The box seems to generate its own energy. Covered in sophisticated hues of copper and gray with a resplendent image of Birgit Nilsson as Brünnhilde, who had surely passed through hair and make-up before leaving Valhalla, it is of monolithic proportions.
Last week's National Opera Association conference in Salt Lake City was filled with informative sessions, vocal and scenes competitions, their biannual one act opera competition, and achievement awards for Harolyn Blackwell and Stephen Lord.
It becomes an important responsibility of artists to comment on the topics of the day, no matter how messy or fraught. It can no longer stand for us present a particular historic piece of theatre art "as-is" and to satisfy ourselves with platitudes about how "that's how it was written, it's just of its time".
With no lines or a prescribed opening time the Summer HD Festival has been a welcoming presence since its inception. Entering off Broadway, people first encounter a table with volunteers from the Metropolitan Opera Guild, providing information about the Guild's programs and benefits of membership as well as complementary issues of its publication, Opera News.
We each go through life with our own subjective experience of the world around us: a personal story as unique and beautiful as a fingerprint, but with implicit bias and limitation. Art allows us the opportunity to reach out to one another, to find connections and disparities, to compare notes on different ways of seeing the world.
What if there was a more direct way to accomplish this goal? What would that look like? To all the opera companies, self-producers, recitalists, and alike, let me offer the following suggestions.
I know a lot of my friends and colleagues struggle with performance anxiety, and I wanted to share my thoughts here in the hopes that it might help someone else who is struggling, and open up a dialogue about anxiety and art, which I think for many of us go hand in hand.
And, let's be honest, we've all seen these productions, in which even basic narrative details of a piece are obscured, confused, ignored or senselessly "deconstructed" with sometimes baffling outcomes.
I browsed through some boxes and found records by Caruso, Bjoerling, Pavarotti, Tozzi, and on and on. I didn't even own a record player, but I purchased about $45 worth of vinyl at about $5 per record, and so began my latest obsession.
It's the question that crosses any touring performer's mind when the stage manager misses a stop sign or forgets to check their blind spot. You grip the armrests and wonder, "what if we crashed?" A year ago today, the members of one Canadian production found out.