I haven't written in a while, despite having had a satisfyingly successful time singing my Bach cantata aria last Sunday. I sang well, and had the delightful surprise of a viola da gamba accompaniment as well as the organ. And people applauded which they never to after a church solo unless it's something bouncy.
But this article caught my eye. It even mentions The Artist's Way, a program that my therapist recommended, which helped me more than anything I became involved in after AA and The Well Spouse.
Yes, I suppose I do fit the profile featured in this article, down to producing several charity concerts (although my takings were in the $100s not $1000s) and my current specialization of singing in nursing homes.
The one thing this article does not mention, however, is what happens when you discover a passion in midlife that you're obviously good at but not as good as the people who are really good at it, who, even if they don't do it for a living, do it as well as the people who are doing it for a living, all went to the same schools, and all know each other?
The exhilaration that I found at first realizing that I could not only sing Dalila but be Dalila at a tiny church "talent show" was quickly followed by years of rage, envy, and despair as a result of not only being rejected at auditions, but also being attacked on all sides by sharks and snarks when I tried to "join the club". I was rejected by all ten or so "amateur" opera companies here because I was too old, too inexperienced, and not polished enough, and was alternately laughed at and ignored by what I call the "Forum Crowd" (a group of lower level professional and semi professional singers who have in common that they all seem to have music performance degrees and hate wannabees, amateurs who are too big for their britches, and anyone without their credentials who thinks she can converse with her betters like a peer.) (And as I wrote this, looking for a link, I saw that their new message board is closed and requires a log in.)
I suppose a Saturday night painter can paint alone, but you can't really sing alone. There's only so far you can go singing arias in your living room, particularly considering that appreciation is pretty thin on the ground if you live, like I do, around the corner from Lincoln Center and have neighbors who go to the Met every week.
So I sing in a church choir, and am a church soloist. The irony of course is that both my parents were atheists (my mother defined herself as a secular Jew) and I am not Baptised. But it is a nice niche. There are real professional singers who cycle in and out of there but they move on to greener pastures or have limited time for solo opportunities. The older retired professionals (I'm thinking of one) are very "been there, done that". Who is going to sing a solo in the summer if they can go away?
And I produce concerts in nursing homes. I have done two since May and will be doing a third next week. And my teacher, who is now back to singing bass-baritone again, is already thinking of a concert of duets (some old some new) that we can do in the Fall or next Spring.
And of course I'm still waiting to be the subject of an op-ed or other newspaper story, like the singer featured today.
Showing posts with label Artist's Way. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Artist's Way. Show all posts
Sunday, July 15, 2018
Sunday, September 21, 2014
How My Imagination Atrophied
In a recent post about sexism, which also included quite a bit about generational differences, I spoke of how some of my self-dislike and low spirits around my dull work life, life as a caregiver (despite passionately loving my "care recipient"), and financial and temporal limitations, stemmed from "the conversation" or "the buzz" as you will around the topics of self-actualization through work, postponing coupling (and childbearing, which for me was not relevant), and an extended period of self-exploration. And more importantly, about how doing those things is a passport to a good life, whereas not doing them, is a passport to poverty and a lesser one.
And now we have this op ed piece, which rehashes some of the same ground.
What I found most compelling, particularly in view of my goal to "jumpstart" my imagination, is the recent belief that postponing "settling" (one of the hallmarks of adulthood) allows the imagination to blossom more fully, and (although this was not mentioned) also allows one to "settle up" (with a more interesting and more lucrative career and a more appropriate spouse) when one does settle. The article states that the jury is still out on which comes first: the "settled, hardened brain" or the routinized life, but they do seem to be related.
I (and many others of my generation) postponed adulthood, certainly middle-class adulthood, for a period of time, and some never found it, but this was a very different trajectory from that of today's millennials. First, we got away from our parents at as young an age as possible and never went back. We did not take money from our parents for living expenses, certainly if we were living in a way that they would not have approved of. (If there was money, parents paid for college and graduate school - the latter mostly for sons - but nothing beyond.) We did not become part of the "establishment". Aborted our education. Some died of drug overdoses or ended up in jail for misguided "politically motivated" crimes or for God know what that we did when on drugs. Some managed a complete turnabout and became Yuppies. The rest (I would include myself here) settled for the lesser life that one ends up in with a tenth rate education, often too little too late, and the need to opt for short-term financial security.
Once I got sober, the first thing I did was find a mate (someone I was madly in love with, with whom I could have sex regularly - let's get real here), then a job. With nothing but a high school diploma and no work history I was lucky that I was able to get a "career ladder" secretarial job in publishing. I was making a pittance but had good benefits and a ladder up in an industry that I was familiar with because I had grown up around it. But that, and my early "marriage" did not do much in the way of allowing my imagination to blossom through novelty seeking. True, I believed that I was sort of living on the edge of danger being out when sexual orientation was not a protected class with regard to employment discrimination, and when being in big groups of gay people demonstrating (or even going in and out of buildings known to be gay-centered) might have led to an ugly skirmish, but actually my life was pretty dull and predictable. In the "textbook" time frame my relationship deteriorated from endless lovemaking and fighting (although some of that lasted for 20 years and the fighting continues to this day when I am mainly a caregiver) to discussions about grocery shopping and laundry, and certainly very little that I did at work was interesting at all. I mostly liked the job because it was easy and I could take an hour and a half for lunch three times a week to go to an AA meeting and talk on the phone with my AA fellows most of the day while I shoved documents into file folders. And I met interesting people.
I had hoped that when I stopped working in an office and got out of the routine I could find "something different" but I see that I have settled into another routine that is just as dull, and I don't even sleep that much later!!
It always seems to be a struggle, not just to find venues for singing at my age with so little experience, but just to diversify my life in any way at all!! I have always felt that my brain and my psyche fight these attempts at diversification much as my soul hungers for it, and at least this article explains why,
This also explains one of my sources of fascination with The Mentor. I envied how he was free of the two things that made my life feel like a prison: monogamy (which wasn't even that any more, when your partner is physically failing) and an office job. I can't comfortably address the first issue in a public blog, but although I am now free of the second, and do enjoy being able to mix and match my daytime schedule (do outside errands and make appointments during the day and work at my laptop at night), I seem to have ended up in the type of work that is largely dull and rote.
So how do I get my imagination jumpstarted?? Certainly remembering everything I learned from The Artist's Way has helped.
I would also like to see some articles about how some of the choices people like me made (and I am certainly not unique) can be leveraged as assets, going into the home stretch. I'm really kind of sick of all the coverage given to young people.
And now we have this op ed piece, which rehashes some of the same ground.
What I found most compelling, particularly in view of my goal to "jumpstart" my imagination, is the recent belief that postponing "settling" (one of the hallmarks of adulthood) allows the imagination to blossom more fully, and (although this was not mentioned) also allows one to "settle up" (with a more interesting and more lucrative career and a more appropriate spouse) when one does settle. The article states that the jury is still out on which comes first: the "settled, hardened brain" or the routinized life, but they do seem to be related.
I (and many others of my generation) postponed adulthood, certainly middle-class adulthood, for a period of time, and some never found it, but this was a very different trajectory from that of today's millennials. First, we got away from our parents at as young an age as possible and never went back. We did not take money from our parents for living expenses, certainly if we were living in a way that they would not have approved of. (If there was money, parents paid for college and graduate school - the latter mostly for sons - but nothing beyond.) We did not become part of the "establishment". Aborted our education. Some died of drug overdoses or ended up in jail for misguided "politically motivated" crimes or for God know what that we did when on drugs. Some managed a complete turnabout and became Yuppies. The rest (I would include myself here) settled for the lesser life that one ends up in with a tenth rate education, often too little too late, and the need to opt for short-term financial security.
Once I got sober, the first thing I did was find a mate (someone I was madly in love with, with whom I could have sex regularly - let's get real here), then a job. With nothing but a high school diploma and no work history I was lucky that I was able to get a "career ladder" secretarial job in publishing. I was making a pittance but had good benefits and a ladder up in an industry that I was familiar with because I had grown up around it. But that, and my early "marriage" did not do much in the way of allowing my imagination to blossom through novelty seeking. True, I believed that I was sort of living on the edge of danger being out when sexual orientation was not a protected class with regard to employment discrimination, and when being in big groups of gay people demonstrating (or even going in and out of buildings known to be gay-centered) might have led to an ugly skirmish, but actually my life was pretty dull and predictable. In the "textbook" time frame my relationship deteriorated from endless lovemaking and fighting (although some of that lasted for 20 years and the fighting continues to this day when I am mainly a caregiver) to discussions about grocery shopping and laundry, and certainly very little that I did at work was interesting at all. I mostly liked the job because it was easy and I could take an hour and a half for lunch three times a week to go to an AA meeting and talk on the phone with my AA fellows most of the day while I shoved documents into file folders. And I met interesting people.
I had hoped that when I stopped working in an office and got out of the routine I could find "something different" but I see that I have settled into another routine that is just as dull, and I don't even sleep that much later!!
It always seems to be a struggle, not just to find venues for singing at my age with so little experience, but just to diversify my life in any way at all!! I have always felt that my brain and my psyche fight these attempts at diversification much as my soul hungers for it, and at least this article explains why,
This also explains one of my sources of fascination with The Mentor. I envied how he was free of the two things that made my life feel like a prison: monogamy (which wasn't even that any more, when your partner is physically failing) and an office job. I can't comfortably address the first issue in a public blog, but although I am now free of the second, and do enjoy being able to mix and match my daytime schedule (do outside errands and make appointments during the day and work at my laptop at night), I seem to have ended up in the type of work that is largely dull and rote.
So how do I get my imagination jumpstarted?? Certainly remembering everything I learned from The Artist's Way has helped.
I would also like to see some articles about how some of the choices people like me made (and I am certainly not unique) can be leveraged as assets, going into the home stretch. I'm really kind of sick of all the coverage given to young people.
Friday, December 27, 2013
New Year's Resolutions, Six Months On
Well, it is now almost that time of year again.
I don't make it a rule that I must make New Year's resolutions, but as I felt a great need for some house cleaning earlier in the year (which I have continued with), I want to strengthen my resolve.
