My story starts on stage.
For fifteen years, the voice was my living. I trained as an actor at the Institut del Teatre in Barcelona, and spent a decade and a half performing — where the voice isn't a detail but the whole instrument: the thing that has to carry truth across a room, night after night.
I didn't study the voice from the outside. I lived by it. Everything else I do grew from there.
Then I went deeper into how the voice works.
I went on to take an MA in Voice Studies, with Distinction, from the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama at the University of London — one of the great homes of voice training. Since then I've trained actors' voices, and coached business executives on voice and presence: people whose work depends on being heard, who so often arrive disconnected from their own sound.
To free a voice, you learn it from the inside — how breath, body, and sound are one continuous thing, and how much tension we hold without ever noticing.
The work was never really about acting.
Working that closely with voices, I kept seeing the same thing. What freed an actor's voice — the breath, the resonance, the release of tension held in the body — did something far larger than improve a performance. It calmed people. It settled their breathing. It brought them back to themselves.
The tools weren't about performance. They were about being fully, freely present — something every one of us is quietly hungry for, on stage or off it.
So I began to wonder what would happen if I offered this to everyone — not just to actors.
A craft, brought out of the rehearsal room.
Acoustic Yoga grew from that question. It takes the depth of professional voice training and offers it as a practice anyone can step into — not performance, not technique for its own sake, but a practice of body, breath, and voice. Your whole self in resonance.
It begins like yoga and goes one step further: into the most powerful and underrated instrument we have — the voice.
And a deeper one, from further east.
My training didn't stop with the Western craft of voice. I'm also a trained Ayurvedic massage therapist. I learned and worked at Ayurveda Palma, the Mallorca centre of my teacher Annett Levy, before travelling to India — to the Nilgiri Mountains — to study further with her own teacher.
Ayurveda gave me an ancient, embodied understanding of breath, sound, and the body as one connected whole. It's where the prenatal strand of my work is rooted — in Garbha Samvad, the art of nurturing the bond between mother and baby through the voice.
Why this matters to me.
This work really began in a time of loss. Being close to people near the end of their lives, I understood something I've never let go of since: how much it matters simply to be present — truly here, now, with another person — and how frightening those moments are when we feel alone in them.
I came to see that my years as an actor had taught me exactly this: how to be fully here, in connection with someone else. That understanding led me to Ayurveda, and then to the voice. And what stays after the practice — a resonant stillness, a sense of being quietly, fully alive — is, at its heart, what I believe: that we are most ourselves when we are alive from the inside, and reach out to embrace the world around us, rather than turn away from it.
I live between Copenhagen and Mallorca, and the practice travels with me — held in calm studio spaces in the city, and in the quiet of the Mediterranean.