House To Half

Hiatus?

2007-12-28T12:35:00.000-08:00

So I'm not sure if I'm taking an official hiatus or not. Obviously writing has been the last thing on my mind lately since it's been nearly a month since I've gone to my blog and each of the posts immediately before that were few and far between. My idea was always to force myself to write regularly but as my job gets more involved, I have less inclination to take up time to write.

I'm just not going to force things right now. So, for my few regular readers out there, it may be a while. Or not...I may suddenly have the urge to record again. I just have to wait and see.

As it were, I'm sitting at my little desk in the production offices of San Diego Opera on my third week of prep before we start a jam-packed season. We jump in with both feet right off the bat with a new production of Wagner's "Tannhauser," then move directly into four more operas with absolutely zero breathing time. Everyone I've talked to who's done this season says it's a crazy maelstrom every time. We'll see how I fare in terms of time for outside projects. I'm not hopeful right now.

As far as after that all ends, my summer is up in the air. I'm thinking of taking a trip to Italy to do a language immersion program, or going to Upstate New York to study up on Edna St. Vincent Millay a little more, or perhaps going to England/Scotland just for the hell of it. We'll see what pans out. I feel strongly that if I take the summer off from working on a show or at a festival then I need to be improving my skills that will help me be the best director I can be. Maybe a summer of me is really what I need.

I just got off of an airplane taking me back to San Diego from visiting my parents in Missouri for the holidays. It's the last time I'll have to fly until next May/June-ish. I'm hoping that my nerves will right themselves as I remove the travel-factor from my life for a while.

I feel out of order still and am hoping for some repairs. I'll keep you posted.

Someday...

Rainy Travel

2007-12-09T05:58:00.000-08:00

Writing has not been my strong point while working at the Dallas Opera. This particular show kicked me in the butt harder than I've been kicked in quite some time. I came here thinking that this show would be a bit of a breeze and I would get all sorts of stuff done in the meantime. Truly not so...I've been playing catch-up since we opened and now I'm sitting at DFW, waiting for a delayed flight (no explanation...just delayed), and thinking about the fact that I have to go into work tomorrow to a brand new job and I feel totally and utterly unprepared (I'm sure that's not the case...but I'm a preplanner. I get sick if I'm not 15 minutes early and if the check's not in the mail a week before the due date).

The good thing is that I'm going home and if this plane isn't delayed further I'll actually be home early enough today to get my ducks in a row before making my first entrance at San Diego Opera tomorrow. We start prep for a stint of five operas in a row. I need to feel confident with all five scores before the first rehearsal because once we start it's like a downhill soapbox race: there's no stopping us until we hit the hay bales at the bottom.

Despite any stresses I've experienced in Dallas, we had a very good closing last night. Quite a few pranks and loose ad-libbing, but my director seemed pleased as punch that the cast was relaxed enough with each other to dive into the unknown in such a way on stage. I never watch final performances because I know what happensk when there's no recourse. I was a performer for years and did my share of onstage pranks...was also the butt of many jokes as well. I've been part and parcel to many a "let's see if we can make so-and-so bust up in the middle of this really serious scene" schemes and I've added a little something-something to quite a few closing nights. One of my favorites was my Junior year of high school. I was a dancer in "Hello Dolly" and our little group of dancing waitresses chose to wear racy garter belts underneath our circle skirts. We gave all of the geeky band boys in the pit quite a show.

Of course I wrestle with how much to frown upon now that I'm in a position of authority. I try to keep a straight face and discourage bad behavior, but the performer inside knows how hard it is to keep enthusiasm and wish I could be out there too, yucking it up.

Boarding soon. Maybe someday I'll get back to regular writing.

Yet Another Tech Week Survived

2007-11-29T18:39:00.000-08:00

I'm at the end of two days off. I needed the time so badly. I go through a tech week about every two months and they still rear up in front of me and knock me on my ass. Generally speaking, once we start the lighting sessions, I have about two or three days in there where I come into work before 9am and leave just before Midnight. By the third day, coffee does . . . well . . . pretty much nothing.

The other thing that always amazes me about Tech week is, no matter how much of a mess a production is on the first piano staging, it always seems to come together as a show by the time final dress rolls around. I left final dress on Wednesday night with weightless shoulders. There were a couple of off moments: props getting stuck in pockets, hats rolling down stairs, a drop off it's in-spike....silly things - easy fixes. But the show itself was there. People were laughing, the dancers were beautiful, the dialogue was on. It was a huge relief for me and I KNOW it was a huge relief for my director.

So yesterday, instead of stressing about notes, thinking about whether or not people would go on, wondering how something was going to come together, I did nothing that had to do with work. I went shopping. I bought a dress for the opening and had lunch at Neiman's with my stage manager. It was all very chic, ladies-who-lunch, holiday cheer etc, etc, and it felt great to be weightless.

My health is starting to return. I still feel my heart rate speeding up at night when my thoughts go wild, but I'm waking up feeling rested and looking ahead to home and Christmas with the fam, and all of the important things in life on the other side of my work...

Holidays Away...

2007-11-22T22:38:00.000-08:00

Holidays away from home are tough on many levels. Part of it's the obvious missing of family members. Part of it, for a foodie like me, is the inability to cook holiday foods with the meager kitchen utensils and amenities I have in my little corporate suite.

There are also smaller problems. The reason I didn't go home for Thanksgiving this year (besides the poor factor) is that I have rehearsals on both sides of the holiday. There's a guilt that washes over me when I take a full day off while rehearsing a show. I worked all day yesterday so that I could take today - a holiday - off, but I still woke up feeling like I should work. Holiday breaks in the middle of a deadline-based gig are horrifying for the workaholic.

There's also an anti-social aspect that sometimes comes sneaking in. There's always a part of me when waking up on a holiday that wants to spend the day in my pajamas watching Christmas movies and eating takeout. I know myself enough, however, to know that if I don't go to my holiday plans I'll regret the lost connections and I'll never truly be able to relax and blow off steam.

A member of our production staff had access to an incredible home this holiday season and so he invited us all over for Thanksgiving dinner. Ten of us showed up. The table was set with real china and crystal, we toasted with champagne, we went around the table (just like my own family's tradition) and told everyone what we were thankful for, and we feasted. My, how we feasted! All of the trappings of a traditional turkey dinner plus a few little extras here and there. I brought pineapple timbale, an old family recipe that dates back to when my ancestors were whalers... It was my own contribution to the family atmosphere.

Afterwards we laughed hysterically while cleaning the kitchen, then collapsed in front of a roaring fire and talked for several hours - until the tall candles on the coffee table burned down to nubs. I sat there and looked around at everyone smiling, red-cheeked, clutching pillows, and thought about this idea of connections that I keep coming back to as I slowly try to figure out this business. We get close so fast in these little 6-week gigs. Everyone I work with is like a member of some sort of strange, dysfunctional family. We keep coming together and falling apart, but if I find these people in another city we'll be right back where we left off.

It's a comfort to know we're all in this together and I'm thankful to have so many people who share in this traveling existance wherever I go.

What else am I thankful for? I'm thankful to have a husband who is so unbeliveably supportive in this crazy career I'm carving out. I'm thankful for a family who loves me no matter how different my world is from theirs. I'm thankful that my career is still growing; that what I'm doing thus far seems to be working.

I'm thankful for life experiences and evenings like this.

Detour

2007-11-13T22:54:00.000-08:00

So here I am in Dallas, putting up an operetta that has proved to be a scheduling nightmare. We're done with the show (in a week mind you). Everything is blocked, the dancers are here and fitting themselves in beautifully. They actually flew in from Los Angeles the other night, walked in the door straight from the airport, suited up in their off-the-shoulder sweatshirts, legwarmers and flexible dance sneakers, and ran through this show they hadn't done in months with nary a flaw in their unison. Muscle memory is an amazing thing.

Our singers are all thinkers. They are analyzing their dialogue, asking for changes where things don't make sense, discussing character and audience comprehensibility. Our chorus has learned all of their movements, reactions and moments in three rehearsals. For all intents and purposes, this whirlwind rehearsal period has been pretty successful.

But for me in this moment, it all comes back to making this schedule every day, which has pitfalls and snafus in it that literally make me want to bang my head against the desk. I'm having flashbacks to when I first tried to learn long division. Ask my mother about that joyous experience. I'm not the only one feeling this pressure but it's getting to me all the same. It must be getting to me. I've visited the E.R. three times in the past week with heart palpatations, massively high blood pressure and dizziness/numbness/shortness-of-breath. The doctors at the E.R. (who I've gotten to know well mind you) all think it's major anxiety. I think they're probably right but it's hard for me to accept because I've always seen myself as someone who handles stress well. I've always been the unflappable one; the one who takes everything in stride and then gets things done as needed.

The more I think about it though, the more I realize that my way of working has allowed all of this stress to fill my coffer until it's truly overflowing. My job is to listen to and absorb other people's stress and problems and I think I've finally hit my limit. I've spent the last few rehearsals fighting with an irregular heart beat and an inability to get a deep breath and I think, "geez! What the hell is going on," but if I look back at every confidence I take, every problem I solve, every argument and disagreement I'm privy to, well....I guess it makes sense that my body would finally tell me to stop listening. This is my 7th show in a row and none of them in my home.

So enough about that. I'm going to see a doctor tomorrow with an actual appointment and hopefully I can figure out how to manage this in the few weeks I have left of traveling, living in a hotel room by myself, working on a show at my makeshift desk/kitchen table while watching bad television and eating take-out.

This life. This life gives me amazing experiences. Amazing. But I think there's only so much a psyche can take before it needs to regroup, refuel, rejuvenate.

Already?

2007-11-02T21:27:00.001-07:00

I have two days off! I've worked two days and now I have two days to catch up on work...

I'd better take advantage because this surely won't last. Rehearsals begin on Monday and I foresee craziness, long days and much, much homework.

I'm going to work out, make breakfast, get a hair cut, see a movie, browse a bookstore, get all of my paperwork in order, explore my neighborhood, shop...

Or maybe I'll just sleep. I have a feeling I'm going to need to store it up.

Death By Scheduling

2007-11-01T22:02:00.001-07:00

Death by Diva? ...Not yet...

Singers haven't arrived yet, but that's the season t-shirt for Dallas Opera. Seems an appropriate way to start my work here. I spent 10 hours at my new opera home today. A small portion was spent taking a tour of the large facilities; a small portion was spent eating lunch with the production team of which I am now a member; a small portion was spent tabbing out my score and matching page numbers to my scene breakdown.

An abnormally large part of my day was spent hunched over the schedule with my stage manager trying to reconcile what our director wants with singer releases with hour restrictions with conflicts that singers have who are singing in more than one show this season...it doesn't stop. Scheduling is difficult in any opera company. Time restrictions make it hard to get everything in and well-worked by the time we move to stage, and in a show this size with this many people to organize it becomes a literal headache of the highest order.

I stumbled from the rehearsal hall today with my eyes bugging out and my head spinning. All I wanted to do was come home and eat some frozen yogurt, put on my fleece pajamas and watch something ridiculous on television.

Every time I start a new job I get hit with new challenges that threaten to topple me. I think so many times the biggest issues happen before the rehearsals even start. And every time I knock myself out fixing problems and figuring things out only to emerge on the other side realizing I've survived and I'm capable.

John always jokes about my job, calling me "A.D. Girl." (as in..."I'm A.D. Girl, come to save the show!" Arms akimbo, post-it cape blowing behind me, armed with a highlighter and a mag lite...). But you know what, I am good at what I do. Days like this make me have confidence in my abilities to problem solve and get a show up and running. I'm up for any bomb you can drop and yes, that's a challenge.

Do. Your. Worst.

The Stars at Night are Big and Bright!

2007-10-31T22:24:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Dallas, Texas this evening. Earlier than I thought actually. The flight I was supposed to be on was hopelessly delayed so they shoved me into an earlier flight. I crossed the arid Southwest in the early afternoon and touched down at DFW somewhere around 6pm. I was glad to get in earlier. The more time I have to settle in, the more comfortable I feel when I wake up and start working the next morning.

The flight was pretty smooth. Arriving in Dallas was a little rockier. Because I was early and couldn't get ahold of anyone at the opera, I ended up, somewhat grudgingly, taking a cab after standing on the curb in a state of semi-disorientation. It's so odd to drive through a completely foreign terrain in the back of a taxi. No matter how many times you've looked at a map, the streets still wind in confusing patterns and all of the directions seem to get switched around. Fortunately, all Midwestern cities hold similarities. We passed strip malls galore, churches, and the "President George Bush Expressway" before finally arriving at my corporate housing. Actually...we didn't even arrive there. We arrived at the apartment building next door. The robust cab driver pulled my three immensely heavy bags out of the trunk, left them in the doorway and drove off. As I watched him go, my eyes dropped down and I noticed the door mat with a completely different name than what I was expecting.

A little old man hobbled towards me with his walker and pushed the handicapped button on the side of the door. As he passed I said "I think I'm in the wrong place," asking him where my hotel might be. "Oh dear, you are in the wrong place," he eked out. "This is an apartment complex. You want to be next door." He hobbled past me pointing and I looked up the hill to the big hotel sign, then grudgingly lugged my 100 pounds of luggage down the street. Everything else had been so smooth and quick. My two bags were even the first ones out at baggage claim. Ultimately it's just not possible for me to have a smooth traveling experience. I've accepted this every time I travel. It gets exhausting.

So finally after a long, disjointed day of travel, a Cuban sandwich and a beer at Cheesecake Factory, and a somewhat delirious shopping trip to the local grocery store, I'm settled in and unpacked and sitting on my couch in my great little apartment. My bag is packed for the morning, my coffee's ready to brew and all of my papers are in order.

Let's get this show on the road.

Briefly

2007-10-27T23:38:00.000-07:00

I'm prepping five scores at once right now. Four of them are for San Diego Opera. I start work there in December but I want to have my scores ready to work by the time I walk into prep there. The fifth is this "Merry Widow" I'm doing in Dallas come next week. Prepping consists of adding tabs so I can flip to specific scenes easily, marking in any cuts we are doing, and highlighting each character's vocal line in a different color so I can quickly tell who should be singing what line on any given page. It's a lot of tedious busy work but completely necessary for me to do my job later on.

Incidentally I've been watching a lot of "Law and Order SVU" while madly highlighting and tabbing...

John took me on a Hornblower Dinner Cruise tonight through the San Diego Bay. It was a terrific evening and we both deserved it so much after a whole week of not feeling so hot. We didn't really date much before attaching each other at the hip so it's nice to go out on a bona fide date every once in a while. We dressed up, drank champagne, stood along the railing letting the wind hit us in the face and ate cheesecake. The only thing we didn't do is dance. John doesn't dance. I may have to see about fixing that...

Monday I have to pack for another five weeks away.

I don't wanna. (stamps foot impetuously).

Feu

2007-10-23T18:48:00.000-07:00

So I come home from New York and all of Southern California goes up in smoke. It seems to happen that every time I come home from traveling somewhere the weather changes for the worst here. When I came home from Cooperstown we were dealing with record highs and record humidity. The first week I was home was pure misery. Now I come home from the City and the weather is beautiful. John and I travel to San Francisco and have a gorgeous time. On the way back we drive down the coast and hit some pretty smoky air around Los Angeles County. Unbeknownst to us we were driving straight through the beginnings of the Malibu fire. I'm in town for one more week before I go to Dallas Opera and we are dealing with fallout from the Witch and Harris fires. Unbelievable.

Not nearly as unbelievable, I'm sure, as all of this is to the thousands and thousands of people who have been displaced in San Diego County alone. Despite my bitching I am one of the lucky ones. The city has not yet been threatened and we are only suffering from the bad air, hot weather and lack of services due to businesses being closed while everyone figures out where they are going, what they are doing and whether or not they still have a home.

I feel helpless somewhat and can't help thinking in the back of my head that this is all my fault. Why do these things happen only when I come home? Dallas was a last minute gig and I was actually not really looking forward to it since I have been away from home so long. It doesn't look so bad right now as I see the mild temperatures on their weather forcast. Just to get away from the campfire air will be a blessing. I only wish I could bring John and the cats with me.

The picture is of the setting sun from our front porch. It's beautiful and horrifying all at the same time. Interested in helping out? Please follow this link to the San Diego chapter of the American Red Cross and this link to the San Diego chapter of the Humane Society. Many, many displaced horses and other furry creatures : (

Last Night in the City

2007-10-14T17:22:00.000-07:00

I started this blog to give insight into this strange, disjointed life that I lead. This world of crazy career, far-away home, coming together and falling apart. Keeping this up is harder than I thought it would be. Partially because there are so many things I want to talk about that aren't always appropriate in a public forum (memoirs someday...when I don't care anymore) and partially because when the most interesting things are happening I become too busy to sit down and write.