Maybe it's because I have gone back to AA meetings, but I spent part of this year taking a look at some of my behavior to see what exactly it was that was making me so unhappy, and I saw that a lot of it had to do with a kind of voyeurism that I was engaging in a propos of other people who had the lives I wish I had. It was very hard to feel gratitude and self-acceptance if every single day I was reading blogs and status updates from working singers, actors, and so forth. Particularly ones who were articulate culture watchers. No matter what they were writing about, it stung, whether they were writing about me or not (most likely not).
Since my involvement with blogging (which followed closely on the heels of my involvement with singing), I have had two major showdowns with groups of people I envied, (and some minor ones along the way), which should have told me something. I simply don't need to be looking in these people's bedrooms or reading their polemics. I notice that I already have felt better about myself since I stopped doing this.
These people's lives are extremely unusual. So if I don't work outside the house, and don't have relatives, and spend the morning reading journals and blogs from seven working singers, one director, and three voice teachers, I am going to lose sight of that fact, and feel quite small. On the other hand if I find places to socialize that are full of secretaries, nurses, even bankers (I have never envied money per se), I have a much more realistic attitude about where I fit in the scheme of things. Even the fact that I practice an art form at all, and in fact practice it well enough that I have a handful of performance venues where I can do solo singing, even for no money, puts me ahead of the game. It means I am "artier" and more creative than your average 63 year old woman with a bachelor's degree, whose only contact with the arts may be as a spectator.
So my first resolution is to reaffirm that I am not going to read any more personal blogs or opinion pieces (or peruse online fora) frequented by these people. I still read some blogs by voice teachers, but these are about vocal technique, health, and repertoire, not about how Miss Kansas is ruining things for "real" opera singers or how amateurs must never never forget that we are not the real deal.
My second resolution is to continue all the work that I did with The Artists Way. This taught me to incorporate beauty and sensuality into every nook and cranny of my life. It did not tell me I had to do something creative for a living or else I was a failure. That if you do not "love what you do" you are worthless. And in fact, I need to reaffirm that
Yes, I do love what I do, I just don't love what I do for a living, and ny third resolution is that I need to stop hating myself because I can't find something else to do for a living. I have to accept that what I do does not feed my soul in any way, so I need to feed myself otherwise, while at the same time being grateful that I have some livelihood, considering that many people don't these days. Leaving aside the obvious, singing, I can cook, and decorate, organize my photographs, write, look around me when I am out. I already avoid left brain hobbies like the plague. I can't remember the last time I even looked at a crossword puzzle, for example.
It's interesting. Since I have stopped "competing" with working singers and hating myself, some things have fallen into my lap. I am going to sing (the "Habanera" and something else) at a cabaret musicale. This is on a Sunday afternoon which is just fine and dandy. If I skip a Sunday choir sing maybe someone will miss me and I will stop feeling taken for granted. I will be singing Nins' "Cant deis Aucells" on Epiphany for the Spanish service. And I am continuing to work on the scenes from Carmen for my spring concert. There is all sorts of singing I can do where I can use artistry and garner applause that doesn't involve the (in fact rather limited) world of auditions for these no pay opera groups and others, who obviously don't want me.
Although I don't really see myself as a musical theater singer, I have found a musical theater piece that I adore: "Moonfall" from The Mystery of Edwin Drood. It is dripping with seduction, a lot like "Mon Coeur" and is in an ideal range for my type voice. If I sing it, I won't sing it as Rosa Bud in the show, I will sing it as if I meant the words, which are quite delicious.
Another sign of personal growth. I couldn't in a million years see myself wanting to sing "Green Finch and Linnet Bird" now. However mired I am in eldercare, sometimes lovingly, sometimes not, I know I am not a caged bird. I can fly and sing!
I don't make it a rule that I must make New Year's resolutions, but as I felt a great need for some house cleaning earlier in the year (which I have continued with), I want to strengthen my resolve.
Maybe it's because I have gone back to AA meetings, but I spent part of this year taking a look at some of my behavior to see what exactly it was that was making me so unhappy, and I saw that a lot of it had to do with a kind of voyeurism that I was engaging in a propos of other people who had the lives I wish I had. It was very hard to feel gratitude and self-acceptance if every single day I was reading blogs and status updates from working singers, actors, and so forth. Particularly ones who were articulate culture watchers. No matter what they were writing about, it stung, whether they were writing about me or not (most likely not).
Since my involvement with blogging (which followed closely on the heels of my involvement with singing), I have had two major showdowns with groups of people I envied, (and some minor ones along the way), which should have told me something. I simply don't need to be looking in these people's bedrooms or reading their polemics. I notice that I already have felt better about myself since I stopped doing this.
These people's lives are extremely unusual. So if I don't work outside the house, and don't have relatives, and spend the morning reading journals and blogs from seven working singers, one director, and three voice teachers, I am going to lose sight of that fact, and feel quite small. On the other hand if I find places to socialize that are full of secretaries, nurses, even bankers (I have never envied money per se), I have a much more realistic attitude about where I fit in the scheme of things. Even the fact that I practice an art form at all, and in fact practice it well enough that I have a handful of performance venues where I can do solo singing, even for no money, puts me ahead of the game. It means I am "artier" and more creative than your average 63 year old woman with a bachelor's degree, whose only contact with the arts may be as a spectator.
So my first resolution is to reaffirm that I am not going to read any more personal blogs or opinion pieces (or peruse online fora) frequented by these people. I still read some blogs by voice teachers, but these are about vocal technique, health, and repertoire, not about how Miss Kansas is ruining things for "real" opera singers or how amateurs must never never forget that we are not the real deal.
My second resolution is to continue all the work that I did with The Artists Way. This taught me to incorporate beauty and sensuality into every nook and cranny of my life. It did not tell me I had to do something creative for a living or else I was a failure. That if you do not "love what you do" you are worthless. And in fact, I need to reaffirm that
Yes, I do love what I do, I just don't love what I do for a living, and ny third resolution is that I need to stop hating myself because I can't find something else to do for a living. I have to accept that what I do does not feed my soul in any way, so I need to feed myself otherwise, while at the same time being grateful that I have some livelihood, considering that many people don't these days. Leaving aside the obvious, singing, I can cook, and decorate, organize my photographs, write, look around me when I am out. I already avoid left brain hobbies like the plague. I can't remember the last time I even looked at a crossword puzzle, for example.
It's interesting. Since I have stopped "competing" with working singers and hating myself, some things have fallen into my lap. I am going to sing (the "Habanera" and something else) at a cabaret musicale. This is on a Sunday afternoon which is just fine and dandy. If I skip a Sunday choir sing maybe someone will miss me and I will stop feeling taken for granted. I will be singing Nins' "Cant deis Aucells" on Epiphany for the Spanish service. And I am continuing to work on the scenes from Carmen for my spring concert. There is all sorts of singing I can do where I can use artistry and garner applause that doesn't involve the (in fact rather limited) world of auditions for these no pay opera groups and others, who obviously don't want me.
Although I don't really see myself as a musical theater singer, I have found a musical theater piece that I adore: "Moonfall" from The Mystery of Edwin Drood. It is dripping with seduction, a lot like "Mon Coeur" and is in an ideal range for my type voice. If I sing it, I won't sing it as Rosa Bud in the show, I will sing it as if I meant the words, which are quite delicious.
Another sign of personal growth. I couldn't in a million years see myself wanting to sing "Green Finch and Linnet Bird" now. However mired I am in eldercare, sometimes lovingly, sometimes not, I know I am not a caged bird. I can fly and sing!
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
A Surprise Bit of "Synchronicity" AKA "Ask and You Shall Receive"
When I began working with The Artist's Way, one term I kept reading was synchronicity. I hadn't a clue what it meant, in fact, I just thought it was a lot of New Age blather.
I haven't seen much of it, just dribs and drabs, like meeting a woman whose specialty is Spanish art songs at the same time that the church where I am an (unpaid) soloist started having a service in Spanish every Sunday.
Something I have begun focusing on is that, no matter how well I want to sing, and no matter how determined I am to do something with singing other than just being a church soloist during the years remaining to me, I know that I will never interest anyone as a singer, other than close friends and church people. I have been rejected by at least 10 "community opera" groups in Manhattan (probably that means all of them) so in addition to letting go of my dream of being an opera star, I have also had to let go of my dream of being a big fish in a little pond, AKA, to perform a leading role (if I'm not getting paid at least as much as I make as a copyeditor I am not singing in an opera chorus or performing a comprimaria role - time is too short) in a no-pay community opera group.
So the question I have asked myself is (and I have asked it over and over) what do I want? If I want to sing a role like Azucena, for example, I can roll up my sleeves and revisit those terrifying high B flats and organize a production of Il Trovatore myself for a small outlay of cash, that will probably be seen by 20 people if I'm lucky. Or I can organize some kind of concert. I am hoping the Requiem will be a success, mainly because it is a charity event and I plan to keep the focus on that it is something for people to hear during Lent, and that the ticket money will go to the Food Pantry and Community Lunch.
But I know that the other thing that I want is a spotlight. That is why I continue to be intrigued by Julie and Julia. Julie was not a great cook or a great writer, but her story piqued someone's interest. So my challenge is: how to pique someone's interest. Surely someone might find it interesting that a 62-year-old is on a path to keep singing better, struggling to fight the physical aging process and cram a lot of what conservatory students learn over 4-6 years into my little nooks and crannies of free time.
