AD: Do you ever feel like your voice is speaking a language that doesn’t exist yet? Or perhaps, is remembering one that was lost?
AN: Definitely. Working with voice outside the borders of language can feel like you’re touching something very deep and old, something universal for all living creatures. As we come into this world, even though we’re not aware of anything, we scream. Sometimes when I practice and sing my melodies surrounded by nature, I feel like nature hears and understands me, that the birds are flying by and responding.
The voice as portal
AD: Your voice often feels like a portal – a gossamer thread pulling listeners into dreamlike, otherworldly dimensions. Do you remember when you first began to sense that your voice could transport people to other states of being?
AN: Thank you, that’s a really beautiful description of what someone’s voice might sound like – I feel blessed! I think it comes from what I feel when I’m by myself and singing, from the moments I’m truly connected with myself – connected to my emotions, vulnerability and imagination – and I allow them to flow through. I truly feel a sense of pure beauty and immense pleasure when I sing and I want to share these feelings with others. I don’t know if there was a particular moment of realisation, rather a process that took some time, but surely it’s related to the discovery of my own path – for the most part, it’s about travelling to far away places and experiencing life as an adventure, exploring both the inner and outer worlds.
AD: You’ve developed a vocal quality that’s often described as hypnotic, theremin-like, ephemeral. What’s going on internally when you sing?
AN: It’s quite difficult to describe verbally, but I’ll try. I often experience visions that take the form of visual clouds. I call them ‘clouds’ because their appearance is blurred and vague, but they present me situations of various kinds. There is usually narration, but sometimes just a visual impression. Very often it’s the presence of places that resemble landscapes, but landscapes I’ve never seen before and I don’t even know if they exist on our planet. I call them imaginary landscapes. Most of the time I sing with my eyes closed and that’s when these imaginary landscapes appear. Their atmosphere brings me a warm pleasant feeling and I’m often moved to tears because they remind me of something I can never truly gasp. It’s like the feeling you get when you meet up with someone you love after a long time of separation.
AD: Do you think of your voice more as an instrument, a medium or perhaps a being in itself? Does it have its own will or consciousness?
AN: I feel it’s a very ethereal matter, simply because we cannot see it. It’s like the air or a kind of vibrating field of frequencies that appears in front of me, that I can shape as I desire. I think of it as a rather neutral being – it just exists and the moment I decide to let it out, it awakens into its beautiful presence. But I also feel it is very connected with me and my sensitivity, so sometimes it can say more than I’m aware of, for example, if I feel uncomfortable or if I’m uncertain about something.