We opened Agrippina today. I wasn't sure how to react, as usual, to the end of my work. I loved watching everyone on stage. I got to bow, which is always an exhilirating experience, and I have a great time when I can dress up and mingle. On the other hand, I felt like my foot was partially out the door. I stood around after the curtain fell and watched everyone bustling around. For them this is the beginning of a run and so their priorities in the moment are different. I had a friend tell me I looked sad which was really not the case at all. I was more....well....I think I had already moved on. It's the only way I know how to survive these frequent transitions. To survive living out of a suitcase and leaving people I care about every few weeks.

Because I haven't written in a while and I have to pack now, I'm leaving you with a journal entry from the summer. I wrote this sometime in late July or early August. I don't know why it seems appropriate right now, but I think it reflects my feelings about life and the way I am living it.

I've got major goals right now. For the first time in my life I'm feeling like my future (or the one I want) makes sense. But I think we never stop searching for the meaning behind it all...

I went to the grocery this evening and as I walked back into my kitchen I had this sudden feeling of claustrophobia and panic. I had to get out. I dropped my bag and purse on the counter and jumped onto my roommate’s bicycle, sliding out of my flip-flops, wide-legged jeans flapping against the chain, ballcap pulled low.

I rode around the block and down a side street, over a creek I spent hours peering into on a late, thundery afternoon and into the glassy, gravely driveway of an abandoned factory I’ve been drawn to lately. There was an eerie quiet there. A tree rustled greenly against an old propane tank. A bird flew through the broken panes of glass to a hidden roost in the depths of the decimated building.

I was tempted to ride all the way into the back of the grounds but looked at the falling sun and felt that female twang of fear that comes from being alone and unprotected. That missing father syndrome that women fall prey too when their entire childhood is predicated by an understanding of their comparable weakness.

I peeled out of the loose stone and cigarette butts to ride back up the hill, calves squeezing out every last pinch of oxygen as I passed the boarded up bowling alley, the shingle-free dive with the fish-fry sign flapping about over the front door, and a green house that always has the strains of a sad country song creating a desolate wrinkle in the surrounding airspace.

As I passed the firehouse, origin of a strange, wailing horn Richard and I’d heard several times over the past couple of weeks (turns out it was a call to volunteer firemen throughout the area), I looked up and saw a flock of large birds flying towards me. Hawks. Beautiful brown hawks with majestic, pointed heads and large beaks, riding the wind space over my head. One flew so low I could hear the air compressing downward in a rush of swept-up sound as he flapped his impressive wingspan.

I counted seventeen as I stood over the catch bar of Richard’s bicycle. None making a sound but for the fwoosh of the wings as they picked up speed. The last one to pass was riding on the tailwind of his neighbor as one of his wings was broken, laying at an odd angle when it was fully spread from his back.

I burst into tears. There was something so amazing, so unprecedented about this flock of majesty flying over my head. I didn’t know how to react but to feel the breeze of their flight on my cheeks and let the tears of intense beauty roll down my face and drip off the end of my nose.

It’s those moments that life dawns on you that bring about a yearned-for perspective that sometimes seems just out of reach.

Almost Home

2007-10-13T19:18:00.000-07:00

Agrippina opens tomorrow. The picture on the left demonstrates, I think, exactly how this experience has been for me. Lots of good knowledge and moments, some incredible people and amazing talent, but ultimately stressful. That's me drinking a manhattan in Manhattan with members of the creative team after our piano dress rehearsal.

It's funny. I'm so excited to go home, but I'm feeling really sad about leaving New York. Every time I come to work in this city I love it more and more. I've become extremely fond of the Upper West Side. I love meandering along Central Park West from the Natural History Museum to the Dakota. I love noodles at Ollie's on 84th (better than the Midtown location). I love walking through Zabar's, taking in whiffs of cheese, olives and coffee and listening to the hustle on all sides. I love hazelnut or pistachio gelato at Grom and the Civil War Memorial on Riverside. San Diego just doesn't feel the same. The good stuff there all exists inside my house: my husband, my cats, my books, my stuff...

The end of each project is always, always bittersweet, and always for different reasons.

Tension Personified (That's Me)

2007-10-09T22:13:00.000-07:00

Some shows take more effort to get to stage than others. It could be that the action is more detailed or the sets are problematic to move through or the music gives the singers substantial issue. Sometimes the reasons behind the extra stress and effort are harder to pin down even though everyone involved knows they exist.

"Agrippina" is a complicated show in the fact that it's a baroque comedy. Comedy is detailed and nuanced and tremendously hard to get perfect, and Baroque opera is known for its difficult coloratura and (in the case of this opera) its massive, endless recitative.

We have a piano dress rehearsal tomorrow and in some ways it seems too soon and in other ways we already seem long in the tooth. I don't really know which end is up right now. My reasons for not writing stem from this...

I love my job. Dearly. I am in constant awe of what I get to do for a living. I am also very proud of the group of people I'm working with. I think they've put together a very good product and are working hard to get it up and running. I think it will be a tremendous show.

At this point, however, I think I'm just ready to go home.

Much, much more after we open and I am back in California...

Nothing's Gonna Change My World...

2007-09-24T17:13:00.000-07:00

Day off today. I usually look forward to days off but John left this morning after five lovely days together in the city.

I spent the morning doing laundry and then had to get out of the house. The loneliness is strongest immediately after one of us has left.

Saw "Across the Universe" at Lincoln Square. Seemed like a good diversion. I had a really bad taste in my mouth about this movie when I first started seeing the trailers, but I have to say that I enjoyed the experience. My biggest issue with Julie Taymor - and I feel this way about her movies and operas (see myreview of "Grendel" at LA Opera) - is that she has a flawless design sense but she consistently falls short on story. If she never set up a narrative to begin with, I wouldn't care so much when these left-field moments show up half way through the film.

The film is beautiful with some great imagery. I tried to let it wash over me with no expectation and on that level it made for a great afternoon. When I started trying to follow the story too hard I started to get frustrated. The character of Prudence kept appearing and dissappearing, there was an obligatory puppet moment mid-stream that was apropos of nothing, and Bono showed up for a ridiculous moment of psychadelia. But, as I said, there were some moments of pure visual genius.

I'm three weeks away from this opera opening. The hard part of directing this piece is thinking about it before I walk into rehearsals. I've truly enjoyed the rehearsal process. I think perhaps the harder part will be scooting over into the assistant's chair in two days. I'm a very good assistant, but I've started this momentum and I'm worried that my inertia as we make the turn may knock me pretty hard against the wall.

The positive in all of this is that, not only do I love, love, love this opera, but I know that I can stand up and do this. I feel ready to do my own thing.

Boy isn't it all about confidence.

Not Dead Just Working

2007-09-20T18:16:00.001-07:00

I've been in New York City for 7 days. That's why I haven't written in what seems like an eternity.

I'm in charge on this production until the 27th. I've put up half the opera in 5 days and am looking forward to slapping the rest of it up before next Thursday. This business works at such a rapid rate.

I'm in love with this opera, so that helps push aside any stress I feel from being the go-to-guy throughout the bulk of the rehearsal process. "Agrippina" is deliciously funny and evil with some of the most gorgeous music Handel ever wrote. We have a lively cast, full of laughter and ideas in rehearsals and ready to jump into any ocean I present to them. That's a lucky fact....and not always normal.

The pic is of me after my first day at City Opera. No rehearsals that day, only a big presentation about the opera, but it felt amazing to kick it all off on the right foot. Now it's just details.

A WHOLE LOT of details.

But still. My director comes in next Thursday and I hand the whole kit and kaboodle over to her. I'll have more time to write then. If I could handle getting the whole thing off the ground myself, I can easily handle being the copilot on the landing.

4 by 4 in 48

2007-09-10T00:44:00.000-07:00

These last two weeks have been totally overwhelming with planning for "Agrippina" which is coming so fast and furious I sometimes feel like Indiana Jones running like a madmen in front of that giant stone ball...

Part of the problem is my intense lack of concentration that stems from the first week being so incredibly hot that I couldn't do anything but sit on my couch in front of a fan wearing a t-shirt I'd just removed from the freezer, and the fact that I only get to see my husband for fourteen days and I'm trying to soak up all the home I can before I head to the airport yet again.

To add to all of this, I agreed to perform in a little series that Sushi puts on every second Tuesday of the month called 4x4.

The performance takes place at 8pm at Bluefoot Bar in North Park (corner of Upas and 30th if anyone's interested) this coming Tuesday. A 4'x4' stage is set up in the middle of the bar and ten performers get up in succession and do their thing. We have ten minutes a piece to do whatever we want. Some people talk, some people dance. I'm doing a little of both in a piece I literally threw together called "36,000 Feet." It's about traveling for work. Big surprise.

They say you should always write about what you know...

The cool thing about this performance is that the stage is so small. I have no problem rehearsing in my dining room as the photograph proves. The bad thing is that I decided to do it last minute when I was so blasted busy, but maybe that's good because I won't overthink the piece. We'll see what comes out when I'm finally there and in front of all of those sweaty, intoxicated people.

Otherwise, not much to report. I'm just plugging along, trying not to get run over by stone balls and hoping that everything at City Opera is copacetic. My mantra right now is "October 15th, October 15th, October 15th..."

More Opera Sadness...

2007-09-05T23:25:00.000-07:00

Just read that Pavarotti passed away at the age of 71. Yet another giant in the industry to cross to the other side this year. 2007 has most definitely been tough. It seems that much of my blog this season has been dedicated to memorializing those we've lost.

Pavarotti was another superstar who put opera into Everyman's household. He'd been suffering from pancreatic cancer for quite some time.

More, happier, news soon.

Summer's End

2007-08-29T07:44:00.000-07:00

In twenty minutes I will load my bags into a volunteer's car, lock up this cool, empty house, and head to Albany to fly home to San Diego for two weeks.

Last night was no roommate and no cat - they left right after our closing matinee. The quiet in the house was good closure. Any semblance of sadness I felt about leaving this place was cut by the empty, swept-up air in our once lively household. I sat on the wide porch after dark and it felt like I was sitting in my past.

It's time to move on, go home, reconnect and get ready for the next adventure.

Words on this blog cannot begin to express my joy at finding my home once again.

But leaving these temporary mini-homes always holds a modicum of bittersweet.

The Show Must Go On!

2007-08-26T22:56:00.000-07:00

We had our second-to-last show on Saturday night. The weather was unbelievably bad. About an hour before the downbeat we experienced a massive severe thunderstorm. Many of us were standing on the porch to the wardrobe house, watching the lightning get bigger and listening to the growling thunder. In one fell swoop the sky opened up, the wind picked up and we were caught in a deluge. The trees seemed to touch the ground as they were blown this way and that. Later driving home there were branches and full trees all over the roads. It was that bad. You can see in this first picture that the air was a strange color. It's that greenish haze that settles in when the air is ionized. It's tornado weather.

I used to be terrified of storms to the point that I would cause bodily harm to those who attempted to change channels from the Weather Channel if a dark cloud appeared in the sky. I would hide in the corner of the basement and listen to weather reports on repeat until I was satisfied that no danger was in sight. I'm not like that anymore. Myself and the cast and crew stood in the doorway and watched the rain and hail and lightning and thunder with glee. The electricity went off and we squealed with delight in the late-afternoon shadow.

The problem is that the electricity didn't come back on. Oh sure, the theater has emergency generators that kicked in, but it's not enough power to run a show. As we got closer and closer to showtime, the powers-that-be became nervous that we wouldn't be able to perform. No power, no stage lights, no monitors, no calls, no performance.
Eventually a decision was made, unprecedented in my meager experience (and many of the others' as we began to talk) that we would present the opera in a concert version for at least the first act. All of the generator power was channeled to light up the pit and send a few flood lights both onto the stage apron and into the audience for people to see. Everyone was in costume so we would keep it that way, but chairs would be set up on the stage and the chorus would sit in two rows with principals along the side. The principals would have free range of the stage apron while they were singing and the chorus would simply stand when needed and sit quietly when they would normally be off stage.

As soon as the decision was made, everyone kicked into high gear. There was this sense of adrenalin coming from the unknown. We were going to give a concert in veritable darkness, no monitors, no stage lights, barely enough light to get on stage and sit. There was no way to make backstage announcements, so everyone gathered in the green room to wait for the stage manager to tell us what was happening. My two dancers were asking if they even needed to be there. I told them to hang around until intermission because if the electricity came back on, we would do the fully staged version of Act II. (which didn't happen).

This is why I love live theater. It's these crazy moments of improvisation that make my job amazing. Everyone who works in the performing arts has to be so incredibly adaptable because life is uncertainty and theater is risky. I stood in the relative darkness of the backstage area and watched the chorus climb into their seats (the second photo). The nerves were palpable. Several singers had expressed memory nerves because their muscle memory had so closely equated what they were singing with what they were doing. There's that moment of worry that they wouldn't be able to remember the words and order if they weren't handling props or doing the movement they'd executed so many times. They weren't sure what the experience would be to sit on stage for the entire show.
We made it through beautifully. Maestro Wachner indicated to the chorus when they should stand or sit and the principals did a less kinetic version of their staging (sans props and large set pieces). When we got to intermission, Michael McCleod, our artistic director, came on stage to announce that we would continue straight through since there were still no lights and the rain was so heavy that intermission would be difficult to achieve with no shelter out of the theater. That's a photo of him cupping his hands to amplify his voice up to the balcony. The assistant stage managers brought bottles of water out to the chorus since they wouldn't have a chance to leave the stage.

And so we persisted. My Orpheus and Eurydice still did their second death sequence, which was actually pretty spectacular in the low light with the chorus getting broken up behind them. I sat in a box on the right side of the house with the assistant conducter and another young artist. I was nervous and grinning and watching every split second decision made by each principal as they decided how to stage themselves and how far into the blocking they could go with this improper, truncated space.

The ovation was deafening, far outweighing the pouring rainstorm and thunder outside. Our audience went with the changes completely. We gave them everything we had.

I went backstage, thrust into blackness, afterwards to congratulate. Singers were in their blackened dressing rooms trying to change as quickly as possible. The dark air was punctuated by little blue lights held in the teeth of wig and makeup crew as they rapidly pulled hair pins out of wigs and tried to light pathways up and down stairs. It was like a secret society...

The show must go on, truly. With each trial that presents itself in this little world of theater and art, I slowly discover what me and my colleagues are capable of dealing with and achieving.

Three more days until the end of this adventure. Our final show is on Tuesday. Hopefully with full power.

Opera and Baseball

2007-08-24T11:01:00.001-07:00

Opera first. Brian Thorsett and Katie Calcamuggio had their recitals at the Otesaga Hotel yesterday afternoon. These were the two young singers for whom I staged a Britten Canticle. I felt more involved in this rectial than I did for the others because I had such a stake in the staging and presentation. It was kind of fabulous to be so entrenched.

The recitals went very well. I sat in one of the deep, bright windowsills along the back wall and continued to wipe my palms on my pants as they became sweaty through the hour and a half of music. As always, I felt like a mother hen watching and crossing my fingers that everything went well. I was so proud of them at the end. They had a lovely reception with hoots and hollers and an endless receiving line of hugs, photos and cheering outside of the hall - very well deserved. Brian tried to get me to come up and bow with them and I just didn't feel right. I blew them kisses from the back of the house - my contribution seemed small and I was more than happy to give them that moment. My need for fame and recognition has dissipated as I've gotten older. I think it's when it's not even offered that I become sore about it.

The recital was the last big moment I have here. From now until Wednesday it's only two more shows. One has a chorus member missing but we've solved most of the problems surrounding that and so I think it will be minimal maneuvering to make it all work.

Home is looming large and lovely.

Now baseball. Earlier in the day I finally succumbed to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. I've been here two summers and never gone and I'm actually really glad that my roommate suggested it. I forget how much baseball figures into every Midwestern American life. I knew more names than I thought, was fascinated by the history and had many flashbacks of my brother's Little League games, Jim Eisenreich signing baseballs at the Royals field, beer and hotdogs at Wrigley Field and spending an entire summer in Aspen watching Braves games with my bunhead roommate, Maggie.

