Words Adele Cany
For Autumn WinÂter 24, we are takÂing our seats in 1953 for a career-definÂing perÂforÂmance of Medea by Maria Callas. The proÂducÂtion was like alcheÂmy. Callas did not play the role; she inhabÂitÂed a perÂsona with such force to the point that the boundÂary between artist and perÂforÂmance vanÂished. DisÂbeÂlief, susÂpendÂed utterÂly. The colÂlecÂtion explores the thin realm between myth and realÂiÂty, on stage and off stage, dressed and undressed, perÂson and perÂsona, sorÂcery and seduction.
Here is a woman with a voice at the height of her powÂers comÂmandÂing a world stage, far beyond the theÂatre. There are othÂerÂworldÂly feelÂings at play, too. The pagan resÂoÂnance of myth and legÂend trickÂles down time from Ancient Greece to ModÂern Europe. Callas chanÂnels pasÂsion, pain and vengeance in a beat.
Like Medea, Callas was uprootÂed. Born in AmerÂiÂca as a Greek nationÂal, her talÂent would conÂsign her to a nomadic and chaotÂic life. The absence of home was poignant and proÂfound. Her voice is described as raw, underÂpinned by an aching or yearnÂing that lent itself to tragedy. She belonged on the stage — but a stage is not a home. Callas retired in 1965 and withÂdrew from the pubÂlic eye, dying alone in Paris in 1977. Her ashÂes were returned to Greece where they were scatÂtered in the Aegean Sea.
See the full colÂlecÂtion below:
