Meet Malka Bobrove

We recently connected with Malka Bobrove and have shared our conversation below.

Malka, so excited to have you with us today. So much we can chat about, but one of the questions we are most interested in is how you have managed to keep your creativity alive.

Growing up I was surrounded by creativity, whether in classrooms, community spaces, or simply at home. Music eventually became my focus, but I never felt that it should be the only thing shaping who I am. When I began to study piano seriously, I noticed that many of my peers spent nearly every hour at their instrument, perfecting their skills and immersing themselves exclusively in music. Some of them were born into musical families, and music was their entire personality and life. I worked hard too, but I also valued experiences beyond music, perhaps even a little too much. I was often told that I didn’t practice enough, or that I lacked the same devotion to my instrument as the other musicians. My mother worried as well, because she frequently found me away from the piano more often than she saw me practicing.

To be honest, the process of practicing never felt enjoyable until I entered college. From the first reading of notes to listening to recordings, from tackling the sections I couldn’t play to repeating the same passages over and over again until I could finally manage them. Then memorizing the entire piece, only to discover even more places where I struggled. The work often felt endless and, at times, dreadful. Yet I discovered that what makes all of this worth it is the moment that comes after the hard work: The Interpretive Stage. This is the part I find deeply rewarding, the point where I can focus on shaping the music itself and sharing something meaningful with an audience. When I perform, I don’t aim to construct a persona or dramatize my movements. I focus instead on what I hear, what I see, and how I feel in that moment. It’s as if a switch flips and I enter a trance. Someone once described my playing as “honest,” and that word has stayed with me ever since. I always found it interesting that from the stage, a performer can never fully know how an audience experiences the music. That’s why I treasure the conversations that follow. Talking with listeners helps me learn about my own style, my strengths, and the ways I connect, or don’t connect, with others.

If I ask myself where my creativity comes from, I can’t pinpoint a single source. I don’t deliberately sit down and think of ways to nurture my creativity. But I do know that my life beyond music plays a crucial role. To interpret a score and translate notes into something that speaks, I need experiences and images to draw from. I have always been a visual thinker, and those inner pictures help me play with what I hope is honesty. Take Chopin’s Ballade No. 4 as an example. It is one of my favorite pieces to both listen to and play. I first heard it when Claudio Soares performed a short excerpt during a lesson, and I was immediately captivated by its hauntingly beautiful melody. I asked him if I could play it once I reached high school, but he told me I wasn’t mature enough. At the time I didn’t understand what he meant, but now I do. The Ballades are no ordinary works. They contain Chopin’s real voice and pain as he navigated deep personal struggles. To play something so profound, a musician needs to have lived enough to grasp complex emotions not only to respect the composer, but also to convey a personal message through the music. That kind of understanding cannot be formed simply by sitting at the piano every day. It develops through genuine relationships, through something as simple as watching a film and empathizing with its characters, or sitting on the grass and listening to the birds chirp. Through every seemingly small experience, that stirs a hidden part of my emotions, and each of these moments becomes material I can channel into my playing.

Inspiration is another essential element that sustains my creativity. One thing that has always unsettled me about competitive industries is how easily people can become consumed with opportunities that serve only themselves. While a certain amount of ambition is healthy, I often wonder what it really means to “climb to the top” or to be “number one,” especially in a world filled with so many extraordinary musicians. For me, that goal doesn’t make much sense. Instead, one of the ways I find inspiration is by listening to others. Hearing my peers perform or attending professional concerts always sparks new ideas, sometimes showing me an approach I’d like to try or offering an example of what I might choose to avoid. No two performers play a piece exactly the same way, and those differences are what make the arts so endlessly interesting, particularly in classical music. People sometimes ask me what the point is of performing works that have existed for hundreds of years. For me, the answer lies precisely in its endurance. The fact that these pieces have been played for so long proves that they still have something to say, and they keep on evolving with time. Each interpretation reveals another possibility, another perspective, and that within itself is creative. So in the end, I keep my creativity alive through connection. Connection to people, to art, to everyday life. My experiences beyond the piano allow me to approach music honestly, and that honesty is what makes every performance feel alive. I want to continue valuing my world outside the practice room and keep feeding my imagination to feel, to listen and to create. I don’t think that will ever stop.

Let’s take a small detour – maybe you can share a bit about yourself before we dive back into some of the other questions we had for you?

Everything I do revolves around sharing music as a way to connect with people. Growing up in Japan and now living in New York, I’m drawn to performances that bridge cultures, and I hope to spend more time bringing my work back to home while staying rooted in the vibrant New York scene. Studying with Eduardus Halim has refined my technique and, more importantly, taught me to listen not just to the notes, but to the people and histories behind them. That sense of dialogue shapes every part of my work. As a soloist, I strive to create concerts that feel like conversations, inviting listeners to engage with the emotional world of the music rather than simply observing it. This idea also drives the Schmidt Trio, a piano trio that I co-founded. Through our project Cultural Canvas, we collaborate with composers on the theme of cultural identity, highlight underrepresented voices in our repertoire, and build programs that celebrate a wide range of perspectives. We also feature young artists of all disciplines, creating spaces where they can collaborate, share their work, and gain the visibility they deserve.
In addition to being a performer, I am also an educator. As a teacher, I encourage students to look past technical mastery and discover how performance can communicate something uniquely their own. I believe it’s important to step away from screens and experience art in real time, such as attending concerts, visiting museums, and engaging with creativity face to face. In an age when it’s effortless to stay home and stream everything, being fully present with the arts matters more than ever. That same commitment to curiosity and presence shapes my work as a composer. Though composing is not the center of my career, it has become a natural extension of my performing life. Under the mentorship of Herschel Garfein during my undergraduate studies, I’ve come to see composition as a private laboratory where new sounds and ideas can emerge and later inform how I play and teach. Whether I’m on stage, in rehearsal, guiding a student, or sketching music at the piano, my goal remains the same: to create moments of genuine connection between cultures, between people, and between the present moment and something larger than ourselves.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

Looking back, the three qualities that have had the most impact on my journey are resilience, empathy, and curiosity. Resilience has been essential because the path of a musician, or really any creative pursuit, is rarely straightforward. There are setbacks, doubts, and moments where progress feels impossibly slow. I tell myself that, as tough as it is, resilience will take you far, and each time you come back, you come back stronger. It deepens your character and gives you the confidence to continue pushing forward. However, at the same time, it’s crucial to take care of your mental health and recognize when you need rest or support.

Empathy has also been incredibly important. At its core, it’s about simply being a good person and considering others, though of course, there are times when you need to put yourself first. Putting yourself in other people’s shoes helps you understand the world better and opens new perspectives. In music, empathy allows you to connect more deeply with an audience, a collaborator, or the composer whose work you’re interpreting. If I were to give advice, I would suggest cultivating empathy both on and off the stage. Listen actively, observe people, and seek to understand experiences beyond your own. I guarantee it will deepen your artistry and relationships, helping you grow as both a creator and a person.

Finally, curiosity has guided me throughout my life. The willingness to explore new ideas, learn from others, and engage with experiences outside of music has fueled my growth and kept my work fresh. What’s most important is to never stop learning. Explore different genres, attend concerts, read widely, travel, and engage with other forms of art. Curiosity encourages you to see possibilities you might not have considered and keeps your work evolving. It will allow you to continually refine your voice and stay connected to the world in wonderful ways.

Okay, so before we go we always love to ask if you are looking for folks to partner or collaborate with?

I’m really excited to collaborate with people who have fresh, creative ideas and want to explore new ways of sharing music and performance, while still honoring the traditions that matter. For me, collaboration is about creating experiences that are memorable, immersive, and sometimes a little unexpected. The reality of being a musician isn’t always easy, and opportunities can be hard to come by, so I try to stay open to anything that feels exciting and worthwhile.

I’m not limited to classical music; I love musical theater, opera, and pop as well! Anything that allows me to explore, learn, and connect with others is something I’m eager to try. For example, I once collaborated with Ikebana International, a non-profit organization that promotes the art of Japanese Flower Arranging. I had the opportunity to play piano alongside a live ikebana demonstration. It was such a unique experience, and it reminded me of the possibilities that are present in this path. I want to keep doing projects like that with solo performances, the Trio, or other creative ventures. I’m especially drawn to collaborators who have a vision for keeping performance arts alive and relevant today, who are willing to experiment and communicate.

I truly believe that everything happens for a reason, and that every performance, connection, and collaboration has the potential to open new doors. I try to embrace each opportunity with curiosity and openness, and I hope to keep sharing what I can offer.

Anyone who wants to collaborate can reach me at [email protected] for individual projects, or [email protected] for trio work. I’m excited to see what creative possibilities lie ahead!

Contact Info:

• Website: https://schmidttrio.com
• Instagram: malka.piano / malka.bobrove
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/malka.bobrove/
• Other: https://voyagela.com/interview/check-out-malka-bobroves-story/