Trying to remain opera-tional

Don't forget to look at the new blog

2010-11-19T20:04:00.000-08:00

I posted a new entry today. Check it out at www.jenniferrivera.squarespace.com!

We're moving!

2010-11-14T18:20:00.000-08:00

So, after much procrastinating, I'm finally moving and expanding my blog to a new address with more bells and whistles. From now on, you will find me at www.jenniferrivera.squarespace.com. For those of you who are "followers" you can feel free to sign up for the RSS feed on my new blog (in the bottom right corner) which is, as far as I can tell, what happens when you become a follower. I'm very sorry to make you change the address if you have me in your bookmarks, but hopefully this address will be even easier to remember. I'll miss you blogger, but I think it's time to move on!

Jumping in feet first

2010-11-10T16:49:00.001-08:00

You were probably wondering where the heck I'd been. Well, I was just waiting for something exciting to happen - and tonight it did. I found out, funnily enough- via facebook, that our Figaro wasn't' going to be able to perform tonight, so I knew we'd be having someone jump in to the role tonight. I got an email from the Staatsoper office today, informing me as much, and I spent all of 2 minutes introducing myself to the lovely young italian baritone called in for the job, only minutes before the performance started. And that was it. As I walked back to my dressing room, I thought to myself - well, next time I see him we will be singing a duet. In front of people. For the first time in our lives. At the Berlin Staastoper. That's Show Business!

Jumping in boggles my mind. First of all because we just don't do it in the U.S. I remember some years back when I was performing in the second cast of Nozze di Figaro at City Opera. We had several weeks of rehearsal with our entire cast, and although we didn't have the chance to do it on the stage with the orchestra before our first performance, we were very well prepared with the staging and with knowing each other. And even in that situation we were all freaking out. I remember the energy level during that first performance of the second cast as being extraordinarily high because we were all so nervous. But that was nothing compared to what it must be like to have only a few hours of rehearsal the day before the performance, and basically meet your colleagues on stage for the first time while you are singing with them.

In tonight's performance, the director of the show was backstage the entire night pointing and gesturing at the new guy when he might have been lost, and cheering him on as well. We also have a prompter, although I noticed that it was hard to hear her the few times that someone got lost, and various colleagues were whispering lost recit that may have been confusingly absent because of some cut. We rehearsed some of the second act trio in the dressing room before we started that act, and there was a part we were singing that the poor Figaro had never done before. He was literally learning the music during the intermission, and I thought to myself HOW ARE YOU NOT FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW? But he really was calm and collected, which is your only option when you are in a jump-in situation. Otherwise, you will totally and completely lose your mind. I mean, everybody fears those moments when you are onstage, and for some reason you momentarily forget where you are supposed to be. When you jump-in, you know for certain that you will have many moments like that, and you just have to pray that a kind colleague will push you in the right direction.

And I personally am like a sheep dog, feeling the need to herd lost things in all situations. So it was definitely harder for me to concentrate tonight on my own singing and acting because I was always worrying about whether I needed to help the Figaro. I would imagine that Europeans who are more accustomed to the jump-in don't find it to be such a big deal, and go about their parts normally, with maybe a heightened awareness of what's going on around them. I, on the other hand, can't bear to see someone looking lost and take it on as my personal responsibility to make sure they know what's going on. It's probably annoying actually to these calm Europeans who are seasoned "einspringers" to have this bossy american trying to be "helpful." But I can't stop myself. I need to get myself some sheep or something.

All things considered, I would say the performance went remarkably well, and my hat is off to the gentleman who managed to keep his wits about him with only a few hours of rehearsal. As for me, I have only one more performance here in Berlin before I get to go home - TO MY OWN APARTMENT for the first time in awhile. I hope I still remember where I live.

just for fun

2010-10-28T10:24:00.000-07:00

I had some new headshots taken recently by a lovely photographer named Christian Coulson. www.arsonistphotography.com.

crickets.........crickets........

2010-10-23T01:22:00.000-07:00

What is it about a show that makes an audience react? What about when you perform the same show for two different audiences, and one goes crazy, while the other claps politely but far from enthusiastically?

This has been the case with the first two performances of Barbiere at the Staatsoper, now located in the Schiller Theater. I did the exact same production last season, with many of the same cast members, and the audience went crazy every night. They clapped, cheered, laughed audibly at all the jokes, and applauded so much at the end, that we bowed and bowed for what seemed like an eternity. However, during these two performances in the Schiller Theater, the response seemed quite tepid in comparison. For my part, I sang better this year than last year - I was more relaxed and had more rehearsal, and I actually think the acoustic in the Schiller Theater feels a little better than in the Staatsoper (which is one of the things they are fixing in the Staatsoper while it's closed). The other cast members were all excellent and in great form, and both performances went extremely well. There was even an extremely positive review in the paper, which is totally unheard of for a repertoire production. And yet, the audience was VERY quiet.

My only explanation is that the production was made for the Staatsoper, and so somehow doesn't seem to have quite the same effect in the new theater. It's strange - the Staatsoper has more seats than the Schiller, but somehow the audience feels closer. I think it's because it is one of those typically European opera houses, where the theater goes up and to the sides instead of back, so everyone feels closer to you than in more modern theaters that have just one balcony in the back of the theater. I noticed it because in this production, we spend a lot of time singing arias and duets right from the front of the stage, actually standing on the prompter box (which I almost slipped and fell off of last night during the finale - typical Jenny move) and I remember feeling extremely close to the audience during those moments in the Staatsoper, and not so much now. I know one should never rely on an audience reaction for one's feelings of self worth after a performance, and I don't really. But I would be lying if I didn't admit to the fact that if I feel like I nailed Una Voce Poco Fa (which I really think I did, last night especially) and after I finish I mostly hear crickets........crickets........ - it can be a little disheartening.

But it certainly doesn't bother me nearly as much as it used to. Mostly because I have sung Rosina so many times, that I know now when I sing it well. And if I sing it well, and have fun while doing it, I can't really hope for much more. It's mostly a curiousity - what exactly makes audiences go wild? What's the secret equation that stirs them to a frenzy? Besides if you're Oprah and you're giving away cars or trips to Australia.

Speaking of Oprah, I'm on my way to Chicago as I write this from yet another airport. I have almost two weeks between performances, so I'm taking the opportunity to visit my BF. In fact, I think they're boarding my plane. Auf Wiedersehn, Berlin. Until the next one.

why we sing

2010-10-17T01:58:00.000-07:00

Even though we've only been rehearsing for 6 days (and that's pretty much it - Monday is the final rehearsal and Tuesday is the opening) I've had time to speak to my colleagues this week and get to know them a little better. What I've discovered is that the South African tenor was an accountant until he was 30 years old, and switched to singing, and the Italian baritone singing Bartolo was a surgeon who performed liver transplants until he decided to pursue his passion for singing. I was comparing in my mind the decisions of those two, versus my incredibly talented boyfriend, who, while he has an absolutely fantastic voice and exceptional stage presence, and was singing a lot of great places, decided (before I met him) that singing was not the career he wanted to pursue and chose to go into the corporate world instead, where he could explore his passion for technology. It has really got me thinking this week about how there are some people who might never achieve critical success as musicians or artists, but who keep trying for their whole lives, while there are some people who do succeed, and could continue to do so, but decide that the career and life of an artist is just not for them. What makes some people give up perfectly good jobs as surgeons to become opera singers, and what makes other people give up perfectly good jobs as opera singers to go to work in the "real world"?

For me, the question of why I remain an artist is constantly developing. When I was younger, I think I developed into a performer first, because I loved being the center of attention, and because I discovered something I was good at naturally (singing). If I look back on my years in childhood and adolescence of singing lessons and performing in musicals and operas, I have to say that a big driving force for me was that a) I wanted to be a "star" and b) I liked doing something that I was good at. I think I also liked the challenges of performing in operas because it really does use all the parts of your brain and your body, and there is always a huge margin for error and therefore a never ending outlet for improvement. It wasn't until much later that I discovered the artistic pleasures of music and drama and began to explore the challenges of being a true musician and not just a performer. For opera singers who come to singing because they are natural performers, the trajectory of their artistic selves seems to be different than for opera singers who come to singing from having been instrumentalists first. But the thing about opera that seems to be endlessly appealing is that one has the opportunity to explore both sides of oneself. The musical part of the brain can almost be equated with both the mathematical side of the brain (in the learning and executing of pitches and rhythms) and of course also the creative side of the brain (with the interpreting and phrasing of the music). Plus there is the very creative art of physicalizing a character and finding dramatic intentions. And then the more technical element of communicating in another language and properly producing and pronouncing that language and translating what you're saying in your brain as you say it. And of course, the endlessly fascinating challenge of vocal technique and production. The possibilities for creativity and challenge are endless, and thus we can see exactly why someone would be drawn to a career in singing.

But the difficulties with having such a career are almost equally compelling. First of all, there's the difficulty of doing all the things I mentioned above, all at once, and then adding the pressure of trying to do all of those things in front of thousands of people. That right there is enough to make some people run screaming in the opposite direction. Add to that the fact that you have two people basically in charge of what you are doing while you are doing all those things - the director and the conductor - and more times than not, one or even both of those people seems to be conspiring to make that job infinitely more difficult, and yet they may have the power to make you feel like a turd on a log if you don't execute everything exactly as they imagine it. Then there is the unsteady and insecure nature of trying to make your living out of a job that has no stability, and doesn't allow you any job security other than a year or two in advance - and that's if you're lucky. Then there is the not so tiny element of always having to be on the road - often in very foreign places - all time time, just in order to pursue the job at all. Never having any kind of normal schedule. Missing major holidays and functions, weddings and funerals, and having absolutely no choice in the matter. Oh - and how about having to face terrible, harsh, toe-curling criticism, both publicly and privately, even when you have worked as hard as you possibly can and given every last ounce of your soul to a project. Have I mentioned the being away from your loved ones all the time? God, that's probably the suckiest part of it for me.

And yet people choose to pursue it anyway. There are people who would give every last one of their toenails to have just one of the opportunities that I've been given, and there are singers with whom I've worked in those situations who are dying to have a normal life again, and dream every day of finding a new way to make their livelihood. I honestly fluctuate - there are days when I am so fulfilled by this work that I am unbelievably happy, and other days when I sit down and start brain-storming about my other career options. But I have a very unique position - I have had the opportunity to pursue this career at a very high level, and have accomplished most things that people hope for - singing in some major places, working with famous directors and conductors, even making recordings. So now that I've had those experiences, I'm in a different position to judge whether this is something I choose to pursue, as opposed to people who only dream about those experiences. Then again, having had those experiences, I see exactly how wonderful and how terrible living the life of an artist can be. This makes the decision to keep choosing this life both terribly easy and terribly difficult, depending on which day you ask me. When all you have are dreams, everything seems possible, and when all you have are experiences, everything seems both possible and impossible at the same time.

There are no definitive answers. Only gratitude and thoughtful contemplation. Thank you for allowing me to indulge myself in both.

Ja wohl!

2010-10-13T10:59:00.000-07:00

I kept meaning to write a blog post about all that's been happening, and then more stuff would happen!

It already feels like years ago that I finally performed the Kindertotenlieder, but it was only 4 days ago!! The performance went fine, although I felt that my nervousness about the newness of the pieces caused me to sing them less well in the performance than in the dress rehearsal earlier the same day. I'm not sure what I was nervous about exactly - I had the music in front of me, there weren't really any "trouble spots" and the performance was for a very small but very appreciative audience. Sitting here right now imagining it, I really don't understand why I had to be nervous enough to have it affect anything about my performance, because I wasn't particularly worried about any elements. But unfortunately, that's the human brain for you. You just can't control performance anxiety. It's very annoying, however. But nothing went wrong or anything, and I actually got a very lovely email from a "fan" who attended the concert. I really like that people who see me perform can send me emails - it's the same way I feel about all of you commenting on the blog. It's fantastic that the internet has allowed performers and the public to be able to communicate so easily and freely.

After the concert was over, it was back to Berlin to begin rehearsal for this Barber. We jumped right in on Monday, and being back at the Staatsoper was like being back at the first day of school, a comforting feeling that I haven't really experienced since I've been out of the yearly City Opera loop. Except that The Staatsoper has moved for the next three years to a new location while they renovate the historical building on Unter den Linden Boulevard. The rehearsals and performances are now taking place in the Schiller Theater, which was built in the 50's, and which is in West Berlin, only a few blocks from the Deutsche Oper. It's not as big a building or Theater as the Staastoper, so people are all crammed in, and everyone is still learning where everything is. I wandered around for 20 minutes on the first day with the conductor, looking for a room where we could work on one of the cadenzas, and we finally settled on a dressing room off to the side of the stage because it was all we could find. But having several of the same cast members, plus the same director and conductor really makes me feel at home.

I was worried I wouldn't remember the staging from last year, but strangely, my feet just seem to move me where I'm supposed to go 9 times out of 10. Which is lucky, because since there are some new cast members who have never done this production before, those of us "veterans" (which is a hilarious way to reference me since I did two performances with about 6 hours of rehearsal) just kind of try to remember where we're supposed to be while the director shows the other people the moves. Funnily enough, the 6 or so days of rehearsal we have seem like plenty to me after how stressed I was last year with trying to learn it so quickly. And, after discussing Rossini style with the conductor, we decided that I'm not going to put a fermata on the penultimate note at the end of Una Voce Poco Fa, but rather do the ending come scritto - as written - as it would have been done in Rossini's time. I'm always complaining about the fact that everybody sustains that high note, so it's totally expected and traditional, and it just gives me HIVES to even think about it. It's probably mostly a mental block I've developed against it, because I have no problems singing high B's and even higher in other situations, but for some reason, in that context, it stresses me out. So when the conductor said he didn't even want me to hold it, I almost jumped in his arms with happiness. Without that stressful note, there really isn't anything about Rosina that I find particularly scary. So I can actually just have fun with a role I know extremely well, and not sit there before and worry about one note, and then spend the rest of the opera thinking about how well I sang it.

Not even the fact that I am now a common criminal in Germany could damper my spirits about not having to sing that high note. You think I'm kidding? Oh no - I left rehearsal last night, very tired from a long day, and as I ran up the stairs to the S-Bahn to go home, I was pretty sure I had one more ticket in my wallet, although I didn't even have time to pull it out and validate it before I slipped onto the train and the doors closed. The trains in Berlin, for those of you who've never been here, are basically on an honor system, with people coming around to check your tickets only once in awhile. In fact, in the four months I spent in Berlin last year, I only saw the people checking tickets one time. But wouldn't you know it, last night was the second time I had the pleasure of seeing them, and it turns out I didn't have any more tickets in my wallet. So they pulled me off the train, asked to see my passport, and fined me 40 Euro. I felt like such an ass - I mean, WHO doesn't buy tickets for the public transportation and just tries to get away with it??? Me, apparently. I bought a weekly pass first thing this morning.

Wien and beyond

2010-10-08T12:12:00.000-07:00

I arrived Wednesday evening in Vienna, and was excited to see this amazing historical city for the first time. I was only slightly dismayed to discover that my hotel, which is right in the center of Vienna on a street called Schubertring, was wedged between a TGI Fridays and a McDonald's. Sigh. But that didn't deter me from finding an excellent Schnitzel and a very large Austrian Beer at a very non American, non fast food chain before falling into bed, still jet-lagged and exhausted.

I didn't have rehearsal until 5 PM the next day and had to check out of the hotel at 11, so I used the time to visit a few places in Vienna that had the most significance to me personally; Mozart's house, the Staatsoper, an most importantly, the famous chocolate and pastry shop Demel. No actually, I guess Mozart is the one figure who I would actually say is more important to me than chocolate. And that is saying A LOT. I was very excited to get to see the actual apartment where he composed Le Nozze di Figaro, and I'm sure I wasn't the first one to try to surreptitiously touch things like the walls in the hopes that my fingers would come into contact with something his fingers had touched. The movie Amadeus has made it impossible for me to picture anyone other than Tom Hulce whenever I try to picture Mozart and what he must have been like, so as I wandered the rooms, I kept seeing a white wigged Tom/Wolfgang running around and getting into trouble. I also kept trying to have a "profound experience" but I kind of felt more like I was looking at a potential sublet or something because they don't really have furniture in there since they don't know what was there or what each room would have actually had in it. But I did get teary in the section of the museum where they were talking about his death and playing the Requiem. He was exactly my age when the world lost the greatest composer of all time, and he managed to write every single one of my most favorite musical moments in those 35 years, whereas I haven't even managed to get married or spit out a kid yet. It's mind boggling to comprehend what he accomplished in the space of my lifetime thus far.

I also had my first rehearsal with the conductor on the Kindertotenlieder yesterday, and it did feel good to make music again, despite my protestations that I wasn't ready to get back in the saddle. It's especially nice to work with a conductor I know and who knows my voice, and to finally turn these pieces into music. What I mean by that is that I really am happier when I'm collaborating on something than when I'm trying to do it all by myself. I certainly have my own ideas, but being shaped and coaxed by a good conductor makes me feel so much more like I'm creating something, even without the orchestra present.

Then I was driven to St Pölten (the town an hour outside of Vienna where the concert will take place) last night after the rehearsal, and had my first rehearsal with the orchestra today. It all seemed to go well, and other than the challenge of getting used to singing something so low in a big hall as opposed to in the little rooms I've been practicing in, the pieces felt good. Now I just have the dress rehearsal and the concert, both tomorrow, and then Sunday I fly back to Berlin for rehearsals of Barbiere, which begin Monday.

Speaking of Barbiere, I saw via her blog that Joyce DiDonato has launched a new website, and when I looked at it, I nearly pooped my pants when I noticed on her schedule that she will be singing Rosina at the Deutsche Oper TWO DAYS after I sing it at the Staatsoper. Also, because of renovations to the Staatsoper, we will be performing in the Schiller Theater, which is only a few blocks away from the Deutsche Oper. So two days and a couple of blocks are all that separate THE Rosina of our time from.....me. I'm not even freaked out because I think someone will compare us or something - it's just, why did I have to be simultaneously performing the same role with Joyce - why couldn't it have been someone who's name I didn't recognize, like it was last year when the Staats and the Deutsche had dueling Barbieres? I know it's ridiculous to compare one artist to another, but it's very hard not to be intimidated by someone who has so obviously mastered a certain role when you still feel like parts of that same role give you hives. Luckily I'm skipping town the day after my second performance, so I won't be in town to hear the applause for her Una Voce, that will almost certainly resonate not only two blocks down to the Schiller Theater, but all the way over to East Berlin, where my apartment is. Instead of crying into my currywurst, I will be safely ensconced in Chicago and out of the fray. You think I'm kidding, but I saw her sing Rosina at the Met and she got even more applause at the end than Juan Diego. More than JUAN DIEGO. For his signature role in The Barber of Seville.

Yeah, I'm totally out of there.

Wherefore art thou?

2010-10-05T04:42:00.001-07:00

Oh Blog readers, have you given up on me? They say that if you want to keep your readership up, you have to be regular about writing, and I obviously haven't been. I took the summer (and when I say summer, I mean my summer vacation, which basically took place in the last month and a half) off, and now that I'm back in the saddle, I wonder if you all will come back and read again. Well, writing is cathartic enough that even if nobody is reading, I'll do it when I feel it anyway.

So, I'm back in Europe again. How did that happen? It truly seems like just yesterday I was packing up my suitcases in Innsbruck giddily, ready as ever to get back to the U.S. And I did have a month and a half off, but somehow it flew by so fast that I wasn't ready to reload and get back to work. But life goes on whether we're ready or not, and here I am, back to work.

On my flight here, I had a six and half hour silent, passive aggressive fight with the guy sitting next to me on the plane. I have a kindle now, which is really handy for traveling since it weighs next to nothing, and I can have unlimited english language books at my disposal, which is very comforting when you're in a foreign country. Anyway, you know how they make you turn off all electronic devices for take-off and landing? Well, I find that really annoying when I'm just trying to read my book, so I did a little research and discovered that the kindle is totally non-interfering with any airplane activity when you switch off the wireless signal, so it's totally safe to keep on, even during non-electronic moments on a flight. I've only had a flight attendant tell me to turn it off once, and when I explained to her that it was not really "electronic" and didn't have an on/off switch - just a sleep mode - she let me keep it on. Otherwise no one has ever said boo. Until my flight here yesterday.

The German dude sitting next to me, who was already pissing me off with his "hogging the armrests" antics, decided he was the electronics police. He leaned over to me as we were taxiing and said "Aren't we supposed to turn off all electronic devices for take-off and landing?" I looked at him sideways and asked "why?" and he glared down at my kindle and replied, "You should turn that off. Now." So I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt - maybe he's one of those nervous fliers and is afraid my kindle will cause the plane to crash, so I tried explaining how it works to him: "No - you see, once you turn off the wireless function - which I already did - it no longer emits any signals that can interfere with the plane - I've checked it out before." He looked at me suspiciously and and shook his head, muttering "you should turn it off." And then he looked around, apparently trying to find a flight attendant to tell on me. Never mind that they had passed by me a hundred times already and not said a peep. He continued to glare at me and my kindle all during take-off, and, as far as I could tell, spread out as much as possible so I had to keep my arms tucked into my sides as if I was wearing a straightjacket. My only revenge was, upon seeing he had ordered a special vegetarian meal, ordering the chicken. I really wanted the pasta, but I wanted his big glasses wearing, mayor of the airplane self to have to smell my meaty dinner. Ah, traveling.

I don't actually start any jobs until Thursday, when my first rehearsal for the Kindertotenlieder is scheduled, but I wanted to come to Europe a few days before that to recover from jet-lag. I fly to Vienna tomorrow and the concert is on Saturday, then back to Berlin Sunday, and rehearsals for Barber begin Monday. If I'm not feeling ready, I'd better get over it quick. Like; today.

Being back in Berlin is very comforting, however, as far as traveling to foreign countries goes. I know where I am, how to get places, and yet there's always so much more to discover. I already know how the public transportation works and where to validate my ticket and what direction to go. I even know what brand of German cereal I like. It's small comforts like these which keep me relatively sane, and eternally grateful.

Now I need to go practice. Tap tap tap...is this thing on?

Vows

2010-09-22T18:59:00.001-07:00

A year ago I wrote a post about my best friend Georgia getting married. Well, my other best friend Will recently made the same lovely leap, and his was documented by the New York Times (and recently blogged by Perez Hilton). If you're a regular reader of my blog, you will remember my references to Will (I also wrote this blog post about Kim, his husband). Well, now they're famous. Hope they remember me when.... :)

The Daily Slog

2010-09-13T15:42:00.000-07:00

Living the life of a musician - but particularly one whose instrument is housed inside their body - is such an odd existence. "Work" as we know it as humans (and especially as Americans, who are trained from birth at the fine art of HARD WORK) is a strange way to define what we do, even though that's how we make our livelihood. My last facebook status update said, "Does listening to a recording of a coaching count as practicing?" and although it was meant to be funny, I was also kind of serious. Is it possible that something as passive as listening to yourself sing could be productive?

I can only answer for myself, but for me the answer is HELL to the YES (maybe that phrase only works as HELL to the NO - in which case, I apologize for my obvious nerdiness in trying to employ it incorrectly). I've found that when I'm learning a new piece of music, one of the single most productive things I can do is to have a solid coaching on the piece, but one where I make whatever mistakes I am apt to make, and then listen to a recording of that coaching. All I have to do is hear myself making that mistake (whether it be diction, music, rhythm, style) a couple of times, and my brain miraculously fixes it. I don't know the science behind why this works, but it's a really handy trick for singers since repeating something over and over tires out your voice and can only be done for a certain length of time. I'm always totally amazed by how much better I seem to know a piece of music after having just one coaching and listening to it a couple of times. By the next coaching I'm in a completely different place with the piece and can actually start making it my own musically and stylistically.

So last night, feeling a little sedentary in my apartment (and also feeling guilty for not having sung a note all day but feeling a little too wiped out to actually sing through anything) I donned my raincoat and walked the 25 blocks it took me to listen to my last coaching of Kindertotenlieder all the way through, and then wash, rinse, repeated the whole procedure back up to my apartment. And today when I started singing through the pieces they really felt they were in me and I was barely looking down at the score.

I'm still having trouble internalizing the texts however. The only way to memorize a piece is to know what you're singing (trying to memorize something without knowing what the words mean takes much longer) and my brain just doesn't want to KNOW know what these words mean. I mean, of course, I have translated them, and I know what the words mean, but when I try to infuse my own emotions into the texts and connect my own feelings with them, I get very upset. It's partially because the poems themselves are just heartbreaking, but it's mostly the way Mahler set them that gets to me. His music is so incredibly nostalgic - most of the songs are remembering moments from the children's lives or imagining what the world would be like if they were still there. There's this one song where the poet is talking about how sometimes he forgets that the children aren't just out on a walk, and keeps expecting them to appear from behind the next hill, and Mahler does this horribly evocative thing where he doesn't let the singer finish the phrase harmonically, but just has the vocal melody stop in the middle of the harmonic phrase, allowing the orchestra to take over and finish. It's impossibly devastating. This idea of an unfinished life, so shatteringly illustrated with one small harmonic device. Honestly, if the songs weren't so genius musically, I don't think anyone would ever be able to listen to them because the subject is so horrible. It just demonstrates how transcendent music really is.

Oh, how I long for the day when I'm just singing The Barber of Seville again, and my blog posts can be about eating sugar and slipping on the ice in Berlin!

P.S. I'm fooling with some design options on my blog, so you might see some strange stuff going on in the coming days.....

Absence

2010-09-06T08:23:00.001-07:00

Hi guys. Wow - I'm really sorry I haven't written anything in a long time. This could be the least I've blogged in the entire time I've been keeping this online journal. But it corresponds directly with two things - the end of the longest and hardest stretch of uninterrupted work I've had, maybe ever, and the beginning stages of a new relationship.

First of all, I had just a bit of burnout from a long intense period of very focused concentration. I kind of wanted to turn my brain completely off, including even the creative juices required for me to write a few paragraphs. The second reason is a little more complicated. I have said before that one of the reasons the blog is so vital to me is that I go off to all these places, and have all these experiences, and almost feel like they're happening in a vacuum because I'm all alone when they occur. There's a difference between walking down the street by yourself in Austria and suddenly seeing a man who is naked from the waist up, wearing horns and beer cans on his head, and seeing a sight like that when you're with someone. When you're by yourself, you wonder - did that just happen? Did I just see that? Am I in the twilight zone? Not having anyone to immediately explain that experience to feels strange, so I had gotten in the habit of recording weird or wonderful happenings in my brain like stories, and writing them down later on my blog. This sharing of my experiences really enhanced everything that was happening to me, and made it somehow more vivid and real. But when you have someone you're talking to every day come rain or shine, your stories become real when you tell them to that partner. It's funny; I always noticed that when I was on the road somewhere, if I had someone visiting me, I wouldn't feel like writing on my blog. Writers often say that they need to be isolated - even lonely - to get good writing done. I guess thus far, this has been the case for me as well.

But, bad news for my writing, I'm not feeling too lonely these days. I've been in Chicago for the past week and a half, doing little other than having a fun time. Although since Michael has a job during the day, I have actually been working on music for a couple of hours every day, learning the Mahler and keeping my business stuff in order. And no, I'm not going to stop writing my blog just because I have a boyfriend. Writing has become such an important and meaningful pastime for me these past couple of years, and in addition, I feel really connected to all of you who read what I'm writing and make comments. But like anything else, it becomes more difficult when I don't do it as often, and my fingers and my brain feel rusty and kind of slow. I just need to get back into the practice of being creative and find new inspirations besides solitude for putting words on a page.

One more note for now; as I have blogged about before, Michael does a podcast every week called OperaNow! where he and his co-hosts discuss the news about Opera in the world, as well as taking different operas and playing various recordings, and discussing vocal and compositorial style and technique in a very in depth and informative way. But Michael and his co-host Oliver also happen to be really funny and irreverent, which is very refreshing for a discussion about Opera. I've become a more regular panelist on the podcast, and was on last weeks show, and will also be on the one we will record live today, which will be up on the website and in itunes in the next day or so. If you're one of my blog readers who hasn't yet checked out the podcast, I would highly recommend that you do. Not because I'm trying to promote my boyfriend - just because one of the reasons we're compatible is that we have similar senses of humor, and if you like mine, you'll probably like his too.

And don't worry, I'll be back to blogging regularly now. I'm sure you were all crying yourselves to sleep every night wondering when I would be back. Dry those tears, friends. I've returned.

Vacay

2010-08-20T12:32:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I've been away from the blog, and from singing in general this week. I pulled out Kindertotenlieder today, which is my next project (in the beginning of October in Austria) and looked at it for about 4.3 minutes before putting it away again. I did download an amazing recording of Christa Ludwig singing them - man, that lady had breath control for days and days. Not only are my body and mind not ready to learn music again just yet, but every time I read the poems I get horribly depressed. I will really have to learn the music without thinking about the text, and then at the very end, internalize what the text means. I want to have those poems (about the death of the poets child, for those of you who don't know them) in my soul for as short a time as possible. I don't even like to see sad movies - what can I say?

In the meantime, I was pleased (and a little shocked) to discover a review from L'Olimpiade that appeared in the New York Times. Here's the link. I haven't even had the courage to read the German language reviews yet, but you can't really avoid the New York Times even if you try.

And here are some images from the production:

I'll be back soon, I promise. Until then, pass the wine and keep me away from german lieder.

Olympic wrap up

2010-08-13T03:41:00.000-07:00

It really is appropriate that the opera I finished singing last night is called the Olympics, because not only was akin to an athletic event, with it's length, sheer volume of italian words, and technical requirements, but also because it came at the end of a very long stint of working without a break, overlapping job upon job, and running from country to country. I feel like I just ran a very long marathon, and I am daggone tired. Right at this very moment, I am in the Munich airport waiting for my flight back to New York, which, on Friday the 13th is delayed a couple of hours because we had to get a new plane. Fabulous.

I was actually really surprised how incredibly difficult L'Olimpiade ended up being. I mean, I guess I shouldn't be that surprised, since after the second or so coaching I had on it back in St Louis, I started crying. It just seemed like such an enormous volume of material, of which there was no recording, and no libretto with translation available. I would get through one extraordinarily long recitative with the conductor who was kind enough to go through it with me, (especially kind, since he was forced to sight read the figured bass in the recits and the full orchestral score for the arias), and turn the page to find another even longer one, followed by a 12 page aria. It just seemed endless when I was learning it, and unlike many pieces that seem shorter once you know them, this piece still seemed endless when I was performing it. I never once relaxed - I went through every scene compulsively as many times as possible in my dressing room before every rehearsal and performance. I sang through each aria before I went onstage to perform it. I recited all the recits in my head on every day off. It was a mountain. And if I zoned out for a second on stage (which is not difficult in a 5 hour opera), I would snap out of it, panic, and then reconnect to the material as quickly as possible. I didn't drop any of the recit lines in any of the performances, but almost certainly forgot to double some consonants some nights, or rolled an r where it shouldn't have been.

The added stressor of this whole endeavor was the fact that Sony was making this live recording. This was apparently the recording summer for me - first the studio one of Agrippina, then the live one of this opera. The thing is, you're already nervous about a performance, wanting it to be as excellent as it can be. But if you know you have a tiny microphone taped to your head, and that lots of people who aren't in the theater that night are also going to hear what's coming out of your mouth, it's difficult not to become hyper aware of what you're doing. In the end however, I just performed as I normally would, with dramatic gasping and panting where it was required, and didn't try to sing cleanly because of the recording. I have absolutely no idea what the end product will be, because like the studio recording, I haven't done this before and don't know what I'm doing. All I could do was be myself on stage, and do what I normally do. The rest is up to the sound engineers.