Particularly fascinating were the Negro League exhibit, the Women in Baseball exhibit and the little pass-through room on Babe Ruth, who is so mythic at this point that he exists for many of the younger generations as a Paul Bunyan-esque creature. And I think that was what was so fascinating about the museum itself. Baseball persists because it is entrenched in myth and "whopper" stories that kids still hear and tell. Whether fans or not, most people have heard of Shoeless Joe, Babe Ruth, Lou Gherig and so many others. Not many other American sports have that kind of cultural spread.

A worthwhile morning.

Appalled on a Friday Morning

2007-08-24T10:53:00.000-07:00

I am consistently taken aback by Bush and his Regime's insistence on rewriting and misconstruing history for the benefit of their war-time desires.

Like so many societies that no longer exist today, we should all remember and think about the fact that those who do not listen to and learn from history (truthful history) are destined (and doomed) to repeat it.

The transcript of Bush's speech at the VFW convention can be read here.

Professional Eyeball

2007-08-21T12:55:00.000-07:00

That's what I am right now, an observer. All of my practical work is done. I've gone through all of my final rehearsals, given my last notes, done my last brush-up.

Tonight I will put on a suit, get a ride to the new Cherry Valley High School, and sit in the auditorium to watch the short and sweet Scenes Program with bits and pieces from the current operas, next years operas and some recital superlatives.

Thursday afternoon I will put on a suit, get a ride to the Otesaga Hotel, and watch Brian and Katie give their recitals. I coached Brian and staged a piece for Katie and Brian together - Britten's Canticle #2, a gorgeous narrative of Abraham and Isaac's journey to the sacrafice. The picture is of my two singers working musically through the piece at Grace Episcopal Church in Cherry Valley. All of our rehearsals sat early in the process, so my work is done. It's all about the two of them and Leesa, their pianist, now.

After that I have a Saturday night "Orphee" to watch and a closing matinee the following Tuesday. I won't watch the last show. I never do. I sit backstage and watch the action behind the scenes. I like to watch it wrap up from the inside.

The good part of being finished with my practical work is that I have time to work on other upcoming projects. I feel like I've put a lot of things aside while working on scenes and recitals. Finally I can take a week to catch up and prepare myself for the deluge ahead.

Out of Context

2007-08-14T20:09:00.000-07:00

I rehearsed scenes today for a program that the Young Artists do to wrap up the summer. All of the staff directors get a little chunk of scenes to direct in a madcap amount of time and then they are placed on a spare stage as a veritable smorgasbord of operatic morsels. The program we're doing this summer contains scenes from the operas we're doing this season, scenes from the operas Glimmerglass is doing next season, and a few things thrown into the mix for good measure.

The interesting thing about scenes programs is that each scene is presented as its own little mini-narrative. Very rarely is there a through-line between scenes and if there is it's generally contrived at best. Like monologues in an audition process, scenes can be presented in two ways. The first is to do it very true-to-form, taking for granted that the audience knows the opera from which the scene has emerged and will understand what's come before and what will come after. The second way is to come into the scene understanding the opera and characters in full but seeing the scene itself as its own little whole. In other words, giving the scene its own distinct beginning, middle and end so that it easily stands on its own regardless of backstory or looming foreshadow.

I much prefer the latter version of scene work because I think it allows me and the singers more creative freedom as we try to figure out these character's motivations in their own private scene hell (appropriate because I'm working only on chunks of Orpheus operas). For example, the scene I'm doing with my Gluck/Berlioz covers is a duet between Orpheus and Eurydice immediately before he looks at her and she drops dead a second time. The duet begins with him urging her to follow him and ends with her screaming one last murderous epitaph in his direction. We are given no set-up or backstory. If we didn't already know the story we would have no idea that they were clamoring out of the Underworld and that he couldn't look at her. We are also not graced with a typical ending to anything Orpheus-related. For all intents and purposes, Eurydice leaves and Orpheus never gets the chance to turn around and kill her.

So I've used this in our retelling of this scene from the opera. I've kept the staging nearly the same but given them intent to play from. When you look at the text of this duet, this could be any horrid middle-of-the-night argument between lovers. He's woken her up from a deep sleep in some sort of distress, she wants to know what the problem is, he refuses to tell her, she blows her top and eventually leaves. We can all see and understand these motivations and in that my two singers can create a complete story out of a truncated tidbit of a larger work.

I actually kind of like the exercise of pulling these pieces out of their construct. It forces you to see the timelessness of the words and the full story inside each beat of the opera.

My second duet is a love duet between Orpheus and Eurydice from Haydn's "L'Anima Del Filosofo." This piece is being performed this season but in a concert version so there are no preconceived notions of staging. I had a lot of trouble with this piece when I first began to look at it because, while it is a lovely duet, it's ten minutes of "I love you, you're my treasure, oh darling we shall never be separated," and I started my work on this at a complete loss as to how to make it interesting as a stand-alone.

The answer, as is so often the case, was in the question (I hope). I've pulled the piece apart for these two singers and given it meaning beyond its operatic storyline. We've messed with time a little, played with the notion of love beyond death, and given a physicality to the music that portrays a story far beyond the lyrics (apropos to but not dependent on the Orpheus myth as well). We worked for two hours today on this 10-minute piece and I think we've got something juicy enough to play. It was wonderful to allow two singers to discover work and worth inside a piece that, generally, is all about two people simply staring into each other's eyes.

For all of my frustrations and sometimes hatred towards the freelance gypsy lifestyle that I lead, I love my job.

Don't get me wrong...I'm terrified of my job. I throw myself into huge nervous frenzies about getting my point across, crossing over into the land of the trite and presenting something that is truly, truly worth seeing, but I think that's okay. It's part of adoring the art form that means I always want to do it justice with my contribution.

It's accepting that My output won't always be aces that proves to be the most difficult thing. It's all learning: the triumphs and the failures. You have to learn to love both.

Two More Weeks

2007-08-11T21:18:00.000-07:00

I've begun a countdown. That's not a good sign.

Or maybe it is. It means I haven't come to like this place so much that I prefer it to my home and husband and cats.

I'm actually working a lot. I've coached several young artists on thier recital material and am staging a couple of them in some various scenes. It's good to have some sort of creative work to look forward to every day.

In the rest of my time I'm uploading countless photos to Flickr. I've taken nearly 3000 pictures with my birthday camera. It's truly become a hobby outside of my stage work. I've been trying to discover everything I can about this camera - using the macro feature, playing inside the manual mode, testing how clear the digital zoom is... John says that once I've mastered my G7 then I'll be ready to move on to a single lens reflex. So much of my free time (and sometimes my work time) consists of me looking around to find good things to photograph. I've begun to notice the light more, to look at detail on flowers and furniture, and to see framing in my mind wherever I am. It's not an obsession. Yet.

I've also subscribed to the podcast "Opera Now!" and am catching up by listening to some of their past shows. It's a few singers out of Chicago and their banter is quite entertaining. Smart too. Their last show featured a conversation about both Monteverdi and Regietheater (or what is commonly called "Eurotrash") stagings of traditional works. Everything about opera seems relevant to me right now, but I think it's because I am so entrenched in the art form by being out here for three months.

I had a matinee this afternoon and then ran off, on a complete whim, to Glimmerglass State Park. I don't know what made my car turn right instead of left at Highway 20. Perhaps it was the impeccable weather or some sort of headspace that I wasn't conscious of. Perhaps it was the realization that I am losing my mobility on Monday. Whatever it was, I found myself turning into the park 15 minutes later and shelling over a bit of cash to park near the lake. I found a picnic table under a tree that was lazily swaying out over the lake, sat down and wrote in my journal for a while.

Sometimes solitude is magnificent.

Coach

2007-08-07T07:51:00.000-07:00

I'm coaching recitals right now.

Not exactly what I thought I was going to be doing with my extra time here, but rewarding all on its own.

From talking to other singers, it's apparently not common practice to have an acting coach for recital work, but I think it's invaluable. The change I've seen in the singers as they step up to the plate (oy...Cooperstown for too long....everything's a damn baseball reference) has been tremendous. Recitals aren't staged; there are no costumes, no sets, only a piano and about ten feet in between the singer and the first row of audience. This doesn't mean, however, that the storytelling should be anything less.

That's where I've been coming in.

It's been fascinating to go through all of these art songs that my young artists have chosen. They aren't pieces of music that I usually think much about so it's been good for me to break down the text of what mostly consists of pastoral poetry and sea shanties. The story's still there, though, if only in the atmosphere that the singer creates for the room.

My advice and direction has run the gamut from telling a singer that it's okay to use their hands to asking who the poet is speaking to, to breaking down beats and focus changes to explaining the myth of the nightingale and how that can inform the emotional quality of a song that includes it.

Every young artist at Glimmerglass Opera gets a 45 minute recital all to themselves. This is an unusual opportunity in a young artist's program and has created some very nervous singers since they've also been told they have to introduce their songs to their audience. Some have written memorized introductions for each set and some seem to be winging it, but I haven't seen one singer falter yet. They've been pretty solid and I sit in the audience and feel completely maternal when the singers I've coached stand up and begin their program. My palms get sweaty, I mouth along with the words. I'm a total stage mom.

I'm like this in the audience during a mainstage show as well, but the house is usually dark then and after opening I calm down. Recitalists get one chance, and so I am overtly anxious. Silly perhaps, but I watched them work and grow, and it's my advice they're taking or ignoring.

Today I'm procrastinating terribly. I need to get a projected schedule for NYCO out and I'm having scheduler's block. I have no idea how fast my singers will work and no idea how fast I will be able to work to put up the material effectively. All I can do is put something on paper and hope that everyone knows how changeable it is... Directing isn't all glamour and fun.

In Memoriam

2007-08-01T10:49:00.000-07:00

Lucius Stickann
1994-2007

I loved my friend
He went away from me.
The story ends, soft as it began,
I loved my friend.

Langston Hughes

Split Focus

2007-07-31T14:23:00.000-07:00

I'm in New York City for two days.

It's a beautiful, warm sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky and the city is glorious. I had meetings at City Opera for a piece I'm staging in the fall and I'm having dinner tonight with a friend who I get to see so seldom that it almost seems criminal. I should be singing down the street, skipping to the rhythm of the traffic, throwing my hat up to the tops of the building.

This city turns me on like no other.

I am, however, under a pall of sadness and perhaps fear for my kitty, Lucius, my best friend for twelve years. In the two weeks that my husband was in Cooperstown breathing new life into me and us, his health declinded rapidly and as John arrives in San Diego this afternoon, we may be making decisions that mean the end of an incredible relationship of mutual love, laughter and comfort.

It kills me that I can't be there. It also kills me that, even being in the most distracting city in the world, I am no closer to shutting my mind from the grief-house in San Diego than I was yesterday in my little room in Richfield Springs.

It's the waiting that's unbearable.

Reasons for Not Writing...

2007-07-24T20:45:00.000-07:00

1. My husband's come to town.

That could easily be the only reason for not blogging for the last week. I have to soak up every moment I have with him since he's near me so seldom. When he's around I want to spend all of my time leaning against his shoulder, walking hand-in-hand, talking rubbish with him.

But the list continues:

2. We're shooting a bit of an impromptu piece of screendance. The piece is about a woman who gets lost in the depths of the country after her car breaks down. I spent a lot of my free time before John arrived scouting remote locations, especially gravel roads. We've spent the last week running from deserted road to woodland field, pulling out our little camera and shooting footage of me dancing. It's coming together well, but I feel like we spend half our time chasing the proper sky around. New York weather is so fickle in the summer. Our first two shooting days were brilliant sun and the third day was spitting rain and overcast. Today we were hoping for some clouds and as soon as we began to shoot the sun came out in all its brilliance. Murphy's law's been our constant companion.

3.John and I have this sudden and overwhelming obsession with Ricky Gervais' "Extras." Richard, my roommate, has both seasons on DVD and we can't seem to get enough. Daniel Radcliffe chucking a condom at Diana Riggs is reason enough for me to plop down in front of the telly.

4. I have a friend overseas who urged me to join Facebook. I'm obsessed. I don't know how to stop.

5. It takes bloody 1/2 an hour to get anywhere in this huge, bucolic county. I drive constantly. Makes me long for the city.

So it's after midnight and we're watching the last episode of Extras and we're driving to the Berkshires tomorrow. . . hopefully to shoot a little more footage. Facebook is on a separate screen on my desktop and I'm leaning my head against my husband's shoulder. Finally I have time to write.

Operatic Ecstasies

2007-07-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

I had breakfast with some friends today and the topic of favorite operas came up. I mentioned “Figaro,” which I do love but one friend started talking about all of the “bits and pieces” of operas that she loves. This got me thinking. . . my favorite bits of opera can’t be confined to one composer and definitely not to one opera. My favorites come in tiny moments of sound, little smudges of voice, and those brief, fleeting moments of compositional genius when the emotion mixed with the perfect combination of instruments, of harmony, of voice-types creates an instant physical reaction – that puts me in a sweat or a frenzy. Following are a few that come to mind:

The first one I always think of are those last few bars of Britten’s “Death in Venice.” That little final tremolo up in the stratosphere finally fading into nothingness as Aschenbach lay dying is so simple and so fleeting, but it hits me right in my gut and all the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

I love the moment in Puccini’s “La Fanciulla Del West” when all of the miners, from their gruff recits at the beginning, break into the sweetest pianissimo waltz refrain. Singing only “la” over and over and clapping out the “2,3” they sing a sweet simple version of the waltz theme for Minnie and Dick until the orchestra takes over with the first satisfying swell of said theme indicating the moment that Minnie and Dick fall in love…Of course that swell is undercut almost immediately by a looming darkness as the male chorus comes back in under the waltz wailing “Allacio” (sp) – “Hang Him!” as one of Dick’s cronies is brought in. In that 45 seconds of music, Puccini shows us tentative flirtation, love’s bloom, and that horrible foreshadowing of a relationship’s demise. Brilliant.

The prayer in “Hansel und Gretel,” “ Abends, will ich schlafen gehn,” makes me burst into tears every time I hear it no matter where I am, what I’m doing, or who I’m with. Perfection in its brevity and its mixture of sadness and hopefulness.

“Akhnaten,” Philips Glass’s Egyptian Opera yields two moments in my aural memory – perhaps because it was my first opera and such an amazing experience for me. The first is the transition into the first scene where the narrator, speaking of a pharaoh’s passage to heaven after death, yells out “On the wind. ON THE WIND!” and like a lightning crash those drums begin smacking out that syncopated heartbeat of triumph laced with a bit of fear, a bit of grief… The second is the first strains of the “Hymn to the Aten,” which make my heart swell, and then when the chorus joins in towards the end of the hymn when that swell finally bursts.

The trio of Gilda/Maddalena/Sparafucile in “Rigoletto” always blows me away… There’s something about the build at the beginning with the three of them in their own private hells…it’s a maddening trek up the hill and oh, so satisfying as the trio actually begins with Sparafucile’s proclamation and that huge crash from the orchestra. Eventually, as everything breaks loose, their voices and torment couple with the orchestra to create the perfect storm. Verdi gives it time to warm up, however, which is where his genius comes in. Like a teasing lover, he leads the music nearly to climax, and then pulls back to nearly nothing . . . to three little knocks and a tiny scared voice, to confusion among the siblings as they recit for the final time . . . He does this twice until you’re twisting in your seat, waiting for that little death, and finally with that final vocal cutoff he unleashes an orchestral tempest that trumps all three swells. Fabulous.

“Pensieri Voi Mi Tormentate” from Handel’s “Agrippina” is Handel at his absolute best. He starts out following the ABA form we all know so well, but then jumps into a tortured recit and returns to the A form again for one final blow. My favorite, tiny, moment is the beginning of each A section when “Agrippina” wails out “Pensieri,” and the oboe echos her in that hollow, horrifying strain. Each return to the A allows her a more ornamented version of “Pensieri” and the oboe is right there with her, like a twisted musical representation of her tortured thoughts, boring right into her brain.

In a completely non-operatic piece, Reinhold Gliere’s other-worldly, off-tempo Charleston from his ballet “The Red Poppy” is horrifying and life-changing. It’s written as if Master Gliere had never actually heard a Charleston, only read about it. It’s got the right time signature, the rhythm and basic structure but it carries a sense of horror and dysfunction inside of its joviality that makes the whole thing a little mixed up and tragic.

Most recently, the moment that knocks me out is the death sequence in Carlson's "Anna Karenina" where a distraught, drugged Anna stands at the train tracks in a trance and sings out, "How bright it is," letting the word "bright" linger on a downward spiraling scale. Her despair is pervasive and horrifying in that moment.

