Filomena Feliu: "My uncle secretly took me to the Liceu because my parents didn't want me to be a dancer."

Barcelona"This concert has a big surprise in store for us. The official and definitive presentation of a new star, a favorite disciple of Joan Magriñà, Filo Feliu. A revelation not just as a promise but as a resounding reality. At fifteen years old and with only four years of study, she has placed herself in the spotlight. No precocious child. Her career is advancing steadily. She has the skills, expressiveness, figure, poise, and a technique close to matching the world's great stars. This is what dance and opera historian Alfonso Puig writes in his book Ballet and Spanish dance, Published in 1944 by Montaner y Simón. The clear and direct prose is impressive, forceful in its analysis and adjectives from one of the world's greatest experts in classical dance. He was clear: Filo Feliu was a star. A star of the Liceu Ballets, created by Joan Magriñà. A leading dancer, a leading figure.

More than eighty years later, out of the blue, my friend Jaume Figueras sent me a WhatsAppDo you know who I ran into yesterday at the theater watching Nacho Duato's show? And she sends me a photo. Filo Feliu! A revelation, an apparition, a miracle. "And her head is crystal clear!" I'm thrilled. Her son Ignacio arranged for us to meet, and I visited him one morning at his apartment on Avenida de Roma. What a privilege.

Mrs. Feliu, you keep very active, don't you?

— As much as I can!

They tell me that a few weeks ago he went to the theater.

— Of course, to see Nacho Duato at the Tivoli.

Stay interested and excited about ballet!

— And you don't know what I did until just a few years ago. I'm ninety-seven now, but until recently I traveled to Paris, London, and New York to see every ballet I could.

Did they remember you?

— Quite a lot, yes, and if not, I'd remind you. Prima ballerina at the Gran Teatro del Liceo!

Ninety-seven years old and in good health.

— I've never had anything, thank God. A few colds, and that's it.

How did he do it?

— Dancing!! I'm also a very active person. I always have been. I've never sat still.

Never better said. She retired from dancing at thirty.

— Teaching, of course. He had seen me dance the best in Barcelona. Important people who had children who wanted to dance took them to my dance school.

Filo Feliu. Ballet Studio.

— Yes, on Bonavista Street. My parents owned an oil and soap shop. And there, still a shop, I gave my first classes when I wasn't even twenty.

What was the most rewarding thing about teaching?

— Being able to give back everything I'd learned as a dancer, and also, why not say it, the opportunity to prosper financially that this gave me. I'm very interested in this aspect.

I understand that despite being the star of the Liceu dance company, he didn't earn a penny.

— Exactly. I made my debut at fourteen and met four managers from the Liceu. They all told me the Liceu was my home, that its doors would always be open to me. But I never got paid. "We can't afford to pay you," they told me. And I got by and thought it was worth it.

It's interesting that she had an entrepreneurial vision for teaching. She wanted to broaden her focus, become an independent, self-sufficient teacher.

— It wasn't at all common at that time, and even less so for a woman, but I saw that it was an opportunity that had to be taken advantage of.

She was a teacher until she was seventy. Where did your passion for dance come from?

— Oh! I was always dancing, like Isadora Duncan! It was inside me. If I heard music, I had to start dancing. I had an uncle, my father's brother, who was a huge ballet fan. One day, when I was twelve, he took me to the Liceu and, as we were leaving, asked me if I'd like to dance to what we'd just seen. My whole world opened up to me. He took me to Joan Magriñà's dance studio, the only one in Barcelona. And that's where it all began. He was my teacher.

Did the family take it well?

— No! My uncle brought me here secretly from my parents, who absolutely didn't want me to dance. Until one day, Magriñà called my mother and told her to trust me and let me dance because I would become a big star. From that day on, everything changed, and I had my mother's unconditional support.

"A star is born," wrote Xavier Montsalvatge in DestinationHow did you receive recognition from the public and critics?

— It was very quick and very gratifying. The Montsalvatge review was a very important one that gave me a lot of exposure. They immediately told me I had the technique and perfection of the best Russian ballerinas. Just think, in the mid-1940s, I used to walk down Passeig de Gràcia and know everyone.

Filo Feliu excuses herself for a moment. She still has flashes of flirtatiousness and isn't entirely comfortable without a bit of makeup. Meanwhile, her son Ignacio continues telling me about his mother. The nuances, the corners of a long and fruitful life, are never ending. Filo taught classes in her dance studio until she was almost seventy. The family would have liked to maintain the Estudi Filo Feliu brand, but it wasn't feasible. "My mother has worked very hard!" Ignacio emphasizes. She started working very young and for many years she was the family's lifeline, thanks to her own studio and also to her contract with the legendary Vienas—the music, revue, theater, variety, and puppet company formed by Artur Kaps, Franz Joham, Gustavo Re, and Herta Frankel—who saw her dance at the Liceu and signed her to do so. An opportunity to travel around Europe arose, but Filo didn't see the opportunity and preferred to stay. "Out of responsibility for the family," her son recalls. He also takes the opportunity to praise the great visionary contribution of Joan Magriñà, of the Liceu Ballets, short-lived and successful: "Dance has always been the poor brother of the arts, strictly limited to opera," he recounts with a critical eye. Filo never tired of chipping away, of demanding the maintenance and growth of a professional dance company associated with the Liceu. She also likes to explain that she is a friend of the great Spanish dancers, from Nacho Duato to Víctor Ullate and Antonio Canales, and she also regrets not having been able to have more male students. This world, for many years, was fraught with suspicion and stigma.

— Here I am again. I didn't really wear any makeup! I'm putting on a different face, aren't I?

You're fantastic, Filo, but before that too, right? I wanted to ask if, at the height of your success, you were aware that dance was one of the few places where a woman could enjoy some recognition. A reserved space within a predominantly male system.

— All I wanted was to dance! And I knew I'd have the audience in my pocket. I didn't think much about the rest. My name was just as big a hit. That was enough for him.

Did you feel like a pioneer?

— I felt recognized and loved.

Of all the things you have danced, what is it that you are perhaps most fond of?

— Oh! There are many. Aida, The Blue Bird, he Splendor by Gounod... But perhaps Swan Lake It is my greatest success They say that when I took the step of two, many people got goosebumps.

At the height of your splendor, you had the opportunity to travel and pursue an international career. How did that happen?

— They proposed, yes. To go to Paris. But I was already in a relationship by then, I wanted to get married and have children. My husband knew I had many admirers, but they only admired my art.

Like the Viennese!

— Yes, they saw me dance at a recital and the choreographer wanted to sign me. They spoke to my mother and we had to ask Magriñà's permission. He said yes. I debuted with Danube Melodies, which was one of his most famous shows.

Filo, do you have any memories of the Civil War?

— I have the memory of an elephant. You've probably seen that, right?

Well yes, you can't deny it.

— We lived in Gràcia, on Carrer de Santa Tecla. I was thirteen years old and we watched the planes coming to bomb the city. It was the first months of the war. When the siren sounded, we would get into the subway, which was used as a shelter. Then my parents decided that we girls should go to the countryside. My sisters and I went to live in a farmhouse in Montmeló that belonged to an aunt of ours. I remember those as very happy years. What a paradox, huh? I was dancing on the threshing floor and thinking that dancing was for me.