Gratitude - Day 57

It has been over 8 years since I last walked through the stage door of the Lyric Opera of Chicago; in 1999 I was fresh out of the Houston Opera Studio, and was hired to cover the role of Ruggiero in Handel's "Alcina". As far as I was concerned, I had MADE IT! I was a professional singer collecting a flesh and blood paycheck. I had been granted a front row seat to watch Renee Fleming, Natalie Dessay and Jennifer Larmore shape their performances in daily rehearsals, under the guidance of Robert Carson (in his famous production from Paris). My daily goal was to act cool - to act like I really belonged there, so no one would guess that I was secretly freaking out at my 'luck', and that they wouldn't realize their mistake in my casting and kick me out of the room!

Anyone lucky enough to have scored a ticket to one of their sold-out performances surely have those glorious voices still ringing in their memories. It was a magical time for me, because here I was, not being kicked to the curb, and witnessing first hand how a world class performance was born.

The image of Renee hovering in the shadows in the far upstage right corner in utter despair during "Ah, mio cor", or of Natalie making love to Bradamante's left-behind jacket with each staccato and flirty turn of the phrase in her show-stopping final aria of Act 1, or Jennifer's coaxing of the most plaintive legato line for her "Verdi prati" were all hallmarks of great singing and acting, and without question set the artistic bar to the highest level for this impressionable young mezzo. I didn't want it to end!

So many memories linger from that magical time here:

*Each of those stars were real people, generous in their artistry and humility, giving breathtaking performances, and serving as a beautiful example to an up and coming singer - one who, by the way, was clocking their every move.

*John Nelson, the conductor, graciously agreed to hear me (a real-live nobody) for an audition in his spare time, which in turn began a lovely relationship with him, giving birth to many memorable projects together - and encouraging this eager singer that you just MIGHT be in the right place at the right time, but you will never know when it's actually coming - so preparation really is the key.

*A simple gesture can make all the difference. Having served as a cover on COUNTLESS operas and projects in the years of my training, I knew the drill: be impeccably prepared, sit quietly in the corner of the room, never making your presence known unless called upon, and graciously never express how disappointed you are that after all your work, you will never have the chance to prove yourself to everyone. You can't begin to imagine the thrill I felt when I, a cover - a mere understudy! - received an invitation to the opening night party. That was a first for me - just to be included was an enormous honor.

But I was not prepared for what followed: after the wine was poured and the buffet had been depleted a bit, Mr. William Mason, LOC's General Director, rose to make the traditional introductions of the triumphant cast to the patrons and donors in attendance. As he began speaking, it dawned on me that he was talking about the importance of great covers in this repertoire - and he actually took the time to say my name and introduce me to this star-studded crowd. I know it doesn't sound like much - a simple introduction - but I was bowled over by what he was saying: my service had been invaluable to the Lyric Opera of Chicago! That gesture made such an impression on me, that I knew I would do anything to return to a theater that treasured their artists in such a demonstrative, sincere way.

*But perhaps the most important memory of that period came without warning or lighting bolt: I remember sitting quietly in the "cover corner" watching the intense rehearsal unfold before my eyes, and thinking, "You know - if I had to go on for a performance, I would actually be ok. I think I could actually make something of this role."

Again, it doesn't sound like much, but I felt some sort of an 'artistic shift' happening within me. It wasn't "I can sing this as well as her..." as I probably would have arrogantly and ingnorantly professed a few years earlier. Not at ALL - she sang it gloriously. It was, instead, a sense that I had something I wanted to say with this music - something that wanted to be heard. In master classes now, I offer my opinion of how important it is for "young artists" to find a way to bridge the HUGE gap between being a well trained, conscientious student to being an individual, unique artist who actually has something to say.

Perhaps this is a lifelong pursuit (in fact, I truly hope it is!), but I clearly remember something in those rehearsals slowly dawning on me: "I think that I can actually DO this", and consequently, a confidence began to build in me - not a fabricated buffer I gallantly called "stage presence", but something that was growing deep within - something that began a shift in my thinking from "I hope they like me", to simply aiming to express.

I don't mean to sound that I have it all figured out, but it is nice finally returning to this wonderful company for my 'official debut', being able to connect a few of my personal dots, being able to thank Mr. Mason personally for bringing me back, and for being able to pull up a chair in my old cover corner and strike up a conversation with the very well-behaved young artists!

Yes, gratitude is a-flowin'!

I lost my asterisk

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)