Box o' Music

I picked up, literally, a box of scores the other day from San Diego Opera. A whole season's worth of music from "Aida" to "Tannhäuser." It was interesting to see them all kind of dumped in a box - heavy and a bit ungainly - as I lugged it out to my car and thought about when I was actually going to start working on these.

Right now I'm working on "Agrippina," the opera I'm staging for Lillian Groag at City Opera in September. I know this piece like the back of my hand but the set I've worked on is different than the set for New York, and so it takes more preparation than if I was walking into the exact same scenario. Most of the concept is the same, but entrances and exits have switched around and there are some gags, etc. that can't be executed with this scenery. It's a slow process of comparison, but I am armed with paperwork and video galore, so it will eventually come together.

Gluck's "Orphée," which I'm actually beginning sooner than the rest of these operas, is the easiest to prepare because it's never been done before. I've done as much on this score as I can at this juncture. I have a relatively detailed scene breakdown, I've highlighted all of the text, I've listened to the opera 4000 times and I've put together a preliminary schedule. Everything else will have to wait until I'm in rehearsals next week. I leave for Cooperstown on Sunday.

There are so many other things I'd like to work on right now, but my opera preparation seems to dominate my time. I have, of course, become somewhat obsessed with Flickr, so that's taken up the rest of my free time, and in the middle we have quality time with John and the cats.

Sunday morning is a backwards dive off of the high dive into a pool I've never seen before. I love that moment and it scares the crap out of me every time. All I can assume is that the pool has water, though I have no idea how deep or what temperature.

Half of Me..

I just boxed up part of my life and entrusted it to UPS for a week. It should arrive in Cooperstown on Tuesday and as soon as I open it up I'll be a little more at home in a foreign land. Every time I send a package off into the ether, I worry that it will never reappear. I track it obsessively.

I think because of my small trip to the UPS Store, I was in a terrible mood the rest of the day. I snapped at John and shuffled around grumbling to myself.

Acutally, now that I think about it, I had other reasons to be in a terrible mood. I woke up and stepped off the side of the bed onto a pair of jeans I'd left on the ground, which is not the bad part. It seems that Lucius didn't quite make it to the litterbox last night. Immediately after, I realized as he climbed onto the couch that he's terrible at hygiene generally...

I love my cat, but he seems to have a knack for making me worry or curse to myself. I try to laugh myself out of it by giving him nicknames like "poo tail" but deep down it immediately puts me on edge about his health.

I'm trying to enjoy my last few days with John before I leave, but nerves and stress seems to keep getting in the way.

Biding Time..

It's the beginning of Memorial Day Weekend and I am NOT in Terre Haute, Indiana, at my family's huge annual reunion. I will NOT be waking up at 5am to pile into a van and caravan to Speedway, Indiana, to sit in the stands at the Indianapolis 500, eat burgers and drink sweet tea, cheer for Danica Patrick and watch the policeman stand on the seat of his motorcycle as it careens through the pits. No looking through binoculars at the checkered flag waving madly or wandering through the muggy caverns beneath Tower Terrace as the cement shakes from the power of 33 cars racing by at 200 mph. I'll miss my cousin's dogs romping through the halls of the Holiday Inn, a double wedding shower for two cousins (also sisters) getting married and hours of watching rugrats romping in the Holidome, their little feet slapping the wet tile as they run to grab on to their mothers.

It's okay. I'm spending the weekend with my husband, with whom I have one more week before I fly away to Upstate New York for a summer at Glimmerglass Opera. He and I have been spending as much time as we can muster together. I've even gone so far as to volunteer my services to him as he conducts interviews for a show about the Old Globe Theater's Summer Shakespeare Festival. The television station he works for is relatively understaffed right now so I like to help where I can, hooking up cameras, unrolling cords, putting together laveliere mics. It's fun to watch John work and even more fun to work with him. The picture above is a small break from our last day of interviews. John is thinking about a lighting problem while I relax against the wall. Lighting is not my forte.

I went to my second dance class this morning. Again with Jean Isaacs. I owe her a debt for getting my butt up and moving. Today I felt much better. I made it through the entire class with no qualms at all and, because I'd done all of the phrases on Tuesday, I could cycle my body easily through the movement without my muscle memory giving way to crazy improvisational seizures. And after it all, I still felt sweaty and energized, my shirt soaked and my face flushed and prickly. I'll be back next Tuesday.

Class was followed by a trip to Office Depot to buy supplies for "Orphee" and a box to send some stuff ahead to Cooperstown. As much as I'm trying to delay my inevitable departure in my mind, it is still coming with great speed and I am forced to address it. The big box sitting in the middle of the living room is now a consistent reminder that I will be separating myself from this little family of mine again.

