Blurring the lines between music, movement, and self-reflection, the artist BRINI continues to build a world where creativity exists in constant motion rather than fixed form. Her latest release, “The Way I Move”, sits at the intersection of dance and daily life, exploring balance not as a destination, but as an ongoing process of adjustment, discipline, and flow.
We caught up with BRINI to discuss creative balance, genre-blending intuition, building spaces through movement, and why “balance in motion” means learning to stay present in the shift rather than resisting it.
You describe “The Way I Move” as connecting both dance and life. When you were writing it, did the movement come first physically, or did the music come first and shape how you moved?
The music came first, definitely. The melodies arrived before the words, and only afterwards I realised that this ties seamlessly to my dance and movement background.
When I say “The Way I Move”, I really mean the way I move through life. How I try to balance ambition and rest, discipline and play, structure and flow. Some days I’m great at it, some days not so much. (Laughs.)
For me, dance, music, and life are all teaching the same lessons. You’re constantly adjusting, learning, finding your balance, losing it again, and finding it once more. That’s why I talk about balance in motion. Not because balance is perfect, but because it’s alive.
You set yourself a challenge of writing a song every day during a home writing camp. Did that structure feel freeing creatively, or did it push you into places you wouldn’t normally go?
Both, honestly.
Any time I create intentional space for writing, it feels freeing. It’s like real me-time. But I don’t force anything. If a song wants to happen, it happens. If not, I leave it alone.
Sometimes I’ll love a beat, but there’s just nothing coming yet. No melody, no words. Then I’ll come back later or move on. I’ve learned not to fight that.
The interesting part is that I always have ideas. Constantly. The real work is slowing down enough to actually give them attention, time, and care so they can turn into something real.
And that’s also balance in motion again for me. Inspiration is one thing, but creating space for it to land is just as important.
Your work sits at the intersection of music, dance, and community-building through Vienna Heels. Do you see those three things as separate roles, or all expressions of the same artistic language?
I don’t really see them as separate, but I wouldn’t put them all into one box either.
What connects everything is my love for bringing people together — through music, dance, conversation, or by creating spaces where people feel more connected to themselves and to each other.
Vienna Heels is part of that, but it’s not the whole picture. It’s one expression of something much bigger that I’m still discovering.
For a long time, I imagined becoming a fashion designer and even considered attending fashion school. But the opportunities available in Austria didn’t resonate with me in the way I had hoped, and studying abroad wasn’t immediately within reach. So I found my own path instead, through a diploma in make-up artistry and fashion styling, and by continuously learning through practice, curiosity, and creation.
Naturally, my work has expanded into fashion and visual worlds as well. Slowly, a broader /Z universe is taking shape. One that brings together music, movement, fashion, beauty, storytelling, and human connection.
It’s still evolving. Still becoming.
Maybe it isn’t one language yet. It feels more like different pieces gradually recognising each other and beginning to speak to one another.
The idea of “/Z – Balance in Motion” sits at the core of your work. How do you personally recognise when you’re out of that balance, and what brings you back into it creatively?
I usually feel it first in my body. When I’m out of balance, I feel less present, less connected. Like I’m pushing instead of flowing.
But I don’t always try to fix it immediately. Sometimes that state is part of something I need to go through first.
Balance in motion really means that nothing is fixed. It’s always shifting.
What brings me back is a mix of things. Creating, of course, but also very simple human moments. Spending time with people I love, laughing, eating together, just stepping out of my head for a bit.
And then I slowly come back into myself again.
I used to think balance was something you achieve and keep. Now I see it more like something you move with.
Amapiano, pop, and R&B all meet in this track. When you’re blending genres like that, are you thinking in terms of sound first or in terms of the feeling you want people to physically experience?
Definitely feeling first.
I never really sit down thinking I’m blending genres. It’s much more intuitive than that.
With this track, everything just felt right together. The sound, my voice, the rhythm. It wasn’t overthought.
I also like playing with contrast. The lyrics can feel quite sensual, but in reality I might be talking about something as simple as going to bed early. (Laughs) I like that duality.
Sometimes it’s about creating a feeling and leaving enough space for people to interpret it in their own way.
You don’t need to define too much all the time.
The release also supports ZARA’s work against online hate and racism. How important is it for you that your music doesn’t just reflect joy and movement, but also contributes to something socially meaningful?
It’s very important to me.
I think if you have a platform, even a small one, it naturally comes with responsibility. Not in a heavy way, but in a real one.
For me, music has always been about movement. Not just physically, but emotionally and socially too. I want it to move people in directions that feel positive, conscious, or healing in some way.
And that extends into everything I do creatively. Visually, I gravitate towards vintage, second-hand, and upcycled pieces. Not because it’s aesthetic, but because it feels more conscious.
Culturally, I think it’s also important to acknowledge where things come from. Amapiano, R&B, pop, all of these have deep roots in Black culture and innovation, and that needs to be respected and recognised.
Coming from dance, I’ve seen firsthand how often dancers are undervalued, despite the immense skill, discipline, creativity, and physical commitment the profession requires.
Fair pay is something I care deeply about. Too much creative work is still underpaid or expected to be exchanged for “exposure,” especially where funding gaps exist or where art is not fully recognised as a legitimate business. But it is. Creative work is work. It creates value, builds communities, shapes culture, and deserves to be treated with respect.
As an independent artist, I experience these realities directly. That’s why support matters so much whether it’s listening and buying the music, sharing it with others, coming to a show, or joining my Patreon community. Every form of support helps make the work sustainable.
One of my biggest hopes is that, as I grow, I’ll be able to support my team not only fairly, but generously, and eventually create initiatives that support holistic trauma healing. I want to be able to give back to the people who believed in me early on and helped build this journey alongside me, because none of this happens alone. In the end, it really takes a collective to make anything like this happen. It’s still a long way to go, but I’m here for it.