As for the title of this post, here is the turn things have taken. I realized that in addition to my envy of working singers (and by this I don't necessarily mean people who earn their living singing, but people who are regularly cast in various opera productions, sometimes for pay sometimes not, who are doing it on a regular basis) I am also envious of the whole "gestalt" that some of these people have, posting things on Facebook and other places, where they toss out bits of wisdom intertwined with snark and have lots of "yes men and women" who tell them how fabulous and clever they are. I am as excluded from that as I am from the real world of singing. I have some supportive friends on Facebook, but with one or two exceptions, they are not those people nor do they behave like that. People wish me good luck, or say I will be in their thoughts and prayers, but I don't have a "claque". So I was feeling very lonely and bereft (really, at 62 to be a wannabe is rather pathetic, whatever the territory) when out of the blue, one of my Facebook friends, someone I knew long ago and reconnected with, posted on my wall that she had been listening to my Youtube video of Wagner's "Angel". She has shared this with her friends and seems to really love it. I was so touched I almost wanted to cry. So few people really have any sense of the "fabulousness" I try to project (although what I have is probably more authentic and will last longer) that I was quite astonished that this "Angel" video (which, come to think of it is not "fabulous", it is churchly and angelic) has taken off the way it has. It has more hits than anything else on the church Youtube channel, although it is probably sacrilegious to look at it that way and even care.
So you never know when something you have been yearning for will just sort of turn up, from an unexpected quarter...
I haven't seen much of it, just dribs and drabs, like meeting a woman whose specialty is Spanish art songs at the same time that the church where I am an (unpaid) soloist started having a service in Spanish every Sunday.
Something I have begun focusing on is that, no matter how well I want to sing, and no matter how determined I am to do something with singing other than just being a church soloist during the years remaining to me, I know that I will never interest anyone as a singer, other than close friends and church people. I have been rejected by at least 10 "community opera" groups in Manhattan (probably that means all of them) so in addition to letting go of my dream of being an opera star, I have also had to let go of my dream of being a big fish in a little pond, AKA, to perform a leading role (if I'm not getting paid at least as much as I make as a copyeditor I am not singing in an opera chorus or performing a comprimaria role - time is too short) in a no-pay community opera group.
So the question I have asked myself is (and I have asked it over and over) what do I want? If I want to sing a role like Azucena, for example, I can roll up my sleeves and revisit those terrifying high B flats and organize a production of Il Trovatore myself for a small outlay of cash, that will probably be seen by 20 people if I'm lucky. Or I can organize some kind of concert. I am hoping the Requiem will be a success, mainly because it is a charity event and I plan to keep the focus on that it is something for people to hear during Lent, and that the ticket money will go to the Food Pantry and Community Lunch.
But I know that the other thing that I want is a spotlight. That is why I continue to be intrigued by Julie and Julia. Julie was not a great cook or a great writer, but her story piqued someone's interest. So my challenge is: how to pique someone's interest. Surely someone might find it interesting that a 62-year-old is on a path to keep singing better, struggling to fight the physical aging process and cram a lot of what conservatory students learn over 4-6 years into my little nooks and crannies of free time.
As for the title of this post, here is the turn things have taken. I realized that in addition to my envy of working singers (and by this I don't necessarily mean people who earn their living singing, but people who are regularly cast in various opera productions, sometimes for pay sometimes not, who are doing it on a regular basis) I am also envious of the whole "gestalt" that some of these people have, posting things on Facebook and other places, where they toss out bits of wisdom intertwined with snark and have lots of "yes men and women" who tell them how fabulous and clever they are. I am as excluded from that as I am from the real world of singing. I have some supportive friends on Facebook, but with one or two exceptions, they are not those people nor do they behave like that. People wish me good luck, or say I will be in their thoughts and prayers, but I don't have a "claque". So I was feeling very lonely and bereft (really, at 62 to be a wannabe is rather pathetic, whatever the territory) when out of the blue, one of my Facebook friends, someone I knew long ago and reconnected with, posted on my wall that she had been listening to my Youtube video of Wagner's "Angel". She has shared this with her friends and seems to really love it. I was so touched I almost wanted to cry. So few people really have any sense of the "fabulousness" I try to project (although what I have is probably more authentic and will last longer) that I was quite astonished that this "Angel" video (which, come to think of it is not "fabulous", it is churchly and angelic) has taken off the way it has. It has more hits than anything else on the church Youtube channel, although it is probably sacrilegious to look at it that way and even care.
So you never know when something you have been yearning for will just sort of turn up, from an unexpected quarter...
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
A Ghost from the Past
It's a new year. This year I didn't make any resolutions....couldn't think of any. I am of course continuing with my promise to always have a singing project as well as a church solo on the horizon.
And I feel that I grew a lot in 2012 as a result of my involvement with The Artist's Way. It has given me a way out of a life that is too quiet, colorless, and mundane for my taste. So I suppose my New Year's resolution is to "do something colorful and fabulous every day", something that engages with the senses.
It seems also that this is going to be the year of self-esteem. The first thing I have done, after three years of blogging, is turn on the "moderate all comments" function. That means no comment will show up here without my seeing it first.
Please note: This is not meant to discourage commenters. I am eager to have more readers and more commenters! I will accept most comments with a few exceptions. I will not tolerate "lectures" that are meant to "shame" me out of one my funks, which I can get into frequently. Helpful suggestions are welcome, as is advice about vocal issues. And I will not tolerate cruelty. I have begun screening comments because about a year ago I posted some sound clips here, hoping for some honest constructive criticism, by which I mean this sort of thing, from voice teachers, coaches, or experienced singers (who would all know what "flaws" might be the result of the recording process), but what happened instead was I was ripped to shreds (not just told my singing was horrible, but that I probably didn't practice enough!!) by someone with less experience that I had. As you can see from the referenced blog post, someone I respect very much said that this person meant to do damage (he had read her comments before I deleted them), which I guess is rather sad. I would have long let this go (I have sent the clips to other people and gotten the sort of combination of compliments and constructive criticism I had been looking for) except that this woman keeps posting comments here, not nasty ones, but she continues to behave like a bratty child trying to get my attention. I would not even give her the time of day by writing about this, but I want to alert most potential commenters to the fact that they are welcome and that their comments will be read, answered, and appreciated!
Second, something very strange happened yesterday, which has led me to want to devote a blog post to the topic of a ghost from the past. The strange thing also involved an assault on my self-esteem, which I put a stop to.
Someone I had known in childhood and adolescence, a heterosexual male who had always been a friend, but never anything else (the feeling was mutual), "friended" me on Facebook yesterday. A lot of what our past friendship had been about was his attraction to a friend - no, a "frenemy" - of mine, a girl named Beth (not her real name) who was a stuckup princess with a heart of ice. I need to make it quite clear that despite being attracted to women, I was never attracted to Beth, only envious of her. More about Beth in a minute, but first I want to mention that after this man friended me, we exchanged several emails most of which were about his continued obsession with Beth, whom he had found on Facebook. I realized after a few exchanges that this man's only interest in renewing a friendship with me was to talk about Beth, so I "unfriended" him and told him frankly that I didn't want to continue this type of interaction, that I might not have had much self-esteem as a teenager, but I did now, and that as a woman who liked to think she was attractive and interesting in her own right, being used as a shrink to hear about a 40-year-old obsession with another woman was extremely insulting. I got a brief email back from him saying that he was sorry, so now I can close that door again, thankfully.
I want to take time to mention Beth, though, because probably she was one of the three biggest influences on the "self" that I created over all these decades (the others were my SO, as she was when I met her, and the Mentor). What they all had in common was that life, for them, was primarily an aesthetic experience. And they were all snobs about aesthetics. Beth actually came from "old money" but until I was much older I had no idea her family was rich, or I wasn't sure. She had very expensive dolls and "party dresses" but often she would show up for class (we both went to an exclusive prep school - my father was a professor and when he was alive there was money for that) without some item that everyone had been told to bring (like a notebook), saying that her mother couldn't afford to buy it. Later I realized that the family had plenty of money, her mother was just scatterbrained and disorganized. What I envied about Beth (aside from the fact that she was ectomorphically svelte, had long hair like a storybook princess, and moved gracefully) was that she seemed to care only about things that were beautiful, never about anything that was practical, and that this was encouraged by her mother. She studied ballet, and she drew, but she did poorly in school and her mother seemed not to care. She was well versed in the nuances all things fashion and decorating, and seemed to think her purpose in life was to be decorative. Whether there was a connection between this and her family's money I don't know. Not necessarily. I knew other rich girls at the school, and many of them were neither pretty, stylishly dressed, nor charming.
I don't know whether or not Beth liked me. We spent a lot of time together and had many things in common (an interest in the arts, a love of cats, a total ignorance of sports and popular culture), but being around Beth made me feel fat and coarse, not unlike how Pip felt around Estella in Great Expectations, only sans the romantic attraction. I suppose Beth was sort of a cross between Estella, raised to break men's hearts, and Gigi raised to be a courtesan, well versed in all things fashion, decorating, and fine dining.
The friendship with Beth continued until I was about 18 or 19, then I made a conscious decision to drop her. She got married (she never went to college) and I took up with my SO, a butch woman who treated me like a princess.
But I always knew it was because of Beth that I loved all things Victorian: she personified the entire Dickensian landscape, being both a princess and a waif. And it is because of Beth that I will always choose what is beautiful over what is practical. And it is probably because of Beth that for good or ill, I have always been totally indifferent to what I did for a living.
My SO had many of the same qualities. She was always poor, but she loved beauty. She would eat canned soup and buy an expensive item of clothing at a thrift shop. Or something pretty for the house.
And of course then there was the Mentor, with his orange walls and open vials of patchouli, unmade beds with brightly colored sheets, vintage china in a kitchen where the dishes hadn't been washed for a week.
Well, there you have it. This post is a strange one to begin a new year with, but maybe not.
There is a lot of "Beth" in the life I've learned to live from The Artist's Way.
P.S. I snuck a look at Beth's Facebook photo and she certainly is no longer pretty. Here's my latest self-portrait. Eat your heart out.
And I feel that I grew a lot in 2012 as a result of my involvement with The Artist's Way. It has given me a way out of a life that is too quiet, colorless, and mundane for my taste. So I suppose my New Year's resolution is to "do something colorful and fabulous every day", something that engages with the senses.
It seems also that this is going to be the year of self-esteem. The first thing I have done, after three years of blogging, is turn on the "moderate all comments" function. That means no comment will show up here without my seeing it first.
