"On the wings of love..."

That's a wrap! Well, nearly a wrap - tomorrow we must finish up the Act 1 finale duet and a few stray recits, but for all intents and purposes, my Ariodante is officially "in the can"! I must say, it feels WONDERFUL!! It was quite an accomplishment and thrill, to say the very least, to work on this iconic role 2 years ago and bring him to the stage for my first time. Spending time in his shoes (or boots, as it were) was an exhilarating journey for me and I relished every moment. Much time has passed, a lot of life has transpired, and I've been given the chance to revisit him and put him under the microscope, having the luxury of spending time with each phrase, playing with the colors and making different character choices with each take. It has been a tremendous learning experience for me, and I count myself ridiculously fortunate to have had such an opportunity!

Today was my final aria - the monstrously difficult "Con l'ali di costanza" with its nearly unsingable, endless phrases. It is the most instrumental of all arias I have sung - as if he had composed this for oboe rather than voice! Handel's original version for Carastini relentlessly asks for note after note to come forth in sometimes very disjointed positioning (that's the instrumental part), all riding on the text of "Con l'ali di costanza...' ("On the wings of constancy"), which implies that the pervasive color should be that of air, light, fleeting, soaring, not a care in the world! Well, I have a LOT of cares when singing this fiendishly difficult piece. It's funny - you ask nearly any singer who has sung this role, and I would put a lot of money on each of them identifying this piece as a veritable nightmare. (Same goes for Idamante's opening aria in Idomeneo - it is the bane of our existence as mezzos.)

Now, mysteriously, after the opening, Handel quickly devised a shorter version of the same aria which, while still posing technical problems, is markedly more approachable - mainly because the offending passages were reduced by several measures. It would seem that Carastini had lungs of titanium, and the rest of us poor mortals must compensate!

We have done the full version here. Upon waking this morning, I was ready for the challenge mentally, even if my body was sounding the alarm of being tired. Singing this aria with a slightly compromised breath support system is not an option!! So I steeled myself, rested up a bit in the afternoon, and gave it my best shot!

In preparing this dense but brilliant aria, I had to work on the various elements in isolation. Much of the work was purely technical: very slow passage work to insure accurate pitches; very elaborate rhythmic work to enable facility and speed; lots of breathing exercises to give life to the long phrases; and then trying to throw all the technical challenges out the window and simply let the voice FLY. I won't profess to say that I'm 100% happy with the results - I'd love to have flown a bit more fleetly, accurately and easily, but I am very happy that I made it to the end in one piece!!!

The conductor and crew were also very happy as well, so I will trust their ears to say that "we got it" and Ariodante flies on the wings of love to start this opera out! All of that having been said, it is a RUSH to sing, and when we finished the complete take, I am sure I felt what marathon runners feel - that flood of endorphins pulse through the body. Then I had a big plate of pasta with red wine, and my day felt complete!

No pictures to post today - I was a bit too tired from yesterday's marathon session, and my concentration was all on singing today. Also, while I can't quite respond to each of the wonderful comments and questions from you all for the moment, I did want to address Chris, who mentioned being a bit disillusioned about the recording process, imagining that perhaps a recording session such as this consists of the singers going through the entire piece and voila, we have a finished project. Instead, with the different edits and takes, it somehow might seem like we're cheating just a bit. I understand this. And there is a big discussion to be had about the merits of live recording vs. studio recordings. But I, for one, think there is place for both.

But I would like speak to this particular project (and the others I have worked on with Alan, as well as my solo discs), and that is that we get one chance to lay down our version of Ariodante. ONE shot to create something that will outlive us all. He puts a tremendous amount of research into the style and performing habits of the day, and the desire of submitting the culmination of that work onto a disc means he wants his very best vision to arrive on your shelf. We performers are hardly predictable machines. Every single time we sing a role it is different. No matter how proficient we are, we make mistakes. We sing out of tune. We have a low-energy day and the performance somehow falls flat. This is live performance. But for the amount of work that goes into preparing an opera, and knowing that it will be preserved for posterity, and many people will look to it to define the work itself, it is important to present as polished and theatrical version as possible. Making several takes and correcting small passages allows us the luxury of truly creating a cohesive, as-near-ideal-as-possible interpretation.

