When Katya Grineva returned to Carnegie Hall this past December for her Eternal Mysteries concert, the evening built to an unforgettable crescendo. The audience, already spellbound by her haunting interpretation of My Favorite Things, found themselves pulled even deeper into her world when she returned for an encore, barefoot, to perform Manuel de Falla’s Ritual Fire Dance.
“She just took off her shoes and walked to the piano,” says Byron Duckwall, her longtime collaborator, and unmistakably her muse in return. The maestro in the wings, and one of New York’s most respected string teachers, Duckwall watches her with the quiet ease of someone who’s seen her at her most unguarded. “It wasn’t planned, and it wasn’t for show. For Katya, music is about connection—to the audience, to the instrument, and to something primal. Going barefoot is her way of grounding herself in the moment.”
There, in one of the world’s most revered concert halls, Grineva transformed the stage into something more elemental. The hypnotic rhythm of the Fire Dance felt like an invocation, each note flickering–the flames of an ancient ritual.
“She’s not performing at you,” Duckwall says. “She’s inviting you into a shared experience. And when she plays barefoot—it’s a gesture of presence, of vulnerability.”
The Fire Dance
Grineva’s encore performance of Ritual Fire Dance distilled the evening’s themes of transformation and transcendence. Composed by Manuel de Falla as part of his ballet El amor brujo, the piece draws on Andalusian folklore and evokes the ancient fire ceremonies meant to drive away evil spirits.
For Grineva, the piece holds personal meaning. “The Fire Dance is about purification,” she tells me from her studio in Woodstock. “It’s about burning away what no longer serves us. When I play it, I feel connected to something beyond myself—something ancient.”
Her interpretation is nothing short of mesmerizing. She begins slowly, her hands coaxing the notes with the care of a flame-tender. As the piece builds, her playing becomes more insistent, the intensity growing until the music seems to leap from the piano, wild and unrestrained.
“She doesn’t just play the Fire Dance,” Duckwall says. “She embodies it.”
That embodiment is both symbolic and practical. Grineva’s choice to play barefoot reflects her desire to feel the vibrations of the stage, to become one with the piano, while remaining connected to the physical world, even as the music transports her elsewhere.
A Life of Contrasts
Grineva’s journey to Carnegie Hall has been anything but conventional. Born in Moscow during the Soviet era, she grew up in a world of scarcity and repression. Music became her refuge, a way to transcend the harsh realities of everyday life.
“She didn’t grow up with privilege,” Duckwall says. “She grew up in survival mode, where nothing was guaranteed. That resilience shapes everything she does.”
Her performances reflect that duality—discipline tempered with wildness, precision balanced with emotional vulnerability. It’s a rare combination, and it’s what makes her concerts feel more like intimate gatherings than formal recitals.
“She’s not interested in perfection for perfection’s sake,” Duckwall explains. “She’s interested in creating something real, something human.”
That ethos extends to her life offstage. Grineva divides her time between New York City and Woodstock, where she and Duckwall built a studio during the pandemic—a sanctuary where music and nature alchemize.
“She’ll walk out into the woods, and come back with wild mushrooms,” Duckwall says, laughing. “She’s deeply connected to the natural world, and that connection informs her music.”
Barefoot at Carnegie
Grineva’s annual Carnegie Hall concerts have become a tradition—one she’s built on her own, without the backing of major labels or management teams.
“She doesn’t wait for anyone to give her permission,” Duckwall says. “She organizes, promotes, and performs these concerts herself. That kind of tenacity is rare in the classical world.”
It’s also what makes her concerts feel so personal. Many in the audience have followed her career for years, returning annually to share in the ritual of her music.
“There’s a warmth to her concerts that you don’t often find in classical music,” Duckwall says. “It’s not about showing off technical prowess. It’s about creating a shared experience of beauty and grace.”
That shared experience was palpable during this year’s Eternal Mysteries concert. As Grineva played My Favorite Things, Duckwall’s arrangement transformed the familiar melody into something wistful and transcendent. And when she returned for the Fire Dance, the audience knew they were witnessing something unique—a moment that couldn’t be repeated, only experienced.
World-renowned musicologist and philosopher of music, Leo Treitler, known for his pioneering work in medieval music theory and the philosophy of musical interpretation, said this about Eternal Mysteries: “At Katya Grineva’s 22nd annual concert at Carnegie Hall on December 27th, a virtually full house was presented with an exposition of the piano’s full expressive range, entirely at her command. From the ‘sacred chant’ of a 12th-century abbess at the opening to the throttling power of a ‘Legend’ by Franz Liszt at the close, the house was carried away.”
“She knows how to create magic,” Duckwall says. “And that magic comes from her ability to be completely present. Whether she’s playing in Carnegie Hall or in her studio in Woodstock, there’s no separation between her and the music. It’s all part of the same ritual.”
The Eternal Mystery
For Grineva, music isn’t about perfection—it’s about transformation. Her performances invite audiences to shed their preconceptions and enter a liminal space, where music becomes a vehicle for emotional and spiritual connection.
“She understands that music is a mystery,” Duckwall says. “It’s something beyond words, beyond explanation. And she invites us to step into that mystery.”
Grineva’s encore at Carnegie Hall was a perfect embodiment of that philosophy. As the final notes of Ritual Fire Dance reverberated through the hall, Grineva stood quietly, her bare feet resting on the worn wood of the stage. It wasn’t a moment of victory or validation—it was simply a moment of presence, of being fully alive in the music and the moment. “She’s fearless,” Duckwall says. “And that’s why her performances linger long after the last note. They aren’t just concerts. They’re experiences.”
–Because for Katya Grineva, music isn’t something to be played—it’s something to be lived. And sometimes, it’s best lived barefoot.
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