So when an artist faces reality, that she has to pay bills and that she is very good at what she does, but not good enough to pay for her living- what does she do? And then, instead of blaming herself or circumstances that brought her to this place- she finds herself asking, after a lot of futile questions (i.e why me)- what did she learn from all of this? Well, she's learned humility, the exquisiteness of a beautiful legato phrase, taking nothing for granted, flexibility, strength, that determination can be a detriment, forgiveness, total vulnerability, and that there is more to life then 2 vocal cords producing sound. And the price? $100,000 in school debt, a fulfilling amazing partner, and knowing she is exactly where she is supposed to be in life.
So, what happens when a sick courtesan faces reality, and she has to pay the bills and is very good at what she does, but what she does doesn't allow her to reach her dream? And then, instead of blaming herself or circumstances that brought her to this place, that she can't have her dream because of the life that led her to this dream- she asks what she's learned? She's learned that life brings uncertainties at the moment you think you have figured it all out. The price, living a full life.
And what do we learn from the artist and the courtesan? That to live life you choose to live it, and you don't know where you will go or how you will get there- but as long as you are true to yourself, you are exactly where you are supposed to be and living the artistic life you are meant to have.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
December Colds
Sickness. I hate it. I'm usually in good vocal health when I am sick but I am usually exhausted, or have a horrible cough, or exhausted again- so I just don't practice. Part- no, most, of the fear is hurting myself so I usually wait it out until I am fully healthy again. If I were a profession singer, I would be a basket case. In fact, I did have a gig this past Saturday (which went well- singing duets with an awesome mezzo who is also a good friend) and while it was very low key in nature I got a little nervous in the middle of the set as my voice almost crapped out on me due to phlegm the size of Texas sitting on my cords. I guess if I were a professional, I probably would have not spoken all day- or left the house- or enjoyed a cup of coffee. Or, I would learn to NOT FREAK OUT when I get sick. Ugh- it's a horrible battle.
But, I think getting sick was a blessing in disguise. It's true that I haven't gotten ANYWHERE in translating/learning notes simultaneously. And that is probably because I got sick and made that promise to myself to take time with each phrase, each page, each section- one note at a time. And it's true that I spent maybe one more month then truly necessary researching prostitutes in the 1800s (though fascinating---more to come on this). But, if I were to be really honest with myself, I am scared shitless about learning this. What if I suck? What if I can't sing it? What if my dream as a teenager vanishes the moment I open my mouth? What if all this debt and life sacrifices were for nothing?
And I got food poisoning and then a chest cold and now I CAN'T WAIT to open my mouth. I get slightly depressed when I don't sing. I feel just out of sync; not quite myself. I don't even think it's the way one gets with an addiction because I feel like part of myself can't literally be heard. And that part- even if it fails miserable- still wants to be heard rather then shrinking in a corner asking itself "what if"? And seriously, this is the safest way to learn a role. I am not hired to do this by anyone. My lively hood doesn't depend on it. If I suck- so what- making peace with my lack of fulfilled dreams are what the 30s are all about ;)
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
But, I think getting sick was a blessing in disguise. It's true that I haven't gotten ANYWHERE in translating/learning notes simultaneously. And that is probably because I got sick and made that promise to myself to take time with each phrase, each page, each section- one note at a time. And it's true that I spent maybe one more month then truly necessary researching prostitutes in the 1800s (though fascinating---more to come on this). But, if I were to be really honest with myself, I am scared shitless about learning this. What if I suck? What if I can't sing it? What if my dream as a teenager vanishes the moment I open my mouth? What if all this debt and life sacrifices were for nothing?
And I got food poisoning and then a chest cold and now I CAN'T WAIT to open my mouth. I get slightly depressed when I don't sing. I feel just out of sync; not quite myself. I don't even think it's the way one gets with an addiction because I feel like part of myself can't literally be heard. And that part- even if it fails miserable- still wants to be heard rather then shrinking in a corner asking itself "what if"? And seriously, this is the safest way to learn a role. I am not hired to do this by anyone. My lively hood doesn't depend on it. If I suck- so what- making peace with my lack of fulfilled dreams are what the 30s are all about ;)
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
17 bd de la Madeleine
I was in Paris last weekend (I know, I can hardly believe it myself!) and while I was there I thought I would check out the old haunts of Marie Duplessis (nee Alphonsine and later christened by authors and librettists, Camille, Marguerite and Violetta). I arrived at 17 bd de la Madeline and there was nothing but a lamppost with the number and a storefront at what I believed to be the correct address. It wouldn't surprise me otherwise, but a guidebook declared there would be plaque and with all that various modern portrayals of Mdme Duplessis, I was a little upset not to find one. But, isn't this completely apropos to the opera and her story (and all the courtesans' and grisettes' and lorettes')? A beautiful woman, inspiring a legendary story of sin and redemption, now forgotten?
It was telling this beautiful building, adorned with naked women, would be Marie's house. It's also telling it turned into a clothing store, with a shopping mall next door, where women today can transform themselves in the latest fashions. Marie would approve of these changes! But what is most revealing is that this building is directly across the "rue" from the massive church, La Madeleine. Madeleine-the patron saint of fallen women. Of course, these are the only 2 prostitutes in history that have been forgiven. The rest, naturally, forgotten as soon as the buttons fastened, the cravats tied.
It's sad, really. A woman who was a prostitute, who charmed men and then when asked to be forgiven, was asked instead to die alone for the sake of an innocent daughter. Then, she redeemed herself not in what she gave up, but in what she became- a legend transformed into a novel, then play, opera, and numerous films. But, now...now she is forgotten in her beloved Paris.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Text and Notes- The Chicken and the Egg
So, in looking at my daunting used Ricordi La Traviata score- the inevitable question arises...how do I begin? Translations first? Or notes first? Then work on the pronunciation? Well, how I usually do it is in exactly that order- translate the entire opera (everyone's parts), then work on the notes- usually on a neutral vowel or buzzing "chipmunk" sound, then, I put it together with pronunciation work done immediately before hand. But- you know what- I don't think this method is working and I don't think it's the way to approach La Traviata.