For example, in the beginning of a week like this, I'm nervous. I am a bit jet lagged. Perhaps I'm just in a bad mood! It might take several repetitions of the opening aria to #1: help me relax, and #2: help the orchestra get used to my phrasing, where I breathe, and my character. Perhaps I will hear something new in the orchestra that I hadn't heard before and that will inspire a different reading in me for the next take. Perhaps we simply get richer in our interpretation with each reading, which is quite often the case. We get the LUXURY of reading the phrases differently - perhaps one time in the cadenza, my Ariodante feels weak, and in the next reading I want to try it where he is instead furious! We take both options, and in the end the producer and conductor will have the luxury to see what works best in that particular dramatic context.

It's not all just about trying to find some sort of elusive, sterile perfection. It's about creating something that is vibrant and alive and involves all the players' very best contributions. It's absolutely another beast from performing a piece live on the stage, but this has it's place, as well. I am certain that technically speaking, my singing on the final edit of this version will be far better than what I could do with the role live on stage, and I was able to take different risks in our beautiful setting here than I might dare to take on the stage - and this will give a certain kind of result. On the other hand, we all know that the electricity of a live performance will never, ever be replaced by something that comes through your loud speakers - squeaky, out of tune notes and all!! (That, my friends, by the way, is due completely to YOUR presence in the theater. It is you, the public, that charge us to be bigger than life and energize our performances!!)

But I believe both have absolute merit, and believe me, I'm more than honored to be a participant in the recording of another of Handel's masterpieces! I don't think any musician involved in this process thinks we're cheating, or that we're replacing a live performance. We're making a recording, an archive, a tiny fingerprint of how we see this opera today. I guarantee you, if we held a reunion in 10 years of these singers and orchestra members and re-recorded this work, the result would be entirely different, and not only because a wobble or two had come into play!! This is my vision of Ariodante today. Next year, I'm sure it would be different, but how fabulous to be able to take a snapshot such as this, in this moment in time, and toss it over to you for your analysis and critique and, hopefully, your ENJOYMENT!!

It has been an honor to sing this music, and whenever it arrives, I can only hope it will bring endless amounts of enjoyment for you. That is the intent with which it was recorded!

From Lonigo, wish me safe travels for the next few weeks as I try to navigate this crazy winter weather Europe is having!!!

Into the blind night

I'm exhausted. Spent. And oh yes, does it feel GOOD! Today was a rather brutal day in terms of recording: 3 arias were planned, and that's a lot for a single day, believe it or not. What results in 7 minutes of music on a disc likely takes 90 minutes of full-on singing to complete the picture. Normally we will invest in one full take of the piece, listen to the results (debating tempi, colors, ensemble, dynamics, etc), and then the real work begins, usually attacking one segment at a time, involving numerous repeats until the ideal result of musical perfection and high emotional impact show themselves in perfect unison! That's not a lot to ask, is it??? We're only trying to get perfect intonation from every single orchestra member, as well as from the singer, perfect unison between all the musicians - at the same time! - and on top of all the technical aspects, we're trying to create ART! Trying to find a genuine emotion that will transmit over loud speakers or headphones that actually MOVES the listener without the aid of costumes or theatrics is a very high challenge. We need to ignite your imagination so that you can enter into our story and travel along an emotional journey. And we get about 90 minutes to make that magic happen!

As I wrote yesterday, it truly is more of a sprint than a marathon, although after 90 minutes of "Scherza infida-ing", I certainly feel as if I've run a marathon!!

"Qui d'amor al suo linguaggio"

This is Ariodante's entrance arietta, and introduces us into a tranquil, simple place where a certain utopia seems to be on hand. Happily, it endures all of Act 1, until chaos naturally ensues as the curtain rises on Act 2. The trick, I think, is to honor his "larghetto" marking (which is always up for debate - too much "largo" and it drags, to much "ghetto" and it doesn't quite feel languid or romantic enough!) But I think the key comes in the decision to not give into the melancholy of the poetry ("the rivers are speaking the language of love..."), and to concentrate on a fresh quality that is still somehow vibrant and alive - not too self-indulgent. (Which, by the way is very hard for me to avoid - I LOVE indulging a great larghetto!) But after the drama of recording some of the later arias, it was wonderful to come back to the beginning - the calm before the storm, so to speak - and get Ariodante's footing firmly on the ground as he begins his journey. The surer his standing is, the farther the fall - and isn't that what we come to the theater for?