Well, my plane is boarding, so I don't even have time to proof read this entry. Just know, I'm coming home from these Olympic games, and I'm so relieved. I don't even care if I won a medal - I'm just glad I competed.

The anatomy of anxiety

2010-08-09T12:56:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about fear in the last few days, and why we get afraid of things. Mostly because with the dress rehearsal and the premiere of L'Olimpiade approaching here in Innsbruck, I knew I was gonna be getting nervous, and I was dreading it. I have started to dread not performing in general, but the opening performances of operas because I get the most uncomfortably nervous for those performances. And because I know I will have those kind of nerves, I start to get nervous about the fact that I'm going to be nervous, because I know that performing is more difficult and a lot less fun when I'm all jumpy and wacky with nerves. I'm at the point now where even when I'm nervous, I have ways of counteracting my anxiety when I'm on stage, and it doesn't have much of an outward affect on my performance, mostly just on how much I'm able to enjoy myself in the moment.

At last night's premiere of L'Olimpiade, I did a lot to counteract opening night jitters. During the overture I did all kinds of stretching and moving around to try to keep my body from feeling the tightening it feels when I get nervous. And when I got out on stage, I commanded my brain to slow down and take care with the words I was saying instead of running by them too quickly to experience anything. The opera begins for me with an extraordinarily long recitative where I sing for so many pages in italian that it's easy for me to feel overwhelmed. But I felt like I managed to keep my energy up while still being in the moment. When I got to my first aria, I had this dry mouth thing that happens only when you're nervous, but I was refusing to let myself get sucked into constantly swallowing and licking my lips, which actually just makes it worse. At one point my lips were totally sticking to my teeth, but I just said to my brain "this isn't going to affect your singing, actually" and it didn't. I kind of looked like one of those little dogs who have been snarling and just haven't put their teeth away yet, but at least I didn't have to interrupt a phrase just to lick my lips. As usual, I had calmed down considerably by my second entrance, and with the exception of a brain fart or two (which you really can't avoid in a five hour opera when you factor in nerves and excitement) the show went well and was very well received by the audience. I couldn't believe it when I made my entrance during the third act at 11:40 at night and the theater was still full of people! It was like a miracle!

Just two more performances until I am officially on VACATION! For me, a dream vacation means being in my own apartment and being able to drink as much wine as I want whenever I want without having to think about whether or not passing out in a drunken stupor is going to affect my ability to remember italian recitatives the next day. You know, maybe that was my problem all along - maybe passing out in a drunken stupor would have cemented the italian recitatives in my head much quicker - especially if I was drinking a Chianti or something. I'll have to remember that for next time. But beginning this friday, I can just get drunk for the fun of it.

*perhaps it is a slightly unfortunate juxtaposition for me to end a blog post entitled "the anatomy of anxiety" with a paragraph about passing out drunk. Please rest assured that I am neither crazy nor an alcoholic. I'm just tired of being so effing serious all the time in my blog! It's time to bring back the funny! Or at least the mildly amusing (if what you'd been reading before this was the Wall Street Journal).

It's my birthday, baby!

2010-08-06T02:09:00.001-07:00

Yes it is. 35 years young today and still kicking.

What am I doing to celebrate this birthday? Why, I'm performing the final dress rehearsal (with a full audience, so basically a performance) of a 5 hour Pergolesi Opera to a bunch of people in Austria. What? That's not a normal way to celebrate your birthday?

Wow - I'm not gonna lie, the past week has been absolutely exhausting. The opera really is 5 hours long when you take the two breaks for intermission, and it feels like a marathon. And we've had rehearsals every day since Saturday - we had a piano dress rehearsal Saturday, two 3 hour stage orchestra rehearsals Monday, two more Tuesday, two more Wednesday, a pre-dress rehearsal yesterday (and the large air circulation unit near the stage blew up and sent dust flying onto the stage after only about 20 minutes into the first act, so we had to wait an hour before continuing with the rest) and tonight the final dress rehearsal. Of course singing Pergolesi for 5 hours isn't like singing Wagner for that long, but it's still exhausting emotionally and physically to keep your concentration and focus and energy going for that long. I'm really looking forward to the day off we have tomorrow before the premiere on Sunday.

Oh, also, as I previously mentioned, Sony is making a recording of the performances for release. So in addition to the microphones placed all around the stage and in the orchestra, we are each wearing body mikes that are taped to our faces. I kept seeing the little mikes on people's cheeks last night and thinking that the make-up department had painted little moles on their faces the way they sometimes do in period make-up. Plus, since the opera is so long, the macho microphone dudes have to come in during intermission and reach down our pants (or up our skirts) and fiddle with the mike packs. There really is no time for modesty in the theater - have I mentioned that since the mikes are always on, they can also hear us going to the bathroom? Yup. that must be real fun for them.

The singers in this group are really wonderful, both as singers and as people. I find that when I sing baroque opera, the singers I work with always seem to be so nice and generous and kind. I mean, singers in general are good people, but when I sing baroque music there is nary a diva in the bunch. I don't have a theory as to why that would be, but it's good news for me, as I seem to be singing more and more baroque music these days. And I have to say that even though this piece is extraordinarily long (since we are doing it without ANY cuts whatsoever) the music really is wonderful. Pergolesi wrote some incredible and varied music for this piece - especially for the castrati roles, which, in this case meant the two male leads AND the two female leads. Apparently in Rome in 1735 when the opera was premiered, women were not allowed on the stage, so not only were the two male leads sung by castrati, but their female love interests were as well. It is extraordinary for me to imagine male voices singing these four roles (which are all too high for a modern countertenor, so are all sung by women) and to imagine the female roles being interpreted by men. What an incredible journey this opera has come through, to now be performed and recorded 275 years later, albeit with different gendered voices portraying the leads. One of the things about music that is so overwhelming as both an artist and as a listener is to realize that you are not just observing history, you are giving it life.

So, all in all, not a bad way to spend my birthday.

And, in the spirit of being grateful for getting to live this life, I just want to say thank you to all of you for reading, and especially to those of you who take the time to comment. You are often leaving such supportive remarks, or even just sharing your opinions, and it means so much to me that you take the time to share some of yourselves with me. I'm not just saying that - I really do get so much out of being able to have this "conversation" with all of you, and I sincerely appreciate that you are willing to participate. I raise my (proverbial, because I can't get drunk before singing an opera) birthday glass to all of you!

The Pursuit of Happiness

2010-07-31T12:17:00.000-07:00

I haven't been blogging this week because my brain has been so full of italian recitative, I haven't had the space to create even a single coherent sentence. However, we had a run through of the opera yesterday, and I actually remembered everything, so I feel confident in allowing a few sentences to seep out of my brain this evening.

I had an interesting epiphany in the last couple of weeks that I have been wanting to share with all of you. It's not exactly earth-shattering - it's certainly been written about by many before me. However when something comes to you out of personal experience, it can be far more profound than reading about it in a book, or being told about it by someone else.

I try to keep my blog relatively positive and upbeat, because I try to keep my life in a "glass half full" kind of position. But a couple of years ago I was suffering from a little depression. First of all, I had no singing jobs lined up, and was worried that I would have to change careers not by choice but because of financial necessity. I felt like every performance I did had to knock it out of the park because I needed everyone to love me and hire me back, and this caused me a certain amount of anxiety about performing. Plus I was overly focused on my career and wasn't spending any time on my romantic life, which left me kind of lonely. I really thought that if I could just get a bunch of good jobs and find a boyfriend I would be happy all the time and all my life's problems would be solved.

Well, it's two years later, I have a lot of great jobs, I'm really busy with work, and I have a fantastic boyfriend. And I'm definitely in a happier place than I was at that point two years ago. BUT. I still have terrible days where I get really depressed. I still have anxiety about a lot of stuff - now instead of the things I was anxious about two years ago, I've found other things to be anxious about. I have days where I want to quit the business not out of necessity but because it makes me crazy. I have a great boyfriend but I have to be away from him a lot because I have all this work. And sometimes I miss him so much it physically hurts.

What I've realized from all this is that circumstances alone aren't what create a person's happiness. It's so easy for people - especially creative people with a passion for making their art - to feel that if they could just find success (whether that means steady income, regular jobs, fame, acknowledgement) in their field, they would be happy. But we also know that there are hugely successful people who commit suicide, and people living in poverty or desolation who manage to find their own bliss.

I think happiness is not created by circumstance, but it's something you choose to create within yourself, and which allows you to enjoy your circumstances, whatever they may be. This is an especially important lesson for artists to learn, because often what is defined as success can be rather elusive. You may not be getting paid to sing, or paint, or dance, or act. But that doesn't mean you can't be happy that you have that passion inside of you and the drive to continue growing as an artist. I still think that one of the most fulfilling artistic experiences I've had was singing in my high school choir. Nobody from the Berlin Staatsoper cares that I sang soprano II and wore a burgundy and black dress, and blended with other teenagers, but I still remember how much I enjoyed it, and what a profound impact it had on me as a person and as an artist.

I'm very grateful for the circumstances that have become my current reality. But I'm even more grateful for the realization that even if they should change, I can still enjoy the ride.

First Recording DONE!

2010-07-25T09:43:00.000-07:00

I finished my last day of recording on Friday afternoon and flew back to Innsbruck (via Munich) on Friday evening. I went right back into staging rehearsals here on Saturday, and today have a much needed day off. I needed a couple of days to gather my thoughts about the recording process before writing a post on it anyway. And now I'm sitting in my favorite little internet bar/cafe, drinking a big beer and gathering my thoughts about everything that happened in the past week.

As you may have gleaned from my last blog post, which I wrote on day 2 of the process (which was a total of 2 full days and 2 half days) I was feeling a little stressed at the beginning of the week. The day I arrived we recorded just some recits, which, while they require concentration, don't require a lot of intense singing. The second day, we started by recording all of the ensemble pieces, which have me singing in my very high passaggio. We repeated all of them many many times, and my voice got tired. Then, at the end of that morning session, we recorded my first solo singing moment, which was a quartet that has a long coloratura phrase at the end for me. As I mentioned, I couldn't get it to come out right, no matter how many times we repeated it. My voice was too tired, I hadn't slept well the night before, and I was feeling under pressure (we re-recorded that particular section on the last day successfully when I was more rested). Somehow, however, I managed to gather my strength and resources and record my first aria after the lunch break. The main reason I was able to do this was because I figured out that you can sing very lightly when making a recording of an aria like that one, and I think I managed to do it some justice.

I want to take a moment here to describe the recording process for those of you who might wonder what happens during a studio recording (I certainly had no idea prior to this experience). In this case, we tended to have a system that went something like this: With the recits, we would rehearse them once with all the continuo players, then record them once and go into the booth immediately afterwards and listen, with the conductor, the producer, and the diction coach giving us notes while we listened. Then we would go back out into the studio and do them as many times as it took to get everything onto the recording in a manner that pleased the Maestro, the producer, the singers, and the players. Arias were much the same; we would perform them once straight through and then go listen, taking down notes. Then we would often do the dacapo arias in sections, A, B, A - repeating the sections as necessary, and repeating small sections as necessary. In a typical session with one of the arias, the notes from the producer (who was listening very carefully in the booth) would be something like this; "Jennifer: in measure 42, the last two sixteenth notes are a little flat, and in measure 43, you are not quite with the oboes. Also, in measure 35, I can't understand the word "sdegno" and you need to make a clearer double D in the word "freddo." Let's take that section again" So you would repeat that section, and try to make sure you managed all the corrections. 5 minute sections of recitative typically took an hour or so to record and arias took between an hour and an hour and a half. It is exhausting not just vocally, but also mentally to be so focused on tiny details, but it's also incredibly rewarding to be able to sing each phrase exactly how you dream you could sing it on your best day.

So, after the second day, things became considerably easier for me. I recorded two arias and some recit on day 3, and more recit plus my big vengeance aria on day 4. By then I had figured out how to work the microphone, how much I needed to sing, and what things sounded good and what things didn't. Plus I started to feel much less stressed about the corrections when I realized that everyone was getting essentially the same types of corrections, and these are just the natural tendencies of the human voice. In real life, I don't often have people telling me that I'm singing flat or sharp, but I had to accept that when you are a mere six inches from a very sensitive microphone, you have to be extraordinarily vigilant about intonation, so I was. When we finally reached my final aria (which is the one from the clip I posted on the blog from youtube from the production), and which is Nerone's only chance to sing full out, balls the the walls, I actually started to have some fun. I was still trying to be hyper conscious about in tune sixteenth notes, but I was actually enjoying rocking out with this amazing orchestra and experiencing a real symbiosis with the players. There is a fantastic oboe obbligato during that aria, and the amazing oboist was standing right next to me on the next mike, and I felt like we were really synching up in a way that's impossible in the middle of a staged performance. I just let go and let it rip. Finally, I found myself smiling between takes.

Like many experiences, the first time is probably the most difficult, but also the most memorable. Your learning curve is steep, but so is your sense of accomplishment when you start to figure things out. And while the final result won't be available for quite awhile, I'm sitting here, drinking my beer, and celebrating a milestone in my life and my career. Cheers!

Recording

2010-07-21T02:44:00.000-07:00

Right now, it's Day 2 of my very first recording project. I'm at the Teldex studios in Berlin recording Nerone in Handel's Agrippina for Harmonia Mundi. I arrived from Innsbruck yesterday, got off the plane, ate a pizza, and went straight into the studio for my first session. As I was boarding the plane from Munich (no direct flights from Innsbruck to Berlin apparently) I thought to myself, " Whose life is this? I'm working on one exciting project in Europe, and jetting off to Berlin to make a RECORDING? When exactly did this become my reality?" But no time to wonder, because there was work to be done.

Can I tell you something? Recording is stressful!! I mean, of course, you have the opportunity to stop and do everything over, which is comforting. But the reason you have that option is because what you're doing has to be perfect. Every single note in tune, beautiful, full of color and expression, perfect diction. Certainly, this is what we strive for in every performance, but no one expects actual perfection in a live performance (well, except maybe some really mean reviewers). But in recordings, you have the opportunity to do everything perfectly at least once, so you'd better do it.

I almost had a nervous breakdown after the morning session because there was this phrase that I just couldn't do well enough. Every time I tried it something went wrong - I ran out of breath, or went slightly out of tune, or made some diction mistake, or went out of tempo. And the more times I did it wrong, the more stressed I got, and the worse the phrase sounded. And that was the end of the morning session, and when we returned, I would record my first aria. I knew I had to keep it together so I could do the aria justice.

And then during the afternoon session, I suddenly figured out how it all worked. I realized that when you're standing mere inches from a microphone, the type of sound you are required to produce is quite different from when you are on a stage. First of all, you can sing as softly as you want to. Secondly, you don't need to expel or compress nearly as much air because you don't have any need to project past the footlights. Third, if you sing too forcefully, the flaws in your voice will be over -exposed. Now - this is probably pretty specific to baroque music - obviously if you're singing Verdi or Wagner on recording, you use a different technique. Also, I'm making this recording with Rene Jacobs, whose recordings are so successful precisely because of his incredibly exacting standards. But in baroque music, the voice is utterly exposed, and requires a certain type of finesse in recording. I was just singing with my normal voice, as if I was trying to project in a theater, and I couldn't finesse each phrase nearly as delicately as one must in a recording. When I realized what I needed to do, it didn't get easier, but at least it started to make sense. We got my first aria recorded, and I didn't get fired, so I guess it wasn't too bad.

This is my first recording, so I'm just learning the ropes. But for most of the artists in this cast, this is one of many recordings they have made. Last night at dinner, some of the other singers were talking about how much the recording industry has changed since they made their first recordings 10, 15, and 20 years ago. One colleague was recalling a time when the record companies arranged for a uniformed chauffeur to pick each singer up in a Rolls Royce and bring them to the studio, where champagne and caviar would be served during the breaks. Other colleagues recalled getting paid 3 or 4 times what recordings pay now, and this was in an economy 15 years earlier. But even though we may have the vast earnings and the luxuries of the 80's behind us, another colleague pointed out that 15 years ago, all of us singers wouldn't be sitting down to a meal together like we were at that very moment. Apparently, there was so much money in those days, it caused a hierarchy among artists that seems to be far less intrusive in today's operatic circles. And we all agreed that we'd prefer to have wonderful colleagues with whom we could connect, communicate, and break bread, rather than all the champagne, caviar, and Rolls Royces in the world.

How to make mundane things more fun

2010-07-19T01:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, when I was writing that long post, I was actually procrastinating the fact that I had to go find a laundromat and do my laundry. I don't mind doing my laundry, but I hated the idea of walking into a laundromat in a foreign country and not being sure how stuff worked. Kilograms? Celsius? Euro?? I just hate that moment when you walk in, look around, have no idea how anything works, and don't have the words to ask.

So Michael (that's the ol' boyfriend - I guess I should just start calling him by name now, as he will now probably become a fixture in my posts, the way Will and Georgia have - you know them by now, right?) suggested that I take some footage of me feeling lost in the laundromat, and send it to him, and he would make it into a little film. And you know what? It worked! I had more fun knowing that I was going to be able to share the experience with you guys, and it made the whole thing seem less intimidating. He's a much cleverer video editor than I am, and I was delighted this morning to wake up and have this little gem waiting for me on youtube. Ah...the glamourous life we opera singers lead; lugging our suitcases full of dirty clothes to an unknown and unfamiliar place and trying to figure out which machine is the washer and which one is the dryer. Enjoy!

Roller Coaster

2010-07-18T06:44:00.000-07:00

First, let it be said that I have always really enjoyed roller coasters. I was never one to shy away from the scariest, most upside -down, curvy, crazy roller coaster ride because I've always gotten a huge charge out of the speediest moving, fastest dropping, wildest swinging rides. I would wait til the end of the day when the lines were short so I could repeat the scariest ride 5 times in a row. Although, I'm realizing that I haven't been to a park where they have roller coasters in probably 5 years, and I wonder if, as I get older, I would still want to line up just for the thrill of being thrown around by a big moving piece of metal.

I say this because yesterday, I was telling my boyfriend how excited I was by the rehearsal I had just finished, and how happy I was with how the week had gone, and he joked that I was practically bipolar - one day threatening to quit singing, the next day talking about how much I loved it. He was totally kidding, but I can see how someone who was talking to me on a regular basis would have the feeling that they were on a roller coaster ride, and they didn't know when the next dive-down or soar-up would be coming.

This week in rehearsals ended up being really fulfilling for me. For the last several days, we've been staging what is probably the central part of my role in this opera - the climactic lead up to the finale of the second act, which ends with a big crazy aria for me. I go through scene after scene with people coming on and off the stage getting mad at me, while I remain on stage trying to figure out what is happening. Then by the end of the act, I have figured out that I have caused all kinds of hell to break loose, and I have a "freak-out aria" (technical term). So for the last several days this week, I've been called to every rehearsal, and have been really concentrated and working very hard. Yesterday, we concluded with the staging of my freak-out aria, which involves me walking the opposite direction on the turn table covering the whole stage while it makes one full revolution during the course of my aria, as I'm getting lost in the maze that the set becomes when it's moving past me in a kind of slow motion haze. It's really cool looking (or at least feeling, since I can't actually see it from the outside) and I was so happy to have put in so much good hard work this week. Plus I finally started to feel like I had a better understanding of how to play this character after staging these scenes, and that all the gallons of recitative were finally starting to solidify into my brain. I was on a high after that.

Then I woke up this morning, the day off, and realized that by tomorrow, every single member of the cast will have a spouse/child/friend/lover/family member in town visiting them for the rest of the time here, whereas I am too far away from any of my people to coax them to come over here. Upon realizing this, I started to feel sorry for myself. I've been really spoiled for the last several gigs I've been on, in that I've been surrounded by a lot of very social people and I spent a lot of time having fun dinners and going out with all of them. I got the best of both worlds - to be enjoying my work, and to avoid the pitfalls of loneliness that often come with travel by spending time with a bunch of people I really liked. I guess I was due for one of these gigs that we all dread where you spend most of your free time by yourself. Cue roller coaster dip.

Actually, you may have noticed that I've been blogging more than usual since I've been to Austria. It's because when I first arrived here I felt really unsteady, like I didn't quite have my footing. I realized that I needed to do some stuff that grounds me and makes me feel like "myself." That might sound like a weird thing to say, but when you're in a country you've never been to before, trying to communicate in a language at which your skills could be described as shoddy at best, doing a difficult opera you've never done before, with not a soul you've ever met before, you just don't feel like yourself. We tend to define ourselves most easily by our environment, the people around us, and our work. When all of that is new and different, things start to feel a little wonky. So I started blogging more, getting more regular exercise, and studying my music every morning over coffee or tea. And it really helped. Actually I feel better every time I write a blog entry. So thank you for reading this, because you're actually helping me center myself by caring enough to spend 5 minutes with my rambling thoughts.

My response to my boyfriend teasing me about my bipolar behavior was to say that being an artist is like being on a roller coaster. Some people can't stand all the highs and lows, and prefer a life of mediums, so they get off the ride. Other people get addicted to the thrill of the unknown, and can't ride it enough. I think I fall somewhere in the middle - I like to enjoy the exciting parts of the ride, but could do without the parts that make you feel like you want to puke. So I do my best to keep the roller coaster from turning into a never-ending Tilt-a-Whirl by controlling the things I can control, and grounding myself when the ride gets too crazy for me to handle.

And if things get too slow around here, I can always climb onto the turntable and ask them to turn it onto the fastest setting. I just hope the spinning during my aria doesn't make me puke in the middle of a trill. No - I'm sure it will be fine - all those years of riding roller coasters will finally serve a practical purpose.

Boys will be boys (and girls will too)

2010-07-15T03:58:00.000-07:00

This is going to be a long one, so get ready.

I’ve been meaning for some time to write a post about something that some people might call a “specialization” of mine; playing dudes. I would say that the bulk of my repertoire involves me singing trouser roles – certainly over half the roles I sing have me in pants. And this summer not only am I singing the self-involved and probably slightly homosexual character Licida in Pergolesi’s L’Olimpiade here in Innsbruck, I’m also revisiting everyone’s favorite crazy guy Nerone (in Agrippina) next week, when I go to Berlin to record that role for Harmonia Mundi. (Sony will also record the performances of L’Olimpiade – details forthcoming)

I try to not be a braggart, but one thing that I’m pretty sure I’m good at is physicalizing a teenage boy. People ask me a lot why I’m good at looking clumsy and gangly and having quick, impetuous energy, and the easy answer is because that’s actually how I am in real life. When I play graceful women on stage, I actually have to work at it, whereas, when I play googly-eyed boys, I can almost just be myself. I don’t know why, because I don’t have brothers and I wasn’t exactly a tomboy (I was more into tap dancing than soccer practice as a kid), but there’s something about my personal energy that lends itself really well to playing an uncomfortable, impulsive teenaged boy. Plus I’m 5’9” tall in bare feet (176 cm, thank you), my arms and torso are just a little too long, and I have big eyes and a relatively square jaw. Add some darkened eyebrows and a short wig, and gay men everywhere start wanting to spend extra time chatting me up.

There’s also a vocal quality that I think lends itself to masculine roles. I think of people who have a more “silvery” sound as being able to sound more masculine while people with a more “gold” sound tend to sound more feminine. Mezzos who sing Carmen a lot tend to have that more gold sound, whereas my voice has more silver in it. It’s maybe a narrower, slimmer sound, but still with darkness, which is what makes me a mezzo. Does that make sense? It probably sounds like gibberish, it’s just what I’ve assessed from listening to a lot of singers and deciding for myself which ones sound exactly right for which roles.

That was a lot of intro to begin talking about what happens in my brain and my body when I’m playing a guy. There are different types of male roles – there are the more heroic, or regal roles, the more stoic ones, and then the younger more gangly ones. Sesto in Clemenza did Tito or either of the trouser roles that can be sung by mezzos in Giulio Cesare are good examples of more regal, serious, upright pants roles, while Cherubino, Stephano, and even Nero, and this character that I’m singing now, Licida, are younger and more impetuous. Therefore, they have a different energy, and a faster speed of motion. I let my gangly arms do what they want to do when I’m not trying to control them, and I take large, quick steps, as if I’m not sure what direction I might need to move next. I lead with my pelvis (obviously – what are teenage boys thinking about ALL THE TIME?) and I spend a lot of time getting down on the ground and splaying all my limbs akimbo. Inside my head I keep a crackling energy – like the popping of popcorn, and the feeling of utter impulsiveness – the kind that keeps your thoughts swirling in a million directions at once. I’m quick to pout and slouch, but also need to keep a sexual energy alive in my being at all times. When I want to get somewhere I often run or even dive if the desired thing is on the floor. I think the main thing is that I am VERY physical and constantly in motion, if not with my body, then with my mind.

The character I’m playing now, Licida, is really interesting. He’s completely self involved. Here’s a 10 second plot summary of the Metastasio libretto which was set to music by many composers; Licida is in love with Aristea, so he gets his best friend Megacle (who owes him, since Licida saved his life before) to compete in the Olympic games under his name (apparently Licida is not so good with the sports) so that Licida himself can claim the prize – the king’s daughter Aristea. Well, Megacle and Aristea are secretly in love, but Megacle, out of duty, does the deed anyway and sacrifices his own love for Licida’s desires. Meanwhile, Licida’s old girlfriend, Argene, comes looking for him, and when she discovers that he has moved on, threatens to expose this switcheroo plot to the King. Stuff happens, Licida thinks Megacle kills himself and is devastated (which is a typical operatic misunderstanding), the King finds out about Licida’s deception and exiles him, Licida freaks out and tries to kill the King, so then Licida is condemned to death. But in the end we discover that Licida is actually the King’s son, switched at birth, and the woman he was supposedly in love with is his twin sister! The King begs the people to forgive Licida for his crimes so he won’t have to kill his son, they agree, and the two original couples reunite. Licida also has some homosexual undertones, and it seems that the person he is actually in love with is his best friend Megacle (3 out of 4 arias are either sung to him or about him). He’s so self centered that he doesn’t even pick up on the fact that he’s about to have his best friend help him steal his own girlfriend, and he’s a total jerk to his old girlfriend Argene when she re-appears (think Don Giovanni and Elvira). Yet he does at least have a character arch, and by the end of the Opera he has realized the errors of his selfish ways, and has become a better man as a result. Good thing he turns out to be the King’s son so he doesn’t have to meet his maker.

One thing that’s kind of challenging in this opera is wondering how exactly to play the gay thing – should it be obvious or just suggested? Also, the other trouser role is played by a woman – a soprano – so relating to another woman playing a man is different than relating to a woman being a woman. I thought about this last year, when I was singing Orsini in Lucrezia Borgia, and the production had me as the tenor’s homosexual lover (we had a bed scene and everything). The challenge in that was relating to the man as another man and not as a woman. Now I have to relate to another woman as a man, and keep my masculine energy. That’s a brain teaser for you!

One of the beautiful things about gender confusion in opera is that it provides a sexual ambiguity which creates an interesting element of playfulness and non-reality. But you also sort of suspend your disbelief and start to see that woman as a young man the more she’s on stage (and assuming she’s doing her job well). It’s a lovely element of theater that we really only see a lot in this art form, and I love that I get to play in this particular sandbox.

Now if I could just figure out how to bench press more than 8 pounds, I’d really have the market cornered.

Fixed

2010-07-13T14:47:00.000-07:00

At rehearsals today, one of the other singers asked me a question I often get asked by European singers; “Are you fixed somewhere, or are you freelance?” It’s a question Americans never ask each other because we don’t have the opportunity to have “fixed” or “fest” contracts. There are no opera companies in the U.S. that can afford to have a roster of singers for whom working at the theater is their permanent job. Of course, we have the Met, which has a roster of “plan artists” who are usually singing secondary roles, and we have our young artist programs, which allow young singers to live in one place for a couple of years while they “cook.” But otherwise, we are either destined to be nomadic drifters, or we move to Europe.

It got me thinking about how different the lives of American singers would be if they had the opportunity to stay in one place and still have careers as opera singers. The way our system works now, if you want to settle down and be at home more, you can either get a teaching position at a University, or switch completely to a different career. There is simply no way to have a career as an opera singer unless you are willing to be on the road for between 6 to 12 months per year. I honestly don’t think most young singers who are getting their degrees in vocal performance realize this. I mean, maybe they realize it intellectually, but there is no way to internalize what it really means until you have experienced it.

And as I’ve observed before, European singers honestly just seem so much more relaxed than American singers when it comes to their careers. Whenever I do a gig in Europe, most of the singers I work with are really busy, have plenty of gigs, and are coming from one gig to another, or fitting a few extra gigs into the schedules of their fixed houses. Whereas when I do a gig with mostly American singers, everybody is always complaining about the fact that they have no work. Seriously. Everybody. When the General or Artistic Director of the company walks in, the temperature and mood of the room changes and everybody perks up a little bit. They have to – they need to get hired back so they will be able to feed themselves and their families, but also for their emotional well-being. But in Europe, nobody even looks up when the GD walks in – they just continue on with their business, knowing that there’s plenty of work to go around.

So, okay, you move to Europe. I used to think this was what I would eventually do. At different points in my life I have been planning on moving to Paris, Rome, Berlin, Vienna – you name a big capital with an opera language, and I’ve thought about moving there. I love Europe – I really do – so many things about the sensibilities and cultural affectations of European countries make me feel right at home. And who knows what my future will hold – I can’t predict where I will end up. But I just can’t wrap my mind around giving up my apartment in New York and picking up and actually living over here. Who knows, maybe I’m feeling overly patriotic because I just took an unexpected trip to the U.S. over Fourth of July Weekend. Maybe I just have a different perspective these days. Maybe my brain just isn't capable of learning how to speak German. I mean, the word order is insane, people! Frankly, word order is probably reason enough to scare me into staying in the comfort of my own living room. For now, anyway.

Planning ahead

2010-07-11T05:50:00.000-07:00

There are so many things I love about Europe. Really. I love that you can see buildings that were built thousands of years ago. I love that you can actually live the history and culture of the place. I love trying to figure out another language. I even love that they don’t use air conditioning and let their laundry air dry. Love love love.

But.

I hate that stuff isn’t open on Sundays. It really is one of the things that drives me absolutely crazy every time I’m here, and no matter what I do, I cannot get used to it. I know, I know, I’m an American consumer, used to over the over-saturated convenience of wanting what I want NOW. It’s an unhealthy, capitalistic notion full of entitlement. But I still seriously need shit on Sundays.

Like this morning. I woke up in the middle of the night, and really needed some advil. There are certain pains that only advil can cure me of, and this was one of them. I searched around in my stuff, and I had a bottle, but there were only two left. Enough to let me go back to sleep in the moment, but to cause me to roll my eyes before I drifted back to sleep, knowing that it was Sunday, and I was going to have to go on some kind of major expedition when I woke up in order to find a pharmacy that is actually open.

After I woke up, I set out into the streets hoping that Austria would be different from Germany and Italy, and I would magically find that they sold advil at the Grocery Store, which would magically be open on Sundays. No on both counts. I walked through the “Old Town” where all the tourists congregate thinking that some brilliant person would keep their pharmacy open on Sundays for all the stupid Americans who needed to buy asprin and didn’t plan ahead. The only place I found open besides the restaurants was a tourist postcard shop, and I conjured up my best smile and my best German to ask the nice lady if she knew of any pharmacies open on Sundays? She scowled at me and asked in a mean Austrian accent how should she know these things, I would have to ask in the tourist office, dummy. She didn’t say dummy out loud, but she said it with her eyes.

