Community in Opera

Community:

"a unified body of individuals" 

or 

"an interacting population with common interests, goals, history, or culture"
 - Webster's online dictionary

Opera companies, summer programs, young artist training programs, and practically every guesting gig in opera share what I'd call the "idea of community". From disparate parts of the globe, varied people with different specialties come together for a brief period of time to unify, interact, and collaborate to create an opera production.  They become a community, and oftentimes a community that feels like a family. Yet these are temporary communities for the most part. They energetically come together, rehearse intensely, oftentimes sharing deep secrets, memories, or emotions, perform as one, and then disappear literally overnight. Temporarily a close-knit and vital community. (Cue Cher: "Everything is temporary!")

Some opera companies, perhaps a few too many, are dysfunctional families filled with verbally abusive parental figures, Maestro Dad and Director Mom, arguing with their more moneyed relatives, Uncle Arts Director and Aunt Exec Director, while trying to cajole their adult children to do what they want, when they want it, and exactly how they'd like it.

Okay, not the best metaphor perhaps.

But the land of opera is one filled with communities and it's such a wondrous moment when you come into contact with a real, honest-to-god community of people who are actually there for each other, return year after year (summer festival music staffs, for instance), and seem to actually want to collaborate in such a way that has nothing to do with their own agendas but everything to do with the common purpose at hand; artistic vision meets artistic excellence for the greater good.

I've experienced this just a few times in my 30+ years in the business.

The first was at Des Moines Metro Opera (DMMO) in the mid 1980s. Back then it was a 1+ million dollar opera company nestled on the campus of Simpson College in Indianola, Iowa putting on eclectic seasons performed in repertory fashion. There was a synergy among the music and directing staff, many who returned year after year (brilliant people like Reed Woodhouse, Buck Ross, William Farlow, and Stewart Robertson) to coach, prepare, and assist the apprentices as well as the guest artists who were all brought together by the founders Robert Larsen and Doug Duncan. Guests returned year after year and sang multiple roles. Amazing artists like Lauren Flanigan (the greatest Curly's Wife ever, the funniest Clorinda ever, the most vivid Musetta), Evelyn de la Rosa "diva Delarosa" (so many, many coloratura roles), Carroll Freeman (great with Rossini tenor roles), Anne Larson (the "local" character mezzo who sang circles around everyone else - her Bertha and her Thisbe, not to mention her Quickly, still sit in my mind as the definitive versions of those roles), along with the spectacular Nova Thomas (the greatest "Donde lieta" I'll ever hear) returned year after year to Indianola to make memorable music in the middle of Iowa. The middle of Iowa, not even in Des Moines, (in Indianowhere as we used to call it!) Why? Was it Robert? Was it singing in that unique theatre? It certainly couldn't have been the artist fees or the high heat and humidity.

I think that there was a palpable sense of community, of family, that was created by the chemistry of the artists, the artistic staff, Stewart, Doug and Robert. It was a unique group of people, from all over the U.S. (and Glasgow in Stewart's case). This community was disassembled during the years following Doug's untimely death in 1988. I was there from the summer of 1984 thru to 1988, then returned in 1990 and again in the mid 90s. People left, things changed, the community changed and grew apart, as is natural. I had started there behind the lobby bar, moving pianos and Xerox machines, taking notes for RLL at his feet in the pit, and later moved on appearing onstage in my first professional role, Turandot's father, Emperor Altoum, being a rehearsal pianist for shows like Boris Godunov and conducting a performance of Albert Herring (my one and only time in that glorious pit!) DMMO was my first operatic family and its community was my operatic Midwestern small "home" town where I got the chance to grow up, immersed in opera.

Stewart went off to Glimmerglass and made a conscious effort during his twenty years there as Music Director to create his own unique community. I was lucky to be a part of it for many seasons. There was a core music staff that returned year after year. Unbelievably talented pianists, coaches, administrative interns, and assistant conductors and directors flourished next to Lake Otsego. I think many, especially the young artist returnees, felt a special quality to the Glimmerglass community sequestered each summer in upstate New York. A combination of rehearsing in un-air-conditioned venues, sitting in intense heat listening to recitals in Cherry Valley, freezing our arses off during late night piano dress rehearsals in the theatre, and eating Alex&Ika's duck curry all added up to creating an experience one had to embrace fully, or resent each day otherwise. Years of knowing our colleagues really helped when the goings got tough, the schedules got tougher, or the singers needed help or advice for successfully navigating a long and challenging summer. Some of my fondest memories are of the YAAP recitals played by the likes of Timothy Hoekmann (certainly one of the greatest collaborative pianists of his generation), Mark Trawka, Laurann Gilley, David Moody, or the legendary Dan Saunders.

