RODA DE LEITURA ROSEANA MURRAY

A RODA DE LEITURA ROSEANA MURRAY RODA EM SUA 13ª. EDIÇÃO

Prof. Dr. Latuf Isaias Mucci

Depois de um breve interregno, devido à viagem à Espanha, aonde Roseana Murray fora conhecer seu primeiro neto, Luís, nascido em Granada, a Roda de Leitura voltou a girar, dia 23 de outubro do ano em curso, contando, então, com a presença, além dos professores e alunos das escolas municipais “Padre Manuel” (Bacaxá), “Elaine de Oliveira Coutinho” (Água Branca) e “Luciana Santa Coutinho” (Porto da Roça), com convidados especiais: a Profa. Rosângela Sivelli de Miranda, da Escola Municipal Barão Homem de Melo (Vila Isabel, Rio de Janeiro) e de professoras da Secretaria de Educação de São Gonçalo-RJ. Como em todas as edições, a Secretaria de Educação de Saquarema – promotora do evento, no que tange à convocação das Escolas, não arcando com as despesas de fotocópias e lanches, que ficam por conta da Anfitriã – fez-se presente pela Profa. Dodora e pelo Prof. Valdinei. Quem tem acesso às numerosas fotos tiradas da Roda dá-se conta da magnitude do encontro literário, que vai, a cada edição, retomando novos fôlegos e agregando mais pessoas, entusiasmadas com o projeto e sua ímpar realização. De fato, apenas Saquarema, e agora, Paraty, a partir do conhecimento do que se faz aqui, tem, em suas escolas municipais, uma “Roda de leitura”, que consta na grade curricular, com sala própria e não implicando provas, exames, notas. A iniciativa nasceu da proposta de Roseana Murray e das rodas de leitura, que têm acontecido, regularmente, em sua casa.
Pela primeira vez, Roseana manteve escancarados os portões de sua mansão a fim de, segundo ela, nos fazerem ver, o tempo todo, o mar e seu horizonte de ondas; também a música marítima nos chegava mais forte e acolhedora.
É fundamental a preparação da Roda de Leitura, quando Roseana escolhe os textos a serem lidos e comentados, bem como os acepipes a serem servidos aos convivas literários. Qual seria o conto desta 13ª. Roda de Leitura? Sempre sugiro um conto brasileiro e como já nos tínhamos debruçado sobre Machado de Assis (1839-1908), Cecília Meireles (1901-1964) e Clarice Lispector (1920-1977), indiquei Mário de Andrade (1893-1945), cujo conto “O peru de Natal” é absolutamente arrebatador.
Como de costume, Roseana Murray tomou um jornal para inaugurar aquela Roda, mas, ao invés de ler notícias sobre a leitura, apresentou um texto de Herta Muller, nascida na Romênia, de nacionalidade alemã, desconhecida do grande público e dos especialistas, embora ganhadora, este ano, do prêmio Nobel de Literatura , por "com a densidade da sua poesia e a franqueza da sua prosa, retratar o universo dos desapossados". Com tradução de Ingrid de Freitas, o texto, que mistura lirismo e imagnes de um estupendo surrealismo, “Varredores de rua” não pode classificar-se como conto, tendo, sobretudo, traços de poema em prosa: “(...) Caminho atrás de mim, caio fora de mim sobre as margens de minhas imaginações. O parque late ao meu lado. As corujas comem os beijos que ficaram sobre os bancos. As corujas não dão por minha presença. Os cansados e estafados sonhos acocoram-se nos arbustos. As vassouras varrem-me as costas porque me apoio muito na noite. Os varredores de rua varrem as estrelas formando uma pilha, varrem-nas sobre suas pás e as esvaziam no canal. (...) Agora, todos os varredores falam e misturam todas as ruas. Caminho através de seus gritos, através da espuma de seus chamados e quebro e caio na profundidade das significações. Dou passos grandes. Arranco minhas pernas com o andar. O caminho foi varrido para longe. As vassouras caem sobre mim. Tudo dá voltas sobre si. A cidade erra sobre o campo, para algum lugar”. À leitura, os presentes, extasiados com a poesia, foram fazendo conexões com outros textos, como “Tecendo a manhã”, do pernambucano João Cabral de Melo Neto (1920-1999) e Manu, romance do alemão Michael Ende (1929-1995). Todo professor representa um varredor de rua, na medida em que faz a linguagem sair do seu lugar e, nesse processo metonímico, leva os alunos a repensarem seu lugar, tanto na linguagem quanto no próprio mundo. No poema-em-prosa não há um centro, dado que as palavras-vassouras movem-se, removem as estrelas e encontram vestígios de beijos, roubados ou não. Com sua sedutora fragmentação, o texto de Herta Muller convoca seu leitor a recompor um todo, um todo móvel e comovente. As metáforas do texto criam uma atmosfera onírica, que envolve cada um de nós, errantes. Lembrei-me de um poema “O varredor”, lido em minha remotíssima infância, e que era da autoria de Dom Marcos Barbosa (1915-1997), monge beneditino mineiro, tradutor de O pequeno príncipe: “Varredor, que varres a tua/ tu varres o reino de Deus”.
Antes da leitura do conto, Roseana solicitou que eu fizesse breve apresentação de Mário de Andrade, de cuja obra me ocupo desde 2000, quando, na USP, desenvolvi pesquisa de pós-doutoramento em letras clássicas e vernáculas. Falei do autor de Macunaíma (1928) como se fala de uma pessoa a quem se ama muito e que se admira imensamente. Junto com a maresia, eu respirava e exalava alegria ao tratar, em rápidos traços, daquele que foi o protagonista da Semana de Arte Moderna, em São Paulo, em fevereiro de 1922; artista de 1001 instrumentos, que executou com excelência, Mário de Andrade emblema, para mim, o brasileiro, eruditíssimo e ligado às raízes populares, atento à sua nacionalidade e ao seu comprometimento para com um Brasil mais humano e mais digno dos brasileiros.
Considerado um conto-paradigma na literatura de língua portuguesa, o conto O peru de Natal foi lido como uma performance por Roseana Murray, que parecia uma atriz em um palco frente ao mar. Todos ríamos muito do humor, fino e cáustico, que impregna o texto todo, mas nenhuma gargalhada era mais gostosa do que a do Juan, nosso anfitrião, espanhol de nascimento, mas saquaremense de iure et de facto; com meus botões, eu me perguntava de como um espanhol poderia usufruir tão intensamente um texto, tramado em português lapidar. Jornalista internacional e escritor de vários best-sellers, Juan Arias terá algum parentesco com Mário de Andrade, também jornalista, por profissão. Juan dizia que o humor daquele conto não é óbvio, mas tem uma genial sutileza e uma saborosa sabedoria. A certa altura do gostosíssimo conto, por exemplo, Juca, o filho festivo, narra: “Comprou-se o peru, fez-se o peru, etc. E depois de uma Missa do Galo bem mal rezada, se deu o nosso mais maravilhoso Natal (...). Bom, principiou-se a comer em silêncio, lutuosos, e o peru estava perfeito. A carne mansa, de um tecido muito tênue boiava fagueira entre os sabores das farofas e do presunto, de vez em quando ferida, inquietada e redesejada, pela intervenção mais violenta da ameixa preta e o estorvo petulante dos pedacinhos de noz. Mas papai sentado ali, gigantesco, incompleto, uma censura, uma chaga, uma incapacidade. E o peru, estava tão gostoso, mamãe por fim sabendo que peru era manjar mesmo digno de Jesusinho nascido”.
Se texto puxa texto, conto puxa conto e vários dos participantes da Roda relembraram suas cenas de ceia de Natal em família. Roseana chamou a atenção para um elo entre o primeiro texto e o conto: lá, como cá, escreve-se em tempos de ditadura e o pai cinzento do conto pode figurar o ditador do regime comunista da Romênia: são milagres da ficção literária que faz com que textos se encontrem e se enlacem, abolindo fronteiras de tempo e espaço. Como pó, as palavras flutuam e vão pousar numa página em branco qualquer, que algum leitor – sabe-se lá onde e quando – há-de manusear. Considerado o louco da família, uma espécie de “menino maluquinho”, fiz notar que o narrador do conto remete ao próprio Mário de Andrade que, certa vez, foi taxado de louco pela família, pelo fato de ter comprado por um preço caríssimo a cabeça de um Cristo com trancinhas (um rastafári), esculpida pelo paulista Victor Brecheret (1894-1955); a partir do xingamento familiar, Mário pôde usufruir de sua condição de louco varrido. Na coleção particular de Mário de Andrade, conservada no IEB (Instituto de Estudos Brasileiros), da USP, pode-se contemplar esse Cristo-Bob Marley. Até porque o conto é bastante cênico, alguns participantes mencionaram filmes famosos, como A festa de Babete, dirigido, em 1987, pelo dinamarquês Gabriel Axel, baseado no romance homônimo de Izac Dinesen e Chocolate (2000), de Lasse Hallstrom. Falei de um outro conto, que tematiza uma festa em família – Festa de aniversário -, de Clarice Lispector; mas, contrariamente à alegria exuberante de “O peru de Natal”, o conto que trata do 85º. aniversário da matriarca tem tons nitidamente sombrios, lúgubres, céticos: a ironia demolidora de Clarice contrasta com a ironia inaugural de Mário de Andrade, que tem “felicidade clandestina”, “felicidade nova”, “felicidade maiúscula”.
Com tanto gosto pelo texto, passamos à farta mesa, onde protagonizavam bolos e pães recheados, feitos frescamente por Roseana, que sempre declara gostar mais de cozinhar do que de escrever. Mas, em sua cozinha, face ao Atlântico, ela também elabora poemas que rodam o mundo e fazem girar corações e mentes.
Será a Roda de Leitura um grande poema, composto por inúmeras e anônimas mãos.

GABRIEL LATUF, O PRÍNCIPE ANIVERSARIANTE

Gabriel, ou Gael, completa, hoje, três anos de pura felicidade e grandes travessuras. Saímos para comprar-lhe um par de tênis. No carro, em direção ao "Shopping", ele, subitamente, tomou minha mão direita e a beijou.

AD PERPETUAM REI MEMORIAM

meu querido mestre,
li, embevecido, seu resumo.
gosto do seu texto.
amo o seu discurso.
admiro o seu poder de síntese.
fico embasbacado com a sua erudição...
está perfeito...

Joel Cardoso/UFPA

PALÍNDROMO/TAUTOLOGIA

SABE O QUE É UM PALÍNDROMO? NÃO?! Um palíndromo é uma palavra ou um número que se lê da mesma maneira nos dois sentidos, normalmente, da esquerda para a direita e ao contrário.

Exemplos:
OVO, OSSO, RADAR.
O mesmo se aplica às frases, embora a coincidência seja tanto mais difícil de conseguir quanto maior a frase;
é o caso do conhecido:

SOCORRAM-ME, SUBI NO ONIBUS EM MARROCOS.

Diante do interesse pelo assunto (confesse, já leu a frase ao contrário), tomei a liberdade de seleccionar alguns dos melhores palíndromos da língua de Camões... Se souber de algum, acrescente e passe adiante.


ANOTARAM A DATA DA MARATONA

ASSIM A AIA IA A MISSA

A DIVA EM ARGEL ALEGRA-ME A VIDA

A DROGA DA GORDA

A MALA NADA NA LAMA

A TORRE DA DERROTA

LUZA ROCELINA, A NAMORADA DO MANUEL, LEU NA MODA DA ROMANA:
ANIL É COR AZUL

O CÉU SUECO

O GALO AMA O LAGO

O LOBO AMA O BOLO

O ROMANO ACATA AMORES A DAMAS AMADAS E ROMA ATACA O NAMORO

RIR, O BREVE VERBO RIR

A CARA RAJADA DA JARARACA

SAIRAM O TIO E OITO MARIAS

ZÉ DE LIMA RUA LAURA MIL E DEZ PROFUUUUUUNDO!
ISSO É QUE É CULTURA!!!!





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Sabem o que é TAUTOLOGIA?

É o termo usado para definir um dos vícios de linguagem.
Consiste na repetição de uma ideia, de maneira viciada, com palavras diferentes, mas com o mesmo sentido.
O exemplo clássico é o famoso 'subir para cima' ou o 'descer para baixo'.
Mas há outros, como pode ver na lista a seguir :


- elo de ligação
- acabamento final
- certeza absoluta
- quantia exacta
- nos dias 8, 9 e 10, inclusive
- juntamente com
- expressamente proibido
- em duas metades iguais
- sintomas indicativos
- há anos atrás
- vereador da cidade
- outra alternativa
- detalhes minuciosos
- a razão é porque
- anexo junto à carta
- de sua livre escolha
- superávit positivo
- todos foram unânimes
- conviver junto
- facto real
- encarar de frente
- multidão de pessoas
- amanhecer o dia
- criação nova
- retornar de novo
- empréstimo temporário
- surpresa inesperada
- escolha opcional
- planear antecipadamente
- abertura inaugural
- continua a permanecer
- a última versão definitiva
- possivelmente poderá ocorrer
- comparecer em pessoa
- gritar bem alto
- propriedade característica
- demasiadamente excessivo
- a seu critério pessoal
- exceder em muito

Note que todas essas repetições são dispensáveis.

Por exemplo, 'surpresa inesperada'.

Fique atento às expressões que utiliza no seu dia-a-dia.

ASSIM FALOU DRUMMOND

Se procurar bem você acaba encontrando.
Não a explicação (duvidosa) da vida,
Mas a poesia (inexplicável) da vida.

Procura da Poesia, Carlos Drummond de Andrade (1902-1987)

Não faças versos sobre acontecimentos.
Não há criação nem morte perante a poesia.
Diante dela, a vida é um sol estático,
não aquece nem ilumina.
As afinidades, os aniversários, os incidentes pessoais não contam.
Não faças poesia com o corpo,
esse excelente, completo e confortável corpo, tão infenso à efusão lírica.

