Breaking it down

We have officially opened here in Geneva, with an emotional opening night audience to say the least. I don't think there was any doubt that the performance was received quite rapturously, but, as seems to be predictably common, the production was met with a torrent of - displeasure - shall we say. I hesitate to say too much, because it seems a bit taboo for an artist to speak out on such things, and I do believe to a certain extent that the audience should be presented with an interpretation, and left to decide how they feel about it all on their own. However, I have been in the audience when I felt completely lost and would have greatly appreciated a bit of insight as to what was going on up on the stage, so I've opted to give people the chance to get some basic information before attending, for better or for worse!

So, let me first break down our production here in Geneva just a bit, and then let's have a discussion about the bigger picture. However - this is a spoiler alert!! If you don't wish to have the details on our production, please do stop reading, and scroll to after the photos for my thoughts. If you would like some insider scoop, keep reading. (and reading!)

The first thing to address, is that our director, Christof Loy, has changed the ending and as a result has taken a few liberties with the score. Elena does not end up with Malcom, but instead with the King. Right, wrong, misguided or brilliant, it is how our show ends.

(**All photos are © of Monika Rittershaus and may not be reprinted without permission)

Elena dreams of love at the start of her journey. She is a kind of worker, set-up girl in a local lodge, which is the central meeting point for the town's provincial choir rehearsals, meetings, receptions, etc, and houses a small stage where they can put on local shows. She is very much a wall flower, frightfully shy, fragile, and while she wants to be a part of things, she instead lives inside her dreams and fantasies where she feels safe. She sneaks onto the "stage" when no one is around, finding a story within herself that gives her a sense of being alive. Her reticence is even more pronounced as the war between the clans heats up, and her impending nuptials to the warrior, Rodrigo, becomes something she can no longer escape - she finds the freedom she longs for in her dreams:


Elena's fantasy world becomes a kind of reality as the stranger that has "happened" into her world (or did she create him?) begins to cross the line between real and imagined. She imagines setting up a home with him, but obviously, he cannot stay in this world for long...


...but for a fleeting moment, she finds contentment in her ideal fantasy:


But Elena's world of fantasy comes crashing down as her idyllic "imagined stranger", Umberto, learns of her impending nuptials to Rodrigo and confronts her. The tragic conflict of duty vs. love is now unavoidable for her:


After the enormous opening duet between Umberto and Elena finishes, in this production, Elena remains on stage and is confronted with her "subconscious", Malcom. Christof sees the role of Malcom, played wonderfully in our show by Mariselle Martinez, as Elena's alter-ego, her guardian angel, or protector. Each time her situation turns quite dark, Malcom arrives to help her through. In this first scene, Malcom tries to get Elena to look at herself and face her situation with courage. Malcom asks Elena to be true to who she really is, to stop running away from reality:


Elena is now faced with the harsh reality of her imposed wedding to Rodrigo (the wonderful Gregory Kunde), and has not found a way to speak out against it. She is trying to honor her duty to her father and her clan by marrying a man she does not love. Her pain is immense as she says, "I have lost any hope of peace." However, war breaks out before the ceremony is complete, and she has been given a second chance to find her way:


As the act comes to a blazing close (such fabulous music!) with war songs and talk of "fighting to the death", it becomes too much for Elena, and she collapses with dreams only of her true love, the stranger who appeared earlier, and voilà, he appears at the table, as normal as ever, which sets up the start to the second act:


As the curtain rises on Act 2, normally the stage is left to Umberto (the King himself) to sing of his love for Elena. But in Christof Loy's version, it is Elena who conjures him up to sing of love and peace. She sets the stage, in her mind, to be the complete opposite of the war and bloodshed that haunts her reality, and for a brief moment tastes tranquility and love. What could be a more ideal picturesque setting, than to flood the stage with romantic Sylphs who surround her for protection:


But Elena is growing up and realizes she cannot escape into her dreams forever. The reality of what she is a part of is crashing down on her, and she is slowly realizing she must take responsibility. As the Sylphs flee her mind, she is left face to face with herself and the situation she has gotten herself into with the stranger:


As Umberto confesses his love for her and demands that she respond, she simply begs him to accept her friendship instead. In this version, she truly loves him, but knows that it is not right, so she continues to fight it. (In "Rossini's version, it is, in fact, Malcom that she loves, and to whom she remains faithful until the end.) But this struggle sets up a monumental trio between Elena and the two tenors. (My ears are still buzzing from the storm of high "C's" all around me!!):


But chaos has ensued. With Rodrigo's arrival on the scene and his discovery of Umberto to be a true threat, in vintage manly fashion, war breaks out. Elena, in turn, breaks down, and finally realizes that one can never, ever escape the reality around them. One must face it directly and in accepting it, there is a kind of peace that can then be built upon. She has been at war within herself for too long (again, the conflict of being true to herself and following her heart, verses the understandable desire to be dutiful to her father), and it is only when she gives over to herself that she can find peace - and in turn, bring peace to those around her:


