Maybe it's just because it's 3 am, but I feel like I'm playing the alphabet game as I type up my works cited list for my third paper. I've hit almost every letter, and a part of me is tempted to go find a Jones or a Jay to round out the list. Z would be more difficult, of course, but I do have four S's. Maybe one of those would be glad to smoosh a bit and pose as its angular cousin.
I hear a Tom Lehr song coming on...
~Hope
Monday, April 27, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
It's Here!
In honor of the fact that spring has Finally arrived, I'm uploading pictures of a three foot tall, lavishly decorated chocolate Easter egg that I found in a New York City Valharona Chocolate Shop. They were raffling it off. I was tempted to enter but realized that there would be several logistical difficulties if I actually won. First: How would I get it from New York to me? Second: Who could I give it to in New York who wouldn't hate me forever due to the vast calories they would likely consume and the fact that they would have to pick it up on Easter weekend? Third: If I ended up with it, how would I avoid eating the whole thing in three days?
But enough on the chocolate egg. The point is that the trees here have finally burst into that first gold Robert Frost talked about. The air has that silken quality it gets when the humidity rises a bit and the air is heated by sunlight instead of electricity. It is a pleasure to move around in it, like you're lightly moving through a cushion. Everything smells fresh and summery, and the days are light much longer. I love it!
You'd think this would make it difficult for me to dive into paper-writing, but in fact, it just makes me so happy that I'm glad to sit in my sunlight-filled room, lounge without shivering, and read and write.
I hope you're finding spring wherever you are, too. Unless you're in the southern hemisphere. In which case, Happy Fall!
~Hope
Friday, April 24, 2009
Lute and Voice
Tonight I went to hear two of the top early music performers in the world: Paul O'Dette, a lutenist, and Ellen Hargis, a soprano. (Let me just say that I LOVE student tickets. Top seats for $15? Incredible.) Mr. O'Dette has been nominated for five Grammys, and boy does it show. He plays so fluidly and with such virtuosic expression, his fingers arpeggiating easily across all the strings. Tonight, he played the theorbo. Ms. Hargis is equally skilled and colors her notes with an almost boy soprano quality. She also has incredibly technical control with her dynamics, able to diminuendo with seeming ease. (Diminuendoing is the hardest technical act for a singer.)
In case you're not familiar with the theorbo, this is basically a lute with an extra-long neck. (A lute is kind of like a guitar with a pear-shaped body.) The theorbo was used from about the 16th through the 18th centuries. Tonight's instrument was about 5-6 feet in length. Mr. O'Dette had to set it on the floor and reach above his head to tune the longest strings. It has a very soft sound, and only some of the strings are fretted.
Tonight's music was a mix of vocal/theorbo and theorbo-only works. The pieces for voice and theorbo were written in Medieval Italian, which has some words and pronunciations that remind me of French. Luckily, translations were provided. Most of the pieces dealt with love in its various monstrosities, but the final one ("Aspettate! Adesso canto!" by Antonio Cesti) was all about the prima donna who was singing. She went through various pieces, trying them out one after another for the presumably adoring audience, got fed up, and finally closed with "What, are you still here? Don't you know that when I say "wait" (and listen to me), I really mean "Get out of here!"?
The performers were not chary of acting and fully exploring the comedic nature of some of these pieces. At one point, Mr. O'Dette donned a Renaissance character mask with a long, sharp proboscis. In her first piece (L'Astratto by Barbara Strozzi), Ms. Hargis leafed through music and crumpled sheets as she "discarded" the various refrains her character was trying to sing. At one point, she even folded one piece of music into a paper airplane and launched it at the lutenist. The stage manager got in on the act by huffily picking up the papers when it was her turn to reset the stage.
The music from this era is interesting but can seem a bit monotonous in color to me. That's why I think it's so great when performers really bring it to life dramatically. Tonight, they did.
~Hope
PS Here's the full program in case you're interested:
L'Astratto by Barbara Strozzi (1619-1677)
Tocatta arpeggiata by Giovanni Girolamo Kapsberger (c. 1580-1651)
Ritornello by Kapsberger
Bergamasca by Kapsberger
Kapsberger by Kapsberger (no, this isn't a typo)
Ciaconna by Kapsberger (described by Mr. O'Dette as the "earliest piece of rock music." I think this was because it had so many ornaments that were basically like modern guitar riffs. The tonality was sort of similar, too, and he had some energetic strumming.)
