Jeanne Stark-Iochmans may not be a thrilling pianist, but she does get the job done with solid musicianship and often a touch of elegance.

The Belgian-born pianist was at Rhode Island College, in Providence, yesterday afternoon with an attractive program that featured a mix of Debussy miniatures and a couple of sizable offerings by Beethoven and Chopin. And while she didn’t knock any of the pieces out of the park, there was something about her playing that hit the spot.

Perhaps the most rewarding playing came in the late Beethoven sonata, Op. 110 in A-Flat. This is one of Beethoven’s most wondrous creations for the keyboard, with its stormy second movement that gives way to that haunting adagio and magnificent, soaring fugue. And Stark-Iochmans managed to bind all those varied elements together.

This was a clean, well-articulated reading, one that stayed away from romantic outbursts. Instead it was all about structure, all about the inner workings of the music, played with an appealing aloofness.

Stark-Iochman’s appearance was part of the Adams Foundation Recital Series, a national effort to once again bring piano recitalists to smaller, out-of-the-way venues. Years ago, many of the great pianists of the day, artists like Rachmaninoff, Arthur Rubinstein, and Rudolf Serkin made stops in Providence.

She opened yesterday’s program with a leisurely rendition of the Schubert A-Flat Impromptu from Op. 90, putting the work’s tuneful underpinnings before technical sheen. Tempos were on the slow side, but not so much as to be sluggish.

Then came a half-dozen Debussy preludes, including the popular Sunken Cathedral and the quizzical Interrupted Serenade, which had a nice sense of contrast and shifting moods. But overall, her Debussy fell short of scintillating. Colors were never quite vivid enough, the emotional palette not quite broad enough.

The racing passages in What the West Wind Saw could have been more storm-tossed, more explosive. And the majestic chords in the Sunken Cathedral, as the organ bellows forth, were a somewhat understated.

But the limpid Girl with the Flaxen Hair, which doesn’t call for a lot of drama, was perfection.

Stark-Iochmans turned to Chopin to close out the afternoon, the composer’s Fourth Ballade in F Minor. Again this contained some beautiful playing, but never quite reached towering heights in the climaxes, in the sweeping arpeggiated sections toward the end of the score, and in the blistering coda.

This was civil, genteel Chopin, with ear toward the beauty of the phrase and the lushness of the harmony, not a display of soul-draining pianism.

More Chopin turned up for an encore, the charming Minute Waltz. But, as she did in a lot of pieces, Stark-Iochmans tossed away the ending, and was half way off the bench before the final chord finished sounding.