I stumbled upon this article in this morning's TIMES. I had no idea what it was about, and thought it might help my partner, who is elderly and frail.
Well, lo and behold, to my pleasant surprise, it was about how learning and working to perfect a new skill in late middle age can keep aging at bay. Who knew? So I guess singing is keeping me young. I identified with a lot in the article, but did not identify with all of it.
The author appears to have started playing tennis because he had always loved tennis and was looking for something to do. My experience was very different. As long-time readers know, I began singing this time (I had yearned to sing opera since adolescence but had been kept from my personal best by smoking, crash diets, clubbing, the wrong friends, and - at the time - what appeared to be the wrong sexual orientation) because I was "discovered" by a mentor figure. By the time we were finished with each other, the relationship had become quite toxic, but I was launched on this journey because someone had indelibly imprinted on me that it mattered if I sang or not.
And (fortunately or unfortunately) I don't at all feel that "I am not really concerned about where all this winds up. It’s the getting there I’m enthralled with." I care very very much where this all winds up.
Of course starting at such a late age, I didn't think I would have any kind of serious "career" but I did hope to be one of the "stars" of one of the myriad opera companies in the city that don't pay people. I sang with companies like that in my 20s when my voice was about one third the size it is now and I had minimal technical expertise, although I did always have perfect intonation and an instinct for "singing on the breath" probably from spending my childhood imitating Julie Andrews. Back then there were women there who were the age I am now, and sounded about like I do now, who seemed to sing a lot of leading roles, maybe 2 or 3 times a year.
Finding out how far down the food chain I am was a shock, but not enough of one, apparently, to get me to quit.
But singing in the practice room (my bathroom) or at a lesson, or even in a church choir, is not enough. Unlike athletes, performers are driven by the idea that there is an audience. I have accepted that it may only be an audience of 10 people, in someone's living room, but that's ok. I would rather sing two arias or art songs in someone's living room than be lost in a large chorus in Carnegie Hall.
Tomorrow is my performance of Carmen. I know if I mind my ps and qs I can sing it well. (Interestingly, the one way in which age has been a handicap is that it is harder to learn music, despite its being easier to sing).
I realize that what I want most, after tomorrow, is to be invited back. I have never been invited to sing anything, anywhere, not even church solos, at least not since my days at that talent-starved Unitarian church, and that was short lived.
And I hope I get a video and some kind of public thank you.
Showing posts with label being a diva. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being a diva. Show all posts
Sunday, May 1, 2016
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
Unforgettable?
Overall, things have been going very well.
I nailed the big note at the end of the anthem, with no negative feedback that it was unsuitably loud.
And I now have a "fan". A woman who is a seminarian studying to be a minister as a second career, who is also an artist and a poet, has come up to me and raved not just about three solos that she heard me sing, but also about hearing my voice cut across the top of the choir singing the "Hallelujah Chorus" and this past Sunday's anthem.
And last night I sang through the entire Carmen program, setting the timer for the breaks I will get when the narrator is reading, and everything went well (even the B in the "Sequidilla"!) and I did not get tired. I need to work on the "Card Aria" and some of the recitative, but otherwise that's it.
In less happy news, I have still not received the video of "Redeemer". When I asked the Communications Director for it last Sunday (it had been a week) I prefaced my request with "I know how busy you are" and he said, "Oh, it's not that, I just forgot".
Now "forgetting" is not something that sits well with me on any level. Being too busy, yes, I understand that. It was like Rich Lady apparently having "forgotten" my birthday. I WILL NOT BE "FORGETTABLE". I will not have that.
When I wrote to a friend and asked her what she thought I should do next, she told me to ask him, when I see him this coming Sunday, just to email me the video then and there. It is probably something he can do with his phone. He had also, when he first made it, said that if I wanted, he could cut it down so that I could use a section of it for posting. Then my friend said "Don't take it personally, it's not about you." But that's the whole point. I'm upset because "it wasn't about me". I want things to be "about me". At least sometimes. At least as much as Little Miss has things that are "about her". She doesn't have to beg people for videos and plead with them to post them on Facebook and kvell. People just do it. And all I was asking for was a video. I was willing to do my own kvelling, such as could be done without being "unseemly".
People: is this lady really so forgettable?
I nailed the big note at the end of the anthem, with no negative feedback that it was unsuitably loud.
And I now have a "fan". A woman who is a seminarian studying to be a minister as a second career, who is also an artist and a poet, has come up to me and raved not just about three solos that she heard me sing, but also about hearing my voice cut across the top of the choir singing the "Hallelujah Chorus" and this past Sunday's anthem.
And last night I sang through the entire Carmen program, setting the timer for the breaks I will get when the narrator is reading, and everything went well (even the B in the "Sequidilla"!) and I did not get tired. I need to work on the "Card Aria" and some of the recitative, but otherwise that's it.
In less happy news, I have still not received the video of "Redeemer". When I asked the Communications Director for it last Sunday (it had been a week) I prefaced my request with "I know how busy you are" and he said, "Oh, it's not that, I just forgot".
Now "forgetting" is not something that sits well with me on any level. Being too busy, yes, I understand that. It was like Rich Lady apparently having "forgotten" my birthday. I WILL NOT BE "FORGETTABLE". I will not have that.
When I wrote to a friend and asked her what she thought I should do next, she told me to ask him, when I see him this coming Sunday, just to email me the video then and there. It is probably something he can do with his phone. He had also, when he first made it, said that if I wanted, he could cut it down so that I could use a section of it for posting. Then my friend said "Don't take it personally, it's not about you." But that's the whole point. I'm upset because "it wasn't about me". I want things to be "about me". At least sometimes. At least as much as Little Miss has things that are "about her". She doesn't have to beg people for videos and plead with them to post them on Facebook and kvell. People just do it. And all I was asking for was a video. I was willing to do my own kvelling, such as could be done without being "unseemly".
People: is this lady really so forgettable?
Monday, March 10, 2014
20 Feet from Stardom
Yesterday I saw the movie 20 Feet from Stardom.
I don't follow pop music, and loathe the white countercultural music from my generation which I associate with drugs and pretentiousness (and the message to "turn on, tune in, and drop out" that for me was so deadly and had lifelong consequences). But I always loved Motown its immediate predecessors, like early Tina Turner. And listening to that music during the peak of the civil rights movement, when girls like that in my school glee club were the chosen few, it brings up a lot of feelings of sadness and old envy. Also, watching this movie I could really see and hear the throughline from African American (and by extension other) church choir music to this type of pop music. I may not have heard it before because I did not sing in choirs as a young person, other than the Unitarian church choir which did not sing that type of music. Which explains why these singers (they were mostly women) looked wholesome and healthy even today in their 70s.
And for the first time, I will humbly say, I was able to really hear and appreciate the artistry these singers were capable of. Lisa Fischer, for example, has a dynamic and vocal range to rival any opera singer's, including the most glorious spun pianissimi.
Much of the movie dealt with themes I have been grappling with: being a backup singer when you are in your soul a soloist; the soloist temperament (which I have to the tenth power); having a "fire in your belly" that you can't ignore - it will come back to bite you decades later if you do; and, most inspiring, being able to be at the top of your game in your 60s and 70s.
A must see.
Now I am off to run through the Carmen/Don Jose duet and work with one of the people I am considering for a narrator.
And for the first time, I will humbly say, I was able to really hear and appreciate the artistry these singers were capable of. Lisa Fischer, for example, has a dynamic and vocal range to rival any opera singer's, including the most glorious spun pianissimi.
Much of the movie dealt with themes I have been grappling with: being a backup singer when you are in your soul a soloist; the soloist temperament (which I have to the tenth power); having a "fire in your belly" that you can't ignore - it will come back to bite you decades later if you do; and, most inspiring, being able to be at the top of your game in your 60s and 70s.
A must see.
Now I am off to run through the Carmen/Don Jose duet and work with one of the people I am considering for a narrator.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Memories, Addictions, and Plans
I haven't written anything here for a while, partly because my modem was out for five days, so I couldn't access this site (I'm not adept enough to do anything more complex than a simple Google search on my smart phone), and partly because nothing has been going on.
Today brought back some memories. I have written ad nauseum about my "discovery" by the Mentor, which I link to Valentine's Day of 2004, but actually, this journey began with my singing Dido's Lament on the "Day of the Dead" service at the Unitarian Church on October 31, 2003.
That was the first time I had sung a solo piece in public in 23 years. That was when I developed a belief in God, which I had never had before, even after, at that point, 28 years in 12 step programs. I think I believed that if I got my voice back (it was not 100% secure, but it was pure and true, and in the classical style) in God's house meant that s/he must really be there. I had fantasized about singing, dreamed (as in what happens when one is asleep) about singing, fooled around with singing (I even screamed my way through "Condotta" once for someone's entertainment, probably in the mid 90s or thereabouts), but I had never stood up and really sung. And it gave me a rush that I wanted to feel again. The singing, the mastery of a difficult task, the applause, the compliments.
So is this an addiction?
I have recently gone back to AA meetings, not because I was worried about drinking, but because I wanted to be around people who had more serious problems and more difficult lives than I do, and get a different perspective. Alas, I don't get that perspective in church, despite their serving meals for the poor and taking Christian charity very seriously, because the poor and those employed in drudgery seem to be "other", not congregants, or at least they're not the congregants I meet in the choir or at the free classical music concerts I attend.
So of course the subject of the Fourth Step has come up.
I feel at an impasse with this. I am not starting from ground zero, I am not recently recovered from drinking or another uncontrollable addiction. Is my desire to get attention from an audience an addiction? Here is where I am not clear. There is an inappropriate kind of self-centeredness, one that harms or attempts to deprive others, but to some extent this is just a personality trait, as I wrote about here.
Is the fact that I am happier as a solo singer, even in the humblest of venues, than I am as a choral singer, a character flaw? I would hardly think so. Is the fact that I like applause and compliments a character flaw? I have worked really really really hard this past nine years and would like some time in the spotlight, and some appreciation.
Is it a character flaw that I am less happy singing with the choir now that there is this influx of "emerging pros" from conservatories?
Being bitter is a character flaw, and I am trying to be less bitter. There is no point to it anyhow. If I feel underappreciated I can work harder and/or find someplace to sing where there is less talent and I can shine more (and have more solo opportunities).
So what's next?
When the Advent Season schedule comes out I am going to ask the choir director (via email) if I can sing "Nun Wandre Maria" on Magnificat Sunday (or something else on another Sunday, but right now I'm drawing a blank, as all my music seems to be for that day or for Christmas). If I don't get a solo spot in one of the regular services before 2013 is over, I will see if I can sing the Bach Gounod "Ave Maria" in the Spanish service. They like things in Latin, and I hear now that there are at least 40 people at each service, sometimes more. I am pretty sure I will be singing one of the Nin songs (I am looking at "El Cant deis Aucells", which is an homage to Debussy, and refers to the birth of Jesus) at one of the Spanish services during Epiphany, if not on Epiphany itself. One of the pianists for that service said "we are always happy to have you". And if the Spanish woman produces a Christmas/Holiday concert I will sing in it whatever day it is unless I have a solo at the church.
And then there's Carmen. Next week I am going to start planning about doing that in the Spring, unless the Spanish music concert is definite. The Sequidilla and the Chanson Boheme are sounding much better. Learning how to flip my tongue around an "l" without tiring my jaw has made all the difference.
Today brought back some memories. I have written ad nauseum about my "discovery" by the Mentor, which I link to Valentine's Day of 2004, but actually, this journey began with my singing Dido's Lament on the "Day of the Dead" service at the Unitarian Church on October 31, 2003.
That was the first time I had sung a solo piece in public in 23 years. That was when I developed a belief in God, which I had never had before, even after, at that point, 28 years in 12 step programs. I think I believed that if I got my voice back (it was not 100% secure, but it was pure and true, and in the classical style) in God's house meant that s/he must really be there. I had fantasized about singing, dreamed (as in what happens when one is asleep) about singing, fooled around with singing (I even screamed my way through "Condotta" once for someone's entertainment, probably in the mid 90s or thereabouts), but I had never stood up and really sung. And it gave me a rush that I wanted to feel again. The singing, the mastery of a difficult task, the applause, the compliments.
So is this an addiction?
I have recently gone back to AA meetings, not because I was worried about drinking, but because I wanted to be around people who had more serious problems and more difficult lives than I do, and get a different perspective. Alas, I don't get that perspective in church, despite their serving meals for the poor and taking Christian charity very seriously, because the poor and those employed in drudgery seem to be "other", not congregants, or at least they're not the congregants I meet in the choir or at the free classical music concerts I attend.
So of course the subject of the Fourth Step has come up.
I feel at an impasse with this. I am not starting from ground zero, I am not recently recovered from drinking or another uncontrollable addiction. Is my desire to get attention from an audience an addiction? Here is where I am not clear. There is an inappropriate kind of self-centeredness, one that harms or attempts to deprive others, but to some extent this is just a personality trait, as I wrote about here.
Is the fact that I am happier as a solo singer, even in the humblest of venues, than I am as a choral singer, a character flaw? I would hardly think so. Is the fact that I like applause and compliments a character flaw? I have worked really really really hard this past nine years and would like some time in the spotlight, and some appreciation.
Is it a character flaw that I am less happy singing with the choir now that there is this influx of "emerging pros" from conservatories?
Being bitter is a character flaw, and I am trying to be less bitter. There is no point to it anyhow. If I feel underappreciated I can work harder and/or find someplace to sing where there is less talent and I can shine more (and have more solo opportunities).
So what's next?
When the Advent Season schedule comes out I am going to ask the choir director (via email) if I can sing "Nun Wandre Maria" on Magnificat Sunday (or something else on another Sunday, but right now I'm drawing a blank, as all my music seems to be for that day or for Christmas). If I don't get a solo spot in one of the regular services before 2013 is over, I will see if I can sing the Bach Gounod "Ave Maria" in the Spanish service. They like things in Latin, and I hear now that there are at least 40 people at each service, sometimes more. I am pretty sure I will be singing one of the Nin songs (I am looking at "El Cant deis Aucells", which is an homage to Debussy, and refers to the birth of Jesus) at one of the Spanish services during Epiphany, if not on Epiphany itself. One of the pianists for that service said "we are always happy to have you". And if the Spanish woman produces a Christmas/Holiday concert I will sing in it whatever day it is unless I have a solo at the church.
