A Voice, a Vision, an Adventure!
Welcome to the ramblings of an international opera singer as she travels the world, searching for beauty and possibility in the world and on its stages.
I'm grateful for the Teatro Real (especially in this RIDICULOUS LIGHT! I mean, seriously, are you kidding me with this?!?!) It's a truly lovely place to work for a number of reasons, but really the only one I need to list, is the amazing people that make up the staff here. It's a relatively "new" theater, in that it re-opened just over (roughly) 10 years ago as an opera theater, and so all the people on the staff have a sense of ownership, that they have built this theater back with their own sweat, and there is a tremendous, beautiful sense of pride that permeates all aspects of the hustle and bustle backstage. They really treasure the quality of work they do, and THEY LOVE THE MUSIC! I'll tell you, in as much as my experience can judge, this is the only backstage staff I've encountered that can sing along with "Fuor del Mar" - and I promise I'm not exaggerating! It's a gift to be working alongside people who really love the music, the singers, their jobs - and that have great senses of humor, something especially valuable in a show like "Idomeneo".
I first stepped into this city nearly 7 years ago to the day for my first European "Cenerentola" in the summer of 2001. I don't think I had the nerve to actually speak to too many people, as I was just trying to stay above water and act like I was full of confidence, when I was anything but, and I just remember secretly hoping that I wouldn't be fired. It was the first time I met singers like Raul Gimenez and Carlos Chausson, and I remember them for their generosity and willingness to offer advice and support to a new kid on the block. I think it was when I first started to realize that I was joining a family of remarkable people - not an evil den of divas waiting to rip your vocal cords out, but kind hearted, hard working, real people. I snuck into the back door as a complete (and I mean, completely) unknown singer, and the public here reached out to me with their warmth and made this scared singer feel most welcome.
Two years ago I sang my first German role here (Since it was only one line, I'll opt not to count the "Slave" in Salome which was my official Houston Grand Opera debut role.) During the run, my Dad turned quite ill, and I knew I had to go home to be with him in the hospital; the outpouring of support from the theater made an unbearable situation possible to endure. I will never forget their kindness. And now I'm back, surrounded by the same beautiful people, a bit less worried about being fired, more familiar with where to find the best gazpacho in town, and happy to listen to them sing along backstage! Besos para todos!!!
Again, I'm grateful for comfortable shoes! Poor Cenerentola might have to go around in rags, but I guarantee you she doesn't have aching feet! It's actually also a bonus since this is quite a physical show for me, and it makes my chances for wiping out a bit smaller! It's true that I'm quite accident prone, and after many a spill on the stage (oddly enough, usually in the role of Rosina - she's given me 5 different ankle injuries!), I'm always keen to avoid those accidental falls witnessed by thousands of on-lookers!
I was all the more relieved to finish last night's show on my feet - it was a live broadcast on Spanish National Television (and also taped for future DVD release!) I love these kinds of live broadcasts, especially when they're a video feed as well, because the level of adrenalin surges (who needs those "Happy Pills" when we've got it in abundance naturally!), and the demand for concentration inches up, which I think gives a better overall performance for the people in the audience: everyone seems to win. I do love knowing there is a camera zooming in to capture our every expression, because the second I drop concentration, or committment, or honesty, it reads like a flashing neon light in the desert. It just makes me a better performer. Of course, it's also a tough mental game, because it's tempting to start singing with the single aim of 'perfection' instead of 'expression', and that's a thing I continue to learn . (I suppose it's a true predicament for all performances, but knowing that it is captured for eternity can add a certain degree of pressure.) Luckily, I'm getting more opportunities to participate in these kinds of broadcasts, so it's a skill I think I'm acquiring more with each event, but it absolutely requires a strong hold over your self-monitoring side, for if that little critical voice takes over, you're doomed!
Overall I thought it was a good performance (naturally with a gazillion things I'd like to do better), but it felt spontaneous and expressive, with each cast member 'on', and the audience again seemed to really enjoy themselves.
It seems next to impossible that the year 2007 came to a close yesterday. I know I'm not alone in pondering where the year vanished to, how quickly it dispersed seemingly without leaving a trace, or how unlikely it seems that we should be inching closer to this new century's second decade! I should no longer remain shocked when it's time to add a single digit to the end of the year, but I always feel caught off guard, astonished at how quickly the time passed.
To make an all-too convenient analogy, I feel a bit like Octavian wanting desperately to cling to what he knows, unable to grasp the need to change, mixed with the Marschallin endeavoring to stop those insistent hands of time from purging forward. Oh, I don't mean to sound too melodramatic or distraught here - not at all, it's simply that I would prefer to receive the equivalent of a 'get out of jail free' card, only along the lines of 'get one free week to process your life' pass, then I would happily, eagerly, even enthusiastically, jump into '08 with gusto and not a look back.
Why does this year feel a bit heavier than usual to process and catalogue? I suppose it's simply because of the sheer magnitude of change which presented itself to me, combined with the enormous volume of work. Even as I type this, it is dawning on me that 2007 was a truly pivotal year - how it plays out over the course of my life remains to be seen, but there is no doubt that it will be personally, and even perhaps professionally, monumental.
