First, on an upbeat note, here is a link to a really inspirational piece by the esteemed Susan Eichhorn Young.
http://susan-oncemorewithfeeling.blogspot.com/2012/07/the-beauty-of-cream.html
I really really need this right now. Reading this piece made me feel it is "OK" for me to think I have something special that is worth fostering.
Here's one big problem. I have said (and meant) that I don't really care if I get paid for singing. I have something else that I get paid for doing and I am lucky to even have that in this economy. It's dull (although I take pride in doing it well, and can get caught up in narratives about people dying of cancer, historic Supreme Court cases from the turn of the 20th Century, the latest techniques for using lasers for root canals, etc.) but I can do it at home on my own time. Where there's a problem, is that if you don't do something for a living, other people don't think you should make it a priority. So - it's OK if you can't do something because you're working but not if you're involved with something that's a hobby. Singing in church is ok because people should have a right to practice their religion. Even prisoners (which I sometimes feel like and certainly identify with) get to do that. Never mind that it doesn't happen to be my religion - although that's not actually true. If one of my religions is High Art, then I get to practice it every Sunday that I sing a piece by Bach, Beethoven, or Benjamin Britten, just to name a few. But once I step outside the acceptable box of work, family, and religion, it becomes more problematic.
I was feeling excited about making plans to choose some things to sing in a concert on September 11 (which I don't even know yet if I have a spot in). When I mentioned this to my partner I will give her credit that she didn't ask my why I was doing this and give me a hard time, but she did say "well, I assume you're not getting paid, but I know you will be happy to have the experience." So OK. An improvement over telling me I am wasting time and money, but not exactly a big thumbs up.
(I have decided to postpone telling her about the Requiem until another day.)
One of my problems is I don't just love singing, I love all the ambient trappings that go with life as a singer, and I have even less access to those except in a contrived way - out-dressing everyone for an evening in the theater - that people find silly and superfluous. Many singers don't love those things. They see them as a necessary evil, the way I saw numbers as a necessary evil when I had a job supervising 20 people. I was interested in the people, not in bloody metrics!! I not only want to wail out an aria with technical precision and passion, I also want to get dressed up, talk to people about my hair, makeup, and outfits, have pictures taken, travel, live in hotels (some people want a McMansion - my dream is to live in an expensive hotel where I never have to lift a finger), see the world without having to shell out thousands of dollars for a "vacation", flirt with "coworkers" as part of my "job", and, just, in general, be a public person.
Even the friends with benefits I hide under the table have to be, well, hidden under the table, so I can't even brag to the universe about having that at 62. Which is no mean feat, considering that they're both 45.
So I have this exciting life that is meaningful to me, and then there's the person other people think they see and interact with: the stay-at-home copyeditor, the tenant advocate, the friend, the caregiver, the museum attendee, the person who reads the New York Times.
Maybe I should work on my "happening". If someone can dress up as the Statue of Liberty maybe I should put on an evening gown, stilettos, and a wig, and pose outside the Food Emporium. All I need now is a photographer. And I can't let my partner know - she would be horrified.
And now it's time to go practice.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Friday, July 27, 2012
The Artist's Collage
One of my assignments this week for from The Artist's Way is to make a collage. As I've said, the edition of the book that I'm using is from the 1990s, so it doesn't take all the wonderful things that can be done digitally into account. The assignment involved tearing and cutting images from magazines and pasting them into - something. Well, I have decided to do it here. It's supposed to be about my past, present, and future, and about things I yearn for or that speak to me. So...
I will start out with this - an image posted today on Facebook. If I could move into this I would.
Next, as it's supposed to be about my past, here are my mother and I at the Gay Pride march in Washington DC, c. 1991. I got to be a little bit of fluff, twirling a baton in a great outfit. My mother would have preferred that I polemicized my way into politics, but...
and here I am a few years later in an even better outfit. I never had a senior prom or any other special event where I could dress up, but I had this
and here are some pictures, just because...
Next, as it's supposed to be about my past, here are my mother and I at the Gay Pride march in Washington DC, c. 1991. I got to be a little bit of fluff, twirling a baton in a great outfit. My mother would have preferred that I polemicized my way into politics, but...
and here I am a few years later in an even better outfit. I never had a senior prom or any other special event where I could dress up, but I had this
and this
Just because, here are few shot of me, interspersed with some of my singer idols.
and here are some pictures, just because...
And so may my 62nd year go out with a bang!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
My (Sort of) Idol
As I was scrolling through Facebook preferatory to getting to work, I stumbled upon this "share" from a voice teacher I am "friends" with.
I first met this young woman through other blogging (despite my melting pot of emotions I will be discreet) where I learned quite a lot more about her than I needed to know. She was one of the people who eventually "unfriended" me as a result of my musings as to whether singers in general were self involved. I found it odd, as I did not address that question to anyone in particular, nor was I really thinking at that moment of anyone in particular.
In some ways she is not that different (albeit more cosmopolitan) than many of the Jewish girls I grew up with. I always had one foot in that culture as my mother was a secular Jew whose entire self-definition was wrapped up in being an intellectual, but after my father died my mother and I were poor.
Perhaps if this woman were not a singer and we had met in some other walk of life we could have been real friends.
At this moment she is not having an A plus career, but then (probably) someone with an A plus career would not be doing the kind of blogging she had been doing nor would I have had the hubris to envy such a person. But what she is doing (singing for a living, traveling, having an "image") seemed as if it would have been possible for me if I had made other choices.
