In the Theatre

I’m sitting here, dressed to the nines in my voluminous 18th century house servant’s costume, complete with “butt roll.” (This is the moon shaped pillow that you tie around you so that your hips look much bigger as your petticoats are then held outwards. The crescent goes around your back and ties in the front. I think this may also be why gestures were higher in the 18th century (higher on your body), but that's just a guess.)

Figaro is playing on the speakers in our chorus dressing room. (Yes, it has the makeup mirrors with the bulbous lights on either side of them.) But I’m listening to a medieval piece, “Rose, Liz, Printemps”, as sung by Gothic Voices. This is one of the most beautiful and flowing pieces I’ve ever heard, and their voices are terrific. Just the thing to take my mind off the 85 degree warmth in here. (Try wearing multiple layers of heavy fabric in a generously heated room J )

We’re in the midst of our first full dress rehearsal for the show. It’s “performance conditions”, which means we’re running it as if the house were filled with people. Anyone not performing is expected to be in a dressing room. The stage manager is sitting in the wings, complete with intercom speaker, calling the show. (That means following everything with score in hand, calling out the cues as they occur. “10 minutes until Act II.” “Places for Act II.” “Figaro to the stage.” She also has all sorts of lighting and stagehand cues that tell people when to turn on what light, when to raise and lower the curtain, when the stage is clear so the stagehands can switch the set, etc. She’s basically the reason why the show ties together logistically.)

It’s an amazing thing to be in a theatre. The energy is so high, especially now that we’re in full costume and makeup. It will be even better when the house is full.

This theatre is particularly interesting, too. The wings are fairly sizeable, so there are giant set pieces on each side of the stage that we walk around to get to the doors for our entrances. There is also space far above the stage, so on Friday, I watched a stagehand move a wall offstage, hook it to some wires, and, using a remote control, lift it straight overhead to get it out of the way.

The dressing rooms are up a twisty steep staircase, stacked on top of each other, about four to a floor. Each room has a sink, mirrors, and a concrete floor plus wall insulation. You can sing in here, and no one would hear you on the stage or in the audience. There is also an intercom in every room so that we can follow the show and walk to the wings when appropriate for our entrances.

In the wings, there’s a monitor that shows what the stage looks like from the audience. There’s another monitor that shows just the conductor. About a week or so ago, someone cut out one of those long curvy 17th or 18th century wings and taped it to the conductor monitor. It’s amazing how often the conductor stepped right into the perfect position for it. Very funny. Sadly, someone removed it tonight.

The stage manager just announced Places for Act III.

~Hope

Figuring Figaro

I'm in the midst of schedule planning for this week. Our first dress rehearsal for Le Nozze di Figaro/The Marriage of Figaro happens tomorrow. Since the opera is double cast, the "X Cast" has their run tomorrow night. Tuesday is the "Y Cast's" turn. Wednesday is dark (no rehearsal), and Thursday we open. I'm just in the chorus, so it's not a lot of pressure for me, but it is a significant time commitment. We'll leave the theatre every night after 11 pm or so.

Figaro will last until Sunday. Then, on Monday, I'm premiering the new piece my composer buddy wrote for me as part of the larger composer forum. There are about 10 singers, I think, who are performing on Monday. It's a bit of a logistical challenge and not just in staying healthy. My piece requires two pianos, one of which must be prepared. (I'll post on that later.) The only times that the 2-piano rooms tend to be available are 8-9 am. Not great for a singer who's out late performing in opera the night before. On the upside, I'll be warmed up for the rest of the day.

So I just keep taking my vitamins, trying to get enough sleep, and convincing myself not to succumb to the sweet seduction of caffeine. (It's a great motivator and energy booster, but that drug makes my throat muscles tense and my throat dry out, which makes my voice feel rough and sometimes painful. Not so good. Plus I don't sleep as deeply at night with it, so it sets up this nice little vicious cycle of fatigue --- have caffeine, don't sleep as well, wake up tired, need caffeine, have caffeine, don't sleep as well...Rinse and repeat.)

