tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33901025160931233592024-03-05T19:20:26.233-08:00CHRISTINE'S VOICEa.k.a. grahamophone, Christy G. <br>
grahammaster-C, sopranograham<br> <br>
www.christine-graham.comgrahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-7306407776792396892015-03-15T22:48:00.002-07:002015-03-16T09:26:18.008-07:00Knowing when enough is enough - K.A. Hartmann's "Lamento"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the <a href="http://christinesvoice.blogspot.com/2015/01/shenson-recital-at-stanford-part-1-back.html" target="_blank">last installment</a> of Christine’s Voice, I had just chosen Olivier Messiaen’s <i>Poèmes pour Mi </i>for the Shenson Recital Series at Stanford University. We find our heroine in the library in Frankfurt, on the hunt for repertoire to complete the program....<i><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What might fit in with Messiaen’s cycle of love songs written in 1936, also fitting in with the theme of music surrounding World War II? With this on my mind, I saw, as if laid there by an angel, <i>Lamento</i> by Karl Amadeus Hartmann (1905-1963) on the shelf in plain sight. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I opened the book.<br />
Modern? Check! German? Check! Texts about the atrocities of war? Check!<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I hadn’t heard of this composer -- to be fair, he hadn’t written much for the voice, and his other works aren’t that popular -- but the more I researched, the more I found his story to be fascinating. In a sort of self-imposed exile (Hartmann himself called it an <i>innere Emigration</i>), he demanded that none of his works be performed in Germany while the Nazis ruled. His compositions enjoyed success in other countries, like <i>Poème symphonique MISERAE</i>, performed 1935 in Prague, and since he was neither Jewish nor otherwise subject to persecution from The Third Reich, he could come and go as he pleased. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In solidarity to his contemporaries whose works had already been deemed degenerate and some who had been forced out of the country or worse, he dedicated the piece to his “friends, 100s of whom had to die, who sleep now for eternity -- we will not forget you.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Lamento</i>, a reworking of <i>Friede Anno 48 </i>which was a cantata for soprano, chorus and piano, is set to texts by Andreas Gryphius, a German lyric poet of the baroque era. These were sonnets written about the Thirty Years War, which was also the setting of Hartmann’s chamber opera based on Grimmelshausen’s novel <i>The Adventurous Simplicissimus </i>(1668) to which he commented:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“The descriptions of the setting of the Thirty Years War struck me as strangely current. [...] There, the individual was at the mercy of the desolation and savagery of an era, in which our people had already once been close to losing the core of our soul.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As I read the Gryphius sonnets for the first time that day in the library, I had a similar feeling. Even to this day, in several places around the world, we are in the midst of or on the verge of war. More than 300 years after these texts were written, we continue to use poetry and music to convey our frustration with it, and ‘fight’ against it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Lamento</i> was one of several of Hartmann’s compositions which emerged as a reworking of another piece. Like his music, our recital program went through many revisions and rewrites before becoming what it is. I had to consider the arc of the program, and although this song cycle conveyed the exact message I would like to get across, bombarding college students on a sunny Sunday afternoon in California with 20 minutes of atonal music lamenting death and destruction just didn’t seem like the way to go.<br />
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Was I to leave <i>Lamento </i>altogether? No. We’d come too far by now. We decided, for the sake of the program as a whole, to cut the third movement from the performance - a 9-minute happy end called “Friede”<i> </i>(Peace) built on two separate Gryphius sonnets. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As difficult as it was to drop “Friede” from the set -- because this piece contains some of my favorite moments from the <i>Lamento</i> cycle, and since the whole piece serves as a crux for the recital itself -- it still seemed like the right thing to do. At some point, Hartmann himself had to learn to stop revising, changing and perfecting his pieces and just put them out there. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Even without the third song, we will still be able to bring across Hartmann’s interesting musical language in the context of a program which reflects those he influenced and who influenced him. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, I will just leave the text from my favorite passage here for myself, to remember what drew me into the piece in the first place:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Adding to Gryphius’ words, “... in which sweet peace returns, and one hears a song of thanks instead of raging trumpets...,” Hartmann, suddenly drops the atonal shield between us and our barbaric nature, and embraces a harmonious major chord to add in his own words: “Peace to mankind, Peace to the dead, Peace to the living. Peace, Peace, Peace.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Shenson Recital Series: April 12, 2:30p.m. Campbell Recital Hall, Stanford University<br />
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<br />grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-4412045585702045442015-01-26T15:03:00.002-08:002015-01-26T15:03:22.639-08:00Shenson Recital at Stanford: Part 1, Back to the Books<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">After the recital with Robert Huw Morgan at U.W., 1996</span></td></tr>
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</span>Back in November 2010, when I had the pleasure of singing Gershwin songs with the incomparable Petra Woisetschläger at <i>Die Fabrik </i>in Frankfurt, I wrote <a href="http://christinesvoice.blogspot.de/2010/11/nice-work-if-you-can-get-it.html" target="_blank">a bit about the process of planning and performing recitals</a>. Since then I’ve only sung one other recital, an ambitious concert of songs by American Women Composers for the Archive Frau und Musik, also in Frankfurt, with pianist Sara Okamoto. Now, thanks to the recommendation of my college crony, Robert Huw Morgan, who collaborated with me for two splendidly challenging recitals at the University of Washington, I have another rare occasion to take on the difficult but rewarding task of creating a program for the Shenson Recital Series at Stanford University this April.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>For our second recital in Seattle, Robert and I featured the first half of <i>Poèmes pour Mi </i>by Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992), a nine-song cycle divided into two “books” that the composer wrote for his first wife in 1936. Inspired by our previous collaboration, we decided it would be appropriate for our reunion (after 19 years!) to pick up where we left off and present the second half of the cycle.<br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Great. So one set was chosen. I now had to come up with ideas for the remaining three-quarters of an hour of music. This was a daunting prospect -- for a long time you feel like you’re staring at a blank page. Then, when you’re up to your elbows in stacks of music from the library, the sorting out of material is just as formidable a task as coming up with the ideas in the first place. The other recitals that I’ve sung provided me with a framework -- degree requirements, Gershwin, American Women Composers. That really narrowed things down. But for Stanford, I’d been given free rein in choosing the repertoire. So, now all I had to do was sift through 400 years worth of vocal literature and see what caught my eye. Easy peasy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I proceeded to whittle down the stacks of music by examining a few factors - what’s the venue, who is my audience, and what can I give them that perhaps another singer cannot?<br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the Gershwin program, I felt a certain sense of authority to present these songs as an American in Germany. Given that the concert was part of a <i>chanson </i>series, and coupled with a talented improvisational pianist, we could add our “mustard” to it unlike anyone else in the whole neighborhood (in fact, I don’t even think we could perform it the same way twice). For the recital of American Women Composers, I was able to introduce works of women I knew personally, and sing in my own language to boot.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As an American giving a recital in America, however, both of those party tricks wouldn’t impress anybody. And even though I’ve been living and working in Germany for almost two decades, the songs of Schubert, Schumann, Wolf, Brahms und Co. are nothing new to the average American student of singing. Nor do I consider myself much of an expert on the Romantic era, even though I share a birthday with Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (August 28th - mark your calendar!).</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In recent years, I have gained a reputation (and honed an ability) as a singer of “Modern” music. The beginning of the 20th century was a fantastic time for art, when composers broke free from established norms and created their own systems (e.g. Schönberg’s 12-tone music) or ignored the rules completely -- and they have been doing it ever since. This brought my thoughts back to Messiaen and his Seven Modes of Limited Transposition (thanks, graduate school!). Just a few years after he composed <i>Poèmes pour Mi, </i>Messiaen was drafted into the French army, then captured and imprisoned in Görlitz. From there he composed his famous <i>Quatour pour le fin de temps (Quartet for the End of Time)</i>. Prompted by his biography which ties him to Germany, albeit in an unpleasant manner, I decided to search for music relevant to World War II, exploring the time frames shortly before, during and shortly after.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So I hoofed it back to the library to start researching. Although the Frankfurt Public Library has a lot to offer, nothing can beat the stacks of the University of Washington School of Music Library, where I spent hours at the big wooden table in the alcove, overlooking the collegiate gothic quad strewn with cherry trees, blossoming in the Spring. <br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Since we performed our last recital 19 years ago, I’m about 19 pounds heavier (maybe more), and Robert’s beard is about 19 inches longer (maybe less). I couldn’t be happier to begin this highly underestimated venture of planning and performing a song recital, for which I am now approximately 19 times more qualified than I was then.<br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tune in next time to see what else we have chosen for the program! <br />
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Next up -- Karl Amadeus Hartmann (1905-1963): <i>Lamento</i></span></span></div>
grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-60074298744361554292014-10-01T14:49:00.000-07:002014-10-01T14:51:09.562-07:00I just know that something good is gonna happen!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Before the Dawn: Hammersmith Apollo</span></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In case you weren’t aware, Kate Bush took to the stage this year in London, 35 years after stepping off it last. Tonight is the last of those 22 shows. I had the great pleasure of seeing it.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There are enough accounts out there of how the evening unfolded, yet it seems a shame to let such an experience go by without comment. Although I don’t have the dedication to or love for Kate Bush’s art required to call myself a huge fan, I took so many shared experiences home with me. Without a doubt, my love for her work grew after those two nights. And I can’t help but to draw some parallels between my own coming of age as a singer/artist and the things I saw on that stage.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Just like an opera production, the show was the same every evening -- a well-rehearsed, planned sequence of events and music, intertwined with lighting effects, choreographed moves, a story line, and other theatrical elements. I really like the trend that the two opposing worlds have taken. Pop concerts move toward the theatrical (not just a band playing their songs one after the other on stage), while theater moves toward rock concerts (it’s been a long journey on Broadway from “South Pacific” and “The King and I” to “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” or “Passing Strange,” for example). Kate Bush songs are inherently operatic - content as interesting and convoluted as any dramma per musica, based on literature or real-life events. Her lyrical palette fluctuates from tender soprano to strident, almost desperate crying (or some other type of noisemaking). There goes another tenor (heh heh).</span></span></div>
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The concert series has been called a comeback “residency” instead of “tour”, since all the performances took place in the same venue. But this was no comeback. This was a continuation -- albeit with a large gap. Comeback implies failure; depending on how you look at it, Kate Bush consistently failed throughout her career. That doesn’t seem to have stopped her.<br />
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Despite the fact that she was the first woman to have a number one hit in the UK with a self-penned song (“Wuthering Heights”), the bulk of her output didn’t make it into the Top Ten, if onto the charts at all. That was the fascinating thing about the event for me. So many people from all over the planet, from all walks of life (well, there was a certain congruence, which my sister and I tried to identify in fellow fans during pre-show ale-drinking at the Swan), came from the farthest reaches of the globe to see this happen. People not interested in charts or flashes in the pan; people who have kept this ardent adoration burning for decades.<br />
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The theater holds about 3700 people (mostly seated). Multiply that by 22, and you’ve got over 80,000 tickets sold. Sold out. And procuring a ticket was not for the faint-hearted. My sister, the fervid fan, and I did as many people did -- inserted the concert into a wee London vacation. Ours was, admittedly, mostly Kate-oriented. My sister went to the concert three times. </span></span></div>
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Three times. <br />
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We also visited a small gallery where the most famous images of Kate Bush were on display. The photographers were present and very approachable. My sister had a book signed by one of them (Guido Harari) while I spoke with the other (Gered Mankowitz). He said, incidentally, that classical musicians are the most difficult to capture. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With that thought in my mind, I’ve spent a lot of time since wondering what that veil is that singers put in front of themselves. What is that costume or role that we try to fit in when going on stage, or presenting our art to others? There is always speculation when a performer withdraws from the public eye for an extended period. I have nothing new to say about Kate Bush’s oeuvre or her absence from the stage. Tracey Thorn, of Everything But the Girl took the stigma out of the speculation by summing it up thusly:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“If we still ask, where has Kate Bush been all these years and why has she not done this before, my answer would be that I think she has been living the life that made this show possible.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s so much smarter and fulfilling to present something when the time is right, and when you as an artist are ready. Maybe record labels or managers pressure performers in doing more than they’re prepared to handle. It is important, for me at least, to remember that we don’t necessarily have to play by anybody else’s rules but our own. I really appreciated the apparent autonomy that Kate Bush had on that night. Unquestionably, she had help and resources from her entire team. But they were there to help her realize her vision, not the other way around. <br />
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Standing near the entrance during intermission, we noticed people leaving. Some were trying to go out and have a smoke or catch some fresh air, although there was a no re-entry policy being somewhat strictly enforced. Others had simply decided to leave the concert. The friendly usher said they were complaining that she wasn’t playing enough of her older stuff. Sure, it was fun to sing along with “Running Up That Hill” and “Hounds of Love,” but what are you here for? </span></span></div>
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Even before the intermission, Kate Bush and her band of, well, band members, backup singers and puppeteers (yup, puppets) offered an <i>amuse bouche</i> of what would follow in the second half. A brand new thing, never, ever, ever seen before. You knew the music, but not in this context -- it was like when a stage director comes up with a new concept for a classic opera. You’re going so you can see the ‘now’, not so you can hear the ‘then’. I was really baffled that people could just give up halfway, especially after all the trouble they must’ve gone through to get those dang tickets!<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We as artists have to play to our own instincts, and for those who stick with us all the way to the end, those who want to hear the Whole Story. The rest are scalpers, touts, or crooks trying to peddle an intangible worth.<br />
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As I write this, Kate Bush fans are spilling out into the street in Hammersmith, trying to get their order in for just a couple more real ales at the Swan, or catch the last Tube to wherever. I’ve only scratched the surface of what I have to say about what this night entailed and what it moved within me. I can say, however that my favorite part was watching my sister with “the child in her eyes”, tears fogging up the binoculars at the wonder of it all. <br />
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It was wondrous indeed. Something </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Good.</span></div>