From a purely business standpoint, how could I argue with the past 365 days? I started what will hopefully be a long and rewarding journey with some of the premiere operatic roles: Octavian, Ariodante, and Alcina. Each one proved to be an immense lesson about my craft simply from tackling such demanding masterpieces, about artistic integrity from the exemplary work of my colleagues, and about the kind of work I want to do as an artist - but more on that later. I feel so enriched from these professional experiences, and while they left me quite drained, the amount of energy and insight I gained from plunging full force into them was worth every moment. I also had the joy of returning to two roles that have served me quite well: Rosina and Cenerentola. Returning to these effervescent characters shows me the value of role repetition, serving as a guidepost for how much work goes into getting a role ready to debut.
In some ways it feels as if this was the year of my 'arrival' in New York, if it's necessary to flag that sort of event. Taking part in Peter Gelb's innovative and colossal project of bringing live opera into cinemas across the world, and therefore, astoundingly into the popular culture - a venture that no one in their right mind would have conceived of as feasible a year ago - proved to be an undeniable high point of my career to date. I only give it such importance because I continue to hear from people who tell me what a memorable experience it was, and how it has single-handedly changed their perception of opera. I think those of us that love this craft so much have always believed in the power of opera to captivate and on occasion, truly move people in significant ways, and I'm certain that this new venture of the MET's will go miles and miles to make that possible.
Capping off my time in New York was an encounter that I never could have predicted would have taken on such importance, for I was most fortunate to meet Beverly Sills before the world lost her - one of the pillars and true champions of the American cultural scene. I wish I had more time and opportunity to soak up each of her countless pearls of wisdom, but I will happily take the little time I did have with her, turning to her example of enthusiastic dedication as a role model in using your gifts to, dare I say it, better the world.
One of the more exciting events of the year for me was walking into "Wolf Camera" on Van Ness Street in San Francisco, and meeting Joe, the friendly, knowledgeable, neighborhood camera guru. He introduced me to the magic of a single-lens-reflex camera, and now my husband is calling himself a "Canon Widower". I had no idea the photo bug would capture me so completely, but it has, and I'm loving every minute! I find that I see the world around me differently, that the weight of being away from home is eased a bit as I gain a deeper appreciation for the places I travel to, and that I can chronicle the beautiful encounters with colleagues and friends around the world. (Who knows where it will take me, but if anyone has an 'in' with National Geographic, I'm all ears!)
Speaking of National Geographic, there is no denying that the highlight of my year was our adventure to South Africa. In scoping out the itinerary, I really had no clue what a life changing experience it would be for me, in the sense of seeing the 'real world' in action, of getting a severe 'reality check', and simply being reminded one more welcome time that balance is essential to all that we do. Nature has a way of driving home that point loud and clear, and in the end nature always wins. Any time we upset the natural balance of things, whether on the stage, in our homes, in our hearts or heads, nature is there to provide the needed check and balance. That has been my food for thought ever since stepping foot in that beautiful country, and I truly cannot wait to return.
The final piece of the puzzle of 2007 for me, was the loss of my Mom, compounded by being so close in time to my Dad's passing. Looking back, it seems as if they went out side by side, hand in hand with no time lapse at all - but then I remember the painful, difficult 6 months my Mom spent missing my Dad after he was gone. The last time she saw me perform was at the Cinemark movie theater in Lenexa - and truth be told, that's the reason that event will be a highlight in my life - not because of the professional gains. That was my Mom's chance to shine and revel in the experience of seeing one of her children shine in something they love to do. Countless friends told me at her funeral, just a month after the broadcast, that their last image of my Mom was seeing her cheering with her arms waving over her head, saying, "That's my daughter." I wish I could have been there to see that, but I can only hope that she knew that her influence on my life was one of the singular reasons I was standing on that stage that day, and the applause belonged to her.
While I know it's not the nature of things, I do wish that time could stand still every now and again. What I wouldn't give to see my Dad and Mom standing at their front door waving hello with open arms after a long stay on the road, eager to hear about all the adventure. Even though I love being a world traveller, independent from a very early age, how much I wish that I could ring their doorbell and know that I was home. What I wouldn't give to hear my Dad's voice one more time providing comfort as only he could give, providing guidance and assurance along with the perfect dose of humor.
But time marches on and nature stubbornly stakes its claim on the natural rhythm of things. We seven children all had to say goodbye to our childhood home and carry on without having a clue as to what would come next, or how in the world we could stand with the ground shaken so terribly underneath our tentative feet. I don't profess to know how singing opera ultimately figures into the scheme of things; I still get very upset when a colleague's last thought in the world is generosity or sincerity; I don't begin to pretend that I understand what makes one singer a star, and another disposable; but I'm not sure these are answers I need to find just yet.
2008 will mark the start of my 10th year as a professional opera singer. Could I have predicted ANY of this? Not a chance in hell. But I'm finding my own voice throughout this journey, and while searching for closure is inevitable at this time of year, at the end of this ENORMOUSLY LONG ENTRY, I find that I'm happily looking forward and thrilled at what lies ahead.
