In this final part of my interview series with Chinese concert pianist Chenyin Li we discuss the importance of teaching both in her life and to her work.

Why do you love teaching? What is your teaching philosophy?

For me, teaching feels like an extension of performing. At its heart, both are about communication. In performance you communicate with a hall full of people; in teaching you communicate with just one or a few, but in far greater detail.

The life of a pianist can be very solitary, and teaching helps me to build connections — especially with students who, like me, stand in awe of the great works we study. They may not yet know how to process or unlock the music, and that is where we as teachers come in: as companions who guide them. In fact, I often find that through their fresh eyes I rediscover the greatness of these masterpieces myself.

I don’t really believe in having a strict “philosophy,” because I think you teach as who you are. In my case, that simply means sharing with my students EVERYTHING I personally know and feel about the music we are working on together. If that counts as a philosophy, then perhaps it is the most honest one I can give.

How do you build a student’s technique? What teaching repertoire do you enjoy using?

How I build a student’s technique really depends on what kind of technique they need to improve. For younger, school-aged students, I usually focus first on developing finger work before they move on to larger and more demanding repertoire, because this is the most essential foundation of their technical training.

I also believe strongly that repertoire should serve the needs of the student, not the other way around. At school age, I do not like the idea of students specialising too early, without having had the chance to explore the full range of genres and styles. How can one become a great interpreter without first becoming a well-rounded musician?

So my approach is always technically conscious. Before a student can soar freely with “wings” in the music, they need to be equipped with a solid and reliable technique that will give them freedom later on. At the foundational stage this means focusing on the great classics: Bach’s polyphonic works, Beethoven’s sonatas, and early Classical repertoire, all of which build clarity, finger control, and structural awareness. Later, I encourage them to move into chordal studies and the more virtuosic Romantic repertoire, which develop breadth, colour, and stamina. In this way, technique and repertoire grow together, preparing them for the full range of pianistic demands.

You are currently a member of the piano faculty at Junior Guildhall School of Music and Drama. How long have you done this job and what are the challenges of teaching students under the age of 18 years old?

I was very fortunate that even before finishing my doctorate, I began working as a member of Junior Guildhall’s piano faculty in 2007, and I have been there ever since. Teaching students under the age of eighteen is immensely challenging, because at that stage everything is still possible. There is no “top level” they can reach — the potential is limitless.

As I mentioned earlier, the first priority is to help them build a strong technical foundation — but just as importantly, to prepare them mentally. They must learn resilience, focus, and the ability to withstand pressure, because these qualities are as essential as finger work in shaping a successful pianist. Alongside this, they need to develop a substantial and versatile repertoire to face the increasingly competitive world of the profession.

By the time they graduate, I feel it is essential that they have studied works in all the mainstream styles and genres, and that they have already gained some experience with concertos — ideally having performed at least one with orchestra. For anyone aspiring to be a solo pianist, this experience is invaluable, and without it the path later on becomes much narrower.

My aim is always to create as wide a set of opportunities and possibilities for my students as I can, so that they are fully equipped — technically, musically, and mentally — for whatever direction they choose to pursue.

You have recently taken up the position of Distinguished Professor at the University of the Chinese Academy of Sciences (UCAS), China’s largest postgraduate institution. What does this role involve? How do you envisage it developing? How much of your time is spent teaching one-to-one lessons at the university or do you mainly give lectures?

I was thrilled to be invited to interview for this role, which required me first to be qualified as a professor. It became a wonderful opportunity to take stock of much of my work that I hadn’t formally updated for a decade or more, and to think about how I could extend what I do in ways that would benefit not only music students preparing for professional careers, but also the wider public of music lovers who simply want to deepen their appreciation.

This position, at such a prestigious science-based university, has felt like a gift. At UCAS (University of the Chinese Academy of Sciences) I am working with some of the most highly intellectual students imaginable — literally the future leaders and thinkers of the 21st century — and I have the chance to open a window for them into the world of music. Their curiosity and enthusiasm have been inspiring.

My work in China so far has not followed the traditional one-to-one teaching model of conservatoires or music schools. Instead, it has taken the form of lecture-style presentations, something closer to a TED talk, where I choose a topic and share it with students who may never have encountered it before.

