They didn't want to take her to music school, but at 14 she played at Carnegie Hall in New York. Belarusian violinist — about life in London, earnings, and how a Stradivarius violin worth 14 million euros differs from an ordinary one

We talked to Eva about whether it's possible to live in London solely from concerts and how much musicians in leading British orchestras earn. And also — about Belarusian music and education, how professional envy can become a career driver, and why she wouldn't check her violin into luggage even under threat of death.

«I remember almost nothing from New York: I sat in the hotel and practiced»

«NN»: Eva, you started playing the violin at five, and at nine you were already admitted to the Republican Gymnasium-College at the Academy of Music. Did you have a normal childhood — friends, a yard, holidays? Did you have time for that?

Eva Volkava: To some extent, all of that was there. I went to school, and in college, my classmates were also musicians, so there was enough communication.

But holidays were a particularly painful topic. I only started traveling for leisure after graduating with my bachelor's degree. Before that, all family trips were related to my career: competitions, masterclasses, festivals, concerts abroad. I hardly managed to see anything in my childhood: travels mostly involved me and my violin in hotel rooms.

My mother was very serious about ballet in her childhood. I think she wanted to give me as many opportunities as possible to develop in what I enjoyed. My parents motivated me to apply for competitions and go to festivals. My mother was very involved in this, but she never wanted to raise a virtuoso — she wanted me to develop in what I loved.

«NN»: How many hours a day did you practice? Were there times when you started to hate the violin?

EV: My musical path was very uneven. It wasn't like I walked into music school at five and they immediately started raising a Paganini out of me.

But at about ten years old, I decided myself that I should practice six hours a day, and I tried to stick to that schedule for a long time.

Now everything depends on the day and how much repertoire needs to be learned. If I can be lazy, I will, of course, be lazy. If something needs to be learned — I will practice until the victorious end.

I think everyone has some kind of childhood trauma. Mine, probably, is excessive ambition and the desire to prove to everyone around me how cool I am. It ate me up from the inside. I felt that I had to practice because only through that could I earn love, respect, understanding, and everything else. Not in the sense that my parents didn't love me. It's just that I saw how much they did for me, and I felt I had to give even more.

«NN»: Do you remember your first stage experience?

EV: I hardly remember my first public performance — it was probably just my first music school exam. In childhood, I was very anxious. When I went on stage, it was as if a curtain appeared before my eyes — it was very scary. So not many memories remain. Anxiety and stage fright accompanied me for a very long time.

Now I feel much more confident. This was my biggest problem: in practice, you can calculate technical and musical things, but in stage behavior, there is always an unpredictable element, and it terribly annoyed me. I read literature, interviews with musicians about how they cope with it, and for the last five years, I actively worked on myself. Now I feel completely fine on stage.

«NN»: At 11, you performed for the first time with the Belarusian State Symphony Orchestra. How did that happen?

EV: In the gymnasium-college, it seems, auditions were held twice a year to select those who would play with the orchestra. For a long time, this was my dream. I wasn't chosen at the first audition, and I was very upset. I tried the next time — and it worked out. It was very exciting, but back then I felt like a star. It was pleasant.

«NN»: In your teenage years, you performed in New York. What kind of concert was it?

EV: It was a concert for laureates of a competition in Japan. I was invited, and we went. Children and adults from various nominations performed.

I was about 14 years old. I spent most of my time in the hotel: practicing and preparing, so I remember little of New York itself.

Performing was anxious. My teacher played with me — he is a violinist and pianist, and he accompanied me on the piano then. Afterward, he said: «Everyone says you get more nervous in Carnegie Hall than in other concert halls. There's a special atmosphere there».

«NN»: Do you want to repeat such a performance as an adult?

EV: I can't say it's a specific ambition. It's nice to play in a prestigious hall, but I always have a stronger desire to perform a specific piece than to play in some special place. I get more pleasure from that. Of course, it would be nice, but we'll see.

