First up, the list of performances I attended over the past week:
- Sunday afternoon: Tosca
- Tuesday evening: a voice faculty member's recital
- Friday evening: a jazz orchestra performance
- Saturday evening: the local Philharmonic orchestra's rendition of Mussorgsky's "Prelude to Khovanshchina", Nielsen's "Concerto for Flute and Orchestra", and Shostakovich's "Symphony No. 5 in D minor, Op. 47". This last one was written in response to the Soviet regime's oppression. Shostakovich had written an opera, Lady Macbeth of Mtensk. The regime was so unhappy that he hadn't made it a joyful celebration of Soviet culture and rule that Shostakovich had to write something to get back into the leaders' good graces. Otherwise, he faced being carted away and "disappearing". This piece has so much pathos in it, so much anguish, which he explained to the rulers as being about the struggle of life. The last movement is upbeat, but it is a forced joy. During the premiere, Shostakovich told people this was about "optimism and the joy of living." Yet after his death, his posthumously published memoir held a different comment: "The rejoicing is forced, created under threat. It's as if someone were beating you with a stick and saying, 'Your business is rejoicing, your business is rejoicing,' and you rise, shaky, and go marching off, muttering, 'Our business is rejoicing, our business is rejoicing.' What kind of apotheosis is that? You have to be a complete oaf not to hear that."
This week, I get to see the student opera production of Debussy's Pelleas et Melisande. I'm also performing a new piece written by CL, my composer friend, for one of his classes. It's an exploration of the man vs. machine idea, and he wrote it in response to a "conversation" of pieces -- pieces that were written by composers in response to each other. His is the latest in the chain. When I asked him whether he wanted the tone and rhythm to be warm and fluid (highlighting humanity) or more robotic (highlighting the blurring of human and machine), he wrote, "I'd say fluid and warm with a tad dash of a demented spontaneity and just let the text speak for itself, though, I am intrigued by this idea of a "robotic" soprano sound."
Amazing that I get to have conversations like this.
This afternoon, in my stage directing class, we spent about an hour pouring over blueprints of various stage productions as the professor explained to us how to read the various lines and symbols, what a designer expects and needs from a director in a staging meeting, and more about how the process of putting together a show unfolds. A director comes up with a concept based on the drama and text and music, and the stage and lighting designers help crystallize those concepts. So the director might say, "The character needs to be isolated here. She's feeling very alone. I see harsh vertical lines and stark colors." The stage designer might build some sort of platform to isolate the character. The lighting designer would know just what color lights to shine (or, more precisely, what color "gels" - plastic translucent colors - to put in the lights to get colored light). It's a dialogue. The stage designer draws up the blueprints, confirms with the director, and gives them to the technical director, who makes technical drawings -- how much lumber is required for a particular set piece, etc. Then, the shop builds it.
I have much to do tonight for tomorrow, so I'll postpone talking more about the conference. Suffice to say it was also incredible. I feel very lucky that I was able to attend!
~Hope
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