From this, I have gradually been developing my own format of lecture-recitals. In the first half I deliver a lecture, with PowerPoint, live demonstrations at the piano, and discussion with the students, using musical examples to illuminate the ideas. The second half then becomes a full recital, confirming and deepening what has been discussed. For instance, my upcoming series on Chopin’s Ballades will involve an opening lecture-demonstration, followed by a complete performance of all four Ballades in the second half.

Of course, this is not a new idea in itself, but I believe the depth of preparation required — both scholarly and performative — demands a dual expertise. I am eager to explore this further and, if successful, to expand it beyond the university into a wider range of audiences. I hope I can expand the format and I see it as a way of making music more accessible to wider audiences while preserving the highest artistic standards.

How does learning the piano in China differ from the UK, and what are the main challenges?  

I think the learning itself is not fundamentally different. Of course, every country has its own way — studying in Germany is not the same as studying in the UK, and China is no different. In my own case, because I was admitted to a highly professional music institution from a very early age, I received specialised training that most Chinese school-aged students do not. So I am not necessarily a “typical” example.

What I can say is that the biggest difference between learning piano in China and in the UK lies in the general culture and expectation. In China, even a child who learns piano purely as a hobby is expected to practise at least one to two hours a day — and that is considered average. Of course, the quality of that practice varies, but there is a widespread understanding, even among people with no musical background, that piano requires hard work, especially in the early stages when repetition and technical training are essential.

In the UK, I have observed that this understanding is less common, either among parents or sometimes even among the students themselves. If no regular practice time is built in, then the chance to grow, to solve problems at the instrument, and to develop patience with the process is lost. That can feel discouraging at times.

On the other hand, the pressure of general schooling in China is so intense, especially from the age of 12 or 13 onwards, that most children cannot realistically continue the instrument unless they transfer to a specialist school — and such schools are rare. This has prevented many potential musicians from developing further. By contrast, the UK school system, though less demanding academically at that age, offers students far more freedom to pursue music and other interests in a more relaxed way, which often allows them to grow more naturally into who they want to be.

What is the relationship between your teaching and performing activities and how does teaching improve performance?

I do believe that teaching is the best way of learning — we have all heard that many times, and it remains true. But beyond that, I now find a very direct and practical link between my teaching and performing. Some years ago, I made a pact with myself: I should always be able to play the pieces I assign to my students.

Of course, for beginners this means repertoire I can easily demonstrate without extra preparation. But with advanced students it has become a much more serious commitment. For example, at the moment I am studying Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 27 and Balakirev’s ‘Islamey’ — works I have recently assigned to my students. In fact, there are pieces I have given to them that I had never played before myself, and I decided to learn them in parallel. I told my students, “I will take this journey with you,” and for me there is no better way to explore a piece than by working on it side by side.

I also feel this makes teaching more authentic. If you teach a piece without having personally encountered the real difficulties of managing its challenges, your advice risks sounding pretentious or judgmental. It does not come from a sincere, heartfelt place. By going through the same process myself, I can speak with honesty and empathy, and the student receives guidance rooted in lived experience rather than abstraction.

In the end, this approach benefits us both: my students gain more genuine and in-depth teaching, and I add freshly studied works to my own repertoire, enriched by the process of discovery.

Can you share your most important practice habits?

My final piece of advice derives from my research on memorisation: learn a piece straight away from memory. This doesn’t mean neglecting the score — in fact, I insist that every detail on the page must be studied meticulously and repeatedly. But the learning process itself should be modelled as closely as possible on the finished performance.

Too often, pianists spend a long time in a “practice mode” that bears little resemblance to how they will actually perform. They rely on looking back at the score for security, or they isolate one hand at a time, or they slow everything down to the point where the musical line is lost. These can all be useful tools — slow practice, hands-separate work, detailed score-reading — but they are only temporary means. They are not the end product.

The essential principle is this: always practise in the way you want to perform. Memorise from the start, so that your mind carries the full map of the piece rather than depending on the page. Use practice tools when necessary, but never forget that their purpose is to serve the final goal — a fluent, confident, and expressive performance.

www.chenyinli.com