“Perfection can be a trap”
An interview with Janine Jansen

The violinist Janine Jansen is the Berliner Philharmoniker’s Artist in Residence for the 2025/26 season. In this interview, she talks about feeling free on stage, performing at family gatherings, and changing priorities in her life. First, however, we discuss the legendary violins that have accompanied her throughout her career.

Janine Jansen, could it be that you have played more Stradivarius instruments than any other living person?

I know many colleagues who try out such instruments at violin dealers, so I doubt that. However, it is true I was involved in a recording project that compared twelve Stradivarius violins. And what unique instruments! They included the two Kreisler Strads, the Milstein Stradivarius, and some instruments that are kept in a vault and basically never see the light of day. It was very special to experience the way these violins sound when they are actually played.

You have also played on Stradivarius violins throughout your career. What was it like in the beginning?

I think I got my first Stradivarius in 2000; it was a wonderful instrument from 1727. This was an overwhelming experience, because I had never played a Stradivarius before.

How do you acquire a Stradivarius?

At the time, there was a foundation in the Netherlands that offered to help me find an instrument. So we tried out different violins. That was absolutely amazing, especially because they all have different personalities. Not every Stradivarius necessarily suited me. Even in my project with the twelve Stradivarius instruments, I had an immediate connection to some but not to others.

Is it the same as with people?

It sounds like a cliché, but the nature of the relationship is similar. With some people you click immediately, while with others the relationship stays a bit superficial, but you can easily get along. And then there are complex cases where you don’t know exactly what to do.

And does the relationship change over time, like it does with people?

Definitely. I played my first Stradivarius for about fifteen years. It was my voice, and I could barely imagine parting with it. But over time, I tried out other instruments and realized that sound can have other dimensions. That’s when I started looking around. I briefly had a few other Stradivarius instruments, and now I play the Shumsky-Rode Stradivarius – an incredible instrument that, once again, I feel I could never part with.

If this violin were a person, how would you describe it?

Extremely sensitive, warm, with infinite depth ... There are so many layers to this instrument. Some are hidden, but I have found a way to reach them. And what I love about this violin is that you can shape and transform a sound within a millisecond. There is life and light in this instrument. Maybe it’s not the most powerful one I’ve ever played – but it allows me to be flexible and make the music speak. To me, that is ultimately more important than power.

Stradivarius violins have a mythical reputation. How much does this influence you when evaluating them?

I ignore that – at least I hope I do. Sound is something extremely important to me, so I focus entirely on that. I feel this mythical quality the most when I hold these instruments in my hands and imagine the legendary musicians who played them before me. It’s a beautiful feeling to be able to keep their sound alive.

Every Stradivarius is irreplaceable. How do you deal with that?

You can’t think about it all the time, but you are aware of your instrument, and you look after it like a child. I remember when I was supposed to get my first Stradivarius and the dealer said I could take it home to try it out. I got on the tram with the violin and thought: “This is insane!”

Looking at your family background, it seems almost inevitable that you would become a musician. 

I was always surrounded by music at home, and I loved it. My father is a church organist and harpsichordist, my uncle is a singer, my grandfather was a choirmaster, and my brothers are musicians as well. My mother took care of the family, but also regularly sang in my father’s church concerts.

Can such an environment also be stressful?

At family gatherings, people often said: “Janine, why don’t you play something?” Or at Christmas: “Let’s sing a cantata!” Of course I was not always thrilled to be doing this, especially as a teenager. But my parents weren’t particularly demanding; in fact, they were very supportive. My father often accompanied me when I was learning pieces. He will be turning 80 next year, and we are still working together. This year we are going on tour with the Camerata Salzburg performing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and he is playing the harpsichord. Being so close is a blessing.

Was it even an option for you to not become a musician?

I never asked myself that question. I always just wanted to make music.

Did you ever consider playing another instrument?

I was first drawn to the cello. As a small child, you see this instrument and just think it’s beautiful. In addition, my brother played the cello. He’s five years older than me, and of course I looked up to him. But my parents thought it would be better if we played different instruments. I was immediately fascinated by the violin. 

Compared to the cello, which is connected with the floor via its endpin, the violin offers greater freedom of movement. That seems to suit your playing style.

Yes, I’ve always moved lot when I play, although it isn't an essential part of playing the violin. There are also violinists who maintain an amazing stillness. What one person would consider unnecessary movement, another person may find indispensable in order to convey the music and its narrative. The most important thing for me is to be absolutely authentic. Music should never come across as planned or deliberate.

Although learning a piece also involves planning and thinking about it.

That’s true, but all this reflection must lead to the goal of speaking directly from the heart. There should be nothing in between. 

How free do you feel when you go on stage?

