Interviewer : Jürgen Otten
Let's take a look back at the Salzburg summer of 2018. There was this touching moment at the end of the "Salome" premiere: The director Romeo Castellucci went down on his knees in front of you and thanked you. Did that surprise you?
Not really. Because it was the result of six weeks of rehearsals in which we, the soloists, constantly went down on our knees before him - and he before us. That was simply a fantastic team, a great, beautiful job.
Can you describe the aura of this artist? What makes Castellucci different?
First of all, he has enormous respect for every work he stages, and likewise for the singers. He asks a lot during rehearsals, "Is this okay? Are you comfortable with this or with that? Tell me how you see the scene." Through this kind of communication, everyone involved becomes very open to his ideas. That's one thing. The other is his metaphors. I've never experienced anything like it before: this exuberant pictorial imagination, for example, which is quite different from that of William Kentridge, with whom I had worked on Berg's "Wozzeck" a year earlier in Salzburg. No one is really able to make sense of all the images Castellucci has in his head, their symbolism. But it helped me to grasp the character Salome more clearly, both psychologically and musically.
How close is this mixture of little innocent girl and cold avenging angel to you personally?
I think we all have that in us - the avenging angel and the child. But more important for me, beyond the specific example of Salome, is that in every single role - sometimes deeper, sometimes a little less deep - I am the character I play. I become that character. I'm a person who soaks up everything that's in her. And not just on stage. Outside of it, too. Let's take this city, Frankfurt. I lived in an apartment in the middle of the train station district during the rehearsal period for "Iolanta." Every day I walked past prostitutes, homeless people and junkies. And every time I thought, "I could be one of them. It's just a coincidence or fate that I'm a singer. It's luck." And that experience taught me one thing: I can put myself in other characters so well also and precisely because I could actually be them. I could literally feel myself standing there on the street, selling my body. And that's not alien to me; that's part of me, part of how I feel. Please don't get me wrong: of course I'm happy to be an opera singer, and a successful one at that. But it could be completely different tomorrow; you never know. And when I die on stage, I feel the pain. It carves itself into my skin, as it were.
The reactions to the Salzburg "Salome" were enormous. Suddenly you were the talk of the town, even though you had already shone as Marie the season before. Did this production change anything in your understanding of art, in your "normal" life, perhaps even in the way you think about yourself? Or did you simply do your job and hand out extra portions of feelings?
Both are true: in a way, this production didn't change anything at all, because it was the result of highly concentrated work. But I have another life, and in that life I'm a mother of two children, who naturally asks herself the same question every day: "Do I really have to work so much?" After all, you always have a choice ... I just always try to do the best I can, as a singer and as a mother. On the other hand, it was a great gift to have this success with the public, to know that everyone involved trusted me that I could do it. But back to the core of your question: everything changes every day, regardless of "Salome." Of course, this production has opened many doors for me. I can choose from many offers, which is almost luxurious. But at the same time it is a conditio sine qua non. Because one thing is very important to me: I need enough "quality time".
What do you understand by that?
Working with the artists I love, and with whom I know that the rehearsals are as enjoyable as they are intense - and that the result at the end is a special one. As far as that goes, I owe a lot to Salzburg. On the other hand, the pressure has grown. It is enormous. And not from the outside. But from the inside.
Because everyone now expects the ultimate from you?
Not so much. Everyone expects that, always. And I give 100 percent every night - which is no problem when I know that people love me for it. But inside it sometimes looks different.
Let's return to Salzburg for a moment. After such an unusual work, it might be difficult to get into, let's say, an "ordinary" production. In other words, can happiness be repeated?
You are addressing a very important point for me. I think you can only find happiness if you don't look for it. And that applies to all areas of life. For example, when "Salome" is revived in the summer, I must on no account imitate what I did last year. It would be the biggest mistake. I must approach it with a new energy, with new ideas. If we try to repeat something beautiful, it's guaranteed not to work. Not in life. And not in art either. Let's take "Wozzeck" in Cologne. It was an extremely strong team: Ingo Kerkhof directed, Florian Boesch played Wozzeck. And that was extraordinary. It was grandiose.
Such experiences remain in the mind and body. Can you fade them out at some point?
That is unthinkable. Just as it is impossible for me to perform again in Prokofiev's "Fiery Angel". I sang Renata alongside Dmitri Hvorostovsky. When he died in November 2017, I knew I couldn't do it again. I have nothing more to say about this piece.
What does that mean for Salome? You will soon be embodying the character in New York.
It's a little different with "Salome." Yes, there's a new production at the Met, with Claus Guth. I love him as a director. I could also imagine the piece very well with Christof Loy.
Romeo Castellucci, Claus Guth, Christof Loy and also Peter Konwitschny: It seems you love playing with the guys from the Champions League!
Isn't that fantastic? I have - with few exceptions - always worked only with the best directors. That makes me very happy. And when I look at my calendar for the near future, I'm still happy.
You made your debut in 2000 in the Georgian Black Sea city of Batumi, as Desdemona. Didn't Desdemona come a bit early?
Oh, it was all right, it's a predominantly lyrical role. Far more dangerous was the role with which I made my debut at the Vilnius Opera House in 2004: Donna Anna in Mozart's "Don Giovanni. And right after that I sang Violetta Valéry.
Quite daring!
Yes, but Donna Anna was much more daring than Violetta. In general, I don't understand that, even in Lithuania, singing teachers think that you should sing Mozart at the beginning of your career. I think it is wrong, especially for bigger voices. Mozart should be sung only when one knows it very well. Before that, it is downright reckless, because you can ruin your voice. Mozart's music provokes all the wrong things you do as a student, whether as Donna Anna, Contessa or Donna Elvira.
What do you think is favorable for the beginning?
You can't say that as a general rule. It depends on the type of voice. For my own type, I would always say: bel canto is good. Even an aria like "Casta Diva" is better than Mozart.