Respira mio core by Strozzi
L'amante segreto by Strozzi
Questa e la nuova by Strozzi
Orfeo by Alessandro Scarlatti (1660-1725)
Toccata VI by Alessandro Piccinini (1566-c. 1638)
Corrente VII by Piccinini
Partite variate sopra l'Alemana by Piccinini
Corrente sorpa l'Alemana by Piccinini
Aspettate! Adesso canto by Antonio Cesti (1623-1669)
In case you're not familiar with the theorbo, this is basically a lute with an extra-long neck. (A lute is kind of like a guitar with a pear-shaped body.) The theorbo was used from about the 16th through the 18th centuries. Tonight's instrument was about 5-6 feet in length. Mr. O'Dette had to set it on the floor and reach above his head to tune the longest strings. It has a very soft sound, and only some of the strings are fretted.
Tonight's music was a mix of vocal/theorbo and theorbo-only works. The pieces for voice and theorbo were written in Medieval Italian, which has some words and pronunciations that remind me of French. Luckily, translations were provided. Most of the pieces dealt with love in its various monstrosities, but the final one ("Aspettate! Adesso canto!" by Antonio Cesti) was all about the prima donna who was singing. She went through various pieces, trying them out one after another for the presumably adoring audience, got fed up, and finally closed with "What, are you still here? Don't you know that when I say "wait" (and listen to me), I really mean "Get out of here!"?
The performers were not chary of acting and fully exploring the comedic nature of some of these pieces. At one point, Mr. O'Dette donned a Renaissance character mask with a long, sharp proboscis. In her first piece (L'Astratto by Barbara Strozzi), Ms. Hargis leafed through music and crumpled sheets as she "discarded" the various refrains her character was trying to sing. At one point, she even folded one piece of music into a paper airplane and launched it at the lutenist. The stage manager got in on the act by huffily picking up the papers when it was her turn to reset the stage.
The music from this era is interesting but can seem a bit monotonous in color to me. That's why I think it's so great when performers really bring it to life dramatically. Tonight, they did.
~Hope
PS Here's the full program in case you're interested:
L'Astratto by Barbara Strozzi (1619-1677)
Tocatta arpeggiata by Giovanni Girolamo Kapsberger (c. 1580-1651)
Ritornello by Kapsberger
Bergamasca by Kapsberger
Kapsberger by Kapsberger (no, this isn't a typo)
Ciaconna by Kapsberger (described by Mr. O'Dette as the "earliest piece of rock music." I think this was because it had so many ornaments that were basically like modern guitar riffs. The tonality was sort of similar, too, and he had some energetic strumming.)
Respira mio core by Strozzi
L'amante segreto by Strozzi
Questa e la nuova by Strozzi
Orfeo by Alessandro Scarlatti (1660-1725)
Toccata VI by Alessandro Piccinini (1566-c. 1638)
Corrente VII by Piccinini
Partite variate sopra l'Alemana by Piccinini
Corrente sorpa l'Alemana by Piccinini
Aspettate! Adesso canto by Antonio Cesti (1623-1669)
Thursday, April 23, 2009
My Best Friend
I know, I know. This is extremely sad.
Yes, my best friend is The Microwave.
When you cook for one and that one is an impoverished student, I've found it's most effective to make a lot of food that you can freeze and heat up quickly later. Casseroles top my list, as does my mom's vegetarian lasagna. These are sliceable, freezable in Tupperware containers, and easily reheatable in my friend, The Microwave.
3 minute dinners. Can't beat 'em. Especially when you have 3 papers to write, 2 finals to study for, 3 upcoming final performances, and a final project all due in 5 days.
Stay tuned for my Other Best Friend in times like these: Chocolate.
~Hope
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Juries
Today marked the first time I've sung for the entire voice faculty since my audition here last year. The event is called "juries". All first year grad students sing for the faculty in the spring semester of their first year. It's a way to show progress, to help the faculty get to know all the voices in the department, and to provide some sort of evaluative sense for the teachers themselves. (If a student doesn't improve or gets worse, this is not a good indicator for his/her voice teacher.)
My voice teacher kindly told me that the faculty would be evaluating her rather than me. She meant this to be comforting, a way to say, "Don't worry: it doesn't matter for you." But I would MUCH rather the department evaluate just me based on how I sing. It's far more pressure to think that she'll be judged based on how I sing and how well I control my nerves. After all, I love studying with her. I don't want her reputation besmirched by my performance.
