Reflections

First of all, a few stats about my last 5 months:

2 torn ligaments
1 ankle surgery
1 pair of crutches and 2 walking casts
5 countries
2 new roles (oh, I love you ladies!)
2 new productions
1 revival, whose premiere coincided with the year of my birth
26 shows
2 magical recitals
1 thrilling recording
6 CD signings (thank you for coming out!)
Countless interviews (in French, Italian and English)
1 book dedication (shout out to Donna Leon for the coolest thing EVER!)
and
1 amazing Carbonara w/ Tartufo (Courtesy of my husband!)


*Saying good-bye to the trusted, sturdy boot*

I don't know when I've ever experienced a period as intensive, complete, rewarding, challenging, uplifting, tiring, or thrilling as this, before. I will admit to being a bit overwhelmed. I feel quite happy to have ended the summer still STANDING (yes!) and feeling strong and energized. In fact, I feel that I finished the summer with more energy than I started it with - hence this mini-boom in technology on my part!

Artistically I feel that I've done some of the best work I've ever done this past summer, and I don't say that to brag; simply that I recognize that I took some significant leaps forward artistically, and I believe that is to do with the challenging new roles which I relished learning, with the wonderful conductors I have collaborated with, and the great artists with whom I have shared the stage. I felt it was a summer of constant learning and growing from these "teachers" and I made it a point to soak up each moment - and now that it has come to an end, I can can feel the fruits of being present in each and every one of these events.


*A summer of beautiful collaborations*

Last night as I walked out onto the stage of the Usher Hall at the Edinburgh Festival, I took my normal 20-25 minutes on stage by myself. It is very nearly my favorite moment of the night.


An expectancy bubbles over in the air, and I get to sit at the piano and just feel the space for a bit, before the energy of the crowd descends on the hall. Last night I knew it would be a great recital, and indeed, there was an extraordinary feeling in the hall. Both David and I felt a freedom in the music-making that can only come from repeated performances, and a long collaboration with a trusted music-mate. It was bliss, and the absolutely perfect conclusion to a summer that fed me deeply in many, many ways.


I am now officially on vacation, so you won't hear from me for awhile. But I'll be recouping and resting and rejuvenating and reveling in time at home with my husband and family and friends. It's been a long time coming and I plan in drinking every moment in to the fullest!

I want to thank you all for the wonderful, enthusiastic support you have showered me with during this past season, and I hope that it will only get better and better from here on out!

CHEERS!

Sublime Surreality

Yesterday was our final "dress rehearsal" (we oddly still refer to the final rehearsal for concerts as a "Dress", even when costumes aren't involved), but because the Edinburgh Festival is such a hotbed of activity with over 240 classical music performances in the span of a few short weeks, rehearsal space is at a real premium. As a result, we soloists, the Maestro, Sir Roger Norrington, and the whole of the stunningly wonderful Scottish Chamber Orchestra and Festival Chorus were hauled out to a local Junior High School, and we preformed a nearly uncut version of Mozart's Idomeneo, surrounded by brightly colored poles, construction paper mosaics of various animals, petites toilets and paper trees praising the efforts of various students for "improved handwriting" and "finishing the race". It was incredibly surreal to be singing such a heart-wrenching drama under paper penguins and basketball goals, but somehow it all worked:



Elettra, the fiercely wonderful Emma Bell, stands next to a pole that reads "Responsible Citizenship". Hardly a candidate for that, I would venture (Elettra, that is - Emma is a lovely citizen!):



The ravishing Rosemary Joshua as Ilia, sings under the watchful horns of a Rhino. Naturally:



And of course the basses endure the Marching of the Penguin above them:



It's always the little things, isn't it?