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grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-88869785253392897162014-03-27T18:21:00.001-07:002014-03-28T16:18:25.491-07:00Now how much would you pay?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Not too long ago in Germany, Wolfgang and Helene Beltracchi were arrested and convicted for forging and selling works of art in the style of Max Ernst, Heinrich Campendonk, Kees van Dongen and other famous painters. In the documentary film “Beltracchi - The Art of Forgery,” just released a few weeks ago, I was struck by a scene which showed an auction in progress at Sotheby’s. Art collectors and enthusiasts were bidding over $13,000,000 -- thirteen million dollars! -- on one painting. And that’s not even one-tenth the price of the most expensive work of art ever auctioned. Francis Bacon’s triptych “Three Studies of Lucian Freud” was sold at Christie’s auction house last November for $142.2 Million. It turns out, we’ve been wasting our energy trying to convince people opera is as valuable as, say, sports or blockbuster movies. Apparently, the discrepancy exists within the art world itself. What is the value of opera? What is the value of art?<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This question comes to mind in light of the forthcoming closure of San Diego Opera, announced last week. Immediately after the surprising news, criticisms of the $500,000 salary of General Director Ian Campbell (also wearing the hat of Artistic Director who, by the way, employed his wife as Director of Strategic Planning, whatever that is, for $200,000) began to surface. Incidentally, their combined salaries equalled roughly the cost of one Campendonk painting. Campbell’s snide remark about only hiring big names, because doing otherwise would “be like putting water in the beer,” ruffled enough feathers to put Papageno on edge. Hey, let me offer up a forgery of Diana Damrau for a tenth of the price! I really don’t think Mozart would mind.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As fishy as the story of San Diego Opera’s folding may sound -- after all, this is not a company on the brink of bankruptcy, at least not more of a brink than anyone else’s -- hearing about opera houses closing hardly makes for shocking news any more. A quick Google search reminded me of Connecticut Opera, Orlando Opera and Baltimore Opera going belly up in 2009, and New York City Opera shutting down last fall (about the same time that the Francis Bacon triptych was sold down the street, be it duly noted). </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And what would an opera be without an orchestra? Minnesota Orchestra’s famous lockout lasted 15 months before the Board and the musicians could come to an agreement about money. Recently the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra (for which Mrs. Ian Campbell used to serve as Director of Development, by the way; oh, the irony) had to raise $5 Million in a last minute “emergency” fundraising campaign to stay afloat -- and then, only under the stipulation that they reduce the size of their ensemble by about 10 members. Is that an orchestral gesture akin to Van Gogh cutting off his ear? </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: start;">A measly $5 Million? Heck, I’d pay that for a Picasso doodle on a napkin.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Beltracchi and his wife would comb the flea markets looking for canvasses already yellowed by the passage of time to make their forgeries that much more authentic. Like visual art, opera reflects the time in which it was created, yet it can also be relevant for the contemporary observer. In a way, opera paints on an old canvas, too. Unlike visual arts, however, a new production of a 400-year-old piece by Monteverdi is never considered “fake.” Maybe that is what is so elusive about performing art. It’s not something that you can keep all to yourself. You can’t bet on the outcome like you would with the World Series or the Superbowl -- in opera, it’s already written who will die in the end. You can’t ‘own’ a symphony or hang a ballet on the wall. Even if the music stays constant, no two productions will be alike. That, to me, is exciting. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It is at this point where I almost sympathize with Beltracchi, because he allowed these dead artists to live again by creating the works that they never got to create while they were living. He allowed Ernst and Campendonk to live in a time when their art was not condemned by the Nazis as <i>entartet</i> (degenerate), rather celebrated, auctioned and fought over for exorbitant prices. Why is it that painters in their days of creating have to struggle, only to become “rich” after their deaths? Why not support them while they live and breathe? What better opportunity than opera (or other performing arts) do patrons of the arts and cultural institutions have to support living artists?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Beltracchi made us question the worth of art. One person who unwittingly bought one of his forgeries asked to have the painting back after the investigation because it’s one of the best "Max Ernsts" he’d ever seen. It's a bit like that saying, "I don't know much about art, but I know what I like," and that from someone who paid millions for a pretty picture to hang above his couch. So it comes down to this -- anything is only worth as much as we are willing to pay for it. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*painting: Cheryl Graham</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">p.s. the painting above my couch is priceless, and not for sale!</span></span></div>
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<br />grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-3519854255317191822014-02-04T00:00:00.000-08:002014-02-04T05:15:57.151-08:00Who's the last person who gave you a Daybreak?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The first big break i got in Show Biz was when my high school choir director allowed me to choreograph our jazz choral arrangement of Barry Manilow’s “<a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xe4yk8_barry-manilow-daybreak_music" target="_blank">Daybreak</a>.”<span id="goog_1319432086"></span><span id="goog_1319432087"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(I am not kidding.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I don’t know what came over me, but one evening after dinner, I just took a pencil and my spiral notebook and worked it up. I came to class the next morning and presented it to my teacher. He said, “Yeah, let’s it try it out.” It was that easy. My classmates might have been annoyed, but everyone cooperated, executed the jazz hands with show-choir precision on “Shine, shine, shine...” and we performed it on our next concert. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(Remind me to add that choreo credit to my résumé!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was this same choir director who let me accompany one song on our Christmas concert -- “Do You Hear What I Hear” -- even though I wasn’t officially our accompanist. I had just been practicing it in the classroom; he must’ve heard it and offered me the chance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One of my classmates and I sang the Papageno/Papagena duet from “The Magic Flute” for our local solo and ensemble competition. My duet partner, coming from a musical family, suggested that I sing the Queen of the Night aria. My high school choir director said, “Well, if you can sing it and sing it well, go for it!” Despite his support, I think I took the lazy way out and sang “Caro Mio Ben” instead, perhaps heeding his warning of messing up something that might be too difficult. I remember having a cassette tape accompaniment, and that my boombox ran low on battery in the middle of the audition, making for a very interesting atonal version of the classical Italian air.<br /><br />I also remember forgetting my concert dress for our mixed choir performance in this same competition a year or two earlier. This was before the day and age of the Soccer Mom, when kids tended to fend for themselves. Somehow we were split up into two groups, and my classmate Phaedra lent me her dress for my portion of the competition. I gave it back to her, apologizing for it being sweaty in the pits, and she just shook it off, said it was no problem, and put it on for her performance. We were sweat-sisters! That was the same year I showed up to march in a football game having forgotten my clarinet. The band director scrounged up an E-flat clarinet -- I couldn’t play it, but I could take my position on the field and fake it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At any rate, later on in high school, my choir director entrusted me with a lot, including the lead role of Sandy in our production of “Grease”. I placed first chair in regional and all-state choir, and sang the national anthem at our graduation.<br /><br />This sent me off into the so-called real world with a great deal of confidence because someone out there had confidence in me. There have been times when I have let this go to my head, and I’ve come off as cocky or at best over-confident, but I don’t think I’ve ever over-stepped my boundaries (thanks to that early lesson: if you can do it and do it well, go for it!). </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I still experience these bouts of genius from time to time -- like when I arranged “The Magic Saxophone” for a Mozart celebration, taking five pieces from <i>Die Zauberflöte </i>and interspersing them with popular songs of modern times; or when I was fortunate enough to perform my version of The Police’s “King of Pain” (also dreamt up in one night) in the context of an 80’s night on the same stage and with the same colleagues who supported me in the Mozart venture.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It sounds silly, maybe even cocky, but if an idea is good, people will have your back. Case in point: non-music related, I was able to put another idea of mine into practice during a camping trip. We were 30 people on an 8-day trip rafting down the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. It was Mexican-food night, and there was a gigantic bowl of guacamole in the center of the table. Needless to say, 30 people vying for a scoop of this precious green glop was the cause of much chaos. Somehow, my suggestion to take a scoop of guac on the chip, walk around the table while chewing, and come back for the next scoop caught on. Everyone got their chance to dip their chip equally. I single-handedly had 30 people prancing around a bowl of guacamole at my whim. It's a stretch, but that must be what being a choir director is like.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Sometimes we don’t trust the extent of our own power, but if we’re lucky, we have well-meaning people to influence us and help us use it. Like Barry Manilow. Looking at this video, it seems he could’ve used my choreographic support, but listening to his story, it wasn’t always easy for him either. I, for one, am thankful for the people who have been on my side all these years, starting with Craig Plotner, my high school choir director, who knew that the most important thing was to give someone a break!</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR. PLOTNER!! </span></span></div>
grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-5519455985036243702014-01-30T17:33:00.002-08:002014-01-31T10:59:28.359-08:00At Super Bowl XLVIII, Team Opera Needs Strong Defense<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As soon as it was announced that an opera singer would be singing the national anthem at the Super Bowl, journalists from around the country were met with the task of outwitting each other, coming up with headlines like, “National Anthem will be longer than usual,” (bleacherreport.com), “Will Super Bowl Fans Reject Renee Fleming as National Anthem Singer?” (abc.news), or my favorite, “Who is Renee Fleming? Opera Singer to Belt National Anthem at Super Bowl.” (philly.com)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ummm... no. She won’t “belt”. Opera singers don’t belt. That’s a technique used in pop and musical theater. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, yeah, you can see what comes next -- so-called professional opera singers get all up in arms about people scoffing at their art. Because we’re so sensitive. It’s what makes us who we are. Coming to Ms. Fleming’s, yea verily, to the entire opera world’s defense are experts like Richard Scheinin from <i>San Jose Mercury News</i>, mezzo-soprano/HuffPo-blogger Jennifer Rivera, and now me. But I have some bones to pick even with someone on our side, in this case, Ms. Rivera’s rather popular article. This blog post is in a way a response to hers. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Her approach to the issue is an educating one: <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jennifer-rivera/5-things--about-opera_b_4690074.html" target="_blank">“5 Things You Need to Know About Opera Before This Super Bowl.</a>” She informs the layman of opera’s vast history, its tolerant casting policies, and she attempts to shoot down the elitist reputation falsely imposed on the art form. All that was very enlightening, even to an experienced singer like myself. But I don’t think it’s a good idea to start off by saying that opera singers’ voices are louder. They’re not necessarily louder - their voices carry better in appropriate acoustic environments. Don’t be led to believe that Renee Fleming will sing on Sunday without a microphone! </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had a colleague who used to stand up on the bar at the Irish Pub after a few too many Guinness and sing “Old Man River” to an adoring crowd. When I tried to do something similar, my voice wouldn’t carry, even though in the opera hall our voices were equally as audible. His wife, also a singer, astutely explained to the disappointed drunkard audience that her man’s voice had a spectrum more like that of a spotlight, whereas mine was more of a laser. Well put!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Back to the </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Huffington Post</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">, Ms. Rivera first made strikes at two sources, the first being TMZ.com, which reported that French Montana said, “F**k that sh*t” when he heard the news of Renee Fleming’s Super Bowl debut. Well, much like the headline I mentioned above from Philly.com: “Who’s French Montana?” The story from Bleacher Report, in all fairness, was meant to be tongue in cheek, comparing the lengths of past anthem interpretations in order to place bets. Ms. Rivera was correct to make the remark about the author being “full of it” when he claimed (albeit probably sarcastically) that it will be longer because opera singers “like the sound of their own voices”. The fact is, the longest recorded Super Bowl version in recent years goes to Alicia Keys at 2 minutes and 35 seconds. This trend of over-melismaticizing (sic, because I made it up) was parodied by a character on </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">The Simpson’s</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">, Bleeding Gums Murphy, who played a 26-minute version of the song, while Springfield Isotopes fans gradually lost interest and/or fell asleep. (I’m unable to link it here because ze Germans won’t let me watch hulu.com).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><a href="http://www.mercurynews.com/music/ci_24969370/ren-233-e-flemming-will-sing-at-super" target="_blank">Agreeing with Mr. Scheinin</a> of </span><i style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Mercury News</i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">, I think Renee Fleming is a great choice. Not only is she one of America’s most established opera stars whose career spans over a quarter of a century, but she has also embraced other forms of popular culture, for example by appearing on the David Letterman show, or recording </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z96IUMFdSvc" style="letter-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">an album of rock covers</a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">And props to the Super Bowl people for picking an actual opera singer instead of some pseudo-opera star like Katherine Jenkins (fabulous piece </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px; text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://obertobrookes.com/2014/01/28/elitism-and-the-opera-snobs-a-response-to-katherine-jenkins-by-alexandra-wilson/" target="_blank">here</a></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> about her and opera’s “elitism” on the Oberto blog by Alexandra Wilson).</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This may be the first time it’s happening at the Super Bowl per se, but plenty of professional opera singers have sung the national anthem at plenty of other professional ball games and everything has turned out just fine. Here are just a few examples:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My old buddy <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KpgdRGn49E" target="_blank">Brandon Jovanovich</a> who used to sing bass with me in college choir, now a leading international tenor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yours truly - perhaps someone out there has a VHS or Super 8 recording of me at the Catalina High School graduation ceremony.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Composed in the early 1800’s, on the brink of opera’s “golden age,” <i>The Star-Spangled Banner </i>is, not surprisingly, quite difficult to sing. It can be a rude awakening to an unexperienced singer who has started too high when he finally gets to “... the rockets’ red gla-a-a-are”, so one has to choose their key wisely. Ms. Rivera was right in purporting that opera singers have a wider developed range than many pop singers, but I think we can all agree that even theirs is a bit more expansive than just eight notes. The song in question spans an octave and a fifth.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One thing the opera singers do better, in my humble opinion, compared to most of their pop music counterparts when singing the national anthem is deliver the text in a straightforward way. An opera singer is less likely to take a breath in the middle of a word or phrase. In listening to several versions, I noticed that most all singers get applause and cheers after “ .... the land of the free...”, but the opera singers stir up the audiences already after “...rockets’ red glare...”, or even in anticipation of the final phrase, because the fans know what’s coming. (A ball game, that’s what’s coming!). And in watching all these variations on YouTube in preparation for this post, I must say, I’ve been getting quite emotional -- call it homesickness, call it nostalgia, or call it listening to a great song being sung by great artists, it's a moving composition!<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I did not, however, get emotional when listening to, for example,</span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZLc7wkuRU0" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank"> the excruciating version by 11-year old Harper Gruzin</a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">. One of her idols is Christina Aguilera, who famously botched the text at the Super Bowl three years ago (which didn’t bother me bit, as is it barely noticeable and she handled it with class, unlike Michael Bolton looking at his cheat sheet). But hmmm... how’s that working out for poor Harper? This is one of those cases where I would actually advocate classical voice lessons for children (I’m usually against it, but that’s another story).</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Depending on how the singer executes them, melismas don’t always add to a performance. They can indeed embellish a melodic line, but not every pop singer manages to stay “on the voice" or achieve a meaningful phrase while singing them. Not every one is Whitney Houston (or Christina Aguilera, for that matter). It’s the <i>voce completa -- </i>the successful application of the classically trained, i.e. opera voice -- that has moved audiences for, as Jennifer Rivera reminded us, over 400 years.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Toi! Toi! Toi! to Renee Fleming, and Go Seahawks!!</span></div>