The first reason is what I stated above: whatever I am doing isn't working. I feel like it takes weeks/months of work and the light bulb never goes off, and more importantly, I never get the job. Hence, I am willing to throw the baby out with the bathwater in hopes of finding the dirt, cleaning it off, and continuing the process. Reason two has to do with Verdi's over-lording (not over-seeing, mind you) approach of working with the librettist, Francesco Maria Piave. Piave didn't really have much independent input; it's very much a marvel he gets credit at all. Therefore, it is my belief that the story told the music and the music told the text, instead what usually happens- or, at least in lieder with poetry dictating the musical line.
With these two reasons I am trying a revolutionary approach- all three at once! Yes, learning the notes on oo and ah, speaking the text, translating and and slowly putting it together (which goes something like oo..alfredoo..oodioo..mi moonchi...etc).
I have no idea if this will work!
5 minutes later- a light bulb went off- it's already happening! I had a strong lieder background and always went to the poem first, but perhaps opera has a larger and more integrated relationship with the emotional scope of the character's journey and the lyrics are the guideposts that keeps the emotions moving forward?
...onward with the dirty bath water!
The first reason is what I stated above: whatever I am doing isn't working. I feel like it takes weeks/months of work and the light bulb never goes off, and more importantly, I never get the job. Hence, I am willing to throw the baby out with the bathwater in hopes of finding the dirt, cleaning it off, and continuing the process. Reason two has to do with Verdi's over-lording (not over-seeing, mind you) approach of working with the librettist, Francesco Maria Piave. Piave didn't really have much independent input; it's very much a marvel he gets credit at all. Therefore, it is my belief that the story told the music and the music told the text, instead what usually happens- or, at least in lieder with poetry dictating the musical line.
With these two reasons I am trying a revolutionary approach- all three at once! Yes, learning the notes on oo and ah, speaking the text, translating and and slowly putting it together (which goes something like oo..alfredoo..oodioo..mi moonchi...etc).
I have no idea if this will work!
5 minutes later- a light bulb went off- it's already happening! I had a strong lieder background and always went to the poem first, but perhaps opera has a larger and more integrated relationship with the emotional scope of the character's journey and the lyrics are the guideposts that keeps the emotions moving forward?
...onward with the dirty bath water!
Monday, November 8, 2010
"We'd Be Surprisingly Good For You!"
Dear Friends,
Sorry I haven't been up to my blogging self-- I have a new cabaret show this Sunday, November 14th- 8 pm at The Triad (72nd between Amsterdam and Columbus). Hope to see you there!
Monday, October 25, 2010
Origami- Between the (Vocal) Folds
I don't know what makes me more of a nerd- watching a documentary on origami or blogging about it? But, here I am- inspired by the strangest of crafts. One sheet of paper and the world is your oyster, or swan, or whatever you can come up with via the most minute of folding detail, and of course--it brings me to Violetta.
We are all born with our voice box. It is up to us how we shape it (fold it?), nurture it and let it be what it needs to be. But, with that comes much study, much technique, much head-banging and self doubt. Then, the light comes from out of the fog and something takes shape and eureka, you have found whatever it is you are looking for- without really knowing what it is until you are there! At least, this is what I am told as I am still at the head-banging part, but I digress.
With origami (yes, I am really sticking with this comparison!) comes much technique. Not only in the ability to fold teeny tiny corners to its perfect fold, but the ability to see the shape and then in creating it. This takes years of experience, trial and error, or nowadays- to some- the tainting of origami contests.
One of the newest crazes in the world of origami, according to this movie, is the ability to create the most complex shape with the least amount of folds. To some artisans, this ruins the organic nature of creation because origami becomes more about technique and less about the act of creation and paper folding. But, in support of the contests- one artist said that it takes years of technique to find one's art and that this art would have never been found without years of mastering one's technique.
I find that very interesting. In this day and age, art is highly regarded by those amazing technicians who are applauded for accomplishing amazing feats. But then, what do they bring to the music or painting or play? Just fireworks. However, they shouldn't be dismissed for not having any artistry because maybe it is through this vast dense study that will bring them to the other side- the eureka side. And shouldn't we nurture them to take that journey? Assuming they are brave enough to do so?
Which leads to me (well, it is my blog!)-- I have really good technique. Honest. It is one of the things I hear most from people. Man, your technique is solid! Really? Then, why am I blogging and not in a rehearsal room right now? I will tell you why- I cower in it. It's a safe place for me. I know what to expect in the maze of vocal questions- I am comfortable in the maze of vocal questions. The more difficult the music, the more I want to learn it because I am so happy being wrapped up in questions. For me, technique has become so much about finding answers that I forget to just sing. But maybe I should just fold the paper, take a step back, not try to create and just see what (ready to be cheezed out)...lies between the vocal folds!
We are all born with our voice box. It is up to us how we shape it (fold it?), nurture it and let it be what it needs to be. But, with that comes much study, much technique, much head-banging and self doubt. Then, the light comes from out of the fog and something takes shape and eureka, you have found whatever it is you are looking for- without really knowing what it is until you are there! At least, this is what I am told as I am still at the head-banging part, but I digress.
With origami (yes, I am really sticking with this comparison!) comes much technique. Not only in the ability to fold teeny tiny corners to its perfect fold, but the ability to see the shape and then in creating it. This takes years of experience, trial and error, or nowadays- to some- the tainting of origami contests.
One of the newest crazes in the world of origami, according to this movie, is the ability to create the most complex shape with the least amount of folds. To some artisans, this ruins the organic nature of creation because origami becomes more about technique and less about the act of creation and paper folding. But, in support of the contests- one artist said that it takes years of technique to find one's art and that this art would have never been found without years of mastering one's technique.
I find that very interesting. In this day and age, art is highly regarded by those amazing technicians who are applauded for accomplishing amazing feats. But then, what do they bring to the music or painting or play? Just fireworks. However, they shouldn't be dismissed for not having any artistry because maybe it is through this vast dense study that will bring them to the other side- the eureka side. And shouldn't we nurture them to take that journey? Assuming they are brave enough to do so?