(On hand at the cembalo, once again, is the brilliant-as-ever Andrea Perugi. He has been on all my recordings with Alan Curtis, and due to his fine Tuscan background, is the go-to-guy for all things Italian. He points out when my "o's" are too closed, or "i's" not closed enough. He also has the greatest face on the planet. It always seems to emit a bit of sunshine, so even here in foggy Lunigo, he is a breath of fresh air.)

"Scherza infida"

Ah. The monster. The monument. The untouchable! This aria has such a hallowed air about it, that it falls into the category for me of "white glove treatment ONLY!" Don't dare take it down off the shelf unless you're wearing white gloves and close all the curtains! It's one of THOSE arias! And yet, I somehow have to roll up my sleeves and make it my own. I have to dare to sing those famous phrases and find a way to make it mine. I had the luxury of recording the aria on its own for my "Furore" disc, and that was one experience. This is another - another conductor, another band, another venue, and certainly I am a different kind of artist, with nearly 2 years having passed since I last recorded it. I was curious to see how it might have morphed along the way.

Well, I hesitate to divulge too much, and certainly, MY experience of what I put into the recording will be very different from the listener's experience of hearing it. But I can say that I felt quite a lot more "raw" this time, perhaps (dare I say!) a bit more violent with the utterances of disdain and indignation and threat towards Ginevra. I suppose having recorded nearly the whole opera now, the poison I felt creeping in during "Tu, preparati a morire" certainly bore a different kind of fruit in this rendition. Ariodante has just been primed by Polinesso to be jealous and agitated, and all it took was a tiny, brief glimpse of a veiled figure in the dark for him to assume that Ginevra has been unfaithful. Could it be possible that without Polinesso's influence, seeing the same thing, Ariodante could have laughed it off, knowing for certain Ginevra would never betray him? Did it really only take a small bit of sly insinuation? And yet, when he crosses the line, he crosses completely.

Being so immersed in the role in these days, I wasn't too seduced by the beauty of the aria (oh, how Handel tears my heart out with his beauty!), but I stayed deep in the text, trying diligently not to give into self-pity, and instead looking to heave the guilt onto Ginevra. The text is relentless in its condemnation of her, and I tried to stay with that more than I had done previously. I think, also, that Alan hears the orchestra as quite mocking and derisive, and not necessarily always beautiful. I found it very interesting to get into the mindset that Ariodante's pain is so very great in this moment, that he can't dare to let himself FEEL it too much - instead he needs to transfer it all onto the one he loved most in the world. He simply cannot bare to carry the burden himself.

Which makes the realization that he was completely wrong all the more tragic, bringing us to:

"Cieca Notte"

I might have mentioned that I find this to be the most important of Ariodante's arias. Now granted, when recording any one of them, I actually feel the same way - how could the opera exist without every single note of his??? But I do think this is the pinnacle of the opera for him, even if most people believe it peaks with "Scherza Infida," for understandable reasons. But this is actually the REAL challenge of Ariodante as a man: he finds out he completely misjudged Ginevra, and in fact betrayed HER with his quick, eager assumption. All of a sudden, all that relentless, wicked vengeance he directed at her is suddenly turned onto himself.

Again, Handel gives us jagged angles in the music - dotted rhythms, leaping intervals, and a dark, troubled color with both bassoons adding into the orchestral mix. Ariodante begins by blaming the "blind night", and the evil friend and traitor who set him up. It seems the entire A and B sections find him trying desperately to displace the blame - anywhere but on himself. But then, at least in my personal subtext, even though the text repeats, I think Ariodante starts to accept the blame himself. I see that HE, in fact - not the night, but he, himself, betrayed this "gran fe" ("great faith"). I think the only reason he can pick himself up and return to his people, is because he is not afraid to take the blame. He is not afraid to answer for his actions.