With this new found peace, Malcom arrives back on the scene and finds that his job with Elena is complete. She has relinquished her suffering and her pain to her other self and says goodbye to it. Malcom takes it on for her and, as was predicted in the beginning, dies for her, in the sense of letting the past fall away behind you:


Once Elena has found a way to her new found inner peace, the world changes and her dreams become a reality, in veritable fairy tail fashion. The stranger is, in fact, the King, he reconciles with her father and asks for her hand in marriage, which she gladly accepts. When Elena sings the line in her famous aria, "Tanti Affetti", she sings of finally having found "la bella pace" - the beautiful peace - she has been longing for from the opening aria, and for me, this is the heart and soul of the opera. (I am always quite emotional when I sing that line!) After her immense journey, starting out as nearly mute, she finally has found a voice to sing in front of the entire town:


The final word of Elena's famous rondo, which serves as the finale to the entire opera is "felicità" ("happiness"). Indeed, she is overcome with joy and the vocal fireworks that paint this elation serve as an incredible expression of unrepressed abandon. It is truly one of the great moments a singer could ever be given on the stage, and in this particular telling of the story, carries enormous weight, for the distance this character has come is enormous:


So, perhaps that was a futile attempt to make an argument for our little humble production. I have no idea if it will help or not, but it's a little synopsis to perhaps fill in some of the blanks. But I would like to share a few thoughts about the different aspects of this crazy world of opera that this experience brings up.

Conceptual opera:

Ugh. It has such a bad connotation, and yet some of the "concept" operas I've taken part in have been the most rewarding (Hercules in Aix, Barbiere in Paris, Cendrillon in Santa Fe). Likewise, I've had unbelievable experiences with what some will call "stale, old, out-dated" productions that are supposedly the bane of opera today (Rosenkavalier in SF, Nozze in Chicago and Paris, Cenerentola in Milan). I'm a huge believer that any opera that tells the story well, with committed singing actors, a director who respects the art form and the music, and a conductor in the pit that can marry the stage to the orchestra pit can be immensely moving.

But I'm also a huge believer in innovation and exploration - opera can be the catalyst for many things: provocation, revelation, transcendence, laughter, self-reflection, discovery. I don't dare assume that we have found all the possibilities that exist in the operas in our repertoire. It is one of the reasons they are masterpieces and that we keep coming back to them - they can be looked at from many different angles and we can find new elements that speak to us. Surely, what I find in Nozze now is not what I saw in it in 1998!

So as artists, we need the chance to explore and discover additional layers in these works. Sometimes we will succeed, but often we will not. We are human, we are not machines. And what speaks to one person, will often not touch the adjacent listener.

So let me speak a bit about this production. Christof used as his inspiration the shattering, disturbing, and ultimately uplifting movie "Breaking the Waves". In it he found a very fragile girl living in an oppressive, closed-minded society, who found a way to her happiness with unconditional love being her only ruling force.


Her fragility is evident, but it is her strength which endures in the memory. I believe Christof wanted to find a way to make a perhaps outdated libretto speak to a modern day audience. Yes, this is the now politically correct dilemma facing directors and producers today, but I wonder if we are making it more difficult than it needs to be. I trust the music and I trust the emotional impact of these stories. I believe in them. But that doesn't mean a different look at something can't also bring an interesting psychological journey for the characters and the audience:

What do we do, in our every day lives, to avoid the reality around us? How do we escape? How do we alter our perception of things (for the better or for the worse) in order to cope? How do we handle feeling like an outsider? Where do we go when war, either physical or mental, seems to encompass everything around us?

These are, in my opinion, absolutely relevant questions to be posing - which is, after all, one of the functions of art, is it not? Let's hold a mirror up to ourselves and find some truth lurking around in the dark corners in there! It's not exactly that we as a species have learned from all of our past mistakes! But having worked with Christof these past weeks, I believe his pure intention was to find some of these answers.

Now, from a technical standpoint - I believe it was Chris who asked me on my last posting - how much "say" do we as artists have in regards to the production. I would say, in the vast majority of cases, we have 0% say. Nil. None. Nada. When we arrive for the first day of rehearsal for a new production, the set has already been built, and that set is based on the concept of the director. Costumes have been designed. Usually, the general architecture of the piece has been laid out, for there is no time to decide how many functional exits the stage will need, and what period it will be set in, and how we will look. We are essentially puppets on the first day of rehearsal.