Which leads to me (well, it is my blog!)-- I have really good technique. Honest. It is one of the things I hear most from people. Man, your technique is solid! Really? Then, why am I blogging and not in a rehearsal room right now? I will tell you why- I cower in it. It's a safe place for me. I know what to expect in the maze of vocal questions- I am comfortable in the maze of vocal questions. The more difficult the music, the more I want to learn it because I am so happy being wrapped up in questions. For me, technique has become so much about finding answers that I forget to just sing. But maybe I should just fold the paper, take a step back, not try to create and just see what (ready to be cheezed out)...lies between the vocal folds!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Another Violetta Gone
I read Dame Sutherland’s obituary today in the NY Times (Tommasini). And, I am not going to even try to describe her amazing voice or her influence in this blog; but, one thing did stick from the article about her and it came from a critic! It was this:
In a glowing and perceptive review of her performance as Desdemona in Verdi’s “Otello” at Covent Garden in London in late 1957, the critic Andrew Porter, writing in The Financial Times, commended her for not “sacrificing purity to power.” This is “not her way,” Mr. Porter wrote, “and five years on we shall bless her for her not endeavoring now to be ‘exciting’ but, instead, lyrical and beautiful.
Instead of being an exciting talent, she was going to be a beautiful one.
I wish, more then anything on this planet, that I was taught this at 18 years old. I wish that I didn’t get nodules twice in trying to prove that I could be an exciting talent and that it didn’t take getting nodules twice for me to be blissfully content in trying to be a beautiful one. I don’t know why in today’s society we have to be fast, daring, or constantly on the edge, in order to prove that we are “artists”. What about depth? Discipline? Knowledge?
I worked on my first bit of Violetta yesterday with a dear friend and teacher. We later texted (and this is ironic considering our conversation) that learning a role for learning a role's sake is the best and only way to learn how to sing properly. Now I know I won’t only meet Violetta but I will also meet my voice! With time on my side, I can explore my various soundmaking noises to find the perfect mix to with which to greet Violetta. This old school way of doing things- learning over time, being strict with oneself and not doing what everyone else tells you to do “to make it”—this way is how Sutherland became “La Stupenda”.
I'm not saying this will happen to me. But, there is something very rewarding in knowing that a super star took the same steps (albeit sooner!) to find her way and that she discovered a beautiful Violetta while doing it.
In a glowing and perceptive review of her performance as Desdemona in Verdi’s “Otello” at Covent Garden in London in late 1957, the critic Andrew Porter, writing in The Financial Times, commended her for not “sacrificing purity to power.” This is “not her way,” Mr. Porter wrote, “and five years on we shall bless her for her not endeavoring now to be ‘exciting’ but, instead, lyrical and beautiful.
Instead of being an exciting talent, she was going to be a beautiful one.
I wish, more then anything on this planet, that I was taught this at 18 years old. I wish that I didn’t get nodules twice in trying to prove that I could be an exciting talent and that it didn’t take getting nodules twice for me to be blissfully content in trying to be a beautiful one. I don’t know why in today’s society we have to be fast, daring, or constantly on the edge, in order to prove that we are “artists”. What about depth? Discipline? Knowledge?
I worked on my first bit of Violetta yesterday with a dear friend and teacher. We later texted (and this is ironic considering our conversation) that learning a role for learning a role's sake is the best and only way to learn how to sing properly. Now I know I won’t only meet Violetta but I will also meet my voice! With time on my side, I can explore my various soundmaking noises to find the perfect mix to with which to greet Violetta. This old school way of doing things- learning over time, being strict with oneself and not doing what everyone else tells you to do “to make it”—this way is how Sutherland became “La Stupenda”.
I'm not saying this will happen to me. But, there is something very rewarding in knowing that a super star took the same steps (albeit sooner!) to find her way and that she discovered a beautiful Violetta while doing it.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Exploration of Sound
I went to hear Magnus Lindberg's, Kraft, with the New York Philharmonic at Avery Fisher Hall last Friday. It's a 30 minute piece where the percussion instruments include oxygen tanks and a gong suspended over the audience with 10 stations smartly placed throughout the hall - giving you the actual live Dolby effect like they do nowadays in movie theatres (the piece was written in the 80s). At the very beginning of the concert, Alan Gilbert, the music director of the NY Philharmonic, described that the entire concert was an "exploration of sound". This has been a noble, sometimes loud, mission for 20th century composers and I couldn't help (of course!) but relate this to what I am trying to do by tackling Violetta.
In meeting her, I have been trying to find "my sound." And I have been very conscious of timbre and tone by listening to various Violetta recordings. All the singers have different voices and different interpretations naturally come with that. But, I am not Callas. I am me and finding a consistent sound has been an arduous 15 year journey (something I need to figure out before I figure out interpretations)! I have a bright sound when I sing musical theatre, I have a narrow sound when I think of oo, I have a dark sound when I sing oh, and when I sing ah...well, it's usually stuck with a swallowed tongue, so I try to change it by thinking "ice" when singing "ah" (try it). I have a high sound when I don't breathe well, and a low (supportive) sound after running for a few miles. When I warm up I ask myself what is the best most efficient way to produce sound and beautiful sound at that? When I am singing a song, I am thinking what legato line will illuminate the poetry in its best form or tell the story most effectively? All I do is explore sound and I am losing my mind trying to make it into one! How ironic! Lindberg is breaking the mold but I am still trying to find it. However, what I really took from this concert was to not "explore sound" as individual pieces- but as a whole, combining many disjoint parts and making it something that stands on its own. In other words, I need to embrace all my various idiosyncratic sounds in order to create my one complete whole sound....hopefully, meeting Violetta on the way.
A small side note:
The Webster's Dictionary defines "sound" as: the sensation produced by stimulation of the organs of hearing by vibrations transmitted through the air or other medium. It also defines it as: free from damage, defect or disease; in good condition. Very poignant for a girl who had nodules... no wonder I am so obsessed with exploring it!
In meeting her, I have been trying to find "my sound." And I have been very conscious of timbre and tone by listening to various Violetta recordings. All the singers have different voices and different interpretations naturally come with that. But, I am not Callas. I am me and finding a consistent sound has been an arduous 15 year journey (something I need to figure out before I figure out interpretations)! I have a bright sound when I sing musical theatre, I have a narrow sound when I think of oo, I have a dark sound when I sing oh, and when I sing ah...well, it's usually stuck with a swallowed tongue, so I try to change it by thinking "ice" when singing "ah" (try it). I have a high sound when I don't breathe well, and a low (supportive) sound after running for a few miles. When I warm up I ask myself what is the best most efficient way to produce sound and beautiful sound at that? When I am singing a song, I am thinking what legato line will illuminate the poetry in its best form or tell the story most effectively? All I do is explore sound and I am losing my mind trying to make it into one! How ironic! Lindberg is breaking the mold but I am still trying to find it. However, what I really took from this concert was to not "explore sound" as individual pieces- but as a whole, combining many disjoint parts and making it something that stands on its own. In other words, I need to embrace all my various idiosyncratic sounds in order to create my one complete whole sound....hopefully, meeting Violetta on the way.