Tua gota de bile, tua careta de gozo ou de dor no escuro
são indiferentes.
Nem me reveles teus sentimentos,
que se prevalecem do equívoco e tentam a longa viagem.
O que pensas e sentes, isso ainda não é poesia.

Não cantes tua cidade, deixa-a em paz.
O canto não é o movimento das máquinas nem o segredo das casas.
Não é música ouvida de passagem, rumor do mar nas ruas junto à linha de espuma.

O canto não é a natureza
nem os homens em sociedade.
Para ele, chuva e noite, fadiga e esperança nada significam.
A poesia (não tires poesia das coisas)
elide sujeito e objeto.

Não dramatizes, não invoques,
não indagues. Não percas tempo em mentir.
Não te aborreças.
Teu iate de marfim, teu sapato de diamante,
vossas mazurcas e abusões, vossos esqueletos de família
desaparecem na curva do tempo, é algo imprestável.

Não recomponhas
tua sepultada e merencória infância.
Não osciles entre o espelho e a
memória em dissipação.
Que se dissipou, não era poesia.
Que se partiu, cristal não era.

Penetra surdamente no reino das palavras.
Lá estão os poemas que esperam ser escritos.
Estão paralisados, mas não há desespero,
há calma e frescura na superfície intata.
Ei-los sós e mudos, em estado de dicionário.
Convive com teus poemas, antes de escrevê-los.
Tem paciência se obscuros. Calma, se te provocam.
Espera que cada um se realize e consume
com seu poder de palavra
e seu poder de silêncio.
Não forces o poema a desprender-se do limbo.
Não colhas no chão o poema que se perdeu.
Não adules o poema. Aceita-o
como ele aceitará sua forma definitiva e concentrada
no espaço.

Chega mais perto e contempla as palavras.
Cada uma
tem mil faces secretas sob a face neutra
e te pergunta, sem interesse pela resposta,
pobre ou terrível, que lhe deres:
Trouxeste a chave?

Repara:
ermas de melodia e conceito
elas se refugiaram na noite, as palavras.
Ainda úmidas e impregnadas de sono,
rolam num rio difícil e se transformam em desprezo.

"Inconstância", FLORBELA ESPANCA

Procurei o amor, que me mentiu.
Pedi à vida mais do que ela dava;
Eterna sonhadora edificava
Meu castelo de luz que me caiu!

Tanto clarão nas trevas refulgiu,
E tanto beijo a boca me queimava!
E era o sol que os longes deslumbrava
Igual a tanto sol que me fugiu!

Passei a vida a amar e a esquecer...
Atrás do sol dum dia outro a aquecer
As brumas dos atalhos por onde ando...

E este amor que assim me vai fugindo
É igual a outro amor que vai surgindo,
Que há-de partir também... nem eu sei quando...

Heráclito, frag.103.

"Princípio e fim se reúnem na circunferência do círculo".

JEAN GUITTON, DA ACADEMIA FRANCESA

"Ensinar é sempre escutar primeiro, pôr-se no lugar do outro, utilizar a sua linguagem, esquecer-se a si próprio. Depois, é também, falando para todos, tentar dirigir-se a alguém, é 'dizer algo a alguém'; e, com o desejo de 'educar' o seu público, abrir-lhe um horizonte até aí ignorado, fazer com que alcance perspectivas mais altas - a fim de que, tendo-vos escutado, o auditor esteja mais bem informado, mais apto a exercer a sua missão de homem."

A mãe da Praia de Botafogo, Maria Clara

A mãe da Praia de Botafogo

A mãe de mármore branco,
em volta assentam-se os bancos,
fica exposta na praça.

Lá, contemplam os pássaros
os meninos aninhados
em seios frios e aconchegantes.

O leite é de um tempo congelado e distante.

Os meninos de rua
sem marquise ou telhado
todos ali se encontram
nos braços roliços da estátua
de imaculado mármore branco.



24/10/2009

INSÔNIA DICIONARÍSTICA

Se há uma coisa que me tira, literalmente, o sono, são os verbetes que venho compondo para o EDTL (Eletrônico Dicionário de Termos Literários"), organizado por Carlos Ceia, da Universidade Nova de Lisboa. Tenho paixão por dicionários, que, desde minha mais tenra infância, consulto e leio, como se fossem romances. Na revista "Matraga", da UERJ, li, certa vez, um ensaio belíssimo "Alegoria", assinado pelo professor português, que anunciava a edição de um dicionário de termos literários. Desde aquele longínquo ano de 2000, comecei a procurar, ansiosamemente, o tal dicionário, que vim a encontrar "online" e de que me tornei o mais fecundo colaborador. Adoro escrever meus verbetes e até penso em me aponsentar para dedicar-me 25hs, ao dia, à fatura de entradas. Noite passada, tive aquela que, no conto "Peru de Natal", o nosso amoroso Mário de Andrade (1893-1945) chama de "insõnia feliz"; eu não conseguia dormir, porque me rodopiava na imaginação, na memória, na razão, um verbete que quero tecer: "fragmento". Levantei-me da cama incômoda e tracei algumas linhas, alguns fragmentos, algumas idéias do que virá a ser o meu novo verbete, sonho que me acorda e me faz feliz. Muito em breve, hei de ver-me, fragmetária e totalmente, em mais um verbete "online".

FESTIVAL CARIOCA DE POESIA

www.grupopoesiasimplesmente.blogspot.com

METAPHOR REVISITED

Sempre soube que a expressão "céu da boca" constitui uma catacrese, vale dizer, uma metáfora desagastada ou, como digo a meus alunos, uma metáfora esclerosada. Ontem (já foi ontem, pois agora já é madrugada), minha dentista carioca, Ingrid, disse-me, feliz e garbosa, que tenho um céu da boca profundo. Viva a metáfora rediviva!

LA ABUELITA MARGARITA, CURANDERA, GUARDIANA DE LA SABIDURÍA MAYA

Cuando necesito algo, me lo pido a mí misma

Tengo 71 años. Nací en el campo, en el estado de Jalisco (México), y vivo en la montaña. Soy viuda, tengo dos hijas y dos nietos de mis hijas, pero tengo miles con los que he podido aprender el amor sin apego. Nuestro origen es la madre tierra y el padre sol. He venido a la Fira de la Terra para recordarles lo que hay dentro de cada uno.
-¿Dónde vamos tras esta vida?

-¡Huy hija mía, al disfrute! La muerte no existe. La muerte simplemente es dejar el cuerpo físico, si quieres.
-¿Cómo que si quieres...?

-Te lo puedes llevar. Mi bisabuela era chichimeca, me crié con ella hasta los 14 años, era una mujer prodigiosa, una curandera, mágica, milagrosa. Aprendí mucho de ella.
-Ya se la ve a usted sabia, abuela.

-El poder del cosmos, de la tierra y del gran espíritu está ahí para todos, basta tomarlo. Los curanderos valoramos y queremos mucho los cuatro elementos (fuego, agua, aire y tierra), los llamamos abuelos. La cuestión es que estaba una vez en España cuidando de un fuego, y nos pusimos a charlar.
-¿Con quién?

-Con el fuego. "Yo estoy en ti", me dijo. "Ya lo sé", respondí. "Cuando decidas morir retornarás al espíritu, ¿por qué no te llevas el cuerpo?", dijo. "¿Cómo lo hago?", pregunté.
-Interesante conversación.

-"Todo tu cuerpo está lleno de fuego y también de espíritu -me dijo-, ocupamos el cien por cien dentro de ti. El aire son tus maneras de pensar y ascienden si eres ligero. De agua tenemos más del 80%, que son los sentimientos y se evaporan. Y tierra somos menos del 20%, ¿qué te cuesta cargar con eso?".
-¿Y para qué quieres el cuerpo?

-Pues para disfrutar, porque mantienes los cinco sentidos y ya no sufres apegos. Ahora mismo están aquí con nosotras los espíritus de mi marido y de mi hija.
-Hola.

-El muertito más reciente de mi familia es mi suegro, que se fue con más de 90 años. Tres meses antes de morir decidió el día. "Si se me olvida -nos dijo-, me lo recuerdan". Llegó el día y se lo recordamos. Se bañó, se puso ropa nueva y nos dijo: "Ahora me voy a descansar". Se tumbó en la cama y murió.

Eso mismo le puedo contar de mi bisabuela, de mis padres, de mis tías...
-Y usted, abuela, ¿cómo quiere morir?

-Como mi maestro Martínez Paredes, un maya poderoso. Se fue a la montaña: "Al anochecer vengan a por mi cuerpo". Se le oyó cantar todo el día y cuando fueron a buscarle la tierra estaba llena de pisaditas. Así quiero yo morirme, danzando y cantando. ¿Sabe lo que hizo mi papá?
-¿Qué hizo?

-Una semana antes de morir se fue a recoger sus pasos. Recorrió los lugares que amaba y a la gente que amaba y se dio el lujo de despedirse. La muerte no es muerte, es el miedo que tenemos al cambio. Mi hija me está diciendo: "Habla de mí", así que le voy a hablar de ella.
-Su hija, ¿también decidió morir?

-Sí. Hay mucha juventud que no puede realizarse, y nadie quiere vivir sin sentido.
-¿Qué merece la pena?

-Cuando miras a los ojos y dejas entrar al otro en ti y tú entras en el otro y te haces uno. Esa relación de amor es para siempre, ahí no hay hastío. Debemos entender que somos seres sagrados, que la tierra es nuestra madre y el sol nuestro padre. Hasta hace bien poquito los huicholes no aceptaban escrituras de propiedad de la tierra. "¿Cómo voy a ser propietario de la madre tierra?", decían.
-Aquí la tierra se explota, no se venera.

-¡La felicidad es tan sencilla!, consiste en respetar lo que somos, y somos tierra, cosmos y gran espíritu. Y cuando hablamos de la madre tierra, también hablamos de la mujer que debe ocupar su lugar de educadora.
-¿Cuál es la misión de la mujer?

-Enseñar al hombre a amar. Cuando aprendan, tendrán otra manera de comportarse con la mujer y con la madre tierra. Debemos ver nuestro cuerpo como sagrado y saber que el sexo es un acto sagrado, esa es la manera de que sea dulce y nos llene de senti-do. La vida llega a través de ese acto de amor. Si banalizas eso, ¿qué te queda? Devolverle el poder sagrado a la sexualidad cambia nuestra actitud ante la vida. Cuando la mente se une al corazón todo es posible. Yo quiero decirle algo a todo el mundo...
-...

-Que pueden usar el poder del gran espíritu en el momento que quieran. Cuando entiendes quién eres, tus pensamientos se hacen realidad. Yo, cuando necesito algo, me lo pido a mí misma. Y funciona.
-Hay muchos creyentes que ruegan a Dios, y Dios no les concede.

-Porque una cosa es ser limosnero y otra, ordenarte a ti mismo, saber qué es lo que necesitas. Muchos creyentes se han vuelto dependientes, y el espíritu es totalmente libre; eso hay que asumirlo. Nos han enseñado a adorar imágenes en lugar de adorarnos a nosotros mismos y entre nosotros.
-Mientras no te empaches de ti mismo.

-Debemos sutilizar nuestra sombra, ser más ligeros, afinar las capacidades, entender. Entonces es fácil curar, tener telepatía y comunicarse con los otros, las plantas, los animales. Si decides vivir todas tus capacidades para hacer el bien, la vida es deleite.
-¿Desde cuándo lo sabe?

-Momentos antes de morir mi hija me dijo: "Mamá, carga tu sagrada pipa, tienes que compartir tu sabiduría y vas a viajar mucho. No temas, yo te acompañaré". Yo vi con mucho asombro como ella se incorporaba al cosmos. Experimenté que la muerte no existe. El horizonte se amplió y las percepciones perdieron los límites, por eso ahora puedo verla y escucharla, ¿lo cree posible?
-Sí.

-Mis antepasados nos dejaron a los abuelos la custodia del conocimiento: "Llegará el día en que se volverá a compartir en círculos abiertos". Creo que ese tiempo ha llegado.

RICHARDSON VALLE

LATUFAMADO,
aabei de chegar em CASA, CABO FRIO, depois de 40 dias,
num profundo mergulho ESPIRITUAL NOS ANDES PERUANOS.
LATUFAMADO, falei muito de você, de nosso AMOR, do quanto
você é um SER ESPECIALÍSSIMO, "GUIA, GURU, CONSELHEIRO,
ORIENTADOR de seus alunos, que o AMAM à ponto de imita-lo,
em roupas, atitudes e trejeitos.
LATUFAMADO, minha despedida de CUSCO, foi no tradicionálissimo CLUB DE QOSQO, numa LINDA reunião,
com escritores, poetas, músicos, cantores e cantoras, uma reunião onde as artes ACONTECERAM, AO VIVO E À CORES!!!
Quanto ao livro citado, o autor só pode(póstumamente) se sentir honrado com sua GENEROSIDADE.
Beijos SAUDOSOS.
Richardson Valle
PAZ, LUZ, AMOR
VIVER SIMPLES
UNIÃO

ARIANA ANDRADE

“Deus” virtual

Como sabemos, o blog não é um gênero textual. O blog serve como um veículo de comunicação entre autor e leitor. Antes da era da internet, os autores com idéia de revolucionar o cenário literário, buscavam participar ativamente da publicação de seus exemplares e ousavam aproximar-se mais dos leitores. Para isso hoje existem os blogs. O blog que analisarei aqui foi um presente de uma amiga para o seu autor. No início ele não se interessava muito pelo assunto, mas depois acabou se rendendo a essa nova tecnologia.
O blog do Professor Latuf é um veículo simples e de fácil acesso. Composto por textos dele e daqueles que comungam do desejo de escrever. Seu blog é apresentado pelo amigo Juan Arias que é casado com sua também amiga Rosane Murray. Vejo-o como uma espécie de diário entre amigos. Latuf escreve, seus amigos escrevem e juntos nos proporcionam alguns minutos mágicos e de sabedoria com suas mensagens. Mensagens essas que algumas vezes narram acontecimentos de sua vida: uma viagem ou casamento de uma grande amiga. Outras vezes são textos que auxiliam a nós, pobres iniciantes no ramo literário a alçar vôos maiores.
As mensagens do blog nem sempre são atualizadas diariamente. Como o próprio Latuf disse, ele só escreve quando tem vontade e por prazer. Ler o seu blog é ter a oportunidade de mergulhar um pouquinho em seu mundo. É deixar-se embriagar pela literatura. É estar próximo dele ainda que a quilômetros de distância.
Latuf é amado por seus alunos e a prova disso é que antes mesmo de terminar a graduação, eu já ouvia falar dele, de seu blog e de sua carreira como professor. Para mim ele era um mito, uma espécie de “deus” que fora cultuado por meus mestres na graduação Rodrigo Araújo e Luiz Guaracy. Hoje, para mim, ele continua sendo um mito, só que muito mais real do que eu imaginava, de carne, osso, espírito e acima de tudo sensível e simples. Latuf é para mim através de seu blog um “deus” virtual.