Fortunately, no matter who people were evaluating today, I think my jury went fairly well. The cold I'd been battling finally left the building, and I was able to sing clearly with my Real Voice back at last. Welcome home, darling, welcome home. (Here's your initiation to another singerly tendency: singers find themselves occasionally talking about their voices as though these instruments are other independent beings. This is not too far off; it is a quintessentially human instrument, with all of the uniqueness, personality, and vibrance of a person, and "the voice" also can operate independently. A singer can have the best intentions to hit that note, hold that support, get the agility into the run, and no matter what the breath support or mental processes, "the voice" can have a mind of its own and decide not to cooperate.)
The way the juries are set up is like an audition format. You dress up, make up (if you're female or if you happen to be a guy who enjoys makeup), and print out your list of jury pieces. They ask for four pieces in three different languages, one of which should be English. You walk in, announce your name and your accompanist's name, and tell them what piece you would like to sing first.
Our juries were held in the black box theatre, which is a fairly large room (large for a classroom, small for a theatre) whose walls, floor, and ceiling are all painted in black. Theatrical lights hang from grids on the ceiling. Because Cabaret will soon be going up in that room, there is also a wooden set there right now. Fortunately, the set was somehow folded up to provide clear space in half of the room. As you enter, the faculy are all seated along a long table along the right wall. The small grand piano is to your left, along the left wall. The faculty greet you warmly because they all know who you are, even if they haven't all heard you sing yet.
For my first piece, I chose "Pierrot", one of Debussy's Quatre Chansons de Jeunesse. It's a lovely comic piece about a drunk mime. Very funny, great to get nerves out, and with lots of high notes, which is where my voice automatically engages. It's much easier for me to deal with pieces like this that swoop up to a high B and high C when I'm nervous, especially since it's a fast one. I don't have time to assess. The notes aren't held out, and they just fit in my voice. That means even when my breath is a little shaky because of nerves, this piece is there. It's also a great way to get breath support going. I have to support to hit those notes, and my body just automatically knows what to do - no mental effort required. Plus, the colorful characters and comedy mean that I have a wonderful distraction from "critiquing" myself in the midst of the performance; I have to focus on expressing this wry humor.
This piece went well. Then, the faculty chose the next piece from the remaining three on my list. Their options were Castelnuovo-Tedesco's "Ophelia", Debussy's "Pantomime" (also from Quatre Chansons de Jeunesse), and Faccio's "Sortita d'Ofelia". They picked the Faccio, as I thought they might. This piece is a wonderful Puccini-esque work from a little known opera. I love it, and it feels and sounds good in my voice. I'd give my performance a 90%. I was definitely nervous, which affected my breath support and forced me to end a diminuendo early at the end. But the held high C and following downward arpeggios went well. Hooray!
It was an interesting day. I wore the same dress I'd worn when I auditioned here last year, a minor tip of the hat to the closure of a year. I can hardly believe I've been here a year already. It now seems second-nature to be immersed in music all the time, to be thinking about practicing and performing so much instead of contemplating PowerPoint. My performance anxiety has dissipated much more than I ever thought it would. Performing is feeling more and more natural to me. My voice itself has rounded out in color, volume/support, richness, and resonance. And I feel so much more whole as a person. There are always challenges and questions, and I still don't know exactly what path I'll take next. But it is such a gift to be here, to be able to pursue my passion completely.
This is definitely one of the best decisions and opportunities of my life. I am so, so grateful.
~Hope
My voice teacher kindly told me that the faculty would be evaluating her rather than me. She meant this to be comforting, a way to say, "Don't worry: it doesn't matter for you." But I would MUCH rather the department evaluate just me based on how I sing. It's far more pressure to think that she'll be judged based on how I sing and how well I control my nerves. After all, I love studying with her. I don't want her reputation besmirched by my performance.
Fortunately, no matter who people were evaluating today, I think my jury went fairly well. The cold I'd been battling finally left the building, and I was able to sing clearly with my Real Voice back at last. Welcome home, darling, welcome home. (Here's your initiation to another singerly tendency: singers find themselves occasionally talking about their voices as though these instruments are other independent beings. This is not too far off; it is a quintessentially human instrument, with all of the uniqueness, personality, and vibrance of a person, and "the voice" also can operate independently. A singer can have the best intentions to hit that note, hold that support, get the agility into the run, and no matter what the breath support or mental processes, "the voice" can have a mind of its own and decide not to cooperate.)
