Sing or Swim

Another Commencement Speech (just what the world needs)

2011-05-27T02:03:00.005-04:00

In honor of graduation season, I'm posting my speech from last year's commencement ceremony at the Aaron Copland School of Music. I think I may be well on my way to becoming the next Garrison Keillor. Ahhh, if only...

Crossing the Line

2010-08-20T20:03:00.008-04:00

I've grown to love Ocean Grove this summer. It's the beautiful little town right next to Asbury Park, New Jersey. The two face off against each other with the aptly named Wesley Lake to separate them. Ocean Grove has a somewhat earned reputation as a bastion of Methodist piety with a beach front view, Asbury Park a decaying rock and roll town by the sea. Neither is completely true. As is often the case with apparent opposites, the towns share a common past and present, and it seems that each has come to respect the truer nature of its seemingly antithetical neighbor.

The two images above are both of the Great Auditorium in Ocean Grove. It's one of those near fantastical creations that can only exist near the ocean. It's a 7,000 seat hall that musters the intimacy to feel only slightly larger than a country church. It is equipped with acoustics designed to allow a revival preacher to speak for hours on end unamplified, a blessing for any musician playing on its stage. The aroma is at the same time both liturgical and carnival, a result of over a hundred years of sun toasted wood. There is a mischievously ambivalent spirit about the hall; I'm not sure whether it inspires meditation or merry making. Or better yet, it obscures the line between the two. One of the main features of the hall is its Hope Jones organ. The organ is one of those instruments that effortlessly inhabits the world of the sacred and the secular, a creation equally at home in a cathedral, a ballpark, an amateur player's living room, or a circus tent.

The organ is a perfect departure point in a discussion of where musica divina ends and musica mundana begins. It's virtually impossible, and frankly impractical, to find a clean division between the two. The ecclesiastical vernacular is inexorably linked with both the theatrical and the political, making it a most worldly language. And that's where history, spirituality and music making make their most profound intersection. Consider the cantata master of the eighteenth century, J.S. Bach. The politically charged devotion of unadorned German protestantism finds its way into each of his 224 cantatas. The compositional genius of Bach would be there regardless of his nationality, but there is a succinct sense of time, place and culture in everything he wrote, especially his sacred music.

Today those works are performed in both sacred and secular spaces, sometimes with the liturgical intent for which they were created, and sometimes merely for the audience to enjoy the Baroque master's works. Some of the cantatas have even been staged theatrically, such as Peter Sellers's June 2005 staging of No. 82 "Ich habe genung" with Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, or Jonathan Miller's re-imagining of the St. Matthew's Passion at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. These productions highlight the innate theatricality that animates Bach's music and break down the division between what belongs to the stage, and what belongs in the church.

I once saw a performance of a Morales mass beautifully sung and executed, but I walked away from it wishing there had been more drama. I've been thinking a lot about what that means in the context of sacred music. This is very theatrical music. To deny that would be to deprive the audience, and the performers, of a more expressive performance. And I will continue to think of the Great Auditorium in Ocean Grove. Not only is it home to the weekly Sunday service, but the Beach Boys played there this summer, too. Talk about blurring the line...

Sense and Sensibility, Baroque Style

2010-08-10T15:00:00.003-04:00

I'm listening to the album Il Zazzerino. Il Zazzerino was the nickname of Jacopo Peri, the dapperly dressed fellow in the illustration above. This music drips with sensuousness, full of seductive images born out of lost love, tears and sighs. Peri's deeply expressive articulation touches every word and every note. Delicate chromaticism shades the most agonizing moments, always stylish even in desperation. I often think that there is no music as moving as the monodies of the early seventeenth century. They are properly polished jewels of grace, charm and nuance.