Please note: This is not meant to discourage commenters. I am eager to have more readers and more commenters! I will accept most comments with a few exceptions. I will not tolerate "lectures" that are meant to "shame" me out of one my funks, which I can get into frequently. Helpful suggestions are welcome, as is advice about vocal issues. And I will not tolerate cruelty. I have begun screening comments because about a year ago I posted some sound clips here, hoping for some honest constructive criticism, by which I mean this sort of thing, from voice teachers, coaches, or experienced singers (who would all know what "flaws" might be the result of the recording process), but what happened instead was I was ripped to shreds (not just told my singing was horrible, but that I probably didn't practice enough!!) by someone with less experience that I had. As you can see from the referenced blog post, someone I respect very much said that this person meant to do damage (he had read her comments before I deleted them), which I guess is rather sad. I would have long let this go (I have sent the clips to other people and gotten the sort of combination of compliments and constructive criticism I had been looking for) except that this woman keeps posting comments here, not nasty ones, but she continues to behave like a bratty child trying to get my attention. I would not even give her the time of day by writing about this, but I want to alert most potential commenters to the fact that they are welcome and that their comments will be read, answered, and appreciated!
Second, something very strange happened yesterday, which has led me to want to devote a blog post to the topic of a ghost from the past. The strange thing also involved an assault on my self-esteem, which I put a stop to.
Someone I had known in childhood and adolescence, a heterosexual male who had always been a friend, but never anything else (the feeling was mutual), "friended" me on Facebook yesterday. A lot of what our past friendship had been about was his attraction to a friend - no, a "frenemy" - of mine, a girl named Beth (not her real name) who was a stuckup princess with a heart of ice. I need to make it quite clear that despite being attracted to women, I was never attracted to Beth, only envious of her. More about Beth in a minute, but first I want to mention that after this man friended me, we exchanged several emails most of which were about his continued obsession with Beth, whom he had found on Facebook. I realized after a few exchanges that this man's only interest in renewing a friendship with me was to talk about Beth, so I "unfriended" him and told him frankly that I didn't want to continue this type of interaction, that I might not have had much self-esteem as a teenager, but I did now, and that as a woman who liked to think she was attractive and interesting in her own right, being used as a shrink to hear about a 40-year-old obsession with another woman was extremely insulting. I got a brief email back from him saying that he was sorry, so now I can close that door again, thankfully.
I want to take time to mention Beth, though, because probably she was one of the three biggest influences on the "self" that I created over all these decades (the others were my SO, as she was when I met her, and the Mentor). What they all had in common was that life, for them, was primarily an aesthetic experience. And they were all snobs about aesthetics. Beth actually came from "old money" but until I was much older I had no idea her family was rich, or I wasn't sure. She had very expensive dolls and "party dresses" but often she would show up for class (we both went to an exclusive prep school - my father was a professor and when he was alive there was money for that) without some item that everyone had been told to bring (like a notebook), saying that her mother couldn't afford to buy it. Later I realized that the family had plenty of money, her mother was just scatterbrained and disorganized. What I envied about Beth (aside from the fact that she was ectomorphically svelte, had long hair like a storybook princess, and moved gracefully) was that she seemed to care only about things that were beautiful, never about anything that was practical, and that this was encouraged by her mother. She studied ballet, and she drew, but she did poorly in school and her mother seemed not to care. She was well versed in the nuances all things fashion and decorating, and seemed to think her purpose in life was to be decorative. Whether there was a connection between this and her family's money I don't know. Not necessarily. I knew other rich girls at the school, and many of them were neither pretty, stylishly dressed, nor charming.
I don't know whether or not Beth liked me. We spent a lot of time together and had many things in common (an interest in the arts, a love of cats, a total ignorance of sports and popular culture), but being around Beth made me feel fat and coarse, not unlike how Pip felt around Estella in Great Expectations, only sans the romantic attraction. I suppose Beth was sort of a cross between Estella, raised to break men's hearts, and Gigi raised to be a courtesan, well versed in all things fashion, decorating, and fine dining.
The friendship with Beth continued until I was about 18 or 19, then I made a conscious decision to drop her. She got married (she never went to college) and I took up with my SO, a butch woman who treated me like a princess.
But I always knew it was because of Beth that I loved all things Victorian: she personified the entire Dickensian landscape, being both a princess and a waif. And it is because of Beth that I will always choose what is beautiful over what is practical. And it is probably because of Beth that for good or ill, I have always been totally indifferent to what I did for a living.
My SO had many of the same qualities. She was always poor, but she loved beauty. She would eat canned soup and buy an expensive item of clothing at a thrift shop. Or something pretty for the house.
And of course then there was the Mentor, with his orange walls and open vials of patchouli, unmade beds with brightly colored sheets, vintage china in a kitchen where the dishes hadn't been washed for a week.
Well, there you have it. This post is a strange one to begin a new year with, but maybe not.
There is a lot of "Beth" in the life I've learned to live from The Artist's Way.
P.S. I snuck a look at Beth's Facebook photo and she certainly is no longer pretty. Here's my latest self-portrait. Eat your heart out.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
I Need to Get Back to The Artist's Way
When my partner was taken to the hospital, I had finished reading and rereading The Artist's Way and was about to sign a contract to do the program for another 90 days.
I decided to take a break from it until things were settled.
Well, she is coming home Friday with an array of services including a home attendant (no schedule or time frame was specified, but anything is better than nothing) so my plan is to sign that contract on Sunday and get back to the program on Monday.
I have noticed that now that the terror and sadness have left me (my partner will definitely live another day, if not another decade), and the depression (which really had gotten into my bones) has lifted, I am back to my same old same old feeling "cranky" and resentful.
What's important to note here, is that I realize I felt much less cranky when I was involved with The Artist's Way.
First of all, the fact that I chose that as a self-help program to involve myself in, rather than, say, fitness or veganism or meditation or reading the 100 great books, says something about me. Just as someone's wanting to lose weight or quit smoking says something about them that makes them different from other people who are overweight or who smoke.
When I say "cranky", here is what I mean (and this is something different from how I feel when I get frustrated when I can't sing something as well as I would like to).
For good or ill, I have a number of working singers and other working artists on my friends list on Facebook. So every time I read about someone's opera performance, costume fitting, trip, onstage flirtation, detailed character analysis, etc. it's like a knife going into my heart.
And I feel like a failure.
Not because I am not a professional singer (very few get to be that) but because after all these decades, someone with as big a diva personality as mine (and it is huge) has ended up sitting at a desk cleaning up people's grammar, sending work back to people who don't even know what I look like and could care less, even if they did.
I did all the right things. I went to career counseling. I did a self-assessment. I spent a year there.
When I was involved with the Artist's Way I brooded less about these things. First of all there was the Artist's Date. Sometimes I cheated and did something in my apartment, but even in that instance, I made sure it wasn't part of "business as usual" (e.g., if it involved music, it had to entail looking at music that I had no commitment to sing anywhere, which therefore would broaden my horizons).
It taught me that choosing the most beautifully colored heirloom tomatoes at a farmer's market, having a bath with an expensive bubble bar from Lush, or spending time pondering which top, which neckline, and which eyeshadow color I was going to wear that day to Duane Reade made me something. (And in fact, one day when I stood on the checkout line at Duane Reade itself, a young woman told me how much she loved my makeup and hair.)
The Artist's Way says artists (and by artists they don't just mean "professionals") are cranky when we are not being artists. So I guess I am not that unusual.
I decided to take a break from it until things were settled.
Well, she is coming home Friday with an array of services including a home attendant (no schedule or time frame was specified, but anything is better than nothing) so my plan is to sign that contract on Sunday and get back to the program on Monday.
I have noticed that now that the terror and sadness have left me (my partner will definitely live another day, if not another decade), and the depression (which really had gotten into my bones) has lifted, I am back to my same old same old feeling "cranky" and resentful.
What's important to note here, is that I realize I felt much less cranky when I was involved with The Artist's Way.
First of all, the fact that I chose that as a self-help program to involve myself in, rather than, say, fitness or veganism or meditation or reading the 100 great books, says something about me. Just as someone's wanting to lose weight or quit smoking says something about them that makes them different from other people who are overweight or who smoke.
When I say "cranky", here is what I mean (and this is something different from how I feel when I get frustrated when I can't sing something as well as I would like to).
For good or ill, I have a number of working singers and other working artists on my friends list on Facebook. So every time I read about someone's opera performance, costume fitting, trip, onstage flirtation, detailed character analysis, etc. it's like a knife going into my heart.
And I feel like a failure.
Not because I am not a professional singer (very few get to be that) but because after all these decades, someone with as big a diva personality as mine (and it is huge) has ended up sitting at a desk cleaning up people's grammar, sending work back to people who don't even know what I look like and could care less, even if they did.
I did all the right things. I went to career counseling. I did a self-assessment. I spent a year there.
When I was involved with the Artist's Way I brooded less about these things. First of all there was the Artist's Date. Sometimes I cheated and did something in my apartment, but even in that instance, I made sure it wasn't part of "business as usual" (e.g., if it involved music, it had to entail looking at music that I had no commitment to sing anywhere, which therefore would broaden my horizons).
It taught me that choosing the most beautifully colored heirloom tomatoes at a farmer's market, having a bath with an expensive bubble bar from Lush, or spending time pondering which top, which neckline, and which eyeshadow color I was going to wear that day to Duane Reade made me something. (And in fact, one day when I stood on the checkout line at Duane Reade itself, a young woman told me how much she loved my makeup and hair.)
The Artist's Way says artists (and by artists they don't just mean "professionals") are cranky when we are not being artists. So I guess I am not that unusual.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
9-11 Wrap Up and Some Reasons Why I am Happiest Singing in Church
Overall, I would say that the September 11 concert was a success. I enjoyed participating in it and I hope the woman who produced it will ask me to sing in her Christmas concert. (She said she would.)
Interestingly (or distressingly) I don't think I sang "Et Exsultavit" as well as I normally do. (I barely got through "salutari", which is usually a walk in the park for me, and took a breath before "meo", which I haven't done in a long time.) I realize that this is probably because I was at the end of the program and so was probably singing it at 8 pm or later. And that there was a huge lag time between my last meal (a cheese omelette at 5, because call was at 6) and when I sang.
