler, who has surveyed hand size and keyboard preference as part of his project to accommodate small-handed pianists, the average woman’s hand is much happier with narrower keys and even most men prefer their “universal sized” keyboard where the octave is a half-inch smaller. Ample research has shown that small-handed pianists are at an increased risk of injury. Even children are at risk. If we know this, then why do we only have one size piano?
I first experienced pain related to my playing as a teenager when I attempted many “big” pieces like Beethoven Sonata in E minor, Op. 90, Brahms Ballade Op. 118 No. 3, and Chopin Ballade in F major. The impossibility of my chosen repertoire felt unbearable and crushing at times. The discomfort remained no matter how hard I threw myself at the music. My passion and musical understanding didn’t make a difference. It was like receiving an organ transplant only to have the organ rejected by my body. I wanted the music to become a part of me, but no matter how hard I tried, it would not integrate. My first memory of crashing and burning in performance was with the Brahms. Prior to that I had never once felt anxious during a performance. This new reality terrified me, and I tried to run from it by quitting piano. I always came back despite the pain.
Pain processes are very complicated and are only now getting more fully fleshed out by science. Central to understanding pain processing is the concept of nociception. According to Painscience.com:
“Nociception is the conversion of noxious stimuli into nerve impulses. It is not the same thing as pain. We are constantly exposed to lots of minor noxious stimuli without pain. Major sources — like from a burn, cut, or stepping on a Lego on your way to the bathroom at 2am — usually lead to pain… but not always. And pain can sometimes happen without any nociception at all! Or it might just be out of proportion to it. And that is why this definition matters to a lot of people with serious pain: it’s a key technical detail about how pain works.”
Nociceptive signals are interpreted by the brain and some brains become hypersensitized to sensory stimuli, amplifying nociceptive signals so that negligible amounts of noxious stimulus - damage to tissues, tendons, bones - become unbearably painful. This process of neurological sensitization to pain is probably a factor in all chronic pain.
Certain groups of people, including musicians, seem to be predisposed to developing neurological sensitization to pain. According to this study:
“The significant increment of pain sensitivity together with decreased spatial discrimination in pain-free musicians and the similarity of results found in chronic pain patients, suggests that the extensive training of repetitive and highly skilled movements in classical musicians could be considered as a risk factor for developing chronic pain, probably due to use-dependent plastic changes elicited in somatosensory pathways.”
The researcher’s hypothesis that traditional approaches to classical music practice increase pain sensitivity also tracks with the fact that classical musicians are more prone to focal dystonia than jazz musicians. Additionally, people with autism and neurodivergence in general have shown an increased sensitivity to pain in research. Health conditions such as migraine and fibromyalgia are also associated with altered pain pathways. I began having migraines as a fifth grader, thus really never had a chance to get ahead of the pain sensitization process.
Individual variations in pain processing explain why some small-handed pianists are able to play big repertoire with less pain and discomfort than others. For those with chronic pain, the D.S. Standard is a miracle and it could be a boon for pianists recovering from an injury, allowing them to more safely return to playing. Pain researchers have determined that fear plays a role in the pain sensitization process, thus anything to reduce fear of reinjury will be highly beneficial for injury recovery.
In the weeks leading up to my meeting with David, I decided to practice two Rachmaninoff etudes. I wanted to put the most troublesome pieces in my fingers so that I could really feel a difference when playing on the smaller piano keyboard. In a matter of days, with very little practice, I experienced a flare of chronic tendinitis. However, I felt no pain whatsoever the day I played on the D.S. Standard. This was a glaringly obvious solution to the problem of pain.
I recalled a recent time I’d flared up my tendonitis while preparing for a recital. I had been obsessively practicing and failing to rest my brain and body even when away from the piano. I was experiencing mania. Desperate to conquer this recital without sacrificing my wellness, I asked a massage practitioner friend for help. She gently massaged the fascia in my forearms, and after about thirty minutes, calmly suggested that if I were to stop talking the treatment would be more successful. I had been spewing off words in a rapid fire monologue that whole time without even knowing it! As she continued working on my arms it became easier to be present and let go of the thoughts spinning in my mind. After a snowy walk home and a nice nap I woke up feeling brand new. This was not a full body, deep tissue, relaxation massage, yet the gentle unwinding of one small area of tension completely modulated my mood.
Our hands occupy a large space in our motor cortex. The early hominid’s upright posture, allowing free use of the arms as well as opposable thumbs to grasp objects, led to the development of human intelligence and an increase in our brain’s size. Our mind-body connection with hands is unlike our connection with any other part of ourselves. We think with our hands and the use of our hands can also impact our thoughts.
I often teach a simple Feldenkrais lesson that quickly melts away tension and holding in the hand through a process of slowly and mindfully bringing each finger towards the thumb. Typically, after the ten minute movement lesson, the student’s tone quality transforms into a singing, projected, embodied sound, and musical intentions come through with greater clarity and nuance. I’ve seen many students react with shock and delight at this powerful change! Not only does their playing sound better, but it clearly feels better too.