I wouldn’t really say that I completely let go when I’m on stage. Sometimes I’m nervous, sometimes I’m worried about difficult passages, and sometimes there are other external factors. The best thing for me is to try to ignore all of that, even when the result isn’t perfect. 

How do you feel about perfection in general?

Perfection can be a trap. I remember that when I recorded Bach’s Chaconne, I had this crazy idea of perfection, and I thought: everything has to be flawless, every note has to be exactly right, without any scratchiness. After all, it was about Bach – his music is so perfect that I thought it had to be played perfectly. But I listened to the result and it said nothing; it was horrible. So I recorded it again, and gave up on the idea of perfection. I learned a lot from this, and my idea of perfection has changed fundamentally since then.

Your career has taken a new direction in general. For one thing, you perform less frequently.

I gave countless concerts for years, but eventually it became too much, and in 2010 I suffered a burnout. After that, I significantly reduced my concert performances. I got married, and life at home with my family became more important. Then I started teaching, which I really enjoy. Life is in constant flux, and our priorities change accordingly.

Have these new priorities also influenced your way of making music?

When you give concerts non-stop, play a world premiere one day and Tchaikovsky the next, then you never really have time to process your experiences. Nowadays, I need breaks to be able to reflect on what I have played. This allows me to immerse myself more deeply in the music than before. Such intense engagement can take its toll – mentally, emotionally, and physically. However, I absolutely must have this intensity. As a musician, I always want to give my all and not hold back; but this is only possible when you plan some recovery time in between.

Many will recall your early recording of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. In addition to the fact that it was a wonderful interpretation, the album's artwork was also striking, featuring a photo spread in which you look like a model with a violin.  Did you see that as a contradiction?

My perspective nowadays is certainly different from my perspective back then. At that time, for me it was all about capturing a good interpretation. But the photo shoot was also fun. I was twenty-five and didn’t give it much thought. However, I do remember that, subsequently, a concert didn’t take place because the organizer was afraid I wasn’t serious enough. That really affected me. For a later recording, I went for a very simple cover photo that only showed my violin and one of my eyes, nothing of my body. I saw it and thought, “this is what I want”. It was a process of maturing.

Today, young musicians are expected to present themselves not only acoustically, but also visually. What do you think about this?

I have mixed feelings. I think this generation faces enormous pressure. You have to constantly provide content for social media: photos, videos, posts, and all that. When I think back to my own experiences and burnout, it seems to me that the most important thing for young musicians is to be surrounded by the right people. This way you can build a long-term career, instead of just rushing from concert to concert.

Let’s talk about your residency with the Berliner Philharmoniker.

I’m absolutely thrilled, there are so many wonderful projects. For example, Brahms’s Violin Concerto with Kirill Petrenko was at the top of my wish list. And now it’s actually on the programme!

The Brahms Concerto is one of the most famous in the repertoire. What does this work mean to you?

It’s always a bit intimidating to play. But I have to put that thought to one side. I just think about everything I’ve already experienced with this concerto. I played it for the first time at the Utrecht Cathedral when I was sixteen, with a student orchestra and my father conducting. After that, I performed it again and again, and now, thirty-one years later, I am bringing all these experiences to my collaboration with the Berliner Philharmoniker and Kirill Petrenko.  

You will be performing not only with the current chief conductor, but also with Simon Rattle, his predecessor. The programme includes Sergei Prokofiev’s First Violin Concerto, which was criticized after its premiere for not being modern enough. How would you characterize this concerto?

It is not a long piece, but it is perfectly constructed and very subtle. There are many wonderful details in the score – and it ushers in a world of magic. I also love the ease with which Prokofiev changes the character from one second to the next. It’s a romantic, dreamy piece, but at the same time it is daring and virtuosic. It’s a masterpiece.

You also perform chamber music with members of the Berliner Philharmoniker. This genre is particularly close to your heart; you even founded your own chamber music festival in Utrecht. Are there things you can do in this music that are not possible on the big stage?

My first impulse would be to say “yes”, but I’m just wondering whether that’s really the case. Obviously, there are differences, for example in terms of the dynamics. I just think that as a musician you always remain the same, regardless of whether you’re playing with a small or a large ensemble. You are part of an organism. But it’s true that I particularly love chamber music. Especially at my festival in Utrecht, I can handpick the musicians I perform with – people with whom I work particularly well. That’s a wonderful experience, both on and off stage.

Do you have goals for your residency that extend beyond the success of the individual concerts? 

Normally you perform with an orchestra once every two or three years, but when you see each other more often, something special happens. You establish a relationship – with the musicians and with the audience. Even if I already know the orchestra and many of its members, being Artist in Residence creates a deeper sense of trust. That’s also what I like about chamber music: you grow together and develop a common approach. Trusting each other not only results in a sense of security, but also allows you to take risks. This creates a musical tension that I really cherish. That is my goal.