Who would have thought that 35 years after the fall of communism, Romanians would still be seeking healing? Cornelia Oncioiu is part of a generation of children raised in Romanian working-class families who, hardened by the shortages and horrors of the communist regime, didn’t know that the affection they showed their own children could matter more than what they put on the table.

Born in the commune of Dărmănești in Bacău County, at her mother’s insistence, she moved to Cluj when she was only 13 years old.

Today, she is one of the voices of the Paris National Opera, and her professional life is divided between the Opera Garnier and the Opéra Bastille, the performance halls that any artist or opera lover dreams of. She has shared the stage with international stars such as German soprano Diana Damrau and French baritone Ludovic Tézier and has worked with important directors like Robert Wilson and Andrei Șerban.

But her story is not that of a diva. Having lived in the French capital for over 20 years, mezzo-soprano Cornelia Oncioiu’s success is an example of courage, perseverance, and healing through music.

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We met Cornelia Oncioiu right next to the Opera Garnier in Paris. I immediately noticed her Transylvanian accent, but she told us she was actually born in Bacău. Destiny led her to Transylvania, the Banat region, and then to France, so her Romanian has no trace of a Moldovan accent.

“I lived with my parents until I was 13, and when I was 13, my mother said: you’re moving to Cluj! We had some relatives there, and there was a family wedding. Since she couldn’t leave, she said I should. I didn’t want to go, I cried, I hated the idea. But many times, life has shown me that even if I didn’t want something, it happened so that I would get to where I was meant to be.

Do you believe in destiny, that a certain path is written for you?

Yes, I clearly do, because I have lived it, I have seen it happen so many times.

“After I finished 8th grade, I enrolled in the Mining, Oil, and Geology section at the Racoviță High School in Cluj. And it so happened that I met a classmate who was enrolled at the Cluj School of Popular Arts. We both loved to sing, and she told me I could enroll too.

I went with my uncle to register, and the date of the exam fell exactly when I was sick; I had a throat infection. I was treating myself with walnut shell tea and onion tea.

At that time, I sang pop music; I didn’t sing classical music at all, I didn’t know what it was all about. I had no musical knowledge. In Dărmănești, I had an extraordinary teacher with whom I did four years of kobza. And he also played the violin fantastically; you can imagine what it means to have a teacher who plays the violin in Dărmănești, a very small commune! But I never even thought I could have a career in music. I never even dreamed of it. I didn’t know what talent was. I just liked to sing. That’s all.

At the exam for the School of Popular Arts, I sang ‘Nu-mi lua iubirea dacă pleci’ (Don’t Take My Love If You Leave), as I was a big fan of Angela Similea. I sang the first verse and the chorus, and the teacher said, ‘Thank you, that’s enough.’

Of course, I was inhibited; I thought I must have disappointed him, that he didn’t like it, that he wouldn’t take me. And then I experienced one of the most exceptional moments of my life. There was such a great silence that it seemed to last an eternity. And then he said: ‘A voice like that, you hear it once every 25 years.’ And that left me speechless because I didn’t expect it at all; it shocked me.

I think that based on those words, I actually built my career.

And I think I latched onto that. And my younger brother, Călin, was and still is my biggest supporter; he was by my side unconditionally, I always felt him close, even at a distance. He lived and continues to live my successes and failures with the same intensity.”

Deeply moved, with tears in her eyes, Cornelia Oncioiu tells us how a teacher can save the life of a child otherwise condemned to a life without opportunities. “Mr. Valeriu Sorescu was an extraordinarily interesting man; he gave me everything, he shaped me, he opened my eyes. He, with an imposing stature like Pavarotti, came to my school to talk for me because I wasn’t doing well in math.”

The same singing teacher later encouraged her to study at the Conservatory when her parents were calling her home to Dărmănești.

“After finishing high school, I joined the Cluj Opera choir because I needed a job. I had a lot of financial difficulties because I had no help, no one.

My mother told me: ‘You don’t have money, come home.’ The concept of music didn’t exist for her. And I said, no, I want to continue making music, and I stayed. My singing teacher told me at the beginning: ‘You have to do classical music; you have a voice for opera music, leave pop music. You won’t do much with it.’ I still wanted to do pop music, until in my third year of singing, he gave me an aria from Azucena, from Trovatore (n.r. The Troubadour, by Giuseppe Verdi).

This woman, Azucena, mistakenly threw her own child into the fire instead of the other one, wanting revenge. All of this had a very big impact on me because it overlapped with events from my personal life that were very significant, very painful, and so, I immediately understood the text. And I said: ‘If this is opera, this is what I want to do!’

It wasn’t complicated for someone with my experiences. When you come from a family with an alcoholic father, with a mother who yells from morning to night, the emotional burden is always within you.

The choir master of the Cluj Opera was very favorably impressed and said, ‘Yes, indeed, that is a true mezzo-soprano voice. When there is a competition, you will come to the competition and you will be part of our choir, if you want.’

I worked there for 3 years, until 1997.”

In parallel, she participated in and won the most important competitions in Romania, such as Hariclea Darclée, Eugenia Moldoveanu, Sabin Drăgoi, or Ionel Perlea. She began to build a career as a soloist, enjoying the trust and support of the great Romanian soprano Mariana Nicolesco. In 1997, she moved to Timișoara, where she was admitted to the Conservatory, and continued to perform as a soloist at the Cluj or Timișoara Opera, and to sing on the stage of the Romanian Athenaeum in Bucharest.

“In the 2001-2002 season, when I was finishing my studies, I applied for competitions at the operas in Bucharest, Cluj, and Timișoara and had passed the stages at all of them. But, at the same time, as a result of a project with the French Cultural Center in Timișoara, I was going to have an audition in Bucharest for Monique Devaux, who is still the director of the Auditorium at the Louvre.

I traveled all night by train from Timișoara to Bucharest to have the audition in the morning at the Opera, in front of Mrs. Devaux. I knew it was for a lady from France, but I didn’t know who she was.”

She waited all morning on the stairs of the Bucharest Opera to be let in for the audition, and the wait was worth it, as that was the meeting that would radically mark her career.

“She liked it very much and wrote a letter of recommendation for me to the Paris Opera Academy, which is a kind of school, but the admitted people are like employees, in fact. We had teachers, pianists, free training, and our duty was to sing on stage if requested, or to be understudies for some shows.

There were only 5 spots and 250 applicants. When I got there and saw that, I started to tremble and said, well, now it’s life and death. When you put me in a situation like that, I go and show everything I can; nothing can stand in my way, I don’t see, I don’t hear, I disappear into another universe.

I got in here, and at the same time, the competition at the Bucharest Opera was finishing, and I said yes, I choose Paris!

It wasn’t the money that attracted me, but the study; I wanted to learn as much as possible, to be in an environment where I had as much high-level information as possible, which I have to admit I didn’t have in Romania.

How many years did you study at the Academy here?

Two years.

And what happened after that?

Well, even before I was admitted to the Academy, they already offered me work. I did my first production as an understudy, right here at Garnier, with the role of Cornelia from Giulio Cesare (n.r. opera by Handel). The Opera also helped me with accommodation because I had only found a place for the period when I was starting the Academy. But until then, I had nowhere to stay. They found me an apartment right across from the Opéra Bastille.

Back then, there was a FNAC right in front. And they had the habit, as they do now, when there is an opera premiere, of highlighting all the records of that opera. And I didn’t know who those artists were, because at home we didn’t have YouTube, we didn’t have the internet, we didn’t have anything. I knew nothing about Mark Minkowski (n.r. French conductor) and a lot of other greats from here. I had the cast list, but it was only when I went into FNAC and saw Mark Minkowski, Mark Minkowski, Mark Minkowski everywhere, and all the people who were in the show, that I broke out in a sweat and said: ‘I can’t believe it, I’m going to go rehearse with these people tomorrow.’”

This year, Cornelia Oncioiu celebrates 21 years since her debut at the Opéra Bastille in Dialogues des carmélites. In all this time, her CV has become impressive, being a constant presence in the productions of the Parisian opera – Giulio Cesare, Elektra, Louise, The Barber of Seville, Madama Butterfly, Parsifal, Lucia di Lammermoor, Traviata, Le Soulier de satin are just a few of them. She has also sung at the Bordeaux National Opera in Rusalka, at the Grand Théâtre d’Avignon in Rusalka and Peter Grimes, and at the Marseille Opera in Madama Butterfly. Noticed by specialists in Paris, she has been invited to be part of performances staged in Amsterdam, Geneva, Monte Carlo, Tokyo, Santiago de Chile, and Shanghai.

“It’s not enough to sing beautifully or well; you have to be very responsive. That is, the moment you are told something, you have to immediately deliver what is asked of you. This is very important. Whether it comes from a conductor or a director. If you don’t react immediately to do what is said, in general, you are not given a second chance. In opera, at this level, no one really has patience with you.”

Although she was performing an episodic role, a critic from the New York Times noticed her in Traviata, alongside the main soloists – “Cornelia Oncioiu brings rich mezzo tones to the few lines she has to sing,” the New York Times article states.

Through music, she has seen different corners of the world, but she has collaborated least with Romania, being better known in France, her adopted country, than in her native country. In fact, this is the first interview she has given to a Romanian publication since settling in France.

How did you manage to integrate into everything that the world of Parisian opera means, beyond the artistic aspect?

It wasn’t easy for me. The difficulty comes from the difference in culture. The environment is not the same. We Romanians are more open; we get straight to the point. They are more diplomatic, they discuss things differently, they never say things to your face.

It’s hard at the beginning from a human point of view, until you make friends, until you get used to it. What most determined me to stay here was the cultural level and diversity.

If I had stayed in Romania, I don’t know what my life would have been like, but here I managed to buy an apartment, I managed to do so many extraordinary shows, to meet so many people, to sing under the baton of so many important conductors, to discover the world, to see art, to discover literature. You don’t feel like going back as long as you can benefit from all of this.

It’s true that for a soloist, as in my case, it’s very difficult because you always have to be well prepared, you always have to be at a high level. Any problem that arises puts you at a disadvantage and can quickly bring you down.

Whereas if you’re in a troupe in Romania, you don’t have the same problems. In general, you stay until retirement. It’s true that here you don’t have the same security or stability, but you have a lot of different soloists all the time, some of the world’s immense artists, the repertoire is very varied, the level of the orchestra is completely different, with extraordinary guest conductors.

Which work dynamic do you think is healthier, the one in Romania with all the artists employed or this one where artists are independent and work on a project basis?

