I rarely post twice in one day, but I came across this post on my reading list and had to share it, because it is this that I feel so desperately deprived of, as a mature, now officially "physically challenged" church and concert soloist.
I yearn to dress up, get into mischief, flirt, play with props. Especially in the realm of make believe on someone else's dime.
Sure, I could try to stage "fancy dress" parties (as the British call them) but it would probably cost a fortune (I can hardly see doing this in my studio apartment!) and the little bit of mischief I get into has to be very discreet.
If I can barely get on and off a bus and am so terrified of slipping on the sidewalk that I use a cane not only if it's snowing but even if it's just raining (and this has nothing to do with my recent back injury), I can hardly run all over a stage engaging in high jinks.
OK, so what can I do?
Lean back against the piano singing "Moonfall". My SO won't be at the concert so I can wear something low cut.
Slither among the guests singing the "Habanera" and hand out flowers. The producer is going to give me some beautiful silk roses so I won't need to buy any. And even I can walk indoors in heels, and if I think the floor is slippery, I can wear ballet flats.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Recovering from an Injury, and
Saturday January 4, after the big snowstorm, I slipped and fell on the steps of a city bus because they were covered with ice and snow, and banged my lower back. For the first week it just felt a little stiff and a little sore, but the Sunday following (the 12th) I woke up in agony. Monday was even worse. It was worst when I woke up and then sort of subsided during the day. Yesterday I went to see an orthopedist.
Nothing is fractured. He called it a "contusion". The thing that was most upsetting was seeing the radiograph of my spine. (Surfing the Internet - I'm a medical editor, after all - the picture I found that most resembles it is this,)
Nothing is fractured. He called it a "contusion". The thing that was most upsetting was seeing the radiograph of my spine. (Surfing the Internet - I'm a medical editor, after all - the picture I found that most resembles it is this,)
Actually, I think my condition is even more extreme, curving farther to the left. It has gotten worse in recent years, which explains why I keep getting shorter. He (and several other health professionals) have said there is nothing to be done about it. He also said I have "age-related degeneration of the lumbar spine". This latter may explain why my recovery from the fall has been slow.
The orthopedist said if it is not better in a week to go for physical therapy.
Part of me believes that the MTA should be liable, because if the bus driver had stopped the bus and cleaned the steps, or put the steps out of action and had people exit using the wheelchair platform, this never would have happened. I already was using a cane and hanging on to the railing. There are now new buses that don't have steps, Just a platform that allows almost flat exit to the sidewalk, but some lines still use the old ones. I don't blame this particular bus driver as he probably wouldn't have known or been told what to do, but there should be better safety measures. So I will see how many out of pocket medical expenses I have. Anything strictly medical is paid for, but I don't know about physical therapy.
The interesting part of this post, though, is about what my voice teacher said. I was supposed to have a lesson Monday (I hadn't had one for a month due to scheduling conflicts for both of us; my teacher still performs regularly) and he said not to come, particularly as I had taken Advil that day. (That was the only day I took it; I hate "taking things".) He said Advil thins the blood and if you do strenuous singing it can cause vocal hemorrhage. He also said if my body is not aligned properly, I can get into bad habits. So basically it's no strenuous vocal exercises, just light warmups before choir practice and rehearsals for this Sunday concert. Neither the "Habanera" nor "Moonfall" is strenuous and nothing I have to sing at choir practice goes above a G. (By "light warmups" he meant staying out of my extreme upper register, which requires a lot of support.)
I was even more pleased by his saying that I don't really "need" lessons to sing correctly in the limited range that I use to sing art songs or church solos. He said at this point, the purpose of lessons is to grow my skills: build my stamina, increase my facility at the ends of my range, tweak and refine things.
Last night we had a rehearsal for the Sunday concert. I like working with this group because it is a very diverse group in terms of genre, skill level, and age. There was one woman there with a magnificent voice (a rich full sound with easy, spun pianissimi) whom the director is encouraging to try to pursue a career (she has the "goods", just doesn't know what to do as she is not a conservatory graduate), and then another woman at my level (a classically trained singer a little younger than I am who started late and who sings art songs), as well as a young woman who never had singing lessons who sang a ballad from a musical.