And finally, coming back to “Figaro,” the moment that gives me goosebumps is at the very, very end when the Count pulls everyone on stage and starts to call out the Countess before he knows the joke. From right after she reveals herself to him and the violins start to go nuts and the guys start singing piano (under their breaths), “Oh my god, I can’t believe this,” until their final “non so” and that long fermata where you’re not quite sure what the Count’s going to do, I am in goose-pimply frenzy.

There are many more delicious moments but these are the ones that sit in the front, easily-accessible place in my mind. The more I work in this business, the more moments I will add to my storehouse.

Endless Possibilities

2007-07-11T14:08:00.000-07:00

We opened. I know I mentioned this in the last post, but it's such a great feeling. Read a really nice review of our little show here. Lillian and I enjoyed champagne on the lawn in the middle of the afternoon. It was a matinee opening, which I find a little strange. The only other place I've ever opened a show in the afternoon was at NYCO, and I found that a little weird as well. Opening nights should be exactly that. . . nights. As exciting as it was to get the Gluck open, there was something a little anticlimactic about opening the show as the sun leaked through the windows and under the doors. This is not to mention the fact that Offenbach's "Orpheus in the Underworld," which had many of our chorus members in it (including Juliet Petrus, the young artist who went on in place of a sick Jill Gardner as the leading role), opened the night before. Our chorus was tired but still riding on the adrenalin of a great season opener, so they rallied to put on a beautiful show.

I understand the reasoning behind an evening opener followed by a matinee opener the next day. Cooperstown is a little weekender resort town for people from the city. Tickets sales are much stronger when people can take in two shows over the weekend and still be back in the city by Sunday night. It's always lovely to drive into the theater lot and see tons of couples and families having picnics on the lawn. Sometimes it makes me wish I was only an audience member.

A word about Juliet Petrus. She went on at the last minute as Eurydice in "Orpheus in the Underworld." She was pulled out of a Monteverdi rehearsal at noon to go into emergency rehearsals and wig/costume fittings. Her advantage was that she'd done the role before, though not in this translation. But she knew the music and understood the intent. This is the reason that good covers are so important. Covers going on in place of principals is certainly not the norm, but it's not completely unusual. It's a wonderful opportunity for the young singer who jumps in to save the day, but is not all fun and games. I can't imagine the nerves that took hold as she left her rehearsal that afternoon and started cramming for a test (a sweaty, critic-filled, completely public test). It's the potential big break that everyone wants to be extremely prepared for but no one really wants.

I wasn't going to go to the opening since I'd seen the final dress, but as soon as I heard the news about Juliet I wanted to be there to support her. It was great to be in an opening night audience as it was...and the whole company came out to cheer her on to get her through her nerves. She looked terrific. I was so proud of her. She's not the first young singer I've seen go on as a cover for an opening (Ellie Dehn jumping in as the Countess in "Figaro" at Opera Pacific comes to mind), but the nerves and possibility is always overwhelming and puts me in a very maternal place about the singers I work with every day.

Speaking of covers, I had my own cover run for the Gluck/Berlioz on Monday. I was a nervous wreck for them (and myself, having staged them into the piece in a relatively short amount of time), and tried to steel myself by taking a few moments of silence and breath. It was my last bit of business besides minding the show for about a month. They (my covers) were spectacular. Katie Calcamuggio, my Orpheus cover, stopped the show after her bravura aria, "Amour Viens." People were screaming and stomping and I imagined her shaking behind the upstage wall the same way I was shaking and tearing up in the corner of the audience. I was living vicariously. I woke up on Tuesday morning and looked at my calendar, realizing the endless possibilites that lay before me. My husband is coming in next week, there are so many things I want to see and I have the time to actually finish books I've been reading, work on projects I've set aside and perhaps even be a little domestic. It's rare to look ahead to nothing. I think it almost makes me more uptight because I start trying to cram in too much.

So, for the time being I'm trying to take each day as it comes, trying not to push too much into each day, and trying to take in the country and experiences around me. For instance, I went and saw the midnight premiere of "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" in Oneonta with a bunch of Glimmerglass-ites last night. It was packed and full of sweaty, noisy teenagers shoving in popcorn and junior mints, and I had a fabulous time. This morning I woke up without an alarm, listened to a spectaular lecture by Arun Ghandi on NPR about his grandfather's teachings, did a little housework and drove to the theater to pick up the scenes I'm doing next month. On the way I saw the little gal above, chomping away at the grass in that field. I took the time to stop and watch her, say hello when she lifted her head.

I have two more glorious days like this before our next show.

Free At Last!

2007-07-09T20:50:00.001-07:00

No writing for a while. We've been in production week. It's unbelievable how busy I get when we're about to open a show...if I'm not working, then I'm thinking about working or preparing to work. We opened yesterday afternoon to a very appreciative house and we had a cover run for our three amazing covers at Richfield Springs Central School this evening. It was my last responsibility beyond maintaining the show for several weeks.

It's amazing to look ahead and see free time. Free time to visit with my husband who arrives next week. Free time to work on the other irons I have sitting in the coals. Free time to relax and regroup for the next deluge which will come in the form of a Scenes program at the end of the Festival season. Right now I'm exhausted and crashing pretty hard, as I usually do once we open. It's time to sleep.

The picture is of our intrepid coach and accompanist, Leesa Dahl, who just played the entire opera straight through for our cover run this evening. I've snapped several shots of her throughout this rehearsal period and she always jokes with me, saying, "Oh great. That's going to end up on your blog tomorrow isn't it?" So the answer for this shot, Leesa peeking out from the pit like Kilroy during a scene shift rehearsal, is "Yep!" This is for you Leesa.

To bed...

Beverly Sills, 1929-2007

2007-07-02T20:37:00.001-07:00

Beverly Sills died today. I heard that she was sick only two days ago. I don't even remember who told me. This has been a hard year already. Two opera giants in three months.

The New York Times has a lovely article here.

She brought opera into our mainstream culture. I fear there's no one to fill her shoes in that respect.

This Ain't The End But You Can See It From Here..

2007-06-28T13:02:00.000-07:00

Tonight is piano dress. The first in a series of three full-on dress rehearsals (meaning, wigs/makeup, costumes, full tech, full lights and - ideally - no stopping). Tonight is also the last rehearsal where the director has full control. In opera, where music is the key player, the Conductor takes over the last two run-throughs to fine tune the music with singers and orchestra together. Tonight is our last chance to fix staging problems before we can only sit back and take notes to type up and deliver at dressing room doors before the next run.

We've come a long way from our first wobbly steps in the noisy wrestling gymnasium in Richfield Springs. It's hard to believe that we finished staging there only three days ago. We've gone from this:

To this:

This is the exact same moment in the opera with the exact same people. We've lost most of the chairs, compacted the group so they're closer together, and of course added costumes and set and lights and everything else that turns a "play" into a "production." That's Maestro Wachner's profile in the down left corner by the way.

I've got to pack up and go. Piano dress tonight and still big changes to be made. We're all always striving towards that perfect stage picture and tonight is our last moment to find it.

Back In The Theater Again

2007-06-27T08:50:00.000-07:00

Two days ago the Gluck/Berlioz cast and staff finished up their final rehearsal in a small wrestling gym in Richfield Springs. We move into the theater this afternoon. The production week countdown has officially begun.

This will be a smoother transition into the theater simply because we've been here before. Glimmerglass is unique in that they lump a chunk of piano stagings smack dab in the middle of your staging rehearsal process. There are advantages and disadvantages to this process. The advantages are the fact that we get to see immediately where staging ideas won't work.

The rehearsal room is notorious for giving directors (and singers) a false sense of ability. Stairs exist as mere tape lines on the floor, rehearsal chairs/tables/etc. are often chunkier and smoother than the real thing, and flying set pieces exist only in the imagination. Therefore, 5 foot mock-ups of 13-foot-tall puppets roll easily over the waxy-smooth surface of the wrestling gym and don't have to worry about stone overhangs and straw-covered arms that fly loose from their tiny bases. Tiny entrances wherein chorus members and dancers pop in from side doorways and quickly disappear are unencumbered by grievous sight lines. This is when we thank god for the early on-stage time to show us the error of our ways so that we can descend back into the studio and fix all of our misconceptions.

The disadvantage lies in the fact that any momentum and continuity gained in a dramatic sense is somewhat stymied at an earlier time than usual. We lose a bit of chorus time and dramatic discoveries are often prematurely knocked out because we have a truer sense of what will play in our own little stage space...

That being said, our little show is fully staged and ready. Most of the issues come down to pure technicality at this point, and so moving into the theater involves less nervous energy from the singers as well as the production staff. We have two rehearsals today. My hopes are that we will get through Act I this afternoon and finish up in the evening.

This afternoon may prove to be difficult simply because we are teching a major wig/makeup/costume change for all 21 of our chorus members. Everyone has galloped through the previous stagings in most of their costume, but this is the first time they will be dealing with makeup - a huge change especially because the Furies are such a drastic move away from the basic townsperson look they will be quick-changing out of. Just as I foresaw issue with our huge, beautiful effigies at our first tech, I foresee issues in this change.

As Harry Silverstein, the director who got me into opera, always says, "That's why we call it REhearsal and not simply HEARSAL." (And of course Lillian all reminded us one day, when we were repeating one little section for the 13th time, that the word for "rehearsal" in French is "Repetition").

So here I am, sitting in the Stage Management office in the Wardrobe House on the Glimmerglass campus. One of the few rooms with a/c, I'll be here until we begin, personalizing chorus notes and making sure I have a complete list of fixes before we step out on stage and start the freight train running...

In related news, I found the Glimmerglass Blog today. Check it out. It's a log of all four of the operas and their progress through the season. Everything begins in a week and a half.

Day Off

2007-06-24T18:13:00.000-07:00

I had the day off today. Everyone at Glimmerglass did. I may have the day off on Tuesday also if things go well in rehearsals tomorrow. I relish in time to myself.

I took a long bike ride today on my roommate's bicycle. I rode all through Richfield Springs, past numerous churches and people out for Sunday strolls, then cut out of the village on Lake Street and rode up the hill until I found a beautiful cemetary. Graveyards fascinate me in their history, their statuary and their quiet (or disquiet as the case may be). Old cemetaries are especially interesting. You can tell a lot about a town by the graves that nestle into its outskirts.

The ones that particularly catch at me are children's headstones. Cemetaries in Ireland are full of children's graves and there's a cemetary in Charleston, Illinois, where a woman lost six babies, all under the age of 5. What incredible heartbreak that must have been. I think the death of a child, however tragic, was more commonplace in the century before...lack of modern medicine, more home births, etc..

So that put me into a calm as I donned the bicycle once again and turned back towards home. The rest of the day was laundry, work (neverending) on my score, cleaning the kitchen...more perfunctory chores, and yet I still was constantly thinking of coming upon this cemetary out of the blue.

Funny how sometimes the most spontaneous, beautiful, raw moments in life can still lead us back to thoughts of death.

Stuck Inside

2007-06-22T10:57:00.000-07:00

It's an unexpected day off but it's been raining all morning, that slow, sad drizzle that takes all the life out of morning energy and promise. The edge of the horizon is ringed with black so I see no end in site. Alas no bike ride, no stroll to the laundromat, no neighborhood saunter with camera in hand...

Instead I'm going back through my many obsessive projects and taking stock. I started Daniel Mark Epstein's biography of Edna St. Vincent Millay, "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed" this morning. Being in Upstate New York, it seemed the perfect time and place to dive back into my consistently thwarted ESt.VM project. I was reading Nancy Milford's beautifully penned biography last year and so it seems we've come full circle.

My mother has also made progress on some research about my grandfather, another outside source of interest for my own writing and creative work, so I may dive into that a bit as well.
Even as I child I was never capable of getting bored.

I think I may make myself a juicy caprese salad and read a bit more....

Unexpected Respite

2007-06-21T19:34:00.000-07:00

A nice surprise to the end of my work day as Lillian gave all six hours of tomorrow's rehearsal to Maestro Wachner for music work. This means a day off for me tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I plan to spend several hours working on my woefully scribbled up score and I'm hoping to finish my critical chorus document before our final room run on Saturday afternoon, but I won't have to get out of my pajamas until I'm good and ready and I may even have a chance to take a long bike ride, which I've wanted to do since I saw my roommate's Schwinn, filled with potential energy in our garage.

The other thing the unexpected news allowed me to do was spend this evening relaxing and spending some time NOT thinking about Gluck/Berlioz, Agrippina or any other upcoming projects. I sat on my Federalist front porch and read my book as a huge storm came up and thundered, poured and hailed all around me. There was very little wind, so I didn't get wet as I sat in the middle of the din of rain drops and grumbling from the sky. The photo is from the midst of the hail storm from my vantage point all curled up in the rocking chair. I played with macro and my telephoto lens to capture plants as they dealt with the deluge. It was a great afternoon.

We did some great detail work in rehearsals today. We're ready for this room run and for our final (and complete) move to the Alice Bush Theater. Our little shadow sat on the bleachers behind us for five straight hours, entranced. We even got her up working in the morning. As we worked through an aria that really needed the chorus to play off of, we asked her to get on stage and stand in for some chorus members. She was delighted and sat in her designated spot with prim posture and a wide-eyed grin. She's become our little mascot.

My roommate is at the theater tonight. All of the stage managers attend each other's first piano stagings to lend support to the one on the hot seat. That first night in the theater is stressful solely because of the locale change. Tonight the Offenbach team is in there and I am in my sweats in my giant living room playing on line and relishing in the fact that I have no set agenda for nearly 36 hours.

My Shadow

2007-06-20T21:09:00.001-07:00

Inside all of the stress, changes and issues that come with the territory of putting up an opera, a really wonderful thing has been taking shape. The Gluck/Berlioz rehearses at Richfield Springs Central School. As we put together our little piece in the wrestling gym at the very back of the imposing campus, the rest of the school is still bustling with year-ending activity. School children from kindergarten to 12th grade attend school here, so we see all ages every time we walk down the hall to the bathroom.

One little girl, about thirteen, started last week sneaking into our rehearsals and sitting quietly at the door for an hour (sometimes two) watching us stage aria after aria with rapt attention. After a couple of days, Lillian finally asked her to come sit behind us. She's become my shadow.
Slowly we've learned more about her and shared our experiences in our own little world of opera-making as she's become more open with the questions. We found out she reads music and so we've handed her a score to follow. We found out she's on stage a lot herself and so we discuss staging choices and why things happen where they happen. She's been there for every change, every note, every discovery.

Her intense attention span reminds me of myself at her age. I was ripe with passion about stage work in any form and could watch professionals create endlessly. I was the only girl at DanceAspen who would sneak down to the company rehearsals to watch Hubbard Street or BalletMet prepare a show. Process fascinated me even then.
We've been in the theater for preliminary tech rehearsals this past Monday and Tuesday. Last night my little shadow showed up with her mother to watch. Lillian had given her our on stage schedule. She sat in the house entranced. I caught up with her on a break and asked how she was enjoying the rehearsal and she was ecstatic with her words and images. I felt like I was aiding in the creation of an artist by being there for her to talk to.

She's coming to a performance. She'd been saving up for a ticket and was ten or so dollars short so our stage manager whipped out some money the other day to help her meet her goal. We've all jumped on this nurturing bandwagon. Her spirit inspires all of us to give her the knowledge to back it up.

What a rare treat for this girl, and an amazing gift for all of us to have her energy from which to play.

Off

2007-06-13T15:02:00.001-07:00

My confidence was totally shaken today.

I'm not sure why. I think I woke up this way: a little shaky, tired and emotionally under the weather. I didn't sleep well the night before, then sat in my little wooden chair in the wrestling gymnasium at Richfield Springs Central School, watching the singers work their butts off and I started to feel relatively useless.

It's funny how you can work and work and focus and work, spouting out the ideas, jumping on placement requests and noticing every little things, and then you have one day in a fog and suddenly all of your work feels null.... I couldn't seem to wrap my head around anything that was going on. I felt like I was a step behind everyone else and was at a loss when asked my opinion.

I was opinion-less, which really isn't like me at all.

It's days like these when I feel like an absolute fraud in everything I do. We had a lunch meeting today and I sat through it fidgeting, wishing I could go home, get in my bed, sleep, and wake up again to start over at the moment I folded back my orange corduroy comforter and sat up in this fog of second-guessing .

I'm blaming everything on lack of sleep.

Went out to dinner with my roommate and took a walk around Cooperstown, which was a welcome respite from thinking about work and life away from home entirely too much. Things will be better in the morning..