DUST IN THE WIND

I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind.
Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind

[Now] Don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy.

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind.

VITÓRIA-CUPIDO

Vitorinha acaba de colher, no jasmineiro-do-cabo, logo à entrada do jardim de sua casa, uma for, que ela oferece ao Guto - o parafinado cachorro familiar - e, amorosa, me diz: "Vô, é para ele dar para a namorada dele". A namorada do Guto, Vitorinha, chama-se Ciociolina e mora na casa do vizinho, informei à menina-Cupído.

LULI OSWALD, POR CONSTANÇA T.

Olá
Foi com surpresa que encontrei seu Blog comentando estórias de minha mãe...algumas verdadeiras outras nem tanto.
Vou tentar ajudar com alguns fatos:
Desde pequena sempre soubemos sobre o Rubinstein..eu tinha inclusive retrato dele com dedicatória. A mãe era o mistério que finalmente veio a tona..claro minha avó Mimma já tinha falecido e o assunto foi abordado mais abertamente.Uma princesa italiana que ficou grávida de um desconhecido pianista polones e judeu..Imagine minha avó Mimma Oswald Marchesini toda católica e sempre na Igreja se aceitaria falar sobre esse "infeliz deslize' de uma italiana nobre com um judeu.Ela que afirmava que os judeus mataram Jesus..(sem mencionar que ele era tbm) rsrsrsrrsrs
Nunca...foi atravéz de uma carta de meu avô Eduardo Marchesini que tive a certeza com todas as letras, nomes e sobrenomes.
Mais tarde um livro foi publicado sobre a vida de Rubisntein e seu nome aparece como uma das filhas pelo mundo. Existe outro lá no México. Esse livro ainda existe.
Na verdade o nome da mamãe seria Marie Luize Thereze, filha do pecado, do amor, da loucura e da paixão rápida do sr.Rubinstein.
Recebida por Henrique Oswald e entregue ao jovem casal que não conseguiam ter filhos...alí foi criada tocando piano lindamente desde mto pequena.Com apenas 5 anos de idade deu um concerto..tinha o talento do pai..diziam.
A mãe verdadeira foi bastante esquecida por muito tempo, ninguem falava dela afinal era uma familia de músicos..
Soube que tinha cabelos 1/2 ruivos, gostava de uma noitada e se casou 2 vezes sempre corretamente ou seja com outros nobres.
Mas na Italia quase todo mundo é nobre, inclusive o vovô Eduardo Marchesini..(Marquês).
Saquarema para minha mãe era uma paixão..pequenas obras tbm.
Marcia que é comentada em seu Blog, teve o acidente a caminho de lá..e devido a gravidade e sérias lesões cerebrais foi morar ali em vez de ficar internada em alguma clinica psiquiatrica. Teve liberdade, a própria casa e bicicleta para ir e vir.
Se divertiu como pode.
Realmente foi lá que mamãe faleceu.. Marcia veio ao R.J pega-la pois achava mais saudável, que ficar em um apartamento pequeno na Glória (perto do Municipal e Sala Cecilia Meireles claro..) para se recuperar de uma cirurgia a contra gosto de todos.. é..infelismente mamãe adorava uma doença..médicos, cirurgias, remédios, artigos médicos, etc. Uma pena.
Quase todos nós filhos fomos obrigados a fazer operações de ependice, amidalas, etc.
A estória do ET eu sempre brinquei sobre a carona que pegou no dia do acontecimento..pois era um amigo de meus irmãos que fumava muita maconha, mas muita e deve ter fumado dentro do carro sem ela saber o que era..O efeito com certeza alterou a percepção e "entrou na onda" do garotão vendo coisas, etc..
Porque ela seria abduzida??Os dois por horas??
Não acredito..mesmo. Confio mais no poder da maconha alí..ahhh!
Ou talvez uma fase..minha mãe passou por várias.
Desde tocar seriamente o seu piano, atravessando o mundo para Concertos à cuidar de seus cachorros Yorkshire no Alto da Boa Vista. Queria um canil e largou o piano.
Artistas são excentricos eu sei..vivi com eles e observava as loucuras tipo entrar em uma loja e comprar um carro para cada filho.Tipo..internar os filhos sendo o menor com 2 anos de idade com babá contratada na escola britanica de Teresópolis..um frio!
Tipo não me deixar entrar (proibir) em seu apartamento porque iria arruma-lo e ela adorava uma bagunça que só ela entendia.
Sim, ela amava o Japão, a Europa e o Texas.Foi anos jurada do Concurso Van Claiburn. Nos ensinou o amor a viagens, a musica classica e a linguas estrangeiras.Em casa muitas vezes conversava em frances ou italiano. Era muito agradavel como pessoa mas mãe ausente..por seu trabalho, coisas que crianças nem sempre entendem.Como pianista e concertista era o máximo; assisti no Theatro Municipal um lindo concerto com orquestra em que ela foi ovacionada em pé! foi bárbaro.
Parece que voce mora em Saquarema;acho essa terra linda mas não nos trouxe sorte. Foi aí que mamãe, Marcia e Tony faleceram..eu resisto o máximo em ir.
Obrigada por seu Blog...acho que ela ficaria muito contente em ler!
Mil desculpas pelo portugues mas foi uma das suas excentricidades, nos mudava de escola diversas vezes e em paises diferentes..claro!
Abraços

Constança T.

Com certeza..pode divulgar o que achar necessário e te divirta.
Ahh lembrei que minha verdadeira avó, mãe da mamãe se chamava Paola era tbm Viggiano, Medici e Boufremont ..não sei em que ordem e se antes ou depois dos casamentos.. a linhagem é tão complicada e longa..começam na Sicilia no ano 900 e pouco, passam pela França, Belgica, etc.
Me lembro que (escutei) largou o marido para fugir com o Rubinstein..imagina que escandalo?? Considerada uma louca por fazer isso.Ele era um Zé Ninguem..polones sem futuro..
Casada e fugindo grávida de outro?????? Pois é..e tinha que vir para o Brasil rsrsrs tantos outros locais ótimos no mundo.
Soube que no fim da vida estava vivendo com dificuldades em Paris, e trabalhou anos com Madame Grés.
Eu pessoalmente adoraria te-la conhecido..tinha coragem e determinação a avó princesa.Deve ter sofrido em deixar sua filhinha com estranhos. Parece que tentou pegar mamãe de volta e não entregaram. Um drama.
As fotos da mamãe em pequena são engraçadas pq ela alí loirissima e toda linda no meio de um casal italiano de cabelos negros. A vovó Mimma era uma "carrrasca"..
As vezes tenho vontade de pesquisar em Florença sobre a familia, conhecer uns primos, casa, etc. Na Belgica ela ia..a Chimay
( Principado) visitar seus primos.
Posso mostrar muitas fotos no Orkut ou FaceBook caso vc tenha me adicione.
Mudando de assunto..
Minas é um paraíso, costumo dizer que alí tenho sido educada.
A maneira e jeitinho que vcs falam são diferentes.
Diplomatas natos...minha fazendola fica em Bocaina de Minas, conhece? Ah e as montanhas, ar e agua???
Sem falar na delicadeza e acolhimento do povo mineiro.
Tenho um amigo que ama Saquarema..se chama Mauro Pontes, cozinha divinamente além de ser agradabilíssimo...Conhece?
Está sempre por aí..com a irmã.
Abraços
P.S: Não..nunca me divorciei na Inglaterra infelismente rsrsr e nunca tiveram o "bom tom " em me deixar viúva (aqui mesmo no Brasil..Vara de Familia) ...ahhhhhhhhhhhh eu seria uma viuva alegre! kkkk

SALMÃO À NOSTRA

Salmão à nostra
Receita com o saboroso peixe de carne macia apresenta um toque especial com limão e alecrim
Por: Fernando Moreira


O salmão é um peixe de carne tenra e muito saborosa, que tem baixa porcentagem de gordura. Dizem as más línguas que a carne de salmão, quando bem preparada, tem somente um defeito, mas muito grave: vicia. Confira a receita:

Ingredientes
- 220g de salmão

- Molho
- Suco de ½ limão
- 30g de cebola picada
- 1 ramo de alecrim fresco
- 50g de manteiga
- 20g de shoyu

- Purê
- 120g de mandioquinha
- 200ml de caldo de carne
- 15g de bacon
- 10g de cebola

Modo de preparo
• Tempere o salmão com sal e pimenta a gosto e ponha para grelhar;

- Molho
• Para o molho, esquente a manteiga numa frigideira e use-a para dourar a cebola;
• Acrescente o alecrim e o suco de limão e deixe refogar;
• Adicione o shoyu e deixe ferver por cerca de um minuto;

- Purê
• Frite o bacon e a cebola, até dourar;
• Junte a mandioquinha cortada em rodelas finas e refogue, acrescentando o caldo de carne;
• Deixe a mandioquinha cozinhar e coloque-a no liquidificador junto com o caldo;
• Bata a mistura até obter um purê com a consistência desejada;

Montagem do prato
• Com o salmão dourado, despeje o molho e sirva com o purê ao lado.

MARIA CALLAS, THE SOPRANO

Maria Callas (Greek: Μαρία Κάλλας) (December 2, 1923 – September 16, 1977) was an American-born Greek soprano and one of the most renowned opera singers of the twentieth century. She combined an impressive bel canto technique with great dramatic gifts. An extremely versatile singer, her repertoire ranged from classical opera seria to the bel canto operas of Donizetti, Bellini, and Rossini; further, to the works of Verdi and Puccini; and, in her early career, the music dramas of Wagner. Her remarkable musical and dramatic talents led to her being hailed as La Divina.

Born in New York City and raised by an overbearing mother, she received her musical education in Greece and established her career in Italy. Forced to deal with the exigencies of wartime poverty and with myopia that left her nearly blind on stage, she endured struggles and scandal over the course of her career. She turned herself from a heavy woman into a svelte and glamorous one after a mid-career weight loss, which might have contributed to her vocal decline and the premature end of her career. The press exulted in publicizing Callas's allegedly temperamental behavior, her supposed rivalry with Renata Tebaldi, and her love affair with Aristotle Onassis. Her dramatic life and personal tragedy have often overshadowed Callas the artist in the popular press. Her artistic achievements, however, were such that Leonard Bernstein called her "The Bible of opera",[1] and her influence so enduring that, in 2006, Opera News wrote of her, "Nearly thirty years after her death, she's still the definition of the diva as artist—and still one of classical music's best-selling vocalists."[2]

Early life
According to her birth certificate, Maria Callas was born Sophia Cecelia Kalos[3] at Flower Hospital in Manhattan on December 2, 1923[4] to Greek parents George Kalogeropoulos and Evangelia "Litsa" (sometimes "Litza") Dimitriadou, though she was christened Maria Anna Sofia Cecilia Kalogeropoulou – the genitive of the patronymic Kalogeropoulos – (Greek: Μαρία Άννα Σοφία Καικιλία Καλογεροπούλου). Callas's father shortened the surname Kalogeropoulos first to "Kalos" and subsequently to "Callas" in order to make it more manageable.[3]

[edit] Family life, childhood, and move to Greece
George and Evangelia were an ill-matched couple from the beginning; he was easy-going and unambitious, with no interest in the arts, while his wife was vivacious, socially ambitious, and had held dreams of a life in the arts for herself.[3] The situation was aggravated by George's philandering and was improved neither by the birth of a daughter named Yakinthi (later called Jackie) in 1917 nor the birth of a son named Vassilis in 1920. Vassilis's death from meningitis in Summer 1922 dealt another blow to the marriage. In 1923, after realizing that Evangelia was pregnant again, George made the unilateral decision to move his family to America, a decision which Yakinthi recalled was greeted with Evangelia "shouting hysterically" followed by George "slamming doors".[3] The family left for America in July 1923 and settled in the Astoria neighborhood in the borough of Queens.