And then there's Carmen. Next week I am going to start planning about doing that in the Spring, unless the Spanish music concert is definite. The Sequidilla and the Chanson Boheme are sounding much better. Learning how to flip my tongue around an "l" without tiring my jaw has made all the difference.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Homework
One of the things my therapist has been doing is giving me homework, which stimulates my imagination in much the same way as the exercises in the back of The Artist's Way did.
Because I spend so much of my life (really all of my work life) in one dimension, looking at text on a screen, and making left brain microchoices, and the rest of my life dealing with an elderly person's pedestrian needs, I really sometimes think my imagination has atrophied. I mean it didn't happen overnight. Thirty-five years working in highly regimented environments (whether I was at the bottom or the top of the hierarchy didn't seem to matter much) contributed to this also.
Most of the homework involved making lists of things I enjoy, things I feel passionate about, things that have made me feel elated and optimistic, etc.
Today I came up with something of my own, which I actually put into a spreadsheet (but it does not contain any numbers!!)
It is a list of "Things I Yearn For", with columns going across labeled, "The Last Time I Had That Thing," "Roadblocks to Having That Thing Again," and "How to Have That Thing." Surprisingly, the last column had fewer blanks than I had feared.
Just because, I will precis some of this here, with some of the less than G rated items expunged.
So the first thing on the list was
Star in a performance. OK, so this I did as recently as last month. Why don't I do it more often? Mostly lack of money and lack of access to venues. I already handle the money issue by not spending money on other things (vacations, clothes, things for the house, entertainment). As for finding venues, I just need to do more networking.
Be perceived as a star in a group, no matter how small. This is one of the places I came up empty. There simply isn't anyplace small enough. I suppose the last time I felt like that was the first few years I was a soloist at the Lutheran church, but the place is now crawling with young conservatory students/graduates. I am not going to move. It just is not feasible. I have ties here, my family has lived here for three generations (I'm the only one left, but it's an urban lifestyle that has been passed down), and I have a rent controlled apartment.
Dress up and attract attention. This is something I love, love, love, love to do and have never had enough opportunities to do. Coming from a New York secular Marxist family we didn't have weddings (if people got married it was so that they could start families - they certainly didn't wear expensive white gowns or have bridesmaids), bat mitzvahs, sweet 16 parties, or even proms. If my high school had a prom no one I socialized with went to it. I wasn't a wallflower, but the crowd I hung out with was too bohemian for stuff like that. Then of course there were my years in the Lesbian community where getting dressed up was anathema. I suppose I had my delayed "prom experience" the last time I went to the Lesbian Pride dance (probably in the early 90s) and was one of three women out of 100 wearing a dress. It was a long dress that my partner had bought for me and displayed quite a bit of frontage. So what reason do I have to get dressed up now? Practically zip. Something I may do is go to Ricky's and buy some wigs (I have a gypsyish one that I wear for my Habanera turns). They cost about $15 apiece. If I got a long platinum blonde one I could dress up as Dolly Parton. I have the same type physique and hey, she's about three years older than I am, so there! Maybe I can throw together an outfit and wear a wig with it. But go where??? I can't go to parties at night for no reason and the handful of parties I do go to wouldn't be for that type of thing. What's interesting is a woman I know online who is quite ill, and a lot more housebound than I am is having a party themed around a movie and made herself a dress. I just don't know people who do those things.
Have an online photographic presence. Maybe I should design myself a web site or a Facebook fan page (I actually looked for instructions for how to do that and couldn't find any). It's sort of like the Wizard of Oz. I don't need a big opera contract, I just have to promote myself as if I had one. In this era of the Kardashians maybe I'm trying to do things wrong way round. I can just be in people's face because I've got chutzpah.
To have "work" that involves deconstructing personalities and personal relationships; especially if you're talking about sexual and romantic relationships. This took me by surprise. One of the exercises my therapist had me do was make a list of things I'd done at jobs that I'd actually enjoyed and they all had to do with people: reading and vetting resumes, hiring and training people, having brainstorming sessions with my bosses or other managers about what people were like and what tasks they were best suited for, doing performance evaluations. I also did quite a bit of this when I counseled at that LGBT center. People would talk about relationships they were in, dating, lust, longing, limerence, identity, etc. I remember dressing up and giving a workshop with another woman about being butch and being femme. I don't get to do any of that now. Any problem solving I do for a living has to do with language, punctuation, or type fonts. One of things that I know I envy working singers for is all the time they put in deconstructing characters and their relationships to each other (which often seem to involve a lot of flirting, if not groping!), and playing around with costumes (mentioned earlier). If I didn't have to take care of my partner (or worry that she would disapprove) I might try to get a job in a store that sold cosmetics or lingerie so I could be around pretty things, and some frivolity and silliness, even if I were only making a minimum wage. If I only did it 8-10 hours a week I could still do my other work and it might be a nice change.
And last but not least....
The "Wow" factor. That is, doing something in a group of people and having them respond "YOU can do that???" That was the response I got when I sang a few bars of "Mon Coeur" in the dressing room at the Port Aransas Community Theater when my play was produced. And I probably got a reaction like that from the people at the Unitarian Church the first few times I sang something there. This is the reaction that any soprano who walks into my current choir gets if she can sing above an A. Alas, there's nothing mezzos can do that seems to elicit that. No one seems to care how loud I can sing, how many measures I can sing without taking a breath, or how fast I can sing. The last column for this entry came up a total blank. I need to find something...
Because I spend so much of my life (really all of my work life) in one dimension, looking at text on a screen, and making left brain microchoices, and the rest of my life dealing with an elderly person's pedestrian needs, I really sometimes think my imagination has atrophied. I mean it didn't happen overnight. Thirty-five years working in highly regimented environments (whether I was at the bottom or the top of the hierarchy didn't seem to matter much) contributed to this also.
Most of the homework involved making lists of things I enjoy, things I feel passionate about, things that have made me feel elated and optimistic, etc.
Today I came up with something of my own, which I actually put into a spreadsheet (but it does not contain any numbers!!)
It is a list of "Things I Yearn For", with columns going across labeled, "The Last Time I Had That Thing," "Roadblocks to Having That Thing Again," and "How to Have That Thing." Surprisingly, the last column had fewer blanks than I had feared.
Just because, I will precis some of this here, with some of the less than G rated items expunged.
So the first thing on the list was
Star in a performance. OK, so this I did as recently as last month. Why don't I do it more often? Mostly lack of money and lack of access to venues. I already handle the money issue by not spending money on other things (vacations, clothes, things for the house, entertainment). As for finding venues, I just need to do more networking.
Be perceived as a star in a group, no matter how small. This is one of the places I came up empty. There simply isn't anyplace small enough. I suppose the last time I felt like that was the first few years I was a soloist at the Lutheran church, but the place is now crawling with young conservatory students/graduates. I am not going to move. It just is not feasible. I have ties here, my family has lived here for three generations (I'm the only one left, but it's an urban lifestyle that has been passed down), and I have a rent controlled apartment.
Dress up and attract attention. This is something I love, love, love, love to do and have never had enough opportunities to do. Coming from a New York secular Marxist family we didn't have weddings (if people got married it was so that they could start families - they certainly didn't wear expensive white gowns or have bridesmaids), bat mitzvahs, sweet 16 parties, or even proms. If my high school had a prom no one I socialized with went to it. I wasn't a wallflower, but the crowd I hung out with was too bohemian for stuff like that. Then of course there were my years in the Lesbian community where getting dressed up was anathema. I suppose I had my delayed "prom experience" the last time I went to the Lesbian Pride dance (probably in the early 90s) and was one of three women out of 100 wearing a dress. It was a long dress that my partner had bought for me and displayed quite a bit of frontage. So what reason do I have to get dressed up now? Practically zip. Something I may do is go to Ricky's and buy some wigs (I have a gypsyish one that I wear for my Habanera turns). They cost about $15 apiece. If I got a long platinum blonde one I could dress up as Dolly Parton. I have the same type physique and hey, she's about three years older than I am, so there! Maybe I can throw together an outfit and wear a wig with it. But go where??? I can't go to parties at night for no reason and the handful of parties I do go to wouldn't be for that type of thing. What's interesting is a woman I know online who is quite ill, and a lot more housebound than I am is having a party themed around a movie and made herself a dress. I just don't know people who do those things.
Have an online photographic presence. Maybe I should design myself a web site or a Facebook fan page (I actually looked for instructions for how to do that and couldn't find any). It's sort of like the Wizard of Oz. I don't need a big opera contract, I just have to promote myself as if I had one. In this era of the Kardashians maybe I'm trying to do things wrong way round. I can just be in people's face because I've got chutzpah.
To have "work" that involves deconstructing personalities and personal relationships; especially if you're talking about sexual and romantic relationships. This took me by surprise. One of the exercises my therapist had me do was make a list of things I'd done at jobs that I'd actually enjoyed and they all had to do with people: reading and vetting resumes, hiring and training people, having brainstorming sessions with my bosses or other managers about what people were like and what tasks they were best suited for, doing performance evaluations. I also did quite a bit of this when I counseled at that LGBT center. People would talk about relationships they were in, dating, lust, longing, limerence, identity, etc. I remember dressing up and giving a workshop with another woman about being butch and being femme. I don't get to do any of that now. Any problem solving I do for a living has to do with language, punctuation, or type fonts. One of things that I know I envy working singers for is all the time they put in deconstructing characters and their relationships to each other (which often seem to involve a lot of flirting, if not groping!), and playing around with costumes (mentioned earlier). If I didn't have to take care of my partner (or worry that she would disapprove) I might try to get a job in a store that sold cosmetics or lingerie so I could be around pretty things, and some frivolity and silliness, even if I were only making a minimum wage. If I only did it 8-10 hours a week I could still do my other work and it might be a nice change.
And last but not least....
The "Wow" factor. That is, doing something in a group of people and having them respond "YOU can do that???" That was the response I got when I sang a few bars of "Mon Coeur" in the dressing room at the Port Aransas Community Theater when my play was produced. And I probably got a reaction like that from the people at the Unitarian Church the first few times I sang something there. This is the reaction that any soprano who walks into my current choir gets if she can sing above an A. Alas, there's nothing mezzos can do that seems to elicit that. No one seems to care how loud I can sing, how many measures I can sing without taking a breath, or how fast I can sing. The last column for this entry came up a total blank. I need to find something...
Friday, April 5, 2013
Confidence?
This morning was actually the second time I had seen my therapist since she came to my concert, but I guess we were talking about other things, because today was the first time she gave me feedback. What she said was that I had so much talent, but so little confidence. She said there were moments when I owned the stage (singing "Liber Scriptus") but then other moments when I looked shy and unsure of myself (interestingly, she said most of these were when I was not singing). I was not offended by this comment any more than I was offended by my teacher saying I was singing too softly and that this disappointed him. The question is what to do with such feedback.
Which brings me back to what I said in earlier posts about not having had the advantages that conservatory students have, even though by now I have studied voice as long as someone with a Masters in Vocal Performance. Those people are in performance classes where they get feedback on a regular basis about everything from how they look to how they pronounce languages. I have not had that experience. My teacher gives me feedback about my singing and about the style of what I am singing (mostly if it's Italian opera). The choir director mostly just wants me to sing "pretty". The choir does sing things in different languages so we get drilled in how to pronounce words in German, for example, and the Spanish woman helped me with my Spanish (although I felt most of what she had to say about vocal production was wrong, so I did some of it but didn't incorporate it into my singing when I was not singing for her). But that is not the same as having to get up in front of my peers (what peers???) every week and sing something, starting with the Italian songbook, and ending, maybe six years later, with some dramatic arias. As I've said, the two groups I went to that were supposed to serve that purpose were filled with people younger and more confident, so I just felt depressed and irrelevant.
I was telling my therapist that the issue of confidence is in some ways a feedback loop. I felt more confident in the beginning when I was working with the Mentor and everyone was bowled over by how I sounded because the choir was so talent starved. And I felt reasonably confident when I started out in this avocational choir and was one of the, oh, let's say three best singers there. But the more I see how I don't measure up, even as an avocational opera singer, certainly in Manhattan (or the outer boroughs - people will travel there to sing a leading role, i.e. nothing is just for the local talent any more) the less confidence I have. And I have been trained tobe make myself look humble and self-effacing when I sing choir solos. I have never really been encouraged, except briefly by the Mentor, to strut my stuff in any way. If it isn't the choir director telling me to sing softly (even when I'm singing a solo) it's my partner telling me to cover up my cleavage and dress like a "mature professional woman" (barf).
I also think (insane as this sounds) that I underrated the extent to which seeing all those equality signs everywhere made me feel ripped off. That was my private bit of daring 30 years ago and now it's a litmus test for how "with it" the stodgy urban middle classes are?
Which is not that afield from how I feel about singing. Is there no little patch of ground I can stand on that isn't occupied by a bajillion people?
It would be so much easier if I were "from" somewhere else and I could just "go home" where there was less competition, fewer singers with large operatic voices, fewer pretty Lesbians who were "out". But I am in fact a third generation apartment dwelling, subway riding, non-driving New Yorker. And so much of what once was "metropolitan and cosmopolitan" has now moved out to smaller cities and larger towns that I would have to go somewhere very very very small indeed to feel special.
I want to run away to Ogunquit. Sometimes that's what I really really want to do. With my partner. Away from all the people who swallow me up and make me feel invisible, anonymous, and irrelevant.
Which brings me back to what I said in earlier posts about not having had the advantages that conservatory students have, even though by now I have studied voice as long as someone with a Masters in Vocal Performance. Those people are in performance classes where they get feedback on a regular basis about everything from how they look to how they pronounce languages. I have not had that experience. My teacher gives me feedback about my singing and about the style of what I am singing (mostly if it's Italian opera). The choir director mostly just wants me to sing "pretty". The choir does sing things in different languages so we get drilled in how to pronounce words in German, for example, and the Spanish woman helped me with my Spanish (although I felt most of what she had to say about vocal production was wrong, so I did some of it but didn't incorporate it into my singing when I was not singing for her). But that is not the same as having to get up in front of my peers (what peers???) every week and sing something, starting with the Italian songbook, and ending, maybe six years later, with some dramatic arias. As I've said, the two groups I went to that were supposed to serve that purpose were filled with people younger and more confident, so I just felt depressed and irrelevant.