Ideally, what happens at this point, is a collaboration begins, and the director works to convince his/her singers of his/her vision. I MUST gain some understanding about the "why" of the character. If they cannot convince me of that, I cannot function on the stage. I simply cannot do it. Without the understanding of what the character is living psychologically, how in the world do I choose my vocal color, my physical stance, the pace of my movements? But if I want the show to work, I have to meet the director half-way under the constraints of what has already been laid out, and I have to find a way to find a voice within the concept.

I can say that with very few exceptions, I have been able to find a way to make the director's vision work for me. Actually, I'm trying to think of an exception...I'm sure there is one, but in the end, I have been able to reconcile most everything. (There was that one director who wanted Rosina to try to kill herself with Figaro's razor - yeah, that didn't go down too well!) We have no responsibility for how a production looks, for the period it is set in, or for the overall aesthetic impact. We MIGHT (and I emphasize MIGHT) get a say in tweaking our costume or wig. A bit. But that's iffy. Yes, times have changed. (And personally, as much as I have my own artistic ideals, I do still like my job and prefer not to be fired!)

I have found my journey here as Elena to be very rewarding and fascinating. It's an exhausting night for me, because I never leave the stage, except for one costume change, but I find that by the time "Tanti affetti" rolls around, the journey has been very truthful and real for her, and I think the impact for the finale is all the more powerful. You see a girl with no voice at the start, no sense of identity, come into her own in the most thrilling way. And I think the emotional impact is real.

Booing

So what to make of a torrent of booing for the production team? I'll be very direct. It's quite simply the worst feeling in the world to be on stage and be on the receiving end of such violence. Yes, even if it feels as if the boo's are being directed to a select group on the stage, by the time opening night has come around, usually we are like a family, and when a member of that family is being singled out, it's nearly impossible to separate yourself from them. We feel it deeply. I completely respect the audience's right to have opinions and express them - but I believe you fall into one of two camps, and I decidedly fall into the "I hate booing" camp.

To be honest, if the audience really wanted to have an effective impact, they would simply fall silent. This is by far a more potent and effective way to express their feelings, without what feels like some sort of physical attack. Besides, does booing REALLY carry any weight anymore? To be honest, it's passè and outdated - it's as if the premiere isn't a success without some boo's! No - silence is a much more effective (and to my thoughts, civilized) reaction.

I just wanted to go on the record with my opinion. Again, everyone has the right to express their thoughts - but truly, there are more effective ways to accomplish it. I do hope, however, that in the end, artists are still given the chance to explore and grow. There will always be "misses" (Mozart even had them!), but we all know that in the theater, when we get a "hit" and that elusive transcendence overwhelms us, it is SO good!

Gracious, is anybody still reading this post?!?! I suppose this comes out of wanting the audience to have a rich experience in the theater, and this is my small attempt to help facilitate that a bit. Not that everyone needs it, because I have definitely heard from many people that they find this show profoundly moving. See - it's so funny how art impacts different people!

Personally, I have found my experience here tremendously rewarding, and look forward to spending a lot of time with this lovely Lady of the Lake (or the lodge!) in the future.

VIVA L'ARTE!!!!

Opening Night!

One thing I love about this job, strangely enough, is that my life is cut into tiny compartments: a 2 month period in Chicago for Nozze, a 2-week recording session coming up in September (which I'm beyond excited about!), and for some time my debut as Elena in La Donna del Lago has been in the works. Finally it is here. I get to see the culmination of months of work and years of anticipation come to fruition tonight. (No pressure there!) Actually, there isn't any pressure, essentially, because it's pure joy for me to sing this piece and discover a completely different side to the composer I thought I knew so well!

Those "compartmental periods" keep me constantly appreciating the moment I am living. I have learned with a bit of experience that time flies without mercy or pity, and if I blink, I've slept through a world of riches. I know that 11 performances of Cherubino will be over before I know it, and so I had better soak up each moment. I know that I get ONE shot at making a solo recital recording, and I had better hit it out of the park giving my all in each phrase. I know that I get one chance to debut this beautiful role of Elena, and I don't want to sleep through it, or psyche myself out to where I am not free to take her journey.

I've said this now numerous times, that the stage teaches me so much - to be alive in the moment, to enjoy the lesson at hand, and to live it as fully and freely as possible. That is my intention for tonight, and I hope the audience will come along for the ride with all of us. I've enjoyed the rehearsal process tremendously with this outstanding cast and team (a conductor and director working side by side in tandem from day one? Stop the presses!!!), and know that we will give it our all tonight!!

It's not a "typical" interpretation of the opera, (you've been warned) but I do think it's quite a deep, beautiful look into the life of a young girl in an oppressive, overwhelming, war-torn, provincial town who seeks to find a way to reconcile her dreams and thirst for freedom and love under the constraints of her duty and obligations. She escapes quite wildly into her dreams, and yet that persistent reality keeps forcing her to look at the real world and find a way to enter into it. Malcom becomes sort of a "guardian angel" type figure who appears at her darkest moments, and becomes a guide to Elena, helping her find a way to be true to herself. As I said, perhaps not "typical", but it's done with a lot of heart, providing the perfect platform for "Tanti affetti" to be a truly emotional outpouring of joy and gratitude. At least, that's the idea...!