I’m sorry, I don’t know if someone will accuse me or won’t like my answer, but I definitely opt for the second one. As a soloist, you realize you have to maintain your voice constantly, to work, to study. When the competition is high, of course, it makes you study and be prepared, because otherwise, someone else will take your place. This is also valid for directing, not just for soloists.”

Among the great directors she has worked with at the Paris National Opera are the American Robert Wilson and the Romanian Andrei Șerban.

“For me, Robert Wilson will remain hard to match, from many points of view. With him, I did Madama Butterfly at the Opéra Bastille, in 2009 and 2014, with me in the role of Suzuki. He insisted on the idea that when you perform and address someone, the feeling you want to convey doesn’t just go to the front. The energy circulates in multiple directions: up, down, front, back. If there’s a partner behind you, you don’t see them, but you have to feel them; you have to feel the energy with them, to make a connection with them.

A lot of soloists go on stage and care very little about their partners; they only focus on themselves, on shining, and that’s not okay.

With Andrei Șerban, I have some fabulous memories; I really liked Andrei! We are a bit made of the same dough. We both have a kind of simplicity and a direct style of communication, we understood each other very well.

I did L’italiana in Algerie at Garnier in 2010. And before that, Lucia di Lammermoor at Bastille. Andrei is spontaneous, he’s intelligent, he’s modest, he’s creative, free, he’s human, very human. He’s also charming, but it seems to me that the charm in people like this also comes from the fact that they have kept something of their childhood somewhere, that innocence in their soul.

What are the greatest satisfactions you have in your work?

The most satisfying moments are when you have partners you are on the same wavelength with and there is intensity. Intensity in emotions, in dedication, in responsiveness. It’s nice when your partner gives you a true look in the eye and isn’t the type who looks through you and sings their part, thinking about what they have to do.

With what partners have you experienced this?

Diana Damrau comes to mind now, for example, when we sang Traviata together, Sonya Yoncheva.

Then, there’s also the joy that comes from self-transcendence – when you manage to do difficult things that you never dreamed of.”

Having left a country that was still learning what democracy was and arriving in the heart of a culture that puts artistic freedom first, Cornelia Oncioiu has managed to build an international career through her own efforts and by eliminating any cultural barriers in her path.

The Paris National Opera, a benchmark of innovation and modernity, continues to work on dismantling clichés and brings multidisciplinary productions to the public, in which classic texts are sometimes combined with contemporary dance, minimalist scenography, and an international cast.

While street breakdancers were invited on stage there alongside the opera soloists in the revolutionary production Les Indes Galantes, the Bucharest National Opera was still trying to recover after numerous cases of corruption and the famous racism scandal in 2016 when Romanian artists demanded the removal of foreign collaborators and booed the great ballerina Alina Cojocaru, along with her partner, choreographer Johan Kobborg.

This year, the Bucharest National Opera again blundered with a campaign trying to “educate” the public – “How we dress at the opera” – presenting a hypersexualized and clichéd image of a fashion model wearing an evening gown. In contrast, at the Bastille, given that it is a common activity for them, many French people go to the opera directly from work, wearing casual clothes.

“I have been here for 20 years; it is a huge creative force, and the mix of classic and contemporary has become normal. But the audience here is much more open than in Romania.

In Germany, the role of Elvira from Don Giovanni was played this year by a man (n.r. the Brazilian Bruno de Sa), and this stirred numerous comments on the internet. What’s the problem? I mean, who are we to judge? And why should we judge? How does it affect us?

What do you think is the role of opera today, when the world is so dependent on digital technology, and the attention span for a subject lasts only a few seconds?

The role of opera is to make you live experiences other than the ones you are used to; it helps you see various stories from the past, many of which are still valid today, you see how people reacted back then, to know other cultures, other behaviors.

I believe that at the opera, you can experience feelings that I don’t know if you can experience in other forms of art. Of course, you can be moved in front of a painting, in front of a sculpture, or at a theater play, but when the vocal intensity is mixed with music, with scenography, with directing, with dance, with the text, with poetry, it is difficult for that to be equaled by anything else.

I’m curious if your parents got to see you singing on the stage of the Paris Opera.

Yes, my parents came to Paris a few times, and my father, before he died, came a few times and saw me in Paris, Nantes, and Bucharest. And my mother has come a few times.

My mother still lives in Dărmănești; she knows I’m here, but my parents were never very interested in my career, what I do professionally, my evolution. However, I am grateful because they gave me an education and what was necessary in my childhood. Now, as an adult, I have also understood the difficulties they went through.

What else connects you to Romania? Do you still visit your country, are you interested in what’s happening there?

Yes, of course, I’m interested. I was very affected and very preoccupied with the elections; I never in my life wanted a president to be elected as much as I wanted Nicușor Dan to be elected now. Oh my god, what a relief I felt when I saw he was elected. I think I would have cried for days if it hadn’t been so.

It’s interesting that you’re so interested, even though you no longer live there.

Well, you know why? (with tears in her eyes) I want to cry when I think of all the people who worked and struggled before so that we could have what we have now. It’s as if some people no longer appreciate anything. We no longer want Europe, we no longer want freedom, we no longer want anything, we only want ourselves, Romania? Because Europe is taking everything from us. I don’t understand. What is Europe taking from us?

I think about the people who died in the Revolution and the progress that has been made, because progress has been made. Some people don’t want to see it, but I say it has been made.

We are free to leave whenever we want, wherever we want. Isn’t that a good thing?”

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This article is part of the “France Week” series, an initiative by Cultura la dubă supported by BNP Paribas. So far, within this project, Cultura la dubă has presented the stories of 22 Romanian artists and cultural figures based in France.

The post From Dărmănești to the Paris National Opera, the voice of mezzo-soprano Cornelia Oncioiu is the cry of a generation appeared first on Cultura la dubă.

He left Romania for Argentina at 19, and dance opened his horizons to a new world, full of possibilities, to diversity and understanding. He studied ballet, modern dance, and contemporary dance, was part of a church choir, danced in one of Paris’s famous cabarets, and settled in the French capital, where he is a dancer, choreographer, and dance teacher.

Decisively influenced by the great Romanian choreographer Gigi Căciuleanu and trained by his partner, Ruxandra Racoviță, Daniel Pop carries on the love for contemporary dance and enriches it with his own ideas, movements, and emotions.

I met him in Paris just hours before he was to go on stage at the Opéra National de Paris, where he is part of the opera Manon.

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Daniel Pop’s story begins 37 years ago in Târgu-Mureș. Born in one of Romania’s most ethnically mixed communities, he grew up surrounded by diversity, which later helped him adapt to the different cultures he encountered.

“I was raised by grandparents, parents, teachers with this idea that if you learn a foreign language, you’ll have an extra chance in life. They told me: be curious, be open, accept diversity.

In Târgu Mureș, we have this cohabitation of space with those of Hungarian origin. Our neighbors are Hungarian, my mother went to primary school in Hungarian, and so I grew up with this exercise of multiculturalism. It seemed very important to me as an adult, a professional, if I have something to say and am encouraged and warmly welcomed into a new space, then to come and accept this challenge and propose such an exercise of artistic creation in several languages, where at some point, in fact, language was no longer a barrier,” says Daniel.

He always felt a magnetic attraction to dance, even if his father would have preferred him to box, because “boys need to know how to defend themselves.”

“Being a child with bronchial asthma, I had quite fragile health at that time and was forbidden to do sports. I danced from a very young age in front of the television, imitating stars like Marilyn Monroe, Britney Spears. I had a lot of habits that no one understood. I went to ballet somewhat secretly.

I was beaten quite a lot as a child, in front of the block. I was very whiny, often sick, I wasn’t allowed to eat ice cream. I went to classical dance because what I saw on television toughened me up a lot, and I told myself, ‘look how beautiful, how graceful, how good it is there.’

I used to imitate gestures a lot; I imitated my mother who smoked and I secretly smoked pencils. I watched some films about cabaret and taught imaginary children dance and all sorts of subjects.

And I say this now because, after all, I danced for many years in a cabaret, I became a dancer, and I also became a teacher. Somehow these childhood dreams became reality.

How were your childhood dance classes?

I went to ballet classes in Târgu Mureș, at the general school gym. At one point, my parents were called to give their consent for me to receive a scholarship to the Bolshoi Ballet in Moscow.

My teacher said it would be good for me to try to go to a ballet school in Russia because boys are needed and because I am tall and could develop very well.

I think ballet saved me from my medical condition, in the sense that I developed my lung capacity. However, my parents were still very worried and did not agree to my leaving for Moscow.

What did you do after that?

At 18, when I finished high school, I had the opportunity to go to Argentina to a dance school, through a very good friend from Târgu Mureș, who had been there for two years studying cinematography.

I was supposed to prepare for the choreography section of UNATC in Bucharest, but it didn’t inspire me at all to go to Bucharest. I think there were also these stereotypes about the relationship between the province and Bucharest. At that time, I was part of a church choir and a high school theater group.

Those at Ariel Theater in Târgu Mureș, where I was already working as an amateur, told me: “Dance is against the clock; go for dance because you can do theater at any age.”

And somehow my work is somewhere at the intersection of theater and dance. My personal artistic projects and interests led me on this path, so somehow I still managed to have some contact with theater.”

In Argentina, however, he was to discover contemporary dance, in a completely different way than he perceived dance, through the lens of the rigors imposed by ballet exercises. There he studied at a dance school and worked in parallel as a waiter to ensure an income.

At the time, Gigi Căciuleanu, who was to become his mentor, was the artistic director of the National Ballet of Chile.

“He was already working with professional dancers; I wasn’t prepared for contemporary dance at that level, and he proposed that I come to Paris to attend the Conservatory, where his lifelong partner, Ruxandra Racoviță, was a professor. She had the Contemporary Dance department, and I was her last generation of students. She trained me in contemporary dance, and after I finished, I started dancing in a company where Gigi Căciuleanu staged shows.

And I worked in that company for about 5-6 years, touring through Europe, dancing a lot here in France and Italy.

What convinced you to make the transition from ballet to contemporary dance?

A very great embarrassment I felt in a contemporary dance class in Buenos Aires where, effectively, after 10 minutes, I picked up my bag to leave. When I put my hand on the doorknob, the teacher stopped the class and said: “Are you sure you want to leave? I think there’s something for you; you just have to give it time.” And it was a challenge, because I’ve always been very agitated, very wild, preoccupied with a hundred things, somewhat dispersed in space, and contemporary dance opened up a vision where anything was possible.

But where did that embarrassment come from?