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grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-30288633417773684172013-12-07T15:13:00.000-08:002013-12-07T15:21:57.601-08:00The Oracle of the Onion: Melons! Coupons! Oignons!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Everybody has their weak spot. Mine seems to be my right ear. My sinus passages are thinner on that side and, well, sometimes gunk gets up in there, doesn’t drain properly and voilá - ear infection. So, here I sit with half an onion strapped to my head (supposedly onions draw out infections). Since I used one of my hippy sashes to affix the vegetable to my ear, the get-up makes me look like some kind of fortune teller.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In my darkest hours (mostly in winter) I have consulted fortune tellers, just so I could hear them tell me that everything was going to be okay. In that respect, they were right - I’m still singing for a living, I’m not living underneath a bridge and, although I haven’t yet met my one true love (or have I?), I don’t have any enemies. None that I mind having, anyway. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Just this week, one of my favorite horoscope columns (the only one I read, actually - Free Will Astrology by Rob Breszny) also mentioned this time of darkness:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Not all darkness is bad. You know that. Sometimes you need to escape from the bright lights. It can be restorative to sit quietly in the pitch blackness and drink in the mystery of the Great Unknown. The same is true for silence and stillness and aloneness. Now and then you've got to retreat into their protective sanctuary. Dreaming big empty thoughts in the tranquil depths can heal you and recharge you. The magic moment has arrived for this kind of rejuvenation, Virgo. “</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Well, I am most certainly sitting in the dark (because winter), drinking the mystery of the great unknown (also known as Cabernet Sauvign-unknown). And you cynics think horoscopes are inaccurate! <br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px; white-space: pre;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">In addition to fortune tellers and horoscopes, I’ve begun working with a career coach who is helping me focus my energy on the things I want to achieve. Much like the half an onion strapped to my ear, I was a bit skeptical about this kind of approach. A lot of what goes on in the singing business - in fact, everything that goes on in the singing business - is not up to me. Unless I strap a tambourine to my foot and sing on the sidewalk with a bucket in front of me, there’s no way to make money in this business alone. Sometimes the criteria for getting work are so very arbitrary, it’s hard to believe that I have any influence in it at all.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I have enough experience with self-promotion to know that most of my efforts come up fruitless -- this position has already been filled, that opera has already been cast, we’re hiring someone we’ve already worked with, you’re too small/tall experienced/inexperienced old/young whatever.... Still, rather than focus on what could possibly go wrong, each week my career coach and I come up with about five things that I can do to make progress. That’s totally doable, and if necessary I can write each thing on each one of my fingers to remind me (yeah, yeah, I have ten fingers, but one hand is writing, isn’t it?)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lo and behold, the weirdest things have started happening. My coach assigned me to contact certain people about certain things, and although I got mixed responses from my efforts, I’ve been getting offers, or at least chances, from completely different people, from unexpected directions. All the more unsettling that I should get an ear infection right now. Because, according to one froo-froo holistic healing website, an ear infection is a symptom of this:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px; white-space: pre;"> </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">“You are stagnating because you have not been open to new information or you do not like what you are hearing. You need to accept what is presented to you in order to relax and flow with life without resistance.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Maybe the ear infection is just a gentle reminder that I am on the right track, because I’m hearing that my efforts have not gone unnoticed, that 2015 is going to rock (details to be revealed as soon as the ink is dry), and that I am being presented with plenty of opportunities -- some to be accepted and some to be turned down. The wisdom lies in knowing which is which, I suppose. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Speaking of choices, I’ve tried heating the onion - the warmth is indeed very soothing for the ear - and I’ve tried leaving it raw, since the pungent fumes seem to help the mucus flow (I know, too much information), but all in all I think only my intuition and a doctor’s professional opinion will be able to tell whether I’ll be well enough to sing the concert I have to sing tomorrow, which, to be honest, is something I probably should have turned down. Perhaps before accepting my next offer, I should consult a fortune teller.</span></span></div>
grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-55064384620922597062013-07-07T11:28:00.000-07:002013-10-26T02:59:29.368-07:00It's Never as Good as the First Time: Of Premieres and Other Demons<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"Love and Other Demons"<br />Photo: Heiko Sandelmann</span></td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sade said it best:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“[The] second time won’t live up to the dream ... It’s never as good as the first time.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>While Sade was singing about sex, a premiere opera performance shares those “first time” qualities. You spend weeks - maybe less, maybe more - leading up to it. You’re nervous. You’re worried if it’s going to go well. You’ve never done it before - at least not with this piece, this person, in this place, at this time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The first time counts... </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It’s the real thing - not a rehearsal, not a fantasy. Maybe you’ve been talking about how marvelous it’s going to be, but now it’s happening. And hundreds of people are going to be watching (here is where the opera, hopefully, differs from sex). Once you start, there’s no going back. The bull is in the pen, and the Toreador must penetrate or be penetrated (this is not the case in opera, unless of course you are premiering “Carmen”).</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There should be nothing more exciting than the first time, but those of us who have “performed” know that that’s not always the case. Maybe you’ve got other things on your mind, maybe you’re having a bad day, maybe you’re just not in the mood.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Unlike a romantic tryst, most operatic premieres can not be postponed on account of your disposition. Even if you’re vital to the piece, in most cases you can be replaced in as quickly as an afternoon’s time. This could apply to sex, too, but let’s just hope desire goes beyond just appendages and orifices and extends to connection of two human hearts and souls. Still, I’d think twice about feigning that headache.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The first time is awkward...</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You’re self-conscious, suddenly aware of each and every flaw, wondering if your wig is coming unglued or if your cellulite is showing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The first time is messy...</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Fluids of all kinds when and where they shouldn’t be flowing. Just ask anyone who’s had to kiss Name-withheld-for-obvious-reasons on stage. Or how about that spitball that always manages to nestle itself right on your ... high F?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If you’re lucky, the first time is followed by a second and third time and many subsequent performances. In the case of my most recent premiere, the second performance was cancelled due to faulty equipment -- the revolving stage was in a jam that not even a Viagra could fix. So we all reconvened for a third time, two weeks after the premiere, feeling timid, trying to remember what it felt like; a bit devoid of passion and making a few new mistakes, we still had a feeling of confidence, and in the end a gush of exhilarating applause (yeah, okay, actually it was a bit meager - only 235 people in the audience, but size doesn’t matter, does it?).</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When it’s over, it’s over. The first time only comes once, no matter if it was awkward and messy, or exciting and beautiful. Sade sings, “Were they as tender as we dare to remember? Such a fine time as this, what could equal the bliss of the thrill of the first kiss?” Will your premiere performance lead to bigger and better things (what was that about size?), will it just fade into oblivion, or will you reap the fruits of your labor? At any rate, it’s never as good as the first time.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPEsxYZ1cNdypACbmeQEbXT3TcunUq1raKLhV9hE-gQU5K4zIDK_hF9QOLD6pJP2a64YP-pqPSJOt2mDZgUfq68BjrEp_zNglOKkqLH68wzX_zlMFqSHv8t__bcdwCqkpdFjjycUhgfVc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-06-20+at+7.48.54+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPEsxYZ1cNdypACbmeQEbXT3TcunUq1raKLhV9hE-gQU5K4zIDK_hF9QOLD6pJP2a64YP-pqPSJOt2mDZgUfq68BjrEp_zNglOKkqLH68wzX_zlMFqSHv8t__bcdwCqkpdFjjycUhgfVc/s320/Screen+Shot+2013-06-20+at+7.48.54+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-52061520049053731612013-03-04T12:28:00.000-08:002013-03-04T16:18:23.469-08:00Wait, what? Opera is dead? <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8ZhKO42Hmp-ZSnNEczL3k3Tt6Sm4ZRNZ-1Ie8MM4NTZ7YcldGDhp7_mFWF6Fp09kWmeE_R2XslEaXO_-7BWUgY72iwVBtMgaFT1-MJBFpLdKCtmLzwva71ANtSxVDYlE75XQ86VR9Dg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2011-10-10+at+3.20.27+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8ZhKO42Hmp-ZSnNEczL3k3Tt6Sm4ZRNZ-1Ie8MM4NTZ7YcldGDhp7_mFWF6Fp09kWmeE_R2XslEaXO_-7BWUgY72iwVBtMgaFT1-MJBFpLdKCtmLzwva71ANtSxVDYlE75XQ86VR9Dg/s200/Screen+Shot+2011-10-10+at+3.20.27+PM.png" width="143" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Are those two soap opera<br />stars trying to kill me?</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px; white-space: pre;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you can’t always believe what you read!</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Shaking my head after reading Chiara Bottici’s article from March 3, 2013 on the online version of <i>Al Jazeera’s</i> opinion page, I’ve come to the conclusion that either the author is drastically misinformed, or she has fallen victim to a horribly trained editor. I have every confidence she has no ill intentions.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Check your sources,” my journalism teacher would’ve said!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If this article had been written by a junior staffer at my high school newspaper, for which I was the Features editor, I could’ve excused its lack of depth and deadline-on-a-school-night inaccuracy. But it was written by an assistant professor of philosophy and published on a reputable site. Somebody should’ve known better. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In her article <a href="http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2013/02/2013227152342150330.html" target="_blank">“The death of opera: a funeral eulogy”</a> (as opposed to a birthday eulogy, a wedding eulogy or perhaps a bar mitzvah eulogy? ... Oh, dear. Where’s my red pen?), Ms. Bottici claims the assumedly dying art of opera has been replaced by the soap opera. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The author leads people (who might not know better) to believe that <i>Ernani</i> is Verdi’s most successful opera. It may have been in its time, but it’s hardly well-known now - I’d bet most opera singers couldn’t even tell you its plot. And even people who’ve never been to an opera can whistle the refrain of the famous “Libiamo” chorus from <i>La Traviata</i>, the tenor aria from <i>Rigoletto</i>, or the trumpety triumph song from <i>Aïda </i>heard at soccer games across Europe. Although she goes into massive detail about <i>Ernani,</i> she fails to mention which soap operas succeeded in wiping out 400 years of operatic tradition.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Assuming she’s not talking about <i>As the World Turns</i> or <i>Days of Our Lives</i>, shows which have been around since the 50’s and 60’s and are therefore not newsworthy (again tipping my hat to or pointing my finger at the editorial department), let’s surmise that she’s talking about more recent dramatic television series such as “Mad Men” or “Downton Abbey.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Whereas <i>Mad Men</i> successfully explores American themes through plots comparable to the literary works of Saul Bellows or Dorothy Parker (talk about “sophisticated intellectuals,” Ms. Bottici), what is <i>Downton Abbey</i> other than a thinly-plotted daily soap with exquisite sets, costumes and good actors? And just for good measure, they throw in the occasional historical reference like the First World War: Oh, Mr. Crawley was paralyzed in battle, but it’s more convenient for our plot if he can walk and make babies...It’s a mircale! Then, oops! He died, how sad, the end. (Sorry for the spoiler if you haven’t finished season three, yet).</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ms. Bottici purports that soap operas have replaced opera because they’re alive and affordable. Granted, tickets to the opera can be expensive - the author cites decent seats as costing around $400. Later in the comment section to her article, however, she claims to go at least once a month. While I’m thankful to her for supporting my art form, I wish she would have spent part of her apparent fortune paying someone to put her thoughts into a more succinct article. I think she has sabotaged her own intentions, confusing us with stories of the actual <i>Risorgimento </i>rather than illustrate opera’s resurgence that is happening now.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>For someone who supports opera, she’s not doing society any favors by resuscitating the stereotypes: opera is long, boring, expensive, elitist, incomprehensible, whatever. In New York City alone, where the author evidently lives, one needn’t pay $400 to go to a performance. There are standing room tickets for $20 - maybe not the best idea for a 5-hour Wagner opera, but there are shorter pieces. <i>Tosca</i> is only about two hours long, for example, and you get a break after just one hour. Many Hollywood blockbusters are clocking in around three hours these days. Incidentally, I sat through <i>Django Unchained</i> and <i>Lincoln</i> back-to-back (which would’ve cost me more than $20 in NYC) -- six hours, and you don’t hear me complaining. Many movie-goers have been subjected to Wagner without even realizing it. Quentin Tarantino is a huge fan, so it seems. There are free opera concerts in the park during summer months, bi-monthly Opera on Tap events in Brooklyn and around the country (yes, as in beer on tap. And opera. What’s not to like?).</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lastly, the fact that 3 million people across the globe gathered in movie theaters to watch last weekend’s simulcast of Wagner's <i>Parsifal</i> at the Metropolitan Opera for six hours (my ticket cost 29 Euros, by the way, and we had a better view and acoustic impression than even the most expensive seat in the Family Circle), is just further proof that opera is relevant, accessible, affordable and far from dying.</span></span></div>
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grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-40171320767836139162013-02-20T08:01:00.000-08:002013-02-20T08:02:15.633-08:00What are the chances...?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzM_zVCaFgWmgLOQh7rLb9zG5X-zGkjAS-J6njjK0_gHmxfi7ISlq1Bu511WOVT8awR1MwZnSFd2yH8xs5LX6XGyMspmUTzr4Ds18FkTYHGbSYArky5Cxd8X4gqCY78o6ypdVKrIYNNUY/s1600/Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzM_zVCaFgWmgLOQh7rLb9zG5X-zGkjAS-J6njjK0_gHmxfi7ISlq1Bu511WOVT8awR1MwZnSFd2yH8xs5LX6XGyMspmUTzr4Ds18FkTYHGbSYArky5Cxd8X4gqCY78o6ypdVKrIYNNUY/s200/Image.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">What are the chances that a </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Christmas cactus blooms during Lent?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">• What were the chances that today would be sunny?</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>80%, supposedly, but after months of cloudy skies and yesterday’s little blizzard, it seemed like a frickin’ miracle.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances that I would be second in line at the consulate for my 8:30 appointment, and actually get in and out of there in about 30 minutes? </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Slim, considering non-US citizens had been standing in their much longer line for an hour by the time I got there. Luckily it was sunny.</i> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances that I misunderstood part of the instructions which led me to believe I could pay with a personal check? </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Good, because I’ve been under the weather - way under - and not thinking clearly these days.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances that I wouldn’t have the equivalent of $110 (which is actually €82.29, but in some tweak of inner-consular mathematics it was €88) or a major credit card on my person? </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>I would say, rather excellent, since I don’t keep my credit cards together with my cash (which proved to be a clever move when my bag got stolen a year and a half ago), and see above.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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</div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances that the U.S. Consulate General does not take the EC Karte (European debit card) as a form of payment?<br /><i>
Even better.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances, that I would be standing behind a fellow opera singer in line at the cashier window (as well as outside) and that said opera singer happened to be carrying his score with him at the time so that this would be obvious to me?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>You have no idea how many opera singers there are wandering around, but the chances that two of us would be standing next to each other in line at the consulate... Slim, very slim.</i><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances that I would work up the courage (i.e. audacity) to ask my fellow opera singer, a perfect stranger, if he happened to have €13 I could borrow?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Pretty good, because otherwise, I would have had to exit the consulate, walk 1.2 kilometers to the nearest cash machine and back (it was sunny, but it was also freezing) and go through the whole security rigamarole again.</i></span></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances that I would miscalculate, have to chase upstairs after my fellow opera singer, and grovel for another €10?<br /><i>
At this point, I’m thinking anything is possible (and he’s thinking I’m a bag lady).</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances that, en route to the cash machine to pay him back (by way of the 17-minute subway ride to the main station and a coffee), we would discover we not only have mutual friends, but we have mutual <i>good</i> friends?<br /><i>
The world is getting smaller....</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances that I got to repay karma almost immediately by giving a random woman at the subway stop the change she needed to buy a ticket?<br /><i>
A small, but clear sign.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What were the chances that this encounter with my fellow singer, someone who is only a couple years older but far more operatically experienced than myself, would snap me back into a time when I was amongst the people I to this day love the most, reminding me of who I used to be before I was filled with insecurity, fear and self-doubt. Reminding me that I have everything it takes and more to survive in this business.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>I don't know, but I'm feeling pretty lucky.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">• What are the chances that I’ll get to sing with my new friend on stage? </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Slim. </i></span></span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">But after today, I’m willing to take my chances.</i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now, what are the chances that I’ll get my new passport in time enough to fly to Madrid for performances in three weeks? </span></span></div>
