The Score

Just Sing

2010-08-05T14:03:00.001-04:00

Sometimes, as young singers, we are told it is imperative to pick a style and stick with it. It will makes us more marketable (not confusing the audiences when it comes to what we are as a product) and, to a certain extent, it makes us members of our secret clan. We are classical singers; we are pop artists; we are musical theatre performers; we stick together and understand each other; we know nothing of the other clans. Sounds a bit "West Side Storiesque" to me. And haven't we agreed in many other fields that this is kind of passé?

Why limit ourselves as young artists when there are endless possibilities and adventures to be had on the stage? A solid technique and a dependable group of coaches will ensure that we each are the best singer we can be. So as a singer, go sing: whatever, whenever. Do it well and do it as often as you can. One of the most important untold lessons of our training is to be comfortable with whom you are as a performer in all situations. So practice being on stage and going out of your comfort zone. Sing a classical song, perform a straight monologue, or join a cabaret. Entertain and have fun: that is the point.

Cabaret -- July 21, 2010 -- The Players, NYC

Time to Make the Leap

2010-06-25T21:23:00.000-04:00

"The bad news is you’re falling through the air, nothing to hang on to, no parachute. The good news is there’s no ground." -Chogyam Trungpa

I resigned yesterday from my full-time job as a copywriter in an ad agency. I've tried to give a concise reason as for why I would leave a job that I like, with people I like, and a salary that is dependable and steady. Alas, I have failed to be concise, but I think the following is clear.

Malcolm Gladwell and Daniel J. Levitin, among others, are proponents of the following theory:

"...ten thousand hours of practice is required to achieve the level of mastery associated with being a world-class expert—in anything. In study after study, of composers, basketball players, fiction writers, ice skaters, concert pianists, chess players, master criminals, and what have you, this number comes up again and again. Ten thousand hours is roughly equivalent to three hours a day, or twenty hours a week, of practice over ten years. Of course, this doesn’t address why some people don’t seem to get anywhere when they practice, and why some people get more out of their practice sessions than others. But no one has yet found a case in which true world-class expertise was accomplished in less time. It seems that it takes the brain this long to assimilate all that it needs to know to achieve true mastery."
from This Is your Brain on Music

After thorough investigation and tabulation, I discovered the following about myself:

I have 13,170 hours of practice in music, but only 5,169 hours in vocal technique/study.

My boss told me on Friday that she wanted to make sure I didn't quit too quickly and then wonder “what if”. For two days I thought “what if?”, “what if...what?” I never wanted a career specifically in advertising. I can start writing at any other time, study it any other time, do it any other time. And right now, I have a whole bag of “what ifs”: What if I had left my job three years ago and dedicated 4 hours a day to my singing? Where would I be now?

The numbers above summarize me perfectly: an excellent musician and a good singer. I don't want to be good. I want to be excellent. I want to be Callas. And in three years, if I dedicate 4 hours a day to my singing, I will have reached 10K.

Daniel Gilbert, psychologist and author of Stumbling on Happiness says that we never regret what we do, we regret what we don't do: inaction. Therefore, and because it seems right now some stars have aligned, and there are opportunities that I must follow, I must leave my job. I have to leave it because I cannot let financial fear define who I am. I have to leave because I cannot let one of my best traits—my perseverance, my refusal to quit—become one of my worse enemies—losing sight of my goals, losing perspective, not being able to tell apart what I can do from what I want to do and what I should do.

So I'm off to a 10K hour journey to excellence.

Crossing Over

2010-06-01T21:21:00.000-04:00

Maybe you've heard the news: Renee Fleming has just released a pop/indie rock album, "Dark Hope." I hadn't heard anything about it until today, when I stumbled upon no fewer than three articles about it in the New York Times. On May 25, two reviews of this album were published: one by the classical reviewer, Anthony Tommasini ("Even Sopranos Get the Blues"), and the other by the pop reviewer, Jon Pareles ("Letting Desdemona Rock Out a Little"). Then today, the arts section featured an excerpt of a conversation between the two reviewers: "Opera Diva Tries a Rock Album. Cue Controversy." (Their full discussion is here.)

Wow, where to begin... Here are a few observations on these articles, divided into the Good, the Not-so-good, and the Ugly.

The Good:

I agree with the reviewers that the best crossover artists bring something essential of themselves into their new effort, whatever it may be. As Tommasini puts it, "To me the most admirable crossover ventures have involved great artists who have leapt right over the divide and found their own ways to perform music from another genre."
Both writers make some interesting comments about the differences between classical and pop technique. Pareles believes, "Classical training strives to control or eliminate the rough spots. But pop makes the rough spots some of the most expressive moments." I'm not sure if I agree across the board, but it's an intriguing observation. Maybe we classical singers could learn to let some "rough spots" show through occasionally in order to express more?

The Not-so-good

Both reviewers seem to wonder, Who is she making this album for? Who is the target audience? To which we respond, "Who cares?" Do we need to have the audience in mind at every moment while we create our art, or can we say what we want to say and hope that people (anyone, anywhere) will be touched by it? I think there may be a lot more "crossover" between pop and classical audiences in our generation than these reviewers think. Music is music.