I was telling my therapist that the issue of confidence is in some ways a feedback loop. I felt more confident in the beginning when I was working with the Mentor and everyone was bowled over by how I sounded because the choir was so talent starved. And I felt reasonably confident when I started out in this avocational choir and was one of the, oh, let's say three best singers there. But the more I see how I don't measure up, even as an avocational opera singer, certainly in Manhattan (or the outer boroughs - people will travel there to sing a leading role, i.e. nothing is just for the local talent any more) the less confidence I have. And I have been trained to
I also think (insane as this sounds) that I underrated the extent to which seeing all those equality signs everywhere made me feel ripped off. That was my private bit of daring 30 years ago and now it's a litmus test for how "with it" the stodgy urban middle classes are?
Which is not that afield from how I feel about singing. Is there no little patch of ground I can stand on that isn't occupied by a bajillion people?
It would be so much easier if I were "from" somewhere else and I could just "go home" where there was less competition, fewer singers with large operatic voices, fewer pretty Lesbians who were "out". But I am in fact a third generation apartment dwelling, subway riding, non-driving New Yorker. And so much of what once was "metropolitan and cosmopolitan" has now moved out to smaller cities and larger towns that I would have to go somewhere very very very small indeed to feel special.
I want to run away to Ogunquit. Sometimes that's what I really really want to do. With my partner. Away from all the people who swallow me up and make me feel invisible, anonymous, and irrelevant.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Critiques
First, I got back the CD of the Requiem. I like how "Liber Scriptus" sounds. It is better than the two earlier recordings I made of it. And "Lux Aeterna" has an ethereal quality to it that is appropriate, and kudos to us for ending the long a capella section right squarely on pitch.
That being said, my voice is sooo much smaller than the other singers' which is odd, because I think of my voice as being so big (because I am told this by other people). Well, my voice is certainly loud, unless I am singing piano or pianissimo, but it is small, if that makes sense. It has a cutting edge. So I know I could be heard in a big house. But it is not "large".
Where does vocal perfection come from? I hear it in the 20 year old soloist who sang tonight. Is it something one is born with? Is it something achieved if you take a fresh natural voice and "build" it, instead of taking a damaged misused voice like mine and try to "fix" it? (I am referring now to the first serious lessons I had at 26 after 13 years of smoking and 8 years of drinking and drug abuse, not to mention bellowing Gilbert and Sullivan contralto roles and screaming my way through "Condotta" for my own amusement; not to the lessons I had after my voice was "rediscovered" at 54 after 29 years of sobriety and 28 years of not smoking.)
I mean my voice is much smoother than it was 8 years ago. But it is still not enough.
This afternoon I sang "Qui Sedes al Dextram Patris" in a service for people who speak Spanish. There were probably fewer than 20 people there, but I found the service very moving. The subject was "Stations of the Cross" and having been raised in an atheistic household I didn't really know what that meant, so it was a huge revelation to me (this was never part of the Lutheran Good Friday services that I have sung in). There were just two people reading, while the assembled looked at beautiful artwork (in the program) of the 14 stations of the cross. Several depicted Jesus falling down in exhaustion. I got caught up in the pathos of it all and almost forgot I was going to sing!
Tonight I survived being only an alto chorister in the Brahms Requiem while someone one third my age sang a beautiful solo.
So I made sure I had the most glamorous dress and the biggest piece of jewelry. (Many of the women were just wearing what used to be called "slacks" and black sweaters.)
That being said, my voice is sooo much smaller than the other singers' which is odd, because I think of my voice as being so big (because I am told this by other people). Well, my voice is certainly loud, unless I am singing piano or pianissimo, but it is small, if that makes sense. It has a cutting edge. So I know I could be heard in a big house. But it is not "large".
Where does vocal perfection come from? I hear it in the 20 year old soloist who sang tonight. Is it something one is born with? Is it something achieved if you take a fresh natural voice and "build" it, instead of taking a damaged misused voice like mine and try to "fix" it? (I am referring now to the first serious lessons I had at 26 after 13 years of smoking and 8 years of drinking and drug abuse, not to mention bellowing Gilbert and Sullivan contralto roles and screaming my way through "Condotta" for my own amusement; not to the lessons I had after my voice was "rediscovered" at 54 after 29 years of sobriety and 28 years of not smoking.)
I mean my voice is much smoother than it was 8 years ago. But it is still not enough.
This afternoon I sang "Qui Sedes al Dextram Patris" in a service for people who speak Spanish. There were probably fewer than 20 people there, but I found the service very moving. The subject was "Stations of the Cross" and having been raised in an atheistic household I didn't really know what that meant, so it was a huge revelation to me (this was never part of the Lutheran Good Friday services that I have sung in). There were just two people reading, while the assembled looked at beautiful artwork (in the program) of the 14 stations of the cross. Several depicted Jesus falling down in exhaustion. I got caught up in the pathos of it all and almost forgot I was going to sing!
Tonight I survived being only an alto chorister in the Brahms Requiem while someone one third my age sang a beautiful solo.
So I made sure I had the most glamorous dress and the biggest piece of jewelry. (Many of the women were just wearing what used to be called "slacks" and black sweaters.)
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Requiem Went Well
Today's Verdi Requiem concert went well. I let it rip with "Liber Scriptus", was solid on all the ensembles, and got through most of "Lux Aeterna" pianissimo, except for that top G, which I sang full voice, but everyone ended together. I really felt that I held my own with three other experienced singers, two of whom are working professionals.
My only disappointment was that there weren't very many people there, but the people who were there were very appreciative and we got a lot of applause.
My partner was there with the visiting nurse, and she was genuinely happy for me and said I sounded great.
The sound engineer (with whom I have had so many ups and downs) recorded it, and he said this was the best he had ever heard me sing. (And we have had many ups and downs, as I have written about.)
So now my goal is not to get depressed.
I will be singing "Qui Sedes al Dextram Patris" from the Bach B Minor Mass in the Spanish service at 3 on Good Friday. I am only a chorus alto in the Brahms Requiem in the big evening service but how I will look at it is that this is a major work, and if I can say I have sung the alto part, this is something marketable. And actually the alto choristers sing quite a bit on their own and having me there will noticeably beef up the sound. (I have worked a lot of my lower register for the Verdi and now have a usable low G.)
The two solos have gone to the two new young people from the big conservatory. The woman singing the soprano solo is only 20!!! and her singing is near perfect. She has a voice like silk. And she is not a very light soprano. Her voice has a lot of maturity. It's when I hear someone like that that I feel tremendous despair. I don't feel despair when I listen to the soprano who sang with me today. She has a spectacular voice but she is a few years younger than I am and has been singing all her life. But to feel that someone who is 20 (this is someone one third my age!) already has a handle on such vocal perfection and I have so far to go, makes me want to cry and cry and cry, and believe me, I have. I definitely feel everything is moving in the right direction (other people say this, so I can believe that it is true and not just my perception) but it has taken me almost nine years now and I still am not secure with the top notes, and my voice still has "grit" in it (my teacher says some voices are like that - I think of Callas and Agnes Baltsa, for example).
I think what made me feel so sad at the last choir rehearsal was that when this young woman finished singing through her solo (and she just sort of tossed it off, really sitting there in jeans looking unprepossessing) everyone in the choir looked bowled over. And I realized that there is nothing I can do that will ever ever ever elicit that kind of response. Certainly not from that crowd.
So now I have to think about my next project.
For church solos, since there is a new crackerjack violinist there (he is a paid staff member who teaches music to the children and is the boyfriend of the young soprano) I was thinking of "Domine Deus" from the Vivaldi Gloria, which I sang in the past with the elderly violinist who has since become too ill to play (or even to listen to music - it is telling that he was not there this afternoon). That is quiet enough for communion, but the words are upbeat enough for the Easter season.
And then I'm hoping the two of us can do the Bach "Laudamus te" in the summer (something else I sang with the elderly violinist).
But for a big project. Originally I was going to do a concert called "Viva Verismo" as a sort of companion to the "Viva Verdi" but I have lost interest in it. There are too many people who sing that sort of material better.
Maybe excerpts from Hamlet? I am going to buy a score, because I think the role of Gertrude will be perfect for me. She is an age appropriate character who also has a lot of sex appeal and the music is very lush, and sits high-ish, but I don't think goes above an A or an A flat.
Or some kind of song recital (with someone else - I am not interested in, nor do I have the stamina for, singing one by myself). I have really quite fallen in love with Spanish art songs, and I also have started looking at the song cycle by Jake Heggie with words by Sister Helen Prejean. And maybe throw in a a few gay 90s songs, which my partner loves so much.
My therapist (who did come to the concert, by the way) was talking about how if you can't get into something through the front door, you have to use the back door. So if no one is going to cast me as Azucena, or even La Zia Principessa, I have to find something else.
Because when all is said and done, although it would be wonderful to be able to sing through a role like Azucena in a full scale production, all I really want is that applause. I have a very magnetic stage personality (that I have been told by dozens of people). So I just need to find something that no one else is doing.
My only disappointment was that there weren't very many people there, but the people who were there were very appreciative and we got a lot of applause.
My partner was there with the visiting nurse, and she was genuinely happy for me and said I sounded great.
The sound engineer (with whom I have had so many ups and downs) recorded it, and he said this was the best he had ever heard me sing. (And we have had many ups and downs, as I have written about.)
So now my goal is not to get depressed.
I will be singing "Qui Sedes al Dextram Patris" from the Bach B Minor Mass in the Spanish service at 3 on Good Friday. I am only a chorus alto in the Brahms Requiem in the big evening service but how I will look at it is that this is a major work, and if I can say I have sung the alto part, this is something marketable. And actually the alto choristers sing quite a bit on their own and having me there will noticeably beef up the sound. (I have worked a lot of my lower register for the Verdi and now have a usable low G.)
The two solos have gone to the two new young people from the big conservatory. The woman singing the soprano solo is only 20!!! and her singing is near perfect. She has a voice like silk. And she is not a very light soprano. Her voice has a lot of maturity. It's when I hear someone like that that I feel tremendous despair. I don't feel despair when I listen to the soprano who sang with me today. She has a spectacular voice but she is a few years younger than I am and has been singing all her life. But to feel that someone who is 20 (this is someone one third my age!) already has a handle on such vocal perfection and I have so far to go, makes me want to cry and cry and cry, and believe me, I have. I definitely feel everything is moving in the right direction (other people say this, so I can believe that it is true and not just my perception) but it has taken me almost nine years now and I still am not secure with the top notes, and my voice still has "grit" in it (my teacher says some voices are like that - I think of Callas and Agnes Baltsa, for example).
I think what made me feel so sad at the last choir rehearsal was that when this young woman finished singing through her solo (and she just sort of tossed it off, really sitting there in jeans looking unprepossessing) everyone in the choir looked bowled over. And I realized that there is nothing I can do that will ever ever ever elicit that kind of response. Certainly not from that crowd.
So now I have to think about my next project.
For church solos, since there is a new crackerjack violinist there (he is a paid staff member who teaches music to the children and is the boyfriend of the young soprano) I was thinking of "Domine Deus" from the Vivaldi Gloria, which I sang in the past with the elderly violinist who has since become too ill to play (or even to listen to music - it is telling that he was not there this afternoon). That is quiet enough for communion, but the words are upbeat enough for the Easter season.
And then I'm hoping the two of us can do the Bach "Laudamus te" in the summer (something else I sang with the elderly violinist).
But for a big project. Originally I was going to do a concert called "Viva Verismo" as a sort of companion to the "Viva Verdi" but I have lost interest in it. There are too many people who sing that sort of material better.
Maybe excerpts from Hamlet? I am going to buy a score, because I think the role of Gertrude will be perfect for me. She is an age appropriate character who also has a lot of sex appeal and the music is very lush, and sits high-ish, but I don't think goes above an A or an A flat.
Or some kind of song recital (with someone else - I am not interested in, nor do I have the stamina for, singing one by myself). I have really quite fallen in love with Spanish art songs, and I also have started looking at the song cycle by Jake Heggie with words by Sister Helen Prejean. And maybe throw in a a few gay 90s songs, which my partner loves so much.
My therapist (who did come to the concert, by the way) was talking about how if you can't get into something through the front door, you have to use the back door. So if no one is going to cast me as Azucena, or even La Zia Principessa, I have to find something else.
Because when all is said and done, although it would be wonderful to be able to sing through a role like Azucena in a full scale production, all I really want is that applause. I have a very magnetic stage personality (that I have been told by dozens of people). So I just need to find something that no one else is doing.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
There are All Kinds of Divas: My Year with "Toots DeVille"
First, just to update y'all, the second and final rehearsal of the Requiem went like gangbusters. If I can sing that well Saturday I will be thrilled. So the recipe is basically: get plenty of rest and don't talk any more than necessary. If I want my voice to keep that buzz, I have so keep off the cords. Thank goodness for email!
Now to the import of this post.
The other day, I was in a "what ever happened to?" mood, so I began googling an old roommate of mine from the late 60s, when I was heavily into drugs (for me that mainly meant amphetamines, poppers, lots of booze, and the occasional joint). She was one of my glamour heroines, and, yes, in her way she was a diva.
Well, imagine my surprise when I found out that she was someone rather famous in the world of punk rock. Her husband (they married shortly after she and I lost contact) was named Willy DeVille and was apparently a famous rock musician. I am actually surprised I had never heard of him, because although I spent most of my life listening to predominately classical music or Broadway show tunes, I nonetheless hadn't totally lost touch with the world of rock and pop until the mid 90s. (Did I ever mention that Madonna, before she became famous, was my upstairs neighbor in 1981 or thereabouts?) In any event, she apparently went by the name Toots. For more on her real name and persona, much of which is fabricated or surmised, see this interesting blog post.
When I knew her she was Susan Berle (she's dead, so I see no reason to use a pseudonym) and had been the classmate of a girl I was rooming with, whom I had gone to acting classes with. (I say "girl" deliberately, as we were all 18 and none college bound.) Susan/Toots was quite shocking to me. Not because she used drugs or even because she had brought a pregnancy to term at 18 (having sex as a teenager was commonplace in middle class circles, illegal abortions were not uncommon, but having babies was extremely rare), but because she didn't really do anything except shop at high end mod stores like Paraphernalia and go clubbing at night leaving the baby with her parents. She had not finished high school, and had a stint as a junkie (and a stint in rehab) behind her. From all the reading I did the other day, I see that when she was with Willie she went back to using heroin. When I knew her she was not (even in those days, I would have considered shooting up beyond the pale) but only took amphetamines. She never ate, and was contemptuous of anyone who did. She got me to start taking amphetamines and I went from my natural state of a size 12 (I am using today's sizes) down to what would today be a size 6 but compared to her I was still fat. I eventually lost touch with her after she got married (this was to her first husband, who BTW was not the father of her baby) but her influence on my idea of style remained for some time, and I continued to use amphetamines for another year.