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<br />grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-57837853919061549902013-02-06T16:06:00.001-08:002013-02-06T16:06:54.904-08:00Must the Winter come so soon and stay so long?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Must the winter come so soon?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Night after night I hear the hungry deer</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">wander weeping in the woods,</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">and from his house of brittle bark hoots the frozen owl.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Must the winter come so soon?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here in this forest neither dawn nor sunset</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">marks the passing of the days.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It is a long winter here.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Must the winter come so soon?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There are reasons for seasons, meteorologically speaking of course, but all creatures are slaves to their own rhythms, inwardly or out. It has indeed been a long winter here, and it just so happens to coincide with my time between jobs. Perfect. This was supposed to be, for me, a phase of rebuilding, polishing my act, learning new roles, devising a master plan, really making use of the time at hand. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Allowing for the usual period of post-production depression, having just returned from a wonderful time in Hannover working with really great colleagues, I wasn’t too hard on myself for the month of December. A couple concerts came up around the holidays, which gave me a bit of motivation and cash, and I even wrote another blog entry for the first time since July. Any second now I was going to get to work on building my business. And learning Spanish. And redecorating the kitchen. And exercising, of course.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Rubbish. These are things for Spring, are they not? Winter is for hibernating, isn’t it? Aw, hogwash! I’ve got nothing else to do. Now’s as good a time as any! In between performances in November, I managed to go to yoga 2-3 times a week. Now I’ll surely go everyday, right? Right... in my dreams, as I slumber until the spirit moves me to wake up, or until a call from the Deutsche Oper am Rhein jolts me out of bed at 9:30 to jump in that very night for <i>Barbiere di Siviglia</i>. If only I had that kind of adrenalin rush every morning, then maybe I could actually get something done.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But what exactly is it that I am supposed to do? Learn Spanish? Okay, I signed up for a course. Redecorate the kitchen? I ordered some colorful Mexican oil cloth to adorn my cabinets. Exercise? I defeated my pig dog big time yesterday when I dragged my ass to Bikram yoga, almost turning around to go back home, whimpering as I walked up the steps to the studio only to plod on and have one of the best classes ever (life’s small victories). Practice? Yes, I suppose, I’m chugging away <i>fleissig </i>for my next role --rehearsals start in April....</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You may ask yourself, how do I work this?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You may ask yourself, where is that large automobile?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful house.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful wife.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Talking Heads, Once in a Lifetime<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Is that it? It’s still not enough. It’s not enough to fill the time in this ever so discontented Winter. It’s not enough to for me to say, I deserve that trip to Barcelona I just took with my friends so that I could please just see the blue sky for more than 20 minutes. It’s not enough for me to say, Sure I can come out tonight for a quick drink because, to be quite honest, nobody is scolding me for not getting anything done today. I feel like I haven’t done enough.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As we are creatures bound by the rhythm of the seasons, we are also animals trained by the concept of task and reward. That which makes me so successful when I have a task makes my life miserable when I have none, for I am a faithful servant but a terrible master. I am meticulous, I am eager. I am punctual, I am righteous. This is my time to work and to reap the rewards. But there is no work, and I’m weary of inventing it. Cleaning house? Filing taxes? Are these the most exciting tasks life has to offer me right now? So yes, why not Barcelona (it was lovely, by the way)? Why not do whatever I want, when I want? </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Perhaps it is because I am from the Desert, I am not trained in the ways of hibernation. I do not know how to Chill. The Fuck. Out. The life of a “so-called professional opera singer” (put that phrase in quotes into a search engine and you’ll get my life story), a freelance one at that, is not governed by the rules of working hours and weekends. Yea verily, we have our strongest moments between 7:30 and 11p.m. When the need arises, it’s going to arise at that time of day. But in the interim, our friends with ‘normal lives’ and ‘day jobs’ are going to demand our attention during these precious eventides and weekends.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And so the task is at hand, despite the season, despite the workload, to reap the rewards we have yet to sow. Oh, heck... isn’t harvest in the Fall? I have completely lost track. Who cares? Even if you don’t feel worthy of a night out on a Wednesday evening with friends, take it. Even if you don’t ‘deserve’ a day off, it’s all you have -- enjoy it. Do not stay home and brood as I have done. It is a long winter here, and next one will come too soon. </span></span></div>
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grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-11762486412307085462012-12-13T17:27:00.000-08:002012-12-14T04:32:55.218-08:00In Defense of Modern Opera Productions<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I know how to read music, sing and act. People tell me I’m pretty good at all three. Bonus! It makes sense, then, that I have been supporting myself for over a decade in one of the only jobs that allow me to combine those three talents: opera. I love it. There, I’ve said it. I love opera. But when I say it, I doubt that I mean what you think I mean. Opera (stop saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means).</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There are many people, for their love of opera, who take a stance against so-called “modern” opera, claiming it destroys the intentions of the great masters. In fact, on Facebook some clever person of German persuasion (I can tell by his or her syntactical errors in English) has created a page dedicated to trash-talking of modern opera productions. And it has a lot of followers, including some of my colleagues. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This Eurotrash ‘pestilence’ must be stopped! This is only a trend, and surely the masters will stand the test of time! And of course we must blame ze Germans. Germany, after all, is where most of these ‘abominations’ are being produced.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Germany (and the German-speaking countries Austria and Switzerland) also happens to be the only place on Earth where you can have a full-time job with benefits as an opera soloist, and it has dozens of towns with really reputable opera houses putting on hundreds of performances (if not thousands) each year. So, if you ask me, ze Germans can do whatever they want with opera. They’ve earned it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I realize many people are not going to agree with what I have to say here. It is a matter of taste, after all. I never even said you have to like opera in the first place. There are people I know and love who say, “Opera’s not really my thing” without ever having seen one. Those people are much more deserving of my understanding, however, than the antagonists of my story, who purport to be opera experts (and as far as opera history goes, to an extent, they probably actually are), and yet refuse to let this living, breathing art form change. My ignoramus friends are far more likely to be open to the risk of coming to see a show I’m in and forming a fresh opinion about it (good or bad) than these stodgy opera critics who think they know what I, the singer, want to achieve in my performance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Why is opera the only art form which is so reluctant to evolve? (I guess I should mention at this point that I am talking about new dramatic stagings of older operas, not newly composed works)</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Should we stop at Monteverdi? Mozart? Massenet? Where is the line? Should we stop composing operas altogether? And if you really were an opera expert, you would realize that the period in history which “they” seem to idolize was as guilty of non-authentic performance practices as we are today. Instruments have changed (once in a great while you’ll see delightful performances played on historical instruments -- sometimes mixed with modern staging, which makes me feel right at home, like in my living room furnished equally with antiques and IKEA); making cuts in the score is standard practice (*gasp* what would the great masters say!?!?); voice type-casting has also become a fashionable, arbitrary matter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The fascinating thing about opera is that there is one constant - the music (including the voice and the style and technique with which the music is sung). Neat, huh? But how many times do we have to see a <i>Rigoletto</i> wearing multi-colored tights and a funny hat with a hunchback? For how many hundred more years? That's not what it's about. Whether he's a court jester, or a janitor in Trump Tower (MY idea, don’t steal it), it's still about the hypocrisy of the upper class. And who cares about the political conspiracy against the King of Sweden in 1792? Huh? Yeah, that's right - no one. What we care about in <i>Il Ballo in Maschera</i> is Gustav falling in love with his best friend's wife, and wanting to ban them both to a far away land so that he can uphold his honor and not taint their friendship (a picture of the production from Erfurt is what gave me the idea to write this blog entry in the first place). Pity that everything gets screwed up and he ends up getting killed in the end. Because that can happen any day. In any costume. In any place. And I see no problem in taking these antiquated political plots and making them into something more accessible or relevant to a more modern concept, such as the Erfurt production in Ground Zero. Or what about that fascinating set at the Bregenzer Festspiele of the same piece? (Google is your friend: I won't post the photos here)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I wish I could placate the tirades of the traditionalists. We still use the instrument the way it was originally made, after all. Look at how much the camera has changed since people started taking pictures or making films, for example. I guess painters still use brushes and, well, paint. But look at the difference between DaVinci’s Mona Lisa and Picasso’s portraits of women. The techniques are totally different. Still, how do we judge what is ‘good’ in art? In painting, whether it be Picasso or DaVinci, we’re still looking at color, composition, or maybe chiaroscuro and brush-strokes. It’s how we can tell the difference between Caravaggio or the Dutch dudes who tried to emulate him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And in singing, whether the backdrop is a velvety, gilded king’s throne or a toilet in a butcher shop, for all I care, the voice is still judged by timbre, intonation, musicianship and consistency. Opera, no matter how you slice it, is still a collaboration of set and costume designers, directors, musicians and conductors in which the music is a catalyst for the drama (in case you were wondering, I was including singers under the category of musicians - yes, I am one).</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The traditionalists want to bring back the Golden Age of Opera, because they blame the modern productions for dwindling audiences and killing the genre. Yeah, okay, so, bring back the days where people didn’t even pay attention - they walked around, ate dinner, talked to each other, left in the middle of the performance to get an ice cream during the <i><a href="http://christinesvoice.blogspot.de/2011/04/aria-di-sorbetto-aber-bitte-mit-sahne.html" target="_blank">Aria di Sorbetto</a></i>. Now translate that to today: If somebody talked and used an iPad while I was performing, I'd bop them upside the head. No one would care if I broke character if they weren't paying attention, would they? I think it's fallacious to think of opera as anything else but theater (would you chomp on popcorn during <i>Hamlet's </i>monologue in the play? Didn’t think so), and even scarier to think that people can't sit still for more than five minutes. So, invent a "sciatica section", where people with back problems can walk around. Sure, bring in a glass of wine and some cheese, but please... pay attention!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There is a much more evil force out there threatening to kill your precious “opera” - the likes of Katherine Jenkins, Paul Potts, Charlotte Church and, yes, even Andrea Bocelli. And yet these people against modern opera productions catapult into a critical frenzy when they see one single photo from Erfurt’s <i>Il Ballo in Maschera</i> on Facebook or an excerpt from Bayreuth’s <i>Lohengrin</i> on YouTube, trading countless indiscriminate comments about how the ego of the Regisseur is killing the art form. You don’t like it? Fine. But back your opinion up with a few criteria besides one picture.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Heck, every now and again, I like to put on a pretty gown and sing a pretty aria.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> I, too, am proud to be a part of an art form that has existed over 400 years - even longer when you consider that the voice was the first musical instrument ever made. But why do I sing? My answer to that question is not etched in stone, nor tattooed on my ass. I enjoy singing for singing's sake - I especially enjoy portraying a character, combining the music and the drama, expressing and creating something on a stage in the moment. It doesn't matter how Callas did it, how Deutekom did it, how Schwarzkopf did it, how Ponselle did it.... Yes, we can watch and learn, but we can also DO and learn, and find the answers within ourselves, together with our directors and conductors, our friends and colleagues, no matter what the set looks like or how the story is being told.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">As for opera’s “Golden Age,” the title character of <i>Baby Doe</i> says in Douglas Moore’s opera from 1956: “Gold is a fine thing for those who admire it. ... Gold is like the sun, but silver lies hidden in the core of dreams.” We’ll see ... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">photo: Caroline Harvey</span></span></div>
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grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-84427764573609196632012-07-14T18:19:00.000-07:002012-07-18T18:28:15.492-07:00The Comfort Zone: Part Two<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27O-DIyyQ_0_qUpSAnqqjSobZMiKi3l78_raOMjnUgOAtqXUqcahUMTTLMxwZNFegGNodOJ_09zwC0PHfESAu0cBJFTD2WVjRPy9AXZQ-Fs6dYYuhginNFQaVv8oiw02bGx_KRzDwKpw/s1600/TS_GP_EX1+145+Kopie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27O-DIyyQ_0_qUpSAnqqjSobZMiKi3l78_raOMjnUgOAtqXUqcahUMTTLMxwZNFegGNodOJ_09zwC0PHfESAu0cBJFTD2WVjRPy9AXZQ-Fs6dYYuhginNFQaVv8oiw02bGx_KRzDwKpw/s200/TS_GP_EX1+145+Kopie.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
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</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Previously on <i><a href="http://christinesvoice.blogspot.com/2012/01/comfort-zone-express-train-to-nowhere.html" target="_blank">The Comfort Zone</a></i>... I was sitting in a regional train, literally as well as figuratively, in a rather uncomfortable seat going nowhere really fast.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Today I’m sitting in the fast train -- literally as well as figuratively -- on the way back from a job that I couldn’t have said “Yes” to had I not said “No, thank you” to my previous Comfort Zone. It had been risky, I thought, to turn something down even when I had nothing. But it paid off. Even before the productions in question, which would have collided with each other timewise, once I said “No” to the Comfort Zone offer, bigger and better things started pouring in. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This season I have been an operatic superhero, doing most of my singing by “saving the day”, jumping in for various roles, two of which I’d never actually sung before. It has definitely been a fun ride: being compensated adequately for my efforts, working with colleagues who match and even surpass my level. But these people here outside my Comfort Zone have superpowers, too. They can see right through me. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I may have amazed them with my super-fast learning skills, my ability to juggle (see previous post: “<a href="http://christinesvoice.blogspot.com/2012/04/it-takes-balls-to-be-opera-singer.html" target="_blank">It Takes Balls to be an Opera Singer</a>”), and my cooperative manner, but they recognize that I’m not quite reaching my full potential. I may be a superhero, but I am not a superstar. I’m not talking in terms of salary or renown<b> </b>but rather vocal production.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There is something out there (maybe my operatic evil nemesis alter ego within or something) that prevents me from taking better care of myself and my voice. I’m not saying I stay up all night partying or that I eat badly and don’t exercise. It’s more like flossing your teeth or drinking 8 glasses of water a day. You know you should do it, but do you? Really. Do you??</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Well, good for you.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Discipline is not one of my strong points. I have patience (or maybe I’m just stubborn) and tenacity (or maybe I’m just stubborn) and ambition (or maybe I’m just ... stubborn?) which has gotten me as far as I am. And for certain roles, my vocal efforts are more than sufficient. But to consistently take it up a notch, and sing roles which require not only natural ability, but skill, I am going to finally have to concentrate and do all those things that my great teachers and coaches have told me to do. It's the difference between being excellent and being exquisite.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>What? Do you mean to tell us that you don’t sing well, Christine?</i> Well, no. I do all right. But we have to remember that the purpose of practicing is to train your body into doing the right thing without having to think about it. And until that becomes automatic, I’m going to have to pick up the speed a bit. It takes a lot more momentum than I’m used to to jump on a moving fast train.