Even the photo she (or someone) chose for this article. Cleavage "for days" as gay men would say. I do think she is one of the people I had in mind when I spoke about photos. At least once every six months she would have a new set of head shots.
One thing not mentioned in this (nicely written and interesting) piece is the amount of time she spent in productions categorized as regietheater which, if you scratch the surface, usually involves a lot of (simulated) sex. So she was agonizing about how to stage a piece of naughty while I was agonizing about where to put an en dash. It's rather ironic. One of the things The Artist's Way tells you to do is make an "image file". So one of the places I looked for images, actually, was this woman's fan page on Facebook. I may even have "clipped" the very photo used in the article.
So how do I make myself this interesting and this sexy? I need more than a good high B flat.
ETA: One of the things the Artist's Way tells you to do is make an "envy list" and the format is supposed to be "I envy Miss A because she is doing X so my antidote to this envy is to do Y." so the question for me is - what is Y? Singing the Habanera in a church basement? Producing a concert opera or oratorio that will be seen/heard by 35 people (if I'm lucky) and begging someone to take my picture if I can even find someone with a camera? Trying to get someone "out there" to be interested in this blog and write and article about me? Go to the supermarket in one of my Dolly Parton knockoff outfits and try to stage a "happening"??
In some ways she is not that different (albeit more cosmopolitan) than many of the Jewish girls I grew up with. I always had one foot in that culture as my mother was a secular Jew whose entire self-definition was wrapped up in being an intellectual, but after my father died my mother and I were poor.
Perhaps if this woman were not a singer and we had met in some other walk of life we could have been real friends.
At this moment she is not having an A plus career, but then (probably) someone with an A plus career would not be doing the kind of blogging she had been doing nor would I have had the hubris to envy such a person. But what she is doing (singing for a living, traveling, having an "image") seemed as if it would have been possible for me if I had made other choices.
Even the photo she (or someone) chose for this article. Cleavage "for days" as gay men would say. I do think she is one of the people I had in mind when I spoke about photos. At least once every six months she would have a new set of head shots.
One thing not mentioned in this (nicely written and interesting) piece is the amount of time she spent in productions categorized as regietheater which, if you scratch the surface, usually involves a lot of (simulated) sex. So she was agonizing about how to stage a piece of naughty while I was agonizing about where to put an en dash. It's rather ironic. One of the things The Artist's Way tells you to do is make an "image file". So one of the places I looked for images, actually, was this woman's fan page on Facebook. I may even have "clipped" the very photo used in the article.
So how do I make myself this interesting and this sexy? I need more than a good high B flat.
ETA: One of the things the Artist's Way tells you to do is make an "envy list" and the format is supposed to be "I envy Miss A because she is doing X so my antidote to this envy is to do Y." so the question for me is - what is Y? Singing the Habanera in a church basement? Producing a concert opera or oratorio that will be seen/heard by 35 people (if I'm lucky) and begging someone to take my picture if I can even find someone with a camera? Trying to get someone "out there" to be interested in this blog and write and article about me? Go to the supermarket in one of my Dolly Parton knockoff outfits and try to stage a "happening"??
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
More Tech Talk
Well, this big breakthrough that I have made with my singing has held. This is the first big breakthrough I have had with my singing in several years. And my teacher is totally on board with it, even though it wasn't something he "found". And what's interesting is that although it has made a big difference with my high notes, that was not what we were working on when I found it. We were working on trying to get the muddy sound out of my upper passaggio. That was the next big thing on the agenda after fixing the break in my lower passaggio. So in trying to get rid of the muddy sound, I figured out how to lift the back of my soft palate, which is something I never knew how to do before.
I was talking to another singer yesterday about tension, and said I never had any, certainly not in my throat, so why did my voice sound "throaty" (this is a word people had used). Well, I actually did have tension, only it wasn't in my throat it was in that place that I can only refer to as "where the post-nasal drip lives" - the back of my soft palate. All of that infrastructure feels bunged up and tight and sort of collapsed unless I think about opening it up. When I do that, my voice sounds entirely different.
I also have been religious about using the nasal saline spray. I probably have a post-nasal drip all the time. It's not like having a cold or an allergy where I'm aware of having a stuffed nose - it's all in the back. I had bought a Neti pot (with the blessing of my primary care physician) but I never used it. It just seemed like such a production (first you boil the water, then you cool the water....) so I've just been using the saline spray every time I need it.
So now I'm chomping at the bit to sing somewhere. The last time I sang anything really challenging (aside from choral soprano parts) was at my October concert last year and I did not sing well, although this was at least in part because of how bad the air was in the room.
The Requiem plans are moving ahead apace - I now have a bass. He's the man who sang three roles in my production of Samson et Dalila and we have also sung duets in concert. He is actually one of the few singing "peers" that I have. He began singing classical music in his late 30s, and has a huge voice with some rough edges, but it's a voice that's definitely suited to Verdi. And he is very reliable and will willingly chip in with expenses.
