A Chat with Maestro BRUNO CINQUEGRANI

I stopped by rehearsal the other day to check in with our wonderful maestro, Bruno Cinquegrani, who is making his Seattle Opera debut with this production of Lucia di Lammermoor. As I write, he has only been with us a week, and already his overflowing love for this music has been an inspiration to cast and crew.

Maestro, you grew up in Naples, where Lucia had its world premiere performance in 1835. And, before coming to Seattle, you conducted the season opening concert for the symphony there. Tell us more about your relationship with that august institution, the Teatro San Carlo.
When I was growing up, we had two important institutions in Naples, the Teatro San Carlo (which I attended as a student, whenever I could) and the orchestra of our national radio, RAI Italia. My piano teacher was connected there, so I went very often to observe rehearsals when I was a kid. RAI had four major radio orchestras back then (Naples, Milan, Rome, and Turin), these were great orchestras, they used to get invited to Salzburg, but there was a rapid decline and three of them closed. That’s about the time that I left Italy; I was 22, I had finished my degrees in piano and in composition, and I went to Germany to continue studying.

And conducting at Teatro San Carlo a few weeks ago?
I was originally going to do a La bohème there a couple of years ago, but it got canceled because there were budget problems. And they were very kind, they asked me to lead these concerts this September instead; we did Beethoven’s 7th, Stravinsky’s Pulcinella, and the overture to Offenbach’s Orpheus in the Underworld. It was amazing, coming home after all these years, I was like the prodigal son! It was a bit like a wedding--the audience was packed with family and friends. And it was fantastic to work with that extremely talented orchestra.

Interior of the Teatro San Carlo in Naples

Did you say you had a degree in composition?
Yes, but that was when I was younger, before I moved to Germany to study conducting. With some friends in Naples we had a small chamber group, instrumentalists and singers. We did some original pieces and also a sort-of ‘history of music’ program, which we had researched very carefully over the course of a year. There’s so much fascinating music history that happened right there in Naples. And it’s still happening; Teatro San Carlo just did a premiere, they were rehearsing it when I was there just now.

You’re becoming known as something of a Donizetti specialist. What is it that you like about Donizetti?
Oh, oh, oh…can I humbly suggest that I’m not really a specialist? Or at least, maybe I should put it this way, I’d like to think that I can be accurate, if that’s what it means to be a specialist, in every kind of music I conduct. That everything I do is deeply studied, deeply thought, deeply felt.

Donizetti, painted by Rillosi

But you’ve conducted lots of Donizetti.
I’ve conducted Lucia di Lammermoor twice before this; also L’elisir d’amore and Don Pasquale, among his comedies, and Lucrezia Borgia and Marino Faliero, serious operas, for the Donizetti Foundation in the composer’s hometown of Bergamo. And then they asked me to conduct La traviata for their recent tour in Japan--that’s not Donizetti!

Marino Faliero is one of those Donizetti operas that never gets performed in the US.
Maybe, but it’s a fantastic opera. We performed this brand-new reconstructed edition, the cd and dvd should be out soon, on Naxos. It’s interesting, it came out of a competition that Rossini sponsored at the Thêatre des Italiens in Paris, in 1834. He invited both Bellini and Donizetti, duelling rivals, to write an opera for Paris; they wrote these two difficult pieces for the great singers of the day, Donizetti wrote Marino Faliero, and Bellini wrote I puritani and then died. And I puritani won the duel!

But to answer your question, what I love about Donizetti is, the bel canto in these operas is not there for the sake of bel canto alone. The music is always connected with the action. Of course there’s a beautiful line, but the music is very much linked to the words. Donizetti is the true bridge between Mozart and Rossini, classical composers, and Verdi. We were working on the Lucia sextet, earlier today, [goes to the piano to demonstrate], and in the fast section, listen, it’s Verdi’s Nabucco.

Seattle Opera Head of Coach Accompanists David McDade was telling us recently about studying Donizetti’s manuscript score, to catch errors in printed versions and get the composer’s true intentions. How did you prepare the edition we’re using?
Yes, it’s something of a problem, because there are lots of editions of the score of this opera and they are all different. Really, my process is to go through all of them, study the differences and the options, and then choose what I feel is appropriate for the drama. The edition I want to perform. If you have someone else’s Lucia di Lammermoor strongly in your ears, you may hear lots of little changes in our version.