From some movements that were not necessarily in my comfort zone or in what I knew how to do, namely the very rigorous ABC of classical dance.

When I discovered contemporary dance, I didn’t know these elements; everything was about weight, about breathing, about falling to the ground, about slowing down, movement about speeds, different volumes, bodies. All these things I liked very much and embarrassed me at the same time.

I was somehow afraid to throw myself harder. I saw that there’s always room for more, and in classical dance there’s room for more and movements can be perfected, but classical dance goes through a certain repetition of movement until it becomes perfect, whereas in contemporary dance, that doesn’t exist.

Contemporary dance has more to do with movement that will be nourished by a thought, by an emotion behind it, with deciphering certain cultures and subjects. I think it’s something much more universal and much more open to people.

And you made the complete transition? You no longer danced ballet?

Yes, I continued classical dance as training, because it seemed very rigorous and very important for the body and for body posture. Continuing with classical dance is a kind of morning prayer, but I plunged into the world of contemporary dance, being very convinced that this is the path I want to take.

I also had this inclination towards the world of theater; I really liked talking about different subjects, having different characters, not necessarily being in this world of the romantic prince who has to carry the princess or the swan through space.

Then, in Argentina, I also discovered the world of modern dance, namely jazz, musical. And when I arrived in Paris, apropos of what you work to support yourself, I auditioned for a very famous cabaret here, Paradis Latin – the cabaret that is placed in the same line as Moulin Rouge and Lido. It was built by Gustave Eiffel in an architecture very similar to that of the tower.

It’s a cabaret where the cancan dance was invented and first danced in Paris.

I worked there for 5 years at night, so I could do what I liked during the day – contemporary dance. I was somehow between the two worlds, the world of night and the world of day.

And I also taught in a modern dance club and various body maintenance techniques.

Why did you choose to continue doing this in Paris? Was there no place for contemporary dance in Romania? Or in Argentina?

In Paris, I found my place, and I really liked the diversity. I think what I had to say had to do with something very universal; I liked having colleagues from all over the world.

Then here there is an artist’s status, an “intermittence du spectacle” regime.

This wage system is unique in the world. It is a self-sustaining system. Depending on what you declare and what taxes you pay to the state, they then ensure you a decent living between projects.

How has being part of this much more open world of contemporary dance changed you on a human level?

I believe that contemporary dance is about a lot of introspection and it is an intimate and very internal journey of one’s own self, of being. At the same time, you can be a messenger, a connecting point between cultures, between people, between different languages, between different forms of expression.

I don’t think I would be the same if I hadn’t lived in Argentina for three years and if I hadn’t immersed myself in a Latin American culture.

And regarding tradition, identity, and where I come from, I have always tried to preserve this very beautiful and varied relief of Transylvania, the land where I was born, and to bring it through movements, through a certain melancholy, into dance.”

At the time of our meeting in Paris, Daniel was preparing to go on stage at the Opéra Bastille, where he has been part of the production and cast of the opera Manon since 2020. Following an audition, he was selected for the dance corps. Then the celebrated tenor Benjamin Bernheim chose him as his stage partner for several scenes, so in some performances, he is an actor. In parallel, he was also appointed choreography assistant.

“The choreographic proposal for this show has quite classical and neoclassical content, but also has jazz, modern, and contemporary dance influences. Based on these competencies acquired through the multitude of aesthetics my body has gone through during my years of study, I managed to get this casting.

From the outside, it seems that this multidisciplinary approach is increasingly common in the world of opera and ballet in Paris. I’ve seen shows where hip-hop dancers have performed on stage alongside tenors and sopranos. How is this modernization of a classical world viewed from within?

I think France has always been avant-garde and has aimed to experiment with new forms. Artistic transversality and this interdisciplinarity have found a cradle in France, through its history, through its revolutions. These revolutions were also felt in the arts, because an artist is an active citizen of society through the work he does, through the risks he takes, and through this universality with which he responds to new challenges.

The last few years in France, it seems to me, have been about breaking these barriers, about trying to go hand in hand with this idea of democratizing dance, of opening up spaces a lot, of mixing the world of professional dancers with amateur dancers.

At the state level, cultural policies have been designed in such a way that dance reaches many new spaces, and even large institutions, such as the opera, bring new voices from certain territories very far from classical forms. Of course, there have been controversies, and there always are controversies. If you look, for example, at the Louvre pyramid, there was a big scandal because something totally innovative, something angular, was intervened in a heritage space, and there were all sorts of conspiracies.

It’s a very clear example that we can live in a very large diversity, and this was also the reason why I stayed here.

Because daily I met new people, from new cultures, from new countries, and it was somehow an adopted land where we all felt equal together.

And from a geographical point of view, it was a strategy to be in Paris because I could go anywhere, east, west, north, south, very easily and return here, as the French say, to a pied-à-terre, having a foot very anchored in this culture and in this diversity.

Have you also become a French citizen?

Yes, after 12 years of living here, as a European citizen with the same rights, after all, as the French. It was a personal decision to also take French citizenship because it seemed to me that it somehow crowns a certain effort I made to understand, without judging, why the French are cold and distant, when, in fact, they are just reserved. I came from a collective education, like communism, to the land of enlightenment thinkers, philosophers, great thinkers, where individualism is paramount and where a person, an individual, must learn to fend for himself.

For me, it was very clear that I am like them, and a citizenship does not cancel the one I have and the identities I have, but it is something that enriches me, something that completes me and makes me feel more complex.”

Although he is already perfectly integrated in France, Daniel frequently returns to Romania, where he has also laid the foundations for an artistic residency in Saschiz, Transylvania. This summer, his project, entitled International Artistic Residencies Camp “LEGĂTURI” (CONNECTIONS), is already in its 4th edition. Every year, international and national artists are invited to meet students from our vocational faculties, as well as the local community.

“I feel at home in Transylvania. And in the places where I grew up, where I am always welcomed with open arms, and where we have the camp, I feel that I receive a lot of trust in the artistic formats I propose.

In Saschiz, I propose a mix of different cultures and worlds: that of art school students, with internationally renowned and national artists, with children from culturally disadvantaged rural areas, with key people in their communities, namely those who work in education and tell children about our activities.

In the first year, they were a little more reluctant when they heard so many different languages on the street, in their village; it was something very new. But when I brought a fashion designer who presented at Fashion Week in Paris, they came, stood close to the door, very quiet, listened to this artist with whom I moderated a discussion about his journey, about how he markets his products, about how he creates in Paris. And at the end, when a video presentation of the Fashion Week runway ended, they were the first to shout bravo and applaud.

Then, I think of the children who took eco-fashion workshops with this designer; they learned to sew, to give new life to an old garment.

All through gestures and through body language, they were able to connect. And then, for me, that was clear proof that when we meet and try to communicate with our bodies, we overcome many barriers.”

***

This article is part of the “France Week” series, an initiative by Cultura la dubă supported by BNP Paribas. So far, within this project, Cultura la dubă has presented the stories of 22 Romanian artists and cultural figures based in France.

The post Daniel Pop, Romanian-French dancer and choreographer: “When we communicate with the body, we overcome many barriers.” appeared first on Cultura la dubă.

Although he has not lived in Romania since he was 17, Cristian Măcelaru returns to his native country every time he has the chance, passes his knowledge and love for music to the young generation, brings his family to discover its roots and dreams of a better future for Romanians.

As of this year, Măcelaru is also the man who leads the destiny of the George Enescu International Festival, at least from an artistic point of view. He accepted, as Artistic Director of the Festival, a six-year term for 3 editions (2023, 2025, and 2027) and wants to bring people closer to the beauty of music and culture.

Among the concerts that he conducted during the Festival and those in Paris, he takes every opportunity to be a simple spectator. He can be seen in the concert halls alone or together with his family.

Cristian Măcelaru speaks with warmth and hope about art and the joy he lives through music is seen and felt when he conducts. His joy, is, in fact, contagious.

„It is very important to realize that music alone is not what changes people. Music is the one that brings us together, we are the ones who decide what we do with that gathering.”

Cristian Măcelaru

Two years after the interview in Paris, I met him in the heart of the George Enescu Festival, at the Romanian Athenaeum. In the interview below, he talks about the decisions behind the event, the feelings during concerts, the relationship with music, the norms of society, and, most importantly, about the universe in which we all should bring ideas, information and hope for our children.

***

This year you are the Artistic Director of the George Enescu Festival, conductor and also part of the audience, I`ve seen you many times in the concert hall. When do you feel the biggest emotions?

I can honestly say, I don’t have emotions at all. First of all, as a conductor, I have no emotions because I know the quality of the artistic product that the musicians in the orchestra bring, and I am full of energy anticipating and knowing how the audience will react. 

It is not emotion, it is a positive energy that wakes me up each morning because I can’t wait to get to the concert. 

Then, as a spectator, I’m very happy. In fact, this is the first time I can attend several events as a spectator. I’ve been to the festival as part of the audience before, but I’ve attended one or two concerts. 

Now I feel like a kid in a candy store because I choose any concert I want to see, and I meet many musicians I work with. It`s like we`re at a friendly reunion singing to each other.

And that’s just a small side of the festival, actually. These artists who come here intersect with each other and this is how beautiful ideas in art are born.

As an artistic director, I have emotions in the sense that I want to completely reach the end, as I planned, without too many barriers. When you have 3,500 artists from all over the world traveling to the festival, of course, there are problems that arise. There are things we need to rearrange every hour and every day.

By the time you took over this term, in what proportion were the artists contracted and the musical program arranged? 

When I took over as artistic director, I can’t say there was anything confirmed. There were a few things in discussion, natural things, even now we have talks for 2025 and 2027, because great orchestras plan 5-6 years ahead, and I do the same.

And then, there were discussions all the time, but everything was confirmed after I took over.

In terms of the program, does each orchestra choose its repertoire, or does the festival impose what is played, so that there is general coherence in the event for a month?

First of all, let’s think about the history of the festival. In 1958 it’s purpose was to promote Enescu’s music. This was the term of the festival. Since then, it has continued to promote Enescu’s music, but in a more global context.

This year, in the festival, 39 compositions of Enescu are presented and we continue this effort. That’s why we negotiate with all the orchestras that come.

Many orchestras are on a tour of their own, and at the festival, they stop for one or two days.

It is impossible to impose a different repertoire on each orchestra, it is negotiated. But all the orchestras that come to the festival know in advance that they have to interpret a work by Enescu. 

