Auditions, Auditions, Auditions

2015 VERSION!
It's that time of year, a time that ramps up the anxiety and stress levels for many young singers:

Audition application season coupled with beginning of school year auditions!

All around North America, singers in undergraduate and graduate programs are gearing up to audition for their schools' opera programs, hoping to get cast in a production or scenes program or training program. In addition, those singers who want to move beyond the pay-to-sing programs are feeling the avalanche of deadlines fast approaching for Glimmerglass, Merola, Chautauqua, Central City, etc. with their requisite YAP tracker accounts spouting reminders and checklists. As for the singers fresh out of school, the desperation factor starts to creep into place -- will this be my last audition season? What happens if I don't get any auditions? How am I going to pay for all the application fees, travel and hotel expenses?

Life was simpler ten to fifteen years ago. Really.

Time was when deadlines for summer programs were mid to late October (imagine!), not end of August. There's a huge difference between the two, especially for singers just starting a new grad program and/or starting in studying with a new teacher in a new city.

And yet, every year I get requests for recommendation letters as well as requests for "what should I put for my 5" from students I hardly know.

I've often thought that first year masters students shouldn't try to do summer program auditions during their initial semester at a new school with new coaches and teachers. Maybe a better idea would be to FOCUS ON THAT FIRST SEMESTER. Work on technical issues, get the hard courses out of the way, get to know the city in a casual fashion, make friends, hear symphony concerts, etc.  These are things one can't really do while preparing an audition packet (especially if there are new arias in it) and flying in and out to take summer program auditions in November.  I know everyone feels rushed to be a success, but there are lots and lots of singers who make it without pushing themselves onto such a fast track.

Perhaps an even better idea might be to either take the summer "off" from singing, get a job or an internship, or focus on reading literature, visiting museums, taking in plays, visiting the Glimmerglasses of North America to see what the level actually is out there. Travel and explore.

But I don't think anyone will listen to my sage advice, so I'll put down my thoughts on AUDITIONS that I post most every fall, albeit with some modifications for 2015.

TEN THOUGHTS ON AUDITIONS:

1) A successful audition is a complicated thing. It has more to do with the day, who/what the panel is looking for and why, the needs of a given season, if the panel's blood sugar is normal, if their attention span is fixed or waning, their personal taste in practically everything; in short: little to do with the singer's talent. The sooner one accepts this, the better. It helps to remove the JUDGEMENT happening constantly in those little heads of ours.

2) Attitude counts for a lot. How a singer walks in the door, how they communicate with the panel and the pianist, the body language signals before singing, between arias, and at the close of the audition. It is vital that a singer present themselves in a heightened (I don't want to say exaggerated) version of whoever they want to "be" at an audition. You can't just quietly enter a room, whisper your aria to the panel, sing like Tebaldi, exit like a mouse and expect that your Tebaldi tones will win the day.  Most auditions nowadays take into account personalities and how a singer might fit in to a group of other singers. If there is a worry about confidence in how a singer presents themselves (and I mean their "self" as opposed to presenting a character from an opera), then there can easily be a worry about how that singer might function in a group of extroverted, aggressive, opera singers all living and eating together for 6 to 12 weeks.

3) The panel has no imagination. Okay, maybe they have a little. But mostly, not much. This means the singer's imagination needs to come into play in a big, big way. You need to know who you are singing to, or about. You need to know if it's day or night, inside or outside, in a furnished room or a courtyard. Are there other people in the scene that the aria takes place in? You simply can not just stand there and make pretty tones. Not any more, my friends. There must be a strong connection to the text, a huge musical mind at work making decisions and taking stands in multiple areas (ornamentation is just one example.) And if someone is telling you that it's the voice, and only the voice, that'll get you into a young artist program, then they are telling you what we all want to believe is true, but actually isn't true. An opera singer has always been, and will always be, a human being who acts with their voice. So work on the human being part, the acting part, as well as the singing part. Work on it before the audition. You can't think for a moment that your gestures will just appear and make sense, or that fixating on the wall behind the panel, staring at it incessantly, will make anyone in the room think you're an operatic Meryl Streep or Russell Crowe. They work on their characters before the camera shoots, and so should you. They live in a broad, imaginative world, and so should you.

