The Experimental Beginning

It’s a chilly, rainy day here in Frankfurt today. We have our second show this evening, and the weather change from hot and sunny is actually a bit welcome. I sweat through three t-shirts at Friday night’s performance, because of the heat. I am tired of feeling sticky with sweat, even though the weather was so beautiful last week.

My parents arrived Saturday morning, and they will be at the performance tonight. I actually did something touristy yesterday, since they are in town. We drove to the nearby town of Limburg to see the orange and white 12th century Dom there, and walked around the well-preserved town for the afternoon.

Also, yesterday, I did a short interview with a young woman who is filming a student documentary on American opera singers in Europe. One of the questions she asked me was: what have I learned from my work? I told her that among the many things that I have discovered, I have learned that the world is not black and white, but contains mostly various shades of grey, and that I feel good about myself when I maintain my integrity and honesty. The thing is, I feel like I am constantly discovering something new about myself, life, humanity, and the world around us through my work. It was a difficult question to answer succinctly but completely and comprehensively.

In other news, I discovered this morning that the site of my upcoming performance of Saul in August is the monastery where a lot of the movie, The Name of the Rose, was filmed. For some reason, I find that really exciting.

Experimentation

In honor of the first year of this blog, I feel like shaking things up a bit, and trying out an experiment. I want to see what will happen if I write an entry everyday until June 8, the day I return to the US. I’m just curious to see what will happen…I always put such pressure on myself to have something profound, eloquent, and perfect to say before I write, and it creates panic and fear. Those feelings prevent me from posting entries as frequently as I could. What happens if I say to myself, write everyday, regardless of whether you feel like you have something to say or not?

Already, I can feel my fear of commitment descending upon me like a wet blanket…I’m not even sure I want to post this, because if I do, I’ll have to follow through.

Yikes.

Birthday and a German Opening

Today, this blog turned 1 year old.

It’s been quite the journey so far, and I am excited about keeping on. So far, I’ve really come to discover how much I love writing and sharing my thoughts through this medium. It is a nice way to reflect on my work and life, and how it all fits together.

I’d like to thank everyone for reading and commenting, and I look forward to sharing more musings with you as more time passes.

In other news, Ariodante, opened last night, and it was a ton of fun. I love Handel – he is my favorite, so any chance to sing him is a privilege and a joy.

Fast Transitions

The sun streamed into my room this morning, waking me up entirely too early. The nice thing about having such great windows in my apartment is that I get a lot of light. The annoying thing about having great windows in my apartment is that I get a lot of light. Funny, those double edged swords.

I felt so tired all day today (a day off), and as I pondered my exhaustion, I realized what a whirlwind this past month has been. I’ve been in four different time zones, performed two challenging programs, finished reading a novel, moved into storage, cancelled utilities, decided to move to New York City in September, visited friends in Cologne and Heidelberg, and staged and rehearsed a three and a half hour opera that opens tomorrow. No wonder I’m tired. At the same time, it’s all kind of exciting…the sense of possibility, hope, and accomplishment. I mean, that is an action packed month.

All that, and I have that rubber ducky, to boot. Again, I ask: Who could ask for more?

I am looking forward to a slightly less intense week next week…I hope.

the photo above is a view from the Schloss in Heidelberg...taken on the visit mentioned above.

Rubber Ducky, you're the one...

One thing about travel is that I never know what to expect as a home-base until I get there. In the past, at times I have managed to snag a wonderful place, and at other times, the place is not so satisfactory. Recently, I even had a Craig’s List adventure in which I rented a house that already had some tenants of the rodent variety.

This time I have lucked out – my apartment is fabulous. Nice artwork, beautiful windows with a wonderful view, a great kitchen with all of the appliances that I could need. It’s just lovely. That, and when I went into the bathroom, I was greeted by my new little friend below. Who could ask for more?

The Wall

I saw a wall with the following quote painted on it today:

"Without struggle, there is no progress."

Or something like that. If I had had my camera, I would have taken a picture, but I left it in Houston so that Jeremy can take pictures of all of our stuff before it goes into stroage.

Regardless, I liked the quote.

Movin' On Up...

We will be homeless nomads as of a week from Monday. My life lately has exclusively involved boxes, packing peanuts, packing tape, scissors, planes, hotels, and frantically trying to memorize loads of music for the past three weeks. To say I’ve been overwhelmed is an understatement. There is an exciting element to it all, though. The world is our oyster...

