One Tech Down...

...and one to go.

I'm on a bit of a caffeine kick at this moment, mainly because I left the theater in Ft. Lauderdale after midnight tonight and swigged down some cold coffee as I made my way down Highway 1 so that I wouldn't swerve off the road during my 45 minute drive.

They're doing construction on Interstate 95 at night right now, so every time we leave the theater we have to take the extremely long way home. I've never seen a place shut down freeways the way Southern Florida does. It's baffling and frustrating when your entire job revolves around making your way through these massive construction zones. It took me nearly 2 hours to get up to the Broward Center this afternoon because of construction and various stalled vehicles. And I thought I'd be happy to have a car...

So we had our first tech rehearsal tonight. We got through all of Act I which is a LOT of chorus work. There are deaths and huge running exits, supers running down temple steps with huge spears and live torches being handed off during frantic chorus sequences. I was proud of how swiftly we moved through despite the fact that there was no bridge to the stage from the house so I had to run out of the house, down the hall and up onto the stage many, many times to adjust spacing and make sure everyone knew where they were going.

We were going to work a couple of things in Act II, but this was the first time the crew had done the move from Act I to Act II and it took the entire rest of the rehearsal, so our rehearsal ended with a brief conversation with one of the principals about stair useage and spacing, and we released everyone else..

Tomorrow is all Act III all the time. It's a spacing nightmare because of the dance and the dark exits at the end, plus the amount of rail moves, trips, falling statues and rubble drops put it somewhere in the sixth level of tech hell. It's all about remaining calm. Easier said than done.

The picture is a sphinx on the grounds of Vizcaya in Coconut Grove. My stage manager and I took a sight-seeing trip to the lavish mansion on our last day off. Sometimes it's nice to abandon work for a few hours and be a tourist.

The Advil Chorus

Chorus rehearsals always give me a headache.

It usually has nothing to do with the people in the chorus. Florida Grand's chorus is lovely and willing. We've been through a lot together and I feel I have a certain rapport with them which makes for an ease in work.

Chorus rehearsals are just stressful because there are so many things to accomplish in such a short amount of time. Trying to move 52 people around the space (as well as dancers and supers in most instances) and give them all motivation for their actions as well as make sure they aren't going to be crushed by scenery or slammed into a corner when they're placed in the space is a huge undertaking. It takes a massive amount of prep work, good notes, and intense concentration. I multi-task more in a chorus rehearsal than in any other rehearsal situation. I have to take copious notes about placement, answer questions about motivation, make sure that the director has given all the information they need to, and in many cases I have to stand in for missing principals. The latter is generally the most fun, but often times makes it difficult for me to get the first things done.

I really appreciate directors who deal with chorus well, who recognize that the chorus is also a character in this musical play we are making. Operas are much more interesting when all of the chorus members understand who they are in relation to the principal characters and when reactions and interactions among chorus members and principals are well thought out.

When I was doing a Figaro once, we were in rehearsal for the chorus sequence where they all come in and thank the Count for lifting the law that allows him to have first grabs at new wives. It's a lovely little ditty and they could have all just stood their with their little gifts and flowers and looked quite pretty. The director, however, walked down the line and said to the first guy, "You have fleas." He then proceeded down the line giving each a direction, "You're in love with Almaviva, you've got a toothache, you just found out you're pregnant, you and the guy two people down are having an affair, you're a little slow, you're in a terrible marriage, you think it's a great marriage...." etc. etc. The chorus walked in to sing their bit and their new-found knowledge about individual character gave the whole chorus a life that wasn't there before. They had context above and beyond what the meager chorus libretto could give them.

It's a gift to take a full chorus to the next level like that. It makes them appreciate the piece more and makes these huge headaches of rehearsals much easier and more enjoyable. Isn't it always worth all the work when you can sit back down at the table, have the music begin and get completely uplifted by what this group of people are giving back.

Today's a day off. I'm working like a dog on paperwork, but it's been terrific to sit at my own table listening to my own music. I got my hair cut today and will make dinner and enjoy some time to regroup before our fourth chorus rehearsal tomorrow, which will mark the completion of staging for "Samson."

Dalila . . .Dalila . . . Je T'Aime!

We had our second chorus rehearsal tonight. We started out staging the "Hymne de joie," which is a liturgical chant done by all of the chorus baritones and the Old Hebrew, which is actually the name of his character. It's a beautiful, moving prayer that's broken up by the appearance of Dalila and a bevy of Philistine women who lure Samson away from his faith.

Musically, I like this opera more than I thought I would. The chorus sequences are truly gorgeous, especially the opening, which is 40 pages of harmonic desperation. When that first cry of "Dieu..." rises up above the orchestra, it makes me shiver. I am also quite enamored of the second act duet between Dalila and the High Priest where both of their true natures come out in full force.

This production is reminiscent of Cecil B. DeMille in all of his grandeur. The set is from SFO and is the biggest thing I've ever seen . . . only in photographs thus far. I won't get to tread the boards until next week. The costumes are lavish, the temple huge and jeweled, and the collapse at the end is truly fantastic. It will be quite an adventure to watch this massive thing go up (and an even bigger adventure to move it down to the Carnival Center and see it put together the way it was truly meant to be).

This is the biggest show I've ever done. "Pearl Fishers" had a bigger chorus in New York, but the set was all drops flown in and out so it didn't have the massive set-piece factor that we're struggling with in Ft. Lauderdale. I didn't know how I'd feel about grand opera. In general I seem to be partial to the small, psychological operas, mostly because I feel like so many grand operas are stuck in "park-and-bark" land, the chorus always seems to be standing in a chorale arc, and the dance doesn't seem to do anything to move the story forward. I don't think it has to be that way though. Diving into this opera has given me some insight and also allowed me to really see dancers and chorus become storytellers in their own right.

I'll always be in love with the smaller more obscure pieces, but it's nice to find the magic inside these larger operas as well. The challenge for a director, I think, is to not feel like a cattle herder with a massive chorus, and how to keep the sections of heavy, difficult singing from becoming too static or concert-esque without overtaxing the singers.

Tomorrow is our first principal run. It's great to start feeling the continuity.

Where am I?

Splitting headache all day today and it's continuing. I'm hoping I'll be rid of it when I wake up in the morning, but for now I'm about to fall in my bed.

I tried to do paperwork tonight and just couldn't get it together. I have this entire who/what/where to do and I can't even type simple words without making seventeen mistakes so there's no way I'm going to map out every single thing is happening in this show. I've got a couple of breaks tomorrow so I'm hoping I can get some work done then.

The banyon tree I'm hiding amongst is across the street from my little home. I finally ventured to the little grassy knoll yesterday afternoon and wandered among the vines. These trees fascinate me with their roots going everywhere and nowhere and their ever expansive bases. My ride to work is lined with them.

I've got a lot to say about "Samson et Dalila" in all of its grandeur and its intricacies, but my throbbing temples and jaw are not going to let up for that tonight. More soon...

Things Missed

I jumped around a dance studio tonight. I went to one of the dancer rehearsals for "Samson" and got to step in for the missing soprano. I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants and stepped onto the resin-rubbed wood. I didn't realize how long it'd been since I felt the oily grime that is a worn dance floor. I cracked my toes against the wood, slid my big toe in a rond de jambe, releved a couple of times.

It's funny how quickly habits come back. I jumped into an attitude turn and felt that familiar skin burn on the bottom of my foot. I stared at my port-de-bras in the mirror and thought back to days when putting on a leotard in the morning would have been normal preparation for a day at work.

The only difference is that all of my joints are stiff, my feet hurt after only 20 minutes on the floor, and I was approximately 25 pounds heavier than the heaviest of the dancers.

Memories of pirouettes, being flipped over someone's head, kartwheeling, developpeing, moving my body all over a space and not being afraid of the floor. Where did all of that go and how could it have disappeared so fast?

I love my new career but sometimes I miss the old one.

Living With My Husband...

Days got much better this week. Rehearsals started like a moving train, slow for a few seconds then quickly jumping up to speed. We're into Act II right now and we started on Wednesday. I think this whole show is going to be a hurricane (hopefully not IN a hurricane, however. I already did that).

Our biggest issue is actually the size difference between our theater space in Broward County and our space down here at the Carnival Center for Performing Arts. The set fits beautifully into CCPA (as most sets would...in fact, many would seem swallowed up by its cavernous space), but Broward is going to be a tight, tight fit and will require some very specific choreography backstage to get all of the large groups of people out of giant traffic jams. We had our first chorus rehearsal tonight and the group didn't look as large as I thought, but when we get principals and supers into the mix, we're going to feel quite cramped quickly.

News was very very good today. I got a job that will have me working in San Diego for five straight months, which means I'll actually get to come home and spend time with my husband after each work day. I know that's normal to most people, but I've spent exactly 3 months with my husband since September, and will only have another 2 months before Christmas. 5 months in 16 is pretty sparse.

I'm not complaining. This is the career I chose. I love what I do...will love it even more when I'm directing my own shows, but when the opportunity arises to work in the same place my family lives, I'm going to jump on it. And so I did.

It'll be good to see the cats too, and to walk to the Farmer's Market on Sundays and lay on my own couch and do free laundry and get to use my orange Kitchen Aid mixer and be able to research stuff out of my library of books and do my taxes without having to have package after package sent to me...so many things get missed out of when you live out of a suitcase.

I'm sure the wanderlust will grab at me again once I've been home for a bit. I don't think it will ever go away entirely.

A Bad Day on Several Levels

1. I spilled coffee on my pants on the way to rehearsals.

2. I got this fabulous new red Motorazr phone and spent over three hours last night downloading ring tones and filling in all of my phone numbers. This morning I woke up and used my phone and loved it's slim line, the way it felt in my hand, the feel of the buttons against my fingers. Went to charge it before I left for a dinner party and NOTHING HAPPENED. Either the charger doesn't work or the phone is broken. I have to take it into a Sprint store tomorrow so I can get a new one and spend another three hours of sleeplessness trying to get all of my information inside of it. Sometimes technology makes me SO MAD!

3. I got punched in the face on the bus while going home this afternoon. This asshole was dancing around in the aisle while I was reading my book and minding my own business, and he swung around and punched me right in the eye, knocking my sunglasses off my face completely. He kept yelling, "Dude, I'm so sorry. Dude!" First of all, I'm not a dude. Second of all, watch where you put your fu**ing fist! I have a little bruise on my right cheekbone now.

4. Walking home, I got lunged at by a cocker spaniel who seemingly didn't like the cut of my jib. I didn't even look at this fluff ball before he lunged to the end of his leash with his teeth bared and spitting. I didn't know cocker spaniels could look that fierce and ugly.

5. I'm tired and I didn't get to talk to John as much as I wanted to because of my spiffy looking lemon of a cell phone.

We officially start rehearsals tomorrow. I'm getting out of bed on the opposite side in the morning.

My Hubby on the Radio

That's John accepting an Emmy award for best editor a couple of years ago. He's a brilliant editor, but also produces arts and humanities programming at UCSD-TV, directs numerous programs for them as well, and carries around a big ol' camera. A lot.

David Lemberg, creator of Artscape in San Diego, just interviewed John for his Podcast on Friday. Click on the link and take a listen.

How nice to hear my husband's voice on my computer when I'm so far away from him in Florida.

All Work and No Play . . .

. . . I've learned from years of experience that I have to take breaks. I remember my first day of work at Florida Grand last year. I had a list of things to do and was determined to touch on all of them by the end of the day. I didn't eat lunch, my blood sugar dropped, and I was a very unhappy person by the time I dragged my ass home.

Life is a balance between periods of intense concentration . . . and dancing. I've certainly had both this weekend. I finished all the work I set out to do, did laundry, made food, then danced around my living room, took a long walk and browsed a bookstore. I'll be more and more unbalanced as the rehearsal week starts so I have to get in my relaxation time now.

Some random observations from the last couple of days:

1. Public transportation should be less stressful than driving. You should be able to read the newspaper or go through your to-do list or just people watch. This week has been that way for the most part. I've never waited longer than 15 minutes for a bus, the weather's been nice so sitting on a park bench is delightful, and I've always gotten a seat. Friday night, however, I waited an HOUR for the bus, didn't have a seat, and stressed the entire time that I wouldn't make it to the ballet. I did, but I kept thinking to myself, "it shouldn't be this hard to get around without a car..." Not that it's any easier WITH a car in this here city.

2. Too many friends and family members have been losing pets lately. It's devestating and makes me think about the kitties I've left at home for so long. This is especially so for Lucius, my 13-year-old white cat with cardiomyopathy. I keep telling myself that I'm prepared for him to go since he's been so sick for so long, but it's not true.

3. I wonder if piano tuners ever get used to the noise? The props were loaded into the rehearsal hall on Friday at the same time that the piano was being tuned in there. We all tried to be as quiet and polite as possible but after a while you just have to roll your eyes and stick your fingers in your ears as he pounds key after key after key over and over and over. Surely they must be used to the monotony, but they must just want to sit down and play once in a while instead of the incessent tapping. The day we were focusing in Fairfax, a guy was tuning the harpsichord for 4 HOURS! We were all poking pencils in our eyes by the end of the session, and when he started pounding out the theme to the Addams Family, our stage manager marched down to the pit and asked him if he could possibly be finished soon...

4. Speaking of nightmare jobs, I could never be in charge of scheduling. I'm trying to put together a detailed schedule for "Samson" right now and it is a headache beyond headaches. I have trouble dealing with my own time, let alone everyone else's. I haven't scratched out everything and started over this much since I first learned long division.

5. I'm actually acclimating to this weather. I think it's because it wasn't that hot here when I first arrived so my body has had a chance to deal with a more gradual climate change. Humidity still stinks, but I'm not physically ill this year.

6. I miss my husband. Only eight more weeks.

This is What Was Happening in my Hometown Today...

Neo-Nazis marched through downtown Columbia, MO, this afternoon. They went through all the right channels to get permits and work out a parade route, and the police escorted them through the college area. The group claims they were marching to "protest Marxism at the University of Missouri."

I defend their right to peaceful statements of their beliefs, but I abhor the fact that they exist in the first place.

I think my husband was right this afternoon when he said that the way to truly send a message is to completely ignore their presence. If they marched through town and absolutely no one came out to see them, if the streets were deserted, then we would have let them know how insignificant they are. They're looking for the attention.

Appalling.

Everything Is Beautiful At The Ballet

20 years ago to the month, I piled into a van with a bunch of Columbia, MO, ballet students and moms to travel to St. Louis. I was dressed in ruffly pink and nervous to see Mikhail Baryshnikov and a bevy of his ABT women dancing at the Kiel Opera House. We sat in the nosebleed seats, giddily passing around the one pair of opera glasses so that we could pick out faces as the troupe danced through selections from Swan Lake, Don Quixote and Apollo.

Afterwards, we stood outside the stage door to fawn over Baryshnikov as he made a mad dash for his limo, then hung around longer to watch all of the lithe ballerinas pile into a red van behind him. I wanted autographs but was too shy to ask, so my mother grabbed my program and climbed into the van, passing around my program to the likes of Deidre Carberry, Susan Jaffe, Leslie Browne, Cheryl Yeager, and one Julie Kent, a gifted teenager who had just been accepted into the Corps of ABT and was enough of a phenom to catch Baryshnikov's eye. She finished off her curly-cue signature with a huge smiley-face and I was instantly enamored.

That night was one of the watershed moments in my dance career where I realized how badly I wanted a performing career. All of my dance camps and study and pain and glory come back to a realization I had in that performance.

Last night I came somewhat full circle. ABT was appearing at the Carnival Center for the Performing Arts, Miami's newest arts complex with a stage second only to the Met in size. My friend, who is an ASM, is dating a member of the theater crew, so we both got to go hang out backstage to watch the proceedings. It was a last minute thing so I didn't really know what I was getting myself into. I didn't think I'd know anyone in the company - I've been out of the dance world for what seems like years.

I went through public transportation hell to arrive at the stage door right as the show was starting. My friend led me backstage and I stood behind a huge set piece watching boys in peasant outfits jump up and down and girls in white, feathery tutus and long leg warmers tie up their pointe shoes and tape the knots. I love the bustle of back stage, which I've spoken of on this blog many times before. ABT is a huge company, and dancers were in every corner of the massive backstage space. As the curtain rose and the music increased in intensity, the lights pierced the dark corners of backstage and all of the dancers doing sautes and swinging their arms in the wings put on a game face and marched out on stage. One tiny Asian girl in a long tan skirt came right up to me, stuck her foot on the set piece and adjusted the knot on her pointe shoe. It's been a long time since I've been back stage for a ballet performance, and the last time I was the one stressing over my pointe shoe knots and the height of my changement.

My friend and I eventually went out and sat in the first box, which was reserved by the ballet. We were as close to the stage as you could get without being on it. As I picked up the program on our seat, I noticed that Julie Kent would be playing Odette/Odile. I was instantly transformed to the same wide-eyed 10-year-old from so many years ago.

I forgot how much I adored Swan Lake with its full corps of white swans and its virtuosity in the leaps and turns of the male lead, the 32 fouettes of Odile and the 4 cygnets with their interlaced arms and syncopated diving sissones back and forth. Like every other ballet student since Petipa's time, I learned the white swan pas from Act I and could go through every movement in my seat as it happened. I was reduced to tears as Odette turned around and bourreed off left, the traveler closing in front of her, at the end of Act I. I leapt out of my seat as Von Rothbart, in a flash of pyrotechnics, turned back into his monstrous green form in front of his trapped, wings-flapping masterpiece at the end of Act III, and my heart stopped briefly as Odette leapt to her death in a beautiful (no pun intended) swan dive off the precipice at the back of the stage. It was a glorious evening.

And Julie Kent was every bit as beautiful as she was in 1986, but carried with her a maturity and presence that came only from 20 years of character-building performances, publicity, dealing with the touring life, being a mother, etc. She was a woman on the brink from the moment she appeared in the fog of Act II and she carried me along with her.

Afterwards we went to the cast party in the Peacock Rehearsal Room. The room was set up like a swank club replete with black and white sofas, a Brazilian band, moving lights and an open (yes, open) bar. I ate endless sushi and sipped a scotch on the rocks while watching beautiful young dancers wiggling to the dance beats pounding through the room. As I sat and people-watched, I wondered why opera companies don't provide this for their cast and crew. You could feel the morale increase among the crew and dancers as they dined and danced. It's such a simple thing and yet so many places seem to forget about all of the "little people" who make these shows what they are.

I miss the dance world sometimes. As cut throat, backstabbing, painful, and caddy as it is, I still dream about it. As Julie Kent stepped out for her paged bow she was covered in flowers being thrown onto the stage, the audience hooting and jumping up and down. She singled us out to bow to since we were sitting so close and I was instantly transformed into a swooning little girl.

I must go see more GOOD dance.

Gaining Momentum

Monday afternoon I arrived in Miami. I stepped off the airplane waiting for it to be humid, balmy, stifling and there was actually a lovely breeze. Thus far the weather has not been oppressive in the least, though I have a terrible feeling that will change soon enough as there's rain moving into the area this weekend.