I was fortunate enough to spend some time with Ellen Hargis, the voice behind Il Zazzerino, during the Baroque Opera Workshop at Queens College this past June. It was a joy to watch Ms. Hargis demystify the full artistic potential and drama inherent in the seeming simplicity of these early monodies. Each song is a playful power struggle between strong and weak, accented and unaccented, consonance and dissonance. The one interpretively-charged word that seemed to present itself most frequently in the explication of this repertoire was architecture. There are load bearing notes, and there are decorative ones. There are words which are great support columns, and there are others which merely embellish those columns. Fully realizing those differences is the key to bringing this material emphatically alive.

In a lecture given during the workshop, conductor Gary Thor Wedow said, "Performers need to recognize in the music which notes are structural and which are ornamental." In yet another architectural reference, continuo leader Christa Patton noted that Baroque ornamentation was reliant on the realities of ecclesiastical architecture in the late Renaissance and Baroque church. There was a direct acoustical consideration in the choice of ornament as to how it harmonically dispersed throughout the space.

Carolus Borromeus Church in Antwerp

Looking over my notes from the workshop, the one phrase I wrote down again and again is "strong and weak; invest energy in the strong syllables so the weak syllables fall off." This material asks the singer to acknowledge what the rhetorical and musical gesture is suggesting, synthesizing it with the architecture of syllabic and rhythmic inequality. I'm not really sure what that means, but it sounds doctoral candidate worthy. So enough of the fancy words, the work gets down to this: understanding the organic flow of the words in the musical context of early seventeenth century monody is the task of any would-be interpreter. It's not an easy job, but when the alchemy comes together, it shines most brightly.

Master of What?

2010-05-19T18:17:00.012-04:00

In the weeks leading up to graduation, my friends asked me, "What sort of degree are you getting?" I'd tell them, "a Master of Arts degree." And they say, "Oh, that's great. What does that do?" And I replied hesitantly, "Well, I'm not sure, but I'll tell you as soon as I find out." Considering that I've spent the better part of the past two years concentrating my efforts on activities that led to this degree, perhaps now would be a good time to know exactly why I did it? So I've been thinking hard about the answer to that question. What does this degree mean?

In this world that is in such terrible need of good works and kindness, how does getting this degree make the world a better place? The Queens College motto is "We learn so that we may serve," but I'm not sure how I'm working in the service of others. But then I am gently reminded of all the things music does for us. And I hope this doesn't sound trite, because I really believe it's true. Making music, at its most fundamental level, lets us be part of something bigger than ourselves. It gives us the opportunity to make contact with these ephemeral moments of beauty that would otherwise pass by unnoticed. It consoles us when we need to be consoled.

And I cannot help but reference the Mozart Requiem performed by the combined choirs and orchestra earlier this month. I think of the terrible despair that haunted Mozart when he wrote the Requiem, so near to his death. It is astounding that out of that great desperation came a shining monument to beauty that endures as one of the most sublime achievements in the choral literature.

Now we can't all aspire to that kind of greatness, but I am nevertheless encouraged to play my part, no matter how small, in the far reaching and unimaginably diverse community of musicians committed to make the world just a little more beautiful than it was before. What does this degree have to do with that? Well, my studies at Queens College have indelibly shaped who I am and what I believe as a musician. And while that may not change the world, it certainly has changed me for the better. And that seems as good a place as any to start.

In bocca al lupo

Riding the Learning Curve (Without Wiping Out)

2010-04-21T23:31:00.012-04:00

As a gift for my recital in April, I got my first Buddha. A more appropriate gift I could not imagine. If there is one bit of knowledge I bring away from that recital, it is the message that sits at the center of my understanding of mindfulness: be fully present in the moment you've been given. Thinking too far ahead is a dangerous game. More accurately, forgetting about the present moment out of anxiety about the future is a dangerous game.

This moment, the one right here, no matter how it comes, stay there.

But what about the next moment, you ask. What about the high note coming up? What about the long phrase in the next song? What about the next 25 minutes of Liederkreis that you have to endure while your mouth is slowly becoming more like the Sahara than a resonance cavity? Good questions. One answer: stick to the present moment.