When the orchestras come to the negotiation, they ask „which work of Enescu is not already taken?” For example, I proposed to the Vienna Philarmonic to perform one of Enescu’s suites, and they accepted, then they realized that there was not enough time for rehearsal of the Suite in Romania. And then they integrated Suite No.1 of Enescu, a 30-minute work, in their entire tour. 

I was at the Graffenegg Festival in Vienna and the Vienna Philharmonic played Enescu’s Suite. And this made me so happy because our effort to make the composer George Enescu known to the whole world is beginning to catch strong roots.

Beyond Enescu`s music, did you have any preferences for certain works or composers that you wanted to promote in the program?

Of course. First of all, it is the anniversary year of György Ligeti, a composer born on the Romanian territory, highly appreciated especially in the 20th century, when he lived. That’s why Ligeti’s music has a special role in the festival.

Then, I really want to promote Bartók’s music, because he is another composer that many are afraid to listen to because they don’t know what will discover.

Bartók has long been considered an extraordinary modernist, but I find in his music such a deep and beautiful romance! Even when he is very modern, still he has such a profound element. It’s like when we look in Romanian folklore and see these extraordinary masks, then something like the Merry Cemetery, all the fantastic things. This is Bartók’s music and must be understood in this context.

I promote Bartók’s music everywhere because it speaks so deeply about the culture I come from.

He was born in Sânnicolau Mare, I was born in Timișoara, 20 or so kilometres away, his music comes from the same land I come from. I identify very much with the gestures that Bartók writes in music, that’s why his music is promoted in the festival.

As an audience member, have you been particularly impressed by any concert?

I can say that all of them impress me, because I don’t listen to music in a comparative way, looking for the superlative, but I am interested in the person-person relationship. Music is the language through which artists communicate. But that relationship, human to human, is actually the beautiful thing in art.

Art is such a personal thing that there can’t be a climax that makes you lesser if you don’t reach it.

And then, is each person’s experience during the concert the most important?

Exactly.

And what you bring defines a lot of the success of the concert, not just what the artist brings. The artist always brings something of his own, something personal. But what I bring, so that we can connect in the concert, that’s what the success of the concert depends a lot on.

I can say, from my memories of the last few days, that to see Maestro Zubin Mehta conducting an entire opera at the age of 90, without once looking at the score, doing everything with technical perfection from a conducting point of view, is simply a miracle.

Likewise, Mahler’s 9th Symphony, with Sir Simon Rattle and the London Symphony, was of such beauty and deep feeling! Especially knowing that this is the last time they will play with him as the ensemble’s conductor, there are elements beyond the music that make the concert very special.

It was also quite special what happened at the Tonhalle Orchestra concert in Zurich at the Palace Hall, when despite the Ro Alert alarms, the artists continued to play in an extraordinary way and be above those moments. And at the end, the audience applauded for minutes on end to Dvořák’s 9th Symphony.

Right. I was there. The audience also wanted to show their appreciation for the fact that the artists didn’t stop the concert.

I talked to the orchestra after the concert and they said “unfortunately, we also saw the Ro Alert at half-time, but because it was in Romanian, we didn’t understand what it was and, being in proximity to the war in Ukraine, we didn’t know what was going on, is it a fire alarm, has Romania been invaded?”.

Of course, after the concert, we talked internally to establish a more defined protocol, to let people know how to turn that phone off, so they would stop calling.

It’s to be applauded how the artists reacted to those sounds.

I saw that during the break you went to congratulate Andrei Ioniță. What did you say to him?

Of course, I played with Andrei, he is very appreciated in Romania, he is our hero, a special and extraordinary talent, with a lightness on the instrument that is appreciated by those who know how difficult it is to play the cello. They really know what a talent Andrei is. He is a very great talent and I told him exactly that.

You and your family went to a few concerts. How do the kids feel about the festival?

They love it. Unfortunately, because they started school in Paris, they couldn’t stay to see more of the festival. They like it very much in Romania, they have their favorite places to go, playgrounds or Cărturești, they go there since they were very young.

I also try to teach them a little how to listen, what to look for and I enjoy it when they ask me questions. In Germany, when I did The Woodcarved Prince, I did it with the subtitles of the story. It’s a ballet with a story behind it, in which Bartók wrote the music in such a way that Wagner did in his operas. There are musical brassy motifs that coincide with certain important words in the story.

And when the children came here, they were afraid that without subtitles they wouldn’t understand the story. And we made a video where we explained those musical motifs for them to recognize, we watched the video together, told them the story one more time and that’s how they came to the concert.

It is very necessary that parents who bring their children to the concert take 5-10 minutes beforehand, I make this effort like any parent. Depending on how you introduce the kids to the concert, to a work, their experience will be very different.

That’s what interests me most, that people discover the same beauty at the concert that I do.

A little knowledge helps you understand music and listen to it differently, so you’ll have a deeper, more beautiful perspective.

In fact, for me, that’s the difference between art and entertainment. In art you have to bring something of yourself to discover beauty. In entertainment you don’t need anything at all except a ticket.

In art, the more you bring in, the wider the universe you discover.

When you took over as artistic director, you said that you wanted very much to open the Enescu Festival to children and young audiences. You have included in the programme a series, for the first time, for children, which is sold out. Do you feel you have achieved what you set out to do?

It’s a successful first step, I say. I will continue to do more in this direction. Maybe some people say “ah, what a good idea, so that in 20-30 years we have a new generation coming to the festival”. Yes, that’s true, but my main interest is that these children and young people who come to the concerts discover culture, discover their relationship with art.

You don’t learn culture from a textbook in school. You don’t learn it by reading about it. Culture is absorbed when you don’t realize you’re absorbing culture. Culture takes time and effort, not just personal effort.

We must provide possibilities and opportunities for these children of ours to be exposed to culture and art. There is a space in society, a universe that is filling up with information, with ideas. If we don’t put ideas and information into that space, someone else will gladly do it.

We need to fill the universe with something good, from which children take what they want. The moment we have a presence in that space, maybe they will take culture.

To what extent do you think art should be related to what is happening in society? It was moving when you dedicated the Second Rhapsody to the victims of the Crevedia explosion and linked the work to the idea of healing. It took on a new meaning.

Music has always been, in fact, the thing that has accompanied everything we have done as humans. The beginning of organized music was to bring people together. Whether it was at a funeral, whether it was at a wedding, whether it was at a natural phenomenon, music has always had that purpose, to bring people together. Then, we are the ones who give the purpose of our gathering.

It’s very important to realize that music alone is not what transforms people. It’s the music that brings us together, it’s we who decide what we do with that gathering. Because there is so much power in 2000-3000 people coming together and listening to the same thing. There is a spiritual power in the universe.

And what we do with that power in the universe can lead to good or it can lead to evil.

It is important to reintroduce music as a catalyst for good. The idea of healing through music is as old as the universe. We need that soul-soothing.

And music like Enescu’s Second Rhapsody was put in a special context and everyone in the hall heard it in a different way than they had heard it before. One thought of 4000 people towards the same thing transforms a universe.

To what extent does clothing still matter at these events nowadays? There is still the impression, at times, that the Enescu Festival is a stiff event, where you have to go dressed up elegantly. I know that your view is a bit different, in the sense that you don’t consider the attire being a prerequisite for attending such a concert.

Elegance itself is up to each individual. I’ve seen people in jeans who are very elegant, and I’ve seen people in suits who are not elegant.

It’s not the clothing itself that gives a person elegance, but elegance comes from within.

For me it doesn’t matter how people are dressed, but there must be a special feeling, an internal elegance when you are face to face with Enescu, Mahler or Beethoven. There has to be a reverence for these geniuses. Not for musicians, not for conductors, but for composers. For me, the composer is the complete genius.

And when I go to concerts in jeans and when I go in a suit, I bring a reverence through internal elegance, which I think is necessary.

For those who only stop at clothes, that’s their understanding, but I hope they can get away from this idea that you have to be dressed a certain way. Reverence is something that has to come from inside, because if it’s not from inside, it’s a false thing and it’s not good.

At what stage are you with the project you have with the French National Orchestra to record the complete operas of Enescu?

We finished recording the first three symphonies and the two rhapsodies, we spent almost 4 weeks, a lot of work. Next comes studio sound editing. And probably next year the records will come out.

Did you feel that you brought the French National Orchestra closer to Enescu with this project?

Yes. And I would say Enescu closer to the French National Orchestra. I don’t know any musician who hasn’t discovered Enescu’s music, who hasn’t been overwhelmed by the beauty, the extraordinary universe that Enescu offers.

Because he is so complex, Enescu requires more than other composers. That’s why there are so many people who haven’t discovered Enescu yet. They’ve heard him, but they haven’t discovered him.

When and how did you discover Enescu?

I discovered him playing his music. And I’ve been obsessed with his music ever since. Enescu must be studied, discovered and understood

In the interview we did together in Paris two years ago, you talked about how important a concert hall would be for Romania. Has there been any progress in discussions with the Romanian authorities on this matter since you became the festival director?

What I can say is that I still haven’t found a person in the government or outside who disagrees with the idea that we need to do something. Everybody has said “oh, it’s necessary.” For 30 years it’s been necessary. But what we haven’t found is a coalition of all the people who need to make the clear decisions.

We did our part, Artexim, Mr Mihai Constantinescu who has been fighting for this for 30 years. They have made a project, but it is not green lit until the end.

Honestly, I can’t even say that there’s a specific person who hasn’t given his consent. No.

It’s such a volatile system, it changes so often, it’s kind of absurd. A project of this magnitude needs continuity. A concert hall can be built in 2-3 years.

But why do you think it doesn’t happen? What is missing?

In my experience, people who have been persuaded and want to do this simply change their position. And then you have to start over with the next guy. The battle has to start from scratch.

I think since you’ve been in talks to take over as director, you have already changed three Ministers of Culture.

Three, that’s right. Not to mention Mr. Mihai Constantinescu, in 33 years he went through about 40 ministers. But it’s not just about ministers, it’s about a system.

A train conductor, no matter how much he wants to go forward, if every person and every screw in that train is not put in the right place, the train will not leave the station.

The post Cristian Măcelaru: „In art, you must bring something from yourself to discover beauty. In entertainment, you don’t need anything, just a ticket.” appeared first on Cultura la dubă.

RO Version

In 1959, a 4 year old boy from Bucharest, living in a part of the city with nice houses, between Popa Nan and Hala Traian, decided to leave home and go searching for Pif, the famous comic book dog.

He had discovered the Pif universe in the Vaillant magazines, that an aunt had given to his older brother. From that moment on, he has dedicated his life to his passion for comics.

