Eduardo Fajardo on Finding the Freedom in Sound

the flutist. the mentor. the sound behind the silence.

a story on art, discipline, and the quiet pursuit of mastery. an intimate conversation with fajardo on what it means to create, to teach, and to keep showing up.

Interview by eli frances

the flutist. the mentor. the sound behind the silence.

a story on art, discipline, and the quiet pursuit of mastery.

an intimate conversation with fajardo on what it means to create, to teach, and to keep showing up.

Eduardo Fajardo doesn’t just play the flute. He listens to it as if it were an extension of his own breath. The Salvadoran-American musician and Peabody Conservatory graduate student reflects on discipline, family, faith, and what it means to keep creating in a world that moves faster than art itself. What follows is an intimate conversation that traces how sound became his language and how he continues to find meaning in it.

Eli Frances: Tell me about the very beginning. How did you start pursuing flute and music?

Eduardo Fajardo: I grew up in a house full of music. My mom would always blast songs while she cooked or cleaned. It was just part of life, part of our culture. I’ve always loved sound, not just music. I’d notice things like a door creaking or the way a floorboard sounds. One day I saw a show with kids my age playing marimbas and percussion, I think it was in New York City, and it fascinated me.

When I got to choose an instrument in fourth grade, I picked trumpet because I thought my mom would love it. I imagined playing mariachi music for her. But I didn’t enjoy it. In high school I tried a bunch of instruments—tuba, French horn, oboe, clarinet, saxophone—just experimenting to see what fit. The oboe sound really stuck with me, but our school didn’t have one that worked, so I tried flute instead.

Around the same time, I was studying cello with Mr. Thornhill and playing in the orchestra. I loved the cello repertoire, but the flute felt different. It felt human. The sound comes from breath, from inside you, and it felt like freedom, like saying things without words.

“The sound comes from breath, from the inside of you, and it feels like freedom.”

Eduardo Fajardo doesn’t just play the flute. He listens to it as if it were an extension of his own breath. The Salvadoran-American musician and Peabody Conservatory graduate student reflects on discipline, family, faith, and what it means to keep creating in a world that moves faster than art itself. What follows is an intimate conversation that traces how sound became his language and how he continues to find meaning in it.

Eli Frances: Tell me about the very beginning. How did you start pursuing flute and music?

Eduardo Fajardo: I grew up in a house full of music. My mom would always blast songs while she cooked or cleaned. It was just part of life, part of our culture. I’ve always loved sound, not just music. I’d notice things like a door creaking or the way a floorboard sounds. One day I saw a show with kids my age playing marimbas and percussion, I think it was in New York City, and it fascinated me.

When I got to choose an instrument in fourth grade, I picked the trumpet because I thought my mom would love it. I imagined playing mariachi music for her. But I didn’t enjoy it. In high school I tried a bunch of instrument: tuba, French horn, oboe, clarinet, saxophone…just experimenting to see what fit. The oboe sound really stuck with me, but our school didn’t have one that worked, so I tried flute instead.

Around the same time, I was studying cello with Mr. Thornhill and playing in the orchestra. I loved the cello repertoire, but the flute felt different. It felt human. The sound comes from breath, from inside you, and it felt like freedom, like saying things without words.

“The sound comes from breath, from the inside of you, and it feels like freedom.”

Eduardo Fajardo doesn’t just play the flute. He listens to it as if it were an extension of his own breath. The Salvadoran-American musician and Peabody Conservatory graduate student reflects on discipline, family, faith, and what it means to keep creating in a world that moves faster than art itself. What follows is an intimate conversation that traces how sound became his language and how he continues to find meaning in it.

Eli Frances: Tell me about the very beginning. How did you start pursuing flute and music?

Eduardo Fajardo: I grew up in a house full of music. My mom would always blast songs while she cooked or cleaned. It was just part of life, part of our culture. I’ve always loved sound, not just music. I’d notice things like a door creaking or the way a floorboard sounds. One day I saw a show with kids my age playing marimbas and percussion, I think it was in New York City, and it fascinated me.

When I got to choose an instrument in fourth grade, I picked trumpet because I thought my mom would love it. I imagined playing mariachi music for her. But I didn’t enjoy it. In high school I tried a bunch of instruments—tuba, French horn, oboe, clarinet, saxophone—just experimenting to see what fit. The oboe sound really stuck with me, but our school didn’t have one that worked, so I tried flute instead.

Around the same time, I was studying cello with Mr. Thornhill and playing in the orchestra. I loved the cello repertoire, but the flute felt different. It felt human. The sound comes from breath, from inside you, and it felt like freedom, like saying things without words.