Павялічыць

«In Britain, it turned out that you can argue with your teacher»

«NN»: What did Belarusian musical education give you that British education didn't? And what did you have to restructure within yourself afterward?

EV: The strong point of the Belarusian system is a very thorough theoretical base: composition, harmony, analysis of how music is structured. In college, a lot of disciplines and time were dedicated to this. When I came to the UK, it was a shock to me that in the first year of conservatory, we were doing theory assignments that in Belarus were done in about the fifth or seventh grade. I was afraid it would be difficult, but it turned out to be the opposite.

In Belarus, there is more discipline: you have to prepare seriously for exams, you get grades, and in childhood, you are assessed much more strictly. There is a stereotype about Belarusian and Russian music teachers who don't hold back in their expressions when criticizing. We, of course, also encountered this. I don't know how good it was at the moment for a child, but now resilience and a healthy perception of criticism help me: no matter what you are told, you have to keep working.

In the UK, there are music schools, but not many specialized institutions where children enroll at an early age. Most study privately and take exams which, in my opinion, are simpler than exams in Belarusian music schools. Therefore, in Belarus, children are taught to practice regularly and seriously evaluate results much earlier.

At the conservatory level in Britain, there is much more reflection. We talked a lot about how one musician plays, how another plays, what they have in common, how they differ, how you yourself would play and why. There are fewer ready-made rules here and more freedom.

After the Belarusian system, you initially get lost in this freedom. You are used to: the teacher said — you do it. But in the UK, it turns out that you have the right to choose, and it is even encouraged. You can ask the teacher: «Why can't I play it like this?» A discussion will begin, and perhaps together you will come to a third option. Here, people read a lot, write essays, analyze literature, and form their own opinions.

«NN»: You were accepted into three London conservatories at once. How difficult is it to pass such a selection?

EV: For me, admission was not very difficult, because I was lucky to have a good technical and musical foundation. But a lot depends on how much funding is allocated to a particular department in a given year and from which countries students come.

For example, if in a certain year many students come from China, who often have more opportunities to pay for their education themselves and not receive a scholarship, the overall number of places, and also scholarship places, may be fewer. But it all depends on the specific conservatory, department, and year.

If you can pay for your studies yourself, I think it's not so difficult to get in: many are accepted. But education is very expensive, so almost everyone competes for scholarships, and few receive them.

«NN»: What was the most difficult thing after moving to the UK?

EV: At first, it was difficult with both the language and communication. You can know the language, but each of us has our own phrases, manner of speaking, and presenting ourselves — what reveals our individuality and what people love or dislike us for. When you've only recently started using a language, it's hard to understand how to adapt your Belarusian personality to English and still remain authentic.

It was difficult for me to show myself to people and make friends. The English mentality is quite reserved; people rarely share personal details. I knew about this, but I didn't expect it to be true for almost everyone.

However, people are very friendly, and conflicts rarely arise. This reservedness hinders when you want to make friends, but it helps when you need to solve a problem: there will be no insults or "demanding rights," the conversation will always remain calm.

«For a comfortable life in London, you need 1600–1700 pounds per month»

«NN»: You studied at the Royal College of Music on a full scholarship. Was it enough for anything?

EV: I graduated from college in July. The full scholarship exclusively covered the cost of education, but not accommodation and other living expenses. Students are allowed to work part-time, but there are restrictions: you cannot work as self-employed, and payments for work are processed through the university and are taxed.

The official tax-free minimum in the UK is about 12,000 pounds per year (which is approximately 14,000 euros, or almost 50,000 Belarusian rubles. — NN), but for London, of course, this is very little.

After graduation, I analyzed what income I would like to achieve. For a relatively comfortable life in London, in my opinion, you need to have 1600–1700 pounds per month (approximately 1900–2000 euros, or 6600–7000 Belarusian rubles. — NN). This should cover housing, food, transport, and all other expenses, so you can live in a normal apartment and save something.

