The first time we played together, a decade ago, we knew something special was in the air. Part of it is our ‘string story’. We both play the viola, the unsung hero of the string world, and each of us charted our own path as improvisers at a time when ‘jazz viola’ was still an oxymoron.

But really, it’s because we share the same basic beliefs about music. For each of us, improvisation is not about letting go — it’s about digging in. It’s a discipline; a ritual space that binds us to the moment and trains us to be be present to every possibility. When we play, we listen with more than just our ears: we listen with all the parts of our experience.

We play out of our belief that every one of us has a personal voice—a secret melody—that sings the essential quality of the self. That voice treats tension, uncertainty and difference as literal and figurative counterpoint. It’s empathy made audible. And whenever we play this way, we create a space for others to do the same.