After I left Glimmerglass, I worked many places and found myself in various other communities, some quite enriching, some challenging, some supportive, and others totally alien to my way of thinking.

The Opera McGill community has a flow in and out of it because of the students starting their studies and then, inevitably, graduating and moving on, but the core stays - the coaches, voice instructors, and especially the Opera McGill designers. Vincent Lefevre, his wife Ginette Grenier and I have designed almost 50 operas together in ten years. That's an amazing amount of opera to do together! Our community is tight and their artistic expression and mine weave in and out of each other like a beautiful tapestry.

And then last month I spent three weeks in Toronto for Opera5's immersive, unique, bizarre, deafening, manic, wondrous, crazed, yet brilliant Die Fledermaus in an, I'll be honest, ugly venue (918 Bathurst) conducting the best pick-up orchestra I've ever had the pleasure of making music with (more on that later) with a cast and chorus who gave one of the most spirited and alive performances I've ever been a part of recently.

The cast and production team came from all over - Ireland, Vancouver, Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, Newfoundland, and even the U.S. - many of whom didn't know each other well. However, the core group knew each other very well. The artistic vision of Opera5 is led by Aria Umezawa. The general director is Rachel Krehm. Both went to McGill and after graduation, returned to Toronto where they, and three others, founded Opera5 (one of a dozen or so "independent opera" companies in the GTA). Opera5 put themselves on the map with the creation of their tongue-in-cheek "Opera Cheats" YouTube video series. These hilarious videos have had over 100,000 combined views and major opera companies now link to them. If you haven't seen one, I urge you to click here and check them out. Here's the link to their recent Hoffmann video: OperaCheat for Hoffmann

Come to find out, in addition to creating unique opera productions in the GTA and those Opera Cheats, what their real genius seems to be is assembling and nurturing fantastic communities of people. It's a rare gift, fyi, as the ability to put people together and get them to really feel like an "interacting population with common interests, goals, history or culture" is one of THE most important elements to running any successful opera company. Casting is important, yes, but if that cast doesn't jive with themselves or with members of the production team, there's little one can do but get through the performances while gritting your teeth.

But Opera5's community is different than any I've been seen before. It is quite youthful, almost obliviously naive as to how opera usually gets done. An energy that's very Buffy the Vampire Slayer: irreverence played up against the stolid traditions of O.P.E.R.A. It was a breath of fresh air for me, even though I felt like the odd man out - namely because I was twenty years older than anyone else in the room!

I admit that I was put off by so much right off the bat (excuse the pun). For instance, it drove me crazy that everyone congregated around the rehearsal table before, during, and after rehearsals. For those who might not know, the rehearsal table is a place for the director and their production team to gather, watch rehearsals, and work from in order to create with the cast. It's where we put our stuff and where we sit in judgment. It's certainly not a place to constantly socialize. However, Opera5's rehearsal table was a place where everyone - team, chorus members, cast - congregated (on both sides of the table!) to sit, watch, eat, and talk. It drove me crazy.

Yet it was a place that obviously helped build this Fledermaus community. People brought in shared meals, treats, and snacks. Everyone was equal there; there seemed no false hierarchy (director, then AD, then PSM, then ASMs, then others like designers and interns) at the table with lowly singers put into the corners of the room in chairs by themselves. It allowed everyone to be on equal footing and that allowed everyone to be free to create.

This Fledermaus was truly a collaborative effort, particularly because Aria left for the Merola program before the show moved to the venue. The chorus was asked to improv their way through interactions with audience members and they really were responsible for making those interactions come to life. The dialogue was initially rendered by Aria, but over the course of rehearsals everyone had a part in cutting, reworking, or rewriting the book. They were all so comfortable with each other that by the time the orchestra was added, spontaneous ideas flowed between everyone. Now I'm not saying that this does not happen other places, I've certainly witnessed fantastic collaborative efforts before, but I think this flow was different. It was much more egalitarian, much less controlled, much less judged, much more millennial, in the best sense of that word. If one can aim a criticism at Millennials it is that they think all opinions are valid (except anything that seems un-PC, which lately seems to be about everything, mind you), but for the most part ideas were tried out and allowed to fail, or to succeed, or to wither and then evolve. The orchestra and I, on a whim, even added a drunken waltz at the top of Act 3 to underscore Frank's drunken entrance. I conducted drunk and they played drunk. It was hysterical.

Here's a pic taken during that moment (yes, by an orchestra member):

The orchestra - another great example of positive community building! Amazing players (most from either Kingston Symphony or Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony) who played with terrific musicality and were remarkably together, considering the venue's acoustics and placement of the singers (mostly behind me). They played with an energy that was also very generous and giving. For instance, when the audience got too loud on our closing night, the orchestra just started to play louder so that the singers could hear the music, something that many other orchestras (especially pickup orchestras) might not have cared to do.

