What are the defining traits of a great orchestral leader? We find out on a sunny day, as golden rays illuminate the splendid halls of Palazzo Stauffer, with Andrea Obiso, Concertmaster of the Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, and faculty member—together with other international luminaries—of the Concertmaster course at the Stauffer Academy. A child prodigy who made his solo debut at the age of twelve, Obiso is today one of the brightest figures on the international violin scene. Born in 1994, he has reached every milestone with remarkable speed: from graduating at the prestigious Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia to being appointed Concertmaster of the Orchestra of Santa Cecilia. Winner of the renowned ARD International Music Competition in Munich, as well as numerous national and international competitions, Obiso now brings to the Stauffer Academy a musical vision shaped by the world’s great stages—from Moscow to Tokyo, from Berlin to Latin America—and by technical research of exceptional depth.

For our Musicians at Work series, we stepped into his classroom in Cremona to observe his teaching style, suspended between the rigor of great tradition and a communicative, unconventional aesthetic, and to hear about the life “behind the scenes” of a great performer.

The course for which Obiso has been invited to teach offers comprehensive training for the role of Concertmaster, beginning with advanced technical refinement and the study of the most complex solo and orchestral repertoire. Beyond musical preparation, the program explores leadership qualities and interpersonal skills necessary to serve as a bridge between musicians and conductor. Students also have the opportunity to put these skills into practice by leading the Stauffer String Ensemble in full musical productions.

Lessons alternate between the study of orchestral excerpts and solos and the pieces required for auditions. Mock auditions are also held, recreating the conditions in which each musician must perform at their best before a panel to secure the position they aspire to.

The student who opens the session is highly talented: the brilliant phrasing of Mozart’s Fifth Violin Concerto resonates through the frescoed walls, supported by the piano accompaniment of the excellent Clara Dutto. Obiso listens intently without interrupting; at the end, he revisits the score, focusing on the details that must be refined to make the musical statement more convincing.

His meticulous attention to bow distribution serves the clarity of phrasing. Obiso takes an eighteenth-century bow from its case and invites the student to try it: the tone changes immediately—the difference is evident. Now Mozart sounds more like Mozart. His explanations move fluidly across historical periods, opening stylistic questions and comparisons of rhythmic patterns and ornamentation across different performance practices. Beyond technical solutions, his advice also concerns the notation of cadenzas: he suggests modifications and enrichments that make the melodic discourse more compelling. Each observation stems not only from exceptional talent but also from his extensive orchestral experience: some things work and others do not—however aesthetically pleasing—and must therefore be adjusted. This becomes even more significant when the lesson shifts to orchestral excerpts: fingerings, phrasing, bow strokes are discussed, always reflecting the Maestro’s strong personality—warm, sparkling, and charismatic.

An extraordinary training ground for young talents aspiring to match Obiso’s achievements and enter the ranks of the outstanding musicians who will become the Concertmasters of the future.

Here is what the Maestro told us.

If you had to describe yourself as a musician in a single word or phrase, what would it be?
Versatile.

What is your earliest memory related to music?
My first memory is when I began to realize I wanted to play the violin. It was December 8, 2000; I was six years old. My parents—my father a violinist, my mother a pianist—were rehearsing a sonata by Respighi. They had never put an instrument in my hands; perhaps they were waiting for me to show spontaneous interest in music. I was there begging them to put up the Christmas tree, as tradition dictates, but at one point I asked them for an encore instead.

What aspect of your musical identity has remained unchanged since your debut, beyond experience?
Definitely curiosity.

You studied with masters such as Belkin, Rosand, and Midori, heirs to prestigious violin schools. To what extent does your musical identity owe a debt to these great teachers, and how much did you need to distance yourself to find your own voice?
Even today I feel I draw from them in terms of curiosity and reading the score; I owe them the sense of charm they transmitted to me. My father also studied with Maestro Rosand and attended masterclasses in Nice, so when I began studying violin, I listened to Rosand’s recordings. With Maestro Belkin, it was about organizing the instrument from both a mechanical and acoustic standpoint—treating it as if we were truly craftsmen of sound. Midori was the one who brought everything together for me in a completely detached way, serving my potential. I have thanked her and will always thank her.

How do you organize your ideal day of practice?
If I have a day free from professional commitments, I wake up calmly, have a good breakfast, and start with technique. I don’t practice too many hours: two in the morning and two in the afternoon. If I don’t begin playing immediately, I listen to recordings—but I don’t like listening before I know a piece. Recently, I made my debut with Britten’s Violin Concerto, which I had already performed dozens of times as concertmaster with Janine Jansen; however, when approaching my own interpretation, I completely distanced myself from those performances.

What is the first thing you do when opening a new score?
I read it. If it’s orchestral repertoire and I have little time, I listen immediately. If it’s solo repertoire—often premieres of works dedicated to me—I start by reading and translating what I hear into my own spontaneous, sometimes erratic interpretation. I ask myself questions: what doesn’t align between what I play and what I read? Is my direction correct? With other composers, I let the piece grow slowly, even taking breaks of a couple of days to let it settle. Pieces must grow calmly.

Is there an exercise or habit you always recommend?
Stretching.

Do you have a pre-concert ritual?
Scales—lots of scales, always scales!

What is the most common mistake you observe in students, technically and psychologically?
Psychologically, the “this is right/this is wrong” approach. It prevents understanding other possibilities. Technically, many fail to grasp that the bow is as important as the violin. The bow moves in two directions, yet our hand is often too ambiguous or too rigid—we are too stiff to create perfect choreography.

Beyond technique, what fundamental value do you seek to convey?
Living with others—and with one’s opposite.

What is the hardest thing to teach in words?
The emotions music intends to evoke.

How can you immediately recognize a good teacher? And a good student?
A good teacher can take the student’s initial form and transform it. The student is the container; the teacher is the water. As for the student, elasticity is essential. Trust in the teacher is fundamental.

What philosophy underlies your concept of sound production?
The mechanical aspect is purely mechanical. I study mechanics so I don’t have to plan the transmission of emotion. I must be free to perceive the piece emotionally and recreate sound spontaneously, without obstacles and without overplanning.

What are you still seeking as a musician, beyond your career?
Discovering lesser-known works and hidden composers.

One piece you would save from a universal flood, and why?
Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony No. 1. The interval I feel most connected to is the fourth, and I’m fascinated by how Schoenberg uses it.

A musician from the past with whom you would have liked to study?
Alfred Brendel. He embodied curiosity and versatility, bridging eras. A true genius. And I would also have liked to meet Rachmaninov.

The first episode of Musicians at Work featured Maestro Massimo Quarta.

Photos of Maestro Andrea Obiso © Fondazione Stauffer