Evangelia was convinced that her third child would be a boy; she was so disappointed by the birth of another daughter that she refused to even look at her new baby for four days.[3] Around age three, Maria's musical talents began to manifest themselves, and after Evangelia discovered that her youngest daughter also had a voice, she began pressuring "Mary" to sing. Callas would later recall, "I was made to sing when I was only five, and I hated it."[3] George was unhappy with his wife favoring their elder daughter as well as the pressure put upon young Mary to sing and perform.[5] The marriage continued to deteriorate and in 1937 Evangelia decided to return to Athens with her two daughters.[3]

Deteriorating relationship with mother
Callas's relationship with Evangelia continued to erode during the years in Greece, and in the prime of her career, it became a matter of great public interest, especially after a 1956 cover story in Time magazine which focused on this relationship and later, by Evangelia's book My Daughter – Maria Callas. In public, Callas blamed the strained relationship with Evangelia on her unhappy childhood spent singing and working at her mother's insistence, saying,

My sister was slim and beautiful and friendly, and my mother always preferred her. I was the ugly duckling, fat and clumsy and unpopular. It is a cruel thing to make a child feel ugly and unwanted... I'll never forgive her for taking my childhood away. During all the years I should have been playing and growing up, I was singing or making money. Everything I did for them was mostly good and everything they did to me was mostly bad.[6]

In 1957, she told Norman Ross, "Children should have a wonderful childhood. I have not had it – I wish I had."[7] On the other hand, biographer Pestalis-Diomidis asserts that it was actually Evangelia's hateful treatment of George in front of their young children which led to resentment and dislike on Callas's part.[3] However, according to Callas' husband and her close friend Giulietta Simionato, Callas related to them that her mother, who did not work, pressured her to "go out with various men", mainly Italian and German soldiers, to bring home money and food during the Axis occupation of Greece during World War II. Simionato was convinced that Callas "managed to remain untouched", but Callas never forgave Evangelia for what she perceived as a kind of prostitution forced on her by her mother.[3] In an attempt to patch things up with her mother, Callas took Evangelia along on her first visit to Mexico in 1950, but this only reawakened the old frictions and resentments, and after leaving Mexico, the two never met again.[8] After a series of angry and accusatory letters from Evangelia lambasting Callas's father and husband, Callas ceased communication with her mother altogether.[8]
Education
Callas received her musical education in Athens. Initially, her mother tried to enroll her at the prestigious Athens Conservatoire, without success. At the audition, her voice, still untrained, failed to impress, while the conservatoire's director Filoktitis Oikonomidis refused to accept her without her satisfying the theoretic prerequisites (solfege). In the summer of 1937, her mother visited Maria Trivella at the younger Greek National Conservatoire, asking her to take Mary as a student for a modest fee. In 1957, Trivella recalled her impression of "Mary, a very plump young girl, wearing big glasses for her myopia":

The tone of the voice was warm, lyrical, intense; it swirled and flared like a flame and filled the air with melodious reverberations like a carillon. It was by any standards an amazing phenomenon, or rather it was a great talent that needed control, technical training, and strict discipline in order to shine with all its brilliance.[3]

Trivella agreed to tutor Callas completely, waiving her tuition fees, but no sooner had Callas started her formal lessons and vocal exercises than Trivella began to feel that Mary was not a contralto, as she had been told, but a dramatic soprano. Subsequently, they began working on raising the tessitura of Mary's voice and to lighten its timbre.[3] Trivella recalled Mary as "A model student. Fanatical, uncompromising, dedicated to her studies heart and soul. Her progress was phenomenal. She studied five or six hours a day. ...Within six months, she was singing the most difficult arias in the international opera repertoire with the utmost musicality".[3] On April 11, 1938, in her public debut, Callas ended the recital of Trivella's class at the Parnassos music hall with a duet from Tosca.[3] Callas recalled that Trivella "had a French method, which was placing the voice in the nose, rather nasal... and I had the problem of not having low chest tones, which is essential in bel canto... And that's where I learned my chest tones."[9] However, when interviewed by Pierre Desgraupes on the French program L'Invitee Du Dimanche, Callas attributed the development of her chest voice not to Trivella, but to her next teacher, the well-known Spanish coloratura soprano Elvira de Hidalgo.[10]

Callas studied with Trivella for two years before her mother secured another audition at the Athens Conservatoire with de Hidalgo. Callas auditioned with "Ocean, Thou Mighty Monster." De Hidalgo recalled hearing "tempestuous, extravagant cascades of sounds, as yet uncontrolled but full of drama and emotion".[3] She agreed to take her as a pupil immediately, but Callas's mother asked de Hidalgo to wait for a year, as Callas would be graduating from the National Conservatoire and could begin working. On April 2, 1939, Callas undertook the part of Santuzza in a student production of Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana at the Olympia Theater, and in the fall of the same year she enrolled at the Athens Conservatoire in Elvira de Hidalgo's class.[3]

De Hidalgo would later recall Callas as "a phenomenon... She would listen to all my students, sopranos, mezzos, tenors... She could do it all."[11] Callas herself said that she would go to "the conservatoire at 10 in the morning and leave with the last pupil ... devouring music" for 10 hours a day. When asked by her teacher why she did this, her answer was that even "with the least talented pupil, he can teach you something that you, the most talented, might not be able to do."[12]

Early operatic career in Greece

Maria Callas with her teacherAfter several appearances as a student, Callas began appearing in secondary roles at the Greek National Opera. De Hidalgo was instrumental in securing roles for her, allowing Callas to earn a small salary, which would help her and her family get through the difficult war years.[3]

Callas made her professional debut in February 1942 in the small role of Beatrice in Franz von Suppé's Boccaccio.[3] Soprano Galatea Amaxopoulous, who sang in the chorus, later recalled, "Even in rehearsal, Mary's fantastic performing ability had been obvious, and from then on, the others started trying to find ways of preventing her from appearing."[3] Fellow singer Maria Alkeou similarly recalled that the established sopranos Nafiska Galanou and Anna (Zozó) Remmoundou "used to stand in the wings while Mary was singing and make remarks about her, muttering, laughing, and point their fingers at her".[3] Despite these hostilities, Callas managed to continue and made her debut in a leading role in August 1942 as Tosca, going on to sing the role of Marta in Eugen d'Albert's Tiefland at the Olympia Theater. Callas's performance as Marta received glowing reviews. Critic Spanoudi declared Callas "an extremely dynamic artist possessing the rarest dramatic and musical gifts", and Vangelis Mangliveras evaluated Callas's performance for the weekly To Radiophonon:

The singer who took the part of Marta, that new star in the Greek firmament, with a matchless depth of feeling, gave a theatrical interpretation well up to the standard of a tragic actress. About her exceptional voice with its astonishing natural fluency, I do not wish to add anything to the words of Alexandra Lalaouni: 'Kaloyeropoulou is one of those God-given talents that one can only marvel at.'[3]

Following these performances, even Callas's detractors began to refer to her as "The God-Given".[3] Some time later, watching Callas rehearse Fidelio, rival soprano Remoundou asked a colleague, "Could it be that there is something divine and we haven't realized it?"[3] Following Tiefland, Callas sang the role of Santuzza in Cavalleria Rusticana again and followed it with O Protomastoras at the ancient Odeon of Herodes Atticus theater at the foot of the Acropolis.

During August and September 1944, Callas performed the role of Leonore in a Greek language production of Beethoven's Fidelio, again at the Odeon of Herodus Atticus.[3] German critic Friedrich Herzog, who witnessed the performances, declared Leonore Callas's "greatest triumph":[3]

When Maria Kaloyeropoulou's Leonore let her soprano soar out radiantly in the untrammeled jubilation of the duet, she rose to the most sublime heights.... Here she gave bud, blossom, and fruit to that harmony of sound that also ennobled the art of the prima donne.[3]

After the liberation of Greece, de Hidalgo advised Callas to establish herself in Italy. Callas proceeded to give a series of concerts around Greece, and then, against her teacher's advice, she returned to America to see her father and to further pursue her career. When she left Greece on September 14, 1945, two months short of her 22nd birthday, Callas had given 56 performances in seven operas and had appeared in around 20 recitals.[3] Callas considered her Greek career as the foundation of her musical and dramatic upbringing, saying, "When I got to the big career, there were no surprises for me."[13]

Main operatic career
After returning to the United States and reuniting with her father in September 1945, Callas made the round of auditions.[3] In December of that year, she auditioned for Edward Johnson, general manager of the Metropolitan Opera, and was favorably received: "Exceptional voice—ought to be heard very soon on stage".[3] Callas maintained that the Met offered her Madama Butterfly and Fidelio, to be performed in Philadelphia and sung in English, both of which she declined, feeling she was too fat for Butterfly and did not like the idea of opera in English.[13] Although no written evidence of this offer exists in the Met's records,[8] in a 1958 interview with The New York Post, Johnson corroborated Callas's story: "We offered her a contract, but she didn't like it—because of the contract, not because of the roles. She was right in turning it down—it was frankly a beginner's contract."[3]

Italy, Meneghini, and Serafin

The Villa in Sirmione that Callas lived with Giovan Battista Meneghini in between 1950 and 1959.In 1946, Callas was engaged to re-open the opera house in Chicago as Turandot, but the company folded before opening. Basso Nicola Rossi-Lemeni, who also was to star in this opera, was aware that Tullio Serafin was looking for a dramatic soprano to cast as La Gioconda at the Arena di Verona. He would later recall the young Callas as being "amazing—so strong physically and spiritually; so certain of her future. I knew in a big outdoor theater like Verona's, this girl, with her courage and huge voice, would make a tremendous impact."[14] Subsequently he recommended Callas to retired tenor and impresario Giovanni Zenatello. During her audition, Zenatello became so excited that he jumped up and joined Callas in the Act 4 duet.[5] It was in this role that Callas made her Italian debut.

Upon her arrival in Verona, Callas met Giovanni Battista Meneghini, an older, wealthy industrialist, who began courting her. They married in 1949, and he assumed control of her career until 1959, when the marriage dissolved. It was Meneghini's love and support that gave Callas the time needed to establish herself in Italy,[14] and throughout the prime of her career, she went by the name Maria Meneghini Callas.

After La Gioconda, Callas had no further offers, and when Serafin, looking for someone to sing Tristan und Isolde, called on her, she told him that she already knew the score, even though she had looked at only the first act out of curiosity while at the conservatory.[13] She sight-read the opera's second act for Serafin, who praised her for knowing the role so well, whereupon she admitted to having bluffed and having sight-read the music.[13] Even more impressed, Serafin immediately cast her in the role.[13] Serafin thereafter served as Callas's mentor and supporter.

According to Lord Harewood, "Very few Italian conductors have had a more distinguished career than Tullio Serafin, and perhaps none, apart from Toscanini, more influence".[12] In 1968, Callas would recall that working with Serafin was the "really lucky" opportunity of her career, because "he taught me that there must be an expression; that there must be a justification. He taught me the depth of music, the justification of music. That's where I really really drank all I could from this man".[9]

I Puritani and path to bel canto
The great turning point in Callas's career occurred in Venice in 1949.[15] She was engaged to sing the role of Brünnhilde in Die Walküre at the Teatro la Fenice, when Margherita Carosio, who was engaged to sing Elvira in I Puritani in the same theater, fell ill. Unable to find a replacement for Carosio, Maestro Serafin told Callas that she would be singing Elvira in six days; when Callas protested that she not only did not know the role, but also had three more Brünnhildes to sing, he told her "I guarantee that you can."[12] In Michael Scott's words, "the notion of any one singer embracing music as divergent in its vocal demands as Wagner's Brünnhilde and Bellini's Elvira in the same career would have been cause enough for surprise; but to attempt to essay them both in the same season seemed like folie de grandeur".[8] Before the performance actually took place, one incredulous critic would snort, "We hear that Serafin has agreed to conduct I Puritani with a dramatic soprano... When can we expect a new edition of La Traviata with [baritone] Gino Bechi's Violetta?"[8] After the performance, critics would write, "Even the most skeptical had to acknowledge the miracle that Maria Callas accomplished... the flexibility of her limpid, beautifully poised voice, and her splendid high notes. Her interpretation also has a humanity, warmth, and expressiveness that one would search for in vain in the fragile, pellucid coldness of other Elviras."[16] Franco Zeffirelli recalled, "What she did in Venice was really incredible. You need to be familiar with opera to realize the enormity of her achievement. It was as if someone asked Birgit Nilsson, who is famous for her great Wagnerian voice, to substitute overnight for Beverly Sills, who is one of the great coloratura sopranos of our time."[11]

Scott asserts that "Of all the many roles Callas undertook it is doubtful if any had a more far-reaching effect."[8] This initial foray into the bel canto repertoire changed the course of Callas's career and set her on a path leading to Lucia, La Traviata, Armida, La Sonnambula, Il Pirata, Il Turco in Italia, Medea, and Anna Bolena and reawakened interest in the long-neglected operas of Cherubini, Bellini, Donizetti, and Rossini.[11][14] In the words of soprano Montserrat Caballé,

She opened a new door for us, for all the singers in the world, a door that had been closed. Behind it was sleeping not only great music but great idea of interpretation. She has given us the chance, those who follow her, to do things that were hardly possible before her. That I am compared with Callas is something I never dared to dream. It is not right. I am much smaller than Callas.[14]

As with I Puritani, Callas also learned and performed Cherubini's Medea, Giordano's Andrea Chénier, and Rossini's Armida on a few days' notice.[14][17] Throughout her career, Callas displayed her vocal versatility in recitals that combined dramatic soprano arias alongside coloratura pieces, including in a 1952 RAI recital in which she opened with Lady Macbeth's "letter scene", followed by the "Mad Scene" from Lucia di Lammermoor, then by Abigaile's treacherous recitative and aria from Nabucco, finishing with the "Bell Song" from Lakmé capped by a ringing high E in alt (E6).[17]