A small side note:
The Webster's Dictionary defines "sound" as: the sensation produced by stimulation of the organs of hearing by vibrations transmitted through the air or other medium. It also defines it as: free from damage, defect or disease; in good condition. Very poignant for a girl who had nodules... no wonder I am so obsessed with exploring it!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Delusions
I went to see (hear/watch/absorb) Laurie Anderson's new show (project/experience) at Brooklyn Academy of Music, "Delusion". Honestly, I didn't know what I was experiencing, or watching or absorbing, but I left feeling kind of elated. True, it's been a few months since I had seen a live concert, and it's been years since I was part of one (which is a good thing), so maybe it was the fact that I had no idea what was next. But, I also think this non-sequitur program was the point of the entire experienced Delusion. Ms. Anderson is a violinist/story-teller/composer/visual artist. Her show goes from one story to the next, always ending with a perfect one line conclusion. But, if you asked me what those lines where, I can't recall. It was moving so fast from one to the next, one didn't have time to absorb what was happening. Random dreamscapes are described, with mesmerizing strange projections, and then cool Radiohead Kid-A- esque music or minimalistic melodies are played...and then off to another story, again and again for 90 minutes. Some of you are probably saying- this sounds dreadful and exhausting! But, it wasn't. There was no time to day dream, no time to think about my grocery list or what to do for work tomorrow, no time to think "what does she mean?". Which brings the point to all of this. I was finally "in the moment" and it was multi-media that brought me there. With the lights, sound, and stories, I was experiencing my ... experience. No distractions amid the distractions! And it was these distractions that created my own delusion of time and space and thought.
Last year, in a recital, I experienced this "in the moment" feeling. Every note is perfectly crafted and every syllable purposely enhanced. You see the phrase like a straight line of pearls, with each pearl lightly danced on. You are present, non-judgmental, watching and confident of each moment as it bubbles up. Perhaps it is this delusion of hoping for another performance like this which is keeping me going from one audition to the next! ;)
Last year, in a recital, I experienced this "in the moment" feeling. Every note is perfectly crafted and every syllable purposely enhanced. You see the phrase like a straight line of pearls, with each pearl lightly danced on. You are present, non-judgmental, watching and confident of each moment as it bubbles up. Perhaps it is this delusion of hoping for another performance like this which is keeping me going from one audition to the next! ;)
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The Lady of Camellias- The Story vs. The Opera
I just finished Alexandre Dumas, Jr's book The Lady Of Camellias, published in 1848. This book not only inspired Verdi to compose an opera, but numerous film makers and actresses coveted to tell her story (so I am not alone!). But...with all this fuss...the book was just ok. Here's how:
The librettist for La Traviata (meaning- the fallen woman) was Francesco Maria Piave. Although, based on the very very little research I found on him, it can be discerned that Verdi probably had a lot to due with it's absolute GENIUS-NESS!
This is why it's Genius-ness:
1. POV: The book is told in the eyes of the man, Armand (Alfredo, in the opera). The opera is told in the eyes of the woman, Violetta (Marguerite, in the book). This 360 degree turn is especially effective because of the climax of both story and opera- the reason Violetta/Marguerite leaves Alfredo/Armand. In the opera the audience witnesses the duet in Act II when Violetta and Alfredo's father, Mr. Germont, have the heartbreaking exchange revealing that in order for Alfredo's sister to have a good life (i.e marry well), Violetta must save the Germont name and leave Alfredo. In the book, you have no idea why Marguerite left- only that she did in the middle of the night, and went back to another rich lover. But, in the opera, by the audience seeing Violetta's heartbreak, both with Mr. Germont, and later with her reaction to Alfredo's utter contempt for her existence, the audience experiences a bottomless pit of compassion for this woman. She can never marry well, she gave up that long long ago - but because she was close to having all she wanted and knowing she made choices in her life that cannot expect her to have the life she wants (i.e living as a wife in the country with Alfredo), she clearly sees that her only choice is to give a younger girl something that is actually within this young girl's grasp by giving this young girl the life Violetta covets. But, in the book, you know that there is a good reason Marguerite left Armand because 50 pages prior, Armand feels so guilty for not being at her death bed. Therefore, the drama is dragged out with the ending already told at the beginning (perhaps because people wouldn't be so shocked in reading the first few chapters and therefore, sympathy needed to be felt from the reader immediately).
2. Tension. Tension! Tension!!
In Act I of the opera, Violetta and Alfredo meet and he declares her love for him. She says, basically, thanks but no thanks...and then quickly (and alone) reveals that maybe she really is in love with this guy. Act II starts a few months later with the happy couple living in country-life bliss. Then, Alfredo's father, Mr. Germont, pops in on Violetta alone and asks her to leave Alfredo to keep the family name pure so his daughter can marry. Alfredo returns to the house with Violetta in distress, they sing of love and she then leaves unexpectedly leaving him a Dear John note. He also finds an invitation to a ball that evening. He thinks she left for a richer suitor and goes to the ball enraged. At the ball, he embarrasses her (we're talking extreme Jersey Shore drama for the 1850s) and she faints. In the book, they meet very similarly and then for 20 pages are madly in love with each other with jealously added in for spice. He goes to Paris to see his father, who tells him he must leave her. He says no and goes home to find Marguerite gone. He then finds her next in Paris with a rich suitor and he is consumed with jealousy. What makes the opera work is that Act II describes the outside events surrounding the climax. We don't see the love scenes (or just one, knowing Violetta is about to leave) and we don't need to because the drama is played out with Violetta's reaction to being asked to leave Alfredo and Alfredo's behavior at the ball. It's this tension that makes the drama and not the constant need to explain to an audience how one should feel.