Does that include cadenzas and vocal ornamentation?
We’re using [for the mad scene] the big cadenza that Maria Callas sang, which was written long after Donizetti--he wrote a much smaller cadenza for the first Lucia, Fanny Tacchinardi-Persiani. But the longer version became such a hit, when it was added, that now the public is expecting it.

Fanny Tacchinardi-Persiani, Donizetti's first Lucia

Your career has taken you from Naples to Germany, Yalta [where Cinquegrani conducted the Crimean State Orchestra for two seasons], Aspen, Tokyo, and now Seattle. Are you always an ambassador for Italian music when you work in these far-flung places?
No...I don’t really believe in national schools. There are musicians. If you can feel, you can make music. With opera, it can be easier if you grew up speaking the language, but if you’re you’re going to have a job in opera, well, negotiating that is part of your package. The audiences can be different. In Aspen, I found the audiences had this tremendous energy, but that may be because there were so many music students there. When you conduct Italian opera in Italy, they can be much less forgiving--everybody already knows everything about it. If the tradition says, “The tenor must sing a high note here,” and you change that, they’ll let you know they’re unhappy with you. Opera is such an important part of our culture, you know; at the time of Donizetti it was this unifying force, which made Italy one nation from many separate states. And today, we export it.

Stage Director Tomer Zvulun consults with Maestro Cinquegrani on a point in the Lucia score

What do you think of Seattle so far?
People told me Seattle Opera was a special company, and it’s been fantastic so far. We had a great first week, we’re really collaborating, everyone working in the same direction, and I hope this will show. With this company you really feel that people want you to succeed. Not always the case! [smiles, charmingly]

And our city?
To tell the truth, I’ve been in rehearsal so much I haven’t seen that much of it. It was so nice on Saturday, I walked along the waterfront. My first impression is that it’s a calm city, but there’s lots of energy. It isn’t a crazy energy, like London, where I live, but it’s serious energy. I understand when they say Seattle is one of the most liveable cities.

Rehearsal photos by Bill Mohn.

Behind-the-Scenes: Lucia Sets

What do Legos have to do with the Lucia sets? Travel to Seattle Opera's Scenic Studios with set designer Robert Dahlstrom as he shows us the ins and outs of the "perfect mad-lady set."

To learn more about Seattle Opera's production of Lucia di Lammermoor, visit the Seattle Opera website.

A Chat with Davinia Rodríguez

Yesterday we popped into rehearsal and caught up with Davinia Rodríguez, the charming Spanish soprano who is our Sunday/Friday Lucia in Lucia di Lammermoor. Like soprano Aleksandra Kurzak, Rodríguez is making her role and company debut with Lucia—but this production marks her first American appearance, as well! Before jumping into rehearsal for Lucia's famous "mad scene," Rodríguez took some time to tell us how she feels about this opera and performing in Seattle for the first time.



This is your first time playing Lucia, and now you’re in your second week of rehearsal. How is it going so far?

Well, it’s going very well, thank God. Every day I sing as often as I can, and even when I was jet-lagged on the first day of rehearsal, I wanted to sing. It’s the kind of role where I believe the more I sing it, the more I’ll make it mine, the more it will get attached to my throat and vocal chords. Since it’s a debut, I need to keep discovering things every day. I studied and prepared a lot even before arriving here, but I believe that in opera—and especially with a role this big and great—you’re always going to discover new things, even if you perform it many times. So I’m a fan of practicing often and constantly making new interpretations.

Davinia Rodríguez in rehearsal for Lucia di Lammermoor.
Photo by: Bill Mohn.

What do you think of the character herself? Do you like Lucia?

I love her, I adore her. Actually, that’s why I need to practice often because I need to separate my heart from my head, and I need to be a little more detached than I was when I first began singing Lucia. It’s a role that gets you, that grabs your heart, and it’s difficult to sing when your emotions are so moved. So I need to try and be a bit detached. But even so, there are sections I’ll be singing and my hairs will stand on end because of the music, the words Lucia’s speaking, and the love she has for Edgardo. She’s a woman who has suffered greatly for an impossible love—like Romeo and Juliet.

