Showing posts with label Octavian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Octavian. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Closure

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!

CHEERS!
Posted by at 2 comments: Links to this post
Labels: , , , , , ,

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Straussian Splendor & Lists

It seems like just yesterday, but in fact, it was months ago that I first walked in Herr Oktavian's shoes, and I miss him!! Just in time for the melancholy to settle in, New York's radio station, 96.3 WQXR FM will broadcast one of our performances recorded live in June from the San Francisco Opera this Saturday, October 13 at 1:00 pm, Eastern Standard Time. I haven't heard it, yet, so your guess is as good as mine if I was "on" that day or not, but I can promise that I gave it everything I had! (If you don't live in the Big Apple, you can listen via their web site anywhere in the world!) I'll personally be attending a Flamenco Festival here in Geneva, so I will have to stay in my current world of Handelian bliss and leave Strauss as a souvenir for the moment!

However, I can tell you that having the chance to hear Soile Isokowski, Miah Persson, and Kristinn Sigmundsson in the leading roles is an event NOT to be missed, and that's not even taking into account the spectacular playing of the orchestra under Donald Runnicle's baton. Oh, I miss them all!

The other loose end is to thank everyone who took the time to vote for me for the "Gramophone Artist of the Year". I extend hearty congratulations to Julia Fischer for taking home the prize, and if you're interested in seeing how each country voted, you can click here. (Needless to say I send up a big "shout out" to the US of A and Italy!!) In all sincerity, I completely get the old adage of "it's an honor just to be nominated", for when I look at the other names on the list, I am taken quite aback.

And so it's back to the piano for a bit more work on Ariodante; we are full steam into rehearsals, which means adapting ornaments to the staging, adapting preconceived ideas of the character, and discovering a true masterpiece. Not a bad day's work!

Photos: Leonardo Vordoni
Posted by at 2 comments: Links to this post
Labels: , , , , ,

Saturday, June 30, 2007

The beautfiul end of the tunnel!

This morning the dense fog hovers claustro-phobically over the city by the bay, and while it’s tempting to feel as if the day will stay dreary and overcast, one knows with authority that it will soon lift, and that the scorching, luminous sun will emerge to reveal the blinding cerulean skies above. Ah, the marvelous marvels of San Francisco!

Tossing aside any valiant attempt at a cohesive entry this time around, I offer instead the varied ramblings of a tired, yet energized, close-to-vacation singer with the soundtrack of “School’s out for the summer!” blaring through my head! It feels like decades since I’ve claimed this song as my June Anthem! Ramble away:

*What an unabashed thrill, and constant, on-going master class to watch Kristinn Sigmundsson craft his Baron Ochs every night. I’ve never been able to stomach that character much before to be quite honest, for it can so very easily cross over into a nauseating caricature that makes the 4-hour opera feel as if it is the entire Ring Cycle given without intermissions. My hypothesis on why his creation actually evolves to be so endearing and ultimately sympathetic: Kristinn respects and loves the character, never settling for the obvious choice. He truly thinks he is entitled to all he is demanding, and considers himself a true Don Juan in each of his encounters. It is an unabashed delight to watch. Throw in his majestic, malleable facial expressions and you have a masterful performance on hand. Oh, right – I nearly forgot: he also SINGS the bejeebers out of the role! Heilige Mutter von Maria Taferl he’s good!

Lesson learned: never take for granted that a character (or person, for that matter!) is decidedly, 100% worthy of being written off!

*What a lesson in humble artistry to share the stage with Soile Isokowski’s Marschallin. She has the unique ability, even in a 3,500-seat theater, to draw in the audience, inviting them to listen to her most intimate thoughts spun out in a refined, most delicately silver-spun line, breaking your heart with her honest, pure sound. Her perfect use of the text, her trust in the beautiful vocal writing of Strauss, her innate coloring of each phrase, and her ability to get out of the way of the music gives her Marschallin such a human, fragile life. And as far as I’m concerned, her voicing of the line, “da drinn ist die silberne Ros’n…” is all one would ever need to believe that a true paradise exists somewhere. It is “Desert Island” good.

Lesson learned: never miss the opportunity to hear this wonderful artist!