The question that I have been asked most frequently in the past two weeks is: “Where are you moving to?” The short answer is: We still don’t know. The long answer: well…long story made short – we’ll know soon.

In the meantime, packing always involves stumbling upon things forgotten as well as the occasional newfound “treasure”. I found out that my boyfriend had "accidentally" purchased two books with horrifying gay animation on the covers – one called Bite Club and another called Hot Sauce. I judged each book by its cover (and titles) and decreed that they were to go to goodwill. Another choice book that I discovered has the title There’s Nothing Wrong With You – obviously one that I should sit down and read as soon as we find a new home and unpack. Among the other fun discoveries were a bottle of Root Beer Schnapps (who drinks that?) and a tape of a Christmas concert I sang in when I was 17 years old…nothing like a trip down memory lane in stereo.

Note: if you look carefully at the pictures above, you will discover that one of my guilty pleasures is reading sci-fi novels (those, unfortunately, are not Jeremy’s contribution to our library). It’s something that I’ve hidden for years – to admit it here so publicly takes a lot. I feel like I am coming out for a second time, in a way.

Moments (Struggles) with Béla

"To win one's joy through struggle is better than to yield to melancholy." - Andre Gide

I came acorss that tonight as I was reading Julia Cameron's latest book, Finding Water. The timing was apt, as I had my first rehearsal with the St. Louis Symphony tonight (ah, synchronicity...). The Bartok piece that we are performing this week - his Cantata Profana - is one of the most difficult pieces I have ever encountered. I've sweat blood and tears prerparing for this piece these past few months. It is fairly thick in orchestration, quite extreme in range, harmonically difficult, and - to add insult to injury, so to speak - in Hungarian. It is also incredibly beautiful music and a profound and moving story.

Our rehearsal went decently well, despite my sheer terror as we read through it with the orchestra and the chorus for the first time today. It's an incredible group (I am so grateful to be singing with them), and as my intimidation gives way to my admiration for the piece, I think we will have a lovely weekend of music-making ahead of us.

Photo by unknown - taken from the internet.

2007 - The Year of the Road Runner

It seems that it was yesterday that I was standing in the middle of my living room, drink in hand, surrounded by 40-some people, celebrating the New Year. In truth, it’s April – Where has the time gone?

The Return

We open Return of Ulisses tonight at the Harris Theater at 7:30, and while I am excited, I am also exhausted. These past few weeks have been a very intense birthing-process, so to speak, mostly because the piece is so bloody difficult. Part of what makes it so difficult, I find, is how close it is to "regular" theater. The piece is largely recitative, so we don’t have the easy guidance of set music all of the time. As a result, there are a myriad of choices to be made, and it’s taken a lot of rehearsal to be clear on what they are and can be. Of course, this also makes it all the more fun, as it can always be different and a new thing can be discovered every time we visit a scene.

I look forward to our opening tomorrow – it will be fun to put it on its feet and see where it chooses to go in the coming weeks. I have really fallen in love with Monteverdi these past six months, so I am really excited to perform it again. It feels like a dream come true each time I begin a scene with the continuo group in the pit.

My life otherwise? I am trying to find creative ways to pay my taxes and still survive the next few months financially speaking. It’s funny to me how finances take a lot of creativity and discipline – much like music, in a way. We are still trying to iron out where we will be moving in the coming months – the front-runner right now is New York City. I still hold out for Chicago, secretly, but honestly, at this point, the world is our oyster. We are both still in that, “Where to next?” sort of mindset. We should look for a storage unit in the meantime. I am also trying to put the finishing touches on the Bartok that I am trying to work into my voice for my next adventure, which is some concerts with the St. Louis Symphony.

My best wishes to my wonderful and sweet colleagues here in Chicago for a great run of the show.

Message

Opening my inbox the other day, I was greeting with the following message:


So, you haven't updated your blog in over two weeks. What's going on?

I can understand one week, but two? Really? Having a blog is a commitment, Nicky. Your readers depend on you.

I kid, of course. :o) (but only a little....) :o)

I hope you're well and that Chicago is/was fun. I'm back in the country now and am killing time waiting for my connecting flight. I should be back home by tonight.

Take care, and talk to you soon.

Love,
W.



It was strangely like this person was giving voice to my artistic consciousness that has been nagging me to put up an entry. I apologize for my apparently inexcusable neglect. I blame it on a busy, rigorous rehearsal schedule and a crappy internet connection in my hotel room.