It's a strange thing, trying to figure out how to stay healthy vocally in the midst of a busy schedule. In business, it's so easy to just pull a late night to finish things and then eat sugar/drink coffee to make up for it. You can work on less sleep than you think (although there's an exception for important meetings or intense mathematical work). But with singing, your entire body is your instrument, so you can't afford an "off" day physically. You have to be so much more protective of your sleep hours.

On that note, I think it's time to listen to my own words and go find my pillow.

~Hope

Reflections

Love permeates opera performances.

I'm not talking about the passions that you see between the characters onstage; rather, I mean what happens beyond and behind the lights.

There's a camaraderie that develops in a cast, something anyone who's ever done a high school play or community theatre knows well. There are little inside jokes based on what happens during rehearsals, hugs and happy sentiments shared, all of which arise over the course of the months where you wander this Dramatic Work. There is a potent brew created by the intensity of the time spent together, the various emotions that you evoke so that you can explore how to convey these characters, the empathy you have to revel in to understand characters, and the vulnerability any good performer has, the honesty and the tightrope wire risk you take in stepping onstage for a live performance. All of these ingredients fuse together and give rise to a deeper sense of emotional warmth.

Then there is the love that performers have for their art. Most people who perform have a deep-seated and abiding love for doing it. Otherwise, the risks and costs wouldn't be worth it. (Risks include both the financial and the personal -- putting yourself out there every night for critique and for the chance of messing up. Think of how nervous people get just doing public speaking. Costs include also the financial and the personal. The personal side is that there must be some emotional cost to a good performance. It drains you in some way, while exhilating you, too. If you see a performance that seems "wooden" where the actor/singer just doesn't feel connected to the text or music, that's when we say that "it doesn't cost enough." A great performance that brings you to tears likely cost the performer a lot.)

There is also love in the audience. Love for the art form - what keeps bringing them back. There are patrons who love the opera company and strive to support it financially and by coming to see the shows. There is a rush of warmth and gratitude that many people feel when they hear the opening strains of the music, a silent prayer of thanks to God for blessing Mozart with such talent so that centuries later, we can still be moved with his glorious notes. There is also a love for the singers and actors who move us, a sense of gratitude there, too, and a love for The Voice -- that one singer's unique gift that makes us anticipate and revel in every moment he/she sings and that keeps echoing in our ears long after the curtain falls.

Love and music. What a wonderful combination.

~Hope

Costume fittings

Today I had my costume fitting for Figaro. Boxes like the ones you see above arrived from Malabar Limited Theatrical Costumes, a costume company in Toronto. In case you can't read their slogan on the box, it says "Show Business is our Business" in curvy cursive script.

For many productions, especially those at schools, the crew will rent costumes from a costume provider like Malabar. Malabar stocks entire costume sets, enough for all the characters plus chorus, for a show. The benefit of this is a) you get a cohesive look since the pieces are all in a similar color palette/style, and b) you don't have to make them all yourself. The costumes arrive right before the show performance dates (to minimize rental costs), and the amazing costume crew goes to work fitting people and altering as needed. Think of it like a bridesmaid's dress; you get a standard size within reason and then have it tailored to fit.

What this meant for me was that I had measurements taken of every conceivable limb and part - like the magical tape measure in some movie I'm blanking on right now - back in the fall. They sent all of the cast's measurements to Malabran and coordinated costumes for each person based on our respective sizes. Today, I had a fitting for my house-servant's costume. I tried it on, and they looked to see whether I needed anything taken in, let out, or covered up. Happily, mine is good as is. I just need to provide my own cream-colored stockings and tan-colored shoes. A good reminder to get tan character shoes since I only own black.

Character shoes are what you wear in operas or plays onstage. They can look either dressy or casual, depending on the costume on top. They are generally plain, a non-shiny leather-like material, and they come in either black or tan. For women, they have a slight heel and a rounded toe. The most important facet, however, is the buckle. A strap and buckle keep the shoe from flying off at inopportune moments - say while kicking or dancing. Given a rather unfortunate shoe incident I had in my last musical theatre experience where my non-character shoe flew off the stage into the orchestra pit, I'd say this is a terrific idea.