4) What you wear is less important nowadays. Pants on a woman? Fine. Jeans on a man? Fine. Black dresses with pearls? Think that one over... Think about how you'll define yourself as a human being to a trio of strangers not really looking at you carefully. Define yourself boldly in order to make an impression -- do everything you can to not look like all those other people in the lobby waiting to sing. Color is important, absolutely. So is bling. Remember, the panel is made up of human beings who have been looking at hundreds of singers. It's impossible to remember everyone, particularly if twelve men all singing Malatesta's aria show up in a dark navy suit, with polished shoes, a blue shirt and variable ties to match. If your repertoire doesn't separate you from the pack, then your acting and singing skills need to come into play along with the rest of your "package" - which includes what you look like when you walk in the door.

5) This is YOUR time slot. Use it, invest in the moment and enjoy sharing your talents. A ten-minute audition slot is not the time to fix your technique, make dramatic discoveries, or improvise some ornaments for your Rameau aria. The audition is about YOU. Share yourself, how you are at the PRESENT moment - not how you might be five years from now. If you have someone telling you you'll be the next great Tosca, well how lovely, but don't go taking "Vissi d'arte" around to auditions if you're some young 20ish soprano who really should be singing "V'adoro pupile". Sing the lightest literature possible. Take a step back, fach-wise; especially if you're being cast in school productions in heavier, or even, dramatic roles. This happens a lot -- getting confused over "what" you are because at your school you have the biggest voice, so you get cast as the Countess or Fiordiligi, but you really are a Susanna or Despina out there in the real world. For mezzo's, it's even worse. Of course you're not a character mezzo, you're a high lyric soprano who just hasn't figured out her top, but you get cast as Miss Pinkerton instead of Laetitia... And then there are the tenors masquerading around as lyric baritones... Just be who you are. Every audition is only a snapshot of the singer you are at that moment, and this changes so quickly and dramatically. Be flexible in your early 20s. You don't have to present your future-illustrious-international career's best five arias during the fall of your senior year at college to an AGMA apprenticeship program. But you do have to present some version of YOURSELF, and be confident about it regardless of the fact that the arias might just be stepping stones to other arias in later years.

6) Prepare 5 to 15 arias for the audition season. Come on. Learn more than 5 arias. People who are pursuing other careers in the arts (just think about the hundreds of songs your musical theatre singer counter-parts have in their current rep!) make it a vital part of their training to learn AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE about their chosen fields. Walk into an audition and present 10 arias. Have "the 5" listed and then add more below as "Additional Arias". It is a terrible, terrible thing that young singers - and the people who teach, train, and hire them - think that learning an aria should take months and months OR that having more than five arias running around your head is somehow difficult or confusing to both singer and panel. My thoughts on these arias? 1) Two contrasting baroque arias (one fast, one slow) 2) Two contrasting Mozart arias (either tempo or dramatic situation) 3) One aria by Rossini, Bellini, or Donizetti (or a composer like them) 3) A German aria of some sort 4) A Slavic aria of some sort 5) An aria from a verismo opera 6) An aria in French 7) Two contrasting 20th century arias 8) Two contrasting musical theatre arias 9) An aria from G&S or Offenbach 10) An aria from an opera written since 2000.  For those who were counting, that's 15 musical pieces. If most are about 3 minutes long, then we're talking 45 minutes of literature. Pianists carry more than that with just two concertos. Make a commitment to learn literature. The above 15 categories can easily fill the needed "5" for any young artist program and then you'll have another 10 arias to have wiggle room with if you need to vary one or two, or offer a piece of musical theatre, or add a couple extra arias in that represent a coming season. But if you walk around with barely 5, you are limiting your opportunities. I know singers who can learn an aria in a day, and rather well. How long does it really take to learn an aria? If you don't learn quickly, figure out how to. Then use every coaching, every masterclass opportunity, every studio class opportunity (heck, sing for friends!) to role out these pieces and get feedback.

7) Don't wear an all black anything to an audition.

8) Keep an audition journal. Go crazy -- keep a journal everyday.

9) Figure out how to breathe in stressful situations. One of the first things that seems to go in an audition is the BREATH. Getting it past your collarbone, for instance, can sometimes be a challenge during an important audition. Work on breathing outside of an audition. Ask your voice teacher about the breath. Their answers might surprise you. Seek out places to practice breathing: swimming pools, yoga, mediation, hiking up steep inclines, walking... Before your audition, have a breathing plan. Get centered outside of the room with your breath. Breathe in the audition room, too! Breathe between arias. Consciously, really, breathe!