That assumption of responsibility is truly what makes Ariodante a hero - not his title, not his showy arias, but the fact that he drags himself back to life and faces the woman he loves, admitting his failing.

I tried to find that realization in the da capo, keeping all the mixture of emotion and exhaustion that overcomes him. But each time I come to that aria, I'm convinced it's a masterpiece, and it defines the character of Ariodante so completely. Ah, they ALL are! Who am I kidding????

**Let me also throw in one rather LARGE disclaimer at this point. I'm happy to share my personal approach and experience with this recording, HOWEVER, it must be said that even if I FEEL all these things and AIM to translate them onto disc, I may fail miserably!! I can imagine someone purchasing this disc (and 10 more as Christmas presents - hint, hint!), and then stumbling onto the blog and thinking, "That's not at ALL what comes across in this aria! Was she on drugs???" Perhaps one of the greatest surprises to fans out there might be to find out that what we as singers often BELIEVE we are communicating, often arrives to you, the listener, as something completely different. (Just try recording your outgoing voicemail message, and you'll see what I'm talking about: what you THINK you sound like and how you MEANT to say it, often are miles apart from the result you actually hear!) So, I just wish to release myself from any and all responsibility for your listening experience of this opera when it arrives on your shelf at home! I'm simply sharing my observations - what arrives, is out of my control!

Ah, there! Now I can relax!


The wonderful part of this experience, in addition to the mystical music, is getting to create such art with magnificent people. Alan Curtis has devoted his life to the research and proliferation of Handel's music, and the legacy he is leaving behind is mind blowing.

(Ah, as another side note - he found ornaments for "Scherza infida" that were most likely written either BY Handel himself, or by a singer who worked with him extensively. I've implemented a few - including a rather unusual cadenza - but both Alan and I thought it would be interesting to include what perhaps might be the most authentic of variations. In truth, they are actually quite shocking to what a modern ear has become accustomed. I imagine it won't be to everyone's taste, but I do think it will be most interesting!)

So there is Alan, and there is his wonderful band of players, all who play simply for the joy of making music - certainly not for the big paycheck! So it feels as if we are a part of something very special here. Anyone who bemoans that there aren't any studio recordings of operas being made simply need to google Alan Curtis! I've lost track of how many he has contributed to the universe. Handel has certainly never enjoyed such a plethora of devotion!

Happily I have the morning off, and I plan on reveling in the extra hour or two of sleep it will bring. I'll need it, as we have saved the most difficult aria of all (technically speaking - not emotionally speaking!) for the last day, and it greets me tomorrow evening after a slew of dramatic recitatives in the afternoon. So many notes lay ahead for me tomorrow, I dutifully close my computer and call it a night.

"It's a night."

You call this mercy?

When the movie Forrest Gump arrived on the scene, I hurled myself on the "Life is like a box of chocolates" bandwagon and reveled in the film making as well as the simplicity of the story. But the scene that has stayed with me the longest is the "Captain Dan" moment when he hoisted his amputated, broken body up the sail boat in the midst of the raging thunderstorm and challenged God with "Is that all you got?" It was a stunning image, although certainly not the first time such confrontation had been employed for dramatic effect.

This morning as I was singing "Numi, lasciarmi vivere per darmi mille morti. È questa la pietà?", ("Gods, so this is your pity: you let me live only to die a thousand more deaths?") Captain Dan's defiant fist punching through the tempestuous air was my defining image of the morning.

Handel dares the most jagged of rhythmic gestures, over and over, creating violent angles and leaps, truly painting the portrait of a broken man, pulling himself back to shore with no will to live. Again, while some may find the repetitions of text baffling in these old baroque pieces, I find them astonishing for it really is how the human mind functions. I hope I'm not alone in this - but I do think we humans tend to endlessly repeat things to ourselves, searching for understanding and comprehension - especially in moments of despair. We simply work it over and over, grasping for illumination along the way.