*Anyone concerned about the direction of opera in today’s media-driven climate need not worry if it produces singers like Miah Persson. What a vibrant, committed artist who sings beautifully and insists on never being less than 100% committed to the union between the music and the drama. She sings with a technique that serves her unbelievably well, even through dreaded allergies and other physical circumstances, she is impeccably and thoroughly prepared as a colleague and an immaculate musician, and she brings an instinctive, vital energy to the stage that makes Sophie a much more multi-dimensional character than she might appear on paper. There is no better scenario than to be on stage with colleagues that LISTEN to you, REACT with you, and CREATE the drama in real-time, and Miah does this in spades!

Lesson learned: look to singers like this to insure the future of opera!

*Kudos to any casting/artistic director who is committed to casting an entire piece from strength to strength, knowing that a truly breathtaking theatrical event thrives on every role being brought to vivid life and sung impeccably well. I don’t know that I’ve witnessed a better example of that than in this realization of Der Rosenkavalier. There wasn’t one sung line where the audience was asked to suspend its belief or exhibit patience with a sub-par performance. From the perfectly accomplished Faninal of Jochen Schmeckenbecher (best name in the world!), to the Duenna of Adler fellow Heidi Melton (watch out opera world, here she comes!), to the brilliance of fellow Wichita State Alum, Cathy Cook’s gloriously sexy Anina, it was a stellar cast from top to bottom, and allowed the audience, I think, to truly escape into and believe in this world. This gets my blood pumping! As a rich bonus, every single person in this cast was an unmitigated joy to share the front and back stage with, and made this experience yet another magical moment in time for me.

Lesson learned: there are no small roles. Well, OK, let’s be honest: there ARE, in fact, “small roles”, however, this lesson is that they don’t automatically or necessarily yield a small IMPACT! Bravi, tutti!



*This is the most glorious music to sing. Some people have asked me if I approach the singing differently, or question why my voice seems to take on different colors/timbres in this role. Honestly, I’m not smart enough to juggle separate techniques for each genre I sing – I have one ‘technique’ and sing in one “manner” (IF I’m behaving myself) and fully expect it to serve any type of music I may sing, be it Rossini, lieder or Strauss. I fully believe the answer simply lies in the fact that the language, the vocal writing and the orchestration all work together to inform the colors and phrasing in one’s singing. It comes down to singing what has been handed to us by the composer (in this case perfectly penned by Strauss), and staying out of the way of the music. If, for example, Rossini, Strauss and Britten were all given the same notes to play with, they would each come up with a completely different interpretation, set with different phrasing, unique text, and separate requirements – regardless of the notes being the same values on the page, the results would be light years apart in sound and impact. This is one reason I love exploring varied repertoire, and never find even a hint of boredom setting in.

Lesson learned: stay out of the way, Stupid!

*I love my job. I continue to pinch myself that I am continually given the opportunity to bring such masterful music to life. The fog that has hung over me this past year with the loss of my parents is undoubtedly real, profound and life changing, but through the midst of the mist I have had music to cling to. I endeavor to continually recognize that music is not the only thing in my life – it is simply a part of my life. But I have had the blessed fortune to be able to turn to it as a source of comfort and guidance and even therapy. In a most literal fashion, singing the role of Idamante seems almost cruelly ironic, but as I’ve noted before, Mozart’s music possesses a cleansing and healing quality entrenched in each phrase, and I know that it serves to be a guiding force through my grieving. While the words of the Marschallin can touch listeners in nearly any phase of their life, I know that listening to them each night on the stage has had a calming effect on me, and penetrates my heart deeply in my need to let go and not hold on to the past. It was as if my Father were whispering those very words into my heart to help me move forward.

Lesson learned: Leicht muß man sein mit leichtem Herz und leichten Händen halten und nehmen, halten und lassen…

(Light must we be, with light hearts and light hands, to hold and take hold, and to let go…)

Well, like the inevitable clock striking midnight, the fog has now lifted, inviting all to jump with abandon into the day here in San Francisco. It’s nearly time for me to clean out the refrigerator, clean up the rental unit, pack up my belongings and say goodbye to this rich city. I will surely miss the fresh air, the inventive, delicious cuisine and the “brisk” breezes, however it is the friends, the audience and the cast members that will leave the biggest imprint on me. Little do they all know it, but they have each helped me through a very difficult time with their patience, their enthusiasm, their artistry and their friendship. I began the journey of my first Octavian here, healed some of my grief here, walked through the light at the end of the tunnel, and quite simply, loved every minute of it.