Don't Look Back

2007-06-11T19:22:00.000-07:00

Since mentioning it in my blog, a couple people have asked me about the Orpheus myth. I have to say, it surprises me a little. I've known about Orpheus as long as I can remember. New York City Ballet's symbol was Orpheus' lyre for a long time, and I loved pictures of various dancers in the strange bulbous costumes, telling the story of the tragic musician.

So, for those of you who aren't familiar with it, following is my rendition of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Orpheus was the son of a mortal and the muse, Calliope. He was a gifted musician who was given a lyre by the god, Apollo, and he enchanted people with his incredible singing and playing. He rode with the Argonauts as a musician so that his soothing music would calm the sirens while they were at sea. He was that good..

Orpheus fell in love with a woman named Eurydice. On the day of the their marriage, she was walking with her bridemaids and was bit on the foot by a viper, killing her instantly. Orpheus was grief-stricken and felt like he couldn't go on without her. He pleaded with the gods of the Underworld to let him into hell so that he could bring back his wife.

By playing his lyre and singing beautifully, the Furies let him past the gates of hell and he implored to Pluto to let Eurydice live. Pluto, like everyone else, was enchanted by Orpheus' exceptional musicianship and agreed to let him have Eurydice again - on one condition. He must walk in front of Eurydice as they climb the path out of hell and MUST NOT look at her until they are back on earth or she will again fall dead, never to be returned.

Orpheus agreed and he and Eurydice began their path back to earth. About half way along the path, Orpheus doubted his faith, scared that Eurydice, who was painfully quiet, was no longer behind him. He turned to make sure she was there and the moment he laid eyes on her, she fell dead before him, never to return to earth.

Terrifying.

Now, Gluck's version (of which we are doing the Berlioz version, rewritten in the 1800's for a French audience), has a happy ending, which is common in the age which it was written (the Age of Enlightenment). In this version, written through a Christian lens, the god of love sees Orpheus weeping after he kills Eurydice a second time, and the god is so touched that he brings Eurydice back to life for Orpheus, feeling that he'd suffered enough.

Personally, I like the sad ending. It packs more of a moral punch and gives us more to think about in the midst of our shock and weeping.

And that's the end of my story for now.

One Week Down...

2007-06-09T21:47:00.001-07:00

I just finished my sixth day of rehearsals at Glimmerglass Opera for the Gluck/Berlioz "Orphee," directed by Lillian Groag and conducted by Julian Wachner. We've staged approximately half of the opera at this point and I'm looking forward to a day without Gluck tomorrow.

Not a day without opera, mind you. Lillian and I are also doing "Agrippina" together at New York City Opera in September, and so we are spending the day in planning mode tomorrow followed by a big dinner which we shopped for after rehearsals today. Hard work is no problem at all as long as it's compensated with good food and better conversation.

The picture is me in the rehearsal hall at Richfield Springs Central School after a long day. My director, choreographer, stage manager and ASMs are in the back discussing the process.

The process is often the best part.

Passages

2007-06-06T20:07:00.001-07:00

Rehearsals started today for the Gluck/Berlioz "Orphee" in Richfield Springs, New York. I've had incredible housing luck here this year. I am exactly two blocks away from the rehearsal hall. So, while many people have to drive upwards of half an hour to get to staging rehearsals, I left my house at 9:25 to get there by 9:30.

We're rehearsing in a school that is still in session. We're sequestered to a gym in the back of the behemoth of a building. It's a little echo-y, a little stuffy and has some noisy fans and loud, jarring tones that sound through the p.a. system every 40 or so minutes to announce the end of a period, but it's a sunny room with plenty of room for all of us as well as a few set pieces and a giant table of props, so I'm not complaining.

This is a small show in comparison to most that I've worked on. We have three principal characters and one soloist plus two dancers and 22 chorus members. The run time is not even two hours and the set is relatively simple in its changes and footprint. Despite, it's got some tough ideas rolling around inside of it and we began exploring those today.

Lillian, the director, was talking today about the fact that the Orpheus myth is about how we deal with death (untimely death especially) and the ideas of resurrection and redemption, as well as a play between the ideas that art conquers all (even death) and art is futile. These aren't little ideas, especially that realization of our mortality. Yesterday she gave a terrific speech to the cast and crew about the big ideas behind this show. When we got to the Gates of Hades, she described the feeling behind the Furies as "that moment at 4 in the morning when you wake up in terror because you realize you're going to die." She asked, rhetorically, if anyone had ever woken up with that realization and felt the terror that goes along with it. You could see faces in the crowd that knew; I recognized them as my own.

It's those moments when I wake up in the night, fearful of my fate, when I understand why people embrace religion. It's that moment of waking up, sweaty and shaking, out of a nightmare when you understand how the Orpheus myth has persisted for so long. Wouldn't we all like to be able to pull lost loved ones out of the abyss just by performing beautifully. The sadness is that we all have at least one flaw that makes us human enough to disallow passage to wherever souls end up...terrifying thoughts.

Death scares the hell out of me. Not all the time, mind you. I spend my days trying to continually make my life worth living. To me it's the only way to make it all okay. This doesn't stop me from lying awake sometimes and wondering where it all goes. How all of the hard work, sweat, laughter, sex, crying, triumph, chatter and tension could just disappear into the ether at the whims of the universe.

I have a feeling that an entire summer of being surrounded by retellings of the Orpheus myth, the ultimate story of death, mourning and afterlife, is going to keep this issue in the open. What a strange three months this will be.

Back in the Sticks

2007-06-03T20:26:00.001-07:00

This was me this afternoon on the floor of the Delta Terminal at JFK International Airport. My Balducci's dinner as people stepped over me to crowd into their numerous commuter flights all leaving out of the same gate.

I've never seen so much mayhem. Thank god I had a good book and my Pom Blackberry Tea and a little Caprese...

Though it did get worse. I was on the smallest prop plane in the history of commercial prop planes, and after landing in Albany, I found out that they removed one of my bags from the hold for weight restrictions. As of right now at 11:32 in the evening, they cannot find said bag and I have no underwear, one pair of pants a few t-shirts and some flip flops to wear to my first day on the job (no deoderant, no toothpaste...) Delta airlines was all very nonchalant about the whole thing as if this happens all the time. They told me that bags get removed all the time without the customer being told and it would probably show up on the next flight from JFK in five hours . . . "we'll bring it to you."

Cold comfort when I have nothing to change into and no tennis shoes (and no underwear for god sakes). Ah well, it's the price you pay for air travel. This isn't the first time my bags have been lost to the black hole of checked luggage. Wanna take bets on how long it will take to recover?

So, the picture above is where I was yesterday. With my husband on Coronado Island, enjoying a birthday dinner at Peohe's. This pic was taken with my brand new camera - a gift from John. It was the most perfect day; a great way to end a month together. I see him again in six weeks.

Okay. Bed. More on my crazy old-fashioned house and life in Richfield Springs soon. (This year I have high speed internet in my HOUSE and can WALK to a convenience store!!!)

Box o' Music

2007-05-31T17:00:00.000-07:00

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..

2007-05-29T22:07:00.000-07:00

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..

2007-05-26T20:26:00.001-07:00

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!

2007-05-23T14:40:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-23T14:12:00.001-07:00

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. . .

2007-05-18T12:55:00.000-07:00

. . .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...

2007-05-14T00:25:00.000-07:00

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?

2007-05-04T18:26:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-03T08:10:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-02T14:21:00.000-07:00

"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

2007-05-02T14:06:00.000-07:00

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?

If...

2007-04-26T20:49:00.000-07:00

Opera America started last night. Opera companies from all over the world send representatives to the convention to talk about issues in all aspects of their field. I've never been to one of the conventions before but this year it happened to be taking place in Miami, so I'm taking full advantage. Thus far it's been interesting to meet people, see old bosses and friends, and listen in on what everyone thinks and feels about the advancement of opera as an American art form.

I've got more thoughts on that...mainly brought up by opening speeches by Osvaldo Golijov (brilliant Argentinian composer) and Dana Gioia (of the sad, struggling NEA), but my thoughts aren't fully formulated. As the weekend continues things will start to gel. After a rambling conversation with my husband this afternoon I'm realizing that I have an awful lot to say.

This post is a lesson on following the path as it presents itself...a more personal reflection on the influences that help us end up where we are/where we needed to be all along.

At one time I actually planned on going into Performing Arts Administration. I've always been interested in the administrative side, but my performing always came first. My favorite class in college was the one that taught us how to market ourselves, send out press releases, rally audience support and fundraiser. When I was the Associate Artistic Director for a small dance company in Chicago, I loved attending the board meetings, the strategic planning and putting together fundraising events. I always figured it would be my fallback.

So much so, in fact, that when my performing career started to struggle a bit, I nearly walked away from it to pursue an administrative career. It was the spring of 2000. I graduated from college two years earlier and had been freelancing with not much luck. I'd had a couple of gigs here and there but was starting to get massively frustrated with the audition process. Three times in a row I'd gotten down to the final three and then been sent on my merry way at the end of the evening. I was really questioning my future as a performer. I started looking at universities with Arts Administration degrees and was studying for my GRE. I'd settled on first choices at Goucher College and American University. I was serious about this.

In class at the Dance Center of Columbia College one day, I noticed a posting for a dance audition for the opera "Akhnaten" at Chicago Opera Theater. It fit in my schedule and, though I had really nearly given up on the prospect of doing a professional gig every again, I thought "Why not?" I had started to look at auditions as free class. How sad.

As I was dressing for the audition that morning, I made myself a pact. I told myself if I didn't get this job, then I would send my graduate applications out the next morning and make a final, clean break from this performing career that had left me so frustrated.

The audition was fun, full of friends, and I was so happy with myself for having an alternative plan that I'm sure I was dancing with more confidence than usual when being judged. We finished our last pass across the floor of heel-first pique turns, clapped for Daniel Pelzig, the choreographer who ran a great class, and I grabbed my stuff and trotted down the stairs, pleased with finally feeling like I had some purpose.

The artistic administrator of Chicago Opera Theater came running after me. "Miss Stickann, wait!" I turned at the bottom of the stairs. I thought I'd forgotten to hand him my head shot.

"Miss Stickann, Mr. Pelzig, the choreographer, would like to speak with you."

I walked carefully back up the stairs. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. I remember feeling less exulted at that moment and more scared. I felt like I was in trouble even though I knew that was an absurd reaction. Danny was sitting on the floor changing out of his dance sneakers. I sat down next to him on the edge of the raised dance floor and he proceeded to tell me he was in need of a dance captain and wondered if I would be interested.

It's funny how good news can sometimes seem bad or strange when thrown at you without warning. I started to question myself. I was so prepared to send in my applications that I hadn't even considered getting this job. He was looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I think my mouth was hanging open.

I said yes and it changed my life.

Not only did this man's question ultimately give me a five-year successful performing career that took me to San Diego where I met my husband while performing, and gave me my New York debut, but it also opened up my career in opera where I am currently learning and growing on an hourly basis. I am so priveleged to call Danny a friend now, but he has also been a colleague on some of the most artistically amazing and satisfying projects I've ever worked on. I am incredibly lucky, and I owe him my career.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had gotten all the way down the stairs at that audition, walked out the door, and never heard from Daniel Pelzig or Chicago Opera Theater again. My applications would have gone in the mailbox but after that I have no answer. At this point in my understanding of my true niche in this world of the arts, I'd like to think that I would have found my way to opera and directing anyway, but I really don't know.

In a world where so often the "right path" is muddy, hard to see, and covered in brambles, I thank god for the path that presents itself clearly, without question.

Ode To My Family

2007-04-25T20:31:00.000-07:00

So I went to my parent's Flickr site the other day because I talked to my mother on the phone and she told me they just finished shearing their alpacas and she had pictures up.

Yes, my parents have an alpaca farm called Sycamore Creek Farm. It's their retirement and they are in love with it. I could not have handled growing up on a farm but for them it's right. I know this because of the picture at the left. I haven't seen my parents look this radiant in years, especially my father, who's positively glowing in this photo.

It makes me miss them all the more...

Time is the Enemy

2007-04-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

So I've been looking back on my meager posts lately.

They all seem a little disgruntled. A little rushed. A little mournful.

And perhaps that does sum up where I'm at, but I'm noticing that they don't particularly capture what I was hoping to capture when I started this blog a year and a half ago. I wanted to really explore what this life was, what it was to live and work in the performing arts, what it was to be in this rootless job, the intricacies of putting up a show and dealing with a life that is dictated almost entirely by what you do.

It's hard to talk about all of these things without detail, and perhaps my life would have been made infinitely easier had I started this blog as an anonymous writer. But then again, my goal was never to (as my documentarian husband says) "expose the seedy underbelly of the opera business," it was to document process in all of its joys and difficulties. Because, truly, the process is the only thing that makes art worth DOING . . . for me that is.

I've become somewhat nervous to talk about difficult projects which really defeats the purpose of this blog. You can take as much from the difficult moments as you can from the joyous ones, sometimes more. Suffice to say, "Samson et Dalila" has been a difficult process, and for the same reason that most operas will claim when they are struggling to open well:

TIME.

Opera production suffers from a quickening disease. The productions are huge and lavish but the rehearsal time is painfully small. Big budgets conflicting with meager cash flow dictate that rehearsal and technical schedules be reduced to their absolute minimum. It's a frustrating truth that looms darkly over many, many productions, and it is felt in every company I've ever worked for.

Most productions go up in three weeks or less. A month of prep/rehearsal time is luxurious. This is not so in straight or musical theater. Directors who come to opera from that tradition are shocked and dismayed to get their first production calendar. Dancers work months on a ten-minute piece, musical theater gets an extensive preview period wherein they can tweak a piece until it's been drilled to near perfection. Opera starts on a Tuesday morning , and three weeks or less later the critics are there with their light pens and tiny notebooks, ready to judge.
The trick as a director/maestro/lighting designer etc, is to organize your time so effectively that you can fit everything in. Some people would say you can't be a perfectionist in this business, which I don't really agree with. I think that perfectionism works here as long as its always coupled with a severe organization (this is where my OCD ends up working for me). Everyone working on an opera has to walk in the door knowing exactly what they want and exactly what they're doing or frustrations will ensue and multiply.

For "Samson," it was tech time that was fighting. This is a difficult technical show with collapsing temples, pyro effects and a two-minute scene change that defies belief. We're finally getting there, but I am constantly amazed at how much has to be achieved in so little time.

It's the time factor that will keep most opera from ever truly achieving the slickness that we see in Broadway shows (and I'm not sure that opera should really ever go there even if it could). Don't get me wrong, to be granted more time is a luxury that any of us in the business would grab at and clamp onto like an alligator's jaws should it ever be held out towards us, but I have to say that I thrive on the race. I love that feeling after a meet-and-greet or first production meeting, as if we've all set ourselves down on a giant toboggan and then pushed ourselves over the side of an impossibly high, icy mountain. There's no stopping it once it starts. We're going to hit every tree and rock on the way down, and we're only going to get faster and faster and faster as we go. But if we reach the bottom without capsizing, then the rush, the adrenalin, the cold in our faces is the most exhilirating feeling I know.

The moment that orchestra tune rises out of the pit on opening night, no matter how many times I've banged my head against the wall, walked out of a rehearsal searching blindly for a scotch rocks, buried my head in my hands as a tech rehearsal grinds to a halt for one reason or other, I know the curtain will rise and a show (our show) will be on the other side.

It's the reason I can't even fathom doing anything else.

Time to Go Home

2007-04-20T18:48:00.000-07:00

My relationship with my husband right now consists of snapping open my little phone and dialing his cell phone number. After a while, conversations get harder on the phone. You need the one-on-one contact to truly express how you're feeling, to bring up new subjects, to have a real conversation.

It's time to go home. I can't be totally rootless anymore.

These are always the hardest times because the show is open and my only true work is every three days when I go to the theater to mind the show. All of that empty time can cause meltdowns which I have to work to keep from happening.

This is when I start pulling out upcoming projects to work on. I finally got my Gluck/Berlioz score from Glimmerglass so I've cracked that open, I'm working on a couple of independent projects that will hopefully manifest themselves into dance films like "Utazo," but they're in the most basic of planning stages right now.

I've also finally had the time to sit in on some more "Anna Karenina" rehearsals. I'm very excited to see it once all of the pieces have been put together, but I love watching it in the rough stages too. It's the reason I'm an artist instead of only an art supporter: the process is much more fascinating to me than the product.

Opera America is next weekend as well. I'm looking forward to that keeping me busy for a few days as well.