The picture is me collapsed on the bed after arriving at my new apartment in Coral Gables. It's a great little place with rattan furniture, antique tables and armoires and a full kitchen. The walls are tall and white; everything looks clean and summery here. Walking onto the stone floors and across my sisal rug, feeling the cross breeze in my little bed nook actually puts me in a good mood. I have a feeling this Florida experience will be a far cry from what I was dealing with this last year. As long as we can keep those pesky hurricanes away.

We started prep yesterday and I already feel like I have a good handle on the show. Our production team seems to be together and friendly, no one is trying to overexert control and no one seems too green. The energy at the opera house is actually feeling pretty upbeat despite the fact that the company is suffering from some growing pains this year. They've added one more opera to the season and they've moved into this GIANT new theater, plus they have quite a few newbies on staff. All of these things make for rough transitions but thus far everyone on "Samson" seems to be taking things in stride.

As long as we're all capable of laughing with each other.

What makes me the most nervous is the fact that I haven't worked with this director before. It's actually been over a year since I've stepped into a rehearsal hall to assist someone I've never met. It's a whole different type of prep period because I have to guess how someone's going to work. When I walk into a studio with Lillian or Harry, I've worked with them
enough times that I know exactly what they're going to want and how they're going to react to certain situations. When someone asks you a question about schedule or preference, there's confidence in being able to say, "She'd rather have it this way," or "He's not going to like that, we need to contact him right away and let him know..."

Otherwise, things are going well. I have a handle on my paperwork, I've tabbed my score and printed off a synopsis, put together a scene breakdown. Once I start putting my full attention to a show it doesn't take me that long to prepare. It's because I get obsessive, I know, but maybe that's not always bad.

I'm also happy because I haven't yet needed a car. I'm a full public transportation girl, and have been taking the bus down Coral Way every day to get to the Florida Grand Offices. I should be able to do this all through staging rehearsals and I'm going to travel up to the theater tomorrow to find out if I will or won't need a car during the run at Carnival Center... It makes me feel environmentally and economically sound.

How wonderful to lounge in a comfy chair, feel a cool breeze run over my bare legs as I type on my laptop, sipping tea, not rushing through mounds of paperwork and stressing about getting everything done on time. I think this may be one of the first positive postings I've had in a while.

I'll let you know how that goes once it heats up and starts raining...

Last Night in a Hotel Room for Months!!!

I'm at the Wyndham O'Hare, a mile away from the airport so I can skip over there in the morning and fly away from a month of hotel rooms. It can't come soon enough. I'm very tired of sleeping in these generic rooms with little cards all over the place telling me to hang up my towels and comforters I'm not comfortable sitting on and questionable internet access, ugly (or no) art, suitcase sitting there just itching to get messed up because I don't have the time to truly unpack....

But it ends tomorrow when I move into my apartment in Coral Gables and make myself comfortable in an uncomfortable city.

I've had several days with my family. My mom, dad and little brother drove up from Missouri on my last day of rehearsals so that we could see each other while we're all actually in the Midwest. I stayed at a hotel with them and we had a wonderful couple of days laughing and telling old family stories. I also finally convinced my father to let me buy the whole family breakfast this morning which was a big thing. I took them to the Original Pancake House and had a lovely brunch. I've spent many lovely Sunday mornings in that establishment with friends and family and it was great to revisit.

They dropped me off at the Wyndham on their way to visit my Grandmother downstate. I walked up to my room all alone and felt such a supreme sense of loneliness. There's something about being by yourself in a hotel that pulls that out of you. I wandered down to the hotel bar and had a Guinness and stared at everyone talking to each other. This was one of those hotel bars with a little too much smoke, bad decor, bad service...filled with all the local go-to girls (as in "for a good time call"...). It was wholly unsatisfying so I came back up here and did a little work.

Work will be easier tomorrow when I don't feel so uprooted. Thank god for my family time and John time that I had over the last two weeks or all of this would be much harder. As it is, I just keep thinking ahead to May.

I think I can, I think I can....

Mad Dashes (figuratively) and Blinding Snow Storms (literally)

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

Okay....just had to say that.