I can tell that my teacher is excited about the progress I've made because he has his wheels spinning about things I can sing. Definitely the scene from Adriana Lecouvreur (would be great on a program with some scenes from Gioconda). And now he's talking about Norma because he and the soprano who will be in my Requiem are doing a concert version of that as well as the Adriana. I will have to say that Norma is one of my five favorite operas, but I always assumed it was off the table for me because the mezzo part (which my teacher said was written for a soprano) has two high Cs. Well my teacher said that duet is almost always transposed down a whole step, so I would just have to sing two B flats which are in the middle of arpeggio-like progressions - usually not a problem for me and even less of a problem recently. My teacher suggested looking also at the Adalgisa/Pollione duet to sing with him. That sits a little high, but a high tessitura is usually not a problem for me if I don't have to sing above an A. There is one B flat at the end but we are singing it together. I have always had my own wryly amusing Lesbian/poly/bi interpretation of the story (you can read the story here) which I shared with my teacher for a laugh and he said, "Well, maybe they just used Pollione to have children" and laughed along with me. In my version the two women live happily ever after and no one gets on the funeral pyre LOL!
In other news, I have a solo date at the church on August 26, probably singing the Raff piece "Great and wonderful are all Thy works". And some time after August 1 I will contact the woman putting on the September 11 concert.
Lastly, my partner's cataract surgery went well, although the anesthesia, which was full of epinephrine, and the extra cortisone she took, made her act like a crazed crackhead for at least 48 hours and my life was sheer Hell. I have never been happier to go home - not to sing, just to curl up with a book or with my work for pay (this week it's an article about football players with head injuries). She will have the other eye done in September and I hope I can steer her away from doing it the beginning of the month.
I was talking to another singer yesterday about tension, and said I never had any, certainly not in my throat, so why did my voice sound "throaty" (this is a word people had used). Well, I actually did have tension, only it wasn't in my throat it was in that place that I can only refer to as "where the post-nasal drip lives" - the back of my soft palate. All of that infrastructure feels bunged up and tight and sort of collapsed unless I think about opening it up. When I do that, my voice sounds entirely different.
I also have been religious about using the nasal saline spray. I probably have a post-nasal drip all the time. It's not like having a cold or an allergy where I'm aware of having a stuffed nose - it's all in the back. I had bought a Neti pot (with the blessing of my primary care physician) but I never used it. It just seemed like such a production (first you boil the water, then you cool the water....) so I've just been using the saline spray every time I need it.
So now I'm chomping at the bit to sing somewhere. The last time I sang anything really challenging (aside from choral soprano parts) was at my October concert last year and I did not sing well, although this was at least in part because of how bad the air was in the room.
The Requiem plans are moving ahead apace - I now have a bass. He's the man who sang three roles in my production of Samson et Dalila and we have also sung duets in concert. He is actually one of the few singing "peers" that I have. He began singing classical music in his late 30s, and has a huge voice with some rough edges, but it's a voice that's definitely suited to Verdi. And he is very reliable and will willingly chip in with expenses.
I can tell that my teacher is excited about the progress I've made because he has his wheels spinning about things I can sing. Definitely the scene from Adriana Lecouvreur (would be great on a program with some scenes from Gioconda). And now he's talking about Norma because he and the soprano who will be in my Requiem are doing a concert version of that as well as the Adriana. I will have to say that Norma is one of my five favorite operas, but I always assumed it was off the table for me because the mezzo part (which my teacher said was written for a soprano) has two high Cs. Well my teacher said that duet is almost always transposed down a whole step, so I would just have to sing two B flats which are in the middle of arpeggio-like progressions - usually not a problem for me and even less of a problem recently. My teacher suggested looking also at the Adalgisa/Pollione duet to sing with him. That sits a little high, but a high tessitura is usually not a problem for me if I don't have to sing above an A. There is one B flat at the end but we are singing it together. I have always had my own wryly amusing Lesbian/poly/bi interpretation of the story (you can read the story here) which I shared with my teacher for a laugh and he said, "Well, maybe they just used Pollione to have children" and laughed along with me. In my version the two women live happily ever after and no one gets on the funeral pyre LOL!
In other news, I have a solo date at the church on August 26, probably singing the Raff piece "Great and wonderful are all Thy works". And some time after August 1 I will contact the woman putting on the September 11 concert.
Lastly, my partner's cataract surgery went well, although the anesthesia, which was full of epinephrine, and the extra cortisone she took, made her act like a crazed crackhead for at least 48 hours and my life was sheer Hell. I have never been happier to go home - not to sing, just to curl up with a book or with my work for pay (this week it's an article about football players with head injuries). She will have the other eye done in September and I hope I can steer her away from doing it the beginning of the month.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
The Requiem Will Be March 23 2013!
This is now definite. I will be singing excerpts from Verdi's great Messa da Requiem at the Lutheran church where I sing, as part of their series of special programs for Lent, the Saturday before Palm Sunday. I emailed back and forth with the church administrator, who seemed genuinely excited about it. The ticket money will go to whatever charity the church is featuring during Lent, so I will flog, flog, flog it. I want it to at least pay for itself (meaning make enough money from ticket sales to equal what it would have cost me to pay for the space). My Samson et Dalila concert did, so there's no reason why this concert shouldn't.
Here's what I have so far:
A pianist
A soprano
A promise from my teacher to let me know if he will sing the tenor part, by Labor Day
An idea for a bass
A program (details re: cuts still to be worked out)
A cost estimate
I won't have a chorus or orchestra, but we will do the best we can without (I will probably have the pianist play part of the "Dies Irae" because it is so famous).