The way the juries are set up is like an audition format. You dress up, make up (if you're female or if you happen to be a guy who enjoys makeup), and print out your list of jury pieces. They ask for four pieces in three different languages, one of which should be English. You walk in, announce your name and your accompanist's name, and tell them what piece you would like to sing first.
Our juries were held in the black box theatre, which is a fairly large room (large for a classroom, small for a theatre) whose walls, floor, and ceiling are all painted in black. Theatrical lights hang from grids on the ceiling. Because Cabaret will soon be going up in that room, there is also a wooden set there right now. Fortunately, the set was somehow folded up to provide clear space in half of the room. As you enter, the faculy are all seated along a long table along the right wall. The small grand piano is to your left, along the left wall. The faculty greet you warmly because they all know who you are, even if they haven't all heard you sing yet.
For my first piece, I chose "Pierrot", one of Debussy's Quatre Chansons de Jeunesse. It's a lovely comic piece about a drunk mime. Very funny, great to get nerves out, and with lots of high notes, which is where my voice automatically engages. It's much easier for me to deal with pieces like this that swoop up to a high B and high C when I'm nervous, especially since it's a fast one. I don't have time to assess. The notes aren't held out, and they just fit in my voice. That means even when my breath is a little shaky because of nerves, this piece is there. It's also a great way to get breath support going. I have to support to hit those notes, and my body just automatically knows what to do - no mental effort required. Plus, the colorful characters and comedy mean that I have a wonderful distraction from "critiquing" myself in the midst of the performance; I have to focus on expressing this wry humor.
This piece went well. Then, the faculty chose the next piece from the remaining three on my list. Their options were Castelnuovo-Tedesco's "Ophelia", Debussy's "Pantomime" (also from Quatre Chansons de Jeunesse), and Faccio's "Sortita d'Ofelia". They picked the Faccio, as I thought they might. This piece is a wonderful Puccini-esque work from a little known opera. I love it, and it feels and sounds good in my voice. I'd give my performance a 90%. I was definitely nervous, which affected my breath support and forced me to end a diminuendo early at the end. But the held high C and following downward arpeggios went well. Hooray!
It was an interesting day. I wore the same dress I'd worn when I auditioned here last year, a minor tip of the hat to the closure of a year. I can hardly believe I've been here a year already. It now seems second-nature to be immersed in music all the time, to be thinking about practicing and performing so much instead of contemplating PowerPoint. My performance anxiety has dissipated much more than I ever thought it would. Performing is feeling more and more natural to me. My voice itself has rounded out in color, volume/support, richness, and resonance. And I feel so much more whole as a person. There are always challenges and questions, and I still don't know exactly what path I'll take next. But it is such a gift to be here, to be able to pursue my passion completely.
This is definitely one of the best decisions and opportunities of my life. I am so, so grateful.
~Hope
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Study break
Finals are rapidly approaching, along with paper deadlines and jury week (this week.) All that prompts colorful stress relievers like the poster above, which is plastered outside the door to the practice room building. In case you can't read it, it says, "Regaining your sanity one cookie at a time." The lovely folks at one of the Christian Fellowship groups on campus decided to create a "stress-free zone" in one of the classrooms with cookies and happy thoughts one day last week. Lovely.
I'm juggling a few different papers, one of which is a character profile on a minor role in Delibes' Lakme. You'll recognize two songs from this opera: The Flower Duet and The Bell Song. Both have been used in lots of advertising, film, and other pop culture arenas. I believe The Flower Duet is the one in Shawshank Redemption that's played over the prison loudspeakers. That said, the opera itself has not been studied that much, which makes locating information about Delibes' composition process and his co-creators a bit tough. I'm starting to be very grateful again for my five semesters of French in college. Nothing like plowing through late nineteenth century biographies of Delibes in French to make you glad not to have to look up every individual word.
In the meantime, I get to take study breaks with a ton of music to sing and learn. My jury is this week, and I need to know four pieces for that. These just keep getting refined and placed back in my voice after the cold. In two weeks, though, I have an audition for the fall productions, which means I'm learning two new pieces. One is a high coloratura piece ("Bester Jungling" from Mozart's Impresario). The other is its complete opposite: a low-sitting sustained piece ("How Could I Ever Know" from The Secret Garden). Because I'll miss my voice lesson next week for a conference, I need to learn these pieces fast and go over them with my teacher this week. Whew! Lots to think about.