And in a final (I swear!) wish for a beautiful New Year in 2008, here's something to start the year off with a perfect, infectious, spontaneous and GIDDY smile - I dare you not to love it!
I am grateful for a beautiful walk to work and for palm trees in December!
It's funny to me also, that after nearly 3 days of rehearsing here in Barcelona, almost all the opera is up on its feet! (As opposed to the 3 weeks we took to stage it last time around!) I appreciate so much the patience and willingness of the director, Joan Font, to integrate the different personalities into 'his' production - something which not all directors are always willing to concede. This time around we have a good mixture of veterans ("there's some Peruvian tenor who apparently has made a name for himself singing this repertoire", she says with tongue firmly in cheek) and newbies, (a Spanish baritone debuting as Dandini - NOT an easy role!) For me, stepping back into the shoes of Angelina is such a welcome, wonderful fit, and it reminds me (once again!) the importance of repeating roles - and repeating them - and repeating them. It's so wonderful to have my mind free of the musical intricacies (aside from working on a few new variations) and technicalities of the role, and simply being able to PLAY her. That is when freedom can spring up, and freedom on stage can be such a magical quality!
I'm definitely grateful to be back in rehearsal for a role that I know inside and out, and in a production that I not only know, but really adore; it's surrounded by a team of enthusiastic, imaginative, life-affirming people who truly enjoy their work, and that makes it a joy to come to the theater each day.
In what will surely become a theme over the next few weeks, I'm also incredibly happy to be in the city of Barcelona! What an amazing city! I was here nearly 2 years ago for 2 quick concerts (my debut and likely retirement of the role "Fenena" in Verdi's Nabucco. I still remember the ovation that rained down on Maria Guleghina and Leo Nucci from the palchi after those performances, as the Liceu crowd immediately introduced itself to me as comprised of truly passionate music lovers. Singing here, I expect, will be a unique thrill. But the fever and pulse of this city hooked me, and I've been counting down the days until I could come back and explore it fully! So far, it has not disappointed:
Getting settled into a routine again feels very good. Since the final days of performing in Geneva, it has been non-stop for me. My time in NYC was exactly what I needed. First on the list was visiting my voice teacher and checking in to make sure things were in working order. It had probably been close to 2 years since I last saw him, and a lot of new notes have flown under the vocal bridge - and that can spell trouble for a singer. While I closely monitored and scrutinized myself through the new Massenet and the Strauss and the Handel, there still is no replacing that trusted set of ears outside of yourself to keep you in line. (Oh, how I miss the luxury of weekly voice lessons!) I do remember one of Steve's very first comments to those of us fresh and wide-eyed to the Houston Opera Studio some 10 or so years ago:
"My goal is to get you out of my studio."
Well, goal achieved! And truth be told, he was 100% right. I did not have the luxury of being near NY to systematically prepare all the past new repertoire with him - I had to rely on the skills and technique he taught me over the years to guide me, and ultimately I had to trust myself. (Easier said than sometimes done, by the way!) Reality crashes into your psyche when there is no one to turn to, and you must provide the answers to the questions you are seeking. My theory is that this is the process which begins to define us as artists - slowly, but hopefully surely, we begin to form what it is we want and need to say. That is our own to discover along the way.
A quick stop in Paris brought a crazy concert, which ended up being quite fun, despite no sleep, no jewels, and brand new repertoire being rolled out for the first time! A wonderfully supportive public made the evening quite special for me, and any chance to sing those pieces of Handel are such a gift. However, I should have known better than to use music not in a binder: there was a minor mishap due to a faulty page turn which left the poor bassoonist in "Venti turbini" playing a rather exposed solo when it should have been a ravishing duet with the hired singer! Note well taken.
But now, it's back to familiar fare, and honestly, the timing couldn't be better!
Photos:
*Our choreographer, Xevi, puts Cenerentola's 'rats' through their paces.
*One of the many extraordinary street artists which adorn the streets of Barcelona, "Edward Scissorhands"
I truly did have the strongest of intentions of getting a journal (or even two!) written during my time in Houston, chronicling the multi-faceted events that kept me more than busy for these past 6 weeks, but alas, I’m in nearly the same, identical place on the highway as for my last entry, simply headed in the other direction. (Ah, and yet how sweet that it is the direction of home!) I suppose it’s another example of life coming full circle giving us a golden opportunity for closure! (In rehearsal for Cenerentola at HGO)
Were it not for the fender-bender which we encountered just north of Dallas yesterday evening, (ok, let’s be honest…can a ‘fender-bender’ accurately describe an accident that breaks your radiator, power steering and air conditioning all in one swipe? I didn’t think so.), I’d still be riding an enormous high from the magical experience of this Cenerentola at the Houston Grand Opera. From the first moment of the first rehearsal, I knew this would be a special experience. The directing team, El Comediants, from Barcelona Spain (the very same squad responsible for creating the Opening Ceremony to the Barcelona Summer Olympics!), arrived on the scene bubbling over with creative ideas and a contagious, positive attitude, feeding their imaginative concepts by the minute. They had a very clear idea of the ‘look’ they wanted for the show, and yet were still completely flexible in letting us throw our thoughts and impulses into the fire. What we ended up with was a VIBRANT, intelligent, funny, heartbreaking, fresh approach, full of traditional as well as new ideas, wild costumes, rambunctious rats, geometric makeup, and an audience standing on its feet every night!