As a singer, what a luxury it is to have the TIME to explore the depth of despair and outrage and confusion and vehemence and anger and exhaustion with the simple phrase, "This is how you show me pity?" In a 2 minute piece, that phrase is repeated 6 times. Not one of the utterances should be like the one before it, each needs a different question being asked, a reason to be repeated. Handel does some of the work for us, but we have to fill in the blanks. Ah - it's SO good!

We then did a few recitatives in the afternoon (that gives the orchestra a much needed break, except for the poor continue folks have to soldier on!). Those are a big challenge in a recording, because they are totally isolated from the dramatic arc of the piece that we can find on the stage during a performance. We literally are jumping from #9 to #37, and immediately it is up to us to create the atmosphere in the moment. Today that meant I had to sing of how I had reached the ultimate realms of happiness leading into "Con l'ali di costanza", followed IMMEDIATELY by the devastation that gives us "Scherza infida". Talk about a schizophrenic moment! But here is where having performed the role on stage comes in, as well as a certain amount of recording experience: I know how to navigate the dramatic pitfalls such as this a bit better, and can hopefully launch myself directly into the moment of the scene. It's a challenge to be sure, but also extremely rewarding, because it's like running a sprint at full-on speed, as opposed to running the marathon of a full opera!

After a break and a lunch of pasta and potatoes, it was time for death. "Tu, preparati a morire!" After an entire first act blossoming forth with bliss and perfection and unadulterated joy, (not to mention killer introductory arias for all the cast) the drama starts full on within seconds of the start of act 2. Polinesso challenges the faithfulness of Ariodante's beloved Ginevra, and without thinking, Ariodante immediately defends her honor and constancy, and threatens to kill Polinesso.

But then! Handel begins a slow drip of poison! In the most chilling B section amidst the fury and vengeance of the A part, Handel introduces doubt. For the first time, Ariodante begins to play out what would happen SHOULD Ginevra be unfaithful to him - something he surely had never really given much thought to in the past - and he simply states, "desperately, I would die." But it's not quite that simple - Handel draws it out on a long, tense thread of wandering melismas for the voice, almost as if you can see and feel the poison of doubt entering Ariodante's veins. It's as if he is truly painting with the vocal line, demonstrating the venom seeping into the hero's blood.

From a purely vocal standpoint, this aria gives the singer the chance to do everything - firey coloratura in the start, violent aggression (always fun for me as a girl to live out that little fantasy!), and then hints at true despair and desolation with melting vocal lines of endless legato (hopefully!). It's quite a tour de force, I have to say - but is often over shadowed by his other big numbers. But I find it an immensely interesting psychological study. Ah, see? There I go again!!!

Tomorrow - Cieca Notte, which I actually dare to say is the most important aria he sings, and Scherza infida - that little ol' number! Best get a bit of rest!

Aaaaaa...

...riodante, days 1 and 2

Where to begin? What a start to the new year! I have just commenced recording one of the greatest operas ever written, historic in its impact on the musical world of its day, and rather unsettling in modern times for its emotional scope as, once again, Handel seems able to crawl into the marrow of his characters and create such strong, frail, vulnerable and both painfully and jubilantly human roles.


First of all, we find ourselves in quiet, sleepy Lonigo for the recording, tucked away up on the hill in an old monastery, veiled by an almost retreat-like quality which I'm finding very conducive for the concentration needed for this role. The orchestra and (amazing!) soloists eat, sleep and dream here all together which breeds a wonderful atmosphere for unity and a singularity of purpose. This intensity is a good thing.

Lunch is at 1:00 and dinner at 8:00 (provided we've gotten all the right notes down in the daily recording session) and both sittings include the obligatory pasta as a first course, and some sort of meat with potatoes for the second. Imagine that - pasta AND potatoes for each course! I'm in carb heaven, and hope my waistline survives intact by the end of the week! But trust me, these arias take a lot of energy, so let's just agree that I'm actually burning it all off, shall we?!?!