On that note, I think I'd better go review the two scenes I need to know for tomorrow. (Even more music! And this time, with blocking! I sound like an infomercial...)
~Hope
Friday, April 17, 2009
Madness
I'm exploring various shades of madness right now, namely those of Ophelia.
Shakespeare's works have been a particularly fertile source of inspiration for many composers, and Hamlet is no exception. The character of Ophelia has sparked several variations, and I'm working on four.
The first is a little-known aria by Franco Faccio called "Sortita d'Ofelia". It's from his opera, Amleto, which was written in the mid-19th century. This is a soaring bel canto piece with lots of portamenti (slides between notes), legato, and rich lyricism. It is tonal and represents Ophelia before she goes mad. She basically tells Hamlet that the royal marriage seems black to her; something is rotten in the state of Denmark. (I know - that isn't her line in the original play.) Then, she goes on to tell him not to worry, that he should doubt everything -- that the stars shine in the heavens, that the sun radiates, that seeds germinate, people's tears and people's smiles, and even the angels in paradise -- but he should believe in love.
The next piece is in English and is by Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, a twentieth century Italian composer who eventually moved to America. His piece is a study in multiple personality disorder. He has taken Shakespeare's lines for Ophelia and smashed them together in a single monologue. She flits from mourning her father, to spouting nursery rhymes, to talking about St. Valentine's Day and how men cannot be held responsible for deflowering maidens and then leaving them (perhaps a veiled reference to Hamlet's rejection of her), to blessing all Christian souls as she drowns at the end.
Another twentieth-century composer who wrote for Ophelia is Richard Strauss. He wrote a set of three songs that are kaleidescopic. Fragments of them seem tonal in their own individual universes, but the bits are collected together in an ever-shifting sonic landscape that creates the sense of a not-quite-rationality. You can just start to make sense of something when it leaps out from under you. These pieces are written in German, and the text is similar to that of Castelnuovo-Tedesco's.
Finally, Ernest Chausson, a nineteenth-century composer, wrote a song called "Chanson d'Ophélie" that is in French. It is a short, melancholy piece that deals entirely with Ophelia's mourning her father. "Il est mort, ayant bien souffert, Madame." "He is dead, having suffered much, Madame," she begins.
Several different portraits at several different stages of madness, perhaps with several different Ophelias. I'm thinking of using these pieces as a set on my recital next year. I may explore how Ophelia was understood in the different cultures and time periods when/where each of these pieces was written to get a sense of how to portray Ophelia differently.
For now, though, it's back to the land of sanity and paper-writing.
~Hope
Shakespeare's works have been a particularly fertile source of inspiration for many composers, and Hamlet is no exception. The character of Ophelia has sparked several variations, and I'm working on four.
The first is a little-known aria by Franco Faccio called "Sortita d'Ofelia". It's from his opera, Amleto, which was written in the mid-19th century. This is a soaring bel canto piece with lots of portamenti (slides between notes), legato, and rich lyricism. It is tonal and represents Ophelia before she goes mad. She basically tells Hamlet that the royal marriage seems black to her; something is rotten in the state of Denmark. (I know - that isn't her line in the original play.) Then, she goes on to tell him not to worry, that he should doubt everything -- that the stars shine in the heavens, that the sun radiates, that seeds germinate, people's tears and people's smiles, and even the angels in paradise -- but he should believe in love.
The next piece is in English and is by Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, a twentieth century Italian composer who eventually moved to America. His piece is a study in multiple personality disorder. He has taken Shakespeare's lines for Ophelia and smashed them together in a single monologue. She flits from mourning her father, to spouting nursery rhymes, to talking about St. Valentine's Day and how men cannot be held responsible for deflowering maidens and then leaving them (perhaps a veiled reference to Hamlet's rejection of her), to blessing all Christian souls as she drowns at the end.
Another twentieth-century composer who wrote for Ophelia is Richard Strauss. He wrote a set of three songs that are kaleidescopic. Fragments of them seem tonal in their own individual universes, but the bits are collected together in an ever-shifting sonic landscape that creates the sense of a not-quite-rationality. You can just start to make sense of something when it leaps out from under you. These pieces are written in German, and the text is similar to that of Castelnuovo-Tedesco's.