“Being impressed by this magazine, very beautifully colored and big, I badly wanted to go to Paris and meet the characters in real life, because I really believed that they existed.

I packed a small suitcase in which I managed to put a pillow and a blanket. I put on a nice velvet suit, with bloomers and suspenders, I was proud of myself and had a clear plan, to take the bus to the train station and then take a train to Paris.

I was found by an aunt on the street and taken back home”

_{Mircea Arapu/ photo: Bogdan Iordache, Cultura la dubă}

That is how Mircea Arapu’s story begins, now 68 years old. He lives in Paris for more that 40 years and is a French citizen. He met us in Saint-Michel, a neighbourhood dear to him ever since arriving in the French capital. 

He is one of the most well-known Romanian comic book creators, and his career is tightly bound to the history of Pif Gadget, where he has published more than 30 episodes of Arthur, the crime fighting ghost and others with Pif and Hercule, or Placid and Muzo.

Already a fan of the Vaillant magazine, at 8 he discovered Pif at a friend from the street. 

“The characters were the same, but the magazine was different, it was smaller. I found out that I could buy more issues at an old book store and I went immediately and bought them. I would read up to 20 issues a week and at some point I realized that I had started thinking in French.”

_{Alexandra Tănăsescu and Mircea Arapu/ photo: Bogdan Iordache, Cultura la dubă}

Along with his love for the Pif universe, he discovered his passion for drawing. In high-school, with other colleagues, he made his own comic magazines. He then tried his luck at a contest in the Cutezătorii magazine, along with other Romanian illustrators, and the creator of Pif, Cabrero Arnal was in the jury. Although he only got a mention at the contest, it gave him the courage to continue on that path.

_{Mircea Arapu drawing Pif/ photo: Bogdan Iordache, Cultura la dubă}

He created a board with his own comic strips and proposed it to the Cutezătorii magazine, but got rejected. Then he planned to get into the Plastic Arts Faculty and prepared for admission with the painter Zamfir Dumitrescu, a former student of Corneliu Baba.

He was rejected 6 times and gave up on the idea of college, but not his desire to draw.

That’s how he followed his dream in Paris, where he migrated in 1978 along with his family, leaving with one of the last Orient Express trains, exactly like his childhood plan.

_{Mircea Arapu drawing Pif/ photo: Bogdan Iordache, Cultura la dubă}

“My first memory from Paris in Gare d’Est, where I saw Pif at a news stand, but my first more serious memories are from Saint Michel, where I would walk around a lot. I liked it because there were many book stores specialised in comics.”

In 1980, along with other Romanians who shared his passion – Sorin Anghel, Valentin Tănase, Traian Marinescu – he published the first issue of „Peur”, the first comic magazine with Romanian authors, edited in French. That got him the invitation to show his original boards at the International Festival in Angoulême and at Maison des Artistes – Paris.

Mircea Arapu then wrote the chapter on Romania in the History of The Comic Book.

And his path led, naturally, to to Pif Gadget magazine.

_{Pif aniversary album, done by Mircea Arapu/ photo: Bogdan Iordache, Cultura la dubă}

“I went to the editorial office of Pif with a catalogue of drawings, to show them what I could do and they proposed that I started working in a big team of illustrators that were only doing Pif, the main character. I refused to be lost in a sea of different illustrators and started working on Arthur, the ghost, which was very complicated. At first it was difficult, for 6 months I drew unpaid, just to practise.

_{Pif aniversary album, done by Mircea Arapu/ photo: Bogdan Iordache, Cultura la dubă}

I worked at Pif from 1981 until 1988, when the magazine wasn’t doing very well, and I had to find work somewhere else, because I had to pay my apartment. That is how I ended up working in advertising.”

_{Mircea Arapu, Paris/ photo: Bogdan Iordache, Cultura la dubă}

Even in advertising he used his passion for drawing and tried to pitch comic strips to clients.

Then, in 2005 and 2009 he returned to Pif, and he is presently at his third collaboration with the magazine. More than that, this year he was invited to do an anniversary album, on Pif’s 75th birthday, and has won the contest launched by the French Post to draw a special stamp with Pif.

_{Aniversary stamp done by Mircea Arapu/ photo: Bogdan Iordache, Cultura la dubă}

“The new director of the magazine looked me up, precisely because he liked my initial drawing of Pif. Then, for the stamp, I used a strip. I think it was a world premiere, to have a comic strip on a stamp.”

Looking back, Mircea Arapu wouldn’t change anything in the destiny that brought him here. He speaks about comics as passionately as he did as a child and continues to spend his time drawing. 

Given all the refusals that he hit in his youth, his story seems to be the perfect example of perseverance in reaching your goal, eventually leads to success.

_{Pif aniversary album, done by Mircea Arapu/ photo: Bogdan Iordache, Cultura la dubă}

In Romania he collaborates with the magazine Fabulafia, where, since 2019, he is drawing a comic series for children aged 8 to 10, called Enciclo-pe-tub, educational adventures of Oana and Brazil, who are vloggers.

In Paris he continues to walk the streets next to Saint Michel boulevard, in search of the charm that he discovered in his youth. He sadly finds that many of the bookstores that he knew have since become banks or shops.

“Given my desire to draw and to pursue this career, I am sure that I would have made it in Romania, but there weren’t as many magazines, the same competition. During communism, comic artists were very few and very well paid in Romania, but controlled by the party. With the money they earned they could buy a Dacia.

That wasn’t the case here. I wanted to do this work so that I could develop my drawing skills. Drawing was what I did best and as I worked more, I could draw better.”

-What kept you in this passion this whole time?

-The belief that if you like it, there are chances that someone else will like it. In the same time, I noticed that drawing has always kept me on the surface, whatever I did, drawing has been a constant in my life.”

***This story is part of the “France Week” series, a Cultura la Dubă project supported by BNP Paribas.

The post Mircea Arapu, Illustrator of Pif and Hercule: “Drawing has always kept me on the surface.” appeared first on Cultura la dubă.

RO

After the Revolution in 1989, most of Romanians tasted freedom for the first time. They burned photographs of Ceaușescu, got in line to vote, drank Coca-Cola or simply left.

What before 1989 was called fleeing, became a right to travel, and especially those who had the possibilities, chose other countries and never returned.

Dorin Crețu was engaged to a French woman and had been waiting for three years for the permission to get married and leave to France. He did not get it, the simple request arose suspicions of betrayal and interrogations, so the Revolution gave him a chance at a new life.

He has been living in Paris for 32 years, where he is an established painter and has recieved the support of the French state to develop hi passion for art, born during his childhood in Brașov.

Without being part of a family of artists, he lived, however, in an environment where art was appreciated. He felt attracted as a child to colors. He used to paint and make African masks, so his parents allowed him to go to The Plastic Arts High School.

He then went studied Plastic Arts in college in Bucharest and had a short career as a teacher.

“I was made a painting teacher somewhere in Moldova, at a school. Being somewhat restless, I left teaching and became a freelancer.”

What freelancing meant in communist Romania is hard to say. What is certain is that his choices did not give him a positive image in the party’s eyes and had to balance between his passion for painting and his citizen duties.

“It was somehow complicated, I had a scholarship and I had to do a three year probation.

I went to the Carpați Trust, that was handling the building of The People’s Palace and, because there weren’t any openings at painting restauration, I got transferred to sculpture.

I did my probation there, as a sculptor in stone.”

He also received from the Plastic Artists Union in Romania a workshop on Mendeleev street in Bucharest, and, in the evening, after work, he would go there to paint.

He left for Paris with a thirst to paint, alongside his French partner. Only, there, he didn’t have any support and had to start from nothing. He only had an art portfolio, with which he knocked on the doors of the French Ministry of Culture.

“I went through all those offices with photos of my works, begging them to look at my work. I came across an inspector who liked what he saw and showed me the way and the first steps that I had to do.

That’s how I signed up for scholarships, for the acquisition of works on The National Contemporary Arts Fund. And The French State bought one of my works, then I got a scholarship, then came exhibits and awards that didn’t mean only diplomas, but also an important financial support.”

More than this, he was in a contest organized by an artistic commission and received his first workshop, somewhere on the outskirts of Paris.

“Back then, Romania had another image.

After The Revolution, there was a positive attention on us, something honest coming from the French. We were a lot of artists who came to Paris and could benefit from the advantages.”

“Back then, Rromanians were welcomed and supported. Now Romania’s image isn’t that glorious. It is that of those playing in the metro, those giving rides with the bikes around the Eiffel Tower.”

But life wasn’t all good, even with the support from the French State. So he had to work in order to support himself.

“It is terribly nice to play artist, but it is difficult to live only out of art.”

“Having sculptor friends who were already working at the restoration of The Louvre, I remembered my years balancing between color and sculpting in Romania, and for 2 or 3 years I chiseled on the Louvre facade.

I was in the garden of the Pyramid and was chiseling, beyond decorations and geometrical shapes, I would work on the sculptures themselves. There were some characters that I sculpted in full.

I remember how the block was inserted. We would make a small hole in the degraded sculpture and they would add the stone block that you had to sculpt into that, in order to complete in the existing shape what was missing.

Teams of Romanians and French had finished restoring the segment and moved on to other ones, but I stopped and decided to give making a living out of painting another try.”

Even though at the time he was not happy having to work somewhere other than his workshop, he now proudly shows us the characters in the sculptures on the Louvre facade which he restored.

He lives in Northern Paris, on the Saint Martin Canal, in a duplex recieved from the French State. On one floor is the living space, and on the other, his workshop.

Even if it is not free, but at a 50% of the price of rent, the workshop that he won at the contest is still a privilege, given the immense competition in a cultural capital of the world, such as Paris.

“There are a lot of artists workshops in this area, some given by the city hall, some by the French Ministry of Culture, some private.

You come here with the energy and desire to show your work, you want to move mountains. What is harder is having continuity, because life in Paris is not cheap and you come across material problems.”

Dorin Crețu has sold, during his career, about 300 works and has had shows in Paris, Bucharest, London or Krakow.

In his works we can frequently find a floral motif, that welcomes us from the very entrance on his apartment in Paris.

On the walls there are framed pages of his mothers herbarium, from his house in Brașov.

“At first I was attracted to the idea of painting differently. And I came across a French artistic current – Supports/Surfaces.

And I saw that you can paint not only with oil on canvas. They would paint on petals, military bandages, they would cut wood. That way I managed to develop a technique that was appreciated. One of the works that I did then was bought by The National Contemporary Arts Fund.

I was an ancient stela on which I glued pieces of lace, over which I threw bitumen. And the lace and bitumen formed a sort of calligraphy that fit in perfectly with the stela shape.