What heartens me is that this director is really interested in me, in a way that no one has been since the Mentor.
And I had a ball singing "Moonfall". For those of you who don't know it, here are the words.
Between the very dead of night and day
Upon a steely sheet of light, I’ll lay
And in the moonfall, I’ll give myself to you
I’ll bathe in moonfall, and dress myself in dew.
Before the cloak of night reveals the morn
Time holds its dream while it conceals the dawn,
And in the moonfall, all sound is frozen still,
Yet warm against me, your skin will warm the chill
Of moonfall. I feel its fingers
Lingers, the veil of nightshade,
Light made from stars that all too soon fall,
Moonfall, that pours from you.
Betwixt our hearts let nothing intervene
Between our eyes the only sight I’ve seen
Is lustrous moonfall as it blinds my view
So that soon I only see but
YOU
Monday, January 6, 2014
An Auspicious Beginning
Well, so far 2014 is off to an auspicious start.
Yesterday I sang "Cant deis Aucells" in the Spanish service. I sang well, and the accompanist complemented me. He said the piece was in a good range for me. I think the Spanish song literature in general is in a good range for me. Really mezzo; not soprano or alto. The best chunk of my voice is really from the A in the middle of the staff up to the F at the top of the staff and that's exactly where these pieces sit. Ditto most of Carmen.
I must be doing something right because I am singing scales and arpeggios up to a high C and back every day. I think I am finally relaxing my jaw in a way I didn't know how to do before.
For the concert on the 19th I am going to sing "Moonfall" as well as the Habanera. We are supposed to have the first rehearsal Wednesday, so I won't be at choir practice. The choir director didn't seem to be too upset about it. If I am singing soprano in the piece we will be singing on the 12th I can listen to it on Youtube and have the melody in my head when we have the runthrough Sunday morning.
I am really sick of this weather. I worry about my safety. Sunday I almost slipped and fell on the icy sidewalks and had to take a cab to church. I already have to walk with the cane and can't use the subways when there's too much snow and ice.
Yesterday I sang "Cant deis Aucells" in the Spanish service. I sang well, and the accompanist complemented me. He said the piece was in a good range for me. I think the Spanish song literature in general is in a good range for me. Really mezzo; not soprano or alto. The best chunk of my voice is really from the A in the middle of the staff up to the F at the top of the staff and that's exactly where these pieces sit. Ditto most of Carmen.
I must be doing something right because I am singing scales and arpeggios up to a high C and back every day. I think I am finally relaxing my jaw in a way I didn't know how to do before.
For the concert on the 19th I am going to sing "Moonfall" as well as the Habanera. We are supposed to have the first rehearsal Wednesday, so I won't be at choir practice. The choir director didn't seem to be too upset about it. If I am singing soprano in the piece we will be singing on the 12th I can listen to it on Youtube and have the melody in my head when we have the runthrough Sunday morning.
I am really sick of this weather. I worry about my safety. Sunday I almost slipped and fell on the icy sidewalks and had to take a cab to church. I already have to walk with the cane and can't use the subways when there's too much snow and ice.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
New Year's Resolutions, Refined
I thought I had done with this subject in my last post of 2013, but I was inspired to be a little more articulate as a result of reading a blog post by one of the most articulate women I know, who is also one of the most creative women I know and one of the best writers, despite living with numerous challenges.
So here are my resolutions, refined.
1. Get off the following merry-go-round: Working at home alone makes me depressed, not working enough hours gives me financial anxiety which makes me more depressed, and the idea of using my pittance of free time to try to find something else to do for a living is the most depressing of all. To do instead: Work as many hours as I have to, admit that I hate doing it, that this is something that it is too late to change, as finding a new livelihood at my age would require a prohibitive amount of time, money, or both, and make the rest of my life as colorful, richly peopled, sensual, and right brain as possible.
2. Do everything I can to jump-start my imagination. My imagination is a muscle, and after 35 years working for large corporations, it has atrophied. Re-read http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Artist's_Way, revisit the exercises in the back of the book, find ways to put more sights, sounds, smells, and tastes into my life. Savor and milk every teensy weensy interpersonal interaction I can find. Although I (surprisingly) got a very low score on a depression screening test, I got a high score on a loneliness screening test. Treat my loneliness (which is caused by my livelihood: editing at home on a laptop) as an illness and look for antidotes everywhere.