So after more walking and suffering, I found the tourist office, with a line 15 people deep. I saddled myself up to the side of a counter and tried to get a woman’s attention who was shuffling papers. I mean, I didn’t want to buy the special tour card all these people were waiting for, I just needed some freaking advil! “Entschuldigung?” I said, loudly enough for her to hear. She ignored me. “Entschuldigung?” I said even louder. Still ignored me. So I just yelled it in a voice that was obviously too loud, so that she had to look up. I asked her in my same German about open pharmacies, and she answered me in a voice that was way too soft for me to hear (especially after how loud I had to talk to get her to pay attention to me) and pointed to the left. “It’s open today?” I asked again, just to be sure (still in German). She said something else soft, pointed, and looked away from me to show she was done with me.

I set out again into the old town in the direction she had pointed, and finally saw a sign that said Apotheka with a light on! Eureka! Nope, it was not open. So I continued to walk around until I passed a café that I had been told had internet, and since I had my computer with me, I decided to stop and have a coffee, hoping the caffeine would at least help a little in the meantime. I asked a couple of different waitresses if they knew of any open pharmacies, and finally one kindly leaned over my computer and typed something in German, which magically brought up a list of the pharmacies that were open on Sunday! And she even told me in great detail, in a mix of English and German, how to get there from where I was!!

It turned out to be like 5 minutes from my apartment in the opposite direction that I had started out in. Of course. And it wasn’t actually open open – there was just a little tiny window where the pharmacist could peek out and ask you what you needed.

Luckily, he knew what ibuprofen was (It’s called Nurofen, in case you’re ever in a German speaking country and need some), and for only 5 Euro 50, I was about to feel some sweet relief. He was weirded out that I took the above photo, but come on! How often am I going to come up to a pharmacy, where the drugs are doled out of a tiny window, above which you are looking at a reflection of the Alps? Only here, probably.

I probably won’t ever learn exactly how to be a native here. Or how to speak German very well. But who cares? I got my drugs. Ahhhhh.

Okay, now what?

2010-07-10T05:37:00.000-07:00

As you can see from the video and photo I posted in the last couple of entries, I have arrived in Innsbruck, and am now firmly in Europe for the next month and 3 days. Now what?

Well, the rehearsal schedule has been blissfully light so far - I had a couple of hours the first day, a couple the second day, a day off, and only an hour and a half of music tomorrow. I say blissfully because with all the travel and jet lag, I found myself sagging in rehearsal after about an hour at a time. But at the same time I get really frustrated when the schedule is too light for two reasons; first, when I don't have an imposed schedule I start to feel at loose ends, and second, I wish there were a way to condense the rehearsal process so we had a shorter number of days, but less time off during the process. The European people all jet home on the long free weekends to see their families, leaving the poor little American alone to twiddle her thumbs and thank her lucky stars for the existence of the internet. I've been gung-ho about all this European travel over the last couple of years, but it's starting to catch up with me and make me wonder if in fact I'm cut out for this kind of lifestyle.

Of course, everyone has their doubts about living a life like this. Even the most successful, driven opera singers sit in the window of their hotel room or newly subletted short term apartment, and stare out into space, imagining a life where they could walk their dog every day and tend to their garden. Where they could actually subscribe to magazines and have standing lunch dates in their town with their friends. A life where they could kiss their partner goodnight every night, in the same time zone, and in person, and where they never had to think about getting lost. Then something happens; they take an unexpected trip to the supermarket on the corner near their hotel, and discover a tiny street they didn't know was there with an amazing, unmarked restaurant that has the best tomato sauce they have ever tasted. Then they go to rehearsal and discover a new ornament perfectly suited to their voice, or a new direction in which to take their character which makes perfect sense, or a new place to get a laugh. And then they get a paycheck for what feels like playing around and sightseeing for a month. And then their agent calls, and tells them, "Great news! Blankety blank wants to hire you for such and such role that you've been dying to sing!" And they sigh, look out the window at that dream of the garden and the unchanged time zones and ask "Where do I sign?"

The grass is often greener from wherever you stand. If your dream has always been to have an opera career, and instead you are waiting tables, you can't imagine any factors that would cause you to not want to achieve that dream. Then you start achieving the dream, and the pangs of loneliness, anxiety, stress, and heartbreak build up, and you dream about having a normal life. Then, some people go ahead and make the change to living a normal life, and dream about all the excitement, challenges, and opportunities that not having an opera career causes them to miss. There is no ONE life that will make you happy - each choice has its pros and cons and ups and downs. You can certainly choose to have a more stable life, both emotionally and financially but you might miss the excitement, and you won't really know until you try. You also might NOT miss the emotional roller coaster, and find that you are more content to know where you'll be in two months, instead of wondering whether the apartment you will stay in will have a washing machine or a wifi connection. Or you might start to feel you'll wither away without the feeling of those hot lights on your face and your voice soaring out over the orchestra. Who can predict it?

All we can do is live our lives one day at a time, and honor our own gut feelings about what is right for us. And be grateful for all the things we do have in this moment instead of longing for what we don't.

10 days, 5 countries, in under 5 minutes

2010-07-08T13:36:00.000-07:00

Insanity

2010-07-07T12:47:00.001-07:00

As I sit here in my room, glancing out my window at the imposing Alps....... who SAYS stuff like that??? Well, apparently me. I went from American/British iconoclastic to Italian idyllic to Chicago urbania to being stared down by a famous mountain range in the period of 10 days. It's all almost too much for me to digest, and I'm living it! This is the view out my bedroom window here in Innsbruck, where I arrived today after flying Chicago to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Munich, and a two hour car ride into this Austrian paradise. And I arrived in my new apartment, opened up the windows, and nearly passed out.

After this whirlwind week, I am much too tired to string together too many coherent sentences. I just have to plug the OperaNow! podcast, on which I was an in house panelist this week. We discussed a lot of interesting subjects including baroque style and whether glottal coloratura (or ha ha coloratura as we often fondly call it) is better or worse than legato coloratura. I enjoy these passionate discussions - even if they're just about whether or not you're putting h's in your phrases. Now off to sleep - tomorrow, first day of staging!

Crossing the globe

2010-07-03T06:57:00.000-07:00

Oddly enough, I’m sitting in the Milan airport on my way to Chicago. How did this happen? I just got to Europe on Monday!

Well, when I arrived in Mondovi, I discovered that 3 out of 7 of the singers were ill, and wouldn’t be coming to Mondovi at all, and would be arriving late in Innsbruck as well. In fact, the only two characters with whom I have any interactions during the first act would not arrive in Innsbruck until Thursday of next week. So on Wednesday, the director told me that I would not be called to rehearsals from Thursday afternoon until the following Thursday, and I was free to go somewhere else if I wanted to.

I know from experience that being stuck in a town where there isn’t a lot going on and where you’re not working can be really awful. And while Innsbruck is supposed to be beautiful, it’s also pretty quiet, and I’ll have 6 weeks there to explore every nook and cranny as it is. So I furiously started searching the internet to see what I might do with myself with this free week. I thought about visiting one of my many friends in Europe, or taking a trip to southern Italy, or visiting my lovely Berlin. But I knew where I really wanted to be this week was in Chicago. See, I may or may not have moonily mentioned in my last blog that there’s now a special someone…… So anyway, I found the cheapest ticket I could from Milan to Chicago, and then Chicago back to Munich (the nearest big airport to Innsbruck) in time for my first rehearsal, and I’m on my way.

I left Mondovi yesterday afternoon after a morning recit rehearsal with the director, and took a train to Torino. In Torino I managed to spend an hour and a half with my dear Italian “brother” Vincenzo (about whom I wrote this blog), and stuffed my face with some delicious gelato. I couldn’t believe I’d been in Italy for 4 days and hadn’t yet eaten gelato – what a sin! Then I boarded a train for Milan, where I spent the evening with another dear friend who I have also blogged about, Kate Aldrich, who is currently in rehearsals for her La Scala debut as Rosina. We ate at this amazing restaurant that her boyfriend had recommended, and I mean to tell you that my last meal in Italy was exactly what I had in mind.

We started with a plate of utterly amazing cured meats, cheeses, and bruschetta with the freshest tasting tomatoes (how do they DO that in Italy??) and this other crazy thing called Straciatella, which is a type of fresh cheese that is prepared in the same way the Mozerella burrata is – it’s very hard to describe, but it's kind what I imagine butter would taste like if it were made out of cheese. Plus there was something called lardo – which is what it sounds like – very thinly sliced pieces of fat that you put on bread. I was rolling my eyes back in my head and stamping my feet in ecstasy when I tasted it. We also had a perfect insalata mista – I love how the Italians just give you a few vegetables – arugula, radicchio, carrots and lettuce, and some really good olive oil and balsamic vinegar to put on top. Finally, we had tagliatelle with a sauce made out of tomato and wild boar. It was very rich and utterly delicious. I realize I don’t usually go into such detail when I describe my meals, but if I go back and look at the blog entries I wrote when I was singing in Italy, I did that often. What can I say? Italy makes me a foodie.

And now I’m on my way back to the States. I can only imagine the effect all this back and forth across time zones is going to have on my jet-lag. I’m hoping that somehow it will cancel itself out, and by the time I arrive in Innsbruck on Wednesday I will somehow be perfectly adjusted.

Wow. Woody Harrelson is standing right in front of me at the airport. Nobody is talking to him – I guess he’s less famous in Italy. He’s downing two bottles of water. Smart thinking Woody – hydrating is key for transcontinental flights. By this point, I should really know

Wasn't I just in St Louis yesterday?

2010-06-29T14:43:00.001-07:00

Okay, now it's Tuesday, and I left St Louis Sunday, so I guess it was technically the day before yesterday. But wasn't I just performing The Golden Ticket on Saturday night? Those were the thoughts running through my head as I made my way out of the converted Monastery and up the cobblestone hill near the clock tower which overlooked the green and rolling hills of northern Italy. What the hell?

After a the crazy travel day (which I'm still editing the video blog about) I arrived in Italy and managed to sleep for about 9 hours last night, and awoke feeling ready for the day. And thank GOD - because what a day it was! I had an hour long session with the harpsichord player which was all in Italian (apparently I do remember how to speak the language), a two hour long session with the conductor where we went through all four of my dacapo arias several times, and then a 3 and a half hour rehearsal with the orchestra. I did pretty well until about the last hour of the orchestra rehearsal when both my brain and my voice gave up on me, and I started making all kinds of mistakes and singing cadenzas that sounded like they had been composed by Schoenberg. But luckily everyone involved in the production is exceedingly nice and supportive, and the orchestra sounds absolutely amazing. I have had such luck to now work with two exceptional baroque bands - first the one in Berlin and now this one - and WOW do I feel grateful. And after all my kvetching and worrying about whether or not I was going to be prepared, the first thing the harpsichordist said to me was "Wow - you really studied everything well!" Typically, I was worried for nothing.

I also had a kind of euphoria walking around Mondovi this morning. It was sunny, I had a perfect italian cappucino, and was wandering among the close pastel colored buildings and old churches and remembering why I fell in love with Italy in the first place. There is just something magical about this country for me - I feel that all is right with the world when I'm here, and it's not just the food. There is just something about the combination of the language that I so often sing in, the warmth of the people, the cultural traditions, and the history of the place that makes me feel a genuine contentment when I'm here. Every time I'm in Italy, I feel like the world is full of possibility.

But honestly, it's not just Italy that's making me feel like this - I'm feeling particularly euphoric these days as the result of something that has occurred recently in my personal life. Not long ago I wrote a post about what it's like being single and trying to find a relationship when you have the crazy life of an opera singer, and how challenging it can be. But I found out recently that when you meet the right person, it doesn't actually feel like a challenge at all - the only challenge is figuring out what time you're going to talk on skype when you're in time zones that are seven hours apart. It's true; sometimes you just know when it's right.

One last thing; I would like to suggest that you listen to at least the first 10 minutes of the most recent episode of this podcast. Not only was it a really fun and entertaining episode, but it will also make why I'm feeling like a a walking Rodgers and Hammerstein lyric abundantly clear.

What a long strange trip

2010-06-28T13:21:00.001-07:00

Well, I guess it wasn't THAT strange, although it certainly was LONG! But the good news is that I'm finally here, and I have internet in my hotel room!! I want to write a coherent blog entry about my crazy travel day, plus I'm working on a video blog, but for now I have to sleep, because with the exception of about a 3 hour nap on the plane, I have been awake since 7 AM yesterday, St Louis time.

I did however want to post this video which has now been uploaded to youtube (thanks to the wonderful and generous documentary film maker Nayo Titzin) of me singing Come nube che fugge dal vento from Agrippina, from the production in Berlin this past winter. I will record this role later this summer with the same ensemble, and the recording will be released by Harmonia Mundi at a later date. In the meantime, many of you have requested the opportunity to see me perform as well as hear me, so this is what I have to offer. Nero is some handful of crazy - that's for sure.

Schizophrenia

2010-06-23T20:38:00.000-07:00

I read an interview recently with Anna Netrebko where she said she simply cannot study one role while she's singing another one. She said she can only focus on one thing at a time, so she just has to wait til one is finished til she can study another one. I get that. Let me tell you, singing a 20th century score, and playing a humorous and exaggerated spoiled child while madly studying an italian baroque score in which your character is a heroic man is a real mind-f*%k. It's possible, but there's a good chance I could be going slowly insane as a result. The other thing making me go insane is the fact that this role, in Pergolesi's L'Olimpiade is definitely the largest role I have ever learned in terms of recitative. I have something like 36 pages of recit, and on most of those pages, I sing A LOT. I stare at it and stare at it, I repeat it and repeat it, I sing it over and over, I write it down, I listen to my own coachings that I've recorded, but it still feels ENDLESS. It takes me a full hour to sing through the entire role (most of the roles I sing can get sung straight through in about 30 minutes from beginning to end - including Rosina and even Sesto in Clemenza). It's the kind of challenge that I would prefer to have a month completely free to work on every day with no distractions. But instead I study all day, and go sing "My Golden Ticket, Daddy I want one" at night. I'm certainly not the first singer to deal with this form of Schizophrenia, but I haven't ever been quite this busy. I love challenges, I really do. But I also stress myself way out as a result. The real challenge is to keep from becoming totally overwhelmed. I leave on Sunday.

I'm feeling really nervous about this gig in Innsbruck. First of all, I have to arrive a day late, and get off the airplane after flying all night from Chicago to Munich to Torino, and go straight to rehearsal that afternoon. That's going to be really horrible probably. Also, the first week of rehearsals for this opera are taking place in Mondovi, Italy, so we can rehearse with the musicians. Which means not only will I be walking off the plane to a rehearsal, but it will be an ORCHESTRA rehearsal. I have never rehearsed with an orchestra before rehearsing a long time with piano first, so that's giving me a stomach ache. Plus, the role is huge, and I just don't feel like I've had adequate time to get it into my blood. But I keep telling myself that every time I sing a new role I have anxiety that I don't know it well enough, and then I arrive and realize I actually know it really well. It'll be fine. It'll be fine. It'll be fine.

OH - and if you're hankering for even more Golden Ticket, check out this new video posted to the Opera Theatre of St Louis website. It's about the creation of the opera itself and the production, and a look into how the composer and librettist created the characters, with lots of onstage footage. Enjoy, and please send me all the good luck vibes you can muster about my next week or so of craziness!

This is how we know it's the 21st century

2010-06-17T06:34:00.000-07:00

So, before last night's second performance of The Golden Ticket, I'm sitting in the green room on a big easy chair with 5 minutes to go before curtain. All dressed up as Veruca, with my blonde banged wig and my pleated lavender skirt, I pull out my iphone and start looking at facebook. As I'm scrolling through my "live feed" of various status updates, I see that NPR, who I follow on facebook, has posted a new story - about the Golden Ticket! The story was about the composer the librettists long journey of about 10 years to get the opera finally premiered, and it already had something like 67 comments. The comments ranged between very positive and excited ("Wow! I wish I could see this - it sounds amazing!") to extremely negative ("What a stupid idea - why would they ruin this beloved story with something as horrible as opera!!!"). I sat there for a minute wondering what to do, but then I went ahead and left my own comment. It said:

Hi everybody on facebook! My name is Jennifer Rivera and I'm writing this from my iPhone backstage where I'm about to sing Veruca Salt in the second performance of The Golden Ticket in St Louis. I'm sorry some of you seem opposed to this idea, but I'm here to tell you that this opera is uttery fantastic, and everyone who has actually seen it loves it! It moves people, makes them laugh and cry, and gives us a beautiful soundtrack to enhance our imaginations. Gotta go - just got called to the stage!!!

I just checked back and not only were there a lot of people defending the opera, including a few who had actually seen it (hello - don't judge something until you've actually seen it!) and even a couple of people who commented on my comment to tell me I did a great job! So that, my friends, is how it goes in this new century of technology everywhere.

And by the way, people DO love it. I just read another excellent review this morning, after the main St Louis paper raved about The Golden Ticket the day following the premiere. And for a bit of fun, and to see what it all looks like, check out this video by Greg Emetaz of the audience reactions from opening night (especially the kids) interspersed with clips from the opera itself here. In a few days, there will be short documentaries about the making of the show which will also be posted on the Opera Theatre website, and which will give you some more shots of the production, and allow you to hear more of the score, plus meet some of the singers.

In the meantime, I've gotta get off this computer and study some baroque music. I leave in 10 days for Europe to begin rehearsals on L'Olimpiade, by Pergolesi, and I gotta get that sucker into the old noodle, and quick.

Being BAD

2010-06-14T15:26:00.000-07:00

So last night, at our opening of The Golden Ticket, something wonderful happened. Yes, there was a world premiere of a new opera. Yes, the audience loved it and gave it a standing ovation. Yes, everything finally came together to provide the audience with a very special world of imagination. Blah blah blah.

The real news story from last night is that I, as the evil Veruca Salt, actually got BOOED at my bow!!!! And it wasn't like La Scala booing because I was singing Radames really poorly or something - it was like Cruella deVille, you are the Villianess of this opera, and we must boo your evil ways. It was actually kind of shocking at first because I've never been booed before, but I got into it and gave the audience a dirty look and crossed my arms Veruca style before I stomped back to my place.

No no, the real story is the World Premiere, and that it was a success. You never know with a new opera, how the audience will like it, whether they will experience it as viscerally as you have begun to after weeks of living with the piece. But in this case, I can say that it felt from stage as if the audience was with us every step of the way. They laughed in all the right moments, and even in some new moments where we hadn't necessarily anticipated the laughs. It was a triumph for the composer and the librettist, who have had this piece in the works for 10 years, and it was also a great pleasure to get to meet Felicity Dahl, Roald Dahl's widow (Dahl is the author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - in case you were living under a rock, or are one my readers who is a non-native english speaker).

In regard to my own performance last night, I found it interesting to be singing a role like this one, that felt like more of an acting role than a singing one. Yes, I certainly sang a great deal, but it wasn't the kind of singing I've been doing lately - bel canto, or Mozart, or baroque - all of which requires a certain type of vocal precision and flexibility which is very different from the requirements of a modern piece in your native language. Plus, from a totally psychological standpoint, the fact that I don't have a set ARIA, means that I don't have a set place to get NERVOUS, and so I just didn't have those "Una voce poco fa" panic nerves. I was backstage emailing people pictures of me in my costume and hanging out in the green room eating cookies until just before we went onstage. Not my normal pre-show ritual, for sure.

I know I haven't written as many blog entries during this time in St Louis, but I've actually been excessively busy. Between having a great number of rehearsals (Veruca is the last bad child to get disposed of, so I was onstage pretty much the whole time), and having a lot of socializing to do (Opera Theatre of Saint Louis knows how to par-TAY!), and trying to learn my next project (which has enough baroque italian recit to make me want to break down into tears), I've been pretty overwhelmed. But I'm certainly not complaining - busy is definitely best for me. And playing evil apparently comes extremely naturally to me. But it's not because I was a bad kid myself - it's because I was bullied a lot as a pre-teen, and I remember how mean and awful those people were, so it's easy to re-create them. And even I'm satisfied when I get shoved down the garbage shoot - I mean how satisfying would it have been to see some of those awful mean girls from junior high, who used to pull my hair and even spit on me, getting attacked by giant squirrels and thrown in the trash!!???!!

So very satisfying.

The world of imagination

2010-06-10T19:10:00.000-07:00

As you can imagine, inhabiting the world of Willy Wonka for over a month inspires a lot of imagination and creativity. The show opens Sunday, and tomorrow is our final dress rehearsal. We have been working very hard this tech week to get the brand new opera and production off the ground, and it hasn't always been easy. As you can also imagine, bringing a fantastical Chocolate Factory to life on the opera stage requires a great deal of technical magic, and we've been piecing all that together this week, while trying to bring a rather challenging 20th century score to musical fruition. But in the meantime, I had a little epiphany that was pretty moving.

We had a lot of rehearsals all week, including a "piano dress rehearsal" which was also our last technical rehearsal before we were joined again by the orchestra. The rehearsal itself was 5 hours long, plus we had wig and make-up calls as many as two hours before curtain, so it was quite a long day. Towards the end of the day, almost everybody was tired and cranky, and wondering just how all the technical aspects were going to work. Yes, but HOW is he going to come floating down from the ceiling? How exactly is he going to jump through the television screen? What fantastical projection are we supposed to be reacting to there? We'd all had our hot costumes and our tight wigs on for hours and people were really dragging, including me.

I plopped down on a cube on the stage during one of them many times we were stopped to fix a technical issue, and sitting next to me was Michael Meo, the rather amazing 11 year old kid who is singing the role of Charlie. "How're you holding up?" I asked him. "This is SO COOL!" he answered, his eyes wide. "What's cool? This scene? This rehearsal?" I asked almost incredulously. "This scene! This rehearsal! This whole show!!!" he answered me enthusiastically with a big grin on his face.

And at that moment I remembered why this story is so incredibly powerful and why so many people have been touched by it for all these years - because it expresses beautifully the ability of a child to dream and to imagine. While the rest of us adults were skeptically looking at what was still missing from the rehearsal process, eleven year old Mike was able to imagine the finished product quite easily in his child's mind's eye - and it was COOL! He had been at the rehearsal just as long as the rest of us, but he was still seeing the Chocolate Factory the way Charlie saw it - with a sense of wonder and awe. He was still able to dream, even in the middle of a long, difficult, stressful rehearsal. It was a sort of profound moment of understanding for me about all the things we so easily forget when we become adults. And it also made me realize the service we're going to be able to provide to people when they see the opera - they will be given the rare opportunity to rediscover their own imaginations.

What a brilliant idea the composer, Peter Ash had when he decided to create the roles of all the naughty children for adult opera singers, while juxtaposing the role of Charlie for a boy soprano. At the end of the opera, we bad kids all reappear after having been disposed of in our various scenes, and we sing "We didn't really dream at all, and so we got our just reward, for being greedy, spoiled and bored." We didn't really dream at all - and how often is that true of adults - we lose our abilities to dream and make believe, and we live in a world full of disdain, suspicion, and sarcasm. But "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" allows us all to go back to that moment when anything was possible, when even our wildest dreams had a place to live. It's a gift to be able to inhabit that world again, especially through the eyes of an eleven year old child.

Oh - and I also learned that since chocolate comes from the cacao plant, it is technically a vegetable. So be sure to eat your vegetables!

A sneak peek

2010-06-07T10:07:00.000-07:00

Creating a world premiere opera is fun - but it's REALLY fantastical when the action takes place in a Chocolate Factory. Here is a sneak peek into the rehearsals for "The Golden Ticket," which opens June 13th at Opera Theatre of Saint Louis. And this is without all the fabulous sets and costumes! I made this little "trailer", with permission from my lovely colleagues to appear in it. Enjoy!

Getting the word out

2010-06-01T08:19:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a brief little interview with the local Fox news affiliate here in St Louis. It was the local morning news show, and David Kravitz, (the baritone singing my dad) and I were interviewed by the human interest reporter for about 3 minutes to talk about The Golden Ticket. Except we barely got a chance to plug the opera because the thrust of the segment ended up being us giving the reporter a "voice lesson" and him making opera-like sounds into the camera. I'm sure it probably made a good morning tv moment, but I wonder if anybody will come to the opera as a result of that interview.

When we arrived at the studio, we entered the lobby to find a pair of clowns from the circus (one of whom tooted a trumpet upon our arrival), a pair of blue grass musicians strumming their guitars, and a pair of racing greyhounds wearing vests with numbers on them. We were ushered back to the studio, where, as we waited for our interview to begin, we watched the reporter who was about to interview us get down on all fours in the hallway and "race" with the greyhounds. How can you possibly follow up a human versus dog race with anything particularly serious? You can't, which is why he wanted us to give him a little singing lesson to keep the mood light. Each of us tried to plug something about the Opera - David managed to mention the special effects which will be required, and I mumbled something about how having adult opera singers playing naughty children is funny, but we mostly showed the interviewer how to breathe like an opera singer, and listened to his "opera voice" which happened to be falsetto. After the interview was over, I was kicking myself for not mentioning some facts that might get novices interested in coming to an opera - like the fact that we don't use microphones, but still can reach as many as 4000 people with our natural voices, but it all passed by in a blur, much like the previous greyhound race. The clowns were warming up to the side, and before we knew it, our mikes were being yanked off and we were back in the car on our way home.

So how do we publicize opera to the public who may have absolutely no exposure to the art form? The easiest way is to try to be funny, but then we run into the issue of reinforcing the stereotypes instead of breaking them. This reporter did have a pretty good falsetto, and even a little bit of vibrato, but watching a non opera singer try to sing like an opera singer is probably not going to entice anybody to come to the opera. It's exactly that idea people have about what opera voices sound like that repels them. But how do we educate the general public without talking down to them? How do we make them want to come to the opera within a 3 minute segment on a local morning news show?

Obviously, any press is better than no press, even if we don't have the opportunity to tell them everything we think is wonderful about this particular opera and production. And while it's the opera company's responsibility to get us on tv, and it's the reporters job to do something to entertain the public, I, as an opera singer, feel I that it's my responsibility to find ways to talk about my art form to people who haven't been exposed to it, hoping to get them excited about it. I wish I would have done a better job with that this morning (I have to give props to my "Dad" David - he had much more coherent thoughts to share than I did), but it was a learning experience. Next time I do a tv interview, even if it's short, I'm going to prepare some points I want to make ahead of time, and find a way to work them into the conversation. 1. Opera as theater (combining all the elements in one - music, drama, stagecraft, choreography, sets, costumes - better than the circus!!!) 2. Opera as a sport (the only place you can hear the human voice un-amplified!!!) 3. Opera as emotion (ever notice how when the soundtrack comes into a movie you suddenly feel something - now imagine if the characters were actually singing the soundtrack!!!!). I didn't manage today, but there will be more chances I'm sure.

Hopefully next time I'll even be able to compete with sporting dogs and circus clowns.

UPDATE - The clip is already on youtube:

Personal Lives

2010-05-29T07:51:00.000-07:00

You know, I usually never discuss my personal life on my blog. The subtitle of my blog is "the life of an opera singer equals comedy", but it also equals drama, and boy, do I have some stories. Not just about myself of course, but about all the friends and colleagues I've encountered over the years. Now, that would be a book - maybe when I retire I can write a tell-all. Not just yet though.

That being said, I was inspired recently by my dear friend Nick Phan's blog post on being gay and open about it in the entertainment industry. He is brave enough to discuss one element of his private life in a public forum, because it's important and it helps other people overcome their own fears and promotes understanding and empathy. So I figured I could to write a blog post, not about the specifics of my personal life, but about some of the challenges of being a woman who is a traveling artist and who is working regularly. It's going to be a difficult post for me to write, but one that I think will be interesting and hopefully thought provoking, so bear with me.

I'm 34 years old and single, with no children. The perfect age and status to be having an opera career. I'm at an age where my voice has fully matured, but still has room for growth, where I've learned enough emotional lessons to make me strong enough to battle the demons that this career inflicts, and secure enough in my vocal technique to make it through a variety of crazy situations. Being single and childless also allows me the freedom to take any job I want, be on the road as much as I need to, and take every opportunity that comes my way. I don't have to worry about making money to feed my family, and can take any job that might be artistically fulfilling, even if it means I barely break even because the cost of the housing alone eats up most of my fee. I can jet all over the world from St Louis to Austria to France to Berlin (just to name the next few places I'll find myself) and I can set up apartments in both the U.S. and Europe, and find out which place I might like to call home for the next period of my life. I can go get a massage when I'm stressed and buy myself a new pair of shoes, because I'm not saving for my child's college fund. I can get enough sleep and I can learn music at any hour of the day or night. I can make deep and lasting friendships with all the extraordinary people I meet because I'm not spending hours skyping with my family back home. And I even have time to write a blog, a hobby I find fabulously cathartic.

But.

But it can get super lonely. And the more you work, and the more successful you become, the harder it gets to find someone who is willing to deal with your insane lifestyle and settle down and have a relationship with you. Unless someone is in the business and therefore has a deep understanding of what you do (and not even then, in come cases) most people find it impossible to imagine trying to sustain a relationship with someone who could be on the road for 10 months. Women seem more wiling to cope with this - I even know a lot of couples where the woman travels with the man to all of his gigs. I don't know any couples however, where the man travels everywhere with the working woman. I'm sure there are some, I just don't know any. And so many of the couples that I know in the business who got married in their twenties are getting divorced now - this lifestyle really takes it's toll on relationships. And unlike some lucky women singers, who have no desire to have children, I have always known that I was a mother, and that I would one day have some kids. I'm just not entirely sure how that's going to manifest itself within the confines of the reality I have created for myself thus far. And as wonderful and fulfilling as it is to have a career as an artist, I can tell you, your career isn't going to kiss you goodnight, or come visit you in the hospital if you're sick.

I don't mean to be overly pessimistic - I certainly also have friends who are singers who are married and have fantastic relationships with their spouses, and who find ways to make everything work. But I do have to say that even though it's 2010, and our society has come a long way in the last hundred years, it's still really difficult for a woman to have a successful career, and have a family. How do you keep your relationship together when you never see each other? Maybe you travel with your kids until they are of school age, but what about when they need to start going to school? I'm curious what Anna Netrebko is going to do when her son needs to start first grade - is she going to be away from him for 10 months or bring him on the road with a tutor? How are she and Erwin Schrott, another incredibly successful and busy singer, going to make it work, I wonder? And although her career is obviously on a very different level than mine, I think she was just a couple of years older than me when she got pregnant, so I find myself wondering how she plans to make it all work.

I can honestly say that at this point in my life, overall, I'm pretty happy. I've had my share of successful and not so successful relationships (although I haven't been married yet), but the time that I have been on my own, I've been able to focus on my career and get it off the ground, and to make some incredible, life long friendships that I will always have no matter what romantic relationships may come in and out of my life. But having chosen the life of a nomadic artist poses some huge challenges to one's social life that I haven't quite found the answers to yet. And I guess, like everyone else in this business, I'll have to cross each bridge when I come to it, to find the solution that works best for me.

In the end, I think the best way to find a relationship of any kind and make it last is to know yourself, and have confidence in who you are as an individual. That way, you are not necessarily relying on the other person to give you strength, but instead, you are choosing to share the best of your individuality with one another. And if this career does anything, it allows you - no - it forces you - to see who you really are and what you are really made of - something that can only help you be a better partner. And maybe, just maybe, assuming you find the right person - this makes opera singers excellent spouses and parents, not impossible and difficult ones. Learning to overcome obstacles is, after all, kind of our specialty.

