Latest news with #masterclass
ABC News
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- ABC News
Ukrainian dancers share cultural ties with Australians in Adelaide
Three of Ukraine's most celebrated dancers have travelled from war-torn Kyiv to Australia to conduct a week-long traditional dance masterclass. Participants from all over the country have made their way to Adelaide to take part in the first intensive workshop of its kind in Australia, which will culminate in a fundraiser concert on Saturday. The trio are part of professional and prestigious dance company, Pavlo Virsky Ukrainian National Folk Dance Ensemble, and travelled 49 hours to get out of Kyiv by train, and then onwards to Australia via Dubai. Husband and wife duo, Maksym and Viktoriia Karpenko are Honoured Artists of Ukraine — a meritorious title awarded by the President of Ukraine to recognise professional mastery for citizens who have worked in their field for no less than 10 years. "We're here to uphold that culture and push it forward," Viktoriia Karpenko said. The pair are joined by Tetiana Okseniuk — a ballet artist and professional dancer with the Virsky Ensemble. She said Ukrainian dance combines ballet and traditional folk styles and is the "cherry on top of Ukrainian culture". "That's why it's important to share this culture in this perfect shape here, so people can be more professional and look really sophisticated," Ms Okseniuk said. Juliana Moravski is the artistic director of Ukrainian community dance ensemble, Verchovyna in Melbourne and has travelled to South Australia to attend. "To have the opportunity for Virsky to come out and teach us the proper way, the way it was intended, is actually a huge honour," she said. The participants are dancing intensively from 9am to 5pm, Monday to Friday. "I'm learning about muscles I didn't know I had," Ms Moravski said. "I've been dancing for 40 years, but I'm putting my body through it just because I want to learn from the best." She said she was looking forward to bringing her newly perfected intricate skills back to her dance studio in Melbourne. "To know that the quality of Ukrainian dance and culture is going to be lifted in Australia and passing that legacy on to the future generations, it's going to be really exciting to see," she said. But amid the excitement and joy of the week, the realities of life in Ukraine are not forgotten. "It's very unsafe. Very dangerous. Every day there's sirens, many bombings that you can hear. A lot of people hide out at night, and a lot of people are fleeing," Ms Karpenko said. "We hold our armed forces very dearly. The fact they keep us safe and that we're alive because of them." She said while the trio have been in Adelaide, they've finally been able to sleep "peacefully". Maksym Karpenko said they often awake to loud explosions back home in Kyiv — and that everyone had been personally affected by the war. "There was a man who finished his career in our dance ensemble — he went to the front line — within three days he was dead," he said. Despite the palpable grief, the Ukrainians say it is their responsibility to not shy away from what is happening in their country. "If we go over the border, we have to talk about this," he said. "Our nation will never die. It will always be alive." Tetiana Okseniuk said it was a harsh reality to live not knowing when they would next "have to say goodbye" to someone they know. "Life is so short, so you just have to be happy." Ms Okseniuk said Ukrainians were focusing on the "positives" and that they are still here. "You adjust. You always adjust and this is okay," she said. "You need to fight to be alive, that's all. "And of course this is about Ukraine and dance mostly. We did not come [here] to beg … we came here just to show how beautiful Ukrainian culture is and that it's worth attention." For the Australian Ukrainian dancers — it is a shared pain. "You cry with them and for them, without even really knowing even an inch of what they're going through," Ms Moravski said. Michelle Gorgula is the facilitator of the workshop and artistic director for Adelaide's VOLYA Ukrainian Cossack Dancers. "It's never far from the surface for our instructors [and] for members of our community … but as you can see, people are strong and they … try to be positive and try to keep moving forward and in some way make a difference or to help the situation that we're in," she said. Ms Gorgula said the dancers were practising all day and rehearsing more at night in preparation for the concert. "We're learning traditional choreography which is the work of the legendary Pavlo Virsky. He's the legend of Ukrainian dance … and has really shaped Ukrainian dance folk culture," she said. "It's wonderful to see this up close … to really experience it and be immersed in that." She said it had been a particularly important event in keeping cultural ties alive during challenging times. "It's really been a very uniting process. We make friendships, we contribute to each other's growth and experiences and memories that people will have for a long time," she said. The dancers will perform at the Association of Ukrainians in SA's community centre on Saturday afternoon. Ms Gorgula said entry would be by donation, with an auction to help raise funds for Ukraine's defenders. "The auction is some special items from Ukraine which have been signed by some of the people on the front line — some of our soldiers and defenders," she said. The dancing instructors said what the concert itself would entail was a "surprise" but that it would be a very "special" event.
