Snizhana Havryliuk: A Voice Born of Faith and a Call to Classical Music

Snizhana Havryliuk is an outstanding opera singer whose creative path is the embodiment of talent and spiritual strength. From her first steps in Chernivtsi to international recognition, she has won the hearts of listeners worldwide. In this interview, Snizhana Havryliuk shares her views on modern opera, talks about her meetings with legends, and explains why the most important roles for her are those that celebrate fidelity and true love. This narrative is not just about music, but about deep faith and the power of art.

Snizhana, tell us what exactly inspired you to choose a career as an opera singer?

I received an invaluable gift from our Creator, and He became my protection in this world and from this world. In other words, He breathed the need to sing into me. The realization of what exactly I should sing came through training and the development of my personality.

We'd like to know a little more about your creative journey. How did you decide to choose this specialization, and what specifically inspired you to start seriously pursuing vocals?

The college where I studied (then called a vocational school) became crucial for me. My singing teacher gave me the Queen of the Night’s aria to learn. It is a famous aria, a favorite aria of everyone who respects opera singing and opera art. It features the third octave, the repeating F note; the aria is extremely difficult.

I was a very young girl then, but this aria came to me so easily and naturally. Now we perform many parts, and everything is much more complicated, but back then it was so simple, as if in an instant — like Cinderella trying on her dress. I felt like I had put on this aria.

I realize it was divine providence, it couldn’t be otherwise. I brought the sheet music home, sat down at the piano, and started learning note by note, and it settled so easily that soon I sang the aria for the teacher. It was extraordinary. Only now do I realize that the performance wasn’t mature yet, but the voice already sounded grown-up. And just as I am now a soprano — lyric-dramatic with a tendency toward dramatic.

At that time, the middle of my voice sounded confident, with a full register, and deeply touched the listeners. The high notes were clear and enchanting, and the middle was influential, massive, and emotional. People felt this every time they heard me sing.

When I came to apply to the Kyiv Conservatory, Yevhenia Miroshnychenko was simply captivated by my performance. Her eyes were burning, she jumped up and started dancing with joy to my left and right. This was her favorite aria, which she always sang. And we know that Yevhenia Miroshnychenko is a famous coloratura soprano with an exceptionally beautiful repertoire. I was able to charm her with this aria.

It was clear that I simply had to enter the conservatory. It seemed as if my path had already been chosen for me, and I only listened to myself, realizing that something great and global for my future was reflected in my heart, soul, and voice.

I read in the confederation's application that you worked with many mentors. Who among them influenced your development the most and why?

I am grateful to God for meeting incredibly talented singer-mentors. They all influenced my development, and, appropriately, I should mention Renata Tebaldi’s words here. I received exactly what I needed from each one.

What difficulties did you face on your creative path, and how did you manage to overcome them?

My life was always busy; I was constantly rushing somewhere and never quite caught up with everything. There were the “Chervona Ruta” festivals, competitions, and encounters with interesting people.

A special event was the meeting with Elena Obraztsova. She came to Kyiv for a concert, and we, the students, went to the Opera House. Usually, we would have been seated in the gallery, but unexpectedly, I was allowed into the first row. It was a miracle — like many events in my life, unexpected, unplanned, yet so striking.

I sat in the first row; there was just one empty seat there. In the first act, she performed complex arias, including the Countess’s aria. At one point, I, as a singer, felt that it was becoming difficult for her to sing; her voice seemed resistant. This manifested in the transitions. I was already a third-year student at the Kyiv Conservatory then.

I noticed another detail: in the first row, right in front of her, two listeners were talking during the performance. They were emotionally discussing something, and it distracted Obraztsova, preventing her from getting into character. I felt this particularly acutely.

I leaned forward and tried to support her with all my energy, with all my heart. I mentally cringed, thinking, “Lord, help her.” And at one moment, she seemed to spread her wings and sang the second part of the aria to the end.

After the concert, we had the programs left. I decided to go for an autograph. I was a student; I just wanted a signature. I moved toward the stage very modestly and timidly. And suddenly, she saw me from afar. I was wearing, I think, a red suit — perhaps that color stuck in her memory. She gestured for me to be let through, took my hands, and said (in Russian) that she was very grateful for my support because she had felt it.

It was an extremely touching and memorable moment. I always thanked God for such things because they are what give strength in this world, grant a great desire and inspiration — to fly, to live by art, to create, and most importantly, to believe in the art we create.

During further studies at the “Di Verdi” Conservatory, there were also very interesting stories related to outstanding singers.

I went to a competition in Spoleto — a very famous competition that supports young singers and provides contracts for participation in opera productions. They always actively promoted the development of opera artists.

Joan Sutherland was on the jury at the time. Interestingly, after my aria performance, on the last day of the competition, as she was leaving the hall, she noticed me and signaled with her eyes for me to approach. We talked.

In Europe, at the “Di Verdi” Conservatory, people often spoke of my voice as “la voce importante” — an important, significant voice. Such voices are unique — like those of Renata Tebaldi, Enrico Caruso, Mario del Monaco, Franco Corelli, Maria Callas, Joan Sutherland. These are the voices that differ from others, possessing something unrepeatable, individual, and striking.

At the core of this is a very strong spiritual side, because the voice is amplified by internal energy, internal strength, and deep meaning. When a person sings, they are capable of conveying and impressing the listener not only with vocal technique but with the entire meaning of the part, the role, filling the performance with special content.