Revolution

I worry.

I am prone to it (in case you hadn’t noticed already), and at times I wonder if it is a by-product of American culture – I honestly have no idea, but it seems easier to blame everything on one’s upbringing at times, right?

My manager often says that one cannot count on much in this industry until one is out on-stage, giving the performance. So much changes from the moment one receives an inquiry to the actual performance. People change their minds, companies change their seasons, singers sometimes don’t learn their music or feel that the piece is ultimately not for them, people get sick – any number of things can happen.

I’ve learned this the hard way recently, and, unfortunately, a lot of the lesson has been in regards to next year. A couple of projects have not panned out for next year for various reasons, and right now, I am staring at a large gap in my schedule. I wake up fretting about it daily.

I find myself drifting back to my thoughts about anxiety last fall, and I ponder the power of thought. If thoughts are creative actions, with the power to influence our reality around us, what good is it to worry? Isn’t that just empowering our sense of hopelessness and panic? Of course, my habit is to think, “I don’t have anything in that gap!” That small thought, repeated each morning as I wake up focuses my being on what I don’t have and what is not happening for me, which would explain my anxiety’s firm grip on my psyche. It also casts a pall over all that I have now, preventing me from enjoying the work that I have in the present moment.

While it is a simple question, thinking “I wonder what will happen?” opens up a world of possibility. It focuses on the fact that something will happen, only I just don’t know what yet. And if I think about it, I never really knew what I would be doing anyway. The focus on possibility and realizing that I can’t ever know the future frees me up to enjoy the work that I have now, and all of the sudden, “I wonder what will happen?” becomes a revolution to my reality.

Photo by Jeremy Frank

F----ing Mercury

My cell phone and I ended our relationship today - I was dumped.

It left me mysteriously at the airport, while I was waiting at the gate to board my plane. I didn't realize that it was missing until after I had boarded the plane. In a panic, I dumped my belongings in my seat and ran back to the gate to to look for it. I searched in vain...finally, the gate agent asked me if I had insurance for it, which I did. She told me just to get a new one, because the plane had to take off.

I think that it was by far my favorite cell phone that I've ever owned - I will miss it dearly.

I foolishly thought that I could replace it with a duplicate, and I called the insurance company, a man on the rebound. 'Twas not to be - they couldn't supply me with a phone of my model, but would send me something "comparable".

How can anything compare to my beloved phone? It was the perfect size (small), it didn't flip, and it wasn't one of those oh-so-boring-and-pedestrian Razr phones. Jeremy had taken the most adorable picture of himself with it, and I had put it up as my wallpaper. All lost. All over. Most likely never to be seen again.

What did I do wrong, I wonder? Did I neglect it? Did I ignore it's needs? Was I abusive in some way? Oh, little Nokia, please forgive me! I only meant to love!

Mercury is in retrograde, people - and it clearly bit me in the ass today. Beware!

No Subject or Excuses

I am swimming in loads of new music right now, frantically trying to get it learned, while adjusting to being back on the road for a little bit (I have a concert tomorrow...). What's funny about stress is that it has this uncanny ability to reproduce itself exponentially by encouraging procrastination, which leads to greater amounts of stress. It's a beautiful thing, really.

I hope to be back with a meaningful entry sometime soon. In the meantime, while developing new ways to waste time and avoid sitting down at the piano, I've discovered Ugly Betty on iTunes. I actually watched the first 8 episodes within a span of 36 hours...To put it simply: I'm obsessed.

Regardless, it's brilliant television, and it inspires me. Do yourself a favor and go watch it.

Inner Children

Two things of note happened in my life yesterday.

Firstly, Jeremy and I went to see the last day of the Paul Klee exhibit at the Menil Collection. I was impressed by the prolific variety of styles he painted in. I thought to myself about how so many singers try to box themselves into a certain repertoire or “fach”. Why the need to be locked into the box? For the illusion of safety that it provides? Why not do like this man did and simply paint what was clearly in his heart and mind in whatever way he felt it was best expressed?


At the exhibition, I also discovered that Diego Rivera wrote that Klee was "one of the wisest painters and one of the greatest child/poets of the world." This juxtaposition of wise and child struck me as so vital to being an artist. How we need to balance staying in touch with our inner child (that part of us that holds the passion for what we do), and how through that child we discover the wisdom our art provides us.