*Photos courtesy of the Grand Théâtre de Geneva

Wisdom

I find that one of the most difficult things to manage in this career is the feeling of isolation that can easily creep into your psyche as you've been on the road for a little bit too long (or, as a matter of fact, even on that very first night you unpack your things into yet another sterile, rented apartment that houses one opened package of old spaghetti, a half-empty/full box of dry cereal, and usually 1/4 bottle of olive oil that you don't dare use, because you can't be SURE that it's safe.) I stumbled over this quite a bit when I was first starting out in this career, and it was quite confusing: I was doing what I loved to do, and yet I felt quite miserable being completely on my own, away from the familiar and the secure.

It was especially true in the beginning years of European travel, because I didn't know very many people in the business over on this side of the pond, and the foreign cities were overwhelming, as I spoke little of their language, didn't always comprehend the cultural differences, and didn't know that we had to price our own produce at the market! (It's the small things, you see!) It was one of the most important "skills" I had to learn: not just how to be on my own, but how to ideally thrive in a solitary, foreign, often lonely environment.

For me, one of the biggest culprits was CNN International. It is usually the only English channel on the TV, and so on it went, and I would be bombarded with catastrophe after catastrophe, convinced that the sky, truly, was falling beyond all hope and that we are a doomed, doomed species. The word "demoralizing" barely scratches the surface for what this flood of information can do to a person.

I've certainly gotten MUCH better at handling the ups and downs of this career, but have set out with great determination to find the positive side of things, and to try not to indulge the bitter, dark side of humanity that is plastered everywhere for us to witness: terrorist attacks, genocide, greed, car bombs in Times Square, human trafficking, outrageous political machinations, inane bigotry, hateful and destructive religious extremism. The list is endless. And it so easily can give rise to a feeling of hopelessness and despair - which quite frankly equals death. Personally, I'm not interested in dying - metaphorically or literally - until it truly is my time.

So I choose to fight it in the very small ways that I can, and I have yet to find a better summation of how to confront such despair than by words that were uttered by the great Martin Luther King, Jr:

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

Last night I attended my very first Metropolitan Opera HD transmission here in Geneva. It was Rossini's treacherous "Armida", and everyone that was starring in the show I can happily call a friend of mine, which was a total hoot for me. I was SO thrilled to see them all giving such full-on performances and bringing joy to so many people.

(With my two wonderful co-stars, tenors Luciano Botelho and Gregory Kunde)

But when Larry Brownlee fell to his knees in the famous tenor-trio, his eyes burning with passion and tumult as he recognizes he must choose between love and duty, I was flooded with everything that is magnificent and miraculous about the human spirit. Here is a person who has overcome so many obstacles in his life to soar to the very top of the operatic world, and he has done it with utmost elegance, class and humility. He is on that stage to serve people, and to serve his talent. It is humbling to me, and inspiring beyond words. I watched someone yesterday who has crossed so many barriers to bring light into the world through his beautiful voice and generous spirit.

We need more of this beauty. We need more of this light.

How lucky we all are - because I assume each of you reading this embraces music as a provider of access to something extraordinary - to have something that brings beauty and serenity and comprehension and insight and joy and tears and has the power to open sometimes the most stubborn of closed doors within ourselves. I'm humbled to work in a business with so many wonderful colleagues that bring such beauty and generosity to the world.

But there are an infinite number of sources for beauty and joy - and I just love finding them. For example, please enjoy this little Sunday escape:



PS - John Osborne gets a HUGE thank you from me for the fabulous "shout-out" during the 4-tenor interview in the intermission yesterday! Dude, you are awesome!!!

PPS - Final dress is on Monday, and after a very beautiful pre-dress, I think everyone is really looking forward to our opening on Wednesday. This one is a keeper!!

PPPS - In proof-reading this little post (which doesn't always help, because I know I'm not the Queen of Grammar - too many "!!!!"s!) But the title says "Wisdom". I don't mean to imply it is "my" wisdom - it refers to MLK's quote. Which is, indeed, wise. (See what I mean about the grammar?!?!)

Music! Music! Music!

Yesterday was our sitzprobe of "La Donna del Lago" here in Geneva. It's my favorite of rehearsals - after all the weeks of focusing on the staging and the costumes and the lighting, we get to go back, with our scores in hand, and simply SING the music, now knowing the physical and internal journey the character will be taking on the stage. It's heaven for me. I sing along with my score, double checking that I'm singing the accents, flavoring the lines with the correct articulation, feeling my breath moving through the phrases without any other physical demands, and, especially in the case of a new role, singing it with orchestra for the very first time.