The cats are curious about the box but don't seem to care much about my impending exit in the least. (As long as they still get fed you know..)

The roses that John gave me last week are starting to wilt and dry. Nothing stays perfect forever.

Hooray 10,000!

So, sometime in the last two days I surpassed 10,000 hits. I just had to do a little happy dance and acknowledge this fact on my blog.

It's nice to be well-read.

And in a reflection of nothing at all, here's a little clip of the climax of "Anna Karenina" at Florida Grand Opera. I'm still not convinced by the "train" special effect in this moment, but Kelly Kaduce is FANTASTIC in the role. She is truly an artist to be reckoned with...

Back to the Future

Endorphins do a body good.

I took dance class for the first time in months last night. It was a struggle to get myself there. I got within a half an hour of class and already had my dance clothes on, but I just sat in the bed thinking about how much I wasn't going to be able to do and how sore I was going to be... Routine is hard to get into.

John was instrumental in getting me there, as was Jean Isaacs who offered the class to me as her guest when I talked to her at her lovely retirement party the other day. It was my feeling of obligation to honor her invitation coupled with John pulling me out of the bedroom that ultimately got me into the car.

Laden with a filled Nalgene water bottle, legwarmers and some Tiger Balm, I drove to Dance Place San Diego in Liberty Station (the refurbished Naval Training Center in Point Loma). The building is very nice, clean, bright. So much nicer than anything I rehearsed in when I was actually doing this for a living. Jean was very happy to see me and I was a bit of a nervous wreck. Every time I walk into a dance studio my former baggage comes flooding back. This life that I wallowed in for a good part of my young life left a lot of scars that burn brightly whenever I'm in the vicinity of dancing and dancers.

Class was great but I was exhausted. I forced myself to remain upright through the whole thing. I had a headache and was remotely dizzy. I was shaking every time I stood on one leg. My pick up and muscle memory was out of practice. I couldn't get simple combinations of movement in my head and blindly followed the young college student in front of me to complete the phrase. I felt a mess.

Jean was complimentary and I told her I'd come back on Saturday, but I felt totally whipped in every way. I stretched out briefly afterwards, then stumbled out to the car and drove home. My eyelids were heavy, my thighs were shaking, sweat was rolling droplet after droplet down the small of my back.

Funny thing was, I couldn't get to sleep. Once I'd dried off and relaxed a bit I was totally energized. I woke up early this morning. I fit into my skinny jeans (more than likely sweated off some water weight in class), and felt much better running my errands this morning than usual. This is a routine I MUST keep up. The traveling makes it difficult though. There's no dance in Cooperstown, NY. There's no time for class in NYC. How can I supplement dance class with other forms of exercise?

Jean tells me that I'll be back into shape if I can just get into five more classes. I know she's right. I know I'd feel better - today is a perfect example of what adrenalin and endorphins (and a little sweat and accomplishment) can do to a psyche - but the hard part is continuing to convince myself of that when no one is standing next to me.

We'll see how it goes.

I leave for Cooperstown in a week and a half. Everything I do now revolves around prepping for my next opera. That includes finding ways to up my energy level... I will be in class on Saturday morning.

Cats Have it Easy. . .

. . .except for maybe Lucius, my aging white cat. He has a rogue claw (only one) that grows in a rapid circle and digs itself into the pad of his front paw. After five months of being away, it had stubbornly implanted itself in his little pad and I took him to the vet this morning to have it extracted.

He's doing fine but after spending any time with Lucius one gets the idea that he lives in a low-grade state of misery at all times. He's a little bit tired, a little bit gaseous, a little bit ornery and he can't stand our other cats, which makes him skittish and pissy whenever they're in the same room.

This isn't the same cat I knew a few years ago. His cardiomyopathy has changed him and I think the stress of my life over the past few years has wreaked a little havoc as well.

I know it's wreaked havoc on me.

Monty is the cat in the picture. He's our most well adjusted. He loves anyone who comes around him, sleeps all day, purrs uncontrollably when pet. Somedays I wake up and get ready for my day, look over at him and wish I were him. He's not very bright but, as John says, "how smart does he really need to be?"

He may be the only one in the house without baggage.

It's Been a While...

So it's been over a week...I know

I got home last Monday and have been decompressing for the past week.

I went to a beach party, saw "Nozze Di Figaro" at San Diego Opera, walked to Twiggs for coffee with John several times (and once to "Mystic Mocha"), ate at Brian's American Eatery and Mandarin Dynasty (after trying to eat at P.F.Changs only to be told we would have to wait for an hour and a half).