Important debuts
Callas made her official debut at La Scala in I Vespri Siciliani in December 1951, and this theater became her artistic home throughout the 1950s.[11] La Scala mounted many new productions specially for Callas by directors such as Herbert von Karajan, Margherita Wallmann, Luchino Visconti (notably the 1955 La Traviata) and Franco Zeffirelli.[14] She notably was instrumental in arranging Franco Corelli's debut at La Scala in 1954, where he sang Licinio in Spontini's La vestale opposite Callas's Julia. The two had sung together for the first time the year previously in Rome in a production of Norma. Anthony Tommasini wrote that Corelli had "earned great respect from the fearsomely demanding Callas, who in Mr. Corelli finally had someone with whom she could act."[18] The two collaborated several more times at La Scala, singing opposite each other in productions of Fedora (1956), Il pirata (1958) and Poliuto (1960). Their partnership continued throughout the rest of Callas's career.[19]

Callas made her American debut in Chicago in 1954, and "with the Callas Norma, Lyric Opera of Chicago was born."[20] Her Metropolitan Opera debut, opening the Met's seventy-second season on October 29, 1956 was again with Norma,[21] but was preceded with an unflattering cover story in Time magazine which rehashed all of the Callas clichés, including her temper, her supposed rivalry with Renata Tebaldi, and especially her difficult relationship with her mother.[5][15] As she had done with Lyric Opera of Chicago, on November 21, 1958, Callas gave a concert to inaugurate what then was billed as the Dallas Civic Opera, and helped establish that company with her friends from Chicago, Lawrence Kelly and Maestro Nicola Rescigno.[22] She further solidified this company's standing when, in 1958, she gave "a towering performance as Violetta in Verdi's La Traviata and that same year, in her only American performances of Medea, gave an interpretation of the title role worthy of Euripides."[23]

In 1958 a feud with Rudolph Bing led to Callas's Metropolitan Opera contract being cancelled. Impressario Allen Oxenburg realised that this situation provided him with an opportunity to hire Callas for his own company, the American Opera Society, and he accordingly approached Callas with a contract to perform Imogene in Il pirata. She accepted and sang the role in a January 1959 performance that according to opera critic Allan Kozinn "quickly became legendary in operatic circles".[24] Bing and Callas later reconciled their differences and she returned to the house in March 1965 to sing the title role in Tosca opposite Richard Tucker as Cavaradossi and Tito Gobbi as Scarpia for her two final performances at the Met.

In 1952, she made her London debut at the Royal Opera House in Norma with veteran mezzo soprano Ebe Stignani as Adalgisa, a performance which survives on record and also features the young Joan Sutherland in the small role of Clotilde.[17] Callas and the London public had what she herself called "a love affair",[5] and she returned to the Royal Opera House in 1953, 1957, 1958, 1959, and 1964 to 1965.[14] It was at the Royal Opera House where, on July 5, 1965, Callas ended her stage career in the role of Tosca, in a production designed and mounted for her by Franco Zeffirelli and featuring her friend and colleague Tito Gobbi.[14] +

Weight loss
In the early years of her career, Callas was a heavy and full-figured woman, though she admitted to weighing "no more than 200 pounds."[13] Despite her figure, Meneghini and others considered her beautiful, but during her initial performances in Cherubini's Medea in May 1953, Callas decided that she needed a leaner face and figure to do dramatic justice to this as well as the other roles she was undertaking:

I was getting so heavy that even my vocalizing was getting heavy. I was tiring myself, I was perspiring too much, and I was really working too hard. And I wasn't really well, as in health; I couldn't move freely. And then I was tired of playing a game, for instance playing this beautiful young woman, and I was heavy and uncomfortable to move around. In any case, it was uncomfortable and I didn't like it. So I felt now if I'm going to do things right—I've studied all my life to put things right musically, so why don't I diet and put myself into a certain condition where I'm presentable.[13]

During 1953 and early 1954, she lost almost 80 pounds (36 kg), turning herself into what Maestro Rescigno called "possibly the most beautiful lady on the stage".[11] Sir Rudolf Bing, who remembered Callas as being "monstrously fat" in 1951, stated that after the weight loss, Callas was an "astonishing, svelte, striking woman" who "showed none of the signs one usually finds in a fat woman who has lost weight: she looked as though she had been born to that slender and graceful figure, and had always moved with that elegance."[25] Various rumors spread regarding her weight loss method; one had her swallowing a tapeworm, while Rome's Pantanella Mills pasta company claimed she lost weight by eating their "physiologic pasta", prompting Callas to file a lawsuit.[8] Callas stated that she lost the weight by eating a sensible low-calorie diet of mainly salads and chicken.[13] Some believe that the loss of body mass made it more difficult for her to support her voice, triggering the vocal strain that became apparent later in the decade (see vocal decline), while others believed the weight loss effected a newfound softness and femininity in her voice, as well as a greater confidence as a person and performer.[14]

Voice
Callas's voice was and remains controversial; it bothered and disturbed as many as it thrilled and inspired.[14] Walter Legge stated that Callas possessed that most essential ingredient for a great singer: an instantly recognizable voice.[26] During "The Callas Debate", Italian critic Rodolfo Celletti stated, "The timbre of Callas's voice, considered purely as sound, was essentially ugly... yet I really believe that part of her appeal was precisely due to this fact. Why? because for all its natural lack of varnish, velvet and richness, this voice could acquire such distinctive colours and timbres as to be unforgettable."[27] In compensation for the lack of classical beauty of sound, Callas was able to change the timbre of the voice and her vocal color and weight at will and according to the role she was singing, essentially giving each character her own individual voice.[14][17]

Maestro Carlo Maria Giulini has described the appeal of Callas's voice:

It is very difficult to speak of the voice of Callas. Her voice was a very special instrument. Something happens sometimes with string instruments—violin, viola, cello—where the first moment you listen to the sound of this instrument, the first feeling is a bit strange sometimes. But after just a few minutes, when you get used to, when you become friends with this kind of sound, then the sound becomes a magical quality. This was Callas.[11]

Vocal category
Callas's voice has been difficult to place in the modern vocal classification or fach system, especially since in her prime, her repertoire contained the heaviest dramatic roles as well as roles usually undertaken by the highest, lightest and most agile coloratura sopranos. Regarding this versatility, Maestro Tullio Serafin said, "This woman can sing anything written for the female voice".[5] Michael Scott argues that Callas's voice was a natural high soprano,[8] and going by evidence of Callas's early recordings, Rosa Ponselle likewise felt that "At that stage of its development, her voice was a pure but sizable dramatic coloratura––that is to say, a sizable coloratura voice with dramatic capabilities, not the other way around.[28] On the other hand, music critic John Ardoin has argued that Callas was the reincarnation of the Nineteenth Century soprano sfogato or "unlimited soprano", a throwback to Maria Malibran and Giuditta Pasta, for whom many of the famous bel canto operas were written. He avers that like Pasta and Malibran, Callas was a natural mezzo-soprano whose range was extended through training and willpower, resulting in a voice which "lacked the homogeneous color and evenness of scale once so prized in singing. There were unruly sections of their voices never fully under control. Many who heard Pasta, for example, remarked that her uppermost notes seemed produced by ventriloquism, a charge which would later be made against Callas".[14] Ardoin points to the writings of Henry Fothergill Chorley about Pasta which bear an uncanny resemblance to descriptions of Callas:

"There was a portion of the scale which differed from the rest in quality and remained to the last 'under a veil.' ...out of these uncouth materials she had to compose her instrument and then to give it flexibility. Her studies to acquire execution must have been tremendous; but the volubility and brilliancy, when acquired, gained a character of their own... There were a breadth, an expressiveness in her roulades, an evenness and solidity in her shake, which imparted to every passage a significance totally beyond the reach of lighter and more spontaneous singers... The best of her audience were held in thrall, without being able to analyze what made up the spell, what produced the effect--as soon as she opened her lips".[14]

Callas herself appears to have been in agreement not only with Ardoin's assertions that she started as a natural mezzo-soprano, but also saw the similarities between herself and Pasta and Malibran. In 1957, she described her early voice as: "The timbre was dark, almost black—when I think of it, I think of thick molasses", and in 1968 she added, "They say I was not a true soprano, I was rather toward a mezzo".[3] Regarding her ability to sing the heaviest as well as the lightest roles, she told James Fleetwood,

"It's study; it's Nature. I’m doing nothing special, you know. Even Lucia, Anna Bolena, Puritani, all these operas were created for one type of soprano, the type that sang Norma, Fidelio, which was Malibran of course. And a funny coincidence last year, I was singing Anna Bolena and Sonnambula, same months and the same distance of time as Giuditta Pasta had sung in the Nineteenth Century... So I’m really not doing anything extraordinary. You wouldn’t ask a pianist not to be able to play everything; he has to. This is Nature and also because I had a wonderful teacher, the old kind of teaching methods... I was a very heavy voice, that is my nature, a dark voice shall we call it, and I was always kept on the light side. She always trained me to keep my voice limber".[29]

Vocal size and range

Callas's vocal range in performance (highest and lowest notes both shown in red): from F-sharp below the Middle C (green) to E-natural above the High C (blue)In the years prior to her weight loss, Callas's voice was a powerful soprano, the sheer size of which was much commented upon,[16] and there were no complaints about unsteadiness even in the most exposed passages.[8] In his review of Callas's 1951 live recording of I Vespri Siciliani, Ira Siff writes, "Accepted wisdom tells us that Callas possessed, even early on, a flawed voice, unattractive by conventional standards — an instrument that signaled from the beginning vocal problems to come. Yet listen to her entrance in this performance and one encounters a rich, spinning sound, ravishing by any standard, capable of delicate dynamic nuance. High notes are free of wobble, chest tones unforced, and the middle register displays none of the "bottled" quality that became more and more pronounced as Callas matured."[30] In a 1982 Opera News interview with Joan Sutherland and Richard Bonynge, Bonynge stated, "But before she slimmed down, I mean this was such a colossal voice. It just poured out of her, the way Flagstad's did... Callas had a huge voice. When she and Stignani sang Norma, at the bottom of the range you could barely tell who was who... Oh it was colossal. And she took the big sound right up to the top."[31] In his book, Michael Scott makes the distinction that whereas Callas's pre-1954 voice was a "dramatic soprano with an exceptional top", after the weight loss, it became, as one Chicago critic described the voice in Lucia,[16] a "huge suprano leggiero".[8] In performance, Callas's range was just short of three octaves, from F-sharp (F#3) below middle C (C4) heard in "Arrigo! Ah parli ad un core" from I Vespri Siciliani to E-natural (E6) above high C (C6), heard in the same opera as well as Rossini's Armida and Lakmé's Bell Song. After her June 11, 1951 concert in Florence, Rock Ferris of Musical Courier said, "Her high E's and F's are taken full voice."[16] In a French TV interview, Callas's teacher Elvira de Hidalgo spoke of her voice soaring to a high E, but did not mention the high F.[11] Although no definite recording of Callas singing high F's have surfaced, the presumed E-natural in her performance of Rossini's Armida —a poor-quality bootleg recording of uncertain pitch—has been referred to as a high F.[27]

Vocal registers
Callas's voice was noted by Walter Legge and other experts[27] for its three distinct registers. Her low or chest register was extremely dark and almost baritonal in power, and she used this part of her voice for dramatic effect, often going into this register much higher on the scale than most sopranos.[26] Her middle register had a peculiar and highly personal sound—"part oboe, part clarinet", as Claudia Cassidy described it[14]—and was noted for its veiled or "bottled" sound, as if she were singing into a jug.[26] Walter Legge attributed this sound to the "extraordinary formation of her upper palate, shaped like a Gothic arch, not the Romanesque arch of the normal mouth".[26] The upper register was ample and bright, with an impressive extension above high C, which—in contrast to the light flute-like sound of the typical coloratura soprano—she sang with the same full-throated sound as her lower registers.[14] And as she demonstrated in the finale of La Sonnambula on the commercial EMI set and the live recording from Cologne, she was able to execute a diminuendo on the stratospheric high E-flat, which Scott describes as "a feat unrivaled in the history of the gramophone."[8]

The agility of Callas's voice allowed her to sing difficult ornate music with ease and technical polish. In the words of Walter Legge, even in the most difficult florid music, there were no musical or technical difficulties "which she could not execute with astonishing, unostentatious ease. Her chromatic runs, particularly downwards, were beautifully smooth and staccatos almost unfailingly accurate, even in the trickiest intervals. There is hardly a bar in the whole range of nineteenth century music for high soprano that seriously tested her powers."[26] As part of her technical arsenal, Callas also possessed a beautiful and dependable trill in every vocal register.[32]

This combination of size, weight, range and agility was a source of amazement to Callas's own contemporaries. One of the choristers present at her La Scala debut in I Vespri Siciliani recalled, "My God! She came on stage sounding like our deepest contralto, Cloe Elmo. And before the evening was over, she took a high E-flat. And it was twice as strong as Toti Dal Monte's!"[14] For Italian soprano Renata Tebaldi, "the most fantastic thing was the possibility for her to sing the soprano coloratura with this big voice! This was something really special. Fantastic absolutely!"[11]

Artistry
Callas's own thoughts regarding music and singing can be found at Wikiquote.