There was a videographer there and they are going to put it on the producer's YouTube channel. So I will see what I look and sound like. If I like it I can post it somewhere. I also asked if there would be a CD or DVD so that I could show it to my partner, who does not use computers.
My aria was the first piece after the intermission and during the intermission I could feel my energy flagging. I had a protein bar with me but I worried if I ate it I would have too much phlegm.
In any event, I got a lot of compliments including from two friends whom I just recently reconnected with after over 20 years, so they had never heard me sing.
Mulling this over in my mind made me realize two things about why I love singing in church, which sort of amazes me as I was raised by two atheists, for whom atheism was a prominent belief system, not the result of being too lazy or too busy to attend worship services.
I realize that the reasons for this are twofold. First, unlike most singers, I sing much better at 11 in the morning than I do at 8 at night. I certainly wouldn't describe myself as a morning person, on the other hand I am not a night person either. On the one hand, when I worked in an office I usually arranged things so I could work from 10 to 6, but if I went to the theater or the opera I would always try to go to a matinee (which of course is not in the morning) so that I didn't have to stumble home at night when I was sleepy. (A dangerous thing for me, walking the short distance from Lincoln Center, which involves crossing six lanes of traffic.) Probably the time of day when I feel best is between 11 am and about 4 pm, after a healthy breakfast and/or a healthy lunch. So when I schedule a concert myself it's usually at 3.
Second, and this says a lot about me, I suppose, a church service is about so many other things besides me and my performance that I have spiritual tools right there at hand to keep me calm and centered. There are prayers to say and a great sermon to listen to. So by the time I have to get up and sing (usually the anthem or during communion) I know that God is with me. (Maybe I have such an affinity for church because when I began attending - in 2003, which is when I met the Mentor - I had already spent almost three decades in AA meetings?) And kidding aside, there is something comforting about looking at the stained-glass window depicting Jesus. Whether or not he was divine, or rose from the dead, he is a kindly presence.
Well, when all was said and done it was a good experience and a good connection to have made.
One thing The Artist's Way says is that if you go shake an apple tree, you might get oranges, and that you shouldn't throw the oranges in the trash. So maybe my involvement with this woman has shown me that there are many thing one can do with a lovely classically trained voice that are not as demanding or as competitive as singing opera, but that don't require that you lapse into different vocal idioms (e.g. belting) that are not vocally or spiritually comfortable.
But I'm still going to fill out that application for the Ulrica audition. My artist's "date" for this week is to do that (and reorganize my audition binder) at 4 pm this afternoon.
Interestingly (or distressingly) I don't think I sang "Et Exsultavit" as well as I normally do. (I barely got through "salutari", which is usually a walk in the park for me, and took a breath before "meo", which I haven't done in a long time.) I realize that this is probably because I was at the end of the program and so was probably singing it at 8 pm or later. And that there was a huge lag time between my last meal (a cheese omelette at 5, because call was at 6) and when I sang.
There was a videographer there and they are going to put it on the producer's YouTube channel. So I will see what I look and sound like. If I like it I can post it somewhere. I also asked if there would be a CD or DVD so that I could show it to my partner, who does not use computers.
My aria was the first piece after the intermission and during the intermission I could feel my energy flagging. I had a protein bar with me but I worried if I ate it I would have too much phlegm.
In any event, I got a lot of compliments including from two friends whom I just recently reconnected with after over 20 years, so they had never heard me sing.
Mulling this over in my mind made me realize two things about why I love singing in church, which sort of amazes me as I was raised by two atheists, for whom atheism was a prominent belief system, not the result of being too lazy or too busy to attend worship services.
I realize that the reasons for this are twofold. First, unlike most singers, I sing much better at 11 in the morning than I do at 8 at night. I certainly wouldn't describe myself as a morning person, on the other hand I am not a night person either. On the one hand, when I worked in an office I usually arranged things so I could work from 10 to 6, but if I went to the theater or the opera I would always try to go to a matinee (which of course is not in the morning) so that I didn't have to stumble home at night when I was sleepy. (A dangerous thing for me, walking the short distance from Lincoln Center, which involves crossing six lanes of traffic.) Probably the time of day when I feel best is between 11 am and about 4 pm, after a healthy breakfast and/or a healthy lunch. So when I schedule a concert myself it's usually at 3.
Second, and this says a lot about me, I suppose, a church service is about so many other things besides me and my performance that I have spiritual tools right there at hand to keep me calm and centered. There are prayers to say and a great sermon to listen to. So by the time I have to get up and sing (usually the anthem or during communion) I know that God is with me. (Maybe I have such an affinity for church because when I began attending - in 2003, which is when I met the Mentor - I had already spent almost three decades in AA meetings?) And kidding aside, there is something comforting about looking at the stained-glass window depicting Jesus. Whether or not he was divine, or rose from the dead, he is a kindly presence.
Well, when all was said and done it was a good experience and a good connection to have made.
One thing The Artist's Way says is that if you go shake an apple tree, you might get oranges, and that you shouldn't throw the oranges in the trash. So maybe my involvement with this woman has shown me that there are many thing one can do with a lovely classically trained voice that are not as demanding or as competitive as singing opera, but that don't require that you lapse into different vocal idioms (e.g. belting) that are not vocally or spiritually comfortable.
But I'm still going to fill out that application for the Ulrica audition. My artist's "date" for this week is to do that (and reorganize my audition binder) at 4 pm this afternoon.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Synchronicity
Just as the breakthrough with my singing has held, the breakthrough with my spirit has held also.
The Artist's Way mentions the concept of syncronicity, which no matter how hard I try, I can't wrap my head around. Actually reading this Wikipedia entry has helped a little. In some ways it sounds a bit like New Age blather: if you ask the Universe for something and listen, it will appear.
I think what does happen is that if you become unconflicted about something, you are more likely to say "yes" to things along the way, which will bring you closer to your goal.
I am very happy about the relationship I have formed with the woman producing the September 11 concert. She is a highly trained professional classical singer, who is also a teacher and coach, but is not immersed in the world of aspiring opera singers in their 20s, 30s, and 40s who can sing, act, and talk circles around someone like me. She is probably about my age. So, for example, when I asked if I could produce a concert of opera scenes in the space in her apartment complex, she said yes, I could do it if she sponsored me, and that we could talk about it. So "Viva Verismo!" may have a home.
I also am really excited about some new music I discovered - songs by Jake Heggie set to poems by Sister Helen Prejean. Heggie wrote the opera Dead Man Walking which is about Sister Helen and a man who is executed for murder. One of the songs, "I Live My Life in Primary Colors", would be suitable for church, and another, "More is Required" might work for next year's September 11 concert, if I get asked back. And the songs have a flute accompaniment. And this woman knows a flutist and has performed a concert of songs for voice and flute. So who knows where that could lead?
This afternoon I have a voice lesson and will see how I sound singing Ulrica's aria. I don't know about the low G at the end. The rest of it should not be difficult. I have never sung it, but I have heard it numerous times. If not, I will wait for the next audition opportunity, and think about how/whether to make my aria package more age appropriate.
The Artist's Way mentions the concept of syncronicity, which no matter how hard I try, I can't wrap my head around. Actually reading this Wikipedia entry has helped a little. In some ways it sounds a bit like New Age blather: if you ask the Universe for something and listen, it will appear.
I think what does happen is that if you become unconflicted about something, you are more likely to say "yes" to things along the way, which will bring you closer to your goal.
I am very happy about the relationship I have formed with the woman producing the September 11 concert. She is a highly trained professional classical singer, who is also a teacher and coach, but is not immersed in the world of aspiring opera singers in their 20s, 30s, and 40s who can sing, act, and talk circles around someone like me. She is probably about my age. So, for example, when I asked if I could produce a concert of opera scenes in the space in her apartment complex, she said yes, I could do it if she sponsored me, and that we could talk about it. So "Viva Verismo!" may have a home.
I also am really excited about some new music I discovered - songs by Jake Heggie set to poems by Sister Helen Prejean. Heggie wrote the opera Dead Man Walking which is about Sister Helen and a man who is executed for murder. One of the songs, "I Live My Life in Primary Colors", would be suitable for church, and another, "More is Required" might work for next year's September 11 concert, if I get asked back. And the songs have a flute accompaniment. And this woman knows a flutist and has performed a concert of songs for voice and flute. So who knows where that could lead?
This afternoon I have a voice lesson and will see how I sound singing Ulrica's aria. I don't know about the low G at the end. The rest of it should not be difficult. I have never sung it, but I have heard it numerous times. If not, I will wait for the next audition opportunity, and think about how/whether to make my aria package more age appropriate.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Winding Up with The Artist's Way
As usual, I should be working, not blogging, but this is my "lunch hour" and I felt a blog post coming on...
I am now on Chapter 12, the last chapter, of The Artist's Way. One thing they suggest is that before you bid the workbook au revoir, you reread it. So I am doing that. It is sometimes hard to tear myself away from my latest mystery novel, but I exercise discipline.
I notice that I enjoy life more since beginning this journey. I don't know that I am on my way to being more "successful" either as a singer or in a new career path that would use my "diva" soul, but I find pleasure in small things. After all, the book is called The Artist's Way, not The Artist's Career, How to Succeed in the Arts, or How to Excel in the Art Form of Your Choice. It is about a way of life. I think the Mentor had that way of life, and that I picked up quite a bit of it through my painfully yearning to emulate him. In fact, many of the things the book suggests that you do I already did when I was making that painful transition toward art and sensuality: I got rid of a ton of clothing that was too big (not because I had lost weight but because I had dumped the "pc dyke" persona that mandates that you do not show your curves and if you must wear a dress it should be baggy and long or corporate and swimming on you) and a ton of pastel bedding and replaced both with things that signaled Dalila not Miss Marple.