Speaking of education, this is off topic, but I found the following video endlessly interesting, revolutionary and one of the most intelligent, hopeful and improbable things I've seen in a long time:



And finally, a bit more on topic, but also intensely related to the above video. Tonight's performance of Idomeneo will be dedicated to the late, and truly great Sir Charles Mackerras. His presence has been deeply felt during this week of rehearsals and will surely be quite overwhelming this evening. We singers have been speaking non-stop of his deep impact on us as musicians, and it's clear that his impact on not only the music business, but on the many people he touched during his enormous life was beyond profound. I am eternally grateful that the world experienced his passion, his expertise, his enthusiasm, his creativity, and his youthful spirit - all the things Ken Robinson is trying to salvage in his approach to education. I know I am richer for it. And I'm certain that of all people, Sir Charles would have loved making music underneath penguins. Ain't life grand?



Tonight is for you, Sir Charles - I hope we will do you proud!

P.S. If you liked the above video, here is his sequel from a few years later:

Salzburg Recap

No, it never gets old to think of taking part of something so historic and profound:



We were blessed with amazing weather while in this lovely city: for highlighting those steeples and orange roofs, blue skies by FAR beat out those gray ones!



The road trip to Salzburg involved a stop at a roadside rest stop where I saw surely the world's largest jar of Nutella. It was only 33€ and I tried to convince my husband that it was a REAL bargain! He didn't let me buy it...my hips were relieved, but I was personally devastated!


A look back in time:



I'm not always a good tourist when I visit new cities. Often my tolerance for fighting the feisty crowds and predictable gift shops is non-existent after having done it for so many years, but we simply had to stop into the house where Mozart was born. I don't care how jaded one is, it's still powerful to think that this was the spot in the universe where some sort of access to the divine was born. The "doorbell" outside the front door not only is a cool design, but I couldn't help but think that these were surely some of the first musical sounds little Wolfgang ever heard:



Don't tell anyone, but I secretly snapped this photo of his spinnet where numerous of his early compositions were supposedly created. It totally gave me chills. (And it's not a bad photo, considering I was holding the camera at hip level, with my back turned to it!!!!):



Shopping in Salzburg - mercifully my bags were already exceedingly overweight, so purely from a technical standpoint I was prohibited from doing any damage. However, I did still covet - and I tend to covet things I'll never, ever be able to wear again:



And finally, the raison-d'être: a magical, memorable performance of my first Adalgisa. After the 2nd concert, I shared with Edita Gruberova that this was a most unforgettable experience for me, and that I would never forget sharing the stage with her. Her response carries quite a message: "Well, we do work hard, don't we?"



Danke for the most wonderful 2 weeks, Salzburg! I hope to see you before too long!
Schuss!

"Things Change, Jo"

In 1998 the Houston Opera Studio premiered the now nearly standard repertoire opera, "Little Women" by Mark Adamo. It challenged us greatly at the time, but seeing that it has enjoyed numerous performances now makes me quite happy that we were in on the ground level. I sang the character of "Meg" (even though I REALLY wanted to be "Jo"!), and found that in the end, it was definitely the right fit. Meg's big tune was about change, and the title of the aria, "Things Change, Jo" has become my go-to catch phrase for a lot of situations.


1998 was my final year in the Houston Opera Studio, and after 2 life-changing, challenging, formative years I was "ready" to embark on a professional career. I spent a good portion of that final spring singing for management and hoping to be picked up by one of the "good ones". I had all my recommendation letters lined up, audition repertoire polished to the nth degree, and I thought surely it would happen easily - after all, I was a recent graduate from the Houston Opera Studio - my fate was SURE!

Well, it didn't happen the way I had envisioned it. In fact, it was the antithesis of what I expected. I was not accepted onto any of the NY rosters that I auditioned for. I was the only alumni of that year to leave the program without management. I had a few jobs lined up, but the all-important A G E N T (cue the scary music, please!) was nowhere to be found. I found myself in Hamburg in June of that year, feeling quite a bit the odd mezzo out, and sang my heart out for Placido Domingo's Operalia competition - surprisingly, coming in 2nd place. But it was the call the following Monday morning that was my first big "Things Change, Jo" moment.

A British sounding voice introduced himself as "Simon Goldstone from IMG Artists in London", and suavely continued with "I think you're terrific and want to represent you for world wide management." I was completely taken aback, because I had #1: never heard of him, and #2: certainly hadn't sent him any of my carefully prepared and organized materials! Where was this guy coming from? After he shot down my argument of "But you're not a NY Agent" with the canny answer, "You do realize we have opera over here, as well, Joyce", I decided to meet him and hear him out.

