Voi, dico a voi, VOI: can you smell it? It's Springtime.

There is a reason why we don't sing songs, in Opera, but arie.

And if you can't smell them, alas, they may be not for you.

The authenticity of the most valuable things in life can only be told by their smell.

(We've recently mentioned how to Dante the Italian vulgar was like an uncatchable panther whose smell could nonetheless be perceived everywhere, on the Italic soil.)

L'aria, l'aura (i venti, Cherubino adds) is something you can touch and touches you, that you can smell and make others smell, too... provided that they know what you're talking about:

Voi, che sapete che cos'è amor, donne...

(Da Ponte);

Donne, che avete intelletto d'amore

(Dante);

Voi, ch'ascoltate in rime sparse il SUONO...

...Se v'ha chi per pruova INTENDA amore

(Petrarca)

Forget about reading: you must HEAR it. Smell it. Touch it. See it.

There must be an understanding on something that cannot be written black on white; something that words will never be able to say, nor explain, but maybe will make you smell...

...if you're a donna.

Something that here, in our club, amongst us, we are going to call amor and then talk about, over and over and over, for and throughout the centuries, for the pure sake of it, for the beauty of the speech itself.

Something that goes beyond its writing, and that one must be able to catch in its essence, in order to claim the name of poet and deserve a crown of bay leaves.

Ti vo' la fronte incoronar di...

E R O S.

An aria is the picture of a landscape, inner or outer, before pictures existed. It is a lifestyle, a sprezzatura, a mindset, a cadenza, a slang, an accent, a fashion, a feel, an imaginary country where one belongs - or not.

An aria is a drift that can only be caught - in the metaphorical sense - by a donna of the highest intellect: that is, by another poet.

- Lei m'intende?

- Sì.

Using the coupon code LAURA at the checkout you'll have a small discount on all plans available on my website. Expires on Sunday at midnight, Italian time.

E se non ho chi m'oda,

Parlo d'amor con me.

Felice Primavera a Voi, Donne

La Maestra

“extremely good at this” (Graham Vick)

"a fantastic coach, extremely helpful for young singers as well as experienced ones" (Barbara Hannigan)

“bringing the language, the music and the characters to life” (Paul Nilon)

“the foundation of a role” (Jennifer Rowley)

“magic conjunction of vocal technique, musical interpretation and building of the character: a radical rethink of the act of singing” (Anna Piroli)

“her incredible breadth of knowledge makes me feel entirely prepared” (Heather Lowe)

“magic effect on the voice and our art form” (Jessica Harper)

“opened up my voice, and a world” (Giulia Zaniboni)

“180° turn in my work with the singers” (Theophilos Lambrianidis)

"like four professionals in one" (Yiselle Blum)

“invaluable: she’ll make a role really succeed on stage” (Ariadne Greif)

“potentially life-changing” (Amy Payne)

“brings life to operatic drama” (Maria Sanner)

“enlightening, professionally and humanly” (Clara La Licata)

“thoroughly prepared and professional” (Marie Kuijken)

“truly unique method and insights” (Jasmine Law)

“a lingual and linguistic genius” (Peter Tantsits)

“entirely devoted to the art of Opera singing” (Ida Falk Winland)

“incredibly informed, consistent, knowledgeable” (Michael Corvino)

“carrying the torch of finest Italian Opera” (Nathaniel Kondrat)

“a crucial basis for all the singers” (David Cowan)

“a cure and a respect of the Music and the words’ musicality that can be learnt so deeply nowhere else in the world” (Matilde Bianchi)