3. The ending/beginning.
In the book, you know the ending. You know she dies and dies poor. You see that she is in debt, the reason that Armand can't ask her to leave her profession, and this debt consumes her to the end. In the opera, you don't know any of this- till the end- and I prefer it. Zeffirelli, a very famous Italian director who made the opera into an award winning movie and continues to have his adored production at the Met going on now for 20 years plus, prefers to add this beginning to the overture. I never liked this and the book made me like this approach even less. The book and Z's production start at an auction at Violetta's house after her death, with all her furniture covered in sheets. Once the overture concludes, you are immediately transported back in time with the lifting of the sheets on the furniture and voila, the opera written by Verdi continues. The book continues at the auction for several pages and reveals what I think is the best part of the book- the mingling of classes to look at Marguerite's stuff! Here, as told in the book, ladies are seeing what this scandalous person possessed and their reactions and "minglings" are described in delicious detail. As in our day with the Lohans and the Hiltons, people love scandal and gossip! But, back to the opera- in Z's production, the ending is told at the beginning, albeit accurately and beautifully, and the audience knows very consciously what happens and how. Yes, you could say- everyone knows what happens!- but I don't necessarily need to be reminded right as the curtain goes up...unless someone writes a one act about it for another evening!
The librettist for La Traviata (meaning- the fallen woman) was Francesco Maria Piave. Although, based on the very very little research I found on him, it can be discerned that Verdi probably had a lot to due with it's absolute GENIUS-NESS!
This is why it's Genius-ness:
1. POV: The book is told in the eyes of the man, Armand (Alfredo, in the opera). The opera is told in the eyes of the woman, Violetta (Marguerite, in the book). This 360 degree turn is especially effective because of the climax of both story and opera- the reason Violetta/Marguerite leaves Alfredo/Armand. In the opera the audience witnesses the duet in Act II when Violetta and Alfredo's father, Mr. Germont, have the heartbreaking exchange revealing that in order for Alfredo's sister to have a good life (i.e marry well), Violetta must save the Germont name and leave Alfredo. In the book, you have no idea why Marguerite left- only that she did in the middle of the night, and went back to another rich lover. But, in the opera, by the audience seeing Violetta's heartbreak, both with Mr. Germont, and later with her reaction to Alfredo's utter contempt for her existence, the audience experiences a bottomless pit of compassion for this woman. She can never marry well, she gave up that long long ago - but because she was close to having all she wanted and knowing she made choices in her life that cannot expect her to have the life she wants (i.e living as a wife in the country with Alfredo), she clearly sees that her only choice is to give a younger girl something that is actually within this young girl's grasp by giving this young girl the life Violetta covets. But, in the book, you know that there is a good reason Marguerite left Armand because 50 pages prior, Armand feels so guilty for not being at her death bed. Therefore, the drama is dragged out with the ending already told at the beginning (perhaps because people wouldn't be so shocked in reading the first few chapters and therefore, sympathy needed to be felt from the reader immediately).
2. Tension. Tension! Tension!!
In Act I of the opera, Violetta and Alfredo meet and he declares her love for him. She says, basically, thanks but no thanks...and then quickly (and alone) reveals that maybe she really is in love with this guy. Act II starts a few months later with the happy couple living in country-life bliss. Then, Alfredo's father, Mr. Germont, pops in on Violetta alone and asks her to leave Alfredo to keep the family name pure so his daughter can marry. Alfredo returns to the house with Violetta in distress, they sing of love and she then leaves unexpectedly leaving him a Dear John note. He also finds an invitation to a ball that evening. He thinks she left for a richer suitor and goes to the ball enraged. At the ball, he embarrasses her (we're talking extreme Jersey Shore drama for the 1850s) and she faints. In the book, they meet very similarly and then for 20 pages are madly in love with each other with jealously added in for spice. He goes to Paris to see his father, who tells him he must leave her. He says no and goes home to find Marguerite gone. He then finds her next in Paris with a rich suitor and he is consumed with jealousy. What makes the opera work is that Act II describes the outside events surrounding the climax. We don't see the love scenes (or just one, knowing Violetta is about to leave) and we don't need to because the drama is played out with Violetta's reaction to being asked to leave Alfredo and Alfredo's behavior at the ball. It's this tension that makes the drama and not the constant need to explain to an audience how one should feel.
3. The ending/beginning.
In the book, you know the ending. You know she dies and dies poor. You see that she is in debt, the reason that Armand can't ask her to leave her profession, and this debt consumes her to the end. In the opera, you don't know any of this- till the end- and I prefer it. Zeffirelli, a very famous Italian director who made the opera into an award winning movie and continues to have his adored production at the Met going on now for 20 years plus, prefers to add this beginning to the overture. I never liked this and the book made me like this approach even less. The book and Z's production start at an auction at Violetta's house after her death, with all her furniture covered in sheets. Once the overture concludes, you are immediately transported back in time with the lifting of the sheets on the furniture and voila, the opera written by Verdi continues. The book continues at the auction for several pages and reveals what I think is the best part of the book- the mingling of classes to look at Marguerite's stuff! Here, as told in the book, ladies are seeing what this scandalous person possessed and their reactions and "minglings" are described in delicious detail. As in our day with the Lohans and the Hiltons, people love scandal and gossip! But, back to the opera- in Z's production, the ending is told at the beginning, albeit accurately and beautifully, and the audience knows very consciously what happens and how. Yes, you could say- everyone knows what happens!- but I don't necessarily need to be reminded right as the curtain goes up...unless someone writes a one act about it for another evening!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
AH vowel - It's VERY NICE to meet you!
I don't know what I did. Did I eat something different? Was my exercise regime perfectly balanced? Did I have a more restful sleep then usual? Was it the weather? My outfit? Because reader(s)...the ah vowel finally introduced itself to me.
It was probably a brief glimpse of something so illusive as couples being mindful of you walking behind them on a narrow NY city sidewalk. But it happened! The "ah" vowel acknowledged my existence and said, sure, go ahead, I won't get in your way...right after you.
