Third Lady

Here's me in my costume as Third Lady to the Queen of the Night.  I have to tell you that the most fun we have all night is doing our eye makeup.  I and the First Lady and the Second Lady are in the first half hour of the show, and then wait forever for two small scenes in the second act, so we hang out and try to figure out how we can pile more glitter and more curleycues onto our faces.  Stage makeup is fun!  I think we'll make it even crazier for opening night.  

Otherwise this show is, well, let's just say that we've dubbed it the "Waiting for Guffman production of The Magic Flute".  I feel sheepish when family and friends say they are going to come.  I wouldn't wish this experience on anyone I liked.  However, in the tradition of my dear friend Staci, I'm going to practice thankful Thursday regarding this production:

This production has given me:

An opportunity to work on my craft-- I've been in an opera-- woo hoo!

To steady myself under adverse and slightly trying conditions: like when the blocking changes from day to day, not getting any feedback from the director, never being sure who you are going to be singing with and whether or not they know their music.

I am learning how to focus on stage;  there's a certain presentness to all that's going on that you have to have-- singing, music, tempo changes, conductors cues, fellow actors, etc.  Staying in the moment while having your radar up-- it's fun and a challenge.

I have gained confidence:  I'm better than I thought I was, and people come to me for help.  I'm getting compliments on singing, stage presence and acting.  

It has shown me where I make stupid mistakes that can easily be fixed by patient attention and self-control:  surprisingly, I'm the smallest physically of the three ladies.  And boy those other two are loud, especially since they are singing in a range where it is easier to be heard.  To trust that I can be heard, not to push, not to change anything, but stay confident in my technique and sound when everyone else seems to be drowning me out has GOT to be the major challenge of the night.

Ack, those pesky necessities, focus and discipline

I'm preparing for my dress rehearsal tonight for The Magic Flute, which goes up on Friday.  (I'm on opening night, yay!)  I've been sick for most of the rehearsal process (all one week of it) and today is the first day that I can actually think about trying to make a good sound.  Most of my rehearsals have just been trying to squeak something out while nailing down blocking with the other two ladies that make the trio.  We basically move as a unit around the stage, which I think makes us look creepily like a robotic show choir when we sing, but hey, I'm not the director.  So in singing along with the recording today to work through the parts, I'm noticing that I can, if I concentrate on it, sing very, very well.  The trick is to do it while you are moving and acting and gesticulating.  My voice teacher says singing opera is kind of like juggling while riding a unicycle and today that feels dead on.

I wish I had another week of rehearsal.  Oh well.  At least I get to do the role three times, so there's an actual chance of improvement over the course of the run of the show.  I'm thankful for the opportunity to try and kick some of my sloppy, bad habits and my 'oh-who-cares-its-going-by-so-fast-no-one-will-notice' attitude.   I can sing this very, very well and I will.  

Macbeth, au naturale

Last Saturday night, I went to see my friend and fellow ex-Ecclesian Brandon Morrissey trod the boards at the West End Theatre in the Frog and Peach Theatre Company's production of Macbeth.  My date and I paid for our tickets, found seats in the theatre and readied ourselves for the tragic deeds to come.  Pointing to the picture of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth in bed together on the front cover of the program, we joked that it looked to be a low budget production if they couldn't find any costumes for the leads.


The show was really good--amazing sword fights, good casting, a beautifully evil Lady Macbeth, Brandon was doing great.  But the weirdest thing happened when Macbeth goes off stage left to kill the king-- he comes back having lost all his clothes.  For no apparent reason.  I mean, he wasn't even carrying the clothes he had on him when he went to kill the king.  Where did they go?  Wouldn't a pile of his clothing at the side of the bed be evidence?  Doesn't he watch any crime dramas?  What's going on here?  Did he stash them in a broom closet?  I don't know, but there he is, having a fully normal conversation with his Lady standing in a hallway, stark naked and covered in blood.  I couldn't make heads or tails of the reasoning, but Lady Macbeth seemed to think it was a perfectly logical thing to do, because when she went off to check on the King (and his drunken guards) she came back less than 30 seconds later wearing no clothes either.  Wow.  