“The sound comes from breath, from the inside of you, and it feels like freedom.”

Eli Frances: What pulled you into your craft, and when did it start to feel real?

Eduardo Fajardo: It was the feeling of progress, realizing I could actually keep getting better. That’s what drew me in.

I really started to feel that during the second half of my undergrad, studying with Julianna Nickel at George Mason University. She’s incredible. That’s also when I advanced to my first Young Artist Competition and later got into Marina Piccinini’s international master class series. From that point on, it felt real. That’s when I knew I wanted to keep going.

Eli Frances: What keeps you showing up for it, especially on the hard days?

Eduardo Fajardo: My family. My parents came to the U.S. from El Salvador when they were teenagers during the war. Watching them fight tooth and nail to build a life here, that’s what pushes me. If they could leave everything they knew and start over in a new country, I can handle the challenges in front of me. I remind myself that I’ve always had a world of support…from my family, my friends…and that keeps me steady when things get rough.

Eli Frances: Have you faced challenges putting your work out there?

Eduardo Fajardo: Definitely. I’m still figuring that out. I’ve been in school my whole life, never taken a year off, and I’m twenty-five now. At Peabody everyone plays differently and beautifully, and it’s inspiring but also intimidating. When I started sharing my playing online, things went well, but I hesitated before taking the next step. It came down to confidence.

Performing has always been hard for me because there’s so much to think about technically, and I compare myself too much. Lately though, everything’s coming together. My tone, my sound, my control—it’s all evolving. Every day something improves. I finally opened my studio, and I’m learning to show up with less fear.

"Performing is scary because there’s so much to think about technically, and I sometimes compare myself too much. But lately everything’s coming together.”

Eli Frances: What pulled you into your craft, and when did it start to feel real?

Eduardo Fajardo: It was the feeling of progress, realizing I could actually keep getting better. That’s what drew me in.

I really started to feel that during the second half of my undergrad, where I was studying with Julianna Nickel at George Mason University. She’s incredible. That’s also when I advanced to my first Young Artist Competition and later got into Marina Piccinini’s International Master Classes. From that point on, it felt real. That’s when I knew I wanted to keep going.

Eli Frances: What keeps you showing up for it, especially on the hard days?

Eduardo Fajardo: My family. My parents came to the U.S. from El Salvador when they were teenagers during the war. Watching them fight tooth and nail to build a life here, that’s what pushes me. If they could leave everything they knew and start over in a new country, I can handle the challenges in front of me. I remind myself that I’ve always had a world of support from my family and my friends – and that keeps me steady when things get rough.

Eli Frances: What pulled you into your craft, and when did it start to feel real?

Eduardo Fajardo: It was the feeling of progress, realizing I could actually keep getting better. That’s what drew me in.

I really started to feel that during the second half of my undergrad, studying with Julianna Nickel at George Mason University. She’s incredible. That’s also when I advanced to my first Young Artist Competition and later got into Marina Piccinini’s international master class series. From that point on, it felt real. That’s when I knew I wanted to keep going.

Eli Frances: What keeps you showing up for it, especially on the hard days?

Eduardo Fajardo: My family. My parents came to the U.S. from El Salvador when they were teenagers during the war. Watching them fight tooth and nail to build a life here, that’s what pushes me. If they could leave everything they knew and start over in a new country, I can handle the challenges in front of me. I remind myself that I’ve always had a world of support…from my family, my friends…and that keeps me steady when things get rough.

Eli Frances: Have you faced challenges putting your work out there?

Eduardo Fajardo: Definitely. I’m still figuring that out. I’ve been in school my whole life, never taken a year off, and I’m twenty-five now. At Peabody everyone plays differently and beautifully, and it’s inspiring but also intimidating. When I started sharing my playing online, things went well, but I hesitated before taking the next step. It came down to confidence.

Performing has always been hard for me because there’s so much to think about technically, and I compare myself too much. Lately though, everything’s coming together. My tone, my sound, my control—it’s all evolving. Every day something improves. I finally opened my studio, and I’m learning to show up with less fear.

"Performing is scary because there’s so much to think about technically, and I sometimes compare myself too much. But lately everything’s coming together.”

Eli Frances: Have you faced challenges putting your work out there?

Eduardo Fajardo: Definitely. I’m still figuring that out. I’ve been in school my whole life, never taken a year off, and I’m twenty-five now. At Peabody everyone plays differently and beautifully, and it’s inspiring but also intimidating. When I started sharing my playing online, things went well, but I hesitated before taking the next step. It came down to confidence.

Performing has always been hard for me because there’s so much to think about technically, and I compare myself too much. Lately though, everything’s coming together. My tone, my sound, my control—it’s all evolving. Every day something improves. I finally opened my studio, and I’m learning to show up with less fear.