I haven't told my partner yet - I will wait until after my birthday. Palm Sunday is her favorite holiday, pretty much the only time she comes to the church where I sing. She will have a Palm Sunday.
Here's what I have so far:
A pianist
A soprano
A promise from my teacher to let me know if he will sing the tenor part, by Labor Day
An idea for a bass
A program (details re: cuts still to be worked out)
A cost estimate
I won't have a chorus or orchestra, but we will do the best we can without (I will probably have the pianist play part of the "Dies Irae" because it is so famous).
I haven't told my partner yet - I will wait until after my birthday. Palm Sunday is her favorite holiday, pretty much the only time she comes to the church where I sing. She will have a Palm Sunday.
Fight! for the Right! to Pah-tee
I suppose in some ways, this is going to be a more upbeat reprise of this post.
As for the title, it is a song by the the Beastie Boys. I never listened to their music, but their leader, Adam Yauch, was the son of people who were friends of my mother's. (I knew them, but not Adam.) I say I never listened to their music, but the title song was one impossible to avoid.
And, yes, in many ways it now describes my life.
First, I want to post a photo from an occasion recently when I had a lot of fun. (For the record, I cropped some people out at the right, partly for privacy concerns, and partly because I wanted to edit the photo so that everyone is wearing red.) I wish I didn't have a spot on my glasses (maybe I should have taken them off?) But I like that I am spread out like an odalisque at the right. (One of my promises to myself has been to try to elicit sexy pictures of myself from people with cameras, whenever possible.)
This photo depicts a group of us "pagans" at a solstice party in Central Park in June. We were supposed to have another one last night, but got rained out, so we held it in the Unitarian Church where I used to sing, where The Mentor changed my life forever on that fateful Valentine's Day.
Actually, my initial interest in these Moon Circles stemmed from him. Not that he attended them, as they are for women only, but because I thought attending them would make me more like him: colorful and free, the latter in every sense of the word. Recently I have found them an escape from the drudgery of work, the otherworldliness of church singing, no matter how much I love it, and the burden of eldercare.
Yesterday, I literally did have to "fight for the right" to attend the gathering. My partner was frightened that if I went out in the thunderstorm (which actually had ended by the time I went out) I might slip and fall and be unable to take her to her surgery tomorrow.
She continues to be disagreeable, which makes the idea of spending two nights in her apartment with no air conditioning (she refuses to turn it on when the humidity is high) even less appealing. Is she so disagreeable because she's old? Or is this a stereotype? Not all old people are disagreeable, although my mother got more and more disagreeable as she got older, albeit in a different way. My partner is totally unable to laugh at herself. She is not mean, or cruel, or unkind: just unpleasant.
I was actually thinking the other day that "unpleasantness" as a trait seems to have increased among the general population of all ages since I was growing up. (Of course then there's its mirror image: ludicrous "perkiness," which has also increased.) But I don't move in perky circles, unless I'm in a shop or ordering something on the phone. When I say "unpleasantness" I mean, for example, not understanding that if a group of people go out to celebrate someone's birthday, there should be a moratorium on talking about health problems and financial problems, dietary restrictions, and minor annoyances stemming from the venue. People should at least try to be "entertaining". Is that a lost art, I wonder?
So, again, please everyone, send thoughts and prayers tomorrow that my partner's surgery will go smoothly and that I will keep my temper.
P.S. I will post some exciting upbeat news in my next post!
First, I want to post a photo from an occasion recently when I had a lot of fun. (For the record, I cropped some people out at the right, partly for privacy concerns, and partly because I wanted to edit the photo so that everyone is wearing red.) I wish I didn't have a spot on my glasses (maybe I should have taken them off?) But I like that I am spread out like an odalisque at the right. (One of my promises to myself has been to try to elicit sexy pictures of myself from people with cameras, whenever possible.)
This photo depicts a group of us "pagans" at a solstice party in Central Park in June. We were supposed to have another one last night, but got rained out, so we held it in the Unitarian Church where I used to sing, where The Mentor changed my life forever on that fateful Valentine's Day.
Actually, my initial interest in these Moon Circles stemmed from him. Not that he attended them, as they are for women only, but because I thought attending them would make me more like him: colorful and free, the latter in every sense of the word. Recently I have found them an escape from the drudgery of work, the otherworldliness of church singing, no matter how much I love it, and the burden of eldercare.
Yesterday, I literally did have to "fight for the right" to attend the gathering. My partner was frightened that if I went out in the thunderstorm (which actually had ended by the time I went out) I might slip and fall and be unable to take her to her surgery tomorrow.
She continues to be disagreeable, which makes the idea of spending two nights in her apartment with no air conditioning (she refuses to turn it on when the humidity is high) even less appealing. Is she so disagreeable because she's old? Or is this a stereotype? Not all old people are disagreeable, although my mother got more and more disagreeable as she got older, albeit in a different way. My partner is totally unable to laugh at herself. She is not mean, or cruel, or unkind: just unpleasant.
I was actually thinking the other day that "unpleasantness" as a trait seems to have increased among the general population of all ages since I was growing up. (Of course then there's its mirror image: ludicrous "perkiness," which has also increased.) But I don't move in perky circles, unless I'm in a shop or ordering something on the phone. When I say "unpleasantness" I mean, for example, not understanding that if a group of people go out to celebrate someone's birthday, there should be a moratorium on talking about health problems and financial problems, dietary restrictions, and minor annoyances stemming from the venue. People should at least try to be "entertaining". Is that a lost art, I wonder?