In the future, I would like to continue my education. My teacher said that a good musician needs to study until they are 35. This could be an Artist Diploma, a doctorate — in general, it's worth studying as much as possible. During your studies, you not only gain knowledge but also enter various institutions, meet people from different countries, and build a professional network of contacts. The more you study, the more people you meet, and the more chances you have that you will collaborate in the future.

«NN»: How much can a violinist in London earn per concert? Is it possible to live solely on music?

EV: The range of earnings is very wide. There are what we call odd jobs: performances at corporate events, weddings, funerals. You can play with independent orchestras that invite you for a specific project, or you can work under contract in a permanent orchestra — for example, the London Symphony Orchestra or the London Philharmonic Orchestra.

As far as I've heard, salaries in such orchestras start at about 30,000 pounds per year (around 35,000 euros, or 124,000 Belarusian rubles. — NN). When speaking of very famous musicians, honorariums can range from a few thousand to 100,000 pounds for a single concert (around 117,000 euros, or 413,000 Belarusian rubles. — NN). But these are names on the scale of Martha Argerich or Yuja Wang — giants of classical music, and the chance of reaching that level is small.

You can live from music, but most London musicians, including my teachers, combine various activities: they teach, play in orchestras and chamber ensembles, and perform solo. It's always freelance and a combination of different directions.

«Oh, you rascal, how well you play!»

«NN»: You previously wrote that you failed many competitions. Which failure was the most painful?

EV: I can't name one failure that I regret. Various things happened: at competitions, I forgot the text, meaning what to play next, my bow fell out of my hands — there was everything. Immediately after the failure, it hurts, but then you recall it even with humor. Failures happen to everyone, including very successful musicians, and by themselves, they prove nothing.

A competition requires a different way of preparation. Maximum technical precision is needed, a clear execution of everything indicated in the score. There are different people on the jury, and you need to please everyone. This doesn't leave much room to manifest as a unique artist. Everything needs to be "combed and slicked." At a regular concert, you might think: "I'll do something unusual here — maybe someone won't understand, but it will be interesting." At a competition, there's no such luxury: everything must be a hundred out of a hundred.

But competitions are useful. In my childhood, I didn't participate in the biggest ones, but now I want to approach competitions consciously: to see how everything works, and to create for myself and future students a specific list of rules that help achieve results.

The most important quality of a modern musician is adaptability: the ability to adjust to different teachers, juries, audiences, and specific events. It is important that an idea that arises at the moment of performance is immediately embodied in sound, without the need for long practice just to learn how to realize it.

«NN»: What about competition in the musical environment? Are you familiar with professional envy?

EV: Musical envy is familiar to me like nothing else. Probably, it was the main engine of my progress. In my childhood, I was not considered particularly talented at all. They didn't even want to take me to music school — they said I had no ear. But if a child starts studying music before the age of six, they are very likely to develop perfect pitch. That's what happened to me.

When I saw someone playing well, it started to eat me up inside that someone else was better, and I ran to practice. My mother still remembers how we came to the philharmonic for a concert of students from my music school. A girl my age, with whom we later studied and became friends, was performing on stage. It was so unbearable for me to see her success that I hid under a chair and covered my ears so I wouldn't hear.

I worked a lot on this. Envy can force you to start doing something, but your work shouldn't be born from negative feelings — it's better if it comes from love. Now, I think, I have transformed envy into inspiration. I look at someone and think: «Oh, you rascal, how well you play!» Then I listen, analyze what the person does technically and how to try it myself.

This way your arsenal expands: you can play this way and that way, and on stage, you choose the weapon with which you will charm the audience.

Competition also, of course, exists. There were close friends who secretly applied for scholarships, competitions, projects, and festivals. You ask what the person is working on, you say you don't know what to do yourself, you ask for advice, and they don't share anything. Then it turns out they applied everywhere.