10) Try, as best as you can, to not place too much importance on any audition. Even at the Met finals, if you listen to what the winners say, they talk about how they tried to make it "just" another opportunity to sing. If you walk into a room thinking that your whole future career (and therefore life) depends on the outcome, you are setting yourself up for failure. How about a "I don't care what you think" attitude? If you're walking into an audition feeling that what the panel thinks of you is more important than what you think of yourself, then you should turn around and walk away.

A bonus thought: Remember that what you do -- singing opera -- is something quite special. It's something that billions of other human beings on this planet can not do. It's a crazy, joyous thing to put yourself into the head-space of an 18th century peasant or a Greek God or a gypsy or a famous character from Shakepeare. Who gets to do that and try to make a living at it? It's a transcendental experience to channel the genius of a Mozart or a Rossini or a Stravinsky. While you sing their music, they live again. Their genius comes alive once more from beyond the grave through your vocal chords, face, body, and mind. Most people can't even imagine what that must be like!  So live it! Do it!

And learn an aria or two...

Best of luck to all of you out there!

Doing Nothing

"Doing Nothing"

Completely, totally, impossible!

As my oldest son likes to point out, in a slight smartalecky way, that even when you're doing nothing, your body is still processing energy, distributing oxygen.

Yeah, yeah. Thanks.

So, I've been trying to do nothing recently. It's not going well. In fact, I'm driving everyone and myself a bit crazy. At the end of these days of doing nothing, I get all panicked because my summer is passing and I've got "so much to do"! (Usually said to my wife in an emphatic manner, especially if there's nothing on Netflix...)

Why the goal of "nothing"?!

Mostly because I decided to take the summer "away" from opera. As most of my regular readers know, I've just come off of an especially intense time of directing, conducting, coaching, or producing around 50 operas in the last 6 years. I thought it was time to take a summer off (the first one since 1984!) and kick back a bit, relax, work on side projects, and get my hernia repaired.

That last bit, the hernia, is really the reason I'm doing nothing right now. The surgery went well, thanks, and the recovery is going well, thanks, but it's taking much longer than I thought it would.

So for the past month I've either been waiting for the surgery, or recovering from the surgery. Not doing much else except the occasional BBQ with friends. I've watched all of "Foyle's War" (highly recommended, btw) and "Doc Martin" (very funny show), I've written two acts of a play (something that's been on my mind for four years now) and am coming close to seeing my way in how to finish it, and I've read a bit of Shakespeare. A bit.

But I haven't done one iota of what needs to be done for the start of the semester and I haven't read all of the Shakespeare plays I need to read, and I haven't even ordered my scores for the 13-14 season!

So, in a way, I've done nothing; I'm doing nothing. But not the nothing I wanted to not do!

The one thing that's gone well has been my meditation and my realization of how I want to change my opera program at McGill.  These two things are intermingled and the one has caused me to rethink the other.

Focus. Fantasy. Fun. Philosophy.

The 4 F's.  Okay, so the last one's not a real "F", but you get the point. Would it be more interesting if I wrote "Phocus. Phantasy. Phun. Filosophy. ?!

My students will, hopefully, gain quite an awful lot from the coming year. In addition to the themes of Focus, Fantasy, Fun, and Philosophy in operatic training, we will be tackling more shows than ever before. Three full-length operas each with orchestra and each with a connection to Shakespeare ("Giulio Cesare", "A Midsummer Night's Dream", I Capuleti e i Montecchi") one huge scenes program presenting both the original Shakespeare excerpt alongside the operatic treatment (think about how cool it'll be to see the tomb scene of Shakespeare's R&J followed directly by Gounod's treatment of same seen!), a new staged presentation called "Sonnets and Songs" featuring 16 soloists all singing songs based on Shakespeare texts culminating in Vaughan William's "Serenade To Music", and yet another "Death By Aria". The last two presentations both happen within the first three weeks of this fall semester.

Plus there's tons of guest directors, conductors, and even a choreographer this year. Lots of activity. More so than ever.