Willy WonKA, Willy WonKA

2010-05-22T20:32:00.000-07:00

I'm writing it like that because in the chorus of the first act finale, they sing his name a million times, in a very catchy tune with the accent on the last syllable. Someone asked me the other day how I was getting the songs from the movie out of my head, and I could honestly say that I don't remember how a single one of those songs goes, so catchy are the tunes from this opera.

I think this show is going to be really funny and really magical. I had very little concept of what it would be like from just learning my own part, but hearing the whole thing a couple of times through now in musical rehearsals, and seeing some of it up on it's feet, I have fallen a little in love with the whole thing. The idea of four bratty, spoiled children played by adults and one innocent, honest child played by a (fabulous) little boy is brilliant. And the director, Jim Robinson, is giving each character very specific personalities and personality traits - I have been given a comic affectation - I won't say what, because I think it will be funnier if it is a surprise - but let's just say it makes an already funny character a whole lot funnier.

It's very interesting taking a beloved children's story and an iconic movie and making it into an opera. Of course there is pressure to do it justice, but there are also a great many possibilities. In this version, one child is played by a countertenor, who sings a stuttering aria in the style of Handel, one child is a coloratura soprano who explodes with high fast notes when she's blowing up into a blueberry, one gluttonous child is played by a tenor who is asked to wail and swoop up to many sustained high notes while he's drowning in a river of chocolate, and one child (me) is written for a mezzo singing into the stratosphere of her range to denote her derangement.

One thing that's interesting about this project for me is that I don't get to do any beautiful singing that shows off "my voice." I put "my voice" in quotation marks because of course, you can hear my voice - I sing a lot of high B flats for example - but because the role is so heavy with character, it doesn't exactly shine the light on my vocal strengths. It couldn't - you wouldn't want to give a beautiful aria to such an ugly character! But as a singer, my ego is tested when I don't get the chance to "show my stuff" the way I'm used to. Instead, the role is a challenge musically, dramatically, and in having to find the balance between being outrageous but not overdoing the comedy. There are certainly plenty of things to keep my brain busy, and perhaps less pressure than if I were singing a standard lyric role. But it's funny for me to notice how much I get used to hearing certain types of praise, and how quickly my ego deflates when there are no opportunities to show off in the way that elicits that particular praise. But how ridiculous! There are so many challenges to singing opera - when you lack one, there are 10 other things to focus on and hone to the best of your ability. But it's interesting to see how easy it is for singers to define ourselves by our VOICE and our VOICE alone. Stripped of the opportunity to show our VOICE (in the ways we may be used to), we are forced to show our other strengths, making us slightly vulnerable, but allowing us huge opportunities for growth.

God - Opera is such a fantastic medium for telling a story. I'm sure I'm preaching to the choir here, but when I see a familiar story told in a new way, I get excited. I might even start doing an oompa loompa dance of joy - let's hope I get around to making a video blog of that one.

Hamburger Meat

2010-05-18T20:48:00.001-07:00

Nope, not what I had for dinner, but what my throat feels like.

Yesterday, I had a blissfully free day from rehearsal, and managed to get lost in St Louis a record number of times. I didn't think it was physically possible for someone to take as many wrong turns as I did, but I did end up accidentally finding the mall, which, according to me, is always a priority.

And today was my "first day of school" - although we didn't have the traditional sing through with everybody, but instead had more of a work through, so we could hit all the difficult ensemble spots with the conductor once before the "official" sing through tomorrow. And why does my throat feel like hamburger meat? Well, mostly because this role is quite high and often rhythmic, and it's very difficult not to "count with your throat" when something is new in your voice. Plus we repeated all my sections several times, and I sang about 57 high B naturals and B flats. Then after my larynx was somewhere on the second floor of the building, I rehearsed the duet from Barber that I will sing at a donor event this week. So.... hamburger meat.

But wowie wow - I was SO impressed with a) the level of preparation from the cast, and b) what a fantastic group of voices they have assembled for this premiere! It's actually kind of astonishing. I was reminded of what excellent training we have here in the U.S., because to assemble such a large cast like this for an unusual work, and to have every single person sound like a million bucks is really something. American singers tend to have such strong techniques, and that was absolutely evident in today's rehearsal.

Another weird thing about today was that I realized that it was (gulp) 10 YEARS AGO that I was a young artist at Opera Theatre of Saint Louis!!! It was pretty much the only summer young artist program I ever did, and it was while I was still in school, but 10 YEARS???? I cannot believe both how quickly 10 years has gone by, and how much I have changed and grown since then. I'm trying to remember some of the guest artists who were singing in St Louis when I was a YAP here to imagine how the current YAPs might relate to me and my colleagues, but since I still FEEL like a young artist myself, I can't make sense of it in my brain. Add to that the fact that the General Director of the company is someone I became friends with before he ever had this position, and now he is for all intents and purposes, my boss, and let me tell you, this whole experience is making my brain feel like it's turning itself inside out. It's as if my entire life is flashing before my eyes, coming full circle, and reminding me that even though time passes, some things don't change. It may be 10 years later, but I'm still walking through a neighborhood in St Louis on a sunny day, making my way to the same theater, passing the same Starbucks, and the same neighborhood Pub. I'm saying hello to the same music director and the same artistic administrator, and attending the same company welcome party. And maybe the biggest miracle of all for anybody in this field; I'm still singing. Now that just might be worth celebrating.

Story Time

2010-05-16T09:00:00.002-07:00

Let me tell you all a little (true) story.

When I was 9 years old, I had already been singing in musicals for 3 years - I'm pretty sure I came out of the womb with jazz hands. But anyway, there were a lot of opportunities to perform with children's theaters where I lived in California, and I took them all, and I was a full on belter - a baby Patty Lupone. At some point, one of the kids I knew from the musical theater circuit developed vocal nodes, and the doctor told her it was from belting, so my parents figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to get me some voice lessons. My dad hunted around, and discovered that there was a teacher in my town who had had a career singing opera, operetta, and musical theater, and who was supposed to be the best teacher around. But she didn't teach children. Somehow, my dad convinced her to make a special case for me, citing the other kid with vocal nodes, so she finally agreed to teach me on one condition; I had to stop belting and learn to sing properly. Which meant training my "head voice" with the proper breathing and sound producing techniques.

I resisted at first, not wanting to lose my loud, brassy belt voice. But by the time I was 10, I was singing Italian Art songs and Deanna Durbin songs, and loved all the things I could do with my new voice. I decided that if belting was bad for me, and I could sing even louder with this new voice, that what I wanted to be was an opera singer. I didn't really have any idea of what that meant, or what it entailed, but I liked singing with this new voice and wanted to continue. I'm not sure how many 10 year olds decide they want to be opera singers because they like how loud their voice sounds when they sing it, but there you go. Of course, now, all these years later, I feel like I was destined to meet and begin studying with that teacher, because clearly this was what I was supposed to do with my life.

The teacher's name was Thelma Dare Ahner, and I studied with her from the time I was 9 until I was 14 or 15 and started studying in the pre-college division at the San Francisco Conservatory. Not only did she teach me singing techniques that have remained with me all these years, but she also instilled in me a sense of discipline for the every day work that is being a singer. I am pretty certain that had I not met her, I would never have become an opera singer at all, and so I was delighted a few months back when she got back in touch with me through facebook, and we exchanged some emails. She made me laugh when she sent me a note that said, "When are you singing in California? I want to hear you sing before I kick the bucket!" (she'll be 85 this June). And since I didn't have any engagements in California on the books, I bought her a plane ticket to Portland instead. She has never seen me perform in an opera, and I haven't even seen her in many years, so I figured it would be exciting to bring her up here and show her what I've been up to for the last 20 or so years.

I didn't realize it at the time that I was studying with her (because we mostly were singing - not having too much small talk) but she performed in the original Broadway productions of Most Happy Fella and Kismet, and the first Broadway national tour of South Pacific. She knew Rodgers and Hammerstein by the names Dick and Oscar, and she toured all over the U.S. during that golden age of musical theater. She also lived in Chicago where she performed Opera at the Chicago Lyric and toured with the Gilbert and Sullivan Players during the war, beginning when she was only 18 years old. She has lived an absolutely amazing life, and I wish I had been able to spend even more time with her to hear some more stories about her years as a performer, but as is always the case when people come in town to see you in a show, your time together is limited. It was a hugely special moment to have her here observing the life of a traveling performer that I am now leading, and to compare notes and discover how many things we have in common. She saw last night's performance, and loved it.

The last two performances here in Portland, alas, were not as good as the first two for me - it's just what I was explaining in one of my previous posts - you can't control what voice you wake up with or how nervous you'll get or how that will affect your performance that evening, so every night varies. But I had many special moments in every performance, and the experience of being here in Portland was so positive, that I am very sad to leave. However, I really don't have much time to mope, since I'm off to St Louis for my first rehearsal for The Golden Ticket tomorrow. Gear switch; Activate!!!

Gratitude, in spades

2010-05-12T12:31:00.000-07:00

The other morning, I was feeling a little annoyed. I had just discovered that an opera company was doing a production I've been in before somewhere else, but they had already cast my role. I was also dealing with some scheduling problems that have yet to resolve themselves, and I started to feel that icky, "I have no control over my life" feeling that often creeps up on those of us who are trying to fashion a career out of being an artist. Luckily, I had my friend Nick around, and he thought it would be a good idea to drag me on a hike in the mountains of Portland. Now, people; I don't hike. My poor dad was always trying to get me to appreciate the beauty of nature since we had an incredible state park practically in our backyard where I grew up in California, but I was always more interested in learning how to shuffle off to buffalo or listening to the soundtrack to "Les Mis" than convening with nature. And while I can absolutely appreciate the beauty and majesty of the outdoors now that I'm an adult, I would probably rather spend my afternoon getting a pedicure if I really had the choice. But Nick has been wanting to go hiking since we arrived, and I do love him, so I agreed to go.

As we were hiking the (extremely mountainous and muddy) trails, I was telling him about my career frustrations of that morning, and how easy it was to get into a spiral of "why am I not singing at xxx company???" if you let yourself go there. "Yes, Jenny, but what are you grateful for? Maybe it's time to start listing all the reasons why you are incredibly lucky, and all the things that make your life special." And there, among the beautiful, astoundingly green (because it rains all the time) trees and pathways, I started listing why I was, in fact, ridiculously lucky. Our conversation went like this:
Me:"Well, the point of life is to find your bliss right?" Him: "I should hope so". Me "Well, the truth is, sometimes I get frustrated by the fact that I'm not singing at the Met for example - but if I were singing at the Met, I wouldn't necessarily have had this experience here in Portland. And this experience in Portland has been sheer bliss - everything about it has made me happy and fulfilled. And if I were singing at the Met, I wouldn't necessarily be happier - in fact, I'd almost certainly be more stressed and freaked out, and less happy than I am at this moment. So what I'm grateful for is that I have the opportunity to work as a singer, have artistic satisfaction, AND actually get to be happy and enjoy myself. So the real question is, what the !@#$ do I actually have to complain about? NOTHING." And then I turned the camera on him:

And it's true. Life is much too short to sweat what you don't have, especially when your life is an embarrassment of riches, which for most of us, it truly is. Definitely for me. I'm grateful for it all - including the fact that I have friends who remind me to remember what's important. And you know what? I'm grateful we took that hike. I actually enjoyed it tremendously. Go figure.

Barber, baby

2010-05-09T20:33:00.000-07:00

Two down, two to go.

The opening went quite well - there wasn't much I could complain about. But one truly fabulous thing did happen; a piece of flying laundry landed directly on my head, providing a very comedic moment. During the finale of the first act, we are all fighting with each other, and I'm behind the Count, trying to pull him and his sword away from Berta, Bartolo, and Basilio, while Berta throws laundry at us. When I first found out that laundry tossing was in the staging, I recall saying, "Man, if she can just get that to land on somebody's head, that would be comedy GOLD!" It never happened in any rehearsals, although sometimes Nick would catch a piece of it on his sword. But sure enough, opening night, a pair of bloomers flew over his head and directly on top of my head, completely covering my face. The audience went nuts, and since the very next moment was a freeze, I just left the laundry there, on top of my head, until we un-froze. And sure enough, it WAS comedy gold. Alas, this afternoon, the laundry didn't manage to make it atop my head - it was probably a once in a lifetime occurrence.

Before the matinee started today, I was noticing how relaxed I was compared to how I was before the opening performance. I don't know what it is, but I seem to be conditioned to get way more nervous for the opening performances than for the rest of the run. We always have an audience at the final dress, and yet still, when the opening rolls around, my brain seems to scream "IT'S OPENING! MUST BE NERVOUS" and I get more than just the natural butterflies that sit in my stomach before my first entrance. I really wish I could just somehow hypnotize myself out of those opening night jitters, because I have a lot more fun on stage when I'm more relaxed. Singing opera is such a bizarre thing to do- you have to do a lot of work to prepare, but you also have to focus on being completely in the moment when the performance rolls around. Sometimes I literally think - I can't believe I'm doing this right now. This is a completely insane thing to be doing.

But what a fun cast. Bonding with Danny and Nick, my Figaro and Almaviva (and the stars of so many of my videos thus far) has made our stage chemistry unique and special, and allows us to have a lot of give and take on stage as actors. When the three of us are on stage together, I feel a fantastic energy that results from all the fun times we've had together off stage, enjoying happy hours and making wacky videos. It's not often that you have the kind of comfort and connection with your fellow singers that has developed between the three of us, and I am not for a minute taking this wonderful dynamic for granted. Sometimes when art and life overlap, you get the best of both worlds, and I think it's really important to appreciate those moments when they come along.

And then today I had to knock myself in the head, and remind myself that a week from tomorrow I will be at the first sing-through for The Golden Ticket. Daddy, I want an oompa loompa now! Gulp.

Opening night thoughts

2010-05-07T13:37:00.001-07:00

So, tonight we open our production of Barber here in Portland. I honestly never know exactly what to do with myself to fill the hours between when I wake up and when I go to the theater, especially on the day of a performance. Some people have very specific rituals, which they must partake in on the day of a performance. But superstitious person that I am, I'm afraid that if I have any rituals, and they become disrupted somehow, I will feel out of sorts. So what happens to me between say 9 AM and 6PM on the day of a performance is anybody's guess.

Part of it depends on how nervous I am about the evening's performance. Opening Night is always the worst, although thank god, I haven't been having any of that debilitating anxiety that makes me want to stare out the window all day and question my own sanity for agreeing to go through with something so frightening. Instead I take walks, I read, I eat, I take pictures, I look at the internet, and I wait for the hours to slowly tick by until I can make my way to the theater and start getting ready to GO!

Today as I was browsing facebook, I got one of those little annoying facebook suggestions about who I should be adding as a friend based on how many friends we have in common; Joyce Didonato. I met Joyce only one time, after she had come to see a performance of Little Women at City Opera (and I was singing the role she premiered, Meg) and she couldn't have been nicer or more supportive. But seeing as that was our only encounter, (and also that she's, oh, I dunno, FAMOUS) I don't think I'll be bothering her on facebook with a friend request. However, it did prompt me to think about one sister friend we do have in common big time - Rosina. I would guess she's probably sung Rosina more than any other role, as I have, albeit in different types of theaters than her. So facebook wasn't wrong - we do have "friends" in common - just not necessarily the ones they were talking about.

One of the many things that I really loved about Joyce's Rosina, when I saw her do it at the Met, was that she was really likable. She was spunky, yes, but you also really liked this girl and wanted to be her friend. I think that's probably because Joyce is really likable, and she was letting those parts of her personality shine through (much like another beloved mezzo, Frederica von Stade was known to be able to do with her characters). So tonight, instead of trying to "make" Rosina likable, I think I'm going to focus on letting myself shine through in her. My impetuousness, my girlishness, my shyness, my strength, my gawkiness, my humor, and my excitement about overcoming obstacles and finding new paths to take. These are all things we share, and I hope I can keep those alive and available in her tonight.

That and my tap dancing skills. You didn't know Rosina could tap? Oh totally - she was WAY ahead of her time.

The same but different

2010-05-05T15:46:00.000-07:00

I've been very lazy today as I prepare for the final dress rehearsal of Barber here in Portland, and I started thinking about how certain things in this career are so incredibly variable, and how some things always stay exactly the same.

My colleagues and I were just chatting the other night about how one of the most difficult parts of this career is how little control you have over your life. You really want San Francisco Opera to hire you for their productions of X? Too bad, there's nothing you can do about it. You really want to go to your sister's wedding? Too bad, you have a dress rehearsal in France that night. You would really like to plan some big things in your life in the next few years? Too bad, you have very little idea where you'll be in the world, or how much money you'll be making, unless of course you're a big star who is booked way in advance, and that is only a very select few. And when you're at the level that I'm at, things vary so wildly, you cannot even believe sometimes that it is all part of the same career. Sometimes, things are bliss - as they are here in Portland - but not always. Here in Portland I have a big dressing room all to myself, with a couch and a chair and my very own bathroom. But I've been in situations where I shared a dressing room with 16 other women and one co-ed bathroom with the entire cast. Yesterday, the opera company picked us up in a Limo(!!!) in order to bring us to our tv interview, but I've been in a production where I literally had to spray paint my own pair of shoes, or driven myself to a performance in a huge cargo van after slamming my gown in the door. Fees vary amazingly as well - sometimes I get way more money than I think I can possibly deserve to run around the stage and have fun, and sometimes the fee doesn't even cover the amount of money I have to spend on coachings and lessons in order to prepare for the project. Sometimes the opera company puts you up in a great hotel, sometimes they put you in a terrible apartment, and sometimes they leave you completely to your own devices to find a place to live and to pay for it yourself. Sometimes you know 3 years in advance where you'll be singing, and sometimes the contract isn't completed until a month before you're supposed to arrive. One day you might wake up and for no reason, your voice is really rough and doesn't want to do anything, and other days you wake up and feel like god himself curled up inside your throat and is ready to extend his golden rays through your mouth. Some gigs you arrive at and you instantly bond with all of your colleagues and spend 4 weeks having fabulous dinners at wonderful restaurants and getting to know incredible people in a deep and real way. Other times nobody talks to you, and you spend every night in your hotel room reheating food and watching reruns on tv. And you have absolutely no control over any of these factors - you just have to be willing to accept them all, and know that your life is almost never going to be boring (except maybe when you're watching those tv reruns).

But then, there are some things that remain the same. For me, I always get a little nervous, whether I'm performing at the opening of La Scala (okay, that's never happened, but you know what I mean) or for 1200 school kids (like I will be doing tonight). I always warm up with the same set of exercises (pretty much) and I never want to eat much before the performance. I always get nervous when I first look at a review, and I am always overly critical of my own performances. I always have that same feeling the day of a performance - like I have to conserve my energy, but am not really sure how to fill the day, and can't decide when the best time is to eat. And I always feel more relaxed if no one I know is in the audience before the performance, but disappointed after when nobody I know saw what I did. And I always get that same sense of great purpose mixed with fear and excitement just before I step out onto the stage.

And since I'm not religious, I always say a little prayer to the composer whose work I'm about to perform. I say, "If you're up there (or out there, in the case of the living ones), and you can do anything about it, help me do what you would have wanted for this piece of yours tonight. Deal? Wolfgang, or Gioachino, or Georg, or Bob?" And hopefully they hear me and say "Pshaw, you're fine. I've gotta attend to this weird eurotrash production where they have everyone standing on their heads and wearing spacesuits while singing MY music."

What happens next varies wildly, and that can be pretty wonderful.

Talking on camera

2010-05-04T18:35:00.000-07:00

So, today Danny, Nick and I went on a local Portland television show to promote our performances. After we left, I commented, "Remember that time we all got interviewed, and Danny answered all the questions, Nick cracked jokes and I just sat there looking stunned?" After watching the clip on the internet, I see that I didn't look too stunned, but I have to admit that they were playing those clips from yesterday's dress rehearsal on the monitors while we were talking, and when they started playing Una Voce, my aria, I was totally focused on watching it and and analyzing my own performance, and not on what we were talking to the host about. In fact, when I watched the whole clip of the interview just now, I was honestly hearing the things Nick was saying for the first time, even though I had been sitting right next to him as he said them. I'm like Narcissus falling into the water because I'm too busy staring at my own reflection. Yikes. Anyway, it was fun and funny, and I'm glad Portland Opera is really working all the PR angles because every community should be doing that in order to make opera more accessible to the mainstream. If this teeny version is causing you undue eyestrain, click menu and you can look at a full screen, albeit slightly pixilated version:

click here for link to the website containing clip
(I had to remove the embedded clip because it played automatically every time you pulled up my blog, and I didn't want everyone who looks at my blog from now on for all eternity to have to listen to a clip of me not talking on an interview just because they want to look at my blog)

And just for fun, here's a video interview that Nick, Steven Condy and I did for the Portland Opera website about our characters in the opera:

Talking interspersed with some singing

2010-04-30T12:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was on the phone with my best friend Georgia at about 5:30 in the afternoon, and we had been chatting for awhile about what we had been up to that day before I casually mentioned, "You, know, I should probably think about warming up soon because I have to leave for an orchestra rehearsal in like 40 minutes." She laughed and said something about how relaxed I had been on this gig about singing, and how I had been focused on a lot of other stuff - like eating and making videos. And it's true - I have been having a very entertaining time here in Portland, and haven't been feeling a lot of stress. I don't want to say this out loud for fear of superstitiously jinxing myself, but I will anyway; All the problems I had been having with Rosina in the past seem to be finished. I haven't had one cack or blip in rehearsal that has caused me to worry, plus I've come to a place of acceptance with myself that acknowledges that even if every note isn't as perfect as I want it to be, I can still accept the contents of the whole with much more peace and serenity than before. And I know for a fact that this attitude serves me well, because when I am relaxed and not all uptight about every note, I sing MUCH better. So, I guess it's safe to say that Portland agrees with me.

On Wednesday, I had a day off from rehearsal, but I managed to sneak in a coaching of The Golden Ticket, which seems to be coming along. It's one of those scores that sounds very accessible to the person listening to it, but it has a lot of tricky rhythmic sections, where the time signature goes from 5/8 to 12/8 and then suddenly is in like 245/872 or something. But I feel confident that I will be ready for the first rehearsal on May 17th. After my coaching, I participated as a panelist in the OperaNow! podcast, which streamed live, so I was inordinately nervous for the first 15 minutes we were podcasting. I have heard myself in certain live interviews, and I always think I either sound super hyper, or like I'm stoned because I'm trying too hard not to sound hyper. But I listened to the podcast, since it has now been posted on the OperaNow! website (it's the most recent - #105) and on itunes, and I wasn't too horrified by myself. And I was very impressed with Oliver and Michael, the hosts. They manage to be both hilarious and informative, and I think their take on opera does a lot to demystify it, and get rid of the typical stuffiness. In the last 30 minutes of the podcast, we talked a lot about regional American opera, (as the result of discussing this article in the Orange County register about the demise of Opera Pacific), a topic I think we should all be considering for the future of the art form in this country. If you listen to the podcast, please leave reviews for them on itunes, because it helps them to get the word out, and what they're doing is unique and important - we need MORE stuff like this to keep opera alive and kicking.

And now, for some rehearsal photos that I took during one of our last rehearsals before we went to the stage. Except the photo of me, which is courtesy of my darling Count Almaviva, Nick Phan. The photos, from top to bottom are; Chris Mattaliano, (the director) Steven Condy and Arthur Woodley (Bartolo and Basilio), Daniel Belcher and Nick Phan (Figaro and Almaviva), Nick, Danny, me, Danny.

Eating our way through Portland

2010-04-27T11:09:00.000-07:00

As I might have mentioned before, most opera singers I know are slightly obsessed with food. I don't mean that as a euphemism suggesting that we're all overweight (as many people erroneously assume), but we do seem to have a healthy relationship with the appreciation of great food. And Portland is a fantastic town in which to find yourself if you happen to be a foodie, because not only do they have a lot of really great restaurants, but they have several food traditions which have developed, and which seem to be unique to Portland. The first tradition, which my colleagues and I have become slightly obsessed with is "Happy Hour", where almost every single fabulous restaurant has a deeply discounted menu (ranging from Burgers to Foie Gras) which they serve every evening for a few hours. My colleagues have been joking that I treat my Happy Hour guidebook like the bible, scouring it at every opportunity I get in order to find a fantastic new place to try.

So, Nick Phan, Danny Belcher and I were pleased as punch when the PR department at the opera suggested that we meet up with a prominent Portland food blogger named Brett Burmeister at the famous Portland Food Carts for a lovely lunch. Brett has a website; www.foodcartsportland.com devoted completely to this unique Portland phenomenon of small, portable trailers that serve fresh, fast, well made foods from around the world. I'm not sure how this began, but it has become a very important and interesting facet of Portland's food landscape, and one in which we were happy to partake. And I couldn't help it, I had to video Danny, Nick, and I gorging ourselves on Portland's finest offerings. Huge Thanks go out to the Portland Opera for suggesting and sponsoring this fabulous outing for us, to my friends Nick and Danny for always being patient AND funny in all my videos, and to Brett for showing us the ropes. Go Portland!!!

And on a completely unrelated note, I'm happy to announce that tomorrow evening, at 8:30 PM Eastern Standard Time, I will be a guest on the OperaNow! Podcast, which will stream live via the OperaNow! website (see link above) at that hour (7:30 Central and 5:30 Pacific), and will be available via itunes and on the OperaNow! website the following day. If you've never listened to the podcast, Michael Rice, Oliver Camacho, and various guests (tomorrow night will be myself and Matthew Garrett) discuss the news of the week in the world of opera. Michael has sent me the stories we'll be discussing, and I'm already excited to talk about what's happening this week in the wild and cuh-razy world of Opera. So check it out!

Bust-ed

2010-04-24T22:12:00.000-07:00

It happens to me at least once during every Barber of Seville production. By the second week or so, we get to staging the second Act, when Rosina and the Count start all their canoodling. It usually begins in the lesson scene, followed by even more hanky panky in the quintet, trio, and finale. By the time we get to these rehearsals, I've usually gotten to know my leading man a little bit, (if we didn't already know each other) and we've probably already staged a moment or two where we have to be kissing or at least hugging, so we've gotten comfortable with each other. Add to that the fact that I am a total goof-off (a "just one of the guys" tomboy) who likes to make jokes, and by the time we reach the end of my second act aria, both the tenor and I have finished with all of our significant singing, and are relaxed. Plus, the director usually has to spend a good long time with Bartolo and Figaro doing the shaving scene, and the Count and I are usually over at the Harpsichord, with the direction that we're supposed to be flirting with one another, so we inevitably start chatting.

And without fail, we totally get busted by the director for being disruptive in rehearsal, like two school kids who get caught goofing off in class. Either we get caught up in a conversation (at Opera Pacific, the tenor Brian and I were really into talking about food production in America and self sustaining farming, and Scott the director was always having to clap his hands and mutter, "stay with me people"), or more likely, I get the tenor into trouble because I try to make him laugh. Tonight at rehearsal, the director very gently made the universal symbol for two people who are yapping - his two hands in the air, talking to each other - and gave us a smile that said, "kindly focus on the task at hand, you two." I whispered to Nick, "BUSTED! This happens to me every Barber. I'm sorry! It's totally my fault."

I can't help it. I'm a goofball. My excuse is that I need to bond with the tenor so we can have good chemistry for the opera, but the truth is that I'm super chatty AND I really like to horse around. I am very rarely disruptive enough so that the director gives me the stink eye, but somehow with Barber, I always seem to get really goofy by the time we get to the second act. I think it's because Barber is such a comedy, and everybody gets used to being funny, so the jokes just start taking on a life of their own. I really think I would be happy as some kind of slapstick comedian doing Three Stooges skits all day, every day.

I don't want to paint myself as one of those people who doesn't take rehearsal seriously - that's definitely not the case. As I've written about in previous blog entries, I adore rehearsing, and find it totally stimulating and fun. Just sometimes, I find it a little too much fun. And while the director might shush us a little bit, he or she is usually not terribly annoyed, because they know that if a spirit of fun permeates rehearsals, it will make its way into the comedy, infusing it with that extra element of joy that brings all the jokes to life. So when Chris told us to quit yapping today, he did it with a smile that said, "I love you two, just shut up your mouths for a little second, would ya?"

So we did. But we learned a valuable lesson. The next time we feel the need to yap during rehearsal, we'll be smart enough to stand near Danny, the Figaro, so we can blame him.

Open mouth, insert foot

2010-04-22T20:23:00.000-07:00

In the last couple of days, I've been having fun with my colleagues discussing the very worst thing anybody has ever said to us after a performance. Things like, "Wow! That sure sounded DIFFICULT!" or "It was great - but why didn't you hold the notes longer?" But I really feel like I have the best story about this, which I will share with you all now.

I was performing the title role in La Cenerentola (Cinderella) - a role I've done many times. Cenerentola is a really demanding role for the mezzo, and ends with a huge tour de force aria with enough high notes, low notes, and coloratura to fill a large truck. It is probably the most demanding role I sing, and after a performance, I'm usually pretty exhausted. I was at the after party of the opening for one of the many Cenerentolas I've sung, greeting the public and the donors from the company. I was flanked by my mom, who had flown in for the performance, and I was feeling pretty happy with how everything had gone. People were coming up to me one by one to congratulate me, to say brava, to wish me well. I was shaking hands and smiling at everyone, so when a wealthy looking blonde lady approached me, I turned to her, smiling, expecting a similar exchange to the ones I'd been having so far with various audience members.

So imagine my surprise when she approached me and loudly exclaimed, "What size SHOE do you WEAR???" (I should take a moment here to explain that in the opera version of Cenerentola, Cinderella leaves one of her bracelets behind, not a glass slipper, which is how the Prince eventually finds her. But in some productions, the words are changed so that she can leave behind a glass slipper instead, like the fairy tale people are used to. This was a glass slipper production). "Excuse me?" I asked the woman. "What size SHOE do you WEAR???" she asked again "Because those glass slippers looked ENORMOUS!!!! "Startled, I replied, "Um... nine?" "WOW!" she exclaimed, "I would have guessed at least ELEVEN!! Those shoes looked gigantic!!!"

My mom, standing behind me, felt the need to intercede, pointing out, "Well, she is 5'9" - her feet are actually pretty normal for her height." But the lady wasn't getting the hint. "Well. They looked Hewwwwww-MONGOUS. Good job though, honey!" and with that she was off.

Wow. I felt like I had been run over by a tractor. I had just finished the most difficult role in my repertoire, and I certainly didn't expect everyone to praise me, but I also didn't expect them to comment on my (apparently) outrageously oversized feet. Before her arrival I was wondering if all my high notes were even and brilliant. After she walked away, I was wondering whether I should consider having some of my toes removed.

Of course, I laugh about it now. In fact, I'm always really pleased to have that story to pull out when exchanging "war stories" with colleagues. But seriously? How big are your FEET? Wow. I almost wouldn't believe it if it hadn't happened to me. But you know what they say about girls with big feet...... big high notes. Thanks a lot lady - first you criticize my shoe size, then you force me to make horrible jokes. A curse upon your feet; May the shoe stores always be out of your size.

The power of music (and possibly rain)

2010-04-20T20:26:00.000-07:00

Well, today was a rather weird day. Everyone is blaming the weather here in Portland, which went from gorgeous over the last week to cold, windy and rainy today.