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">This entry was inspired by a <a href="http://cherylstuder.blogspot.de/2012/03/prima-la-musica-poi-le-parole.html" target="_blank">post</a> in Cheryl Studer’s new blog: </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">http://cherylstuder.blogspot.de</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I'm looking forward to more such fascinating insights from Ms. Studer, and glad she's decided to bless the blogosphere with her presence!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>For a production of <i>Hänsel und Gretel</i> in 2005 I had to learn how to juggle. I’d had some luck juggling in the past, but had never really learned the technique, so the director had an experienced juggler come in to teach me and my colleagues how to do it right. Performing opera is not unlike juggling, in that there are three things, balls so to speak, that have to be in motion simultaneously in order to assure successful performance: singing, making music, and acting the part.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Patrick, our juggling teacher, began by having us throw one single ball up into the air. He showed us that you don’t have to keep your eye on the ball to catch it - you just have to watch where you throw it, and when it comes down, your hand automatically knows where to go. (If you’ve ever watched jugglers carefully, you’ve probably noticed that they’re almost always looking up). Also, we were able to get used to the amount of power we needed to throw the ball high enough, or not too high, into the air, first with the right, then with the left.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It should be a given that you know how to throw a ball before you start juggling, much like you should always be working on your singing technique before taking it out on the stage. Nothing is more disappointing than having your stage partner forget everything you’ve worked on during staging rehearsals because all of a sudden they’re worried about their technique. If you let that ball drop, you leave your colleagues in the lurch.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The second step of our juggling lesson involved juggling two balls with one hand. Basically we were repeating the first step, but by adding the second ball, the whole action went twice as fast - kind of like learning a difficult passage of music slowly at first and then speeding it up. Then we took one ball in each hand, threw them up and let them fall. We were to listen to the rhythm when they landed. If we heard “ba-dump” that was correct. If it was “ba......dump”, we worked on it until we got the rhythm right.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This second step is crucial to the success of the third element, or ball - the action. Have you ever heard that joke about the conversation with an actor?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">“What do you do for a living,” asked the reporter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">“I’m an actor,” said the man.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">“ ... problem?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Learning your music solidly makes taking the role on stage oh so much easier. I had the challenge recently of having to take over a role in <i>Lady MacBeth of Mtsensk</i> on short notice - I’d never heard it before, much less performed it. Within five days I had to learn and memorize the music, in some parts very rhythmically complicated. I had one or two stage rehearsals, and that was it. The simplest scene was the one I kept messing up, since I’d spent most of my time perfecting the more difficult passages. I went out on the stage during rehearsals with the easy phrases learned, but not well enough. So, while I was concentrating on the staging - making sure I enter at the right time, making sure the windows were open, making sure to start my action before pretending not to notice the tenor so that I can act surprised and get mad before telling him to go away - I skipped a phrase, switched my text and confused the conductor who was trying to keep me together with the orchestra, which at this point consisted solely of a lonely bassoon. We had to interrupt the rehearsal (the dress rehearsal, no less!) and start at my entrance again. Embarrassing....</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Luckily, the premiere went along without a glitch. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Even if no one notices it, dropping a “ball” during a performance always makes the singer’s own experience of his or her performance a little less enjoyable. Listening to the recording of the recital I gave last week, I’ve counted at least 5 mistakes of varying degrees, and I’m sure I’ll find more the next time I listen. I’m trying to forget about it, but since I only had the one shot to get it right (so far), I’m still rather angry with myself, wishing I would have practiced even more than I already did.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Back then during <i>Hänsel und Gretel</i>, there may have been performances where I made no musical mistakes, but I’m sure there wasn’t a night when the stage hands weren’t collecting tennis balls in the wings. The trick is, I guess, to keep practicing and practicing until everything flows smoothly, and you don’t have to think about it. Unfortunately, no step can be skipped. Knowing how to throw one ball in the air is just as crucial to the process as being able to juggle two or three, or even more. If you drop one, you just have to pick it up or let it lie, forget about it and act like you meant to do it that way.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-13198949179341690062012-03-13T16:15:00.002-07:002012-03-13T17:19:02.468-07:00I'll Have What She's Having ... Tapas For Singers<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGxErzESuy9x__0aK7a0-7Es3IYVh2N4Pxrpaa0l-AaDkgdK9dkfz00yjZqjqTYJ-Zf27Vs28m5iHS5ubSQ2iHdtxJxt6T1tyGwdFhnRtaWoS2CnAGcRabD-iiKlnwDvVK1nV2RkgUcA/s1600/IMG_0838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGxErzESuy9x__0aK7a0-7Es3IYVh2N4Pxrpaa0l-AaDkgdK9dkfz00yjZqjqTYJ-Zf27Vs28m5iHS5ubSQ2iHdtxJxt6T1tyGwdFhnRtaWoS2CnAGcRabD-iiKlnwDvVK1nV2RkgUcA/s320/IMG_0838.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gracias por su visita: Cafe Cristina in Madrid</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">We’ve all been there before: you go to a restaurant with friends, sit down, order, chit-chat while you wait for the food, slowly gaining an appetite for what you just ordered. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Then the waiter brings the meals and you see what your neighbor has -- oh, now <i>that</i> looks delicious. Why didn’t I order that?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Now your own meal is unsatisfying, but you’re stuck with it. It’s a chore to finish, and the one or two morsels that your kind friend has allowed you to sample from her plate are not enough to appease your desire. Why didn’t you order that? Trading plates would be a bit awkward, and besides, why should your friend have to give up the meal she’d been craving all along just to make you happy?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ah, envy.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">I often go out to eat alone, usually when I’m in the mood for something specific and feel the urge to have it right that minute. I happen to live across from a very good café, and I only go there to eat when I want “my usual”. When I walk in, the wait staff already knows my order (oh my god, I’m turning into my dad), and if I ask for something different, they’re startled and ask me if I’m okay. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">If I want a bagel, there are only a couple places that serve them right, and ordering one anywhere else is taking a risk. Speaking of which, who knows why I continue to try Mexican restaurants here in Germany, having been disappointed by every single one, but I never give up hope.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ah, hope. Ah, regret.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">It was at my trusty <i>Stammlokal</i> (regular place) a while back where I got a sandwich (not my “usual”) on bread that was rock hard. I took a bite and thought, ‘Ewww, this is hard!’ but took three more bites, considered just eating the contents of the sandwich and not the bread, before working up the nerve to ask them to make a new one. This was, of course, no problem at all for them. But the fact that it took me so long to change my order - seriously, it was a conundrum - was an alarm signal to me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ah, the point....</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">At the smörgåsbord of singing, there are plenty of things to choose from:</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Comprimario a la mode<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>for starters, a light load of small roles (no butter)</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://christinesvoice.blogspot.com/2011/04/aria-di-sorbetto-aber-bitte-mit-sahne.html" target="_blank">Aria di Sorbetto</a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>comprimario topped with mild recognition and a twist of lemon</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i></i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Concert Combination Plate<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>only available at Christmas and Easter, or other special occasions </i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Summer Salad<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>not quite as filling as a main dish, served on the terrace, possibly in the rain</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i></i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Prima Donna</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>a filling portion of hearty goodness, well done, served in three to five acts, finishing with a glass of wine and a bouquet of roses</span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">With such a selection, sometimes it's hard to know what you want, until you see someone else getting it.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">To celebrate the completion of a production last weekend, I went with my colleagues to our temporary <i>Stammlokal, </i>a wonderful tapas bar just around the corner from the theater. Although we were used to their somewhat lackadaisical service, the food is very good, and the drinks are a-plenty. Plus we enjoyed each other’s company, so the slow service never really mattered. But on this particular night, the orders got mixed up. Somehow, we all waited almost an hour to get any food, the drinks took a while, and we had to go a beg for a basket of bread to tide us over, having just come very hungry from our last performance. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">My order, even though I'd been the first one there, was the very last to trickle in, tapa by delicious tapa. All the while, people who had arrived after me were getting their dishes. They were offering me bites of this and that - would you like an albondiga? How about a patata arrugada? You want a bit of my tortilla? For once, I was completely happy with what I ordered. And although I was getting cranky from hunger, impatient, seriously near tears, and maybe even a bit rude, I declined their gracious offerings by sternly replying, “Thank you, but I want the food that I ordered!” And when my boquerones finally arrived, I savored every perfect bit. Giddy with joy, I shared my pimientos, and relished my manchego like it was a bar of rare, exquisite chocolate.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ah, the lesson.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i></i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">As I see some of my friends making their debuts at major opera houses, or premiering roles I wish I would have been hired to sing, or planning the births of their babies between gigs, or taking on jobs with decent salaries, I wonder if that’s what they ordered in the first place. Or if perhaps they’re looking at my plate, wishing they could have a bite of mine.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-9379484422800214832012-01-27T14:26:00.000-08:002012-01-28T09:17:53.798-08:00The Comfort Zone: Express Train to Nowhere<div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~ Anaïs Nin </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrePKGeDdz5n4RInRuioSDA8lcQyQbjOHtpJEn3wA0xmNf-LnpwuY4_dpLCbJIH2bxRYk4FmrS0G7MFLP2Nmk0Njb8Km-Mphxl05oGydwpMZS8wUiL22f1o8nqvX29wnEARXiSN0uhlj8/s1600/IMG_0192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrePKGeDdz5n4RInRuioSDA8lcQyQbjOHtpJEn3wA0xmNf-LnpwuY4_dpLCbJIH2bxRYk4FmrS0G7MFLP2Nmk0Njb8Km-Mphxl05oGydwpMZS8wUiL22f1o8nqvX29wnEARXiSN0uhlj8/s200/IMG_0192.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Once I was riding on a train with a rather rowdy collection of passengers. It was the weekend, and throughout the car, there were small groups of people involved in bachelor parties, hen weekends, bowling tournaments, and who knows what else. My seat was quite near the door where one such group of young men was cleverly equipped with a beer cooler and a small boombox, listening to German “Schlager” at a fairly reasonable volume. Still, it was mildly annoying. At the next stop, a group of people sitting more toward the center got off and left a whole section of seats empty. I thought now might be a chance for me to have a more comfortable seat, as I’d been sharing leg room with the woman across from me, not to mention that it was a bit chilly sitting near the door.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But then it occurred to me that we weren’t yet past Cologne, Germany’s party central, and the chances of me sharing my section of seats with yet another, possibly even rowdier group of hens, stags, bowlers or what have you, was not exactly slim. So I remained seated in my current state of mild discomfort. I don’t remember what sort of people ended up occupying the seats where I could have sat. Pity, because then this story would either have a happy ending, or a tragic turn for the worse. But then, I wouldn’t be able to illustrate my point to you today. The thing is, you never know.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>For the past little while, I’ve been experiencing ‘mild discomfort’ with a particular business associate. Through no fault of my or his own, our ways have parted (to keep the train analogy alive); we are not on the same journey. Just this past week, he offered me a role that could be very useful for my résumé, but I turned him down. He couldn’t quite understand why I would pass up such an opportunity, and it was hard for me to tell him why without hurting his feelings.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In his environment, I receive the most applause (quite often because I’m the most experienced singer there); I have artistic freedom (due to lack of direction); I know exactly how the rehearsal process will be (because it hasn’t changed in 10 years). This is definitely my ‘Comfort Zone.’ I will ever be indebted to the trust instilled in me since I first started working with this company.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>All the same, while I’ve been riding first class in his regional train, so to speak, I’ve also been making short trips in high-speed locomotives, experiencing first hand how swiftly opportunities pass by. I’ve decided, I’m more likely to catch the Express to stardom and/or success (which by my definition simply means working in a manner suited to my abilities) on a different line. So, instead of remaining in my mildly uncomfortable seat, which has obviously gotten me nowhere lately, I’m going to risk finding a better opportunity at some other destination, even if that means perhaps never getting there.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I’m pretty comfortable with that.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 5.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(special thanks to David Dickerson for trying to remind me how English works. Check out his amusing YouTube channel - <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/greetingcardboy" target="_blank">greetingcardboy</a> - to make your day slightly more pleasant)</span></div><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
</span></div>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-1342032669083316532011-11-12T18:05:00.000-08:002011-12-29T04:37:41.417-08:00The Tragic Tale of Me and Jenufa (i.e. never piss off a Norwegian)<div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPbrLC31ioAWXEVKj97-cnYuXGE-3szCvXt0-IeIg0W5QPj2Mfs1BXCXcXCuWuwKGlcy2fkXfP9O20Sr6NukRz9P6Mk8UycsDpvrRhK6RNH88PeYJXRo0Rrh30fpspjhtjPmLRWFEmBQk/s1600/Scan+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPbrLC31ioAWXEVKj97-cnYuXGE-3szCvXt0-IeIg0W5QPj2Mfs1BXCXcXCuWuwKGlcy2fkXfP9O20Sr6NukRz9P6Mk8UycsDpvrRhK6RNH88PeYJXRo0Rrh30fpspjhtjPmLRWFEmBQk/s320/Scan+2.jpeg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me as Karolka with Keiko Yano</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Everything I need to know about opera, I learned 13 years ago, but forgot. Until now.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was a sunny winter day, not too long after having arrived for my first job ever in Germany - the Opera Studio at the Deutsche Oper am Rhein. I was wearing a grayish-purplish somewhat sparkly vintage top and a thin longish skirt -- very Morticia Addamsesque. That and a pair of basic black pumps. I was all gussied up for one of those reach-out gigs we used to do for the opera studio. But before that, I had to go to a staging rehearsal for <i>Jenufa</i>. I was double cast as Karolka, the ditzy girlfriend, and had to make a somewhat blustery entrance from the back and make my way to the front of the stage and give Jenufa flowers. Sounds simple enough.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When I got to rehearsal that Saturday morning at 10:00, I hadn’t slept. My then boyfriend was visiting from America. No, we weren’t up all night getting ‘reacquainted’. In fact, we had been arguing. The whole long distance thing wasn’t quite working out, apparently. For that week, as a generous gesture, I had actually been excused from any ‘unnecessary’ rehearsals. This was one of them. But, the information hadn’t trickled down to the proper channels, and my name had been written on the schedule regardless, as had the name of my colleague. So, I sat there for two hours watching her do the part until I got my turn to go on stage.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>By that time, all the other colleagues had been sent home, and the director’s assistant mimed all of their roles while the accompanist sang them. I was bewildered, tired, and mad about having to be there in the first place, but too much of a freshman to have the courage to say anything about them having violated my <i>genehmigte Urlaub</i> (approved vacation). By the looks on their faces, I think the director and conductor were not at all excited about being there either, having to repeat this whole scene for little ol’ me, “Karolka Two”. I tried to suck it all back and just make my entrance and get it over with so I could go sing my concert and get back to my visitor. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The music at this point was rather difficult, not to mention in Czech, and the confines of my concert skirt hindered me from getting to the front of the stage in time or in the carefree fashion that the director required. After several times not getting it right, either musically or scenically, getting very frustrated with myself (see previous entry: <a href="http://christinesvoice.blogspot.com/2011/02/confessions-of-staunch-perfectionist.html" target="_blank">“Confessions of a Staunch Perfectionist”</a>), and not being able to make any sense of why I was even there, I had a wee meltdown right there on stage. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Before I go on, let’s review my operatic experience up to this point. After playing a few roles in university productions and singing in the chorus at Seattle Opera, I went to Düsseldorf for the Opera Studio and had sung one of the leads in Brecht/Weill double feature, <i>Happy End/Mahogany Songspiel</i>. I must have done a bang-up job, because I had been entrusted with Ida in <i>Fledermaus</i>, Ines in <i>Trovatore</i>, Edelknabe Number Two in <i>Lohengrin</i>, the Dew Fairy in <i>Hänsel und Gretel</i>, and Karolka in <i>Jenufa</i>, my fifth role in as many months on the main stage, as well as the Studio concerts and Brecht/Weill production. I was kind of busy. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I had no idea what I was doing.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The first four pieces I mentioned were all revival productions -- meaning they had been playing for more than one season, the original director was long gone (like in the case of <i>Lohengrin</i>, which had its premiere 25 years previously), and you prepared your role with a director’s assistant, a repetiteur and maybe some other singers, if you were lucky. It was all very “come in from the left, go stand on the rock, climb the stairs, interact with Ruiz, etc.”. I thought if I did all that right and sang the music correctly, well, that for me was the definition of opera and fit my job description. <i>Jenufa</i>, on the other hand, was a premiere. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So, back to the meltdown. It was, of course, very embarrassing to break down and cry in the middle of a rehearsal, but stuff like that happens every now and again. That’s life. What bothers me now, is that I believe that was the precise moment my career took a left turn down the scenic route to success (Oh, look! A castle! Are we there yet?). It’s still very clear in my mind how the director’s assistant, Ingrid Raffeiner, now the head of a prominent opera agency, urgently whispered “Calm down, calm down...,” and how I stood next to the already renowned director (I had no idea), Norwegian Stein Winge, and tried to apologize. He seemed very disinterested. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The following Monday morning I was called for a musical rehearsal, not with the repetiteur, but with the maestro himself, Jonathan Darlington. That’s like rehearsing with Jesus. After about 15 minutes of realizing that I did, in fact, know my part, we went down to the canteen for a cup of coffee. I hope I shall never forget this moment when the artistic administrator (now opera director) joined us at our table, and Mr. Darlington graciously defended me: “You’ve thrown her in there with stage veterans like Stein Winge, Anne Bolstad and Trudeliese Schmidt. She’s doing fine.” I was also called into the office to speak to the director of the the administration office (now opera director in Hannover), and I remember her sympathetic smile when she asked me if maybe I didn’t have just a little too much on my plate. Evidently, word of my meltdown had spread quickly.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I had no idea what being an opera singer was actually about, or more importantly, what it meant to me. I like to think that now I do. The kind of opera singer-actor I am trying to become is precisely the kind that a director like Stein Winge would want to work with. In fact, I want to call him up and say, “I get it now.” </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Looking back, that production of <i>Jenufa</i> taught me invaluable lessons:</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Treat all colleagues, no matter what role, with equal respect</span></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b></b></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I found Marlis Petersen lying flat on her back in the foyer after she’d slipped a disc during one of the final rehearsals. Her role was smaller than mine, but even then she was well on her way to becoming the fabulous international star that she is now.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Things don’t always go as planned, even if a genius planned them</span></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Romana Noack, who I shared my role with, taught me that things change from rehearsal to rehearsal and performance to performance. I remember her exclaiming in one of the rehearsals “Das ist halt so!” (That's just how it is!)</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s not always about you</span></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b></b></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Monique Simone gave me the tip to bring a crossword puzzle or maybe some knitting to rehearsal to distract from the frustration that arises from waiting around.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Have fun</span></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To this day, every time I see Bruce Rankin, who played my fiancée, he cries “Dahling!” in his unmistakable tenor voice. He lights up every room and makes even the most difficult rehearsals more pleasant.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You never know who’s watching you or who you inspire</span></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The legendary Trudeliese Schmidt (may she rest in peace) came up to me after watching our Studio performance of <i>Happy End</i> and said, “Thank you. I learned so much from you.” </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I wish I would have gotten the chance to say the same to her. I should be so lucky to have the chance to perform with any one of my <i>Jenufa</i> colleagues again.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><-><-><-> </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>After my first performance went off without a hitch, the applause was so thunderous that we had to go take several bows. (Really, you should’ve seen it, it was quite a show). Ingrid sent us all out for one final curtain and we were sluggish to react. She hastily and haphazardly pushed us out on stage, and I found myself smack dab in the middle of the row between the maestro and the prima donna. An absolute operatic no-no, but I enjoyed it while it lasted. That may have already been it for me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><br />
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</span></div>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-15894285543399190962011-11-08T15:53:00.000-08:002011-11-08T16:00:00.897-08:00Falling Facades<div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSnKeuYMGY2Qki8cqipemaMn5QdxA70y4op02GPLU8RiUC1W0x05EhbMWqN22YB-smt4-T_ycrMWt-6Cb2WhuGFCmxQVZylK0EgW-Zj6Y9jcCeCFmtGmMDStmh8EV8ZTYPLvIjlhtBZw/s1600/IMG_0652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSnKeuYMGY2Qki8cqipemaMn5QdxA70y4op02GPLU8RiUC1W0x05EhbMWqN22YB-smt4-T_ycrMWt-6Cb2WhuGFCmxQVZylK0EgW-Zj6Y9jcCeCFmtGmMDStmh8EV8ZTYPLvIjlhtBZw/s200/IMG_0652.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Münster Town Hall today</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span>Besides the towering steeple of the St. Lamberti cathedral, the first thing that stands out when you walk down the street in downtown Münster is the row of facades on the buildings along the <i>Prinzipalmarkt</i>. Atypical of most German cities, due to Münster’s proximity and history with Holland, these Dutch gables are quite common here. In the old days, they were used in lieu of numbers to identify addresses, and in the case of the Town Hall’s facade, built 30 meters over the actual roof in the mid 14th century, the highly ornate gable was meant to instill confidence in the power of the reigning Bishop through its imposing outward appearance.</div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjefQp8l4sq98M0fvfj2vF_VgXJqqIgcQ0_AmDqUarfHTdUudEhsUg6dgX36oXqDO_xK01Y59JiSbBs62k2NGxj8nJsZUOiL_GsqcPdbd3CYeeJWUO0UxOSXPwp2-ToSInVS5Xo3VFOcnA/s1600/MuensterRathausOktober1944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjefQp8l4sq98M0fvfj2vF_VgXJqqIgcQ0_AmDqUarfHTdUudEhsUg6dgX36oXqDO_xK01Y59JiSbBs62k2NGxj8nJsZUOiL_GsqcPdbd3CYeeJWUO0UxOSXPwp2-ToSInVS5Xo3VFOcnA/s200/MuensterRathausOktober1944.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="146" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Münster Town Hall, 1944<br />
minutes before the gable fell</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Most of the buildings in the <i>Altstadt</i> (old town) were rebuilt to replicate their originals after having been destroyed in World War II. Nearby theaters in Hagen, Aachen and Duisburg were rebuilt to look, at least from the exterior, as they did before the war. The theater in Münster, however, made the somewhat controversial decision to reconstruct in the current fashion of the 1950’s. As an homage to the building which stood there before, the architects left a piece of the original facade standing freely in the atrium, so that theater-goers could reflect upon it while sipping proseccos during intermission in the shiny, modern foyer.</span></div><br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBYyH5DLEYRanZGeBMFm5fzJkZA_AVGntjn1c9RxIAt5ma9zvLCVP9XMvi9jf1xwHMeEZnUQV8I41SrMmcxLikIV_ohnwzfv4XnPHQlgJrONmMFEohv7ol-bQRKfxg0ek6pyyVgdx4O6M/s1600/IMG_0659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBYyH5DLEYRanZGeBMFm5fzJkZA_AVGntjn1c9RxIAt5ma9zvLCVP9XMvi9jf1xwHMeEZnUQV8I41SrMmcxLikIV_ohnwzfv4XnPHQlgJrONmMFEohv7ol-bQRKfxg0ek6pyyVgdx4O6M/s200/IMG_0659.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Münster's modern theater <br />
viewed through the facade</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When I auditioned in Münster about four years ago, I put up the usual opera singer’s “facade” -- basic black with a flash of color, standard repertoire, polite demeanor, etc. I remember that I sang rather well, and after I was done they asked me, almost as if measuring the gable in front of the Town Hall, “Frau Graham, how tall are you?” Apparently, they had a short tenor.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Opera is an art form which has been around for centuries, and it is also one very reluctant to change. So it is no wonder that we put up our facades to try to emulate what we think might be expected of us. We beef up our résumés to make us look as experienced as the singer next to us. We dye our gray hairs to appear the same age as the singer next to us. We wear heels or flats to adjust our height. We hide our special, individual talents -- like baking, writing, singing silly songs, or even having other jobs -- to make us seem like ‘serious’ artists. We try to keep ourselves lined up with concerts so we appear busy, giving off the impression that we are in high demand and therefore better than all the rest.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I got the chance to audition in Münster again, just four weeks ago. The piece being cast is brand new - a world premiere - and they needed someone in a hurry. Luckily, I was available. Already I tore down my first facade of looking busy. For some reason, maybe because I had to get up so early, I couldn’t be assed to wear my usual audition garb, so I wore a wacky print dress. Second facade down. For the train ride up there, I wore casual red boots and had my basic black pumps in my bag to change into shortly before going on stage. In the middle of my first aria, I realized I had forgotten to change my shoes. Oops, third strike. As I stepped on the stage and looked out into the modern hall and its purple upholstered seats, I exclaimed, “Oh! Purple is my favorite color!” instead of “My name is... and I’d like to sing... .” Surely my cover was blown by then at the latest. The only facade I had left was one of courage, masking my actual scared-shitlessness.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Perhaps a bit perplexed by my demeanor and attire, the panel nevertheless listened to my first selection, then invited me to stay for the second round. In their search for someone to perform this brand new work in this modern theater, I suppose my “facade” (or lack of one) built on a solid foundation of talent, technique and experience, was exactly the one they were looking for.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The premiere of “Timeshift” is December 4, subsequent performances on December 7th, January 14th, February 29th, and March 11th. Be sure and plan enough time to explore and view the gables of Münster! </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_69wWlNViR0shD6UMamepKmaAO1SSfPbEa53OlCFBPo8jsK9x6aKh1r-U6M_HNtLobqsFRBYffKBIllWDaMQszY_YLwTcyBitqJbZ02BZ307ZoQPya8r3mIGD_MNNBlluH366AdHV7z0/s1600/IMG_0604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_69wWlNViR0shD6UMamepKmaAO1SSfPbEa53OlCFBPo8jsK9x6aKh1r-U6M_HNtLobqsFRBYffKBIllWDaMQszY_YLwTcyBitqJbZ02BZ307ZoQPya8r3mIGD_MNNBlluH366AdHV7z0/s400/IMG_0604.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Trebuchet MS'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
</span></div>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-24037579683906134292011-06-23T07:08:00.000-07:002011-06-23T07:14:49.390-07:00The Path of Least Persistence: Dog-racing for Singers<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0dQQfBR5jHymqyNobnS2_MkvTzUFotZb1MJDRluW8W41XzkFTki_e9HVfsSkTsDqEbchEaByCJ7Xwue6FsATvObv00m5_4d9StYc5SwsNgn_IDjKxDggdvZOgQI7GD7xO6Sh6ZRHz70/s1600/ChristineG+%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0dQQfBR5jHymqyNobnS2_MkvTzUFotZb1MJDRluW8W41XzkFTki_e9HVfsSkTsDqEbchEaByCJ7Xwue6FsATvObv00m5_4d9StYc5SwsNgn_IDjKxDggdvZOgQI7GD7xO6Sh6ZRHz70/s320/ChristineG+%25285%2529.JPG" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Run, Christine, Run!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If you’ve ever been to the dog races, you’ve seen the fervor and determination with which greyhounds chase their goal. Not looking right nor left, they run like mad around the track until crossing the finish line. The ‘winner’ is the first one to realize that what he’s been chasing all along is not a tasty rabbit, but a mechanical lure with a furry tail at best. But the dogs keep chasing this unfulfillable feast until going into a sad and miserable retirement. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But that’s another story. It’s a dog eat dog world.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Chasing the operatic dream is not dissimilar to a dog race, except for the fact that the lure is real. But you have to chase a lot of false rabbits and bark up a bunch of wrong trees before capturing it. Obviously the greyhound isn’t aware that the rabbit is a fake. Otherwise, I can’t imagine that he would run so fast to catch it. The concept of ‘discouragement’ is foreign to a dog.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I first set foot in the race to become an opera singer in Germany, I was running at the swift pace of a greyhound. I sent 70 letters to agents, opera houses and young artists’ programs, happily licking each stamp and not being bothered by the “No-thank-you” replies that came pouring in (in fact, I made a collage out of them -- I call it “</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mit freundlichen Grüßen</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">”). Of those 70 letters, I got one invitation to audition, flew out, sang for them and was immediately offered the job. I hit the ground running, so to speak.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Since I’ve been here, I honestly don’t think I’ve put as much effort into getting auditions as I did back then. Instead I concentrated my efforts on singing for agents so that they could do the footwork, and of course on the matter at hand -- my job. While you’re working, it’s easy to take your eye off the rabbit and forget that, even though you have work, you are still in the race. Plus, no matter how hard I try, other contenders still get ahead. Despite having sung for several agents who seem to like what I do, I often find out about auditions happening without me.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Just recently, I sang a formidable Oscar in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Un Ballo in Maschera</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, I also have Zerbinetta in my repertoire (and got a great review in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Opernwelt</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> for that performance), and I’m just about to play Mozart’s famous Queen of the Night. So when I read on another singer’s blog that she was getting ready to audition for exactly those three roles, I wonder why it is that I don’t even know about this audition, much less why I haven’t been invited. Or when I saw on yet another coloratura’s Facebook page that she’d only last week landed a </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">fest</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> contract in a smaller house in the east, again I am baffled as to why these auditions pass me by.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Things like this happen often enough to make me stop running so fast and instead take leisurely walk on my self-denominated Path of Least Persistence. This can be a very pleasant experience, just as I’m sure a greyhound dog enjoys haphazardly chasing a frisbee probably even more than frantically running after a wanna-be rabbit. On the Path of Least Persistence unexpected things come to you unexpectedly. Problem is, it’s not enough. While it can be fulfilling to sing Bach in a church with an amateur choir, or fun to improvise over electronic music on a boat as part of an art exhibition, it does not quite satisfy the urge to prove your worth and serve the duty of portraying a character through music on a stage with your peers -- and be able to pay the bills, to boot.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RRGvN8mxu4EymeuZYPsi8fSBEm6kmTtwJy1s1hWq8jds_aNiV3_qkCmFqQbPGaauRlpW-QPOvE_MO9ogME9gi-YtwaUb4HDVbWrkBKDvjs99ODCaQkrMGDHnruAyPyMwEPpIeWIlW_Y/s1600/Whippet-Racing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RRGvN8mxu4EymeuZYPsi8fSBEm6kmTtwJy1s1hWq8jds_aNiV3_qkCmFqQbPGaauRlpW-QPOvE_MO9ogME9gi-YtwaUb4HDVbWrkBKDvjs99ODCaQkrMGDHnruAyPyMwEPpIeWIlW_Y/s200/Whippet-Racing.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">...ain't never caught a rabbit.</span></span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I hypothesize, however, that I may have gotten that very first audition back then had I sent only 20 letters instead of 70. That particular recipient probably would have been on my addressee list in both cases. So why should I bother with the rest? Now I know through experience that there are some trees I needn’t bother to bark up in the first place. Nevertheless, I have to admit that I probably could have done a bit more this season as far as promoting myself goes, although sometimes I wish it would suffice to be an über-talented and reliable musician who does her job well. At least I know that my competitors’ successes have nothing to do with my shortcomings -- especially if I wasn’t even there to be a contender.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sure it’s discouraging to repeatedly face rejection, but we have to keep the greyhounds in mind.* What if they are perfectly aware that the lure they are chasing is not a real rabbit? Perhaps they’re in the race for the sheer joy of running. Maybe it’s time for me to shed all my discouragement and leave it behind on the Path of Least Persistence and get back into the race -- full speed, come what may -- if only for the sheer joy of licking stamps.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">* By now, I hope you’ve figured out that this is only an analogy, and not a factual representation of the sometimes abusive practice of dog racing, which I do not purport to support (unless, of course, my dog wins).</span></span></span></div>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-64412639535158486702011-06-14T14:03:00.000-07:002013-12-27T10:38:58.185-08:00OPERAHOLICS: An Existential Look at an Addictive Career<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiX1jPc9Y2-Ua1dBySH7FakIYn7vkA5Mz1i9k49-Kh1nKxt8go_K2Ql9UEwg_RDyyToNK17eG6J__R8o5T0Zkb-zHE4UA2iovjR3NX3fjf14HR4LWrW-IMNRWWDhe1d4kORzHg2pUuMTk/s1600/yei-navajo-rug-560x385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiX1jPc9Y2-Ua1dBySH7FakIYn7vkA5Mz1i9k49-Kh1nKxt8go_K2Ql9UEwg_RDyyToNK17eG6J__R8o5T0Zkb-zHE4UA2iovjR3NX3fjf14HR4LWrW-IMNRWWDhe1d4kORzHg2pUuMTk/s400/yei-navajo-rug-560x385.