Yesterday in a fit of boredom I sent an email to the woman who had authored the above referenced blog post and still haven't heard back. I wanted to clarify a few things, about Susan's ethnicity, for example. Her parents were Jewish, but she was adopted and was indeed Native American (or part Native American). Unless that was a story she made up. But it rings true. I know people who adopted female babies (of all races and ethnicities) and even if the adoptive families are upper middle class, a lot of these girls get pregnant and have babies when they are still in their teens.
What I am most interested in is Susan's later life., She stayed with Willie for several decades, apparently, and was deemed in some ways a bad influence on him. He is alleged to have used her family's money and when he became successful they apparently broke up. She is alleged to have cleaned up her act afterwards and went to become a nurse's aide (?) upstate (odd, considering her family's money) and died in her mid 50s, I'm not sure from what, but not from drugs. FWIW, here's are two photos:
which in some ways don't look that afield from
So my idols do have things in common, at least on the surface.
Needed to write this post. If nothing else, people apparently have been googling "Toots DeVille" so it may get me more hits.
Now to the import of this post.
The other day, I was in a "what ever happened to?" mood, so I began googling an old roommate of mine from the late 60s, when I was heavily into drugs (for me that mainly meant amphetamines, poppers, lots of booze, and the occasional joint). She was one of my glamour heroines, and, yes, in her way she was a diva.
Well, imagine my surprise when I found out that she was someone rather famous in the world of punk rock. Her husband (they married shortly after she and I lost contact) was named Willy DeVille and was apparently a famous rock musician. I am actually surprised I had never heard of him, because although I spent most of my life listening to predominately classical music or Broadway show tunes, I nonetheless hadn't totally lost touch with the world of rock and pop until the mid 90s. (Did I ever mention that Madonna, before she became famous, was my upstairs neighbor in 1981 or thereabouts?) In any event, she apparently went by the name Toots. For more on her real name and persona, much of which is fabricated or surmised, see this interesting blog post.
When I knew her she was Susan Berle (she's dead, so I see no reason to use a pseudonym) and had been the classmate of a girl I was rooming with, whom I had gone to acting classes with. (I say "girl" deliberately, as we were all 18 and none college bound.) Susan/Toots was quite shocking to me. Not because she used drugs or even because she had brought a pregnancy to term at 18 (having sex as a teenager was commonplace in middle class circles, illegal abortions were not uncommon, but having babies was extremely rare), but because she didn't really do anything except shop at high end mod stores like Paraphernalia and go clubbing at night leaving the baby with her parents. She had not finished high school, and had a stint as a junkie (and a stint in rehab) behind her. From all the reading I did the other day, I see that when she was with Willie she went back to using heroin. When I knew her she was not (even in those days, I would have considered shooting up beyond the pale) but only took amphetamines. She never ate, and was contemptuous of anyone who did. She got me to start taking amphetamines and I went from my natural state of a size 12 (I am using today's sizes) down to what would today be a size 6 but compared to her I was still fat. I eventually lost touch with her after she got married (this was to her first husband, who BTW was not the father of her baby) but her influence on my idea of style remained for some time, and I continued to use amphetamines for another year.
Yesterday in a fit of boredom I sent an email to the woman who had authored the above referenced blog post and still haven't heard back. I wanted to clarify a few things, about Susan's ethnicity, for example. Her parents were Jewish, but she was adopted and was indeed Native American (or part Native American). Unless that was a story she made up. But it rings true. I know people who adopted female babies (of all races and ethnicities) and even if the adoptive families are upper middle class, a lot of these girls get pregnant and have babies when they are still in their teens.
What I am most interested in is Susan's later life., She stayed with Willie for several decades, apparently, and was deemed in some ways a bad influence on him. He is alleged to have used her family's money and when he became successful they apparently broke up. She is alleged to have cleaned up her act afterwards and went to become a nurse's aide (?) upstate (odd, considering her family's money) and died in her mid 50s, I'm not sure from what, but not from drugs. FWIW, here's are two photos:
which in some ways don't look that afield from
So my idols do have things in common, at least on the surface.
Needed to write this post. If nothing else, people apparently have been googling "Toots DeVille" so it may get me more hits.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Exhibitionism
What I have just done is a first. In essence deleted a post and replaced it with a new one not because I was ashamed of it but because it didn't really convey what I want to say.
But if I hadn't written it, I wouldn't have had what might be the biggest insight I have had almost since this journey began eight years ago; certainly it's the biggest insight I've had in several years.
I am an exhibitionist. This is mostly viewed as negative or pathological (think subway flashers, or, more benignly, people who inappropriately push other people out of the spotlight) but in its milder form, really, it's just a personality trait.
When I look back at times in my life when I've felt really fulfilled, they've been times when I have had something in my life to satisfy that exhibitionism. This isn't all that I'm about - I also like to cuddle and be cozy and do nice things for people - but if the exhibitionist isn't getting any air time I am not a happy camper.
For years, I think, my exhibitionism was satisfied by being "out" as a Lesbian, back when no one was, certainly not a woman like me who wore pretty dresses. It was all so exciting. Back then the world of LGBT (and it wasn't even called that then) was an exciting, highly sexualized, subculture with an element of danger lurking in the background. It was a very exciting place to be, and I had a great deal of fun (something I seem never to have much of now) shocking straight people by coming out and shocking Lesbians by showing up at their events all dressed up.
Of course singing is a form of exhibitionism, albeit one requiring a great deal of work. But the payoff, for me, is feeling like a star in front of an audience. Which is why I would rather star in a homemade event than be in the chorus of a prestigious one. And why I am feeling depressed and disheartened by the choir these days. It is now flooded with young conservatory graduates who are really out there doing it so I am basically just a mature woman with a nice enough voice to sing a few solos (which are always things I have to pick and then ask the choir director to find a spot for). None of the solos interspersed into choral pieces are for my type voice, so it seems, and these are the only ones that get assigned to people. And as I've said, really my biggest "high" would come, I think, from being a soloist with a group of non-soloists. (It's really too bad I don't like pop music - then I could make myself a little group with myself at the front. There are always people who enjoy performing but don't want the spotlight because it makes them nervous.)
So, it seems that there is nothing I can do, in the city where I live, in the circles in which I move (you can't go anywhere that isn't crawling with people doing something in the performing arts, which makes the idea that I define myself as a "performer" sort of pathetic), that would impress, surprise, or elicit oohs and ahs or bravas from, anyone.
I suppose in a sense my search for "awesomeness", which I wrote about here, is really about the same thing, it just hadn't crystallized in my mind yet.
At least it's good to know what's wrong. And that may be why I view my life as "depressing". If I were the type of deeply religious person, for example, who wanted to be saintly, I would be in my element, taking care of someone frail and vulnerable, and sitting quietly at my little laptop, but I'm not. Nor am I a team player. I can behave like one if I get some star time as payoff, but that is not who I am in my soul.
So I will have one star moment: singing "Liber Scriptus". So I had better be ready. One thing I felt a little better about is that I heard from several singing colleagues that all mezzos are nervous about that A flat, not just me. But I can't blow it.
And then there will be "Qui Sedes". If there's too much young talent in the choir now I plan to focus on the Spanish service. They don't have any musicians, and...they applaud!!
Which still doesn't solve the problem of where to go and what to do to find more of that exhibitionistic rush.
But if I hadn't written it, I wouldn't have had what might be the biggest insight I have had almost since this journey began eight years ago; certainly it's the biggest insight I've had in several years.
I am an exhibitionist. This is mostly viewed as negative or pathological (think subway flashers, or, more benignly, people who inappropriately push other people out of the spotlight) but in its milder form, really, it's just a personality trait.
When I look back at times in my life when I've felt really fulfilled, they've been times when I have had something in my life to satisfy that exhibitionism. This isn't all that I'm about - I also like to cuddle and be cozy and do nice things for people - but if the exhibitionist isn't getting any air time I am not a happy camper.
For years, I think, my exhibitionism was satisfied by being "out" as a Lesbian, back when no one was, certainly not a woman like me who wore pretty dresses. It was all so exciting. Back then the world of LGBT (and it wasn't even called that then) was an exciting, highly sexualized, subculture with an element of danger lurking in the background. It was a very exciting place to be, and I had a great deal of fun (something I seem never to have much of now) shocking straight people by coming out and shocking Lesbians by showing up at their events all dressed up.
Of course singing is a form of exhibitionism, albeit one requiring a great deal of work. But the payoff, for me, is feeling like a star in front of an audience. Which is why I would rather star in a homemade event than be in the chorus of a prestigious one. And why I am feeling depressed and disheartened by the choir these days. It is now flooded with young conservatory graduates who are really out there doing it so I am basically just a mature woman with a nice enough voice to sing a few solos (which are always things I have to pick and then ask the choir director to find a spot for). None of the solos interspersed into choral pieces are for my type voice, so it seems, and these are the only ones that get assigned to people. And as I've said, really my biggest "high" would come, I think, from being a soloist with a group of non-soloists. (It's really too bad I don't like pop music - then I could make myself a little group with myself at the front. There are always people who enjoy performing but don't want the spotlight because it makes them nervous.)
So, it seems that there is nothing I can do, in the city where I live, in the circles in which I move (you can't go anywhere that isn't crawling with people doing something in the performing arts, which makes the idea that I define myself as a "performer" sort of pathetic), that would impress, surprise, or elicit oohs and ahs or bravas from, anyone.
I suppose in a sense my search for "awesomeness", which I wrote about here, is really about the same thing, it just hadn't crystallized in my mind yet.
At least it's good to know what's wrong. And that may be why I view my life as "depressing". If I were the type of deeply religious person, for example, who wanted to be saintly, I would be in my element, taking care of someone frail and vulnerable, and sitting quietly at my little laptop, but I'm not. Nor am I a team player. I can behave like one if I get some star time as payoff, but that is not who I am in my soul.
So I will have one star moment: singing "Liber Scriptus". So I had better be ready. One thing I felt a little better about is that I heard from several singing colleagues that all mezzos are nervous about that A flat, not just me. But I can't blow it.
And then there will be "Qui Sedes". If there's too much young talent in the choir now I plan to focus on the Spanish service. They don't have any musicians, and...they applaud!!
Which still doesn't solve the problem of where to go and what to do to find more of that exhibitionistic rush.
Friday, March 1, 2013
In Search of Awesomeness
If anyone's interested, I have given this blog a subtitle.
At today's therapy session I decided, that despite my dislike of young people's slang, what I really am looking for is more of a sense of "awesomeness". I can't think of a better word.
For example, someone with my level of/lack of technical vocal expertise might be thrilled to be singing in a prestigious chorus in a work like the Verdi Requiem in a prestigious venue. I most decidedly would not, unless I were getting paid as much as I make now working as a copyeditor. I definitely care more about visibility than I do about venue.
The more I think about it, the more I wish I had been born in a small town. I remember one of the biggest "ups" for me was when I went to Port Aransas, Texas to hold auditions for my play Duet, and demonstrated for the women auditioning how to sing "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix". People literally fell on the floor. They said they had never ever ever stood next to anyone with a voice that size with that type of sound. Hey! I could do with a little bit of that on a weekly basis!
But for someone who grew up here, what is there? I have a rent regulated apartment around the corner from Lincoln Center, and unless something goes awry, they will carry me out in a pine box. Not to mention that there is no small town I could move to where I wouldn't need a chauffeur, which is rather a sad commentary on the lack of public transportation options in most of this country.
My therapist suggested that maybe I might feel better if I found a place to sing outside of New York that was accessible enough that I could come and go in one day at minimal expense. I rolled my eyes. I would have to go very very very far afield to find someplace where my singing of "Mon Coeur" or anything else would be considered special or awesome.
Although that is not entirely true.
One of my intermittent sources of frustration with this high level avocational choir (which I only sing in because most of the time I feel that it "matters" if I am there or not) is that the only opportunities for awesomeness seem to fall to high sopranos or men (the latter because there are so few of them). What would be awesome a propos of my voice (that it is huge and basically drowns out all the other women even when I'm singing mezzo piano in middle voice) is only an annoyance to people not a crowning glory. And the odd bits of this and that that I can do better than anyone (for example hold a G above middle C for 24 counts without sneaking a breath) mostly pass by unnoticed.
But getting back to my moment of awesomeness, even on the Upper West side. Two years ago, after having white knuckled it through the 8th or the 9th solo bit by the woman I have referred to as the "Young Coloratura" in various choir pieces, I set myself the task of finding something to sing with no high notes, not even any "mezzo high notes" (Fs and Gs) that was totally awesome.
What I came up with was the alto cantata "Erfreute Zeit"
http://youtu.be/Dpj5N9lTnHM
and someone in theaudience congregation came up to me afterwards and said "Babydramatic, that was awesome."
So yes, it's still possible.
My therapist asked me what I do when I feel depressed, angry, and frustrated that other people (in my immediate surroundings, even virtual ones) are being/perceived as "awesome" and I am not. I thought for a minute and said "I work harder". I guess that's just another spin on my mother's "Don't mourn - organize!"
So it's back to "Liber Scriptus". Yesterday I had 6 out of 7 good runs with it (I kept re-singing the difficult passage because the first time I sang it the piece had gone a half tone flat for some inexplicable reason.) So today I will try again. "Lux Aeterna" shouldn't be a problem. I will breathe where I need to, sing that G as loud as I need to, hold if for 3 counts, and then decrescendo.
My therapist also said we needed to work on my awesomeness. What would give me that rush? (Being dressed up with a ton of stage makeup helps, and I love my new hairdo, which is basically the old one courtesy of lots of little rollers instead of a perm, which looks bigger, curlier, and flashier, and is probably better for my hair.)
And she said she will try to come to the concert. I hope that helps with nerves.
At today's therapy session I decided, that despite my dislike of young people's slang, what I really am looking for is more of a sense of "awesomeness". I can't think of a better word.