More rehearsals tonight, putting together Acts III and IV. Tomorrow, we have our first "Piano Tech", which is basically a run-through of the full show with piano (instead of orchestra.) It's fascinating to watch the leads on this full stage and amazing set. We're in a giant hall, so it's especially neat to hear them and to learn how to negotiate size, both in gestures (which have to be bigger to be seen) and in voice (which has to be projected but not oversung.)

Voice is tricky because opera is almost never mic'd. You have to be able to fill the house. This is why opera singers sound like they have such "big voices" and why they sound different than pop singers. You need to learn a special way of placing your vocal resonance, using your facial cavities and your breath in specialized ways, so that you can be heard over a full orchestra in a house with a couple thousand people.

Well, enough of my rambling. A fun day, to say the least. I'll dream of petticoats and fluff tonight, I'm sure.

~Hope

Springy

Despite being pretty low on sleep, I'm feeling a bit springy - in the hopeful sort of way and the bouncy sort of way. The crocuses are peeking out of the ground, and, while today was still freezing cold, a lovely blue sky lit up the cityscape.

Life remains incredibly hectic since we're now in Tech Week for Figaro. This is where you actually move into the theatre and start working with the Real Set. While good directors and stage managers do their best to mark on the floor of rehearsal rooms where set pieces and doors will be (using colorful tape), there's no substitute for actually dealing with three dimensional props, windows, and walls. Things inevitably change as you realize that Gee, you actually can't see the conductor through that particular chair if you crouch down there at that moment. Overall, though, the show looks amazing, and I'm so proud to be in a cast with such incredible colleagues. There is so much talent here, and I feel really lucky to see it all up close.

Also had a great coaching today with the opera coach. I'm working on two pieces sung by Ophelia (as in the Shakespearian Ophelia.) Shakespeare has influenced so many composers across the centuries, and his text has been set in all different languages with all different levels of fidelity. My pieces are a lovely 20th century art song in English by a composer named Castelnuovo Tedesco and a little-known 19th century aria by a composer named Faccio, who wrote Amleto - Hamlet in Italian. The works are strikingly different in style and even, to my mind, the level of Ophelia's madness. Very fun and interesting. Plus, the coach enthusiastically commented that I've really become a very different kind of singer since arriving here in August. :) It's always nice to feel like you've learned a lot, you know?

~Hope

Flying

It has been a pretty crazy couple weeks. I flew out to visit e. for my spring break and had a wonderful, if hectic, time. I tried to prepare for this week, but somehow things have still been running at a sports car clip.

Here's a glimpse of this past week:

Monday: Drag myself out of bed, combatting the jet lag and time difference. Finish one large and one mini-project for my stage directing class. Run to classes. Rehearse for Tuesday performances.

Tuesday: Warm up early. Perform in Voice Repertoire class and hand out paper profiling the art song I'm singing. (An Ernst Bacon piece using Emily Dickinson's poem, "And this of all my hopes.") Perform a staged scene in Opera Workshop - a very tricky ensemble number from Mozart's Impresario, complete with blocking (staging). Rehearse for the first time with piano the contemporary piece I'm singing Friday. Classes and homework complete the mix, but the evening is quite late, spent gathering the rest of my visa paperwork.

Wednesday: Hop a 6 am flight to the Italian Consulate to apply for a visa. (I'm hoping to study Italian for 6 weeks in Italy this summer.) Hop a 10 pm flight home. Sigh because I have to go back in person with more documents that weren't clearly outlined on their website.

Thursday: Up early, warming up for an 8 am rehearsal on the contemporary piece. This is the first rehearsal with all the instruments. Also go to a voice lesson, classes, and a long meeting that was business-focused. Mix in homework.

Friday: Up early warming up for the master class on the contemporary piece. While my part of the master class is only 30 minutes, it lasts 2.5 hours beyond that because of the other composers and singers. Lots of afternoon classes, including a rehearsal on another opera scene.

Saturday: 6 hours spent in the rest of the master class. (There are a lot of composers and performers on this project.) More homework, including another stage directing project and music theory, to do.