You get used to it over time. You understand that the person chose such a method and has the right not to share their contacts and resources. But it doesn't come to, like in the movie «The Piano Teacher» with Isabelle Huppert, sprinkling glass in someone's pocket. We are, of course, crazy, but not that much.

«NN»: What is your most ambitious professional goal?

EV: The main problem with any artistic profession is that you never know if what you want will come true. In finance or IT, the path is clearer: you study, send out resumes, get a position, then a promotion. If you put in enough effort, you see a system by which you can reach the desired point.

In the creative industry, everything is categorically unpredictable. Yes, there are prestigious festivals: if you get in, you'll meet people, put it on your resume, and an employer will see that you're a good professional. But we work with emotions and the human perception of an artist. A lot depends on luck.

Before graduation, I was very worried: what to do next, how to live? But this is unproductive anxiety. You need to put in maximum effort, analyze the market and your work, and hope for the best. Many of my acquaintances started as musicians, finished their studies, and then changed professions to become doctors or IT specialists. You never know how things will turn out.

I would like to do a bit of everything: play in orchestras and chamber ensembles, perform solo, and teach. My position is — do what you can, and let come what may.

Павялічыць

«The 'wow' effect was only from the thought that I held 12 million in my hands»

«NN»: What violin do you play and how much does it cost?

EV: I play a copy of a Guarneri «Lipinski» violin, made in the Florian Leonhard workshop. When it was bought, it cost about 30,000 pounds (around 35,000 euros, or 124,000 Belarusian rubles. — NN). The money was collected through the joint efforts of parents, foundations, patrons, and people who heard me at concerts and could donate something for the instrument. The payment was stretched over a long period.

Old violins by Stradivari, Guarneri, and other famous masters can sound wonderful, but they require special care, are capricious to weather and humidity. Modern workshops make excellent copies of such instruments. I am completely satisfied with my violin.

The price range is enormous. A good concert instrument, I think, can be bought for about 10,000 pounds (around 11.7 thousand euros, or 41 thousand Belarusian rubles. — NN), perhaps even cheaper.

And then the cost can reach incredible sums. Once, I was given a Stradivarius violin to try, which at the time cost 12 million pounds (around 14 million euros, or almost 50 million Belarusian rubles. — NN). This was five or six years ago; since then, it has probably become more expensive.

«NN»: What are the sensations of a 12-million-euro violin?

EV: A violin is a violin. The "wow" effect only came from the thought: "Oh, I'm holding 12 million in my hands." It even seemed to me that, from the perspective of my comfort and how I want to play, I like my own violin more. In the case of Stradivari or Guarneri, a significant part of the sum is paid for the master's name.

Every instrument has its pros and cons. The choice depends on what sound and timbre you want, what repertoire you intend to perform — orchestral, chamber, or solo — and what advantages you are willing to sacrifice.

«NN»: Is it difficult to take care of a violin?

EV: It is advisable to take it to a workshop for service once a year: they check if everything is in place, and if necessary, restore the varnish coating. After playing, the instrument must be cleaned. We apply rosin to the bow — compressed resin that turns into sticky dust and settles on the violin. If it is not removed, the varnish deteriorates, and later the wood can also be damaged.

And generally, the instrument must be handled carefully. It is advisable not to forget the violin on trains.

«NN»: How is the instrument transported, for example, on a plane?

EV: This is a great source of anxiety for musicians.

Cellists usually buy a separate seat for their instrument, sometimes even two. I also bought an extra seat for my violin for a long time.

Then I found a Polish company, Trinity Violin Cases, which produces very small cases: the violin fits into a small suitcase, and the bow into a separate case that is used as its handle. The instrument goes into hand luggage and fits on the overhead shelf.

But even with such a case, I had conflicts with airport staff who demanded that I check the violin as luggage. I said: «Into luggage — only over my dead body. Better kill me right here.» There are many stories and photos of violin and cello cases coming out on the baggage carousel completely smashed. You can't look at that without crying.