For example, someone with my level of/lack of technical vocal expertise might be thrilled to be singing in a prestigious chorus in a work like the Verdi Requiem in a prestigious venue. I most decidedly would not, unless I were getting paid as much as I make now working as a copyeditor. I definitely care more about visibility than I do about venue.
The more I think about it, the more I wish I had been born in a small town. I remember one of the biggest "ups" for me was when I went to Port Aransas, Texas to hold auditions for my play Duet, and demonstrated for the women auditioning how to sing "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix". People literally fell on the floor. They said they had never ever ever stood next to anyone with a voice that size with that type of sound. Hey! I could do with a little bit of that on a weekly basis!
But for someone who grew up here, what is there? I have a rent regulated apartment around the corner from Lincoln Center, and unless something goes awry, they will carry me out in a pine box. Not to mention that there is no small town I could move to where I wouldn't need a chauffeur, which is rather a sad commentary on the lack of public transportation options in most of this country.
My therapist suggested that maybe I might feel better if I found a place to sing outside of New York that was accessible enough that I could come and go in one day at minimal expense. I rolled my eyes. I would have to go very very very far afield to find someplace where my singing of "Mon Coeur" or anything else would be considered special or awesome.
Although that is not entirely true.
One of my intermittent sources of frustration with this high level avocational choir (which I only sing in because most of the time I feel that it "matters" if I am there or not) is that the only opportunities for awesomeness seem to fall to high sopranos or men (the latter because there are so few of them). What would be awesome a propos of my voice (that it is huge and basically drowns out all the other women even when I'm singing mezzo piano in middle voice) is only an annoyance to people not a crowning glory. And the odd bits of this and that that I can do better than anyone (for example hold a G above middle C for 24 counts without sneaking a breath) mostly pass by unnoticed.
But getting back to my moment of awesomeness, even on the Upper West side. Two years ago, after having white knuckled it through the 8th or the 9th solo bit by the woman I have referred to as the "Young Coloratura" in various choir pieces, I set myself the task of finding something to sing with no high notes, not even any "mezzo high notes" (Fs and Gs) that was totally awesome.
What I came up with was the alto cantata "Erfreute Zeit"
http://youtu.be/Dpj5N9lTnHM
and someone in the
So yes, it's still possible.
My therapist asked me what I do when I feel depressed, angry, and frustrated that other people (in my immediate surroundings, even virtual ones) are being/perceived as "awesome" and I am not. I thought for a minute and said "I work harder". I guess that's just another spin on my mother's "Don't mourn - organize!"
So it's back to "Liber Scriptus". Yesterday I had 6 out of 7 good runs with it (I kept re-singing the difficult passage because the first time I sang it the piece had gone a half tone flat for some inexplicable reason.) So today I will try again. "Lux Aeterna" shouldn't be a problem. I will breathe where I need to, sing that G as loud as I need to, hold if for 3 counts, and then decrescendo.
My therapist also said we needed to work on my awesomeness. What would give me that rush? (Being dressed up with a ton of stage makeup helps, and I love my new hairdo, which is basically the old one courtesy of lots of little rollers instead of a perm, which looks bigger, curlier, and flashier, and is probably better for my hair.)
And she said she will try to come to the concert. I hope that helps with nerves.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Everyone Loves an Angel
Yesterday I sang Wagner's "Angel" song in church during communion. That is a "milestone" piece for me because it was the second solo I sang after being "discovered". Although I date my transformation from the date of "Mon Coeur" (February 15, 2004), as I wrote about here, I was actually "discovered" the summer before, singing from a hymnal in the back of the church. The first solo I was given was "Dido's Lament" for "Day of the Dead" (the Unitarians' answer to "All Souls Day") and the second was "The Angel", which I was assigned to sing on Christmas Eve. I never liked German lieder and still don't much care for the "An Die Musik" sort but this is different. Of course when I sang it on Christmas Eve 2003 I had no idea how to sing it and I am sure I bellowed my way through it.
It was also the first solo I sang at the Lutheran church, Christmas Eve morning of 2006. It has come a long way since then. I wasn't 100% happy with the top G in the actualperformance church service, probably because I was afraid I wouldn't have the energy to make it up there, so I gave it that little extra "push" that it didn't need.
But I got more compliments on this from people in the choir and the congregation than I have on any singing in recent memory. Was that because I really sang that much better than usual? Or because they liked that piece? Or because an Angel was a perfect response to the tragedies of the weekend?
What is so ironic is that, like the Susanna with the heart of a Lady Macbeth and the Goro with the heart of a Manrico, I find myself spending most of my time singing "angelic" church music when I have the soul of Dalila.
I who so love flaunting my cleavage spend most of my singing time either in a choir robe or a long black skirt and top with a high neck!
This weekend my SO referred to me as "angelic". Most likely because I got her a cat, which I will pay for. I pay for the cat because he is there for me to enjoy as well as for her to enjoy, much as I pay for her cable tv so I can watch it. I mean if I am going to engage in charitable giving, I would rather give to someone I know and love than to strangers, even if it is not tax deductible. And yet I feel all of this has happened by default.
So many of us end up with things other people are impressed by that we never wanted or aspired to. Many divas, for example, are not really divas at all, they just have extraordinary voices and by dint of that and hard work, ended up singing at the Met, but I don't think they all enjoy all that media hype. So I never aspired to virtue, but people see me as virtuous because I pay for things for my SO and sing in a church for free.
I remember one of the early times I sang "Mon Coeur" (this was after that fateful February) someone came up to me afterwards and said I was so seductive and then quickly said I was such a good actress. My feelings were hurt because I had hoped they would say something like "perfect typecasting". Don't people know that it's when I look angelic in a choir robe that I am acting?
In other news, the videographer said that she didn't know about putting the "Angel" on Youtube because she was far away, and as I was singing during communion, there were a lot of visual and auditory distractions (she said you could hear "body of Christ", etc. as a sort of counterpoint). Anyhow, she said she would send it to me and if I like it I will email it to friends and that she will try to come to a rehearsal of my next solo ("Andaluz" by Joachin Nin, for Epiphany) and tape me from close up.
Last but not least, I have been trying and trying to take a sexy picture of myself with my new smart phone. This is the best I have been able to come up with so far.
I don't know why, but when I upload it, it ends up sideways, which I actually like. It looks like I am lying down!
Angel or devil?
It was also the first solo I sang at the Lutheran church, Christmas Eve morning of 2006. It has come a long way since then. I wasn't 100% happy with the top G in the actual
But I got more compliments on this from people in the choir and the congregation than I have on any singing in recent memory. Was that because I really sang that much better than usual? Or because they liked that piece? Or because an Angel was a perfect response to the tragedies of the weekend?
What is so ironic is that, like the Susanna with the heart of a Lady Macbeth and the Goro with the heart of a Manrico, I find myself spending most of my time singing "angelic" church music when I have the soul of Dalila.
I who so love flaunting my cleavage spend most of my singing time either in a choir robe or a long black skirt and top with a high neck!
This weekend my SO referred to me as "angelic". Most likely because I got her a cat, which I will pay for. I pay for the cat because he is there for me to enjoy as well as for her to enjoy, much as I pay for her cable tv so I can watch it. I mean if I am going to engage in charitable giving, I would rather give to someone I know and love than to strangers, even if it is not tax deductible. And yet I feel all of this has happened by default.
So many of us end up with things other people are impressed by that we never wanted or aspired to. Many divas, for example, are not really divas at all, they just have extraordinary voices and by dint of that and hard work, ended up singing at the Met, but I don't think they all enjoy all that media hype. So I never aspired to virtue, but people see me as virtuous because I pay for things for my SO and sing in a church for free.
I remember one of the early times I sang "Mon Coeur" (this was after that fateful February) someone came up to me afterwards and said I was so seductive and then quickly said I was such a good actress. My feelings were hurt because I had hoped they would say something like "perfect typecasting". Don't people know that it's when I look angelic in a choir robe that I am acting?
In other news, the videographer said that she didn't know about putting the "Angel" on Youtube because she was far away, and as I was singing during communion, there were a lot of visual and auditory distractions (she said you could hear "body of Christ", etc. as a sort of counterpoint). Anyhow, she said she would send it to me and if I like it I will email it to friends and that she will try to come to a rehearsal of my next solo ("Andaluz" by Joachin Nin, for Epiphany) and tape me from close up.
Last but not least, I have been trying and trying to take a sexy picture of myself with my new smart phone. This is the best I have been able to come up with so far.
I don't know why, but when I upload it, it ends up sideways, which I actually like. It looks like I am lying down!
Angel or devil?
Friday, October 12, 2012
C'Mon Get Happy!
Well, the "happy" trick seems to be continuing to work for the ending of "Acerba Volutta". I suppose I can use it for anything: Ulrica can be happy because she sees her little Devil friend. Whatevah.
I remember seeing Beverly Sills in the last act of Traviata (I have always been a huge Sills fan) and not liking it because, well, she just looked too happy. No matter what emotion she was conveying with her acting and the color of her voice, "Bubbles" was always there somewhere.
Well, being happy (or tricking myself into pretending I am) seems to have a great one-on-one correlation with proper vocal technique. It raises the ribcage, makes the abdominal muscles buoyant, and lifts the palate. High notes, even for me, who has struggled with them for a lifetime, are easier. This also explains why the hardest thing for me to do it to "sit" on a note for a long time. I can do it in my middle register, even in my upper middle register if I sing the note pianissimo (like in a choir piece) but singing a note full voice and hanging onto it seems to foster tension. That may be why I sing things like "Rejoice Greatly" and "Et Exsultavit" so well. They are "happy" pieces and the fact that the notes move fast prevents me from building up tension. For example, I notice that the hardest thing in "Re" is that last G that I have to hold onto. It is marked fortissimo, and by the time I get to the end of it, everything is rigid and I have lost the buoyancy. But I am moving in the right direction.
I also have discovered - something that no one ever told me - "lips together teeth apart" (I think that was the name of a play). If I make a conscious effort not to close my teeth together, just when I'm sitting for hours at my laptop working, I have less tension when I'm singing.
Now the $64,000 question is can I replicate this "happy" physiology when I'm not feeling happy?
I have actually been feeling happy for the past week, which I rarely feel. My partner is being taken care of, which takes a big burden off me, I have singing engagements to look forward to, my partner is not giving me flak about them, and I am getting out of the house more.
One thing I can easily fall prey to is what is known as exogenous depression which is different from endogenous depression, a nonspecific feeling that life is meaningless or hopeless, which usually has a biological basis.
Exogenous depression can be caused by an upsetting event in one's life (thinking my partner was going to die) or, for me, spending too much time doing dull repetitive work (interestingly, I got just as depressed doing this in an office as doing it at home alone, probably more) and taking care of my partner in her (messy) apartment. Then when I would combine this with looking at Facebook and reading singer blogs and seeing how other people lived (some of these people seem to be doing something different every minute of every day and interact with hundreds of people on a weekly basis), I would feel like I was a failure, which would translate into a physical feeling that I was trying to move through mud. And of course this would affect my singing - I wouldn't be able to get my abdominal muscles working properly.
I remember someone saying it's important to unpack what certain dreams mean "I want to sing at the Met" for example. What is it that you want?? Not everyone can sing at the Met. So I was thinking what I seem to want is to be in the middle of some kind of activity where I feel close to the center, someone attractive and important, however small the activity or arena is. Which is why I would rather be a mezzo soloist in a home grown concert of excerpts from the Verdi Requiem than one of 100 choristers in a production at Avery Fisher Hall.
I remember seeing Beverly Sills in the last act of Traviata (I have always been a huge Sills fan) and not liking it because, well, she just looked too happy. No matter what emotion she was conveying with her acting and the color of her voice, "Bubbles" was always there somewhere.
Well, being happy (or tricking myself into pretending I am) seems to have a great one-on-one correlation with proper vocal technique. It raises the ribcage, makes the abdominal muscles buoyant, and lifts the palate. High notes, even for me, who has struggled with them for a lifetime, are easier. This also explains why the hardest thing for me to do it to "sit" on a note for a long time. I can do it in my middle register, even in my upper middle register if I sing the note pianissimo (like in a choir piece) but singing a note full voice and hanging onto it seems to foster tension. That may be why I sing things like "Rejoice Greatly" and "Et Exsultavit" so well. They are "happy" pieces and the fact that the notes move fast prevents me from building up tension. For example, I notice that the hardest thing in "Re" is that last G that I have to hold onto. It is marked fortissimo, and by the time I get to the end of it, everything is rigid and I have lost the buoyancy. But I am moving in the right direction.
I also have discovered - something that no one ever told me - "lips together teeth apart" (I think that was the name of a play). If I make a conscious effort not to close my teeth together, just when I'm sitting for hours at my laptop working, I have less tension when I'm singing.
Now the $64,000 question is can I replicate this "happy" physiology when I'm not feeling happy?
I have actually been feeling happy for the past week, which I rarely feel. My partner is being taken care of, which takes a big burden off me, I have singing engagements to look forward to, my partner is not giving me flak about them, and I am getting out of the house more.
One thing I can easily fall prey to is what is known as exogenous depression which is different from endogenous depression, a nonspecific feeling that life is meaningless or hopeless, which usually has a biological basis.
Exogenous depression can be caused by an upsetting event in one's life (thinking my partner was going to die) or, for me, spending too much time doing dull repetitive work (interestingly, I got just as depressed doing this in an office as doing it at home alone, probably more) and taking care of my partner in her (messy) apartment. Then when I would combine this with looking at Facebook and reading singer blogs and seeing how other people lived (some of these people seem to be doing something different every minute of every day and interact with hundreds of people on a weekly basis), I would feel like I was a failure, which would translate into a physical feeling that I was trying to move through mud. And of course this would affect my singing - I wouldn't be able to get my abdominal muscles working properly.
I remember someone saying it's important to unpack what certain dreams mean "I want to sing at the Met" for example. What is it that you want?? Not everyone can sing at the Met. So I was thinking what I seem to want is to be in the middle of some kind of activity where I feel close to the center, someone attractive and important, however small the activity or arena is. Which is why I would rather be a mezzo soloist in a home grown concert of excerpts from the Verdi Requiem than one of 100 choristers in a production at Avery Fisher Hall.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Why am I So Hard To See
The title of this post was inspired by this post . Something I seem to struggle with over and over, is the fact that I seem to be invisible most of the time.