Here is to brilliant azure skies, silver roses and letting go!

Production photos: ©Terrence McCarthy
San Francisco Opera, Der Rosenkavalier
Posted by at 4 comments: Links to this post
Labels: , , , ,

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Contagious pride

Sunday was Gay Pride day across the nation, and while there were numerous remarkable and colorful parades across the land, surely San Francisco takes the prize for all out pride-ness! We had a matinee performance of "Der Rosenkavalier" that afternoon, and let me tell you, there was an ELECTRICITY in the air! I could tell immediately that it would be a fabulous and special show. Trying to stay in the spirit of things and kick things off in a festive way, I invited the Marschallin (the lovely Finnish soprano, Soile Isokowski, singing her final performance of the role here) and the Baron Ochs (the real-live Viking, Kristinn Sigmundsson) for a festive photo-op:


Personally, I had the easiest time of getting into the spirit of things, as not only was I dressed in drag as Octavian, but Octavian himself got to drag it up as Mariandel. I've never been so proud!

In all sincerity, it is an honor to call so many duly proud people my friends.
Posted by at 3 comments: Links to this post
Labels: , , ,

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Wigs, Brocades and Canons, Oh my!


I've been shopping! In preparation for my upcoming REAL, LIVE, NO-CELL-PHONE VACATION (my first in over 5 years!), I took the plunge and made the long-anticipated purchase of a coveted SLR camera! I'm in heaven. I've been flirting with photography for awhile now, and even had the nerve to begin boasting that it was my 'hobby'; however it's hard to be taken seriuosly when your lens of choice belongs to a flimsy point-n-shoot camera! (See? One purchase and I'm a camera snob already! Now there will be no talking to me!) I did my homework, got very friendly with the neighborhood pro, Bill at Wolf Camera, and jumped into the world of filters, polarizers, and lenses (oh my!).

Call me "Trigger".

The beautiful thing is that it came just in time for my debut at the San Francisco Opera as Octavian, and I found the distraction of shooting photos backstage to be a beautiful balm to the nerves pulsing through my veins screaming "what have I gotten myself into????"

Up first: my very first powdered wig (in over 8 years of professional opera, that's rather astonishing, actually), with the most stunning roses in the background, sent by my 'adopted parents', Pam and Tom Frame, who, incidently, were my Merola sponsors 10 years ago in this very same city...


And second: for the brocade, a close-up of the stunning detail work hand-crafted on Octavian's "Presentation of the Rose" costume...


Perhaps it's worth mentioning that the costume was based on the original 1911 costume designs, and was originally worn by none-other than the great Frederica von Stade for the debut of this particular production in 1993. Considering that she stopped backstage beforehand to wish me good-luck made me feel that I was truly in the best of hands!

Thirdly, I'll rely on a professional photographer with the real bragging rights to demonstrate 'how it's done', with a shot of both the beautiful costume and wig in action...


A big thank you to Bob Cahen for this photo, who has been shooting opera at the Lyric Opera of Chicago and the San Francisco Opera for over 50 years. Not only does he have the most engaging stories about all the great Opera Stars of the past 50 years from Callas to DiStefano, but he currently has a magnificent exhibition of great photos on at the SFO - what a legacy he is creating!
Posted by at 6 comments: Links to this post
Labels: , , ,

Monday, May 28, 2007

"Die Zeit, die ist ein sonderbar Ding"

For those of you keeping track, I’m pleased to announce that I can officially see the light burning brightly at the end of the tunnel! I’ve hinted at its supposed presence over the past few months, but it is time to publicly confirm its actual and blessed existence! Yesterday I spent 11 hours at the San Francisco Opera putting my first Octavian through his varied paces for our piano dress rehearsal. (And I’ve spent almost as many hours today recovering from said paces!) I’m still suffering from what feels like a mighty case of whiplash, considering that I had only 10 days of actual staging before running through the entire show yesterday on stage and in costume – which in my book falls into the category of one of those silly, pointless “Orange-Level Alerts”, but this time cautioning the on-set of possible insanity! The brilliant news, toasted over a rather large Weizen beer last night, was that I MADE IT TO THE END. I was able to get from the wonderful bed of the Marschallin and all its blissful sensuality, straight through to the profession of undying love to the pure Sophie (via a few detours in drag, mind you) without incident. At this point, that is a bonafide triumph in my book!