Full male nudity in a forty person theatre. What's a girl to do in those situations?   I was just so shocked by the weirdness of it.  It was in half-light, so I confess for a good part of the scene I was trying to figure out if he was really naked.   Which just makes a person stare harder.  Once I figured out that, yes, that man's junk is really out there on display, I tried to avert my eyes and keep paying attention to the dialogue-- after all, they did just commit murder, which I thought was pretty serious business.  But who are we kidding-- NOBODY in that theatre was listening to a word they said because we're all gawking/reacting/comparing/criticizing/envying these naked people.

Guess we were half-right about their being no budget for costuming, and least for five minutes of the show.

My Times Square Bomb Scare Experience

Oh Yes.  I have one.  It was that I was stuck in a subway tube for an hour and twenty minutes.

Little ol' me had a rehearsal up on 190th street at 5 PM and a date at 6:30 PM in the theatre district.  Already running late from my rehearsal, I phoned the gent to say that I was going to be late, that I was getting on the train at 6:15 and we agreed  since there was no way that I was going to make our 6:30 reservation that we'd meet at 7 and then head to the theatre at 8.  I then stepped into the subway.

And I stepped out at 7:55.

I stood the whole time.  The intercom didn't work, so though we knew that the dispatcher was trying to tell us something, none of us could hear a word.  We just sat in a dark tunnel for 10 minutes, then moved 100 feet, then sat for 10 minutes, then moved another 100 feet.  The only thing I could do to calm my raging irritation, anger and general helplessness was to repeat to myself, 'I recognize that I am not in control of this situation.  I accept that I can do absolutely nothing.'

To top it off, once I got landside at 59th street, picked up all the kind messages from my date saying that he figured I got stuck and he left my ticket at the theatre and he had a granola bar for me (great guy!), I  jumped in a taxi, gave him the address of the theatre and told him to step on it.  He kind of looked at me and shrugged and said, "you know, it probably would be faster if you just walked. "

So walked I did.  The House Manager who seated me late told me that there was a bomb scare, I put two and two together, and went in to see the show.  Only after the show, a late dinner, and a walk to Pinkberry, did we venture over to Time Square to see the action.

And then I took a taxi home.

I love you, Thomas Merton

"Prayer and Love are learned in the hour when prayer has become impossible and your heart has turned to stone."  Thomas Merton

What an encouraging thought.  How wonderful to hear that recognizing my emptiness and inability to love can be my best step toward God.  I'm so thankful today that the tired, anxious mess that I am can be viewed not as a failure who desperately needs to revise her entire life plan, but a woman poised to learn how to truly love God and others-- that the fact that I am bewildered and empty can be looked at as the first step in new growth.

Oh Lord, help me to remember that in quietness and trust is my strength.

Little West 12th

Last night was one of the most beautiful evenings in the city since I moved here.  Singing all day in the apartment, I finally left the my place around six and was surprised to find mild temperatures, a frolicsome wind to kick up my hair and a shiny sun to make me wish I had remembered my sunglasses.  It was an evening ripe for adventure.


And adventures I had, o yes.  I discovered the Meat Packing District along Little West 12th.  This area of NY promises to be a haunt for the upcoming summer months.  Not only is it near the new Highline Park, a groovy green space created on an old elevated railway bed running for blocks and blocks up and down the West Village, but it is also home to The Standard Hotel, which houses a BEER GARDEN, a huge outdoor area, sitting right under the aforementioned Highline Railway bed, and full to the gills with the afterwork drinking crowds.  Huge steins of beers, huge pretzels, lots of people, noise and fun.  I loved it.


The street is also packed full of amazing restaurants, including the one my brother works for, Pastis:

I would recommend this area for any foodie visiting New York-- from the cobblestone streets to the industrial turned hip warehouses, it's fabulous!

Flying-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-Opera-Singer

I keep getting emails late at night from this coach I'm working with, who apparently has more roles than he has singers to do them, or something.  Anyway, I'm now in three shows in the next four months:

--Third Lady, Magic Flute:  I got this yesterday and it opens in two weeks.  Thankfully, in English.  Three to four performances.
--Marcellina, The Marriage of Figaro:  Someone dropped out, and did I want to do it?  I play an OLD lady, comically.  In Italian.  Oh dear.  July 25th.
--La Zia Principessa, Suor Angelica:  Fun, mean, evil aunt.  Can't wait.  August 15th.

Maybe this explains the air-headedness?  My head is stuffed with music!