I can't begin to express how fortunate I feel to be given the opportunity to record this music, but to say that it is daunting is a merciless understatement. I don't need to list for you all the iconic recordings/performances of this role that have come before me. Talk about intimidating! But as a general rule, I've tried most consciously never to compete with the beautiful voices that have sung the same notes and words as me before - I can't imagine anything more futile than trying to "one-up" a great artist or historic reading of a role. That's insanity. The best part of Handel is that his characters are so HUMAN and therefore, I hope, can stand up to many different interpretations. Do I hope mine will be an interesting addition to the catalogue of brilliant Ariodantes? Absolutely - otherwise I wouldn't dare to open my mouth, but I'm trying very hard in this week not to be tied to voices from the past and the fear of "measuring up".

This probably held true for today's aria more than any other: "Dopo Notte". Talk about a minefield of memories, notes, endless phrases and harmful assumptions!!

In speaking with Alan Curtis, the conductor and vision behind "Il complesso barocco", I knew that he would adamantly uphold the tempo marking Handel clearly gives to this piece: Andante. But I like to sing it Allegro - for some reason, the coloratura is much easier at a quicker tempo for me. Besides, every recording I've heard of it takes at least an Allegro approach. Isn't it what people expect? How to reconcile this?

Well, one thing that has always disturbed me about this approach is that Ariodante has just emerged from the true depths of despair. (Has hitting rock bottom ever been better illustrated than by Handel in the 2nd act?) And yet there is further to go: in the 3rd act, he realizes that HE is the betrayer and must now shoulder all the guilt that he tried without mercy to transfer to Ginevra (but more on that later...) How in the world can he go from the cavernous blackness of "Cieca notte" to unadulterated joy a few pages later? In fact, Handel gives him 2 very long beginning notes to find his footing (or voicing?) as he speaks about the night after the storm - he doesn't ask Ariodante to explode into a frenzy of ecstatic coloratura right from the start. It's slow brewing and pensive in a way. Ariodante can FEEL the pain he has endured, and is looking for a way back into the joy he had before his fall. I'm convinced he needs time to bring himself back. He needs a resurrection.

I felt strongly that I wanted to make the first part of the aria a bit of a struggle for him to articulate - the syncopation being about the battle to get back to the rapture he once knew, rather than immediate elation. But once he sings in the "B" section about what he has endured, and he truly realizes he has returned from the fire, he can than authentically own the joy of the sun returning. He has become a man. Now he can dance!

Maybe that's a bunch of psychological crap, but I'm afraid it's what Handel brings out in me!!! I'm hoping that Alan and I found the way with our tempi and temperament to make it a piece that contains the inner struggle that allowed Ariodante to overcome his despair: joy is very different when you have been through the fire.

On a lovely note, Mother Nature cooperated wonderfully and gave Lonigo the most beautiful dusting of snow in the afternoon - so I could actually imagine a "Dopo Notte" after the snow!


Snow on palm trees - is there anything more beautiful!

Yesterday was the first day of recording, and we did two of the duets between Ariodante and Ginevra. Why, oh WHY are triplets so bloody difficult to sing? You'd think 16th-notes would be so much more brutal, but no - triplets seem to work in only one tempo for the voice, no mercy! Oh, they are evil little buggers!! (Side note - I love those old vocalise books of Rossini, Marchesa, etc - and I'll be darned if they don't have buckets full of triplet exercises! Seems like they've always given singers nightmares!) But we had a very good take of the final duet, and again - maybe I'm crazy, but I think Handel is just off-the-charts genius: considering all that the two lovers have been through, perhaps "normal" 16th-note runs would have been too easy. Perhaps he liked that it would require a bit of a struggle to come back together, considering they are now both very different people! Perhaps I'm over-thinking it...!

We're off to a great start here and are working very hard to bring this opera to vivid life for ya'll! Sadly, you'll have to wait quite a while (these things aren't exact, but most likely into 2011!), but hopefully the work we're doing will be worth it!

Happy New Year!

Greetings from Lonigo, Italy where I am about to embark on another Handel recording with my long standing partners-in-crime, Alan Curtis, and his baroque band, Il complesso barocco. I've just dashed in from Baden Baden after a LOVELY New Year's Eve concert (realizing my dream to sing some of the great American songs of Gershwin and Porter and Arlen with orchestra!), after having dashed home for a few days to be buried in the biggest midwest blizzard ever to hit on Christmas Day, after having dashed in from London (via Los Angeles) for a very moving birthday concert for Julius Drake at the Wigmore Hall. Why do I feel that it's already May?

