MUSINGS

I live in an inner monastery. It has no visible walls, yet the separation is complete. The outer world continues its restless movement, but it no longer determines my rhythm. What governs here is order. Not imposed, not enforced, but arising from alignment with something that does not negotiate. This monastery did not emerge from rejection of the world. It emerged from insight. When everything speaks at once, silence becomes a moral necessity. When speed is mistaken for vital

There are moments in the musical world when the mask slips and the raw face of hostility reveals itself. It often happens where one least expects it.

To speak of Beethoven is to enter a sphere where music rises beyond the limits of acoustics and enters the deeper layers of the human constitution. His works breathe with the weight of lived destiny. They emanate a force that feels older than history, as if a primordial current had found in him a human vessel strong enough to bear it. When one traces the arc of the thirty-two piano sonatas, one follows not the career of a composer but the evolution of a soul that passed throu

There are works in the history of music that don’t belong to history. They don’t “develop” anything. They don’t seek audience approval. They don’t tell a story. They stand at the boundary between what can be expressed and what must be lived. Beethoven’s Sonata in Ab major, Opus 110, is one such work. It was not born from inspiration nor from despair. It came into the world the way light filters through a high window after long darkness. This is not a piece to be played. It is

There comes a turning point in a pianist’s life when the familiar paths no longer carry the soul forward. Techniques that once felt reliable begin to grow heavy. Ambition loses its sharpness. Even the proudest repertoire becomes a mirror rather than a stage. At such moments, the art calls for purification. Not as a punishment, but as a return. A return to the source where sound is born, to the place in the heart that knows the difference between skill and truth. Purifying one

A Call for Pedagogical Responsibility in Repertoire Selection.A reflection on formative forces, artistic becoming, and the duty of the teacher

There is something corrupt in the kingdom(?) of piano competitions. It begins with vanity disguised as ambition and ends with applause hollowed out by politics. The spectacle of an already celebrated pianist, contract in hand and engagements with the world’s top orchestras, returning to a stage meant for those still clawing toward daylight is parasitic. The Chopin Competition, once a sanctuary of discovery, has become another theatre of ego where fame circles back to feed upo

There is no straight road back from illness. Recovery moves like an old river, circling, stalling, and sometimes doubling back on itself....

Pandora’s Box: The International Piano Competition Deluxe Edition

There are musical encounters that never happened yet remain strangely inevitable in the minds of those who dream in sound. As if the ether had whispered them into being, as if the stars aligned once on some higher plane, where truth and beauty are the only currencies. One such phantom collaboration is the imagined but resoundingly genuine partnership of Carlos Kleiber  and Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli , two of the most elusive and uncompromising artists the 20th century ever

There exists a music we do not hear with the ears. It is the quiet arrangement of space, the dialogue between emptiness and fullness, the whisper of energy as it curls through a room. In the world of piano pedagogy, where hours are spent wrestling with sound, gesture, and spirit, it is no longer sufficient to think only of chairs, scores, and keys. The studio itself must become an instrument tuned not merely for sound, but for flow, harmony, and presence. Enter the art of Fen

A recital is not a lecture, not a display case of technique, not a private confession disguised as a performance. A recital, when truly conceived, is a meeting. A space opened between performer and listener, between intention and reception, between silence and sound. It is in this sense, and only in this sense, that programming a recital becomes an art in itself. Not the mere assemblage of pieces but the silent construction of a path, a sequence of human experience traced in

There is a ladder within the child, not one made of rungs or rails, but one composed of ever-changing forms of awareness, subtle inner moods, and shifting balances of will, feeling, and thought. Each phase in the child's becoming, from the tender age of six to the threshold of adulthood at eighteen, presents a unique gesture of soul life. To ignore these metamorphoses is to teach blindly. To recognise them and guide them wisely is to teach in harmony with human nature itself.

There is an old story, perhaps more poetry than documented fact, that Michelangelo, standing before an unhewn block of marble, already saw within it the figure that was waiting to be released. His task, he explained, was not to impose a shape upon the stone, but to remove what did not belong. Thus, the imprisoned form might finally emerge, resplendent and free. Whether he ever uttered these precise words scarcely matters. The image itself holds a luminous truth about all prof

There are figures in history who do not merely belong to their era but cast their shadow far ahead into ours as though eternity had...

A while ago, a peculiar dream visited me. In it, two images slowly merged into one: the unmistakable profile of an ancient Pharaoh,...

Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli would walk toward the piano with the composure of one entering a sanctuary. Even before he touched a key,...

~ An essay on the invisible test every pianist must face In the inner journey of a pianist, there comes a moment when mere skill, dedication, and taste are no longer sufficient. This is the point where the Inner Sentinel, an ancient presence as old as the human quest for truth, stands at the unseen crossing. It's not a visible border but an undeniable threshold where music ceases to be something one plays and begins to ask something of the soul itself. The Inner Sentinel is n

There are teachers, and then there are those who teach. The difference is not semantic. One wears the role like a jacket, and the other...

Ludwig van Beethoven's 32 piano sonatas are far more than a collection of keyboard compositions. They are spiritual documents,...

It is a curious paradox that Ludwig van Beethoven, the revolutionary architect of musical expression, remains tightly tethered,...

In raising children, we are reminded of a sacred truth that the young learn not through instruction alone but through profound, often...

Let me begin by saying that what follows may invite criticism, but I offer it not as condemnation but as a heartfelt plea. I feel a deep...