What sparked your initial interest in the piano, and how did your journey as a pianist begin? 

I recently discovered an old VHS tape from the day my father picked me and my mother up from the maternal hospital. I was shocked to hear the words of the nurse that handed me to him for the first time - “he’s looking at his hands constantly, seems like he’ll be a pianist.” I suppose that’s the true beginning. My parents happened to have an upright piano at home, and I’m told it was my favourite toy from before I could walk. At the age of three, when my parents asked me the natural question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” my answer was, “a musician.” Both of them being musicians, they were trying to hint that it might not be the most sensible idea. In one of my first acts of rebellion, I found a way to sign up for piano lessons by happenstance without their knowledge on my first day at kindergarten. They found out through an unpaid bill letter in the post a few months later.

What was the transition like from studying in Bulgaria to training at the Royal College of Music in London?

I was never particularly interested in a specific institution or location; to me, those were merely vessels for finding the right mentor to continue my journey with. That said, the most instantly recognisable difference was in resources. There are a handful of Steinway pianos in my hometown, in contrast to the hundreds at the RCM alone. I should also allude to the brutality and delights of living in a megapolis, as I wouldn’t describe my move to London as a transition per se but more of a collision.

How do you approach your daily practice routine, and what do you prioritize?

I see no point in practicing anymore unless it feels like I am connecting to the essence of the activity, which to me is “playing” - not in the sense of playing through the repertoire but rather as childlike exploration. Therefore, I prioritise being engaged, involved and having a clear aim. The latter is based on whichever task achieves the most precise equilibrium between scope and scheduling practicalities.

Who are some composers or musicians that have inspired you the most over the years? Do you have a favorite composer, and if so, what draws you to their work?

I don’t think that any online platform can handle the full length of my answer without crashing. Describing my taste as eclectic would be an understatement. With a heavy sigh, here is a thoroughly distilled, alphabetically ordered list of the classical performers I connect to the most: Alfred Cortot, Andreas Scholl, Arcadi Volodos, Arthur Rubinstein, Carlos Kleiber, Emil Gilels, Glenn Gould, Heinrich Neuhaus, Sir John Eliot Gardiner, Martha Argerich, Radu Lupu, Sergei Rachmaninov, Sergiu Celibidache, Sviatoslav Richter. As for composers, the list would include Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Britten, Chopin, Debussy, Haydn, Kazandzhiev, Ligeti, Mahler, Messiaen, Monteverdi, Mozart, Palestrina, Pärt, Pergolesi, Prokofiev, Rachmaninov, Ravel, Schubert, Schumann, Scriabin, Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky.

However, if I were held at gun point and asked to pick a favourite, it would be Johann Sebastian Bach. To me, he found the purest expression of the infinite, which I find captivating in ways I could never put into words.

How do you approach interpreting a composer’s intentions while still bringing your personal voice to the piece? 

It’s quite simple on the surface. Our role as interpreters is to observe every marking the composer left us and to execute it. The execution, however, involves countless variables: what a given mark means relative to other markings in the score, to the time, aesthetic, to the composer’s personality, and to our own. I try to take all of the above into account and present it in an honest way that excites me on an intellectual, emotional and upon their ultimate cohesion - spiritual level. My personal voice thus becomes a natural consequence rather than a means to an end. Ultimately, refracting the light of the composer's intentions through our prism of perceptions as performers is the whole point. These variables enable great music to continue transcending the centuries through its thread of immortal relevance to more people. However, the development of that prism is earned, lived, experienced. The more we chase it, the more it resists, often pushing us further from finding our truth in a piece.

What, to you, is the most captivating quality of the piano's sound? Do you have a favorite piano brand or model? What qualities do you look for in an instrument?

Honestly - none. What I find most captivating about the piano is its contextual adaptivity - its ability to sound like the human voice, any other instrument, a chamber ensemble or an orchestra. Beyond that, it can evoke any idea, texture or concept if the performer is adaptive enough themselves. The piano that strikes the balance between providing enough resistance to give it character and letting me achieve that most naturally - that’d be the one I select. Other than the ratio between the size of the instrument and the acoustics, brands don’t matter.

As both a pianist and composer, how do these roles influence one another in your artistry?

Over the years, I have done my best to dissolve my creative ego whilst maintaining my integrity. Sometimes the creative storms irrigate unknown lands. Some practice sessions with a seemingly clear aim morph into improvisation that blossoms into a composition I could not imagine life without. Other times, I’d sit at the piano to proofread a score I’ve finished writing, and it will turn into a playthrough of a piece that reminds me of a similar harmony. In other words, composition and performance are inseparable parts of me that I try to nurture. I always try to inject the sense of play and exploration typically associated with composition into my piano practice, and the more prosaic but essential discipline of practice into my composition.