Opera and Baseball

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.

Professional Eyeball

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.

Coach

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.