Forbes
29-06-2025
- Business
- Forbes
Random Acts Of Thought Leadership: Why Strategy Wins Over Serendipity
Is your company's thought-leadership strategy thought through, or more like random acts of ... More publishing? Earlier this month, I was standing at the front of a seminar room in Vancouver, co-leading a masterclass on thought leadership program design with Peter Evans, the co-founder of ExpertFile. It was one of those rare mornings when the energy in the room was both anticipatory and open—participants were hungry for something more than another 'how to write a white paper' session. Early on, Peter turned to the group and said something that caught me completely off guard: 'You have to avoid random acts of thought leadership.' I've worked closely with Peter for several years now, exchanging frameworks and refining our approaches, but I'd never heard him say it in quite those words before. It landed with the kind of force that only a simple truth can have. In that moment, I realized how often this warning goes unheeded—how frequently, both in organizations and among individuals, I see flashes of brilliance never amounting to more than just that: flashes that are fleeting, untethered, and random. The longer I've worked in thought leadership, the more convinced I've become that if you want to move from noise to influence—from serendipity to sustained impact—you need something far more intentional than one-off acts of publishing – those random acts of thought leadership. You need a conscious design. That was the core of what we taught in Vancouver. And it's what I want to share here. Let's be honest: Almost everyone falls into this trap at first. It's easier than ever to publish a blog, put out a report, release a podcast episode, maybe even write a book. These 'one-off' efforts feel productive—and they can be, in the sense that they scratch the itch to share something urgent, something important. But here's the problem. Random acts of thought leadership do not accumulate. They don't build trust, shape a reputation, or establish a meaningful conversation with your audience. We're now flooded by content and overwhelmed by AI-generated noise. A single flash of insight is barely a blip. Even a book—if it stands alone—may not move the needle if it isn't part of a bigger design. I've seen it before: Organizations launch a research study, then return to business as usual. A senior partner pens an op-ed, only for it to be forgotten by the time the next campaign cycle rolls around. What's missing is the connective tissue—a messaging strategy and a strategy that ensures each act is part of a longer narrative and a deeper journey. From Random to Rigorous: A Blueprint for Real Thought Leadership So, what does it take to move from random to rigorous? In our masterclass, we worked closely with participants to dissect this process, step by step. I shared what I've learned over years of writing, coaching and delivering thought leadership incubators in organizations large and small. At the heart of it is a shift in mindset: You have to see thought leadership as a discipline, not a lottery. Real thought leadership isn't a lucky streak; it's a practice you design and refine, fueled by habit, not just inspiration. For me, the breakthrough came when I started thinking about 'well-building.' Each of us, and every company, needs a personal or institutional well of insight—a renewable source you can draw from, day after day, year after year. That 'well' is built through conscious ideation, not by waiting for the muse to strike. For organizations, this means designing a thought-leadership strategy, not just a series of publications. It means setting up a system where insights are regularly surfaced, tested, and developed. This could start with a writing incubator for your experts, for instance. And the ideas harvested from the incubator can be shared, rated and developed on an ideas dashboard. In my own work, and with organizations I consult for, the difference is night and day: People who build these habits create a steady stream of ideas, not a series of one-hit wonders. The Challenger Thought Leadership Model I Created Let me get specific about what I call the Challenger Thought Leadership Model, which I developed recently. The premise is simple, but radical: True thought leaders are not just sharing what's known. They are challenging the status quo, asking uncomfortable questions, and framing problems in ways that force others to see differently. Challenger thought leadership means you're not just another voice in the chorus. You are staking out new territory, making a clear case for why something needs to change, and guiding your audience through the implications. That requires courage, yes—but even more, it requires design. The Challenger Model rests on a few essential practices: First, you start by identifying not just what you know, but what needs to be challenged in your industry or field. Where are the blind spots? What assumptions are holding people