The Ugly

This section by Pareles really took me aback: "...The classical folks often seem to think that their virtuosity is the only kind of virtuosity, so of course it will work in every context. When opera singers deign to sing what, to them, are clearly trivial ditties, they often end up sounding silly and pretentious." What?! Let me speak from personal experience here. I am one of those classical singers who sound "silly" and maybe even "pretentious" singing popular music. But it is never, ever, because I think that this music is any more "trivial" than classical music. I think my early musical training, combined with natural vocal tendencies, has just given me vocal habits that feel very difficult to break. Pareles seems to think that we opera singers look down on all other kinds of music. I don't think this could be any further from the truth.

And, for the record, the album doesn't sound half bad to me. What do you think? What factors make crossover work for you, in either direction?

-Miriam

Recital June 11 -- Click on image for larger view

2010-05-28T21:12:00.012-04:00

Resurrection Parish

651 Millbrook Avenue

Randolph, NJ 07869-3703
(973) 895-4224

Homogenization and Art

2010-05-28T12:15:00.001-04:00

I was talking to a friend yesterday who told me he was teaching his young daughter not to use the word “coger” in Spanish (“to take”) because in some countries (the vast minority), the word has a sexual alternate meaning, just like the word “take” in English (Oh, baby, take me now). I smiled and said, “you can’t possibly bring up an international child,” to which he answered, “oh, yes, I can.”

Well, yes, I’m sure he could, but the question here is: why?

I can’t help but be sad at the potential loss of cultural flavor in this new era of market homogenization. Not to mention that by choosing certain words that are pan-adequate, we are unavoidably categorizing vocabulary and idioms as acceptable/not-acceptable, better/worse, ensuring that one bigger group will assimilate the smaller ones, as if their contribution to the richness of human kind were less valuable.

This also strikes me as a concern characteristic of minorities. With this specific case, we can see the mentality of the Hispanic minority in the English-speaking US. Perhaps we as Hispanics feel stronger as a group, but we might be going to extravagant lengths to ensure we can, indeed, be categorized as a group. The homogenization of our language is one of those sacrifices. But have you ever heard of an American parent teaching his or her children not to say they have a “bloody nose” but rather than their “nose is bleeding,” or not to describe the dog as “shaggy” but rather as “hairy” or “messy”? Certainly these words can evoke other thoughts when heard by the Brits, but no one really cares.

My deeper concern here is creativity, art. We live in a world that more and more is encouraging individuality and diversity of expression when it comes to individuals, yet foments assimilation and seamless integration when it comes to whole societies. Where does this leave art? How are we to produce truly distinct individuals with their own visual, musical, verbal trends of expression if we remove colors from the equation, rather than teaching how or what these colors and tools may perform or evoke in different environments?

Remove the local flavor influence, and you would not be able to tell apart Puccini from Bizet or Tchaikovsky. How will this impact our future geniuses?

Divas and Divos Everywhere

2010-05-19T12:28:00.001-04:00

An advertising agency gathers all of its employees in one large room for 3 hours. A huge presentation is given, defining the future of the company, the structure of the game, and the role of each group within the new plan: creative, account planning, media buying, account management, digital, linguistics, strategic planning, print studio. At the end of the meeting, two creatives (don't get me started on the use of this word as a noun) walk out together, and one of them says to the other:

"At the end of the day, all this is fine and dandy. But if the creative concept were not amazing, who cares about your media buy, how you handled the client, the correctness of language, the strategy. All of it really means nothing without us."

True as this statement is, let me propose a few others that are equally true.

If you have an amazing campaign, published through the most effective media, targeting the perfect audience and at just the right time, and you publish a typo or a voiceover with a grammatical/language brain-fart on it, people will remember your campaign. But not because it was amazing, but because of your embarrassing mistake, which, by the way, just cost you credibility, on top of all the thousands of dollars in re-printing/re-producing.
If you have the most amazing campaign, brilliant idea, beautifully redacted, perfectly proofread, flawlessly printed and produced, and no one sees it, or it is seen only by the non-consumerist Piraha tribe in Brazil, who cares?
If you had to contact the client yourself, nurture your relationship with said client, organize and manage bookings of talent, studio, engineers, research markets and consumers, negotiate media time and fees with vendors and clients alike, when exactly would you expect to think and produce your awesome idea?

Don't take me wrong, it's not that I don't whole-heartedly agree with the creative's point of view. After all, I am a creative, and I've been creative my whole life—or what else do you call being a musician?

As a matter of fact, I hate the common doctrine that insists that no one is indispensable. I would like to propose instead that we all are. What a novel thought! We are all indispensable.

And why am I writing this on an opera company's blog? This false divo attitude is precisely what coópera seeks to eradicate. I say "false" because there's nothing divine about thinking yourself better than the orchestra, the wardrobe people, the planners, the marketers, the chorus, in the same way that there's no value in thinking yourself easily replaceable.

I think it is a much better production, in every sense of the word, if we understand how intrinsically and incredibly necessary we are, and how intrinsically and incredibly necessary all the other parts are as well, and therefore consider ourselves lucky—truly lucky—to be so amazing, and to have found all of these other amazing people, to have been able to gather them in one place at one time, to form such an amazingly well-oiled machine that is therefore built to produce greatness.