This is what I did:
My warmup--
1. hum small penta-scales (1-5) on "mm"
2. sing "hung" on an octave, opened to "ah" on top and continued back down the scale in a slide (1-8-1)
3. 1 set of stacatto on oo, octave, arpeggio down (1-8-5-3-1)
4. 3 sets of above exercise in a row in my passaggio section (B-F above middle C)
5. Sang "e" on an octave, to a 9 note scale back down (1-8-7,8,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1)
6. In my passaggio range (B-F above middle c), 7 (leading tone) to octave (8), on e (7) to 00 (8), back down the scale (oo) and reverse (oo to ee); ah/oo; oo/oh; ay/e. So each vowel pours into the next.
Then... I sang Schumann (trumpets calling!). Glorious fantastically rich Schumann with a perfectly enhanced poem by Goethe (Wie, mit innigstem Behagen). Where each vowel matters and each phrase is crafted for perfect comprehension- so the singer doesn't have to "do" anything but sing the words. At first I was "SINGING" and then I told myself, what does each phrase and word mean? What are you trying to say...and I just sang it, as if I was speaking. Each vowel in it's place, gently caressed by each loving consonant.
And then I went to Handel. I don't like Handel..or, let me reverse that statement. Handel doesn't like me. I think he writes gorgeous music. And I love hearing his arias in concerts and at home on my CD player. But, for me to sing all those crazy long cadenzas, most in the middle of my range...it's absolute torture. It's like taking a 14 wheeler truck and trying to put it through a mouse- hole, it just never "fits". And I think it was because I didn't have any expectations...and I had such a wonderful warm-up with Schumann and really paying attention to each sound I make in my middle register (the Schumann piece is all within the staff, not usually where I like to sing). And, the fact I didn't "SING" it but just sang it. So, when it was time to sing "Qual Farfalletta" it was as if the ah vowel just showed up and we danced! We laughed! I ran around like a crazy women waving her arms for imaginary friends! And NO ONE was around! And I didn't have my computer with me to tape it! And I put it away..thinking, no, "Ah" is flirting with me. But, I coyly returned to Handel and I still sang with perfect ease. NO work! NO breathiness! NO mac-trucks! Perfect light easy phrases! It was magical and probably one of the best, if not BEST, practices I have ever had.
So, my family was in town for 2 days, so I haven't been able to reintroduce myself. I am crossing my fingers we will meet again. Because without "Ah"by my side, I won't even get Violetta to come to my door!
It was probably a brief glimpse of something so illusive as couples being mindful of you walking behind them on a narrow NY city sidewalk. But it happened! The "ah" vowel acknowledged my existence and said, sure, go ahead, I won't get in your way...right after you.
This is what I did:
My warmup--
1. hum small penta-scales (1-5) on "mm"
2. sing "hung" on an octave, opened to "ah" on top and continued back down the scale in a slide (1-8-1)
3. 1 set of stacatto on oo, octave, arpeggio down (1-8-5-3-1)
4. 3 sets of above exercise in a row in my passaggio section (B-F above middle C)
5. Sang "e" on an octave, to a 9 note scale back down (1-8-7,8,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1)
6. In my passaggio range (B-F above middle c), 7 (leading tone) to octave (8), on e (7) to 00 (8), back down the scale (oo) and reverse (oo to ee); ah/oo; oo/oh; ay/e. So each vowel pours into the next.
Then... I sang Schumann (trumpets calling!). Glorious fantastically rich Schumann with a perfectly enhanced poem by Goethe (Wie, mit innigstem Behagen). Where each vowel matters and each phrase is crafted for perfect comprehension- so the singer doesn't have to "do" anything but sing the words. At first I was "SINGING" and then I told myself, what does each phrase and word mean? What are you trying to say...and I just sang it, as if I was speaking. Each vowel in it's place, gently caressed by each loving consonant.
And then I went to Handel. I don't like Handel..or, let me reverse that statement. Handel doesn't like me. I think he writes gorgeous music. And I love hearing his arias in concerts and at home on my CD player. But, for me to sing all those crazy long cadenzas, most in the middle of my range...it's absolute torture. It's like taking a 14 wheeler truck and trying to put it through a mouse- hole, it just never "fits". And I think it was because I didn't have any expectations...and I had such a wonderful warm-up with Schumann and really paying attention to each sound I make in my middle register (the Schumann piece is all within the staff, not usually where I like to sing). And, the fact I didn't "SING" it but just sang it. So, when it was time to sing "Qual Farfalletta" it was as if the ah vowel just showed up and we danced! We laughed! I ran around like a crazy women waving her arms for imaginary friends! And NO ONE was around! And I didn't have my computer with me to tape it! And I put it away..thinking, no, "Ah" is flirting with me. But, I coyly returned to Handel and I still sang with perfect ease. NO work! NO breathiness! NO mac-trucks! Perfect light easy phrases! It was magical and probably one of the best, if not BEST, practices I have ever had.
So, my family was in town for 2 days, so I haven't been able to reintroduce myself. I am crossing my fingers we will meet again. Because without "Ah"by my side, I won't even get Violetta to come to my door!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Matisse: The Art is the Process
Today I went to the Matisse Exhibit at the MOMA. I am not a big Matisse fan. His works of art always seemed plain, flat and pretty. But, as I left the exhibit, I had a bit of an "ah ha" moment. What I saw as flat, plain and pretty, was actually exact, deep and colorful. It seemed that in order for Matisse to express himself, he had to strip away the layers. And, what seemed like flat lines, were actually exact strokes that took him years to make look effortless. His "pretty" colors were all carefully chosen and illustrated in a beautifully symmetrical manner that allowed the viewer to see the congruity of the entire piece while simultaneously seeing each individual panel and angle.
Whenever I see an art exhibit, see a sporting event, listen to a concert, etc., I try to find a way to see how I can fit it in with music and singing. Never had I found a more resonant parallel: strip down. Take away all the "stuff"- the added unnecessary schmaltz. Breathe, pick a vowel, and let go. Of course, it's not that easy. Of course, it takes years to master. But isn't it fun (that will be another blog posting!) and isn't it worth it in the end? It's amazing how much extra stuff we have all been taught. Not by teachers necessarily, but by life and what you see and hear in your daily travels. Which only means it takes that much more work to simplify and get to the bare basics. Find your sound. Not your friend's, not your voice teacher's or your coach's, not Maria Callas's, not Renee Fleming's...yours.