Finally, Ernest Chausson, a nineteenth-century composer, wrote a song called "Chanson d'Ophélie" that is in French. It is a short, melancholy piece that deals entirely with Ophelia's mourning her father. "Il est mort, ayant bien souffert, Madame." "He is dead, having suffered much, Madame," she begins.
Several different portraits at several different stages of madness, perhaps with several different Ophelias. I'm thinking of using these pieces as a set on my recital next year. I may explore how Ophelia was understood in the different cultures and time periods when/where each of these pieces was written to get a sense of how to portray Ophelia differently.
For now, though, it's back to the land of sanity and paper-writing.
~Hope
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Upside-down week
It's been an Alice Through the Looking Glass kind of week. I'm in the throes of a rather nasty head cold that's been throwing me off-kilter in all ways - physically, emotionally, artistically, and mentally. My energy is down, I'm foggy in thought, and I haven't been able to sing full-out for days. Not singing generally tosses me for a loop and drags me down like ballast on a balloon. Odd to not be able to find your equilibrium.
On the other side of it, I was able to go home for Easter. It was wonderful to see my family and to be immersed in that warm and loving environment. I ate my favorite chocolate cake (see picture), made by my mom for birthdays, and I luxuriated in all the sunshine of being there. Since it was only a two day trip, it seems rather like a dream. You just get used to it, and you're back to the empty apartment again.
Here's hoping that the cold vacates soon, that the world rights itself, and that I can climb back through the looking glass without too many unfortunate remainders.
~Hope
On the other side of it, I was able to go home for Easter. It was wonderful to see my family and to be immersed in that warm and loving environment. I ate my favorite chocolate cake (see picture), made by my mom for birthdays, and I luxuriated in all the sunshine of being there. Since it was only a two day trip, it seems rather like a dream. You just get used to it, and you're back to the empty apartment again.
Here's hoping that the cold vacates soon, that the world rights itself, and that I can climb back through the looking glass without too many unfortunate remainders.
~Hope
Friday, April 10, 2009
Traveling
It has been a crazy week. The contemporary performance on Monday night meant that I was burning the candle at both ends in order to be up on time for Tuesday's classes.
Tuesday, e and I were up late because it was his second and last day here. We hadn't spent much time together during the day since I dragged him to six and a half hours of classes.
Wednesday, we rose at 3:50 am to catch 6 am flights -- New York City for me and home for e. A whirlwind day in NYC saw me on another plane home at 10 pm.
Thursday, I was up at 6:30 to finish a mailing list for my graduate assistantship. (Hello, Excel. Nice to see you again.)
Today, another early morning to review a duet scene we were staging today in class. And tonight, I'm up packing just to rise again tomorrow and drive home for Easter.
It will likely be a push till the end of school. The fatigue is finally catching up with me. My body just feels weary, and my throat is tight. I need sleep and lots of vitamins. One more big performance for the semester: juries are in 2 weeks. Yikes! (Juries are where you sing for the entire voice faculty. I need four pieces covering at least three languages. I'm working out the full list now...)
But overall, things are still exciting and good, even if I am still on the treadmill. Hopefully, Easter weekend will provide a bit of R&R.
I hope you have a wonderful Passover or Easter or Spring Fling or whatever else your beliefs imply!
~Hope
Tuesday, e and I were up late because it was his second and last day here. We hadn't spent much time together during the day since I dragged him to six and a half hours of classes.
Wednesday, we rose at 3:50 am to catch 6 am flights -- New York City for me and home for e. A whirlwind day in NYC saw me on another plane home at 10 pm.
Thursday, I was up at 6:30 to finish a mailing list for my graduate assistantship. (Hello, Excel. Nice to see you again.)
Today, another early morning to review a duet scene we were staging today in class. And tonight, I'm up packing just to rise again tomorrow and drive home for Easter.
It will likely be a push till the end of school. The fatigue is finally catching up with me. My body just feels weary, and my throat is tight. I need sleep and lots of vitamins. One more big performance for the semester: juries are in 2 weeks. Yikes! (Juries are where you sing for the entire voice faculty. I need four pieces covering at least three languages. I'm working out the full list now...)
But overall, things are still exciting and good, even if I am still on the treadmill. Hopefully, Easter weekend will provide a bit of R&R.