It's as if the lights are finally turned on. It's true for every piece that I've ever taken on - it becomes infinitely easier to sing with orchestra than it ever does with piano. There is something about having the vibrational support of the strings, the cushion of the breath from the woodwinds, and that wonderful, solid foundation of the celli and double basses underneath you - somehow you feel as if you are allowed to take flight.

I'm fascinated by the character of Elena (especially in this production!) and found that her path to the grand finale makes the aria come to life for me in a very special way. I'm mesmerized by the music and think we have assembled a really wonderful cast - this is a true team effort, with everyone shining in their very own ways. Chorus is actively involved and the initial sounds from the orchestra sound very promising.

However, it is a long week. Yesterday afternoon we sang the entire opera, then a 2 hour break, and we had another 3 hour rehearsal in the evening on stage working through the first act. Now arrives the time to stay healthy and rested, because it really is a marathon of a week!

The excitement is definitely building!

Running Through

Last night we had our first complete run-through of "La Donna del Lago" here in Geneva.


Again, I love the serendipity of debuting this stunning role in a city famous for it's gorgeous lake! By all accounts, everyone was happy with the first attempt at getting from A to Zed last night, but it was a real indication for me of how tough the night will be from a performance standpoint.

In this particular staging, Elena is on stage the entire time (save for the beginning of Rodrigo's aria near the end of the 1st act.) Aside from that brief exception, I'm on. It means that getting to the finale of the piece, which just happens to be the big aria, "Tanti affetti", comes after nearly 3 hours of intense concentration, constant physical tension, a fair bit of singing, and a single, brief drink of water. Last night was the real litmus test to see if I can make it, and coming at the end of a long week of rehearsals, I was relieved to still be standing at the end!

Seeing as that it's a new production, I can't give away too much, but I'll be very curious to see how it will be received. Christof, the stage director, has been very convincing in his vision of this piece, and I've always said I'm willing to try anything as long as I can understand the "why" of the character's choices. In this case, Elena is a bit of a recluse without too many social skills and escapes into a world of fantasy and flight, all the meanwhile having to live within the reality of her war-torn village. I found the journey last night terribly fascinating, but it's a huge challenge to pull off: if I lack any clarity as a performer, I fear it won't work at all.

It's also a character that is quite far from me (personally, I tend to thrive in most social situations!), and the awkwardness that I'm being asked to play presents the problem of not disappearing entirely as a personality, as well as finding the internal strength to sing out her emotional phrases. I'm loving the challenge and hope that I'm able to create a convincing, tender character who surprisingly blossoms into her own, making "Tanti affetti" a necessary expression of her journey - not just a fireworks display (although I do anticipate that there will be a few vocal sparks during the night!!!).

I shared with a dear friend of mine a bit of dismay in being "simply dressed" - which, of course totally fits with the character, and seems perfectly right, but you know, as an opera singer playing a girl, we always want the pretty dress. His supportive reply was this absolutely priceless and BRILLIANT clip from a TV special with Beverly Sills and Carol Burnett. It's a must for a beautiful Sunday laugh:



And as is always the case with youtube, once you start it's nearly impossible to stop, so there is also this, which brings back beautiful memories for me of "Resurrection" at HGO a few years back:



Seriously. Does it GET any better than this?

The laughs were most welcome after a long, exhausting week, but I'm officially ecstatic about the opening coming up soon. I must say, I feel that this role is a real gift to me at this moment; I am relishing each musical phrase, and it seems the exact right moment to be adding her to my repertoire. I get to spend a decent amount of time with her in the next few years and it's a RELIEF to say that really love her!

It's also wonderful to be debuting this role in such a wonderful, familiar house. I've done 4 big role debuts here in Geneva (Elisabetta, Sesto, Ariodante, and now Elena), over the span of 6 years, and each time it has been a wonderfully safe place to take risks and explore a new repertoire for me. For someone who lives nearly her entire life on the road, it's nice to find those places and people that make you feel at home!

A lady on a lake

Greetings from relatively ash-free Geneva where Spring is definitely making its welcome presence known.



We seem to be one of the few European cities escaping some of DFGHVZYPYJKIWSKJAIA's fury for the moment. (Is that the correct spelling of the Icelandic volcano? It must be close!) What a nightmare this has turned out to be for so many travelers and fellow artists and family members! Mother Nature truly marches to her own rhythm, and I suppose in the end, there is no point in trying to argue with her. (How tempting to break into a Copland/Dickinson tribute at this moment! "Nature, the gentlest mother" - HA!) Hard not to get too down with all the natural disasters that seem to be sweeping the globe these days, and my heart flies out to all those suffering from the horrors of the earthquakes and this latest hardship. Sometimes it's a bit puzzling to reconcile all that suffering with what I do, but I've learned over the years (and with many thanks to all your comments and observations) that music, is in fact, vitally, profoundly necessary and relevant to the human spirit. So I'll keep singing whilst I can...it's the small contributions that add up over time, right?