At a certain point , from the excess of materials, I felt the need for a clean slate and to try to paint without materials.

Which is a sort of chemical experience, not an easy one.

I worked with some acrylic resins that allowed me to get those transparencies, those pictural reports, without which a painting cannot exist.

And I have developed, for some years now, having floral and vegetal motifs, this theme.

Even though I am now looking at another motif – the mountain – I always return to that floral shape. I can’t wait to go to camp (in Bistrița, Romania) and draw some trees, that will probably later feed me into making something on a larger scale, with the same floral theme.”

“The vegetal shape is a form of reflection on existence, a sort of fragility of life, but also vanity, it lives for a moment and then it dies.”

Meanwhile, he has become equally preoccupied with the mountain motif, without being able to identify the origin of this interest. He remembers, though, that in his teen years in Brașov, he had a passion for landscape photography and collected tens of mountain photographs.

“Artistic vision changes with time, it adds to itself, it grows. Of course I keep memories or something from the beginning.

I thought that the mountain motif has plenty of imagery that I can put it on canvas, I’m attracted to this solid shape that you can paint on the canvas, it’s like a solid solitary.”

Dorin Crețu is an artist representative to the ’80’s generation in Romania and has come back, for a few years, in Bucharest, where he got back his workshop on Mendeleev street, after 30 years. Also, The National Museum of Contemporary Art has bought two of his works.

“They were bought following an exhibition I had in Mogoșoaia. The director of MNAC from back then, Oroveanu, proposed the acquisition of two of my works, which filled me with joy.”

He travels to Bucharest almost monthly and is represented by AnnArt Gallery, along with renowned artists such as Sorin Ilfoveanu, Ștefan Câlția.

He is happy to remake an artistic connection with his home country and hopes to constantly earn the freedom to paint.

“I have an itch in my fingers, I love colors, I find personal pleasure in what I do.”

“It can be paper, canvas, a piece of wood or something else. But all these pleasures are being paid for in some way. An artist’s life is not easy, be it in Bucharest, or Paris.

To do what you like is an extraordinary luxury, and it must be paid for.”

For that, in Paris he sometimes works as an interior designer, collaborating with French architects, earning his living.

He is a French citizen, but has kept his Romanian citizenship.

“I speak French, but have not lost my Eastern accent, and I am immediately spotted. And I naturally say that I am Romanian, I live in Paris, I am a French Citizen, with Romanian origins.”

“But the status of an artist does not stop at borders. I want to believe that his vision is broader, pushed toward humanity.

Nowadays, any artist can get on a plane and go anywhere, see exhibits, visit new places, then come back. You don’t have to take important migration decisions anymore.”

“The artist of today is free to chose his place of creation. Art is like a fluid, a flux, it must move everywhere.”

Romanian or French, Dorin Crețu is an artist, a father and a person constantly fighting for his passion. He is grateful for the chance he got in 1990 and wishes that Romanians get the image that they had back then.

He bares the label of immigrant, and that motivates him to evolve.

“I fight the feeling of not belonging, and being suspended somewhere between Romania and France.”

“In the same time, there is the feeling of something that is not entirely yours, that you are a permanent spectator and never participate. There are moments when I feel that, and other times when I feel that Paris is mine.

On the other hand, the cultural barrier is not necessarily a bad thing. It pushes you to constantly show and be your best.”

***This story is part of the “France Week” series, a Cultura la Dubă project supported by BNP Paribas.

The post Dorin Crețu, Romanian-French painter in Paris: “It is a luxury to do what you like, and it somehow has to be paid.” appeared first on Cultura la dubă.

RO

20 years ago, the great German conductor Kurt Masur, while he was the musical director of the French National Orchestra, was naming as head of the orchestra a young lady violinist, of only 21 years old.

Sarah Nemțanu thus became the youngest concert master in the history of the National French Orchestra, a position she still occupies today.

100% French on paper, Sarah bears a Romanian name – Nemțanu – and has a Romanian-beating heart especially when she visits Romania.

“The first time I came to Romania and I heard people speaking Romanian, I thought everyone was my cousin. (laughing) It was like all the family was there, that was my feeling. I felt home.”

Her story is not only one of an accomplished musician, who has conquered the world’s greatest stages, but also a testimony of a universal Europe, in which millions of families break, in need, from their homes and grow roots in other places, that adopt them and give them wings.

Vladimir Nemțanu, born in Bucharest into a Jewish family, was a concert master in the George Enescu Philharmonic, and his wife had just graduated from canto at the Conservatory when they decided to flee communist Romania, that was under Nicolae Ceaușescu’s dictatorship.

They took advantage of The Most Favored Nation Clause, through which Ceaușescu allowed Romanian Jews to emigrate to Israel and The United States of America, and left for Israel themselves.

After a few months spent there, the two young Romanians were getting a chance in France. He got the position of concert master of the Bordeaux National Orchestra and she was hired at the Bordeaux Opera.

“When they got to France, they started a new life. They had nothing, they lived in a hotel for a while, until they rented an apartment. It really was starting from 0.

There were a few Romanians in the Bordeaux orchestra, there already was a cultural connection between Romania and France. And in the ’70’s, a lot of regional orchestras appeared. There were not so many French musicians, so they were completed by Romanian musicians.

Even to this day, the Romanian musicians communities in European orchestras are impressive. But especially in France, because there is this cultural friendship, there have been so many extraordinary Romanian artists who created in France, such as Ionesco, Enescu, Brâncuși.”

“It is the Latin side that binds Romania to France, our atoms intertwine.”

A year and a half after settling in Bordeaux, Sarah was born into the Nemțanu family.

“I’m the oldest of three children and first learned to speak Romanian at home. Then, when I went to school, French became my first language.

But I would say that until about the age of 12, at home I would speak Romanian. Especially when my grandparents were visiting, about a month every year, we would only speak Romanian. Also, my parents’ entourage was formed exclusively of Romanians.”

Although she was fairly young, Sarah vividly recalls her first visit to Romania.

“I went to Romania with my mother and sister when I was six, I have memories, but they are not nice. It was around 1987, my mother already had a French passport, but she was afraid that they wouldn’t let her get back to France, at the airport.

My memory is of my mother crying in panic. She was questioned: why are you married to a Jew? Why are you living in France and not here? I remember all the questions, it was something very violent for me.

Then, I remember it being cold, winter, a lot of snow. The only pleasant memory is riding the sleigh with my grandfather in Bucharest. That was cool!”

She pronounces the word “sleigh” (săniuță) perfectly in Romanian. More so, even though when we started the interview she said that she will be speaking French, because she does not manage speaking Romanian so well, Sarah mostly answers in the language that her parents taught her when she was a child.

As a child, information about Romania was vague, as it would have been for any other child to understand why her parents had to flee their own country.

“I have this memory of being in the car when Ceaușescu was executed, my mother stopped, turned up the volume and stood still. I knew that they had fled Romania because it was not good, but I didn’t understand why.

On the other hand, I was aware that they were happy in France, with a double culture, that they passed on to us, their children.”

Sarah and Deborah, her sister, took on their father’s passion for violin, while their brother became a jurist.

While Sarah leads the National French Orchestra, as a prime violinist, Deborah Nemțanu is, as well, concert master of the National Chamber Orchestra in Paris.

“I implored my father to teach me violin. He was very passionate, he would study a lot, and when we heard him play, we would run to him.

To me, the violin is like a voice. I’m trying to say something through music, through a universal language, without precise words. And people understand what it wants.

I can’t remember wanting to do anything else.

“The most wonderful thing that our father passed on was to be independent, self-critics, knowing on our own whether what we’re doing is right or not, listen to ourselves, without anyone else telling us that we were off-key.”

From 16, Sarah moved by herself in Paris, where she graduated from the Conservatory. And recently she was made a violin teacher at the prestigious school. She enjoys teaching the youth and says that she got this gift and this joy from her father.

She was also a violin teacher for Melanie Laurent, the actress, for the film Le Concert, directed by Radu Mihăileanu.

Sarah Nemțanu is the one playing the music in the film – Tchaikovsky’s concert for violin and orchestra – and had enormous success, along with the film. Le Monde were saying at the time: “Sarah Nemțanu, the true violinist from The Concert”.

“Radu is very precise, he knows exactly what he wants and what I loved was that he made the entire final scene of the film on the timed rhythm of Tchaikovsky’s concert, he first played the music and built the script based on the musicality of the work.

I had never seen that. Usually, in films, they add the music after the shoot.”

As a head of orchestra, she works directly with Christian Măcelaru, the Romanian musical director of the French National Orchestra. He believes her to be one of the finest violinists of the world, who could easily transition to a solo carrier.

But Sarah loves working in an orchestra and can not see herself doing anything else.

“I knew that I wanted to be a concert master. In my mind, I could’t see myself playing alone. My father was a concert master. When I finished school, I loved going to rehearsals when I knew that the orchestra was also there.

My life philosophy is that we all form a chain in which each is a link, we are very different, but only together we can form this chain.

When we will accept that each has his own personality, then everything will be alright. The main priority is the common good, that of the orchestra.

And I love the orchestra, I love the orchestra repertoire, and it shows and my colleagues see it.

I am both head of the orchestra, and part of it, I’m a crossroad that creates connections and this is owed mainly to my education.”

I ask her how many Romanians there are at the moment in the French National Orchestra and she effortlessly answers:

“- Oana, Teodor, Eduard, so 1,2,3,4.

– 3.

– 4, counting me.

– Do you count yourself?

– Of course. (laughs)”

With a Romanian conductor at the helm and a Romanian-born concert master, the French National Orchestra took on an important project, dedicated to the great Romanian composer George Enescu.

The entire work of Enescu will be recorded during the next 10 years at the prestigious record label Deutsche Grammophon.

“In Enescu’s music you can find images from his childhood, birds singing, a violinist playing on the street.

I believe that George Enescu wrote so that he would never forget his memories and did it in the smallest details regarding folklore.

It is, obviously, also classical composing, savant music. But in his music there is always this transparent veil of folklore, which he managed to integrate.

Romania is making all these great efforts to be a European country in all aspects and I believe that the artists are te first that succeed, artists are the first creating connections between countries. Enescu did this perfectly.

In his music there is a lot of freedom, but it is in a special frame, a deeply personal one. This is truly special at Enescu. And that is how I see freedom. We are free on this Earth, but we are also limited on this planet.”

Last year, Sarah Nemțanu opened the International George Enescu Festival, along with the George Enescu Philharmonic, which her father had led, 44 years prior, as a concert master.