Tomorrow: a 4 hour rehearsal plus homework.

I feel like I'm "running just to catch myself", to quote some Mark Schultz lyrics. Most of what I'm doing is fun and interesting, but it's very challenging. To sing well, you really need to have time to let the music digest, like letting meat marinade or bread dough rise. I've been learning so much lately that I haven't really had the digestion time, which is making me a little breathless. All the projects and extra "housekeeping to dos" (visa and FAFSA to name a few) aren't exactly helping. Figaro will start in 2 weeks, which means we're heading into tech week now, so I'll be flying for a while longer.

Off to find some jet fuel (read: sugar!!)...

~Hope

Public Speaking as Performance

Last week in studio class, my voice professor mentioned that I stand apologetically when I sing. She was trying to infuse my performance with greater presence. Now, in the other half of my life, the business side, I don't typically have trouble with presence. My high school forensics coach drilled presence and strong public speaking skills into me. I owe so much to him. And all my time in consulting reinforced that. So I had an idea. I asked my professor whether we could find ways for me to transfer what feels so innate to me on the public speaking side to the voice performance side.

To do that, I gave a speech today in studio class. I dressed in a business suit, and I gave a business-focused talk: "The 5 C's of Managing a Nonprofit in an Economic Downturn". (Cash, Contingency Plans, Communication, Costs, and Creativity. If you're curious about what's behind those 5 words, ask me and I'll explain later. It's not all as intuitive as you'd expect.)

What was interesting was that my classmates saw totally different qualities in me as a result of the speech. Some commented that my energy was "powerhouse", focused, urgent. Others said that they felt like I was talking directly to them, that I engaged them completely. Another noticed that my gestures were more fluid, my posture more relaxed, movement and gesture were integrated with what I was saying, not planned. All of these qualities are things that I need to transfer over to my singing performance.

So what's the problem? Why can't I just step into this same spot?

Part of it is confidence. I am very comfortable in a public speaking role. I have less experience seeing myself as a singer, as an artist. My professor phrased it this way: "You've proven yourself in the business world. You can do the same thing as a singer; it will just take some more time."

Another reason is that public speaking has traditionally felt like a different medium to me, an easier medium. If I miss a word, I can restate. I am in control of the words I say. I control the pacing. But in art song, the words and their duration are written for me. I can control tempo within a range, but if there's a half note on the word "the", I have to sing it for a half note, regardless of whether "the" is an important word or not. This may be where subtext needs to come in. (Subtext is literally the "text underneath". It's what the character is thinking while saying what's written.) Subtext can give impetus to the note, regardless of the written "the".

And finally, I tend to overanalyze when I sing. While I've gotten better at silencing the critical voice in my head (the "Self 1" from The Inner Game of Music -- the one that says, "What was that note? Ugh! Should have brightened that. Should have smoothed that word." etc.), I'm still often thinking too much. I sing from an intellectual place, one that thinks carefully about the diction I need to make sure I remember, the upcoming phrase, the vocal technique, the language and meaning of each word, and what my character would be seeing at any moment in time. The trick is that you need to let go of all of these things when you perform. They are for the practice room. In performance, you need to become so knit to the music and the piece, embodying it so much that it is like you are composing it on the spot. It's like my favorite type of public speaking: extemporaenous. I never write out a speech; I always just write an outline and run the speech a few times. Every time I give my speech, it's slightly different even though my macro points are identical. I compose on the spot. I need to get to the same place with singing.

All that to say that it was an interesting parallel in class today. And it worked. After I gave the speech, I sang "Pierrot", one of Debussy's Quatre Chansons de Jeunesse. It was much more present. Yet I still had focal points away from the eyes of my audience, and it showed. So my voice teacher had the students come up towards the piano and sit cross-legged on the floor like kids. She told me to let go of all technique and just tell them the story. So I did.

It was a breakthrough experience :) After class, three of my classmates gave me hugs with wonderful, warm encouragement.

Now if I can just figure out how to hold on to that epiphany...

~Hope