As most artists, Matisse was worried his work would be labeled and specifically Picasso's cubism. After going to see Picasso's paintings on the 4th floor immediately after seeing the Matisse exhibit, I thought: Yes, he was doing the same thing- stripping down and flattening out; after all, they are contemporaries and reacting to the world around them. But, Matisse and Picasso can't be compared to each other (according to this amateur art fan!). Matisse has his own unique brush-strokes, his own unique color palate and his own unique way at looking at a room, a person, a statement.
So why can't I have that confidence? Instead of worrying I don't sound like anyone, why don't I turn the angle to finding a way to sound like myself? Is the bare stripped Courtenay enough to meet Violetta? The most indulgent role in the soprano repertoire? Something tells me that it's probably the only way to meet her. And maybe it will be plain and pretty (hopefully not flat!), but just maybe it will be exact, deep and colorful because it will be my own.
Whenever I see an art exhibit, see a sporting event, listen to a concert, etc., I try to find a way to see how I can fit it in with music and singing. Never had I found a more resonant parallel: strip down. Take away all the "stuff"- the added unnecessary schmaltz. Breathe, pick a vowel, and let go. Of course, it's not that easy. Of course, it takes years to master. But isn't it fun (that will be another blog posting!) and isn't it worth it in the end? It's amazing how much extra stuff we have all been taught. Not by teachers necessarily, but by life and what you see and hear in your daily travels. Which only means it takes that much more work to simplify and get to the bare basics. Find your sound. Not your friend's, not your voice teacher's or your coach's, not Maria Callas's, not Renee Fleming's...yours.
As most artists, Matisse was worried his work would be labeled and specifically Picasso's cubism. After going to see Picasso's paintings on the 4th floor immediately after seeing the Matisse exhibit, I thought: Yes, he was doing the same thing- stripping down and flattening out; after all, they are contemporaries and reacting to the world around them. But, Matisse and Picasso can't be compared to each other (according to this amateur art fan!). Matisse has his own unique brush-strokes, his own unique color palate and his own unique way at looking at a room, a person, a statement.
So why can't I have that confidence? Instead of worrying I don't sound like anyone, why don't I turn the angle to finding a way to sound like myself? Is the bare stripped Courtenay enough to meet Violetta? The most indulgent role in the soprano repertoire? Something tells me that it's probably the only way to meet her. And maybe it will be plain and pretty (hopefully not flat!), but just maybe it will be exact, deep and colorful because it will be my own.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Moffo/Scotto/Callas, Act I
It's very interesting to hear world famous sopranos singing the same role within a span of 10 years of each other. All of them have different strengths, but, surprisingly, the same weakness. A weakness, much to my relief, I share with them: the middle range. The recitative, or part of the opera that is being "spoken" and tells the action of the story, is usually set in the middle of the voice. This is so it gives the effect of talking as it's in the part of the voice most easy to understand words, but still pitched within the range of the character so as not to drop the musical line. For me, my middle range, especially when I have been singing above and below the staff, feels like a rope that I have suddenly lost grip onto and I can't seem to find it-- until the line reaches the top part of the staff. Usually, when this happens, it means I haven't been using my breath properly. Could Moffo, Scotto and Callas have the same problems as me? Are they not the superwomen I have grown up to believe?
But, to the superwomen:
I listened to Anna Moffo with the Rome Opera, 1968; Renata Scotto with La Scala Opera, 1962; and Maria Callas, LIVE at La Scala, 1955.
The most beautiful consistent sound was Anna Moffo. She has an effortless top and her strigendo (pianissimi phrases that sound like she is on the edges of her vocal cords) are awe-inspiring. But, I was dismayed that she ruined her beauty by scooping ALL the time!!! It was so annoying. Again, I know from personal experience, it's fun to scoop- especially if you are portraying a woman who indulges in...well...everything. But, man, it's so distracting. A very good reminder to fight your urges to scoop and sing what the genius who wrote the opera tells you to sing! My favorite part of her first act were her high staccati phrases during her duet with Alfredo, "Un di felice". They sounded like pearls dropping into the sky. Also, her vowels are ridiculously consistent. She uses the 5 and that is all- all the way up and down the range, like a hollow tree open and ready to sing what the wind brings.
Scotto had the best diction, naturally (as she is a native Italian) and she used her knowledge of her native tongue to beautifully nuance her legato phrasing. At first I was slightly distracted because the musical line sounded like it had mini-hiccups. But, when I realized what she was doing, it was as if I could understand exactly what she was saying without using my crappy knowledge of Italian. Also, at the beginning, I was a bit disappointed with her lack of middle voice and was worried she wouldn't make it to the end. But then, holy crap, she started to sing above the staff and it was exciting stuff! And her high notes! I couldn't believe that those notes could come out of a voice with that much power at the top staff (...and so little in the middle staff). Her musicality was the best of the bunch, as well. Her dynamics were consistent with the score, and her cadenzas perfectly crafted.
Callas sang with the most ease. Ironic, huh? Her voice isn't necessarily the easiest to hear, it can be a bit steely and her vibrato inconsistent (Scotto, too). But, similar to Moffo's vocal consistency, her phrases ooze out of her like honey. It's as if she has already sung the phrases before she has opened her mouth. Moffo sounds the most technically polished, but in Callas it sounds more organic and natural. Also, she did what the other 2 women didn't do- sang the high E flat for about 3 seconds and then got the heck off it when it started to waver. Moffo's was too pinched and too long. Scotto's sounded like she was rocking on a dingy boat in the middle of the Atlantic!
All 3 of these recordings have illustrated a very important goal post in my Violetta journey: be yourself. They all have such vastly different Violetta's. Moffo's is very coquettish, Scotto's is confident, and Callas's is confused. They each use their vocal strengths to maximize what they do best, and do their best to hide their weaknesses - a weakness that all 3 share. So, who the heck cares about your weakness- go out and meet Violetta!
(well, ok, I care about my weakness- I promise to breathe!)
But, to the superwomen:
I listened to Anna Moffo with the Rome Opera, 1968; Renata Scotto with La Scala Opera, 1962; and Maria Callas, LIVE at La Scala, 1955.