There are about a million other tricks I ended up pulling out of my improvisatory hat, like my new favorite one that involves doing the da capo part of a Handel aria much softer if you're running out of steam. It sounds like an artistic choice, but it has a very technically necessary foundation. Or maybe it sounds like you're cheating. But at least a choice is made, in the moment, based on the facts at hand.

Regardless, I think I made some headway in turning off that internal editor and just allowing music to happen. At the end of the day, I survived, and I may have learned something. Learning while doing is a tricky thing: the potential for the giant wipe out is always there. During the first set, I gave a little too much and ran out of steam for the last Handel, which is where the real negotiations began. It was kind of like getting a new car. I always pay too much, but I drive out of that lot with a brand new car. And there are often curse words muttered. Yep, it's exactly like getting a new car.

Three Arias from Tamerlano

In bocca al lup0

Breathe In, Breathe Out: What Could Be Easier?

2009-08-19T18:59:00.008-04:00

Really, what is more natural than breathing? Why should we spend so much time thinking about it? It's the first thing we did when we came into this world, it's the last thing we'll do when we leave. So why in the world does it become such an issue with singers? Let's start a list of all the things we can do that negatively impact our flow of breath: holding the breath, taking a breath with the shoulders, forcing the breath, singing with too much breath, locking the abdomen, tensing the chest...and the list goes on. If I do say so myself, I like the way I summed up the immediacy and the subtle contradictions of breath management in a post back in June:

Opera singing is loud -- but that doesn't mean it's forced. It all has to do with the breath -- not necessarily more breath, but using the breath more effectively and efficiently. Take a natural breath. The breath is under the voice. The voice is on the breath. Breath and support are not synonymous terms. Support implies rigidity -- think more along the lines of the Italian appoggio -- which means "to lean," but not really. In fact, no one really agrees on what it means.

Look at me, I'm actually quoting myself. As if!

There are undoubtedly better resources than me when it comes to this subject. Each singer needs to confront the use of breath in his or her own way, in his or her own time, with the help and guidance of trusted teachers and coaches. I believe that we will repeatedly re-evaluate our system of breath management throughout our careers, both as performers and teachers. It's just the way it is. A Buddhist once told me that even in the silence and serenity of meditation, where the only goal is focusing on the breath, it's the most natural thing for the mind to wander off in a million different directions. No wonder it's so hard to concentrate on the breath while singing! Talk about multi-tasking.

Below are a few video resources that I've uncovered in my breath-quest. The first is Montserrat Caballé on breathing. Advance the video to 8:00' for her talk on breathing, but the entire video is certainly worth watching. The next is a young woman talking about how breath relates to yoga practice, and the final video is about breathing while running.

And please comment with your thoughts on breathing. But just don't stop breathing. That's bad for singing and living.

Schumann's Dichterliebe: A Cycle in Photographs

2009-08-10T20:04:00.015-04:00

In addition to learning Bazajet's arias from Handel's Tamerlano, I've been working on Schumann's Liederkreis, Opus 39 this summer. I'm thinking of starting my graduate recital with two or three arias from Tamerlano, followed by Liederkreis. The last recital I put together was shaped from the poetry of Heinrich Heine, so naturally Schumann's Dichterliebe was at the center of it.

I wanted to do something special for that recital. I was interested in finding the place where the visual and the musical met, so I asked my friend and talented photographer Tasha Roth to take some photos inspired by Dichterliebe. I gave her translations and my favorite recording (Wunderlich, of course), and off she went to take some of the most beautiful photos I've ever seen. She was able to capture a mood which settled between two worlds: nature and the urban environment. The photos conjured up a mythical place where the Black Forest meets Roosevelt Island. They added an evocative dimension to the performance of the cycle, letting the audience find a visual destination to reference during each of the musical miniatures.

The photos are in the order they were projected during the performance. Special thanks to Tasha Roth for letting me post her photos here. And good luck in Seattle, Tasha, we'll miss you.

1. “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai”

2. “Aus meinen Tränen spriessen”

3. "Die Rose, die Lilie, die Taube”

4. "Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’”

5. “Ich will meine Seele tauchen”

6. “Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome”

7. “Ich grolle nicht”

8. “Und wüssten’s die Blumen”

9. “Das ist ein Flöten und Geigen”

10. “Hör ich das Liedchen klingen”

11. “Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen”

12. “Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen”

13. “Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet”

14. “Allnächtlich im Traume”

15. “Aus alten Märchen”

16. “Die alten, bösen Lieder”

Postlude

Opera for All

2009-07-05T21:30:00.000-04:00

I missed New York City Opera this past season. I've always been impressed by its fighting spirit, rambunctious programming, and of course I'm thrilled that Handel's Partenope is on the 2009-2010 roster. It was NYCO's 2006 production of Semele that introduced me to the surprising sensuousness of Handel's operas, about which I could go on at great length, but that's for another post. This post is about NYCO's charming production of The Magic Flute, presented as part of the River to River Festival. That Thursday seemed like the unofficial first day of summer; it was clear and warm (but not too warm), there was free music, picnic blankets and that thing sometimes missing from classical music audiences: a genuine spirit of camaraderie.

NYCO subtitled its outdoor collaborations with River to River as "Opera for All." It's a noble sentiment, and one that opera company directors have flirted with and, in some cases, embraced. For years the Met, NYCO and other city companies have presented outdoor concerts which is, in my opinion, one of the best public relations moves in the book. There is no doubt that the Met's crystal chandeliers create the most exquisite of backdrops for the operatic repertoire, but a star bright sunset over the Hudson River on a cool summer evening isn't so bad either. It's also a nice egalitarian association to make with an art form that has gotten a bad wrap for being elitist.

I'll admit that I had to turn off my traditional concert going senses during the performance. When Papageno first met Pamina, an audience member yelled out "Why don't you get her phone number?" Not your average comment at the opera. There was also the ambient chatter of kids and families, the traffic on the Hudson, and a somewhat spotty amplification set-up to deal with, but after awhile I became acclimated to the new aural landscape. In fact, a few really beautiful things happened. When the three ladies gestured to the three spirits that will guide Tamino and Papageno, a starling flew out of the performers' gazebo up into the trees, as if on cue. Sarastro was bathed in the formidable light of the setting sun as he sang his basement rattling aria. A chorus of pigeons seemed to sing along with Papageno's tome to bird catching.

All of the singers gave solid performances. Considering that the show had an especially interactive audience, the singers and orchestra have my highest admiration for both their talent and their good humor. I thought one real standout of the night was Jeffrey Halili's Monostatos. I first encountered the character tenor in an Opera News piece , and he certainly warrants some press coverage. Monostatos, when played right, can steal the show. Halili found the perfect mix of malevolence and sycophancy that makes Monostatos shine. His robust, ringing voice was an expert match for the character.

Opera for All is an unquestionably worthwhile thing. In a climate of receding budgets and disappearing companies, taking advantage of free opera is a sure investment.

See all the photos from NYCO's The Magic Flute in the Opera for All photo essay

New York City Opera and the River to River Festival presented The Magic Flute on Thursday, June 25, 2009 at Rockefeller Park in Battery Park City. New York City Opera Orchestra, Jayce Ogren, conductor; with Brian Anderson, Tamino; Melissa Fogarty, First Lady; Emily Langford Johnson, Second Lady; Krysty Swann, Third Lady; Michael Zegarski, Papageno; Amy Shoremount-Obra, Queen of the Night; Lielle Berman, Pamina; Jeffrey Halili, Monostatos; Eric Jordan, Sarastro; Sharla Nafziger, Papagena

