In today’s round of “be careful how quickly you round the corners at the Met,” I came face to face (very close!) with Angela Gheorghiu. It was definitely one of those, “Hey, do I know you?” moments, where I felt like I should say hello since, obviously, I knew her. But I quickly realized that I only know her as a Famous Person, and if I had said, “Oh, hi!” like I almost did, I would have felt very silly!
I think she saw the progression of those thoughts across my face (I bet she sees it a lot), and smiled a very sweet smile as we passed. She is stunning, absolutely gorgeous. When do we see her in hi-def at the movies?
I finally start rehearsing on Monday! Tabarro rehearsals started this week, but they seem to be cycling through each of the three operas in Trittico, rehearsing a different one each day. Since my scene in Tabarro is near the end, my number never came up in rotation this week. I certainly stayed occupied, what with getting Bhakti off the ground (we’ve already gotten a couple of nibbles about recitals for 08-09!) and doing the preliminary round of the Oratorio Society of New York competition. (I’ll hear about the semi-finals in early April.) But I’m ready to start getting up on my feet and rehearsing! Being a cover for the past three months (three months!!) has been a great way to get familiar with the Met and the way the system works there, but I’m ready to work. Sitting and watching is not what I came here to do!
Tomorrow morning I’m meeting with a group of high school choir kids visiting from Boulder (one of whom attends my parents’ church); we’ll do a little tour of Lincoln Center and talk about life as a singer in the big city. In the afternoon I’m going to record some arias, then covering Helena (from home, since it’s not a broadcast) before heading to see a campy scary movie with a bunch of Santa Fe folks. Saturday, an audition and then the final MATA concert, not to mention my father’s 60th Birthday!! Sunday promises to hold brunch (of course) and some babysitting of the Brooklyn Birds (which will include watching Sylvia’s favorite movie) as a gift for my brother’s birthday, which is Monday. A good weekend.
Hope you have one, too!
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
New photos
Oh, and one more thing I did this weekend: added some new Production photos to the Photos page on my website. Four new shots from Black Box Opera Theater's double bill of Degenerate Cabaret and The Emperor of Atlantis. I've got some new sound clips to get up there, too, but I haven't quite figured out how to do that. Stay tuned...
Devotion
This weekend, my commission/recital/recording project took two major steps forward.
First, it found a name: The Bhakti Project. The title came to me in a practice session as I was singing through one of the Harbison Mirabai Songs, “Don’t Go, Don’t Go.” Mira asks Krishna (called “The Dark One” throughout her poetry) to show her “where to find the bhakti path.” I looked up the definition of the Sanskrit word months ago when I first started working on the song, but on this day its meaning really struck me: devotion.
It was, quite literally, an “aha!” moment. I didn’t shout “Eureka,” but I did stop singing and smile at my notes written in the margin of the page. Devotion. Several definitions of this word fit the recital and commission: “profound dedication; consecration;” “feelings of ardent love;” “religious zeal; the willingness to serve God.” Each of the voices on my recital program is devoted to knowing God.
And then, this one: “Commitment to some purpose.” Somewhere along my career path as a singer, I became devoted to new music. From my first collaborations with composition students at the University of Georgia, I fell in love with the process of working with a composer and other musicians to make something new, of giving life to a work that didn’t exist before but, if we all do our jobs right, might be around for years and years after we are gone. Anyone who loves “classical music” should be devoted to seeing that it remains a living art. And so, The Bhakti Project was born.
The second step came when I submitted an application for Fiscal Sponsorship through Fractured Atlas. A NYC-based arts-support organization, FA is an incredible resource for individual artists and arts groups around the nation. Just look at the headings on their website navigation bar: Healthcare (!), Fiscal Sponsorship, Liability Insurance, Marketing & Promotion, Professional Development, The Emerging Artists Fund. And those are just the tools for artists. They have a whole other section for Donors and Public that includes their own fundraising, events calendars, and newsletters.
What is Fiscal Sponsorship? Well, most folks are hesitant to donate more than the change in their pockets unless they can get a tax deduction for it. As someone who itemizes pages of deductions every year, I totally get that! But, in order for me to get 501(c)(3) status, I’d have to go through all sorts of legal and financial riggamaroll that would, likely, get in the way of the project or, even more likely, get me so frustrated that I throw in the towel. But Judd’s already writing, so it’s too late for that!
FA has set things up with IRS to sponsor artists and projects, essentially bringing them in under their umbrella of 501(c)(3) tax status. For their assistance, Fractured Atlas takes a very reasonable 6% cut from all donations. Read all about the incredible program here. My application for sponsorship will be reviewed in early April, and I’ll be set up with a page on their website where donors can easily and safely make contributions to the Bhakti Project. How cool is that??!!
Taking a page from the Bang on a Can People’s Commissioning Fund, the idea behind The Bhakti Project is to collect smaller contributions from multiple donors and support one big project. The chronicling of the project through this blog already makes it a public process; I guess I’m just taking it one step further by asking for your help!
If you are devoted to new music, if this project inspires you in any way, please consider helping me with a contribution. I’ll be set up for tax-deductible donations in April, but I certainly won’t turn anyone away until then. Fractured Atlas is also set up to accept in-kind donations, so if any graphic designers out there are interested in donating a couple of hours for some publicity and many thanks, the Bhakti Project needs a logo! We’ll need a photo shoot for publicity materials and, eventually, the CD liner notes. If you live in or near New York City and would be interested in hosting a fundraising house concert, Jocelyn and I would love to get dressed up and come sing for you! There are so many ways to get involved.
I am so excited about this. Over the past month, talking about it with my colleagues and contemporaries (thanks for the plug, Alex!), it has been amazing to watch the momentum pick up. And I am so grateful to have this venue in which to document the process and to have you, my readers, to bounce all these ideas off of. Thanks, everybody!
First, it found a name: The Bhakti Project. The title came to me in a practice session as I was singing through one of the Harbison Mirabai Songs, “Don’t Go, Don’t Go.” Mira asks Krishna (called “The Dark One” throughout her poetry) to show her “where to find the bhakti path.” I looked up the definition of the Sanskrit word months ago when I first started working on the song, but on this day its meaning really struck me: devotion.
It was, quite literally, an “aha!” moment. I didn’t shout “Eureka,” but I did stop singing and smile at my notes written in the margin of the page. Devotion. Several definitions of this word fit the recital and commission: “profound dedication; consecration;” “feelings of ardent love;” “religious zeal; the willingness to serve God.” Each of the voices on my recital program is devoted to knowing God.
And then, this one: “Commitment to some purpose.” Somewhere along my career path as a singer, I became devoted to new music. From my first collaborations with composition students at the University of Georgia, I fell in love with the process of working with a composer and other musicians to make something new, of giving life to a work that didn’t exist before but, if we all do our jobs right, might be around for years and years after we are gone. Anyone who loves “classical music” should be devoted to seeing that it remains a living art. And so, The Bhakti Project was born.
The second step came when I submitted an application for Fiscal Sponsorship through Fractured Atlas. A NYC-based arts-support organization, FA is an incredible resource for individual artists and arts groups around the nation. Just look at the headings on their website navigation bar: Healthcare (!), Fiscal Sponsorship, Liability Insurance, Marketing & Promotion, Professional Development, The Emerging Artists Fund. And those are just the tools for artists. They have a whole other section for Donors and Public that includes their own fundraising, events calendars, and newsletters.
What is Fiscal Sponsorship? Well, most folks are hesitant to donate more than the change in their pockets unless they can get a tax deduction for it. As someone who itemizes pages of deductions every year, I totally get that! But, in order for me to get 501(c)(3) status, I’d have to go through all sorts of legal and financial riggamaroll that would, likely, get in the way of the project or, even more likely, get me so frustrated that I throw in the towel. But Judd’s already writing, so it’s too late for that!
FA has set things up with IRS to sponsor artists and projects, essentially bringing them in under their umbrella of 501(c)(3) tax status. For their assistance, Fractured Atlas takes a very reasonable 6% cut from all donations. Read all about the incredible program here. My application for sponsorship will be reviewed in early April, and I’ll be set up with a page on their website where donors can easily and safely make contributions to the Bhakti Project. How cool is that??!!
Taking a page from the Bang on a Can People’s Commissioning Fund, the idea behind The Bhakti Project is to collect smaller contributions from multiple donors and support one big project. The chronicling of the project through this blog already makes it a public process; I guess I’m just taking it one step further by asking for your help!
If you are devoted to new music, if this project inspires you in any way, please consider helping me with a contribution. I’ll be set up for tax-deductible donations in April, but I certainly won’t turn anyone away until then. Fractured Atlas is also set up to accept in-kind donations, so if any graphic designers out there are interested in donating a couple of hours for some publicity and many thanks, the Bhakti Project needs a logo! We’ll need a photo shoot for publicity materials and, eventually, the CD liner notes. If you live in or near New York City and would be interested in hosting a fundraising house concert, Jocelyn and I would love to get dressed up and come sing for you! There are so many ways to get involved.
I am so excited about this. Over the past month, talking about it with my colleagues and contemporaries (thanks for the plug, Alex!), it has been amazing to watch the momentum pick up. And I am so grateful to have this venue in which to document the process and to have you, my readers, to bounce all these ideas off of. Thanks, everybody!
Saturday, March 17, 2007
“From where ever it is right now.”
Yesterday, I had another meeting with Judd Greenstein, my friend, colleague, and collaborator on this very exciting recital project. We’ve met several times over the past two years, and we talked yesterday about how the timing has worked out, how it seems like all of a sudden, this project is flying – now! I think we work similarly, whether in learning music (me), writing music (Judd), or getting projects off the ground: lots of thinking, some talking, some sketching, and then BAM! There is goes.
And so this project is front and center in my mind: programming, rehearsing, publicizing, recording, scheduling, and, not at all least, financing. I’ve been talking about fundraising almost non-stop these days, with anyone who will listen. Lots of brainstorming going on, and I’m lucky to be in touch with several colleagues who have great track records of fundraising and organizing. I’m picking some excellent brains, and I have a few ideas which I’ll present here over the next couple of weeks. Stay tuned…
As it has evolved, our project (which is still nameless, although there are front-runners…) has presented natural “phases,” each with its own to-do list, collaborators, and financial needs. Here are the phases of this project, as it stands now:
Premiere: May 17th at Vim: TriBeCa. This event will be the world premiere of Judd’s piece and the premiere performance of this concert program. It will also be the kick-off fundraiser for our as-yet-nameless project fund! Maybe a reception afterwards…
Record: Ideally, early Fall 2007. The cd will be a reduced version of the concert program, and will be made available on online retailers and at our performances (JG, JD, and myself). Judd’s burgeoning record label, New Amsterdam Records, will release the cd.
Tour: Over the next year (essentially, Season 07-08), I would like to present this program four or five times in venues around the country, maybe in conjunction with masterclasses for singers and/or composers at University music schools. The more performances, the more exposure, both for us, the performers, and for the new work.
Of course, all of this takes money. Judd and I applied for a grant last year. We didn’t get it, in part, likely, because of the way we’ve brought this project to life - slowly, with lots of diffuse elements and ideas scattered around which have only recently been brought into focus. We had a great idea, but it was still too vague an idea for the grant committee to see the potential and give us money.
That concept – scattered elements brought into focus – can be applied to every facet of this project. I was talking to a friend about fundraising last week (like I said, it’s all I talk about these days!), and he shared a story with me. He attends a meditation center near Boston, and years ago when the idea for the center was still just that, an idea, the Maharishi needed to raise a million dollars to bring the center into being. The people around him asked, “But where are you going to get that kind of money?” The Maharishi simply answered, “From where ever it is right now.”
The money for this project is out there, and we believe that it wants to come to us. Judd, Jocelyn, and I believe strongly in this project and in the future of our collaboration on other projects. I told Judd the story of the Maharishi over lunch, and then later when we were talking in more detail about the music, he used the line “from where ever it is right now” to describe composing. Amazing idea, isn’t it? That the music exists out there, scattered about, and bit by bit – or all at once! – it comes. Lisa Bielawa described it in a different way on her BMOP MySpace blog: “terry's synopsis for trumpet has introduced itself.” I love this idea! “Hello there, I’m your next composition!” It is our job as artists to be open to receiving these ideas and inspirations as they come.
I’ll write more soon about my fundraising ideas. Lots of things to explore, lots of people to talk with and meet with. Lots of “putting it out there” and making it happen.
Oh, man, I just realized that I wrote this whole post and didn’t talk about the music part of my meeting with Judd! Rather than get into it here, I’ll post again later. Needless to say, when we parted ways on the corner of 8th and Broadway, we were both inspired. We’ve been talking about this project for two years, but yesterday, our partnership was born.
And so this project is front and center in my mind: programming, rehearsing, publicizing, recording, scheduling, and, not at all least, financing. I’ve been talking about fundraising almost non-stop these days, with anyone who will listen. Lots of brainstorming going on, and I’m lucky to be in touch with several colleagues who have great track records of fundraising and organizing. I’m picking some excellent brains, and I have a few ideas which I’ll present here over the next couple of weeks. Stay tuned…
As it has evolved, our project (which is still nameless, although there are front-runners…) has presented natural “phases,” each with its own to-do list, collaborators, and financial needs. Here are the phases of this project, as it stands now:
Premiere: May 17th at Vim: TriBeCa. This event will be the world premiere of Judd’s piece and the premiere performance of this concert program. It will also be the kick-off fundraiser for our as-yet-nameless project fund! Maybe a reception afterwards…
Record: Ideally, early Fall 2007. The cd will be a reduced version of the concert program, and will be made available on online retailers and at our performances (JG, JD, and myself). Judd’s burgeoning record label, New Amsterdam Records, will release the cd.
Tour: Over the next year (essentially, Season 07-08), I would like to present this program four or five times in venues around the country, maybe in conjunction with masterclasses for singers and/or composers at University music schools. The more performances, the more exposure, both for us, the performers, and for the new work.
Of course, all of this takes money. Judd and I applied for a grant last year. We didn’t get it, in part, likely, because of the way we’ve brought this project to life - slowly, with lots of diffuse elements and ideas scattered around which have only recently been brought into focus. We had a great idea, but it was still too vague an idea for the grant committee to see the potential and give us money.
That concept – scattered elements brought into focus – can be applied to every facet of this project. I was talking to a friend about fundraising last week (like I said, it’s all I talk about these days!), and he shared a story with me. He attends a meditation center near Boston, and years ago when the idea for the center was still just that, an idea, the Maharishi needed to raise a million dollars to bring the center into being. The people around him asked, “But where are you going to get that kind of money?” The Maharishi simply answered, “From where ever it is right now.”
The money for this project is out there, and we believe that it wants to come to us. Judd, Jocelyn, and I believe strongly in this project and in the future of our collaboration on other projects. I told Judd the story of the Maharishi over lunch, and then later when we were talking in more detail about the music, he used the line “from where ever it is right now” to describe composing. Amazing idea, isn’t it? That the music exists out there, scattered about, and bit by bit – or all at once! – it comes. Lisa Bielawa described it in a different way on her BMOP MySpace blog: “terry's synopsis for trumpet has introduced itself.” I love this idea! “Hello there, I’m your next composition!” It is our job as artists to be open to receiving these ideas and inspirations as they come.
I’ll write more soon about my fundraising ideas. Lots of things to explore, lots of people to talk with and meet with. Lots of “putting it out there” and making it happen.
Oh, man, I just realized that I wrote this whole post and didn’t talk about the music part of my meeting with Judd! Rather than get into it here, I’ll post again later. Needless to say, when we parted ways on the corner of 8th and Broadway, we were both inspired. We’ve been talking about this project for two years, but yesterday, our partnership was born.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Links for March 16th
NYTimes article on acting in opera - Yes, Virginia, there are opera singers who can act! “…a new generation of opera singers, fine vocal artists who care deeply about acting and do it very well.” Excellent article, excellent performers.
Ljova livin’ the life - add to this a performance of some kind at night, and you get an accurate picture of what life as a multi-track musician is like. I’m sure he’s had many of those days… And then, imagine doing it all on the road, in an unfamiliar city!
TSR on wine and knowledge - “Snobbishness is not the opposite of ignorance; in fact, I would argue that they share space on the same side of the coin.”
Belief and the Law of Attraction - Michelle over at A Singer’s Life gives her take on what I call manifesting.
Not the Messiah: He’s a very naughty boy - As the Gospels are to Handel’s Messiah, so this comedic oratorio is to The Life of Brian. Oh, the tears of laughter are streaming already! And talk about embracing the silly! (Via OperaChic)
And speaking of silly, what I wouldn’t give to be in Seattle next month and see MP talking to herself! If you’re in the area, you are strongly encouraged to check out the Northwest Puppet Center’s production of another hidden gem of Baroque puppet opera.
