Antonia V.

I grew up by the sea 

in Montenegro, where
water has always been 
my safe place.

When I dive, everything slows down — sound fades, and I can finally hear myself breathe. In that quiet, 

every heartbeat becomes music.

On land, silence becomes stillness.

Before every performance, there is a pause. A sacred stillness where thought turns into sound.

Silence becomes my teacher , my rhythm — my beginning.

Harmony, 

for me, 

isn’t about
control. It’s
about trust

The space where effort becomes ease, and everything feels exactly as it should be.

The Place 

I Return To

Art has always been the center of my life — the space where everything I am comes together. I began with piano and flute, later with acting and dance, and each form taught me something about truth, expression, and courage. For me, art isn’t a performance — it’s a dialogue between honesty and imagination, between discipline and freedom.

Between
Silence & Sound

Opera became the place where all those worlds meet. It unites music, theatre, poetry, psychology — and the human heart. Every role asks me to surrender a part of myself, to listen deeply, and to give shape to emotions that can’t be spoken. Through art, I try to connect technique with feeling, and bring to life what exists only between silence and sound.

What Remains
Eternal

When I step on stage, I remember why I chose this path: because art still gives us what the world often forgets — a moment of stillness, focus, and sincere emotion. I believe that’s why opera matters today more than ever. It’s not about tradition alone; it’s about humanity — the shared breath between artist and audience, where something eternal passes through us all.

The quiet continuation
That makes music timeless

I love that music doesn’t disappear; it lingers in the air, in the people listening, in the quiet after the applause. Every performance becomes a shared vibration — a quiet exchange of emotion and trust.
Resonance is the meeting point between my inner world and theirs — the place where music becomes memory.

A Quiet Kind of Strength

I grew up surrounded by the sea, by family traditions, and by the belief that strength doesn’t need to be loud. It can be soft, attentive, and sincere.

Maybe that’s why I love looking at the stars, they remind me that there is space for everyone to shine, and that generosity is a kind of light we carry within us.

The Moments
That Matter

On stage, kindness becomes connection: listening to my colleagues, trusting the orchestra, sharing emotion without holding back.
In life, it’s the small things that matter to me — a warm cup of tea after a long day, a message of encouragement, the quiet presence of people I love.