So, again, please everyone, send thoughts and prayers tomorrow that my partner's surgery will go smoothly and that I will keep my temper.
P.S. I will post some exciting upbeat news in my next post!
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Some Pictures of Carmen, and Some Hope
One of the things that The Artist's Way tells you to do is keep an "image file". As my edition of the book was written before everyone was using the Internet, the author refers to its contents as "clippings" but of course one can now do that electronically.
Images that inspire me. Of course the first one I found was of Serena Williams after she won Wimbledon
because she defied the odds winning at 30, just as I believe I am defying the odds being an emerging dramatic mezzo at two weeks shy of 62.
But then I started thinking about Carmen. I have wanted to sing the role since, at 14, I was rejected by the High School Glee Club teacher when I auditioned to sing the Habanera in a school assembly (I was one of five girls who auditioned, and the only Caucasian) being told, essentially, that I was too "WASP-y" and uptight although not in those words.
It's not my favorite music to sing (I would rather sing Azucena, quite frankly, or the Principessa in Adriana Lecouvreur) but second only to Dalila it is my favorite role to be.
Most roles, considering my age and lack of mobility (I can't go up and down stairs that don't have a handrail or move more than a few inches in high heels) I would be happy to sing in concert, but I really really really want to sing Carmen in costume.
I have occasionally sung the Habanera at church fundraisers as you can see here (FWIW I am 59 years old here)
and would do so in a heartbeat again.
For my image file, I decided that this
was probably the hottest.
The singer depicted is Rinat Shaham from Israel.
Speaking of Carmen, I sang the "Seguidilla" at yesterday's lesson and it sounded good. I am trying to skip up to the B again, although not really staccato. I asked my teacher his opinion of staccati as an exercise and he said he generally avoids them because you can "get off the voice" and sing them in your throat.
The good news is that the big breakthrough I had has held. I sang some full voice B flats and B naturals (we didn't go higher than that) up into that new head space and now he is having me hold them for 2 or 3 counts in the middle of an arpeggio. I think I have definitely moved off this plateau.
Now I just need some places to sing. I am going to audition some songs for a concert the evening of September 11 (organized by the woman in whose living room I sang the "Judgment Scene" from Aida several years ago), and the Requiem plans are moving forward.
My teacher told me to email the soprano I want to use to make sure she is free. The two of them are singing in a concert version of Adriana Lecouvreur in a few months (I hope to sing the scenes with the Principessa with them later in another concert) so that brought this to his mind. He says he will let me know in September if he is going to sing or if I need to get another tenor. He is concerned that his voice may be too heavy for some of the pianissimo sections.
Lastly, please everyone say prayers that my partner's cataract surgery goes well and that I can be loving and good and not make it harder for her with my selfish resentments. Eventually this rough patch will be over and I can have some time to myself.
A social worker is coming to her house this morning. She doesn't know that it is because I called the agency, but I hope they can get her some help for the week after her surgery.
Images that inspire me. Of course the first one I found was of Serena Williams after she won Wimbledon
The good news is that the big breakthrough I had has held. I sang some full voice B flats and B naturals (we didn't go higher than that) up into that new head space and now he is having me hold them for 2 or 3 counts in the middle of an arpeggio. I think I have definitely moved off this plateau.
Now I just need some places to sing. I am going to audition some songs for a concert the evening of September 11 (organized by the woman in whose living room I sang the "Judgment Scene" from Aida several years ago), and the Requiem plans are moving forward.
My teacher told me to email the soprano I want to use to make sure she is free. The two of them are singing in a concert version of Adriana Lecouvreur in a few months (I hope to sing the scenes with the Principessa with them later in another concert) so that brought this to his mind. He says he will let me know in September if he is going to sing or if I need to get another tenor. He is concerned that his voice may be too heavy for some of the pianissimo sections.
Lastly, please everyone say prayers that my partner's cataract surgery goes well and that I can be loving and good and not make it harder for her with my selfish resentments. Eventually this rough patch will be over and I can have some time to myself.
A social worker is coming to her house this morning. She doesn't know that it is because I called the agency, but I hope they can get her some help for the week after her surgery.
Monday, July 9, 2012
An Ode to Frivolity and a Seguidilla Surprise
This isn't strictly about singing, but it is about me, and I really need an outlet right now. As I no longer have the pseudonymous blog, this is it. So now to keep it honest yet discreet.
For someone who is - OK I will say it - basically narcissistic and diva-esque, I am not sure sometimes how I ended up where I ended up. I never wanted to save the world or rescue people. One exercise in The Artists Way asked you to list five imaginary lives/professions you could see yourself in and not a single "helping profession" was on my list. I am not a compulsive caregiver. (When I was in that dismal LGBT caregiver group a number of the members referred to themselves as having a caregiving addiction, something I had zero identification with.)
I do have a strong sense of ethics and feelings of compassion for the people who are in my life. Well, the person who is in my life. I haven't noticed myself jumping to help people in my broader circle, mostly because I feel like a rubber band stretched to capacity.
Although we never legally married, my partner and I did have a commitment ceremony complete with vows, and although in the physical sense when I got too lonely I chose to ignore the one about "foresaking all others" I believe that it is my duty to honor the rest: to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, 'til death do us part. And I will not waver.
