Although best known as a piano recitalist, a role that has seen her perform many of classical music’s best-loved pieces in the most iconic concert halls around the world, Anastasiya Bazhenova is undoubtedly an artist who moves well beyond the boundaries of that world. I sat down with her to get to the heart of what music means for her, her personal style, and her backstory, and what lies on the horizon.
Can we begin with a brief overview? What is your musical training, and how did it take you from your home in Russia to now being based in Norway?
I grew up in Russia and received my first musical education in one of the country’s elite ten-year music schools, where piano was not just a discipline but a way of life. Later, I completed my bachelor’s degree at the Voronezh Academy of Arts, studying with the remarkable pianist Arkady Dubovik — a teacher who profoundly shaped my sound, my phrasing, and my understanding of musical honesty.
Eventually, I moved to Norway, where I earned my master’s degree at the Norwegian Academy of Music in Oslo. Living between two cultures — Russian and Scandinavian — has become central to my identity as an artist. I feel equally drawn to depth and structure, to lyricism and clarity. This dual influence informs both how I play and how I think about music.
What made you choose the piano as your instrument, and what personal reward or satisfaction do you get out of playing it?
I think the piano chose me. It was there before I understood what choosing even meant. I was four when I began, and by the time I was ten, I felt like the instrument had already become part of my nervous system.
There’s something about the immediacy of touch — about building a world with your hands in real time — that still feels magical. For me, it’s never been about perfection or display but about resonance. When I play, I’m searching for that moment when sound becomes truth.
When performing recitals where the works are so well known by an audience, is it possible to leave your mark on the piece, and if so, what would you say makes your performance unique?
For me, the most familiar works are like haunted rooms — full of echoes and yet completely empty until someone enters them. I don’t try to interpret from the outside. I walk inside and listen.
What often stays with the listener is not just the music but the concentration I bring to it — a quiet intensity, a certain poetic clarity. I don’t decorate the music. I try to reveal its inner gravity.
How do you choose the projects that you feel will suit you personally, from the point of physically playing but also in terms of what you find rewarding?
Every project I take on must resonate with me on a deeper level — emotionally, intellectually, and physically. I don’t play music just because it’s “important” or popular; I need to feel why it exists — and what I can say through it.
My programs are usually built like short stories — with tension, release, and contrast. I like it when there’s a hidden thread between the pieces, even if they come from different centuries.
That thread can be emotional, philosophical — or something harder to define. I often combine works that seem unrelated on the surface, but together, they speak to something deeper: a mood, a conflict, a transformation. The connections don’t have to be obvious — only felt.
Physically, I’m drawn to music that demands a wide range of color and intensity. I like repertoire that challenges both the hands and the imagination. But the greatest reward is when people tell me they truly felt something — something they didn’t expect but couldn’t ignore.
Although best known as a concert recitalist, you are working on a concept album; what can we expect from that?
This is not a collection of pieces — it’s a psychological arc. The album moves from clarity to chaos, from lyricism to raw intensity. I designed it like a descent — or perhaps an unveiling — where each piece strips away a layer of safety.
I won’t reveal the full narrative just yet. Some stories need to remain in shadow until they’re ready to speak. But I will say this: when you hear the final track, the rest of the album will suddenly make sense.
It will be released in spring 2026 on an international label. Until then, it’s taking shape — silently, relentlessly.
As a performer of both solo works and as a chamber musician, what are the advantages and disadvantages of both performing alone and as part of an ensemble?
Playing solo feels like standing on the edge of a cliff — everything depends on you, and there’s both danger and freedom in that. The intimacy is unmatched: you shape every silence, every breath. But it can also be lonely and brutally exposing.
Chamber music, on the other hand, is like walking into someone else’s dream. The best collaborations stretch you — not just technically but emotionally. You’re constantly adjusting, listening, learning. I recently worked with flutist Ian Clarke, and even in a short time, I absorbed something from his musical instinct and phrasing that stayed with me long after.
In both settings, I value the same thing: the ability to truly listen. Whether I’m alone or not, I want the music to feel alive — responsive, human, and urgent.
You have played in many of the most iconic concert spaces around the world; what are some of your favorite places and why?
Carnegie Hall was unforgettable — not just for its reputation, but for the clarity it demands. In a place like that, you feel the weight of every note before you even begin.
But sometimes, the most memorable concerts happen in unexpected places — venues where the acoustics, the piano, and the audience come together in a rare harmony. In Norway, many concerts take place in churches and cathedrals with exceptional instruments and deeply attentive listeners. These spaces can create a kind of magic — quiet, focused, and profoundly alive.
And finally, what does the future hold, and what projects are on the horizon?
Right now, everything revolves around my upcoming debut concept album. Recording sessions begin in mid-July, and the album is scheduled for release in spring 2026 on an international label.
This October, I’m preparing a concert series centered around Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto — timed to coincide with the 150th anniversary of its premiere in 1875. That historical echo adds a layer of meaning to the program, allowing the music to resonate across time.
Looking further ahead, I’m also shaping a new orchestral collaboration for winter 2026 — a project that will explore different facets of sound and emotional intensity.
I don’t rush from one event to the next; each project is a chapter. I want every one of them to leave a mark — quiet, deliberate, and impossible to fake.
Thank you for taking the time to let me into your world, and thank you for such an eloquent and descriptive conversation. Best of luck with everything you are working on and everything in the future.