Ljova livin’ the life - add to this a performance of some kind at night, and you get an accurate picture of what life as a multi-track musician is like. I’m sure he’s had many of those days… And then, imagine doing it all on the road, in an unfamiliar city!
TSR on wine and knowledge - “Snobbishness is not the opposite of ignorance; in fact, I would argue that they share space on the same side of the coin.”
Belief and the Law of Attraction - Michelle over at A Singer’s Life gives her take on what I call manifesting.
Not the Messiah: He’s a very naughty boy - As the Gospels are to Handel’s Messiah, so this comedic oratorio is to The Life of Brian. Oh, the tears of laughter are streaming already! And talk about embracing the silly! (Via OperaChic)
And speaking of silly, what I wouldn’t give to be in Seattle next month and see MP talking to herself! If you’re in the area, you are strongly encouraged to check out the Northwest Puppet Center’s production of another hidden gem of Baroque puppet opera.
Rollercoaster
What a night at the opera house! I’m sure other bloggers will be piping in soon with reports from front of the house, but I can give a small insight into what was happening backstage and, to some extent, onstage.
It was an exciting night for me to begin with, as my colleague KW made her debut as First Elf. I got her the cutest pair of slippers from the Opera gift shop: white slip-ons with “Diva” embroidered in gold on each one! Adorable. And since singers are often barefoot on stage, we get slippers as part of our costume to wear from the dressing area to stage and back. Usually the ones from the costume shop are used (although maybe the “big stars” get new ones?), so this way she can have her own pair with her every show! It made sense as a gift for this show, as the elves are, indeed, barefoot-ish. (They all wear tunics with a kind of body-suit-with-feet underneath. And blue faces. And beards!)
I stopped in to see her and was told of the plan to meet after intermission (we Elvenkind) and toast her with wine and cheese during Act II. Natürlich! I went down to the cafeteria to spend Act I studying my Barber and Messiaen songs. (I actually got a lot more accomplished since KW wasn’t there to chat with me!)
Our tenor had to miss the final dress rehearsal due to illness, but he was dressed and warmed up and ready to go at the start of the show tonight. But, he wasn’t as healthy as he thought and hoped, and he struggled through Act I. It is so hard to hear (over the loudspeakers in the caf) and see (from the stage, based on my colleagues’ reports) your friend and colleague struggling. Fighting to make things work! “I know I can do this! I just did it four days ago!” We’d watched him through the entire rehearsal process, and believe me, he’s an outstanding singer! He just wasn’t healthy tonight. All of our hearts went out to him, because, as with all suffering: “There but for the grace of God go I.”
So, at intermission, the decision was made to put the cover on. (I don’t know how this decision gets made, who asks or decides. I’m sure it’s different every time, and always a unique case.) And all of a sudden, the energy shifted! I stayed away from the backstage area during intermission, because I knew it would be crazy and intense. But during Act II, we listened through the dressing room intercoms and toasted our colleague stepping out and making a fabulous debut! He really nailed it, and we could sense the rest of the production rising up on his energy.
There was lots of holding our breath for upcoming high notes or killer phrases, and then cheering as he cleared hurdle after hurdle. I wasn’t invited to the opening night party – covers generally aren’t, but I guarantee they made an exception for MH tonight! – so I won’t get to see him until next week’s shows, but I can’t imagine how high he must be flying tonight. His wife and children are home in Mississippi, and I know he will miss them tonight as he falls, exhausted, into bed.
Congratulations to my colleagues! Two successful debuts, one planned for and prepared, and one unplanned for – and prepared! That’s the way to cover.
(In news of a certain other debut coming up in a few weeks: I found a fabulous dress for the opening night party! My dress is in a wine-colored stretch satin and shorter than the ones pictured, and I absolutely love it. I'll have to resist the urge to wrap and re-wrap it all night! "Look what this dress can do!!")
It was an exciting night for me to begin with, as my colleague KW made her debut as First Elf. I got her the cutest pair of slippers from the Opera gift shop: white slip-ons with “Diva” embroidered in gold on each one! Adorable. And since singers are often barefoot on stage, we get slippers as part of our costume to wear from the dressing area to stage and back. Usually the ones from the costume shop are used (although maybe the “big stars” get new ones?), so this way she can have her own pair with her every show! It made sense as a gift for this show, as the elves are, indeed, barefoot-ish. (They all wear tunics with a kind of body-suit-with-feet underneath. And blue faces. And beards!)
I stopped in to see her and was told of the plan to meet after intermission (we Elvenkind) and toast her with wine and cheese during Act II. Natürlich! I went down to the cafeteria to spend Act I studying my Barber and Messiaen songs. (I actually got a lot more accomplished since KW wasn’t there to chat with me!)
Our tenor had to miss the final dress rehearsal due to illness, but he was dressed and warmed up and ready to go at the start of the show tonight. But, he wasn’t as healthy as he thought and hoped, and he struggled through Act I. It is so hard to hear (over the loudspeakers in the caf) and see (from the stage, based on my colleagues’ reports) your friend and colleague struggling. Fighting to make things work! “I know I can do this! I just did it four days ago!” We’d watched him through the entire rehearsal process, and believe me, he’s an outstanding singer! He just wasn’t healthy tonight. All of our hearts went out to him, because, as with all suffering: “There but for the grace of God go I.”
So, at intermission, the decision was made to put the cover on. (I don’t know how this decision gets made, who asks or decides. I’m sure it’s different every time, and always a unique case.) And all of a sudden, the energy shifted! I stayed away from the backstage area during intermission, because I knew it would be crazy and intense. But during Act II, we listened through the dressing room intercoms and toasted our colleague stepping out and making a fabulous debut! He really nailed it, and we could sense the rest of the production rising up on his energy.
There was lots of holding our breath for upcoming high notes or killer phrases, and then cheering as he cleared hurdle after hurdle. I wasn’t invited to the opening night party – covers generally aren’t, but I guarantee they made an exception for MH tonight! – so I won’t get to see him until next week’s shows, but I can’t imagine how high he must be flying tonight. His wife and children are home in Mississippi, and I know he will miss them tonight as he falls, exhausted, into bed.
Congratulations to my colleagues! Two successful debuts, one planned for and prepared, and one unplanned for – and prepared! That’s the way to cover.
(In news of a certain other debut coming up in a few weeks: I found a fabulous dress for the opening night party! My dress is in a wine-colored stretch satin and shorter than the ones pictured, and I absolutely love it. I'll have to resist the urge to wrap and re-wrap it all night! "Look what this dress can do!!")
Sunday, March 11, 2007
For every dress, a story
I had a costume fitting for Suor Angelica last week, my first fitting at the Met for a costume that I’ll actually get to wear! It is a very sweet novice habit, a beautiful Wedgwood blue, and not at all harsh, as suited to one who has yet to take her vows. When the costumers learned that I will also be singing “Young Lover Soprano” in Il tabarro - and wearing a sexy red dress - we went to town making up a back-story to tie these two characters together! How does a girl go from being a YLS in a red dress to being a Novice in sensible shoes?
Since Tabarro is first on the bill, we decided that after too many nights spent walking through the streets of Paris with my Young Lover Tenor, (and stopping on - or under - various bridges to sing about the perfumed evening…) my parents stuck me in a convent. Take away the red dress, give a girl some sensible shoes, and hope she mends her wicked ways!
Of course, once a YLS, always a YLS, so we determined that my Novice never takes her vows! She is rescued by a rich archduke or merchant who fell in love with her after seeing her at Mass. Maybe it was something about the saucy way she wore her wimple… How does it end? Does she ever see her YLT again? Who knows, but I’m sure we’ll continue to flesh out the story over the next few weeks. Rehearsals start on the 19th!
This is all in fun, of course; the three stories of Il trittico aren’t connected by story or place or time. Just three stand-alone shorts, so to speak. Connected only by the limits of our imagination!
Since Tabarro is first on the bill, we decided that after too many nights spent walking through the streets of Paris with my Young Lover Tenor, (and stopping on - or under - various bridges to sing about the perfumed evening…) my parents stuck me in a convent. Take away the red dress, give a girl some sensible shoes, and hope she mends her wicked ways!
Of course, once a YLS, always a YLS, so we determined that my Novice never takes her vows! She is rescued by a rich archduke or merchant who fell in love with her after seeing her at Mass. Maybe it was something about the saucy way she wore her wimple… How does it end? Does she ever see her YLT again? Who knows, but I’m sure we’ll continue to flesh out the story over the next few weeks. Rehearsals start on the 19th!
This is all in fun, of course; the three stories of Il trittico aren’t connected by story or place or time. Just three stand-alone shorts, so to speak. Connected only by the limits of our imagination!
Friday, March 09, 2007
Quotidien
If you want to know how I’m spending my free time these days, read Tom’s fabulous post on learning atonal music! Granted, most of the music on my plate is traditional, but some of the Harbison and Messiaen songs are requiring me to pull out all my tricks. Colored pencils, pitch charts, fun markings, metronomes, and lots and lots of counting.
I’m just about to start work on the actual pitches of the trickiest sections. My keyboard is kind of on the fritz, though, and so I’m a bit nervous about working with my pedal tones. We’ll see how it goes. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, it sounds like a cat jumps on the keys and then the darn thing freezes up! Or, it’ll keep working but sound like a horribly out of tune piano. Bizarre. That’s what I get for buying a $20 keyboard from Radio Shack!
Tonight, though, a voice lesson, then drinks with a high school classmate I haven’t seen in 13 years! He was my boyfriend’s best friend, and my primary memory is of him sitting on an amp in my driveway, playing guitar while my boyfriend serenaded me. With “Wild Thing.” Uh-huh. In front of my big, cool, college-attending brother! I was mortified. It wasn’t as John Hughes as it sounds, and certainly not John Cusack! Ah, young love.
Hopefully there will be no serenading tonight, unless we end up singing show tunes at The After Party!
Have a great weekend, every body! Helena final dress on Monday!
I’m just about to start work on the actual pitches of the trickiest sections. My keyboard is kind of on the fritz, though, and so I’m a bit nervous about working with my pedal tones. We’ll see how it goes. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, it sounds like a cat jumps on the keys and then the darn thing freezes up! Or, it’ll keep working but sound like a horribly out of tune piano. Bizarre. That’s what I get for buying a $20 keyboard from Radio Shack!
Tonight, though, a voice lesson, then drinks with a high school classmate I haven’t seen in 13 years! He was my boyfriend’s best friend, and my primary memory is of him sitting on an amp in my driveway, playing guitar while my boyfriend serenaded me. With “Wild Thing.” Uh-huh. In front of my big, cool, college-attending brother! I was mortified. It wasn’t as John Hughes as it sounds, and certainly not John Cusack! Ah, young love.
Hopefully there will be no serenading tonight, unless we end up singing show tunes at The After Party!
Have a great weekend, every body! Helena final dress on Monday!
Monday, March 05, 2007
Also on the piano: A Recital
How long now have I been alluding to this recital project? Far too long, and as my work on the program builds up, I’m finally getting around to writing about it.
The seed for this project was actually planted in May of 2005, so it will be just about two years when it all comes to fruition (somebody knock on wood) on May 17th. Judd Greenstein and I met when we were both Fellows at Tanglewood, and I think we got back in touch when we were both listed on the blogroll at The Rest is Noise. I was in the early planning stages for a CD project (which never happened) and asked Judd if he would be interested in writing me a new song or group of songs to be included. I think the original program theme back then was American song, but I quickly realized that that is a very popular CD theme!
As Judd and I tossed text ideas back and forth, a theme emerged built around Judd’s piece, which I knew I wanted to be the centerpiece of the recital. We moved through Millay’s poetry to the writings of Sufi mystics, only to settle on passages from the Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism. I also knew that I wanted to program some or all of John Harbison’s Mirabai Songs, settings of the ecstatic poetry of a 16th century Krishna devotee, so from these two ideas came the theme: intimacy with Spirit.
By January of this year, the theme and program had pretty much solidified. Here’s what I wrote up for the venue website:
What happens when you take away the trappings of religion and leave behind faith and doubt? How have poets and composers captured the intimacy of a relationship with the Spirit? What is a relationship with the Spirit? Soprano Anne-Carolyn Bird and pianist Jocelyn Dueck present songs pulled from diverse spiritual traditions with an eye toward answering these questions and more. The recital will feature works by Rachmaninoff, Barber, Dallapiccola, Messiaen, and Harbison, as well as folks songs and other native musics. A world-premiere work by Judd Greenstein, - based on texts from the Zohar, the central book of Kabbalah - rounds out this intimate and challenging program.
Oh, and the venue? Also a cool development over the past year. Judd has joined with another Tanglewood alumnus, Kimball Gallagher, to create VIM:TriBeCa, a concert series held in a TriBeCa art gallery. They started with five or six programs scheduled when the inaugural season started in September, and as of now they will present fifteen distinct programs in the 06-07 season. Focusing on new music and young performers, VIM presents concerts at Gallarie Icosahedron, often in conjunction with openings and exhibitions. It’s great to see a new venture like this take off and be so successful right away.
As for the program, entitled “I Have Some Light: Songs of Spirit,” I wanted to try and include as many different voices and spiritual backgrounds as I could. Jocelyn and I could have kept digging and searching and finding new music for years, but I made myself stop and commit! I didn’t find everything I was looking for (I wish I’d found something Islamic or some folk songs in another language), but I’m pretty pleased with the diversity. We’ll have Hindu (Harbison, Mirabai), European Catholic (Barber, Hermit Songs), existential (Messiaen, Poemes pour mi), Russian Orthodox (Rachmaninoff), Spanish mysticism (Dallapiccola), American Protestant (hymns, folk songs), and I consider Bolcom’s “Waitin’” (poem by Arnold Weinstein) to be a beautiful description of the Buddhist search for enlightenment:
Waitin, waitin,
I’ve been waitin, waitin, waitin all my life.
That light keeps on hiding from me,
But it someday just might bless my sight.
Waitin, waitin, waitin
I have a lot of work to do in the next two months to get this program in shape, but I love this project! What a journey it’s been on, and there’s so much more to come. Sounds like life, doesn’t it?
The seed for this project was actually planted in May of 2005, so it will be just about two years when it all comes to fruition (somebody knock on wood) on May 17th. Judd Greenstein and I met when we were both Fellows at Tanglewood, and I think we got back in touch when we were both listed on the blogroll at The Rest is Noise. I was in the early planning stages for a CD project (which never happened) and asked Judd if he would be interested in writing me a new song or group of songs to be included. I think the original program theme back then was American song, but I quickly realized that that is a very popular CD theme!
As Judd and I tossed text ideas back and forth, a theme emerged built around Judd’s piece, which I knew I wanted to be the centerpiece of the recital. We moved through Millay’s poetry to the writings of Sufi mystics, only to settle on passages from the Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism. I also knew that I wanted to program some or all of John Harbison’s Mirabai Songs, settings of the ecstatic poetry of a 16th century Krishna devotee, so from these two ideas came the theme: intimacy with Spirit.
By January of this year, the theme and program had pretty much solidified. Here’s what I wrote up for the venue website:
What happens when you take away the trappings of religion and leave behind faith and doubt? How have poets and composers captured the intimacy of a relationship with the Spirit? What is a relationship with the Spirit? Soprano Anne-Carolyn Bird and pianist Jocelyn Dueck present songs pulled from diverse spiritual traditions with an eye toward answering these questions and more. The recital will feature works by Rachmaninoff, Barber, Dallapiccola, Messiaen, and Harbison, as well as folks songs and other native musics. A world-premiere work by Judd Greenstein, - based on texts from the Zohar, the central book of Kabbalah - rounds out this intimate and challenging program.
Oh, and the venue? Also a cool development over the past year. Judd has joined with another Tanglewood alumnus, Kimball Gallagher, to create VIM:TriBeCa, a concert series held in a TriBeCa art gallery. They started with five or six programs scheduled when the inaugural season started in September, and as of now they will present fifteen distinct programs in the 06-07 season. Focusing on new music and young performers, VIM presents concerts at Gallarie Icosahedron, often in conjunction with openings and exhibitions. It’s great to see a new venture like this take off and be so successful right away.
As for the program, entitled “I Have Some Light: Songs of Spirit,” I wanted to try and include as many different voices and spiritual backgrounds as I could. Jocelyn and I could have kept digging and searching and finding new music for years, but I made myself stop and commit! I didn’t find everything I was looking for (I wish I’d found something Islamic or some folk songs in another language), but I’m pretty pleased with the diversity. We’ll have Hindu (Harbison, Mirabai), European Catholic (Barber, Hermit Songs), existential (Messiaen, Poemes pour mi), Russian Orthodox (Rachmaninoff), Spanish mysticism (Dallapiccola), American Protestant (hymns, folk songs), and I consider Bolcom’s “Waitin’” (poem by Arnold Weinstein) to be a beautiful description of the Buddhist search for enlightenment:
Waitin, waitin,
I’ve been waitin, waitin, waitin all my life.
