No, I am not going to write about intermissions. This post itself is an intermission. I can't seem to choose a satisfactory "I" topic, including "Intermissions," so I'm taking an intermission from the alphabet challenge to do one of my journal retrospective posts, which is what I do when I can't think of anything else to write.
Here are some journal scribblings from some past Aprils when I worked at the opera:
7 April 1991 Cecilia Bartoli absolutely delightful! Couldn't be more than 5'2", girlish, vivacious, genuine, and funny. And adorable on stage. Doesn't have much English yet, but everyone in the cast is Italian and the director, though British, is fluent. I had forgotten that this is her American operatic debut. What a coup for HGO!
Last night at about a quarter to six, the power went out in the Wortham and we had to rehearse a couple of blocks away, on the the Music Hall stage. The balky upright piano was on the house floor, way in the corner off DL--that was the closest it could go. Ward was also on the house floor, conducting at the center of the apron; so, in order to see him, I had to turn my head all the way sideways. Plus, the singers were marking, and from that distance I couldn't hear a damn thing. It was not fun. So of course, when Ward yelled at me, "You're behind!" I could have punched him.
8 April 1991 Yesterday was probably the most bizarre day I've ever experienced at work. By the time I went in, which was about 1.00, not all the power had yet been restored. We had lights, etc. on the sixth floor, but no plumbing. One had to use the facilities in neighboring buildings. Which was easy enough to deal with, if we were a simple 9 to 5 workplace. But last night was final orchestra dress for Aida. So, due to insurance considerations (no lights in the lobby), the invited audience got uninvited; and, due to the absence of lights in the dressing rooms, we scrapped costumes and makeup. Bottled water and porta-potties were sent for. We had no lights onstage except work lights, no video or sound monitors, no intercom system. And conducting backstage without a video monitor was an adventure. It was like opera in the old days.
23 April 1995 For some stupid reason, I decided to dress up for the show today. I pulled out my straight black skirt and silk blazer, panty hose and spectator pumps. My feet hurt, my sleeves feel snug, I can't bend at the waist, but hey, I look good.
Now that this season is nearing the end, I've been giving considerable thought to the advantages and disadvatages of my firendships with Jen, Ana, and Mary. They're all younger--about 8 to 10 years younger than I--and they still, especially Mary and Jen, have one foot in college. What a difference those ten years make! There have been many occasions when they went out after an evening rehearsal (around 10p) and asked me to go with them; but frankly, after a long day of rehearsals, there's nothing I'd rather do more than go home and crash. They do party a lot. It'll catch up to them. They'll learn. Mary would say to me, "We're going to a movie after this; you wanna go?"
I answer, "I have a 10 a. m. rehearsal tomorrow."
"So? So do I. Besides, you're always up late anyway."
I could say I'm too old to carouse every night and expect to have all my brain cells working during the day; I need to concentrate for these rehearsals; and there is a big difference between staying out late and staying up late. But I just smile and say no.
Well, let them enjoy their youth. The day will come soon enough when they'll have to muster all their discipline and sacrifice their nightly partying for their art. Ana is a bit more mature. She knows when to rest. Jen would rather be at the beach. Mary would finish off a bottle of wine one night and wonder why her voice sounds fuzzy the next day. But they have good hearts, all of them.
5 April 1996 Piano dress (Norma) last night was certainly an event for me. Carol (Vaness) didn't want to sing; she didn't even want to mark. So I sang the entire role for her from the pit while she walked it onstage. It was the MOST FUN I've had in a long time! I marked a couple of high notes, but most of it I sang full voice and was surprised at how un-tired I was afterward. Joe gave me a good technique!
I also had to conduct the banda, which plays between the cavatina and cabaletta of "Casta Diva"; so when it came time for them to play, I left the pit and ran backstage, still singing. My banda players realized then, with a shock, that I had been singing the role. It was very funny.
Afterward, Carol saw me backstage, grabbed me by the shoulders, and gave me a shake, saying, "Why the hell aren't you singing?"
I was too chicken to tell her that I felt safer being a coach.
18 April 2001 There have been quite a lot of goings-on with Don Carlo, but suffice it to say that this production has been a true and extreme example of Instant Opera. My job as prompter has never been so arduous; not even Resurrection was so nerve-wracking, because we had sufficient rehearsal time.
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