What's interesting is that I find myself feeling more loving toward my partner. It was her "artist's soul" that attracted her to me in the first place. If she had $25, she would buy a ticket to an avante garde dance concert and live on saltines. The place was always a mess but there would be some marvelous colorful object or swath of red somewhere. I think we both held each other back. She didn't like my singing opera, I didn't like her avante garde feminist filmmaking. Interestingly, whatever I feel about her and however that has changed over the years, I pretty much believe that one on one monogamous relationships where the goal is domestic bliss stifle people, full stop. People are better off "single" and then involving themselves in relationships, physical or otherwise, to varying degrees with people they care about and observing strict boundaries. Which is why I have zero interest in same sex marriage. I am more interested in whether or not we can have a single payer health system (marriage as a gateway to a spouse's health benefits is one reason people like being married). I suppose if you have children you should stay together as a couple for the duration of the children's childhood (and probably be monogamous, too) but that's about 20 years. Hardly a lifetime these days!
So how has this affected my singing? I am still holding onto most of the gains with my upper register but unfortunately it has not translated into a surge of confidence. I just have too much baggage. Which is why young voice students (or beginners of any age) are told to stay away from the rep I've been singing for years, until their technique is secure. As I said, I don't think I ever hurt my voice but I created a slew of very bad memories.
Well, I have retooled "Liber Scriptus" which only goes up to an A flat. Maybe I will try something else next.
I read about an audition for Un Ballo in Maschera. Ulrica is not a role I would have thought of for my voice (too much singing below middle C) but I will take a look at the score at my teacher's house. He said he will see how he thinks I sound. To go to that audition I will need to give them a list of five arias. I wonder if I should swap out Laura for Cieca? Cieca is a role I could sing because it does not go very low. There is a lot of low-ish singing around middle C but that is easy for me. It is certainly more age appropriate. And I have always wanted to learn Gertrude's "J'ai Peur" from Hamlet. I don't think it goes above an A or an A flat. Maybe I should eventually swap that for Dalila although that would be hard. That would leave Favorita as the only "young" role represented. The Principessa in Adriana could be older. Or maybe something from Dead Man Walking.
I ordered a set of Jake Heggie songs that are based on Sister Helen's poetry. I heard Joyce DiDonato sing one of them in a concert on tv. They are with flute accompaniment and might be suitable for church solos or something else. I am still enjoying the rehearsals from the September 11 concert. I feel more comfortable singing a non-operatic (but still classical) piece in a group of beginner singers of all ages than I did singing opera rep amidst young people with conservatory degrees and managed singers in their 40s. I think the people who showed up for this September concert are more like what I had expected at the opera singer meetups. People who were working on vocal technique who were not professionals, but had the voice and the passion to sing opera. So we will see how I progress after my work with the Artist's Way workbook is finished. I joined an Artist's Way meetup and will see what comes of that.
And I made a long-range plan to take a short vacation for my partner's 80th birthday, which will be in 2014. I haven't had a vacation since 2009, when I left my last full time job. And this doesn't feel like a bone I'm throwing her to make up for all the time and money I spend on singing. Not everyone gets to have an 80th birthday.
One the The Artist's Way stresses is to keep an open mind. Maybe I will find a niche for myself singing song literature and sacred music, where I can use the solid technique I do have and let go of my love-hate relationship with big arias with high notes. Although not quite yet...
And I may come back from tonight's rehearsals with some photos. The director asked people with smart phone cameras (not me!) to bring them. So I am going to be sure to wear something diva-ish and hot!
I am now on Chapter 12, the last chapter, of The Artist's Way. One thing they suggest is that before you bid the workbook au revoir, you reread it. So I am doing that. It is sometimes hard to tear myself away from my latest mystery novel, but I exercise discipline.
I notice that I enjoy life more since beginning this journey. I don't know that I am on my way to being more "successful" either as a singer or in a new career path that would use my "diva" soul, but I find pleasure in small things. After all, the book is called The Artist's Way, not The Artist's Career, How to Succeed in the Arts, or How to Excel in the Art Form of Your Choice. It is about a way of life. I think the Mentor had that way of life, and that I picked up quite a bit of it through my painfully yearning to emulate him. In fact, many of the things the book suggests that you do I already did when I was making that painful transition toward art and sensuality: I got rid of a ton of clothing that was too big (not because I had lost weight but because I had dumped the "pc dyke" persona that mandates that you do not show your curves and if you must wear a dress it should be baggy and long or corporate and swimming on you) and a ton of pastel bedding and replaced both with things that signaled Dalila not Miss Marple.
What's interesting is that I find myself feeling more loving toward my partner. It was her "artist's soul" that attracted her to me in the first place. If she had $25, she would buy a ticket to an avante garde dance concert and live on saltines. The place was always a mess but there would be some marvelous colorful object or swath of red somewhere. I think we both held each other back. She didn't like my singing opera, I didn't like her avante garde feminist filmmaking. Interestingly, whatever I feel about her and however that has changed over the years, I pretty much believe that one on one monogamous relationships where the goal is domestic bliss stifle people, full stop. People are better off "single" and then involving themselves in relationships, physical or otherwise, to varying degrees with people they care about and observing strict boundaries. Which is why I have zero interest in same sex marriage. I am more interested in whether or not we can have a single payer health system (marriage as a gateway to a spouse's health benefits is one reason people like being married). I suppose if you have children you should stay together as a couple for the duration of the children's childhood (and probably be monogamous, too) but that's about 20 years. Hardly a lifetime these days!
So how has this affected my singing? I am still holding onto most of the gains with my upper register but unfortunately it has not translated into a surge of confidence. I just have too much baggage. Which is why young voice students (or beginners of any age) are told to stay away from the rep I've been singing for years, until their technique is secure. As I said, I don't think I ever hurt my voice but I created a slew of very bad memories.
Well, I have retooled "Liber Scriptus" which only goes up to an A flat. Maybe I will try something else next.
I read about an audition for Un Ballo in Maschera. Ulrica is not a role I would have thought of for my voice (too much singing below middle C) but I will take a look at the score at my teacher's house. He said he will see how he thinks I sound. To go to that audition I will need to give them a list of five arias. I wonder if I should swap out Laura for Cieca? Cieca is a role I could sing because it does not go very low. There is a lot of low-ish singing around middle C but that is easy for me. It is certainly more age appropriate. And I have always wanted to learn Gertrude's "J'ai Peur" from Hamlet. I don't think it goes above an A or an A flat. Maybe I should eventually swap that for Dalila although that would be hard. That would leave Favorita as the only "young" role represented. The Principessa in Adriana could be older. Or maybe something from Dead Man Walking.
I ordered a set of Jake Heggie songs that are based on Sister Helen's poetry. I heard Joyce DiDonato sing one of them in a concert on tv. They are with flute accompaniment and might be suitable for church solos or something else. I am still enjoying the rehearsals from the September 11 concert. I feel more comfortable singing a non-operatic (but still classical) piece in a group of beginner singers of all ages than I did singing opera rep amidst young people with conservatory degrees and managed singers in their 40s. I think the people who showed up for this September concert are more like what I had expected at the opera singer meetups. People who were working on vocal technique who were not professionals, but had the voice and the passion to sing opera. So we will see how I progress after my work with the Artist's Way workbook is finished. I joined an Artist's Way meetup and will see what comes of that.
And I made a long-range plan to take a short vacation for my partner's 80th birthday, which will be in 2014. I haven't had a vacation since 2009, when I left my last full time job. And this doesn't feel like a bone I'm throwing her to make up for all the time and money I spend on singing. Not everyone gets to have an 80th birthday.
One the The Artist's Way stresses is to keep an open mind. Maybe I will find a niche for myself singing song literature and sacred music, where I can use the solid technique I do have and let go of my love-hate relationship with big arias with high notes. Although not quite yet...
And I may come back from tonight's rehearsals with some photos. The director asked people with smart phone cameras (not me!) to bring them. So I am going to be sure to wear something diva-ish and hot!
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
August Has Begun Auspiciously
After yesterday's less than upbeat post, I want to start the month off optimistically.
I think I really do have a spot in the September 11 concert (I was told to come to the next rehearsal and bring what I would like to sing) which will be small, but it will be a place to sing in an event planned by someone else than me.
Chapter 8 of the Artist's Way says to write down what you see as "true North", which to them means what would signal to you that you are who you would like to be as an artist.
For me as a classical singer, the (realistic) true North would be to be cast by someone else in a leading role in an opera (pay optional) or an oratorio with an orchestra (pay would be nice - I think I'm competitive in this repertoire). So this is just a small concert which will be a mix of classical and nonclassical music, poetry, reminiscences, and other things, but it's a start.
I hope to be singing at least two, maybe three, selections. On the table are the Dvorak "God is My Shepherd", the Bach "Et exsultavit" from the Magnificat in D, which I also will be singing in church on September 16 and/or the "Laudamus te" from the B Minor Mass, and - I hope I can keep this - a really fun Handel aria from Joshua about heroes, which I think is perfect for the occasion, as it will capture the heroism that occurred on that day. Here is a link to a version sung by a counter tenor.
http://youtu.be/MiXtwPjgXiM
I think I really do have a spot in the September 11 concert (I was told to come to the next rehearsal and bring what I would like to sing) which will be small, but it will be a place to sing in an event planned by someone else than me.
Chapter 8 of the Artist's Way says to write down what you see as "true North", which to them means what would signal to you that you are who you would like to be as an artist.
For me as a classical singer, the (realistic) true North would be to be cast by someone else in a leading role in an opera (pay optional) or an oratorio with an orchestra (pay would be nice - I think I'm competitive in this repertoire). So this is just a small concert which will be a mix of classical and nonclassical music, poetry, reminiscences, and other things, but it's a start.
I hope to be singing at least two, maybe three, selections. On the table are the Dvorak "God is My Shepherd", the Bach "Et exsultavit" from the Magnificat in D, which I also will be singing in church on September 16 and/or the "Laudamus te" from the B Minor Mass, and - I hope I can keep this - a really fun Handel aria from Joshua about heroes, which I think is perfect for the occasion, as it will capture the heroism that occurred on that day. Here is a link to a version sung by a counter tenor.
http://youtu.be/MiXtwPjgXiM
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, June 21, 2012
Tech Talk and Other Things
I haven't written much here lately....I suppose I have been too busy with The Artists Way. Also I have had a conversation offline with Zachary.