I cleaned house, put away my stuff, did my laundry and went grocery shopping.

I got "The Portable Dorothy Parker" as an early birthday present, planned a dinner party, emailed a thousand people, planned a trip to L.A. and laid around with my cats. A lot.

I sorted out all of my books and uploaded a thousand and one pictures to Flickr.

I went to the dentist and found out that there's absolutely nothing wrong with my teeth that a good cleaning won't take care of. I spent hours and hours translating Gluck's "Orfee et Eurydice," and I'm still not done.

I made a hair appointment.

I finally saw "Blood Diamond" and liked it very much. I forgot that Leo DiCaprio is actually a good actor, and I forgot that Djimon Hounsou blows everyone around him out of the water every time.

I watched a backlog of John's "San Diego Opera Spotlights," and wished very much that I'd been around to see "Wozzeck."

I've been basking in being home. In being with John and the cats. Three more weeks and then off to Cooperstown.

I'll be writing more. I'm replenished now.

Why Can't We All Just Get Along?

I've been thinking a lot about the state of the performing arts since I attended Opera America. Much of what was discussed was the survival of opera, but the theme of cooperation kept coming up. Opera is the perfect combination of all of the arts. Sets and Costumes embody the visual arts, theater is embodied in the direction and many operas include dance and movement to tell their story. And of course, in the middle of it all, is vocal and instrumental performance. It's all there and yet opera does not reach out to its fellow art genres.

They're not alone. I feel like so many art forms are totally insulated from the rest of the art world, and in this society where the arts are so often thrown aside as frivolous and unimportant, I feel like we all need to come together with a common goal or we'll perish.

I'm working on "Samson et Dalila" right now, and as I was reading about Samson's story before we began rehearsals, I realized that Samson was the one who took all of the small, disparate Hebrew tribes and brought them together to create one Jewish faith. For all intents and purposes, this is why the Jewish faith still survives today . . . the whole "united we stand" idea. I think this is a relevant story for the arts. We are all sitting in these tiny little tribes. If we don't start banding together soon, we may truly be erased.

Cross Marketing is going to be imperative as our funding slowly slips away and our audiences (especially in opera) slowly die off. It will take brainstorming and creativity and, ultimately, it will take a complete overhaul in our little, insulated, pretentious worlds. Companies forget that other arts organizations exist most of the time - definitely to their detriment.

The other big thing that kept coming up was how we speak to our public. Society (especially American society, in which we sit) has changed rapidly in the last twenty, thirty, fifty years. Opera, however, has not. Our society has become relatively addicted to technology and telecommunications. Opera, however, has not. Our society is driven by pop culture, American Idol, reality television, football, etc. etc. etc. We've had a complete overhaul that's resulted in a dumbing down of our everyday world. Opera, however, has not.

Now...the last thing should never change for opera. So many of our speakers, Dana Gioia, being one of them, were correct in saying that to truly keep opera alive in this era, we will have to exact a cultural shift back to a learning and learned society. Opera can't do this alone (again . . . we're back to the whole "cooperation" thing), but it can learn to speak to our society in a language that they can understand.

We have to learn to embrace technology, not only on stage but as a marketing tool as well. We have to learn how to market our opera seasons to appeal to what our society is looking for. This doesn't mean creating productions that cater to our culture of ignorance so much as it means that we should learn who we're actually talking to in the first place. I honestly believe that if we can get people in the door, large portions of them will enjoy what they see.

Perhaps that's a bit utopian but I really think that people don't "like art" because they weren't exposed to it when they were young so it hasn't become part of their fabric. We have to let them in slowly, but the most important part is that we have to LET THEM IN. They won't knock on the door of their own volition.

How we open the door and offer the reward is the real question. And Dana Gioia made a very good point when he said, "It's not about the money." People will pay $200 to sit in crap seats at a baseball game. It's not the ticket price - it's the interest in the first place.

I know a big part of our problem is that so many of our organizations are all talk and no action when it comes to true audience development. Changing people's minds is hard work and I can't sit here right now and say that I have any answers that haven't already been thought up, but we have to keep brainstorming and trying and, ultimately, FIGHTING for the importance of arts and culture in this society.

It WILL go away while we're busy being snobs. Truly.

So I'm not sure I said anything profound here, but this is what I've been thinking about a lot. I need to put my action where my mouth is I know, and hopefully the more I hash out for myself, the more ideas I'll have and the more I can put into action. Arts education (which is ultimately the genesis of audience development) is what I'm talking about here, and perhaps we all just need to realize its true and PROFOUND importance.

Enough. I'm leaving this post with two quotes I liked from Osvaldo Golijov's keynote address on the first morning of Opera America:

In order to understand who we are now, we have to understand who we are. Period.