So I guess it's okay that I'm doing NOTHIN' right now.  

Trickier do so than to say so.

Best from Montreal Ouest!

Creating Creativity

The Creative Process or How To Create Creativity!

Lately I've been reading up on the creative processes and work rituals of famous writers, scientists, and artists. All interesting, all common sense.

A few commonalities emerge, and of course it set my mind to thinking about my own creative process, as well as rethinking the process currently in fashion in the operatic rehearsal spaces across North America, especially my own opera lab, Wirth Opera Studio.

First, the commonalities:
1) Caffeine at the rising. Gertrude Stein was "prescribed" coffee and drank it (lovingly prepared by Alice) every morning - even though she didn't like it. So many writers rose and mentioned drinking coffee regularly. This was long before Starbucks glutted the street corners of our cities.

2) Daily scheduled secluded sessions. No matter the genre (Richard Strauss was just as methodical as Mark Twain or Monet), this seems to be THE factor in success. Waiting for the mood or muse to strike, waiting for inspiration to kiss your brow, nothing works like the habitual process. Some talked about creating every day, no matter what drivel sprang. It's the daily "practice" (as many referred to this idea) that brings the openness needed to create at any substantial, qualitative, or successful level.

3) Time. "The days are long, but the years are short" (Gretchen Rubin). Get it?  If not, think about it. It's easy to put off the creative process because there's SO much other stuff that seems important. But if you're sitting there dreaming about being an artist, a singer, a conductor, etc., you can't procrastinate giving yourself a daily routine of practice (whether this be literal practicing, or meditating, or creating, or connecting the dots about your artistry) because you'll turn around twice and the semester will be gone, the summer program will be over, and the next thing you know it's a year later...

4) Confidence. Knowing that there'll be days of total shit. Huge moments of failure to move forward in your craft, knowledge, or process are part of the creative process. I couldn't create without the confidence that my bad days are part of what make my good days really good, and sometimes, actually brilliant. Confidence and courage are linked here. The courage to move into a scene from the wrong direction, for instance, can sometimes illuminate exactly what the scene does NOT need thereby making clear as day what it does need. One can fail, one can succeed, but one should do both with confidence.

5) Breaks. Many famous folk took regularly scheduled breaks. Twain took Sundays off to spend the day, and his focus, on his family. John Crosby (founder of Santa Fe Opera) told a story that Richard Strauss stopped composing at a certain time every day, no matter where he was in his composing (I always imagine him a few bars before the climax in the Rosenkavalier trio, putting his pen down... REALLY?!) Breaks are super important to the creative process. When Vincent, Ginette, and I are designing a show (usually over a table strewn with fashion books, architecture books, intense Quebec fromage, half-eaten baguette, Alsatian wine, while watching snippets of movies) we take breaks to cook, talk about vacation fantasies, or to discuss our children. Breaks, for me, are integral to being creative. They are integral to my staging processes as well.

6) Humor. Stop taking yourself so seriously folks! Laughter is the key to getting everyone in a room relaxed. I know this after years of public speaking. Why do people tell me they love my talks? Humor. It certainly not because I'm a featured TED speaker...  It sets people at ease and makes them realize that although I'm there to talk about something nominally taken as "serious" (opera), and that I'm seen as an academic, i.e. "professorial" personality, I simply refuse to take myself seriously. It's the difference between knowing what is serious and what is solemn. Serious doesn't preclude laughing. (Frankly, solemnity shouldn't proscribe humor either.) However, I can't tell you how often young singers, young directors, and especially young conductors (!), confuse the serious and daunting task of creating within the operatic art form construct with being taken seriously by others. This is seen quickly by most as pomposity. Whether your process happens within a group (the normal operatic rehearsal) or is more of a solitary experience, humor is important. Levity. Lightness. Smiling. The great Buddhist teacher Thích Nhãt Hahn instructs his meditation students (another process almost always referred as "practice") to breathe in and think "Calm the body" and then breathe out and think "Smile". Try it next time there's anxiety about your process -- anything from struggling to sing a high Z to creating an emotional high point in a blocking rehearsal. Breathe. Exhale. Smile.

To quote my favorite movie: "Someone tell a joke."

