Unearthing Music: Improvisation as Discovery and Weaving of Ideas

Sometimes my piano improvisations can feel a bit like a two-phased process: 

The first phase feels like unexpectedly unearthing archeological finds. The second phase feels like weaving a tapestry. If that sounds a bit random, let me try to explain. 

For me, when I approach an improvisation with an idea starting to form in my head before actually sitting at the piano to play, it feels a little like archeological excavation — not effortful digging, but rather a gentle discovery of something that was deeply buried. It’s like brushing away sand to reveal something that was always there. Even though it’s my own composition in real time, it almost doesn’t feel like I invent it — it feels like I uncover it, piece by piece, without knowing the shape until enough fragments appear together. I’m discovering something that was in me all along. It really feels like an artefact that reveals itself to me. 

Then when I sit at the piano to actually play this improvisation, it’s like weaving on a loom: threads chosen instinctively, one at a time, or several in combination, only revealing the pattern when I step back. Each melody is a thread, each harmony a colour, each rhythm like the tension of the weave; the coherence only becomes visible in the full tapestry.

At the same time, the actual playing can still feel like discovery and excavation — ideas appear unexpectedly, tiny motifs that feel like finds, fragments unearthed which when laid out in front of me start to combine into a coherent object. It feels like uncovering something old. An emotion or atmosphere feels buried until the components are brought together to form a melodic line and a progression of chords and sections. The direction can’t be forced — instead a mindset of letting go, curiosity and observation is needed to reveal the melody and narrative. There’s a sense of something meaningful that lies beneath the surface, but I don’t know what it is yet — I’m listening to find out. 

The improvisation is both discovery and creation. It becomes like weaving a tapestry. Motifs, modes and harmonic colours are like the images woven into the cloth. Textures are chosen to carry these elements — such as the full texture of 4-part block chords or the more delicate texture of light cascading arpeggios. Rhythms become like different patterns of braids and ropes. Imperfections, dropped threads, and uneven tension become part of the fabric. At the time of weaving these threads together, the overall form is not always clear — it is only in hindsight, upon listening back to the recording, that the patterns and what they represent start to become visible. It is only when I listen to the recording afterwards that I start to see what the bigger picture was all about. Sometimes even then it takes me a while to figure it out — the abstract and symbolic nature of music and the fact that it comes from the non-literal part of my mind make it less like reading a journal entry and more like interpreting a dream. 

There are many great composers who I look up to and admire from my lowly vantage point, including Beethoven, Bach and Chopin, who were known to be great improvisers, alongside producing their more famously known written works. At this point, I feel like the following quote fits: “Bach is an astronomer, discovering the most marvellous stars. Beethoven challenges the universe. I only try to express the soul and the heart of man.” ― Frédéric Chopin

I might not be a discoverer of constellations like Bach, or challenger of the universe like Beethoven, or an ingenious (yet humble) music-maker like Chopin, but music is a form of creative expression for me. I simply express what is in my heart and soul. 

Excavation provides the material by discovering what was in my heart. Weaving forms the meaning by communicating what is in my soul. Then the interpretation — there are no words that can accurately convey the feeling that music expresses. 

Listen to One of My Improvisations

I’m no Chopin, but perhaps you might like to listen to one of my humble offerings: