Blame it on Wilma

So here it is: Day two of staging rehearsals at Florida Grand. The above picture is yet another photo of John Conklin's set crammed into our rehearsal hall. This one is the best, however, because you can see our set up. That's my music stand and Lillian's music stand right next to the tech table. Sherrie Dee, our PSM, sets up in the corner on the opposite side of the table. Notice how close we all are to the edge of the set. The stage (and most of the action) actually extands out six feet from the front of the set, so we spend most of our time plastered up against the wall. We get to know each other really fast in this business. Oh, and just for kicks we decided to put Maestro and the piano aaaaaallll the way across the room (see that black speck in the opposite corner?). Andrew Bisantz, the assistant conducter, and I have a great time communicating from 1/4 mile away.

Today's tension level was much higher than yesterday. Our fight choreographer noticed it (even bought Sherrie and I chocolate mousse because we looked like we needed a treat), and I was feeling it. I'm blaming it all on Wilma. She's putting everyone a bit on edge since we aren't sure if we'll be losing a rehearsal date to her hurricane winds or not. Not to mention the fact that most of us working on this production aren't from Florida and many haven't ever been in a hurricane. (Dean Anthony, our "Nick" yells across the room yesterday evening, "The first hint of a warning I hear, I am packed up, in my car, and out of here!") My landlords have been so nice, giving me the lowdown on waiting out a hurricane, telling me that the house will survive and everyone is going to be fine. I need reassurance while I calm my natural phobia of storms (ask my brothers about the violence I would bring forth if anyone changed the tv from the weather channel during a storm when we were kids).

The tension was exacerbated by continuous scheduling snafus and confusions. Every production has an issue that just will not die and the daily schedule fits the bill for "Fanciulla." If it's not miscommunication about who appears in what scene, it's conflicts that no one on the production staff could possibly predict. For instance, today a photo shoot for Ms. Blanke-Biggs was scheduled at the exact time that we were to start rehearsals (you can see the photographer setting up in the above photograph). All of us were standing around and Lillian was pacing and I was getting more and more stressed by the instant. Some days just aren't meant to turn out the way you want them to.

In better news, the show is going to look great! Mikhail Agafonov, our "Johnson," is a dear with a beautiful voice and sweet dimples, our boys seem willing, and the staging is going well since the singers get to experience the uniqueness of the set as they learn the show. I also got the best compliment I've ever received from Lillian Groag today. She told someone from the opera that I was "Excellent, excellent, excellent," and that she's shouted my name from the rooftops to opera companies all over the country telling them to "bag me now!" I think I blushed from head to toe, but with the day I was having at that point, I really needed it.

Thank god for that, and thank god for Sherrie Dee who, at the end of the day, was there to receive my bitching and blabbering. It's such an amazing thing to be able to laugh with your coworkers no matter what kind of job you have.

Because I feel like it, I'm ending this post with a relevant quote from Azar Nafisi ("Reading Lolita in Tehran")

Times of peace often bring to the surface the extent of the damage, placing in the foreground the gaping craters where houses used to be. It is then that hte muted voices, the evil spirits that had been trapped in the bottle, fly out in different directions.