Within the month I was on his roster, and he had moved quickly to organize a rush of European Auditions. Simon and I have since taken a wild, crazy, surprising and immensely rewarding journey together, and the idea that we still just might have a long way to go is quite exciting. We share a lot of the same philosophies and that has made for a very smooth ride. A few of the nuggets he passed on to me early on:

Me: "But Simon, I thought opera singers made good money - why aren't I making good fees?"
SG: "Joyce, don't worry - you do the work, the money will follow."

Me: "But Simon, I don't understand - why does it seem that everyone is moving faster than me?"
SG: "Joyce, don't worry - keep doing the work, we're building a long term career here, not something that takes off and crashes after 4 years."

Me: "But Simon, why are all these other people getting recording contracts and they're passing me over?"
SG: "Joyce, don't worry: your time will come."

Me: "But Simon, what else do I have to do to get noticed?"
SG: "Joyce, don't worry: you keep doing what you're doing, they WILL get it...eventually."

But what does a manager do? How do you know if they are the right one for you?

Well, I can tell you what they don't do: They cannot GET the job for you - that's our responsibility. But, if they have a reputable, reliable relationship with the theaters, and if they have developed a certain level of trust, when they say to the company just before your audition, "Watch out for this one - she's special," they just MIGHT listen to you with slightly more open ears.

They cannot get you rehired - that's our responsibility, (and ultimately, that is where all your work will come from anyway!) They cannot MAKE a career happen (or at least a sustainable career!), that's our responsibility. And they cannot MAKE you a star - in the end, only the public can do that.

But they CAN guide you, and lead you, and protect you, and be your ears, and give you critical, honest feedback, help sustain your morale when you've been beaten down, and occasionally, if you need it, be the shoulder that you lean on when all your loved ones are in another land. And when they are the right one, I think you'll just know. If you ever have to force it, it will never quite mesh they way you'll want it to, so you have to listen to your gut.

I've now been with Simon for 12 years - wow, a full dozen! - and the journey has been grander than I ever could have imagined. It's also been a helluva a lot of fun, as we've made sure to enjoy ourselves along the way. So when he told me that he had an amazing opportunity with a wonderful "boutique" agency in London, I didn't hesitate - I proudly and eagerly said, "let's go!" Things change, and I've slowly come to realize that changes are AMAZING. I don't think I've had one change in my life that didn't lead me to exactly where I needed to be, regardless of whether I knew it at the time or not. This is a bigger change for Simon than it is for me, but I know that he shares the same philosophy as well - Things change, Jo, but that can be a great thing!

So as he made the transition with elegance and class, openly and professionally, without scandal or controversy, I knew that I would remain in wonderful hands and be most happy to share in his excitement of new opportunities and adventures!

So it is with great pleasure that I now officially announce that I am an Intermusica Artist, and happily continue on this journey. I do wonder what the next 12 years might bring....!

An Experiment

Let's see if I end up enjoying this...

Austrian Photo Safari - looking up!

Why rain is good

It would appear that after our 3 heavenly, gorgeous sunny days here in Salzburg we may have consumed all the sunshine for our 2-week allotment. That does make me a bit sad, but it's imperative to remember why the rain is necessary and, in fact, sublime!

At a recent dinner party (oh God, it was good! And the recipe can be found in the new Opera Singer's Cookbook: Die Oper Kucht!) I couldn't get enough of the gorgeous flowers that were abundantly and proudly strutting their stuff. I leave you in peace to enjoy the hard labors of the rain that so dutifully falls on this lovely, historic, sonorific town!











CHEERS!

PS - Don't forget you can now follow me on Twitter if you like!!

Worst accompanying photos EVER, but it's the best I can do for the moment!

Greetings from SUNNY Salzburg! Oh how happy I am to be able to say that! This city is simply stunning in the sunshine! May it never go away.

