Tonight’s strangest moment was not seeing my friend onstage at the Met, or running into several colleagues of varying levels, or walking around backstage knowing that in a few months I’ll know that maze inside and out.
The strangest moment came at the very end of the night. I said goodnight to RL (who sang wonderfully, totally exposed and very poised), who was off to the opening night party, and left via the Artists’ Entrance in the basement. I had a smile on my face, as I often do these days, and I’ve found that people often smile back; this was no exception. I passed a few folks and we exchanged smiles, but then I walked past three people and one of them said, “Are you Ms. So-and-so?”
“No,” I replied, “I’m not. Sorry.” Smiled, and continued walking.
Then he said, “No, wait: you’re Ms. Bird.”
And I stopped in my tracks!
“Yes, you’re Ms. Bird. I saw your picture in here. You’ll be making your debut in Trittico, right?”
Holy cow!! Recognized from a headshot in a season program on a night when I’m not even singing and when my new haircut is tousled and unkempt, far from the sleek look in my headshot. That’s a good memory, and obviously someone for whom opera is a passion. Maybe he reads The Concert! (If so, hello, and thanks for a great, if slightly unexpected, encounter!)
One of his friends had a camera and asked to take my picture. “We’ll have it with us opening night of Trittico, so you can sign it.” Wow. I can’t imagine how dazed I must look in that photo!!
More on Gioconda tomorrow (how often am I going to say that?), but now to bed. Walking home, recounting the story to CT the DT on the phone, I felt a bit like I had a post-performance high to come down from. Maybe the day will come when being recognized becomes tedious and annoying, but for now, I love it!
OT to boston_soprano: I’ll get right on that post about pitch charts! Ms. Shelton first introduced them to me on a 12-tone piece, so I know they work!
Good night, all.