That light keeps on hiding from me,
But it someday just might bless my sight.
Waitin, waitin, waitin
I have a lot of work to do in the next two months to get this program in shape, but I love this project! What a journey it’s been on, and there’s so much more to come. Sounds like life, doesn’t it?
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Two Blogroll Omissions
What would a quarterly Blogroll Update be without an addendum? Seems I can never get all my new blogs out in one post. Here are two more, one musical and one political-ish.
Conservatory Bound - Alex is a violinist turned singer in the middle of auditions for (graduate?) school. As a singer who has always related to string analogies, I’m enjoying stuff like this: “I've been told to death that I need to pay attention to my breathing, but actually thinking of it as bowing immediately helped hew together my singing technique in a fundamental way.”
John Swift – political and social satire of the highest caliber.
Conservatory Bound - Alex is a violinist turned singer in the middle of auditions for (graduate?) school. As a singer who has always related to string analogies, I’m enjoying stuff like this: “I've been told to death that I need to pay attention to my breathing, but actually thinking of it as bowing immediately helped hew together my singing technique in a fundamental way.”
John Swift – political and social satire of the highest caliber.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Santa Fe Opera 2005, Represent!
Congrats to three of my colleagues from the Santa Fe Opera YAP Class of 2005 - CB, JB, and MF - on their wins at the George London Finals yesterday! CB won the Wagner prize, JB another $10k prize, and MF an Encouragement award. I met up with CB and JB for drinks afterward, and while it would, of course, have been nice to be celebrating my own win, I was so happy to be with colleagues who are good friends and whose successes I am so proud of. And, hey, they were buying!
There will also be three SFO '05'ers at Wolf Trap, all of us sopranos! I can't wait to be around RC's infectious laugh and BF's sweet spirit (and killer high notes!) again.
Way to go, team!!
There will also be three SFO '05'ers at Wolf Trap, all of us sopranos! I can't wait to be around RC's infectious laugh and BF's sweet spirit (and killer high notes!) again.
Way to go, team!!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Summer
While I’m waiting to hear if I can go out to have drinks for my birthday or if I need to stay home and rest for the George London Finals tomorrow, I thought I’d distract myself by finally writing about the summer. Through a most unorthodox – but not really that unusual – turn of events, I will be a Filene Young Artist at Wolf Trap!
As I made pretty clear a few weeks ago, I didn’t audition for Wolf Trap this year. But I sang a good audition for them in 2005 (Kim Witman is the voice behind the table in the first anecdote in my “Average Audition” post), and KPW and I have kept in touch over the past couple of years. When she learned that my summer plans had fallen through, she let me know of their own unusual situation.
After they’d made invitations for the summer, WTOC had several returning singers, including a soprano, withdraw from their contracts, each for their own good reasons. The handful of other sopranos that they had on their shortlist after the auditions in December had all been informed that they weren’t in the final group, released from their “holds,” and they went on to accept other summer gigs. So Kim and her crew went back to the drawing board, so to speak, informing some initially rejected singers that they might be considered again – and inviting me to come down to Vienna and audition. I took a day trip to DC, sang four arias (the most I’ve sung in any audition), and was later offered the spot!
A friend of mine said, when the first gig fell through, “There must be something better out there for you this summer.” I agreed, of course, because you always agree when someone says that when trying to cheer you up, but inside I was thinking, “What can there be, this late in the game?” And here it is, quite possibly the perfect summer scenario for me at this stage of my career. I still don’t quite understand how it came to me, or why, but I’m going to take the opportunity and run with it. It’s unexpected, and unusual, but here it is.
I have heard so many wonderful things about Wolf Trap – the attitude of support and collegiality that is fostered there, the level of artistry of the singers and staff, the beauty of the surrounding area – and it is seen as the height of “young artist programs.” People look at WTOC and say “Who’s singing there this year?” It’s like a barometer of the up-and-coming singers. Does that make sense? As Kim says in her post today, “an entire generation of singers began their careers” at Wolf Trap. She lists Nathan Gunn, Dawn Upshaw, Mary Dunleavy, and Eric Owens, and the rest of the list of alumni is thrilling. And now, since a professional gig I’d pinned my hopes on didn’t pan out, I get the chance to join them. What a ride.
While I’ve been typing this, I’ve learned that calls went out for the finals, and I didn’t make the cut. Oh, well. Win some, lose some, as this post now fully relates!
Now I have no reason not to stay up until 2am watching Season Two of Grey’s Anatomy…
As I made pretty clear a few weeks ago, I didn’t audition for Wolf Trap this year. But I sang a good audition for them in 2005 (Kim Witman is the voice behind the table in the first anecdote in my “Average Audition” post), and KPW and I have kept in touch over the past couple of years. When she learned that my summer plans had fallen through, she let me know of their own unusual situation.
After they’d made invitations for the summer, WTOC had several returning singers, including a soprano, withdraw from their contracts, each for their own good reasons. The handful of other sopranos that they had on their shortlist after the auditions in December had all been informed that they weren’t in the final group, released from their “holds,” and they went on to accept other summer gigs. So Kim and her crew went back to the drawing board, so to speak, informing some initially rejected singers that they might be considered again – and inviting me to come down to Vienna and audition. I took a day trip to DC, sang four arias (the most I’ve sung in any audition), and was later offered the spot!
A friend of mine said, when the first gig fell through, “There must be something better out there for you this summer.” I agreed, of course, because you always agree when someone says that when trying to cheer you up, but inside I was thinking, “What can there be, this late in the game?” And here it is, quite possibly the perfect summer scenario for me at this stage of my career. I still don’t quite understand how it came to me, or why, but I’m going to take the opportunity and run with it. It’s unexpected, and unusual, but here it is.
I have heard so many wonderful things about Wolf Trap – the attitude of support and collegiality that is fostered there, the level of artistry of the singers and staff, the beauty of the surrounding area – and it is seen as the height of “young artist programs.” People look at WTOC and say “Who’s singing there this year?” It’s like a barometer of the up-and-coming singers. Does that make sense? As Kim says in her post today, “an entire generation of singers began their careers” at Wolf Trap. She lists Nathan Gunn, Dawn Upshaw, Mary Dunleavy, and Eric Owens, and the rest of the list of alumni is thrilling. And now, since a professional gig I’d pinned my hopes on didn’t pan out, I get the chance to join them. What a ride.
While I’ve been typing this, I’ve learned that calls went out for the finals, and I didn’t make the cut. Oh, well. Win some, lose some, as this post now fully relates!
Now I have no reason not to stay up until 2am watching Season Two of Grey’s Anatomy…
Monday, February 26, 2007
Blogroll Update, Winter 07
As always, the full cast of characters is here.
Confessions of a Pioneer Woman – Ever thought you wanted to live on a ranch? Ree’s accounts and gorgeous photos will alternately change and make up your mind! Be forwarned, her husband is pretty much a dreamboat, which doesn’t hurt the case for being a rancher’s wife…
The Determined Dilettante – Elizabeth Vincentelli is the A&E Editor for Time Out New York. She’s currently on vacation, but she’ll be back.
Distracted Dilettante – I’ve linked to her a couple of times, and now here she is in the Blogroll. She’s a singer, and she loves cupcakes.
Iron Tongue of Midnight – Classical music blog of Lisa Hirsch, San Francisco-based music critic and writer.
The Quotidian – Lisa Bielawa, currently composer-in-residence with Boston Modern Orchestra Project and a regular brunch date of mine! The blog chronciles the creation of (among other things) “Chance Encounter,” a work “for migrating ensembles and soprano.” You’ll have to read to figure out what that means.
Score Desk – the next hot young opera blogger.
A Singer’s Life – Only blogging since September, the young woman writing this blog has amassed dozens of informative posts. Expect many references to ASL in the future!
The Soup-a-Sonic – In pursuit of good music – and good soup!
Confessions of a Pioneer Woman – Ever thought you wanted to live on a ranch? Ree’s accounts and gorgeous photos will alternately change and make up your mind! Be forwarned, her husband is pretty much a dreamboat, which doesn’t hurt the case for being a rancher’s wife…
The Determined Dilettante – Elizabeth Vincentelli is the A&E Editor for Time Out New York. She’s currently on vacation, but she’ll be back.
Distracted Dilettante – I’ve linked to her a couple of times, and now here she is in the Blogroll. She’s a singer, and she loves cupcakes.
Iron Tongue of Midnight – Classical music blog of Lisa Hirsch, San Francisco-based music critic and writer.
The Quotidian – Lisa Bielawa, currently composer-in-residence with Boston Modern Orchestra Project and a regular brunch date of mine! The blog chronciles the creation of (among other things) “Chance Encounter,” a work “for migrating ensembles and soprano.” You’ll have to read to figure out what that means.
Score Desk – the next hot young opera blogger.
A Singer’s Life – Only blogging since September, the young woman writing this blog has amassed dozens of informative posts. Expect many references to ASL in the future!
The Soup-a-Sonic – In pursuit of good music – and good soup!
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Overzealous
Note to self: Don’t come home and dive into an intense hour of singing after eating a huge brunch, no matter how inspired you might be after reading this month’s Opera News. Just don’t.
I have the worse case of heartburn I’ve had in months. Ouch!!
What was so inspiring? Here are some quotes:
Emily Pulley on rhetoric: “Professor Como said that the basis of good rhetoric – you know, the kind we never hear anymore – is to be a reliable source, speak the truth and love your audience. And something in my mind clicked. That’s the kind of singer I want to be.”
Diana Damrau on Aithra: “I’m looking forward not only to sing this but to play this role!” Opera can also be about the words!!
From a review of LHL’s Neruda Songs: “[Regardless of] the music on offer…, the mezzo could create for her listeners the illusion of complete spontaneity; she made every word and every not her own, performing with the commitment and pride of an artist who was delivering a piece that had been written just for her.”
Also, I’m sure I’m not the only singer who “does the math” about other singer’s ages when reading biographical articles. We all wonder how we’re doing, whether we’re on a track to achieve the same level of success by the same age. Of course, we know that each track is different, everyone gets to their peak at a different time, blah blah blah, but we can’t help but compare. I was inspired by doing the math on Emily Pulley, who reveals that she will turn 40 this year; she made her Met debut in a small role in 1993 (she was also a Met Competition winner that year), so at age 26. In the last 14 years, she has slowly worked her way from that small role to a full plate of roles at top houses and a reputation for success in American opera. We younger singers very easily forget that success isn’t handed to us right out of grad school, or right after a summer at a top YAP, or even after signing our first Met contract. It’s a long time coming. We work now to achieve later, if that makes any sense.
After all this, plus a few pages of Song of the Lark, I was ready to come home and get down to business! But my poor overstuffed belly didn’t appreciate getting pushed around by my overzealous diaphragm and abs, and now I have heartburn. So it’s armchair work for the rest of the night: L’elisir translations and diction work. Also very important steps towards achieving that success, but not quite as viscerally fulfilling as singing scales and arpeggios…
I have the worse case of heartburn I’ve had in months. Ouch!!
What was so inspiring? Here are some quotes:
Emily Pulley on rhetoric: “Professor Como said that the basis of good rhetoric – you know, the kind we never hear anymore – is to be a reliable source, speak the truth and love your audience. And something in my mind clicked. That’s the kind of singer I want to be.”
Diana Damrau on Aithra: “I’m looking forward not only to sing this but to play this role!” Opera can also be about the words!!
From a review of LHL’s Neruda Songs: “[Regardless of] the music on offer…, the mezzo could create for her listeners the illusion of complete spontaneity; she made every word and every not her own, performing with the commitment and pride of an artist who was delivering a piece that had been written just for her.”
Also, I’m sure I’m not the only singer who “does the math” about other singer’s ages when reading biographical articles. We all wonder how we’re doing, whether we’re on a track to achieve the same level of success by the same age. Of course, we know that each track is different, everyone gets to their peak at a different time, blah blah blah, but we can’t help but compare. I was inspired by doing the math on Emily Pulley, who reveals that she will turn 40 this year; she made her Met debut in a small role in 1993 (she was also a Met Competition winner that year), so at age 26. In the last 14 years, she has slowly worked her way from that small role to a full plate of roles at top houses and a reputation for success in American opera. We younger singers very easily forget that success isn’t handed to us right out of grad school, or right after a summer at a top YAP, or even after signing our first Met contract. It’s a long time coming. We work now to achieve later, if that makes any sense.
After all this, plus a few pages of Song of the Lark, I was ready to come home and get down to business! But my poor overstuffed belly didn’t appreciate getting pushed around by my overzealous diaphragm and abs, and now I have heartburn. So it’s armchair work for the rest of the night: L’elisir translations and diction work. Also very important steps towards achieving that success, but not quite as viscerally fulfilling as singing scales and arpeggios…
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Birthday
Via The Distracted Dilettante, it's the birthday of Edna St. Vincent Millay!
the concert is named after one of her poems, as I explained in the inaugural post. (Boy, does that seem like a lifetime ago...) In honor of her day, here is another favorite.
Assault
I had forgotten how the frogs must sound
After a year of silence, else I think
I should not have ventured forth alone
At dusk along this unfrequented road.
I am waylaid by Beauty! Who will walk
Between me and the crying of the frogs?
Oh, savage beauty, suffer me to pass,
That am a timid woman, on her way
From one house to another.
the concert is named after one of her poems, as I explained in the inaugural post. (Boy, does that seem like a lifetime ago...) In honor of her day, here is another favorite.
Assault
I had forgotten how the frogs must sound
After a year of silence, else I think
I should not have ventured forth alone
At dusk along this unfrequented road.
I am waylaid by Beauty! Who will walk
Between me and the crying of the frogs?
Oh, savage beauty, suffer me to pass,
That am a timid woman, on her way
From one house to another.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
On the “Piano”
If I had a piano, I’d have several stacks of music piled on it these days, things I’m learning or revisiting for upcoming events. I haven’t done an entry like this in a while, so I thought it might be worth a look. Here’s what’s “on the piano” these days.
For a last-minute audition tomorrow for a recital foundation:
Rorem, “In a Gondola”
Schubert, “Gretchen am Spinnrade”
Bellini, “Per pieta, bell’ idol mio”
Poulenc, “Violon”
Rachmaninoff, “Zdes xhorosho”
These are all songs I’ve sung before, nothing new, but I’m having to spend a little extra time with “Gretchen,” making sure the words are in there. I’ve been asked in the comments to explain how I memorize words, and in order to really know that I have them, I have to write them over and over and over again. That’s really the only way for me! And I think when I learned “Gretchen,” I didn’t really go through the process. I crammed it. So now, when I look at it again, it’s not on autopilot like it should be. More on the memorization process soon.
For an opera competition next week:
standard audition repertoire
plus the new addition of Juliette’s first act aria, “Je veux vivre.” (Another “big girl” role making it’s way into my rep.
For the Oratorio Society Competition:
Come unto Him, Messiah, Handel
Jauchzet Gott in allen Landen, Cantata 51, Bach
Laudate dominum, Vesperae solennes, Mozart
Lua descolorida, La Pasion segun San Marcos, Golijov
Carmina Burana, Orff
The requirements for this competition are one aria from Messiah, three arias from contrasting works, and all the solos from one complete oratorio. I feel like this is a good program, showing a little bit of everything. I really hope they ask for the Golijov…
For the rest of the season at the Met:
Suor Angelica and Il tabarro
L’elisir d’amore
For the summer:
an opera (How’s that for vague?!)
I recently learned who will be directing the opera, and it’s someone I’ve wanted to work with for a while now. We’re both excited for the opportunity, and knowing he would be there made this experience even more appealing! I think we’ll have a lot of fun.
Back to Gretchen and her spinning wheel…
For a last-minute audition tomorrow for a recital foundation:
Rorem, “In a Gondola”
Schubert, “Gretchen am Spinnrade”
Bellini, “Per pieta, bell’ idol mio”
Poulenc, “Violon”
Rachmaninoff, “Zdes xhorosho”
These are all songs I’ve sung before, nothing new, but I’m having to spend a little extra time with “Gretchen,” making sure the words are in there. I’ve been asked in the comments to explain how I memorize words, and in order to really know that I have them, I have to write them over and over and over again. That’s really the only way for me! And I think when I learned “Gretchen,” I didn’t really go through the process. I crammed it. So now, when I look at it again, it’s not on autopilot like it should be. More on the memorization process soon.
For an opera competition next week:
standard audition repertoire
plus the new addition of Juliette’s first act aria, “Je veux vivre.” (Another “big girl” role making it’s way into my rep.