I don't know about you, but I think this is what advertising and opera are all about.

Laura

"With great emotion comes great power" -- Gossip Girl

2010-05-18T23:25:00.000-04:00

We might as well admit that we, too, have guilty pleasures. And, occasionally, we may even extract some surprising wisdom from them. Ah, Gossip Girl, the wise!

We have been doing some reading these past couple of months, and the unintentional common theme among the otherwise unrelated books seems to be happiness and the perception of emotion. Stumbling on Happiness and This Is Your Brain on Music have changed my life. From the conversation on how we fail to make the right choices in order to be happy to the treatment of music as an obsession, I find our existence, and especially that of the artist, fascinating. I will not bore you with my lousy synopsis of these fantastic books, but rather I will say that, again, I am inspired to create, to perform, regardless of financial retribution or even whether an audience is large or small. And I find that, indeed, our need to perform is somewhat of an obsession, and the pursuit of emotion, good, bad, pleasurable or painful, is inevitable, because it is said emotion that fuels our muse, our desire, our drive. Precisely, as Gossip Girl says, for us "with great emotion comes great power," the power of expression.

Today was a tough day at my day job. The company I work for had to face its critical staff and make amends for wrong turns made in the recent past. The room was filled, if not yet with hope, with passion. And it was inspiring and moving in itself, to see so much emotion, to share with those who we musicians call "normal people" that moment of intense feeling--no matter what that feeling was. For a moment, it made us all more alive, more ready. It was a taste of shared power.

So I leave you here with a video/ad that I'm sure many of you have seen, but it never gets old. And I tell you: go, feel, act.

Laura

Marketing Opera

2010-05-11T22:25:00.000-04:00

After the collapse of Baltimore Opera last year, the opera community wasted little time in mourning. Almost immediately, a handful of new groups, some founded by young singers themselves, came up with creative ways to keep opera alive in Charm City. These groups have brought fresh ideas and a new passion to the city's arts scene.

Recently, Brendan Cooke, Founder and General Manager of one of these groups, Baltimore Concert Opera, spoke at Ignite Baltimore. The setting itself is unique: each speaker gets 5 minutes and 20 slides (which change automatically) to make his or her point. We find Brendan's enthusiasm inspiring, and he articulates a very valid question: How can we better spread the word about this art form that we love? If the era of the big donor is over, can opera companies survive and thrive with a broad network of committed and engaged fans? And, if so, how do we create it? Below is his five-minute presentation.

The Art of Giving a Recital

2010-05-04T14:21:00.000-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, Frederica von Stade gave her farewell recital at Carnegie Hall, accompanied by her long-time collaborator, Martin Katz. It was an honor to witness her in her element, full of comfort, elegance and charm as always. The theme of the evening: Songs and arias that told the story of her life, in and out of music. We should all be lucky enough to have so much to sing about, and to sing it so sincerely. This was one of the few recent events that served as catalysts for our new beginning.

When a young singer walks into her first voice lesson, often her teacher hands her a song, something in Italian, and plays it through once for her. She learns the words phonetically, learns the translation, learns the notes and when to come in. Eventually, we are all ready to perform for an audience, and, someday, put together a recital. Songs are the building blocks of technique. It's not easy, but the singer becomes comfortable communicating with an audience, just singer, pianist, and the song.

Then opera happens. Starting with simple, short arias, moving on to learning and performing entire roles. We learn how to flesh-out a character, how to work with a director to create a dramatic arch, how to be at home on the stage with costumes and sets and lights and orchestra. And, often, we leave the recitals of our earlier training behind. So accustomed are we to being surrounded and encompassed within the world of an opera, we feel exposed when asked to step back in front of that simple piano with a simple song. Simplicity is not always easy.

So here we go. Let's strip down (again) and sing for you. The coópera monthly recital series starts this June.

We're Back

2010-04-27T17:35:00.000-04:00

I can't believe the last post was published last September. Seven months! Seven months of trials and tribulations, just to end up back at the original parting point: we want to sing.

Hi, I'm Laura Virella. I'm 28, I'm a mezzo, and I envisioned and co-founded coópera almost 4 years ago. Back then, there was no other opera company with the words "opera" and "manhattan" or "opera" and "project" in the title, so I named our little venture "Project Opera of Manhattan." It seemed like a good name. It gave it kind of a warehouse, experimental feel. I liked it. And because I decided to put up a show for me and my friends to be able to produce our art, I also thought it fit to steal from democracy's tag line and define our effort as "founded by young artists for young artists."

Four years have passed and countless small companies with even more innumerable variations on the words and line referenced above have sprouted not only in Manhattan, but all along the East Coast (as far as I know), and it seems like everyone is living my vision but me.

What am I doing? I am a copywriter for a high-profile advertising firm. I took a job as a linguist in order to support my art, and then moved to the creative department when my life did not involve enough creation—this due to the fact that I had a full-time job. How does this help me with my art? It doesn't. coópera has not had a show since last fall, I have not performed since last fall, no new plans have been outlined, no new funds have been raised. In the meantime, I keep getting news from all these Manhattan projects of opera founded by artists for artists who are gaining ground, producing, having fun, living the idea.

