Opera is all about details. We practice and polish and hone and obsess, sometimes to the point where we forget what all those details are in service of: performing. All of it is so that when we get up on that stage we have the tools to really, truly, make the art as we want it to be. We so desperately want to share and communicate with the people watching on a primal level, and working towards perfection allows us to communicate more easily and deeply.
Last Saturday I was able to do that thing where you make a roomful of people forget to breathe and wait to clap. Where they're still with you as the last chord fades and they need to sit with you for an extra few seconds while you hold the final energy of your aria. Honestly, that's the moment I live for in opera. It was exactly what I was aiming for with that particular piece, so even though I didn't advance in the competition I was singing for, I'm proud of myself. I didn't sing perfectly, but I took the audience somewhere else. I performed. That's what it's about. That's why I do this. To make people feel, to make them empathize. Not sympathize; empathize. To help them immerse so deeply their neurons line up with mine and they feel with me. I forget what I'm about sometimes when I get caught up in the day-to-day of making specialized throat noises, but that was not one of those days. I lost, but I won.
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"Opera is sexy!" I remember the time this innocent tweet from a music community tweep sparked a long, lively conversation between me and another tweep. His problem was that people always say that in an attempt to give opera broader appeal and reel in new audience members. He argued that not everything needs to be sexy, that opera can stand on its other merits, that "sexy" doesn't have to come into play. He's right. For example, The Met's ad campaign from last year clearly utilizes the sex appeal of the international stars gracing its stage, with Anna Netrebko in the throes of ecstasy, Diana Damrau and Vittorio Grigolo entwined atop silk sheets, and Elina Garanca giving us her best 90s Leonardo DiCaprio, one hand seductively stroking Renee Fleming's hair. This is only the latest in a string of aesthetics-based choices at The Met. Then we have those regie European productions, where nudity is practically de rigeur. Gratuitous nudity is in vogue, for example the shower scene in Glyndebourne's Der Rosenkavalier.
So, yes, not everything needs to be sexy and this trend towards hyper-sexualization is not doing the art form any favors. He's right. He's also wrong. Opera IS sexy. It's intrinsically sexy, for so many reasons. The stories are emotionally charged and sparks constantly fly between lovers. They deal with seduction, revenge, sex, and passionate love. The music is intoxicating and sweeps through the fourth wall to envelop and arouse the audience. Singing opera can be arousing. Opera is a safe space to explore and experience the many facets of desire. Opera doesn't need to be sexy. It just is. Let's get this out of the way: I did not get into either Curtis or the Academy of Vocal Arts. I did not even make it to the final round of live auditions for either school.
Ouch. That felt like an emotional band-aid. It hurts my pride to put that on the internet. It makes me ashamed. It makes me feel like I've let down all the people who have invested energy, expertise, and love in me, starting with my mother and continuing through my teachers and friends. I feel like I have misrepresented them. For me, that is the worst part of any letdown. Anything less than brilliant success feels like it reflects badly on those who have encouraged me to shine. That said, I actually did close to my best in both auditions. My Curtis audition was fine. I got a massive adrenaline rush as I walked into the audition. I was literally shaking the whole time, which was incredibly annoying because it mostly affected my hands. So I probably looked terrified, whereas I only felt a little bit nervous. The panel was Mikael Eliasen (head of the opera program) and four students. I began with "Faites-lui mes aveux" from Faust, which went well enough. I sang and acted well. I moved around more than I would have liked, but it was all grounded in intentions and emotions. Then I had a little water. They had a little table with a pitcher of water and little cups on the stage, which was nice of them because the air was very dry. Maybe that was the wrong choice. Maybe they were judging whether you could make it through without water. Hmm, I didn't think of that at the time. Well, definitely too late to choose differently. Then they asked for "Svegliatevi nel core" from Giulio Cesare. I did a pretty good job with that one as well. They didn't talk to me or ask for anything further, so I thanked everyone and walked out, sharing a small smile with Mr. Eliasen on the way. Overall, the audition was good. Not my best ever, but definitely a solid try. I am proud of my AVA audition. And I am NEVER proud of an audition. My usual gauge for auditions is, "did I crash and burn and/or sound terrible? No? SUCCESS." This audition demolished that system. I really, truly did my best. I felt calm and energized, my voice was responsive and free, I was grounded and relaxed in my body, my breath was flowing nicely, I acted, and, most importantly, I performed. I was even able to incorporate some of what I learned in an exciting and wonderful lesson that I had the day before with the incredible William Stone. I only sang "Faites-lui," but I did my absolute best with it. The pianist started faster than I wanted to go, so I just slowed him down by singing in the tempo I wanted when I came in. No fuss, no muss; I wasn't even fazed. I'm really proud of that. When I confidently walked in for the audition, they asked me about my name, so I told them the ethnic origins of both parts. I was funny, but I didn't babble. I have a tendency to babble when I talk in auditions, so being succinct but interesting was a real triumph for me. After I sang, I thanked the pianist and the four faculty of the panel, then wished them an excellent day with a smile as I walked out. I represented myself to the best of my ability in that audition. In conclusion, although I did not get into either program, I did my best, learned a lot, and got more experience doing high-stress auditions. I would call this experience a successful failure. I can't wait to fail better in the future. The good news first: I am invited to audition for Peabody! Yay! Super stoked to have an audition locked in!
The bad news: I have already had my first anxiety dream. Last night I had a long, involved, disastrous dream. I went to Peabody for my audition and I pretty much had no idea where I was supposed to be or when I was supposed to be there. I somehow ended up in an impromptu masterclass for the auditionees. Which is pretty stupid, because it wasn't even a well-organized one. Then I had a nagging feeling that I should start heading to my audition. It was 3:03. I thought my audition was at 3:30, so I double-checked. Nope. 3:00. So I race downstairs (I'm pretty sure my sleep-brain thinks Peabody is in a castle mixed with a cathedral. It sort of looked like Hogwarts.) and into this huge room. There are a bunch of people just wrapping up a theory placement test, and the proctors look at me pityingly and say I missed the whole thing. I realized while racing down the stairs that I have no idea where my audition is, so I just follow everyone else out of the room, and luckily we all go to the audition room. So I hang out, waiting to be called in, but everyone else goes first. I finally approach a guy on the audition panel and timidly ask whether I'm next. He's all like, "oh yeahhh!" He also looks at my pityingly. He sits down at a rickety upright (no one else on the panel stuck around; they all left) and I start to sing Orlovsky's Aria from Die Fledermaus. About 10 seconds in, people start making a lot of noise in the next room. And playing ragtime on the piano in that room. Which is in a different key that clashes absolutely horribly with D-flat Major. I keep singing, desperately trying to hear my piano over the din in the next room. I finish the piece, remarkably still in the correct key, and know I blew my audition. Then I woke up. Now please excuse me while I get all the information I can and plan for my audition. 2 more schools to hear from:
I hide my feelings, just like everyone else. I also hide them from myself, again like many people. Unlike most people, I am uncomfortable hiding them from myself. I need them for my work. Hiding the negatives also prevents me from accessing the positives. So although I wish I could comfortably ignore my negative feelings, I actively unearth them.
I found two of my hiding spots.
Now I can work on releasing those muscles and emotions, thereby freeing my singing (technically and emotionally) and my acting. I bet I hide my anger in my trapezius, so that will be my next investigation. Olly olly oxen free! |
AuthorMaayan is a Manhattan-based opera singer. Archives
January 2019
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