For the Oratorio Society Competition:
Come unto Him, Messiah, Handel
Jauchzet Gott in allen Landen, Cantata 51, Bach
Laudate dominum, Vesperae solennes, Mozart
Lua descolorida, La Pasion segun San Marcos, Golijov
Carmina Burana, Orff
The requirements for this competition are one aria from Messiah, three arias from contrasting works, and all the solos from one complete oratorio. I feel like this is a good program, showing a little bit of everything. I really hope they ask for the Golijov…
For the rest of the season at the Met:
Suor Angelica and Il tabarro
L’elisir d’amore
For the summer:
an opera (How’s that for vague?!)
I recently learned who will be directing the opera, and it’s someone I’ve wanted to work with for a while now. We’re both excited for the opportunity, and knowing he would be there made this experience even more appealing! I think we’ll have a lot of fun.
Back to Gretchen and her spinning wheel…
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Blocking
Every singer has their own system for learning their staging. Some people write directly into the score, some on sticky notes or paper, and some don’t write down anything, trusting their memories or the director/assistant director/stage manager to remember for them. Some write down every nuance flick of the wrist, some include nuanced dramatic motivation, and some just write “sit/stand/walk.” It doesn’t really matter, in truth, how we learn it, just so long as we learn it well enough to make the same moves at every run-through. The nuances can change, but if your costar is expecting you to cross at a certain time, it’s good to get it right!
My system is an amalgam of things that I was taught in school and that I have observed over the years in practice. As I’ve mentioned before, I learned the basics of stagecraft from my Jr. High drama teacher, Ms. Stettler. I remember taking a test in which I had to fill in the diagram of the areas of the stage, using their abbreviations: USL (upstage-left), DS (downstage), C (center, where we all like to be), and so on. (Here’s a good diagram, although they use Corner # for USL/USR/etc..) I still use the abbreviations today; they’re part of the shorthand I’ve developed, I guess.
A few years ago, an artist I was working with suggested using sticky-notes to write blocking. This is a great idea, to my way of thinking, for three reasons. One, it keeps your music clean, so you can actually read the music. Two, blocking often gets changed several times throughout the rehearsal process, and the constant erasing can damage your score. This way you can just pull out a new sticky note and start over! And, lastly, you always hope to perform an opera more than once, in more than one production. If your score is filled with notes from your last production, there’s no place for your new blocking. But you can get a new color of sticky note and start afresh. (I just pulled my Midsummer score off the shelf and took a look at the sticky notes from that production. Even when I perform the role again, I’ll keep those notes as reminders of that wonderful experience!)
So, here’s a picture of a page in my Jenufa score:
and one in my Helena score:
(Click to enlarge.)
On most of my notes, I draw a diagram of the stage, usually just a three-sided box. The Jenufa note is a good example of this; I’ve even drawn in the big rock that was jutting up through the stage. In this diagram, I’ll write letters to represent the other characters (i.e., J for Jenufa) and an “x” for me. Arrows indicate movement, and numbers in circles correspond with numbers I’ve written into the score to indicate when I should move to or arrive at a certain spot. Of courses, now that I look again, there are none of those in that picture! But there’s an arrow, and a diagram of the stage, and a bit of “dramatic intention,” so hopefully you get the idea.
You can see numbers on the Helena note, along with their corresponding spots in the music. “M” in the direction for #3 is Menelas, the tenor, and the small stage diagram at the bottom shows the positions we all end up in by the end of the next page. This system is not an exact science, as you can see, because in this example, the x’s are chorus members, not my character. There are no arrows on this sticky-note, either, mostly likely because there is A LOT of movement in this scene! Arrows would get confusing. Arrows are good for simple, clean movements, like Jano’s exit up there on the pink note.
Is this clear at all?! Questions?
That’s about it, really, for my system. I use these notes to review before a rehearsal and refer to them before I sit to do any visualizing. I had to step into a couple of rehearsals last week (Elf #2 is also singing Jano; she had days off or days when she would have gone into overtime, so they called me in), and I was always grateful to have something to review before getting up on my feet.
Stuff like dramatic intention, character development, subtle prop work, stage “business, etc., rarely makes it onto my sticky-notes. That sort of detail is “living,” so to speak; it changes depending on the moment, so I hate to pin it down. Sometimes something works so well I’ll do it every time, but the little moves that make a character look real onstage can’t really be diagramed. Diana Damrau, who is singing Aithra in this production of Helena, is a master at bringing a character to life through subtle details, and I am enjoying watching her work. Maybe I’ll end up incorporating some of her “system” into mine!
My system is an amalgam of things that I was taught in school and that I have observed over the years in practice. As I’ve mentioned before, I learned the basics of stagecraft from my Jr. High drama teacher, Ms. Stettler. I remember taking a test in which I had to fill in the diagram of the areas of the stage, using their abbreviations: USL (upstage-left), DS (downstage), C (center, where we all like to be), and so on. (Here’s a good diagram, although they use Corner # for USL/USR/etc..) I still use the abbreviations today; they’re part of the shorthand I’ve developed, I guess.
A few years ago, an artist I was working with suggested using sticky-notes to write blocking. This is a great idea, to my way of thinking, for three reasons. One, it keeps your music clean, so you can actually read the music. Two, blocking often gets changed several times throughout the rehearsal process, and the constant erasing can damage your score. This way you can just pull out a new sticky note and start over! And, lastly, you always hope to perform an opera more than once, in more than one production. If your score is filled with notes from your last production, there’s no place for your new blocking. But you can get a new color of sticky note and start afresh. (I just pulled my Midsummer score off the shelf and took a look at the sticky notes from that production. Even when I perform the role again, I’ll keep those notes as reminders of that wonderful experience!)
So, here’s a picture of a page in my Jenufa score:
and one in my Helena score:
(Click to enlarge.)
On most of my notes, I draw a diagram of the stage, usually just a three-sided box. The Jenufa note is a good example of this; I’ve even drawn in the big rock that was jutting up through the stage. In this diagram, I’ll write letters to represent the other characters (i.e., J for Jenufa) and an “x” for me. Arrows indicate movement, and numbers in circles correspond with numbers I’ve written into the score to indicate when I should move to or arrive at a certain spot. Of courses, now that I look again, there are none of those in that picture! But there’s an arrow, and a diagram of the stage, and a bit of “dramatic intention,” so hopefully you get the idea.
You can see numbers on the Helena note, along with their corresponding spots in the music. “M” in the direction for #3 is Menelas, the tenor, and the small stage diagram at the bottom shows the positions we all end up in by the end of the next page. This system is not an exact science, as you can see, because in this example, the x’s are chorus members, not my character. There are no arrows on this sticky-note, either, mostly likely because there is A LOT of movement in this scene! Arrows would get confusing. Arrows are good for simple, clean movements, like Jano’s exit up there on the pink note.
Is this clear at all?! Questions?
That’s about it, really, for my system. I use these notes to review before a rehearsal and refer to them before I sit to do any visualizing. I had to step into a couple of rehearsals last week (Elf #2 is also singing Jano; she had days off or days when she would have gone into overtime, so they called me in), and I was always grateful to have something to review before getting up on my feet.
Stuff like dramatic intention, character development, subtle prop work, stage “business, etc., rarely makes it onto my sticky-notes. That sort of detail is “living,” so to speak; it changes depending on the moment, so I hate to pin it down. Sometimes something works so well I’ll do it every time, but the little moves that make a character look real onstage can’t really be diagramed. Diana Damrau, who is singing Aithra in this production of Helena, is a master at bringing a character to life through subtle details, and I am enjoying watching her work. Maybe I’ll end up incorporating some of her “system” into mine!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Remedies
I set out with the best of intentions this evening, carrying my new yoga bag (a Christmas gift from my sister) through the snow flurries to my 6:30 yoga class. Only, guess what? The class started at 6:00. D’oh! “The best laid plans…”
Instead of asanas, I wandered a bit and found another blues-buster, one favored by at least two of my readers: CUPCAKES!!
Now, I’m no food pornographer, but those look pretty good, right? Devil’s Food and Raspberry… yummmmm. A clean house, some exercise, cupcakes, and free episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and Ugly Betty on abc.com. Life’s not so blue after all. In another attempt to get out of my head, I also, per my mother’s suggestion, found a potential volunteer opportunity in my neighborhood; more on that as it develops.
Here are those bullet points I promised:
• I attended the Friday lunchtime concert of the New York Philharmonic last weekend. It was an interesting mix of a program: a Beethoven piano concerto, selections from Debussy’s “Impressions for Orchestra,” and the US Premiere of a work by Swedish composer Roger Börzt. The Börzt piece opened the concert, with a strident and seemingly endless chord, shimmering in the high strings. It was pushed the limit of uncomfortability (if that’s a word), and the much of the audience was obviously uncomfortable throughout most of the piece. I loved it, however, and I think I showed my age a bit when I grew quickly bored with the Beethoven! Obviously, I love Beethoven, but my tastes lean more and more toward what’s being written today.
• Also on Friday, I had a late lunch with Ariadne, who spent a long weekend taking in as much opera as she could cram into her schedule! It's always fun to meet other bloggers face to face, and this was no exception. Hope you had a wonderful NYC visit!
• Saturday night, KW and I sat in the company box to watch Judith Forst work her magic as Kostelnicka. With apologies to Sieglinde, this was our view:
Cool! The sound wasn’t as good there as elsewhere in the house, but the vantage point was worth it. And of course, Forst didn’t disappoint! Someone a few tiers above us ripped up their playbill to throw as confetti at her curtain call, which was totally cool. I turned toward the house to drink in the scene as the audience let the performers know how much they enjoyed the evening. It was one of those “pinch me” moments…
• Last night I went with some friends to watch our friend LC perform in Follies at City Center. She was SOOOO wonderful, and beautiful, and it was absolutely thrilling to see her onstage with stars like Donna Murphy, Christine Baranski, Victoria Clark, and Victor Garber. Remember my shattered illusions of Broadway a few months ago? Well, they’ve been restored. Across the board, the commitment and skill and talent on that stage was awe-inspiring. Victoria Clark’s vocal technique is a dream, and Donna Murphy is beyond sensational. It was a night full of goose bumps and gasps, truly thrilling. The thrills continued as we bumped into star after star backstage and at the cast party: SJP and Matthew Broderick, Nathan Lane, Bernadette Peters, Joel Grey, Barbara Cook, Fred Willard, and the maestro himself: Stephen Sondheim. What a night!!
• (One more note about that: I totally geeked out on Donna Murphy. I told her that I belonged to what I imagined was a small cross-section of her fans who saw her as Fosca in Passion on Broadway and then wore out the CD original cast recording AND who own her Star Trek movie. Dork!!)
• Helena rehearsals started this week, and tomorrow I think I’ll get a chance to get up on my feet. I’m covering the same woman in this production that I did in Jenufa, and on days when she has a show in the evening, I’ll likely get to step in for her for at least part of the rehearsal. It sounds like the Elves are going to have a lot of blocking, which means lots of rehearsal… This is also a new production, rather than a revival (like Jenufa) in which the director is working from the blocking book he and the stage managers created when they built the show the first time. (I love that book. It’s an office supply-lover’s dream! Maybe I’ll get a picture…)
That’s all she wrote! Thanks for your words of encouragement; they meant a lot.
Instead of asanas, I wandered a bit and found another blues-buster, one favored by at least two of my readers: CUPCAKES!!
Now, I’m no food pornographer, but those look pretty good, right? Devil’s Food and Raspberry… yummmmm. A clean house, some exercise, cupcakes, and free episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and Ugly Betty on abc.com. Life’s not so blue after all. In another attempt to get out of my head, I also, per my mother’s suggestion, found a potential volunteer opportunity in my neighborhood; more on that as it develops.
Here are those bullet points I promised:
• I attended the Friday lunchtime concert of the New York Philharmonic last weekend. It was an interesting mix of a program: a Beethoven piano concerto, selections from Debussy’s “Impressions for Orchestra,” and the US Premiere of a work by Swedish composer Roger Börzt. The Börzt piece opened the concert, with a strident and seemingly endless chord, shimmering in the high strings. It was pushed the limit of uncomfortability (if that’s a word), and the much of the audience was obviously uncomfortable throughout most of the piece. I loved it, however, and I think I showed my age a bit when I grew quickly bored with the Beethoven! Obviously, I love Beethoven, but my tastes lean more and more toward what’s being written today.
• Also on Friday, I had a late lunch with Ariadne, who spent a long weekend taking in as much opera as she could cram into her schedule! It's always fun to meet other bloggers face to face, and this was no exception. Hope you had a wonderful NYC visit!
• Saturday night, KW and I sat in the company box to watch Judith Forst work her magic as Kostelnicka. With apologies to Sieglinde, this was our view:
Cool! The sound wasn’t as good there as elsewhere in the house, but the vantage point was worth it. And of course, Forst didn’t disappoint! Someone a few tiers above us ripped up their playbill to throw as confetti at her curtain call, which was totally cool. I turned toward the house to drink in the scene as the audience let the performers know how much they enjoyed the evening. It was one of those “pinch me” moments…• Last night I went with some friends to watch our friend LC perform in Follies at City Center. She was SOOOO wonderful, and beautiful, and it was absolutely thrilling to see her onstage with stars like Donna Murphy, Christine Baranski, Victoria Clark, and Victor Garber. Remember my shattered illusions of Broadway a few months ago? Well, they’ve been restored. Across the board, the commitment and skill and talent on that stage was awe-inspiring. Victoria Clark’s vocal technique is a dream, and Donna Murphy is beyond sensational. It was a night full of goose bumps and gasps, truly thrilling. The thrills continued as we bumped into star after star backstage and at the cast party: SJP and Matthew Broderick, Nathan Lane, Bernadette Peters, Joel Grey, Barbara Cook, Fred Willard, and the maestro himself: Stephen Sondheim. What a night!!
• (One more note about that: I totally geeked out on Donna Murphy. I told her that I belonged to what I imagined was a small cross-section of her fans who saw her as Fosca in Passion on Broadway and then wore out the CD original cast recording AND who own her Star Trek movie. Dork!!)
• Helena rehearsals started this week, and tomorrow I think I’ll get a chance to get up on my feet. I’m covering the same woman in this production that I did in Jenufa, and on days when she has a show in the evening, I’ll likely get to step in for her for at least part of the rehearsal. It sounds like the Elves are going to have a lot of blocking, which means lots of rehearsal… This is also a new production, rather than a revival (like Jenufa) in which the director is working from the blocking book he and the stage managers created when they built the show the first time. (I love that book. It’s an office supply-lover’s dream! Maybe I’ll get a picture…)
That’s all she wrote! Thanks for your words of encouragement; they meant a lot.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Re: those new words
Ainadamar is no longer a Grammy Award-nominated CD: It's a Grammy Winner!!
That's a bit of a boost for the winter doldrums, eh? I've been told that I should get a certificate, which, should I ever have a wall big enough to hang things on, I will proudly frame and display.
Wish I could raise a glass to celebrate with my colleagues on the recording. I imagine we are all spread far and wide at the moment, but today you've all been close to my heart. "Ay, que dia!!"
(Read about the recording sessions (from my limited perspective) here, here, and here.)
That's a bit of a boost for the winter doldrums, eh? I've been told that I should get a certificate, which, should I ever have a wall big enough to hang things on, I will proudly frame and display.
Wish I could raise a glass to celebrate with my colleagues on the recording. I imagine we are all spread far and wide at the moment, but today you've all been close to my heart. "Ay, que dia!!"
(Read about the recording sessions (from my limited perspective) here, here, and here.)
Kind of Blue
When both my mother and my surrogate-Santa Fe-mother inquire within 24 hours of each other as to why I’ve been so quiet lately, I guess the gig’s up!
I haven’t been hiding intentionally. Just nursing yet another cold and a case of the winter doldrums. January was filled with warm weather and the thrill of starting work at the Met. February has so far brought cold weather the likes of which I haven’t seen since Boston six years ago; the day-to-day routine of a job, amazing and flexible though the job may be; the fourth or fifth head cold since my arrival in NYC; and some weirdness in the social scene. In short, it’s been kind of a drag. A friend who was born and raised here warns me that the next couple of weeks, as the weather stays cold, are going to be even harder, but that by the end of the month, things will start to look up. Um, thanks for the warning? Very encouraging.
In what is very likely a case of the chicken and the egg, I haven’t been to yoga since Christmas, haven’t been meditating, and haven’t been eating well. Hmmm… anybody have a guess as to why I’m in the dumps? And yet, the cycle continues and I haven’t been able to kick myself in the pants and get out of it. Which means I’m not studying as much, not learning as much music, not practicing as much. And getting more frustrated about it as a result. But I should be reaching critical mass here pretty soon, so expect lots of posts about productivity in the near future. (Insert emoticon for annoyed sarcasm here...)
I’ve also been thinking a bit more about my blog and its role in my life. It might have aided in getting me a job, but it also might have played a hand in losing a friendship. I’m not 100% clear on either count, but I believe the concert was likely involved in some way, however small, in both. I’m not sure what that means as to the future of the blog, but it’s on my mind.