And I have just one thing to say to all of them: Well done. This is exactly what artists should do, and I am ready to get this show on the road once more. I want to sing. WE want to sing. So let's get off our somewhat comfortable finances, which provide a fake, music-less comfort, and let's sing—even if it is financially less comfortable—because ultimately, comfort doesn't keep us alive: happiness does.

Meet the Artists: Writer/Director Chris Leyva

2009-09-12T15:06:00.007-04:00

When we first had the crazy idea to produce two operas in the summer of 2006, Chris Leyva was one of the first people we called to join our cause. He's always up for a creative challenge - directing, designing, writing or adapting - and his spirit of ingenuity is contageous. Who else could have staged Le nozze di Figaro in four days, or decided to put on The Magic Flute with three ladders?

Tell us a little bit about yourself.

I'm originally from Albuquerque, New Mexico. I received an M.F.A. from the Playwrights Workshop at The University of Iowa and a B.A. in Directing from Coe College. I'm currently a "resident" playwright/director at coópera: Project Opera of Manhattan. I mounted productions of Le Nozze di Figaro (2006) and Die Zauberflöte (2007) for coópera, and wrote an English adaptation of the dialogue for the latter. I mainly focus my directing muscles on the development of new works, including the development of my own plays!

What is your favorite opera you've ever sung in/directed/conducted/played in and why?

My favorite opera that I've directed would have to be The Magic Flute. It might change in the future, but that was the one where I was there from start to finish, coming up with the crazy ladder idea and then seeing it unfold onstage. Also working on the English translations of the dialogue scenes made the production especially personalized. Just thinking about the performances makes me ridiculously giddy!

If you could play any operatic role in the repertoire, regardless of fach, what would it be and why?

I don't think anyone wants me performing in an opera... Ever... But, let's say I had some hot, operatic vocal skills, well, then I'd go for Marcello in La Bohème, not necessarily because I enjoy the opera, but because I don't think that rock operas count, so Mark in Rent would be off-limits.

Describe a fun or humorous POM memory.

In our interpretation of The Magic Flute, we had these wooden ladders. Two 8 foot and 1 that was 12. We rehearsed that week in a small gym-like space with high ceilings... In the Queen of the Night's famous aria, I had the actresses climbing up on the 12 foot ladder as high as they felt comfortable going. Both Queens (Dawn Wolski and Alyssa Bowlby) were daring and just headed right up the ladder. There was one particular rehearsal, however, I believe it was the first time we had the huge ladder, and Alyssa charged up the ladder like a pro, but didn't realize how close her head was to these spinning ceiling fans! The rest of the cast and crew nearly passed out! Thankfully, she survived!

If you were a musical instrument, what would you be and why?

I think of myself as a piano. Versatile and classic. Up for whatever.

If an opera were written about your life, what composer (living or dead) would write it? What famous singer could sing the role of you?

The only composer I'd get to do an opera about me would be Danny Elfman. I think only he could hit that level of mystery and humor that envelops my life!

I don't really know, however, which singer I'd want to play me. But whoever it is would need to become a master of physical comedy. There'd be a lot of falling down in the opera...

Do you have any pre-show/audition traditions or superstitions?

The only tradition I can think of doesn't really count, since I don't believe that "pacing" can be construed as a tradition.

What is your favorite meal?

Veal Parmigiana. I no longer think that veal is particularly ethical, however, I haven't quite found something to replace it yet...

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?

Wow. Ten years... I'll try not to think of myself as 40... But, at that time, I would see myself still doing what I'm doing: writing plays and directing. I can see myself lurking about in some university setting, teaching. I'd be taking my kids to rehearsals, especially future POM shows (what kid doesn't love opera?!). Although, they'd have to skip most of "daddy's plays" until they're at least 17...

I can't see myself not working with POM. I'm not saying this because Miriam Browning-Nance asked for a PR quote, but because I'm a theatre artist and, as a theatre artist, I value community and collaboration. The experiences I've had working with one of my dearest friends of the past decade and with all the artists at POM has really energized me in my own career. Who would ever want to let go of that life-giving and joyful energy?

What kind of music, besides opera, is on your iPod?

Broadway musicals & Film Scores. Lots and LOTS of film scores, especially Danny Elfman & John Williams. Over half of my "2 days" of music is film scores...

So much with so little -- a letter from the Managing Director

2009-09-02T11:54:00.003-04:00

[The following letter was written by Miriam Browning-Nance, Managing Director, just after The Rape of Lucretia in September 2008. So much has happened in a year, and yet our sentiments are still the same. How thrilling it is to feel so strongly about what one does.]

For those of you who are familiar with POM, you know that this is a labor of love for my partner, Laura Virella, and myself. Far from being just another job or hobby, for the past three years our work with POM has born fruit in one rewarding experience after another. We opera singers are used to feeling a bit, well, replaceable – there are just so many of us (especially sopranos!) and we are often the last element to be integrated into a production. POM has made us feel just the opposite: it has given us and many of our collaborators the opportunity to be involved in every creative aspect of building an opera from the ground up, so that at the end, we can look at the performance experience in a new and exciting light. This was one of my goals when we founded this company: to form, more or less, an opera co-operative, in which everyone involved – orchestra members, crew, designers, directors, singers and audience – can feel they share part of the ownership. This makes our triumphs, however big or small, all the more jubilant.