Busy, busy, busy. It's all about keeping busy.

Horrific

2007-04-16T14:44:00.000-07:00

I spent an amazing morning driving around the Florida Keys. The weather was cool, perfect. The water was a brilliant torquoise. The air was clean and the breeze calming. It was an impeccable way to calm down after a long tech process and I sat on the edge of the world for a while, staring up at the deep blue sky and smelling the sea air.

Meanwhile, the students and faculty of Virginia Tech were suffering from a horrific massacre, the worst in U.S. history.

I came back from my drive and have since been glued to the television. I am sickened by the events. I don't understand how the dorm shootings could have happened at 7:15 and kids could have shown up for class two hours later having no idea that anything happened. I don't understand how classes anywhere on campus were allowed to begin until the school had been locked down and the shooter found...there are so many questions I have but the big one always comes back to "Why?"

My deepest sympathies go out to anyone involved in this tragedy.

I've been left speechless entirely too much lately.

Reflection

2007-04-12T20:35:00.000-07:00

I was putting away some laundry tonight and I passed the bathroom door, looked at myself in the mirror and saw someone I didn't recognize.

This person had wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, a few gray hairs popping out of her bangs and a little sag under her chin. She looked older, tired, a little world-weary. I did a double take; a very theatrical back up to look again - to stare.

I mean, I knew it was me, but I just couldn't believe it for a second. Sometimes I forget that I'm not a 95-pound bunhead anymore. I don't feel older than that girl. I dont' feel older than her at all.

Put It In Your Pocket

2007-04-11T20:26:00.000-07:00

I saw the biggest meteor I've ever seen tonight as I drove home on the Dixie Highway. I was in the middle of downtown Miami, having just gotten off Interstate 95, so no stars were visible. Right in front of me this thick, white streak of light fell straight down from the top of my vision, burning brightly until it hit the horizon. I was almost ready to see an explosion at the other end, it fell so far and looked so massive.

John says it's good luck. I made a brief wish, so we'll see how that turns out.

I was coming back from observing "Anna Karenina" rehearsals in the echo-y Peacock Room at CCPA. This incredible new work by David Carlson (with a libretto by the late Colin Graham) is having its world premiere here during Opera America in two weeks. I've watched a couple of their rehearsals during this time I have off before remounting here in Miami. I always find it interesting to watch other directors work, especially on new work. I love the old standards, but watching a rehearsal where the composer is actually sitting in the room, where dialogue changes as the show goes up, where singers and conductors are creating roles for the very first time, well...that's just juicy and wonderful. I long to have the opportunity to work on a world premiere myself.

And in a more cynical light, there's something satisfying about sitting in on a rehearsal in which you have no responsibility whatsoever.

That all changes tomorrow morning.

Death and Taxes (or Death from Taxes)

2007-04-11T12:06:00.000-07:00

I just mailed off my taxes. I stood in line at the post office behind a women who makes her living selling crap on eBay, listening to the two women behind me talk incessantly about a new improv comedy show that sounds absolutely nauseating and paid the extra money to have a return receipt since I don't trust the U.S. Postal Service as far as I can throw them.

I secretly hoped that my California state taxes would get lost since, no matter how many times I went over the forms and added up my deductions, I owe money to the state of California. They charged me income tax on every penny I made even though more than half of it was earned outside of the state. I'm getting the tiniest of tiny refunds from the Federal Government, but anything is better than having to write out a check.

And so I dropped the weighty envelopes off, tipped my sunglasses back down over my eyes, and brushed my hands off decidedly as I walked up to my little rental car and found a man in black printing out a parking ticket on his little machine as he read off the license plate number. Not only do I owe money to the state of California for working outside of the state last year, but now I owe the city of Coral Gables $18 for spending 2 and 1/2 minutes longer in the post office than my meter allowed.

I had the urge to throw a tantrum right there. I wanted to throw down my purse, rip the ticket out of the little beady-eyed man's hands and rip it up, toss it in his face, kick the tire of my sad little Kia, but I refrained. I maintainted my dignity and only huffed and puffed once I'd driven off.

Oh, the humanity.

A Few Days Off

2007-04-09T18:32:00.000-07:00

The weather's been beautiful in Southern Florida. The humidity dropped to nearly nothing and the temperature has been warm but comfortable with a cool breeze. Like the most perfect day in San Diego, Miami's been experiencing weather perfection. Granted, they're in the middle of a horrible drought, but I was still soaking it up over the weekend.

It's funny how blue skies and cool breezes can make everything seem okay. This was a really tough opening for several reasons and I needed a few days off. I walked on the beach, did some shopping on Lincoln Road, sat al fresco and wrote in my journal while sipping coffee, and people watched in Coral Gables.

I actually forgot that I don't particularly enjoy walking on East coast beaches. The sand is gritty and full of broken up shells that cut into my feet. Miami beaches are littered with junk, bottle caps, straw wrappers etc, which makes the sand unattractive as well. I took a brisk walk for about ten blocks until I got past the cove at 27th street, filled with fishermen standing on huge rocks and sunbathers hiding in the little open, sandy areas around them, then I went back up to the board walk and went a few more blocks before turning back. I actually like the board walk because the surface still has give but my speed is better and I'm not worried about getting sand in between my toes.

It's funny. I really have this need to live near water but have barely any interest in hanging out on it or on the beaches surrounding it. I think I could never be a beach bum because I feel like it isn't productive enough. I'm too high strung to wile away the hours sitting in the sand and staring at the sun.

Things start up again on Thursday when I go into the Ziff Theater at the Carnival Center in Miami to begin the tech process over again for a different venue. This one should be a bit easier because we know the pitfalls and the theater space is more accomodating to the size of the set. We have a brush-up technical rehearsal for the cast on Friday night. Our director's coming back since there were so many elements that were impossible to do in Broward. For her, the technical process was never really completed so the show will actually be truly opening in her vision for the first time in Miami.

Saturday was our closing in Broward County and I feel like it was a pretty tight show. The temple crash is starting to really do its thing, the singers looked good and the dancers were beautiful as always. I am in awe of them dancing on a rough surface and leaping around on a rake. I remember how difficult it was to look natural while trying not to stub my toe and fall on my face on impossible opera sets.

I only briefly wished I could have been up there dancing. Then I had another mocha and sat back behind the tech table in the dark...happily behind the scenes.

Sad Day for Opera

2007-04-06T13:45:00.000-07:00

Colin Graham
1931-2007

I heard news today that Colin Graham, celebrated stage director, librettist and artistic director of Opera Theatre St. Louis, passed away this morning.

Though I cannot say I knew him at all but for a few brief meetings this summer, I am saddened for my friends and colleagues who knew him well, and for the opera world at large, who has lost a giant.

As my friend said this afternoon, there are no more words.

Things I Take As Fact

2007-04-04T19:50:00.000-07:00

Denyce Graves is an incredibly beautiful, graceful stage creature.

We open tomorrow.

I go home to my husband in a month.

Banana oatmeal cookies made from scratch cure all frustrations and sadness, if only for a moment.

The performing arts are neither easy or glamorous. Especially not glamorous . . . or easy.

One Tech Down...

2007-03-29T22:27:00.000-07:00

...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

2007-03-24T12:57:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-03-21T21:26:00.000-07:00

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?

2007-03-20T21:25:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-17T20:58:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-03-16T22:31:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-13T21:55:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-12T11:22:00.000-07:00

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 . . .

2007-03-11T19:53:00.000-07:00

. . . 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...

2007-03-10T18:24:00.000-08:00

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

2007-03-10T13:18:00.000-08:00

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

2007-03-07T17:04:00.000-08:00

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!!!

2007-03-04T20:44:00.000-08:00

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)

2007-03-02T12:44:00.000-08:00

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

Okay....just had to say that.

Midwestern Odyssey

2007-02-28T12:53:00.000-08:00

Just a few more days in Chicago and I head to points South. Chicago has been a strange mix of old-home week and future strategic planning.

On the one hand, I am working in an extremely comfortable environment. This is the third show I've choreographed at DePaul University and the fifth time I've worked with this director. He is, in fact, the first opera director I ever assisted and this makes him a little bit mentor, a little bit friend and a little bit security blanket. I feel easy going with him in a way that I don't necessarily with other directors (especially in other houses).

On the other hand, I'm looking ahead and trying to plan out how my career is going to go. This really isn't something that's possible to do. So many established people who's brains I've picked tell me that so much of it is timing and luck. I know this, but it doens't keep my type-a personality from analyzing and reanalyzing what I've done, where I'm going and where I want to go. There's a thing so many of us say when we look ahead at our schedules and when they seemingly end. "What's coming up for you?" someone asks. "Oh...I'm at New York City Opera in September and after that I may never work again." Unrealistic for sure but it seems that way sometimes. I have offers on the table right now, I just have to sift through them and figure out what's best for me. Having the future of my career in my own hands is a relatively scary thing....but I digress.

Back to DePaul and Chicago, this has been a strange experience because it's really the first time I've run in during a rehearsal period, set some dance moves, and run back out again. I don't get to see this show open, I don't get to deal with the dancers on stage, and I didn't get to preplan by being here from the very beginning. I kind of like the limited responsibility, but I don't feel I'm bonding with it in the same way and that makes me a little sad.

The best parts of coming back here are the people. This is a director that I would follow around for the rest of my existance. I am lucky enough to have a couple of people in my life like that and I hope I know them for a good long time. They are the people who will always teach me something no matter how long I've been in the business and the people I will always be able to jump back into working with, with very little hitch and reintroduction.

I also like the fact that I've been able to watch a few of these students move through the program since I've come back about every two years. There are principals in this piece who were fighting their way through the chorus when I was here for "Idomeneo" in 2005. I love watching progress happen. The sad is end is seeing someone who hasn't progressed, but that's evident in all aspects of my teaching. I feel a little like a teacher here since this show is being put up in academia, and I like having that experience of giving back in a world that makes me feel pretty damn selfish most of the time.

The picture is a waltz rehearsal at the Music School. John took it while he was in town. I've been really pleased with everyone's progress with the dances, so I'm not sure what I'm thinking here. One student came up to me yesterday and said, "I can see your wheels turning every time we dance. It's great." They're turning pretty damn hard in this photo.

The other, other thing about Chicago is the opportunity to see family. I am staying with my little brother right now. My little brother who just turned 26 and lives on his own and has a real job and acts all adult...I feel younger than both of my brothers sometimes. I missed his birthday while I was in touring hell so I'm taking him out tomorrow night since we do not have rehearsals. My parents are coming up over the weekend so I'll get a chance to hang out with them as well. My fourteen-year-old brother will be with them. He is the one I've missed out with. I left home before he was two and sometimes I feel like I have to play catch-up with his life. He's changing so rapidly.

The other picture is of me at my sister-in-law's house in Cleveland, holding her cat, Jerry. That's the other thing I got to do here. John came in, we drove six hours to Cleveland, and I got to meet my father-in-law for the first time. It was a completely whirlwind trip in which we got into town at 4 in the morning and stayed for less than 48 hours, but I think totally worth it. Family is extremely important and I sometimes forget when I'm caught up in the opera of the day. Travel does one of two things. It either makes me forget completely about the existance of family or it makes me wallow in the fact that I am not around them.

John's family seems far away sometimes and I want to know them, so going there and having dinner and laughing, seeing pictures of John as a kid, was healing and encompassing. I am a part of a larger chain.

I think that's all the news that's fit to print right now. Life keeps moving forward and I am constantly readjusting to fit myself in. Career is absolutely important but sometimes we just have to look at it cross-eyed and have a beer with a friend, chase our brother's cat, sit in a coffee-shop and stare at the passers-by...

In Memoriam

2007-02-27T13:12:00.000-08:00

Abby Stickann
(2002-2007)

My mother's beautiful 50th birthday tabby, peaceful, soft, comforting, died suddenly last night after only five short years of bringing joy to my parents and brothers (and sometimes Slim Shady, who would hang on the door of the back porch to get her attention). My memories of her consist of her silky gray fur slinking through the living room after I first walked in the door, of her watchful eyes bearing down on me from high above the great room as she perched on the shelf by the ceiling, of her fast asleep under the Christmas tree, curled up by Baxter, and sitting on her scratching post waiting for Dad to pet her as he passed by.

May she rest in peace.

Guess Where I Am?

2007-02-21T20:28:00.000-08:00

In a hotel room, in Chicago, with (this is where it gets good). . .

My husband!!!

Woo-hoo!

Almost Gone..

2007-02-18T21:03:00.000-08:00

I walked into the scene shop at the Landmark Theater this afternoon, and saw a bunch of our props sitting there. Sat down to snap this picture in case John's forgotten what I look like. Thought he could hang this in his office to remind him....

Sad. It seems like such a long time since I've seen him. I don't like this being away constantly from my husband. It used to be so much easier when I didn't care so deeply about someone at home.

Today was our closing performance. It was a performance of "Dropsies," with bits of the set falling, coins falling, posters falling.. Ah well, it's over and I was so happy with all of these performers, who took some difficult moments and made them into great theater. A lot of the singers had family in town which always makes for a nice nervous energy backstage.

I watched back stage this afternoon. It's so different than sitting in the house. In the house I feel like an audience member; I still get nervous for my singers but I'm somewhat removed from everything happening. When I'm backstage, I feel their energy, I am part of the performance. The show started and I was standing stage right and all of those supers were standing in the wings waiting to go on. As the first light came up and Kenny stepped onto the stage, the overture playing, the energy up and swirling, I got choked up. This is a part of the show that does nothing for me when I watch from the house but there's something about that first moment of stepping on stage that gets me every time.

The other moment that always gets me is the tune, but that chokes me up no matter where I am in the theater.

I stood further back to watch the bedroom scene so I could watch all of the guys hiding behind their panels. It's a farce so there's a bunch of popping in and out and peeking out of doors. Watching these guys fidgeting behind their various portals and panels, taking a sip of water, laughing at on stage antics, prepping to jump out and do something ridiculous. I almost preferred it to what was actually happening on stage.

I love what I do. It's so tough sometimes. I don't live in my home, I make these close, short-lived connections that make the whole experience bittersweet, I live out of a suitcase, but listening to that music every night and feeling the incredible energy of an "on" performance, a true ensemble playing off of each other to create incredible theater, is a sweet, sweet reward.

Tomorrow I start "Merry Widow." A whole new set of challenges and joys.

The Quality-Free Inn

2007-02-15T21:41:00.000-08:00

I do not recommend the Quality Inn in Richmond, Virginia. It is an especially hard transition from the Courtyard Marriott in Fairfax, with a fireplace in the lobby and free cookies and down pillows.

My safe doesn't work, my toilet seat is chipped and I had to have my bedding replaced this evening when I pulled back the comforter and found a load of black hairs on the mattress pad. Lovely.

Be that as it may, Richmond is nice in that I get to see some friends I haven't seen in years. I had lunch with a friend I danced with San Diego who's been gone for almost three years. She took me to a lunch place and we spilled all the dirt and laughed about our lives. She looked terrific and I was ecstatic to be sitting across from her, falling into old good times so easily. Connections are connections regardless of how long you've been apart.

I had a second dose in the evening when I had dinner with a very good friend I'd been relatively out of touch with for almost nine years. We ate pasta and got giddy with each other, talking about how amazing it is the way life goes, the paths we find. Our paths have diverged but we are still the same and we still have the same ultimate goals, they're just more well thought out now.

I am amazed at the friends I have; their brilliance, their insight, their ability to lift my spirits and make me laugh even when I'm lonely and upset and in a crap hotel room on the opposite side of the country from my husband. I am so lucky to have shared passions and secrets and love and laughs with so many great, talented folks. Thank god for them, every one.

The pictures are of my lovely hotel room. It is cruel to go from such a nice place to such a skeevy place. I will be happy to start working again in the morning so I have something to think about other than what the suspicious stain is on the comforter. Fortunately we are lighting at the Landmark at 9am. I'll be there with coffee (lots of coffee).

Life is hard but good. It's the amazing people that pass through it that make it that way.

Last Night in Fairfax

2007-02-14T20:51:00.000-08:00

The picture is sunset on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. My view as I was driving back from New York City. The sun was unbelievable as it sank. I watched it dip down, looking as if it were melting into the roadway ahead.

Doesn't look like that here now. Cold and covered in ice and windy. The ice storm really ravaged the place last night. The roads aren't actually too bad but it was scary looking last night with the light pole out my window blowing around as if it were going to snap in half, and the American flag in front of the Lone Star ripping half off of its pole so it blew straight up in the air, whipping around wildly in the driving snow.