This is your Seattle Opera debut, but have you visited Seattle before? What are you looking forward to doing while you’re here?

Yes, this is my first time performing here, but I visited Seattle about two years ago, and I loved it. In my free days, I plan on walking around and exploring the city—and if it rains, oh well, I’ll bring along an umbrella! I plan on enjoying my time here because it’s great luck to be in a city like this.

When you’re not traveling around the world and performing, where do you make your home?

In Italy. I’m married to an Italian and I’ve lived for six years in Brescia, which is near Milan. But I’m from the Canary Islands originally, and that’s where my family is. Whenever I can, I steal away and go back to visit them and recharge my batteries.

Rodríguez working with Lucia Conductor Bruno Cinquegrani.
Photo by: Bill Mohn.

Finally, what has been your favorite thing about your time with Seattle Opera so far?

The most wonderful thing, and what makes me feel like a princess, is the affection everyone gives us, from Speight Jenkins to the people who volunteer to drive us home after rehearsal, which is one of the things I’m most impressed and moved by. I’ve never seen a company with this level of dedication, with people who want to take care of us, give us rides, and volunteer their smiles and their time. It’s a very friendly environment, which definitely helps us artists make the most of ourselves.

This is also the first time I’ll be singing on American soil, so that’s something I’m very proud of. I really appreciate Speight—who is a great man in every sense—for giving me this opportunity. It’s definitely a highlight in my career.

How to Listen to Bel Canto

Now that we’ve got Wagner out of the way this year (just kidding! we love Wagner), Seattle Opera has two bel canto masterpieces coming up next, the tragic Lucia di Lammermoor and the comic Barber of Seville. Bel canto, aka “beautiful singing”, is the period in opera history that preceeded Verdi and Wagner. (According to some, Wagner changed opera from bel canto into can belt-o.) Scholars will never agree about when bel canto began. But our next two operas, popular favorites whose melodies are familiar even among people who’ve never been to an opera, are masterpieces of its final flourish. Here are some pointers about what to listen for when you’re attending a bel canto opera:

Every song starts easy, then gets hard.
Bel canto operas divide up into individual numbers: arias, duets, choruses, the Lucia sextet. And each of these pieces follows the same pattern: we start with a catchy melody, usually something that’s so easy to sing all of us in the audience COULD sing it if we tried. (Often you’ll hear the tune played first by a soloist in the orchestra; then a pause; then the singer starts in with it.) Each tune is organized as what musicologists like to call a “Four-Limbed Melody”, as in the melody has four parts (“Happy Birthday” is a simple example). But as they develop the tune, and repeat it, and head for the climax, the singer inevitably gets to what I like to call the “Don’t Try This At Home, Folks” kind of singing. Bel canto singers must be able to sing across an extreme range, to trill, to run up and down scales (without letting the notes slide into each other or get garbled), and to execute other feats of ‘coloratura.’ Very often, at the end of your number, as the final cadence (musical completion) is happening, you hit a high note, either on the dominant or the tonic harmony, to win a few extra bravos from the audience.

Every bel canto number opens with a bar or two of orchestral pulsing and an attractive tune:


...and concludes with a showy flourish at the 'cadence', or musical completion:


Above examples, from Bellini's I puritani (beginning of "Ah, per sempre") and La sonnambula (end of "Vi ravviso"). Mariusz Kwiecien, below, sang "Ah, per sempre" in Seattle Opera's 2008 I puritani (Rozarii Lynch, photo).



Vocal color.
Listen for the ‘color’ of each voice at the performance you attend. Every singer’s voice is like a fingerprint; it's a unique sound that that singer alone can make. It can be hard to describe a singer’s vocal color in words without sounding like a wine connoisseur (you know, “This voice has warm layers of fruity complexity, oak-influenced spice and a velvety finish”.) But that is how it works. We like to talk about the “3 o’clock in the morning voice”--a voice so unique, so full of character, that if you woke an opera fan up at 3 in the morning and played them a recording, even half-asleep they’d know who it is. It’s the infinite variety of vocal color that keeps many of us going back to hear the same operas over and over again; each time, the same music sounds different because the voice is so different.