Opera is all about transformation: In our first season, 2006, we took Laura’s crazy idea and the help of a bunch of creative friends, and transformed them into two productions of astonishingly high artistic quality. Last year, we took a school gym in Spanish Harlem, three ladders, and an audience made up of people of all ethnic and cultural backgrounds, and transformed them into a spine-tingling experience of Die Zauberflöte. And that brings me to this season: for two magical performances of The Rape of Lucretia at The Players, we were able to share with packed audiences our best collaborative effort yet, with invaluable help from a venerable artistic institution. We received more support from colleagues in all elements of the production than ever before: stage management and direction, lighting, audiovisual recording, photography, publicity... Just yesterday we received an e-mail from our lighting designer, Tyler Learned, a professional who worked day and night for most of a week to make the production possible, with the following kind words:

“Personally, for me it was a triumph. I don't think I've ever done so much with so little. I still think of it... Thank you again for an opportunity for such an extraordinary experience.”

So much with so little... That’s precisely what we’ve always prided ourselves on doing, but perhaps the “so little” part is misleading. Because, although we’ve always functioned on a very low budget, we’ve been given so much in other ways: so much help, so much support, so much encouragement from our friends, family and the larger community. We may face an uphill battle, but we have always known we have many wonderful people cheering us on.

Meet the Artists: Pa…….pa..pa…

2009-08-26T09:53:00.035-04:00

[This is the first in a new series of posts, Meet the Artists, in which we will introduce you to some of the many young artists who have worked with us since our inception in 2006. Stay tuned for more!]

coópera audiences may remember Adam Cavagnaro and Nina Riley as the charming Papageno and Papagena in our 2007 production of The Magic Flute. We at coópera know them as two of the most positive, hard-working and fun singers we have had the pleasure of working with so far. Adam also joined us in our first season as Basilio in Il barbiere di Siviglia and Figaro in Le nozze di Figaro, and in 2008 as Junius in The Rape of Lucretia, a production in which Nina sang the role of Lucia. They were kind enough to answer a few of our questions and share a bit more about themselves, onstage and off…

What is your favorite opera role you’ve ever performed?

Adam: I really enjoy Papageno in Magic Flute. He is such an honest character which often gets him into trouble, but in the funniest way possible! It was great to do this role with POM because of the open attitude they have about opera. In order to give as honest a performance as Papageno calls for, it's important to feel supported by the company you're working with. I was able to try anything on stage and felt confident I would get constructive criticism back from the production team.

Nina: Despina in Cosi fan tutte – it was the first role I ever did. I had so much fun playing the character and it helped me to really let go of my shyness, especially playing the doctor and notary.

If you could play any operatic role in the repertoire, regardless of fach, what would it be and why?

Adam: It would have to be Rosina in Barber of Seville! I love the aria "Una voce poco fa." I love the character and flavor of the piece, not to mention the amazing coloratura!

Nina: I have never sung Susanna from Le nozze di Figaro, and it is the role I want to do most. Why? Because it’s one of my favorite operas ever!!!!

Describe a fun or humorous POM memory.

Adam: The season I did Flute with POM was filled with so many stories! We did two performances in one venue and the final two performances in a different venue. Papageno has a line that says, "May the earth swallow me whole!", and he was supposed to sink into the stage and be "swallowed" by the earth. In the first venue there was some creative staging that let me fall to the ground behind a half-wall so the audience couldn't see what was actually happening. For the last two performances, because we changed venues, the staging we had previously used was not going to work. The problem is I realized this as I was on stage about to say the line! Thanks to some quick thinking I said, "May the earth swallow me whole,"and dropped to the ground and rolled off stage!! Many thanks to POM for being the kind of company where rolling around on the floor is OK!!

Nina: I was going to say the same thing! It still makes me laugh to think about Adam rolling off the stage. A fun memory for me was the entire process of putting on The Rape of Lucretia – the music was so gorgeous. Hard, but I loved it!!!

If you were a musical instrument, what would you be and why?

Adam: A wind machine. I mean, come on.

Nina: Ummmm.....maybe a piccolo? Because… I have a high voice?

If an opera were written about your life, what composer (living or dead) would write it? What famous singer could sing the role of you?

Adam: I would like Adam Guettel to compose and Matthew Worth to perform. I really like Adam's music; it's a combination of musical theatre, pop and opera. As for Matthew Worth: who wouldn't want to be remembered as a hunky baritone with an amazing voice?

Nina: I think the role of me would be a soubrette. Maybe Mozart could write it....that would be cool!

Do you have any pre-show/audition traditions or superstitions?

Adam: When I was in high school I had a plastic coin that I got from a cereal box, that I took to all of the community theatre auditions I went to. I also took it to my undergrad admissions audition at Montclair. After I got into Montclair I decided I didn't need it anymore, and left it at my parent's house. When I audition now, I like to use Scope mouthwash before I leave my apartment, and I like to arrive at the audition venue 30 minutes before hand to focus myself.

What is your favorite meal?