Why L'histoire du soldat matters

2009-06-23T11:07:00.001-04:00

the L'histoire ensemble and actors at the Washington Square Music Festival

L'histoire du soldat is one of those "important pieces" that every music major studies in history class. When I first encountered it, I thought it was just an early twentieth century curiosity; another one of Stravinsky's experiments in rhythm and format. Its form resembles that of a medieval morality play: a fable told by three actors, broken up with musical numbers. The music is interesting, but I never gave it a second listen. Now that I've actually seen the piece, in a lively performance by the Washington Square Music Festival Ensemble, I understand that L'histoire holds a much more significant place in the repertoire.

L'histoire is not without its problems. The libretto is cumbersome, often getting muddied in the context of its own ambitions. Structured as a fairy tale, the story-telling syntax doesn't quite bridge the gap between simple fable and sophisticated allegory, but where the narrative falters, the music soars. The Festival Orchestra conquered every sharp rhythm and percussive melody, making the most devilishly constructed gestures seem organic. Stravinsky's music was a joy to listen to. But beyond the serious level of music making involved, a deeper and more moving impulse evolved from the performance.

Why does L'histoire du soldat matter? The expressed message of the play is presented clearly by the Narrator: "Il faut savoir choisir; / On n'a pas le droit de tout avoir: / C'est défendu." (No one can have it all, that is forbidden. You must learn to choose between.) I would argue that there's something more to it than that. This theme transcends the simplicity of antipodal views of materialism and speaks to a more cloaked meaning. "No one can have it all" could certainly refer to the impossibility of bourgeois happiness, but I think it's hinting at the specific nature of soldiers, not the nature of humankind in general. The piece is called "A Soldier's Tale" after all.

How can the soldier "have it all?" How can he be a killing machine one moment and a functioning member of society at large the next? The narrative doesn't explicate this idea, but the music does. The L'histoire ensemble is a kind of Greek chorus; reacting, commenting, implicating, and hinting at the truth behind the fairy tale. Stravinsky learned from his balletic collaborator Nijinsky: a gesture, whether in dance or music, is worth a thousand words. Every clashing sonority and virtuosic rhythmic juxtaposition forcefully articulates a landscape where nothing is what it seems; there can be no hope of returning to "normal." The soldier is forced to wander, unknown to his mother, spurned by his wife, outcast by his community and at last finding company with the devil: the only one who will have him. It's not a Faustian bargain the soldier makes, it's the forced reality of his situation.

At a time when our country is involved in two theaters of war, we should be exploring these ideas with greater frequency and, dare I say, patriotism. Outside of Stephen Colbert's brilliant broadcast from Iraq on the Colbert Report two weeks ago, mainstream media reports but it doesn't humanize. That's why L'histoire matters. It reveals the uncertain terrain of the soldier's repatriation in a much changed world.

The Washington Square Music Festival presented L'histoire du soldat on Friday, June 19, 2009 at St. Joseph's R.C. Church in Greenwich Village. The Ensemble: Eriko Sato, violin; Jeffrey Levine, bass; Steven D. Hartman, clarinet; Stephanie Corwin, bassoon; Bradley Siroky, trumpet; Thomas Olcott, trombone; Barry Centanni, timpani; Lutz Rath, Laila Maria Salins, David Taylor, actors

What I Learned @ Opera Camp

2009-06-19T18:23:00.000-04:00

Actually, it's called the Westchester Summer Vocal Institute, but my friends refer to it as Opera Camp, and who am I to correct them? Essentially, they're right. It's a fantastic program with intensive coachings, masterclasses, voice lessons, sessions with directors, agents, career coaches, along with workshops on Alexander Technique and breath management. Whew! Not to mention, there are some pretty fabulous singers there from whom I learned a great deal just by observing.