The second event of note was the fun evening of music-making that we had in our apartment last night. We began the evening with a trial run of the first half of my upcoming chamber music concert for some musician friends, and then everyone began to read through some music that they all brought. It was an eclectic evening, including everything from Rigoletto arias to Debussy piano duets to Schumann pieces written for viola and piano. It was so fun to see people let their hair down and let out their little inner child that drew them to music in the first place.

Licking the wounds

It is very hard for me to talk about upsetting things publicly. It’s scary, frankly.

That said, here we go.

I found out that I didn’t get a project that I had auditioned for recently – one that I really wanted to work on. I wanted to work on it for a number of reasons – primarily, the music is insanely beautiful, but also because I knew that a few good friends were involved already (making music with friends is always fun), and the conductor was someone I wished to work with again.

As being turned down can go, this was as good as rejection could be – it was mostly for logistical reasons and I was told that it had nothing to do with me or my singing. In fact, I was told that I made a very positive impression when I auditioned. Still, it was disappointing to hear that it did not work out this time.

So, in an effort to recover, I felt sorry for myself for a bit, and then I made sure to practice a lot today and I’m in the process of cleaning my apartment (which is a disaster...). Tomorrow, I'll remind myself of how much I have to be grateful for.

There – I’ve admitted that I’m human and not perfect. What a relief…

Wonderful Town

There was a time in my life when I couldn’t wait to get out of the Midwest. I deplored its mundane-ness, its suburban lack of luster. I applied to conservatories located only in or near big cities – two of them in New York. I ended up choosing Manhattan School of Music, excited to go the city I had dreamed of living in for years, thirsty for its hustle. I got here and was exhilarated by the energy of its fast flow, seduced by its bright lights and never-closing diners, and dazzled by its self-importance. I would return home for holidays, and get frustrated by what I perceived as the Midwest’s provinciality. When I moved to Houston, all I could do was fantasize about packing my things back up into boxes and U-hauling all of it back up to the restless, electric bustle of New York.

Visiting here in Manhattan for a long weekend to audition for various people, I find that what I am longing for is the soft gurgle of the fountain in our courtyard, to cook dinner for Jeremy in the tranquility of our kitchen, to look out at the trees from our living room window, to sit in one of the cafés in Montrose and quietly work on translating Il ritorno d’Ulisse, to have a game night in our living room with our Houston friends. Fighting people to get on the subway exhausts me, and I long to see a hint of plant life somewhere – something other than the ubiquitous grey that surrounds me.

I never thought I would question my desire to move away from Houston, but I find myself wondering: Am I really so different from before, and longing for a quieter, simpler life, or am I simply longing for “home” – my furniture, kitchen, Jeremy, friends, and regular haunts – regardless of where those things are?

Relevance

Is what we do as opera singers important?

I distinctly remember once saying to Laura Claycomb, “Oh well, it’s just opera – it’s not like it’s really important,” as we walked to the parking garage after a stressful rehearsal sometime during my first year in the HGO Studio. She stopped walking, and turned to me and said, “But it IS important – it has to be. Why do it otherwise?”

It’s a moment that stuck with me, because it was a question I had never really asked myself before so pointedly. Why bother?

I’ve heard a lot of debate surrounding the subject of artistic integrity lately. Many of my colleagues (at all levels) are very concerned about the quality of our art sinking as people strive to make classical music “accessible” and “save” us from the impending “death of classical music”. They complain about a lack of artistic standards. They note that some of the most visible artists in our field don’t feel obligated to sing the notes on the page or to be in rhythm.

Then some people ask: are these things important?

As I see it, the answer is many-fold. Yes, we must maintain a perspective on what it is that we do. One could argue that music is not necessary for survival. But that point is moot – this is not the situation we face as a society today. Our art is part of what defines our humanity – some would argue that it is our culture is that makes us civilized. What we do as musicians, performers, opera singers, etc. is therefore important – and it is important that it be high quality. I’ve always been taught that technical precision serves artistic expression. People (whether they be “lay-people” or “purists”) will not enjoy a performance if it is out of tune, not sung with the utmost beauty and technical ease, or if it is inaccurate, because those things serve as distractions that keep an audience on the edge of their seat in a bad way. The artists who really sadden me are the ones who consciously choose not to sing the notes on the page, stretch rhythms egregiously and with poor taste, and chase publicity events in lieu of rehearsals in an effort to be more “accessible” or to make what we do more “popular”. What saddens me about those choices is the inherent lack of faith in our art form to touch people, to move the soul, to be relevant. It is vital that we maintain our standards and take our artistic integrity seriously, because if we don’t, we cheapen the message behind the music, which is generally an important message to convey.

