Your work moves between Early Music, contemporary music, improvisation, and performance. What connects these different worlds for you?

For me, these fields are connected by a shared language that allows for freedom and openness. Early Music often feels unfamiliar to us today simply because of the historical distance. While we strive for historically informed interpretations, we ultimately do not know exactly how this music once sounded. In addition, much of what musicians did at the time was never written down. They relied on conventions and improvisational skills that were taken for granted and therefore did not need to be documented.

Improvisation was an essential part of music-making. In that sense, Early Music can sometimes feel just as abstract to us as a contemporary composition. What fascinates me is precisely this combination of openness, improvisational freedom, and a certain degree of ambiguity. It allows us to make the music our own and to develop a personal relationship with it. For me, that is the bridge between these different worlds.

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Many of your projects question conventional concert formats. What do you miss in traditional concerts, and what would you like to offer audiences instead?

What interests me most is the question of how music is experienced. In traditional concerts, there is often a clear separation between the stage and the audience. The music is presented, while listeners remain observers.

I want to create spaces that open themselves to the audience and invite listeners in. For me, it is about immediacy and shared experience. When that happens, something emerges that goes beyond a performance itself: a shared moment, regardless of whether you are on stage or sitting in the audience. In those moments, the question of genre also becomes less important.

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With “Conscious Listening,” you create a space somewhere between concert, meditation, and performance. What personal ideas would you like to bring to this format?

For me, the experience of listening itself is at the heart of the project. I want to create a space where people can listen without expectations, attentively, openly, and without hurry. It is less about consuming music and more about encountering it and allowing oneself to be touched by it.

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What does conscious listening mean to you personally? Has your own way of listening changed over the years?

Absolutely. Time seems to be moving faster and faster. We are constantly surrounded by information, images, and sounds. I catch myself listening to music only in passing while doing ten other things at the same time. Listening attentively is anything but self-evident today, whether in conversation with other people or while listening to music. That is why moments in which we can fully devote ourselves to something are especially valuable to me. Of course, my own listening has changed as well. I believe listening is always a kind of mirror of where we find ourselves in life. How we feel, what preoccupies us, and the experiences we carry with us all influence the way we listen.

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In a time of constant overstimulation, attention almost seems like a scarce resource. What role can music play in helping people reconnect with themselves and their surroundings?

At its core, music consists of vibrations and sound waves that surround and pass through us. It has the ability to touch us deeply and to set something in motion within us.

Precisely because of that, music can open a space in which we reconnect with ourselves and, at the same time, with other people. It can focus our attention and, for a moment, lift us out of the constant stream of stimuli that surrounds us.

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You often work with improvisation. What draws you to situations in which not everything is predetermined?

Improvisation gives me a tremendous sense of freedom. I do not have to focus on right or wrong notes; instead, I can fully immerse myself in what I want to express in that particular moment. I can become one with my instrument and listen, to my fellow musicians, to my surroundings, and to myself.

Often, I do not know exactly where the music will lead when I begin. I follow my intuition and make decisions in the moment. At the same time, improvisation is by no means arbitrary. Experience, reflection, and a sense of form always play a role, sometimes based on a previously developed concept, sometimes entirely in real time.

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What kinds of experiences do people have in your formats that continue to surprise or move you?

Many people tell me that they see images or experience inner narratives while listening to the music. Others describe being deeply touched by certain sounds or perceiving something they had never experienced before.

I am always grateful for this kind of feedback. It is important to me to offer people new experiences and to open doors to sonic worlds they may not have encountered before.

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You move naturally between different disciplines and contexts. Do you see this as a necessity for contemporary artistic practice, or more as a personal artistic attitude?

I think it has a lot to do with my personality. I have many interests and have always been curious to try new things. Along the way, I explored whatever came my way and always tried to do it as well as I could. It has always been a combination of “going with the flow” and consciously pursuing certain decisions.

For a long time, I felt as though I stood between different worlds and disciplines. Today, I see that much more as a strength and as an essential part of my artistic identity.

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Has becoming a mother changed your perspective on time, presence, creativity, or artistic work? If so, in what way?

Oh yes, very much so. Time suddenly took on a completely different meaning. Free time in the sense of open space, where ideas can grow slowly and organically, has become rare.

As a result, I often work more pragmatically than I used to. That may not sound particularly artistic at first, but it also has its advantages. I get started more quickly and spend less time trapped in perfectionism. I often feel underprepared, but precisely because of that, I have to trust my creativity and intuition.

At the same time, motherhood has given me a new sense of calm. Many things have become less important, which has opened up a different kind of joy, playfulness, and freedom. Of course, this continues to evolve as my children move through different stages of life.

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What can visitors to “Conscious Listening” at our festival look forward to most?

New sounds, intense listening experiences, and a space where, for a little while, you are simply allowed to be fully present in the moment.

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And finally, a personal question: What is inspiring you at the moment musically, artistically, or in life in general?

It varies greatly. Often, I am inspired by visual impressions, architecture, installations, or particular spaces. But inspiration can just as easily come from texts, individual sentences, images, or encounters with people.

Perhaps, ultimately, I am always searching for moments of contemplation. I do not find such spaces very often in everyday life, and in a world that often feels upside down, they become all the more valuable to me. I suspect that this search for focus, stillness, and attention is also reflected in my artistic work.