Adam: I love turkey burgers (from Lucky Burger on 52nd street) with Lucky sauce, fries and a black and white shake.

Nina: My mom’s curry rice, Japanese style.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?

Adam: In 10 years I will be 36. I would like to be on the roster at NYC Opera, have been featured on the Barihunks website and have well established myself as a teacher in Manhattan.

Nina: It all depends. If my singing career is going well then I might be wherever my voice takes me. If not, then I will probably go back to Japan, my home country!

What kind of music, besides opera, is on your iPod?

Adam: Right now I'm listening to Ragtime by Ahrens and Flaherty. On my iPod I have some Jason Mraz, Dave Matthews, Audra McDonald, John Coltrane, Britney Spears, Counting Crows, David Archuleta, India Arie, Kelly Clarkson and about 100 others.

Nina: A lot of Jazz, Gospel, old school R&B, actually pretty much everything, but I don’t necessarily listen to it all.

Who says singers aren't tough?!

2009-08-23T10:49:00.002-04:00

The BBC News reports that Puerto Rican soprano Ana María Martínez fell into an orchestra pit at Glyndebourne festival during a performance of Rusalka on Friday.

Our favorite part of the article: "Despite Ana María wanting to continue with the performance, she was immediately taken to hospital as a precautionary measure."

Singers: be careful out there! And instrumentalists: watch out for falling singers!

Waiting for life to begin

2009-08-16T12:16:00.002-04:00

“It is good to have an end to journey toward, but it is the journey that matters in the end.” ~Ursula LeGuin

Every career or calling has its own path, and certainly a young artist knows he or she is not choosing the easiest course. There exist careers whose trajectories almost seem like a checklist: get _____ undergraduate degree, _____ graduate degree, apply for _____ certification, land one of many available jobs in your field, and voilá, your career awaits. Perhaps many musicians have personalities that rebel against such predestination and lack of surprises anyway, but the uncertainty of a life in the arts has its own pitfalls. Perhaps foremost of these is that we often feel like we’re waiting for life to begin, always waiting to achieve whatever we define as success in our field. We know better than to expect that we will get one big break that will do it, but we might assume that one smaller break will be followed by another smaller break, and it will all lead in a straight line toward success. We have our sights on the signposts along the way: the first professional gig, the summer program, the young artist program, the competition prize, the agent contract, the ability to quit our day-job to focus on music. All along the way, there are also technical signposts: “When I have a solid high C...” In the moment, it can feel like the next one will be it, the next one will make us feel secure or accomplished, or, at the very least, give us a sign that we are going in the right direction. After the next accomplishment, we can relax for a while. But then that next accomplishment doesn’t happen as we’ve planned, or doesn’t give us the security we foresaw, or we get there and can only see what needs to be done next. And in the meantime, are we truly enjoying life, or are we letting it pass us by? If we’re busy thinking that our lives will begin when we achieve __________, then are we stuck in a state of suspended animation while we work and wait?

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” ~John Lennon

We are artists because we have something we want to tell, some emotion we want to share. If we are not truly experiencing life along the way, our art may become stagnant – focusing on future success may make our present performances less vital, less human. Good friends, good food, traveling, experiencing other arts: these and other pleasures make our lives better in the meantime, and, as an intrinsic benefit, may serve as catalysts for our creativity.

“Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today.” ~James Dean

I recently had a dream in which I was explaining something I truly believe but have never been able to articulate in waking life: “The way we choose to live our lives is our ultimate work of art. All other art is documentation.”

Exploring music in the world

2009-08-12T11:04:00.011-04:00

Lately there seems to have been an explosion of books, articles and documentaries about various topics related to music: music and human evolution, music and the brain, music and culture, etc. For example, take a look at the following clip from a presentation given by Bobby McFerrin at the World Science Festival recently:

How interesting that, despite the differences in music across different cultures, some scales and intervals seem to be almost universal...

For more on these musical universals, we highly recommend The Music Instinct, a recent PBS documentary about music as related to the human brain and culture, which was co-hosted by Dan Levitin, author of The World in Six Songs and This is Your Brain on Music. In the documentary, the connections between music and all other aspects of our humanity are vivid, inspiring and thought-provoking. For example, did you know that evolutionary anthropologists and neuroscientists largely agree that music most likely evolved almost entirely independently from language, and therefore probably had a separate evolutionary purpose? The most plausible theory of this purpose seems to be tribal bonding and synchronization within groups. Yet no one can be certain which evolved first, music or speech. Could there have been a time when humans used only wordless music to communicate?

We're also currently reading Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain, by renowned neurologist Oliver Sacks; many may know him as the doctor whose work and writing inspired the movie Awakenings. We'll post a full review of this fascinating book soon.

Any other books, films or links to recommend to fellow music-lovers?

Don’t Quit Your Day Job

2009-07-24T23:12:00.011-04:00

The stereotype of the young and struggling artist always seems to include the demoralizing day-job, usually boring temping or grueling restaurant work. And while many coópera: POM artists have worked in either or both of these situations, a young performer’s path is usually more complex (and more interesting) than the old story of years of tedious employment until one moment of breakout success – it just doesn’t fit as well in a movie montage. Many of us have found that doing a variety of things at the same time gives us the chance to explore all the aspects of ourselves, to be more well-rounded individuals and ultimately, perhaps, even better artists. It is a situation born of necessity but which can ultimately bear creative fruit in our lives and lead us in surprising directions. I’ve read that the average person will have three different careers over the course of a working life; we just choose to have those all at once.