I cannot stress enough the importance of having a positive working environment where the singers not only feel free to contribute and take risks during the rehearsal process, but are encouraged to do so, as well. I think with this approach you arrive at the opening night with a cast that isn’t preoccupied with being ‘correct’, but instead are busy CREATING on the stage. I never want to work any other way!
I was able to steal away just before the opening night to receive an award from my Alma Mater, Wichita State University, where they generously bestowed on me the honor of “Young Alumni of the Year”. To say I was honored and deeply touched would be quite an understatement, not only because of the number of distinguished graduates the University consistently produces, but also because of the number of old friends and supporters that came to share in the evening. In seeing the faces of the influential professors beaming with pride, the committed members of the first church choir to hire me as their conductor and leader giddy with excitement, and some of my oldest, dearest friends reducing me to tears of laughter with the never tiresome recollections of Madrigal Feasts and choir tour escapades, I realized once again how many people have had a hand in guiding and preparing me for my life. I was quite emotional receiving the award, as thoughts of my Dad’s numerous trips to hear me try out the odd choir solo or my first Hansel were still quite fresh, as I suspect they will remain for quite sometime. What washed over me as these smiling faces listened to every word of my off-the-cuff acceptance speech was that each of them is with me every single time I take the stage. I looked out on their familiar faces and realized that they all contributed to the building blocks of my foundation – NOT ONLY as a performer, but more importantly, as a person. I’m so proud to say I am “Shocker”, and their continued recognition and support mean so much to me. It served as a beautiful reminder that you never know what contribution a solitary person just might bring to your table, nor what kind of effect you just may have on them. How thrilling to know we are always contributing!
(As Hansel at Wichita State University, 1991-2)
A great opportunity happened upon me just before the final dress rehearsal, in that I was invited out to a local high school to sing and speak with them about ‘what I do’. I insisted that they attend the final dress rehearsal before I visited them so they could see me in the context of ‘what I do’, and I think it was a roaring success, judging from the ‘whoops’ and ‘woo-hoos’ resonating from the hall that night! Come to find out, even though it was the first opera for every single one of them, they LOVED the show, and when I walked into their classroom, their enthusiasm and excitement bowled me over. I was mentioning this visit to Anthony Freud, HGO’s General Director, the next day, and I said, “Who knows if any of them will grow up to sing in opera, or run a company, but MAYBE they’ll buy a ticket in the future, or contribute $100 down the way.” And he simply looked at me, shook his head, and replied, “but Joyce, that’s not why we do it. That’s not what outreach and education are about: they are NOT a means to an end. We do it simply because we must.” I knew in that precise moment that Houston is an extremely fortunate city to have this man of vision at the helm, and that the world of Opera in general has hope, knowing there are people running it who have such a committed, focused belief in what we do.
Which makes for a lovely segue to a truly horrid article that recently polluted my inbox: there is a ‘journalist’ who writes for the El Paso Times, Mr. Muench, and he saw fit to berate and bully the El Paso City Council for passing a grant to help the El Paso Opera bail itself out of dire financial times. Actually, he saw fit to ridicule the art form with outdated and offensive stereotypes, proceeding to chide the children of the town warning them that they would surely rather take their “TAKS” tests than attend an opera! Well, I love a good fight, and adored registering my response (along with hundreds of other singers), and adored being handed the opportunity to defend my passion to this idiot. I suppose there always have been idiots afloat out there, spewing venom and poison against things that make them think and which challenge their comfort zone, but I for one am thrilled there are also intelligent, passionate individuals who do not let bullies like this man intimidate them into veering away from their vision. We have people like Anthony Freud who believe in committing to a community and reaching out to young people, simply because ‘we must’.
We face many obstacles, as have all the great artists of the past, but we are strong in the fight, and we are winning one small classroom at a time! I don’t know how much I can truly affect on my own, but I can say that my commitment is to bring honesty and conviction to all that I do.
(With the committed and always brilliant Cathy Cook: a fellow WSU alumni, as well as a beautiful person and singer)
So we’re almost to the end of the journey. I get 10 days (whoops, make that 9 days, thanks to my fender…ok, to my accident!) at home to: file my 2006 taxes, spend 2 days doing master classes at a local college, memorize the final stubborn songs for my recital, figure out my gown situation for said recitals, have a birthday party, catch up with family and friends, bake a little, or maybe bake a lot, chop away a bit more at stubborn, glorious Octavian, dry clean my stale, luggage-bound winter clothes, get some face time with my squirmy, boisterous, brilliant nieces and nephews that are growing by bounds and leaps, sort through the heaped up mail and bills, throw in a few interviews to promote my new disc, address the nasty leak in the master bath that was rearing its ugly head on my last 2 day stay at home, squeeze in my unwelcome dental exam, and maybe, just maybe take in the current episodes of 24. (JACK! Your DAD!!!!) Wait. Is that all? OH. Looks like constant shoveling may be in the forecast as well!