3. Tell myself every day that yes I am an artist (singer, writer) even if this isn't what I do for a living. I am more creative than probably 90% of women in their 60s with bachelors' degrees, I just don't spend enough time with "ordinary folk".
4. Spend more time with "ordinary folk" (not easy when you live on Manhattan's Upper West side). By this I mean people with boring jobs who try to find pleasure in life where they can. There are more of us than there are working artists and if I do that, my situation looks less pitiable.
5. Stop reading blogs from working performing artists who one way or another, find ways to disparage amateurs, whether it's me or Miss Kansas, and get these people off my Facebook list (mostly done). All this does is make me feel terrible about myself and I don't really learn anything from them that I don't already know. (I still read blogs from voice teachers and coaches who talk about technique, health, and repertoire.)
6. Treasure every minute with my SO. She is almost 80.
7. Always have a solo singing gig in my future. These can be choir solos; or songs and arias to sing with this new Meetup group that I found, at which I am one of the singers with more training (some people who show up have never even had a singing lesson, so the fact that I can sing an art song in a limited range with a nice line garners praise, which I never got at the other meetups full of "real" singers on the opera audition circuit); or material for self-produced concerts.
8. Spend more time working on the non-technical skills I need to sing. These include languages, trying to learn to read key signatures, and maybe learning to sightread (have yet to make myself do this).
9. Write more, even just this blog. Also try to get more readers. Sometimes there are things here that I don't want people to know about, but if I am timid, I will die anonymous, which is something I do not want.
10. Take more risks. There isn't that much time left.
So here are my resolutions, refined.
1. Get off the following merry-go-round: Working at home alone makes me depressed, not working enough hours gives me financial anxiety which makes me more depressed, and the idea of using my pittance of free time to try to find something else to do for a living is the most depressing of all. To do instead: Work as many hours as I have to, admit that I hate doing it, that this is something that it is too late to change, as finding a new livelihood at my age would require a prohibitive amount of time, money, or both, and make the rest of my life as colorful, richly peopled, sensual, and right brain as possible.
2. Do everything I can to jump-start my imagination. My imagination is a muscle, and after 35 years working for large corporations, it has atrophied. Re-read http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Artist's_Way, revisit the exercises in the back of the book, find ways to put more sights, sounds, smells, and tastes into my life. Savor and milk every teensy weensy interpersonal interaction I can find. Although I (surprisingly) got a very low score on a depression screening test, I got a high score on a loneliness screening test. Treat my loneliness (which is caused by my livelihood: editing at home on a laptop) as an illness and look for antidotes everywhere.
3. Tell myself every day that yes I am an artist (singer, writer) even if this isn't what I do for a living. I am more creative than probably 90% of women in their 60s with bachelors' degrees, I just don't spend enough time with "ordinary folk".
4. Spend more time with "ordinary folk" (not easy when you live on Manhattan's Upper West side). By this I mean people with boring jobs who try to find pleasure in life where they can. There are more of us than there are working artists and if I do that, my situation looks less pitiable.
5. Stop reading blogs from working performing artists who one way or another, find ways to disparage amateurs, whether it's me or Miss Kansas, and get these people off my Facebook list (mostly done). All this does is make me feel terrible about myself and I don't really learn anything from them that I don't already know. (I still read blogs from voice teachers and coaches who talk about technique, health, and repertoire.)
6. Treasure every minute with my SO. She is almost 80.
7. Always have a solo singing gig in my future. These can be choir solos; or songs and arias to sing with this new Meetup group that I found, at which I am one of the singers with more training (some people who show up have never even had a singing lesson, so the fact that I can sing an art song in a limited range with a nice line garners praise, which I never got at the other meetups full of "real" singers on the opera audition circuit); or material for self-produced concerts.
8. Spend more time working on the non-technical skills I need to sing. These include languages, trying to learn to read key signatures, and maybe learning to sightread (have yet to make myself do this).
9. Write more, even just this blog. Also try to get more readers. Sometimes there are things here that I don't want people to know about, but if I am timid, I will die anonymous, which is something I do not want.