Obviously, some musicians pay their rent by piecing together many different jobs related to music, such as teaching, church and synagogue jobs, and various random gigs. Although this lifestyle can mean no medical benefits and unpredictable income, it also has the advantages of variety and constant exposure to music, and, often, flexibility. Sometimes, these can become far more than just ways to pay the rent, especially for those who find a sense of community in religious worship or a passion for teaching: not everyone is cut out for it, but for someone who loves music, what could be better than to pass that on to others? Of course, there are dozens of careers other than performing that involve music or helping other musicians, such as music therapy, Alexander Technique, music criticism, arts administration and classical radio. Another potential benefit of these careers is that the artist might work with supervisors and colleagues who understand and support his or her passion for performing as well.

Some artists choose to maintain the most boring possible day jobs, in order not to be distracted from their true focus. But for others, employment outside of music can offer opportunities to explore other interests, and this can be quite fulfilling. We’ve had friends and performing colleagues work in law, finance, advertising, linguistics, technical theatre, non-profit work, childcare... I could go on. Depending on the person, the situation, and the position, some of these can be very rewarding matches. Of course, most of us realize that, were we to be offered our “big break,” we would have to leave even the most satisfying of day jobs immediately, which can be an uncomfortable knowledge to live with. How can you put down roots knowing you might have to pull them up at any time? We cross that bridge when we get to it.

There are artists that find creative ways to provide their own flexible and interesting employment: some singer friends in Baltimore started a real estate business to support themselves and their families while still having time for opera. On the other hand, for some people, these interesting day jobs make it tempting to leave music altogether – and, if that’s the way life takes you, then why not? One of our amazing orchestra members left music to go to law school after working as a paralegal. Music can always be a part of your life, but some people end up finding it equally if not more rewarding to perform without the pressure of it earning your bread and butter. (Then, of course, the challenge becomes finding the time to devote to your art, but it is certainly not impossible.)

Our society, until recently, has tended to value specialization, not Renaissance men and women. But, throughout history, the artist has always had to become good at many things. Think of the conductor, who usually begins with a primary instrument, and often ends up composing, teaching and/or coaching as well. Music encourages a wide range of skills and interests. Some economists are saying that the current economic recession may be guiding us toward a workforce that is less specialized, where jacks-of-all-trades are the most valuable because they are the most adaptable. More and more people are developing hyphenated careers out of necessity or choice. Perhaps this new societal trend will mean that the adaptable young artist will no longer seem like a salmon swimming upstream.

There is more than one way to make a life in music. Each musician finds his or her own way, sometimes following a direct and straightforward path, sometimes through one that is more meandering and roundabout. Some of us might end up having hyphenated careers for most of our lives, whether by choice or chance. And, for some of us, that might be the most interesting life we could imagine.

Catch 22

2009-07-13T16:35:00.014-04:00

As young singers, we're always intrigued to read articles in the mainstream media regarding opera and opera singers. While we often have bones to pick with some of the statements on the world of opera by the New York Times, we appreciate their willingness to pull back the curtain and see how things really look behind the scenes. Sunday's article, Hire That Hot Tenor Years in Advance, and Hope for the Best, by Anthony Tommasini, was no exception.

As the title suggests, Tommasini explores the trend of casting popular singers years in advance, which leads to inevitable cancellations due to health issues (vocal or physical) or vocal changes. Although these situations involve many different players (the popular singers offered these roles, their managers, the administration who offers the contracts, the audiences who buy tickets hoping to see the star of the moment, the –often younger—singers who end up filling in if the stars cannot fulfill their contracts), this article tells the story from the administrators’ point of view, mainly through the eyes of Peter Gelb, new general manager of the Metropolitan Opera.

Newsflash: Voices change, from year to year, sometimes month to month. Voices change in unexpected ways while we mature and age. A woman's voice sometimes changes after giving birth. These changes can be good or bad or neutral. Some singers might show gradual signs of vocal strain which later turn into full-blown vocal issues, whereas other problems might occur overnight, as in the case of soprano Carol Vaness, who damaged a vocal cord screaming to escape a burning car after an accident. (She —and her voice— are now fine.)

In a perfect world, it might be a wiser idea NOT to book singers more than a year or so in advance of a performance, but that's just not possible if opera houses are competing for what they believe is the top tier of singers.

Second thought: Some of these problems could perhaps be avoided if major opera houses had better vocal technique consultants involved in casting decisions. Too often these decisions seem to be based on audience popularity and made by administrators who are removed from the world of technique. Of course, audiences should have a say in these matters. Opera-lovers know what they like and companies need to be assured that their singers will help them fill the seats. But having more input from a vocal technician could help companies predict whether or not today's stars are singing in a sustainable manner.