But when you add up limited funds, limited time, a livelihood spent at home at a laptop editing articles many of which are about people dying of cancer, much time with significant other spent at her home, doing chores, and making plans around her various health challenges it can be very wearing.
I don't know why (maybe it was my upbringing?) but everyone I know is what I would call "terminally serious". No matter what my mother talked about, it always felt like listening to the New York Times Op Ed page. She could take almost any potentially juicy topic and wring the lust and laughter out of it by turning it into a polemic.
Then, Heaven help us, because as a young adult I decided I was attracted to women, I got dragged kicking and screaming into The Women's Movement, which was really just a suffocating multiplication of my mother haranguing at me not to buy cosmetics.
Most of the friends I have now want to talk about politics, their health, or their money problems.
Where has all the laughter gone?
Yes, I have political opinions but I rarely talk about them, unless I start to get scared that my senior entitlement programs are going to be taken away. I don't define myself by them. Many of my friends, particularly from other parts of the country, define themselves as liberals in a sea of conservatives (their families and childhood acquaintances? neighbors?) whereas I have always defined myself as a bimbo in a sea of intellectuals.
So why now.
I have known for a while that my partner was having cataract surgery on the 20th, but it was only today that she found out that this means she can't bend over to tie her shoes for 10 days. She often stays in the house for that many days, and I always go over on Friday night and do chores for her on Saturdays, but this means that not one but two weekends, the second one being my birthday, will be taken up either with waiting on her, or staying in the house with her. She will not expect me to be there during the week. That is my work week. But still. Is it childish to care about my birthday? For a long time I thought birthdays were primarily for children. Mine is in July and I remember being reprimanded by a camp counselor (I was 9) for, in response to her asking me what my favorite day was all summer, saying it was my birthday. But then suddenly in the "greed is good" 80s I would hear many of my coworkers rhapsodize about the expensive jewelry they got from significant others. Jewelry (unless it was arty costume jewelry or something ethnic) was totally frowned on in the circles in which I moved even if someone could afford it. In all fairness, during that brief period when my partner was working she did buy me a few pieces of jewelry, but those days are long gone. I am lucky to get an inexpensive lunch and a discounted theater ticket (we are going to see "Mary Poppins" as a joint birthday present, sitting in discounted seats for the disabled).
What are all these young people giggling about in all these pictures on Facebook? One of the nicer readers of my pseudonymous blog said I probably was envious of people having a good time, which is absolutely true. Maybe I have "a good time" once a month if I'm lucky. How do I define that? Doing something totally frivolous where I don't have to be constantly poised to take care of someone else's needs, worry about their well-being, slow my pace, go gently, not overdo, take lots of breaks, cut out early, be home before dark....something where I am not worried about money or time, where I am by myself without my partner (whom I sometimes laughingly refer to as "the cleavage police") censoring what I'm wearing.
I will try to do something for myself over these next few weeks. I will have to give up a trip to Giverny in the Bronx and one to a concert at the Met Museum, but maybe I can go to the women's Moon Circle (a place I can wear bright colors, engage in sacred play, and honor my pagan self). (My love for this activity is one reason that no matter how much I love singing Bach and respect the social outreach at the Lutheran church, I am not converting to Christianity any time soon. Also pagans can be nonmonogamous.)
On a more cheerful note, I am finding the Seguidilla much easier. I just had to sing it into my voice. I can do the ending up to the high B well enough to keep the role in my repertoire. I mean it's one note and that's not really what the role is about. (God would I love to sing this role in full costume!!) And FWIW, I was just listening to a recording of Carmen with Grace Bumbry, and she transposed the Seguidilla down a half a step!
ETA: Right after I posted this I spoke with my partner. She is really quite frightened about the cataract surgery (it usually goes smoothly, but she had to sign a waiver that mentioned blindness and death) and I want to be there for her. I suggested going this weekend to get her another pair of sneakers that has a velcro closing instead of ties, that she can put on with her reacher. In addition to the cataract surgery there is also the issue of her having an artificial hip replacement and not being able to bend into certain positions. She also cried and said it hurt her when I invited her to go with me to do things at night. One thing I have very poor judgment about is when I am being unreasonably selfish and when I am being unreasonably self-abnegating. I grew up thinking I was much more selfish than most people (the kids I grew up with, even the rich ones, were punished if they acted greedy about, for example, wanting an expensive birthday present) but as we moved into the Reagan Era and beyond, I continue to be surprised at how selfish and self-absorbed many people are, regarding wanting presents, treats, etc., even middle aged adults, who expect expensive birthday presents from spouses, etc. or the younger performers who endlessly post photos of themselves in various outfits. So I have no benchmarks that I trust.
For someone who is - OK I will say it - basically narcissistic and diva-esque, I am not sure sometimes how I ended up where I ended up. I never wanted to save the world or rescue people. One exercise in The Artists Way asked you to list five imaginary lives/professions you could see yourself in and not a single "helping profession" was on my list. I am not a compulsive caregiver. (When I was in that dismal LGBT caregiver group a number of the members referred to themselves as having a caregiving addiction, something I had zero identification with.)
I do have a strong sense of ethics and feelings of compassion for the people who are in my life. Well, the person who is in my life. I haven't noticed myself jumping to help people in my broader circle, mostly because I feel like a rubber band stretched to capacity.