So, that’s that. I’ll put up another lame bullet points post this afternoon to catch you up on some of what’s been going on. I have a bunch of other posts in the pipeline, too, about staging and learning roles and an upcoming recital. See above about when to expect those.
I haven’t been hiding intentionally. Just nursing yet another cold and a case of the winter doldrums. January was filled with warm weather and the thrill of starting work at the Met. February has so far brought cold weather the likes of which I haven’t seen since Boston six years ago; the day-to-day routine of a job, amazing and flexible though the job may be; the fourth or fifth head cold since my arrival in NYC; and some weirdness in the social scene. In short, it’s been kind of a drag. A friend who was born and raised here warns me that the next couple of weeks, as the weather stays cold, are going to be even harder, but that by the end of the month, things will start to look up. Um, thanks for the warning? Very encouraging.
In what is very likely a case of the chicken and the egg, I haven’t been to yoga since Christmas, haven’t been meditating, and haven’t been eating well. Hmmm… anybody have a guess as to why I’m in the dumps? And yet, the cycle continues and I haven’t been able to kick myself in the pants and get out of it. Which means I’m not studying as much, not learning as much music, not practicing as much. And getting more frustrated about it as a result. But I should be reaching critical mass here pretty soon, so expect lots of posts about productivity in the near future. (Insert emoticon for annoyed sarcasm here...)
I’ve also been thinking a bit more about my blog and its role in my life. It might have aided in getting me a job, but it also might have played a hand in losing a friendship. I’m not 100% clear on either count, but I believe the concert was likely involved in some way, however small, in both. I’m not sure what that means as to the future of the blog, but it’s on my mind.
So, that’s that. I’ll put up another lame bullet points post this afternoon to catch you up on some of what’s been going on. I have a bunch of other posts in the pipeline, too, about staging and learning roles and an upcoming recital. See above about when to expect those.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Friday, February 02, 2007
This week
Sorry to be quiet all week, it’s been kind of crazy around here. To make it up to you, here are some bullet points!
• I have summer employment! More on that exciting opportunity and it’s unorthodox development later… once I sign something.
• Opening Night was wonderful. I sat in the artists’ cafeteria trying to get more translations written into my Elixir score. I think I maybe got ten pages done! That’s something, right? KW and I “held court” at a table and chit-chatted our way through the evening, entertaining other singers and friends as they came through the café throughout the evening. We learned all too late of the opening night reception, for which neither of us was attired, so after our characters’ last words were sung in Act III, we headed home. But rest assured that opening night of Helena will have us both dressed to the nines and ready to drink champagne on the Grand Tier!
• There are three radio broadcasts of Jenufa, so I’ll be in house for those performances (likely in the café with KW again). Tonight I’m attending the performance, actually sitting in the auditorium (with a date, who is nervous about being left all alone, should I suddenly be called to the stage!).
• I’ll also be in the house for the performance on the 10th, since Judith Forst will be singing Kostenlicka that night. You may recall that she was my mother in Cendrillon last summer, and let me assure you: she is every bit as gripping and terrifying as Kostenlicka as she was hysterical as the Stepmother! Watching her in our cover staging rehearsal was a lesson in commitment and dramatic focus. KW and I will be sitting in the company box for that performance, gripping each other’s arms until the blood flow to our hands is cut off.
• I had my first coaching for Helena on Wednesday, and it was fine. Not great, but fine. I’m singing the middle line of three or four voices, and that’s really hard! KW admits that her line – the top – is “easy” since it’s always the melody. It’s Strauss, so it’s not easy by any means, but I’ll agree that it’s easier than mine! Once we start rehearsing with all of the voices, I think I’ll feel much more comfortable; trying to hear how my part fits in with just the piano reduction is tough. Hopefully we’ll start those music prep rehearsals this week or next.
• That’s all for now! Time to get dressed, but what to wear when you want to look nice and it’s wintry-mixing outside? No easy answer…
• I have summer employment! More on that exciting opportunity and it’s unorthodox development later… once I sign something.
• Opening Night was wonderful. I sat in the artists’ cafeteria trying to get more translations written into my Elixir score. I think I maybe got ten pages done! That’s something, right? KW and I “held court” at a table and chit-chatted our way through the evening, entertaining other singers and friends as they came through the café throughout the evening. We learned all too late of the opening night reception, for which neither of us was attired, so after our characters’ last words were sung in Act III, we headed home. But rest assured that opening night of Helena will have us both dressed to the nines and ready to drink champagne on the Grand Tier!
• There are three radio broadcasts of Jenufa, so I’ll be in house for those performances (likely in the café with KW again). Tonight I’m attending the performance, actually sitting in the auditorium (with a date, who is nervous about being left all alone, should I suddenly be called to the stage!).
• I’ll also be in the house for the performance on the 10th, since Judith Forst will be singing Kostenlicka that night. You may recall that she was my mother in Cendrillon last summer, and let me assure you: she is every bit as gripping and terrifying as Kostenlicka as she was hysterical as the Stepmother! Watching her in our cover staging rehearsal was a lesson in commitment and dramatic focus. KW and I will be sitting in the company box for that performance, gripping each other’s arms until the blood flow to our hands is cut off.
• I had my first coaching for Helena on Wednesday, and it was fine. Not great, but fine. I’m singing the middle line of three or four voices, and that’s really hard! KW admits that her line – the top – is “easy” since it’s always the melody. It’s Strauss, so it’s not easy by any means, but I’ll agree that it’s easier than mine! Once we start rehearsing with all of the voices, I think I’ll feel much more comfortable; trying to hear how my part fits in with just the piano reduction is tough. Hopefully we’ll start those music prep rehearsals this week or next.
• That’s all for now! Time to get dressed, but what to wear when you want to look nice and it’s wintry-mixing outside? No easy answer…
Monday, January 29, 2007
Oh, my heart!
My phone just rang, and the caller id displayed what is now a familiar sight: Met Switchboard. My thought process went like this: “They must be calling with tomorrow’s schedule. No, there’s no rehearsal tomorrow. Oh my god! Tonight’s opening night! Is Jano sick??!!!! Am I going to be making my Met debut tonight??!!”
Of course, it was just the Artistic Liaison calling to find out where I’ll be covering from tonight. But, oh man, is my heart pounding!!
Since tonight is a live radio broadcast, I have to cover from inside the theater. Other nights I’ll be able to cover from home, since I live so close (I have to be within 20 minutes of the theater, on Manhattan), but tonight I’ll take Elixir and my libretto book and do some studying in the cafeteria.
If you want to listen to the broadcast, go here and scroll to the bottom. (You’ll need Real Player; there’s a link to download it if you don’t have it.) If you’re not familiar with the opera, read the synopsis first, then just sit back and enjoy the gorgeous music and exemplary singing.
Of course, it was just the Artistic Liaison calling to find out where I’ll be covering from tonight. But, oh man, is my heart pounding!!
Since tonight is a live radio broadcast, I have to cover from inside the theater. Other nights I’ll be able to cover from home, since I live so close (I have to be within 20 minutes of the theater, on Manhattan), but tonight I’ll take Elixir and my libretto book and do some studying in the cafeteria.
If you want to listen to the broadcast, go here and scroll to the bottom. (You’ll need Real Player; there’s a link to download it if you don’t have it.) If you’re not familiar with the opera, read the synopsis first, then just sit back and enjoy the gorgeous music and exemplary singing.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
A little aesthetic blog maintenance
I spent some time this morning changing my blog template over to the new Blogger Beta setup. I mostly did it to tidy up my Archives list; having 32 months worth of archived posts was making for a very long and unsightly list! I love this new drop-down menu (see the bottom of the sidebar to the left); much cleaner.
But, of course, I couldn’t stop there! I put in my Blogroll and went back through all my archives and pulled out my favorite posts. Talk about a walk down memory lane… I also added a little color, but couldn’t bring myself to change the major design of the template. It’s been like this for three years, and, well, I like it. So, you’re stuck with it for now!
I’m trying to go back through old posts and get labels put on all of them, specifically the subjects I think people might actually care to read about, like Met and technique. Any other labels you’d care to have archived?
But, of course, I couldn’t stop there! I put in my Blogroll and went back through all my archives and pulled out my favorite posts. Talk about a walk down memory lane… I also added a little color, but couldn’t bring myself to change the major design of the template. It’s been like this for three years, and, well, I like it. So, you’re stuck with it for now!
I’m trying to go back through old posts and get labels put on all of them, specifically the subjects I think people might actually care to read about, like Met and technique. Any other labels you’d care to have archived?
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Beware Explosive Consonants
Today was my second day of cover staging rehearsal, in which the alternate cast gets a chance to move through the blocking we’ve been watching our counterparts do for a couple of weeks (or days, as the case may be). It’s a very casual rehearsal, and lots of fun, most likely because we don’t really feel any of the pressure that comes with being “the star.” Or even with being the shepherd boy!
(This isn’t to say that the principals don’t have fun in their rehearsals! They certainly do, but the atmosphere is noticeably different in cover staging. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they’re rehearsing on the Met stage these days, and we’re in a small studio on the fifth floor…)
Today we worked on Act III, which is when my character rushes in, breaking up a somber wedding, to announce that the ice-cutters have found a dead baby in the river. (Yikes! That’s opera for you! For a full synopsis of Jenufa, go here.) Jano being a young boy (we’re aiming for ten or so, although I’d be a very tall 10-year-old!), he is scared and excited, and so all of his words come out in a big rush. It’s quite a tounge-twisting phrase, not to mention a rhythmically difficult moment. I’ve been running this moment over and over in my head for months now, making sure I have every syllable down pat so that I can commit myself to the drama of the moment.
It is often the case that when you run a scene for the first time, you learn something important about how to “play”it - where to look, when to move or when to stay still, how to focus your energy, etc. Today, I learned where to point my mouth when saying the word pupinu.
Pronounced just the way it looks, it is the Czech word for “bonnet.” Jano is describing the red bonnet that the baby was wearing, which tips Jenufa off to the fact that it is, likely, her child, as she knit a red bonnet for him.
Put your hand in front of your mouth and say pupinu. You should feel two puffs of air hit your hand. Now, imagine that you are singing this word instead of saying it, which requires exponentially more air than speaking. Add to that the excitement and fear of a ten-year-old boy, and, well, you get a LOT of air coming out on those p’s! So much air, in fact, that when I sing the word right to Jenufa, her eyes will bug out and her hair will be blown back from her face as if she had walked in front of a fan on high speed!
Fortunately, there was no spit to accompany the air (a hazard which I’m sure will appear in a future post somewhere along the line…), but it was still enough to make both KH, the Jenufa cover, and me burst into giggles, all the while trying to “stay in the scene.” The look on her face is one I will not soon forget!
I only got to run the scene one more time, but before I did, I spent a few moments planning out when I would be singing to Jenufa and when I would be facing out. In those facing-out moments, I’m both ACB connecting with the conductor and Jano seeing the baby in my mind’s eye.
And let me assure you that during one of those facing-out moments, I was seeing that red bonnet, the červenou pupinu, and not even remotely looking at Jenufa! Let’s hope I can remember that little detail should I ever have to go on in performance. I think I would die a little if my plosive consonants messed up Ms. Mattila’s wig…
(This isn’t to say that the principals don’t have fun in their rehearsals! They certainly do, but the atmosphere is noticeably different in cover staging. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they’re rehearsing on the Met stage these days, and we’re in a small studio on the fifth floor…)
Today we worked on Act III, which is when my character rushes in, breaking up a somber wedding, to announce that the ice-cutters have found a dead baby in the river. (Yikes! That’s opera for you! For a full synopsis of Jenufa, go here.) Jano being a young boy (we’re aiming for ten or so, although I’d be a very tall 10-year-old!), he is scared and excited, and so all of his words come out in a big rush. It’s quite a tounge-twisting phrase, not to mention a rhythmically difficult moment. I’ve been running this moment over and over in my head for months now, making sure I have every syllable down pat so that I can commit myself to the drama of the moment.
It is often the case that when you run a scene for the first time, you learn something important about how to “play”it - where to look, when to move or when to stay still, how to focus your energy, etc. Today, I learned where to point my mouth when saying the word pupinu.
Pronounced just the way it looks, it is the Czech word for “bonnet.” Jano is describing the red bonnet that the baby was wearing, which tips Jenufa off to the fact that it is, likely, her child, as she knit a red bonnet for him.
Put your hand in front of your mouth and say pupinu. You should feel two puffs of air hit your hand. Now, imagine that you are singing this word instead of saying it, which requires exponentially more air than speaking. Add to that the excitement and fear of a ten-year-old boy, and, well, you get a LOT of air coming out on those p’s! So much air, in fact, that when I sing the word right to Jenufa, her eyes will bug out and her hair will be blown back from her face as if she had walked in front of a fan on high speed!
Fortunately, there was no spit to accompany the air (a hazard which I’m sure will appear in a future post somewhere along the line…), but it was still enough to make both KH, the Jenufa cover, and me burst into giggles, all the while trying to “stay in the scene.” The look on her face is one I will not soon forget!
I only got to run the scene one more time, but before I did, I spent a few moments planning out when I would be singing to Jenufa and when I would be facing out. In those facing-out moments, I’m both ACB connecting with the conductor and Jano seeing the baby in my mind’s eye.
And let me assure you that during one of those facing-out moments, I was seeing that red bonnet, the červenou pupinu, and not even remotely looking at Jenufa! Let’s hope I can remember that little detail should I ever have to go on in performance. I think I would die a little if my plosive consonants messed up Ms. Mattila’s wig…
Monday, January 22, 2007
Coming and going
Gigs – and potential gigs – come and go, I’m learning.
I learned a tough lesson this fall, when the company that had a hold on my schedule for summer 2007 “decided to go with another artist.” Lesson learned? A hold does not a contract assure…
I was disappointed, of course, but my manager was assured that the company continues to “consider [me] for future seasons.” I did a few auditions for summer companies, but I think that by winter, most companies are fairly well cast for the upcoming summer. What I wish I had done was gone ahead and applied for the handful of programs that I would still be interested in doing at this stage of the game, programs like Ravinia or Wolf Trap. But I took a nibble of interest for granted, something that I won’t do again! I might not even mention these holds here anymore, and will certainly do my best to keep them to myself among friends and family. Until the offer is official, mum’s got to be the word…
There are a couple of opportunities in the works for the summer, not the least of which is that potential immersion program in Italy. I got information today about an audition for a very (VERY) exciting contemporary music project, and while I know I’m trying to get my opera career moving along, singing is singing! And this project is really top-notch and unlike anything I’ve done to this point. It’s an invite-only audition, so I’ve already passed one of the usual hurdles, and even just doing the audition would be a good networking opportunity.
But, again, it’s just an audition… and an audition equals a contract even less that a hold on my schedule does!
It’s also been hard over the past two months or so to watch gigs be offered to me and have to pass them up. I know, tough place to be in, but I have to constantly tell myself that these opportunities won’t stop popping up. That the companies and foundations and people will keep calling, and that somehow when they are told I’m unavailable it will make them want me more, not less. In some cases that will (hopefully) be true, and I’m sure that in others it won’t. Let’s just hope that there are more cases of the former…
I learned a tough lesson this fall, when the company that had a hold on my schedule for summer 2007 “decided to go with another artist.” Lesson learned? A hold does not a contract assure…
I was disappointed, of course, but my manager was assured that the company continues to “consider [me] for future seasons.” I did a few auditions for summer companies, but I think that by winter, most companies are fairly well cast for the upcoming summer. What I wish I had done was gone ahead and applied for the handful of programs that I would still be interested in doing at this stage of the game, programs like Ravinia or Wolf Trap. But I took a nibble of interest for granted, something that I won’t do again! I might not even mention these holds here anymore, and will certainly do my best to keep them to myself among friends and family. Until the offer is official, mum’s got to be the word…
There are a couple of opportunities in the works for the summer, not the least of which is that potential immersion program in Italy. I got information today about an audition for a very (VERY) exciting contemporary music project, and while I know I’m trying to get my opera career moving along, singing is singing! And this project is really top-notch and unlike anything I’ve done to this point. It’s an invite-only audition, so I’ve already passed one of the usual hurdles, and even just doing the audition would be a good networking opportunity.
But, again, it’s just an audition… and an audition equals a contract even less that a hold on my schedule does!
It’s also been hard over the past two months or so to watch gigs be offered to me and have to pass them up. I know, tough place to be in, but I have to constantly tell myself that these opportunities won’t stop popping up. That the companies and foundations and people will keep calling, and that somehow when they are told I’m unavailable it will make them want me more, not less. In some cases that will (hopefully) be true, and I’m sure that in others it won’t. Let’s just hope that there are more cases of the former…
Newbie Moment #11
At the Met today: As I walked through the gate at the guard’s desk, I stopped and said, “Can you tell me where the Auditorium is?”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I figured it out. You see, on the rehearsal schedule for today, all the covers (myself included) were listed in a separate block from the rest of the Jenufa cast. They were all called to a rehearsal on the Main Stage, with the full complement of music staff (conductors, pianists, coaches) which has been at our rehearsals in the rehearsal studio. We covers were called to a rehearsal in the Auditorium, and there was no music staff listed. I wondered, “What are we going to do at this rehearsal, and where the heck is the Auditorium? Is that a smaller hall somewhere?”
