The Romanian-Jewish pianist Radu Lupu has been a star in the music world since 1966, when he placed first at the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition and then placed first at the 1969 competition in Leeds, England. Yet he remains one of the most misunderstood of great musicians. His upcoming solo recital at Carnegie Hall on January 14, and his concerto dates with the New York Philharmonic led by Riccardo Muti on January 23–26 at Avery Fisher Hall, seem unlikely to clarify matters.

For one thing, Mr. Lupu, born in the important Jewish community of Galati in 1945, has routinely refused press interviews for more than 30 years. Nothing frustrates rank-and-file music critics more than a big star who makes himself unavailable. The Independent recently termed Lupu a “woolly recluse,” carping about Mr. Lupu’s “wild and woolly looks, like someone dragged unwillingly into the concert hall but asked to leave his begging-bowl outside.” No recluse would circle the globe to give 80 concerts annually, as Mr. Lupu does, yet because he acknowledges the audience only briefly, with a sober bow, he is often seen as “monk-like.” There is also his abundant white hair, which contrasts especially starkly with the slickly groomed, dark-haired Riccardo Muti, although Mr. Lupu happens to be four years younger than Mr. Muti. The fact that Mr. Lupu plays his concerts sitting in an office chair instead of on the traditional piano bench also flummoxes critics, who have wondered whether he intends a “tribute to Glenn Gould,” who notoriously played in a wrecked and wretched old wooden chair that was painful merely to look at, or whether Mr. Lupu suffers from some back ailment. In fact, Mr. Lupu sits up quite straight while playing, not using his chair for lumbar support, and it is a visually inoffensive, padded chair in good condition, unlike Gould’s attention-grabbing piece of kindling. The French critic Michel Schneider went a step further, calling the impassive Mr. Lupu a “Carpathian bear” who is the “most autistic of today’s pianists.”

By all accounts according to musicians, however, Mr. Lupu is a warm, friendly, and responsive colleague. His sustained collaborations on CD with masterful players like the pianist Murray Perahia (their duos on Sony-BMG Classical are justly acclaimed), violinist Szymon Goldberg (newly reprinted by ArkivMusic.com, also must-hears), and even the thin-voiced American soprano Barbara Hendricks (on EMI), show him as an ideally attentive and caring collaborator. On a Euroarts DVD of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 19 filmed in 1990 with the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie (German Chamber Orchestra) Bremen, Mr. Lupu comes onstage and smiles discreetly at the first violinist, but only gives the audience a formal, sober nod. As soon as he starts to play, it becomes clear that he is one of the rare musical talents who hold an entire musical score, from first note to last, in their heads as they play; each moment of the concert is part of a continuity, which gives special meaning to every phrase. Mr. Lupu looks frequently at the orchestral players, as if he were conducting from the keyboard, even though an experienced maestro, David Zinman, occupies the podium. At the end of Mozart’s first-movement cadenza, many pianists assume a schmaltzy, soulful facial expression to semaphore to an audience that they are moved by the music; Lupu merely darts a subtle but fiery glance at the orchestra to indicate where they should begin to play the movement’s concluding chords. This ardent yet diminutive look at the players is the most overt visual drama conveyed during the whole performance. Small wonder that playing bridge — where a deadpan expression is essential, for fear of tipping one’s hand — is reportedly among Mr. Lupu’s favorite hobbies.

What makes him a grand master of music as well? After a debut recital at age 12 — at which he played his own compositions — Mr. Lupu studied with legendary pedagogues Florica Musicescu (1887–1969), who also taught the great Dinu Lipatti, and Cella Delavrancea (1887–1991), a musician of such adamant energy that she was still giving recitals at age 103. Moving to Moscow in 1961, Mr. Lupu studied with Heinrich Neuhaus (1888–1964), whose mighty pupils include Emil Gilels and Sviatoslav Richter.

Mr. Lupu’s artistry, redolent with warmth, humanity, and kindness, fully merits comparison with these notables. All the rest, from his reluctance to participate in interviews to his hairstyle, is mere window dressing. Music lovers should flock to Carnegie Hall and Avery Fisher this month for his performances and witness his tender collaborations with composers and fellow musicians.