Lawrence Brownlee as Lindoro in Seattle Opera's 2006 Italiana in Algeri (Rozarii Lynch photo).

Coloring the words.
Everybody likes to take cheap shots at the plots of bel canto operas. But that misses the point; bel canto libretto were not supposed to be coherent dramas, great literary masterpieces, they were supposed to house good song lyrics. What that means, in terms of listening, is that it’s not enough for a singer to have an interesting color to their voice; the essence of their artistry is the ability to color the words they’re singing with the appropriate emotion. When the character is going on about love (listen for “amor” in Italian, it rhymes with “un fior,” a flower, and “il mio cor,” my heart), they may focus all the beauty and seduction they are capable of into their voice. If the character is about to commit suicide, you can expect to hear despair, rage, sadness, etc. in the way they color the words. What distinguishes a great opera singer from one who merely has a lovely voice is that the great singer is constantly using voice to express words and character.

It’s about the singing (not the playing).
Although the orchestra is important in all opera, in the Italian bel canto tradition they spend more of their time functioning as accompaniment, musical wallpaper to set off the showcase voices of the bel canto singers. You’ll often hear them playing little repetitive rhythmic patterns over and over, playing very lightly so the singer’s voice can be heard, and (in the recitative) playing unpredictable chords, swirls, snarls, and “ta-das” to punctuate the important lines of dialogue. EXCEPTION: Donizetti wrote Lucia at a time when the orchestra was starting to play a bigger role. You’ll hear a great prelude, immense solos for harp and flute, and occasional comments or tunes coming up from the pit. And The Barber of Seville features a famous, unforgettable whirligig overture and a great “Storm” interlude.

You can hear the Overture to Rossini's Barber of Seville throughout the great Chuck Jones cartoon The Rabbit of Seville.

Musical Structures.
There are lots of pre-set musical structures in bel canto operas: cavatinas and cabalettas, raccontos and parlandos, tempos di mezzo and strettas. These conventional structures streamlined the process of creating new operas--important in an industry which, in early nineteenth-century Italy, was as busy as today’s TV industry--and help direct the audience’s ears. You should expect the opera to open with a chorus, who always function as a warm-up act; the diva always enters about fifteen minutes into the show, to sing her grand scena or double aria (a cavatina, featuring a beautiful improvised cadenza at the end, followed by a peppier cabaletta); and there’s always a great concertante at some point, a huge ensemble that involves everybody in the cast.

To learn more about the traditional structures in Lucia and Barbiere, look at Seattle Opera's Spotlight Guides for those two operas and pay careful attention to the pages about music at the back of each. To learn how to write your own bel canto opera, look at pages 26-27 in last season's Verdi Spotlight Guide.

Weekend Wrap-Up

Today we hear from Justina Schwartz, Seattle Opera's education events manager, who was on hand for this weekend's performances at Festa Italiana and the grand opening of Lake Union Park.

This past stunning Saturday, Seattle Opera set out to bring music to the public.

Our day began at the Lake Union Park Grand Opening Celebration. The newest waterfront park in Seattle was already bustling by early morning, featuring sights, sounds, and activities for all ages and ability. There were long boards, model boats, delicious food, historical ships, rock music, break dancers, bubbles, and—of course—opera.

Seattle Opera Young Artist Marcy Stonikas performs at Lake Union Park. Photo by: Bill Mohn.

Seattle Opera Young Artists Marcy Stonikas and Erik Anstine took the stage at 12:50, and were accompanied by Principal Coach-Accompanist David McDade, with Education Director Sue Elliott setting the scene for each aria. The audience was treated to a little Tosca, Don Giovanni, Susannah, Die tote Stadt, and The Marriage of Figaro, before a stunning finish with an aria from La Wally. The backdrop of South Lake Union, with boats of all shapes and sizes on the water, was a serendipitous operatic display.

Taking a break from music and enjoying one of Sound Experience's schooners. From left to right: David McDade, Erik Anstine, and Marcy Stonikas. Photo by: Bill Mohn.