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ever since moving to Europe my tolerance for alcohol has increased considerably. Depending on the company and the food, I can easily finish off a bottle of wine in one evening without feeling drunk. Watching a soccer game, I can knock back a six-pack and still be able to remember which team I’m rooting for. Although I drink a lot more frequently than I used to, I still wouldn’t call myself an alcoholic. Much the same, although I sing on a regular basis, can’t say no to an opportunity to perform for money, and thereby earn my living by doing so, I still have trouble calling myself an opera singer.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I meet non-music people for the first time and they ask me what I do (or more often, what am I doing </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">here </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">in Germany), it is almost with shame that I give them my reply. It’s not that I am embarrassed about being a singer, rather that I know I have now confronted them with information that is probably just as perplexing to them as it is to me. I have opened a door into the unknown and at the same time erected a wall between us. Quite a strain on a new acquaintance, don’t you think? Unless we have something else which binds us, the disconnect is almost audible. They have their preconceived notion of what an opera singer does, and I have to struggle with not living up to their expectations, or even admit that I’m not living up to my own. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b></b></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Hi, I’m Christy, and I’m a professional opera singer.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Hi, Christy.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Like alcoholics at an A.A. meeting, I am usually most at ease when I am in a room full of people just like me, or among friends and family who have grown to understand and accept who and what I am. One such time was just last night, when I sang in a beautiful Pentecost concert (for those of you who don’t know -- like I didn’t, until last night -- Pentecost basically celebrates the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles, and ergo the birth of the church). After the concert, we were celebrating with pizza and wine, compliments of the church’s ambitious choir. My friend and bass colleague of eight years told me in bewilderment, “I can’t believe that someone who sings as divinely as you has to work in a café. I just can’t understand why you’re not famous and/or getting more work.” (Soon I will be starting my new job as a barista to make ends meet -- funny that my ‘pay-my-way-through-college’ job is now serving as my ‘pay-my-way-through-my-career’ job).</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Well, it wasn’t </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">that</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> divine,” I said. “I think that one F# in the W.F. Bach aria was a little too high.”*</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Raising his hands to the ceiling, he exclaimed, “Thank you God, she’s not perfect!!” Then he told me about Persian rug weavers who intentionally leave a “mistake” in their rug, which creates a hole through which the Holy Spirit can enter; or as the Navajos do, leave a string hanging to serve as the “spirit line” so that the Great Spirit can find its way. Not to brag too much, but it did indeed feel like some holy spirit was entering me during that aria. First the credit goes to W.F. Bach for creating it, but I must say, I sang the holy bejeezus out of it.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After hypothesizing about what I could possibly be doing wrong regarding furthering my career, we came up with two basic theories. One: the competition is just overwhelming. Two: I am not a typical opera singer. This, of course, brought us back to the aforementioned conundrum: just what is an opera singer supposed to be like, anyway? I’m sure even if I did find out what one </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">should</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> be like, I don’t expect I would attempt to change myself in any way in order to fit that mold.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">None the wiser, we finished our pizza and wine and went home. I was alone on the platform, waiting for the train when a strange, probably alcoholic man came up to me and asked for some change so he could make a call to the Ukraine. I don’t usually give out money to strangers, but I had a big wad of earnings in my wallet from the concert, so I figured I could share some of the wealth. I handed him a one-euro coin, and he mentioned he would try to change it, since the call might only cost around 70 cents and he didn’t want to be wasteful. I looked in my purse again and gave him one euro in smaller change. He asked if I wanted the first euro coin back, and I said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had a good day, I was just in a concert,” which was pretty obvious considering my formal garb.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Oh, what instrument do you play?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“I’m a singer.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“I used to be a musician, too,” he told me. “But not your kind of music. I played rock and roll.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Oh! So you know what a </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">hartes Brot </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(literally, hard bread = tough living) it can be.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Yes. And what I also know,” he continued, “is that the people making real money are mostly just a bunch of untalented </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Zwitscher-Heinis </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">and the really good singers often get left behind.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Zwitscher-Heini”, I can only assume, is one who constantly chirps in a not-so musical manner. The strange man thanked me profusely for the two euros, and for some reason -- perhaps we were both moved by the Holy Spirit, or just connected by a common miswoven thread -- we both had tears in our eyes.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Good luck,” he said, as he turned to go. “And I mean that from the heart.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“I know you do,” I said, feeling an enormous sense of gratitude for the gift I’ve been given. “Thank you. Good luck to you, too.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I trust that, despite the late hour, he did indeed spend my two euros on a phone call to the Ukraine and not on a beer. I reckon I could give up drinking if I had to. But the singing? Not a chance.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="https://soundcloud.com/grahamophone-1/ho-re-vater-mit-erbarmen-w-f" target="_blank">*Here's the link to hear part of that W.F. Bach aria</a></span></span></span><br />
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grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-74196519208653375382011-04-19T14:40:00.001-07:002012-12-12T14:24:48.384-08:00Aria di Sorbetto: aber bitte mit Sahne<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsUy9-jX15SIQnI9JG1R816BJfKw5sCmx0TfhVs6Sym2b6zm9QYa3ROq2vp99m3ApEQG_XVN6wHbAbdi7icX-IeXqUcWUZ55gtqux3wZa306-Av-WITjWSLSR-UhW__osWMipltbTtL8/s1600/CIMG6851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsUy9-jX15SIQnI9JG1R816BJfKw5sCmx0TfhVs6Sym2b6zm9QYa3ROq2vp99m3ApEQG_XVN6wHbAbdi7icX-IeXqUcWUZ55gtqux3wZa306-Av-WITjWSLSR-UhW__osWMipltbTtL8/s320/CIMG6851.JPG" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eis Christina: Frankfurt's favorite Ice Cream</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Opera has come a long way since its origins in the 1600s and its Golden Age in the 19th century, from which many of the stereotypes of opera have spawned. Familiar scenes of a night at the opera include aristocrats in their box seats, fanning themselves and using their opera glasses to look at anything but the action on stage. In this day and age, opera is a versatile and vibrant art, breaking stereotypes and taking on many forms.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Italian comic opera in the 18th and 19 century, however, was still very structured in its Bel Canto beginnings. So much so, that the audience knew, in the middle of the second half, there would be a chance to go out and get some ice cream - namely, during the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Aria di Sorbetto </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(literally: sherbet aria), a song usually sung by a minor character with no major influence on the plot. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It is such a character that I am playing now in Rossini's </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Il Barbiere di Siviglia</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The Barber of Seville)</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> - Berta (a.k.a. Marcellina) the maid. I shouldn’t complain - at least I have an aria at all. When Giuseppe Verdi started to dominate the opera scene, the typical Bel Canto structure began to make way for a more realistic </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">verismo</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> style, in which there was no room for fluffy, ignorable arias. Every note had to mean something. This is why Violetta’s Annina, Gilda’s Giovanna, and Leonore’s Ines had no aria of their own. Unlike Mozart’s coquette maids Despina and Blondchen who had very influential roles and significant parts to sing, Verdi’s domestics were simply there to serve their Diva - to set up the emotion for her cavatina (0:22-0:56), to look appropriately concerned while she’s singing it, and to bring the bad news which would then catapult her into a cabaletta (5:45-6:20) -- see this example from <i>Il Trovatore</i>:</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><object height="364" width="445"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vQQCrojr7Ro?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Nowadays, opera directors are inclined to put much more emphasis on the drama of opera than on the singing (so do I, frankly). When I played Ines in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Il Trovatore, </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">the director told me (and I quote), I was to be “the reflection of Leonore’s subconscious.” A-ha. Well, I must have done something right, because it was then that the über-successful German director Christof Loy hand-picked me to be one of his chorus of anonymous nymphs and shepherds in his production of </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">L’Orfeo</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> in Düsseldorf.</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfuEvjcOlZt92vg0y4H6D-W5RgU4xvqFRZOl8JyvkptYrEWRol27_UVHBeW8N0AANKtEoPoLbNcHvW_RWrReXd6DhTs2uz8lq_2iJuuJrFQnpNWgDbIXALBlBHOtgSRomgPJW17q0Ayvk/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfuEvjcOlZt92vg0y4H6D-W5RgU4xvqFRZOl8JyvkptYrEWRol27_UVHBeW8N0AANKtEoPoLbNcHvW_RWrReXd6DhTs2uz8lq_2iJuuJrFQnpNWgDbIXALBlBHOtgSRomgPJW17q0Ayvk/s200/IMG.jpg" width="170" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ines in Il Trovatore (Bonn)</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is the challenge that singing a smaller role raises. You have much less time to prove your competence. You have to do in four lines what the leading lady has all night to do -- to show the audience the spectrum of the character’s emotions, musicality, and relationship to the other characters. You have to be on the ball the second you step out onto the stage. And every second has been worth it. Of all the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Einspringer</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> that I’ve done over the years (jumping in when someone, somewhere gets sick), the majority have been for these smaller roles -- I jumped in as Ines in Bonn (for Anja Harteros!) and in Wiesbaden. The</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> L’Orfeo</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> production was revived five times over a span of seven years and was also quite well-paid. And it was because of my previous experience playing Berta in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Il Barbiere di Siviglia </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">at the Kammeroper Frankfurt that I landed this current job in the same role.</span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfdvSUXUyghPiqjK-ZV975NmRTqiwRJGWbVZ68mzIioUp5WlVj0UVL4M8G_M0CCGGqHbTTqdBKji2SGi1p_-z3swpU4rPoCE7GHDfObYcOfaiGOJ1BrsUdDkCNOW9CnOFgvbwujyFnsc/s1600/CIMG6849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfdvSUXUyghPiqjK-ZV975NmRTqiwRJGWbVZ68mzIioUp5WlVj0UVL4M8G_M0CCGGqHbTTqdBKji2SGi1p_-z3swpU4rPoCE7GHDfObYcOfaiGOJ1BrsUdDkCNOW9CnOFgvbwujyFnsc/s200/CIMG6849.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Berta in "Il Barbiere di Siviglia"<br />
Theater Hagen 2011<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Much to my delight, as opposed to the audiences of the 19th century, I know that people are actually there watching and listening to my </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Aria di Sorbetto</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, perhaps enjoying my 15 minutes of fame instead of a scoop of Straciatella.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzsZuhUraFy5ITMpTaxss-ZD2Hr3U2CCvdgohNsiEORWOBFwhDIQOnbFlCa2Xp_XWp9chtrOshmcXRRuODiX8_cf5b5YTCMizrjJdNZaBOWr2bhKdzR8soyqXiEyKoI0kt0oyQ2xOyo60/s1600/Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzsZuhUraFy5ITMpTaxss-ZD2Hr3U2CCvdgohNsiEORWOBFwhDIQOnbFlCa2Xp_XWp9chtrOshmcXRRuODiX8_cf5b5YTCMizrjJdNZaBOWr2bhKdzR8soyqXiEyKoI0kt0oyQ2xOyo60/s200/Image.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And another Berta...<br />
Düsseldorf 2012</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCQ42J9-m3UCmPCDLXkcX26fhAnac0j0WID-E1fENy4lyYV1BYsmpWhI54032sIfkfwQQ_oWuvQ-r3Gl2Iqw8ttHdok4vJ-XW0Qk4KghoVvsTRLQe5m4UmHBS-hBG8zJiUd7vdnH1k9g/s1600/IMG_0957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCQ42J9-m3UCmPCDLXkcX26fhAnac0j0WID-E1fENy4lyYV1BYsmpWhI54032sIfkfwQQ_oWuvQ-r3Gl2Iqw8ttHdok4vJ-XW0Qk4KghoVvsTRLQe5m4UmHBS-hBG8zJiUd7vdnH1k9g/s200/IMG_0957.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And ANOTHER Berta ...<br />Wiesbaden 2012<br /></td></tr>
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grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-79056744154904318262011-03-22T14:54:00.000-07:002011-03-22T14:54:04.077-07:00What's the first thing a soprano does in the morning? Goes home.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0eJlAMd_80yeqxt3S9Kd5mhq_2QHiqGmV8NIG0JHX2VgVUc76EnpVp7IpeAVocDuP99x3-aDzk-6vL6CNoTo5CYHNzOgJZ1zCS8zlXkf4ZfFjCrAWWU0GjEu_9bPyC-RGU9VVxrivaI/s1600/CIMG3312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0eJlAMd_80yeqxt3S9Kd5mhq_2QHiqGmV8NIG0JHX2VgVUc76EnpVp7IpeAVocDuP99x3-aDzk-6vL6CNoTo5CYHNzOgJZ1zCS8zlXkf4ZfFjCrAWWU0GjEu_9bPyC-RGU9VVxrivaI/s400/CIMG3312.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Or how about this one? A Spanish tenor, a South African baritone, an English bass, a Chinese mezzo, a German dramatic soprano and an American coloratura soprano walk into a bar ...</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well, okay, it’s not a bar, it’s a theater canteen. And it’s not a bad joke, it’s just intermission at the opera.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After the show is over, some of the singers return to their homes (they’re </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">fest </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">at the theater and they live in this town), and the others, working as guests, return to their hotel rooms, only to leave the next morning for their respective homes. No, not Spain nor South Africa, China or America, but to some town in Germany where they have set up shop for their freelance opera career, and where they now call “home.” Home is, after all, where your stuff is.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But after six weeks of intense rehearsals, this strange brew of a cast and crew has somehow become your family. And your best friends are the characters of various television series you’ve downloaded to keep you entertained [cue theme song]:</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font: 13.0px Arial; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">♫ ♫ </span></span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I’ll be there for you ‘cause you’re there for me, too. </span></span></i></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo....</span></span></i></span><span style="font: 13.0px Arial; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">♫ ♫</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i></i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The scenery may be different, and the plot is not the same, but each production gives you a very familiar feeling - to rehearse, make new friends, perform together and share in this imaginary world for a few hours in front of a live audience, celebrate afterwards and then sleep peacefully. It is not always wine and roses, but it is always very real. At least to me.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i></i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ever since I started this business, I envisioned having a home base (i.e. somewhere to put my stuff), somewhere to come back to between adventures. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Some adventures lasted longer than others and ended up becoming home base by default - Düsseldorf for six years, Coburg for four. And then I was free. Free to choose where I wanted to live because nothing and no one was determining that for me. So, for various good reasons, out of all the cities in the entire world, I chose Frankfurt.</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Although I so much enjoy being greeted by the Frankfurt (Mainhattan) skyline upon returning home from another town, and although I adore my apartment and my neighborhood - and the people I’ve known in Frankfurt, some for almost 10 years - I’m realizing that “home” has to be something more than just a place to hang my proverbial hat. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Even in the most familiar of surroundings, amongst my belongings -- my vintage copper kitchen utensils, my couch, my bed, my pictures, my towels, my 31 pairs of shoes -- I am still not always quite as comfortable as I am when living out of a suitcase in some crappy little apartment doing what I believe to be what I was put on this Earth to do.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We are not really connected to any place or even to any people except our parents, our siblings and eventually our partners and children. So aside from that, what comprises a “home” and how do we know where we belong? And will we recognize it when and if we get there?</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Maybe it is a bad joke, after all.</span></span></span></div>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-77973726876472612742011-02-20T13:44:00.000-08:002011-02-20T13:44:11.265-08:00Confessions of a Staunch Perfectionist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OsOYlN-ns9skV91QefwMFt5fILZo_f6SKCFJrxik8P6GVEIEl1_pYgu081vcrFfpA0Orh-Y7fz8pFzoS5SvUUWER9AE0ZR4MMlBgG0SDIcJVAbVy1sWIfSyl12mIbTfiOn7prpKjSjk/s1600/Photo+on+2011-02-01+at+14.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OsOYlN-ns9skV91QefwMFt5fILZo_f6SKCFJrxik8P6GVEIEl1_pYgu081vcrFfpA0Orh-Y7fz8pFzoS5SvUUWER9AE0ZR4MMlBgG0SDIcJVAbVy1sWIfSyl12mIbTfiOn7prpKjSjk/s400/Photo+on+2011-02-01+at+14.54.