Today was yet another day at the hotel waiting to go to Richmond. It seemed like it would never come, but I am leaving at 11 tomorrow with our SM so that I can have lunch with an old friend at 2pm. I didn't do much of anything today, sat at a desk erasing and rewriting score notes, sat on my suitcase to get it closed after packing everything away, moved the coffee table over by the window so I could do a solo can-can, hopping around on one leg and kicking the other in the air, doing a vaudeville box step in canon with several missing chorus boys and waltzing with an imaginary partner to the tunes from "Merry Widow." It will be nice to have people to work on for that project; I'm sure those walking past my window had a good show.

Had dinner and watched a movie with some friends tonight. One of them rented a car for the day so we could get away from the hotel area. We drove until we found a mall, circled around it until we found a suitable restaurant, and sat in the front for a while after we realized it was so busy because it was Valentine's day. How quickly we forget about holidays when there's no one to share in it with you. All of our significant others are across the country or down the coast, and so today was just any other day for the three of us.

It was a good night. It's a blessing to have people in the hotel that I know and like lest I would truly go stir crazy.

On the road tomorrow!

The Touring Life

2007-02-13T11:12:00.000-08:00

Sitting in a Courtyard Marriott in Fairfax, Virginia, the first stop on our mini-tour here at Virginia Opera. We've actually closed here; I leave for Richmond in the morning. The suitcase life is not a favorite of mine and this has been tough because I don't have my own transportation and the hotel doesn't have a restaurant. The room is comfortable enough though, and I've been catching up on sleep and work and salsa dancing, but that's another story.

Fairfax is a difficult place to put in the show because it's a concert hall and has only fixed line sets for its rail. Everything that's flown in takes an age to come in and out so the SM and I had to change all of the fly cues to make things arrive or exit when they actually needed to. For all of the trouble and a brand new crew, the show went surprisingly well. I was a bit worried and still buried my head in my hands on a couple of the slower set movements, but the singers were great and the audiences loved the show. The singers tell me that they love singing in this house so that's the good part of this leg of the tour, though I can't say I'm sad we're through it.

Richmond is at the Landmark Theater. This place is huge and old-fashioned, with the dressing rooms on balconies overlooking the stage. 3500 seats I think which is pretty much a barn. I hope the houses don't seem too small. The pic is backstage. Tape lines (and big red words) help singers and supers find their avenue out of the wings when they are facing down blinding side lights and "in-the-moment" nerves.

It's been a while since I've written. Once I got back from New York and started my trip to Fairfax, my business factor was raised by thousands. The tech process when you have one day to put up a whole show is daunting, and I had some drainage going on so I was trying to lay low whenever possible. I started feeling much better on Sunday and so went out and enjoyed myself a little the past few days. It was nice to leave the hotel room and have some raucous dinners, some dancing, some laughter. The loneliness in a hotel room is astounding after a week. I can't be a hermit when I'm traveling; I'll descend into myself something horrible.

New York was a total whirlwind. I saw friends, ran around in the eyelash-freezing cold, and got a job at New York City Opera. I'll be assiting Lillian again in the fall and will get to work with some great people. It was a terrific end the quick trip and I celebrated with a happy dinner with a friend before I drove back over the frozen New England landscape to Norfolk.

That's the good part of all of this travel: I've got friends in every port. It's so nice to see friendly faces in strange cities.

Tomorrow, friends in Richmond, Virginia. Next week, friends in Chicago!

Nearly Done with Norfolk

2007-02-03T09:43:00.000-08:00

Madly dashing around today, working on choreography for "Merry Widow," which I will begin in Chicago in two weeks, doing laundry, packing, tying up loose ends before I begin this mini tour of Richmond and Fairfax.

I'm actually taking a side trip to New York City. I'll leave after our closing matinee on Sunday, drive up, stay at the Holland Motor Lodge (right at the toll booth of the Holland Tunnel - hence the name), and take the PATH into the city for two days to see friends and colleagues. It will be a wonderful respite before I begin the hell that is sure to be putting this show into the theater at George Mason University next Thursday.

We had a fantastic show last night! The audience was great, the recits were tight, the coffee was hot and the performers were hotter. I actually (and somewhat embarrassed to admit) was reduced to tears at the end of "Purch'io di Stringa.." when Poppea and Ottone cling together in the playout and look straight out to the audience, visualizing the horror of their destiny. Thank god I was sitting by myself.

My room is covered in suitcases. I hate living out of a suitcase, so the next month is going to be pretty tough.

Monday's off For Most...

2007-01-29T11:19:00.000-08:00

...but not me. 'Tis okay. I only officially work for two hours, doing some duet staging with my Poppea and Ottone covers. "Agrippina" opened on Friday and we had a Sunday matinee already as well. Good response all around. Check out this review from the Virginian Pilot. There was also a very favorable radio review by Edgar Loessin. My favorite quote:

One of the problems in staging a baroque opera is deciding what to do with all those musical interludes between the scenes, arias and recitatives. To the untutored ear they stop every thing until there is singing again. Not for Groag. She explores every note of them and discovers a dramatic cess pool teeming with life. She uses supernumeraries who wear white face makeup and black lip stick, pomaded hair and tuxes. They suggest decadence, like cabaret Masters of Ceremonies in pre-Hitler Germany.They are Proteans who play many little roles, and are also like a Greek Chorus or living scenery or they become phantoms who torment the principle characters.. They set the mood and place for the opera in a highly theatrical manner.

How often are the supers mentioned in an opera review? This is not to say that the principals were unmentioned. Mr. Loessin loved them as well, shouting their praises through the airwaves, but I was proud of my young supers who walked in the door expecting to hold a spear and walked out with a glorious review.

So today I am resting and doing bits and pieces here and there. I had dinner with a bunch of people last night, drank Bourbon (Virginia Gentleman to be exact), lounged on huge overstuffed couches and listened to people belt out showtunes with a great deal of irreverence. I stuffed myself with spaghetti and partook in amazing brownies (the secret was soaking the walnuts in Amaretto which gave them a sweetness and kick that was totally unexpected). Later, one of the sopranos and I did dishes and had some lazy chit-chat while the boys sang selections from Phantom, Showboat and West Side Story. It was a wonderful (if not unusual) way to wind down after a matinee, and always lovely to be around people you like when you're so far from home.

I got home at 11:00 and talked to John on the phone for a while. I always look forward to that last call of the day. It grounds me no matter if I'm flying high or wallowing.

The show on Sunday was a knock-out for the singers. Opening was a quiet, somewhat lackadaisical audience, and Lillian told everyone that they couldn't let an audience get them down. "If your tennis partner doesn't show up, play racquetball," she says. I concur. You have to play off of each other or an audience can tear you down. No problem playing tennis on Sunday! The audience was guffawing right out of the gate and the singers were at their best, romping through the funny bits and delivering devestating blows in the serious moments. I wanted to eat all of them up by curtain call.

Technically, however, we're still dealing with issues. I'm hoping that my list of notes this time will solve most of them, but it seems to be a never-ending process. I finally watched the show from far house left yesterday and it's always a shock to see how sight lines are being handled. The audience sees an entirely different show depending on where they are sitting. It was interesting to find out, for instance, that the glossy paint on the hard legs acts as a mirror for backstage activity when you're watching from the sides of the house. Had I been backstage or relegated to the middle of the house for the entire run, I don't think I would ever have noticed this phenomenon. As it is, however, we can rectify it now that we've seen it. No pacing by nervous performers pre-entrance anymore. Dancers wouldn't survive well with this type of problem. We must jump around before stepping on stage.

I walked down to a coffee shop today and worked on my score for an hour. All of the information is in there, it's just messy and I want to clean it up so it's easily readable by other people. I'm probably more obsessive about it than most, but then I remember picking up other A.D. books and not being able to decipher any of the blocking notes, and that makes me feel better about my own OCD qualities.

I'm also starting to realize what a small town this is. I'm running into the same people everywhere I go. I had an impromptu lunch with the stage manager the other day when we ran into each other at Panera, and just ran into our harpsichordist at a sandwich shop. I see people I recognize at the grocery store every time I walk in there. I will be happy to go on tour and regain a bit of anonymity.

Okay. Done for now, a little more score work and then off to two hours with the covers. I'll be happy to get the cover work over and done with.

A Few Words After a Very Long Week

2007-01-25T17:02:00.000-08:00

This is me a couple of days ago, sitting in a quiet house during dinner break. slinging my feet over a chair, I went over the pages of notes I would give as soon as the singers arrived. I've talked about the magic of empty theaters before and it never ceases to blow me back. Such a huge cavern has the capability to be absolutely silent and that is an amazing thing. That half hour before a show goes up is so satisfying.

The show opens tomorrow. It's been a haul to say the least. This show is difficult to tech and call and we had our tech time truncated by a set that took it's time to arrive at completion. It's all in now though and we had a successful student dress rehearsal last night wherein there were several times that I wanted to fall on the floor in hysterical laughter at the antics on stage. Student audiences can be a little deceiving though. What twelve year olds find hysterically funny, an adult might find only moderately witty. The balls-to-the-wall laughter and shrieking that was enjoyed by the singers last night may not be there pump them up for the rest of the run. Though the bedroom scene in act II nearly makes me wet my pants every single time.

This is an advertising video on YouTube that Virginia Opera put up so people would get an idea about the show and its cast of characters. I'm not sure that the clips they chose were truly indicitave of the show itself and how beautiful it is in its specifity, how varied the music is for a baroque opera and how truly funny our cast of singers are, but it's nice to see it out there for people to grasp onto and, hopefully, be interested.

The Virginia Pilot did a story about the opera today and included a "mug shot" off all of the singers in full costume. Smart marketing. We'll see if it works.

Today was supposed to be my day off but I spent nearly seven hours with the director and set designer of the show I'm going to be assisting on here next year. It was great to go in and sit down and really start to hash out how this piece will come together. It's so rare to have an opportunity to be with a piece from its conception so I was particularly interested in being in on these meetings. We met with the choreographer a few days ago so I feel like I'm really starting to get a handle on the look and feel of this show. We start rehearsals in August.

Otherwise, life is moving. I'm working like a madman on this show. As soon as it opens, I'll turn large portions of my attention to "Merry Widow." I talk to John every night but it isn't enough. Most of us doing this show are married so we all have similar problems. It's a struggle but you keep going because you love what you do. John's in the middle of an opera season too, putting together an "Opera Spotlight" tonight about "Boris Gudonov" at San Diego Opera. He always does a brilliant job with these shows. I just wish I could be working on a couple of them while he's shooting.

Last Day in "The Room"

2007-01-16T18:25:00.000-08:00

"The Room" refers to the rehearsal room, where we've spent the last few weeks. We had a three hour session of notes today and tomorrow we will be on the stage for five hours to get our bearings, space and make sure that everything we put together in "The Room" will work in the confines of the stage space.

The move to stage is always a bit disorienting. In "The Room," stairs and levels are designated by brightly colored tape on the floor and walls are designated by music stands (the labyrinth I mentioned in an earlier post). Once we're on the actual set, however, people will be singing from different levels, climbing up stairs they've never actually seen before, and singing on furniture that hasn't existed for them until that day. It's somewhat like moving into a new house. Your daily activities still happen at the same time and with the same motive, it's just that your bathroom is in a different place and your silverware is in a different drawer.

It's actually been a stressful week but for reasons that have nothing to do with staging. It, for some reason, seems to be in the stars right now that people must deal with tragedy and family issues and so the stress of this is floating in the air. We will pass through it I am certain, but last night I slept for twelve straight hours for no other reason than I was overstressed. I am too open to other people's anxieties.

Tonight was "Opera Insight," a radio series that is taped in front of a live audience in the Grand Lobby of the Harrison Opera House. I put on some nice clothes (for a change) and went out to support the singers and director who were speaking about the opera and its particular challenges and joys. I think these events are always difficult for those in the spotlight. Talking about art and performance to people who know nothing about your side of the coin is a very hard job and can wear you down. Our cast and team did a great job and even garnered several laughs throughout the evening, and we all got a drink and a chat with each other in the end.

Virginia is cold right now. It's supposed to be below freezing tonight (and I even heard wind that it might snow). I kind of like the cold as it gives me a chance to wear my orange winter coat. (tee-hee)

The picture? A Supernumerary rehearsal in "The Room." Next stop is the tech table...

Bush Is Not "Worried About His Legacy"

2007-01-14T18:03:00.000-08:00

In an AP Article on Yahoo:

when [Bush] asked if he owes the Iraqi people an apology for botching the management of the war, he said "Not at all."

"We liberated that country from a tyrant," Bush said. "I think the Iraqi people owe the American people a huge debt of gratitude."

What an arrogant bastard.

Coincidence

2007-01-13T21:42:00.000-08:00

I had dinner with a friend last night. Pasta, wine . . . the good stuff. I went home and didn't sleep well; had strange dreams, tossing and turning with images of kidnappings and small, enclosed rooms and being in a high rise, floating above a nameless city with no hope of escape. Not a great thing to wake up to in the front of your thoughts.

I found out today that my friend had almost exactly the same dream. We were nowhere near each other and we did not talk about kidnapping or high rises or small rooms. It was baffling and creepy and goes way beyond coincidence.

That's only happened to me once before and it was not a good thing. On the day my uncle fell into a coma after a terrible car accident, my mother and I both woke up with the same dream in our thoughts. A hideous red snake was chasing us in the dream with a wide-open mouth and an ability to spring upwards towards people as they tried to get away. We were sitting at the breakfast table and both just happened to mention it.

How does that happen? How does such a strange image imbed itself so deeply into the subconscious of two separate people? I am in awe of those things I know I do not understand.

We decided that it must be the wine...

Besides supernatural occurances, rehearsals are going very well and we have worked through the entire show several times over. I think the cast is ready for stage (as am I), but I'm not sure the stage is ready for us. I hear them pounding away down there, sawing and cursing and listening to bad arena rock while we are up in the rehearsal hall with our arpeggios and cadenzas. This set came to us as a partial. Much of it was destroyed in a flood and so we are left with a shell and the opera has had to build large portions of it. In a way this is good because the set will have an automatic touch-up, but it makes for more work than this company is used to methinks.

It's just now dawning on me that I will be touring with this company. Granted, we only go to two more cities in the surrounding area (the furthest being 3 hours away I think), but talking to the asm tonight about piling in a van and trying to fit the luggage in and stopping at truck stops on the way (a van full of opera singers at a truck stop?) was a little more than I was ready to bear.

I really like this show. It's some of Handel's most inventive work. Agrippina sings an aria in the second half, "Ogni Vento," which is a positively triumphant little waltz, and another of her arias "Pensieri mi tormentate," has a downright modern feel to it as she does her own version of a mad scene, clamoring barefoot up the steps to hang on each gold throne in turn, screeching to the audience before she collapses at the footlights with the creepy supers in their punk wigs staring down at her.

Also in the second half, Nero sings an aria, "Quando invita la donna la mante," that has the feel of a drug haze, and it is, as his minions surround him feeding him cocktails and drugs. The modern dress and sentiment fits easily into the music and story. It's dirty and seedy and awful and terribly funny all at the same time. A bedroom farce told with some of the most unlikeable characters in human history.

It's nice to have such a scintillating cast (and I say that with no sarcasm whatsoever) as well.

Thank god for good work; life on the road would be all but unbearable without it.

A Valentine to Dysfunctional Families Everywhere

2007-01-10T21:36:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd do some work on my score while watching a movie tonight. Got an account at a local video rental store, rented "Little Miss Sunshine," sat down to work, and didn't get a thing done. I was engrossed in this family that was nothing like mine but everything like mine.

As Leo Tolstoy once said (in one way or another), "All normal families are the same, each dysfunctional family is dysfunctional in its own way." This, however, does not keep us from recognizing ourselves in the mishaps of the Hoover family as they try to get their youngest, Olive, to the Little Miss Sunshine competition in Redondo Beach.

I laughed at their ridiculous behavior, covered my mouth in shock as they "stole" their grandfather out of the hospital, felt embarrassed as Olive began her routine at the pageant, and ultimately cried like a baby at the end over missing my own family, no matter how much we get on each other's nerves.

Family is family. You smack each other around, use past embarrassments against each other, hold grudges, poke fun, talk about failures in hushed corners, yell at each other for no reason, stop talking all together for years, ruin holidays, nearly get in huge car accidents because you're throwing shit at each other while driving, steal crap out of each other's rooms, squabble over Happy Meal toys, lick all the cookies so no one else can eat them, and poke each other in the back of the neck until you all end up screaming simultaneously.