Oh, my. Of course, what I figured out in that split second when the guard gave me the “you’re new here, aren’t you?” look, was that we covers were called to sit in the house and watch the rehearsal taking place on stage.
As my friend SH said one fall day in Seattle, upon observing my very rudimentarily carved pumpkin, “It’s a good thing you can sing.”
So, yes, today I watched the rehearsal from Orchestra Row J (those chandeliers overhead are so shiny!), as I will tomorrow and most likely all mornings this week. When we get to April and tech week of Trittico, I’ll go into more detail about how tech week is structured here, although it’s pretty much the same as elsewhere, except…
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I figured it out. You see, on the rehearsal schedule for today, all the covers (myself included) were listed in a separate block from the rest of the Jenufa cast. They were all called to a rehearsal on the Main Stage, with the full complement of music staff (conductors, pianists, coaches) which has been at our rehearsals in the rehearsal studio. We covers were called to a rehearsal in the Auditorium, and there was no music staff listed. I wondered, “What are we going to do at this rehearsal, and where the heck is the Auditorium? Is that a smaller hall somewhere?”
Oh, my. Of course, what I figured out in that split second when the guard gave me the “you’re new here, aren’t you?” look, was that we covers were called to sit in the house and watch the rehearsal taking place on stage.
As my friend SH said one fall day in Seattle, upon observing my very rudimentarily carved pumpkin, “It’s a good thing you can sing.”
So, yes, today I watched the rehearsal from Orchestra Row J (those chandeliers overhead are so shiny!), as I will tomorrow and most likely all mornings this week. When we get to April and tech week of Trittico, I’ll go into more detail about how tech week is structured here, although it’s pretty much the same as elsewhere, except…
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Living with it
For an audition last week, I added an aria to my usual audition program. I was still getting over my cold, and my top notes weren’t as free as I wanted them, so I thought I would rework the audition pattern a little bit. I took a look at the audition notice email from my manager, which listed the operas that the company was looking to cast; what else could I offer that they might be interested in?
The only thing that I thought I might be considered for, besides the usual high-note roles, was Zerlina, the peasant girl in Don Giovanni. Her first aria, “Batti, batti, o bel Masetto,” was the first opera aria I ever worked on, back at the University of Georgia circa 1997. It’s Mozart, so it’s not easy, but it’s a good place to start at age 21. These days, the role is often cast with a mezzo, as there are two other (higher) soprano roles in the opera, so I haven’t offered it in a while. But I sang through it, figured it would do for the day, and tossed the book in my bag.
I warned JD of the new addition, and since it’s an aria we’ve played through once or twice over the years, she was her usual cool-as-a-cucumber self. We decided to start the audition with Nannetta instead of Baby Doe (see above re: that morning’s high notes), and it went well enough. The Man Behind the Table must have been picking up on my mind waves, because instead of the usual “What else did you bring?” he said, “Do have any Zerlina with you?” Score!
The aria starts with a short recitative (the talky bits of an opera that help propel the action), and as I was in the middle of it, I thought, “Wow, this Italian is really IN; I know these words!” Since I’ve been singing this aria in some capacity for ten years, living with it, there’s nothing new about it. I know it so well that it is automatic, as if I were thinking the words for the first time at the moment they were coming out of my mouth. It felt really, really good.
As I’m spending time with other Italian roles these days, I’m realizing that I don’t have ten years to let these roles settle! I have to find the way to get the words into my body, into my mouth and my voice, so that they are automatic. So that they come from my soul as I am “inhabited” by Lucia, Adina, Rosina. (ACD and I saw the same interview with Peter O’Toole on Charlie Rose; “inhabited” is a word I stole from him and his description of the preparation process. Go read ACD’s post for more from this inspiring interview.) This is especially tricky with the recit sections, where I can’t rely on the lyricism of the music to carry the words. The words need to come first, and they need to come without thinking.
Of course, this all applies with French, German, et al, as well, but Italian is the language I have studied the least. This is starting to feel like a problem as I’m looking at more and more bel canto rep. Since my summer gig fell through (hmm, I still haven’t talked about that, have I?), maybe I’ll go to Italy for an intensive language course. And shopping…
The only thing that I thought I might be considered for, besides the usual high-note roles, was Zerlina, the peasant girl in Don Giovanni. Her first aria, “Batti, batti, o bel Masetto,” was the first opera aria I ever worked on, back at the University of Georgia circa 1997. It’s Mozart, so it’s not easy, but it’s a good place to start at age 21. These days, the role is often cast with a mezzo, as there are two other (higher) soprano roles in the opera, so I haven’t offered it in a while. But I sang through it, figured it would do for the day, and tossed the book in my bag.
I warned JD of the new addition, and since it’s an aria we’ve played through once or twice over the years, she was her usual cool-as-a-cucumber self. We decided to start the audition with Nannetta instead of Baby Doe (see above re: that morning’s high notes), and it went well enough. The Man Behind the Table must have been picking up on my mind waves, because instead of the usual “What else did you bring?” he said, “Do have any Zerlina with you?” Score!
The aria starts with a short recitative (the talky bits of an opera that help propel the action), and as I was in the middle of it, I thought, “Wow, this Italian is really IN; I know these words!” Since I’ve been singing this aria in some capacity for ten years, living with it, there’s nothing new about it. I know it so well that it is automatic, as if I were thinking the words for the first time at the moment they were coming out of my mouth. It felt really, really good.
As I’m spending time with other Italian roles these days, I’m realizing that I don’t have ten years to let these roles settle! I have to find the way to get the words into my body, into my mouth and my voice, so that they are automatic. So that they come from my soul as I am “inhabited” by Lucia, Adina, Rosina. (ACD and I saw the same interview with Peter O’Toole on Charlie Rose; “inhabited” is a word I stole from him and his description of the preparation process. Go read ACD’s post for more from this inspiring interview.) This is especially tricky with the recit sections, where I can’t rely on the lyricism of the music to carry the words. The words need to come first, and they need to come without thinking.
Of course, this all applies with French, German, et al, as well, but Italian is the language I have studied the least. This is starting to feel like a problem as I’m looking at more and more bel canto rep. Since my summer gig fell through (hmm, I still haven’t talked about that, have I?), maybe I’ll go to Italy for an intensive language course. And shopping…
Comments on comments
There were a few things that came up in the comments of my last post that I’d been wanting to address anyway, so here’s rather disjointed post covering a variety of topics!
Re: practice rooms at the Met. Yes, I knew they were an option, and I thought about it, But in the time it would have taken to get to the house, find the rooms in the labyrinth, figure out which ones I was allowed to use, etc., I don’t think I would have saved any more time. Someday soon, when I don’t have any impending duties, I’ll figure out the lay of that land so that next time I can just go straight there.
Re: warm-ups/vocalizes/ “a day in my voice.” This is a huge topic, and a hard one to pin down. Some days I can sing for hours with no warm-up at all, some days I rely heavily on the numbered exercises that I’ve been given by my teacher, and some days I just play around with vocalizes from past teachers or books or colleagues. I’ve only recently – with Mark, my current teacher – had any kind of warm-up system or series of exercises. Before now, I had never had a routine, per se, that I relied upon to prepare me for singing. I see myself needing more stamina in the upcoming years, as I (hopefully) start rehearsing and performing bigger roles, so I’m in the process of developing a routine, paces through which I can take myself in order to know that I’ll be ready for a big night. More on this as it develops…
Re: visualization. I think I first read about visualization as a performance tool in the context of sports. An athlete (a high jumper, maybe?) was injured, but wanted to compete in an upcoming competition. Every day, she would sit with her broken leg (or whatever) and see herself in her mind’s eye performing her jumps perfectly. She would feel the air as she moved through it, smell the chalk (rosin?), feel the pole in her hands, hear the sounds of her shoes on the track and the spring of the pole as she lets go, feel herself landing on the mat having cleared the bar. When the time came to actually move her body through the feat, her mind knew what to expect, knew what to do, and she was successful. I don’t remember if she won, but that’s not really the point. I’m fairly certain I read about this in a high school biology class, and the concept stuck. I later read a similar story of a cellist who used visualization to maintain his proficiency during months on “injured reserve.”
A couple of years ago, it came up again as I was talking with WT, a baritone who said he had visualized every aspect of his debut with a large company. He was a cover for a lead, and at night after rehearsals, he would lie in his bed and do just what the athlete above did. You know in movies, when sometimes they show you the scene from the perspective of a certain character, as if you were looking through his eyes? That’s what this is. WT saw his colleagues, the stage, the conductor, all from the vantage point of the character. He said he even imagined the smells of the stage: perspiration, dust, etc.. So when the call came to go on, he knew he was ready.
I hope that makes some sense… ask again if I can make something any clearer…
Ariadne: Learning staging/blocking is going to get its own post, complete with pictures. Stay tuned!
All of this comment-commenting gives me an idea. Since I’ve been getting a fair number of questions from readers recently, I think I’m going to start a new “feature:” The Question of the Week. If you have questions – about a singing career in general (training, logistics, rep, etc.), about opera as an art form (I’ll probably refer to you someone else!) or about my experience (generally speaking) – send me an email or leave a comment and I’ll do my best to answer one or two a week. (I first had this idea a few months ago, inspired by a series of questions sent to me by a young baritone I met at a masterclass. Now seems like a good time to get it going…)
Re: practice rooms at the Met. Yes, I knew they were an option, and I thought about it, But in the time it would have taken to get to the house, find the rooms in the labyrinth, figure out which ones I was allowed to use, etc., I don’t think I would have saved any more time. Someday soon, when I don’t have any impending duties, I’ll figure out the lay of that land so that next time I can just go straight there.
Re: warm-ups/vocalizes/ “a day in my voice.” This is a huge topic, and a hard one to pin down. Some days I can sing for hours with no warm-up at all, some days I rely heavily on the numbered exercises that I’ve been given by my teacher, and some days I just play around with vocalizes from past teachers or books or colleagues. I’ve only recently – with Mark, my current teacher – had any kind of warm-up system or series of exercises. Before now, I had never had a routine, per se, that I relied upon to prepare me for singing. I see myself needing more stamina in the upcoming years, as I (hopefully) start rehearsing and performing bigger roles, so I’m in the process of developing a routine, paces through which I can take myself in order to know that I’ll be ready for a big night. More on this as it develops…
Re: visualization. I think I first read about visualization as a performance tool in the context of sports. An athlete (a high jumper, maybe?) was injured, but wanted to compete in an upcoming competition. Every day, she would sit with her broken leg (or whatever) and see herself in her mind’s eye performing her jumps perfectly. She would feel the air as she moved through it, smell the chalk (rosin?), feel the pole in her hands, hear the sounds of her shoes on the track and the spring of the pole as she lets go, feel herself landing on the mat having cleared the bar. When the time came to actually move her body through the feat, her mind knew what to expect, knew what to do, and she was successful. I don’t remember if she won, but that’s not really the point. I’m fairly certain I read about this in a high school biology class, and the concept stuck. I later read a similar story of a cellist who used visualization to maintain his proficiency during months on “injured reserve.”
A couple of years ago, it came up again as I was talking with WT, a baritone who said he had visualized every aspect of his debut with a large company. He was a cover for a lead, and at night after rehearsals, he would lie in his bed and do just what the athlete above did. You know in movies, when sometimes they show you the scene from the perspective of a certain character, as if you were looking through his eyes? That’s what this is. WT saw his colleagues, the stage, the conductor, all from the vantage point of the character. He said he even imagined the smells of the stage: perspiration, dust, etc.. So when the call came to go on, he knew he was ready.
I hope that makes some sense… ask again if I can make something any clearer…
Ariadne: Learning staging/blocking is going to get its own post, complete with pictures. Stay tuned!
All of this comment-commenting gives me an idea. Since I’ve been getting a fair number of questions from readers recently, I think I’m going to start a new “feature:” The Question of the Week. If you have questions – about a singing career in general (training, logistics, rep, etc.), about opera as an art form (I’ll probably refer to you someone else!) or about my experience (generally speaking) – send me an email or leave a comment and I’ll do my best to answer one or two a week. (I first had this idea a few months ago, inspired by a series of questions sent to me by a young baritone I met at a masterclass. Now seems like a good time to get it going…)
Monday, January 15, 2007
That was close
What a day!
Before I get to the rehearsal itself – which went very well – let me explain how close I came to not getting there at all.
My plan for the day was to head up to Yonkers (about an hour away) and visit with B&N, my hosts from Santa Fe who are here visiting their grandchildren. I’d get up there around 11, have lunch, and then head back into Manhattan, going to the Met to sit in on the 3 o’clock rehearsal. The schedule said they’d be rehearsing Act I in the morning and afternoon, so I thought this would be good. I wasn’t required at either rehearsal, just some safety net watching on my part.
So I got up early (after going to bed early, which I never do, another little detail that made today a good day!), dressed in rehearsal clothes since I’d be going to rehearsal in the afternoon, put my music in my bag, and headed out the door at 9:45. I decided to catch the subway at the Lincoln Center stop, rather than deal with Columbus Circle construction, and I stopped on the way to get my morning coffee. Down into the subway, onto the train, I settled into my seat and took out my iPod. The Decemberists begin their story of the Crane Wife when I thought to take out my phone and check the time…
One missed call?! From the MET SWITCHBOARD!!!
I just about dropped my coffee all over the man next to me, who heard me gasp and gave me a worried glance. I quickly pack up my iPod, pick up my bags, and wait an eternal 45 seconds for the train to pull into the next station. As soon as I was above ground (at 79th), I checked the message, and sure enough: “Hello, this message is for Ms. Bird. Ms. “Jano” is sick today and we need you to come sing the 11:00 rehearsal.”
It was 10:10. That was a close one!
After calling the rehearsal department and confirming, I called B&N and told them about the change of plans, called my parents to share the excitement, and hopped in a cab. I was 25 blocks from my apartment, and while I was technically ready for rehearsal, I needed to warm up. If I could get home in five minutes, I could have 25 minutes to warm-up (and post!) and still get to the opera house in plenty of time.
More important that warming up, though, was the time I spent visualizing my staging. I’d done a bit of this since observing the first rehearsal, but this morning I did an intense, focused mental run-through of my scene, sitting in my chair with my eyes closed. I saw my entrance, Jenufa (Karita Mattila! She is even more beautiful in person.), the conductor and his baton – all from the perspective of being on stage. So when I actually did the scene, my mind felt like it had been there already.
This is an important skill to develop, one that was shared with me by another singer a few years ago. Today was the first time I’ve really put it into practice, and, wow, what a difference it made, I’m sure of it. When we watch rehearsals, we are almost always sitting in the front, watching from the audience perspective. So when we get up on our feet, things can feel like they’re reversed or like they exist on a totally different plane. And even when we do all the rehearsing up on our feet, being able to review things mentally can only help solidify them in our memory. Canadienne, any visualization stories? Anybody else?
So this, together with the musical coaching, made for a rehearsal that went smoothly and calmly. Of course, after I sang my first line, my heart was pounding through my chest! The director came over and said, “Hello, and who are you?” We’d met very briefly on the first day, but I wasn’t surprised he didn’t remember! Sprawled out on the floor like a ten-year-old boy, I shook his hand and re-introduced myself. Ms. Mattila turned and said, “Oh, have you not done this before?” A good sign!
(It was her first day, too, since her cover worked the rehearsals last week. But since she has done this production before, she was relearning the staging, rather than starting from scratch. Had she been totally new to the production, she would have been there from the beginning.)
My scene is short, and we ran it twice, so all in all I think I sang for about 15 minutes of the rehearsal today. At the break, CI, who I knew from Santa Fe and who was playing the piano for the rehearsal, congratulated me and told me that the conductor was “very happy.” Another good sign! Who knows how much word of my work in this rehearsal will get passed on, but I’m pleased with my first showing.
RC, another friend from Santa Fe, was there, too (covering a big role!), and described feeling what I have felt so often when I’ve seen my friends onstage, making good: “I even got a little teary, watching you up there, nailing it perfectly.” We all train so hard together, for so many years, and when we get to put it together? It’s thrilling, even just to watch.
Another test, another hurdle, passed! Thanks for all your notes today; it’s great to be able to share this with you all!
Before I get to the rehearsal itself – which went very well – let me explain how close I came to not getting there at all.