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is a photograph of me right after I pulled my head out of my ass (and you thought I was naturally brunette - ha!).</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At some point in the last few weeks, I discovered that it’s okay to make mistakes - probably because I’ve made quite a few recently and survived. But why this pearl of wisdom has eluded me for so long is a mystery to me, especially since I can now remember having learned this lesson decades ago: a pivotal moment in my life which determined the professional path I would soon take to the stage. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">----------------</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In my elementary school, as in many others, lunch was served in a multi-purpose room. During lunch time it was the cafeteria, obviously, and throughout the day it was used as a gymnasium, an assembly room and, for the school performances, a theater. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Three staff members from Cragin Elementary will always remain emblazoned in my memory:</span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mario the Italian janitor, Goofy the Mexican janitor (we called him Goofy because he was always wearing a T-Shirt with Goofy on it), and Mrs. White, the cafeteria monitor. I would love to know how this woman, hailing from what sounded like New York or New Jersey, ended up in Tucson, Arizona supervising a bunch of school kids while they ate. Her voice could penetrate the entire gymnasium when she shouted “Quiet!” (pronounced: kwaaaaaa-yit), or “Announcement!” (pronounced: a-naaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuns-smint).</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The rule was, when Mrs. White shouted “Quiet!” we were supposed to be, well, quiet. Sometimes she would even say “Silent” (pronounced: soooooy-lint), </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">that’s</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> how kwaaaaa-yit we were supposed to be. And if you weren’t quiet, you got in trouble. She would point at you with her wrinkly, sausagey pointer finger and say, “You! To the stage!”</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(Can you see where I’m going with this?)</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yes, in this multi-purpose room, there was a stage, and when you got in trouble during lunch, the only way Mrs. White could keep an eye on you was if you went to the stage. We didn’t have to actually stand ON the stage, rather at the edge of it, where we could put our lunch tray up on the stage floor and continue eating while standing. Alone. For all the other kids to see.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now I had been to the stage on several occasions - playing clarinet in the school band, singing in the school choir, or acting in the school’s Christmas pageant written by my sixth grade teacher, Miss Rinker (who, incidentally, took our class to go see</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> La Traviata</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, and even gave me a ride home in her Toyota Chinook). But I had NEVER been to the stage for getting in trouble. Except for one day ...</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One day in third grade during lunch, the girl sitting next to me asked me a question. I don’t remember who the girl was, or what she asked me, but those of you who know me well, know that I love to finish my sentences, and I don’t like being interrupted. It was, then, most unfortunate that Mrs. White shouted “Quiet!” at the precise moment that I was in the middle of giving this girl her answer.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Yyyeeeeeeeeeewwww! To the staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-jjjjuh!”</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I couldn’t believe it. I had to go to the stage? Moi?? But I was so well-behaved! </span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was traumatized. I couldn’t help it. My eyes welled up with tears and my chin started to quiver. I began to cry. “But I was just answering her question!” I pleaded (already trying to shift the blame away from me, of course, another favorite trick of mine). Mrs. White didn’t scream. Instead she spoke very softly and sweetly and tried to console me by saying, “It’s okay. Lots of kids have to go to the stage.” I remember looking across the stage at Tina Springer with her big, blonde ponytail, smiling at me. I don’t know why she had been sent to the stage, but I do remember that she played the lead role in Ray Bradbury's “All Summer in a Day” -- our class project about making films. I was a cameraman. I was robbed (that’s probably why she had to go to the stage - for stealing the lead role away from me!).</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">----------------</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Never again did I have to go to the stage, not in that capacity at least. The few times I got “in trouble” after that were very perplexing, probably because I never intended to misbehave in the first place, nor have I ever learned how to deal with it. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It’s hard to believe that this deficiency in my basic human training still has an effect on my adult life. Just a couple months ago when I’d forgotten a bit of staging during a rehearsal and got yelled at by the director, the nine-year-old girl in me heard Mrs. White’s booming voice saying, “You! To the stage!” (confusing, indeed, since I was already on it), welled up with tears and ran offstage. Perhaps it was then, when I later apologized to the director for my outburst, and when he told me what a great job I was doing, that I realized getting in trouble is not equivalent to dislike, and perfection is only a goal, not a reality.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Armed with this new attitude, I went to an audition last week with an aria that I hadn’t sung in quite a while. Somewhere in the middle of the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">da capo</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I got lost. The two bars rest turned into a rather long interlude when it occurred to me that I should have been singing for the last four bars. Oops. Thinking that the pianist might go back and pick me up where I sort of left off (which would have been an amazing feat on his part in the midst of all that baroque ornamentation), I dared re-entry at an appropriate cadence. I noticed he was playing the final bars of the piece long before I was finished, so I just stopped and began to laugh. “Sorry,” I said, “I must’ve gotten lost!!” The adjudicators laughed as well, and said they hadn’t noticed since they were already discussing amongst themselves (hopefully about my fabulous phrasing, impeccable intonation and captivating character). “No problem, I’ve already sung the highest note,” I joked. “Yes, we noticed!” they replied.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I left the stage feeling better about that audition than any one I have ever sung. If for any reason they should decide not to hire me, I know it’s not because of my musical screw-up. Don’t get me wrong. This doesn’t mean that I’m happy about it when things go awry during an audition, or especially during a performance -- like forgetting the words to my own aria, or not finding my prop until I trip over it (not that this has ever happened to me -- especially not on Friday during my performance of </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Un Ballo in Maschera</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">). The little slip-ups along the way are nothing to fret about. It only gives me gray hair -- which is precisely why I dye it! (see photo).</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Being a great artist is not about avoiding mistakes. It’s about masterfully covering them up.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-46889782614911162622011-01-18T14:10:00.000-08:002011-04-03T13:11:59.872-07:00Size Doesn't Matter<div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvaSF7zupYNQqtPSGGjqadC8-fR_wq9RphXnr02NWPcazkYdpcS-WqdTlabA1wp9g43O15YWnSr3mfqbbzriQ7xcpBZc_PAWFZcfxkdUjG6xPhx6UF474nDiIFlfrd9kfWIMij99fhDp0/s1600/CIMG6773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvaSF7zupYNQqtPSGGjqadC8-fR_wq9RphXnr02NWPcazkYdpcS-WqdTlabA1wp9g43O15YWnSr3mfqbbzriQ7xcpBZc_PAWFZcfxkdUjG6xPhx6UF474nDiIFlfrd9kfWIMij99fhDp0/s320/CIMG6773.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="268" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Oscar" in Verdi's Un Ballo in Maschera</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> When I was preparing for my stint as Oscar in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Un Ballo in Maschera</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, I made sure to bring plenty to do during my down time -- unwatched episodes of my favorite TV shows, a book, music for an upcoming concert. After all, Oscar only has two short arias to sing, and a couple ensemble numbers. I’m just the substitute for the house soprano who will be singing the bulk of the performances. Piece of cake. No biggie. Little did I know, however, that the director had something else in mind for this character. And as my colleague got sick during my first week of rehearsal, it was all of a sudden upon me to “create” this surprisingly demanding role. </span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oscar is on stage for practically the entire show - and when I’m not on stage, I’m either going to the bathroom, getting a drink of water, or changing my costume. So, snacking in the cantina or working crossword puzzles in the dressing room is not an option. Every opening and closing of the curtain is controlled by my character. Every entrance of every player depends on my gesture. The handing over of props and costumes, the switching on and off of the lights.... I am the puppet master, and it’s far bigger a responsibility than I was expecting when I packed my suitcase to come to this small town just six weeks ago. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By no means am I complaining. I love the power vested in me, so to speak, to run the show. Here I was, expecting to sing one of the smaller roles in the opera, and I ended up practically having the lead. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Big things come in small packages.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It makes me wonder, then, why I would get so bent out of shape in my old job when I often had to play second fiddle to other colleagues, sometimes even guests who were hired over my head to do roles I could well have done myself. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Perspective, that’s why. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As someone else was getting paid to sing Musetta while I had to sing 27 performances of an operetta, I could only think what an injustice was being done to me (and my résumé), and I let my pains be known. It was difficult for me to try and grasp their perspective - it’s cheaper to hire someone for only 10 Musettas compared to 27 operettas, and besides, they trusted in my ability to deliver what an operetta requires: nimbleness, strong dialog skills, stage presence, stamina. So, that's actually a good thing, right?</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Through this past experience, I’m doing my best now to relate with my counterpart, the house soprano, who is approaching this situation from the other side of the spectrum. She has played much more significant roles during her time in this theater, has an engagement in a bigger house next season and even sings in New York from time to time. And now, as her final role in her home of six years, she’s been handed this bit part. Bad timing, that’s all. </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The hard reality is - and my colleague knows this as well as I do - no matter how much fun we’ve had with Oscar in this particular production, on paper it’s just a supporting role with two easy arias and a few ensemble bits. It’s not going to make that big of a difference in her career if she sings it or not. From my point of view, however, this “bit part” literally saved my life. Regardless of talent, my career path has not been as swift as hers. The offer to sing this role came at a time when I wasn’t sure whether to throw in the towel (see previous entry: </span></span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 10px/normal Futura; letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://christinesvoice.blogspot.com/2010/09/get-fall-rolling.html">Get The Fall Rolling</a>) </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Financially, Oscar came to my rescue, too.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> <div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Size doesn’t matter, because it’s all a matter of perspective. What’s important to you might be peanuts to someone else, and what seems to you to be an insignificant task might be the job offer of a lifetime for another. As I try to convey time and time again on this blog, opera is not always about the singing. And no matter how big and famous I get, I hope to always remember how I felt during this time - being grateful of the precious little gift that is being an opera singer.<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div></span>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390102516093123359.post-69710097403227982052011-01-01T08:28:00.000-08:002011-01-04T08:29:04.492-08:00Auld Acquaintance, New Again<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9e0xu3Qx2bzICghurjoF95258ZhAhZOCc3cJfq_a-Zvqz9ik9FG-yBQaD1BzfAml5Ziey5w3jCn1RjAA0uX6M5skdJpy5bPJnvIx6U3u1zRSNkDDiTge_UaZ8QrSqiSGtbhHIhpM0UDU/s1600/CIMG6705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9e0xu3Qx2bzICghurjoF95258ZhAhZOCc3cJfq_a-Zvqz9ik9FG-yBQaD1BzfAml5Ziey5w3jCn1RjAA0uX6M5skdJpy5bPJnvIx6U3u1zRSNkDDiTge_UaZ8QrSqiSGtbhHIhpM0UDU/s320/CIMG6705.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many colleagues I hope to meet again</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is the second time that I’ve spent New Year’s Eve in a theater with people I barely know. Six years ago, I had to jump in for double performances of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Wiener Blut</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> in Ulm, and ended up on the roof shooting firecrackers and drinking champagne at midnight. I would see some of those people three years later when I jumped in at the same theater for Mary Magdalene in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Jesus Christ Superstar</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. And last year I filled in for Ines in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">IlTrovatore</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> in Wiesbaden, where the director’s assistant was the same girl from Ulm back in 2005.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This time around, I celebrated New Year’s Eve in Hagen, where I’ve been hired as a guest for the double cast of Oscar in</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Un Ballo in Maschera</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. I’ve only known the colleagues here for four weeks, but ran into another guest soprano I used to sing with four years ago in Coburg. My new neighbor who is collecting my mail while I’m away is also a former Coburg colleague, working this season in Frankfurt.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, what do we learn from all of this? The opera world is small, that’s for sure. Leave a good impression everywhere you go, you may need a favor later. I also learned that I love being amongst “theater people,” define that how you will. Furthermore, I also reaffirmed the fact that I really love to dance. But that’s another story.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not only is the opera world small, but now for the first time I actually feel like I’m part of it. Instead of standing outside in the cold, looking through the frosty window at the happy people inside, I’m amongst them, cozy by the fire with my feet up, reminiscing about the operatic events of the past year:</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">New Year’s Eve 2009 I sang in a gala concert for the Kammeroper Frankfurt with some of my closest friends and favorite colleagues. The next day I headed back to Mönchengladbach where I wrapped up the production of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Miss Donnithorne’s Maggot, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">one of the most challenging roles I’ve ever sung, if not the most challenging. While I was there, a colleague got sick, so I took over a few of her performances in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Der Vetter aus Dingsda </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(and happened upon two tenors who had done the show with me three years previously in Coburg - see above: small world).</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i></i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Then followed “Frauen, Natürlich!” at the Kammeroper Frankfurt - a somewhat silly music theater project in which I sang Mahler songs and tenor arias. Warum nicht?</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And then in the summer we did </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Die Lustige Weiber von Windsor</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> in which I played the “parade” role of Frau Fluth. With the con tempo modern music ensemble, also in Frankfurt, I premiered a music theater piece called “The Real Buenos Aires” - a literary, dramatic, musical collage (at least that’s what they were calling it) based on a novel by Argentinian author Raul Argemí.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Those productions, as well as two weddings, a Christmas Eve mass and a handful of concerts, including part of Schumann’s </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Spanisches Liederspiel</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> at my alma mater in Arizona, rounded off a fairly busy business year. And shortly before rehearsal begin for </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Un Ballo in Maschera</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> in Hagen where I am now writing this, I sang a Gershwin recital which was extremely rewarding and of which I am especially proud. </span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2010 was also a record year for auditions - seven! Doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s more per year than I’ve done since I got to Germany 12 years ago. Sometimes it takes an event like New Year’s Eve to look back and see the things you’ve actually accomplished in a year. Still, despite all my sowing, I was only able to reap about half of what I need to live on, which means I’ll have to cross my fingers that 2011 is doubly lucrative.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">On the plan for 2011, I’ve got a bit part in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Il Barbiere di Siviglia</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> here in Hagen, one opera gala concert, and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Die Zauberflöte</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> with the Kammeroper Frankfurt. Seems rather grim, but I have to remind myself that last year at this time, I had no idea that I would have as much work as I ended up having. Besides, I can be sure that I’ll meet a familiar face or two along the way. </span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We now return to our originally scheduled programming of cynical, critical takes on the opera world at <i>.... the Grahamophone!</i></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div>grahamophonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13739410429332239885noreply@blogger.com2