Fenton sings his aria immersed in nature: in a garden, at night, amidst plants and people in disguise - exactly like Susanna: another piante-ascose-alert!

Here's an exquisite performance of the piece that my wonderful pupil Nile Senatore, tenor from Salerno, gave last Tuesday at the Éva Marton International Singing Competition in Budapest:

... and these are some of the comments that we got on my socials:

Speaking of nature, and of magic: Nile's posture, stare, facial relaxedness, his total absence of effort; his every single ornament, staccato, or portamento; the quality of his vibrato and legato; his breath management (hence his anxiety, management: he was shaking before he went onstage!), the exactness of his appoggio in the filati, his ability to foresee and simply match his mental pitch with his voice - without trying to physically "make it"; his vowels and of course his diction; his deep metabolization of the lyrics; his ability to focus, FOCUS, FOCUS:

every aspect of his magic "naturalness" has been very, very artificially pursued by me, and is the result of almost one year of steady work.

So proud - BRAVO!

Nile here says that the pianist was shocked, at the rehearsal, for he didn't want to sing and was just willing to give her the necessary tempo instructions - which is what I had prescribed: my students are very rarely allowed to sing out loud - unless they're requested to, because they are paid for it.

Their warm ups are mostly silent, or almost silent, too.

But now: why does "bocca baciata non perde ventura - anzi rinnova, come fa la luna"?
Poetry slang, as I was saying. Let me walk you through it.

Dal labbro, il canto estasiato, vola: a sound stems, in what Boito stupendously calls aer antelucano - "the night air before the light", the Darkness of the Eden (finché non splende in ciel notturna face - as Susanna would have put it).

If no one replies, to that sound - if it stays an unmatched, single event - it is perceived as random, hence soon forgotten.
If instead someone does, reply, to that sound, but with a completely different one - the result is perceived as chaotic, not as a match - hence, again, is soon forgotten.

BUT. When a sound is matched by its equal, and, that is, by a rhyme, a prodigy happens: a spell.

A spell of Time is defined: Time itself is born with the repetition of Light.

A Moon cycle is a form of visual rhyme.  

A rhyme is the repetition of something (of something identical when the rhyme is perfect, or, in Italian, kissed: rima baciata) bringing in itself an information about the length of a spell of time: that occurring in between the two matching events, the two kisses - or smacks of lips.

What is matched by a kissed rhyme allows the computation of Time, eases memory and won't be forgotten: bocca baciata non perde ventura.

Poetry is to remember, and be remembered.
Everything else will be lost.

All things stored in a stanza not locked by a chiave will be lost.

I cannot think of anything harder than comprehending and respecting nature, especially one's own.

I cannot think of anything more complex, and counterintuitive, and ever evolving, than nature.

Nature is a lot of work: it takes a lifetime, the deliberate decision to be unconditionally happy,

and, if you're lucky enough, a good mentor to guide you through, and to it.

La Maestra

extremely good at this (Graham Vick)

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

lingual and linguistic genius, almighty for vowel purity (Peter Tantsits)

bringing the language, the music and the characters to life; results of the very highes quality (Paul Nilon)

the foundation of a role, doesn't go on stage if she hasn't worked with me on it (Jennifer Rowley)

magic keystone 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)

opened up my voice, and a world before my eyes; every Conservatory should benefit of her teachings (Giulia Zaniboni)

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

like four professionals in one: taking all those elements and conveying them into one single intention (Yiselle Blum)

invaluable to make a role really succeed on stage (Ariadne Greif)

thoroughly prepared and professional (Marie Kuijken)

her work favours deep understanding, which makes the phrasing and vocal line.

she is entirely devoted to the art of Opera singing, and her students (Ida Falk Winland)

incredibly informed, consistent, knowledgeable Maestro (Michael Corvino)

a lifeboat; carrying the torch of finest Italian Opera (Nathaniel Kondrat)

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)

an unconventional guardian angel (Giulia Ferraldeschi)