Is it my age? I am 62 but I don't look 62. (One of my sources of discontent is how few pictures I have of myself; if I had one that was that different or better than the one I use for a profile picture I would post it.) I am certainly not skinny (I have a BMI of 25, which is teetering on the borderline of being overweight) but I am extremely fit and mostly carry my weight in the right places. I have a gorgeous hair dye job and wear stage makeup all the time. I never look ordinary, I can tell you that. And because I have so few "special occasions" in my life, I do myself up as if every single day were one. I have been approached at least once with an offer to be an "adult" film star. Apparently women my age who look like me are a huge niche market (and yes, the more I feel ignored, the more I will "up the ante" regarding the kinds of things I write about here).
Or is it that I work in an industry that is almost entirely virtual, where no one knows what I look like? And when I did work somewhere where I was physically present, despite having a high level job, I was treated like a "function" not a person, let alone an attractive woman with a great fashion sense. I know sexual harassment in its most virulent forms is Hell, but a little wholesome teasing to make an attractive woman feel appreciated would be nice once in while. But (sigh) the pendulum has really really swung so far in the other direction you can't even see that there is a pendulum.
Lately I just have had too many experiences of being "aggressively ignored" and yes, just like "deafening silence" it is very obvious when someone is being aggressively ignored.
In fact the lady who wrote the above referenced post also wrote and published an article (I can't remember about what) in which it was advised that professional singers should politely ignore hangers on who are not really good singers, and not "engage" with them in conversations about singing. If you want to be polite, she advised, you can engage with them on another topic of mutual interest. What is the problem here? Is "amateurishness" contagious, the way some people think homosexuality (or overweight) might be?
But oh, doesn't she know that this is oh so obvious to the "ignoree"? It's like waiting for the taxi that stops for other people, but not for you. This can't be an accident.
So what does it take to be noticed? Choosing the right venue? The right social circle, virtual or otherwise? Moving to a part of the country where what you do, even in a less than stellar manner, is in short supply and you can be special? (This latter is not likely. I have a sweetheart deal where I live and anyhow I never learned to drive.)
Why does one person attract notice when others do not? I am not talking here about trying to compete with singers at the Met, or even with singers at all, but about the synergy that occurred with Julie and Julia, which I have written about many times.
Why did someone decide that Julie's blog about Julia Child's recipes deserved a magazine article? All kinds of people write all kind of blogs about all kinds of things. I will never sing at the Met, but, for example, why shouldn't someone from Opera News or Classical Singer decide that my writing about the experience of trying to do something with classical singing in my late 50s and 60s is worth a little public exposure?
What do I need to do??
There are days when (I can hear someone saying "be careful what you pray for you may get it") what I long for is to be chased up and down Columbus Avenue by a herd of paparazzi. I want a public life so badly.
Is it my age? I am 62 but I don't look 62. (One of my sources of discontent is how few pictures I have of myself; if I had one that was that different or better than the one I use for a profile picture I would post it.) I am certainly not skinny (I have a BMI of 25, which is teetering on the borderline of being overweight) but I am extremely fit and mostly carry my weight in the right places. I have a gorgeous hair dye job and wear stage makeup all the time. I never look ordinary, I can tell you that. And because I have so few "special occasions" in my life, I do myself up as if every single day were one. I have been approached at least once with an offer to be an "adult" film star. Apparently women my age who look like me are a huge niche market (and yes, the more I feel ignored, the more I will "up the ante" regarding the kinds of things I write about here).
Or is it that I work in an industry that is almost entirely virtual, where no one knows what I look like? And when I did work somewhere where I was physically present, despite having a high level job, I was treated like a "function" not a person, let alone an attractive woman with a great fashion sense. I know sexual harassment in its most virulent forms is Hell, but a little wholesome teasing to make an attractive woman feel appreciated would be nice once in while. But (sigh) the pendulum has really really swung so far in the other direction you can't even see that there is a pendulum.
Lately I just have had too many experiences of being "aggressively ignored" and yes, just like "deafening silence" it is very obvious when someone is being aggressively ignored.
In fact the lady who wrote the above referenced post also wrote and published an article (I can't remember about what) in which it was advised that professional singers should politely ignore hangers on who are not really good singers, and not "engage" with them in conversations about singing. If you want to be polite, she advised, you can engage with them on another topic of mutual interest. What is the problem here? Is "amateurishness" contagious, the way some people think homosexuality (or overweight) might be?
But oh, doesn't she know that this is oh so obvious to the "ignoree"? It's like waiting for the taxi that stops for other people, but not for you. This can't be an accident.
So what does it take to be noticed? Choosing the right venue? The right social circle, virtual or otherwise? Moving to a part of the country where what you do, even in a less than stellar manner, is in short supply and you can be special? (This latter is not likely. I have a sweetheart deal where I live and anyhow I never learned to drive.)
Why does one person attract notice when others do not? I am not talking here about trying to compete with singers at the Met, or even with singers at all, but about the synergy that occurred with Julie and Julia, which I have written about many times.
Why did someone decide that Julie's blog about Julia Child's recipes deserved a magazine article? All kinds of people write all kind of blogs about all kinds of things. I will never sing at the Met, but, for example, why shouldn't someone from Opera News or Classical Singer decide that my writing about the experience of trying to do something with classical singing in my late 50s and 60s is worth a little public exposure?
What do I need to do??
There are days when (I can hear someone saying "be careful what you pray for you may get it") what I long for is to be chased up and down Columbus Avenue by a herd of paparazzi. I want a public life so badly.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Random Thoughts
I haven't written anything for a while, and I also haven't gotten many hits on my blog lately. I even posted something to the the Forum a few days ago, which is a place I had promised myself to avoid, just to see if my blog link would attract people.
I was also thinking about the movie Julie and Julia, because someone mentioned it, and I remembered that it was that movie that got me blogging in the first place. "Julie" wasn't the world's greatest cook or the world's greatest writer, but her writing about her passion for cooking bought her a ticket to fame.
Yesterday I listened to a playwright talking about a play he had written in which one of the themes was The Road Not Taken which by now is a cliche, even to having been misquoted by the author of the book The Road Less Traveled - as my mother would have said, he missed the "prepositional verb". Robert Frost refers to the "road less traveled by."
So is that all these past 8 years have been? Scrambling to try to get back to the "Road Not Taken" and feeling angry and bitter?
Or is it about something else?
The Mentor (whom I haven't mentioned in quite a while) took a sensually quiescent middle aged woman and taught her to sing "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix" for a moment of music, magic, and a frisson of eroticism. Was this just meant to be a one-off? Then back to business as usual?
Whenever I falter in my journey, I remember that Valentine's Day and have faith that this was not just for nothing. Whatever God I believe in - a Christian one (monogamy is the sticking point there), or a pagan one (a little more attuned to my Dalila soul) - s/he meant that Valentine's Day to mean something.
I am at Week 11 of The Artist's Way. The world looks brighter and I have more hope. The things this process have taught me are not that different from the things I picked up from the Mentor, not just about singing and sexuality, but about colors, textures, and smells. About surrounding myself with beauty. Or what I consider beauty anyhow. I laughed at one point when I was reading the book. It mentioned feeling free to add that finishing touch to an outfit, something that is special to you, even if conventional people think you are "ruining" it. That made me realize that the "trashy" way I love to dress is my form of self-expression. It is how I signal to myself and the world that I am always a diva, no matter what I am doing.
I believe that some people are hardwired to be divas. (Many disagree and say that the only people who can use that term about themselves are those who have perfected an art form and are acknowledged to excel in it.) If you are hardwired to be a diva and you have a talent, nurture it, make the right connections, and find a venue, you are lucky. Many don't. I see these all around me: the bank teller with braids that probably cost an entire week's paycheck, flaunting her elaborate "nail art"; the harried pediatrician who buys a different flamboyant gown to wear to each wedding and Bar Mitzvah she is invited to when she really only needed two.
So maybe a venue will present itself. Meanwhile the Requiem preparations continue.
This morning I sang a piece by a little-known composer, Joseph Raff, called "Great and Wonderful are All Thy Works". I think I sang well, and the choir director was happy. I also found a new violinist to perform Bach with. Very few people said anything to me, even ones who spoke to me (about other things) after the service, so part of me felt the whole thing sort of fell into a black hole, but I guess God heard me, and that's all that should matter, although divas always love applause.
ETA: I realize that in saying I felt my singing "fell into a black hole" I was being insulting to those people who did thank me (I got several thank yous on Facebook after I wrote this, one from a fellow choir member who means a lot to me). I think the thing I was most peeved about was that I was sitting with a woman who likes me, and who had (out of kindness) chided me for writing on Facebook about being envious. You would think that she would have said something about my singing, as she was at both services, but she never even mentioned it. The good news: This oratorio is little known (hasn't been performed in this country in my lifetime in any event) so it might be a good vehicle to try to attract big players to. (By "big players" I mean getting some of the serious musicians at the church to look for a venue for it, which is a whole 'nuther thing from putting on a vanity production.)
Yesterday I listened to a playwright talking about a play he had written in which one of the themes was The Road Not Taken which by now is a cliche, even to having been misquoted by the author of the book The Road Less Traveled - as my mother would have said, he missed the "prepositional verb". Robert Frost refers to the "road less traveled by."
So is that all these past 8 years have been? Scrambling to try to get back to the "Road Not Taken" and feeling angry and bitter?
Or is it about something else?
The Mentor (whom I haven't mentioned in quite a while) took a sensually quiescent middle aged woman and taught her to sing "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix" for a moment of music, magic, and a frisson of eroticism. Was this just meant to be a one-off? Then back to business as usual?
Whenever I falter in my journey, I remember that Valentine's Day and have faith that this was not just for nothing. Whatever God I believe in - a Christian one (monogamy is the sticking point there), or a pagan one (a little more attuned to my Dalila soul) - s/he meant that Valentine's Day to mean something.
I am at Week 11 of The Artist's Way. The world looks brighter and I have more hope. The things this process have taught me are not that different from the things I picked up from the Mentor, not just about singing and sexuality, but about colors, textures, and smells. About surrounding myself with beauty. Or what I consider beauty anyhow. I laughed at one point when I was reading the book. It mentioned feeling free to add that finishing touch to an outfit, something that is special to you, even if conventional people think you are "ruining" it. That made me realize that the "trashy" way I love to dress is my form of self-expression. It is how I signal to myself and the world that I am always a diva, no matter what I am doing.
I believe that some people are hardwired to be divas. (Many disagree and say that the only people who can use that term about themselves are those who have perfected an art form and are acknowledged to excel in it.) If you are hardwired to be a diva and you have a talent, nurture it, make the right connections, and find a venue, you are lucky. Many don't. I see these all around me: the bank teller with braids that probably cost an entire week's paycheck, flaunting her elaborate "nail art"; the harried pediatrician who buys a different flamboyant gown to wear to each wedding and Bar Mitzvah she is invited to when she really only needed two.
So maybe a venue will present itself. Meanwhile the Requiem preparations continue.
This morning I sang a piece by a little-known composer, Joseph Raff, called "Great and Wonderful are All Thy Works". I think I sang well, and the choir director was happy. I also found a new violinist to perform Bach with. Very few people said anything to me, even ones who spoke to me (about other things) after the service, so part of me felt the whole thing sort of fell into a black hole, but I guess God heard me, and that's all that should matter, although divas always love applause.
ETA: I realize that in saying I felt my singing "fell into a black hole" I was being insulting to those people who did thank me (I got several thank yous on Facebook after I wrote this, one from a fellow choir member who means a lot to me). I think the thing I was most peeved about was that I was sitting with a woman who likes me, and who had (out of kindness) chided me for writing on Facebook about being envious. You would think that she would have said something about my singing, as she was at both services, but she never even mentioned it. The good news: This oratorio is little known (hasn't been performed in this country in my lifetime in any event) so it might be a good vehicle to try to attract big players to. (By "big players" I mean getting some of the serious musicians at the church to look for a venue for it, which is a whole 'nuther thing from putting on a vanity production.)
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Post-Birthday Letdown? Or Something Else?
First, on an upbeat note, here is a link to a really inspirational piece by the esteemed Susan Eichhorn Young.
http://susan-oncemorewithfeeling.blogspot.com/2012/07/the-beauty-of-cream.html
I really really need this right now. Reading this piece made me feel it is "OK" for me to think I have something special that is worth fostering.
Here's one big problem. I have said (and meant) that I don't really care if I get paid for singing. I have something else that I get paid for doing and I am lucky to even have that in this economy. It's dull (although I take pride in doing it well, and can get caught up in narratives about people dying of cancer, historic Supreme Court cases from the turn of the 20th Century, the latest techniques for using lasers for root canals, etc.) but I can do it at home on my own time. Where there's a problem, is that if you don't do something for a living, other people don't think you should make it a priority. So - it's OK if you can't do something because you're working but not if you're involved with something that's a hobby. Singing in church is ok because people should have a right to practice their religion. Even prisoners (which I sometimes feel like and certainly identify with) get to do that. Never mind that it doesn't happen to be my religion - although that's not actually true. If one of my religions is High Art, then I get to practice it every Sunday that I sing a piece by Bach, Beethoven, or Benjamin Britten, just to name a few. But once I step outside the acceptable box of work, family, and religion, it becomes more problematic.
I was feeling excited about making plans to choose some things to sing in a concert on September 11 (which I don't even know yet if I have a spot in). When I mentioned this to my partner I will give her credit that she didn't ask my why I was doing this and give me a hard time, but she did say "well, I assume you're not getting paid, but I know you will be happy to have the experience." So OK. An improvement over telling me I am wasting time and money, but not exactly a big thumbs up.
(I have decided to postpone telling her about the Requiem until another day.)
One of my problems is I don't just love singing, I love all the ambient trappings that go with life as a singer, and I have even less access to those except in a contrived way - out-dressing everyone for an evening in the theater - that people find silly and superfluous. Many singers don't love those things. They see them as a necessary evil, the way I saw numbers as a necessary evil when I had a job supervising 20 people. I was interested in the people, not in bloody metrics!! I not only want to wail out an aria with technical precision and passion, I also want to get dressed up, talk to people about my hair, makeup, and outfits, have pictures taken, travel, live in hotels (some people want a McMansion - my dream is to live in an expensive hotel where I never have to lift a finger), see the world without having to shell out thousands of dollars for a "vacation", flirt with "coworkers" as part of my "job", and, just, in general, be a public person.