My creative process often involves citing or quoting or being inspired by movies like "Moonstruck". Either for character study, finding an objective, looking for a metaphor, basic connectivity stuff.  Or I'll search for ways to connect a scene by Mozart, or sometimes a whole opera,  to a piece of architecture, a painting, a film moment, or a poem. This search happens in the shower and then during my morning commute to the University. It happens while cooking dinners. It especially happens during talks with my wife, a most insightful individual. I call this "wrapping my mind around it." It's when I get that "A-Ha!" moment and things make sense.

Sometimes this moment is as simple as seeing a round lamp illuminated, or deciding that Cosi makes more sense in the context of the 60s sexual revolution, or that the nuns ARE the convent.  But it's an important process that I do not rush. I know it takes time -- days and weeks. I don't go and jump at the first idea. I've seldom, if ever, ended up using the first idea. My 60s Cosi started out with the idea of using Beach Boys' songs as an allegorical arch... Brilliant initially, but later on, not. I let the idea percolate in my mind. Sometimes I share the idea and see the reactions. I almost always share these ideas with my wife. I share them with Vincent and Ginette and Serge, also with students. Then things mutate, alter, move. Then, at some point, it's time to direct.

When it comes time to direct an opera, things change dramatically. My initial process is highly solitary. I think through every scene. Often times it's akin to choreography. I work out scenes physically. I map scenes out on a computer program (SketchUp) in 3D. I type out the flow of characters, sometimes down to the color of lights I envision for each scene. It's minutely detailed.

Then I block the scene. Where each individual goes. For a Boheme 2nd act, I decide ahead of time where every one of those choristers will be, when they will move, and to where. If you don't, it's chaos and time is wasted. Directors who can't direct chorus scenes usually fail because they haven't taken the time to think at this basic level. Time. Work.

But often times during the actual, and much more collaborative process of staging rehearsals, I become fixed in the moment and have been known to throw out all of my carefully finessed blocking in order to flow with either an inspiration, or to take into consideration a colleague's suggestion, or because sometimes the best laid plans simply aren't going to work. I find flexibility is extremely important to this collaborative process. Inflexible people often find themselves trying to be successful in creative arenas, like music. I've found that often times inflexible folk make their way into the creative arenas, dumbfounded by flexibility as a viable process, and try to force their inflexibility onto us unsuspecting artists in the room.

Inflexibility in the arts? As they say in Fargo: "You betcha"!

Nothing kills creativity as quickly as inflexibility. It is a petrifying quality in nature. Trees survive storms because they bend. Growing ferns unfurl their fiddleheads in a twirl that has as much to do with the Fibonacci sequence, as an innate ability to go with the flow. That which gathers, scatters, and vice-versa.  Youth in nature is inherently flexible. It's the old tree that breaks under stress. It's rigidity in body - and mind - that kill creativity.

So you'd think that musicians working in an art form like opera would understand this. You'd think that those nurturing our young singing ferns would refrain from methodologies that "create" inflexibility, either in analytical, theoretical fields or in the more artisanal studies involving techniques that lead to the more focused goals like the artistic pursuit of "making music", but I find they don't. In fact, a big part of teaching and mentoring  lately seems to be in making young people believe there is a method to success. A path to a career.

Yes, there is a path, but it is only clearly viewed by turning around and seeing the path you've created, not followed. It's like the trail left by a boat on a lake. You're not following a path on the lake, but your path can clearly be seen by turning around. You're hopefully headed towards a goal, seen or imagined, on the other side of the lake.

Those of us who've been around long enough can turn around to gaze on our wakes in our watered lake of life. We often do. However, I think those pursuing dreams or life goals should keep their eyes ahead, not behind. Don't worry about the past mistakes, don't get anxious about the future. Spend your time in the present.

You can do this by heading into a practice room, opening a book, spending time in a museum, working out, walking into a new part of town, experimenting with a new food or recipe, listening to music you've never focused on. The list is endless, but your time here is not.

So give yourself some space and time, some short term goals, allow yourself to fail, be confident that you will fail too, and breathe into a smile. I'm going to spend the summer thinking about how to help the flow of creativity in my personal and professional life. And I'm going to BBQ!

Peace!

A 50 Show Wrap-up!

So here I am at the end of a six year run of 50, YES FIFTY!, operas.

Obviously I need to blog about this...