I woke up feeling exhausted and as if the hotel bed was suddenly nothing more than a piece of plywood covered with a scratchy sheet. When Danny drove me to rehearsal, we were exiting the bridge that takes us across the river, when a driver in an SUV started pulling onto the bridge on the wrong side of the rode, and heading straight towards us, IN OUR LANE! Luckily Danny laid on the horn and the SUV swerved into the correct lane just in time, avoiding a head on collision. That was enough to wake me up. But apparently not enough to improve my motor skills, because soon after arriving at rehearsal, I managed to knock my reusable plastic water bottle (that the lovely, environmentally conscious, Portland Opera was so kind to provide for all of us) onto the floor, shattering it in a million pieces and drenching the newly swept floor with water and mezzo spit. Later, I was acting the hell out of a scene with Bartolo, when I threw my embroidery prop onto the chaise and snapped it into not two, but three pieces, causing yet another headache for the same stage manager who was forced to clean up my earlier water spill. Not to mention the fact that I forgot a lot of my blocking during today's rehearsal, which almost never happens to me. Some people were blaming it on the change in weather - I was almost hoping that somebody had slipped a roofie into my drink last night and I was still stoned today or something. At least that would explain my forgetting the blocking- the klutzy part isn't such a huge surprise for someone who can fall while walking UP stairs.

But all that aside, I did manage to have one coherent thought in the last day or so regarding how music affects people. All these wacky videos I've been making have been a lot of fun, but they've also been surprisingly educational. I would put all the scenes in an order, and cut and paste a few moments from here or there in a way that I thought would be humorous. Then I would watch the whole thing and giggle a bit at everyone's antics. Then I would overlay the Barbiere overture onto the movie, and suddenly everything everyone was saying would become totally hilarious. As a person would finish a joke, the strings and winds would crescendo as the laughter in the room would explode, and the music would serve as punctuation, increasing the effectiveness of the moment. Now, I'm talking about a dinky little homemade film I made in an hour, but it got me thinking about why Opera is such an appealing art form. Yes, watching a play can be hilarious or heart wrenching, but if you add music (good music - let's not get carried away) the emotional moment can take on an even deeper meaning. I was watching a tv commercial for the Humane Society this morning, and they were showing video stills of shelter dogs that needed homes. Heart-breaking enough on its own, sure - but with an added soundtrack of Barber's Adagio for Strings, I was about ready to cry my mascara off. None of this is news to me, of course, but it was interesting for me to discover it from a new perspective - that of "film-maker" (HA!).

Well, I guess I'd better tuck myself into bed now, to avoid any other accidents or incidents (I didn't even mention the red-light-running incident that just occurred in the car I rode home in), and hope tomorrow is a more coherent day. Or at least a day in which I don't break anything. That'd be an improvement.

Barber in 10 (take 2)

2010-04-19T22:50:00.000-07:00

Hee hee! I was so happy with how my last video of people summarizing the plot of Barber in less than ten seconds turned out, I had to make another one with the rest of the cast. Just fyi - I never said "summarize Barber from your character's perspective" but that's what nearly everyone (myself included) ended up doing. Some for comic effect, or course, although I just talked about how and why everybody loves me. Typical only child. Enjoy!

Working hard or hardly working?

2010-04-18T10:03:00.001-07:00

I think that's a question a lot of you might be asking me based on watching my last few videos. After I posted the video of our 10 second Barber summary on facebook, I got a comment from the wife of my Figaro, Danny (who herself is a director) that said "I think you guys need to rehearse more." and another comment from a fellow singer friend that said, "That was the worst Barber synopsis ever. You should have titled it "Hanging out in Portland and Drinking Beer." Even though they were both totally kidding around with me, they were of course, both somewhat right.

But in spite of what you might be lead to believe based on my new obsession with making videos, we have been rehearsing here in Portland as well. And after watching a work-through of part of the first act yesterday, I was struck by the realization that I don't think I will ever tire of doing this opera, because the possibilities for finding new elements are endless. I worked with Chris Mattaliano, the director, during my days at Juilliard as an acting coach, but I've never really been in a show he directed, except in the chorus when I was like 2 years old at Music Academy (and too young to appreciate it). As I was watching what everybody was doing yesterday, I was amazed at the fact that while he has been encouraging this very experienced cast to focus more on the text and the relationships between the characters rather than the traditional schticky jokes we've all become accustomed to, there is still so much humor to be found in this piece. But the humor is found in different pockets of the text that I haven't seen used before in quite that way. I have never before seen Basilio's "La Calunnia" performed while he and Bartolo are sitting down to a very polite tea service, but it's totally hilarious. I'm used to seeing Basilio careening around the stage with an umbrella or something, but watching him just sit there and deliver the text of the aria while politely stirring his tea cup was making me giggle uncontrollably. And the same is true for my aria "Una voce poco fa" - I have always written the letter during the musical interlude at the end of the first section, but in this version, Chris suggested a new and unique way for me to compose the letter that incorporates all my fioratura and ornaments into its creation. It's like a whole new aria for me - no small feat for an aria I've sung literally hundreds of times.

So yes, we are certainly enjoying all Portland has to offer, and I am really thrilled that I have some partners in crime to goof off and drink beer with, but it's not like we haven't done anything productive. Although the Figaro, who happens to have the day off today, called me in the morning to sarcastically wish me "a pleasant day of rehearsals" while he has a lovely time driving himself to the waterfalls. I replied "F$#@ you, and may you have a pleasant day yourself" and hung up on him. But it's okay, I can always take revenge on him by choosing an exorbitantly fast tempo for our duet since I'm the first one to sing. Watch yourself Figs. That's all I'm saying.

Barber in 10 seconds or less

2010-04-16T21:56:00.000-07:00

A film by Jenny Rivera

My life (the reality series)

2010-04-16T07:32:00.001-07:00

If I made a reality series about my own life, it might look something like this:

I really have to say gracias to my two co-stars who are being really good sports about becoming characters in "Jenny the opera singer, a reality show". Daniel Belcher doesn't have a website that I can link to, but Nicholas Phan does - and a blog. Thanks guys.

Video Blogging, here I come

2010-04-14T23:34:00.000-07:00

This is my first attempt at a video blog, which I thought would be a fun change of pace. My buddy Danny Belcher sang the National Anthem at the Portland Blazer's NBA game tonight in front of like 20,000 people, and I thought it would be a good event to record for posterity. Here ya go:

Obviously I'm still pretty new at using the camera, and editing, but hopefully I will improve.

Special thanks to Chris Mattaliano at Portland Opera for bringing us to the game, and to my new buddies RJ and Curt from La Shaque de la Radio (that's Radio Shack if you're not fluent in French) for helping me figure out which camera I wanted to buy for this new endeavor. Peace OUT!

13 is my lucky number

2010-04-13T20:09:00.000-07:00

Well people, it's the 13th, and I've somehow managed to blog every single day for a month. My 30 day commitment is up. But because of all your incredibly supportive comments about my blogging, I'm not going to give up entirely on frequent blogging even though I no longer have a self imposed requirement. Here's what. I'm going to commit to blogging at least every other day (more when I feel compelled) while I'm here in Portland. Then we'll see what happens after that. It's good for my creative juices to force myself to write even when I'm not feeling inspired. I came up with some subjects I wouldn't have normally discussed, and I liked the outcome. So no quitting just yet.

Let's talk about today now. First of all, I'm ridiculously proud of myself for accomplishing something that any six year old does with ease; riding a bike. As I mentioned in my post yesterday, Portland Opera generously provides its artists with a bike for the time that we're here, and Portland is a very friendly city to bicyclists. Now, I'm not exactly skilled at bike riding - or at any sporty endeavor if truth be told. But I want to prepare for my time in Berlin, where if you don't have a bike, you're just kind of a weirdo. So I walked the mile and a half to the bike shop and picked up my free bike, where I had to ask the guy really stupid questions like "why do you need to shift gears again?" But he kindly humored me, and luckily provided me with a helmet. He seemed a little concerned with my lack of skills, and said, "Now you be careful - I don't want to be responsible for ruining the opera!" to which I dryly replied, "Oh, don't worry! I have an understudy!"

But I managed to cycle all the way back to the hotel without incident. But you know what I discovered? Biking is difficult. Also; I'm out of shape. Also; I am not up to speed on any traffic laws. Also; now my legs are sore. And I only biked like 2 miles.

As for rehearsal today, we staged my aria, which was not terribly difficult. Chris (Mattaliano - director and GD of the company) had some new ideas for me which I enjoyed, and I, in typical Jenny fashion, suggested that I sing part of my aria lying on my stomach on a downward rake. And it's a part where I'm supposed to sing a high G and some very quick and light coloratura. This was absolutely not by any means a suggestion of the director. I totally and completely brought this on myself. I don't know why I feel the need to torture myself on stage, but I do. Perhaps I should invest in a therapist.

But I rode a bike! Yay me!!

Barber bliss

2010-04-12T20:18:00.000-07:00

So, can I just say; Portland Opera is the sweetest gig EVAH! The pay is excellent, plus they give you housing and a per diem. The General Director has GREAT taste in singers (and can afford to pay them) so he gets GREAT artists to come here. The sing through today was a joy because every single person was simply outstanding! This hotel that the opera houses us in has free breakfast every day, and on weekday evenings, serves free microbrews (score!!!) or wine, plus appetizers and/or entire meals between 5 -7 PM. And then there's the fact that here in Portland, "Happy Hour" is big, which means many of the local restaurants and bars have a deal where with the purchase of one drink, you get a whole menu of food that only costs 2, 3 or 4 bucks per item during certain hours. Oh, and have I mentioned that we're right on the river, and the opera gives us each a free bike for our time here? Also, Portland Opera has it's own super nice office and rehearsal space. Seriously. SWEETEST GIG EVAHHHHH!

The first day of rehearsals is generally used for a musical rehearsal with the conductor, and today was no exception. That first rehearsal, or "first day of school" as one of my colleagues dubbed it today, can actually be rather nerve-wracking. You are sitting or standing before all of your colleagues, the conductor and director, the staff of the opera company, and often the company's young artists, and singing through your role. Usually you just arrived on an airplane the day before and have "airplane throat" and a bit of jet-lag. And you'd better believe that everybody is quietly assessing everybody else and forming their opinions. Plus with Barber, each principal's first major entrance is with an aria (usually stacked with a high note or six), so even if you've sung the role a bunch, you're still pretty glad if you remembered to wear deodorant that day. I got all nervous when the pianist started playing the introduction to "Una voce poco fa" today, and I had to tell myself to CALM DOWN - IT'S JUST THE SING THROUGH! But once I got over that initial fight with my nervous system, I started to relax and have fun.

And my colleagues are not only all really good singers and really funny comedians, but very supportive and fun to be around. And my experience dictates that when every person is this good, they also tend to be really nice to each other, and the working environment becomes a really positive one. And with great colleagues, and a fabulous director and conductor, both of whom I've worked with before, I have kind of scored the trifecta of a good gig experience this time.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: There are regional opera houses in this country that are putting out operas in which the artistic quality could rival any "A" house. But these companies are often largely ignored by the greater population of the operatic industry because they aren't the Met, Chicago, San Fran, Houston, Seattle, L.A. or D.C. Well people, I'm here to tell you; First rate opera is happening all around you. It's time to wake up and smell the talent. Awwww, yeah.

Deja vu, Portland style

2010-04-11T20:05:00.000-07:00

Of course, we often go back to work in places where we have previously worked, and if it's someplace we liked, we get to arrive and feel a pleasant sense of nostalgia as we ride from the airport through town once again. But with Portland I have all kinds of memories, and they are all flooding back. When I worked here last time it was X number of years ago (I don't even want to calculate when it actually was because then I will feel like a grandmother) and I sang Cherubino. Later that same season, my best friend Georgia sang Rosina here. Now that Portland is back to doing Barber again, I'm here (and coincidentally, Georgia was also back here for the first time since that Rosina/Cherubino year, earlier this season for a production of Phillip Glass's Orphee), staying in the same Marriot Residence Inn, in what appears to be the same room.

But also, after I sang in Portland last time, my parents moved here and lived here for two years before relocating to New York, so not only do I have memories of when I sang here, but also of the countless trips I took here to come visit them during their time living just outside the city. It's really a wonderful town, and the only thing one could possibly complain about here is the weather - but even fog and rain can be rather nice and cozy for a month.

I was delighted to discover that on the leg of my flight that went from Minneapolis to Portland, I was joined by my cast mate and friend Daniel Belcher, who is singing Figaro. Danny and I have worked together a lot, including several previous productions of Barber, and a couple productions of Little Women where we played opposite each other. I love him because he's a wonderful, kind, supportive guy, but he also enjoys sarcasm and giving me a hard time. In fact, when he saw how many suitcases I was pulling off the baggage claim carousel, he couldn't help but cry, "Oh my GOD Rivera, how much stuff do you NEED??" and even though I was quick to retort, "But it's for 4 months!!" he too quickly remembered, "Well, I seem to remember that when we went to Japan for TWO WEEKS, you had about the same amount of stuff." And he would be right about that.

See, when we went to Japan (with New York City Opera, to sing Little Women) I wasn't as good at packing light yet, and not only did I bring way more than I needed, but I also bought literally 7 kimonos, among other stuff, to bring back with me to the states. And since we were on tour and going from city to city, it was up to each of us to schlep all our stuff on and off of buses and trains and planes constantly. And since I had WAY more than I could carry, it was left up to my friends, like dear old Danny, to constantly be helping me. So I guess I shouldn't be surprised that once we loaded into the van to take us to the hotel, he called his wife and 5 year old daughter to tell them he had arrived, and after talking to his daughter for a minute, he told her, "Remember Jenny? Well, it took Daddy and Jenny awhile to get to the van because Jenny brought about 14 bags with her." I had to explain to him that 5 year olds don't understand sarcasm. But knowing his sense of humor and how smart his daughter is, she was probably totally chuckling at my expense on the other end of the line.

Well, I think at this point I'm rambling like a crazy person because I'm super tired and delirious from the long day of traveling, and I would really love to fall asleep right now. But it's only 8:30 PM here, so I have to force myself to stay awake awhile longer.

Oh - and Danny might have been right about the over packing. Upon unpacking my suitcases, I've noticed that I seem to have brought 11 pairs of shoes.

adventureland

2010-04-10T17:57:00.000-07:00

Here goes nothing.

I'm packing for a gig tonight - that's not unusual. But what is unusual is the fact that if everything goes according to plan (that means if all the contracts that are still pending because of scheduling conflicts work themselves out, which they should) I will only be in my apartment for between 4 - 6 weeks during the next twelve months. For sure, I won't be back here for four months starting tomorrow, so that's what I'm trying to pack for this evening. Not to mention I will sublet my apartment while I'm away, so I have to get the apartment ready for it's new inhabitants, while making sure I have everything I need for the next couple of seasons and countries.

Here's my method for long term packing - i.e.; living out of a suitcase for a year. First of all, most of the clothes I've purchased over the last couple of years have been in neutral colors. So most of the stuff I bring in my suitcases can be worn in any season, and layered and worn together. Speaking of layering, most of my pants are jeans (ah the pleasures of not working in an office) and they are all tapered and ankle length so I can wear them tucked into boots in the winter and fall, and with sandals and flats in the spring and summer. I have two big suitcases, each of which I make sure comes in under 50 pounds so I won't get any overage charges (although the fact that most airlines are charging for checked baggage makes me want to scream). I have one of those little scales that you attach to the handle of your suitcase and lift it up to see how heavy it is, and I travel everywhere with that ingenious little device. Then I pack a carry-on suitcase full of all the heavy stuff - all my shoes and scores and electronic items - and since they don't generally weigh those, I can keep my checked bags, full mostly of clothes, under the limit that way. I put my computer, my iphone and ipod, my kindle, and my wallet and passport in my extra large handbag (I never buy a new handbag unless it's large enough to fit a score and / or laptop), and I'm on my way. For this particularly long trip away, I'm having my mom send a box of more summery stuff to me in St Louis that I can then bring with me to Europe, since I don't come home between any of it.

Then I have to make sure my apartment is clean and ready for guests, and that all the stuff I don't want them to use is put away. I have to clean out the fridge and freezer of pretty much everything, and make sure a few of my friends and neighbors have my keys in case of emergency. I have to either get my mail forwarded to my parents house, or give my friend Will who lives in my building my mail key so he can keep it and sort it. I have to make sure the doormen and the landlords know who my subletters are and when they're coming, and leave the subletters a long note about living in my place (example - this remote controls the channels, while this one controls the volume).

Worst of all, I have to say goodbye to my friends and family, just when they got used to having me around. I have to say, "okay - see you in four months - if you're around for those two weeks I'll be in town." I have to say goodbye to my freshly painted apartment and my houseplants and my funky piano. I have to say goodbye to my doorman who always comments on the weather, and goodbye to my favorite neighborhood pizza place that has the whole wheat crust I like.

But I'm excited. There is not a single town I'm slated to go to that I'm not really eager to spend time in. I get to sing and work and learn and play and goof off and laugh and probably cry a little bit too. I will take pictures, and write, and learn music, and meet new people and see lots of old friends. And I'll be something that I've learned never to take for granted; busy. Life is good. I'm ready.

googled

2010-04-09T07:29:00.001-07:00

I'm turning in a early blog entry today because the guy is once again working on my bathroom, and until he finishes plastering and painting I can't take a shower. And I can't learn music before I've showered. I don't know why, I just need to be clean.

So lately, in order to come up with ideas for blog posts, I've been googling the word "opera" and just seeing what comes up. But last night, I decided to change it up and google myself. I have to be in the right state of mind for an evening of self-googling, because you never know what you're going to find, and you will almost certainly find somebody saying something negative about you. So, armed with the knowledge that at least the opera news reviewer liked me, and slightly inebriated from half a bottle of Rosé (which is very helpful when googling oneself) I typed in "Jennifer Rivera opera," closed my eyes and hit search. Here is a list of things I found which surprised, and in some cases shocked me:

1. There were about a jillion links to Opera Chic's articles about me, or other blogs who had linked to her articles about me. Seriously, everybody in the whole biz and beyond must be reading her blog. Goooooooooo team OC!

2. I found a recording of part of one of my arias from the very first time I sang Cherubino on the Cincinnati Opera website! Here's the link if you want to hear younger me singing non so piu in 2002. I didn't even know a recording of that performance existed, much less that it was somewhere on the internet. But it's nice that my very first experience with my favorite role got recorded for posterity. Now if I could only get a copy.

3. I found a funny blog review of a concert I did in Washington DC that said I didn't have "star quality," although I decided not to take it too seriously when I noticed that in the same review they talked about the Lucrezia Borgia that Kate sang in DC at the same time, but instead of Kate Aldrich, they called her Kate Royale. If they were going to say I didn't have star quality, I wish they would have called me Jennifer Smith. Oh well.

4. I discovered that there were way more links to my blog entries than to my website. I don't know what that means exactly but I guess it makes sense since people look at my blog daily and not my website. Although it made me wonder why I spent so much time designing my website when everybody was looking at my free blogger page.

5. This was a doozy - so, I found this blog / website that had all these photos of women from swimsuit issues of magazines and playboy and stuff, and then if you scrolled down a few inches, you saw the photo of me from the Barber of Seville I did in Tampa where I was shaving the tenor and trying to look sexy with the caption "Jennifer Rivera's close shave." OH. MY. GOD. This brings up so many questions: How did they even find that photo? Why oh WHY with all the naked pictures of people on the internet would they put a photo of a mezzo in a black dress among all these semi porno shots??? I have no more words, just an apology to my parents if I have shamed the family with my errant ways. Ugh.

By the way, I realize that sitting around googling oneself seems like an exercise in self-involvement, and well, it kinda is. But how else am I going to know what's out there? And knowledge is power. Or in the case of #5, knowledge is shame. Either way, what the hell? Might as well just embrace it all. And hey, the guy just finished, and my bathroom ceiling no longer has a hole!!!! Time to get clean and get cracking.

The good, the bad, and the ugly

2010-04-08T15:35:00.000-07:00

One piece of advice I like to give to people is the following; if you ever want to feel truly horrible about the way you look, just go into a large establishment with harsh fluorescent lighting that has mirrors everywhere. The images of yourself reflected back to you will be so unflattering you will probably want to stop off at a plastic surgeons office on your way home. The worst offender is Century 21, the discount department store in lower Manhattan. I swear that place has the most horrible lighting on earth, combined with mirrors so fattening that they should probably be placed in a fun-house. It's enough to make you want to run screaming towards the end of the island and take a running leap off of one of the piers into the Hudson river.

The same advice could be given about what I'm doing as I write this: if you ever want to feel truly horrible about yourself as a singer and a musician, just record your very first coaching of a 20th century opera and play it back to yourself later that day. What will help with the horror is if the music is very high and quite rhythmic. Then not only can you be disgusted by your horrible musical skills, but you can also have the pleasure of listening to yourself sound like a badger being skinned alive. Truly dreadful.

I exaggerate for comedic effect, obviously. But seriously, one's first coaching on a modern piece is hardly every pretty. Unless you are one of those extraordinarily gifted singers who has perfect pitch and maybe played a musical instrument very seriously for years before you became a singer (like a friend of mine who learns all of his music by memory just by looking at the score, without making a peep - I hate him.) the first slog-through tends to be pretty gruesome. And today was no exception, especially because during a lot of my role in The Golden Ticket I'm basically screaming at my father, so the music is above the staff and quite syncopated.

Usually for me, I just need one or two goes at it with a pianist and then it all begins to make sense in my head and improves drastically. I don't have the best skills as an immediate sight reader, but I have really good ears, so once my ears can make sense of what's going on and send the messages to my brain, I can sing pretty much anything. Even if it's completely atonal, I can find the pitches using ear and muscle memory (I've had coaches ask me, "HOW are you finding that PITCH??" and I have to reply, "Honestly, I have no idea.").

But today was kind of a nightmare. First of all, my coach had never seen the score before. Some coaches will allow you to give them the score ahead of time so they can get a sense of it, but I work with one of the best coaches in NYC, and she doesn't have time to be spending hours looking at a new score, so usually we kind of learn things together. It actually helps me because then we can figure out how it's supposed to sound at the same time, and with a little repetition, I can get it into my ear and make it into actual music, as opposed to the initial warbling. But let me tell you, no one must ever hear the recordings of my initial coachings. Not only does my ipod with a mike take all the warm overtones out of my voice, but the shrieking of high A's B's, and C's when you don't really know what the next note you're supposed to sing is can be deafening.

But luckily, to lift my spirits, I did get a bit of good news. My friend Will had received his copy of Opera News in the mail, and lo and behold there was a GREAT review of the Agrippina from Berlin in there - and it was even in the magazine itself, not hidden away in the online version! Since it's not available online yet, I'm gonna go ahead and reprint what the reviewer said about me because it kind of made my day:

"In this production, Agrippina was far from the sole attraction: Pendatchanska's two female costars, Jennifer Rivera (Nerone) and Anna Prohaska (Poppea) shared fully in the evening's glory.

Rivera, an American mezzo who has appeared often at NYCO, was equally bold, singing with precision and unrestrained passion. The scenes with Agrippina were rife with oedipal over-tones. In all, her characterization of the young emperor-to-be was the evening's most varied performance, remarkable not least for the skill with which she navigated the terrifyingly fast runs of the Act III aria "Come nube che fugge dal vento."

Whoopee!!! I totally owe opera news a Beer.

And now, back to the shrieking. Talk about terrifying.

operaitus

2010-04-07T19:14:00.000-07:00

Tonight, stumped about what to write my blog about, I googled "Opera" in google news, just to see what would come up. On the first page, I found this article, in something called the L magazine, about a new Broadway show called "Lend me a tenor":

I disagree with quite a bit of Charles Isherwood's pan of Lend Me a Tenor, a revival of which opened on Broadway this weekend. But he does make one incontestable assertion: of Justin Bartha, the Hangover alum who stars in the show, he writes: "his attempts at singing are dubious at best. (The ending really should have been tweaked to avoid exposing his deficiencies in this regard.)"
That's true! Not that the audience has any clue.

Bartha's character secretly aspires to be a great opera singer and, one night, when a star tenor cannot be woken up, he gets his big chance, wowing audiences with his Otello, a part he just happens to know by heart.

In one scene, Bartha and Anthony LaPaglia, as the titular tenor, collaborate on an aria, and it's never more obvious than here that Bartha can't sing, as his voice wobbles on uncertain notes. And yet at the end of the scene, the two received a wild ovation at a recent performance.

The audience seemed impressed that anyone could almost sing at all, especially in another language! But what the casting choice tells us is that Americans, even wealthy foreign tourists, have become so opera illiterate they can't even recognize when someone can't sing, to the point that characters in plays who are supposed to be opera singers needn't even be cast by anybody who can sing passably!

America: opera is pretty. You should listen to it every once in a while.

Oy. This is depressing. I haven't seen the show in question, but I've definitely seen things in plays and movies that were supposed to pass for opera singing that, well....weren't. And very few people seemed to be aware of the difference.

But how do you combat such a problem? And is it even something to be combatted? If people are listening to something and enjoying it, why spoil it for them by letting them know that what they're hearing actually sucks ass?

I think the reason to try to educate people is that when they realize what they are missing, they might be able to get to an entirely new level of understanding and passion about this art form, and with that knowledge, their appreciation of the art form can only be deepened. If they went crazy for somebody just because he sang passably and in a foreign language, imagine how moved they could be if they were aware of what went into opera singing, and were able to appreciate it in it's true form!

I guess the only chance we have with this is in education. Unless we educate young people in this country about what opera is and how it can make you feel, we can't really expect audiences to yearn for anything more than a movie star who can sort of sing on pitch.

Interview thyself

2010-04-06T18:06:00.000-07:00

So, tonight I'm having a lovely dinner at home with yet another of my mezzo friends whose website I advertise stage right over there, Katherine Pracht, or Katy as she is known to me. Today was rather a bust of a day, since when I woke up this morning I discovered that my bathroom ceiling was leaking and had to call the super and several plumbers to come fix it. I was planning on spending the entire day studying music, but I got all self conscious when my bathroom was suddenly filled with dudes who were punching holes in my ceiling, and didn't feel like singing tritones a few feet away from them. I did my best to study, but when my dear friend Katy (who is making her debut at Avery Fisher Hall this week with the American Symphony Orchestra's performance of Scene's from Goethe's Faust) called to say that she was in the neighborhood, I screamed, "YES! Get over here and we can have a drink!!!" (since I couldn't very well leave the plumbers alone in here without me). We have basically been interviewing each other all night, and since she is a humble midwesterner, I knew she would balk at the the idea that I interview her for tonight's blog, so I asked her if she would interview me, and she agreed. So here goes - another mezzo on mezzo interview for you. Let's see what she wants to know!

Katherine Pracht: Where do you find the time to write, rehearse, perform, and travel, socialize - are you you burning the midnight oil?

Jennifer Rivera: That's a funny question because it makes it sound like I'm sooooooo busy, whereas sometimes I'm on the phone with Will or Georgia saying, "who are my friends again? I need somebody to entertain me because I'm bored." But I guess I'm one of those people that needs to always be "doing" something to feel satisfied, so I find things to fill my time when I'm not at rehearsal. But honestly, even if I'm on a gig, we only rehearse for maximum 6 hours a day - that leaves a lot of hours to fill! And then you're not even called every single day, and even if you have a couple of hours of music to study, that still leaves time for other stuff. I think it would be very different if I were married and had a couple of kids - that totally changes your time table. But as things are now, I usually feel like I have plenty of time for all the stuff I do that is not singing. I wish I had MORE responsibilities, usually. I need projects to be happy. Who knows what that says about me, but it's true.

KP: So when you feel like you're crossing things off your list, that invigorates you to do even more?

JR: I'm definitely more productive when I'm actually rehearsing - when I have free time I tend to not be able to organize it well, and suddenly it's 4PM and Oprah is on, and why the hell not, I'll just plop down and watch it. But when I'm working, that usually never happens.

KP: That's interesting - I tend to treat being on a gig more like a vacation and am more likely to watch Oprah at that point rather than when I'm between jobs. When you shut down completely what do you do?

JR: Well, here's the part of the interview where I admit that I watch television. I usually try to avoid telling anyone about that dirty little habit, but now that you can watch stuff like The Daily Show online, and you can download tv shows and movies off the internet (my favorites recently were Dexter and Mad Men) I have to admit that tv is a really easy way to totally turn your brain off after a day of concentrating. But I also can't watch too much or my productive self will get stir crazy, so one or two episodes on the internet is perfect for me. I have also been getting into photography lately, and taking pictures is a very different type of concentration that I have enjoyed. And obviously writing is cathartic for me. And also spending time with friends - that's a BIG thing that I NEED to do a lot of. And drinking. Wine. Lots of it.

KP: When you're ready to get back to work, what are your first steps to reinvigorate your career - do you update your website, write on your blog, learn new music, have a coaching, voice lesson, alexander lesson - what do you do?

JR: Wow, that's an interesting question.

KP: Thank you (laughs maniacally)

JR: Well, usually what happens for me is I go through a period of lethargy where I feel like a schlub, so when that's over, I get crazily productive - although it doesn't necessarily have to be career productive, I just have to be doing things that make me feel like I'm accomplishing something - anything. The first step is usually pestering my poor agents. Some weeks go by when I call them on the phone and say, "See? I waited until TUESDAY AFTERNOON to call you!!!" Do you know how long I have WAITED since Monday morning???" Also learning music is a good way to remind myself "Yes, you ARE a singer AND a musician!" But I have to say that writing on my blog has never seemed like a career enhancer - if anything, I worry that it's going to be bad for my career because I'm too stupidly honest.

KP: I find you spend a lot of your energy helping others, myself included. It's a rather sisterly way to approach people. You're an only child - do you think that contributes to your desire to help others?

JR: Wow. I'm really moved by that question. Well, I'm glad to know you think that about me. I think that my parents gave me an abundance of love and support as I was growing up, and that caused me to want to give that to other people. And I do think that I tend to "adopt" people as my siblings as a result of being an only child. But I think that the support I got from my mom and dad is what gave me the "strength of character" (if I can say that without sounding pompous) to be ABLE to want to look outside myself and feel like I have enough love to be able to give it away. That answer makes me sound like I'm patting myself on the back, but I mean to be patting my mom and dad. It should also be said that I choose my friends very carefully, so if I give love and support it's to a chosen few that I find really compelling and loving and giving themselves (you included KP). (Did you all barf yet?)

KP: You are a very positive and optimistic person, but also very pragmatic. Does one part of you win in a battle, and which part of you is stronger?

JR: God! These are SUCH interesting questions!!! I guess I have to say that my optimism probably wins out, and I don't always make the most pragmatic choices probably. I really believe that things happen for a reason, and work out the way they are supposed to, etc. If I didn't believe that, this would be a very hard career to pursue and understand. I feel like I'm getting more pragmatic as I'm getting older, and making more choices that weigh all the options (as opposed to just going on impulse as is my nature) but I hope that that optimism will stay in the forefront because being optimistic just seems like a kinder, easier way to exist.

So that's our interview for the evening. I have to say I think those were GREAT questions from my dear Katy (When I first sang Jo in Little Women, she was my sister Meg, and we have always had a sisterly relationship ever since). We are signing off for the evening, because we really need to go look at the hole in my bathroom ceiling one more time.