Then there’s the fact that these last-minute cancellations offer the possibility for one of the more exciting narratives in the performing world: the young, last-minute replacement, who is offered the chance of a lifetime and bursts onto the scene in a triumphant debut. Young soprano Elaine Alvarez received her big break filling in for Angelina Gheorghiu at Chicago Lyric Opera in 2007, after some unprofessional behavior on Gheorghiu’s part. Soprano Erika Sunnegardh filled in for both Karita Mattila and Andrea Gruber within a span of a few weeks that same year. During Pavarotti's last few years of performing, opera houses everywhere still wanted him on their stages badly enough to prepare in advance for the possibilities of his frequent cancellations; this offered more than one young tenor a chance in the spotlight. So are these really opportunities in disguise?

The Met seems to be hoping for another success story in the featured vignette of this article. 31-year-old tenor Joseph Calleja has been tapped to take over the title role in The Tales of Hoffmann this coming year. The production was originally conceived three years ago to showcase Rolando Villazón, who is currently recovering from vocal surgery. As Tommasini points out, 31 is quite young for a tenor, and perhaps this particular casting is not a wise decision. But when the author says, of Calleja's recent portrayal of Alfredo in Traviata, "I still heard elements of a singer figuring out technical details," it gives us pause. Let's face it: As singers, we will be "figuring out technical details" for the rest of our lives. We are all in an endless process. (Let's go back to the newsflash: Voices change.)

Thus the age/vocal maturity conundrum: Young singers are rarely given chances to perform for professional companies, and yet, when given the chance, they're expected to be a “finished product.” If voices take longer to mature, when they finally reach that maturity, they are told they don't have enough professional experience on their resumes. It's a catch-22 that very few singers manage to escape.

However, kudos to this article for the benefit of the doubt it gives most of the featured singers: Instead of judging as divas or divos those who back out of performances, Tommasini recognizes that, as difficult as it can be for all involved, sometimes cancelling an engagement (or maybe accepting a last-minute one) is the wisest decision one can make. Regarding casting musical chairs in a recent production of Traviata, he writes, "in retrospect the artists involved knew what they were doing."

Believing that artists know what they're doing… How refreshing.

willkommen, bienvenue, welcome...

2009-07-09T20:57:00.013-04:00

Come on in, kick off your shoes, and allow me to pour you a virtual glass of wine. Welcome to coópera: Project Opera of Manhattan's brand-spankin'-new blog, The Score.

Why "The Score"? Here are just a few of the dozens of meanings of the word "score":

the pertinent facts; lowdown
written representation of musical composition
a successful move, stroke, remark
a line drawn or scratched, often to mark a starting point
to get by effort or merit; gain
to win or enjoy credit, popularity, success

Seemed appropriate. While we're talking names, the new name of our venture, coópera, was chosen because it represents what we've wanted for this company from the beginning: a true cooperative effort, a community of young artists and audiences creating opera together without the usual walls between any of us. A community like this needs a common space to share ideas, insights, inspiration, stories and thoughts. We can't always be in the same physical space, and from the beginning our support has come from far and wide: from Connecticut to California; from Iowa to Indiana; from San Juan to San German, Puerto Rico; from Bolton Hill in Baltimore to Marble Hill in Manhattan... So we hope that this blog can be that common space for us, a way to stay in touch and keep creating in-between productions, and a place where those far away who might not be able to make every performance can still be a part of the process.

So, to get the ball rolling and welcome you to our virtual common space, I thought I'd share a few POM anecdotes that have to do with our actual space, our apartment.

When we moved into Marble Hill in 2005, we had no thoughts about starting our own opera company, nor could we have ever imagined how serendipitous our choice of building would be once we did. Since then, our neighbors have included Kathleen Reynolds, our amazing publicist; Nancy Sylbert, our fabulous graphic designer and assistant director for Lucretia; Ken Howard, world-famous photographer who shot Lucretia before having to jet back to the Met; and several donors, including a fellow opera singer who donated fabric for our costumes.

During our first season, summer 2006, all of our musical rehearsals took place in our apartment, around our upright piano. There were frequent walks to Baskin-Robbins for post-rehearsal ice cream. Friends came in and out to help build set pieces. At least two of our cast members brought parents to come sit in on rehearsals. (Our artists' parents have been some of our most ardent supporters.) Our friend David (left) painted scenery on our living room floor -- I think we still have a spot or two of black on our ceiling from those panels!

We never knew how many people could fit in our one-bedroom apartment until our second season, 2007, when, over the course of our production of Magic Flute, we hosted our director, Chris, and his wife / our choreographer / third boy, Rachael, from Columbus; our Monostatos, Andy, from Chicago; and Randall and Sara, our conductor and his wife, from Baltimore. Somehow we had enough room for everyone to have a bed, but the single bathroom was a bit of a stretch.

Since we know that we can never pay any of our young artists what they are truly worth, we have often tried to make up for it by feeding them before rehearsal or during breaks. Laura's home-cooked meals, especially her famous arroz con pollo, have become production favorites -- when we show up to rehearsal bringing the caldero that's bigger than us, people know they're in for a treat.

coópera has helped make a real home and community for us, as it has become an artistic community for those who collaborate with us. More of their stories will be coming soon.

So make yourself at home in this new space. Tell us who you are. And stay a while -- everyone knows the music only gets louder as the party goes on...