Photo Essay of Bronxville and Sarah Lawrence College on Facebook

I only made it for three days this year, but last year I did the full program, held at Sarah Lawrence College. When I did the program last year, I was just coming back to singing after a long break, so WSVI got me back up on that proverbial horse. I was equally inspired and terrified. Holy Smokes! I realized that I had so much to learn. But at least I knew that I had a lot to learn. As I was looking through my notes, I found this journal entry I had made after my ten days at WSVI in 2008. Classical singing makes perfect sense and absolutely no sense at the same time.

Chad's WSVI Process: June 25, 2008
Opera singing is loud -- but that doesn't mean it's forced. It all has to do with the breath -- not necessarily more breath, but using the breath more effectively and efficiently. Take a natural breath. The breath is under the voice. The voice is on the breath. Breath and support are not synonymous terms. Support implies rigidity -- think more along the lines of the Italian appoggio -- which means "to lean," but not really. In fact, no one really agrees on what it means.

Simultaneously, make sure there is a long, flowing sense of legato. Sing through all the voiced consonants. Make sure the ah vowel doesn't spread too much through the passaggio and into the top, but it shouldn't be modified in the bottom. Never forget to vibrate and spin...Now, forget everything and sing!

(And most importantly) EXPECT MORE! DREAM BIGGER! BE GENEROUS with YOUR VOICE!

In bocca al lupo

Art and Artifice

2009-06-11T13:19:00.000-04:00

Clearly, someone is building a time machine on the Upper West Side.

No, it's not a time machine, it's just the fountain that will eventually be the centerpiece of the possibly one day renovated Lincoln Center plaza. But it seems like a lot of hoses, tubes and nozzles for one fountain. I mean, how many ducts do you need to send a jet of water into the air? I guess the answer is "a lot."

(And now for the singing related segue...) Which made me think of all the things singers have to do in order to put together one performance. Formatting a recital is challenging. Even organizing music for an audition folder can be a big hassle, with the hole puncher and the copy machine and the scotch tape and the binder.

How does music go from this pile of papers (and a handy-dandy hole puncher) to making art? It's not a simple process. As Sherry Overholt says, there's a lot of artifice in art. There's a good deal of organizational heavy lifting behind every performance. I'm assembling a set of Reynaldo Hahn songs for my recital. Now, I love research, but checking out this many books from the NYPL seemed a little excessive...

...for a five or six song set. Outside of getting a bigger book bag, I do have Susan Graham's fantastic Hahn album at my disposal, which by the way, was recorded at LeFrak Concert Hall at ACSM. So it seems like singers really need to love the process of organizing the hoses and tubes and nozzles in order to get one fountain operational. Of course Option B is getting famous enough to pay someone else to do it for you! Fortunately for bookworms like me, Option A is always on the table.

In bocca al lupo

10 Songs * 1 Park

2009-06-06T16:28:00.001-04:00

If the powers that be in the educational-industrial complex have any doubt about the importance of musical literacy or even basic music appreciation in our schools, they only need to spend fifteen minutes in Washington Square Park on a sunny Saturday afternoon in June. The primacy of music to our enjoyment and enrichment is joyously evident here. People were listening to and making music everywhere in this park today: folk, dixieland, pop, jazz, bluegrass. No opera, but no park is perfect.

10 Songs * 1 Park: Photo Essay on Facebook

I had originally intended to title this post "Make Music Now." I'd hoped to get one or two shots of musicians in the park and then supplement them with some kitsch: dogs on keyboards, garden gnomes with ukuleles, a wine glass consort, and maybe even a shot of me playing the spoons. I'm not ruling these out for the future. But I didn't imagine that I'd find ten shots of people making music in the park in under fifteen minutes. I'm glad I did.

In bocca al lupo

Mindfulness and Singing

2009-06-04T13:46:00.000-04:00

...When it comes right down to it, wherever you go, there you are. Whatever you wind up doing, that's what you've wound up doing. Whatever you are thinking right now, that's what's on your mind. Whatever has happened to you, it has already happened. The important question is, how are you going to handle it? In other words, "Now what?"