Changing the subject: I'm loving the fact that I'm debuting my next role living 2 blocks from a huge lake!



The serendipity of it makes me smile. I'm always cautious about trying to predict how a new role will actually materialize by opening night, and doubly cautious to predict how a new production will be received - I can't really spend too much energy in prediction-ville, because one simply never knows. My job is to delve into something with all the conviction, examination and preparation I can and let the audience draw its own conclusions.

But I would like to say that I'm beyond excited about adding this new belcanto role to my repertoire. I fall more in love with her with each day, and find the score coming to life in a way that I didn't expect (and we don't even have the orchestra, yet!) Even I, who adore and celebrate Rossini, sometimes fall into the "yes, but it's not Verdi" trap. Shame on me! This score is full of imagination, surprising colors, heartfelt emotion and true theatrical tension. Even though it preceeded them, it feels like another world entirely from Barbiere or Cenerentola, which impresses me even more, knowing these scores all came from one young mind.



It's a slightly tricky opera to put onto the stage - ok, perhaps I'm being generous! Not that I MIND being the objective of so many people's desire, but it does pose a few problems for an audience that may be looking to find some modern application to their lives. (Not that opera always needs to serve that purpose, mind you. In fact, I think it is the escapism that often appeals to people and grabs their hearts!) But I understand the quest for comprehensive story telling and am happy to join in the adventure.

Our director, Christof Loy, just may be on to something here. I can't quite see the whole picture yet, but I can tell you that I'm terrifically challenged by the story he is asking me to help tell. (As I was telling a friend about this, his reaction was, "What! Isn't the music challenging enough?!?!) He has delved deeply into Rossini's compelling music and into the psychology of these characters, bringing us along for the ride, and has found something I'm finding to be quite compelling.



He is one of these directors that doesn't let me get away with my first instinct. DAMN! I feel like I have a very instinctual stage presence - or at least, I'm not afraid to show the director something strong on the first attempt at a scene. I find that most directors seem more than happy to be given something, so they say, "fine" before asking themselves if that was indeed the best choice. Instead, Christof (like a few other of my favorite directors) sees something more, and asks much more of me as an actress. It's not always the easy solution, and can easily be a source of frustration for me, ("why aren't I getting it??") but in the end, I think I end up with something much more complex and intriguing. I'm starting to find that with this role, which could easily fall into a "victim" persona, and again, I'm grateful for the challenge to find something special in this girl.



Today I had a few hours to wander around the lake and soak up some of the welcome sunshine, and enjoyed having the bevy of swans preen and pose and prance for me and my lonely camera! With all the things going on over the past 2 months my camera has gotten rusty and lonely. I was so happy to reacquaint myself with her, and we had a fabulous time taking in some of the spring sites. The light was fabulous, and the fresh air was a gift.



Happily, I can report that my ankle is doing wonderfully well. I have a great Physio here who says that things look better than normal and that the healing is going wonderfully. I ditched my crutches a few days ago, and being able to walk (with the help of my trusty walking cast) feels AMAZING. It's like freedom has returned! I've been rehearsing slowly and easily, but it really feels good and seems as if my cast won't be too much of a distraction for the performances. (Yep, I'll be in a cast for the shows. I suppose after the wheelchair and now the cast, when I'm 85 and using a walker as Rosina, it will just complete the circle!)

I appreciate greatly everyone's support and respect for not posing too many questions ... somehow it seems to keep the pressure at a distance! In the meantime, I'll share my favorite photo of the day:



Back to the lake, now...

Thought for a day

"If you stare at it long enough
the mountain becomes unclimable.

Tally it up. How much time have you spent
waiting for the soup to cool?

Icicles hang from January gutters
only as long as they can.

Fingers pause above piano keys for the chord
that will not form.

Slam them down
I say.
Make music of what you can."

~Charles Rafferty from "Against Hestitation"

That makes me smile.

Themes

So, let's chat, shall we? I suppose it's time for an update. But before I come clean, I have an enormous favor to ask: if you make it to the end of this posting, please heed my request at the end. That is all I ask! (Oh, and this will be a long post - so perhaps pour yourself a glass of wine?)

So here goes:

On Monday I went in for ankle surgery - technically I believe it was called a "Bromson Procedure". Apparently yours truly sings while under sedation, but more on that in a moment...

During the final orchestra rehearsal here in Chicago, an exuberant Cherubino went dashing off the stage into the dark shadows of the garden in the 4th act of "Le Nozze di Figaro" and he found half of the small exit step and missed half of the step. At full speed, my ol' trusty right ankle fell into that now familiar form and turned over on itself. Violently. The pain was, well, let's just say the orchestra was subjected to a string of vile expletives, and my first thought was "Great, I broke my leg again. This is RIDICULOUS!" My second thought, and mantra, went like this:

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Etc."

