Name: Marta Warelis
Nationality: Polish
Occupation: Pianist, composer, improviser
Current release: Marta Warelis teams up with Sakina Abdou and Toma Gouband for the album Hammer, Roll and Leaf, out November 29th 2024 via Relative Pitch.
Recommendations: Rivers and Tides, a documentary about the work of Andy Goldsworthy; an album by Art Ensemble of Chicago - Fanfare for the warriors

[Read our Sakina Abdou interview]

If you enjoyed this Marta Warelis interview and would like to know more about her music, visit her official homepage. She is also on Facebook, and Soundcloud.

Over the course of her career, Marta Warelis has performed and recorded with a wide range of artists, including Andy Moore, Ingebrigt Haker Flaten, John Dikeman, Magda Mayas, and Etienne Nillesen.

[Read our Andy Moore interview]
[Read our Ingebrigt Haker Flaten interview]
[Read our John Dikeman interview]
[Read our Magda Mayas interview]
[Read our Etienne Nillesen interview]



Do you think that some of your earliest musical experiences planted a seed for your interest in improvisation?

Yes.

When did you first consciously start getting interested in musical improvisation? Which artists, teachers, albums or performances involving prominent use of improvisation captured your imagination in the beginning?

In my home town there was a blues session every Saturday. I discovered it when I was 12 years old and I got completely hooked. Hearing people making up melodies and lyrics on the spot and keeping it together was out of this world for me.

I also used to stay up late to watch live jazz concert on the French TV channel mezzo, wondering how on earth they can play for such a long time with no charts.

I then started to transcribe things, write things of my own or change parts of classical pieces that I didn’t enjoy by leaving it open or by staying on one chord and trying to connect to the next written part.

Tell me about your instrument and/or tools, please. What made you seek it out, what makes it “your” instrument, and what are some of the most important aspects of playing it?

The piano appeared in my life thanks to my parents, they took care that I would get music education from early age and the piano was just a kind of choice to be around for a non musical family living in a small flat. We became friends immediately.

I remember having a crisis at one point when I was already in my twenties and at the conservatory. I felt very distant from my instrument. I was watching other musicians directly connecting with their instruments by breath, touching the strings, membranes.

The process of hitting a key that moves a hammer that then hits a string somewhere far away made me doubt my relationship with the piano. I had to find another way to be close to it and that’s how I ended up reaching into its throat and exploring the timbral possibilities inside the resonance box. After that I felt there were no boundaries, we could make each other sing in many different ways.

The piano is a fantastic instrument that can become a whole orchestra as well an endless universe of textures and timbres.

How would you describe your own relationship with your instrument – is it an extension of your self/body, a partner and companion, a creative catalyst, a challenge to be overcome, something else entirely?

The piano has been my partner and companion since I was a child. It somehow became an extension of myself when the movements to express feelings became more and more unconscious.

This relationship, as any other, has moments of balance and full understanding, then again moments where things change and you grow apart and you need to find each other in a new way which comes for me with hard work but also playfulness and creativity.

There is a beautiful confrontation in playing a different instrument every performance; you need to let go of any expectation and be in full acceptance of whatever comes in the moment, being ready to transform it and be playful with it immediately; what a teacher.

When you're improvising, does it actually feel like you're inventing something on the spot – or are you inventively re-arranging patterns from preparations, practise or previous performances? What balance is there between forgetting and remembering in your work?

At some point, especially when I started performing solo, I felt as though I’m leaving my body and something else takes over. As if any control is an illusion and I just need to let whatever comes move my body in waves of energy.

There are things that my fingers are used to do in a particular way, harmonies that represent unconsciously a certain emotion perhaps, things that are coming out while improvising as patterns and mechanical memory movements. Every time in a different way and context, but there is a personal language that we all have and it is about how creative we are with it in the moment that makes it unique every time I think.

I believe also that when we improvise and loose the idea of control, it is a reflection of that particular moment. And so in that sense it is completely new every time and things happen that are a out of our capability to bring it back in the same way or know where they came from.

Are you acting out parts of your personality in your improvisations which you couldn't or wouldn't through other musical approaches? If so, which are these? What, would you say, are the key ideas behind your approach to improvisation?

Improvisation for me is about honesty and having no fear for what will come out. It is such a pure experience where all that is needed is to be in full acceptance.

In this state there’s no friction of thought, only complete attention and so creative energy at its fullest.

In terms of your personal expression and the experience of performance, how does playing solo compare to group improvisations?

Playing with others creates that special space where you exchange sounds and choices that you perhaps wouldn’t come up with yourself. It is also a lesson on flexibility, on the balance between giving and receiving, and an incredible fun where you’re creating layers together that shapes the form of the composition possibly unimaginable to be written down before hand.

Solo has this power where you learn so much about yourself. There’s no one to feed you or to give a direction, you need to trust yourself completely and tell a story coming from deep within.

My first solo performances were disastrous! In a wonderful way though. Every time I felt like I gained an understating trough an intense confrontation.

In your best improvisations, do you feel a strong sense of personal presence or do you (or your ego) “disappear”?

Speaking only about what works for me I can say that with the disappearance of ego comes the most powerful music.

There can be surprising moments during improvisations – from one of the performers not playing a single note to another shaking up a quiet section with an outburst of noise. Have you been part of similar situations and how did they impact the performance from your point of view?

The biggest fun for me is the unexpected. And to stay open and accepting for whatever comes. It is about that transformation and not letting the thought disturb the flow.

Playing with others can bring about a different experience, different background, different approach to improvisation.

I believe if we stay open to the transformation and restrain from judgement then no matter what will come the music will stay honest and strong.

I have always been fascinated by the many facets of improvisation but sometimes found it hard to follow them as a listener. Do you have some recommendations for “how to listen” in this regard?

I like to think about it as going to the museum and standing in front of the painting without any expectation or judgement. Just listening if it has anything to say, anything to resonate within in this particular moment.

Sometimes it will speak, sometimes not at all. But it’s all about being with it for a while, even without following or understanding.

In a way, improvisations remind us of the transitory nature of life. When an improvisation ends, is it really gone, just like a cup of coffee? Or does it live on in some form?

Is a musical performance a separate thing from the improvisers, the listeners, the space it took place in?

I believe that performance is a tool through which the moment and things unseen are expressed. And so whatever came through keeps on transforming and resonating.