On the subway, people often ask: «Oh, is that a ukulele you have?» I answer: «Yep.»

«Belarusian art needs to be brought into the international community»

«NN»: In 2025, you performed a program of works by Halina Harelavva, Volha Padhaiskaya, and Larysa Simakovich in London. Why was it important for you to play Belarusian music?

EV: In England, I really miss our music and traditions. At university, I had a course on project organization, within which I had to organize something. I decided: I will do a concert of Belarusian music. It so happened that all the chosen authors were women. I thought: «This is wonderful, even better.»

The events of the last six years push towards the idea that Belarusian art needs to be brought into the international community, asserting its independence and autonomous path. We have many unique things that can be shared with an international audience. It is high quality, beautiful, delicious — people like it.

«NN»: In recent years, you have participated in numerous concerts in support of Ukraine. Why is this important to you?

EV: If they offer — you must participate. Even if it's not paid, you still have to, there's no other way. Usually, my friends, excellent musicians, play there, and works by wonderful composers are performed. This is incredibly interesting and complex music. My friend, a composer who is also a violinist, writes for the violin so difficultly that I ask: «Why are you such a masochist towards yourself?»

This music is very interesting to perform, but the process of working on it involves a lot of pain and reflection. Nevertheless, it must be done now.

People in Europe don't want to constantly watch news and terrible videos. We need to convey the story to them through other, indirect ways. A person comes to a concert, listens, enjoys it. Perhaps afterward, they will read something: what this story is about, where the musicians and composers are from, what is currently happening in their country.

«NN»: How has the attitude of the European music community towards Russian artists and repertoire changed after 2022?

EV: In the first months after the start of the full-scale war, some concerts that planned to feature Russian composers were canceled.

Now, I don't notice the British or other Europeans paying attention to this.

Ukrainians, for understandable reasons, react: they organize protests against inviting Russian artists. But they are not listened to very often.

«NN»: Would you yourself agree to play with Russian musicians?

EV: There are students from Russia in our conservatory. The people I play with have an anti-war stance; they no longer travel to Russia and live in England. I definitely wouldn't play with those who support the war. With people who don't express their opinion at all — most likely, not either.

But there are difficult situations. You get invited to a chamber ensemble or orchestra, and no one sends a list of participants along with their attitude towards the war in advance. You might agree and then find out that someone supports it. If you refuse at the last minute, you let down the entire collective, including the British and other Europeans who have nothing to do with it. It's a double-edged sword here.

«NN»: What if you were invited to perform with the Belarusian state orchestra now?

EV: I doubt they would invite me. But even if they did, I would probably refuse.

But of course, I would like to return home. In Belarus, I had small students; I still remember them and think: I've learned so much and would love to pass it on to them, to help them look at things from a different angle! I would like to perform and teach in Belarus, but current circumstances do not allow it.

«I can listen to Baroque music 24 hours a day»

«NN»: Do you listen to classical music in your free time?

EV: Of course. I have a special love — Baroque music. I could listen to it 24 hours a day and not get tired.

A musician cannot just listen to music; they still start to analyze it. If you have perfect pitch, along with the sounds, the names of all the notes and harmonic systems pass through your head. When this happens for a long time, you get tired.

Sometimes I'm in the mood for Mozart, Bach, or Shostakovich. When preparing, for example, a Bartok concerto, you not only read the composer's letters, diaries, and biography, but you also listen to his symphonies and chamber music. It plays in the background while you do household chores, to subconsciously immerse yourself in the atmosphere and ideas.

I also love electronic music, and I write a bit myself. In my bachelor's, I took a course in electronic composition because I had many friends who worked as DJs and created such music. In my master's, I had less time, but now I've finished my studies and hope to return to it.

I also really love folklore — Belarusian is simply fantastic, and I also like Balkan folk music.

When I was working on an electronic composition for an exam, I found a website with recordings of Belarusian folk music, collected by region. You click on a specific village on the map of Belarus and can listen to its songs. I used one of these recordings in my electronic composition.