Stupid.

Honestly, it was a normal stage accident that could happen to anyone - it's just that it happened to me. Again.

Well, examination by a fabulous Doctor Boone Bracket brought forth the good news that my fibula was in perfect, stellar condition, having healed beautifully and staying completely intact. Brava, Fibula Mia! The bad news is that I tore my ligaments. Tore them right good, I did. Beautiful.

Well all the pieces of the puzzle have now come together: do read on, if you care to indulge in the elaborate history of a weak ligament. I swear to you what I'm about to share is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but - there were witnesses.

(Break in the action: the lovely Nicole Cabelle who sang a gorgeous Countess)

Back in 1999, I was singing my first ever Rosina for the Kentucky Opera, and I was walking to the theater on the way to my final matinee. Well, there is a big river that runs through downtown Louisville which can mean some big ol' winds often blow through town. On this Sunday afternoon a HUGE gust of wind decided to tag me "it" and blew me nearly off my feet for a full city block - the only thing that stopped me from flying face-first into a bus stop ahead was my falling over on myself. Yours truly sprained both of her ankles - yes, BOTH, at the same time - but the lucky right one took the brunt of the fall. Yep - it's a great image.

I'll never forget it: I was lying there, tears streaming down my face, unable to get up, and this man appeared laughing - he said, "Are you ok? My wife and I were watching you and we were just laughing at you flailing down the street, and then we realized you were really hurt." Ha. Ha. Well, he put me in his car and drove me to the theater, and I performed the show on crutches. How LITTLE did I know this would become and most unfortunate, annoying, theme throughout my career.

Well, as I've thought on it, I'm quite convinced that my injury was much more severe back then than I realized, and I most certainly needed surgery. But I had no insurance, thought "it's just a sprain", and had work to do - so I went on about my business, no physical therapy, no surgery, just waiting to be able to walk on it.

That injury, I'm certain, has been at the root of my subsequent "trips" ever since. There is of course the infamous London one ("NOW AVAILABLE ON DVD", she said in her TV infomercial voice), there was the sprain during the San Francisco Barber, in Paris during rehearsals, my little non-injury trip in NY for my Rose Theater Recital, etc. Ah yes - there have been numerous ones. But I easily dismissed it as being clumsy, or "accidents happen", etc, and in fact, I'm convinced I have been working with a most compromised ankle. Chronic, if you will.

So: surgery. I was obligated to have it thanks to this latest tear, but it probably should have happened years ago. The Doctor tells me that while the recovery will be long, it should bring me back to a strong, healthy, NORMAL ankle. "A what?", I asked. "What's a normal ankle????" AH! A NORMAL ANKLE!! Doesn't that just sound like heaven?

(The hilarious Keith Jameson as Basilio, who kept me laughing through it all)

So, considering the time it takes to have surgery, and plan recovery, etc, and considering how much I hate the idea of canceling, I had to weigh my options. My best scenario was to not cancel anything, which meant either postponing the surgery until my break in August (not wise, and quite risky), or squeeze it in after the run of Figaro in Chicago and hope for the best. This is what I have opted to do.

Shall I explain further? Naturally! (Maybe it's time for a second glass of wine?)

In speaking with the Doctor, he felt that he could construct a splint that could fit inside my costume boot so that I could try to perform Cherubino. I sat out the final dress in order to rest up (first one I've ever missed!) and the decision was to try the opening, see how I felt, and if I felt ok, to continue the run. If I felt that I was going to do any kind of further damage, I would withdraw and have the surgery right away. Enter the amazing costume staff of the Lyric Opera who stayed hours to find the right pair of boots for me that would house a big brace and still be stable. They are my heroes.

Well, I can't tell you how difficult the opening show was on that Sunday. In all honesty, it was harder than the London show when I actually broke my leg, for then I had no time to process anything, I just simply kept going forward. And then when the wheelchair entered the game, there was no question about being in pain - it was more a logistical struggle. But coming back onto the stage where I had just suffered the recent injury in such an active role? For some reason I was completely wracked with nerves. I sang one of the worst performances in my life (apologies to those who heard it!) - I mean, it was serviceable, and I don't think anyone needed to ask for their money back, but it was not a "signature" performance, to be sure. It was all the wrong kind of adrenalin: my pulse was racing, my voice was shaking, my breath was not at all under me, and all I could thing of was "don't step wrong!" Considering this was Cherubino, that was a tall task.

But once the first scene was over, I started feeling my legs under me, and I started settling a bit. But boy, was I happy to see that curtain come down! The relief was enormous. And I was also thrilled to see that my ankle hadn't swollen, I didn't feel any additional pain, and it seemed that this was something I could pull off. I saw the Doctor the next day, and we agreed that we could move forward with the run without incurring any damage. His scrawny, fabulous brace worked miracles!