Here’s to a beautiful Valentine’s Day for you all, and let’s hope the fender-bender quota has been met for the next several decades!
I no longer get an asterisk! When you debut at the Metropolitan Opera House, your name appears on the infamous poster outside the entrance in the Lincoln Center Plaza, and on the ONE and ONLY occasion that is the evening of your debut, you are given a delicate, beautiful, perfectly proportioned asterisk, signaling that you will appear on the stage of the Met for the very first time that evening. My asterisk was for November 2, 2005. It was my one and only shot to have that little star by my name. And I loved it! I had set the goal for myself to find a way to truly enjoy the event, knowing that if I could manage that for myself, the audience might just come along for the ride; and in fact, I think they did. I truly had the time of my life, and will certainly not forget it for quite some time.
Perhaps the best part of the evening was being able to share it with so many beloved people – in some ways it felt as if it was a night more for ‘them’ than for me. As I’ve mentioned before, it takes an enormous amount of support and encouragement along the way for someone to be given the chance to have that asterisk by their name, and during the entire evening of chasing Barbarina and various chorus girls, I felt as if each one of those many people in my life were on the stage with me. Throughout the run I had numerous people make the long trip to share in the experience with me, from my parents, to 2 of my sisters, to my little brother, old school friends (Mark and Robi, hello!), to my college accompanists, several people in the ‘business’ who really took risks with me and gave me incredible opportunities, previous sponsors (now dear friends), so very many special, wonderful people. And even though it felt like a 3 weeklong wedding, it was glorious. I felt very warmly welcomed by the discerning NY Audience, and can guarantee that I will never forget my Asterisk Evening at the Met!
But, it wasn’t all Cherubino for me during NY. 5 days before I was to leave for my first day of rehearsal, back at the end of October, I received a call from my agent, asking if I could get on a plane immediately, learn the staging of the Met’s Cenerentola in a day, and stand by for what was to be it’s opening performance of the season the following evening. I was in the Apple store trying to get my files transferred from my old PC to the new Mac (which I’m still not completely comfortable with!), thinking, “but if I leave KC now, will my computer be ready? can I still get the oil changed in my car? how will I possibly pack for the next 8 months in such a short time? what about my niece’s baptism? how can I get my prescriptions lined up in time? and where is my score of Cenerentola…oh, never mind, I don’t think I need it.” I don’t know that I’ve ever had a more hectic 24 hours. It wasn’t the prospect of jumping into the show that unnerved me (I actually was quite confident I could get through it and enjoy it a lot), but it was the prospect of not having the final 5 days at home to organize my life for the next YEAR. You see, I’m essentially on the road, more or less, roughly until the start of 2007! So that threw me into a bit more of a panic than all those notes Rossini wrote.
However, I just managed to pull it off, and I had a magnificent rehearsal the next day, where all the covers were called in to rehearse with me. I can’t thank them enough – it was probably the last thing they wanted to do on their day off, but they were incredibly supportive and the most generous of colleagues. I had a lovely surprise when I walked into “the office” for that crazy day: I saw on the podium Scott Bergeson, who was my conductor in the Merola performance of Cenerentola back in 1997. It was really phenomenal to walk into a nerve-wracking situation and feel the genuine support of such generous colleagues such as Scott. And you know something? It was an incredibly easy rehearsal, as if we had just sung together last week! I don’t think people that sit in the audience have any idea of the incredible talent that fills the halls and the underground rehearsal spaces there at the Met. There is an unbelievable abundance of people behind the scenes that make that place produce the magic on a nightly basis. My esteem for them is off the charts. In the end, the scheduled singer went on, I had a big dinner with dear friends, enjoyed a Cosmopolitan, (or maybe it was two), and tried to come down off the incredible rush of the previous few days.
But that’s not ALL! In the midst of Nozze rehearsals, I was asked to jump into the new production of Romeo and Juliette, which was a highly anticipated event slated for Natalie Dessay and Ramon Vargas. It’s a role I’ve never sung (and have since retired, in all likelihood!) and I had to think very hard about the energy it would require. Here I was, not yet with that coveted asterisk in my back pocket, and being asked to learn a completely new role for the Met? I definitely didn’t want to risk sacrificing my Cherubino to learn another role, but I was surrounded by incredibly patient and supportive people, and with a few sleepless nights, and a couple of incredibly long days, I did indeed get through, and managed, again, to really enjoy it.
So that was my New York Experience. I left that amazing city bursting with emotions, feeling wholly exhausted, spent by the energy that is New York City, and completely charged at the same time: after all, I had worked hard for that little, perfect, memorable asterisk!