My plan for the day was to head up to Yonkers (about an hour away) and visit with B&N, my hosts from Santa Fe who are here visiting their grandchildren. I’d get up there around 11, have lunch, and then head back into Manhattan, going to the Met to sit in on the 3 o’clock rehearsal. The schedule said they’d be rehearsing Act I in the morning and afternoon, so I thought this would be good. I wasn’t required at either rehearsal, just some safety net watching on my part.
So I got up early (after going to bed early, which I never do, another little detail that made today a good day!), dressed in rehearsal clothes since I’d be going to rehearsal in the afternoon, put my music in my bag, and headed out the door at 9:45. I decided to catch the subway at the Lincoln Center stop, rather than deal with Columbus Circle construction, and I stopped on the way to get my morning coffee. Down into the subway, onto the train, I settled into my seat and took out my iPod. The Decemberists begin their story of the Crane Wife when I thought to take out my phone and check the time…
One missed call?! From the MET SWITCHBOARD!!!
I just about dropped my coffee all over the man next to me, who heard me gasp and gave me a worried glance. I quickly pack up my iPod, pick up my bags, and wait an eternal 45 seconds for the train to pull into the next station. As soon as I was above ground (at 79th), I checked the message, and sure enough: “Hello, this message is for Ms. Bird. Ms. “Jano” is sick today and we need you to come sing the 11:00 rehearsal.”
It was 10:10. That was a close one!
After calling the rehearsal department and confirming, I called B&N and told them about the change of plans, called my parents to share the excitement, and hopped in a cab. I was 25 blocks from my apartment, and while I was technically ready for rehearsal, I needed to warm up. If I could get home in five minutes, I could have 25 minutes to warm-up (and post!) and still get to the opera house in plenty of time.
More important that warming up, though, was the time I spent visualizing my staging. I’d done a bit of this since observing the first rehearsal, but this morning I did an intense, focused mental run-through of my scene, sitting in my chair with my eyes closed. I saw my entrance, Jenufa (Karita Mattila! She is even more beautiful in person.), the conductor and his baton – all from the perspective of being on stage. So when I actually did the scene, my mind felt like it had been there already.
This is an important skill to develop, one that was shared with me by another singer a few years ago. Today was the first time I’ve really put it into practice, and, wow, what a difference it made, I’m sure of it. When we watch rehearsals, we are almost always sitting in the front, watching from the audience perspective. So when we get up on our feet, things can feel like they’re reversed or like they exist on a totally different plane. And even when we do all the rehearsing up on our feet, being able to review things mentally can only help solidify them in our memory. Canadienne, any visualization stories? Anybody else?
So this, together with the musical coaching, made for a rehearsal that went smoothly and calmly. Of course, after I sang my first line, my heart was pounding through my chest! The director came over and said, “Hello, and who are you?” We’d met very briefly on the first day, but I wasn’t surprised he didn’t remember! Sprawled out on the floor like a ten-year-old boy, I shook his hand and re-introduced myself. Ms. Mattila turned and said, “Oh, have you not done this before?” A good sign!
(It was her first day, too, since her cover worked the rehearsals last week. But since she has done this production before, she was relearning the staging, rather than starting from scratch. Had she been totally new to the production, she would have been there from the beginning.)
My scene is short, and we ran it twice, so all in all I think I sang for about 15 minutes of the rehearsal today. At the break, CI, who I knew from Santa Fe and who was playing the piano for the rehearsal, congratulated me and told me that the conductor was “very happy.” Another good sign! Who knows how much word of my work in this rehearsal will get passed on, but I’m pleased with my first showing.
RC, another friend from Santa Fe, was there, too (covering a big role!), and described feeling what I have felt so often when I’ve seen my friends onstage, making good: “I even got a little teary, watching you up there, nailing it perfectly.” We all train so hard together, for so many years, and when we get to put it together? It’s thrilling, even just to watch.
Another test, another hurdle, passed! Thanks for all your notes today; it’s great to be able to share this with you all!
I'm goin' in....
I got the call!
It's Karita Mattila's first day of rehearsal, and Jano is sick! So here I go...
It's Karita Mattila's first day of rehearsal, and Jano is sick! So here I go...
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Crossing Over
Two sports related opera moments from the past few days:
Out with friends, I overheard a tenor talking about “the Mets,” something about “the Mets next weekend.” Of course it’s not even close to baseball season, but I turned around and said, a bit disbelievingly (and excitedly), “Oh, are you a baseball fan?” He and the baritone he was talking to looked at me incredulously and said, “Not those Mets – the Met Council Auditions! As in, the place you’re working? Those Mets!”
Oh. Yeah, right. Those Mets…
Then today, watching Indianopolis miraculously triumph over Baltimore (sorry, Ariadne!), every time I would see “S. McNair” on some statistics blurb, I’d think, “What’s Sylvia doing here?”
Oh, I just crack myself up sometimes! A dork in so many ways...
I promise that I have also been studying and working on updating my bios. More on that tomorrow. After the Seattle-Chicago game…
Out with friends, I overheard a tenor talking about “the Mets,” something about “the Mets next weekend.” Of course it’s not even close to baseball season, but I turned around and said, a bit disbelievingly (and excitedly), “Oh, are you a baseball fan?” He and the baritone he was talking to looked at me incredulously and said, “Not those Mets – the Met Council Auditions! As in, the place you’re working? Those Mets!”
Oh. Yeah, right. Those Mets…
Then today, watching Indianopolis miraculously triumph over Baltimore (sorry, Ariadne!), every time I would see “S. McNair” on some statistics blurb, I’d think, “What’s Sylvia doing here?”
Oh, I just crack myself up sometimes! A dork in so many ways...
I promise that I have also been studying and working on updating my bios. More on that tomorrow. After the Seattle-Chicago game…
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
SIS: Self-Imposed Study
Coloratur…aaah has given my study program a title, most likely the same title she gives her own: Self-Imposed Study, or SIS. Yesterday was the first day, and, of course, it got off to a bit of a slow start! But I did it. I sat down with a score (two scores, actually) and my keyboard and delved a bit. (And, yes, I frittered a bit of time away online, but not nearly as much as usual!)
I spent equal time working on music with a deadline (Strauss) and future potential music (Gretel). I think this will likely continue to be the format of my SIS, as I always, hopefully, will have both kinds of music on my plate. Today’s combination will be the Strauss again (“Holy Strange Harmonic Changes, Batman!”) together with Elixir of Love. The latter fits the bill for both current and future, as I have to learn Giannetta (aka, Head Village Girl) for April and I’d like to perform Adina (the lead) someday as well. I know much of the role, but haven’t sung through it since I actually learned what bel canto singing is all about, so it will be fun to go back to it.
But before I get to work, I need to get to the post office. I also spent some time yesterday working on some competition applications, and one of them needs to be postmarked today. Just as the fall is known as “audition season,” spring is kind of “competition season,” with companies and foundations around the country hosting competitions of all sizes and reputations. I can only apply for those which are based in NYC, as I can’t travel out of town very easily while at the Met, but there are three high profile competitions that I know I can participate in. But, just as with applying for apprentice program auditions, there’s always a chance that I won’t be selected to sing in the preliminaries. “Application does not guarantee an audition…” I’m hoping that having a Sullivan Award on my resume will help give me a nudge. We’ll see.
I have an audition tomorrow, so I’ll be laying low tonight, trying to find the hydration balance that is elusive while on decongestants! At least this cold hasn’t turned into a cough, so I feel like I’ll be over it in just a few more days.
I spent equal time working on music with a deadline (Strauss) and future potential music (Gretel). I think this will likely continue to be the format of my SIS, as I always, hopefully, will have both kinds of music on my plate. Today’s combination will be the Strauss again (“Holy Strange Harmonic Changes, Batman!”) together with Elixir of Love. The latter fits the bill for both current and future, as I have to learn Giannetta (aka, Head Village Girl) for April and I’d like to perform Adina (the lead) someday as well. I know much of the role, but haven’t sung through it since I actually learned what bel canto singing is all about, so it will be fun to go back to it.
But before I get to work, I need to get to the post office. I also spent some time yesterday working on some competition applications, and one of them needs to be postmarked today. Just as the fall is known as “audition season,” spring is kind of “competition season,” with companies and foundations around the country hosting competitions of all sizes and reputations. I can only apply for those which are based in NYC, as I can’t travel out of town very easily while at the Met, but there are three high profile competitions that I know I can participate in. But, just as with applying for apprentice program auditions, there’s always a chance that I won’t be selected to sing in the preliminaries. “Application does not guarantee an audition…” I’m hoping that having a Sullivan Award on my resume will help give me a nudge. We’ll see.
I have an audition tomorrow, so I’ll be laying low tonight, trying to find the hydration balance that is elusive while on decongestants! At least this cold hasn’t turned into a cough, so I feel like I’ll be over it in just a few more days.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Except…
I wrote this email to a friend this afternoon, after getting home from my First Day:
So, it was totally nothing big. Just a rehearsal, just a coaching, exactly like every other rehearsal and coaching I've ever had. Except... know what I mean? Except for having an ID card now that says "The Metropolitan Opera, Principal Artist, Anne-Carolyn Bird," except for almost running into Rene Pape on my way out of the building. (HOTT) Just another day at the office!
I’ll add: except for Paul Plishka accidentally interrupting my coaching; except for the miles and miles of corridors, most of which seemed to be filled with racks of costumes; except for the final dress rehearsal of La Traviata going on in the theatre and all the people outside asking MP and me if we had extra tickets, except…
But seriously, about halfway through the rehearsal, I looked around at the tape on the floor and the stage managers and the director and thought, “This is just a variation on a theme that I started in Mrs. Stettler’s Junior High drama classes…” It’s much less scary when you think of it that way.
And, as always, it’s less scary when you’re prepared. My individual coaching went very well, and I was able to sing just fine. Everybody, it seemed, from staff to singers, has some variation of this bug; ‘tis the season. I think I passed, and I hope that any report my coach will take back to the powers-that-be will be a good one.
Turns out I’m required to be at even fewer rehearsals than I thought, so I am committing myself (publicly, so help me stick to it!) to spending at least three hours (the equivalent of one rehearsal call) on each day I’m not called to the Met at home working on scores. (That was a confusing sentence… sorry.) The list of roles to learn doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter, and the opportunities are only getting greater. Bigger and better and more high profile. So when the call comes, I need to be ready. Today I realized that this spring is not just an opportunity to work at the Met, it’s an chance for me to study. I’m getting paid well for the next 19 weeks, and I’m going to have a lot of free time. I’d better have something to show for it at the end.
So to that end, every Study Day I’ll post here what score/role I’ve pulled off the shelf. Tomorrow will be the first, and I’m thinking Gretel. We’ll see at 11:00, when my Study Call begins. Fun!
So, it was totally nothing big. Just a rehearsal, just a coaching, exactly like every other rehearsal and coaching I've ever had. Except... know what I mean? Except for having an ID card now that says "The Metropolitan Opera, Principal Artist, Anne-Carolyn Bird," except for almost running into Rene Pape on my way out of the building. (HOTT) Just another day at the office!
I’ll add: except for Paul Plishka accidentally interrupting my coaching; except for the miles and miles of corridors, most of which seemed to be filled with racks of costumes; except for the final dress rehearsal of La Traviata going on in the theatre and all the people outside asking MP and me if we had extra tickets, except…
But seriously, about halfway through the rehearsal, I looked around at the tape on the floor and the stage managers and the director and thought, “This is just a variation on a theme that I started in Mrs. Stettler’s Junior High drama classes…” It’s much less scary when you think of it that way.
And, as always, it’s less scary when you’re prepared. My individual coaching went very well, and I was able to sing just fine. Everybody, it seemed, from staff to singers, has some variation of this bug; ‘tis the season. I think I passed, and I hope that any report my coach will take back to the powers-that-be will be a good one.
Turns out I’m required to be at even fewer rehearsals than I thought, so I am committing myself (publicly, so help me stick to it!) to spending at least three hours (the equivalent of one rehearsal call) on each day I’m not called to the Met at home working on scores. (That was a confusing sentence… sorry.) The list of roles to learn doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter, and the opportunities are only getting greater. Bigger and better and more high profile. So when the call comes, I need to be ready. Today I realized that this spring is not just an opportunity to work at the Met, it’s an chance for me to study. I’m getting paid well for the next 19 weeks, and I’m going to have a lot of free time. I’d better have something to show for it at the end.
So to that end, every Study Day I’ll post here what score/role I’ve pulled off the shelf. Tomorrow will be the first, and I’m thinking Gretel. We’ll see at 11:00, when my Study Call begins. Fun!
Ok, officially nervous
The butterflies are here! It’s 8:30, and I’m showered, dressed, and fed. Now what? My rehearsal starts at 11, so I’m going to leave here around 10. It’s a 15 minute walk to the Met (12 if I hustle; I timed it a couple of months ago…), so that should give me plenty of time to check in, get my ID, get lost on my way to the C-Level Stage, find my way again, and get settled before rehearsal starts. MP, who is working with Met Radio these days, might swing by and “pick me up,” since he walks by my door on his way to the house. It would be great to walk in with somebody who knows his way around. Like a big brother on the first day of high school!
(OT: Another way the Met is like high school? The Season Book! I finally went and bought one, and I’ve spent hours looking through the Artist Roster pages in the back. Everybody has a small b&w photo with their name, hometown, house debut, and current season repertory. Even though it’s listed alphabetically, we all know who the upperclassmen are, who the freshmen are, etc.. And just like all of my HS class pictures (minus whatever year it was I wore that plaid shirt and had the big hair), I totally hate my headshot these days, but more on that in another post.)
The cold I had last week sure has stuck around. I’m feeling much better today, but yesterday I was not so sure. I had that fuzzy-head feeling again, and when I tried to sing I could tell that my vocal cords were unhappy. A little swollen, probably, and suffering from the same post-nasal drip that was causing my sore throat. I had about two-thirds of my normal range – and only the middle; for some reason the high and low end go out first – and that was at about half power. Scary! But I rested all day – watching the playoffs, napping, reviewing music – and managed to get to bed fairly early (for me). I woke up this morning and could tell that things were better. Probably not up to 100%, but better enough that I can sing my half-hour coaching this afternoon and be assured that all of the notes will come out!
Ok, I’ve managed to distract myself for half an hour on this post. Time to go do my makeup and pack up some snacks. It’s still a bit to early to sing full out, but I’ll continue my humming and lip trilling (making sure the breath is hooked in).
Oh! Of course you’re all wondering what I decided to wear! (Of course you are.) I realized this weekend that this first rehearsal is an actual working rehearsal, not a musical work-through or discussion of the production, so “dressing up” is kind of out of the question. If I need to stand in for Jano, I can’t run around like a shepherd boy in a cute dress and kitten heels. So, I’m in my favorite black jeans and a green shirt that has some tuxedo-ish detailing (pleating, mostly; no bow-tie). Functional, stylish, comfortable, me.
Here we go!
(OT: Another way the Met is like high school? The Season Book! I finally went and bought one, and I’ve spent hours looking through the Artist Roster pages in the back. Everybody has a small b&w photo with their name, hometown, house debut, and current season repertory. Even though it’s listed alphabetically, we all know who the upperclassmen are, who the freshmen are, etc.. And just like all of my HS class pictures (minus whatever year it was I wore that plaid shirt and had the big hair), I totally hate my headshot these days, but more on that in another post.)
The cold I had last week sure has stuck around. I’m feeling much better today, but yesterday I was not so sure. I had that fuzzy-head feeling again, and when I tried to sing I could tell that my vocal cords were unhappy. A little swollen, probably, and suffering from the same post-nasal drip that was causing my sore throat. I had about two-thirds of my normal range – and only the middle; for some reason the high and low end go out first – and that was at about half power. Scary! But I rested all day – watching the playoffs, napping, reviewing music – and managed to get to bed fairly early (for me). I woke up this morning and could tell that things were better. Probably not up to 100%, but better enough that I can sing my half-hour coaching this afternoon and be assured that all of the notes will come out!
Ok, I’ve managed to distract myself for half an hour on this post. Time to go do my makeup and pack up some snacks. It’s still a bit to early to sing full out, but I’ll continue my humming and lip trilling (making sure the breath is hooked in).
Oh! Of course you’re all wondering what I decided to wear! (Of course you are.) I realized this weekend that this first rehearsal is an actual working rehearsal, not a musical work-through or discussion of the production, so “dressing up” is kind of out of the question. If I need to stand in for Jano, I can’t run around like a shepherd boy in a cute dress and kitten heels. So, I’m in my favorite black jeans and a green shirt that has some tuxedo-ish detailing (pleating, mostly; no bow-tie). Functional, stylish, comfortable, me.
Here we go!
