Bucharest’s “Window to the World”

WFIMC: You were born in Bucharest and grew up with the name “George Enescu” all around you. What are your earliest memories of the Enescu Competition?

Mihaela Martin: My first memories go back to the early 1970s, when I was around 12 or 13. I was a pupil at the music school, and my violin teacher took me to practically every session. I remember it as the first time in my life that I heard so much Bach being played in such a concentrated way. For a twelve‑year‑old, that was overwhelming—in the best sense.

The hall was always completely packed, especially for the finals. There was an atmosphere of real celebration, almost like a feast of music: new faces, new discoveries, international artists coming to Romania and playing at the highest level. I remember running after the competitors with my booklet, asking for autographs. For me then, the competition was not just a musical event; it was a revelation.

Today, of course, I see it from a different perspective, as a jury member and as someone who has had a long career. But each time I walk into the same halls, there is something deeply familiar. The architecture is the same, the smell is the same—there is a continuity there that I cherish.

For a young Romanian musician in those days, what did the Enescu Competition represent?

It was a window to the world. Romania was behind the Iron Curtain, yet for those few weeks you had the sense that the world was coming to you. I remember, for example, the year when Sylvia Marcovici won first prize, or when Philippe Hirschhorn participated.

Sylvia was already an important soloist, but she still taught privately, and I was very lucky to be one of her pupils. She spoke about this “very good violinist” who was coming—Hirschhorn, who had just won the Queen Elisabeth Competition. Nobody understood why he would come to Enescu after Queen Elisabeth. But I still remember his performance to this day: an incredible combination of beauty, electricity and depth.

The competition was really international even back then: many European musicians, including some from France, and at least a few from Japan. There were fewer Asian participants than today, of course, but for us, any foreign competitor was a door opening to another world.

You return to Bucharest regularly- how has the musical life of the city changed?

It has become much more international, but there is also a very strong local tradition. Both main orchestras in Bucharest have solid and ambitious seasons. Recently I also played again in Cluj, after many years away, and I was impressed: full houses, enthusiastic audiences, both people with subscriptions from “the old days” and a new, younger public.

I think the Enescu Festival and Competition have contributed enormously to this. Having someone like Cristian Măcelaru—who has strong Romanian roots and a major international profile—at the center of the festival certainly helps. It generates curiosity even among those who might not usually go to concerts. And the organizers really make an effort to turn it into an event where people feel welcome. It’s a lot of work, but it feels natural, not artificial.

In that sense, Bucharest has really become a cultural center again, a place that projects itself strongly on the international map.

What does the name “Enescu” mean for today’s young Romanian musicians? Is he still perceived as a national hero?

Maybe even more than before—but in a different way. When I was a student, Enescu’s music was everywhere, but in a curious sense it was “taken for granted.” His pieces were often compulsory repertoire: you had to play the violin sonatas, especially the Third Sonata. And that sonata, for example, is extremely difficult—both technically and in terms of language—even for Romanian musicians. So some people saw Enescu almost as an obligation, something you do because you must.

Today, with Europe so much more open and borders less present in our everyday thinking, I feel he is increasingly understood in a broader perspective. Young musicians can see not only the “national icon” but also the extraordinary international figure he was—as a composer, violinist and conductor. His influence on the wider musical world is becoming clearer.

And for foreign musicians, discovering Enescu can be a revelation. His language can be challenging at first, but when you enter that world, it’s incredibly rich.

You mentioned the importance of competition audiences. How do you see the involvement of music students in Bucharest?

This is a point where I wish things would improve. There are two music high schools and one music academy in Bucharest. The first two rounds of the competition take place in the academy—the students are literally in the same building. And yet, not many of them come to listen, even though the entrance is free. I find this a great pity. My own teacher took me to every possible session; it was a crucial part of my education. Listening to a competition helps young musicians understand where they stand within their generation. It gives them a sense of the level, of diversity in styles, of what is possible.

There are exceptions. I know at least one teacher at a music high school who systematically brings her entire class to concerts and to the competition, which I find exemplary. In my ideal world, that would be the rule, not the exception.

Of course, this is not just a Bucharest problem. Many cities struggle to get music students into the hall as listeners, not only as performers. But with an event of this level, the opportunity is really too good to miss.

For a young violinist from, say, China or Korea, who has never been to Romania: what makes the Enescu Competition special? Why should they come?

There are several reasons. Musically, the programme is very interesting. The inclusion of Enescu’s works adds a distinctive color to any recital: the repertoire goes beyond the usual mainstream repertoire, which is important artistically and also for juries and audiences who listen to a lot of the same pieces elsewhere.

From the next edition, there is also a wonderful new element in the semi-final: a Mozart concerto with chamber orchestra, performed without conductor. I have experienced this format as a juror in other competitions, like Indianapolis, and I find it incredibly revealing. It shows so much about a competitor’s musical personality, leadership, listening skills and ability to communicate. If you truly engage with that situation, you can grow almost overnight.

Then there are the support structures around the competition. For example, they have sessions on “well-being” led by a doctor who specializes in working with music and health. She helps young musicians learn to cope with stress, to regenerate strength after intense study periods. This is not something you see often in competitions.

There will also be coaching on how to present yourself to the media—another crucial skill today. If this is done well, it’s an excellent idea: it can really help young artists navigate interviews, social media and public communication.

And of course there are concert opportunities for prizewinners after the competition, including invitations to the Enescu Festival and, for some, the chance to perform on Enescu’s own Guarneri del Gesù violin. That is something quite unique.

Beyond all this, Bucharest itself is a strong reason to come. September in Bucharest is beautiful. The city has a particular charm—lively, slightly chaotic in the best way, with great food, a warm atmosphere and, for many visitors from Asia, probably a sense of something “exotic” compared to Paris or London. And yes, for violinists, the chance to hear authentic Gypsy music in local restaurants is invaluable. It brings you closer to some of the sources of Enescu’s inspiration.

The Enescu Competition is also remarkable for its breadth: multiple disciplines and a close link to the festival.

Yes, in that sense it is almost like the ARD Competition in Munich. You have several sections in the same overall framework, and an enormous amount of organization behind the scenes. What people may not realize is that the same core team that runs the competition is also responsible for the Enescu Festival, which takes place in alternate years. It is essentially a year‑round job. And they do it with an extraordinary level of passion.

The result is that Bucharest, which is geographically a bit “out of the way” in the southeast of Europe, becomes a very strong cultural center. The city appears on the international map not as a peripheral place, but as a major destination for classical music.

Prizewinners from the competition are invited to the festival, often shortly after their victory. They may play the opening concert of the next competition edition, sometimes on Enescu’s own Del Gesù. And they receive further invitations: for example, the last first prize winner returned recently to perform with a chamber orchestra. I have the impression the organizers really take care of their laureates; they don’t just give them a diploma and say goodbye.

© WFIMC 2026 / FR