Not caring is a disease running rampant in our business (especially among singers, orchestral players, and administrators). I think an antidote to this problem can be found in community building.

For you see, many of the singers and players had already taken part in previous productions for Opera5 and so they had previously invested their time and energy into the company and the audiences. They understood the company's goals and artistic vision. For instance, when the orchestra was asked to dress in anything other than traditional black, they showed up in purple wigs, feather boas, tropical shirts, and tiaras. 

It goes without saying that when you are surrounded by people who are enjoying themselves while they are making music, the music that is made can be incredibly satisfying.

And that's what building a community of people gets you in opera.

So my advice to all is to surround yourself with positive and talented people who are interested in creating something together and then - here's the biggest part - invite them back again and again and again. Obviously not everyone all the time (that'd be impossible), but what's wrong with having the feeling of a "rep" company? It works for summer stock festivals. It worked for Arthur Freed making musicals at MGM in the 40s and 50s. It worked for Steve Jobs at Apple. It worked for Handel, Mozart, Rossini, Bellini and Donizetti, composers who loved writing many different roles for the same singers.

Why do some opera companies constantly hire different singers year after year? I think it's because they mistake novelty with marketing excitement. I'd argue there's a point to putting the same singer on the same stage year after year: audiences like to feel that they too are part of a community. Enjoying a singer's artistry in different productions from season to season is a very easy way to connect audience members with the company's sense of community. It literally builds an audience.

If there's anything we know in opera, it is that it most undoubtedly takes a village! So find a village, even if that means volunteering at first, or singing in the chorus, or being an ASM. Or take from Aria's and Rachel's handbook and build one yourself. Think not about what operas you'd put on, or who you'd cast, or where you'd perform. Instead, think about what sort of people you want at your table. Start there.

And bring roasted chicken or cookies or both.

Givers and Takers

This past Friday to Sunday was a huge weekend.
Just the facts first, then the good stuff:
Friday 3:45am - I awoke and got the the Wichita airport to fly to DC
Friday later that morning - The Royal Wedding was watched by billions
Friday later that afternoon - Staging Die Drei Pintos in a private home with a concert hall
Friday 7pm - Wichita Grand Opera's production of my "La Fille du Regiment" opens
Saturday - The Washington Chorus' Dress Rehearsal of "Mostly Mahler" at the Kennedy Center
Saturday night - Correspondent's Dinner where Trump got roasted by Pres. Obama and Seth Meyers!
Sunday morning - PJH walks all around DC and ends at Smithsonian gift shop buying gifts
Sunday afternoon - "Regiment" matinee in Wichita & "Mostly Mahler" in DC
Sunday evening - party and after dinner w/ Wachner, Meara Conway, and VERY interesting patrons
Sunday 11ish - Obama gets Osama
Sunday after midnight (okay, that's Monday) - I head six blocks from my hotel to catch the tens of thousands gathering at the White House to celebrate (yes, I use that word on purpose and agree with the sentiment for any occasion marking a mass murderer's death.)

BIG Weekend, anyway you look at it!
However, why title this blog "Givers and Takers"?

Mostly because I spent the last weekend in DC with an organization that I would describe as being run by Givers, after leaving an organization in Kansas run by Takers. I wanted to write about the difference between the two.

I've worked in this "business" for over 25 years now. There are many ways to look at people. One is that there are two kinds of people and then compare and contrast. One such configuration might be "Correct" and "Effective". That's another blog...
Today's blog is on two other kinds of people: GIVERS and TAKERS.

A listing of the outstanding GIVERS in my live:
Berniel Hanson, my piano teacher who gave me Beethoven, Bach, Brahms, Chopin & Ravel
Robert Larsen, my musical father who gave me my musical education
R. H. Fanders, the man who gave me Humanism
Joanne Baker, a sweetheart of a piano teacher, who gave me confidence and my memory
Marlena Malas, a great voice teacher and woman, who gave me open doors
Hal France, a conductor, who walked me through an open door
Christopher Keene, who gave me a great compliment during the longest rehearsal of my life
Donald Palumbo, who gave me opera, a work ethic, and Verdi
Michael Ching, who gave me my professional conducting debut
Norma and Alistar Paton, who gave my wife and I a home and amazing food in Tulsa
Allan Naplan, who helped give me Ithaca and subsequently my first son
Stewart Robertson, who gave me Glimmerglass
Karen Tiller, who gave me a Bluebeard's Castle and subsequently my second son
Nicholas Russell, who gave me (and continues to give others) loyalty
My Ithaca students, who gave me the joy of teaching and reinvigorated my joy of musical theatre
Andrew Bisantz, who gave me friendship during dark times
David Gately, who gave my family the joyous mountains of North Carolina
Meg, Lara, Aidan, and Philippe who awarded me Excellence in Teaching - my proudest achievement
My McGill students, who continue to give me challenges and allow my artistic freedom to blossom
My McGill colleagues who enthusiastically embrace my craziness: Julian, Hank, and Abe, et al
And of course, my family, who give me constant love