10. Take more risks. There isn't that much time left.
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!
Monday, December 16, 2013
This is What It's All About, After All
I haven't written much lately, because nothing much is happening, other than my preparing Carmen. I feel a bit guilty that I cancelled attending this evening's get-together with the coach who is helping me with this, but as it is not a rehearsal for a particular event, there is snow and ice on the ground, the rehearsal is after dark, and the wind chill is in the teens, which means any slush will turn to ice, I felt it was more important to stay safe. I am basically healthy and fit for someone my age, but I would describe myself as "orthopedically unstable" in that I have already had one fracture requiring surgery, one of my legs is shorter than the other, which means I don't have good balance, so I am a fall risk, and at my age with my history a fall could lead to another fracture which could mean another hospitalization or at least a lot of lost time from work if I couldn't type. I already walk with a cane when there's snow on the ground, and I try to avoid going out after dark if there's snow on the ground.
About a week ago, my partner said how much she missed caroling. Really, the only times she can leave the house (escorted or unescorted) is probably between 11 and 3, certainly at this time of the year. It's hard for her to get herself together in the morning, and she never is out after dark. So that rules out church services. They are either in the morning or the evening. So she said someone had suggested that she ask me to come with a hymnal and sing carols with her. She was very hesitant about asking; she asked would I "mind"? That almost broke my heart. Of course I wouldn't mind!! So Saturday we did a little caroling. She has COPD and has almost no voice at all, but she poured herself into it and it made her happy. Isn't that what it's all about?
Some friends of mine posted pictures of themselves on Facebook showing them caroling in groups (this was part of a photo exercise the church gave us: one word Advent devotionals where we posted a picture every day in response to a word prompt, and one of the words was "caroling".) The only picture I had was the Youtube video of me singing theWagner "Angel" so I reposted that. I suppose it wasn't very jolly. It had gotten a lot of "likes" (on Facebook - the Youtube like dislike feature had been disabled) originally but only got one this time.
This made me a bit wistful, and I thought of how much joy people have going caroling (I suppose some of our choir singing over this season would qualify there) and that there is a lot of joy to be had in life, and that I wished I were more open to it and less enamored of the spotlight, but I guess I am who I am. I seem to be feeling less bitter and envious. Although I think there are certain things that set me off, and they are not always what I think they will be. For example I don't care if someone else sings really well and gets recognition for that. There should be enough room in the universe (even the little universe of the church with its choir and soloists) for many talented people. I get put out if I feel the same people keep getting opportunities and there is no attempt made to make things equitable, or if there is a sense that there is some kind of exclusive club to which I don't belong. For example someone has turned up to sing "Rejoice Greatly" in one of the services and also sing with the sopranos (she sang with the sopranos on Good Friday). She is a member of the congregation and apparently used to do professional "church gigs" and sing with regional opera companies. But she is not snobby and cliquish (I would guess she is in her mid thirties) the way the man from the conservatory who is my age (the one with the rude wife) is. I have felt put out because every time some new young person from the conservatory turns up he gloms onto them and wants to know all about them, but has rarely even given me the time of day.
This past Sunday the pastor was preaching about Advent and said it is a time of waiting and expecting, and that for many people, expectations we have had are not met (I can say that again!) but that during this time of waiting perhaps we should let go of expectations and that maybe something will appear that will surprise us.
So maybe this journey that began with my singing "Mon Coeur" and getting hot under the collar over The Mentor will end not with my being a singing star, even a small one, but with my finding a family and meaningful life in this church, even though I am not a Baptised Christian.
But I'm not quite finished with Carmen.
About a week ago, my partner said how much she missed caroling. Really, the only times she can leave the house (escorted or unescorted) is probably between 11 and 3, certainly at this time of the year. It's hard for her to get herself together in the morning, and she never is out after dark. So that rules out church services. They are either in the morning or the evening. So she said someone had suggested that she ask me to come with a hymnal and sing carols with her. She was very hesitant about asking; she asked would I "mind"? That almost broke my heart. Of course I wouldn't mind!! So Saturday we did a little caroling. She has COPD and has almost no voice at all, but she poured herself into it and it made her happy. Isn't that what it's all about?