(Photos: Losing my asterisk outside the MET; with my beautiful sister, Amy, my dear friend, Jana, and another of beautiful sisters, Emily, all helping me celebrate surviving the Lion's Den behind us; and with the love of my life, Leo, atop Rockefeller Center, enjoying the glory that is the Big Apple)
Dialogue. I love a great dialogue! And perhaps one thing that the general theater-going audience may not realize, is that there is a very real and palpable dialogue which occurs between the performers and the audience when I am on stage. Almost from the very first bars of music, and I can feel an energy between ‘you’ in the house and ‘us’ on the stage. For example, I’m currently performing in ‘La Cenerentola’ here at La Scala, and the dialogue feels as colorful and animated as you would expect from any proud, gesturing Italian. As the curtain rises on this production, and you hear the first chords of the overture (led masterfully by the incomparable Maestro Campanella), here is what happens: I am ‘pre-set’ in the house, invisible to the audience, and I’m making certain my stool is arranged properly, that the coffee grinder in just the right spot, that the bowl I hand over to the bass later on in the scene is set just so, I visit my ‘Tisbe’ stage left to wish her a great show, and then over to stage right to wish my long-time ‘Clorinda’ the very same, (which usually elicits a rash of jokes and laughter between us, as I call her the ‘Carol Burnett’ of the opera stage!), I high-five Roberto, the ASM (and major cheerleader), and then the final lip rolls to make sure the voice is moving fluidly as I hum along with the second violins… and then the applause for the overture erupts: the audience has spoken! Let the discourse begin! After the first chords of the overture, this is the second burst of adrenaline I eagerly await to let me know there is an audience here and that they’re ready to be carried away for a few hours. As soon as the curtain rises on our little house, there is an immediate energy which I can feel that you send across the orchestra and footlights and into our little scene on the stage. The show has begun.
For my opening night, the energy that was sent to us on the stage lit us up. It was infectious. The energy charged with dazzling electricity. It was the kind of dialogue that makes you sit on the edge of your chair and savor every word the other person shares with you. And so the evening went! I think as performers, often the best sound can be thunderous applause, which happily was in ample supply for the opening; but sometimes the sweetest sound is that of rapt silence which occasionally accompanies the softest passages, those most magical, suspended moments -- these silences are the parts of the dialogue that tell us that you’re truly listening, and it causes us to focus our tone even more, to infuse each phrase with even more intensity and to send it to you in with a laser beam-like intention. This is my favorite kind of dialogue with you, the audience: It takes a huge 3,000 seat theater, full of busy technicians backstage, scurrying ushers in the lobby, and singers still warming up in their dressing rooms -- and transforms it all into a tiny, intimate, magical space where we all tell a story.
I just love it.
And I truly love playing this role of Cenerentola. I’m beginning to see, only now, the real value of singing a role over and over, as the great singers of the past were afforded the luxury to do. I think I sang a very decent Cinderella my first time out (8 years ago in a Stern Grove production with Merola, IN ENGLISH!) however, there is simply no comparison to how I feel in her shoes now, after perhaps 50 performances or more of the role. If you’re a young singer and intend on undertaking some of the big roles, begin NOW to devour the role: not just vocally (PLEASE, not just vocally!), but really go into the text, into the musical language of the character, and give it a lot of time to season in your mind and heart. I feel very different this time out at La Scala, compared to 4 years ago, and I know that’s strictly due to experience on the stage. I’m so grateful to have the chance to revisit these particular shoes!
That having been said, American singers, a word of warning: get used to singing without air conditioning when you sing in Europe. Just accept it now. I’m still a little unclear as to why, exactly, it seems to be an epidemic among European Singers (whom I respect tremendously, let me be very clear!), that they are unable to sing when there is a hint of a whirl of an air conditioning unit located, perhaps, somewhere in the near vicinity of the city in which they are performing! And did I mention that July in Milan is as close to Dante’s Inferno as I ever want to get? If you’re taking part in a summer program (Glimmerglass, Chautauqua, Seagull, etc) and you’re dying in the heat -- just smile and think of it as your training for your La Scala debut in the heat of an Italian Summer!
The bottom line is that I’m eternally grateful to the audience for being a part of such a wonderful dialogue. As I mentioned in an earlier post, it can sometimes prove a bit fatiguing to be up against the more unpleasant elements of this business, however, when I’m given the chance to truly engage and sing with all my heart, and when it is received so well on the other side of the footlights, well, it is just a tremendous gift to me.
GRAZIE MILLE, MILANO! GOOD NIGHT!
(Now time for me to settle in for a bit of Wimbledon watching and cheering Lance on to hopefully, his 7th Victory!)
(Photos: Magical curtain call, that coveted poster, with the brilliant Roberto de Candia as Dandini - a truly wonderful performer and PERSON!)
Talk about your change of scenery! Last I wrote I was in the upper Midwest in Chamber Music Heaven -- now? I am in Milan, Italy and my temporary apartment is situated just above Via Montenapoleone, perhaps the most famous (and possibly dangerous) shopping street in the world: home to Gucci, Versace, D&G and all the rest! Honestly? It's not a place I would call very 'homey', but for the next 5 weeks, I'll have the challenge of making it just that! I've had quite a busy time since Minnesota, and in a way, it sums up what my life as an singer encompasses.