A short and abstract listing of TAKERS I've met:
The bitchy NYC coaches at DMMO in the mid 1980s, who tried to take my pride in my mentor
A fat, yet small-minded assistant conductor of a Boris, who told me I played without rhythm
A crazed pianist at The Juilliard School who tried to make me feel small and unimportant
A certain famous stage director who tried to take my confidence, but took others' instead
A general director who took from everyone and blamed everyone for his 1 million dollar deficit
Small minded folks who hold what they know close to themselves and forget to share it
Bureaucrats who take people's precious time in order to fill out forms in order to get forms

That frenzied couple in tornado alley, who I've seen fill young singers' heads with promises of things to come in order to use their time and talents; who point out everyone's short comings and blame everyone around them for any and all problems, instead of working to solve said problems.

But especially, there was that very special Urantian Taker who seemed to be such a Giver until, almost too late, I realized he was the opposite of Good (as Sondheim put it "Nice is different than Good!)

As a good friend once said: "Some people never realize that the reason they seem so ugly on the outside is because they are so ugly on the inside."

I've developed a "Taker Radar" over the years, and feel that I'm usually correct 9 times out of 10. It's something about a person's inability to smile beyond the first smile they put on; coupled with the second sentence out of their mouth usually being something along the lines of "You know, so and so doesn't know what they're doing, but I do".

Nice is SO different than Good. I know that now. It's a valuable thing to know, fyi.

Rockin' Imeneo

Opera McGill's production of Imeneo closed Sunday March 27th. It was a terrific production, one that I'm extremely proud to have directed. The student casts were remarkable, Hank Knox and his orchestra gave inspired performances from the pit, Ginette's costumes were oh-so lovely, Vincent's sets (taken from Alcina and Lucretia productions) were just exactly perfect, and Serge's lighting connected it all together, even Gingras loved the show:

http://www.cyberpresse.ca/arts/musique/musique-classique/201103/26/01-4383458-imeneo-de-handel-une-reussite.php

We had terrific ticket sales for Friday and Saturday nights - lots of patrons, new audience members, and students. Our matinee on Sunday didn't sell as well as I'd hoped. I was also disappointed in the student turnout - which seems to always be less than what one might expect for many Schulich concerts and events. I don't get that.

At all.

I would think that if someone was spending money on an education in music that they would not be content to just see one performance, they would want to see them all. I certainly did when I was in school. I went to every recital (that was required at Simpson) and every concert given by the ensembles and faculty. I was a piano major who gave two one hour recitals (both would've been considered masters level literature here), played over two dozen other senior voice recitals for fellow voice students, sang in the madrigal and choir (and did the requisite tours), plus played in, sang in, worked set crew, and occassionally danced in 10 productions during my undergrad years. When I was done, I was REALLY educated in music. I had played all the major song cycles by Schumann, Britten and Barber in recitals, had competed in piano concerto competitions, placed third in NATS as a baritone, worked 4 summers at Des Moines Metro Opera, and ended my years at Simpson making my professional operatic singing debut as the Emperor Altoum in DMMO's 1988 production of Turandot.

I also partied as a frat boy (Kappa Theta Psi - oldest local fraternity west of the Mississippi), met and dated my future wife, spent endless days hanging with friends, read the complete works of Shakespeare for a class I took for fun, reveled in a history of the culinary arts mini-course, played hundreds of voice lessons for three great voice teachers (for FREE), and graduated with honors.

Occasionally I get the "you're so talented" or "you're just brilliant" remark, or worse yet the "you're an overachiever". Actually not, I was educated in music during my undergrad years to be a total musician, not a specialist. Yes, my languages sucked (and still do) and some of those recitals were not the best, but I performed music that I loved, listened to music that I did not know, and grew a thousand fold as a singer, pianist, conductor, coach, and person.

I got my 10,000 hours in during my bachelors degree. That's why I'm a success today. Get out there and EXPERIENCE and LEARN and WORK HARD 'cause before you know it, the time is gone.

Oh, and I also learned to pour great drinks while tending bar at faculty receptions! It's an important skill that comes in handy to this day!

I'll get off my soap box now... It's time to stage some Donizetti for Wichita Grand Opera!