The bad news, which looms a bit heavily on me today, is that there is still an enormous amount of work left to be done. My goal is that through the next 2 days of orchestra work I can find that “Strauss Pulse”, which is a very different sensation of meter and flow than I am used to as in, for example, Rossini. All the pulsating syncopations and angular phrases of Octavian still have to be given a breadth and release that differs wildly from the type of precision you find in other repertoire. Musically it is truly another world (even from the Composer’s music in “Ariadne”), and I’m enjoying the learning curve tremendously. I’m close to finding it, but definitely need this next week of the orchestra’s texture and color underneath me to finally nail it down.

I also need to clean up much of the physical aspect of this character. What a juggling act this is. We meet him in the most relaxed, informal environment of his lover’s bedroom (an all-encompassing Paradise to him) where he can truly let his hair down; and yet he must remain at all times at one with the training and decorum of a true nobleman. However, he is only 17 years old (and 2 months, to be exact), so I must also capture the impulsive, awkward, immaturity of a real adolescent. He has all the Countly poise and etiquette in his physicality, but his emotional state is thrust into terrible confusion as the Marschallin casts him aside with little explanation (that he can comprehend, at least), as well as the dramatic moment of instant electricity with Sophie. His world dramatically, perhaps even violently, changes course twice within 24 hours, and his capacity to absorb it all is not immediately apparent. Ah, how beautifully art can imitate life!

But then let us not forget the country peasant girl – a role that Octavian gleefully and eagerly throws himself into. I’m still trying to find the elusive magic of comic timing on this one, and I’m pretty sure it will come down to simple precision. Finding the balance of ‘playing it’, but not overdoing it, as well as finding the clarity that when he has a moment to let down as the country girl, he immediately comes back into the physicality of an exacerbated nobleman. I find myself easily falling into a “Cherubino” physicality (floppy and petulant) rather than that of a distinguished, ‘nobly’ irritated man. It’s a DELICATELY drawn line, but it is vitally important to me that these distinctions be crystal clear in MY mind, second nature, in fact, so the audience then is free to draw its OWN conclusions. I’m close to finding it, again, but will cling to this next week of rehearsal time to make it more organic, finding my own sense of ownership of this glorious character, who has, quite simply, THE BEST entrance music in all of opera at the top of Act 2.

So, if you’d allow me to take a radical detour in the conversation, prompted by this talk of art imitating life that I spoke of earlier, I’m fascinated at how great composers and librettists have been able to capture on stage the wonderment of how swiftly one’s real life can change. While one takes place in a fabricated space, is (often) rehearsed vigorously, and plays out under bright lights in front of thousands of strangers, the other can hit you with one swift, solitary blow, singularly and privately, as the rest of the world simply marches on around you.

Three weeks ago I was walking down Broadway just before sunset on a crystal clear evening after a rehearsal at the MET, and I was checking my phone messages. The first one arrived: “Joyce, this is your sister, Amy. You have to come home now. Mom…well…Mom is in trouble. Come home now.” The second followed immediately, with that sterile voice announcing: “Next new message.” “Joyce. It’s Amy again. Call me.” I found a park bench in the median between NY’s East and West sides at 72nd and Broadway, set down my scores, and phoned my sister back, knowing instinctively that the news was to be final.

“Joyce, are you sitting down?”

“Yes.”

“Is anyone with you?”

“No”, was my reply, but the reality was that there were thousands of strangers bustling to and fro all around me in taxis, on bicycles, and on foot, not a single one of them registering how my life was about to change. The memory I have is that unbeknownst to them, they all seemed to instantaneously burst into slow motion around me as the news arrived.

My Mom suffered from the same lung condition as my Father did, COPD, which affects all aspects of one’s breathing, and she had recently taken a turn for the worse -- however nothing signaled that her death would be expected any time soon – she was stable, and the doctors had said she could maintain this level for a long time. It had, however, become apparent that it was time for her to have 24-hour care. This strong, proud Irish woman was now face to face with her worst fear.