One thing I began brooding over was this post by Dr. Brian Lee, particularly the sections on warmups and cooldowns. These are not things I do regularly nor did anyone ever tell me to. Could this be the source of all my trouble with high notes? I certainly do plenty to get the voice going and I know when things feel "off" (for me) and (usually) how to get things back on track, certainly in my comfortable range, which may simply be low A to high A for life (according to an article for Wikipedia, that is the range for a mezzo anyhow and anything else is "gravy"). I had asked my teacher about the lip trill, which I seemed to have trouble with, and he said it was not helpful for heavier voices (I wrote once to Dr. Lee about this and he didn't disagree). My teacher said to roll an R instead. But we don't do this at every lesson nor do I do it with every practice. Mostly these things are for when I need a warmup if I have to sing and am too far away from my last practice at home session, or if my voice feels off track even after doing progressions on "oo" (what both my current teacher and The Mentor - who was a good voice teacher, her just brought too much nonsense, both sexualized and just plain "New Age silly" into the lessons - have had me do at the beginning of each practice session). In any event, I emailed my teacher the link to Dr. Lee's article. I haven't heard back from him, but he may think it's ok to discuss it at my lesson. I can't imagine that he would be annoyed; one of the many things I like about him is he seems to be receptive to any idea I want to discuss. If he disagrees, he will tell me why.
In other news, yesterday was the last choir practice of the year (if we sing in the summer we just show up on Sunday morning early) so I gave the choir director some of my aria books to look through. I might do an aria from Handel's Theodora called "Lord to Thee Each Night and Day." Going with the words alone it is very generic and seasonless, but I looked on You Tube and found a version sung by Lorraine Hunt Lieberson which is very sad. Perhaps in context the aria is sad? We also looked at some arias by Raff, a composer I had never heard of but the choir director had, from an oratorio called The World's End. The choir director said Raff was a friend of Brahms'. Last, we looked at "Panus Angelicus". Neither version I have is in an ideal key, one has the highest note (which is repeated a great deal) as only a D, and the other has it as an F sharp. Probably the higher key is better, as long as I sing my supported pianissimo, which I can do. (I have sung the Faure "Pie Jesu" several times at the church.) I also may audition for some Christmas concerts. I have no idea if there is money involved, but it doesn't matter, as long as I am cast as a soloist. Other than my church choir, I would not sing in a chorus for no money. These concerts are being managed by the woman in whose living room I sang the "Judgment Scene" from Aida several years ago (with a bass colleague). I thought it was some of my best singing but I did not make the cut for a recital she was giving. However she seemed genuinely happy to hear from me (we had become reacquainted on Facebook) and said she would tell me when the callbacks were (I didn't need to come to the first round of auditions because she had already heard me.) So as one of my "Artists Way" artist dates I looked through my book of Christmas solos and reviewed a variety of them.
One thing I began brooding over was this post by Dr. Brian Lee, particularly the sections on warmups and cooldowns. These are not things I do regularly nor did anyone ever tell me to. Could this be the source of all my trouble with high notes? I certainly do plenty to get the voice going and I know when things feel "off" (for me) and (usually) how to get things back on track, certainly in my comfortable range, which may simply be low A to high A for life (according to an article for Wikipedia, that is the range for a mezzo anyhow and anything else is "gravy"). I had asked my teacher about the lip trill, which I seemed to have trouble with, and he said it was not helpful for heavier voices (I wrote once to Dr. Lee about this and he didn't disagree). My teacher said to roll an R instead. But we don't do this at every lesson nor do I do it with every practice. Mostly these things are for when I need a warmup if I have to sing and am too far away from my last practice at home session, or if my voice feels off track even after doing progressions on "oo" (what both my current teacher and The Mentor - who was a good voice teacher, her just brought too much nonsense, both sexualized and just plain "New Age silly" into the lessons - have had me do at the beginning of each practice session). In any event, I emailed my teacher the link to Dr. Lee's article. I haven't heard back from him, but he may think it's ok to discuss it at my lesson. I can't imagine that he would be annoyed; one of the many things I like about him is he seems to be receptive to any idea I want to discuss. If he disagrees, he will tell me why.
In other news, yesterday was the last choir practice of the year (if we sing in the summer we just show up on Sunday morning early) so I gave the choir director some of my aria books to look through. I might do an aria from Handel's Theodora called "Lord to Thee Each Night and Day." Going with the words alone it is very generic and seasonless, but I looked on You Tube and found a version sung by Lorraine Hunt Lieberson which is very sad. Perhaps in context the aria is sad? We also looked at some arias by Raff, a composer I had never heard of but the choir director had, from an oratorio called The World's End. The choir director said Raff was a friend of Brahms'. Last, we looked at "Panus Angelicus". Neither version I have is in an ideal key, one has the highest note (which is repeated a great deal) as only a D, and the other has it as an F sharp. Probably the higher key is better, as long as I sing my supported pianissimo, which I can do. (I have sung the Faure "Pie Jesu" several times at the church.) I also may audition for some Christmas concerts. I have no idea if there is money involved, but it doesn't matter, as long as I am cast as a soloist. Other than my church choir, I would not sing in a chorus for no money. These concerts are being managed by the woman in whose living room I sang the "Judgment Scene" from Aida several years ago (with a bass colleague). I thought it was some of my best singing but I did not make the cut for a recital she was giving. However she seemed genuinely happy to hear from me (we had become reacquainted on Facebook) and said she would tell me when the callbacks were (I didn't need to come to the first round of auditions because she had already heard me.) So as one of my "Artists Way" artist dates I looked through my book of Christmas solos and reviewed a variety of them.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Mr. B.
Once again, I should be working, but one of the exercises in The Artist's Way involved making lists of people who discouraged you, and people who encouraged you, so....
God knows I have wasted enough "ink" on the former, so why not write about the latter?
I know I blame other people (and social trends) for my failure to nurture my own singing talent until the age of 54, when it was well past the 11th hour, but much of the blame lies with me. (But knowing that, where do I go from here?)
I say that I started singing the first time when I was 26, but that is not true. That was the first time I studied and sang after I had quit smoking. I don't really count the earlier forays into classical singing but maybe I should.
There were the casual lessons I took at 15, with a former Metropolitan opera soprano, where I learned nothing, and in fact my singing got worse and worse the more I smoked and went on unhealthy crash diets.
Then I stopped altogether to wallow in drugs and rock and roll (any sex I wallowed in was incidental and not really relevant one way or another in terms of my singing) and started again at 22 when I was singing with a Gilbert and Sullivan company in the chorus and as a cover for the lead contralto.
After years of abuse, my voice had dropped about a fifth from where it had been at 15, but it must have had something because one of the men in the cast (who had come to G&S via a minor opera career) told me I sounded "like the old fashioned Italian mezzos, particularly Ebe Stignani." He told me that my performance as Katisha was "astounding". I didn't have a teacher at the time, but found one via one of the tenors in the company.
I will call this man "Mr. B." I have always said that he went a good way to "ruining" my voice but maybe some of the problem lay with me and my smoking (and intermittent drinking). Mr. B. taught a specific technique (I don't know what it's called) that emphasized singing in a raw chest voice. The theory was that if you could isolate your chest voice you could also isolate your head voice and have better high notes, but with me that never happened, although it had with the tenor in question, who previously to studying with Mr. B. had only been able to sing high notes falsetto. And lest you think it was a man's game only, Mr. B.'s daughter was singing Mimi at 18 and now, at 50 is a famous Wagnerian soprano. One of the things that technique is based on is enormous physical strength. In addition to singing, Mr. B, had me doing sit-ups, walking two miles a day, and drinking milk with every meal. Actually, in the beginning I did sound a lot like Ebe Stignani and even managed to sing through "O Don Fatale" but that was short lived. Was the fault with Mr. B., my smoking, or my singing 7 shows a week with the G&S outfit? In any event, my upper register pretty much disappeared and I lived in mortal terror of "Mikado week" when at any moment I might be called upon to sub as Katisha and have to sing a high A flat at the end of Act 1. Otherwise, I had a rich full voice up to the F or F sharp at the top of the staff and that was it.
But suppose I had stuck with Mr. B. and just been a student? Suppose I had been nunlike and given up smoking and drinking and partying? Even given up the G&S company? They weren't paying me anything unless I sang a children's matinee. (I earned my living during the day by grooming dogs and had a flexible schedule.) Mr. B. gave a discount to students who came every day ($10 a lesson in 1972) and I remember I did do that in the beginning (hence my surprising performance of "O Don Fatale"?)
When I say I made all the wrong choices, I don't just mean with smoking, drinking, starving myself (actually I had stopped doing that for a while at the G&S company - I had to share costumes with a woman the size of Deborah Voigt pre-surgery and pinning them down to a size 12 was hard enough) but also the gruelling schedule I was performing at that company. It was "fun". That was why I did it. I knew a few people who were going to a conservatory and they were deconstructing art songs in different languages while I was having "fun". Of course the people who put in the work of that kind when they're 21 have the lives I would give my eye teeth for at 40, but how could I have known that then?
So the question is: what am I going to do with this information that I am getting from The Artist's Way?
What I long for is to find something special, that only I can do, or that I can do better than most of the people in my immediate environment, that will interest someone. No matter how well I can sing "Acerba Volutta" there will be not ten, but probably 50 people who can sing it as well, or better, who are younger and better educated, and who have "connections", even insignificant ones.
I don't think it's likely that I will move out of my rent regulated apartment in the armpit of Lincoln Center any time soon, but boy, there are days when I wish I were singing the National Anthem at a Little League game in "East Eggshell, Iowa" and signing autographs afterwards.
God knows I have wasted enough "ink" on the former, so why not write about the latter?
I know I blame other people (and social trends) for my failure to nurture my own singing talent until the age of 54, when it was well past the 11th hour, but much of the blame lies with me. (But knowing that, where do I go from here?)
I say that I started singing the first time when I was 26, but that is not true. That was the first time I studied and sang after I had quit smoking. I don't really count the earlier forays into classical singing but maybe I should.
There were the casual lessons I took at 15, with a former Metropolitan opera soprano, where I learned nothing, and in fact my singing got worse and worse the more I smoked and went on unhealthy crash diets.