back? This isn't about being contrarian for the sake of it; it's about rigorously surfacing what's missing, what's broken, or what's unexamined. Next, you consciously frame your insights as provocations, not just explanations. In my writing incubators, I encourage experts to ask: 'What truth is not being spoken?' or 'What's the elephant in the room that everyone is tiptoeing around?' The most powerful thought leadership starts with a challenge. Then, you build a system to nurture these challenges into publishable ideas. That's where the habit of ideation comes in—keeping a running ideas dashboard, making space for regular ideation sessions, and sharing early drafts with trusted peers to hone and pressure-test your thinking. Finally, you execute. Not by publishing randomly, but by following a deliberate editorial calendar, revisiting your core challenges, and ensuring each new piece of content connects to the larger arc of your thought leadership story. The difference here is sustainability. When you act as a challenger and are guided by a program and not a whim, you become known not just for your output but for the distinct perspective you bring. That's when you start to influence the agenda, set the terms of debate, and earn the kind of trust that outlasts any single piece of content. The Role of Inspiration and the Habit of Ideation But even the most disciplined system needs fuel: inspiration. This is where many would-be thought leaders falter. They run dry because they haven't built the habit of regularly drawing from their own well. The secret, I've found, is to make ideation a ritual—a part of your week, your month, your organizational culture. For me, that means regular 'harvesting' sessions, jotting down observations, framing questions, and talking with people outside my immediate field. For organizations, it means creating a safe space—often outside the daily grind—where experts can explore and shape ideas before they see the light of day. If you wait for inspiration to strike, you'll publish randomly. But if you cultivate a habit of ideation, your well will never run dry. Why This Matters More in the Age of AI In Vancouver, we also spent time discussing the role of AI and the deluge of information it brings. AI can summarize, draft, remix. But AI can't supply the courage to challenge orthodoxy. Now, more than ever, your ability to curate, frame, and sustain a point of view is the true differentiator. When every competitor has access to the same tools and platforms, only those who design and nurture a real thought leadership program will stand out and build long-term trust. The Payoff: From One-Offs to Enduring Impact With Your Thought Leadership Let's bring it back to the masterclass and Peter's warning. One-off publications—even a book—can open doors, but they rarely build the reputation or trust that a sustained program delivers. The organizations and individuals I see winning are those who embrace conscious program design, form habits of ideation, and build their well of inspiration intentionally. So if you or your company are writing one-off articles and impulsive LinkedIn posts, pause and ask: Does this connect to the core problem I'm solving for others? Is it moving the bigger conversation forward? Am I adding to my well, or just dipping a bucket in someone else's? Thought leadership is a journey, not a lottery ticket. The future belongs to those who choose design over randomness, habit over happenstance, and challenge over comfort. That's how you build something that lasts. And that's exactly the story we told in Vancouver—one I'll keep telling, until random acts of thought leadership are finally a thing of the past.
Forbes
20-06-2025
- Business
- Forbes
What It Takes To Win Luxury Clients: Seven Tips For Entrepreneurs
Kristina Fitzpatrick is CEO and founder of Paper & Flowers. Funny enough, I can remember the first time a special events manager of a well-known luxury brand called me better than I can remember a lot of major milestones in my life. It was pouring rain. I was in an Uber, my phone rang and the driver didn't bother to turn down the music. I picked up. The manager introduced herself and said the brand was looking for a masterclass activity for the launch of its new perfume at a major department store. I perked up instantly and explained how we offered classes that usually last 60 to 90 minutes with all materials prepped. We teach guests how to safely use hot glue guns and make their own big or small paper flowers. She listened politely and replied, 'That sounds wonderful, but can you do a masterclass without hot glue—and in under five minutes?' I paused. "I'm sure we can find a way," I told her. My brain naturally works this way. I believe every problem has a solution. It might take time, effort or money, but there's always a way. My team and I brainstormed, tested ideas, played with different papers and eventually created a delicate rose that matched the perfume's aesthetic and could be made in under five minutes