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Aerial view of Tokyo cityscape with Fuji mountain in Japan._edited.jpg

about me

‘What's the difference between Tokyo and Detmold?’

I was asked this question in June 2009 during my language test at the Hochschule für Musik in Detmold. Of course, the differences in size, climate and language immediately spring to mind. But this question stayed in my mind - and has stayed with me to this day.

That was the beginning of an exciting and challenging time for me: my first real winter with months of snowfall and frosty nights at minus 10 degrees, discovering foods that were previously unknown to me, and the experience that everything is actually closed on Sundays - at least almost everything. But I quickly learnt to come to terms with these unfamiliar things and also to discover the advantages. Above all, it was important for me to keep an open mind and not withdraw. The contact with other students helped me a lot.

What particularly fascinated me was the incredible diversity of people: At the HfM Detmold, there were students from over 40 nations at the time, and even my fellow German students came from all corners of the country. During this time, I thought a lot about the exchange of cultures - and about how music connects us.

Incidentally, I also met my husband back then. After two years, he moved to Stuttgart to study, and it wasn't until years later that we met again and got to know each other better. Today he is a church musician and concert organist, and through him I have gained exciting insights into historical performance practice, oratorios and working with ensembles. His meticulous approach to Urtext editions, fingerings and interpretations always fascinates me and shows me how alive music is.

One question we both often hear is: ‘Why do you still have to practise if you can already do it all?’ My answer to this is always: music is like competitive sport - if you stop practising, you quickly lose form. But practising is not just about technique. It's about rediscovering pieces again and again, feeling their depth and passing on these emotions - whether on stage or in lessons.
For me, music is not ‘painting by numbers’. It is a process that is never finished. The power to touch people with music is my ultimate goal - whether I'm playing or teaching.

The depth and expressiveness of old recordings, such as those by Horowitz, inspire me time and again. This is exactly what I want to pass on to my students: Music that is not just heard, but really touches them.

 

Image by alex
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