My time back in Kansas City flew by, as it always seems to do, with never enough hours in the day to accomplish all I need to do with those few, precious hours actually in my home. Lots of family to see, lots of friends to catch up on, music to prepare, and thanks to my air conditioning breaking down in my car, 4 different trips to the mechanic to achieve an actual CURE for the cooling system! I also continued the painting project in my loft, and I'm happy to say that the final brush was cleaned out just in time to pack for my 3 ½ months abroad in Europe this summer! (The scraping of the baseboards will have to wait until I get back in the fall!)
I kicked off my marathon tour here in Europe with a challenging concert in Halle, the birthplace of Handel, and the host to a very vivid and busy Handel Festival each year. To sing some of Handel's great masterpieces in the Festival was indeed an honor. Among a mixture of arias and duets, it was my debut performing 'Ariodante' arias, singing "Dopo notte" and "Scherza infida" in public for the first time, and it was just enough of a taste to really excite me for when I will be able to perform the entire role on stage. It is quite a masterpiece! I must say, however, that this was a tough job. It seemed to be about everything else, rather than simply making music, and that is a tough position to be in when your goal is to move the audience emotionally through this music. Instead, it seemed to be about a lot of other things. (Side note: in defense of singers who sometimes make demanding requests: While I fully admit there needs always to be rationality and balance at play, often those demands are requested to keep the musician's mind on doing their job -- making music. I find that in instances where I need to do the jobs of other people, I arrive at the concert or performance with a great deal of difficulty trying to focus simply on the music at hand -- and this can be a great source of frustration.) This was one such experience. However, as they say, "the show must go on", and indeed it did, and in the end I think we did make beautiful music -- I just want you to know it's not always an easy path to forge! However, if you are anywhere near Germany, keep an eye out for it on your National Television, as we were filmed for broadcast! As soon as I hear of a broadcast date, I'll let you know!
Then I repacked my 2 enormous suitcases and headed towards Milan, ready for the next adventure. And it is La Scala, which naturally means adventures are waiting to be had! It is a theater which functions as no other I have ever witnessed. As is typical of this house, the second cast begins rehearsing (the first cast is generally allowed to show up quite late into the process), and we work very intensely and cohesively. The talk immediately turns to 'when are your performances?', and of course, no one REALLY knows. La Scala has the rather exasperating practice of delaying the doling out of information to the artist, instead, choosing to hold their exact plan of action very close to the vest. Luckily, I discovered all of this on my first trip to this theater 4 years ago, and I find that I can take it a bit more in stride this time around; however, not being able to set your pacing in rehearsals for your opening creates an incredible challenge. For example, we, as the second cast, have no idea of how many orchestra rehearsals we will be given, if any, and if or when we might get stage rehearsal time; how in the world do you gauge yourself in the rehearsal room with only the piano, not knowing when your next run-thru of the piece will be? It just possibly could be 12 days from now in front of a packed house at perhaps the most famous opera house in the world! You just never know.
The good thing to take from this, is that I approach each rehearsal now very seriously, singing nearly everything, and mentally preparing myself for my opening, whenever it may be. This kind of training, to my mind, is invaluable, as I attribute the majority of the success or failure of a given performance to one's mental preparation. I also treasure the collaborative time with my cast -- we are given the chance to really create a cohesive ensemble which will have a lot of chemistry come the opening night. Personally, I am not a fan of the 'add water and stir' approach to opera, and so I highly value this quiet time the seconda compagnia gets to slowly create our own version of Cenerentola!
It is definitely a challenge to stay focused on the task at hand, and to keep from being pulled into the many machinations which are simply put, out of your control. It is a juggling act. While balancing on a very tight wire. Singing. That is why after a concert such as in Halle, and a first week of tough rehearsals, I will be thrilled to get in front of the audience again, and just make music. Even if it is on a high wire. Juggling. While singing a lot of fast notes! Let the games begin!
(photos: Relaxing at Lake Como; In front of the coveted La Scala Poster for Cenerentola)
Chamber music: is there anything more satisfying to perform? (Well, I suppose if I’m really honest I could ask the same question about singing Handel or Mozart, but I’m in Chamber Music Heaven right now, so I’ll bask in this moment for the time being!) Last night I had the immense pleasure of singing two completely different works for the first time, and it was an evening that will stay with me for a long time. I’m here to sing with the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, and to make music with such esteemed players really is a joy. It’s the interplay that you can achieve with a chamber group that I just adore: in opera, we stand on the stage, towering (or so it seems) high above the orchestra, which dwells in the depths of the orchestra ‘pit’, and it can feel nearly impossible to achieve a sense of unity. Sadly, I find that often an atmosphere of “us vs. them” seems to emerge, which makes it hard to feel as though you’re working toward a higher cause. However, with a group of 25 players, a conductor and the singer — we all stand on the same level, play for the same purpose, (we can actually achieve eye contact with each other), so the sense of creating a piece together can bring a real excitement. When you have players as generous as in this group, the energy can be electric.