Although we never legally married, my partner and I did have a commitment ceremony complete with vows, and although in the physical sense when I got too lonely I chose to ignore the one about "foresaking all others" I believe that it is my duty to honor the rest: to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, 'til death do us part. And I will not waver.
But when you add up limited funds, limited time, a livelihood spent at home at a laptop editing articles many of which are about people dying of cancer, much time with significant other spent at her home, doing chores, and making plans around her various health challenges it can be very wearing.
I don't know why (maybe it was my upbringing?) but everyone I know is what I would call "terminally serious". No matter what my mother talked about, it always felt like listening to the New York Times Op Ed page. She could take almost any potentially juicy topic and wring the lust and laughter out of it by turning it into a polemic.
Then, Heaven help us, because as a young adult I decided I was attracted to women, I got dragged kicking and screaming into The Women's Movement, which was really just a suffocating multiplication of my mother haranguing at me not to buy cosmetics.
Most of the friends I have now want to talk about politics, their health, or their money problems.
Where has all the laughter gone?
Yes, I have political opinions but I rarely talk about them, unless I start to get scared that my senior entitlement programs are going to be taken away. I don't define myself by them. Many of my friends, particularly from other parts of the country, define themselves as liberals in a sea of conservatives (their families and childhood acquaintances? neighbors?) whereas I have always defined myself as a bimbo in a sea of intellectuals.
So why now.
I have known for a while that my partner was having cataract surgery on the 20th, but it was only today that she found out that this means she can't bend over to tie her shoes for 10 days. She often stays in the house for that many days, and I always go over on Friday night and do chores for her on Saturdays, but this means that not one but two weekends, the second one being my birthday, will be taken up either with waiting on her, or staying in the house with her. She will not expect me to be there during the week. That is my work week. But still. Is it childish to care about my birthday? For a long time I thought birthdays were primarily for children. Mine is in July and I remember being reprimanded by a camp counselor (I was 9) for, in response to her asking me what my favorite day was all summer, saying it was my birthday. But then suddenly in the "greed is good" 80s I would hear many of my coworkers rhapsodize about the expensive jewelry they got from significant others. Jewelry (unless it was arty costume jewelry or something ethnic) was totally frowned on in the circles in which I moved even if someone could afford it. In all fairness, during that brief period when my partner was working she did buy me a few pieces of jewelry, but those days are long gone. I am lucky to get an inexpensive lunch and a discounted theater ticket (we are going to see "Mary Poppins" as a joint birthday present, sitting in discounted seats for the disabled).
What are all these young people giggling about in all these pictures on Facebook? One of the nicer readers of my pseudonymous blog said I probably was envious of people having a good time, which is absolutely true. Maybe I have "a good time" once a month if I'm lucky. How do I define that? Doing something totally frivolous where I don't have to be constantly poised to take care of someone else's needs, worry about their well-being, slow my pace, go gently, not overdo, take lots of breaks, cut out early, be home before dark....something where I am not worried about money or time, where I am by myself without my partner (whom I sometimes laughingly refer to as "the cleavage police") censoring what I'm wearing.
I will try to do something for myself over these next few weeks. I will have to give up a trip to Giverny in the Bronx and one to a concert at the Met Museum, but maybe I can go to the women's Moon Circle (a place I can wear bright colors, engage in sacred play, and honor my pagan self). (My love for this activity is one reason that no matter how much I love singing Bach and respect the social outreach at the Lutheran church, I am not converting to Christianity any time soon. Also pagans can be nonmonogamous.)
On a more cheerful note, I am finding the Seguidilla much easier. I just had to sing it into my voice. I can do the ending up to the high B well enough to keep the role in my repertoire. I mean it's one note and that's not really what the role is about. (God would I love to sing this role in full costume!!) And FWIW, I was just listening to a recording of Carmen with Grace Bumbry, and she transposed the Seguidilla down a half a step!
ETA: Right after I posted this I spoke with my partner. She is really quite frightened about the cataract surgery (it usually goes smoothly, but she had to sign a waiver that mentioned blindness and death) and I want to be there for her. I suggested going this weekend to get her another pair of sneakers that has a velcro closing instead of ties, that she can put on with her reacher. In addition to the cataract surgery there is also the issue of her having an artificial hip replacement and not being able to bend into certain positions. She also cried and said it hurt her when I invited her to go with me to do things at night. One thing I have very poor judgment about is when I am being unreasonably selfish and when I am being unreasonably self-abnegating. I grew up thinking I was much more selfish than most people (the kids I grew up with, even the rich ones, were punished if they acted greedy about, for example, wanting an expensive birthday present) but as we moved into the Reagan Era and beyond, I continue to be surprised at how selfish and self-absorbed many people are, regarding wanting presents, treats, etc., even middle aged adults, who expect expensive birthday presents from spouses, etc. or the younger performers who endlessly post photos of themselves in various outfits. So I have no benchmarks that I trust.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Triumphs, Frustrations, and Auditions
First for the triumphs. It has been over a week since my last lesson and I can still feel a difference. I feel something more head-y (not quite as much as I did, unfortunately). I think it has something to do with my having figured out how to raise my soft palate in the back. Whatever it is, I am now able to sing full voiced arpeggios up to a high C that don't sound like something is "stuck" (or like I'm screaming) and the climactic A in a piece like "Acerba Volutta" is a walk in the park.