Katherine Pracht and Jennifer Rivera in Little Women with Lyric Opera Cleveland

Opera Now

2010-04-05T18:40:00.000-07:00

Right now, as I am preparing my apartment for 4 months of absence, in addition to being entertained by the large naked man changing his clothes in front of his window directly across the street, I am also listening live to the Opera Now podcast. The boss and creator of the podcast, Michael Rice, worked at Caramoor with my best friend, which is how I first came to know about the show. It's just several funny, educated people sitting around talking about opera, and specifically the news from the world of opera for the week. The reason I like it is that while it's an educated discussion, it's not overly-intellectualized. So much of opera reporting, especially the way we view it in this country, is highly erudite and has a feeling of elitism. I like the idea that people can sit around and talk about opera in plain speech, make jokes about it when necessary, and can still make interesting commentary about what's going on today. Plus I support any person who finds a way to incorporate the word butthole into a discussion about opera.

But I'm freaking out a little as this week begins. I'm not entirely sure what I should be doing with myself knowing what I have coming up. First of all, because I'm singing my millionth Barber, I feel unsure about how much preparation I should be doing before I leave. As I have mentioned, I tend to be one of those people who always thinks I will be under-prepared, and then ends up being way over-prepared. I decided that I should have a coaching on Barber with my usual coach last week, just to check in on little things like the Italian double consonants and little bits of recit I didn't do in the last production. I was almost laughing at myself during the coaching because I didn't even need to refer to my score once. I think by now Rosina is officially in my blood. But I was also really enjoying singing the role yet again, because with a role so ingrained in my consciousness, I can find a ton of nuances with each new go at it. So I don't really need to be studying Rosina every day and night. But still, I feel weird not looking at the score incessantly knowing I'm about to start rehearsals. What can I say, I'm a freak.

Then there's the fact that I am also learning this world premiere for St Louis, The Golden Ticket. I won't be able to come back to New York after Portland because I go directly to St Louis to begin rehearsals, and since I haven't been in Portland in a long time, I'm not really sure what the coaching situation is there. So I have to hope there is a pianist who can work on the score with me, because with a modern opera I definitely need a few work-throughs with a pianist before I begin rehearsals to makes sure I am solidly aware of what's going on in the orchestra while I'm singing. So I'm trying to learn as much of it as I can this week and coach it a couple of times before going to Portland. And learning a new opera always stresses me out a little in the beginning. At first, I think to myself, "I will never, ever know how this goes." And then comes a turning point when I start to make sense of it all in my head, but until then, I feel like I can't even read music. That's the stage we're in right now.

Then there's the fact that I'm leaving for such a long time and I can't even imagine how I'm supposed to pack for 4 months. I just stand in my room, looking around at my closets and drawers, completely dumbfounded. In fact, that's what I was doing while listening to the podcast that I mentioned earlier. Just standing there, staring into my closets, and basically asking my clothes which ones wanted to see Oregon, St Louis, and Austria. I just want them to pick themselves so I'll have one less thing to worry about. If only.

Of course, these are all lovely problems to have. And even though I feel stressed, I quite like it. It's the good kind of stress. Oooh - the naked man in the window is back. Gotta love new york.

Weighing in

2010-04-04T14:32:00.001-07:00

There was a post today in the New York Times Arts Beat culture blog about this kerfuffle going down in Italy where the soprano Daniella Dessi withdrew from a Traviata directed by Franco Zefirelli because he basically said " a woman of a certain age and plumpness is not credible in the character." Yikes.

I saw Daniella Dessi sing Norma in Bologna (in the same production from the youtube video of Kate from a few days back) and I have to say I thought she was totally a sexy lady! So I think the whole thing is bizarre, but it made me want to write a post about size and singing.

For me, my natural thinness is something I think I've actually had to overcome and find ways around. If you look around there are literally NO waify opera singers - I mean, the "thin like model" ones - although most singers are in shape and look healthy these days. But the really skinny girls who you want to yell "EAT" at when you see them wearing size 25 jeans are not prevalent on the operatic stage. Except for maybe a few really high, tiny coloraturas, I really can't think of any. And the ones that are on the thin side, still often have good-sized round rib cages. I can say from a personal point of view that my voice has definitely gotten richer, darker, and larger since I've gained 15 or so pounds in the last 10 years. And I feel really strongly that if I made a concerted effort to gain maybe 30 more pounds, I might be able to sound more like a Carmen. Not that to sound like a Carmen you have to be zaftig, but I think on my frame and with the voice I was born with, I would need a little more fat for it to beef up enough to sing that role. This may be a controversial thing to say, but I really believe that body size affects voice size.

And I've had some conversations with colleagues recently that lead me to believe I'm not the only one who thinks that. I have two different colleagues who made a concerted effort to gain weight when they felt that they had gotten too thin and were having trouble supporting their voices, and therefore weren't putting out enough sound. It's especially a problem if you're working in the States because we really value big voices here since so many of the theaters are so huge. In Europe it's much easier to get away with having a smaller voice and so maybe there are some waify singers over there that I haven't yet encountered.

I will say however, that I get SO annoyed that I want to go postal on people's asses when they meet me and say, "but how can you be an opera singer? You're not fat!!" I seriously want to hit them over the head with a sharp stick. But actually, that stereotype probably didn't come from nowhere, so I shouldn't be so impatient with those poor people. I don't really see myself Renee Zelweggering into Bridget Jones any time soon, so I'll have to be content with Cherubinos and Rosinas for now. But I certainly hope the opera world doesn't become as obsessed with weight as hollywood because I've seen some of those actresses in real life, and they seriously look STARVING. And opera singers need to at least be able to eat a big plate of spaghetti after singing. I mean, really.

commenting on comments

2010-04-03T15:27:00.000-07:00

Wow - thanks for all your nice comments yesterday after my little rant based on somebody's mean comment about me. You are all right, in that we must ignore things like that, not take them seriously, and not give them credence by writing entire blog posts about them. And by the way, I'm totally over it - I was only upset about it for like five minutes. But I have to say I'm glad I wrote the post for two reasons. First of all, it felt fabulous to get to respond to somebody saying something bad about me! I never really thought about it, but one of the reasons that it's difficult to get a bad review or criticism is that you just have to shut up and take it. Well, not me! I have a blog, and if somebody says something I don't like - guess what? I can scream and yell right back, and I tell you what, it's quite cathartic!

But the other reason I'm glad I wrote about it is that I think people in this business in general tend to do way too much categorizing of artists, and it's a dangerous habit. And when I say "people" I mean myself as well - I catch myself doing the "compare and judge" game, both with myself and with other singers all the time. I have blurted out to certain colleagues on more than one occasion, "Well, I don't know what you're worried about, you're having a WAY more important career than I am!" as if a career could be quantified, wrapped up in a little box and labeled, "important", WAY important" or "totally UNimportant, you freaking loser." It's ridiculous, and I should stop doing it - and I can thank my friend the "you're a nobody" commenter for reminding me of that.

As I mentioned in my post a few days ago, I went to listen to some live jazz the other night, something I'm embarrassed to admit I don't do nearly enough. I was totally mesmerized by the playing of both groups I heard, and I had the occasion afterwards to speak to one of the musicians about what it is to be a professional jazz musician. It's apparently shockingly difficult to make your living strictly from playing jazz unless you are quite a famous soloist who is touring around the world (and especially europe, which as with classical music, seems to contain a larger audience for musicians in general). He told me that the 16 piece band which played the first set I saw, and boasted some seriously talented soloists, each earned $25 for playing for about 4 hours. "But WHY do they do it then???" I asked incredulously. "Because they love it I guess," was the reply. Wow - no wonder listening to that music moved me so much - 16 really talented people, playing music for the sheer enjoyment of what they do? That's something.

And that conversation put all of this business with judgements and categorization into perspective for me. In the jazz world, you can be a really talented saxophonist, blow your horn with all you've got all night long, and walk away with just 25 bucks and some free drinks to show for it. But if you love it, you find a way to do it, and that's enough. In opera, we have all these organizations that are hierarchical, and therefore we instantly tend to categorize ourselves based on that hierarchy. But maybe we just need to ask ourselves; If the most you could get to sing this opera tonight was $25 and a couple of free beers, would you do it? And if the answer is yes, then screw the categorization and just enjoy the privilege of getting to do what you love. And enjoy the hell out of those beers.

What makes a somebody?

2010-04-02T13:08:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago, when I did the interview with my friend Kate Aldrich, Opera Chic posted our interview on her blog as one of her daily items, and linked to my blog. Today I saw that there were 7 comments on her blog about that post, so I did something that was probably a bad idea, and went ahead and looked at the comments. It's always dangerous to look at blog comments because they are essentially anonymous and therefore could say absolutely anything. And I was right to want to avoid them because right there a few lines down were the following two comments : "Who ARE these two? followed by "Nobody. Not worth your bother."

OUCH! Nobody? Wow - it's amazing how one little word can be so incredibly hurtful. I mean, obviously Kate can't be a nobody - if you're singing Carmen at the Met and Rosina at La Scala and you're a nobody, then who the hell is somebody? So let's put that aside for a second and assume this commenter was talking about me. I mean, certainly compared to the major singers out there, I guess you could say I'm a nobody - in fact, I jokingly say it about myself all the time. I haven't sung at the Met or Scala, and who knows if I ever will? But I think that labeling an artist as a nobody is really a dangerous way to criticize them if you are an opera fan, which I'm assuming this person must be if they read Opera Chic.

I read an article recently that quoted Renee Flemming as saying that The Met is the top of the food chain for singers, which is probably quite appropriate. And if we're using the food chain analogy, then we have to acknowledge the fact that food chains can only exist when all the different levels exist - if you remove one of the levels, everything above it dies with it - they need each other to survive. The same is true for any artistic field, but let's take opera singers in particular. Without singers that weren't super famous, we wouldn't be able to have opera companies spread out everywhere - if the only opera companies which existed were the Met, Scala, Covent Garden, and Paris, then nobody anywhere else would be able to see opera, and the art form would have a difficult time sustaining itself. And famous singers only exist because they worked their way up there - they all spent time learning and growing by singing roles with smaller companies and becoming better artists.

Maybe he or she is suggesting I'm a nobody because they think I have no talent or nothing to offer as an artist, but even that is certainly a misnomer. Anyone who has a desire to share something artistic with the world has something to say, while their natural talent (and even more, their circumstances of being in the right place at the right time) might limit the context in which they are able to express themselves. But even someone who gives a recital with 12 audience members might be able to move someone to tears with what they are communicating. And in my book, that makes them somebody.

I know that every person who puts themselves in the public eye has to accept that they will receive criticisms of all different sorts. And thank god I'm not a hollywood actress who has to read about how someone thinks I'm too fat, or that my career is over, on the cover of a magazine in a grocery store. But I really believe that any opera fan who categorizes any singer as "nobody" should quickly reconsider what they might be doing to the art form by dismissing someone so cruelly. This kind of remark doesn't do anybody any good. Well, I don't know - did it make you feel better for a minute, faceless commenter? Because I think your minute might be up now. So I would like to suggest that you go do something productive, unless you want every member of this food chain to shrivel up and die. And I'm not saying this to you anonymously - I'm saying it as myself, Jennifer Rivera. Somebody.

The Golden Ticket

2010-04-01T18:49:00.000-07:00

Now, as I prepare to leave for Portland, I don't really have to spend too much time studying Barbiere. I will have a coaching on it, as I always do, just to make sure it's in tip top shape, and that I haven't gotten lazy about any of the italian double consonants, or forgotten a piece of recit here or there. But mostly what I'm doing is learning "The Golden Ticket" because I will go directly from Portland to St Louis, and I'm not sure there will be adequate time or available coaches to work with me in Portland. Some people learn new roles all on their own in front of their pianos, but my brain needs to hear the whole picture, and to take in what the orchestra is doing while I'm singing before I feel completely confident that I know it 100%. Plus, I tend to be something of an over-preparer who always thinks I'm not prepared enough. I have had more stress dreams about arriving to rehearsals unprepared, only to arrive and have someone comment on how well I seem to know my part. I am always amazed when there is someone who doesn't seem to know the score really well, because I would be utterly mortified if that were me. So it seems my ego keeps me on task, and forces me to learn my music. Oh well, whatever it takes.

I received a DVD recording of the workshop of "The Golden Ticket" that took place in New York last year, so I am fortunate enough to be able to hear the whole score before rehearsals start even though it's a World Premiere. I'm finding it really helpful to know what the oompa loompa music sounds like because I cannot get the "Oompa Loompa doompety doo" song from the movie out of my head. I also was really excited to find this video on youtube and to hear some of the orchestrations, because it's difficult to get a good sense about a score until you've heard the way it is orchestrated. I can tell that the piano reduction on the DVD doesn't do the score justice based on listening to this clip with orchestra:

And as for my role, I will be doing a lot of screaming and pouting, which frankly, won't be a big stretch for me.

I have a friend in town this weekend from Germany who is a huge jazz aficionado, so I'm going to be going to listen to a lot of music with her this weekend. It should be good for me, since I have all these "Golden Ticket" ear-worms in my head, and when I fall asleep at night, I hear "opening chocolate bars just for the wrappers" over and over (that's what my character makes the factory workers of her father's factory do so she can obtain her golden ticket). That part is really catchy. Hopefully a nice double bass solo will convince my brain to stop repeating that phrase.

Okay, I just reread everything I've wrote, and found it really formal in style. I think it's because I've consumed two glasses of wine already tonight, and I must have been trying to overcompensate by sounding intellectual. Give it up - just let yourself sound drunk. dsjoewfjoiwshogvh;owvgsho!!!!!!! There. Much more realistic. Cheers!

Oh my god how much longer

2010-03-31T22:05:00.000-07:00

Until my 30 day self imposed purgatory is up?????

It's not purgatory - I like writing my blog. I really liked interviewing my friend Kate last night, and some of my entries where I thought I had nothing to say and just started writing actually ended up surprising me. But seriously - forcing myself to blog every day was a terrible idea. Now I've started putting it off and putting it off until well after midnight and then I drag myself to the computer, only to realize that I have absolutely nothing of interest to say. And then I think: how many more days did I tell myself I would do this?

Also, remember a couple of weeks ago when I was whining about the fact that I wasn't busy enough, and wished I could be working again right that second? Well, now that I am realizing that I leave in a week and a half, and will be gone for 4 months straight with no breaks, living in three different weather seasons, three different time zones, and two different countries, I am wondering WHAT THE HELL I DID WITH ALL THAT FREE TIME?? I guess I took a little vacation - that's okay I suppose. But now I am faced with packing up my apartment (sigh - I just painted and redecorated my bedroom, only to say goodbye to my cool new digs), and figuring out all the stuff I'll need for the next FOUR MONTHS!! I almost always get to go home in between gigs for at least a day, and three back to back gigs with no break in between is totally unheard of. And just what I've been wanting - so settle down Rivera, pack your boots and your sandals, your jackets and your tank tops, and a whole bunch of opera scores - and get back up into the saddle.

On a side note, my interview last night with Kate got me thinking about how I would answer the questions I asked her, and a big one for me is what roles I am totally dying to sing. The answer for me is; Oktavian in Rosenkavalier and Idamante in Idomeneo. I'm just putting that out there in the universe - I am willing ready and able to sing those two rascals, so bring it on world. Got it?

Kate Aldrich

2010-03-30T19:17:00.000-07:00

So, I'm trying something new and different tonight, because - why not? A very good friend of mine, who also happens to be my next door neighbor (literally, our doors are inches apart) is the wonderful mezzo Kate Aldrich. If you haven't heard of Kate yet, you will very soon. This season, she will be heard as Carmen at the Met (replacing Gheorghiu), Rosina at La Scala, Cenerentola in Pesaro, Carmen in Chicago, and Oktavian in Munich, just to name a few.

Kate and I worked together when we were recently out of school, and she also went to grad school with my best friend Georgia. But we reconnected a couple of years ago when we were both singing in Torino, and she really took me under her wing when I arrived, since she had already worked extensively in Italy, spoke fluent italian, and I was basically standing around looking like Eddie Murphy in "Coming to America." Since that time, her career has taken off to an even higher level, and I thought it might be interesting for you readers to hear the perspective of a singer on the brink of major stardom (she would be rolling her eyes if she heard me utter that phrase, but dude, it's true). Plus, she and I are so rarely in town at the same time, I thought it would be great to take advantage of this moment.

So we're going to format this blog post as an interview - and I am sitting in her living room right now (where you could drill a hole in the wall and see my living room) and asking her questions. However, she is recovering form a cold right now and trying to rest her voice, so even though we're in the same room, I'm asking her the questions out loud, and she's responding by sending me IMs on skype with her answers, which I am then cutting and pasting into this blog entry. Ah.....technology!!

Jenny: How old were you when you took your first voice lesson?

Kate: 16

Jenny: and when did you decide - for realz - that you wanted to be an opera singer.

Kate: I didnt really decide to be an "opera singer" until I was in college- and even quite a way through college. Actually in high school I was pretty into my rock band, and almost didn't go to college for singing because I didn't want to leave my band (before you ask- the name was Liquid Daydream...). I went to college with the idea that I could keep singing the art songs that I was working on in school, and keep singing in a choir, because that was what I had done classically up until then. When I was in college I had my first exposure to opera, and I was very resistant at first- I wanted to say that it was too much, over the top etc, but I think I was afraid of it because I knew it was going to rock my world completely. I was also singing in a jazz group, and almost went that route for a while.... By the time I went to grad school, I was thoroughly intrigued, and had the good fortune to have been accepted into the Handel Project at the Manhattan School of Music led by Will Crutchfield, and it was there that I learned the full spectrum of what might be possible in terms of music making and creativity and mastering the art form. Then I was hooked, and the more I did from that point on, the more I KNEW it was the only way that I could artistically express myself.

JR: What was your first BIG job and how did you get that job?

KA: My first big job was l'Arena di Verona. I was in my second year at the Pittsburgh Opera Center (what is now the Pittsburgh resident Artist program) and Mauro Trombetta, who was the artistic director of the Arena di Verona at the time was in Pittsburgh to give us master classes. He was interested in me, and asked me if I had ever looked at the opera la Forza del Destino... My inside voice was "what's il forzo del destino what? by who?" and my outside voice was "Of course I know of it, but I haven't ever looked at it..." he asked me to take a look, and so of course, in that way that only young artists can, I got the score 5 minutes before he even asked me about it. I looked at it, and it was really right for me. The next time I saw him, I told him that I had looked at it. He asked me what I thought of the role, and I told him that it felt really good in my voice. This was his response: "OK- so- my secretary will send you the details, but the performances are August 9th, 19th and 22nd. I will give you her number so you can be in touch with her...." I was blown away, and wondered if maybe something was lost in translation... In fact I didn't even fully believe it until I saw a few months later that my name was listed on the roster... I had no idea even what l'Arena di Verona was about... I asked my italian teacher if she had ever heard of it, and she laughed at me. I will never forget the first performance there, which was, basically my professional debut. I had to walk up a million steps and mix in with the chorus so the public didnt see me until I broke through to sing my first phrase.. I will never forget seeing the audience with all their candles getting lower and lower on my horizon as I walked up the stairs. It's one of my most vivid memories professionally to date... but then of course I forgot everything after the time that I began to sing in that opera!! Something about being picked up and swung around by a super, chorus members pushing me here and there, other cast members whispering where to go... I had never rehearsed with the supers, chorus, orchestra, or set, let alone on the stage...

JR: But obviously that was a success - and that lead to you spending a lot of time in Italy and becoming fluent in Italian (which I am completely jealous about, by the way). Okay, now talk about some of the big moments in your career thus far that you know were really turning points - that specifically changed things and lead to newer, bigger things

KA: The Aida with Zeffirelli (that Kate did soon after the Arena di Verona project) because I was just beginning my career and here was this opportunity to do something major, for DVD, for TV, with Zeffirelli, in an opera that I had never planned on singing, at least not for 15 years!!! It is very hard to explain how that job affected me and changed me, and the stresses that went along with it. how it was at times a dream, and at others really scary.... I think that Scott Piper and Adina Aaron (the Aida and Radames from the production) are the only people that can really understand what that was. In hindsight we were rock stars in Italy for a brief time, and part of something historical. It was so incredible to be able to work with someone like Franco Zeffirelli at such a young age. He taught us so much... From him I learned to take risks and then come back within the margins, also to put myself whole heartedly into the dramatic staging of the opera. I think a lot of what we were going through emotionally at that time is visible in that live DVD recording...

Operalia, and meeting Placido Domingo. The competition is incredible because not only do you get to sing for so many incredible judges, but you get to meet all these fantastic singers. So many people that I met that year are out and about singing all over the world. But the best thing was meeting Placido Domingo. He was really instrumental in getting my career started. After Operalia he invited me to Los Angeles Opera to sing Fenena in Nabucco, and then I returned for 2 other seasons, plus made my Washington Opera debut. I got to sing by his side twice, and be conducted by him twice. It is thrilling to watch him work, and fascinating to see that he gets nervous too!

Singing Norma at the Teatro Comunale di Bologna with Daniela Dessi and Fabio Armiliato (she did that the same year we were in Torino together, and I was actually able to see it!!! See youtube video below). I got the call 3 weeks before we were to debut. I was singing in Torino in Lucrezia Borgia, when my agent called to see if I "wanted" to sing the Norma in Bologna with Dessi and Armiliato and Pido. There was going to be a DVD. she was debuting in the role... I was thrilled- Adalgisa is one of my favorite roles, and I had never sung before in Bologna. From that one contract I have gotten so many others in Italy from Barbiere at La Scala to Maria Stuarda in Palermo, to Cenerentola in Pesaro.

The Benvenuto Cellini at the Salzburg Festival. I was called also very last minute to step in for Kasarova. I was in Tokyo at the time, and they asked if I could come in 3 weeks to sing the role of Ascanio. Of course I had never sung it, and of course I said yes on the condition that they let me go to the US to be at my sisters wedding. I COULDN'T believe it but they said yes. I had this amazing opportunity to sing a great role in a fantastic production by Phillip Stoelzl, and we got to make a DVD. AND I was able to be at my sisters wedding!!!

JR: Now that you're at the top level and singing places like the Met and Scala, how do you deal with the pressure? Do you read reviews, and if so, how do you internalize them and keep them from affecting how you feel about yourself?

KA: I would lie if I said I DON'T read the reviews-- but I try to take them with a grain of salt. If you read the good ones you have to read the bad ones. You can learn from them, but they can also be dangerous if you take them too personally, good or bad. It's hard to give a definitive answer other than to say that you have the "you" which is the musician, and then there is the "you" who is YOU. That is what you cannot lose sight of when reading any kind of reviews, good or bad, or getting a great job and feeling on top of the world... Having good friends and loved ones also helps, because they always remind you that it's your turn to do the dishes, or that you cant forget to call your brother on his birthday.

JR: What's your dream role that you haven't yet sung but really want to?

KA: Romeo in I Capuleti ed i Montecchi, Giovanna Seymour, Anna Bolena

JR: and what's your dream role that if there were no such thing as fach and voice type you would want to sing?

KA: I have a little bit of Norma and Tosca envy but I will never sing them as far as I can tell.
Don Jose (Carmen), any male villain, Violetta in Traviata, and actually I would like a go at playing an ingenue. I haven't really done that. Like a really standard one- like Mimi or something like that...

JR: tell me (and the readers) one thing you like to do for fun that is weird (besides sitting in your living room and communicating with your next door neighbor via skype chat)

KA: cooking is my favorite thing to do on the road. Im a big fan of eating. and drinking. Im good at eating and drinking. I like doing crafty things, like knitting. Shopping, skyping, reading, biking (when the weather is good) yoga (my newest obsession), and just being a homebody.

Now we have to go because American Idol has been on pause this whole time and we need to see it. And also, we need to look at stuff on our own separate computers and not talk to each other - a typical night in an american household. Huge thanks to Kate for spending her evening sharing herself! I hope you all enjoy learning about this very interesting and down to earth artist!

30,000 hits

2010-03-29T20:35:00.000-07:00

When I started writing this blog two years ago, I honestly wasn't sure what would become of it or me. I don't even remember what possessed me to start writing it, because although I've always enjoyed writing, I was never someone who kept a journal, or who wrote anything down regularly. But I had a feeling that going to Italy was going to be sort of a life changing experience, and I knew that if I was writing something that was actually published on the internet that anyone could see, I would be more likely to try to make it somewhat eloquent and interesting. And oddly enough, it worked. I blogged nearly every day that I was there, it was a life changing experience, and the few people that were reading what I was writing at that point told me they enjoyed what I had to say.

Then the blog took on a life of it's own, especially after this past summer, when suddenly it received it's very own publicity. And then I realized that I had been writing regularly for nearly two years, and it was something other than singing that I had started developing a passion and identity for. In fact, for the first time this past winter, I started writing short stories and essays for no other reason than that writing had become a cathartic release for my creative energies. Plus I wanted to write down some stories and essays about my life that were (at this point anyway) too intimate to want to share with the entire world.

And now I can say with some certainty that I am officially a writer. Not a professional writer, not a published writer, but a writer nonetheless. Which is oddly liberating, because if you asked me what I "WAS" at any moment prior to this realization, I would have said that I was a singer, and that's all. Being a singer had become so all encompassing that I couldn't see myself as anything else. Of course, I had always been a daughter, a friend, a girlfriend, a teacher, a student - but the one thing that always defined me was my singing. I honestly never did any other single activity for any length of time. Sometimes having only one major thing that defines you can be a blessing - I certainly knew what I wanted to do with my life and for my career well before many of my peers, and this knowledge gave me a lot of confidence and assurance. But the problem with having one thing that defines you is that it's impossible to be defined by just one single thing during every moment of your life. And when that one thing is brought into question, when you're no longer sure if that one thing can define you - well, it can be a searing moment of disillusionment and even despair. In fact, you realize that letting just one thing define who you think you are is actually incredibly dangerous and certainly disappointing,

It's not that blogging allowed me to say, "aha! I'm not just a singer, I'm also a writer!!!" But it did allow me to realize that I am actually many things. I have capabilities to do things I didn't ever imagine, which means there are probably a lot of other things I could create and accomplish as well. It made me realize that any attempt to define the essence of who I am by something I do only serves to limit the possibilities of all the things I'm actually capable of. Am I a singer? Yes. Am I a writer? Yes. Am I an astronaut? Well, not yet, but nothing is impossible.

What to do with 30 mil?

2010-03-28T21:08:00.000-07:00

It was reported in the NY Times this week that a single donor is giving the Metropolitan Opera 30 million dollars with no restrictions. They don't have to do a specific production or name a wing after anybody, they can just have it and do with it as they please. That's a lot of frigging dough. My first thought was 30 MILLION DOLLARS!!! CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT CITY OPERA COULD DO WITH 30 MILLION DOLLARS?????? I can't help it, I'm an underdog supporter by nature, and I spent a few evenings of my life singing up a storm in that "other" theater that is not the Met, so my heart goes out to them when their big brother next door gets such a big donation. The scary thing about the Times article was that Peter Gelb said "it's not enough to save us" because the Met is having big financial problems. I thought YIKES when I read that - if the Met is having such financial problems that a sum like that doesn't put a dent in things, we should all be worried about where things are headed.

I've been thinking about what I would do if I had 30 million dollars to burn. I would certainly want to support some arts organizations, so kudos to the donor for putting her money where her mouth is. But what about starting a new, smaller opera company somewhere in or around New York City? Or putting the money into re-opening one of the struggling opera companies that had to close in the last couple of years because of the economic downturn - like Opera Pacific or Baltimore Opera? Or creating a new arts organization in a community in the U.S. that has none? Or - and this is a big passion for me - starting a huge educational program to get more arts in the schools - that's our future audience, and the only way we can hope to have arts in this country continue to thrive!

Or taking the money and retiring in Tahiti? These are all very valid possibilities.

But the funny thing is, I don't think I would stop singing. They always say that if you won a huge amount of money in the lottery and you would still keep your job, you must be doing the right job. So I guess I'm okay for now. But one day I would LOVE to RUN an opera company, and a huge windfall wouldn't hurt my chances. So universe, if you're listening; please send me 30 million dollars. I promise not to spend it all in once place.

High School Musical

2010-03-27T21:51:00.000-07:00

The reason that I'm only just now getting today's post in, well after midnight, is that I was out all night dancing at a Rave. Just kidding. I was actually attending a high school musical in Saratoga Springs, NY. But the fact that I said I was attending a Rave just totally shows that I am now totally an old lady.

When I sang one of my first professional Cenerentolas almost 10 years ago at Lake George Opera, I was lucky enough to have been placed in the carriage house of this really nice family who had two little daughters, who were I think 5 and 8 years old at the time. They would come knock on the door to my little apartment above their garage every day, and while their parents kept telling me, "we can tell them to stop if they're bothering you!!" the opposite was true. I've always felt a huge connection to children, especially little girls, so their daily visits were absolutely brightening my days there. And I developed a great friendship with that family, and have watched their adorable little girls grow up into poised and beautiful young ladies. Tonight Kate, who is now 17 (!!!!) and looking into possibly majoring in voice in college (!!!!!!!!) was performing in her high school musical, and I was lucky enough to receive an invitation. She has become an incredibly articulate, poised, thoughtful young lady, and I was very proud of her up on that stage tonight.

Watching the musical (It was "Bells are Ringing") got me thinking about the tradition of musicals in high schools. For me, having the chance to be in the choir, the musicals, and all things music and drama nerdy were my saviors, and what allowed me to have any social life whatsoever. But the high school musical also seems to bring the entire school together, as well as their parents, for a shared night of singing, dancing, and fantasy. For that night, kids who otherwise might not be the most socially acceptable or popular get to feel shiny, bright, and loved by everyone. Plus no one ever leaves the high school musical in anything other than a good mood. It's a really nice tradition we have here in the U.S. - but it made me wonder; what is the equivalent in European high schools? Schools in France, Italy, and Germany certainly don't perform musicals every year at their high school, so what do they do to bring together the nerds, the jocks, and the drama weirdos for one social status-free night? Do they all get together and sing the Bach Magnificat? It just wouldn't be the same as everybody walking out of the theater whistling "when you're a jet, you're a jet all the way." I'm always going on and on about how great everything is in Europe, but tonight reminded me that we have some good stuff here too.

Rosina

2010-03-26T15:43:00.000-07:00

Oy. Whoever told me they thought I should try blogging every day (Dad) may have had a higher estimation of my brain than is accurate. Trying to think of things to write about every day when I'm not in rehearsals OR a foreign country is really a challenge. I totally need to put my thinking cap on, and let's face it folks, I'm lazy by nature. Sure, I'm happy to blog when the fancy strikes me, but I'm not sure I have enough deep thoughts to put into the world every single day.

That being said, I remember some time ago I was reading Joyce DiDonato's blog, and she had written an interesting entry about different trouser roles that she had sung or would be singing, and how their characters differed. That was actually the one time I commented on her blog, begging her to pleeeeeeeease write an entry about the character of Rosina, because she is obviously THE expert and her Rosina is incredibly charming.

Well, I'm about to go sing my 275th Rosina (I'm exaggerating, but it seems like a lot) and it will be the first of three different Barbiere producitons I will sing this year. So tonight I'm going to put my thinking cap on about Rosina. I might have written some stuff on this subject last time I sang her, but I can't be bothered to go through my whole history and check, and unfortunately I never got into tagging my blog entries, so if you're one of the 3 people who read my blog before this year and I'm repeating myself, I apologize in advance.

Rosina is tricky. She can be really unlikeable in that same way that Norina (Don Pasquale) can be unlikeable if you aren't careful. It's a ridiculous double standard really, because it's so easy to apply the word BITCH to a strong woman and dismiss her. But it's just the way it goes, and I've both been in and seen many a Barber production where the Rosina comes out to bow, and even if she sang like a goddess, the audience is like......crickets.....crickets........ And then Figaro comes out to bow after her, and they're like "AAAAAAAAAAA!!! BRAVO FIGARO!!!! WE LOVE YOU AND YOUR CRAZY ANTICS!!!" It's depressing frankly.

