During this past Saturday’s Artist Recital Series concert, a silent and venerable man graced Finney Chapel’s stage. The man was Yefim Bronfman, a concert pianist renowned for his viable palate of musical warmth and depth. Born in Tashkent of the former Soviet Union, Bronfman’s artistic assertiveness and clarity shines through his extensive classical piano repertoire. He has received praise from audiences worldwide, a reputation that has earned him a 1997 Grammy for his interpretation of Bartok’s Piano Concertos 1, 2 and 3.

With a beefy program — Joseph Haydn’s Sonata in C Major, Robert Schumann’s Humoreske in B-flat Major, and Frederic Chopin’s Twelve Etudes — Bronfman walked onstage with brisk purpose, launching into Haydn’s Sonata before even fully sitting down on the piano bench. Written while Haydn was in his sixties, the sonata starts with an Allegro movement that perfectly captures the composer’s exuberant youthfulness and playfulness.

Bronfman established his knack for beautiful and cohesive phrasing in the first few moments of Sonata, playing assertively, yet with surprising freedom and expression. Eschewing flamboyant stage antics, Bronfman commanded the audience with every nuance, color and tone that flew from his fingers. Despite Finney’s cavernous acoustics, the audience could hear every note even at the quietest dynamic, a feat that is representative of true artistry.

Schumann’s Humoreske in B-flat Major showed a side of Bronfman that further confirmed his standing as a compelling artist and interpreter. Originally called Gross Humoreske, or “great humoresque,” the work’s six movements represent Schumann’s capricious mood swings: Although today the term humor is associated with comedy and laughter, the title of Schumann’s piece is a reference to the centuries-old concept of the four humors – black bile, yellow bile, phlegm and blood — that govern the human body. Completely changing the color and tone from the Haydn sonata, Bronfman’s rendition of Humoreske was carefully mapped out and planned, a precision that yielded subtle and effective phrasing, dynamics and color.

Yet it was the last piece on the program — Chopin’s Twelve Etudes — that most exemplified Bronfman’s prodigious gifts, culminating in a technically brilliant performance that tastefully complemented his musical artistry. All the musicality remained in the pianist’s fingers as he played the piece, deftly navigating the technical challenges presented by Chopin’s writing. Although the form of the etudes is often associated with mechanical and unemotional music, Bronfman deliberately avoided falling into this rut by creating distinction between his left and right hands, brilliantly articulating two separate voices on the piano. The result of this careful tactic was nothing short of fantastic.

As the evening reached its conclusion, Bronfman exited the stage in a manner befitting of his stage persona: promptly and without flourish. However, the audience’s resounding applause beckoned him back onstage, and he returned to the piano without hesitation to perform a total of three encores. In a sense, this brilliant conclusion to a brilliant evening was perhaps Bronfman’s way of saying, “Here, I’ll show you what I’ve got. Take it — or leave it.”