Well, as they wheeled her out to the car that was to take her to her new home, (one of "THOSE places"), she pushed herself up to get out of the wheelchair, and wouldn't you know it? She had a massive coronary on the spot. While on the surface she was willing to take this next step and fully understood it was really her only option, I think deep-down she had said all she needed to say, lived every minute she had needed to live, and simply didn't care to partake in those added, unnecessary moments of anguish and suffering. She passed quickly, in a blaze of glory, as seemed very fitting to a lady who had a real streak of fire in her breast.

Honestly, I can't help but envision my Dad hovering above her, knowing what awaited her lying in one of “those beds”, connected to more tubes than could possibly seem humane, and simply reaching from down the sky, pulling her to be close to him. In a million years, I can't see her leaving this world any other way.

Up until her final breath she had both her wit and her wits, her fire and her pride, and that beautiful, devilish grin planted firmly on her face. She knew all of her children were either by her side physically, or very close to her in spirit, and she had come to have a relationship with each one of us that seemed unlikely a decade ago. She could die in peace, knowing she was leaving her legacy behind: a family of seven children that is close, loving and strong.


It seems unreal that a human spirit can be taken so quickly. But what seems even more amazing to me the mark a single human life can make -- even a quiet, unassuming life lived out in simple sacrifice and dedication. She gave up so much of her unique identity to raise her seven children, remaining always by her husband's side - living through moments of incredible turmoil, rash misunderstandings, and painful silences, but also through uncontrolled laughter, quiet dignity, and examples of fierce strength and conviction.

Ah. Yes. Perhaps she actually found her unique identity through all of that.


I did not have an easy relationship with my Mom, and that's not easy to write. But I found my way through the difficult moments, and happily, willingly found a way to understand her, accept her, accept our relationship, and embrace it. I have an enormous feeling that I learned more from her than I ever gave her credit for, but she knew all that, and I believe she finally accepted that about me as well. That is a beautiful thing to write.

If I stop to think too much on the past year of my life, my brain seems to want to, well, put quite simply, to explode: I’m currently preparing my 5th new role in just 14 months, (not to mention having completed a full recording as well as an ambitious recital tour), I eloped, and I buried both of my parents.

I had a huge decision to make after receiving that call from my sister: whether or not I would perform the next evening as Rosina at the Metropolitan Opera. After talking at length with my family (“There is nothing you can do here, Joyce – you do whatever you need to do.”), I made the decision to sing. With the ENORMOUS help of the most generous and supportive colleagues ever...


(Laurence, Russell, John, Sam and all – I love you guys!), I got through our show with flying colors, even if I couldn’t make it through the curtain call, for it hit me with an enormous impact that my parents will never again see another performance of mine. They will never be 6th row and center to get nervous, to applaud, or to cry.

But it became immediately apparent to me that music would be a vast source of healing for me, as it always has been. Singing that night allowed me to physically release so much of the pain and emotion I was feeling, as well as to celebrate so much of what their influence and support has allowed me to do. It was my humble tribute to them, to thank them for their lives and their love.

I still cannot believe that my world continues on, and they are no longer a part of it. How SWIFTLY and COMPLETELY their presence is gone. Now I comprehend the adage of “life is short – enjoy it while you can”, and the value of treasuring every moment you share with a loved one. Now I begin to comprehend what the Marschallin tries to explain to poor Octavian, that “time is indeed a strange thing.” Hearing the great Soile Isokowski singing these words to me touches me so very deeply. How privileged I am to work through such complicated human emotion during the day, courtesy of the brilliant Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal.

I know this is a long entry, and most certainly a diverse one. But it is my life – this clash of worlds, this extremity of emotion and experience, this ‘adventure’! And most assuredly, life does not always stop to give you time to adjust and figure it all out – we sometimes have to do it on the fly (as Octavian learns as well!). I’ll get my most welcome VACATION at the end of this run to slow down, catch up, recoup and regroup – but until then, I welcome the challenge of this little Straussian Count, counting myself fortunate to be surrounded by such peerless colleagues, and above all, consider myself beyond blessed to be the daughter of such beautiful people, my Mom and my Dad. I hope my life will serve as a true tribute to their dedication and example.
Posted by at 3 comments: Links to this post
Labels: ,

Monday, January 1, 2007

Happy New Year!

