If pianist Ivan Moravec had wanted to repeat his entire Jordan Hall program Sunday afternoon, then followed that up with all the Chopin and Debussy works he hadnt played plus the Brahma piano works he touched upon in his encore group, his audience would have stayed for as long as he wanted to play.

Moravec is that rare artist who combines bravura technique, a selfless humility before the music and a sensibility that allows him to connect with the deepest strains of poetry in a work. He doesn't perform here often enough so it was a privilege to hear his recital.

His program, which opened with Beethoven's Thirty-two Variations in C-minor, was devoted to Chopin and Debussy. Most of the selections were among the best-known examples of those composers, pieces most piano students study as a matter of course. But Moravec had his own individual take on each one and an ability to recapture the expressive marvels that have made these pieces favorites.

The Beethoven, although it presented some marvels of agility and expressive drama, had something of the character of a warm-up about it Moravec seemed to be sounding out the piano, gauging its response and sometimes his tone seemed a bit harsh in fortissimo passages. However, once into the Chopin Etude in C-sharp minor, the so-called "Cello" etude, the pianist had ascended to another plateau. His voicing of the intertwining melodic lines was a revelation of clarity, delicacy of tone, subtlety of dynamics. And he cut right to the heart of this poignant "duet," endowing the dialogue with tenderness, passion, sorrow. The Barcarolle and Ballades in A-flat Major and G-minor which followed were extraordinary in their story-telling power, in their virtuosity, their expressive abandon.

Debussy's two books of Preludes are collections of short character pieces that are remarkable for their extraordinary tone painting and their manipulation of the piano for its coloristic effects. Moravec's playing, which is a marvel of economy is also noteworthy for its variety of dynamics, shading and articulation. So the Debussy was a good match for him. One was particularly impressed by "La Puerta del Vino," which suggested seduction and barely suppressed violence under a blazing sun, or the chiming of the bells in "The Submerged Cathedral," or the sheer dazzle of the fireworks in "Feux d'artifice."

There were wonderful and unexpected encores: Chopin's tiny A-major Prelude, a charming Polka by Smetana, a Brahms Capriccio and the Chopin Mazurka in A-minor. And If Moravec had wanted to keep going, I'd still be there now...

Some pianists are great in such idiomatic ways that imitating them is impossible and inadvisable. Not so the Czech pianist Ivan Moravec, who played at Jordan Hall on Sunday. Moravec's pianism is a model of how things are supposed to be done.

As Moravec's fingers swept the keyboard in Beethoven's hellbent "32 Variations in C Minor," his supple arms, relaxed wrists and graceful fingers barely seemed to move. Yet the clarity of passagework, variety of articulations and careful voicing of chords and inner lines in his playing were marvels. Some other pianists - the late Rudolf Serkin, for one - have brought a greater sense of structure to this wildly episodic piece. However, Moravec captured the music's improvisatory fervor with no loss to the equanimity of his pianism.

Moravec's music-making is refreshingly free of point-making. He has no agenda other than to execute the music with honesty and respect. This worked with particularly beautiful results in a Chopin group. The brooding Etude in C Sharp minor had Slavic soul tempered by French restraint. In the Barcarolle the rocking accompanimental pattern rippled along quietly, undisturbed by the pitches and shiftings of the melody. The Ballades in A-flat and G minor were played with a vivid sense of narrative, Chopin's long melodic arcs delineated with daring stops and dramatic pauses.

The liquid lightness, beguiling colors and imagination that Moravec brought to seven Debussy Preludes were no surprise. But where did the echoes of Spain come from? - the languid swing of "La Serenade interrompue"; the sultry swagger of "La puerta del Vino." "Feux d'artifice" had fireworks, all right, but also an astonishing clarity of detail, which is far more rare.

There were ovations, of course, and four encores. Brahms' Capriccio in B minor skipped along like an impish Czech polka. Then, having gotten us in the mood, we had the real thing: a disarming polka by Moravec's countryman Smetana. Most remarkable of all was Chopin's Mazurka in A minor. When Moravec announced it I was disappointed that he was playing so familiar a piece. But the way he played it, I felt as if I had never heard this curiously unsettled yet soulful music before.