The Award-Winning Violinist and Poet on Sound, Silence, and the Art of Listening
Anna Kuk blends poetry, music, and philosophy, redefining creative expression through her multidisciplinary approach. Her work explores self-identity, leadership, and harmony, drawing deep connections between sound, storytelling, and social interaction.
Anna Kuk defies categorisation, weaving together poetry, music, and philosophy into a singular artistic voice that resonates across disciplines. A virtuoso violinist, an award-winning poet, and a thinker who reimagines the interplay between sound, identity, and human connection, she is a creator whose work transcends traditional boundaries. From her pioneering concept of URKLANG to her poetic compositions that have been set to music and performed across the world, Kuk’s artistry is rooted in paradox—where silence speaks, simplicity deepens, and individuality finds harmony within the collective.
Her latest book, See Listen Play, reflects this unique perspective, offering a thought-provoking meditation on leadership and collaboration through the lens of orchestral dynamics. As she shares in this conversation, music is more than an art form—it is a way of understanding the world. Whether composing for string quartets, facilitating workshops for global leaders, or crafting poetry that unfolds like a musical score, Kuk invites us to listen more intently, not just to sound, but to ourselves. In this exclusive interview, she explores the essence of her creative philosophy, the bridges between music and business, and the profound role of listening in shaping our personal and collective stories.
A visionary artist, Kuk’s fusion of music and poetry challenges conventions, inspiring audiences worldwide with her profound insights into creativity, leadership, and the transformative power of listening.
How does your multidisciplinary background as a poet, violinist, and composer influence your poetry collection Listen, Judi, in what the body believes?
Poetry, like music, combines abstraction with structure, the discipline of rhythm with a sensitivity to phrasing. I compare writing poetry to composing a score. The way words sound, their density, speed, and rhythm make poetry speak to us—not just through etymology but musically, almost theatrically. Poetry happens each time we read it, always differently. The same is true for music. One must not forget that poetry is recited aloud. In both music and poetry, timing—silence and words—is crucial.
You created the award-winning project Trobairitz: Les Histoires Naturelles, which premiered in Paris in 2022, blending poetry and music. What challenges did you face in merging these art forms, and how did the audience respond?
Merging music and poetry has never been a challenge for me. Poetry and music share similar tools. What makes poetry unique, is the space it creates for interpretative freedom— like music. It was what I envisioned for Trobairitz. Music and poetry offer more than aesthetic pleasure. They inspire and resonate on many levels. Trobairitz is a musical-poetic tale of wandering women, about nature, and that we are part of it. It is an invitation to take responsibility for it. Audience left the venue inspired. I believe that is the best proof of the project’s success.
You recently published See Listen Play, which launched during your World Tour 2024. In it, you translate the dynamics of playing in an orchestra into the dynamics of teamwork and leadership in social and business context. What do the worlds of music and business have in common? What connects these seemingly distant fields?
Music, poetry, and business share a common denominator: humanity and all its dynamics. Business has always been for and about people. Unfortunately, last decades made us so focused on perfection and efficiency that human desires, longings, values, have been reduced to maps that no longer reflect the territory. It is like watching a film without sound.
For as long as I remember, my understanding of life and human interactions—especially the art of listening—has come from my musical experience. Thanks to music, I learnt to not to confuse difficult moments with important ones, that silence is part of music, or that what is most exposed is not always the most crucial.
I shared my insights at a gathering of global women leaders—Women Emerging Expedition, led by Julia Middleton at the Rockefeller Foundation. Their enthusiasm convinced me to publish a book, which became the foundation of my original ideation method. However, I am not alone in drawing analogies between seemingly distant disciplines. One of my idols, the poet and ornithologist David Whyte, transforms corporate perspectives in Europe and the U.S. through his lectures.
Finding analogies across different disciplines seems to be your domain. You are the author of the philosophical concept URKLANG, which explores self-identity through music. How do you envision this concept influencing contemporary discussions on personal identity and social interaction?
Interestingly, my life motto is: everyone plays music without knowing it. This phrase originates from the Urklang concept. The word Urklang is a fusion of: UR—primordial, and KLANG—sound.
At the core of my thinking about human beings and their actions is the idea that each of us carries a set of sounds that define our identity. From these sounds, we create the music that accompanies us in making choices, or our lifestyle. However, we often carry melodies that are not our own, believing them to be ours.
Finding one’s Urklang requires descending into silence, which is not easy. Interestingly, in a social context, to play music together, we don’t t have to play the same notes or we can also play pauses. Musical harmony, like social harmony, consists of multiple layers. What is essential for a piece to be complete is our ability to listen and be aware of the sounds we contribute to this music—our Urklang.
This idea is also at the heart of my patchwork novel, in which the protagonist lives in a world where everyone behaves according to their soundtracks. She, however, immersed in silence, longs to find the melody of her life, her Urklang. I hope the book will find its publisher soon.
What advice would you offer to emerging authors seeking to integrate multiple art forms?
For many years, I believed my worlds were impossible to merge. The education system teaches us to compartmentalize (at least the system I grew up in). We trust what we can name. Perhaps there are more of us—multidisciplinary artists struggling with the fear of being untrusted by the others.
Lately, however, I have come to see this as an advantage. The way we connect, find analogies, and create metaphors is the essence of creativity—something highly sought-after and necessary in today’s world of raw data and AI technology.
My advise is: try to find your own tonality—a base note that ties together everything you do (no matter how distant the fields may seem). Once you discover your unique scale in what lies your between, you must trust it the most—very often, what you do does not yet exist in the common „dictionary”. When you begin to doubt, remember: music is in between the notes.
