The interviews that was a couple of days later where i had made arrangement.
Gramophone magazine—
The room was saturated with the aroma of old paper and gentle polish, the faint echo of Shostakovich's Fifth still trembling through its walls. Rose sat opposite the interviewer, legs folded, chin raised, the only sign of her earlier nerves the slight indentation of her thumbnail in her palm. The journalist, a balding man with an immaculate bowtie and a voice like velvet, smiled and pressed his recorder.
"Hello, Rose. It's such a pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on making history as the youngest winner of the Indianapolis Violin Competition—arguably the most prestigious in North America. Can I ask, how does it feel to have your name etched into that legacy?"
Rose blinked once, receptive and poised, and then allowed herself a genuine, unguarded smile. "Thank you. I suppose I still feel a little dazed. The field was so luminous—every single finalist was someone I admired, people whose recordings I studied in the practice rooms at dawn. Honestly, when my name was called, I thought they'd made a mistake. I even started to stand to congratulate Hannah, who'd played the Bartók so viscerally the night before. But then I realized—I was supposed to go up. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the bouquet."
The interviewer's eyebrows lifted, delighted by her candor. "That's beautifully modest. Was there a particular moment during the competition—one performance—when you felt you'd done something truly special?"
Rose considered, her shoulders curling slightly inward as she retreated into the memory. "Not really during, no. I remember thinking, in the middle of the Prokofiev, that I'd lost the jury in the third movement. I'd tried a new fingering that afternoon and suddenly my bow arm just… went numb. But then I looked up, and there's this twelve-year-old girl in the front row, and she's hanging on every note, smiling like she knows my secret. I thought, this isn't about juries or medals or even the hall. It's about that—communion. So I played for her."
The journalist nodded, scribbling in his notebook. "And what about the future? The media's been calling you the 'double threat' because you're also an accomplished pianist. Are you planning to continue balancing both instruments, or is the violin calling you home for good?"
Rose laughed, a low chuckle that seemed to surprise even her. "It's funny, I keep waiting for one to win out, but they're both part of how I breathe. I'd love to organize some kind of double-header recital—first half piano, second half violin, maybe bring in some friends for chamber pieces. Why not go all out, right? I think audiences are hungry for that kind of boundary-pushing experience, something that blurs the lines between what's expected and what's possible."
"Ambitious!" The interviewer leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Are there specific concertos or composers you're dying to tackle next? Or are you more interested in crossover—perhaps new commissions?"
"I want to champion new music. There's so much being written right now that deserves to be heard. But I also want to revisit the Brahms; I was taught me the D major when I was nine, and I think after these past few months, I'd play it very differently. More honest. Less worried about being perfect, and more about telling the truth of the piece. And yes—if anyone wants to write something wild for violin and prepared piano, I'll be their guinea pig."
I also have planned for 5 days in London with the London Symphony Ochastra where i will be playing a different composer each night and performing 2 concerts a day for each composer when i am in london this Feburary at the The Royal Opera House London.
The magazine's photographer, lurking with a Leica in one corner, fired a few rapid shots. Rose turned to him and grinned, then straightened her posture. "Sorry, he's got the best timing," she said, then looked back at the interviewer.
Rose's expression became thoughtful, a flicker of gratitude mingling with something more private—a secret she was tempted to share but not quite ready to name. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and considered the question before answering.
She hesitated, searching for the word.
"Joy."
The interviewer grinned, charmed by the answer. "Beautiful. Given how much you've achieved already, do you ever feel pressure to keep proving yourself? Or are you at a place where you can simply enjoy the music?"
Rose's laughter was less nervous this time, more like the ring of a glass at the end of a toast. "I think that's the lesson I'm trying to learn. That it's okay to just love it. Not everything has to be a competition. I want to keep growing, and keep surprising myself, but also… I want to give people an experience that sticks with them, even if they never remember my name."
The interviewer flipped his notebook shut, clearly satisfied, and signaled to the photographer for a final shot.
"Last question," he said, voice softer now. "Who are your greatest influences—on violin, piano, or in life? And how have they shaped the way you approach performance?"
Rose tilted her head, letting the question settle as she looked past the window, where a spill of sunlight danced in the dust motes.
My biggest influence is my family. But musically i have always admired Mendelson