So how to make the character of Rosina somebody that the audience cares about? I think it all sort of hinges on how you decide to perform Una Voce Poco Fa, her first aria. It's tricky, because it's basically Rosina's first real entrance, and the aria isn't exactly easy, and you're always nervous. But I think it's important to capture a few nuggets of her personality in that first scene; First; her girlish and genuine infatuation with the Count. That's something you can portray in the beginning of the aria. She can't seem too knowing or too grown up in that part - she should be like a love struck teenager, genuinely thunderstruck by this handsome dude that's been lurking outside her window singing her love songs. I choose to sing that first part rather simply. Then, of course, we have to see her cunning, and her willingness to manipulate. But in the fast part, instead of playing the "I become a viper" of the text as bitchy, insolent, and therefore un-charming, I think it's fun to play her sexy, womanly nature - to show the innocent crush of the beginning of the aria maturing into her demonstration of what she thinks it means to be an adult woman, in touch with her sensuality, vitality, and charm.

After Una Voce, I think her relationship with Figaro is another important aspect of her character. She's not just buddies with Figaro - most likely, the two of them would end up together if their social stations permitted. So the duet with him should remain extremely flirtatious and again, Rosina should be demonstrating her ability to charm the pants off anyone.

I know for a fact that one of the challenges for me in playing this role is that a) I'm an extremely strong woman from 2010, and it's very easy for me to play her too forcefully like, "Shut up you dumb men or I'll pull out my paddle and spank all of you," and b) I play pants roles so often, I can float out of the feminine and into the masculine way too easily. I was lucky enough to have one particular director, my friend Scott Parry, who was able to call me out on these things, and who really challenged me to go against my personal instincts and make her something other than what I was used to. And boy did I argue with him! After the first dress rehearsal when he told me I was still not feminine enough, I totally shouted in his face, "WELL, MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE HIRED SOMEONE WHO IS 5'9" AND WHO PLAYS BOYS A LOT THEN." But I took the note, and by the time the opening rolled around, I seemed to have uncovered a new dimension of her character that I hadn't really been tapping into before. And when the review came out in the L.A. Times, Scott got to say, "Seeeeeeee? Maybe you won't yell at me next time I give you a note...." because it said:

"Mezzo-soprano Jennifer Rivera was a fascinating Rosina -- sufficiently opulent and agile in voice; wily, brainy and pert in manner but also carrying herself at times with a dignity that suggested the future Countess of the second "Figaro" play, "The Marriage of Figaro."

Which brings me to the third aspect of her character that Scott pointed out to me, and which I agree is very important; the fact that she becomes the Countess in The Marriage of Figaro. We all know that character well, and that she is so dignified and regal - and Rosina in Barber needs to suggest what will occur in her very near future. Which sucks, because then you have to acknowledge the fact that the Count, who is so sweet and into her during this opera, becomes the asshole baritone who is trying to get into the other soprano's pants during the entire next opera. Oh well, we'll always have the memories of when you were a tenor and were still nice. Which is probably one of the few times I will utter that sentence. Am I right people? I'm totally kidding - almost without fail, some of the nicest singers I have worked with have been the tenors playing Almaviva with me (Brian Stucki, John Tessier, Brian Downen - there aren't a lot of nicer singers than those guys really).

Okay, I've blathered on enough about her. Hopefully I can make the people in Portland, OR like me a little bit. Or maybe in the opposite direction, we'll do a production where I actually get to spank people or something. That could be fun too.

can't....write.....must......sing

2010-03-25T19:27:00.001-07:00

I have absolutely nothing to say today. Some days are just like that. Instead, here's a video of me singing. I love writing, but as they say; Don't quit your day job:

This is the love duet from the world premiere of Elmer Gantry (Nashville Opera) with Keith Phares as Elmer and yours truly as Sharon Falconer. Fun fact; Keith was actually my college boyfriend. Luckily, we have remained friends all these years since, otherwise doing this scene would have been AWK-WARD. When I was pulling this from youtube, I noticed that one of the comments asked whether this was the same Jennifer Rivera who runs the blog. Yes. It's me. Thank god there are no other singers who share my exact name. I mean, except that Puerto Rican pop singer Jenni Rivera who made the sex tape. I want someone to comment on one of her youtube videos asking if she writes a blog. Now that would be awesome.

Elmer Gantry was composed by Robert Aldridge with libretto by Herschel Garfein. www.elmergantryopera.com

It's still Wednesday in California...!

2010-03-24T21:21:00.000-07:00

Oops. So, I got really involved in painting my bedroom, lost track of time, and forgot to write my blog. In my defense, I had already thought about what I was going to blog about, planned it out in my head, and even discussed it with my friend Will. It's just that when I start a project I become unbelievably insanely focused on finishing it, and only just now when I ran out of paint did I stop and yell, "Oh no, my blog!!"

The only time I wasn't painting today was when I was having coffee with a friend of mine named Ted Huffman. I knew Ted from back when we were all studying singing together, but I always suspected he was secretly a genius. I was proven right this summer when I saw a production he had directed of Der Kaiser Von Atlantis. Except he didn't just direct this production, he actually started the festival where it was being performed, the Greenwich Music Festival, from scratch (over the past several years), and now his productions are getting written up in the New Yorker and reviewed in Opera News. And thank god, because his ideas embody just what I was talking about in my blog a few days ago about the BAM Dido that I saw; if you take excellent music making, and combine it with good directing and clear ideas, you can make an artistic creation on the highest level. You absolutely don't need a set that weighs a ton and that you need tractor trailers to transport around.

But Ted had yet another great idea. He decided to have this production of Kaiser made into a film. The production was presented in a church theater, and I don't know what the budget was, but it wasn't very big. But the impact of his production of this opera, which was composed by a prisoner of a Jewish concentration camp, was huge. He started with nothing, and now he has a fully fledged music festival, several great productions under his belt, and a very interesting film that will soon be premiered at a film festival in Pleasantville, NY. Opera companies should take note: Great things are possible with insight and ingenuity!

www.greenwichmusicfestival.org

Okay - now I've got to remove the big easy chair and huge painting that are lying on my bed so I can sleep. And then I have to wake up and buy more paint.

Nesting

2010-03-23T18:23:00.000-07:00

Okay, I have to say that blogging every day is starting to get difficult. This is a real challenge for me when I'm not in some foreign country making a fool out of myself and living to tell the tale. This is just me, living in my New York apartment, not feeling particularly exciting or full of insight.

All that said, the subject on my mind today is "nesting." I didn't really have a word for it before today, but I was having lunch with a friend, and explaining to her that I had this inexplicable desire to paint a room in my apartment. The reason it's inexplicable is because in a couple of weeks I'll be leaving again, and I won't be back for 4 months, and then I'll only be back for a week or two before I'm away again. So why do I want to decorate my apartment? So my subletters can gaze at the nice shade of sandstone that I have painstakingly applied to my walls? "No, Jenny - you're just feeling like nesting!" my friend Leah explained to me. It's natural to want to make your home nice - if that's something that interests you - even when you're away from that home more than in it. It's almost instinctual. And, as Leah pointed out, it's another way to express your creativity. But it can feel so pointless sometimes to buy those nice window treatments when you know you'll soon be staring at the cream colored venetian blinds in the Marriott Residence Inn once again.

It's a real conundrum for a lot of singers; what to do about a home? If you're working regularly, you are probably in your home for at the most two months out of the year, and that's usually spread out with a few days here, a few days there. Some people forgo having a home altogether, and just live as nomads on the road. I however love the feeling that there is a place I can call home, where at least my stuff is hanging out, so that I can come back to it and bask in that feeling of security you get when you're wrapped in the duvet cover that you picked out (at Ikea, but still, I picked it). I spend so much time in other people's apartments, or worse, totally sterile hotels, that there is something really soothing about being someplace where I get to decide which wall to put the couch against.

Right now I'm trying to decide what to do with the next year and a half of my life. Since I have a lot of jobs in Berlin, and since I love that town so much, I am really considering a move over there for at least 6 months to a year. But that also REALLY scares me, since so much of my feeling grounded comes from being in the place that I have lived for so long with so many people I know. But Berlin has the excitement of being someplace new, with endless possibilities, and new friends, new jobs, and a closer connection to so much more work available in Europe.

In the meantime, I guess I'll go ahead and paint my bedroom. Even if I only get to enjoy the feeling of having mossy grey walls for a couple of weeks, it's better than nothin'. And then my subletters can lie in my bed and complain to each other about what bad taste I must have to have chosen such a weird color. Too bad, suckers. They're MY walls. So there.

where have all the reviews gone?

2010-03-22T18:26:00.000-07:00

This weekend I was sifting through the internet to look at some of the reviews of projects I have friends involved in. There were two operas in New York that I was interested in - L'Etoile at City Opera, and Dido and Acteon with Les Arts Florissant at BAM, as well as Elmer Gantry in Milwaukee and Carmen in Pittsburgh. I have dear friends involved in all of these projects and was curious to know what the press would be writing about the various opening night performances.

I was quite surprised to discover that upon googling each of these projects in the News tab of google, I was able to find three reviews of Gantry in Milwaukee, two of Carmen in Pittsburgh and just one each of the two projects in New York City. When I sang L'Etoile at City Opera last time, there were at least 8 reviews that came out in various print and online news sources, including all the major New York papers - the NY Times, the NY Sun, the Wall Street Journal, and the NY Post. Granted, it was considered a new production last time, having never been performed in NYC before, but I was shocked to find only one review of the production this time around, especially considering it's a rare opera, and City Opera is only performing 5 pieces this season. I was equally perplexed by the fact that a brand new production at BAM with such a distinguished group as Les Arts Florissant would also elicit only one review. The fact that there are more people reviewing opera in places like Milwaukee and Pittsburgh than in New York City speaks well of the latter locations, but is not so promising for New Yorkers! What does it mean that the cultural capital of our country isn't really covering opera in the same way as smaller towns, and should we be worried? The now defunct New York Sun gave me some of the most AWESOME reviews of my career - and now it's just a distant memory. As Tina Fey would say; What the what??

It's bad enough that while we have two major opera companies in this town, one of them seems to always be struggling financially, and was on the verge of closing down permanently at one point. Having spent a lot of time in Berlin this year, where there are three thriving opera companies and many other smaller companies, I honestly felt really jealous for all of us New Yorkers. And now the opera companies we have seem to be getting such dwindling coverage - what does it all mean for the future of opera?

Certainly blogs are a big future for opera - my constant addiction being the effervescent and eloquent opera chic. And it seems to me that in Europe musical events are covered to a very extreme degree in both the regular media and online compared with what we have over here. Somehow, we have to keep the interest alive over here in the public at large, so the media will want to cover the cultural events. But how?

Why can't it always be like this?

2010-03-21T18:27:00.001-07:00

I went last night to see a performance at BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music) of Les Arts Florissant performing two short operas; Acteon of Charpentier and Dido and Aeneus of Purcell. Les Arts Florissant is a wonderful group of singers and instrumentalists founded and run by William Christie, renowned specialist of Baroque music. The tickets were given to me by the director of the production, who was also the director of Agrippina in Berlin.

I could describe the whole thing to you, but honestly, I think Anthony Tommasini does a really god job in his review that appeared in the New York Times. But suffice to say that the production was really moving and extraordinarily effective. But it was definitely not expensive - the only set was a large mirror, there were no props, and the costumes, although elegant, were quite simple. The simplicity yet excellence of the production sparked a conversation between me and my friend about why more regional opera companies who are strapped for cash don't employ this same idea for their productions. Does Carmen always have to be done on a rickety set from the 1970's with rented costumes that smell horrible and look worse and oversized wigs and drag queen makeup? Too often with regional American companies, the aesthetic of the performance is about something that looks traditionally like what people might think an opera is "supposed" to look like, and the quality suffers as a result. But would an audience in timbucktoo, US appreciate a Carmen staged with a big mirror as the only set piece?

I say yes, but only if the direction was as clever and as good as the production I saw last night. Of course, it certainly didn't hurt that the performers have all trained under one of THE baroque music specialists of our time, and so the musical values were so high that the performance was bound to be very moving if only from a musical standpoint. But I have to say that the simplicity of the production only added to the excellence of the music making in this case. If an audience in a regional U.S. town is expecting a Barber of Seville with fans and stucco garden sets, it's true that they may be a little taken aback by a sparse set and more natural looking costumes in the first few moments. But I truly believe that a well directed, well lit opera becomes a visceral experience for an audience, and even if they were expecting something more "traditional" they will be moved to change their opinion by the end of the night. That's what I would focus on if I were running an opera company. That and education - but that's a whole other blog post.

good things happening to good people

2010-03-20T12:38:00.001-07:00

A few years back I was singing Cherubino in a production of Nozze di Figaro at New York City Opera. The cast was wonderful, and I was particularly impressed with the Brazilian baritone singing the Count because he was a beautiful singer, a great actor, and just an incredibly nice guy. He was one of those kind, gentle people that you just want to be around because they have such a lovely energy. I remember thinking - WOW - this guy is so GOOD! Why isn't he more famous??

We became friends, and he also subsequently worked with my best friend Georgia several times in a row, and they also became good friends. Then one day when they were working together in New York, he told Georgia that he was doing an unusual audition; for a Broadway show! The audition was for Emile in a new production of South Pacific, and he figured it was a pretty big long shot, since he had never in his life been in a musical of any kind (unlike a lot of Americans who got their start singing by performing in school or community musicals). But Georgia and I both thought he would be perfect for the role, and low and behold, the casting people agreed with us. If you follow musical theater here in the U.S., then you know where this story is going; he was cast in his first broadway show, he did spectacularly well, and he went on to win, among other awards, the Tony award for outstanding lead actor in a musical.

Georgia and I went to his opening performance as his guests, and we were blown away by his abilities to transfer his operatic talents so seamlessly to a broadway stage. We also noticed Peter Gelb sitting in the same row as we were, and I leaned over to Georgia and whispered, "Paulo is TOTALLY getting a Met contract after this. Just watch!!!" And I was so right.

His name is Paulo Szot, and the reason that I'm telling you this story is that Georgia and I and some other friends had dinner with him last night, after having not seen him for quite a while. He's now starring in the production of The Nose at the Met - which has been his very successful Met debut - and since I had the opportunity to attend the dress rehearsal, I can agree with the reviews that said he was absolutely wonderful in the role. But the thing that's the most refreshing about him is that he is still the same exact calm, kind, warm person that he was when we performed Figaro together all those years ago, despite the fact that on his piano sits a Tony award and a photograph of him hugging Liza Minelli. He remarked to me, in his sweet Brazilian accent, "Who would have thought I would get to the Met from Broadway? But that's what happened!" and it honestly couldn't have happened to a better person. It's so gratifying to see people who deserve to have success because of talent both achieve that success, and wear it so well. And I can tell you that when Paulo was a struggling Brazilian opera singer, he never in a million years imagined that his introduction to the Metropolitan Opera would be through his singing "Some Enchanted Evening" and "This Nearly Was Mine."

So you really never know what path your life will take, how you might achieve your dreams, or even how big you can dare to dream. I'm sure he never imagined Liza Minella would be presenting him with an award along side Patty Lupone, but that's what happened. It's just nice to see good things happening to good people.

review rant

2010-03-19T14:52:00.001-07:00

My question of the day is the following? Why are there some reviewers who seem to HATE singers so much? It's like they are personally offended by what they deem our shortcomings, and are really mad at us for them. I read one review recently where the reviewer seemed SO PISSED that he couldn't hear the singer. As if it were the singer's fault. I mean, dude - we're singing as loud as we can! We aren't purposefully whispering just so you won't be able to hear us!! I'm not saying that reviewers shouldn't criticize what people are doing, but there are some that do it gracefully and fairly. I happen to think Anthony Tommasini of the New York Times is a good example of someone who is a very fair reviewer, and who I think genuinely seems to like singers. I never get outraged on any singer's behalf when I read his reviews, even if he didn't particularly like something. There was one reviewer who left the New York Times who used words liberally like "shriek" and "screech". I mean, come on - that's a little dramatic, don't you think?

I used to literally have panic attacks before I would open up a newspaper and look at a review about myself. That is totally ridiculous - it's one person's opinion, and I shouldn't care so much. But I felt this very visceral fear about the unknown of what might and could be said about me, regardless of how I felt I had sung in the performance. And the funny thing is, I've gotten very few horrible reviews, but somehow I developed this fear- like waiting for the other shoe to drop. And the more successful you become, the more likely it is that there will be reviews that completely rip you to pieces. I've always wondered if people like Renee Fleming are bothered by bad reviews or not, since they have so little impact at this point on her stellar career. And now with all the blogs that exist, there are more people telling the world their opinion of you than ever before.

I had a boyfriend once who refused to read any reviews about himself at all, period. We were actually in a show together once, and happened to be on an airplane flying across the country when we saw that someone had a paper with a review of our show. I read the part about myself out loud to him (and it was one of the few really terrible reviews I've gotten) but he didn't want to know what it said about him. I thought that showed remarkable self control - I don't think I would have been able not to look. But poor him - because the review of me was so bad, I spent the last three hours of the flight crying on his shoulder. As far as I know he never looked at the rest of it to see what it said about him (the reviewer pretty much crucified everybody, so it was probably for the best) and as far as I know, he still doesn't look at reviews. My mom always says. "what you think about me is none of my business" and if you take that advice regarding reviews, I bet you'd be a much happier person. Unfortunately, I'm overly curious and can't seem to do that. Maybe some day my self control will improve and I'll lead a calmer existence. But until then, I'll just have to stick to; "What you think of me is none of my business. But quick, tell me anyway."

opposites attract

2010-03-18T17:10:00.000-07:00

As I've stated in previous posts, when I have too much free time, I can get a little cray-cray. In fact, a good friend of mine pointed out that my need to PLAN PLAN PLAN things when I don't have enough other stuff to occupy my brain is actually something of a menace to society at large, and the only job suitable to me during these periods is dictator of North Korea. So I figured it was about time I started doing something productive and musical. The only thing is I'm kind of a last minute music learner - that is, I rarely feel motivated to learn music unless there is some time pressure to get my brain interested. And since my next opera is Barber of Seville, I realized I'd have to buck my usual trend and do some actual ahead of time music learning!

In the last couple of days I pulled out some music I have to learn for upcoming projects and realized that the two pieces I was looking at were almost hilariously diametrically opposed to one another. The first is the incredibly serious, depressing, and moving Kindertotenlieder of Mahler, which I will sing with an orchestra in Austria this fall. Just reading the poems about the death of the narrator's children makes me want to close the score up and curl up in the fetal position and cry. But the other role I have to learn is Veruca Salt in The Golden Ticket, the new "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" Opera which will have it's world premiere in St Louis this summer. The opera is about children so horrible that we as an audience are happy when they self destruct and disappear one by one. My character in particular is so repugnant that when she falls down a deadly chute reserved for "bad nuts" I'm pretty sure the audience is going to applaud.

I've been sitting here trying to find lessons one piece can teach me about the other, but you know what, that would really be stretching things. I'm not gonna get all high fallutin' on you all and suggest that the gravity of the Mahler will inform my deep and insightful performance of Veruca Salt. Nope. I'm gonna relish playing that bratty, entitled kid, and I'll clap right along with the audience when I jump in the bad nut chute to my squirrely death. Then I'll go to my dressing room and soberly study kindertotenlieder. Or maybe play poker backstage. We'll see.

Laura Claycomb

2010-03-17T15:40:00.000-07:00

I have no idea why, but today I was thinking about how I might be able to create a website for young artists entering into this business to help them navigate the treacherous road that is having an opera career. I think a lot of young and aspiring singers seem to be reading my blog, so I was just brainstorming (in my own head) about ways to expand my help for them. Or perhaps warning them to run screaming from this career as if their houses were on fire. I hadn't really decided which. Then I suddenly had this recollection of someone telling me that one soprano, by the name of Laura Claycomb, had put some advice for young artists on her website. I've never met Laura, never heard her sing, but her name just popped into my head, so I checked out her website to see what she had up there.

And WOWIE WOW! She has written about basically every single subject a young up and coming singer could want to know about with complete honesty and frankness. I am just so impressed that purely out of the kindness of her heart she has decided to share this information with the world, because frankly, most singers aren't willing to discuss subjects like agents and PR publicly with as much honesty and insight as she does. And besides all this, I listened to her sound clips, and she's really a world class artist, and one who hasn't necessarily taken that most traditional route that I mentioned in an earlier post. But she has obviously thought a lot about this career and what tools you need to make it, to all of our benefits! So, I know it's kind of a cop out, not having had my own original thoughts for the day, but I'm sending you to her website. If you're a fan, you can listen to her sing (and check out her crazy ass out of this world high E at the end of Caro Nome), and if you're a singer or an aspiring singer, you can use her website as an invaluable tool. I swear I'm not just trying to give her PR or something - I've literally never ever met her - this is completely a case of admiration from a far via the internet (and based on reading her writing I have this idea that we would be friends if we ever met)! Anyway, here ya go: www.lauraclaycomb.com Enjoy!!

City Opera rebooted

2010-03-16T16:32:00.000-07:00

Today I had the very strange experience of watching a dress rehearsal for Chabrier's L'Etoile at the New York City Opera. It was strange because the only time I've ever had any experiences with this production were the two times I performed in it, when it was first seen at City Opera, and then at Cincinnati Opera. I had never actually seen this production from the outside, and I also hadn't been in City Opera since I last sang there and since the massive renovations have taken place. The first strange thing was seeing big pictures of my face in the the L'Etoile costumes - first outside the theater on a life size poster, then on the video playing in the lobby. I was entering the theater with a friend of a friend, and was explaining to him how I had sung in this opera, and just as I said that I pointed up to a big video screen and said, "oh look - there I am." It was surreal.

I spent my formative years at City Opera - I sang in over 80 performances during a total of 8 seasons from the time I was still a student until the last season of the former management. And L'Etoile in particular was my first starring role with the company, and the first really big thing I did in New York while no longer a student. I adore this particular production of L'Etoile because it's fantastically absurd and full of energy and life. And for some reason, I have made several friends who have turned out to be incredibly important in my life during both productions of L'Etoile. So, I'm a little attached to the piece, to say the least.

It was great to get to finally see the whole opera from beginning to end from the outside. I had tons of moments where I said to myself "Wow - that's what that part looked like???" It was also really nice to see the new and improved theater - the renovations seem to have worked quite well because the seats were more comfortable and spacious, there were nice big aisles (where you were formerly trapped inside 3,256 seats on either side because there were NO aisles - NIGHTMARE!!), and the notoriously horrible acoustics seemed to me to be greatly improved.

But I also really miss City Opera, I have to admit. I grew so accustomed to taking the subway to Lincoln Center and entering through that stage door on 62nd and Columbus. I was lucky that when the management changed, I managed to find other interesting places to work and was able to move on - some people weren't so lucky. But I miss Suzy and Tom in wigs and make-up, and my favorite Supernumerary Raven, and my favorite house director Albert, and even the dinky little break room with the broken down snack machines. And they're all still there, even while I'm off galavanting in Europe, eating bratwurst and drinking Hefeweissen. I'm just glad City Opera seems to be finding it's footing and sticking around. It's an important part of New York's cultural scene, and a good place for young American singers to get their starts.

Here's one of my favorite photos of me from L'Etoile:

pep talks

2010-03-15T16:12:00.000-07:00

I've been giving a lot of them lately - to myself, but also to a lot of my friends in the business. It's a difficult time to be an american opera singer, and there are so many talented people who are either struggling to make headway in the careers they are having, or who are struggling to find work at all. After one such pep talk today, I started thinking about the way american opera singers in particular define success. On the one hand, we are lucky to have an established "track" that one can follow - if I had to elucidate the path that most people define as successful, I would guess; conservatory (or school of music), summer program, young artist program, competitions, get an agent, regional opera work, Met/Chicago/San Francisco and BAM - YOU ARE NOW A SUCCESSFUL OPERA SINGER!! Other artists, like visual artists for example, don't have such a clear and distinct path to achieving the standard notions of success. But the problem with this "clear" path is that when someone veers off the track, or takes another route, or doesn't arrive at the pinnacle - singing at one of the major "A" houses - they aren't looked on by the general operatic community as successful, and so they don't consider themselves successful. They beat themselves up and wonder why they can't seem to break beyond whatever step they might be stuck at.

When I start getting overwhelmed by this idea of "you are only successful if a, b, or c" I am inspired by a friend of mine who is not an opera singer, but a cabaret artist. My friend Kim Smith came to New York City from Australia only knowing one or two people, but bubbling over with a huge passion for performing. He had trained in musical theater in his native Australia, but he didn't want to be on a sitcom or in a broadway show necessarily - his passion was for writing and performing Weinmar style Caberet shows. Not exactly the easiest field in which to find your path. Because there is no specific "path" for how to make a name for yourself in this particular field, Kim had to do everything himself - he had to find a venue, write his own show, publicize it himself, get an audience in there, and perform it- and the end result wasn't going to make him a millionaire. But the first time I saw him perform, not only was I astounded by his talent, intensity, and passion, but was equally impressed by his commitment to make it all happen completely on his own.

We opera singers can often become complacent - sitting around and waiting for someone to hire us. But Kim inspired me because he took matters into his own hands, and put on his own show, and it was fantastically effective and moving. Since he has been in New York, he has continued to create his own shows, although because he is so talented, people have taken notice, and he has begun to receive awards and have offers from presenters. He has become successful in his field by any standards, but he also still maintains a day job to pay his bills while continuing to perform. The thing is; he never had any doubts about what he wanted to do, and he made it happen. And no one who sees his shows ever has any doubts about whether he is "successful" or not - they are too busy admiring his ability to make them laugh and cry during the same song. We opera singers often ask ourselves - "Am I even an opera singer if I'm not performing in an opera?" but Kim never wonders whether he is or he isn't a cabaret artist. He just is, and we see him, and we know.

Okay, so what we do as opera singers is definitely a little different, and we do have to be part of a team, and we need directors, conductors, and orchestras in order to create the music that we love. But does all that mean we have to doubt ourselves and our own success as artists based on whether or not we're doing what we think is the definition of success? I say NO. I say we take a lesson from my friend Kim, and realize that making your own success is far more satisfying than trying to fit into some mold of what we're told success means. He should inspire us all.

Kim Smith will next appear at the Cafe Sabarsky at the Neue Gallerie in New York City on April 1st. Please visit his website, www.kimdavidsmith.com for details.

outside looking in

2010-03-14T19:47:00.000-07:00

I bet you thought I wasn't going to make today's quota being that it's 11:04 PM NYC time, but here I am for my daily blog entry.

So, yesterday I was in the shower singing una voce poco fa, and I started to notice that when I began to sing with emotion, my eyebrows were going crazy. (The crazy part is actually that I was in the shower noticing the movement of my eyebrows, but let's leave that for a minute so I can get to the point). It lead me to start thinking about our bodies and our faces, and what happens to them when we sing and act. Singing opera is SUCH a weird thing to be doing, it's not surprising that our bodies and faces can inadvertently contort when while we're in the act, but how much is too much? I love Cecilia Bartoli, I think she's a goddess, but I know some people criticize her for her facial acrobatics. When she does it, it really doesn't bother me, but when I do it and see it on video, I want to vomit on the screen and run screaming from the room. And in the last couple of videos I've had the chance to watch of myself, I have noticed that a few things were going on with my body and face that I had absolutely no idea were happening. Maybe nobody cares about these tiny details but me, but I do care, so I decided to do a little experiment.

I set up my webcam on the top of my piano yesterday, and sang una voce right into the camera several different times. I tried it once in the full acting mode and noticed my eyebrows were having a field day. I tried it once purposefully trying to emote without my eyebrows, and it looked a lot better. Then I tried singing it without the idea of emoting - just how I would practice if I were thinking about vocal technique and without any "feeling" and my face was very placid. I tried a couple more times, once focusing on a certain point on the wall, and once seeing some kind of images in my brain but imagining them in the air in front of me. I watched all the videos to see what was what.

Why all this fuss? Well, I think that the things we do physically that are unconscious can possibly take away from our ability to transmit our emotions out of our brains and into the audience. It's so easy to think you are emoting when you're actually only emoting for just you - maybe even with your eyes completely closed. Just because you're feeling it on the inside doesn't mean you are transmitting it to the outside, and that's a rather selfish way to perform. And I actually think that at the moments when I'm feeling things very deeply only on the inside is when my body and face do unconscious and unnecessary things. And I made this discovery by webcamming myself and seeing what was going on up close and personal with my errant eyebrows.

The funniest part of this whole story is that I wasn't exactly sure how to use the camera in my computer for anything other than chatting with my parents on skype, so I had to google "how to make a video using your webcam," and what I discovered is that most people who want to know how to do that are up to NO good. I can tell you that very few of them are seeing what their eyebrows are doing when they are singing an operatic aria.

30 day challenge

2010-03-13T08:26:00.000-08:00

Wow, that last post was kind of a whine-fest, eh? Waa waa, you have free time, poor baby. No wonder there were so few comments, you were probably all pulling out your tiny violins and playing them for poor old me. But you know what I decided? When I have time between gigs, what I need to do is challenge myself in some way to keep my brain active. The reason I personally am in a better mood when I'm working is that I thrive on challenges, and rehearsing and performing opera is always that. Writing is also a challenge, but it's not such a big challenge when I'm feeling inspired - it just flows. But recently my dad asked me if I ever thought about blogging every day, and I replied, "Noooooooo, Dad! I can only write when I am in-spaaaaaaahed." But what if I forced myself to get inspaaaaahed every morning? In the book The Artists Way, which is about tapping into your own creativity to the fullest, the author suggests that you write something called "morning pages" every morning to get your creativity flowing first thing. I tried that and I think I was able to do it for about a month and then I stopped feeling it. But that was before I had started blogging, and my writing has changed a lot since then. So my challenge to myself this month is to blog every single day (gasp) for 30 days and see what it does for me. Which means, people, that sometimes I end up blogging about some really boring crap. Or maybe I will become funny again, because lately I feel like I've been sort of not so hilarious in the ol' blog entries. But I'm gonna try the experiment to see if it kicks me in the butt a little bit.

The subject kicking around in my head today is justice and fairness. "Whoever told you that life was fair?" my mom is fond of saying to me (she's good at keeping me grounded). And yet I still get absolutely incensed when I see an injustice occurring, especially when it happens to someone I care about. This week I witnessed what I think anybody would agree was a great injustice happening to a friend of mine - someone incredibly talented, hard working, and kind - who had an opportunity that should have belonged to them yanked out from under them. My first reaction was to fly into a rage ( I was in the process of doing my laundry when I found out and those dryer doors got some abuse) and then I started to feel sort of despondent, asking myself why we even BOTHER when talent isn't rewarded?

I called my parents (as I often do in times of stress and confusion) and they made a good analogy. This business (or any artistic endeavor in which you are trying to make a living and not just doing it for fun) is basically a lottery. If you are talented enough, you are allowed to buy a ticket, but once you buy a ticket, it's basically up to fate whether you win the lottery or not. You might win $5 or you might win ten million, but it's all a matter of chance. Will you meet the right person, who will introduce you to another right person, who will decide you deserve being pushed to the top? Will you get sick the night of your big debut at a huge house and blow it? Will you sing your audition before lunch when the intendant is hungry and in a bad mood or after lunch when he's full and feeling better? If you want to be in this business, you have to be willing to buy that lottery ticket and leave your fate up to something way beyond your control. BUT you have to keep working at your craft to even be allowed to buy a new ticket every day. And of course, many people believe that our attitude and energy have a huge affect on what our fate turns out to be, so those things are important too.