One thing my teacher talks about is how good singing involves having the right mix of chest and head register up and down the scale, and that it changes, but it has to do that smoothly. I really am beginning to understand something now. My chest voice (which he says is overdeveloped) is constantly overweighting the mix and this is something I have to fight against, which is helped by singing oo, or humming, which is what he had me do when I first began studying with him in the late 70s. I'm sure at that time, that having smoked did have something to do with my lack of head voice because not only couldn't I sing much above an F or a G, but I also couldn't hum and I couldn't scream, only squawk. Zachary had mentioned that he knows singers who smoke, but the ones I've met began smoking an occasional social cigarette as adults after their vocal technique was in place and their vocal apparatus was developed. I began smoking when I was 13. My teacher said that now the issue is more to do with the fact that I went for over two decades without singing, but I was talking, so I was using the chest register but not the head register, because of the way I speak.
As for the disappointment, I had written in answer to an ad in Classical Singer looking for someone to sing Mercedes in Carmen, so I sang through the "Seguidilla", which I don't think I'd sung for two years. Well, despite all the glorious Verdian B flats and B naturals I'd been singing this week, I could not make it up to that staccato-ish B natural at the end of the "Seguidilla", something I used to be able to do. So what does that mean? Is my voice now to heavy for that piece? It's too bad, because the heavier parts of the role sound good in my voice and it certainly suits my personality. I know I have never had much luck with staccati. This is something I asked my teacher about once because another singer had mentioned it as a way to help high notes, and he blew it off. I may ask him again (I will take the "Seguidilla" to my next lesson). I do sing a lot of coloratura, but that is mostly in a lower register in the Bach alto and soprano 2 solos or in an upper middle register in "Rejoice Greatly" (which, as written, goes no higher than A flat).
Continuing on with the subject of auditions, I saw another ad in the back of Classical Singer, from an Episcopal church in the neighborhood that is looking for paid soprano and alto choir members. I had auditioned there about five years ago (as a soprano, singing "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth") and they put me on a sub list but never called me. Actually, I don't think their choir sounded as good as the volunteer choir I sing with at the Lutheran church, possibly because the choir director at that time liked "straight tone"? Also the music they sang was not as interesting. (I had gone to a number of services there before I auditioned.) It would also make me very sad to leave that Lutheran church. I have a good relationship with the choir director and have made friends there. They have a lot of fun outings planned for the summer, which I plan to participate in if I can. Ideally what I would like is to stay there and get paid choir work once in a while, perhaps on the big holidays. But I plan to go to this choir audition if someone writes back. I said I could sing either soprano or alto and I gave a list of major choral works and solos that I had sung. I will go to the audition and then will take things from there.
One thing my teacher talks about is how good singing involves having the right mix of chest and head register up and down the scale, and that it changes, but it has to do that smoothly. I really am beginning to understand something now. My chest voice (which he says is overdeveloped) is constantly overweighting the mix and this is something I have to fight against, which is helped by singing oo, or humming, which is what he had me do when I first began studying with him in the late 70s. I'm sure at that time, that having smoked did have something to do with my lack of head voice because not only couldn't I sing much above an F or a G, but I also couldn't hum and I couldn't scream, only squawk. Zachary had mentioned that he knows singers who smoke, but the ones I've met began smoking an occasional social cigarette as adults after their vocal technique was in place and their vocal apparatus was developed. I began smoking when I was 13. My teacher said that now the issue is more to do with the fact that I went for over two decades without singing, but I was talking, so I was using the chest register but not the head register, because of the way I speak.
As for the disappointment, I had written in answer to an ad in Classical Singer looking for someone to sing Mercedes in Carmen, so I sang through the "Seguidilla", which I don't think I'd sung for two years. Well, despite all the glorious Verdian B flats and B naturals I'd been singing this week, I could not make it up to that staccato-ish B natural at the end of the "Seguidilla", something I used to be able to do. So what does that mean? Is my voice now to heavy for that piece? It's too bad, because the heavier parts of the role sound good in my voice and it certainly suits my personality. I know I have never had much luck with staccati. This is something I asked my teacher about once because another singer had mentioned it as a way to help high notes, and he blew it off. I may ask him again (I will take the "Seguidilla" to my next lesson). I do sing a lot of coloratura, but that is mostly in a lower register in the Bach alto and soprano 2 solos or in an upper middle register in "Rejoice Greatly" (which, as written, goes no higher than A flat).
Continuing on with the subject of auditions, I saw another ad in the back of Classical Singer, from an Episcopal church in the neighborhood that is looking for paid soprano and alto choir members. I had auditioned there about five years ago (as a soprano, singing "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth") and they put me on a sub list but never called me. Actually, I don't think their choir sounded as good as the volunteer choir I sing with at the Lutheran church, possibly because the choir director at that time liked "straight tone"? Also the music they sang was not as interesting. (I had gone to a number of services there before I auditioned.) It would also make me very sad to leave that Lutheran church. I have a good relationship with the choir director and have made friends there. They have a lot of fun outings planned for the summer, which I plan to participate in if I can. Ideally what I would like is to stay there and get paid choir work once in a while, perhaps on the big holidays. But I plan to go to this choir audition if someone writes back. I said I could sing either soprano or alto and I gave a list of major choral works and solos that I had sung. I will go to the audition and then will take things from there.
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