Master Class

Judy Kaye and her husband gave a master class today. It was extraordinary.

Five of my fellow students sang for them. In each case, I watched their initial performances and thought, "What will they possibly critique?" Each first run was so good. Yet in every case, the two artists found interesting and new angles to lift the students to entirely new levels.

The repertoire presented was all in the musical theatre/operetta genre. This basically means a slightly different technique than opera (more forward voice, what sounds to me like less open space or full resonance - a bit more "talky"/belt, more diphthongs and fewer pure vowels, etc.) as well as a different style of acting. When opera/art song is performed unstaged (i.e., with just a piano), it's rare to use props. But when you have musical theatre, props are a frequent part.

Here are the pieces that were sung:

Vanilla Ice Cream from She Loves Me (the musical that pre-dates Meg Ryan's You've Got Mail - essentially the same story)

A Bit of Earth from The Secret Garden

Funny from My Favorite Year

What Good Would the Moon Be? from Street Scene

My Friends from Sweeney Todd

Beauty from The Light in the Piazza

All were beautifully sung. The comments that Ms. Kaye and her husband gave were focused on the dramatic side of these pieces. Overall, they kept coming back to the idea of intimacy, of realism. "Acting," her husband said, quoting his acting teacher, "is living truthfully in imaginary circumstances." When you think about that, you begin to realize that acting is not "performing". It's all too easy to think about grand gestures, about "putting on a show" for people in the audience, about "making them understand." But, while there are "performance pieces" (e.g., Norina's "So anch'io la virtu magica"), none of these pieces are it. Instead, all of these are sung as introspective soliloquies (except for Funny, which is really sung half as a soliloquy and half to the pianist.) That changes the game. Turns out the audience will come with you, like "peering into a snowglobe", as one of my studiomates commented, if you simply "be".

The other point they had was that you should "Discover what you're going to say next - you don't know yet." When we prepare a piece really well, it can become rote. We as a performer know what's coming up. Perhaps we're thinking about the technical requirements we'll need to ready ourselves for a big phrase, or we're worrying about the next interval or diction nuance. But our characters are inevitably "thinking on the spot." These thoughts aren't written out for them. They are making it up as they go along. And the audience needs to feel like we are doing that, too. It reminds me of something my Voice Rep professor said; he saw a concert where Benjamin Britten accompanied Peter Pears on some of Britten's song literature. These pieces were clearly composed in advance. But the concert appeared like it was improvised on the spot - the performances that both Britten and Pears gave were just that fresh.

Finally, Ms. Kaye pointed out that everything goes back to the text. When she learns a new piece, she starts with the text, asking herself "Who am I? What do I want?" For her, the music just flows from that. If it's composed well, it should be a natural extension of the interpretation of the character.

All of these are rather lofty ideas, but what did they actually have people do to put them into effect? In "A Bit of Earth", they had the singer turn his back to the audience and speak the text conversationally to Ms. Kaye's husband, David, who sat on a stool in front of him. In several of the other pieces, they had people start their performances sitting down, as if to themselves. In "Vanilla Ice Cream", they had the soprano actually write the letter she writes in the song, taking her time with each word. In "Funny", they had the soprano stand behind the pianist, place her hands on his shoulders, and actually sing to him. And in "My Friends", they gave the baritone a pen (meant to be the knife to which he sings) and had him focus completely on it, singing to it and drowning out everything else around him.

It was really interesting and very well done. We were all so pleased and grateful that these two incredibly talented artists took the time to come speak with us.

The rest of my day was filled with performing. I sang Vivaldi's "Senza l'amato ben" in Voice Rep for the class this morning. In the afternoon, I sang Britten's "Be Kind and Courteous" in Studio. I still have work to do with each piece, but I was pleased with the performances overall. Tonight, I'm constructing my own personal logo for my Digital Portfolio Class and working on a paper on "Be Kind and Courteous". Meanwhile, the search for Shakespeare repertoire continues...many obscure manuscripts lurk around the world. Boy would I love to travel to Helsinki to get my hands on the Finnish one...or Vienna to find the one by Vogl. But I think my summer travels will have to last me for a while.

~Hope

The Fair

This weekend, I went back to my parents' place for two reasons. First, I wanted to see them and welcome them back from a trip they just took. Second (and perhaps secretly more importantly...) I wanted to go to The Fair.


The Fair is an annual event that draws people from all over our little region. There are permanent fairgrounds in a nearby town, complete with a billboard-like sign that cheerily proclaims the dates of The Fair up to six months in advance of its actual opening.


As you wend your way through the crowds of people in sweats and jeans, you find all manner of delectables to munch. There is pizza and Greek food, roast beef sandwiches and oyster stew, and, of course, a coronary avalanche of fried food. Anything you can picture fried will be done so. This includes the normal French fries and corndogs but also fried Oreos, fried Twinkies, and fried Milky Ways.






















Another highlight of The Fair is The Buildings. There are several permanent buildings that play home to exhibits when The Fair rolls around. The Arts and Crafts building hosts quilts and crocheting, painting and pencil drawings, photography and other "more crafty" things like you'd see at a church bazaar. The Education building has all manner of exhibits created by schoolchildren, including a scarecrow contest. Horticulture is where you can find the local Garden Club displays that are built around a particular theme. Agriculture shows off the local farm products in various forms - canned, plated, baked, and jellied. There's a fudge contest and a pie contest and even a Hershey Chocolate Baking Contest. (Yes, I was tempting to break into the cases when no one was watching and steal a bite of the prizewinner.)


















As you wander towards the back of the fair, you hit the livestock buildings. You can walk through and see cows, chickens, sheep, goats, and even chicks and bunnies. (Yes, the second picture below is actually a rabbit, not a dog.)











It's a great slice of rural Americana with a big dose of deliciousness when you add in the homemade apple dumplings, homemade ice cream, and the incredible French fries that are made from potatoes cut right in front of you. I probably gained five pounds just from those two days at the fair, but boy was it worth it. Especially considering that I live on vegetarian lasagna here.



Hope you had an equally tasty weekend!



~Hope

Souvenir

I saw the most wonderful production tonight. I feel odd calling it a musical, although that's what it was. There were only two people onstage the entire time, and the set remained exactly the same - a mid-sized grand piano stage right, a generic living-room-like window upstage center, and the occasional bench or chair stage left. The wings were reached through doors that appeared to lead to "other rooms".

Yet despite the outward appearance of scarcity, this show had drama, action, and many more characters than the two we saw packed into it.

Souvenir is based on the life of Florence Foster Jenkins, an incredible woman who lived during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Born in Wilkes Barre, PA around 1868, she grew up in a wealthy family. After she left home, she married and then divorced a man in an age when I believe divorce was still quite scandalous. After that, she supported herself teaching piano lessons. When her parents passed away, they left her their fortune, and she was finally able to pursue music. She began to travel in elite New York City social circles and to sing therein.
The musical begins when she is in her late 60s, about to really start performing full-time. It's told through the eyes of her accompanist, Cosme McMoon (we think this is a stage name.) He is reminiscing in a cabaret bar, tinkering around the piano and singing occasional excerpts of popular early-mid 20th century tunes. His reflections take him back into the suite at the Ritz Carleton where he met Ms. Foster Jenkins.

All of this sounds fairly interesting, right? But pretty standard?

What you need to know is that Florence Foster Jenkins was spectacularly terrible. She was consumed with passion for music and for her art, for the expressive power of song. But she was tone deaf. Yet, she performed recitals that drew record-breaking crowds and even sold out Carnegie Hall. People came to see her because she was so awful she was funny. She believed she really could sing. "Instead of laughter", her accompanist comments in the show, "she heard bravos." Her costumes were extravagant, as were her gestures and expression. She also made a few records. Go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6h4f77T-LoM to hear a recording of her Queen of the Night aria.

There is something wonderfully endearing about this woman, her determination to perform and her complete infatuation with music. It's also heartbreaking - here was a woman with an absolute love of singing and yet a very limited sense of pitch. How can God deny talent to someone who so desperately wants it? And yet, I guess that is partly the point. Somehow, she stands out in history because she lacked the very voice she thought she had. She also is a stark reminder of how far passion really can take you. How many times do we hear a singer who has a beautiful voice and great sense of pitch but is so caught up in technique that she forgets to actually get lost in the music? How often do we plod to the practice rooms for yet another go at our aria? We forget the joy in music sometimes. And Florence Foster Jenkins serves as a fantastic reminder of the gift we have, not only in our talents but also in the music itself that graces our lives.

Souvenir is hilarious and happy, touching and tender, poignant and passionate. If you get a chance to see it, definitely go. You won't forget it for sure. Judy Kaye was nominated for a Tony for her performance as Madame Jenkins. You'll see why if you attend this performance.

My favorite quote from the real Florence Foster Jenkins? "Some may say I couldn't sing, but none may say I didn't sing."

Now go sing.

~Hope

Need More Brains

This mouse is from a storefront in Bern, Switzerland. I didn't snap the photo today, of course, but I figured I'd "cheat" and use it anyway since I don't have a satisfactory picture from this weekend. Which is not to say that I shouldn't have one -- it was gorgeous weather, especially today. There was a beautiful blue sky that perfectly set off the emerging fall leaves. The 70 degree weather was also a terrific complement to the sleeveless dress I wanted to wear for this afternoon's donor event.

Today, I attended the voice and opera preview for our voice department donor group. This lovely, lovely set of people gave me two grants last year. They are warm and enthusiastic individuals who truly adore the students. As the head of our department said today in his opening address, not only do they provide monetary support; they are also often our "family away from home", the warmest and most supportive audience members you could ever find. I was priviledged to be part of that audience today, watching my wonderful colleagues stand up and perform in a sunlit atrium with a grand piano. Clad in lovely formal and semiformal attire, they sang everything from arias from Florencia en el Amazonas or Cosi fan tutte, to semi-staged excerpts from The Secret Garden, our fall musical, to beautiful "audition arias" from the opera in which I'm cast: The Impresario. Even with a warm audience like these folks, it still takes a lot of courage to stand up in front of 200 people without the glare of stage lights blocking their shapes and faces from your view. My fellow singers were amazing!

It was truly a weekend filled with performances. Last night, I went to the master's recital of a harpist here. This was her program:

Sonatine, Op. 30 by Marcel Tournier (the Allegrement, Calme et expressif, and Fievreusement movements): This was tremendous, a great opener - accessible, interesting, and technically virtuosic without being scary for the harpist (I imagine, seeing as I'm not a harpist. Yet. ;) )

Prelude No. 10 by Edward McGuire: Very interesting. Modern. Odd intervals and tonalities in parts - not what you think of as "typical harp music".

Gems of Verdi, Op. 149 by Charles Oberthur (umlaut over the u in Oberthur): This was a setting of "Si, la Stanchezza m'oprime" and "La Donna e Mobile", two opera arias. The harp functioned like its own orchestra with one hand plucking chords and the other playing melody in bits. A really interesting arrangement.

Spanish Dance No. 1 from La Vida Breve by Manuel de Falla and Marcel Grandjany: This was basically a Spanish guitar piece played on a harp. I didn't really think about the harp being in the same broad family as all plucked instruments, but it is. So you can transfer guitar pieces to harp in a really neat way.

Sonate pour flute, alto, et harpe by Claude Debussy (Pastoral, Interlude, and Finale): Quite a gorgeous soundscape pervaded this one. Here, the harp functioned as the underlying land, a blanket woven of many threads on which the viola and the flute glided. It is such a French piece with all its odd yet tonal and strangely beautiful, ethereal intervals. It made me remember how much I am in love with Debussy and how much I really ought to listen to his complete works.

If you ever have the chance to see a harp recital, take it! It's gorgeous and completely worth it.

In the meantime, with all of these performances and my own practicing, I haven't had much time for the other more intellectual pursuits that I need to be doing this weekend, like crafting my proposal for some outreach work I'll be doing. That's why the neon green brain mouse is up there. I'm hoping it will give my fingers some inspiration to magically click my proposal onto the screen. I'll let you know if that works...

~Hope

Onion Schiacciata

Two nights ago, I made onion schiacciata from a recipe I found on http://thepioneerwoman.com/tasty-kitchen/recipes/breads/onion-schiacciata. When I was in Florence this summer, I would eat schiacciata often for lunch. My favorite little deli would have round ones with olives, mini-pizzas with this bread, and even some prosciutto sandwiches. I miss it. This recipe is the closest thing I've found so far, and it's pretty simple. I do need to learn to chop onions more quickly, though...that part took me about half an hour by itself. Guess I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, so to speak...

Besides my splurge on cooking, I've spent the week running from one meeting to another or working. I have a giant stack of repertoire that I'm trying to get through to choose pieces for my recital. I'm hoping to center it around Shakespeare. There are plenty of art songs written in English using Shakespeare's text, but I'm searching for the unique ones that are in German, Italian, French, and maybe even Swedish or Spanish. My goal is to create groups around specific characters, like Ophelia or Ariel. So far, I have two really fun groups - for Ariel and Ophelia, in fact. Now it's on to the others... It may be a good idea to focus on specific plays rather than characters - makes it a lot easier to find repertoire. But that's a brainstorm for this weekend.

Resume rework was also on the slate. I need two: a performance one and a business one. Performance resumes list all your performance experience - roles, concerts, etc - as well as education, performance training, and "special skills" like "Stage combat" or "Acrobatics." Business resumes are more typical, although a kind mentor suggested that I adapt my normal business resume to the arts by putting a bio at the top. It gives it a more narrative flavor, essentially mixing in some of the artistic format.

Another fun bit was today's lunch. It was the first meeting of my coffee/lunch Italian group. We converse only in Italian - my little way of keeping up with the language. I can hardly believe how rusty I've gotten in just a few months, and how much my Spanish keeps dripping in. I'll need to hit the books to review - my grammar, especially future and conditional tenses, is a bit stilted at the moment.

Time to turn in. It will be an early day tomorrow, and I need all the energy I can get!

~Hope

Fun, fun, fun!

This is a random picture from my daily walk to school. I just found the sky combined with the early fall shades of the trees so beautiful. Right now, I'm reveling in the weather here, in full knowledge that the snow will come soon enough!

Today was a fantastic day! I started off with some yoga, which may have something to do with the rest of my day. My mind was whirling all through the 45 minutes of my little yoga dvd, I confess, but at least I forced my body, fingers, and voice to do something relaxing and good for that period of time. And I felt so relaxed for the rest of the day! There's definitely something to this yoga thing, I tell you.

Afterwards, I made my way over to the student dining hall. Sequestered in a side "conference room" were about thirty wonderful individuals who comprise the main donor group for the voice and opera department here. In the spring, they were incredibly generous and gave me two grants. One was to attend the Opera America Conference in Houston. The other was to put towards my studies in Florence. Today was my chance to thank them all in person. The head of the group warmly welcomed me and gave me a very kind and glowing introduction. Then, I took a few minutes to describe my experiences and the benefits of each endeavor. The entire crowd was so kind. They really seemed glad to have made a tangible difference for me.

I need to remember this feeling when I'm raising money for some purpose in the future. Reynold (Lincoln Center President) was right -- it really does make a huge difference for people to donate to something, to feel like they can have an impact. They become part of the art then, just as much a maker-of-art as the singer or actor onstage. And they really enjoy it and are thrilled about the chance to do it, about having been asked.

Too often, fundraising can feel like begging, I think. This is probably because we all have exasperating experiences with those letter blasts from various organizations or the telemarketing calls that may or may not be legitimate. But when it's something you really believe in, when they show you tangibly and specifically what your particular gift enabled, that's when it really makes a difference.

Anyway, that was my day's opening. The rest of the day was spent in practice and coaching with a dash of library time thrown in. Tonight, I'm combing through art song textbooks to prepare for tomorrow's class. I have a long to-do list yet again. But perhaps I'll just rise early, start with some yoga, and dive in.

~Hope

Virtuosi

Tonight I attended a concert titled "Virtuosi", which was in reference to the players. It could just as easily have been in reference to the composers and arrangers of the works, of course, since all were phenomenal.

This was the line-up:

1) Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor -- played by 6 French horns! This arrangement is by Kerry Turner, and if you can find it, listen to it. It will blow you away. The way that the different notes are divided among the different French horns is just incredible. The effect is better live, of course, but if you miraculously find a 6 channel recording and have 6 speakers, that might mimic it :)

2) Ravel's Introduction and Allegro - this was a gorgeous, flowing piece, very French. It reminded me why French music from the late 19th/early 20th century is my favorite genre. There are so many colors there. For me, it's like an audible representation of Monet's paintings - beautiful and varied, sweeping and smooth, lilting among different colors that are just slightly different than normal, an idealistic vision of nature. This piece featured a harp (set off over top of a flute, clarinet, two violins, a viola, and a violincello), which was played by a faculty member here. Picture the typical celestial sound of that instrument, and you can see how it would fit right in with a Monet painting.

3) Bozza's Scherzo from Opus 48 - For this piece, a flautist, oboist, clarinetist, bassoonist, and French horn player all took the stage. They stood in a semicircle without music stands and played the relatively short piece in an unbelievably organic fashion. The line that one instrument would start, another would pick up or echo. This work moves very fast, and the whole energy of the piece was reflected in the bouncing joy of the players. They received huge and well-deserved acclaim afterwards.

4) Piazzolla's Two Tangos (Verano Porteno and La Muerte del Angel) - Played on a classical guitar, these were a nice, mellow way to open the second half of the program.

5) Mozart's Serenade in C minor (the Allegro, Andante, Minuetto, and Allegro) - This work involved a medium-sized chamber ensemble - two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, and two French horns. What impressed me was that the duplicate instrumentalists could seamlessly mimic their counterparts. In other words, the one oboist would play, and the other would echo the line. But for their position on the stage (so you could tell where the sound was emanating from), you often would swear it was the same instrument. I have to say, though, I find Mozart a little boring. He's just too conventional for me. I know he was radical in his day, but now we are so used to those turns of phrase which form the background for so many movies and advertising and the foundation for so much of modern music. So for me, this was the least exciting piece of the night. Still, it was very well-played, and I can definitely respect that!

I love that I get to attend all these incredible concerts here! And it's all free! It's so amazing, so vibrant to hear music live. You get something completely different than if you just listen to a recording. The possibility that someone might make an error and the delight when they don't, the richness of sound that comes from not having certain layers stripped as they are on CDs, the immediacy of watching someone play in real time, and the connection with the rest of the audience as you listen to them discuss the performance or watch them be captivated - it's all so wonderful. And the shared experience, being able to walk out in a community with those other people and know that you all are tied together by this unique event that will never happen in the same way again - it's a great expression of humanity.

I hope you get a chance to see some music or a play live soon, too.

~Hope

Blurry

Today has been a blurry day. In fact, it's been a blurry week.

I was up quite late last night finishing various odds and ends that seem to be cropping up at every turn. I feel a little like this officer on horseback; if you look closely, you can see him carefully cradling his cup of coffee. Not only was I cradling my own caffeinated brew today; I also feel like I'm trying to keep moving without spilling any drops of my cup of to-dos.

But that's neither here nor there. Overall, the week has been exciting, if a bit treadmill-ish. Yesterday evening, I attended a wonderful lecture recital where a fabulous accompanist, GM, performed Poulenc's Le Bestiare and Ravel's Histoires Naturelles. He was complemented by QP, a gorgeous mezzo who is in my classes. She thrillingly illustrated the vocal line over top of the colorful accompaniments. Both of these sets are about animals, with often-whimsical poetry depicting their various flavors.

Because it was a lecture recital, the first half of the program was just like a class. GM, the accompanist, talked about many facets of the pieces, complete with musical excerpts both played/sang and visually illustrated in our programs. He informed us about the composers and the poets, the musical qualities of the accompaniment (much of which "paints" the animalian characteristics, like the rolling of a caravan across a desert for the camel's piece, or the high chirp of a grasshopper.) He also spoke about the different ways the pieces debuted. (Poulenc's cycle was first performed at an art gallery before a small audience gathered to pay homage to Guillaume Apollinaire, the poet. In contrast, Ravel's was debuted at a large hall to a very hostile audience who were especially threatened by his decision to shatter the "rules" of classical sung French in favor of fidelity to the way it is spoken. The key difference is the little "e" at the end of French words like "Comme". In spoken French, this e is mute. In sung French, it is traditionally articulated and given its own note. But not in Ravel's Histoires Naturelles!)

Afterwards, there were refreshments, as is typical for the recitals here. But these included - what else? - animal crackers. :)

It was a tremendous recital.

Today, I also got to hear performances, this time in class. In Advanced Opera Seminar (where we prepare our audition arias), everyone sang one piece for the class. One person did Mozart's "In Uomini" from Cosi fan tutte with impish glee. Another sang a gorgeous rendition of "Porgi Amor" from Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro. A third did a piece from a Strauss opera that I didn't know. And I performed the "Bester Jungling", also by Mozart from his little-known opera, The Impresario. I need as much performance practice as I can get on it because that is the main piece for me in the upcoming winter opera.

After Advanced Opera Seminar, I had a coaching on the "Bester Jungling", where we talked about a few questions of pronunciation as well as dynamics and tempo. It makes such a difference to pull back dynamically in various sections of the piece, to be a bit gentler. Not only is it easier on my voice; it also feels more "right" when the vocal line swells again. Sometimes a well-placed decrescendo or mezzo-piano or piano can be more impactful than the largest high-note forte. This piece is such a high, showy work that it needs a little contrast, a "break for the ears" in a way to save it from sounding angry or forced.

It's about time I dive into learning more German...Hopefully I'll get some time this weekend to tie up the remaining odds and ends so that I can start studying that language regularly. And investigating my recital repertoire. And learning more of the Impresario music. And getting that new Strauss lieder into my voice. And refreshing my Italian. And and and...

~Hope

Swimming

Water seems to crop up in my imagery frequently at the moment. I'm swimming in all the beginning-of-semester busy-ness, of course, which is a little more hectic than I'd initially forecast.

I'm also immersed once again, and delightfully so, in the sound waves of music. It's around me all the time as I walk down the halls; snatches of vocal exercises or arias, violin notes, and oft-recognizable strains of various piano pieces all catch my ear as I involuntarily find myself trying to place what they are and where I know them from. Practice rooms and studios are poor keepers of sound, allowing much to escape, much to my happiness. There's a wonderful communion in being able to be "one of" the musicians here. When I left in May to study Italian in Florence, I felt keenly the dearth of my constant musical blanket. It's wonderful to be back among it. It lives, too, in all the new music I'm learning and processing. As I walk down the street, the rhythm of my feet call to mind the rhythm of a new piece, and I find myself running through it in the time metered out by my steps. Of course, there are the coachings and the lessons and practicing where I'm actively singing, too. And there's the music I put on at home, my evening companion as I work or wash dishes.

But perhaps the most interesting water imagery to me is the one linked to the piece whose score you see in the above picture. This is the second of three pieces Richard Strauss wrote about Shakespeare's Ophelia. Set with text from after she's lost her mind, these works are splintered in much the same way you see the water and glass twisting the notes above. Each vocal phrase sounds tonal and centered on a key when excerpted by itself. But the very next phrase will be just slightly different, with another key center. And the piano accompaniment clashes in defined ways that are just slightly off, perhaps by a half-step dissonance. Labyrinthine in their keys and notes, as well as their chromatic turns, these pieces also reflect Shakespeare's text; Ophelia tends to leap from one bit to another, making sense within a verbal paragraph or stanza but then twisting to another moment.

These pieces will be part of my recital in the spring, and I have much to do on them. So I am immersed in these as well. I find myself thinking often of a cracked mirror or shattered mirror fragments, too, as I search for the vocal core of these works. An interesting journey.

~Hope

Plucky Day

Today I got to explore a childhood dream.

When I was 3, I told my parents that I wanted a harp for Christmas. They bought me a lap harp.

It's not the same thing.

