I’m curious about the two instruments she plays—the historic and the modern—and the connection she finds between the two. It is a rare instrumentalist that can move so deftly between both modalities of playing, considering the stark differences between the instruments (even though, to the naked eye, they appear so similar). But to Lina, the difficulties have nothing on the joy of the challenge, of creating something so dynamic and new for an audience, who become, as the instrument is an extension of her, an extension of the performance.
‘My professors in Vienna [Lina studied at the prestigious Musikhochschule Wien] were initially surprised when I expressed an interest in historical performance, but I love the challenge of learning new things: I like being in uncomfortable situations that push me further.’
The transition was truly uncomfortable: ‘I went from playing the Tchaikovsky concerto to not being able to play a long note!’ She chuckles: ‘How do I do it? I had no clue. That was exciting.’
While diving headfirst into the world of historical performance practice, Lina did not put down her modern violin, still doing exams, still playing Brahms and Ravel. She knew she wanted both, and wasn’t willing to give up either, in spite of the fact there were no models of people doing the same to look to for encouragement.
‘Then, I could find very few people playing both instruments at a high level. It’s completely different now, which is great, and I encourage my students to do both if they want to, but when I was studying, my Baroque teacher wanted me to give up modern, and vice versa.’
When I ask about how playing one instrument influences and impacts playing the other, Lina draws a comparison between musicians and actors.
‘You do, of course, direct things you learn from one to the other, but they are two very different instruments. The way of thinking and playing are so different. You approach them as you would characters, roles: