Artist-in-Residence Elisabeth Hetherington on the power of storytelling in music
April 2026, interview
This classical season, Elisabeth Hetherington is Artist in Residence at Amare. In her programs, she explores the boundary between music, text, and personal stories, bringing classical music closer to the audience. In the series Ik ben Elisabeth (I Am Elisabeth), she takes listeners on an intimate journey through music, collaborating with the Residentie Orkest, the Royal Conservatory, Francesca Ajossa and Writers Unlimited, among others. We spoke with her about her residency, her vision of music, and what visitors can expect of this series.
This season, you are Artist in Residence at Amare. What does this role mean to you as an artist, and how much scope does it give you to develop new ideas?
It’s such an incredible opportunity for any musician or artist to have a theatre as versatile and important as Amare behind you and say, “we want to house your ideas.” It’s an incredible honor to work with Saskia (programmer Classic & Opera, red.) and the team, shaping programs that fit the hall and connect diverse themes and ensembles.
It’s also exciting, as a musician fortunate enough to create in collaboration with ensembles, to be able to design evenings, events, and programs from points of inspiration, and to perform them at Amare. Throughout the season, with many projects and collaborations, it’s been really fun to shape a clear structure: deciding how to start, how to end, and then filling in everything in between.
At Amare, you are presenting the series Ik ben Elisabeth. How did that concept come about, and what do you want the audience to discover in it?
The series consists of a couple of programs. Understanding is about the ability (or inability) to communicate. That feeling of standing with someone and almost speaking a different language because of differing perspectives. In Vivier’s Bouchara, you hear invented, nonsensical syllables, but you still understand the emotion. It’s a love song, even if you can’t literally understand it. Alongside that, there’s a new piece by Rozalie Hirs exploring communication and misunderstanding, and how you can sometimes still find a shared moment.
Christmas Cheer explores balance between comfort and challenge. It looks at the Christmas story through Mary, not just as a celebratory figure, but experiencing fear, uncertainty, and searching for her child. Keeping a human perspective within a story often presented idealized.
In January, one of the projects I’m most excited for is Love, rewritten with Writers Unlimited. Together with poet and performer Daniëlle Zawadi, we take Schumann’s Frauenliebe und Leben apart. It’s musically beautiful but textually outdated, rooted in a patriarchal idea of a woman’s life. The project looks at what it means to internalize those words. Learning, memorizing, performing and then realizing they are not your own experiences. Zawadi rewrites the texts, and on stage there is a real dialogue, creating space to question and reshape these ideas into something contemporary.
I Have Been Her Kind looks at the idea of madness and how women have been written as “mad” throughout history. By combining different texts and music, it becomes a way to re-examine that label, not just at face value, but also as a form of power and reclamation, and to see how that perspective shifts across time.
Do you see a feminist perspective running through these programs, or is that not something you set out to emphasize?
Yes, absolutely. It's important to feature not only composers, but also poets and the women these works were written for, because that reveals a great deal about the music and the composer's character. Take Francesca Cuzzoni, for example: composers such as Händel and Vivaldi wrote so much for her that she made famous, yet she is often remembered simply as a “diva” instead of as a strong artist who navigated a difficult position as a single woman in the 18th century. So there is definitely a feminist perspective in these programmes. At the same time, it’s important that this isn’t the main focus. Ideally, it would go without saying that women are represented. It shouldn't need a label, but simply be the norm.
Your programs often combine music with text, stories, or personal reflection. How do you think that adds to the concert experience?
It’s something I think about consciously, but it also comes very naturally. My background is quite diverse (dance, theatre, early music, and contemporary music), so I naturally end up including different elements, textures, and ways of performing, whether that’s poetry or different kinds of repertoire. When it works and is cohesive, these elements give audiences different ways to connect. Music can be very abstract, and you never know how it will land with someone, but adding story or other mediums gives people multiple entry points to experience and feel what you’re trying to convey. It makes the concert more accessible, not just for specialists, but for a wider audience.
Do these collaborations and educational initiatives help make the concert experience more accessible to everyone in the audience?
Definitely! For instance, working with the Residency Orchestra is powerful, not only because the musicians are incredible, but also because the orchestra is such a cornerstone of classical music in this country and in Europe. Simply walking on stage with them makes a powerful statement, and the audience experiences that.
Education is also crucial. Open collaboration with students and young musicians ensures the orchestra's sustainability for the future. I try to mentor young musicians and invite them to rehearsals and projects, giving them the autonomy and courage to experiment. It's about learning from them, sharing experiences and creating opportunities for everyone to engage with and connect to the music.
What do you hope audiences will take away from one of your concerts?
I would be so happy if audiences left feeling that they had been taken on a journey. Whether with more straightforward music or something more conceptual; I want them to feel invited, connected, and part of the experience. I find it very difficult to perform when I feel cut off from the audience. I love connecting with people, even when the music is heavy or cerebral. I want them to know there are moments during the performance where I’m fully present with them.
It’s not just about the musical journey or the story, but also about my personal journey. I care deeply that people feel the music was made for them. Music is my way of connecting with people and expressing what I feel is important, sharing it with both musicians and the audience who came to listen. I want them to know that I’m with them every step of the way.