The most beautiful consistent sound was Anna Moffo. She has an effortless top and her strigendo (pianissimi phrases that sound like she is on the edges of her vocal cords) are awe-inspiring. But, I was dismayed that she ruined her beauty by scooping ALL the time!!! It was so annoying. Again, I know from personal experience, it's fun to scoop- especially if you are portraying a woman who indulges in...well...everything. But, man, it's so distracting. A very good reminder to fight your urges to scoop and sing what the genius who wrote the opera tells you to sing! My favorite part of her first act were her high staccati phrases during her duet with Alfredo, "Un di felice". They sounded like pearls dropping into the sky. Also, her vowels are ridiculously consistent. She uses the 5 and that is all- all the way up and down the range, like a hollow tree open and ready to sing what the wind brings.
Scotto had the best diction, naturally (as she is a native Italian) and she used her knowledge of her native tongue to beautifully nuance her legato phrasing. At first I was slightly distracted because the musical line sounded like it had mini-hiccups. But, when I realized what she was doing, it was as if I could understand exactly what she was saying without using my crappy knowledge of Italian. Also, at the beginning, I was a bit disappointed with her lack of middle voice and was worried she wouldn't make it to the end. But then, holy crap, she started to sing above the staff and it was exciting stuff! And her high notes! I couldn't believe that those notes could come out of a voice with that much power at the top staff (...and so little in the middle staff). Her musicality was the best of the bunch, as well. Her dynamics were consistent with the score, and her cadenzas perfectly crafted.
Callas sang with the most ease. Ironic, huh? Her voice isn't necessarily the easiest to hear, it can be a bit steely and her vibrato inconsistent (Scotto, too). But, similar to Moffo's vocal consistency, her phrases ooze out of her like honey. It's as if she has already sung the phrases before she has opened her mouth. Moffo sounds the most technically polished, but in Callas it sounds more organic and natural. Also, she did what the other 2 women didn't do- sang the high E flat for about 3 seconds and then got the heck off it when it started to waver. Moffo's was too pinched and too long. Scotto's sounded like she was rocking on a dingy boat in the middle of the Atlantic!
All 3 of these recordings have illustrated a very important goal post in my Violetta journey: be yourself. They all have such vastly different Violetta's. Moffo's is very coquettish, Scotto's is confident, and Callas's is confused. They each use their vocal strengths to maximize what they do best, and do their best to hide their weaknesses - a weakness that all 3 share. So, who the heck cares about your weakness- go out and meet Violetta!
(well, ok, I care about my weakness- I promise to breathe!)
Friday, August 27, 2010
Professions
A courtesan. I am studying the life of a courtesan.
Today, such a woman would create more than this mere blog. She is our Kardashian, Lohan, Hilton and Real Life Housewife. She is revered for having a shocking and disapproving lifestyle that we watch in obsession behind closed doors, yet, if we were ever to meet her we would be embarrassed by her very existence. What is it about scandalous women? The scruples of the 1850s is no match for our modern day, but there is something about "bad behavior" that at one moment shocks us and another excites us into buying their perfume...or singing an opera.
Opera is not for the hoity-toity. It's E news from 1850s with a better sound-track.
Today, such a woman would create more than this mere blog. She is our Kardashian, Lohan, Hilton and Real Life Housewife. She is revered for having a shocking and disapproving lifestyle that we watch in obsession behind closed doors, yet, if we were ever to meet her we would be embarrassed by her very existence. What is it about scandalous women? The scruples of the 1850s is no match for our modern day, but there is something about "bad behavior" that at one moment shocks us and another excites us into buying their perfume...or singing an opera.
Opera is not for the hoity-toity. It's E news from 1850s with a better sound-track.
Friday, August 20, 2010
A DMA in Violetta
I first heard La Traviata when I was 17 years old. I was going to college as a voice major and heard all the Puccini operas, but no Verdi. A friend of mine gave me a highlights CD with Edita Gruberova as Violetta. All I can say is that it simultaneously scared the crap out of me and had me sitting in awe that a human voice could sing with so much grace, power, love and beauty. I made a promise to myself that one day, somehow, I would learn this role.
Fast-forward to present day, 15 years later (!). I have a BM and MM from 2 very prestigious music schools, I have had nodules removed, returned, and finally vanished by years of therapy and voice lessons from a wonderful teacher. I have been a secretary, a voice teacher, a waitress, and worked extensively in arts administration. I have sung various roles with small local NYC opera companies, given recitals and applied to go back to school to get my DMA. But Violetta, we never met...the CD is gone, the records dusty, the score forgotten amongst so many other scores.
I didn't get into a doctorate program. And, let's face it, I am not that professional singer I thought I would become. I am not upset about it. Life has given me so many other gifts that I could have never imagined recieving when I was 17 years old, let alone now. But, Violetta...I still want to meet her, now more then ever.
So, I like to think that this blog is both my love letter and dissertation to Violetta. The student can't be removed just because school doesn't want me. And I can't stop singing just because I am 33 years old and have no professional experience behind me. So, here I am! And, if you - reader- if there are any (or 1)- have any suggestions (no solicitations for lessons please) for books, techniques, recordings, personal struggles learning Violetta or any other role, please feel free to contact me and join me on this journey of meeting one of the most powerful and complex female characters of western civilization.
Now, let's meet her!
Fast-forward to present day, 15 years later (!). I have a BM and MM from 2 very prestigious music schools, I have had nodules removed, returned, and finally vanished by years of therapy and voice lessons from a wonderful teacher. I have been a secretary, a voice teacher, a waitress, and worked extensively in arts administration. I have sung various roles with small local NYC opera companies, given recitals and applied to go back to school to get my DMA. But Violetta, we never met...the CD is gone, the records dusty, the score forgotten amongst so many other scores.
I didn't get into a doctorate program. And, let's face it, I am not that professional singer I thought I would become. I am not upset about it. Life has given me so many other gifts that I could have never imagined recieving when I was 17 years old, let alone now. But, Violetta...I still want to meet her, now more then ever.
So, I like to think that this blog is both my love letter and dissertation to Violetta. The student can't be removed just because school doesn't want me. And I can't stop singing just because I am 33 years old and have no professional experience behind me. So, here I am! And, if you - reader- if there are any (or 1)- have any suggestions (no solicitations for lessons please) for books, techniques, recordings, personal struggles learning Violetta or any other role, please feel free to contact me and join me on this journey of meeting one of the most powerful and complex female characters of western civilization.
Now, let's meet her!
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