Our next adventure of the day took us to a more established city landmark: Seattle Center. Every year, in conjunction with Seattle Center’s Festal series, Italian culture takes over a part of its campus for Festa Italiana. We’ve partnered with the festival for the past few years, which is particularly fitting considering so many of our productions—including half of this season’s—are in Italian!

Stonikas sings for the crowd at Festa Italiana. Photo by: Alan Alabastro.

My favorite thing about these events is the moment we reach someone new, like a member of the community who happens to stroll past our stage just in time for a certain note to catch their attention. In that brief moment, that single note has sparked a love of music. I am sure we can all relate to that feeling.

-- Justina Schwartz

Experience Seattle Opera Tomorrow at Lake Union Park and Festa Italiana

Whether you are going to the grand opening of Lake Union Park or decide to stop by Seattle Center for Festa Italiana, plan on adding a dose of Seattle Opera to your Saturday!

Some of our talented singers are on the schedule for both free events, beginning with a 12:50 p.m. main stage performance at the grand opening of Lake Union Park, and then continuing with a 4:00 p.m. appearance at the KING-FM 98.1 stage at Festa Italiana.

For more information and a full schedule for the Lake Union Park celebration, click here.

For Festa Italiana, click here.

Hope to see you there!

A Chat with Scott Piper

Tenor Scott Piper was last seen at Seattle Opera as Rodolfo in Puccini's Bohème, and he returns this season as Edgardo, Lucia’s beloved, in Lucia di Lammermoor. The role is one that Piper is familiar with, having recently performed in Opera Cleveland's production of Lucia this past May. While there, he worked under the direction of Tomer Zvulun, who will also be at the helm for Seattle's Lucia.

Piper took some time from rehearsals to let us know what working with Zvulun is like, how he approaches the role of Edgardo, and what he loves about Lucia.

What was it like working with Tomer Zvulun for Opera Cleveland's production of Lucia?

I had the great privilege of working with Tomer, and I found the experience to be extremely rewarding. Tomer has the exciting ability to extract a unique and interesting perspective from an otherwise familiar story. His productions strike a beautiful balance between the traditional and the modern, and in turn offer audiences—and performers—a refined framework within which we can appreciate both the music and the theater that is opera.

Scott Piper in Opera Cleveland's production of Lucia di Lammermoor.
Photo by Eric Mull/Ruppert Bohle.

When it comes to such a well-known character like Edgardo, how much room for interpretation is there? Do you try to personalize the role when you perform it?

Interpretation comes from a deepening ability to look into the score and see a distillation of the composer's wishes. I rely heavily on the director and the conductor to aid me in successfully and clearly showcasing the dramatic and musical arcs of the character. There is always room for interpretation, but always within the structure and symmetry established by the musical score.

There are many factors which seem to personalize a role for me. One factor is the color and temperament of my voice. For each of us performers, our instruments carry distinct aural—and, I hope, emotional—impact. Another factor would be my own physical stature and the way it reads on stage. Otherwise, the energy I put into the performance is not so much concerned with personalization as with what the composer has already established.

Along those same lines, Cleveland's Lucia was set in the 1930s, while Seattle's Lucia is set in the mid-1800s. Does this change how you approach your character?

The heart of Edgardo is timeless. His interests are succinct; his only goal and desire is to have a "happily-ever-after" with Lucia. Despite the pressures preventing them from being together, and whether Edgardo is the son of a mafia boss or of an aristocratic family, his truth is unchanged. He wants Lucia.

To me, the fact that Lucia can stand up to many different visual representations and still retain its own integrity is one of the strengths of Donizetti's and [librettist] Cammarano's adaptation of Walter Scott's novel The Bride of Lammermoor.

Scott Piper in Seattle Opera's 2007 production of La bohème.
Photo by Rozarii Lynch.

How do you personally feel about Edgardo? Do you like him, or relate to him?

First, I would have to say that I feel Edgardo is a very young soul. And on a positive note, I feel that despite having lost everything, Edgardo still has hope. He proves this in his exploration of love, devotion, and commitment in the most difficult of situations with Lucia.

On the downside, Edgardo can be selfish, moody, and impetuous. He jumps to conclusions about Lucia before she has had the opportunity to explain herself.

