Who or what inspired you to pursue a career in music and who or what have been the most
important influences on your musical life and career?
From early childhood on, music was my native language—something that resonated more deeply
than words ever could. The poetic depth of pianists like Claudio Arrau and the uncompromising
authenticity of Martha Argerich profoundly shaped my artistic identity. Ultimately, it is the fragility of being human that continues to inspire me to make music.
What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far?
One of the greatest challenges has been to preserve artistic authenticity in a world that often
prioritizes image over substance. Staying true to the emotional core of the music—without
compromise—can feel like swimming against the current. But it’s precisely in that resistance that I find meaning.
Of which performances/recordings are you most proud?
I’m most proud of the moments where vulnerability meets freedom—like in my first recording of
Chopin, which felt like a conversation with my own inner contradictions. Performing Beethoven’s
Fourth Piano Concerto in the Tonhalle Zürich with the Tonhalle Orchestra or my Duo recitals with
Martha Argerich were other unforgettable experiences. These are not just performances—they are lived moments.
Which particular works/composers do you think you perform best? I feel a deep, almost existential connection to Schumann, Chopin, Liszt, Schubert Beethoven—their music speaks in paradoxes, as real and fantastic in the same moment much like the human soul. Always painting the journey from dark to light „ You cant feel and embrace brightness if you don’t deeply know the “other side“. I’m also drawn to Mozart, whose apparent simplicity reveals infinite
emotional nuance. These composers challenge me to listen inwardly before I even touch the keys.
What do you do off stage that provides inspiration on stage?
Silence is essential—it teaches me to listen beyond sound. I read a lot, especially poetry and
philosophy, which both nourish my inner landscape and sharpen my sense for nuance. Often, it’s life itself—the fragility of a moment, a conversation, a memory—that becomes the true inspiration behind every note I play. And I like to watch people, for example, in a cafe and imagine their life story.
How do you make your repertoire choices from season to season?
I choose repertoire intuitively—drawn to works that resonate with where I am emotionally and
intellectually at a given moment. Each season becomes a kind of inner journey, and the pieces I
select are like companions along that path. I don’t plan with strategy, but with a deep need for
honesty in what I share on stage.
Do you have a favourite concert venue to perform in and why?
I don’t have a single favourite venue—what moves me most is the spirit of a space. Whether it’s an intimate hall with creaking wooden floors or a grand concert hall with perfect acoustics, it’s the silence between the notes and the energy of the audience that make a place unforgettable. When that dialogue happens, the venue itself disappears—and only the music remains. I also love to play at places where music never has been performed before or at places where music as a gift can make the difference. Safe houses for women for example or communities for disabled children.
What do you feel needs to be done to grow classical music’s audiences?
We need to strip classical music of its elitist aura and bring it back to what it truly is: human
emotion in sound. If we dare to speak authentically about what this music means to us—without
fear of vulnerability—it becomes accessible to everyone. Audiences grow when they feel invited,
not judged. That’s why I’ve also founded my own festival ‘NUANCEN’ (Nuances) in my hometown Aying, close to Munich. In the middle of nowhere and the centre of a truly lived community.
What is your most memorable concert experience?
It was my duo concert with Martha Argerich in the Gewandhaus, Leipzig, because of Martha, who kind of “discovered“ me when I was 18 and coming back to the city where my parents met back in time when the [Berlin] Wall still existed and where they created one of the most inspiring and admirable love stories possible.
As a musician, what is your definition of success?
Success, to me, is staying true to the essence of what moved me to make music in the first place. It’s the courage to be vulnerable, to serve the music, your subjective way of feeling, the view through your eyes and the touch through your soul, filled with your own experiences. If even one listener feels truly seen or transformed in a concert, that is the deepest form of success.
What advice would you give to young/aspiring musicians?
Protect your inner voice—it’s your most precious compass in a world full of noise. Technique is
super important, but sincerity is what truly touches hearts. Dare to be different, if it means being
real.
What’s the one thing in the music industry we’re not talking about which you think we should
be?
We rarely talk about the emotional toll of constantly having to “function” in an industry that
demands show over authenticity. There’s little space for different opinions, doubts, fragility, or
silence—yet these are essential parts of any true artist’s journey. We need a culture that values inner growth as much as external success. A culture that sees success as having a unique personality and standing up for your convictions and ideas in music, for your own discovered truth.
What’s next? Where would you like to be in 10 years?
I hope to be in a place where silence and sound continue to inspire me equally. Still searching, still questioning, still learning—artistically and humanly. If I can remain true to the music and to myself, then I’ll be exactly where I need to be.
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
A moment of stillness where nothing needs to be proven, only felt. Sharing music with open-hearted listeners, just presence, and flow – a hug through music. Or sitting in damp grass, smelling the change of seasons, with your hair moving in the wind.
What is your most treasured possession?
Not a thing, but a feeling: the memory of the first time I felt completely lost in music. That moment guides me still—it’s like an invisible compass. Everything else is just an echo of that origin.
What is your present state of mind?
In between worlds—restless, curious, but also deeply grateful. Trying to pass on to the younger
generation the feeling of trusting in yourself and not losing yourself in pleasing anything that makes you feel a “fullfiller“. There’s beauty in not adjusting the tempo of your heart beating.
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