I didn't set out to do this many operas, it was really accidental. I left Florida Grand Opera in July of 2007 for a job running the opera program at McGill University as well as associating myself in the summers with the Janiec Opera Company of Brevard Music Center. I had NO idea I'd be sitting in an art gallery apartment in Fargo, North Dakota blogging about 50 operas six years later after opening a Le Nozze di Figaro (#50) last night.

What in the hell was I thinking?! How did this happen?

It was really easy, actually. I happen to include musicals in this, so for those of you with literal minds -- okay it wasn't 50 OPERAS, but then again I'd argue what's the diff?! The math is simple: 23 shows with Opera McGill (the best program and certainly the most prolific in Canada), 19 shows with Janiec Opera Company, and 8 shows in various cities in the U.S.

The rep? Everything from Monteverdi's Poppea to Musto's Volpone. A few duplicates: two Nozzes, three Bohemes, two Flutes; a bunch of Handel: Imeneo, Agrippina, Alcina (two of those); some one acts; one massive scenes program with orchestra; three semi-staged concerts; a few musicals... Did I direct 50 operas? NO. I either produced, directed, conducted, cast, and/or coached 50 operas.  I actually directed 26 of them and conducted 7 of them. Still, that's a lot. There was a two years period where I was doing practically one opera a month...

Did I have favorites? Absolutely. Read on for my "Best Of" list.

Did I learn ANYTHING from this experience?  Of course.

I learned that the show is as good as the cast on day one. What I mean is that no matter how fantastic the director or conductor is, what makes the show fantastic is a fantastic cast. Casting is EVERYTHING. The rest is facilitating the cast in such a way as to allow them to shine.

I learned that there are super talented singers out there completely clueless about just how talented they are. Really! The majority of the singers I worked with these last six years were, for the most part, extremely talented. Yet only a few really knew deep down that they were talented. So many suffered from a modesty that kept them from truly shining.  Or perhaps it was more that they suffered from a strange disease that compelled them to seek the public spotlight without believing they DESERVED that public spotlight. Only a few singers really stepped up and sang like they knew they could, or knew they SHOULD.

I learned that there are awful people in the opera world who have small minds, no imaginations, hate singers, are massively judgmental, have crazy internal demons that drive them to act non-professionally, are alcoholics on an extreme level, are super narcissistic, and have egos that are massively over-inflated.

I learned that there are extremely gorgeous, lovely, compassionate people in the opera world who go to extremes to support it, love singers, love opera, are crazy smart, have wicked wit that could cause me to laugh so hard I'd come close to peeing myself, and are inspired by the art form and those who live and create within it.

I learned that the most organized director wins. Hands down. Organic Shmanic... Not knowing what you're going to do with a piece, as a director, is total bullshit. The singers know the piece, as does the conductor and pianist. Directors who don't have a plan should be THROWN OUT OF THE REHEARSAL! So should anyone else who doesn't know what they are doing!

I learned that upper administration can make or break a production. If only Dorothy's house could drop on a certain witch...

I digress.

I learned I don't like to travel. Airports and airport security make me nervous. I don't like lines. I don't like getting up at the crack of dawn to make a flight. I do like thoe airport massage kiosks, though!

I learned I like rehearsing more than I like performing. A confession: directors work less than conductors. Directors don't perform. Directors can always blame things on lighting, costumes, props, etc. Conductors get the glory cause they deserve it.

I learned to trust singers who showed courage during rehearsal and who weren't afraid to disagree with me.

I learned that most singers have great ideas in their heads, but seldom share them with others. The successful ones aren't so passive when dealing with conductors or directors.

I learned that assholea sometimes win the day. I do know, however, that assholea don't win in the end cause others eventually figure out that they are assholes. You know who you are...

I learned that friends in this business should be treasured, yet it's hard to treasure them once you've moved on to the next gig.

I learned that the world of opera is teeeeeeeeeeny tiny. Six degrees of separation? More like two degrees.

I learned that I love to work with young singers. Why? Because they evolve dynamically! One day they're a mess, as in they can't sing and walk at the same time. A few weeks later and they're either eating up the stage or winning some major competition.

I learned that repertoire teaches the voice good and bad things, but mostly good.