Finally, do you have a favorite part or moment in Lucia? A line that especially moves you, or a section of the score you find particularly fun to sing?

The entirety of Lucia is such a pleasure to witness and perform. There are so many beautiful moments that it's impossible to pick just one. But the sextet at the end of Act 2 is fun to perform, not just because the music is so beautiful, but also because we onstage invariably hear the murmur of excitement that spreads through the audience when they recognize such a famous piece of music.

More than just a Pretty Tune

I'm Sue, your new Education Director, and I have a confession to make:  

I LOVE LUCIA. (Not the tv show, the opera.)

We've had some lively debates in the opera offices recently, about the merits (or debits) of Donizetti’s enduring tragic melodrama, so I want to set the record straight and tell you that Lucia is a great opera. Don't believe anybody who tells you it's just for those who love Twittering Coloratura Sopranos. In fact, I'd like to take this opportunity to clarify what Luciais about and what it isn't about.

What is Lucia About?

Impossible Choices. Like all great tragedies, Lucia puts people with whom we can identify in situations where there's no good way out. For Enrico, the much-maligned villain of the piece, the rock and the hard place are represented by alignment with the “wrong” political party and responsibility to provide for his sister on their crumbling estate. For the hot-blooded Edgardo, it’s falling in love with his “Juliet.” But she is no innocent Shakespearean Juliet.  This one’s family has already killed the rest of Edgardo’s family and confiscated his estate.  For our desperate mad bride, Lucia, the final straw comes when Arturo, a man she doesn't love and doesn't even know, takes her to the honeymoon suite to consummate their marriage...

Adolescence. Everyone in this story--except the old priest, Raimondo--is very young, and tends to make decisions the way young people sometimes do...hormones.  And like some of the young adults we all know, there's not a whole lot of listening going on.  I also imagine that Lucia, before she makes her first entrance to deliver "Regnava nel silencio," has spent the afternoon plucking petals from daisies: "He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me..." and so on.

Romanticism with a Capital R. Everything about the story and music of this opera screams "Romanticism," as in the artistic movement of early nineteenth-century Europe. Just like our contemporary stories about sexy vampires and werewolves, in Lucia’s world men are more attractive if they're renegades, outcasts and outlaws; and women are appealing the closer they are to hysteria, madness and death. Musically, Romanticism in opera was all about moving away from a "number opera" structure, where the audience interrupts the action with applause every few minutes, and toward a "through-composed" structure.

A balance of action and reflection. Although the music of Lucia does stop and start a bit, the pacing is terrific. There's never so much plot that you find your ears are aching for a nice melody; and the hit numbers, the arias and ensembles, never belabor the point, they show off the singers' voices and get on with it.

Music which never forfeits elegance and beauty. Although this story of madness and murder is grim, ugly, and perverted, music didn't "do" ugly when Donizetti wrote the opera in 1835. (It took Wagner's Tristan und Isolde to change that rule, a couple of decades later.)

What is Lucia NOT About?

Scotland. Sure, it's based on Sir Walter Scott's historical novel which was about Scotland (Scotland: chapters 1 – 31 inclusive; the meat of the opera: chapters 32 - 35). But the opera is extremely Italian and the story absolutely timeless.  We'll have a kilt-free zone onstage--although we can't predict what the audience will choose to wear.

“Oom-pah-pah” Accompaniment. From the very first note of the Prelude, Donizetti uses the orchestra to evoke an intensely emotional environment.  He delivers (A) foreboding (B) extreme melodrama (C) unresolved feelings and (D) surprise - all of that in only the first two pages of a 250-page score.  The harpist and principal flute player Make It Big in this opera, with nerve-wracking solos guaranteed to delight.  Just try and figure out how the flute and Lucia “sing” in complete synchronization during the mad scene…we dare you!

Fancying Canaries. Although there's plenty in Lucia for the "canary-fanciers" (opera-goers who get most excited about sopranos who can execute perfect, and seemingly endless, flurries of high notes) to enjoy, there's more to the opera than that; and even if you don't idolize divas who are acrobats in the vocal stratosphere, you'll still love this opera.

Cardboard Characters. Bel canto operas like Lucia sometimes get a bad rap because the libretti aren't as richly written as operas from later on in the historical tradition. But that just means it's up to the performer to figure out all the details of the biography and personality and get you to believe in the character.