The other electricity of the evening was propelled by the debut of Jake Heggie’s new orchestrated version of his “The Deepest Desire” song cycle. He originally wrote this piece for piano, flute and mezzo, and the St. Paul Orchestra commissioned a new orchestration of the piece (at conductor Patrick Summers suggestion). The result was simply out of this world. I’ve performed the cycle of number of times in recital and have actually recorded the piano version (for release later in the summer!), so I know the work well — but let me tell you, singing it with an orchestra is a completely different force! Jake has orchestrated it so colorfully and hauntingly and thrillingly (what an atmosphere the alto flute can create!), that the result seemed to hold the audience in a state of rapture. I wish I could describe perfectly the feeling of breathing life into a work for the first time. This is a piece that had never been heard before; we were charged with bringing it to life for the very first time — creating these words and phrases and music that had never been heard before, and it is such an exhilarating feeling when you know it is reaching and touching the audience in front of you. This is the very reason I do what I do.
I’m certain that this is destined to be a very significant new work for singers and orchestras to perform — it’s American, poignant, beautiful, memorable, and uplifting. Thank you to Patrick for championing it, to Jake for writing it, to James Kortz, the orchestra’s librarian, for commissioning this piece in honor of his wife, Catherine Shipman Kortz, and finally, to Sr. Helen Prejean for sharing her moving, inspiring words with Jake — the foundation of this entire piece.
The second piece, I was singing for the first time was Rossini’s cantata “Giovanna d’Arco”. Someone help me out here, as we were trying to surmise over dinner if this has been performed — in it’s orchestral version — in the United States before. We’re not sure at all, but we may have just given the North American Premiere of this monster!! Like Jake’s cycle, Rossini composed this work for piano and voice, and upon Teresa Berganza’s request, the Rossini Festival in Pesaro commissioned an orchestration of it back in 1989. It is a 16 minute ‘mini-opera’, and it is one of the most thrilling things I’ve ever sung. (But I can understand why it’s not sung too often — it is also one of the most difficult things I’ve ever undertaken!) I came off stage and was just shaking with adrenalin and energy, and very nearly ready to go back and sing through it all again!
But once again, I had the sense, since it is so rarely performed, that people were experiencing it for the first time, and truly discovering this piece along with myself and the orchestra. This is the sensation I aim to achieve each time I perform — especially if it’s the umpteenth performance of Rosina or Cenerentola or Cherubino: I’m certain that there will be at least one person in our audience that has never before experienced the delight of discovering the brilliance of these works, and I am the person who has been charged to introduce them to these masterpieces. I took my niece, Kelsey, to see Le Nozze di Figaro in Kansas City a few weeks ago. I purposefully didn’t tell her a word of the plot, and was curious to see if she would follow it, ‘get it’, or even enjoy it. I had forgotten how surprising it is to watch the Count discover Cherubino in the chair, to see how Figaro squirms his way (just barely) out of all his jams, and to feel the deep, deep pain the Countess encounters in scene after scene — we take it for granted far too often that we all know ‘how it goes’. This is what singing new works has taught me — I don’t ever want to take one note for granted.
The final thought about this great weekend (which isn’t over yet, we do concerts tonight and tomorrow), is what a JOY it is to make music with friends. Both Patrick and Jake are men who are in music because they believe deeply in the power of it’s language and because they believe deeply in the human spirit’s NEED for it. To be a part of a project with people like that is a rare, precious gift!
Truth be told, however, as much as I love these concerts, I’ll be very happy to get back home, because I have 10 more days free to finish painting my loft!! My time at home is so limited that I become a bit like Martha Stewart on steroids and aim to accomplish as many projects as possible, (in amongst seeing family and friends, studying, catching up on my Royals, and telling myself I should rest a bit)! So far, I’ve gone through 5 different colors of paint (finally settling on orange and red…), and WAY too much blue painter’s tape. It’s been heavenly! I am sure that after all the paint fumes I’ll be more than ready to get back to work and spend the summer with Rossini in Italy! Fra poco…
(Photos: With Patrick Summers, Jake Heggie, James Kotrz, and a private ketchup bottle joke; my painting 'masterpiece' - my art is the color of the wall, the actual hanging art work is by none other than Patrick Summers! )
I'm grateful for the Teatro Real (especially in this RIDICULOUS LIGHT! I mean, seriously, are you kidding me with this?!?!) It's a truly lovely place to work for a number of reasons, but really the only one I need to list, is the amazing people that make up the staff here. It's a relatively "new" theater, in that it re-opened just over (roughly) 10 years ago as an opera theater, and so all the people on the staff have a sense of ownership, that they have built this theater back with their own sweat, and there is a tremendous, beautiful sense of pride that permeates all aspects of the hustle and bustle backstage. They really treasure the quality of work they do, and THEY LOVE THE MUSIC! I'll tell you, in as much as my experience can judge, this is the only backstage staff I've encountered that can sing along with "Fuor del Mar" - and I promise I'm not exaggerating! It's a gift to be working alongside people who really love the music, the singers, their jobs - and that have great senses of humor, something especially valuable in a show like "Idomeneo". 
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