Eli Frances: In 2025, when AI can make almost anything, do you see an online presence as part of your art or just part of survival?

Eduardo Fajardo: It’s both. Music is sacred to me—it feels like prayer—but it also has to live in the world. Trying to make a living doing something sacred inside a system that values profit is a challenge, but I’ve chosen this. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. Having an online presence now is like having a front door to your work, a way for people to find you. It’s crowded, but still important. And sometimes I think traditional ways of sharing—through word of mouth, through people—might actually stand out more again. With all the AI content around, I think people miss seeing something human. AI can be a great tool, but it won’t replace connection. As long as humans exist, someone’s going to want to watch another human create.

“AI can be a great tool, but it won’t replace connection. As long as humans exist, someone’s going to want to watch another human create.”

Eli Frances: Have you faced challenges putting your work out there?

Eduardo Fajardo: Definitely. I’m still figuring that out. I’ve been in school my whole life, never taken a year off, and I’m twenty-five now. At Peabody everyone plays differently and beautifully, and it’s inspiring but also intimidating. When I started sharing my playing online, things went well, but I hesitated before taking the next step. It came down to confidence.

Performing has always been hard for me because there’s so much to think about technically, and I compare myself too much. Lately though, everything’s coming together. My tone, my sound, my control—it’s all evolving. Every day something improves. I finally opened my studio, and I’m learning to show up with less fear.

Eli Frances: In 2025, when AI can make almost anything, do you see an online presence as part of your art or just part of survival?

Eduardo Fajardo: It’s both. Music is sacred to me. It feels like prayer but it also has to live in the world. Trying to make a living doing something sacred inside a system that values profit is a challenge, but I’ve chosen this. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. Having an online presence now is like having a front door to your work, a way for people to find you. It’s crowded, but still important. And sometimes I think the traditional ways of sharing through word of mouth or through people might actually stand out more again. With all the AI content around, I think people miss seeing something human. AI can be a great tool, but it won’t replace connection. As long as humans exist, someone’s going to want to watch another human create.

“AI can be a great tool, but it won’t replace connection. As long as humans exist, someone’s going to want to watch another human create.”

Eli Frances: Have you faced challenges putting your work out there?

Eduardo Fajardo: Definitely. I’m still figuring that out. I’ve been in school my whole life, never taken a year off, and I’m twenty-five now. At Peabody everyone plays differently and beautifully, and it’s inspiring but also intimidating. When I started sharing my playing online, things went well, but I hesitated before taking the next step. It came down to confidence.

Performing has always been hard for me because there’s so much to think about technically, and I compare myself too much. Lately though, everything’s coming together. My tone, my sound, my control—it’s all evolving. Every day something improves. I finally opened my studio, and I’m learning to show up with less fear.

“AI can be a great tool, but it won’t replace connection. As long as humans exist, someone’s going to want to watch another human create.”

Eli Frances: Classical music faces limited visibility compared to other forms of music. How do you find your place in that landscape? How do you find your place in that world?

Eduardo Fajardo: The same way you find your place with your friends or your family. You don’t need millions of people to validate what you do. Visibility matters, sure, but what’s more important is staying true to yourself. Do what you love, and the right people will find you. That’s what I believe.

Eli Frances: And what would you tell another artist who feels stuck?

Eduardo Fajardo: Stay true to yourself. Be respectful. Do what you love, and honor yourself by doing it. That’s really it.

“Do what you love, and the right people will find you.”

Eli Frances: Classical music faces limited visibility compared to other forms of music. How do you find your place in that world?

Eduardo Fajardo: The same way you find your place with your friends or your family. You don’t need millions of people to validate what you do. Visibility matters, sure, but what’s more important is staying true to yourself. Do what you love, and the right people will find you. That’s what I believe.

Eli Frances: And what would you tell another artist who feels stuck?

Eduardo Fajardo: Stay true to yourself. Be respectful. Do what you love, and honor yourself by doing it. That’s really it.

“Do what you love, and the right people will find you.”

Eli Frances: Classical music faces limited visibility compared to other forms of music. How do you find your place in that landscape? How do you find your place in that world?

Eduardo Fajardo: The same way you find your place with your friends or your family. You don’t need millions of people to validate what you do. Visibility matters, sure, but what’s more important is staying true to yourself. Do what you love, and the right people will find you. That’s what I believe.

Eli Frances: And what would you tell another artist who feels stuck?

Eduardo Fajardo: Stay true to yourself. Be respectful. Do what you love, and honor yourself by doing it. That’s really it.

“Do what you love, and the right people will find you.”

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