The musician
Though adored by many opera enthusiasts, Callas was a controversial artist. While Callas was the great singer often dismissed simply as an actress[33] she considered herself first and foremost "a musician, that is, the first instrument of the orchestra."[9] Maestro Victor de Sabata confided to Walter Legge, "If the public could understand, as we do, how deeply and utterly musical Callas is, they would be stunned."[26]. Callas possessed an innate architectural sense of line-proportion[14] and an uncanny feel for timing and for what one of her colleagues described as "a sense of the rhythm within the rhythm".[3] While reviewing the many recorded versions of "perhaps Verdi's ultimate challenge", the aria "D'amor sull'ali rosee" from Il Trovatore, Richard Dyer writes,

"Callas articulates all of the trills, and she binds them into the line more expressively than anyone else; they are not an ornament but a form of intensification. Part of the wonder in this performance is the chiaroscuro through her tone -- the other side of not singing full-out all the way through. One of the vocal devices that create that chiaroscuro is a varying rate of vibrato; another is her portamento, the way she connects the voice from note to note, phrase to phrase, lifting and gliding. This is never a sloppy swoop, because its intention is as musically precise as it is in great string playing. In this aria, Callas uses more portamento, and in greater variety, than any other singer. . . Callas is not creating "effects", as even her greatest rivals do. She sees the aria as a whole, "as if in an aerial view", as Sviatoslav Richter's teacher observed of his most famous pupil; simultaneously, she is on earth, standing in the courtyard of the palace of Aliaferia, floating her voice to the tower where her lover lies imprisoned." [34]

In addition to her musical skills, Callas had a particular gift for language and the use of language in music.[26] In recitatives, she always knew which word to emphasize and which syllable in that word to bring out.[14] Michael Scott notes, "If we listen attentively, we note how her perfect legato enables her to suggest by musical means even the exclamation marks and commas of the text."[8] Technically, not only did she have the capacity to perform the most difficult florid music effortlessly, but also she had the ability to use each ornament as an expressive device rather than for mere fireworks.[35] Soprano Martina Arroyo states, "What interested me most was how she gave the runs and the cadenzas words. That always floored me. I always felt I heard her saying something – it was never just singing notes. That alone is an art."[35] Callas's singing of the bel canto repertoire "created a furor, not only because she sang the florid music with an accuracy unequalled since the days of Tetrazzini, but also because she undertook it with stunning weight of tone and breath of phrasing, so bringing to it a dramatic perspective."[8] Walter Legge states that,

Most admirable of all her qualities, however, were her taste, elegance and deeply musical use of ornamentation in all its forms and complications, the weighting and length of every appoggiatura, the smooth incorporation of the turn in melodic lines, the accuracy and pacing of her trills, the seemingly inevitable timing of her portamentos, varying their curve with enchanting grace and meaning. There were innumerable exquisite felicities – minuscule portamentos from one note to its nearest neighbor, or over widespread intervals – and changes of color that were pure magic. In these aspects of bel canto she was supreme mistress of that art.[26]

Italian critic Eugenio Gara gave this summary of Callas's musical artistry:

Her secret is in her ability to transfer to the musical plane the suffering of the character she plays, the nostalgic longing for lost happiness, the anxious fluctuation between hope and despair, between pride and supplication, between irony and generosity, which in the end dissolve into a superhuman inner pain. The most diverse and opposite of sentiments, cruel deceptions, ambitious desires, burning tenderness, grievous sacrifices, all the torments of the heart, acquire in her singing that mysterious truth, I would like to say, that psychological sonority, which is the primary attraction of opera.[27]

"She not only sang the song, she carried it like a feather in the wind". (Quote from Winston D. Thibodeaux/critic/France/1961)

The actress
Regarding Callas's acting ability, vocal coach Ira Siff remarked, "When I saw the final two Toscas she did in the old [Met], I felt like I was watching the actual story on which the opera had later been based."[36] Callas was not, however, a realistic or verismo style actress:[8] her physical acting was merely "subsidiary to the heavy Kunst of developing the psychology of the roles under the supervision of the music, of singing the acting... Suffering, delight, humility, hubris, despair, rhapsody—all this was musically appointed, through her use of the voice flying the text upon the notes."[33] Seconding this opinion, verismo specialist soprano Augusta Oltrabella said, "Despite what everyone says, [Callas] was an actress in the expression of the music, and not vice versa."[37][38] Ewa Podles likewise stated that "It's enough to hear her, I’m positive! Because she could say everything only with her voice! I can imagine everything, I can see everything in front of my eye."[35] Opera director Sandro Sequi, who witnessed many Callas performances close-up, avers, "For me, she was extremely stylized and classic, yet at the same time, human—but humanity on a higher plane of existence, almost sublime. Realism was foreign to her, and that is why she was the greatest of opera singers. After all, opera is the least realistic of theater forms... She was wasted in verismo roles, even Tosca, no matter how brilliantly she could act such roles."[14] Scott adds, "Early nineteenth-century opera... is not merely the antithesis of reality, it also requires highly stylized acting. Callas had the perfect face for it. Her big features matched its grandiloquence and spoke volumes from a distance."[8]

In regard to Callas's physical acting style, Sandro Sequi recalls, "She was never in a hurry. Everything was very paced, proportioned, classical, precise... She was extremely powerful but extremely stylized. Her gestures were not many... I don't think she did more than 20 gestures in a performance. But she was capable of standing 10 minutes without moving a hand or finger, compelling everyone to look at her."[14] Edward Downes recalled Callas watching and observing her colleagues with such intensity and concentration as to make it seem that the drama was all unfolding in her head.[13] Sir Rudolf Bing similarly recalled that in Il Trovatore in Chicago, "it was Callas' quiet listening, rather than Björling's singing that made the dramatic impact... He didn't know what he was singing, but she knew."[25]

Callas herself stated that, in Opera, Acting must be based on the Music, quoting Maestro Tullio Serafin's advice to her:

"When one wants to find a gesture, when you want to find how to act onstage, all you have to do is listen to the music. The composer has already seen to that. If you take the trouble to really listen with your Soul and with your Ears – and I say 'Soul' and 'Ears' because the Mind must work, but not 'too' much also – you will find every gesture there."[12]

The artist
Callas's most distinguishing quality was her ability to breathe life into the characters she portrayed,[14] achieving this by purely musical means and within the stylistic framework set by the composer, never resorting to melodramatic extramusical excesses prevalent in verismo.[14][33] She used her many voices to create a different voice for each role, and to make each sentiment pertinent to that particular role.[14] Each character had her own joy, sorrow, hope, despair, love, and disappointment.[14] Furthermore, Callas was able to portray—in no uncertain terms—unvarnished, burning hatred. This added yet another revealing—albeit uncomfortable—truth to her portrayals, especially of Norma and Medea.[14] As Michael Scott states, at her best, in the 1950s, Callas's "prodigious technical skills enabled her voice to reveal every nuance she desired to effect, articulating easily the most formidably difficult intricate music", making her unique among the sopranos of the 20th century.[8] Ethan Mordden has said, "It was a flawed voice. But then Callas sought to capture in her singing not just beauty but a whole humanity, and within her system, the flaws feed the feeling, the sour plangency and the strident defiance becoming aspects of the canto. They were literally defects of her voice; she bent them into advantages of her singing."[33] Maestro Giulini believes, "If melodrama is the ideal unity of the trilogy of words, music, and action, it is impossible to imagine an artist in whom these three elements were more together than Callas."[8] He recalls that during Callas's performances of La Traviata, "reality was onstage. What stood behind me, the audience, auditorium, La Scala itself, seemed artifice. Only that which transpired on stage was truth, life itself."[14] Sir Rudolf Bing expressed similar sentiments:

Once one heard and saw Maria Callas—one can’t really distinguish it—in a part, it was very hard to enjoy any other artist, no matter how great, afterwards, because she imbued every part she sang and acted with such incredible personality and life. One move of her hand was more than another artist could do in a whole act.[11]

To Maestro Antonino Votto, Callas was

The last great artist. When you think this woman was nearly blind, and often sang standing a good 150 feet from the podium. But her sensitivity! Even if she could not see, she sensed the music and always came in exactly with my downbeat. When we rehearsed, she was so precise, already note-perfect... She was not just a singer, but a complete artist. It's foolish to discuss her as a voice. She must be viewed totally—as a complex of music, drama, movement. There is no one like her today. She was an esthetic phenomenon.[14]

Callas-Tebaldi controversy
During the early 1950s, controversy arose regarding a supposed rivalry between Callas and Renata Tebaldi, an Italian lyrico spinto soprano renowned for the ravishing beauty of her voice.[14] The contrast between Callas's often unconventional vocal qualities and Tebaldi's classically beautiful sound resurrected an argument as old as opera itself, namely, beauty of sound versus the expressive use of sound.[14][27]

This "rivalry" reached a fever pitch in the mid-1950s, at times even engulfing the two women themselves, who were said by their more fanatical followers to have engaged in verbal barbs in each other's direction. Tebaldi was quoted as saying, "I have one thing that Callas doesn't have: a heart"[5] while Callas was quoted in Time magazine as saying that comparing her with Tebaldi was like "comparing champagne with cognac. No, with Coca Cola."[39] However, witnesses to the interview stated that Callas only said "champagne with cognac", and it was a bystander who quipped, "No, with Coca-Cola", but the Time reporter attributed the latter comment to Callas.[5]

According to John Ardoin, however, these two singers should never have been compared.[14] Tebaldi was trained by Carmen Melis, a noted verismo specialist, and she was rooted in the early twentieth century school of Italian singing just as firmly as Callas was rooted in nineteenth century bel canto.[14] Callas was a dramatic soprano, whereas Tebaldi considered herself essentially a lyric soprano. Callas and Tebaldi generally sang a different repertoire: in the early years of her career, Callas concentrated on the heavy dramatic soprano roles and later in her career on the bel canto repertoire, whereas Tebaldi concentrated on late Verdi and verismo roles, where her limited upper extension[27] and her lack of a florid technique were not issues.[14] They shared a few roles, including Tosca in Puccini's opera and La Gioconda, which Tebaldi performed only late in her career.

The alleged rivalry aside, Callas made remarks appreciative of Tebaldi, and vice versa. During an interview with Norman Ross in Chicago, Callas said, "I admire Tebaldi's tone; it's beautiful—also some beautiful phrasing. Sometimes, I actually wish I had her voice." Francis Robinson of the Met wrote of an incident in which Tebaldi asked him to recommend a recording of La Gioconda in order to help her learn the role. Being fully aware of the "rivalry", he recommended Zinka Milanov's version. A few days later, he went to visit Tebaldi, only to find her sitting by the speakers, listening intently to Callas's recording. She then looked up at him and asked, "Why didn't you tell me Maria's was the best?"[40]

Callas visited Tebaldi after a performance of Adriana Lecouvreur at the Met in the late 1960s, and the two were reunited. In 1978, Tebaldi spoke warmly of her late colleague and summarized this rivalry:

This rivality was really building from the people of the newspapers and the fans. But I think it was very good for both of us, because the publicity was so big and it created a very big interest about me and Maria and was very good in the end. But I don’t know why they put this kind of rivality, because the voice was very different. She was really something unusual. And I remember that I was very young artist too, and I stayed near the radio every time that I know that there was something on radio by Maria.[11]

Vocal decline
Several singers have opined that the heavy roles undertaken in her early years damaged Callas's voice.[37] The mezzo-soprano Giulietta Simionato, Callas's close friend and frequent colleague, stated that she told Callas that she felt that the early heavy roles led to a weakness in the diaphragm and subsequent difficulty in controlling the upper register.[41]

Louise Caselotti, who worked with Callas in 1946 and 1947, prior to her Italian debut, felt that it was not the heavy roles that hurt Callas's voice, but the lighter ones.[3] Several singers have suggested that the heavy use of Callas's chest voice led to stridency and unsteadiness with the high notes.[37] In his book, Callas's husband Meneghini wrote that Callas suffered an unusually early onset of menopause, which could have affected her voice. Soprano Carol Neblett once said, "A woman sings with her ovaries – you're only as good as your hormones."[33]

Critic Henry Pleasants has opined that it was a loss of breath support which led to Callas's vocal problems, saying,

Singing, and especially opera singing, requires physical strength. Without it, the singer's respiratory functions can no longer support the steady emissions of breath essential to sustaining the production of focused tone. The breath escapes, but it is no longer the power behind the tone, or is only partially and intermittently . The result is a breathy sound—tolerable but hardly beautiful—when the singer sings lightly, and a voice spread and squally when under pressure.[42]

Michael Scott has proposed that Callas's loss of breath support was directly caused by her rapid and progressive weight-loss,[8] something that was noted even in her prime. Of her 1958 recital in Chicago, Robert Detmer would write, "There were sounds fearfully uncontrolled, forced beyond the too-slim singer's present capacity to support or sustain."[16]

While there is no filmed footage of Callas during her heavy era, photos from those years show a very upright posture with the shoulders relaxed and held back. All videos of Callas are from the period after her weight loss, and on these, "we watch... the constantly sinking, depressed chest and hear the resulting deterioration".[43] This continual change in posture has been cited as visual proof of a progressive loss of breath support.[8][35]

Commercial and bootleg recordings of Callas from the late 1940s to 1953—the period during which she sang the heaviest dramatic soprano roles—show no decline in the fabric of the voice, no loss in volume and no unsteadiness or shrinkage in the upper register.[17] Of her December 1952 Lady Macbeth—coming after five years of singing the most strenuous dramatic soprano repertoire—Peter Dragadze would write for Opera, "Callas's voice since last season has improved a great deal, the second passagio on the high B-Natural and C has now completely cleared, giving her an equally colored scale from top to bottom."[14] And of her performance of Medea a year later, John Ardoin writes, "The performance displays Callas in as secure and free a voice as she will be found at any point in her career. The many top B's have a brilliant ring, and she handles the treacherous tessitura like an eager thoroughbred."[17]

In recordings from 1954 (immediately after her 80-pound weight loss) and thereafter, "not only would the instrument lose its warmth and become thin and acidulous, but the altitudinous passages would to her no longer come easily."[8] It is also at this time that unsteady top notes first begin to appear.[17] Walter Legge, who produced nearly all of Callas's EMI/Angel recordings, states that Callas "ran into a patch of vocal difficulties as early as 1954": during the recording of La forza del destino, done immediately after the weight loss, the "wobble had become so pronounced" that he told Callas they "would have to give away seasickness pills with every side". [26] When asked whether he felt the weight loss affected Callas's voice, Richard Bonynge stated, "I don't feel it, I know it did. I heard her Norma in 1953, before she lost all that weight, and then again afterward, and the difference was incredible. Even more incredible was that the critics didn't write about it. When Callas was at her best vocally, she was fat, but she got only a quarter of the recognition that she got after she had become thin and was a great star." [44]

There were others, however, who felt that the voice had benefitted from the weight loss. Of her performance of Norma in Chicago in 1954, Claudia Cassidy would write, "there is a slight unsteadiness in some of the sustained upper notes. but to me her voice is more beautiful in color, more even through the range, than it used to be".[16] And at her performance of the same opera in London in 1957 (her first performance at Covent Garden after the weight loss), critics again felt her voice had changed for the better, that it had now supposedly become a more precise instrument, with a new focus.[16] Many of her most critically acclaimed appearances are from the period 1954–1957 (Anna Bolena of 1957, Norma, La Traviata, Sonnambula and Lucia of 1955, to name a few).