As the run went on, slowly I felt better and better, and by the end I was forgetting that I had a brace on - well, nearly forgetting, and I felt totally back into Cherubino's shoes. Oh, that felt great.

But the surgery was looming, which meant a lot of questions would soon be answered. Happily, upon examination, the Doctor found that my ligaments were salvageable! (If they had not been, he would have had to have used a tendon to take the place of the ligaments...good times!) But he found a lot of scarring from the past injury(s), and the fresh tear. He assures me that my ankle is now tight, taut, and probably will be quite sore for sometime. BUT IT WILL BE STRONG! YES!!!

The beautiful part of all of this (there usually is a beautiful part, if you look hard enough, I've found) is that the Doctor I was blessed with is a huge opera lover. Huge. In fact, the first day he met me, he simply turned to me, looking into my scared eyes, and said, "Ya'll have no idea how powerful it is what you do." (He's from Texas.) He was serious, and he continued: "I'm convinced you save far more lives with your warblin' than I ever could with my scalpel." I knew immediately that I was in good hands.

Although I do have to say that being wheeled into the surgery room, all white and antiseptic and sterile and cold, and me shivering in my paper thin gown, to the strains of "D'Amor al dolce impero" was about THE most surreal moment of my life! He was playing my Colbran CD! I'll tell you - I could NOT wrap my head around that one - memories of being in sunny Rome singing my heart out, and here, scared to death on this cold metal bed hoping for the best! It was BEYOND bizarre.

But before I knew it, I was out cold, and then being brought back to reality. The entire staff then assured me that, indeed, I do "sing purty." "Excuse me?", I asked? Well, apparently I sing while under sedation and under the knife. Will wonders never cease? The Doc told me that was a first in his operating room experience. Go figure.

So what is next? I'm told I can be weight bearing in about 2-3 weeks, so I will arrive in Geneva next week to start rehearsals slowly, but with gusto, and I will most likely be performing the shows in a walking cast. A sleek, sexy, fabulously trendy walking cast. OK - one of those big, bulky, horrid things, but it will hopefully do the job! The good news is that Elena surely can't be as active as Cherubino, right? And the staff and administration of the Opera there in Geneva have been HUGELY supportive and will try and do everything to make it work beautifully.

I honestly have no idea how it will all go, except that I will do my best to not have it be an issue in any way possible. As much as possible. That's part of my job. Which is where my request comes in: Without wanting to be ungrateful in any way, because truly, you folks who read this blog are such ardent supporters of mine and mean so very much to me - without you listening and applauding, I would look quite stupid on an empty stage! You're a huge reason I do what I do. But I do wish to ask you to resist the temptation to write to me personally, asking me how I am, or to inundate me with questions after a show of how my leg is, etc. (Positive comments, however, are always welcome on the blog!!! I love those!) I know you will be concerned, and I know that some of you will want to share that concern, and I appreciate that. But the way my mind works, I prefer to look ahead and stay very positive. I tend to believe that where you put your energy, results will follow. If I put all my energy on thinking about my broken ankle, I will feel the pain a bit more, I'll feel a bit weaker, and I'll expend the energy I should be using to heal to think about my "poor ankle". That may sound a bit crazy, but it is the way I try to work and live.

So if you agree to help me on this, let's try not to keep going over it and asking all the time "how is your ankle?" I prefer to get healthy and then have you be able to concentrate on my performance and the show rather than on whether I'll still be standing at the end! If you could help me with that, I'd be most appreciative.

I will give updates here so you can follow how the recovery is going, but in the meantime, you can spend your time ordering the London Barber, and watching it over and over, instead of worrying about me! ;-) (How I would LOVE to be remembered for something related to my singing at the end of my career rather than being a klutz!)

I do want to give one apology, as I did have to cancel one thing to fit in this surgery, and that was the 75th Anniversary Gala at AVA. I was looking forward with immense joy to return to my roots and sing for the supportive public there, but sadly, flying a day after surgery wasn't an option. I'm hugely grateful to AVA for their understanding, and hope that I can have a raincheck!

Oh, and before I go - a HUGE shout out to the amazing cast of "Nozze" here in Chicago. So many people that saw it said it was one of the very best they had ever seen, and I can't tell you what an honor it was to be a part of this cast. We had a ball, and I will miss the show terribly! Bravi, tutti!


Signing off, with my beautiful plaster cast elevated above my head!
CHEERS (and thanks for your understanding!)

Ah. PS. The reason I waited until now to write about all of this, was that I didn't want anyone's focus during "Nozze" to be on my leg - there has been enough of that. But with rumors being what they are, and me showing up in Geneva in a cast, I thought it best to put things on the record!