Even the friends with benefits I hide under the table have to be, well, hidden under the table, so I can't even brag to the universe about having that at 62. Which is no mean feat, considering that they're both 45.
So I have this exciting life that is meaningful to me, and then there's the person other people think they see and interact with: the stay-at-home copyeditor, the tenant advocate, the friend, the caregiver, the museum attendee, the person who reads the New York Times.
Maybe I should work on my "happening". If someone can dress up as the Statue of Liberty maybe I should put on an evening gown, stilettos, and a wig, and pose outside the Food Emporium. All I need now is a photographer. And I can't let my partner know - she would be horrified.
And now it's time to go practice.
http://susan-oncemorewithfeeling.blogspot.com/2012/07/the-beauty-of-cream.html
I really really need this right now. Reading this piece made me feel it is "OK" for me to think I have something special that is worth fostering.
Here's one big problem. I have said (and meant) that I don't really care if I get paid for singing. I have something else that I get paid for doing and I am lucky to even have that in this economy. It's dull (although I take pride in doing it well, and can get caught up in narratives about people dying of cancer, historic Supreme Court cases from the turn of the 20th Century, the latest techniques for using lasers for root canals, etc.) but I can do it at home on my own time. Where there's a problem, is that if you don't do something for a living, other people don't think you should make it a priority. So - it's OK if you can't do something because you're working but not if you're involved with something that's a hobby. Singing in church is ok because people should have a right to practice their religion. Even prisoners (which I sometimes feel like and certainly identify with) get to do that. Never mind that it doesn't happen to be my religion - although that's not actually true. If one of my religions is High Art, then I get to practice it every Sunday that I sing a piece by Bach, Beethoven, or Benjamin Britten, just to name a few. But once I step outside the acceptable box of work, family, and religion, it becomes more problematic.
I was feeling excited about making plans to choose some things to sing in a concert on September 11 (which I don't even know yet if I have a spot in). When I mentioned this to my partner I will give her credit that she didn't ask my why I was doing this and give me a hard time, but she did say "well, I assume you're not getting paid, but I know you will be happy to have the experience." So OK. An improvement over telling me I am wasting time and money, but not exactly a big thumbs up.
(I have decided to postpone telling her about the Requiem until another day.)
One of my problems is I don't just love singing, I love all the ambient trappings that go with life as a singer, and I have even less access to those except in a contrived way - out-dressing everyone for an evening in the theater - that people find silly and superfluous. Many singers don't love those things. They see them as a necessary evil, the way I saw numbers as a necessary evil when I had a job supervising 20 people. I was interested in the people, not in bloody metrics!! I not only want to wail out an aria with technical precision and passion, I also want to get dressed up, talk to people about my hair, makeup, and outfits, have pictures taken, travel, live in hotels (some people want a McMansion - my dream is to live in an expensive hotel where I never have to lift a finger), see the world without having to shell out thousands of dollars for a "vacation", flirt with "coworkers" as part of my "job", and, just, in general, be a public person.
Even the friends with benefits I hide under the table have to be, well, hidden under the table, so I can't even brag to the universe about having that at 62. Which is no mean feat, considering that they're both 45.
So I have this exciting life that is meaningful to me, and then there's the person other people think they see and interact with: the stay-at-home copyeditor, the tenant advocate, the friend, the caregiver, the museum attendee, the person who reads the New York Times.
Maybe I should work on my "happening". If someone can dress up as the Statue of Liberty maybe I should put on an evening gown, stilettos, and a wig, and pose outside the Food Emporium. All I need now is a photographer. And I can't let my partner know - she would be horrified.
And now it's time to go practice.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Alleluia Take 2
First, note to self: remember to quickly go into "compose" mode to make the paragraph breaks. With the new blogger, double "enter" doesn't work.
I had a lesson yesterday and my teacher told me that indeed my problems during that dreadful practice session had been caused by my overdoing singing "oo" with a smile. He said I should only do that as an exercise, which helps place my voice properly, but that I should not do that when I am singing. Using the relaxed "o" position and sometimes imagining I am drinking the sound in with a small mouth seems to help. During the rehearsal I was able to sing the difficult passages numerous times with minimal mishap. I didn't sing as well at the very end when he asked us to sing the piece through (after rehearsing other things) but I didn't disgrace myself. There are several passages I don't sing, which is noticeable, because even singing softly my voice has a different timbre from other people's, but that's tough nuggies.
He also mentioned a "Music Sunday" (not a church holiday) and asked for volunteers for solos. I asked about singing the "Laudamus te" from the Bach B Minor Mass again and he said he thought it was too long, so I suggested the Saint Saens piece "Thou O Lord Art My Redeemer". I gave him the music and he said he would take a look at it. He also said he might want to give opportunities to people who don't usually sing solos. If you only look at individual solos, I probably sing more than most people, on the other hand this is no longer true if you count solo sections from choral pieces, which I rarely sing, because except in Bach and Mozart, where there are solos for each voice part, most of the choral pieces have solos for high sopranos, high tenors, or low basses, but rarely for midrange and lower women's voices. But I would not be offended if he gave the solo spots to other people as long as they were from our choir and not "professionals" brought in from outside.
I also mentioned singing "Qui Sedes" (also from the B Minor Mass) during the summer. I told him I had the oboe music as well. He said he didn't know if he could get an oboist, but maybe I can sing it just with him on the organ.
On another subject, my hairdresser came to my house a few days ago to give me a perm. I am not crazy about it because she cut my hair too short and it didn't really curl enough, but I got a lot of compliments on it yesterday. She also brought her new Ipad and took a series of photos, which I like. I am posting the best ones here.
Not only am I determined to hold my own against the "real" singers when they talk about singing, I am also determined to hold my own against them in posting my own glam shots, when I can find people to take them.
Not bad for someone who will be eligible to collect Social Security in a little over two months!
I had a lesson yesterday and my teacher told me that indeed my problems during that dreadful practice session had been caused by my overdoing singing "oo" with a smile. He said I should only do that as an exercise, which helps place my voice properly, but that I should not do that when I am singing. Using the relaxed "o" position and sometimes imagining I am drinking the sound in with a small mouth seems to help. During the rehearsal I was able to sing the difficult passages numerous times with minimal mishap. I didn't sing as well at the very end when he asked us to sing the piece through (after rehearsing other things) but I didn't disgrace myself. There are several passages I don't sing, which is noticeable, because even singing softly my voice has a different timbre from other people's, but that's tough nuggies.
He also mentioned a "Music Sunday" (not a church holiday) and asked for volunteers for solos. I asked about singing the "Laudamus te" from the Bach B Minor Mass again and he said he thought it was too long, so I suggested the Saint Saens piece "Thou O Lord Art My Redeemer". I gave him the music and he said he would take a look at it. He also said he might want to give opportunities to people who don't usually sing solos. If you only look at individual solos, I probably sing more than most people, on the other hand this is no longer true if you count solo sections from choral pieces, which I rarely sing, because except in Bach and Mozart, where there are solos for each voice part, most of the choral pieces have solos for high sopranos, high tenors, or low basses, but rarely for midrange and lower women's voices. But I would not be offended if he gave the solo spots to other people as long as they were from our choir and not "professionals" brought in from outside.
I also mentioned singing "Qui Sedes" (also from the B Minor Mass) during the summer. I told him I had the oboe music as well. He said he didn't know if he could get an oboist, but maybe I can sing it just with him on the organ.
On another subject, my hairdresser came to my house a few days ago to give me a perm. I am not crazy about it because she cut my hair too short and it didn't really curl enough, but I got a lot of compliments on it yesterday. She also brought her new Ipad and took a series of photos, which I like. I am posting the best ones here.
Not only am I determined to hold my own against the "real" singers when they talk about singing, I am also determined to hold my own against them in posting my own glam shots, when I can find people to take them.
Not bad for someone who will be eligible to collect Social Security in a little over two months!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
A Lesson at Last, Verdict on the CD, and A Few More Thoughts on Identity
Today I had my first voice lesson in a month. My teacher's wife had had the flu and he decided he didn't want students in the house. In the past if I went that long without a lesson I could feel tension creeping into my singing but I guess I am much more secure in my technique now, so that did not happen.
I tried something new (again) with the highest notes, trying to literally feel like I am vomiting them out. I remember having watched Leontyne Price singing at the Met when I was in High School (probably looking through my mother's opera glasses) and I noticed how wide she would open her mouth and how she would sort of lean forward, so I tried to imitate that. (I definitely got all my pianissimo techniques from watching her, even though I didn't put them to use until over 40 years later.)
Trying this technique I was able to sing a long arpeggio up to a high C and back and the note was more open and freer than it ever had been. Then I sang through "Liber Scriptus" and sounded better with the climactic section (it's only a bloody A flat) than I ever had as well. (If I can wail out that note, which comes early in the Requiem, I will be totally out of the woods for the rest of this great work and can enjoy myself.)
One thing I mentioned to my teacher was my disappointment that I have never had an "aha" moment that helped me with the highest notes. I feel that my singing, my stamina, the timbre of my voice, my breath control, in fact everything except those highest notes, keeps improving, but they are simply not a sure thing. My teacher told me that these "aha" moments usually come early in someone's technical development when suddenly they put things together. He says I am past that and that the problems I have with those notes don't really have to do with technique as much as with physiology (I may not have the God-given ability to extend my range as far as other people, even many mezzos), I started late (even 26, when I started the first time, was late and I had 13 years of smoking behind me at that point) so my muscles and cartilage were not that flexible, and that there is an enormous difference in how well I can sing up there between when I am tired and when I am not. Overall, I know that I get less tired. I can sit through a two hour choir rehearsal singing soprano (which means lots of pianissimo Fs and Gs) without getting tired, which had not been the case several years ago.
He also gave me his verdict on the CD. He said I sounded much better than in 2009, that much of the singing was lovely, that it was an interesting set in that I sang some unusual things (the Sappho aria, for example) and that the highest notes were not horrible, they just sounded "effortful" and not as good as everything else. We both agreed it is probably not worth spending money to "produce" the CD in any way, but that I should just get 20-25 copies to hand out to friends.
Lastly (and I had originally planned to devote an entire blog post to this) I feel I still was not really clear about the issue of calling myself an opera singer.
I posted a link to the blog post on Facebook, partly because I want more readers (and I write much better than I sing, and am still looking to spark someone's interest, like in Julie and Julia) and also just to get my perspective out there, and I still feel somewhat confused. My therapist tells me all the time I can't look for validation from other people, but I was told by some commenters that whether or not I'm an opera singer does have to do with whether or not other people think this. I mean of course I need validation from other people on some level. I need my teacher to tell me what sounds good and what doesn't, and what I should sing and what I should not sing, and I need to get a green light even just to produce something myself, for example, if I want to use the church space, someone has to approve it, because the church has a reputation as a music venue during its off hours. I think what she (the therapist) means is that if being an opera singer, even an amateur one who performs infrequently in humble settings is the most important thing about myself to me, then it doesn't matter if other people don't care about it and they think of me as a copy editor, or someone to talk with about what's on public tv or something in the news.
So what do I mean exactly when I say I'm an opera singer? I suppose I mean that the peak experiences I've had singing in operas or concerts, whether it was three years ago or 35, are moments that have defined me. And what was so devastating to me about my forays into the the Forum was that I felt these past experiences which were among the most important in my entire life were being trivialized and overshadowed by other people who would just ignore me. I hadn't realized how insignificant these experiences were in the scheme of things, and once I realized this, I felt very ripped off. I mean being an opera singer informs everything that I do from how I dress when I go to the grocery store to what I eat to how I sit to (I'm really working on this one), how I project and protect my speaking voice. The fact that I've had these, even sporadic, diva moments make me a tad less ordinary. Even before I started singing again I would often refer to these past performances and people would say, yes, I can see you doing that. It's as if those moments give me a glow, sort of like what one gets from great sex (LOL) that sets me apart from other women my age who sit hunched over desks, let their hair go gray, and have no charisma when they engage with people.
So I suppose all this boils down to the fact that whether or not people singing all over the country think I'm a real opera singer, the fact that I sing even the few times a year that I do says much more about me than what I do for a living. So I think what my therapist was talking about is that I can walk down the street with perfect posture and perfect makeup, and I can glow with star quality and that I can't let anyone try to take that away from me. Most people who see me in stores ask me if I am in the performing arts. No one would ever guess in a million years that I sit at a desk (in my tiny apartment no less) for hours and hours.
I tried something new (again) with the highest notes, trying to literally feel like I am vomiting them out. I remember having watched Leontyne Price singing at the Met when I was in High School (probably looking through my mother's opera glasses) and I noticed how wide she would open her mouth and how she would sort of lean forward, so I tried to imitate that. (I definitely got all my pianissimo techniques from watching her, even though I didn't put them to use until over 40 years later.)
Trying this technique I was able to sing a long arpeggio up to a high C and back and the note was more open and freer than it ever had been. Then I sang through "Liber Scriptus" and sounded better with the climactic section (it's only a bloody A flat) than I ever had as well. (If I can wail out that note, which comes early in the Requiem, I will be totally out of the woods for the rest of this great work and can enjoy myself.)
One thing I mentioned to my teacher was my disappointment that I have never had an "aha" moment that helped me with the highest notes. I feel that my singing, my stamina, the timbre of my voice, my breath control, in fact everything except those highest notes, keeps improving, but they are simply not a sure thing. My teacher told me that these "aha" moments usually come early in someone's technical development when suddenly they put things together. He says I am past that and that the problems I have with those notes don't really have to do with technique as much as with physiology (I may not have the God-given ability to extend my range as far as other people, even many mezzos), I started late (even 26, when I started the first time, was late and I had 13 years of smoking behind me at that point) so my muscles and cartilage were not that flexible, and that there is an enormous difference in how well I can sing up there between when I am tired and when I am not. Overall, I know that I get less tired. I can sit through a two hour choir rehearsal singing soprano (which means lots of pianissimo Fs and Gs) without getting tired, which had not been the case several years ago.
He also gave me his verdict on the CD. He said I sounded much better than in 2009, that much of the singing was lovely, that it was an interesting set in that I sang some unusual things (the Sappho aria, for example) and that the highest notes were not horrible, they just sounded "effortful" and not as good as everything else. We both agreed it is probably not worth spending money to "produce" the CD in any way, but that I should just get 20-25 copies to hand out to friends.