We’re driving from Kansas City to Houston: nearly 800 miles ahead of us, and it’s a bit like driving down Memory Lane, literally, as I’ve made this trip so many times over the past few years, whether going back and forth to college countless times at Wichita State University, or moving to Houston for the first time in a huge moving van packed to the rafters. It’s rather appropriate to be making a sentimental trip now, as it’s time to ring in the New Year, which naturally means a time of reflection, and for this I say, “Bring it on!” I arrived at the end of December feeling quite tired, and it finally dawned on me why: a complete new recital to the start off the year, revivals of the demanding and draining role, Dajanira, four new, extensive (and exhilarating!) roles back to back, with a ‘little’ recording (of nearly all new material!) thrown into the mix, adding in the thrill of a wedding and the agony of a huge personal loss – what a year!


(Celebrating with Leo and Simon, my manager)

I’ve had a big epiphany at the end of all this, (as I love to use the calendar as a welcome time of contemplation), and it’s a really good one. Through the demanding schedule, the extremely limited time at home, having to turn down dinner invitations because I need to study, not seeing my new husband for nearly 4 months straight, and dealing with the loss of my Father essentially all on my own, I found myself asking, “is this career worth it?” and, “Why do I put myself in the position of sacrificing so much of my life, singing for people I don’t know, in a world where the priorities of this ‘high art’ seem to be shifting in what could be an alarming direction?”

Big questions! The answer: because I truly love it and I believe in it.

I can’t flip the calendar forward 25 years and say that I’ll always feel this way, but at the conclusion of this year, 2006, I believe it more than ever. This career has showered me with innumerable opportunities: to travel and learn about the world and some of its diverse cultures, to work with brilliant talents and minds, to breathe life into the work of the greatest composers the world has ever known, to grant me the opportunity to explore at a deep level every imaginable emotion (and then some) we humans experience, teaching me at every step along the way, to be able to touch people, and communicate with them, helping open doors to their worlds for a few hours at a time. It’s a bit overwhelming, to tell the truth. This past stay in Paris has been a particularly difficult period for me, but looking back, having the incredible opportunity to sing through so many of the emotions I was dealing with personally, well it’s a lot cheaper than visit to a therapists office on 5th Avenue!

The bottom line is that I can look back on 2006 with great joy and gratitude for having experienced and ascertained so many different things, for having met so many wonderful, generous people, and at the end of the day, for having SURVIVED!


(A definite personal highlight: eloping with Leonardo!
Who does that?!?!)

My professional highlights:

*What a THRILL to sing for the Wigmore audience my one-off recital about Venice, a program I had been dreaming about doing for years, and finally the timing was just perfect to bring it to life. I was quite honored that they recorded it and that its release is being received very well! What a complete joy to sing for the Wigmore Audience!

*It was an incredible gift to revisit Dajanira again, and it wasn’t until reworking the mad scene at BAM that I felt I finally could sing it as I wanted to. (Which is another lesson in performing a role a number of times and letting it ‘season’ over time – I’m a BIG proponent of that!) I also found that because I knew the role much more intimately, I had to do less and less to achieve more effect: as the old motto continues to hold true, “LESS IS MORE!”

*MY FIRST SESTO! What can I say about this role? My perspective is quite interesting as I just finished a run of Idamante’s in Paris, and it is a role which is honestly at the very bottom of the list of roles I prefer to sing. I do think that Idomeneo is the superior opera, all things considered, but in my opinion the role of Sesto is unsurpassed in Mozart’s offerings for the mezzo. It was a great joy to finally sing the arias I had used numerous times in auditions in the context of the opera, and not surprisingly I found it to be an unparalleled joy to sing.

*¡PASIÓN! Three draining, exhausting, adrenalin-filled days recording this disc in the hills of the tiny, provincial Spanish town of Jafra, pushing ourselves amidst the intoxicating rhythms of Monstalvatge, De Falla, and company, and loving every minute of it! With the exception, maybe, of one track, I just adore every single selection on this disc, and having the chance to put my stamp on these pieces was an immense pleasure.

*MY FIRST CENDRILLON! Words are hard to come by to describe the experience of learning this role, and having the privilege of performing it in Laurent Pelly’s dazzling production in the magical setting of Santa Fe with such an outstanding cast, full or heart and soul. It was an enormous challenge for me, as it was my first serious French role, and I had my work cut out for me with not only the vast amounts of French, but also the dramatic vocal turn the role took as it progressed. It stretched me in many ways, and gave me memories to last a lifetime!