Modern pop music is harder for me to listen to: many melodic and harmonic solutions are very simple; I've heard them too many times. But there are exceptions. For example, the Spanish singer Rosalía makes very interesting and popular music, incorporating flamenco elements, listening a lot to classical music, and being inspired by it. This is a good example of how classical influences are reinterpreted and become interesting to a large number of people.

«NN»: When was the last time music made you cry?

EV: Sometimes it really brings tears to my eyes. The last particularly strong impression I got was at a festival in Budapest, where a student orchestra with Barnabás Kelemen as concertmaster performed Bartók's «Divertimento». It was incredibly inspired work by the section leaders, frantic communication between the musicians, and very interesting artistic decisions. Plus Bartók himself — bright music, strongly inspired by Hungarian folklore. It was wonderful.

«NN»: Why does an orchestra need a conductor?

EV: When you have 60 people sitting in front of you, everyone has a different understanding of what slow, fast, loud, or quiet means, and how to play in general. So one person is chosen to unite everything.

If you compare it to electronic music, the conductor does the mastering: organizing the material so that it is balanced in terms of dynamics, articulation, and musical decisions. He brings the views of a large number of people to a single point so that the orchestra doesn't sound like some incomprehensible mess.

«NN»: Which works would you recommend to people unfamiliar with classical music to start their journey?

EV: I wouldn't want to only name Vivaldi's «The Four Seasons» — everyone knows them anyway. Although it's wonderful music that people like, and it should be listened to and played.

For an introduction to the violin, I would recommend Mozart's violin concertos, Bach's solo sonatas and partitas. And the most important work written of all time, for me, is Bach's «The Well-Tempered Clavier» — a collection of preludes and fugues for keyboard instrument. This is also my favorite work. I think if a person unfamiliar with classical music listens to it, they will want to go further.

Павялічыць

«I go to the gym without pleasure»

«NN»: How does the profession of a musician affect friendships and personal life?

EV: Very much so. A musician doesn't have a schedule where you come to work at nine and return at five. Rehearsals can start in the morning, midday, or late in the evening and end very late. It's difficult to make joint plans: at the last moment, lucrative cooperation might be offered, and you, of course, will want to agree.

For a classical musician, it's almost impossible to develop without studying in different countries. You need to gather as many perspectives and trends as possible to understand what you want yourself. That's why you have to travel a lot, and with constant travel, it's hard to build personal relationships.

Friendships are easier. When you meet people who aren't involved in classical music, they're impressed that you're a musician. They're interested in a lot about you, so it might be easier to connect.

«NN»: What do you do badly in life, and what do you do with pleasure?

EV: Among the things I do badly but with pleasure — I play the viola da gamba, an ancient string instrument similar to the cello. I really do it badly, but I like it.

I love learning languages. I studied Japanese for a long time and diligently, then I realized that I wouldn't need it much in the near future, so I started German. Before that, I studied French. I like the structural nature of languages: many puzzle elements, translating words through understanding the general context. For the same reason, I love Sudoku.

I go to exhibitions and museums. This is important for my main job too: a musician must be well-educated in other art forms. I love nature, botanical gardens, and parks. I'd like to say I love going to the gym, but that would be a lie. I go to the gym badly and without pleasure.

«NN»: If five-year-old Eva were sitting in front of you now with her first violin, what would you tell her?

EV: Professionally, I would say to analyze everything I do and what happens around me more, and to distribute time and effort more consciously.

I would advise myself and other musicians at an early stage of their career to listen and analyze a lot.

Success doesn't always depend on a crazy number of practice hours. They won't hurt, but it's hard to build a successful career on them alone. You need to analyze how your career will develop, treat it as a personal brand and business.

And if it's just a wish for my five-year-old self — I would advise her to worry less when things don't go as planned. An event that doesn't develop as you wish can lead to an outcome even better than you expected.

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