without any glue. That paper rose is now our signature flower, and the activation was a hit. That success led to another activation days later in Miami. And in the next 18 months, that same brand hired us for six different campaigns, some of which had nothing to do with flowers at all and required us to design items outside of our core offering on tight deadlines. So, why did the company keep hiring us? It wasn't just the flowers. It was the mindset behind the work. Here are the principles I believe earned us repeat partnerships and how any entrepreneur can apply them: In luxury, timelines are rarely generous. Many of our projects were confirmed just weeks, and sometimes days, before production. When a client says, 'We need this tomorrow,' your job isn't to panic or explain why it's hard. Your job is to calmly say, 'Let me figure it out.' And then figure it out. However, don't say yes to everything blindly. Make sure you assess, strategize and commit only when you know you can overdeliver. The 'yes' mindset isn't about being a people pleaser; it's about being a solution builder. That distinction makes all the difference. I never thought we'd be designing the items we were for that luxury brand, but we said yes. A creative leader doesn't cling to what they've always done. They make space for what's possible next. Ask your clients for honest feedback: What did we get right? What fell short? Why did you choose us—or almost choose someone else? Is there any problem that's difficult to solve? What do you wish vendors you are working with did more or less of? What would '10 times better' look like to you, even if it seems impossible right now? Real growth often hides in those answers. Additionally, study trends beyond your own field. For instance, we study fashion, architecture and even hospitality because innovation rarely stays in one lane. Personally, I treat every experience as research. Whether it's a material I see on Instagram, the tone of a barista or a checkout flow that feels unusually smooth, I ask, "Why did this work so well?" Then, I bring that insight back to my business. Inspiration is everywhere if you're willing to unlearn and reimagine. Everyone on my production team is client-facing. That's intentional. Whether you're working behind the scenes or on-site with a VIP, you should bring the same professionalism, warmth and attention to detail. That consistency builds trust, and trust is what gets you rehired. Tight timelines expose your weakest links. That's why it's essential that you build systems around prototyping, sourcing and logistics that allow you to act fast without sacrificing quality. Creativity can be messy, but delivering it at scale requires process. The brand we were working with didn't just want something that looked beautiful. They wanted something people would remember. We focused on creating meaningful moments of interaction where every item and every gesture felt intentional and elevated. One question I always ask is: 'Does this design leave room for the guest's/client's story, or are we just showing off ours?' Spectacle says, 'Look at us.' Meaning says, 'This is truly yours, too.' In luxury, impact comes from resonance, not just visual "wow." Always ground the design or project in the brand's values. Then, ask: What are you trying to achieve—sales, loyalty, shareability or emotional connection? From there, shape ideas that check both boxes: beautiful and strategic. I've found luxury brands won't just work with you because you're good; it also needs to feel good to work with you. Prioritize calm communication, kindness under pressure and making people feel taken care of. In my experience, people don't remember if everything went perfectly; they remember how you made them feel when things got hard. That emotional intelligence is part of your brand. What began as a five-minute paper flower demo grew into a long-term partnership. That's not because we chased perfection but because we responded fast, built trust and led with heart. The seven principles we live by helped us scale without losing our soul. This experience showed me that luxury brands don't return as clients for pretty things alone. Your processes must also be smooth, your team dependable and the results memorable. For any entrepreneur building from scratch, remember that it's not just about your product. It's how you lead, listen, solve under pressure and make people feel. Do that with intention, and even the smallest project can open the biggest doors—again and again. Forbes Business Council is the foremost growth and networking organization for business owners and leaders. Do I qualify?
BBC News
02-06-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
'I can't believe anyone can dislike classical music'
Cellist Steven Isserlis believes classical music can speak to anyone - if we stop worrying and start truly listening. In this intimate masterclass, he explores how feeling matters more than technique, and why music is simply a form of storytelling.