--Jon Kabat-Zinn, Wherever You Go, There You Are

Could there be any better advice for what should happen in the middle of performing? There's no judging, there's no internal reviewer, there's only right now and what happens next. It's that rotten little voice inside our heads that takes us out of the present and into the past. The fact of the matter is, an audience loves to see a singer who rallies from behind. You can't rally from a mistake when you're still stuck on it.

Mindfulness is a term that many therapists and neurologists use to describe a kind of meditative awareness. It's being aware of the present moment. We can acknowledge what happened, but then move on. A thought is only a thought, it doesn't have to inform the present moment. And not every moment will be perfect, or even approach perfection for that matter. Today, I tried to find places that were traditional "meditative" places. Well, those places aren't so integrated into our daily lives. Does that mean that we only are truly aware when we're meditating? How do you bring the meditative experience into daily life...into performing life?

And the answer is...I don't know. But I'm working on it. I think mindfulness is a good start. I think meditation is ALWAYS a good start...no matter where you are. Any practice that stresses awareness of breath and body is a good thing for singers. Check out this link to a Google book preview of Jon Kabat-Zinn's seminal work on mindfulness.

The corresponding photo album has pictures of places where you could meditate: some perhaps more easily than others.

In bocca al lupo

Faching Handel and a Trip to the Library...

2009-06-03T16:25:00.000-04:00

...but not just any library, the fabulous LINCOLN CENTER LIBRARY for the PERFORMING ARTS. Okay, so it's not nearly that exciting. But it's even less exciting than faching Handel. That's just dirty talk for finding the right voice types for all the arias. You see, the Kagen anthology of 45 arias is great, BUT you don't know what character sings the aria. So in my pursuit of GOAL #1 (see previous entry), I'll find an aria in the Kagen anthology I like, but then it turns out that it's for castrato. I know things were slightly malleable back then, but I like a little historically informed action in my life.

I got the score for Tamerlano today which should have some great stuff for me. I'm a little taken with the aria "Ciel e terra armi di sdegno" at the moment. Check out Thomas Randle:

As my little sister would say, it's a lot of ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ing. She saw Orfeo and is convinced that the whole opera was just a bunch of ha-ha-ha-ing. She's kind of right.

How did I get from a to-do list to a blog?

2009-06-02T17:31:00.001-04:00

So, I sat down to make a to-do list. Starting a blog was not one of the things on that list, but here I am anyway. Honestly, a to-do list wasn't really the appropriate forum for what I needed to accomplish, though. A to-do list is comprised of things that have a tangible and attainable completion date. But I realized that my to-do list was a little more open ended. Some tasks would be completed by the end of the summer, others in the fall, one in winter 2010, and the other not for over a year.

While all postings about classical singing in general are welcome here, the construct for my postings will most often relate to my near future and long term goals. Let's see what happens in a year.

GOALS

1) I discovered that I love early music and my voice is really suited to it. I sang the Monteverdi Orfeo at Queens College this spring, so one of my goals of the summer is to work two Handel arias into my rep and do research on some others. Suggestions are always welcome.

2) I'm directing a student opera production at Queens College in the fall. Hopefully we'll have a definite choice of opera within the week. Again, suggestions are always welcome.

3) I have a master's graduation recital to plan. I'm shooting for February.

4) I want to get a DMA. I finish my master's in May 2010, so I'd like to immediately go on. My five year plan today, although that may change, is to teach, perform, and write, hopefully with the resources of a university at my disposal. For that, I need a DMA. My current choices are Yale, the Graduate Center, Stony Brook, and Columbia Teacher's College. Yale has an INCREDIBLE Baroque opera program. Well, it's always good to dream.

This blog is here to keep me honest; to make sure I do what I say I'm going to do, and to make sure that my goals haven't changed. But, I'm sure they will. Life's like that.