No - it's not! It's only January 2, and I'm late in wishing you each a most happy New Year. May your 2010 be filled with magic, and music, and love, and joy, and more bliss than you can possibly imagine.


And aside from this little photo from the thrilling fireworks display outside my hotel on New Year's Eve, I leave you with one little quote:

"We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential."

~Ellen Goodman

Happy New Year!

A holiday full of thanks

Dear wonderful fans (or random stranger who happens upon this blog!),

I wanted to send out a very heartfelt, sincere THANK YOU to each and every one of you who have taken part in my journey over this past year, and throughout the years. I love singing and performing, but there would be no "career" without each of you who fill the seats, buy the discs, spread the word, and most importantly, who derive some bit of statisfaction, insight, or joy from the music I help make. In sum, YOU are the very reason I do what I do.

I cannot begin to express the fortune I feel to do what I love to do and to have the opportunity to share it with each of you. For some reason, things have fallen into a beautiful, miraculous configuration that provides a way for me to make a living in music. This never escapes me, and it continues to fill me with joy.

There is really no proper way to thank you, but I wanted to try! I have bought a LLAMA, which we can call the "Drama Llama" for obvious reasons, via one of my favorite charities, Heifer Interational. In your name, oh fabulous Yankeediva Fans, a llama will be given to a family/village most in need, and as a result it will help bring sustenance, income, and dignity to people who may struggle with such things we often take for granted. Llamas are great, because not only can they survive on scrub vegetation, hence not robbing families of precious food, but they fertilize the ground in a great way, while their fleece serves as a fabulous source to knit clothing as a source of income! They are the best. (Not to mention that they are the cutest things in the universe - this alpaca stole my heart this past summer in the San Juan Islands!)


How ADORABLE is he? Or she.

It is a small gesture, but certainly anything but a small one for the family that will welcome this animal with open arms. Should you feel like reciprocating in any way, you, too, can purchase geese, sheep, rabbits, or even a part of a heifer!!! (Fat lady jokes commence!) Just click the link above and enjoy the rush of helping someone in a very significant, substantial and concrete way.

In the meantime, I'm home for Christmas, baking cookies, choosing ornaments (the Handel variety, not the red-ball variety!) and getting ready to enjoy every moment with my family. May each of you enjoy your holiday with gusto, overflowing with love and joy, or at least great music!! Again, you have been so very good to me, and I share in the beauty of this life with each and every one of you!

One last little gift to smile about -- ENJOY!!!


Cheers!
Joyce

Opera News Awards

I realize I'm a wee bit tardy on this post, but you know - there has been sunshine to enjoy, ornaments to write, and lyrics to memorize! But I didn't want to let too much more time pass before sharing the amazing evening that I participated in a few weeks back.

The Metropolitan Opera Guild began hosting the "Opera News Awards" 5 years ago, and it has become quite an event in the social calendar of New York City, not to mention in our wonderful, whacky opera world. They honor 5 different artists in the course of the evening, usually consisting of one or two singer on the younger side (eh hem!), one or two luminaries or legends, to say the least, and a composer or conductor of great merit. 2 years ago I was asked to present an award to the incredible Olga Borodina where Leontyne Price was also being honored - and the impact of her speech and very presence alone moved me deeply:



But this year it was my turn, along with Gerald Finley, Philip Glass, Martina Arroyo and Shirley Verrett. Sadly, the effervescent, elegant, refined and awe-inspiring Shirley Verrett could not attend the awards. She was sorely missed and celebrated with gusto by everyone in attendance in her absence. The video clip of her singing Dalilah was ravishing beyond words, and her legacy was deeply felt and celebrated by us all.