Nightmare

I dreamt last night that I was in Frankfurt, working on my first Don Giovanni. We were about to begin a rehearsal in the theater (which oddly looked like a small, high school auditorium) and I was sitting in the back of the house with my colleagues, holding my score. As rehearsal began, I realized that I didn’t know Acts II and III. I began to panic. I started to flip through my score, looking for Act II. All I could find instead were pages from a 1950’s knitting magazine. Where was Act II? I looked up at the stage, and it was getting closer and closer to my entrance. How embarrassed was I going to be if I had to hold my score in my hand as we did this technical rehearsal? I went to go look for my dressing room so that I could bash some notes out on a piano quickly. I didn’t have a dressing room. Not that it mattered – I didn’t even have a score – I only had my knitting magazine from 1950…

Nothing like a nightmare to motivate me to practice and learn all of the new music I have coming up. Every single gig I have is new music for me up until mid-May. Oddly, I still don’t have music for one of the concerts, too (I don’t think that the organizer has finalized the program yet). I am glad that my subconscious is cluing me in to my feelings about all of this new music…off to put my nose to the grindstone.

Photo by Jeremy Frank

Cusp

Sitting here in my picture window, looking out at the fountain that bubbles underneath the now-multicolored oak tree in our courtyard, I reflect on 2006 and look forward to 2007. Our lives are such a paradox in a way – it feels like it was just yesterday that I was frantically trying to pack to leave for a ten week tour and trying to plan a New Year’s Eve party, when in fact it was a year ago. And in that year, so much has happened. Life is full of so many moments (both good and bad) that seem like suspended time, but the moments pass by so quickly.

The highlights of my 2006? The stress of performing my first run of L’italiana in Algieri fighting a cold. The thrill of making my New York City Opera debut in Acis & Galatea, one of my favorite operas. The excitement of my European debut in Frankfurt. The scare of my friend Erin’s car accident and the relief of her recovery. A wonderful summer spent with Jeremy and my friends who came through or live in DC. My first vacation ever – split between Montreal and Rehoboth Beach. An unexpected fall reunion in Atlanta with my former roommate and our friend Slater. Getting to experience one of the most special musical moments of my life singing in Poppea and getting to spend so much time with my little brother in Los Angeles. A happy Christmas holiday with my family in Michigan – it was the best time I’ve ever had with my family as an adult. It was a good year, and for that I am grateful.

Looking to 2007, I have some resolutions in mind, I look forward to a few things, and I have one big question. The resolutions? They range from the mundane to the ambitious. I want to up my cardio at the gym. I’d like to maintain the frequency of my blog postings. I’m going to dig into the Artist’s Way again (Julia Cameron has a new book out). I’m going to practice with more regularity while I am on the road. I am going to create better schedules for myself. I want to volunteer somewhere. I want to create a long-term financial plan. I want to save more money. I want to cook more. I want to sleep more.

I look forward to being in Chicago again and singing more Monteverdi. I look forward to tackling L’italiana in Algieri again, hopefully this time in good health. I look forward to keeping my resolutions. I look forward to spending the first two months of 2007 with Jeremy at home. I also look forward to moving away from Houston.

This last item, of course, leads to my aforementioned “one big question”. As Jeremy’s time in the HGO Studio nears an end, my time as a resident of Houston will draw to a close, as well. Houston is a place that I thought I would be in only for a couple of years – I never imagined that I would be in my fifth year here. Houston has come to be a place that I consider home, and I will be sad to leave in many ways. I will miss our wonderful little apartment that is my creative haven and nest where I flee to recuperate, prepare, and be with Jeremy. I will miss our lovely neighbors. I will miss my sweet hairdresser, Amanda. I will miss the beautiful, clear, mild days of Houston “winters”. I will miss the many friends that Jeremy and I have made during our time here. Still, the time to move on to the next step in our lives approaches, and this begs the question – where to next? We have some options that we are seriously considering, but we are married to none yet – only that we will be leaving here. As I often write as a catch phrase when I can think of nothing else to write in my morning pages – we will see.

Photo by Jeremy Frank