Saturday, January 06, 2007
The Song of the Lark
I’m finally reading Willa Cather’s The Song of the Lark, which was recommended to me this summer by my generous hosts in Santa Fe. (B&N are currently en route to Yonkers, where they’ll be visiting their grandchildren – and daughter – for a couple of weeks; I plan to go up and visit for a day, and I am looking forward to seeing them again.) I read a passage last night that made me think, “I should blog about that,” only to come upon another passage a few pages later that made tears well up in my eyes for its direct relevance to my life. I expect that I’ll be posting quite a few quotes as I read the remaining 300 pages…
Here is the first:
In winter this loft room of Thea’s was bitterly cold, but against her mother’s advice – and Tillie’s – she always left her window open a little way. … Thea asked Doctor Archie about the window, and he told her that a girl who sang must always have plenty of fresh air, or her voice would get husky, and that the cold would harden her throat. The important thing, he said, was to keep your feet warm. – The Song of the Lark, Chapter VIII
I concur, Dr. Archie! Give me a cracked window any night of the year, no matter how cold it is outside. I love to feel cool air on my face while I sleep, just so long as the rest of me is warm, my feet especially. Whether it makes my voice stronger or not, I’m not sure, but I do know I sleep better in the cold, and a good night’s sleep is directly related to one’s general health which is directly related to vocal health. Sound enough reasoning to me!
The second passage requires a bit of background. Thea has been taking piano lessons for years from an old German gentleman, Herr Wunsch; she is also known to possess a lovely singing voice, and she dreams of going to Europe to study music so she can be “a good music teacher.” On her thirteenth birthday, as they walk in the garden under the linden trees (symbol of marriage and femininity), he teaches her a poem: “Im leuchtenden Sommermorgen,” by Heine. His reason behind teaching it to her is to teach her more German so she can learn Lieder (songs) and vice versa. (This poem is most famously set by Robert Schumann, as part of his song cycle, Dichterliebe, “The Loves of a poet.”) After he teaches Thea the words, Herr Wunsch starts to grill her on the poetic meaning. Why the flowers, why is the man sad, what does this mean, why, how, etc.. Thea gets frustrated:
“You are just trying to make me say things. It spoils things to ask questions.”
Wunsch bowed mockingly; his smile was disagreeable. Suddenly his face grew grave, grew fierce, indeed. He pulled himself up from his clumsy stoop and folded his arms. “But it is necessary to know if you know some things. Some things cannot be taught. If you not know in the beginning, you not know in the end. For a singer there must be something in the inside from the beginning. I shall not be long in this place, may-be, and I like to know. Yes” – he ground his heel in the gravel – “yes, when you are barely six, you must know that already. That is the beginning of all things; der Geist, die Phantasie. It must be in the baby, when it makes its first cry, like der Rhythmus [the steady beat], or it is not to be. You have some voice already, and if in the beginning, when you are with things-to-play, you know that what you will not tell me, then you can learn to sing, may-be. … Something they [the silly American girls] can learn, oh, yes, may-be! But the secret – what makes the rose to red, the sky to blue, the man to love – in der Brust, in der Brust it is, und ohne dieses gibt es keine Kunst, gibt es keine Kunst!” - The Song of the Lark, Chapter XI
What does that mean? “The Secret… is in the breast, in the soul it is, and without this there is no art, there is no Art!”
Wunsch was testing her instincts, delving under the surface to see if she had the heart of an artist. He already knew that she had the talent – and the dedication and drive and discipline. But did she really have the heart, that thing that separates the Talented from the Great?
I was reminded of various music theory or art song literature classes, when the teacher would prod us to find a reason behind the composer’s use of a certain chord or the poet’s choice of a phrase or symbol. How many times did we cry, “Oh, come on! Dissecting the piece like this takes all the poetry out of it! Just let it be beautiful because it is beautiful!”
Did we protest because we didn’t know the answer? Was the teacher testing us, as Wunsch tested Thea, to see who among us had the artist’s heart? Did any of us past the test? We might have gotten A's, but in the grander scheme of things, did we get it? I’ll have to finish the book to know for sure, but I think Thea passed.
Will I?
Here is the first:
In winter this loft room of Thea’s was bitterly cold, but against her mother’s advice – and Tillie’s – she always left her window open a little way. … Thea asked Doctor Archie about the window, and he told her that a girl who sang must always have plenty of fresh air, or her voice would get husky, and that the cold would harden her throat. The important thing, he said, was to keep your feet warm. – The Song of the Lark, Chapter VIII
I concur, Dr. Archie! Give me a cracked window any night of the year, no matter how cold it is outside. I love to feel cool air on my face while I sleep, just so long as the rest of me is warm, my feet especially. Whether it makes my voice stronger or not, I’m not sure, but I do know I sleep better in the cold, and a good night’s sleep is directly related to one’s general health which is directly related to vocal health. Sound enough reasoning to me!
The second passage requires a bit of background. Thea has been taking piano lessons for years from an old German gentleman, Herr Wunsch; she is also known to possess a lovely singing voice, and she dreams of going to Europe to study music so she can be “a good music teacher.” On her thirteenth birthday, as they walk in the garden under the linden trees (symbol of marriage and femininity), he teaches her a poem: “Im leuchtenden Sommermorgen,” by Heine. His reason behind teaching it to her is to teach her more German so she can learn Lieder (songs) and vice versa. (This poem is most famously set by Robert Schumann, as part of his song cycle, Dichterliebe, “The Loves of a poet.”) After he teaches Thea the words, Herr Wunsch starts to grill her on the poetic meaning. Why the flowers, why is the man sad, what does this mean, why, how, etc.. Thea gets frustrated:
“You are just trying to make me say things. It spoils things to ask questions.”
Wunsch bowed mockingly; his smile was disagreeable. Suddenly his face grew grave, grew fierce, indeed. He pulled himself up from his clumsy stoop and folded his arms. “But it is necessary to know if you know some things. Some things cannot be taught. If you not know in the beginning, you not know in the end. For a singer there must be something in the inside from the beginning. I shall not be long in this place, may-be, and I like to know. Yes” – he ground his heel in the gravel – “yes, when you are barely six, you must know that already. That is the beginning of all things; der Geist, die Phantasie. It must be in the baby, when it makes its first cry, like der Rhythmus [the steady beat], or it is not to be. You have some voice already, and if in the beginning, when you are with things-to-play, you know that what you will not tell me, then you can learn to sing, may-be. … Something they [the silly American girls] can learn, oh, yes, may-be! But the secret – what makes the rose to red, the sky to blue, the man to love – in der Brust, in der Brust it is, und ohne dieses gibt es keine Kunst, gibt es keine Kunst!” - The Song of the Lark, Chapter XI
What does that mean? “The Secret… is in the breast, in the soul it is, and without this there is no art, there is no Art!”
Wunsch was testing her instincts, delving under the surface to see if she had the heart of an artist. He already knew that she had the talent – and the dedication and drive and discipline. But did she really have the heart, that thing that separates the Talented from the Great?
I was reminded of various music theory or art song literature classes, when the teacher would prod us to find a reason behind the composer’s use of a certain chord or the poet’s choice of a phrase or symbol. How many times did we cry, “Oh, come on! Dissecting the piece like this takes all the poetry out of it! Just let it be beautiful because it is beautiful!”
Did we protest because we didn’t know the answer? Was the teacher testing us, as Wunsch tested Thea, to see who among us had the artist’s heart? Did any of us past the test? We might have gotten A's, but in the grander scheme of things, did we get it? I’ll have to finish the book to know for sure, but I think Thea passed.
Will I?
Memory Lane
Over the past couple of days I’ve been sorting my receipts, getting things in order to file my taxes in early February. I’d do it sooner, but seeing as how I have to wait for about ten forms – W-2s, 1099s, various interest forms – I never get everything I need before February. But getting all of this together brings two pleasures: a trip to the office supply store (accordion files! labels! post-its!) and a trip down memory lane.
As I sorted through my receipts, I got to revisit each purchase:
• Several “business entertainment” dinners with bloggers and colleagues (and some who are both)
• A pitchpipe purchased from a music shop in Porto, with CT the DT and SH
• Makings for closing night gifts for Cendrillon – marzipan-filled pastries shaped into the first letters of everybody’s name. That’s about as “Martha” as I get, and it was fun!
• Lots of sheet music, and all the promise that a new score holds
• Ditto on CDs (anybody know if I can get an itemized receipt from iTunes?)
• Envelopes filled with receipts and train stubs from day trips to DC, Philly, Boston
• Fatter envelopes from my three weeks in NY in January – my first taste of living here – and the pivotal tour of the Pasion segun San Marcos
Who says taxes are boring?
It also looks like I’ll hardly owe anything this year, at least comparatively. I made less money this year, and I had several jobs were taxes were withheld. For 2007 and the future, I’ve started a separate savings account for taxes. Now, whenever I get paid, or even when I’m first told of a future fee, I automatically will cut it by at least 30%, preferably 35%: 10-15% to management, 20% to savings for taxes (which I need to start paying quarterly), and 5% minimum to savings or an IRA.
I’m pretty determined to use these next 19 weeks of excellent pay to get myself on some solid financial ground. I have a budget and a fairly aggressive savings/debt payment plan. Even so, I’ve made sure to give myself some “play money,” otherwise I know I’ll just end up cutting into my savings to buy that dress or go out to dinner!
Like dusting the furniture or polishing brass, getting your finances in order is satisfying because the difference is noticeable, quantifiable. Watch the good numbers get bigger and the bad ones get smaller! No cleaning products (but lots of office products!) required.
As I sorted through my receipts, I got to revisit each purchase:
• Several “business entertainment” dinners with bloggers and colleagues (and some who are both)
• A pitchpipe purchased from a music shop in Porto, with CT the DT and SH
• Makings for closing night gifts for Cendrillon – marzipan-filled pastries shaped into the first letters of everybody’s name. That’s about as “Martha” as I get, and it was fun!
• Lots of sheet music, and all the promise that a new score holds
• Ditto on CDs (anybody know if I can get an itemized receipt from iTunes?)
• Envelopes filled with receipts and train stubs from day trips to DC, Philly, Boston
• Fatter envelopes from my three weeks in NY in January – my first taste of living here – and the pivotal tour of the Pasion segun San Marcos
Who says taxes are boring?
It also looks like I’ll hardly owe anything this year, at least comparatively. I made less money this year, and I had several jobs were taxes were withheld. For 2007 and the future, I’ve started a separate savings account for taxes. Now, whenever I get paid, or even when I’m first told of a future fee, I automatically will cut it by at least 30%, preferably 35%: 10-15% to management, 20% to savings for taxes (which I need to start paying quarterly), and 5% minimum to savings or an IRA.
I’m pretty determined to use these next 19 weeks of excellent pay to get myself on some solid financial ground. I have a budget and a fairly aggressive savings/debt payment plan. Even so, I’ve made sure to give myself some “play money,” otherwise I know I’ll just end up cutting into my savings to buy that dress or go out to dinner!
Like dusting the furniture or polishing brass, getting your finances in order is satisfying because the difference is noticeable, quantifiable. Watch the good numbers get bigger and the bad ones get smaller! No cleaning products (but lots of office products!) required.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Gearing Up
I have a cold.
Not surprising, really, considering all the airplanes and airports and cities I’ve been in in the past few weeks, but irritating nonetheless. Also irritating is the fact that the plumbing’s messed up in the apartment – with leaky sinks and backed up drains and dirty water coming up from the shower floor drain – so I can’t take a long steamy shower to clear out my head. At least the toilet works.
But I have five days and a wake-up before The First Day, so I’m not too worried; plenty of time to get better. I don’t have much singing to do this week, either. I’m prepared for whatever they might ask of me as the cover on the first day of rehearsal, which probably won’t be much, but I’m prepared. Czech is a great language, seems to be right in the middle, aurally, between German and Russian. As long as my L’s stay forward and bright (not the dark, swallowed L of Russian), and I get enough “dj” in that tricky R, I’ll be fine.
I’m spending time now with the Strauss, listening, looking, working out rhythms and words; all that “armchair work” I can do without singing. And I think I’ll take a nap…
I’ve been looking at the Met online rehearsal schedule, and, um, can I just say that I’m a bit dazed by the names I see on that list?!! I mean, everybody knows that the Big Kids work at the Big House, but until I saw it in black and white, it hadn’t quite sunk in that I’ll be in rehearsals, hanging out in the cafeteria, saying hello in the halls, etc., with some of the biggest names in the business. Not to mention watching them in action! Voigt, Damrau, Mattila, Levine, Swenson, Croft, Frittoli, Villazon… the list goes on and on.
Now, I’m not expecting to become bosom buddies with these folks. I'm sure we'll all be cordial, but when I say I’ll be in the cafeteria with them, imagine high school, with the cool seniors at the center table and the freshmen music geeks on the outskirts. That’s kind of what I’m picturing! I just hope I can find the bathroom and that no big bully knocks my books out of my arms.
And, of course, that eternal First Day question: What to wear??!!
Not surprising, really, considering all the airplanes and airports and cities I’ve been in in the past few weeks, but irritating nonetheless. Also irritating is the fact that the plumbing’s messed up in the apartment – with leaky sinks and backed up drains and dirty water coming up from the shower floor drain – so I can’t take a long steamy shower to clear out my head. At least the toilet works.
But I have five days and a wake-up before The First Day, so I’m not too worried; plenty of time to get better. I don’t have much singing to do this week, either. I’m prepared for whatever they might ask of me as the cover on the first day of rehearsal, which probably won’t be much, but I’m prepared. Czech is a great language, seems to be right in the middle, aurally, between German and Russian. As long as my L’s stay forward and bright (not the dark, swallowed L of Russian), and I get enough “dj” in that tricky R, I’ll be fine.
I’m spending time now with the Strauss, listening, looking, working out rhythms and words; all that “armchair work” I can do without singing. And I think I’ll take a nap…
I’ve been looking at the Met online rehearsal schedule, and, um, can I just say that I’m a bit dazed by the names I see on that list?!! I mean, everybody knows that the Big Kids work at the Big House, but until I saw it in black and white, it hadn’t quite sunk in that I’ll be in rehearsals, hanging out in the cafeteria, saying hello in the halls, etc., with some of the biggest names in the business. Not to mention watching them in action! Voigt, Damrau, Mattila, Levine, Swenson, Croft, Frittoli, Villazon… the list goes on and on.
Now, I’m not expecting to become bosom buddies with these folks. I'm sure we'll all be cordial, but when I say I’ll be in the cafeteria with them, imagine high school, with the cool seniors at the center table and the freshmen music geeks on the outskirts. That’s kind of what I’m picturing! I just hope I can find the bathroom and that no big bully knocks my books out of my arms.
And, of course, that eternal First Day question: What to wear??!!
Extremes
Denver is reeling this week, and I’m not talking about the fact that the Broncos aren’t in the playoffs. Darrent Williams, the young cornerback, was killed on New Year’s Eve in what appears to be a random case of club violence and drive-by shooting.
When I watched the Christmas-miracle of a game last week, my dad pointed him out, saying, “I’m really looking forward to watching this guy develop.” He was a talented player, obviously, making some exciting plays, but it was also clear that he was a good man. His smile was big and his good-nature came through from the field to our living room. When I saw the headlines, I was sure they must be talking about another player. But they weren’t. I bet there aren’t many people in Denver who care about the playoffs anymore…
For a beautiful tribute and a Buddhist perspective on murder, please visit Denver-based James at The Buddhist Blog. “May we all be more mindful of our actions that we might not water the seeds of anger and violence in ourselves, others and in our greater world.”
And for something on the other extreme of the human spectrum, my brother shared this story from today’s New York Times: A Man Down, a Train Arriving, and a Stranger Makes a Choice. What a hero! “I don’t feel like I did anything spectacular.” Well, let me assure you, Mr. Autrey, when the majority of stories in the papers are tales of the depravity of humanity, your actions were spectacular.
More from Gothamist: "...it ain't about being a hero, it's just being able to be here and help the next person."
And now back to your regularly scheduled programming…
When I watched the Christmas-miracle of a game last week, my dad pointed him out, saying, “I’m really looking forward to watching this guy develop.” He was a talented player, obviously, making some exciting plays, but it was also clear that he was a good man. His smile was big and his good-nature came through from the field to our living room. When I saw the headlines, I was sure they must be talking about another player. But they weren’t. I bet there aren’t many people in Denver who care about the playoffs anymore…
For a beautiful tribute and a Buddhist perspective on murder, please visit Denver-based James at The Buddhist Blog. “May we all be more mindful of our actions that we might not water the seeds of anger and violence in ourselves, others and in our greater world.”
And for something on the other extreme of the human spectrum, my brother shared this story from today’s New York Times: A Man Down, a Train Arriving, and a Stranger Makes a Choice. What a hero! “I don’t feel like I did anything spectacular.” Well, let me assure you, Mr. Autrey, when the majority of stories in the papers are tales of the depravity of humanity, your actions were spectacular.
More from Gothamist: "...it ain't about being a hero, it's just being able to be here and help the next person."
And now back to your regularly scheduled programming…
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