Gerald Finley, dashing as ever (and with whom I've had the privilege of sharing the stage on several memorable occasions), spoke eloquently of the importance of our art form and those who make it possible; following a witty introduction by none other than Paul Simon, Philip Glass accepted his award while speaking of the high calling of composing an opera; and Martina Arroyo - RADIANT with her beaming smile and twinkling eye, inspired all of us who are still singing to be sure to carry the torch, especially bringing in the next generation as we move through our careers. (She's putting her money where her mouth is, doing marvelous, intensive work with young singers as a part of her foundation.

I cannot speak for what the other recipients were feeling as they took their moment in the spotlight, but I can tell you that I was overwhelmed and perhaps even a bit incoherent! The "force of nature" that is Stephanie Blythe served up an introduction to me that reduced me to tears. (Although the tears had no strength to fight themselves back since I was attending the gala with a sleep deficit of about 48 hours!) But I'm rather certain that they would have shown up even with a full night's sleep, for she was incredibly eloquent and heartfelt and deluged me with the most touching and sincere words I could have imagined. She is a treasure, and I felt quite honored to be receiving this award from her.


As I accepted the award, I truly felt the presence of everyone who has touched my life in a significant way: the teachers who inspired with their wisdom and patience, the critics who, oddly enough, also inspired with their dismissals and oversights, the colleagues who challenged me to be better, the friends who lifted me through the most difficult of times, the manager who believed, the family members who walked with me, ... and it was each of them that overwhelmed me that evening, knowing that I could not have been standing there with the crystal in my hand without them.

We never know the impact we may have on another's life, but I can say that there have been COUNTLESS people in my life who have taught me, challenged me, lifted me up and tore me down. Yet the reality is that none of them can ever stand on the stage and make me do what I do - no artist or performer has the luxury of leaning on someone when the cue is thrown your way and you're not sure if you can do it or not. That's our responsibility alone. But somehow, the strength they have given you along the way, the lessons they have taught you, the times they have abandoned you and forced you to find the strength deep in yourself - somehow they all contribute to the making of an artist, and it was this which was heavy on my mind that night.

There is another element to building up an artist and helping them stand on a stage in front of thousands of scrutinizing people: the fans. The wonderful, passionate, discerning and sometimes whacky fans!!! None of this makes sense unless it arrives to the audience for people to hear, experience, live, breathe and FEEL the music and emotion. How privileged I am to be given the honor of singing for you!

Oh, there was one more element of the evening - which nearly put me over the edge! My brilliant husband was busy conducting "Casanova's Homecoming" in Minneapolis the same evening of the awards and was unable to be my date for the night, but the ever thoughtful Met Guild found a way to bring him to NY that night, via a video greeting. As you can see by my reaction, I was taken completely by surprise and felt overwhelmed by the outpouring of love not just from him, but from everyone that evening!


Thank you, Dario Acosta for the use of your lovely photos!!

Rainy days and Mondays...

...can often get you down, but in LA it's a bit hard to let it settle in and take hold, I have to say! Perhaps it's actually a most beneficial thing for my career that today is rainy, because loads of work beckons (or, is that loads of work beckon?), but I must admit that the last week of sunshine did my inner child a WORLD of good! I'll actually let a few pictures do the talking:



I really shouldn't say anything just yet (touch wood, please!), but my leg feels back to normal now. After loads of physical therapy, I have felt immeasurably lucky to be back on form, and while being cautious, have immensely enjoyed getting active again. In fact, I look at the roller skating as quite good therapy for the ol' legs! Not to mention the rush of just PLAYING! Ah, it does a soul good, so that when I have to play a young teenager...


...it doesn't feel like QUITE as a big a stretch as it might otherwise! I just think finding JOY around you is one of the greatest gifts you can possibly give yourself. Life is not always easy, and challenges present themselves on such a regular basis, it is true. But if you can find a way to train yourself to see the humor or the laughter or the joy in it, somehow it passes a bit more easily - and the bonus is that I think you leave yourself open for the truth of the experience.

Even if that's not always possible, I'm a big believer in that when life is GOOD, make the MOST out of it! Celebrate it, and let it refuel you for when the tough times arrive. Which they will. But in the meantime - celebrate!



Or at the very least, LAUGH!



Now my Italian Art Songs are calling...."Amarilli......"