*MY FIRST COMPOSER! I had real reservations going into this role. I had been consumed with preparing Cendrillon, and the performances took so much of my energy that my preparation for Strauss’s naïve Komponist seemed to be way too slow. I had also been listening to the consummate artist, Tatiana Troyanos, a great deal, and I was thinking, “I just can’t do this role justice. I won’t be ready. I just can’t sing it like her.” (Another reason I’m not a big fan of relying on recordings to learn roles!) I even warned my manager, “Simon, I don’t know about this one…I don’t feel good about it. Maybe you shouldn’t come.” But I buckled down, kept myself at the piano, slowly pouring through it, and working very hard on the German. I arrived for the first rehearsals, and the memory wasn’t coming, the music hadn’t clicked into place for me, and I was feeling very far from the core of the role – something that is quite unusual for me, truth be told. But I kept working…and kept working. And BAM, I arrived one day for rehearsal, and it had clicked. I called it the “Strauss Click” where it just all of a sudden makes perfect sense, and could not possibly be set any other way. It was a beautiful day. And from that point on, I was able to revel in this character, and I completely fell in love with him. I hope I will have more opportunities to sing his anthem to music over the years, but in the meantime, my appetite is more than whetted for the coming Octavian!

I’ve worked with extraordinary colleagues in these productions, (as well with a few challenging ones), but over all, they have inspired me, pushed me, motivated and supported me, and as always, I have learned so much from them all. We’ve shared delicious meals, stimulating conversations, a few fabulous cocktails, and many great jokes. There has been personal tragedy along the way for many of us, and this remarkable family, spread out over many countries, time zones and languages, always pulls together and lets you know you are not alone.

Over all it has been a remarkable year. In a dream encounter over the summer I was able to meet one of my lifetime heroes, George Brett (the Hall of Fame Third Basemen who led the Kansas City Royals to their only World Series Victory in 1985!), and I took the liberty to ask him how he pushed himself to keep growing, even when he was already at the top of his profession. He answered with real fire in his eyes, betraying his fierce, unrelenting competitive nature, and said, “I was never satisfied. At the end of the season I never looked back at how great I had done, I looked back with the question of what I could have done better, and set goals for myself for the coming season of what I wanted to improve upon.” This, my friends, was the secret to his excellence. So in looking forward, I can say I have a healthy set of goals facing me:


*I return to my well-worn roles of Cenerentola and Rosina, but this time in high-profile AMERICAN venues, and I want to sing these roles better than I ever have, in more idiomatic Italian, with more fire and brilliance in the phrasing, and with ever more truthful characterization.

*I take on my second major recital tour in a program I ADORE, and I want to devour it with great passion and joy, bringing some lesser known works to audiences, as well as finding more and more ease and comfort on the challenging recital stage.

*I jump into the trousers of my first Octavian, a real trek up the Mount Everest of mezzo roles, and I want to bring a fierce, unbridled energy and freshness to this irresistible character, all enveloped in a real honesty and exuberance.

*I tackle my first Ariodante in Geneva, and I want SO much for this role, it’s hard to put into words. I find that Handel is the most challenging and informing of composers, and it is such an incredible journey and JOY to sing his music – it will surely feel like ANOTHER hike up Mount Everest, which means I’ll be in great shape by the end of the year! It will be a tremendous amount of work, but I’m ready for it.

*My first real, bonafide, legitimate, GENUINE vacation in…I don’t know how many years. It looks like it will be a safari somewhere exotic, but the final details need to be ironed out. I cannot WAIT to be thrust into an environment completely void of anything resembling a vocal score! I will work very hard in the time surrounding it, but I will work VERY hard at letting completely down to recover and regroup! It will be paradise!

The final word I’ll say about 2006, with all its challenges and setbacks, disappointments and successes, encounters and near-misses:


I met Johnny Depp!

I wish each and every one of you every imaginable blessing for the coming New Year, full of health, contentment, peace and JOY, and I thank you for all of your support and enthusiasm over the past year!

Here’s to life!
Posted by at No comments: Links to this post
Labels: , , , , , , , , ,
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)