I hope you have a wonderful Passover or Easter or Spring Fling or whatever else your beliefs imply!
~Hope
Monday, April 6, 2009
Performing Galore
After four performances of Figaro in the last four days, tonight I performed the contemporary piece that my composer buddy wrote. We had a concert in the relatively small hall here, a very intimate chamber music room with very warm acoustics.
Our piece was the last one in the dress rehearsal (which ended 30 minutes before the performance began), and we were the first on the program. I think this was partly due to logistics; our piece requires two pianos, one of which must be "prepared" (which means fiddling with the piano's interior to create unusual sounds when keys are played.)
Overall, it went fine. The whole concert was really good; the other performers were amazing! What a great experience to go from tonal Figaro to modern music in 24 hours :)
~Hope
Our piece was the last one in the dress rehearsal (which ended 30 minutes before the performance began), and we were the first on the program. I think this was partly due to logistics; our piece requires two pianos, one of which must be "prepared" (which means fiddling with the piano's interior to create unusual sounds when keys are played.)
Overall, it went fine. The whole concert was really good; the other performers were amazing! What a great experience to go from tonal Figaro to modern music in 24 hours :)
~Hope
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Be careful what you wish for...
On Wednesday and Thursday, it was 60 degrees and gorgeous here. Restaurants actually put out tables for people to eat outside.
It's hard to see with my camera's too-long shutter speed, but the streaks in the lower left corner are - you guessed it - snow. The clouds are dumping the cold flakes, and the wind continues to blow at gale force levels.
Serves me right for April Fooling my own mother.
~Hope
However, my April Fool's Day joke for my mom was that it was supposed to turn cold and blizzardy this weekend. She fell for it, was promptly "April Fooled", and we laughed about how lovely the weather actually was.
Last night, a giant windstorm came through. I woke up to this:
It's hard to see with my camera's too-long shutter speed, but the streaks in the lower left corner are - you guessed it - snow. The clouds are dumping the cold flakes, and the wind continues to blow at gale force levels.
Serves me right for April Fooling my own mother.
~Hope
Friday, April 3, 2009
Figaro Bookends
Tonight's show was wonderful. The audience was warm and vocal, laughing audibly in funny places and clapping with enthusiasm. We all sensed it early on in the show, and it gave such a lift to all the performers, infusing the show with a vibrant, happy energy. Everyone sounded so good and did so well. I'm just delighted!
I think my favorite moments in this opera are bookends; the overture that opens Figaro and the Finale. The overture is a classic piece, something that is familiar to most ears because it has been used in countless films and commercials. It is gorgeous with just the right rhythms and instrumentation. An example of Mozart's genius. It fills me with excitement every time I sit and listen to it. It's this feeling of "We're beginning! Here we go! The show is happening!"
The Finale starts in a slow, gentle manner, filled with warmth and emotion, and it makes me cry almost every time I hear it. It is about forgiveness. Figaro is a comedy, so things must come right in the end. Here (spoiler alert) the Countess forgives the philandering Count. The Count forgives the Countess for her ruses. Figaro and Susanna rejoice together. But it is more than just a simple pardon; it is a warm river that wraps itself around every audience member. It is about the true meaning of love, about how wonderful love is. But before it becomes maudlin, it launches into a bouncy "Corriam tutti" - "Everyone run!" "Let's all celebrate!" that finishes off the opera with a true joyfulness.
If you haven't heard these two gorgeous pieces, go find them on iTunes immediately. You won't regret it.
~Hope
I think my favorite moments in this opera are bookends; the overture that opens Figaro and the Finale. The overture is a classic piece, something that is familiar to most ears because it has been used in countless films and commercials. It is gorgeous with just the right rhythms and instrumentation. An example of Mozart's genius. It fills me with excitement every time I sit and listen to it. It's this feeling of "We're beginning! Here we go! The show is happening!"
The Finale starts in a slow, gentle manner, filled with warmth and emotion, and it makes me cry almost every time I hear it. It is about forgiveness. Figaro is a comedy, so things must come right in the end. Here (spoiler alert) the Countess forgives the philandering Count. The Count forgives the Countess for her ruses. Figaro and Susanna rejoice together. But it is more than just a simple pardon; it is a warm river that wraps itself around every audience member. It is about the true meaning of love, about how wonderful love is. But before it becomes maudlin, it launches into a bouncy "Corriam tutti" - "Everyone run!" "Let's all celebrate!" that finishes off the opera with a true joyfulness.
