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

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

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.

Unexpected Respite

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

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.

Don't Look Back

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...

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.

Box o' Music

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

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

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

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

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

Time to Go Home

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.