I learned that most young singers do no sing enough, do not sing with enough passion, and are usually too afraid to make choices about their art. No matter how great the voice, passion can not be taught. Passion can only be nurtured and allowed to shine. Substituting a great teacher's or coach's passion for your own will ultimately leave you sounding hollow. Find your own passion, let it grow, and then share it with others. It'll be better than someone else's.

I learned that negativity brings me down faster than anything else. My own, or someone else's, it matters not. The best experiences were the ones where there was a sense of FUN in the rehearsal room. The best experiences led to the best shows.

I learned to take the art form seriously, but not myself. I can't stress this enough. Too often I see others doing the exact opposite. Taking yourself too seriously disenchants the process of collaboration, which is essential to creating opera.

I learned that  imagination is my secret weapon. Who knew imagination was a rare commodity nowadays?!

I learned that ignoring your family while working in this field is simply too eay to do and the toll is too high. Family first folks...

And finally, I learned I am more Artisanal than Artistic. Craft is essential to creating Art. I think it's the essence of Art, actually. Craft frees an artist to express themselves fully in ways that are unlocked for, unseen, and untouchable. Craft trumps talent. Explore it.

I'm sure I learned other things as well, but the list is already too long!!

So -- drumroll please...

Here's my BEST OF THE 50 LIST!

(Apologies to any who feel I've left them off this list...)

BEST VOCAL MOMENT: 

Philippe Sly as Collatinus in THE RAPE OF LUCRETIA (Opera McGill  2009)

I'll never forget Phil -- as a SOPHOMORE! -- bringing us all to tears at the end as he sang "So brief is beauty". Philippe sings at San Francisco Opera now. A stunning voice and musical soul from day one.

FUNNIEST MOMENT: 

Dave Tinervia as Lesbo in AGRIPPINA (Opera McGill 2009)

Words can not express how I loved seeing Dave appear with a disco ball on his head at the end of Act One.

BEST PRODUCTION: 

La Boheme (Opera McGill 2011)

A terrific double cast in a terrific opera. Audiences loved it, students got to perform one of the great all-time operas. Timeless production.

BEST CAST: 

Camelot (Ash Lawn Opera 2009)

Peter Clark as Arthur, Katherine Pracht as Guenevere, and Christopher Burchett as Lancelot were SIMPLY THE BEST! 

BEST COLLABORATOR: 

Tom Kosis, stage manager (Fargo-Moorhead Opera 2012 & 2013)

Tom works on Broadway and brings a freshness to opera rehearsal that is vitally missing. If you're an opera company in need of a professional, personable, highly efficient stage manager HIRE HIM!

BEST COSTUMES: 

Obviously they'll be Ginette Grenier's. However picking one production is tricky. I think I'm going to go with Don Giovanni (Opera McGill 2012)

BEST SET: 

The Rape of Lucretia by Vincent Lefevre. Pieces of Lucretia's statue used to create each scene surrounded by an architectural scaffold. I loved this set and loved working within it.

MOMENT I WAS MOST PROUD OF: 

The Tai Chi Trees  in Alcina (Opera McGill 2008, then 2011 at Brevard)

Working with Lara Ciekiewicz was a dream. Having 3 freshmen willing to become human trees, learn Tai Chi, and shave their heads for the roles was unlooked for, really. Getting the four of them together to create a memorable moment (sometimes referred to as the Treegasm) during my 1st Handel production in my first year at Opera McGill is something I'll never forget. Interesting side note: both Lara and Melinda sang Alcina (McGill and Brevard productions) and both later spent a summer at Merola.

MOST MEMORABLE MOMENT: 

Impossible to pick one, frankly. The ones that stand out:

Alcina circling a globe of light, both in my imagination and then later onstage.

Killing off all the characters in Imeneo at the end of Act One.

The Lesbo disco ball appearance to end Act One of Aggripina.

Christopher Burchett performing Lancelot's miracle.

Katy and Peter dancing to lift their spirits, also Peter's final monologue as Arthur.

The end of Cosi fan tutte -- "Rėvolution"

Rehearsing Pierot with the amazing Ingrid Schmitmussen (who performed it memorized)

The final performance of Lucretia -- David, Aidan, Lili, Nicholas, Philippe, Taylor, Alexandra, Margot -- seeing them give their all.