Callas's close friend and colleague Tito Gobbi thought that her vocal problems all stemmed from her state of mind:

I don’t think anything happened to her voice. I think she only lost confidence. She was at the top of a career that a human being could desire, and she felt enormous responsibility. She was obliged to give her best every night, and maybe she felt she wasn't [able] any more, and she lost confidence. I think this was the beginning of the end of this career.[11]

In support of Gobbi's assertion, a bootleg recording of Callas rehearsing Beethoven's aria "Ah! Perfido" and parts of Verdi's La forza del destino shortly before her death shows her voice to be in much better shape than much of her 1960s recordings and far healthier than the 1970s concerts with Giuseppe di Stefano.[17]

Soprano Renée Fleming has stated that videos of Callas in the late 1950s and early 1960s reveal a posture that betrays breath-support problems:

I have a theory about what caused her vocal decline, but it's more from watching her sing than from listening. I really think it was her weight loss that was so dramatic and so quick. It's not the weight loss per se... But if one uses the weight for support, and then it's suddenly gone and one doesn't develop another musculature for support, it can be very hard on the voice. And you can't estimate the toll that emotional turmoil will take as well. I was told, by somebody who knew her well, that the way Callas held her arms to her solar plexus [allowed her] to push and create some kind of support. If she were a soubrette, it would never have been an issue. But she was singing the most difficult repertoire, the stuff that requires the most stamina, the most strength.[35]

Dramatic soprano Deborah Voigt, who lost 135 pounds after gastric bypass surgery, expressed similar thoughts concerning her own voice and body:

Much of what I did with my weight was very natural, vocally. Now I've got a different body—there's not as much of me around. My diaphragm function, the way my throat feels, is not compromised in any way. But I do have to think about it more now. I have to remind myself to keep my ribs open. I have to remind myself, if my breath starts to stack. When I took a breath before, the weight would kick in and give it that extra Whhoomf! Now it doesn't do that. If I don’t remember to get rid of the old air and re-engage the muscles, the breath starts stacking, and that's when you can't get your phrase, you crack high notes.[45]

Callas herself attributed her problems to a loss of confidence brought about by a loss of breath support, even though she does not make the connection between her weight and her breath support. Shortly before her death, Callas confided her own thoughts on her vocal problems to Peter Dragadze:

I never lost my voice, but I lost strength in my diaphragm. ... Because of those organic complaints, I lost my courage and boldness. My vocal cords were and still are in excellent condition, but my 'sound boxes' have not been working well even though I have been to all the doctors. The result was that I overstrained my voice, and that caused it to wobble. (Gente, October 1, 1977)[3]

Whether Callas's vocal decline was due to ill health, early menopause, over-use and abuse of her voice, loss of breath-support, loss of confidence, or weight loss will continue to be debated. Whatever the cause may have been, her singing career was effectively over by age 40, and even at the time of her death at age 53, according to Walter Legge, "she ought still to have been singing magnificently".[26]

Scandals and later career

Maria Callas in a casual moment, 1960sThe latter half of Callas's career was marked by a number of scandals. During performances of Madama Butterfly in Chicago, Callas was confronted by a process server who handed her papers about a lawsuit brought by Eddy Bagarozi, who claimed he was her agent. Callas was photographed with her mouth turned in a furious snarl. The photo was sent around the world and gave rise to the myth of Callas as a temperamental prima donna and a "Tigress".

In 1956, just before her debut at the Metropolitan Opera, Time ran a damaging cover story about Callas, with special attention paid to her difficult relationship with her mother and some unpleasant exchanges between the two.

In 1957, Callas was starring as Amina in La Sonnambula at the Edinburgh International Festival with the forces of La Scala. Her contract was for four performances, but due to the great success of the series, La Scala decided to put on a fifth performance. Callas told the La Scala officials that she was physically exhausted and that she had already committed to a previous engagement, a party thrown for her by her friend Elsa Maxwell in Venice. Despite this, La Scala announced a fifth performance, with Callas billed as Amina. Callas refused to stay and went on to Venice. Despite the fact that she had fulfilled her contract, she was accused of walking out on La Scala and the festival. La Scala officials did not defend Callas or inform the press that the additional performance was not approved by Callas. Renata Scotto took over the part, which was the start of her international career.

In January 1958, Callas was to open the Rome Opera House season with Norma, with Italy's president in attendance. The day before the opening night, Callas alerted the management that she was not well and that they should have a standby ready. She was told "No one can double Callas".[11] After being treated by doctors, she felt better on the day of performance and decided to go ahead with the opera.[8] A survived bootleg recording of the first act reveals Callas sounding ill.[17] Feeling that her voice was slipping away, she felt that she could not complete the performance, and consequently, she cancelled after the first act. She was accused of walking out on the president of Italy in a fit of temperament, and pandemonium broke out. Press coverage aggravated the situation. A newsreel included file footage of Callas from 1955 sounding well, intimating the footage was of rehearsals for the Rome Norma, with the voiceover narration, "Here she is in rehearsal, sounding perfectly healthy", followed by "If you want to hear Callas, don't get all dressed up. Just go to a rehearsal; she usually stays to the end of those."[46] The scandal became notorious as the "Rome Walkout". Callas brought a lawsuit against the Rome Opera House, but by the time the case was settled thirteen years later and the Rome Opera was found to be at fault for having refused to provide an understudy,[33] Callas's career was already over.

Callas's relationship with La Scala had also started to become strained after the Edinburgh incident, and this effectively severed her major ties with her artistic home. Later in 1958, Callas and Rudolph Bing were in discussion about her season at the Met. She was scheduled to perform in Verdi's La Traviata and in Macbeth, two very different operas which almost require totally different singers. Callas and the Met could not reach an agreement, and before the opening of Medea in Dallas, Bing sent a telegram to Callas terminating her contract. Headlines of "Bing Fires Callas" appeared in newspapers around the world.[5] Maestro Nicola Rescigno later recalled, "That night, she came to the theater, looking like an empress: she wore an ermine thing that draped to the floor, and she had every piece of jewellery she ever owned. And she said, 'You all know what's happened. Tonight, for me, is a very difficult night, and I will need the help of every one of you.' Well, she proceeded to give a performance [of Medea] that was historical."[47] Bing would later say that Callas was the most difficult artist he ever worked with, "because she was so much more intelligent. Other artists, you could get around. But Callas you could not get around. She knew exactly what she wanted, and why she wanted it."[11] Despite this, Bing's admiration for Callas never wavered, and in September 1959, he sneaked into La Scala in order to listen to Callas record La Gioconda for EMI.[5] Callas and Bing reconciled in the mid 1960s, and Callas returned to the Met for two performances of Tosca with her friend Tito Gobbi.

In her final years as a singer, she sang in Medea, Norma, and Tosca, most notably her Paris, New York, and London Toscas of January–February 1964, and her last performance on stage, on July 5, 1965, at Covent Garden. A television film of Act 2 of the Covent Garden Tosca of 1964 was broadcast in Britain on February 9, 1964, giving a rare view of Callas in performance and, specifically, of her on-stage collaboration with Tito Gobbi.


Maria Callas during her final tour in Amsterdam in 1973.In 1969, the Italian filmmaker Pier Paolo Pasolini cast Callas in her only non-operatic acting role, as the Greek mythological character of Medea, in his film by that name. The production was grueling, and according to the account in Ardoin's Callas, the Art and the Life, Callas is said to have fainted after a day of strenuous running back and forth on a mudflat in the sun. The film was not a commercial success, but as Callas's only film appearance, it documents her stage presence.

From October 1971 to March 1972, Callas gave a series of master classes at the Juilliard School in New York. These classes later formed the basis of Terrence McNally's 1995 play Master Class.

Callas staged a series of joint recitals in Europe in 1973 and in the U.S., South Korea, and Japan in 1974 with the tenor Giuseppe Di Stefano. Critically, this was a musical disaster owing to both performers' worn-out voices.[5] However, the tour was an enormous popular success. Audiences thronged to hear the two performers, who had so often appeared together in their prime. Her final public performance was on November 11, 1974, in Sapporo, Japan.

Onassis and the final years
In 1957, while still married to husband Giovanni Battista Meneghini, Callas was introduced to Greek shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis at a party given in her honour by Elsa Maxwell after a performance in Donizetti's Anna Bolena.[8] The affair that followed received much publicity in the popular press, and in November 1959, Callas left her husband. Michael Scott asserts that Onassis was not why Callas largely abandoned her career, but that he offered her a way out of a career that was made increasingly difficult by scandals and by vocal resources that were diminishing at an alarming rate.[8] Franco Zeffirelli, on the other hand, recalls asking Callas in 1963 why she had not practiced her singing, and Callas responding that "I have been trying to fulfill my life as a woman."[11] According to one of her biographers, Callas and Onassis had a child, a boy, who died hours after he was born on March 30, 1960.[48] In his book about his wife, Meneghini states categorically that Maria Callas was unable to bear children.[49] As well, various sources dismiss Gage's claim, as they note that the birth certificates Gage used to prove of this "secret child" were issued in 1998, twenty-one years after Callas's death.[50] Still other sources claim that Callas had at least one abortion while involved with Onassis.[51] The relationship ended nine years later in 1968, when Onassis left Callas in favour of Jacqueline Kennedy. However, the Onassis family's private secretary, Kiki, writes in her memoir that even while Aristotle was with Jackie, he frequently met up with Maria in Paris, where they resumed what had now become a clandestine affair.[48]

Callas spent her last years living largely in isolation in Paris and died on September 16, 1977, of a heart attack. A funerary liturgy was held at Agios Stephanos (St. Stephen's) Greek Orthodox Cathedral on rue Georges-Bizet, Paris, on September 20, 1977, and her ashes were interred at the Père Lachaise Cemetery. After being stolen and later recovered, they were scattered over the Aegean Sea, off the coast of Greece, according to her wish.

Since Callas's death

Grave of Maria Callas at Père Lachaise Cemetery, in ParisIn late 2004, opera and film director Franco Zeffirelli made what many consider a bizarre claim that Callas may have been murdered by her confidant, Greek pianist Vasso Devetzi, in order to gain control of Callas's United States $9,000,000 estate. A more likely explanation is that Callas's death was due to heart failure brought on by (possibly unintentional) overuse of Mandrax (methaqualone), a sleeping aid.

According to biographer Stelios Galatopoulos, Devetzi insinuated herself into Callas's trust and acted virtually as her agent. This claim is corroborated by Iakintha (Jackie) Callas in her book Sisters,[52] wherein she asserts that Devetzi conned Maria out of control of half of her estate, while promising to establish the Maria Callas Foundation to provide scholarships for young singers. After hundreds of thousands of dollars had allegedly vanished, Devetzi finally did establish the foundation.

In 2002, filmmaker Zeffirelli produced and directed a film in Callas's memory. Callas Forever was a highly fictionalized motion picture in which Callas was played by Fanny Ardant. It depicted the last months of Callas's life, when she was seduced into the making of a movie of Carmen, lip-synching to her 1964 recording of that opera.

In 2007, Callas was posthumously awarded the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award. In the same year, she was voted the greatest soprano of all time by BBC Music Magazine.

The 30th anniversary of the death of Maria Callas was selected as main motif for a high value euro collectors' coins; the €10 Greek Maria Callas commemorative coin, minted in 2007. Her image is shown in the obverse of the coin, while on the reverse the National Emblem of Greece with her signature is depicted.

The 2008 film Milk features selected recordings of Callas' rendition of "Tosca", which, it is suggested, was an opera that Harvey Milk was particularly fond of.

In 2011, there will be a film released on Maria Callas based on the book, "Greek Fire", which centers on her relationship with Greek shippng tycoon Aristotle Onassis. Eva Mendes is slated to play the role of Callas and the screenplay will be written by Julian Fellowes.

A number of musical artists have paid tribute to Callas in their own music:

R.E.M. mention Callas in their song "E-Bow the Letter" from the album New Adventures in Hi-Fi.
Enigma named a song which featured samples of Callas's voice, on their 1991 album MCMXC a.D., "Callas Went Away".
Buffalo Tom's 2007 album Three Easy Pieces contains the song "C.C. and Callas", which appears to be about songwriter Chris Colbourn's reflections on Callas.
La Diva, on Celine Dions 2007 French language album D'elles is about Maria Callas. The track samples the 1956 recording of "La Boheme".
Son Lux, aka Ryan Lott, samples Callas for a song on his debut album, At War With Walls And Mazes. Lott splices together several of Callas's vocal samples to form a new arrangement.
Singer/songwriter Rufus Wainwright mentions Callas in his song Beauty Mark, from his album Rufus Wainwright. Rufus is known to be an opera fan, particularly passionate about Callas's work. In an interview to the Spanish newspaper El País he declared that one of the things anyone should do at least once in a lifetime was to listen to a Maria Callas album after a night out, if possible during sunrise. On Jonathan Ross' Radio 2 show he stated that Lord Harewood's interview of Callas is part of the inspiration for his opera Prima Donna.
Jason Mraz lists her performance of "O mio babbino caro" as a romantic musical influence for him.[53]
Ben Sollee mentions her in his song "Mute with a Bullhorn."
[edit] Inspirations
Bianca Castafiore, the "Milanese Nightingale," is a recurring character in the comic-book series The Adventures of Tintin by Hergé. She was based upon opera divas in general (according to Hergé's perception), Hergé's Aunt Ninie, and, in the post-war comics, on Maria Callas.