But when the chips are down, you show up. You love each other....or at the very least, you pat each other on the back and say it's going to be okay. I've hated every family member I have at least once in my life, but I wouldn't be anywhere without them and I can't imagine my life in their absence. They are my laughter, my history, my roots and my redemption. And on my worst days, I thank heavens for a good family joke.

Maybe the old fool would like a pickle...just like Jenny.

See the movie.

Blown Away

2007-01-07T22:10:00.000-08:00

It's really windy tonight. The trees are casting strange moving shadows on the wall in my room and the sound is sometimes overwhelming, reminding me somewhat of a tidal ocean crashing against the side of the house. I feel sturdy in here but with every gusty crash I feel nerves creep in. I don't particularly like extreme weather but am somehow a magnet for it wherever I go.

The picture is Chai, of course, my new best friend. He has taken to lounging lackadaisically on my bed while I'm working. Last night he chased constantly after my papers wherever I set them. He is as perverse and anti-work as any cat I've ever met.

I went to dinner and a movie tonight with people from the opera. We saw "History Boys," the Alan Bennett play-cum-movie about British prep-school boys in the eighties and the long debate over teaching for test scores or teaching how to think. I thought the film was beautiful and raw and sexually/emotionally/ideally edgy in a way Americans can very rarely perform. It makes me wish I'd seen the stage play as I've read in several places that the play runs rings around the film. It's exactly the same cast, so I'm curious how the production transferred (and how it could fall - in some people's eyes - so completely short in the film incarnation).

Rehearsals are going very well. We will finish the architecture of the piece tomorrow or the next day, which is fast work. The arias still need loads of work and the recits are pure hell in their length and specificity, but we are getting there and having a few big laughs along the way. The pic to the left is a constant in most opera rehearsal rooms: cough drops and antibacterial gel. It's unbelieveable how much of this stuff we go through. All performers fear illness in the course of a show, but singers are by far the most paranoid. I think because, while dancers and most actors can perform while they've got a cold, singers really cannot. If a voice is compromised by intense congestion or (heaven forbid) throat pain, the performance is lost. What a precarious place to be. For some, even the suggestion of a throat tickle leads to a hypochondriac fit.

I am feeling homesick right now and hoping this will pass. It's bad to start with that feeling so early in the process. I don't particularly care for pining and wish my heart could go along with my head in its understanding of the makeup of my life. This is what I do - this travel for my work thing. It means that home is tangible but distant and I must find comfort in the little bits of life I carry with me: my sheets, my pictures, my Eyeore mug, my pillow. John and I talk every night (and sometimes day) and the internet is always there.

It's hard to be an emotional person with a job that is so mutable. This life requires hardness and cynicism.

I put up a brilliant cyncial front but I'm really rather soft inside.

Looking Up From the Second or Third Rung

2007-01-04T20:28:00.000-08:00

On days like today, I sit back a bit and wallow in the gracious luck that has allowed me the opportunity to work with some of the most brilliant directors, conductors and singers in the business. They're not all famous, though some have often-whispered names, but so many of them are working tediously and tenaciously to change the face of opera.

There is a tradition of grand opera that requires nothing more from the singer than to swirl their capes appropriately, find the center of their light, and sing. I could just as easily have begun my career (and continued it) with a series of old-school park-and-bark directors who gave me tools in the "grand tradition" and very little ability to see beyond them.

My luck came from starting my directing career learning from directors who believe that opera singers are telling a story as much as any actor in a straight play. They have character motivation that drives their action, they must know what they are saying in order to emit some sort of believablity, and the story and visual effect of the opera is as important as the beautiful sounds coming from the performer's mouths.

Actually, in the 20-some-odd productions I've done in my short career, I've dealt with very few directors from the former tradition. I've been infinitely lucky to learn from brilliant minds who recognize that the story is told in the music; composers are usually deliberate in their musical choices so that the action is implied by the very sounds the orchestra and singers are making. By using that idea and by forcing the singers to truly understand every word that comes out of their mouth, they are building a production that sounds beautiful, looks beautiful and makes you think at the same time.

I want to direct like that.

I'm working with one such director now. She had a talk with our supers (our SUPERS!) tonight about how they should work a particularly difficult entrance. The entrance was hard not only for its precision timing but for what it was trying to convey as well. Our maestro went through the basic mechanics and then our director went into a long, moving speech about what the entrance was conveying, what they should be thinking about as they come in, where they should put their passion and thoughts throughout the entire musical figure. We started, they did it, and it blew us all back in our seats.

I get asked all the time whether I would prefer someone with a perfect voice or someone who is a brilliant actor. Of course, my first answer is that I want them both. That combination doesn't happen often however, and so I always end up saying, the latter. I certainly need the voice to be capable of singing the part with ease, but it's the passion behind the words that makes someone interesting to listen to. Sit down and listen to Maria Callas. Her voice was far from perfect, but she means EVERY word she says, and you know it, and you love her for it.

There are a couple of directors I work with on a semi-regular basis from whom I don't think I could ever stop learning volumes every time I sit next to them at the front of the room. Thank god I've been lucky enough to fall under their incredible tutelage.

Virginia is for Lovers

2007-01-01T22:40:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!!! 2007 is starting off with furious working and the aftermath of several tragedies and long days of endless travel.

I am here. Virginia. Norfolk to be exact. The city feels older than San Diego. I feel at home - a bit Midwestern - here, but I think it's because they actually have deciduous trees. The house in which I am staying is a two-story in Ghent, built in the '20's, and occupied by an incredibly sweet couple and their incredibly huge cat, Chai.

Chai and I took to each other right away. He rolled around in front of me like a little sausage, I rubbed his ears, he stuck his face in all my bags, then settled in on the chair in my bedroom to fall asleep snoring and restless. He jumps up on my lap when I'm at the table and my legs almost can't support his weight. Twice now he's jumped up, misjudged the height, and scrambled as he fell back to earth. I have the scrapes to prove it.

Today, New Year's Day, was the first time I actually wandered around my neighborhood. Colley Ave, just down the way, has a great art film theater and several coffee shops and boutiques. I plan to make my way down there tomorrow as well before I go into rehearsals. We are a week in to rehearsals.

Agrippina is a long show with some extensive recitative. Lillian has set the piece in the materialistic world of the 1970's with Agrippina in long, wrap gowns and all of the boys in three piece suits. Nero is played by Jeff Halili, who has a fire and sensuality in his presence and voice that makes him down right scary to watch. In Lillian's concept, the palace is crawling with men we call "Creepies." They are the poison that seeps in and makes mass murderers out of these infamous characters. Dressed in White tie and tux, they wander through the palace, smoking, drinking and inviting drug use to corrupt Nero and throw him over the edge.

All of our singers are very strong and young and seemingly ready for anything. It's great to be among that energy in rehearsals. The room is more sparse than most of my rehearsal room pictures. We are missing most of the props due to a flood accident and so it feels a little like we are starting from scratch. A couple of the singers call the set-up the "maze of music stands," and it is. A labyrinth of stands indicates where singers can and cannot walk as they weave their way through the grills and drops that make up the set. The only real pieces we have in there right now are a series of gold thrones. When the lights hit them on stage they will light up like fire.

My resolution (started early) this year, I want to get back into shape. This involves losing a few pounds and eating healthier as well as exercising and maybe jumping back into some dance classes. I've been good thus far. The openness of my hosts has led me to feel comfortable in their kitchen. I've been making my lunch and buying good foods to keep me going without over filling.. I have high hopes.

In current events, Saddam is dead. That whole thing was very creepy, and I've been without internet or television so I'd been out of the loop when someone walked into rehearsals last week and asked me if I'd heard. Our stage manager pulled the clip up on his computer and I watched through fingers spread across my eyes. I know he was an evil, nasty, horrid person, but I hate that we had a hand in his death. I just can't get behind government sanctioned killing of anyone - even awful dictators. I don't think it's going to help the situation over there in the least.

Gerald Ford died too and that is very sad. He was a great supporter of the arts. I heard rumor that W didn't come to the funeral ceremony in Palm Desert because he didn't want to cut his vacation short. I don't know if that's true, but I wouldn't put it past him. I got in a huge discussion about W's inability to say and do the right thing at the New Year's Eve Party I went to - it seems to be such an easy thing to go on about.

And so we get to New Year's Eve. It was a wonderful and strange experience. I haven't been to a true New Year's Eve party since the Millenium (and that one was crap so I'm not sure it counts... I got stuck on the roof during the count down and I didn't know a soul there . . . long story, just know it blew), so when my friend, Lynne Marie, told me she was having one, I was very excited. Lynne and I knew each other during my Cerulean days in Chicago. She moved to Richmond six months ago, so I was ecstatic when I realized I would have friends out here.

Richmond is almost two hours away, but traffic was light at 7pm on New Year's Eve. Lynne lives in Church Hill so I had the joy of listening to semi-automatic rifle fire at midnight, and heard news of a stabbing down the street right after I got there, but once I was settled in, it was great fun.

Highlights? Reminiscing with Lynne about the "good old days" in Chicago, meeting Lynne's husband's friend from Chicago who had several deep and wonderful conversations with me through out the evening, watching quite a few young-ish party goers do idiotic things that I would have embraced during my college years, but no longer have any desire to attempt, getting tapped on the shoulder by Scott, the director of Cerulean and a long-lost friend and hero, a little after midnight. I think I jumped in his arms - that's how good it was to see him. Umm...realizing that Lynne had put the champagne in the freezer and forgotten about it so we dunked them in warm water and spun them, trying to warm them up fast. We ended up toasting with beer, gin or whatever was available, watching a young man in a purple wig get completely shit-faced, act like an ass around a bunch of people he didn't know, then pass out by slamming his head face-down on the kitchen table, talking to John on the telephone on the front porch while guns are going off in every direction...

I slept on the floor in Lynne and Esam's room and actually delighted in helping her clean up in the morning before I started back to Norfolk. It was so good to see good friends, reminders that my past wasn't as awful as I sometimes remember. I was really close to these people. I think I was also reminded that youth is fleeting and crazy and we all do ridiculous things when we're on our own for the first time - it's part of growing up. Lynne and I actually looked around at one point and toasted to "Never again."

And so now I am apparently all grown up. I had dinner with my host and hostess and one of their friends tonight and she thought I looked very young. She said, "You look like a child but you have such adult responsibilities." She doesn't know the half of it. This opera, especially since it tours, will make them abundantly clear very very soon.

The pic? The exact moment we entered 2007 at Lynne's party.

United has Done It Again

2006-12-26T17:20:00.000-08:00

Greetings from O'Hare Airport in lovely West Chicago. I am sitting in the terminal, waiting for a delayed flight on which I may or may not have a seat.

My flight from San Diego was delayed by 40 or so minutes due to weather issues in the Pacific Northwest. The psuedo-friendly man behind the counter there assured me that I would be able to make my flight in Chicago, as did the cheery, cheeky flight attendant once we sat down. They both told me to hussle myself to the gate; the plane had been notified of my late arrival and it would not be a problem.

Lies, all of them.

They buttered me up by upgrading me to Economy Plus, a crock of bull ploy to make you spend more money with the idea that you would have a better flying experience; a step down from business class, if you will. MY Economy Plus seat was in the front row of the plane, right next to the door. There was a draft at the door that nearly gave my feet frostbite, there was no place to store any of my bags because there was no seat in front of me (I did, I guess, have great leg room), and blankets were stored in the overhead cabin, and the service was no better there than all the way in the back of the plane.

Nice try.

Anyway, the advantage was that I got off the plane first and ran pell-mell down the B Concourse through the United underpass with those eerie neon lights and that annoying United music repeating itself indefinitely in a metallic sort of way, and pell-mell down the C Concourse. I got to the gate 12 minutes early.

They'd given away my seat and closed the doors. There were no more seats available on the flight. Sorry. They shouldn't have told you to run. We never hold flights for people; we're delayed all the time.

Yeah, maybe you ought to do something about that.

He puts me on a flight to Richmond, so I call Virginia Opera and they say they can't pick me up in Richmond because it's an hour away so I can't take the flight. I stand in line for an age, tasting blood in my mouth and wheezing from all the running, and talk to (I must say) a VERY friendly customer service agent who gives me a confirmed seat on a flight tomorrow afternoon but says if I want to fly out tonight I have to fly standby.

So that's where I am. My throat hurting, my feet hurting, screaming children sitting next to me, a lack of nutrients in my body, and no idea where in this huge city of an airport my checked luggage actually is. I'm hoping it's on this next flight to Norfolk.

Happy Holidays! In good news, I had a great holiday with John and we got some really great gifts. The pic is of Monty eyeing the wrapping paper with great suspicion. I was just joyous and am wearing a beautiful necklace to prove it.

Now if I could only get out of this blasted airport.

Merry Holidays!

2006-12-24T13:53:00.000-08:00

Happy holidays to everyone, no matter what celebration you take part in. John and I are relaxing this Christmas Eve. I think we are both a little sad not to be back in the Midwest with our families, but, as you can see, our tree is full and we are looking forward to having a relaxing Christmas before I run off for a very long time.

I've always celebrated Christmas as a secular holiday. I was not raised with any particular religion and didn't really know the origin of Christmas (the story of Jesus and the Nativity) until I was well into my grammar school years. My grandmother always had a nativity set up under the tree with all of the animals and wise men and baby in a manger. When we went to Florida for the holidays, my brothers and I would play with it as we would any other set up; it was fun, we made the people talk to each other. It wasn't until much later that I understood why it was always there at Christmas time.

This picture is Stella and Monty staring at the tree. They've stayed away from it; we've been lucky. My mother's cat, Abigail, took down their 6 foot Christmas tree this year. I can't imagine. Our tree is a small table-top tree but these wily cats could still cause quite a mess if they really wanted to.

I've been prepping for Agrippina like mad. As you can see, Lucius is a big help in the process. He sits on the couch with me while I transfer one score's notes to the other and type up scene breakdowns, etc. He's a constant source of inspiration; my "mews" if you will (sorry...) . Monty sometimes joins him, but Lucius is the constant.

So, tonight John and I will play a game and watch a movie and open a present or two, we'll sleep in tomorrow, call our families and open gifts. It's a great time of year. I hope, whatever your traditions are, that you are enjoying a couple of relaxing days, you aren't stressing yourself out, and you have the opportunity to commune with those you really love. More soon from the Opera front!

Concert in North Park

2006-12-21T21:15:00.000-08:00

The concert is over and done with; a HUGE weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. We had a small but incredibly appreciative crowd and I felt like the pieces went really well throughout the evening.

The photos were taken during rehearsals by Manuel Rotenberg. He came by to take shots as we were teching in the afternoon. I'm pleased with the photos. We had another photography during the concert; I'll post those when he develops them.

We opened the show with my solo called "What's In Store," a little political rant wherein, dressed as a janitor, I wadded up newspaper photos of various people who've done idiotic things in the course of history. It was a great release and great fun to put the piece together.

The second piece was my duet, "They'll Devour Me Too." My dancers, Kim Jensen and Molly Terbovich, did a beautiful job. They're in sweat pants in rehearsal, but are in little black shorts in their actual costume.

The last piece was a duet between myself and Dominica Savant-Bunch, a precocious six-year-old who played myself in the past. I was infinitely proud of how well she did on stage; she's beautiful and fearless and will grow into quite something in the next few years.

The two videos were huge hits as well. People had great things to say. I was a nervous wreck for weeks, but I'm really glad I went out and did it. This is my entire life. I wouldn't know what else to do with it.

Now it's Christmas and I have four days until I fly to the East Coast. I'm relishing every minute.

It's The Day of the Show Y'All!

2006-12-17T12:42:00.000-08:00

I think Parker Posey's line in "Waiting for Guffman" always expressed preshow jitters best. Whenever I get to an opening night, it's the first thing I think of.

John and I spent our morning buying some cookie platters at Costco and a cash box at Office Depot, and then had a nice breakfast at Brian's counter. I needed big food this morning so I don't get hungry this afternoon. Costco is a nightmare no matter what kind of stress you've got going on, but I found it particularly heinous this morning. The platters look nice though so I'm happy about that.

We'll leave here with everything in about 45 minutes and then it's the point of no return (though I think I may have hit that quite some time ago). I'm looking forward to my next gigs because they don't involve me being in charge of any kind of marketing. I only have to think about the show. What luxury.

The pictures are of Lucius and Monty expressing their giddy excitement for their mom's concert. They are, quite obviously, my loudest cheering section: )