I am happy to report that sizzling electricity pulsed through Bellini's music last night, and my first essay of this wonderful role will be galvanized in my memory for a long time to come. I feel like I just met a new, dear, friend, and I cannot wait to spend more time with her. That may sound a bit strange, but I feel this way when I sing a role for the first time: I never really know this new character until I meet him/her in performance, and with the bit of performing experience I have, I'm all too aware that with the debut undertaking of a new role you barely scratch the surface of finding out who they are, even with all the greatest preparation and intensive rehearsal in the world. The dynamics of performance are so different that nothing can really prepare you for the journey you will take in front of the audience. I know that with each outing I will learn more and more about the character and about how I can meld myself with them. (See - another reason I love the challenges of opera - those never ending possibilities to learn!)

Adalgisa is an astonishing creation. She possesses a very strong moral center, but grapples with her fevered passions - her passion for her God, for her vows, and for the man she loves - who, as tenors are wont to do, serves to complicate things exponentially. Above all, however, she fights for her devotion to Norma. In this she is unwavering. She doesn't waste time bemoaning her fate - she attacks it straight on: "God, protect me in this fight", not "But I love him sooooo. Why can't have him? Pooooooor meeeeee." No - she faces her dilema straight on and fights proactively to salvage her faith. She immediately denounces him when she knows he has betrayed Norma.

The strength of this woman, as the opera moves forward and she comes into her own radiates so strongly, that singing her story is such a joy. I love, for example, when we get to the hit-melody of "Mira, O Norma", which Bellini weaved with such simple perfection, he serves up the same simple vocal line for both, and yet we can hear two completely different emotions emanating from these two women. With Adalgisa, I feel a strong, unwavering, unbroken line of assurance and conviction as she wills Norma to salvage her life, and yet, with the same notes and rhythms, Norma can sound as if she is barely able to stand, completely without strength and faltering with each syllable. One melody, two different stories, two conflicting emotions.

And then? These 2 voices miraculously meld into one and Norma is lifted up and sustained in hope and promise. Sadly, yes, this promise ends in a fiery demise, OK, but for the MOMENT perfection triumphs and all is harmonious in the melodic world of thirds and tag-team coloratura!

Please excuse me, but I must gush and blubber-on for a moment to say what a privilege it was to stand on stage last night with the LEGENDARY Edita Gruberova and have the incredible honor of making music with her. She is a monumental artist and has given this world so much joy and beauty through her singing and artistry, that I had to work extremely hard last night not to simply stand in awe of not only what she has accomplished in her long and storied career, but in the performance she was crafting before my eyes last night. It was a magical night for me as an admirer of hers, and as a musician, to create music on that level next to such a star. Indeed it was a night to remember!

Now, from the sublime to the ridiculous. I was obviously too preoccupied with my first attack of this role (in such a prestigious venue, no less - AND, as I found out, in what was the premiere performance of "Norma" for the Salzburg Festival!), that my camera did not make an appearance. I hope to make up for it with the 2nd show.

But I wanted to post something....so I have some bug shots from my vacation last week outside of Innsbruck. Yes. Bugs. But, if you'll bear with me, I can connect the dots. But please, at this point, do me a favor and re-read the title of this blog post, as it truly is the worst association of a blog theme with photos. Ever.

;-)

OK - here goes nothing:

The colony of worshipers await Norma's arrival on the scene. (You may have to click on the photo to enlarge to get the full benefit of the association!)


She stands before them and spins a perfect bel canto line in her famous aria, "Casta Diva":


In front of her two children, she contemplates murdering them. (My God, who EVER says opera is boring?!?!):


Saving the day, Adalgisa flies onto the scene and convinces Norma to be a better Mother as they sing the hit tune, "Look, Norma":


Oh, that was terrible. But I did spend the most fascinating half hour with this flower watching the traffic of the feeders and I was mesmerized. Which completely grosses me out, because I'm really not a bug person. At all.

Either is Norma, I know, but hey - we have to make do with what we've got, right? Oh no - what have I done? I've surely just inspired some young director in a most perverse way!

Cheers!