Notable recordings
All recordings are in mono unless otherwise indicated. Live performances are typically available on multiple labels.

Verdi, Nabucco, conducted by Vittorio Gui, live performance, Napoli, 20 December 1949
Verdi, Il trovatore, conducted by Guido Picco, live performance, Mexico City, June 20, 1950
Verdi, Aida, conducted by Oliviero de Fabritiis, live performance, Palacio de Bellas Artes, Mexico City, July 3, 1951
Ponchielli, La Gioconda, conducted by Antonino Votto, studio recording for Fonit Cetra, September 1952
Bellini, Norma, conducted by Vittorio Gui, live performance, Covent Garden, London, November 18, 1952
Verdi, Macbeth, conducted by Victor de Sabata, live performance, La Scala, Milan, December 7, 1952
Bellini, I puritani, conducted by Tullio Serafin, studio recording for EMI, March-April 1953
Mascagni, Cavalleria Rusticana, conducted by Tullio Serafin, studio recording for EMI, August 1953
Puccini, Tosca, conducted by Victor de Sabata, studio recording for EMI, August 1953.[54]
Verdi, La traviata, conducted by Gabriele Santini, studio recording for Fonit Cetra, September 1953
Cherubini, Medea, conducted by Leonard Bernstein, live performance, La Scala, Milan, December 10, 1953
Leoncavallo, Pagliacci, conducted by Tullio Serafin, studio recording for EMI, June 1954
Spontini, La vestale, conducted by Antonino Votto, live performance, La Scala, Milan, December 7, 1954
Verdi, La traviata, conducted by Carlo Maria Giulini, live performance, La Scala, Milan, May 28, 1955
Puccini, Madama Butterfly, conducted by Herbert von Karajan, studio recording for EMI, August 1955
Verdi, Aida, conducted by Tullio Serafin, studio recording for EMI, August 1955
Verdi, Rigoletto, conducted by Tullio Serafin, studio recording for EMI, September 1955
Donizetti, Lucia di Lammermoor, conducted by Herbert von Karajan, live performance, Berlin, September 29, 1955
Bellini, Norma, conducted by Antonino Votto, live performance, La Scala, Milan, December 7, 1955.
Verdi, Il trovatore, conducted by Herbert von Karajan, studio recording for EMI, August 1956
Puccini, La boheme, conducted by Antonino Votto, studio recording for EMI, August-September 1956. Like her later recording of Carmen, this was her only performance of the complete opera, as she never appeared onstage in it.
Verdi, Un ballo in maschera, conducted by Antonino Votto, studio recording for EMI, September 1956
Rossini, Barber of Seville, conducted by Alceo Galliera, studio recording for EMI in stereo, February 1957
Bellini, La sonnambula, conducted by Antonino Votto, studio recording for EMI, March 1957
Donizetti, Anna Bolena, conducted by Gianandrea Gavazzeni, live performance, La Scala, Milan, April 14, 1957
Bellini, La sonnambula, conducted by Antonino Votto, live performance, Cologne, July 4, 1957
Puccini, Turandot, conducted by Tullio Serafin, studio recording for EMI, July 1957
Cherubini, Medea, conducted by Tullio Serafin, studio recording for Ricordi in stereo, September 1957
Verdi, Un ballo in maschera, conducted by Gianandrea Gavazzeni, live performance, La Scala, Milan, December 7, 1957
Verdi, La traviata, conducted by Franco Ghione, live performance, Lisbon, March 27, 1958
Mad Scenes (excerpts from Anna Bolena, Bellini's Il pirata and Ambroise Thomas's Hamlet), conducted by Nicola Rescigno, studio recording for EMI in stereo, September 1958
Cherubini, Medea conducted by Nicola Rescigno, live performance at the Dallas Civic Opera in 1958; considered to be Callas's most notable performance of Cherubini's opera.
Ponchielli, La Gioconda, conducted by Antonino Votto, studio recording for EMI in stereo, September 1959
Puccini, Tosca, conducted by Carlo Felice Cillario, live performance, London, January 1964
Bizet, Carmen, conducted by Georges Prêtre, studio recording for EMI in stereo, 1964. It is her only performance of the role, and her only performance of the complete opera; she never appeared in it onstage. The recording used the recitatives added after Bizet's death. Callas's performance caused critic Harold C. Schonberg to speculate in his book The Glorious Ones that Callas perhaps should have sung mezzo roles instead of simply soprano ones.
Puccini, Tosca, conducted by Georges Prêtre, studio recording for EMI in stereo, December 1964.
References
^ "PBS tribute to Callas on the Anniversary of her Death", introduction by Leonard Bernstein, 1983.
^ Driscoll, F. Paul; Brian Kellow (August 2006). "The 25 Most Powerful Names in U.S. Opera". Opera News 71 (2).
^ a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z aa ab ac ad ae af ag Petsalis-Diomidis, Nicholas (2001). The Unknown Callas: The Greek Years. Amadeus Press. ISBN 1-57467-059-X.
^ Slonimsky and others have argued that, despite her birth certificate, she was actually born on 3 December
^ a b c d e f g h i j Stassinopoulos, Ariana (1981). Maria Callas: The Woman Behind the Legend. New York: Simon and Schuster. ISBN 0671255835.
^ "The Prima Donna", Time, October 29, 1956
^ Television interview with Norman Ross, Chicago, 1957.
^ a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w Scott, Michael (1992). Maria Meneghini Callas. Boston: Northeastern University Press. ISBN 1555531466.
^ a b c "Interview with Lord Harewood, Paris, 1968", Complete audio recording of the interview, including portions not released on DVD, The Callas Edition, on 3 CDs.
^ "L'Invitee Du Dimanche" hosted by Pierre Desgraupes, 1968, released on The Callas Conversations, Vol. 2 [DVD] 2007, EMI Classics
^ a b c d e f g h i j k l m n John Ardoin (writer), Franco Zeffirelli (narrator). (1978). Callas: A Documentary (Plus Bonus). [TV documentary, DVD]. The Bel Canto Society.
^ a b c d Maria Callas in conversation with Lord Harewood for the BBC, Paris, April 1968.. Maria Callas: The Callas Conversations. [DVD]. EMI Classics.
^ a b c d e f g h i Interview with Edward Downes (quizmaster). La Divina Complete, CD 4. EMI Classics.
^ a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z aa ab ac ad ae af ag Ardoin, John; Gerald Fitzgerald (1974). Callas: The Art and the Life. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. ISBN 0-03-011486-1.
^ a b Callas in her Own Words. Audio documentary. 3 CDs. Eklipse Records. EKR P-14.
^ a b c d e f g David A. Lowe, ed (1986). Callas: As They Saw Her. New York: Ungar Publishing Company. ISBN 0-8044-5636-4.
^ a b c d e f g h i Ardoin, John (1991). The Callas Legacy. Old Tappen, New Jersey: Scribner and Sons. ISBN 0-684-19306-X.
^ Anthony Tommasini (October 30, 2003). "Franco Corelli, Italian Tenor of Power and Charisma, and Pillar of the Met, Dies at 82". The New York Times. http://www.nytimes.com/2003/10/30/arts/franco-corelli-italian-tenor-power-charisma-pillar-met-dies-82.html?scp=4&sq=Franco%20Corelli&st=cse. Retrieved May 16, 2009.
^ Ira Siff (January 2004). "Obituaries: Franco Corelli". Opera News. http://www.metoperafamily.org/operanews/issue/article.aspx?id=99&issueID=5&archive=true. Retrieved May 16, 2009.
^ von Rhein, John (August 2004). "The Company That Works". Opera News 69 (2).
^ Ross Parmenter, "Maria Callas Bows at Opening of 'Met'", New York Times (October 30, 1956), p. 1.
^ Cantrell, Scott (November 2006). "And that Spells Dallas". Opera News 71 (5).
^ Davis, Ronald L./ Miller, Henry S., Jr.,La Scala West: The Dallas Opera Under Kelly and Rescigno, Texas A & M Univ Press, ISBN 9780870744549
^ Allan Kozinn (July 7, 1992). "Allen Sven Oxenburg, 64, Dead; American Opera Society Founder". The New York Times. http://www.nytimes.com/1992/07/07/arts/allen-sven-oxenburg-64-dead-american-opera-society-founder.html. Retrieved August 12, 2009.
^ a b Bing, Rudolf (1972). 5000 Nights at the Opera. Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Co.. ISBN 0385092598.
^ a b c d e f g h i j Schwarzkopf, Elisabeth (1982). On and Off the Record: A Memoir of Walter Legge. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. ISBN 0-684-17451-0.
^ a b c d e f "The Callas Debate". Opera. September-October 1970.
^ Ponselle, Rosa, Ponselle, a Singer's Life, Doubleday, Garden city, 1982
^ Interview with James Fleetwood, March 13 and 27, 1958, New York, release on The Callas Edition, CED 100343, 1998
^ Siff, Ira, "I Vespri Siciliani: Verdi:, Online edition of Opera News, March 2008
^ Opera News (December 1982).
^ Crutchfield, Will (January 1999). "The Trill is Gone". Opera News.
^ a b c d e f Mordden, Ethan (1984). Demented: The World of the Opera Diva. New York: Simon & Schuster. ISBN 0-671-66800-5.
^ Dyer, Richard, "The Sopranos", Opera News, March 2001
^ a b c d e Whitson, James C. (October 2005). "The Callas Legacy". Opera News.
^ Ira Siff, in his interview with Maestro Walter Taussig, "The Associate", Opera News, April 2001
^ a b c Rasponi, Lanfranco (June 1985). The Last Prima Donnas. Limelight Editions. ISBN 0879100400.
^ Lebrecht, Norman (1985). The Book of Musical Anecdotes. New York: Free Press. ISBN 0-02-918710-9.
^ "Diva Serena, Time, November 3, 1958
^ Robinson, Francis (1979). Celebration: The Metropolitan Opera. Garden City, New Jersey: Doubleday. ISBN 0-385-12975-0.
^ Hastings, Stephen (May 2002). "The Spirit of Giulietta". Opera News.
^ Pleasants, Henry, "Maria Meneghini Callas", Opera Quarterly1993; 10: 159–163
^ Opera Quarterly 4 (4).
^ Stephanie Von Buchau, "Bonynge on Bel Canto", Opera News, January 22, 1994
^ Singer, Barry (October 2006). "Turning Point". Opera News.
^ Maria Callas: Life and Art. [TV documentary, available on DVD]. EMI. 1987.
^ Callas in her Own Words, Audio Documentary
^ a b Gage, Nicholas (2000-10-03). Greek Fire: The Story Of Maria Callas and Aristotle Onassis. Knopf. ISBN 0375402446.
^ Meneghini, Giovanni Battista (1982). My Wife Maria Callas. New York: Farrar Straus Giroux. ISBN 0-374-21752-1.
^ A Callas Recording Update
^ John Ardoin in Callas, La Divina (film documentary)
^ Callas, Jackie (1990). Sisters: A Revealing Portrait of the World's Most Famous Diva. Gordonsville, Virginia: St. Martin's Press. ISBN 0-312-03934-4.
^ Playlist: Jason Mraz - Nightline July 17, 2009 - Reggae to rock, Mraz reveals his musical influences.
^ Paul Gruber (ed.), The Metropolitan Guide to Recorded Opera, Norton, 1993, p. 415
[edit] Bibliography
Galatopoulos, Stelios, Maria Callas, Sacred Monster, New York: Simon and Schuster, 1998, ISBN 0-684-85985-8
Seletsky, Robert E., "The Performance Practice of Maria Callas: Interpretation and Instinct", The Opera Quarterly, 20/4 (2004), pp. 587–602.
Seletsky, Robert E., "Callas at EMI: Remastering and Perception"; "A Callas Recording Update"; "A Callas Recording Update...updated", The Opera Quarterly, 16/2 (2000), pp. 240–55; 21/2 (2005), pp. 387–91; 21/3, pp. 545–6 (2005).
Stancioff, Nadia, Maria: Callas Remembered. An Intimate Portrait of the Private Callas, New York: E. P. Dutton, 1987, ISBN 0-525-24565-0
[edit] External links
Wikiquote has a collection of quotations related to: Maria Callas
Wikimedia Commons has media related to: Maria Callas
Divina Callas's official website
Callas Forever at the Internet Movie Database
International Jose Guillermo Carrillo Foundation
Articles on Callas In depth articles discussing Callas's recorded legacy by Dr. Robert E. Seletsky and Milan Petkovic.
Discography (Capon's Lists of Opera Recordings)
Music in MP3 format
Maria Callas at Find a Grave
Maria Callas at the Internet Movie Database
Maria Callas in an excerpt from Tosca (1956).
"Living and Dying for Art and Love" Free documentary on her last performance(ClassicalTV)
Eva Mendes to play Maria Callas in film based on "Greek Fire"
Persondata
NAME Callas, Maria
ALTERNATIVE NAMES
SHORT DESCRIPTION American born, Greek soprano
DATE OF BIRTH 2 December 1923
PLACE OF BIRTH New York City, U.S.
DATE OF DEATH 16 September 1977
PLACE OF DEATH Paris, France


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