Reduction of physical tension leads to the reduction of mental tension, allowing space for creative, expressive thinking. A reduction in physical tension also grounds and centers the mind, improving confidence and reducing anxiety. The fact that I never experienced performance anxiety until I played pieces with large chords and octaves reveals the inner wisdom of the mind and body. How much of my unease was due to the physical strain triggering a stress response throughout the entire nervous system that in turn impacted me psychologically?
It seems likely that years of minor damage to the body from stretching and straining contributes to the development of pain-sensitization through a pain-anxiety feedback loop. These phenomena are not something we can control, although learning to regulate the stress response might help to some degree and it’s important to note here that differences in pain processing are never the fault of an individual. For this reason, the need for alternative keyboard sizes is of vital importance. Keyboard size absolutely has an impact on the pianist's physical, mental, and neurological development. If the physical horrors football players endure could be avoided by changing the size of the ball, you better bet the NFL would change it in a heartbeat! It’s a shame that there isn’t a simpler solution for pianists, but at least there is a solution.
Office workers typically are presented with a myriad of ergonomic products involving fancy desks and fancy chairs, fancy mouses and strange looking keyboards. When the workplace of one of my friends received new furniture, she immediately discovered that the new desks were too tall and the new chairs didn’t adjust high enough to allow her to maintain a healthy, neutral wrist position. She complained to the male supervisor who informed her that she would not be permitted to use a different chair because all of the chairs needed to match! She was told to get a doctor’s note and file a disability complaint if she wished to be accommodated. The whole point of her complaint was to prevent an injury in the first place, and being petite is itself certainly not a disability. I was once accused of being unknowledgeable about piano technique because I commented in an online forum about the importance of the movements of the shoulder blades in playing. The accusers were both healthy men who clearly didn’t understand what it was like to be a small person playing piano while dealing with health issues like fibromyalgia and scoliosis.
I’ve also told a few male colleagues about the DS standard pianos and have been met with disbelief that small-handedness is a real problem. Although this reaction isn’t the norm, it shows a deficit in our ability to see things from another person’s perspective. It also shows a lack of understanding that individual idiosyncrasies, completely outside of a person's control, profoundly shape the playing experience. When mental and physical differences can be addressed and accommodated they should. This includes barriers to playing like eye-movement disorders, breathing disorders, musculoskeletal disorders, as well as psychological distress. We need to see people as unique and recognize the enigma of their hidden suffering. Just because we can’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!
In a profession that prizes strength of mind and the ability to put on a good show, pianists will be motivated to hide anything they grapple with that could be seen as a weakness. My office working friend was lucky that she knew immediately to advocate for a proper chair. Many pianists don’t know that they are gradually becoming injured through playing. I didn’t fully recognize this problem until I played on an alternative keyboard. When struggle is all a person knows, they will maintain that status quo until something finally sheds light on a new possibility.
After playing on the D.S. standard I turned around and tried to play on a traditional sized keyboard. My hand did not want to open back up! I felt my body protest in desperation, as though my hands were saying, “We want smaller intervals! No more abusive octaves!”. Even now, days later, my hands are still confused. My nervous system longs to experience that pain-free, yummy feeling of ease and safety.
I’m reluctant to call these new keyboards “alternative” because there should never have been a singular size in the first place. In an age where mainstream culture is attempting to celebrate differences of every type, why is the concept of accommodating small-handed pianists strange and foreign? (I know at least a part of this answer is money…) Imagine if skis came in only one size! No one would succeed at skiing. People who work at desks have access to a plethora of furniture and gadgets to accommodate their bodies, but pianists are only allowed an adjustable bench and music rack. There is no reason the industry can’t accommodate this request. We need to speak up.
Despite a tendency towards seriousness and competition in classical music, the primary objective of all music making is pleasure. If we could make playing more pleasurable for all pianists, including those with small hands and brains sensitized to pain, why would we not do so? The wild reptilian part of our brain knows nothing but fear versus safety. The amygdala is keeping track of our state of comfort and discomfort even when we aren’t aware of it so that we intuitively know there is a problem, even when we don’t want to see it. My performance goal for this year is to follow Mary Oliver’s advice from the poem Wild Geese: “Let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” Narrower piano keys keep the body soft so that the artist can remain fully immersed in the moment to moment unfolding of musical passion, unimpeded by fear, friction, and pain.
For more information check out the D.S. Standard Foundation and Pianists for Alternatively Sized Keyboards. Thank you Suzanne for driving me to Pennsylvania and taking those videos and thank you David for letting me play your keyboards! One year ago I also visited Linda Gould in Victoria and tried her D.S. Standard. It was an equally amazing experience!
Questions, comments, corrections? Please contact Katie.