New York Times
28-05-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
What I Learned From Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, a Sublime Voice
One September morning in 2009, I glanced at my watch over and over, nerves fluttering in my chest. I was sitting in the front row of a packed concert hall in Schwarzenberg, Austria, surrounded by other vocal students. At precisely 10:30 a.m., the baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau stepped onto the stage. It was the first day of his master class at the Schubertiade, and it was the moment I would meet the artist who had shaped my musical life. I was just 12, growing up in Bavaria, Germany, when I first heard Fischer-Dieskau. Leonard Bernstein had called him 'the greatest singer of the 20th century,' and few would disagree. When my music teacher played us a recording of his interpretation of Schubert's 'Winterreise,' something stirred within me. This voice was different. Immediate. Truthful. Over the years, I listened to dozens of Fischer-Dieskau's recordings, studied them, grew with them, and was continually astonished by them. Now I stood before him. The old video footage of that master class still shows how nervous I was: my vibrato wavering, my breath shallow, my stance unsure. What I did not realize at the time was how open and attentive he was with me. At the end of the course, he offered to work with me privately. For the next three years, I had the privilege of studying with him regularly at his homes in Berlin and Bavaria. Those hours remain among the greatest gifts of my life. In the months leading up to his centennial on Wednesday, I was granted access to his personal archive: letters, diaries, programs, photo albums. It was a journey to find out more about the man behind the name, affectionately known to his friends as FiDi. And it was an immersive experience that helped me to shape my new album 'For Dieter: The Past and the Future.' This recording features songs that defined his artistic path; songs that shaped the singer who would became one of the most revered vocalists of his time, including works from his family circle; songs by Brahms, Schubert and Wolf; as well as compositions written especially for him by Britten and Barber. Through my access to his archive, I was also able to accompany the album with a book that offers a deeply personal portrait of a multifaceted, fascinating man. Born in 1925 in Berlin-Zehlendorf, the third son of Albert and Theodora Fischer, Fischer-Dieskau grew up in an educated and cultured household. His musical gifts were evident early on, and his father, a school principal and avid composer, nurtured them. A shy, anxious child, he did not fit the image of the ideal Nazi soldier. Still, he reluctantly joined the Hitler Youth and was drafted into the army in 1943, serving on the Eastern Front before being taken prisoner in Italy. One of the deepest traumas of his childhood was the loss of his brother Martin, who suffered from epilepsy and was taken from the family's home under the Nazi 'euthanasia' program. He was murdered just weeks later. This experience, Fischer-Dieskau later said, left an indelible mark on his soul. It fueled his deep mistrust of totalitarian ideologies — and his quiet, profound humanism. It was in an American prisoner of war camp near Pisa, Italy, that Fischer-Dieskau's talent was discovered. He began by singing a cappella for fellow prisoners, later accompanied by a piano that was strapped to a truck and transported from camp to camp. In captivity, he began learning much of the song repertoire that would later define him. His first years of apprenticeship began behind barbed wire. Upon returning home in 1947, his rise was meteoric. Fischer-Dieskau became a leading figure in the cultural rebirth of postwar Germany. With him, the lied, or art song, was reborn: Brahms's 'Vier Ernste Gesänge,' lesser-known songs by Schubert and Schumann that were rediscovered, Mahler's 'Lieder eines Fahrenden Gesellen' and 'Kindertotenlieder' heard anew. Critics spoke of his power to breathe new life into long-forgotten repertoire. Fischer-Dieskau's tone was warm, resonant, intelligently shaped. He interpreted from the text, painted with sound and infused every phrase with meaning. The song recital itself was reimagined under his influence — no longer a miscellany of works, but a carefully curated, thematically cohesive experience. What struck me most in our work together was his uncompromising dedication: Nothing was taken for granted. Every detail was questioned, explored and rediscovered. His tireless pursuit of deeper understanding in text and music, his desire to uncover hidden structures and harmonies, was magnetic. FiDi was not an artist who merely 'delivered'; he sought to recreate, anew, each time. His presence — intense, demanding, inescapable — filled the room with an atmosphere that is difficult to describe but left a lasting imprint. All of these qualities are vividly present in his recordings. Take, for example, the aria 'Mache dich, mein Herze, rein' from Bach's 'St. Matthew Passion.' His voice possesses an almost transcendental serenity, enveloped in a gentle aura of peace. Each phrase is shaped with the precision of an instrumental line, every note adorned with a perfectly even vibrato. The clarity and expressiveness of his consonants reveal his deep connection to the text, using language as his primary vehicle of communication — yet always within the most seamless legato. Even when the text repeats, he finds fresh nuances and colors. There is something disarmingly direct about his voice, but his artistry is never self-serving; the music is always placed above the performer. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he trusted technology. Early on, he recognized the power of recorded media to bring his art to wider audiences. His relationship with the microphone — often jokingly described as his 'longest marriage' — was profound. He treated the LP not only as documentation, but as a stand-alone artistic medium. According to one source, his discography contains over 1,000 releases, in addition to a wealth of radio and television performances. So legendary was his presence in classical music that in the 1999 adaptation of 'The Talented Mr. Ripley' — though set in the 1950s — Tom Ripley is shown traveling with some of Fischer-Dieskau's Schubert recordings. Despite his fame, he was plagued by self-doubt throughout his life. Concert days brought intense anxiety, psychosomatic symptoms and exacting standards — for himself and others. He was not always easy to be around, but perhaps it was precisely this extreme commitment that made his art so singular. Fischer-Dieskau was far more than a German singer. His openness to foreign-language repertoire, shaped by his time as a prisoner of war, made him a symbol of reconciliation. In New York, London and Tel Aviv, audiences flocked to hear him — some in search of a different Germany, others hoping to reconnect with the cultural depth of the homeland they had fled. His voice held something healing, almost redemptive. In the Netherlands, he was honored with a laurel wreath bearing the inscription 'To the beloved enemy.' He was the first German artist to perform in Israel after the Holocaust, with Daniel Barenboim, and was met with rapturous acclaim. The United States embraced him. He toured the country 17 times. In a letter from 1971, he wrote with delight about the 'enormous fun' he was having. He felt that nowhere else had he encountered such an open, fresh, curious audience. 'How dull and unspontaneous old Europe feels by comparison,' he wrote. His first wife, Irmgard Poppen, recorded her impressions in a travel journal from 1958: 'There is an audience here that longs for the old European culture — rare to find in Europe itself nowadays. You can feel how alive the musical spirit still is here.' Privately, his life was marked by tragedy and inner turmoil. The early death of his beloved Irmel, as he called his first wife, plunged him into a deep crisis in 1963. Alone with three young children, consumed by guilt, he stood on the brink of collapse. Later marriages provided only temporary solace. In a 1972 letter to his half brother Achim, he wrote with disarming honesty: 'I haven't had much luck with women. I know my life and circumstances are difficult — I'm nervous and awkward — but still, despite everything, the yearning for a peaceful haven is strong.' It wasn't until his marriage to the soprano Julia Varady, in 1977, that he found the enduring partnership he had so long desired. Yet he remained a seeker — intellectually, artistically, existentially. He sang, conducted, taught, wrote, painted over 5,000 artworks and, for decades, smoked at least a pack of cigarettes a day. Fashion, too, was a secret passion. In letters, he detailed his shopping sprees across Europe, describing fabrics and cuts of the latest suits and women's clothing. Despite all his rigor, he retained a great sense of humor into old age. Of all our shared hours, I most vividly remember the moments when, unnoticed by the world, he let his mischievous spirit shine through — dancing through the living room, laughing. One day, as I arrived at his home, he met me at the door and said seriously: 'Julia and I were talking over breakfast. We both think the name Benjamin Appl is too complicated for an international career. From now on, you should call yourself Ben Appl.' I paused, and though I said nothing, what ran through my mind was: 'Yes, Herr Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau.' What moved me most was his emotional state in the final weeks of his life. He had devoted himself to music, to art, with almost complete surrender — relentlessly, unflinchingly and at great personal cost. He spoke openly about not having been the ideal father or friend. That honesty still echoes in me today. Our last meeting, just weeks before his death in 2012, was cloaked in a quiet stillness. As I entered his home near Munich, a space he had largely designed and furnished himself, bearing his unmistakable touch, I sensed the atmosphere had shifted. We worked on Schubert's 'Harfner Songs' — music about solitude, transience and death. He often wept, asking the great questions of life, wondering whether his career had meant anything, or if he was already forgotten. Then suddenly, through tears, he fixed his gaze on me and said with a trembling voice: 'Forgive me, I always tried to sing these songs truthfully, but I never succeeded.' It was a devastating moment. I knew it would be our last. A few weeks later, he passed away — quietly, peacefully, as if one of his songs had simply faded into silence. Fischer-Dieskau set standards like few others in the 20th century. And yet time marches on. To many in younger generations, his name no longer resonates. But this new project of mine, with its accompanying book, is my homage to his legacy. An attempt to keep it alive. A gesture of gratitude. A confession. And perhaps a quiet message to him: 'You gave us so much. And we have not forgotten you.'