Some friends of mine posted pictures of themselves on Facebook showing them caroling in groups (this was part of a photo exercise the church gave us: one word Advent devotionals where we posted a picture every day in response to a word prompt, and one of the words was "caroling".) The only picture I had was the Youtube video of me singing theWagner "Angel" so I reposted that. I suppose it wasn't very jolly. It had gotten a lot of "likes" (on Facebook - the Youtube like dislike feature had been disabled) originally but only got one this time.
This made me a bit wistful, and I thought of how much joy people have going caroling (I suppose some of our choir singing over this season would qualify there) and that there is a lot of joy to be had in life, and that I wished I were more open to it and less enamored of the spotlight, but I guess I am who I am. I seem to be feeling less bitter and envious. Although I think there are certain things that set me off, and they are not always what I think they will be. For example I don't care if someone else sings really well and gets recognition for that. There should be enough room in the universe (even the little universe of the church with its choir and soloists) for many talented people. I get put out if I feel the same people keep getting opportunities and there is no attempt made to make things equitable, or if there is a sense that there is some kind of exclusive club to which I don't belong. For example someone has turned up to sing "Rejoice Greatly" in one of the services and also sing with the sopranos (she sang with the sopranos on Good Friday). She is a member of the congregation and apparently used to do professional "church gigs" and sing with regional opera companies. But she is not snobby and cliquish (I would guess she is in her mid thirties) the way the man from the conservatory who is my age (the one with the rude wife) is. I have felt put out because every time some new young person from the conservatory turns up he gloms onto them and wants to know all about them, but has rarely even given me the time of day.
This past Sunday the pastor was preaching about Advent and said it is a time of waiting and expecting, and that for many people, expectations we have had are not met (I can say that again!) but that during this time of waiting perhaps we should let go of expectations and that maybe something will appear that will surprise us.
So maybe this journey that began with my singing "Mon Coeur" and getting hot under the collar over The Mentor will end not with my being a singing star, even a small one, but with my finding a family and meaningful life in this church, even though I am not a Baptised Christian.
But I'm not quite finished with Carmen.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
More on Carmen
Plans for Carmen continue. The other tenor from the Met chorus has agreed to sing Don Jose, barring a paying performance on the same day, which he will know about far enough in advance. In any event, his commitment now means that I can set the date. I emailed my "sponsor" and she will get back to me regarding whether or not the room is available. I am very flattered that he sounds happy to sing with me and he also said he can find me a Micaela and an Escamillo. So we will be fleshing things out quite a bit. I said we don't need the comprimari singers because I was not planning to do the big ensembles.
Last night I went to a group coaching session with "sponsor". The other singers were not classical singers; she may have invited them because she is planning a cabaret/musicale in her apartment in January. She said I can sing the Habanera there. That will be fun. I also met someone who does dramatic readings, so I might ask her to read the scenes from the book.
This afternoon I stumbled upon a Youtube video of Peter Brook's Tragedie de Carmen. If I were younger and more nimble I would love to do that. I only got to listen to the beginning sections, but there are some interesting changes. As they only use the four principals, the fight scene is between Carmen and Micaela. Also Carmen is smoking. She does in some productions. That is what always tempts me. Not drinking.
Anyhow, here is a snippet
http://youtu.be/PhINJ5RTG5k
Tonight I am going early to choir practice to run through "Nun Wandre Maria".
Last night I went to a group coaching session with "sponsor". The other singers were not classical singers; she may have invited them because she is planning a cabaret/musicale in her apartment in January. She said I can sing the Habanera there. That will be fun. I also met someone who does dramatic readings, so I might ask her to read the scenes from the book.
This afternoon I stumbled upon a Youtube video of Peter Brook's Tragedie de Carmen. If I were younger and more nimble I would love to do that. I only got to listen to the beginning sections, but there are some interesting changes. As they only use the four principals, the fight scene is between Carmen and Micaela. Also Carmen is smoking. She does in some productions. That is what always tempts me. Not drinking.
Anyhow, here is a snippet
http://youtu.be/PhINJ5RTG5k
Tonight I am going early to choir practice to run through "Nun Wandre Maria".
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