I guess the lesson is always the same - as trite and cliched as it sounds - that you have to decide when you succeed and fail, and not leave it up to the outside world to determine that. Does success for an opera singer mean singing at La Scala or does it mean challenging yourself to improve in some small way every day? Does success mean making a recording or being able to sing a high C for yourself in your living room, as perfectly as you can? Does success mean having an article about you written in a magazine or teaching third graders who hated opera something that makes them interested in it? I'm saying all this for myself, by the way, not in order to sound all grandiose and patronizing. In the same way that success in an artistic field can be all about perception (did a 5 year old splatter paint on that canvas or did Jackson Pollock create it? knowing the answer will almost certainly affect how you feel about it the painting), success for oneself is about your own self perception. It's something to remind ourselves of every day. I certainly need to.

Whew! So much heavy stuff!! I REALLY need to find the funny again. Well, I have 30 consecutive blogging days to try.....

Free time = doing time

2010-03-09T17:43:00.001-08:00

For most people, the one thing they wish they had more of was free time. If they just had more time off, they would get so much accomplished, go on vacation, relax, spend time doing the things they loved. Except when the thing you love doing the most is also your job, free time SUCKS.

Don't get me wrong - after I've been working for awhile, I'm quite happy to have a week off, where I can see my friends, get my life organized and relax a little bit. But after about a week, I start to go stir crazy and get a little depressed. I have too much time on my hands to do things like worry about my career (and my personal life) and I wish some job would magically appear and whisk me away and make me busy again. I've gotten much better about organizing my time and reminding myself that the way for me to stay happy is to stay productive, but I'm not going to lie, it's a challenge. It's amazing to me the difference in my general level of happiness when I'm working as opposed to when I'm not working. Last year I was at an audition in Germany when I ran into a colleague that I had met before but I couldn't figure out where. I was asking him if he had worked at company x or y, and he sarcastically quipped, "oh no, I really don't work that often. Only a couple of jobs per year - just enough to keep me going. Emotionally I mean - not financially."

He was being darkly humorous, and I laughed when he said this - but I laughed because it is so true! I should be thrilled that I have a month where I don't HAVE to work, and that I have enough money to live on. Most normal people could think of a million things they would do with this time. But most opera singers I know just don't like it. Because when going to work is so much fun, it's when you're not going to work that you start to feel like you're in jail. So many people make analogies about their offices being like prison - but for me it's the opposite - when I don't go to the "office" is when I feel scattered and hopeless. I even get annoyed when I'm working but I have too many days off. You can ask the director of Agrippina how many times I jokingly asked him, "am I even IN this opera??" because I hated the fact that I would sometimes have two days in a row without rehearsal.

This "obsession" with work (and I put obsession in quotes because I don't really want to admit that's what it might be) is probably something that some people would call unhealthy. Or maybe some people would tell me to get a life so that I have other things in this world that make me happy. But I DO have a life - I have fantastic friends and family, many many things other than singing that interest me, and could totally amuse myself all day with a paperclip, a record jacket, and a glass of pomegranate juice if it came down to that. I just really love going to rehearsal and jumping around and singing and diminuendoing a phrase and interacting with colleagues. What can I say? It's a really, really fun job.

But to put it all in perspective, I happened to see the movie The Hurt Locker earlier this week. I saw it the night before it won the Oscar for best picture, and found it incredibly moving. It's a movie about soldiers in Iraq who diffuse bombs, and who spend every single day walking the line between life and death. Of course we all know that this is happening intellectually, but the reason the movie was so good was that it was able to put you psychologically into the head of someone whose desperation and fears go beyond what we all feel every day because they literally fear for their lives every moment. The movie shook me to my core and demanded from me "Why on earth do you ever think you have problems? How could you ever feel fear, or nervousness, or depression when there are people out there in the world dealing with THIS?"

But then, that's life, isn't it? We live inside our own worlds, our own problems, and sometimes we can step outside and gain some perspective, but only sometimes. The rest of the time we just have to be content with whining about things like free time and not getting to sing enough dimenuendos, and hope that life jolts us back into humanity with enough regularity that we can be happier more often than we're complaining. And hey, I can always go sing some dimenuendos for the crazy lady that seems to live on the corner near Riverside Park. She often gives me the thumbs up. Or the finger. And I can find a reason to be grateful for both.

Honesty is such a lonely word

2010-03-05T06:37:00.000-08:00

Or is it? I don't mean to dorkify myself by quoting Billy Joel (although I fully admit that I did really enjoy listening to his Live from the USSR CD in college) but I've been having some interesting discussions lately with people about whether or not it's prudent to be an opera singer who writes a blog about all her fears and vulnerabilities. Performers are supposed to be confident - confidence gets you hired - so who would be stupid enough to talk about being freaked out or insecure on the internet where everybody can read it??? Me, apparently.

Last week I was blogging about the "IT" factor and had a lot of interesting comments, many of which came from an anonymous source, whose only clue to their identity was that they are a "principal singer at the top level". Okay, so why would a famous singer feel the need to be anonymous when commenting on my blog? If that person is already at the top level, they should be able to relax and say whatever is on their mind without the fear of repercussions, right? No way! People who are savvy about the business know that you have to present an image from all angles, and that revealing your true thoughts can often do damage to this image, which you must protect because a lot of people's salaries now depend on YOU, the product! Yes, it's sad that singers are now products (which is partly what this commenter was noting) but of course that's the case in every entertainment industry, especially with the media playing such a huge role in any artists success in any field. So anonymous has to stay that way in order to protect him or herself and all the people whose salaries he or she might be helping to pay with their fame.

But what about me? I'm not paying anybody's salaries yet, that's for sure. I'm lucky if I'm paying my credit card bills (but that's more a result of my own addiction to shopping and not necessarily an indication of my earning potential) but there could be a time where I have to become more of a product to sell cd's or tickets or limited edition t-shirts with the slogan, "Trying to remain opera-tional - blogging for punny opera nerds!" So what do I do about this need I have to be honest with myself AND in my writing? Well, the honest answer is that I don't know. But what I'm hoping will happen is that this honest and open dialogue is able to become a part of my product. That one of the reasons people enjoy hearing me sing is that they have a little insight into who I am and what my innermost thoughts and fears are, and that insight actually gives them another angle on my artistry. I hope that I will both be able to continue to succeed in my career at a higher and higher level, and that I won't ever have a PR agent who says, "OH MY GOD SHUT UP!! STOP WRITING THIS DOWN FOR THE PUBLIC AND GO TELL IT TO A SHRINK!!!" Because my writing has become a creative outlet for me, and if I had to be something other than what I am, (which is a slightly neurotic if somewhat eloquent and ultimately relatively confident human being) I don't think I would be particularly inspired to write. So I just open up and let you see my beating heart, and hope that everybody is cool with that.

I've gotta go. My future publicist is chasing me with a big red delete button.

Agrippina - The Trailer

2010-02-27T05:48:00.000-08:00

Okay, enough whining about how hard it is to be an opera singer (or any type of artist). Here's a look at how much fun it can be!!

Nayo Titzin is a fabulous Bulgarian filmmaker (who happens to be married to La Pendatchanska - what a talented pair!!!), who is making a documentary about the creation of our Agrippina production and the historical characters within. This video is just a three and a half minute trailer, but it certainly makes me want to see the whole film. Enjoy!

The "IT" factor, part two

2010-02-26T08:44:00.000-08:00

I've had an interesting couple of days since my last blog post, and this subject elicited such intriguing comments that I thought a follow up post was appropriate.

I woke up very early two mornings ago because my body still wants to be on Europe time, and in an effort to feel productive, I composed a blog post about all the weird circumstances that cause success in this business. The funny thing was, I wasn't really writing the post about my own career per se, since I was in a fine mood about the way things are going for me. But I had been having all these conversations with frustrated colleagues in the few days before I wrote it, and I had been thinking about all the factors that go into creating a successful singer. I was busy feeling just fine about myself, and having fun writing pithy jokes (well, at least I thought they were pithy) about becoming a Buddhist and marrying a movie star, all while still curled up under my duvet cover.

Then, later that same day, I found out a piece of information that made me feel like someone had punched me in the heart with an ice pick. It was a career thing, and I didn't know the whole story, but the information I did have led me to jump to some conclusions that made me really, really depressed. I spent all day in a kind of haze, trying to sift through my own emotions and make sense of them. I re-read my own blog entry, reminding myself that so many of the decisions people in power make have little to do with talent and everything to do with other factors, and that this new information didn't have to change how I felt about myself as an artist. By the end of the day, I had come to terms with the new information, accepted it, and even managed to have a few really interesting and affecting conversations with friends on the subject of being an artist and believing in yourself. I felt like even though the information was difficult and upsetting, it had made me grow a little in my perception of myself.

Then, at the end of the day, I found out that the piece of information I had received had only been part of the story, and when I learned the whole story, the information changed completely, and had nothing whatsoever to do with me. In other words, I had spent all day doubting myself for absolutely no reason. Typical dramatic over-reaction on my part.

In the meantime, my blog post was generating a firestorm (okay, maybe that word is an exaggeration of what my blog was generating, but it sounds newsy, so let me have it) of some really interesting comments from several people about the subject of career success. People from all different facets of the business were weighing in on the tangled and sticky business of career politics, and I found the comments to be extremely fascinating and thought provoking.

Then, I had a great conversation with someone in the business that I really trust, and was given some excellent advice: CALM DOWN. I was reminded of the fact that there is a part of this career that is really like a JOB, and that JOB is controlling our emotions in a way that allows us to continue to do the part we love - the arsty creative part. The job part - the part that's akin to slogging to a fluorescently lit cubicle every day in the snow - is the part where we put ourselves out there as artists, make ourselves vulnerable, get shot down, or squashed, or criticized, and yet we keep going. The "job" we have every day as artists is to continue to believe we have something to say even when it seems like nobody wants to hear it. The daily "work" of an artist is to stay calm in the face of both failure and success, and it really is something that requires an effort every single day. Whether it's keeping yourself from getting overly excited about a fabulous review, or preventing yourself from throwing your computer across the room when a google search reveals that somebody else got a job you really wanted, we all just have to CALM DOWN. And when we find that calm, we can do the single most important thing; make it through another day and start the whole process over again.

I would love to try to find an inspirational video on youtube with which to end this post of a kitten licking a mouse baby or something, but I have some pressing business to attend to. I haven't done my laundry since I've been back from Europe, and it's snowing out, so I can guarantee you that all the washing machines will be unavailable. So I've got to go practice my new CALM DOWN mantra in my building's laundry room. Wish me luck.

The "IT" factor

2010-02-24T04:30:00.000-08:00

For some reason, I've been having a lot of conversations lately with colleagues and friends about the "IT" factor, and why certain singers seem to shoot to the top, while other, seemingly equally talented singers, seem to have to constantly be scratching to find jobs. Why one singer gets hired to sing the lead role at the Met while another one has to make ends meet by waiting tables across the street at Fiorello's. You would think the obvious answer would be that the one singing at the Met has more talent than the one waiting tables, but that's not necessarily the case. The answer is actually often something much more elusive and uncontrollable: Fate. Luck. Timing. It doesn't sound very glamourous when you put it that way, does it?

This is not to say that the people who do succeed don't have talent - of course they do, or people wouldn't want to listen to them. But the way a singer's career unfolds is very interesting, and having one big job can lead to several other jobs, which can lead to several other jobs, and can mean you're on your way. And in the meantime, a similar singer with a similar voice type who doesn't get that one big job, can get left in the dust, waiting for their big moment. It's exactly the same with hollywood actors - do you really think that Jennifer Aniston is the best, most beautiful actress that ever walked the earth? I'm sure L.A. is crawling with waitresses who are just as good as she is, but who didn't end up starring on "Friends" and then marrying and divorcing Brad Pitt, so who will never find themselves on the cover of US weekly.

A friend and I tried an experiment recently; She turned her computer around so I couldn't see what was on the screen, and played me recordings of three different singers singing the same aria; one who sings at the Met, one who sings regionally, and one who isn't really singing much at all and who has a temp job. She didn't tell me which was which, and my first instinct was that I liked the one singing regionally and the one temping the best, and of course I was immediately indignant, saying "Why aren't these people doing more???" But then I had to remind myself; Fate. Luck. Timing. The sooner you realize you have no control and give it up, the less frustrated you'll feel all the time.

That's not to say that singers should just give up on trying to improve as artists - on the contrary - that's the only thing we have control over, and therefore the only thing we should focus our energy on. But we definitely have to give up on expecting life to be fair, and expecting that just because people who are "in the know" tell us we're good, life will be smooth sailing. And this doesn't just apply to young singers who are trying to make it - many famous singers are always looking over their shoulder at the next young somebody who they fear might be their replacement, and they can get crazy and mean as a result.

My point? Maybe all artists should become Buddhists who live completely in the moment, and accept that now is all we have. Or maybe we should all try to marry Brad Pitt. I mean, he and Angelina are apparently sort of on the outs, so I say strike while the iron is hot, people.

The times, they are a bloggin'

2010-02-22T02:55:00.001-08:00

I still remember the time when, in order to look at a review or yourself, you had to go down to the corner store, buy a newspaper, and scan through until you found the few words to describe your performance (okay, I've mostly been an opera singer in the internet age, but I got reviews when I sang Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz with the Santa Rosa Community Players when I was 11, so bear with me). Now, with a few clicks of the mouse, you discover that people all around the world are talking about you, and some people, who are obviously more technologically savvy than yours truly, are even posting recordings of your singing!

I got back from Europe yesterday, and since I'm still on Europe time, I'm awake before absolutely ANYONE in new york city. It's 5 AM, still dark, and the bagel shop on the corner isn't even open yet. So, until this side of the world wakes up, I'm checking my emails and goofing off online. I saw that I had an email from a friend who said he'd found a recording of me singing my aria on the internet. WHAT? The first performance of Agrippina was indeed broadcast on the radio, and people certainly could have recorded it, but I was amazed (and humbled) that somebody posted my aria specifically on their blog. And since the blog is in spanish, I feel especially connected to my spanish roots (everyone always asks me how I got the name Rivera with all my blonde hair and blue eyes, and it's because my great grandfather was from Spain). Here is the link to the post with the recording of my final aria, recorded on opening night.

I had already heard the recording from the radio, thanks to another technologically savvy and generous reader of this blog, and I had one of those moments where, the first time I heard it, I thought. "WHOA - that was the tempo? That was FAST!!" It did not feel so fast to me at the moment I was singing it, but hearing it from the outside made me feel like I should have been wearing a helmet or something. I had also wondered what the B section sounded like, since I was lying on my side, sort of curled into a ball while singing it, and I was happy to discover that I couldn't really hear a change in the vocal production from that position.

I have to admit, typing my name into google and hitting search makes me very nervous. Should I read every blog entry that mentions my name or just stick to the news publications? Should I read the comments?? I wish I didn't have the personality where I am dying for everyone to like and approve of me, because that would make reading all this stuff much easier. Sometimes I just let my mom sift through it and protect me from the mean stuff, but then she has to see it, and I don't know if it's easier to read something bad about yourself or to read something bad about your only kid.

But even with this daunting plethora of information, I wouldn't change anything about the way we now are able to share information with one click, because it allows me this opportunity to connect with everyone who is reading these words, which has turned out to be a huge pleasure and comfort to me as I'm leading this nomadic and slightly insane life. AND it allows my friends in China to hear me singing in Germany. And come on, how cool is that?

It's.....done?

2010-02-16T15:47:00.000-08:00

Wow. I can't believe Agrippina is over. It was one of those big milestones around which I had sort of been planning a lot of my life, and now it's just....finished.

I was looking forward to the production for a long time for a lot of reasons. First of all, I felt like it was a big step forward in my career to be singing in a new production at the Staatsoper conducted by Rene Jacobs. Second, I happen to really love the opera and the role, and was looking forward to doing it again. Third, I felt like it would be a chance for me to gain exposure with a lot of people in Europe that might not have heard of me yet, and hopefully lead to more chances to work over here. I have no idea if the first and the third of these items came to pass - it's too soon to tell I suppose. But for the second item, I absolutely had a wonderful time with this particular production, and not only was it a pleasure to sing Nerone again, but this might have been the very best production I've ever had the pleasure of taking part in. It was one of those magical situations where every single piece seemed to work on it's own, and also to fit together as a whole. The musical and dramatic elements came together so perfectly, and not only were all the singers incredibly fabulous at their roles, they were all really special and wonderful people to work with and get to know. The production was breathtaking and innovative, and was complemented beautifully by the careful and dedicated preparation of the music. And I'm not just blah blah blahing you with all my superlative adjectives - the reviews were almost all screamingly positive, all the performances were sold out, and the audiences gave standing ovations after every show.

Which are all the reasons why I'm so sad it's all over.

But whoa did I learn and grow A LOT from this experience.

There were a lot of elements that influenced me and taught me things, but there were three main people that I took big lessons from on this production; the conductor, the director, and the star soprano. I guess one could learn things from the people holding these positions in almost any production, but I learned specific things from these three people that I will take away with me and have forever.

From Rene Jacobs, I learned that there is absolutely no substitute for utterly detailed musical preparation, and that constant vigilance regarding the integrity of the music can create rather astonishing results. So often, musical details are lost, one by one, when we singers stand up and start walking around while singing. And in order to retain the careful preparation that occurs during the initial musical rehearsals, somebody has to be hyper-vigilant about the details at every rehearsal. This extreme attention to detail pays off in spades when it comes time for the performance and everybody is a little nervous, or distracted, or has an umbrella that won't open or something. Because no matter what happens to you onstage, the integrity of the rhythm, the phrasing, the dynamics, the coloring - it's all completely ingrained in your body, and impossible to avoid. And this intense attention to detail creates a captivating performance, even during a four hour opera filled with dacapo arias and 10 minute long passages of recitative. I also learned things from the Maestro about baroque style, ornamentation, various historical facts about Handel, and lots of interesting pieces of information about Agrippina specifically. But the thing that I will always treasure and attempt to emulate in my own artistic life is his total devotion to musical greatness through to the smallest detail of every turn of phrase. I want to aspire to that level every time I make music, and will be inspired to do so because of my work with him.

The second person I learned lessons from was the director, Vincent Boussard. I think one of the things that identifies a good leader is someone who can empower other people to find what they have inside of them and let it out. This is exactly what Vincent manages to do, and I think it's why he is able to get such good performances out of his singers - he has a way of making you find what is already inside of yourself, and wanting to push your abilities to the limits of what you're capable of and beyond. Somehow, he was able to help me find a balance between extreme physical use of my body combined with a more intimate, delicate expression of emotion. It takes a very skilled director to help an actor find this balance, and having discovered it in this role, I will continue to strive for it in every character I portray.

Finally, I learned a lot from the wonderful soprano playing my mother, Alexandrina Pendatchanska. You may remember that just before I left for Berlin, I posted a clip of her that I came across on youtube here on my blog, not knowing her at all and just being impressed by the clip. Well, now that I know her, i can say that my being impressed with her goes far beyond the clips on youtube of her singing. She really is the consummate artist, with a voice that seems to have absolutely no limits whatsoever either technically or musically. But the thing I learned the most from her about is how to be a wonderful human being AND a great artist. Alexandrina is the anti-diva; she works incredibly hard and takes her work very seriously, but she is always also looking outside of herself in order to be a supportive colleague. She is a wonderful mother and wife, she constantly invites people over to her place and cooks for them, she has a super awesome pair of leather pants that look smoking hot on her, and she's a PUBLISHED AUTHOR of a novel in her native Bulgarian!!! I admire her for her ability to be a first class artist who is still a first class person as well, and for showing me that kindness and generosity seem to be the key to "having it all" - she is living proof. Talent certainly can't be created, it has to just be in there - but the rest - the ability to care for the world around you in spite of all the talent you might have - is something that you have to learn, and I learned how important it is from watching her.

Well, that was a particularly verbose post that I hope doesn't sound too pretentious or fancy schmancy. I could have probably said this all in one sentence; Agrippina at the Berlin Staatsoper; Worth all the hard work and bruises because it was one of the best experiences I've ever had.

photo of cast taken by Marcos Fink: Left to right; Daniel Schmutzard, Anna Prohaska, Dominique Visse, Neal Davies, Bejun Mehta, Jennifer Rivera, Alexandrina Pendatchanska. Taken on the stage of the Berlin Staatsoper.

Mistaaaaaaaaaaake!

2010-02-13T05:37:00.000-08:00

We all make mistakes. And anyone who is constantly participating in a live performance is going to eventually make a mistake. No matter how many hours you practice, how many times you repeat something, inevitably, something will go wrong eventually.

And I HATE that.

Some people just shrug and move on, knowing full well that mistakes are a natural and normal part of live theater. I unfortunately am not one of those people. In fact, quite the contrary - I am one of those people who lies in bed at night after making a mistake in a performance and yells "MISTAAAAAAAAAKE!!! MISTAAAAAAAAKE!!! MISTAAAAAAAAAKE!!! repeatedly in my own head. Kind of like this:

(By the way, the tenor in that clip from the TV show "Scrubs" is named Bruce Sledge, and he happens to be the person with whom I performed my very first love scene when I was 19 years old, at a summer program in California called Music Academy of the West. I was a soprano then, and I sang Nanetta to his Fenton, and we had to roll around on the ground and make out. To make things even more difficult, my parents, not knowing what type of scene we would be performing, were sitting in the third row video-taping the whole thing. MISTAAAAAAAAAAKE!!!)

Anyway, last night's fourth performance of Agrippina was generally quite a good one. The energy was high, people were singing beautifully, all systems were go. When we got to my last aria, the big crazy bravura coloratura one, I was happy with how it was going. I was feeling good and psychopathic and singing all my notes fast and furiously, and then went onto the "B" section which is slow and legato, in contrast to the fiendish fioratura of the "A" section. I am lying on the ground for this section, in between the my mother's legs (don't ask) and I was feeling really in the moment, and playing with dynamics and colors. I was feeling good, like all the elements were coming together. Then in the last couple of phrases, something I cannot explain happened, and for some reason I held one of my notes a beat longer than I was supposed to. So, for the next measure I was one beat behind the orchestra, until I got my bearings, corrected myself, and got back on track for the final phrase. It was so weird - that particular thing had never ever happened before - in all the performances I did of this role two years ago, and in all the two months I've been doing it this time, I have never once held that note an extra beat. I have no idea what synapses didn't fire in brain last night that caused me do to that, and I still don't know now. But it was about 4 seconds of pure agony for me, where I realized I was wrong, needed to keep going while simultaneously correcting myself, and it felt like it lasted for about 4 hours.

The funny thing is, the only people who had any idea that something was wrong were me, the conductor, and the soprano playing my mother, since she has heard me sing this aria a million times while lying between her legs. Even the other singers in the show, who were standing in the wings listening, couldn't tell that anything was off. It was ONE measure in a three and a half hour opera. But I tell you, I was so MAD at myself for this error! How could I have gotten it right in all the rehearsals and made this stupid, useless mistake in a performance? WHY?????? MISTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE??????????????

But you know what? The true test of a professional in any field is not the perfection they achieve, but how they recover from their mistakes. Because perfection is absolutely impossible and besides that, it's boring. The reason that human beings like to experience live theater is because of the possibilities that lie within the unexpected. And sometimes that even means mistakes. So we have to accept our mistakes, forgive ourselves, and make the next moment even more interesting than the last. So my job is to silence that voice in my head that screams, "MISTAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE" and keep going, so that in the end, people don't remember mistakes, they just remember that the evening was very interesting.

Mistake? What mistake? I was just seeing if you were awake.

Third time's a charm

2010-02-10T02:53:00.001-08:00

I think I really like third performances. The premiere is always nerve-wracking and scary, but also has a very concentrated energy and focus. The second performance is often the most difficult, because after all the energy and focus of the premiere, the second can get a little sleepy and uncentered. But usually by the third performance, we've all found our rhythm, are beginning to take more risks musically and dramatically, and are having more fun.

This was definitely the case with last night's performance # 3 of Agrippina (although the second one really wasn't bad - in fact, I sang better in #2 than in #1 I think). For me, I wasn't terribly nervous, and I was focused on getting a few things perfectly right that I felt I hadn't nailed yet. Performing is such a brain game, and I'm always happy when I get further along into the run, because my brain starts to function more like it does in rehearsals and less like it does during the first few performances. During rehearsals I'm absolutely focused on creating something in the moment, and I'm not editing myself. But for the first couple of performances I have to work really hard to get the voice out of my brain that starts telling me, "That note sucked. You look stupid right now. You're supposed to sing this phrase quietly, dummy." And if I make some sort of minor mistake, fuggetaboutit, my brain is running wild, chastising me and at the same time trying to get back on track.

But by the third performance, the voices in my head usually get quieter, and I start to relax into what I'm doing. I'm not even 100% sure someone would be able to tell the difference from the outside unless they knew me extremely well, but for me, the performance becomes much more enjoyable when I'm in the moment making discoveries at every turn. Last night, the maestro had given me a note that I needed to find more places to sing quietly in the first aria, so I was challenging myself to go against my desire to SHOW OFF MY VOICE AND HOW LOUD AND ROUND IT IS just because it's the beginning of the show, and instead, show moments of Nero's psychopathic rage that are boiling on the inside but haven't exploded yet. I was happy with how that went, and I continued to try to find moments like that throughout the show. But there was still one aria that I want to do better next time, and I will continue to think about how I'm going to make that happen. And it will probably involve a lot of singing in the shower - my favorite time for vocal experimentation.

The other fun thing about the third performance is that you start to have more fun with your colleagues. People throw curve-balls at you by changing slightly what they're doing, by approaching you with more intensity on a certain phrase, or walking way over stage left when you're used to them staying center. But these moments are so fabulous because you are reminded that what you are doing is a living art, and that each performance is it's own "masterpiece" (I'm putting that word in quotation marks, because we've all had nights at the opera which could only be described with the word "piece" if it were used in the sentence "piece of crap". This particular production, however, is a nightly masterpiece - and not even in quotations.). I'm actually sad that we only have 2 more performances because this is the kind of production and the kind of cast with whom I could probably perform a thousand times and still find everything interesting. But sadly, we have to say goodbye to this fantastic production in just a few days and go to other places where we will all probably be portraying far less sinister and crazy characters.

Ah, you psychopathic, matricidal teenage boy, I will miss you so.

The long road here

2010-02-06T03:50:00.000-08:00

I've been gathering my thoughts in the last couple of days about this production of Agrippina here in Berlin because, well, it was kind of a big deal for me. Let me take you back to almost exactly a year ago today to explain why.

One year ago I was finishing up a run of Cenerentolas in Miami, enjoying the warm sunny weather, but also kind of freaking out. You see, at that point I was a little worried I might need to find another line of work. I had had a busy fall and early winter, but at that moment, I didn't have a single other singing job lined up for the rest of 2009. And this was February. Why this was happening was anybody's guess - this is a funny, fickle career, the economic crisis was especially brutal to the arts industry in the U.S., there happen to be about a zillion very talented people in my fach and not a zillion roles, I probably didn't come over to europe as early as I should have career wise, etc, ad naseum. Regardless of the reasons, I was pretty much having freak-outs on an almost daily basis.

I left Miami and went back to New York and was wondering if I was going to have to get a job waiting tables at the Olive Garden in Parnassus, NJ (for you non American readers who might wonder what that means, it's basically a fate worse than death), when I got a call from a conductor asking me if I could come to Warsaw to sing a production of Lucrezia Borgia in a few weeks. Delighted, I learned the role, hopped on a plane, and had a great time in Warsaw, excluding the time I couldn't tell the difference between the men's and women's restrooms and walked in on some Polish guy at the urinal. While I was in Warsaw, my agent called me and told me that Berlin was looking for a Nerone for the following season, and could I pop on over to Berlin and sing for Maestro Jacobs? I took the five hour train ride to Berlin (my first time ever seeing the town), stayed the night, and got up the next morning and sang for the Maestro on the stage of the Staatsoper. He took me into a practice room afterwards and worked a little on one of the arias and some of the recitatives, and then said, "Yes. I think you will do it. And we'll make a recording."

I walked out of the dressing room and into the passageway underneath the theater and started to cry. Tears of joy, tears of relief, tears of years of pent up excitement and frustration. I walked back out of the theater, put my sunglasses over my red eyes, and took the train back to Poland. I called my mom and dad, I called my agent, and I felt a euphoria that I would imagine compares to getting married or having a child (although I don't know for sure because I haven't done either of those things). I cried off and on all the way back to Warsaw.

Now, here we are, one year later, and I just sang in this fantastic new production at the Staatsoper. Other than the month of March, my 2010 is completely booked, with me going from job to job with barely a day in between, with debuts in several theaters in Europe, a world premiere, a recording, and a lot of new possibilities. What a difference a year can make in a person's life - I'm living proof!

But I wouldn't change a thing about that slow, scary time. Because it made me appreciate in a deep new way, what a privilege it is to earn my living as an artist. It can be terribly frightening, soul crushingly brutal on your ego, and completely fickle and undependable. But it is an incredible privilege and one that I will never take for granted again.

And so I spent this entire two month rehearsal period in Berlin enjoying myself tremendously. I loved getting notes from the Maestro that I had forgotten a rest in one line of recit, I loved having the director encourage me to take something in an entirely different direction than I thought possible, I loved watching the other singers grow and create beautiful portraits of evil characters. I giggled at every single costume fitting and I marveled at the sounds the orchestra was able to make. And while I was terribly nervous as I stood offstage listening to the overture and waiting for my entrance the night of the premiere, I was also happy. I get to do this. This is my life. And it seems like for now anyway (knock on wood), this continues to be my life. And that is truly a thing of beauty.

The Premiere

2010-02-05T08:55:00.001-08:00

It was great!!!

Of course I made a couple of first night jittery mistakes which I was really annoyed at myself for (and which I'm not going to go into detail about here because I've learned not to do that) but otherwise I felt good about my performance, and felt that the show as a whole went really, really well. The audience reaction was extremely positive, and the rest of the cast gave absolutely outstanding, fantastic performances. And nobody booed!!!! I have been to a few premieres here in Germany, and the audience has ALWAYS booed the director, even when I thought the show was great. But not last night - warm cheers and applause for all the singers, for the maestro, and for the production team!

The performance will be broadcast on the radio, which can also be streamed live online at daskulturradio.de at 7:30 PM Berlin time, this Sunday the 7th.

I want to write a more interesting collection of thoughts about the performance and about the important lessons I have taken away from this experience so far, but right now I'm feeling tired and overwhelmed from last night, so I will leave you with a few images from the production taken during rehearsals by the extremely talented countertenor, cast member, and photographer Dominique Visse. He is really an all around artist, and I am amazed at the images he was able to capture when he was in between singing his own scenes.

Agrippina - first look

2010-02-02T09:54:00.001-08:00

Okay, I hesitate to even post the link to this article and accompanying video of some scenes from our Agrippina, because the thing they show me doing at the end of the video seems absolutely.... indecent. I mean, my parents and some young friends read this blog and the only clip this newspaper chose to represent me is one of me writhing on the floor and looking positively not appropriate for viewers under 17. But what the hell - you can see the rest of the production and how beautiful it is and hear some of the outstanding singing. Plus, if you can read german, you can read this article about the lovely young soprano singing Poppea, Anna Prohaska. So here goes nothing - here's the link to the article in today's Zeit online. Happy viewing! And please know that I also appear in this opera standing up and looking as innocent as a lamb.