For the past year, I've been wondering about taking harp lessons here. When else would I have an easier chance, I reasoned. Plus, I could help some poor harp student earn a little extra on the side. The trouble would be finding a harp student to teach me...

I was pondering this question Monday evening in the practice rooms. As I walked out towards the stairwell, a poster caught my eye.

A poster with a giant sketch of a harp.

It was an advertisement for an Introduction to Harp class. 1 credit (translation: minimal money) in exchange for lessons on basic technique with a splash of harp history and more.

Our first class was today. I played a full-sized harp for the first time in my life today. It was incredibly fun. We learned that the red strings on the harp are Cs, while the black ones are Fs. The foot pedals raise or lower the strings -- these are your accidentals. There is one foot pedal for each "pitch class" (all the Cs or all the Ds, etc.) The natural (uppermost) state of the pedals is flat for every note. The middle spot (halfway depressed) is naturals, and the bottom-most state is sharps. Why? Because each depression of the pedal tightens the strings, thereby making them higher.

Fun, no?

We also learned the proper way to pluck along with the little aphorism to help us remember: "If your thumbs are up, your fingers won't let you down." My other favorite phrase from the class: "One of the secrets of harp is that it never sounds bad, no matter what you play. It's just a beautiful instrument."

At the very end of the class, the instructor showed us how to make the "heavenly glisses" -- that sound you hear in all the cartoons whenever they depict the characters as angels. Absolutely beautiful and surprisingly easy -- it's all in the position you put the pedals in. Just run your thumb away from you along the strings or your forefinger towards you, and the instrument does the rest.

The basics of the instrument are surprisingly straightforward. Of course, playing more than one note at a time with one finger (or a gliss) takes a little more expertise. But I'm just so happy that I finally get to try out this gorgeous fantasy instrument!

~Hope

Beginning the Ending

Today was my first day of my last year of school.

It feels so odd to write that. Even in my other higher-education years, I was always conscious of this dream to attend conservatory. Nothing was ever this final -- I always pictured myself applying to music schools and once again sitting down in a classroom, ready to learn. But now, I'm embarking upon my last year of classes. The last batch of fresh notebooks and new boxes of pens and pencils are sitting in my drawers, waiting to be streamed gradually into my bookbag. I still harbor occasional wisps of wanderings toward D.M.A. or D.B.A. (Doctorate of Musical Arts or Doctorate of Business Administration) programs, but I think that has more to do with my scheming about how to be a perpetual student than with any concrete professional goals.

It's been a good last first day. This semester is rather light for me from the academic standpoint; I'm taking all performance classes. Today was Voice Repertoire (the companion class to last semester's repertoire class) and Studio Class.

In Voice Rep, we listen to and read about lots of art song literature. The class is comprised of both singers and pianists, and we all perform various songs for each other. The goal is to make folks familiar with a swath of useful repertoire across the voice types. This semester, we'll focus on early art song (Renaissance and Baroque), as well as German Lied (18th and 19th centuries) with a dash of Italian and French.

Studio Class is the one hour each week where members of my voice teacher's studio get to perform for each other. Today, we heard the full group of singers. Everyone sang one piece with minimal input from my teacher. It was a great opportunity to hear all the wonderful progress folks have made over the summer and to get to know the newbies a bit. We have one new grad student and two new freshmen. All seem very nice. I sang an "old standard" for me - Pierrot, by Debussy. After I finished, my teacher commented that the high phrases toward the end of the piece have the sort of core and volume/strength I should be finding everywhere. Looks like I'll be exploring some bigger repertoire to get there!

The picture you see above is where I ate lunch today. The weather here was gorgeous - about 70 to 75 degrees and sunny. You may be able to glimpse the little sparrows at the base of the statue. These birds were fighting over some bagel or bread someone had dropped. One would start to carry off the giant piece (which was about the size of the bird himself). It inevitably proved to be too heavy for him. After he dropped it, another bird who'd been tugging on it would attempt to steal the treasure. Nature's entertainment at its best.

Evening is melting into night too quickly. Tomorrow promises another fun and interesting class -something completely unexpected. I'll write more tomorrow night.

~Hope