How do you keep your voice in perfect shape for performing complex opera roles? Perhaps there are special rituals or techniques you're willing to share with us?

To perform an opera role, it’s all very simple: you need adequate sleep, healthy eating, and adherence to a healthy lifestyle.

Which opera roles are closest to you and why?

These roles became the closest to me because the values that filled the heroine’s image were reflected in the melodic line of the arias. They were filled with sacrifice for the triumph of pure, faithful, and true love. These include Desdemona in Verdi’s Otello, Elisabetta in Verdi’s Don Carlo, Leonora in Verdi’s La Forza del Destino, and Aida in Verdi’s Aida. Also close to me are the roles of Manon Lescaut, Floria Tosca, and Madame Butterfly from Puccini’s operas of the same names, Maddalena in Umberto Giordano’s Andrea Chénier, Adriana Lecouvreur in Cilea’s opera, and Isolde in Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde.

What changes in opera art have you observed in recent years, and how do they affect your work?

The changes we are observing in recent years are not leading to the flourishing of opera art. Priority is given to the realization of directorial concepts, while the score and everything related to the composer’s writing of the opera itself recedes into the background.

You noted that the changes happening now are not leading to the flourishing of opera art. Could you elaborate, please? Which eras do you consider the peak of opera, and what are the reasons for these changes?

Opera is undoubtedly a complex cultural activity, but above all, it is a high-level musical product because it carries the signatures of great musicians: from Mozart to Beethoven, from Bizet to Gounod, from Wagner to Strauss, from Rossini to Verdi, and so on.

In this sense, politicized directors cannot perceive opera in the same way as certain contemporary music, which is often reduced to a simple political and social discourse with musical accompaniment.

Today, the excessive role attributed to directors leads to the distortion of opera. Unfortunately, not only in Italy, where the trend has been virtually imported, it seems that music and stage representation are increasingly moving in opposite directions.

Today, we see that everything is increasingly shifting towards electronics, and performance is becoming mechanical. There is no longer that subtle picture, that depth in the singing. On stage, everything looks like a “copy-paste”: the person sings, but no living essence is felt behind the singing, only mechanics. This is unfortunate, as the human factor is the most valuable thing. We are living people, and there is always something unique in our performance. We have lost the ability to feel “beauty,” the “beauty” that opera gave the world for centuries and which we no longer feel.

You are the winner of various awards from competitions and festivals. Which projects you participated in were the most significant for you and why?

The Assami competition was the most significant for me because it was held with open doors. The audience consisted of professionals — singers and musicians. The large hall, La Sala di Verdi al Conservatorio di Verdi, was filled with listeners. Winning there meant conquering the hearts of true connoisseurs and famous representatives of the opera world.

What are your creative plans for the near future? Perhaps there are projects that would be interesting to you and which you plan to join?

Moving forward, I am interested in joining projects that return opera art to its true meaning, where music, spirituality, and emotion become the priority.

How do you apply your experience and knowledge in your teaching activities at the S. Vorobkevych Chernivtsi Regional College of Arts?

All the acquired valuable knowledge, together with the unique ability to correctly hear and determine the voice type, opened up the opportunity for me to apply an individual approach in teaching students and to achieve considerable successes and high results in a short time.

What advice would you give to vocalists who are just starting their journey? What should they definitely avoid, and what should they focus on instead?

Young singers seek a teacher capable of solving their technical problems. My answer: the ideal vocal teacher should be the student himself. Once, the maestro was considered the true ear of the singer, since, as is known, a person does not perceive the sound of their voice as someone listening from the side. The maestro had to detect emission flaws (unevenness and imbalance; shaky intonations; sounds not placed in the correct mask position, thus lacking support and projection; others, excessively pushed and harsh; long notes changing color; insufficient legato, lack of softness and fervor, lack of expressiveness and monotony; poorly selected and inconsistent dynamic colors) and suggest how to correct them.

Today, singing students can rely on recording devices capable of accurately reproducing their voice so that they, too, like the singing teacher, can identify the strengths and weaknesses of their singing. Starting with the best notes of their natural register, they must realize how the vocal organ physically acts to produce those correct sounds and strive to extend these virtuous procedures to faulty emissions. Naturally, they must have a musical education capable of distinguishing a blurred sound from a perfectly calibrated one and differentiating a pleasant-sounding and rounded tone from one that is not supported and sustained by breath, thus weakening, becoming less pleasant, and non-uniform.

It is right to listen to the advice of experts, teachers, and colleagues, but the singer should not take what is offered at face value, but rather have the foresight to separate useful guidance from those that do not correspond to their own physiological features, considering that no two organisms in the world are the same, and no voices exist without flaws. There are also positive flaws that lend the voice unmistakable individuality (as Maria Callas taught): trying to eliminate them may cost the loss of important characteristics. A useful symptom for checking the adequacy of the proposed corrections is the feeling of fatigue when the vocal organ is subjected to unnatural effort. Singing is tiring, but if performed correctly, the fatigue should not exceed the volume of other muscular functions.

The path of Snizhana Havryliuk is a story about how opera art can be deeply spiritual and personal. Her voice, a true gift, has become an instrument for conveying the subtlest emotions. By her example, she teaches us that true beauty lies in authenticity and the ability to touch hearts. Her views on modern opera are a call to return to its origins, where music and emotion are the priority. Snizhana Havryliuk is not only a talented performer but also an inspiration for those who seek to combine talent with inner harmony.