Then I stopped altogether to wallow in drugs and rock and roll (any sex I wallowed in was incidental and not really relevant one way or another in terms of my singing) and started again at 22 when I was singing with a Gilbert and Sullivan company in the chorus and as a cover for the lead contralto.
After years of abuse, my voice had dropped about a fifth from where it had been at 15, but it must have had something because one of the men in the cast (who had come to G&S via a minor opera career) told me I sounded "like the old fashioned Italian mezzos, particularly Ebe Stignani." He told me that my performance as Katisha was "astounding". I didn't have a teacher at the time, but found one via one of the tenors in the company.
I will call this man "Mr. B." I have always said that he went a good way to "ruining" my voice but maybe some of the problem lay with me and my smoking (and intermittent drinking). Mr. B. taught a specific technique (I don't know what it's called) that emphasized singing in a raw chest voice. The theory was that if you could isolate your chest voice you could also isolate your head voice and have better high notes, but with me that never happened, although it had with the tenor in question, who previously to studying with Mr. B. had only been able to sing high notes falsetto. And lest you think it was a man's game only, Mr. B.'s daughter was singing Mimi at 18 and now, at 50 is a famous Wagnerian soprano. One of the things that technique is based on is enormous physical strength. In addition to singing, Mr. B, had me doing sit-ups, walking two miles a day, and drinking milk with every meal. Actually, in the beginning I did sound a lot like Ebe Stignani and even managed to sing through "O Don Fatale" but that was short lived. Was the fault with Mr. B., my smoking, or my singing 7 shows a week with the G&S outfit? In any event, my upper register pretty much disappeared and I lived in mortal terror of "Mikado week" when at any moment I might be called upon to sub as Katisha and have to sing a high A flat at the end of Act 1. Otherwise, I had a rich full voice up to the F or F sharp at the top of the staff and that was it.
But suppose I had stuck with Mr. B. and just been a student? Suppose I had been nunlike and given up smoking and drinking and partying? Even given up the G&S company? They weren't paying me anything unless I sang a children's matinee. (I earned my living during the day by grooming dogs and had a flexible schedule.) Mr. B. gave a discount to students who came every day ($10 a lesson in 1972) and I remember I did do that in the beginning (hence my surprising performance of "O Don Fatale"?)
When I say I made all the wrong choices, I don't just mean with smoking, drinking, starving myself (actually I had stopped doing that for a while at the G&S company - I had to share costumes with a woman the size of Deborah Voigt pre-surgery and pinning them down to a size 12 was hard enough) but also the gruelling schedule I was performing at that company. It was "fun". That was why I did it. I knew a few people who were going to a conservatory and they were deconstructing art songs in different languages while I was having "fun". Of course the people who put in the work of that kind when they're 21 have the lives I would give my eye teeth for at 40, but how could I have known that then?
So the question is: what am I going to do with this information that I am getting from The Artist's Way?
What I long for is to find something special, that only I can do, or that I can do better than most of the people in my immediate environment, that will interest someone. No matter how well I can sing "Acerba Volutta" there will be not ten, but probably 50 people who can sing it as well, or better, who are younger and better educated, and who have "connections", even insignificant ones.
I don't think it's likely that I will move out of my rent regulated apartment in the armpit of Lincoln Center any time soon, but boy, there are days when I wish I were singing the National Anthem at a Little League game in "East Eggshell, Iowa" and signing autographs afterwards.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
The Artist's Way
Finding myself totally at a loss how to become "unstuck", I decided to revisit a suggestion the therapist made several years ago - to do the exercises in the book The Artist's Way.
I had thumbed through it several years ago, but that was when I was working in an office. One of the mandatory exercises is to write three pages of longhand when you wake up, which seemed prohibitively onerous if I would have had to cram this into an already stressed and overcrowded morning. Now that I am a freelancer and almost never have to set the alarm (except on Sundays), this is very doable.
So I will start.
I think "creative block" definitely describes my problem. I mean I practice daily and learn new music, but I am at a loss as to what to do with this big talent (yes, I have a big talent, I just don't have all the skills, or any of the educational underpinnings, not to mention the physical stamina, free time, and youth to pursue it along traditional channels), so maybe these exercises will help. Although I want to continue singing and would like to be able to incorporate my big dramatic mezzo rep (the bits and pieces I can sing without getting tired) into something but the question is what? I am in an environment that is crawling with singers and performers of every possible sort so I see nothing I can do that would be of interest to anyone except teachers and friends. (FWIW yesterday I sang "Acerba Volutta" better than I ever have, I think, from start to finish.)
I would even be happy to find some nonmusical creative outlet (e.g. continuing to market my play until someone picks it up) if I can get inspiration somewhere.
I had another insight, namely, that a lot of the general discontent I feel began when I started going to that Unitarian church. Not just because of the Mentor but because that was the first time I had a lot of contact with working performing artists of all sorts. I live on the Upper West Side, and believe me, that's where they all live, from Hell's Kitchen up to Inwood. Previously I had only known one working artist - a Tony-winning costume designer, but I saw her as the exception not the rule and in any event she was not in a field that I was interested in. I knew starving artists who had Hellish lives (including one who managed to live on Welfare for years until she found a rich husband), and weekend artists who had day jobs at the various companies I worked at (as many of them at my last job were my subordinates, or my professional peers' subordinates, I hardly envied them), but not anyone who really made a living out of performing (or out of performing and teaching). I knew lawyers, doctors, and various types of academics, and occasionally I felt a pang of envy that they got to do something both interesting and lucrative, but those feelings were short lived because I could have gone to law school for example, if I had really wanted to. I have never felt that something like that was out of reach because of circumstances beyond my control or bad choices I made long long ago. But I really do feel my interest in performing was jinxed from the beginning. I had no one in my corner. Until I met him and of course that was a mixed blessing.
Then I began to "meet" real singers online.
And the Lutheran church is the same. Although there are not many singers there at my level certainly not in the choir regularly there are a number of instrumentalists and other kinds of performers who make a living at it.
There was an old Jewish joke my mother used to tell (I hope I remember it).
A man who has made a lot of money buys a yacht, and then he buys a captains uniform. He visits his mother in the uniform and says "Look Ma! I'm a captain!" So she says "By you you're a captain and by me you're a captain, but by captains are you a captain?"
So there it is in a nutshell. By singers (certainly the hoards of conservatory graduates living in New York) I am not a singer. Not really.
Speaking of my play, I remember being at the auditions for the lead at the community theater in Texas where my play was produced, and singing a few bars of "Mon Coeur" to demonstrate what I wanted to the auditioning women. This literally blew people away. They had never heard sounds like that come out of anyone's mouth. I suppose that is what I am looking for - at least once in a while.
Keeping my fingers crossed that The Artist's Way will help me uncover some "wow" moments for myself, as nice punctuation to all the hard work...
I had thumbed through it several years ago, but that was when I was working in an office. One of the mandatory exercises is to write three pages of longhand when you wake up, which seemed prohibitively onerous if I would have had to cram this into an already stressed and overcrowded morning. Now that I am a freelancer and almost never have to set the alarm (except on Sundays), this is very doable.
So I will start.
I think "creative block" definitely describes my problem. I mean I practice daily and learn new music, but I am at a loss as to what to do with this big talent (yes, I have a big talent, I just don't have all the skills, or any of the educational underpinnings, not to mention the physical stamina, free time, and youth to pursue it along traditional channels), so maybe these exercises will help. Although I want to continue singing and would like to be able to incorporate my big dramatic mezzo rep (the bits and pieces I can sing without getting tired) into something but the question is what? I am in an environment that is crawling with singers and performers of every possible sort so I see nothing I can do that would be of interest to anyone except teachers and friends. (FWIW yesterday I sang "Acerba Volutta" better than I ever have, I think, from start to finish.)
I would even be happy to find some nonmusical creative outlet (e.g. continuing to market my play until someone picks it up) if I can get inspiration somewhere.
I had another insight, namely, that a lot of the general discontent I feel began when I started going to that Unitarian church. Not just because of the Mentor but because that was the first time I had a lot of contact with working performing artists of all sorts. I live on the Upper West Side, and believe me, that's where they all live, from Hell's Kitchen up to Inwood. Previously I had only known one working artist - a Tony-winning costume designer, but I saw her as the exception not the rule and in any event she was not in a field that I was interested in. I knew starving artists who had Hellish lives (including one who managed to live on Welfare for years until she found a rich husband), and weekend artists who had day jobs at the various companies I worked at (as many of them at my last job were my subordinates, or my professional peers' subordinates, I hardly envied them), but not anyone who really made a living out of performing (or out of performing and teaching). I knew lawyers, doctors, and various types of academics, and occasionally I felt a pang of envy that they got to do something both interesting and lucrative, but those feelings were short lived because I could have gone to law school for example, if I had really wanted to. I have never felt that something like that was out of reach because of circumstances beyond my control or bad choices I made long long ago. But I really do feel my interest in performing was jinxed from the beginning. I had no one in my corner. Until I met him and of course that was a mixed blessing.
Then I began to "meet" real singers online.
And the Lutheran church is the same. Although there are not many singers there at my level certainly not in the choir regularly there are a number of instrumentalists and other kinds of performers who make a living at it.
There was an old Jewish joke my mother used to tell (I hope I remember it).
A man who has made a lot of money buys a yacht, and then he buys a captains uniform. He visits his mother in the uniform and says "Look Ma! I'm a captain!" So she says "By you you're a captain and by me you're a captain, but by captains are you a captain?"
So there it is in a nutshell. By singers (certainly the hoards of conservatory graduates living in New York) I am not a singer. Not really.
Speaking of my play, I remember being at the auditions for the lead at the community theater in Texas where my play was produced, and singing a few bars of "Mon Coeur" to demonstrate what I wanted to the auditioning women. This literally blew people away. They had never heard sounds like that come out of anyone's mouth. I suppose that is what I am looking for - at least once in a while.
Keeping my fingers crossed that The Artist's Way will help me uncover some "wow" moments for myself, as nice punctuation to all the hard work...
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