And as of this year, Cristian Măcaleru took the helms of the festival as the artistic director. They both wish for a refreshing of the event, but also more attention to young Romanian musicians.

“The Enescu festival is truly impressive. What I find to be a shame is that there is but one such festival in Romania.”

“All the funding goes to one place. I wouldn’t see a single event once every two years and then nothing. And, as we mentioned the youth, if there were larger investments in the system, I would like to see professors from all over Europe teaching in Romania.

Sure, there is the Enescu Contest, but the stakes there are a prize. Who is helping the young artists for the rest of the year, who is teaching them?

At the Enescu Festival I’ve met wonderful young people, volunteers, staff. The youth want to learn, they are fascinated by the European educational system.

Unfortunately, there are many leaving. The best of the youth are leaving Romania.

Here is where I believe that the Enescu Festival with Cristian Măcelaru as an artistic director will bring changes.

It is an enormous hope. It is something I feel.”

Sarah lives in one of the most bohemian neighborhoods in Paris – Montmartre. She walks daily, on her way home, on the wavy streets that were once walked by the great European artists – Monet, Manet, Renoir, Picasso or Van Gogh, and is at home in the vivid atmosphere of the place filled with tourists, right next to the Sacre Coeur Cathedral.

She is the mother of two, a wife and an artist who enjoys live through everything she does. She loves cooking, jogging with her husband and traveling. She lives a typical Parisian life, but equally loves each of her trips to Romania, which she sees as a fundamental part of her identity.

“I’ve went to Romania each of the last 6 years and every time I felt like home. It is something that cannot be explained, can only be felt.

I feel like home, I even took Georges there, my son.

Romania is at a European crossroad, it is a unique country through the fact that it is Latin in the east, and this gives it a special identity and in the same time it is a country of adaptability.

That is why I think many artists leave the country and are very evolved culturally.

And if we were to mention musical particularities, I think that the Romanian style has a certain elegance, something that my father absorbed and passed on.”

Sarah Nemțanu is the result of a family of Romanian migrants in France, in the same way as thousands of children are born in Romanian families overseas, and take on different paths than what their lives would have been, would their parents have stayed in Romania.

Art, in this case, has fundamentally contributed to the conservation of a cultural identity that Romanians carried along in their adoptive countries.

In a world where foul history repeats itself and millions of families are forced to flee from war or dictatorial regimes, Sarah is a believer in the good in everyone, and the power to bring a little light around us, be it through art, or through simple gestures.

“I believe that when you do good and are positive, there is an effect around you. For example, I have some friends that are constantly complaining about Paris taxi drivers, that they’re bad, this and that. I often take a taxi after concerts and I only meet wonderful taxi drivers, really nice.

Once I had a taxi driver that had came to see me at a concert. He was 50 years old and he listened to classical music on the radio, he had just enrolled in music school, to learn an instrument. I invited him to a concert, he came, waited for me at the end and cried.

To me, this is real life. If you do good, keep a positive attitude and don’t let all the negativity in the world influence you, than everything will be better.

***This story is part of the “France Week” series, a Cultura la Dubă project supported by BNP Paribas.

The post Sarah Nemțanu, outstanding French violinist, born from Romanian parents: “To me, the violin is like a voice. “ appeared first on Cultura la dubă.

Versiunea în ROMÂNĂ

“Welcome, Maestro!”

On the 24th of September 2020, Cristian Măcelaru held his first concert as a musical director of The French National Orchestra and was greeted with a welcome message written in romanian.

He reached that position after a democratic vote of the musicians in the orchestra, as rarely happens in the world of classical music. Thus, he was a conductor wanted by the members of the orchestra, not imposed upon them.

At the same time, Cristian Măcelaru is main conductor of the Köln Symphonic Orchestra, WDR Sinfonieorchester, where his contract has been extended until 2025.

Apart from talent, his atypical philosophy regarding working with orchestras has made him stand out among the other conductors. He is playful and open to listen to questions and proposals from his musician collaborators. He does not impose himself through a tough attitude, but he earns the respect and sympathy of the orchestra through the respect that he shows, in his turn, to others.

“Music is made in an intimacy where it is necessary to have a spiritual connection.”

“Perhaps it was necessary in the 20th century that a conductor be severe, authoritarian, such as Celibidache was. But in Celibidache’s orchestra there wasn’t any woman. I could never do that because I respect the people that I work with and I depend on them to give me their best, not to spite me.”

“A concert where musicians play out of fear, to me, is worthless.

Cristian Măcelaru’s story begins in Timișoara, in a family of 10 children, him being the youngest.

“My father was a Mold Technician in a factory in Timișoara and refused to be a member of the Socialist Party, he was also very much involved with the church and didn’t accept telling on the others in church. The Secret Police would summon him weekly and he never accepted collaborating with them. He went through this horror his whole life, but he found a way to be happy – music.”

Through his passion for music, his father formed a church orchestra and guided each child to an instrument. The whole Măcelaru family played instruments, from children to cousins, but not all of them pursued a musical career.

“My father worked around the clock, you can imagine, for 10 children! Countless times he would come home tired, at 10 or 11 in the evening and the first thing he would ask was: have all the children studied today?”

“The one who hadn’t studied had to do it in front of my father. And he would sit and listen until he fell asleep on the chair. He knew that what you discover through music, nobody can take away. That’s the essence of my happiness, it’s not the career, it’s music.”

He is now profoundly grateful to his father for insisting that he studied the violin, the instrument that made him stand out at the start of his career.

In his turn, as a father, he tries to infuse his children with a love for art, whether it’s music, drawing or literature. His daughter, 8, plays the violin and his boy, 10, plays the piano. In every city they visit together, he takes them to museums and opens their eyes to the beauty of the world.

“A parent’s responsibility is not only to send your child to a good school. It is also to teach them to be curious.”

“I would encourage all parents to guide their children toward studying a musical instrument. I have never met a person who had learned to play a musical instrument and after 10 years say: I regret studying the piano!

On the contrary, I meet people every day telling me: I wish that my parents would have made me study more.”

His love for music, his talent, his hard work, but also chance have brought Cristian Măcelaru to where he is today.

When he was just 17, he met a family of americans that were in Timișoara to adopt a romainan child, and teen Cristi offered to show them around town. He even invited them to one of his concerts and they suggested that he went to a summer school in The US.

That’s how he ended up in Michigan and started the adventure that would change his life. Instead of enrolling in summer school, young Cristi accidentally filled out a form to enlist in a local high school. He later found out that he had received a study scholarship and, along with his family, decided to remain there.

As a violin player, he became the youngest concertmaster in the history of The Miami Symphony Orchestra, where he made his debut at Carnegie Hall at only 19.

But his greatest wish was to conduct. And his dream came true.

Cristian Măcelaru welcomed us in the impressive concert hall of Radio France, while recording a concert of the french composer Camille Saint – Saëns, with The French National Orchestra.

The slightest sound was not permitted during recording, but the breaks were full of jokes and smiles, unwinding the members of the orchestra.

The orchestra director said that on the stage he is 100% the same as he is in his free time and is not afraid that it will undermine his authority, on the contrary, it helps.

“Why did I make jokes today? Because what they had to play was so difficult and delicate, I helped them relax, so they played their best. Yesterday I didn’t make any jokes, it wasn’t necessary. (he smiles)”

He was supposed to take over The French National Orchestra in september 2021, but he did it a year earlier after his predecessor resigned. Then, the pandemic special context also changed the part he was going to play in Paris.

In the midst of last year’s crisis, musicians from The French Orchestra were allowed to retire sooner, at only 61. 30 of them chose retirement, and now the positions had to be filled by new musicians, which meant a reconstruction of the orchestra.

“It’s an opportunity for me, to leave my mark on the orchestra, but also for the orchestra, to have a younger feel.”

“The transition is very difficult. Out of a musical director’s duties, about 40% is conducting. Other than that, I’m responsible for every invited conductor, I chose the soloists, the entire repertoire, now it’s the case that I have to fill 30 positions in the orchestra. And every musician takes 3-4 days of auditions.”

The contests for the positions start with an eliminatory anonymous audition, where the contestants are listened to by the jury from behind the curtain. Behind Cristian Măcelaru, the second leader of the orchestra is concertmaster Sarah Nemțanu, the french violinist with romanian origins.

“There’s not an orchestra that I have conducted without some Romanians in it. Without them being some of the most respected.”

“We’ve got our first violin with her parents from Romania, now a girl just won the contest for a violin position, she’s born in Paris, but both her parents are from Romania. A boy who won the contest for the piccolo is from Romania, born in Târgu-Mureș, the second violin from the second line, a musician from Romania just retired, number 3 at viola is also from Romania.

There are talented people, dedicated, hard working. And Romania shouldn’t be proud of them, it should learn from them. That we have a majority that brings us fame, not a minority that brings us shame.”

When it comes to Romania, in the conductor’s speech you can sense both the attachment to “home”, as well as the bitter taste of the impossibility of doing something for his native country. A member of the European Union that unfortunately, follows dusty laws that slows it’s evolution.

“I say this with sadness: even if I wanted to return to Romania, to have a position similar to the one in Paris, I would not be allowed to!

There are so many imposed rules, that maybe 50 years ago made sense, but now are so absurde.”

“10 years ago, when I was assistant conductor at the Philadelphia Orchestra, I wanted to apply as a director at an orchestra from Romania. My dossier was rejected because I didn’t have a baccalaureate degree from Romania. I left when I was in high school, I haven’t equiveled my studies in Romania, I didn’t study in the Conservatory in Romania, I didn’t get my master’s degree in Romania, that , anyway, can be bought or passed through easily.

I had my master’s degree in The United States, at Rice University in Houston, where I would go to class daily, where I truly studied. When I occupied the position here, nobody asked me where I went to high school, what my diploma was. No. Everything was according to artistic merits.

That’s why at The George Enescu Philharmonic there are countless empty positions, there are absurd conditions. That’s the death of an orchestra. It’s a huge possibility for an orchestra to refresh itself, but if you don’t fill those positions, it’s death, it’s not a rebirth.”

Regardless, he comes back as a conductor every time he is invited to Romania and wishes to give back to his home country some of what he has learned abroad.

“Perhaps if I weren’t a musician, I would have been involved somehow in the romanian political scene, to try to make a change.”

“It’s very important that those who left Romania find a balance between criticizing and giving back. In the last 6-7 years, I’ve had a concert in Romania at least every two months. Do you think that I went to Bucharest to make money? Do you think  I went to Bucharest for the prestige? No.

