Eleni Tsakiri was born and raised in a small Greek village by the sea. Now twenty-two, she is a law student at the National and Kapodistrian University in Athens. A violin graduate since 2016, she is also a violin tutor at two music schools.
I always liked to picture myself, and violinists in general, as storytellers. Note by note, movement by movement surely made me feel as though I were narrating tales; the pure inner emotion I would experience while playing my violin was enabling me to externalise a similar significant emotion in others, allowing their internal power and passion to conquer their fears and realise their most utopian dreams. Seeing this harmony and serenity in their facial expressions completely changed my world.
Fate is something I have always believed in; being at the right place at the right time with the right people cannot be mere coincidence. I consider myself a lucky person to have met, at the age of five, an elderly man who was playing traditional Greek music on his violin. My parents took note of me grabbing a chair and going to sit in front of that man, ignoring everything else around me and simply having my ears and eyes focused on this person who had magically captured my attention. It was not much later that I, too, wholeheartedly demanded to learn to play the violin. Frankly, this is what I would call destiny.
There is no specific musical genre that moves me the most, because I enjoy playing and listening to virtually all of them. I strongly believe that you can find some kind of beauty in any piece of music ever written, as long as it’s structured and performed to transmit a pulse to its audience. Having the capability to make a wonderful rendition could change a person’s day, or even life, and that, for me, is a very strong motivation to pursue continual improvement.
There comes a time in a person’s life, without exception, when silence fills the air – whether it is the loss of a loved one, a health issue or any other obstacle that life may have brought about. The world stops for a minute or two… or more. When these moments violently invade my life, I hardly ever take my violin out of its case, let alone play its strings. This is when the music itself takes the dominant role without my permission and helps me move on. Through thick and thin, I find myself extremely vulnerable and lyrical. I have the internal need to express my deepest thoughts and emotions on paper and pentagram. Music is my remedy, and this is how I am led to catharsis.
I always liked to picture myself, and violinists in general, as storytellers. A violinist or a storyteller is one and the same for me. Not all stories have the desired ending, but I have always considered the journey more important than the actual destination; and what could be more pleasant than a journey where your favourite CD is playing right along beside you?