Andras Schiff formed the Cappella Andrea Barca in 1999 specifically to present Mozart’s piano concerti. On Wednesday evening the hand-picked group opened a three concert series at Alice Tully Hall with two of these gems and a symphony to boot.

It is the not-so-secret wish of all classical performers (and fans) to someday conduct their own orchestra. Nothing could be more satisfying than to mold a stage full of musicians into a coherent whole expressing one’s own personal impression of the music. In recent years a number of pianists have emerged from their shells to lead ensembles either from the keyboard or the podium (Krystian Zimerman even formed his own orchestra to tour with him in the two Chopin concerti).

Others have also caught the bug. Witness the recent conversions of megastars Itzhak Perlman and Placido Domingo. Although it is rare to be equally adept at both instrument and leadership — Rostropovich a notable exception — there is no doubt that to be a great communicator, the bully pulpit is the optimum vehicle.

Mr. Schiff’s ensemble has been painstakingly constructed to project a particular sound. The orchestra is small, but plays on modern instruments. Antiphonal grounding is reinforced by one string bass on either side. Hard sticks for the timpani are a nod to the 18th century.

The piano is a full grand with the entire top removed. Mr. Schiff sits at it stage center with his back to the audience. His technique is geared for an emphasis on the melody, the right hand intoning more forcefully than the left. The large sound of his instrument is a bit overwhelming for his assembled henchmen.

Once it got going, the group performed the E flat Major K. 482 concerto with considerable grace. Standing in front of his piano, Mr. Schiff began as a conductor but soon had to sit to perform. He quickly went off of the rails — rather uncharacteristically — but righted himself promptly. After this initial mishap, he paid little attention to his ensemble, except when the logistics of kinesis allowed him to throw them an occasional gesture.

This reading as a whole was marvelous, the final Allegro a jolly saunter and Mr. Schiff’s own cadenzas charmingly childlike. For dessert we enjoyed the 23rd concerto in A major, with cadenzas by Mozart himself.

Wolfgang was traveling in Austria in 1783 when he visited an old friend and patron Count Thun. He brought with him a new symphony for the court orchestra, now known as Mozart’s 37th. The piece, however, was actually written by Michael Haydn (Franz Joseph’s brother) with only the introduction penned by Mozart.When the count expressed some petulance, Mozart composed, prepared, and conducted from scratch a brand new symphony in only five days, the work quickly picking up the soubriquet “Linz.”

Mr. Schiff did a very good job when not conducting like a pianist. Standing on a little riser, baton in hand, he quickly established a stately atmosphere for the Adagio. The essay is in glorious C major, but has many dark spots, including a Poco Adagio featuring trumpets and timpani – a radical scoring for the time.The wind playing, which had been so well represented in the E flat major concerto by flutes and clarinets, was equally impressive in the symphony, but taken over by much more somber oboes. The Menuetto was lively, the second movement a lovely foreshadowing of a Schubertian (or even a Mahlerian) waltz. All reflected the impeccable good taste of the leader. The clear and prominent inner voices spoke volumes about the competency of the conductor.

Okay, this was not “The Rite of Spring,” and here in New York the conductorless ensemble Orpheus can navigate this piece quite well, but Mr. Schiff’s command was still impressive nonetheless. His gestures — whether a large sweep or a pinpoint cue — have meaning. In college, I had a professor whose favorite expression was “any damned fool can wave his arms around.” Andras Schiff neither preens nor dances. When focused, his physicality has substance.

This concept of conducting from the keyboard is a strange one. Because the pianist’s hands are occupied, the music tends not take into consideration its own complexity and momentary need for leadership. After all, it’s not as if Mozart himself conducted from the piano. Oh wait, of course he did.