Lastly (and I had originally planned to devote an entire blog post to this) I feel I still was not really clear about the issue of calling myself an opera singer.
I posted a link to the blog post on Facebook, partly because I want more readers (and I write much better than I sing, and am still looking to spark someone's interest, like in Julie and Julia) and also just to get my perspective out there, and I still feel somewhat confused. My therapist tells me all the time I can't look for validation from other people, but I was told by some commenters that whether or not I'm an opera singer does have to do with whether or not other people think this. I mean of course I need validation from other people on some level. I need my teacher to tell me what sounds good and what doesn't, and what I should sing and what I should not sing, and I need to get a green light even just to produce something myself, for example, if I want to use the church space, someone has to approve it, because the church has a reputation as a music venue during its off hours. I think what she (the therapist) means is that if being an opera singer, even an amateur one who performs infrequently in humble settings is the most important thing about myself to me, then it doesn't matter if other people don't care about it and they think of me as a copy editor, or someone to talk with about what's on public tv or something in the news.
So what do I mean exactly when I say I'm an opera singer? I suppose I mean that the peak experiences I've had singing in operas or concerts, whether it was three years ago or 35, are moments that have defined me. And what was so devastating to me about my forays into the the Forum was that I felt these past experiences which were among the most important in my entire life were being trivialized and overshadowed by other people who would just ignore me. I hadn't realized how insignificant these experiences were in the scheme of things, and once I realized this, I felt very ripped off. I mean being an opera singer informs everything that I do from how I dress when I go to the grocery store to what I eat to how I sit to (I'm really working on this one), how I project and protect my speaking voice. The fact that I've had these, even sporadic, diva moments make me a tad less ordinary. Even before I started singing again I would often refer to these past performances and people would say, yes, I can see you doing that. It's as if those moments give me a glow, sort of like what one gets from great sex (LOL) that sets me apart from other women my age who sit hunched over desks, let their hair go gray, and have no charisma when they engage with people.
So I suppose all this boils down to the fact that whether or not people singing all over the country think I'm a real opera singer, the fact that I sing even the few times a year that I do says much more about me than what I do for a living. So I think what my therapist was talking about is that I can walk down the street with perfect posture and perfect makeup, and I can glow with star quality and that I can't let anyone try to take that away from me. Most people who see me in stores ask me if I am in the performing arts. No one would ever guess in a million years that I sit at a desk (in my tiny apartment no less) for hours and hours.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The Obligatory New Year's Post
As someone in a 12-step program, I am not a big fan of New Year's resolutions. When I need to make changes, I will know, as I indicated in this post.
My partner said to me that this had been, for me, a "good year". Do I agree? I don't know.
This is the first year that I spent the entire year as a freelancer, living almost entirely off my earnings. The "almost" means I took about $10k out of money that had been in my (deceased) mother's bank accounts, but that is, perhaps, money that I would have been able to earn this year or last year if I hadn't been taking care of her when she was dying and wrapping up her meager estate.
On the other hand, I felt a certain amount of despair that here I was, once again, trapped at a desk by myself for hours at a time doing something safe, dull, and predictable.
My singing has continued to improve (certainly my best singing is better than it ever has been), but I have had more and more bitter realizations that no matter how well I sing, I am basically "nowhere" on the classical singing food chain, certainly not living where I am living, which is what prompted my remark about small towns and my (sometimes) wish that I lived in one that was misunderstood and ended an online friendship.
I decided to delete my pseudonymous blog, and to stop reading most of the online journals of other singers, which only made me feel angry and envious, caused a virtual brouhaha, and led me to realize how terribly bored I am a great deal of the time (only when I am trapped here doing my work-for-pay - I am never bored when I can choose how I can spend my time) and what a temptation it then became for me to enviously read about how real singers live, hate myself and my life, and put poison pen to paper (metaphorically speaking).
One reason I didn't make any resolutions, other than the one mentioned earlier about, where singing is concerned, to set my own goals and mind my own business, is that I already practice and already spend a certain chunk of the day learning music. What I seem to need is an identity vis a vis the world of singing, even simply an identity that I can have between me and myself.
The biggest shock I experienced when I went back to singing in 2004 wasn't that I wasn't going to have a "career" - I had already figured that out - but that there was so much talent here that I couldn't even carve out a niche for myself as a good amateur in a milieu in which I was respected by other people. I mean if I want to put on a concert I can always find people to sing with but I had hoped to find a few people (and I mean this in the practical sense, not in a egotistical one) who sang almost as well as I did but not quite, who were eager to perform, and who would invite me to do things and at least share the cost and the planning, but this has not happened.
I have even tried to wrack my brains looking for something else I could do to entertain myself and satisfy my need for glamour and flash, something not as highly competitive as singing, but I don't come up with anything.
So. If I did make any New Year's resolutions, here they are:
1. To practice every day.
2. To always have a musical work (opera, oratorio, etc.) that I am learning, aside from choir music.
3. To always have one choir solo to look forward to (we usually choose these for ourselves, subject to scheduling and, occasionally, veto by the choir director)
4. To always have one other thing in the works. If it's not outer directed (an audition to go to), then it can be inner-directed (something I will plan and organize myself).
5. To remind myself every day that I am an exciting, glamorous, vivacious, performing artist even if that is not what I do for a living and even if I never travel, if what I do for a living never takes me beyond my tiny desk or leads to my meeting anyone, and even if no one cares what I'm wearing 99% of the time except me.
6. Any time I see a friend with a camera, if I'm wearing something nice, ask them please to take a picture and email it to me (this doesn't cost a cent these days).
7. To be grateful that I have a place to be safe and something to do that's secure while at the same time working at doing things that don't feel safe and secure, because safe and secure is boring and boredom is dangerous.
I guess that's it.
I may have an audition to go to on Saturday - or not. I sent a resume and head shot to someone via FedEx (this was an audition I had heard about through non-traditional channels) and will call them tomorrow to see if I got a spot. Surprisingly, when I mentioned this to my partner, she did not get into an uproar about it, so this is progress. I don't want to write details about this audition until either it's over, or I know that it's not on. I just want to keep this to myself. I have been preparing two roles, and would be happy with either (one I'm sure is out of the question, but I can always hope).
My partner said to me that this had been, for me, a "good year". Do I agree? I don't know.
This is the first year that I spent the entire year as a freelancer, living almost entirely off my earnings. The "almost" means I took about $10k out of money that had been in my (deceased) mother's bank accounts, but that is, perhaps, money that I would have been able to earn this year or last year if I hadn't been taking care of her when she was dying and wrapping up her meager estate.
On the other hand, I felt a certain amount of despair that here I was, once again, trapped at a desk by myself for hours at a time doing something safe, dull, and predictable.
My singing has continued to improve (certainly my best singing is better than it ever has been), but I have had more and more bitter realizations that no matter how well I sing, I am basically "nowhere" on the classical singing food chain, certainly not living where I am living, which is what prompted my remark about small towns and my (sometimes) wish that I lived in one that was misunderstood and ended an online friendship.
I decided to delete my pseudonymous blog, and to stop reading most of the online journals of other singers, which only made me feel angry and envious, caused a virtual brouhaha, and led me to realize how terribly bored I am a great deal of the time (only when I am trapped here doing my work-for-pay - I am never bored when I can choose how I can spend my time) and what a temptation it then became for me to enviously read about how real singers live, hate myself and my life, and put poison pen to paper (metaphorically speaking).
One reason I didn't make any resolutions, other than the one mentioned earlier about, where singing is concerned, to set my own goals and mind my own business, is that I already practice and already spend a certain chunk of the day learning music. What I seem to need is an identity vis a vis the world of singing, even simply an identity that I can have between me and myself.
The biggest shock I experienced when I went back to singing in 2004 wasn't that I wasn't going to have a "career" - I had already figured that out - but that there was so much talent here that I couldn't even carve out a niche for myself as a good amateur in a milieu in which I was respected by other people. I mean if I want to put on a concert I can always find people to sing with but I had hoped to find a few people (and I mean this in the practical sense, not in a egotistical one) who sang almost as well as I did but not quite, who were eager to perform, and who would invite me to do things and at least share the cost and the planning, but this has not happened.
I have even tried to wrack my brains looking for something else I could do to entertain myself and satisfy my need for glamour and flash, something not as highly competitive as singing, but I don't come up with anything.
So. If I did make any New Year's resolutions, here they are:
1. To practice every day.
2. To always have a musical work (opera, oratorio, etc.) that I am learning, aside from choir music.
3. To always have one choir solo to look forward to (we usually choose these for ourselves, subject to scheduling and, occasionally, veto by the choir director)
4. To always have one other thing in the works. If it's not outer directed (an audition to go to), then it can be inner-directed (something I will plan and organize myself).
5. To remind myself every day that I am an exciting, glamorous, vivacious, performing artist even if that is not what I do for a living and even if I never travel, if what I do for a living never takes me beyond my tiny desk or leads to my meeting anyone, and even if no one cares what I'm wearing 99% of the time except me.
6. Any time I see a friend with a camera, if I'm wearing something nice, ask them please to take a picture and email it to me (this doesn't cost a cent these days).
7. To be grateful that I have a place to be safe and something to do that's secure while at the same time working at doing things that don't feel safe and secure, because safe and secure is boring and boredom is dangerous.
I guess that's it.
I may have an audition to go to on Saturday - or not. I sent a resume and head shot to someone via FedEx (this was an audition I had heard about through non-traditional channels) and will call them tomorrow to see if I got a spot. Surprisingly, when I mentioned this to my partner, she did not get into an uproar about it, so this is progress. I don't want to write details about this audition until either it's over, or I know that it's not on. I just want to keep this to myself. I have been preparing two roles, and would be happy with either (one I'm sure is out of the question, but I can always hope).
Friday, November 18, 2011
Verdi Requiem Getting Acquainted Update
Yesterday I spent 12 hours backing up my computer (had to start from scratch as I have a new hard drive). Most of it was while I was asleep, so I didn't "waste" too much time, also for some of the time I was having my hair done.
In any event, as I couldn't work for those hours, I sang through the first three sections of the Requiem. There will be seven all told that I need to learn:
Kyrie
Quid sum, miser
Recordare
Lacrymosa
Domine Jesu
Agnus Dei
and the magnificent
.
Lux Aeterna
(I already know Liber Scriptus).
The Kyrie is coming along. There are still some places where I need to pound the keyboard to get my note, but that will eventually pass. One or two more runthroughs and I will have it.
Quid sum, Miser is a little easier, for some reason, although I have not attempted it without the playing the keyboard while I'm singing.
Recordare is the easiest, probably because I have my own melody. I find if I'm singing something other than the top line (e.g., an alto part in choir) I do best if it's something with its own melody, not a harmony part. For example I always learn the alto parts in the Bach cantatas very quickly. This Recordare is a duet and although the tessitura is a bit low for me, it is very singable and I found myself able to sing with the recording without having to play my notes, except at the end when the soprano is on a high B flat and I am on a middle C, which is hard to hear.
But it is coming along. I want to be able to sing it note perfect with the book by January and then I will feel comfortable about trying to pull something together if I can get the church space without paying for it.
Otherwise I will have this in my repertoire. I need to have a series of big oratorio pieces in my repertoire because I have completely aged out of all things opera unless I produce whatever it is myself.
I also am feeling good that I have my big hair back. If I could figure out how to photograph myself I would, but I just tried, looking in the mirror with the cell phone camera, and I can't.
Again, I think some of my wistfulness goes back to what I call "Wizard of Oz-ishness" - I know I am very attractive for a woman my age (and I have a great wardrobe) but I don't move in circles where people take pictures of me, I don't take them of myself (I would if I knew how), and basically no one in my immediate environs really cares enough about how I look, what I'm wearing, blah blah blah to want to memorialize it in any way. If they take pictures, it's of scenery, or of people as incidental to scenery. I wonder if this is
A. an artifact of my not being a "professional" performer with costumes to show off (church singers aren't supposed to "show off" full stop)
B. generational (people over 50 or over 60 just don't constantly take pictures unless they're on vacation to an interesting place)
C. that I don't know enough shallow people who are interested in how I look (LOL!)
In any event, as I couldn't work for those hours, I sang through the first three sections of the Requiem. There will be seven all told that I need to learn:
Kyrie
Quid sum, miser
Recordare
Lacrymosa
Domine Jesu
Agnus Dei
and the magnificent
.
Lux Aeterna
(I already know Liber Scriptus).
The Kyrie is coming along. There are still some places where I need to pound the keyboard to get my note, but that will eventually pass. One or two more runthroughs and I will have it.
Quid sum, Miser is a little easier, for some reason, although I have not attempted it without the playing the keyboard while I'm singing.
Recordare is the easiest, probably because I have my own melody. I find if I'm singing something other than the top line (e.g., an alto part in choir) I do best if it's something with its own melody, not a harmony part. For example I always learn the alto parts in the Bach cantatas very quickly. This Recordare is a duet and although the tessitura is a bit low for me, it is very singable and I found myself able to sing with the recording without having to play my notes, except at the end when the soprano is on a high B flat and I am on a middle C, which is hard to hear.
But it is coming along. I want to be able to sing it note perfect with the book by January and then I will feel comfortable about trying to pull something together if I can get the church space without paying for it.
Otherwise I will have this in my repertoire. I need to have a series of big oratorio pieces in my repertoire because I have completely aged out of all things opera unless I produce whatever it is myself.
I also am feeling good that I have my big hair back. If I could figure out how to photograph myself I would, but I just tried, looking in the mirror with the cell phone camera, and I can't.
Again, I think some of my wistfulness goes back to what I call "Wizard of Oz-ishness" - I know I am very attractive for a woman my age (and I have a great wardrobe) but I don't move in circles where people take pictures of me, I don't take them of myself (I would if I knew how), and basically no one in my immediate environs really cares enough about how I look, what I'm wearing, blah blah blah to want to memorialize it in any way. If they take pictures, it's of scenery, or of people as incidental to scenery. I wonder if this is
A. an artifact of my not being a "professional" performer with costumes to show off (church singers aren't supposed to "show off" full stop)
B. generational (people over 50 or over 60 just don't constantly take pictures unless they're on vacation to an interesting place)
C. that I don't know enough shallow people who are interested in how I look (LOL!)
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