I went for a single reason. I didn’t want to reach the end of my career and have someone tell me: maestro, why didn’t you do more? It’s simple. A forest doesn’t grow overnight. Someone must plant the seeds, water the ground, then wait years for the tree to grow. You have to do that to each tree, until there is a forest.”

“I come back to Romania oftenly because I can’t imagine keeping to myself what I have received. I can’t live in a world like that. Actually, Enescu says: in music or literature, something becomes your own only when you have given it to someone else.”

In fact, Enescu, a name that has left its mark on the history of classical music, continues to enrich Romania’s image in the world. The George Enescu International Festival is regarded as one of the most important cultural events in the world, according to the musical director of The French National Orchestra.

“People can’t conceive that this is what is actually happening: 3-4 concerts per day with the world’s greatest orchestras and greatest musicians and it’s happening in Bucharest! Not Vienna, Berlin, no. We’re talking about Bucharest.”

“The Enescu Festival in Bucharest is a real wonder.”

A wonder that deserves a concert hall to match. Unfortunately, the great orchestras invited to the Enescu Festival are playing at the Palace Hall, the former congress hall of the Romanian Communist Party. It is one of the pains felt by Cristian Măcelaru, whose name is mentioned to take over the management of the George Enescu Festival.

“What bothers me is that it hasn’t been understood that the benefits of a concert hall in Bucharest would not be only for those coming to the concert, but it would transform a whole city.

Look at what is happening at Elbphilharmonie, in Hamburg. There are millions of people travelling to Hamburg for that concert hall.

Just like The Eiffel Tower is built in Paris. Is the Eiffel Tower necessary? What is the Eiffel Tower good for? It defined not a city, but a whole nation. You can’t separate France from the Eiffel Tower.”

To us, a concert hall in Bucharest would define Romania. The benefits are not only cultural, there would be enormous private benefits. I still hope that this will happen in Bucharest. I hope it happens now. I want it to happen now!”

We wrap the interview at almost 10 p.m. After a work day started at 9 a.m. the maestro leads us into his personal cabin. That’s where we see his baton.

“I love this baton because it is very light. There’s nothing special about it, I bought it for about 20 euros in Japan, I have a set of 5 similar. But I never had to replace it, I’ve been using it for about 15 years.”

He packs his things and puts his backpack on, leaving like a regular person, tired at the end of a day’s work.

In an Airbnb apartment his wife and two children wait for him. He’s normally in Paris for only two weeks per month and is living in a hotel next to Radio France, but this time, given that he’s staying for a month with his family, he rented an apartment. They’re settled in Germany for now, that’s where the kids go to school, but he plans to move to Paris in a year.

He believes that destiny is “the gift that is given to us in order to handle what we’re facing” and that his blessing is to enjoy every moment of playing music.

“If I were to plan my career, I wouldn’t have done it so beautifully. The circumstances were such that everywhere, the exact right door opened.”

“I played concerts where there were more of us on the stage than there were people in the audience. I played that concert with the same passion as if there was a full house. Every chance to give your best is a chance to touch someone. And many of the doors that were open for me had to do with somebody being in the right place at the right time.”

At only 41, Cristian Măcelaru leads one of the world’s greatest orchestras and is the 3rd romanian winner of a Grammy award, following the conductor Christian Badea and the jazz piano player Marian Petrescu.

“I don’t find happiness in what is happening to me, I find it in what I do, because that’s the only way that I can be in control of my happiness.”

“I tell my students: if conducting is what fulfills you, quit conducting, because you will always be disappointed. There will always be a better conductor, a more successful one, more respected.

I try to find fulfillment in music, because music will never betray me.

If I search for it in a Beethoven piece, in the beauty of a Saint – Saëns work, that is where I find happiness and fulfillment, not in what comes back to me from conducting.

Conducting is my way of expression to the world, but what keeps me going is music, that’s what nobody can take away.”

***This story is part of the “France Week” series, a Cultura la Dubă project supported by BNP Paribas.

The post Cristian Măcelaru, the Romanian conductor who is rebuilding The French National Orchestra: “The essence of my happiness is music.” appeared first on Cultura la dubă.

The artists at the National Opera have split then into two sides: that of romanians, led at those protests by the conductor Tiberiu Soare and that of the choregraph Johan Kobborg and and of the world-ranking ballerina, Alina Cojocaru, the two of them being supported by ballet dancers from Romania and from other countries.

The Romanian side was accusing Kobburg that he was favorizing foreign artists, and his supporters were claiming that Romanian ballet had never reached a such a high level as the one imposed by the Danish choreographer. The scandal, which had a racist side to it, got the attention of international press, at the time writing that the great ballerina Alina Cojocaru was being cheered against in her own country, something impossible to comprehend for any ballet lover who is aware of her immense value.

After a period of strikes, cancelled shows, interventions from the cultural minister and a some management changes, Alina Cojocaru and Johan Kobborg left Romania, many ballet dancers following them.

Among them was Marina Minoiu.

Marina now dances for The Royal Danish Ballet. She misses home, but she keeps her distance, as does Romanian mentality regarding art and appreciation of it’s values keeps it’s distance from normalcy.

Marina, how and when did your story as a ballerina start?

My career started with the opportunity to see, with my sister and mother, at the National Opera in Bucharest, the Giselle ballet. In that moment a desire was born, a great joy that has followed me until my first ballet lesson. And I suppose that from that first ballet lesson, I knew that this is what I want to do.

Like when you fall in love with something or someone. You only want to do that thing or to be with that person. It was my first love. And, as the years passed, this passion hasn’t diminished, it’s as alive at ever, it grew and matured.

In Romania, more and more parents point their children, especially girls, toward ballet. What would you tell them as to what to expect if they want to reach a professional level?

I’m happy that more and more children are guided toward art and dance. There’s great potential in Romania. We’re a passionate people, hard working, who want to enjoy fine arts.

But a professional ballet dancer’s career is a lot of work, daily, permanently, because we’re talking about working with the human body as our instrument.

This profession consists of dedication, passion for this art form, that means leaving your ego to the side and making room for true human values.

A professional ballet dancer’s path is full of joys, disappointments, frustration, injuries, wonderful moments that one can not imagine.

It is very important to know what you want to do, where you want to get to and what kind of dancer you want to be. Life will show you the way as long as you stay dedicated, honest to yourself and especially confident.

My advice for parents guiding their children toward ballet is to evaluate or identify if there is passion for a future profession and identify in time if there is an opportunity of the development of a career in this field.

There are many situations when ballet remains a hobby, which is a good thing. Children are able, even this way, to take contact with certain elements that can help develop them artistically.

Doing it as a hobby is one thing, and being a professional ballet dancer is a whole other thing. When you chose the second option you must know that it’s not only about awards at competitions or glitter and pretty costumes. These are elements that appear later on in a ballet dancer’s career.

Of course, the guidance and support of a teacher are essential.

I would like to see some more training or education toward essence for the youth, maturity and clarity and less of an inclination for the commercial and superficial.

What’s the hardest thing in a ballerina’s life? Have you ever had moments when you wanted to quit?

The relationship between mind and body is something difficult, and I give this a special, permanent attention. This relationship can be challenging, but inner balance, faith and acceptance come in.

Yes, I’ve had moments when I wanted to quit. Moments when I felt that this is not my path. But life has shown me that it wasn’t the case, it turned me away from denial, it taught me that even in hard times I have to learn to let things happen.

I like to believe that what is right for me will eventually happen.

You’ve had a long career at the National Opera in Bucharest and you left following that scandal in 2016. What did the period spent with the choreographer Johan Kobborg mean to you?

The years spent at NOB will always remain highly meaningful to me.

First of all, that is where I formed myself as an artist and I can’t erase that stage, regardless of the events.

Looking back, I know that I’ve learned something from each experience that I had there. On that stage I saw my wishes come true, I danced parts that I had never even dreamed of dancing, I learned about myself, I cried, I laughed. A part of my life that I often find myself thinking about in joy and in nostalgia.

The years working with Johan Kobborg meant an important professional growth on my career as a ballerina. They represented a rediscovery of myself, of certain parts of my, both as a human being and as a ballerina, of which I was not aware. The challenges were permanent, in the idea of giving all my best on the stage.

What does Alina Cojocaru mean to you?

Both Alina Cojocaru and Johan Kobborg are two elite artists that have left their mark and have changed the world of dancing through their vision and the way they regard ballet. They have inspired and continue to inspire people, artists, generations of dancers. In the time that I had the chance to work with both of them in Bucharest, I had a lot to learn.

One of the things that remained in my head is that they had faith in people and managed to see beyond appearances or titles.

They both permanently encouraged us to discover ourselves, to have courage and fait in being authentic.

How did you get to the Royal Danish Ballet and what did this change mean to you?

At the Royal Danish Ballet I’ve arrived following my departure from Romania. It was a big change because I left everything behind and started from zero. In a new country, with a different culture, in a new company.

In the first 6 months I felt that I couldn’t find stability in anything. But the support and the love of my family, along with my faith in God, have helped me find that stability again, being away from home.

Did you find any negative reactions from your colleagues because you were coming from Romania?

My colleagues received me well and our collaboration was a pleasant one from the first days.

How is life in Denmark?

The standard of life here is very high. Many times I felt spoiled, coming from Romania. In time, you get used to the life style, but there are cultural and social differences that I still feel.

Something that I can not get used to is the weather and the darkness during winter.

I strongly believe, though, that as long as you are open and confident, you will meet the right people.

Oh, and another thing. Danish pastry is absolutely irresistible.

Is the balance between earnings and spending a positive one, compared to how it was in Romania?

I would say yes, referring strictly to the period living in Romania. I know that things have changed for the better in Romania and I was glad to hear that. In the same time, it is hard to compare because they are two countries in different stages of development.

Are you thinking of remaining there?

Hard to say right now…

Do you miss Romania? If so, what do you miss about it?

Yes, absolutely! I miss the beauty of the places in Romania, the energy I feel when I’m at home. I miss my friends, my godson – a little artist in becoming, my puppy Sasha, our churches and most of all I miss my family.

What could make you come back as a ballerina at the National Opera in Bucharest?

A change in mentality and the support of the development of this profession.

Did you see any shows at NOB?

Not since I’ve left, no.

If you were to start over, would you chose ballet?

Probably yes, I don’t know. I like to think that we have a purpose in life, that our journey here, as people, is given to us to take us somewhere. For me this meant the path of dancing, although when I was a child, I wanted to become a judge, and then an archeologist.

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