And

Opera is the possibility of absorbing and transforming the spectrum of human experience.

Nice Mention

Had a very complimentary mention in a South Florida blog called Stuck on the Palmetto yesterday. This seems to be a popular local blog that pushes for community support and pride but makes no bones about Miami's issues.

It's nice to be recognized.

Right now I'm sipping coffee, staring at my phone, knowing that I should pick it up and make the obligatory phone calls that have been on my "to-do" list for several days. What I really want to do is curl up on the rattan couch with my book. I've gone outside several times to check on the status of the laundry room (I think I'm fifth in line) and it's going to be nasty-hot today.

I can't wait to be home.

Anna Opened

"Anna Karenina," the new opera by David Carlson with a libretto by the late Colin Graham, opened last weekend. I actually had a seat in the house which was terrific and unexpected.

I love opening nights. There's a wonderful energy in the air that doesn't exist during the rest of the run. This is especially true for new productions, and even more so for world premieres, where this is the absolute first time that the public will be experiencing any aspect of the performance. Not only are the sets and costumes and direction new, but all of the notes and voices are too. The excitement (and nerves) that surround the fated evening permeate everyone's spirit as they walk into the theater.

I loved the show. I think the singers sounded and looked great! Kelly Kaduce is a terrific actress as well as vocalist and everyone looked beautiful in Neil Patel's giant, open set. I love knowing people in shows when I'm out in the audience. I felt so proud of everyone out there, having seen the hard work they put into the product and heard about the trials they went through to get this piece to stage.

At bows I burst into tears. Silly, perhaps, but the crowd was on its feet and roaring, stomping and cheering. It's an awesome sound and I know what it's like to realize all of that noise is for you. Your psyche can barely handle it sometimes.

The New York Times was there and gave a very favorable review, which is great publicity for Florida Grand as well as the opera itself, which is traveling directly to Opera Theatre St. Louis and then I think will go to Detroit.

New and young work is what excites me. There's something about being in on the creative process from the very, very beginning that opens up so many more possibilities. New productions are great because they allow the artistic team to reconceive the look and feel of the piece despite the familiarity of the music. But working with a new score altogether is the absolute tabula rasa. I hope I get to work on a new opera someday. The opportunities are few and far between, and shouldn't be...

The picture is from the New York Times of Kelly Kaduce and Robert Gierlach (who played Vronsky). The opera plays in Miami until May 13, and I would encourage you to see it if you're in Southern Florida. If you're in the St. Louis area, the opera runs from June 3rd through the 21st.

Support new work! It's the only thing that will truly keep this art form alive and kicking. Remember that every opera you see in every opera house in the world was a world premiere at one time in history, and needed the same support that new work needs today.

Here's a YouTube video of my friend, Liam Moran, singing "How Strange She Is Tonight," Karenin's aria from the first act. Enjoy.

A Little Hope for the Future

So I'm waiting for the Metromover in downtown Miami, on my way to the cover run of "Anna Karenina," which went very, very well. I'm sitting on the bench, reading the book I just cracked open: "Nero" by Edward Champlin. I'm hoping it will give me some insight into these characters I'll be staging in New York in the fall.

Next to me are two little girls - maybe 13 or 14 years old. African-American, dressed in hand-me-downs, shoveling in fries and milkshakes from McDonalds and shouting relatively unintelligable slang back and forth to each other. They were stereotypes sitting next to me, and I hate to say that but I glanced at them once and then hardly paid them any mind, engrossed in my book. I guess indicative of our polarized world.

About two minutes into my time at the stop, one of the girls tugged on my shirt. I turned towards her little pigtailed face, not sure what the issue was and she asked me, "Hey, what's your book about?"

I told her it was about Nero Caesar, the last Caesar and a Roman Emporer who was crazy and burned down his city before committing suicide. "A terrible, unhappy man from a couple of thousand years ago."

The other girl's eyes lit up. "That's what I said!" she yelled, smacking her friend. "We're studying Rome in school and I remembered his name!" She was so excited and both girls started peppering me with questions about Nero and his family. "Did he really kill his family? Why did he burn down Rome? Why did the Romans let him get away with all that? He killed his wife too? That man was CRAZY!"

And so I had a great little conversation about Nero and Rome and how society lets such awful people come to power. They got on their train as it pulled up and I wanted to continue the conversation. "Bye," they waved, wiping french fry grease on their stained stretch pants and shuffling along in their flip-flops.

Inspiration and spark comes from the most unlikely places.

I had hope for the future of our society for the first time in a while sitting at a train station in downtown Miami. Who would've thought?