Emma shooting up as Nerone while singing "Come nube"

Volpone's turntable magic

The Magic Flute, ala Steampunk, umbrella scenes

The Albert Herring Threnody, with umbrellas

Jill Gardner's Musetta at Kennedy Center when she threw her martini (onstage) into the waiter's face. That waiter was me.

Anything I'd do differently?

Absolutely! Not saying what though!

I do look forward to another 50 shows in my future. However, I think it should take ten years, not six. I do know that I've got four shows lined up plus a huge scenes program for next season and that seems just perfect.

Thanks to one and all for anything you've ever done to help me be successful. The biggest thanks has to go to my wife, Elizabeth. She's the talented member of our family, keeps me sane, and inspires me everyday. 

Now off to hear the final performance of Figaro in Fargo!

Quick Top Ten List

Greetings from Fargo, North Dakota, where I am directing my all-time favorite opera: Mozart's "Le Nozze di Figaro"!

It's been over three months since my last blog -- apologies all around. Life just got very, very busy... 

Opera McGill produced two hugely successful productions during the last three months. In January we produced the Canadian premiere of John Musto's "Volpone" in a stunningly beautiful production. Then, in late March, we produced Mozart's Die Zauberflöte in another gorgeous production. I directed both and enjoyed the processes immensely! The casts of students were superb, the designs were terrific, and the operatic collaborations involved were quite fulfilling. 

I wrote the following late last night, after a long day of Nozze rehearsal. I thought it was an interesting look at my vocal values. I hope some readers will enjoy it and if you're not aware of the recordings mentioned, go and google them!

Ive been thinking about what voices still sit in my head and sing, communicating music and text in such a vivid way that my ideal of what sung sound should be becomes altered forever. The following list is not finite, nor researched very well. The list represents who I am in an opera rehearsal, I can reference pop music as well as opera or musical theatre. The human voice has the capacity to encompass the whole world, as should great singing. Those who think otherwise, or think that great singing is just one type of technique used in just one type of musical genre, had best not read the list!

Top ten best solo vocal moments recorded  in the 20th century, according to me:

10) Judy Garland: "Somewhere Over The Rainbow"

Much of what I hold up as important in communicating music and text is displayed effortlessly by Ms Garland in The Wizard of Oz

9) Luciano Pavarotti: "Nessun dorma"

A thrilling rendition given by a simply golden voice, in the 3 Tenors CD. Simply radiant, effortless!

8) Birgit Nilsson: "Salome"

Listening to this recording is like being dragged down a rocky mountain by your hair. You end up bloody, but alive, and every sensation in your body is on fire!

7) Jennifer Holiday: "And I am telling you" from Dreamgirls

Unbelievable belting, vocal trauma and fry, all put to use to create an unforgettable vocal image of an emotionally charged woman. One of the best vocal slides recorded.

6) Ewa Cassidy: "Fields of Gold"

Recorded a few weeks before her death, you'd think that this was the original, not Sting's. A smooth, silky, heart-wrenching, honest voice taken from the world way too early.

5) Franco Corelli: End of Act One of "Turandot"

I prefer the recording done live in Rome, but the recording with Birgit is pretty flawless. This was THE tenor of the 20th century! No one else sang with so much bow on the string, so much virility in his burnished, bronzed timbre that rang and rang. Corelli holding that big high note at the end, right before he banged the gong, is operatic theatre at its best!

4) Barbara Streisand: "Don't Rain On My Parade"

Best vocal 'mix' of all-time. Simply stunning use of consonants and text to create her vivid, emotional thrust in this song that propels the listener right to the end.

3) Joan Sutherland: "Casta diva"

Perfect bel canto style in the perfect bel canto aria by the best bel canto composer.

2) Ted Neely: Garden of Gethsemane from "Jesus Christ Superstar" (movie)

Where this guy goes with his voice is off the human scale, as far as rock belting a character's text goes. Gives his entire voice, every last shred of his vocal folds, to the service of this musical, dramatic, and vocal scene!

1) Mirella Freni: "Deh vieni non tardar" from Le Nozze di Figaro

The Solti recording, with Norman and others, is not a great Figaro recording, but Freni reached recorded PERFECTION in this recitative and aria. Mozart perfection blended with vocal beauty, but most importantly, perfect use of text in music.

Care to disagree? Tell me who I left off? Remember, it's a top ten, not a top hundred...