If you haven't heard these two gorgeous pieces, go find them on iTunes immediately. You won't regret it.
~Hope
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Opening Night
Figaro is opening tonight. The third act has just started. I'm listening to a beautiful Count/Susanna duet. Their voices are so resplendent -- full, spinning, gorgeous. I love it! All of the leads in the show are super talented. My only regret about being in the chorus is that I never get to see the full production from the house. I'm always listening from the dressing rooms since the chorus performs with both casts. (We double cast here partly to give more folks a chance to sing the roles, partly as an insurance policy in case someone becomes ill, and partly because singing four performances of a major opera is a significant undertaking. You have to space them out since opera fatigues voices. By double casting, we can do the four performances all in a row over a weekend, which also cuts costs in terms of lighting/costumes/set rentals, etc.)
In any case, there is a heightened energy here tonight. It makes such a difference to have a live audience in the house as opposed to empty seats and ghosts of past patrons soaking up the sounds. If you sing in the shower or your car, just imagine what it would be like to have someone who happens to be outside your bathroom door or in your passenger seat listening to you. You'd have a heightened sense of performance. Perhaps you'd be super nervous. Perhaps you'd secretly love it and want to step it up to impress them. That's sort of like the difference it makes here.
There is also a dialogue that happens between the people onstage and the audience. The singers are always conscious that the people in the audience must be able to see and hear them, so they "cheat out", angling slightly outwards onstage, as though inviting the audience members in to hear what's going on. This is different than film where actors will face each other directly, creating a more "realistic portrayal." Onstage, if you face your compadre directly, you block the audience from seeing your full expression, and it's much harder to get them to hear you, especially in a large hall like this one.
The dialogue bounces back from the audience to the stage as well. The audience laughs, groans, applauds, and gives feedback to the performers. Having an audience with "good energy" is like walking into a lively party. A difficult audience is like walking into a room with an awkward silence. You know what that feels like; you may not be able to point to something palpably as evidence, but you can feel the discomfort in the air. Our audience here tonight seems warm, although perhaps a bit over-polite or small. It is a Thursday night, after all.
Know that when you go to see an opera, it's perfectly acceptable to laugh out loud, to clap, to shout "bravo" when you particularly like something, to make noise. Performers like to know that they're garnering a response from the audience, that they're having an effect and being appreciated. Just because it's "opera" doesn't mean it's on some sort of pedestal, like a library environment. Opera is all about human emotion. Express away in the audience!
Back to swinging my huge dress around. It's a lot of fun having an extra foot of width across my hips. :)
~Hope
In any case, there is a heightened energy here tonight. It makes such a difference to have a live audience in the house as opposed to empty seats and ghosts of past patrons soaking up the sounds. If you sing in the shower or your car, just imagine what it would be like to have someone who happens to be outside your bathroom door or in your passenger seat listening to you. You'd have a heightened sense of performance. Perhaps you'd be super nervous. Perhaps you'd secretly love it and want to step it up to impress them. That's sort of like the difference it makes here.
There is also a dialogue that happens between the people onstage and the audience. The singers are always conscious that the people in the audience must be able to see and hear them, so they "cheat out", angling slightly outwards onstage, as though inviting the audience members in to hear what's going on. This is different than film where actors will face each other directly, creating a more "realistic portrayal." Onstage, if you face your compadre directly, you block the audience from seeing your full expression, and it's much harder to get them to hear you, especially in a large hall like this one.
The dialogue bounces back from the audience to the stage as well. The audience laughs, groans, applauds, and gives feedback to the performers. Having an audience with "good energy" is like walking into a lively party. A difficult audience is like walking into a room with an awkward silence. You know what that feels like; you may not be able to point to something palpably as evidence, but you can feel the discomfort in the air. Our audience here tonight seems warm, although perhaps a bit over-polite or small. It is a Thursday night, after all.
Know that when you go to see an opera, it's perfectly acceptable to laugh out loud, to clap, to shout "bravo" when you particularly like something, to make noise. Performers like to know that they're garnering a response from the audience, that they're having an effect and being appreciated. Just because it's "opera" doesn't mean it's on some sort of pedestal, like a library environment. Opera is all about human emotion. Express away in the audience!
Back to swinging my huge dress around. It's a lot of fun having an extra foot of width across my hips. :)
~Hope
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