Ambivalence and Shades of Gray. The entire opera is super-saturated, think highest of high and lowest of low. Love, fury, terror, bloody death. No Wagnerian navel-gazing or Benjamin Britten hand-wringing about "Am I a good person?"

Halloween. We'll have a performance the night before; and the opera does feature ghosts and a lot of blood. But it's more than a silly ghost story. It's all about people—all about us.

A Chat with Deborah Trout

The singers are in town and rehearsals are now underway for Lucia di Lammermoor. But the production of an opera doesn't begin with the arrival of the singers — just ask Costume Designer Deborah Trout (pictured left, with Costume Shop Manager Susan Davis), who began thinking about designs for Lucia a year ago. Now, with just over three weeks until opening night, Trout and the hard-working staff of Seattle Opera's Costume Shop are busy making sure each dress and suit looks its best by October 16.

We were recently able to catch Trout in a spare moment and ask the Seattle native about her design process, and the concept behind these Lucia costumes.

When you design costumes, what sources do you go to for inspiration? What inspired you specifically for these costumes?

The music is always a starting place. For me, it's a kind of emotional response to the music. I am not a musician and I don't know how the construction of music works but I understand the intellectual, emotional, and visceral response to music. So I really start there, and that frequently takes me into either colors or textures. Since we knew what our silhouette was because of the period [mid-nineteenth century], I was able to fill in with color and texture. I looked at a lot of paintings and photographs from the period, and there was a lot of royalty that had great portrait paintings. I looked at a lot of that so I could feel the characters.

A selection of the costumes from Lucia, including a version of Lucia's wedding dress (right).

Seeing your sketches for Lucia and now seeing the actual costumes coming to life, it's easy to appreciate the women’s beautiful dresses. But the men's outfits have gorgeous lines. Do you prefer designing for men or for women, or do you enjoy both equally?

They are equal. But it's funny because when I go talk with [men's tailor] Mary Ellen Walter, I fall in love with the men and it's like, "Oh my gosh, let's make their legs do this and let's bring their chest out this way!" I like playing with the manliness of it. And then when I go to work with [women's draper] Mark Sanchez, it's a completely different love affair and I think, "Ah, women are the thing, the costumes are so beautiful." I fall in love with both.

In most productions of Lucia, the audience sees Lucia in her wedding gown while she signs the wedding contract at the end of Act 2, and then sees the gown bloodied in Act 3 after she's gone mad. But in this production, you've deliberately chosen a different outfit for Lucia to wear when she signs the contract. Can you explain what we'll be seeing?

Well, what we have going on is that in Act 2, Scene 1, Lucia's brother has demanded that she come down and sign the contract and says to her, "You know, Edgardo is not standing by you, have you heard from him?" It's as if she's being forced out of her bedroom to come down, so she's in a little blouse that will feel vulnerable and not put-together. She's wearing a red velvet period skirt, and a vulnerable white blouse. And that's earlier in that day and they see that she's not appropriately dressed to receive guests.

In the next scene with Arturo's arrival, she's sort of put herself together with a red suit that includes the skirt we saw in the scene before. Now it's Act 2, Scene 2, and she's ready to receive and sign the contract. I want that dress to feel like she's trying to put on armor, like she's trying to protect herself. It is heavy velvet, and has a bodice that buttons all the way up to her neck. It's like she’s trying to hang on for dear life.

Then the wedding happens off stage, and in Act 3, Lucia and Arturo have been upstairs in the bedroom and she's murdered him, and comes downstairs in her bloody wedding dress. She's struggling with it and removes layers of that, becoming vulnerable again to all the party guests.

And then she dies [laughs].

The red velvet dress Lucia wears while signing the wedding contract.

You’ve worked with Seattle Opera before [Le nozze di Figaro, 2009], but most of your past work has been with theater companies. Do you find there are any challenges in designing costumes specifically for an opera?

In terms of design, not really. But it's a little different in terms of organization and remembering certain things that singers prefer compared to actors, like how tight a collar is. And the stamina of chorus fitting after chorus fitting is different from theater. My other large-scale stuff tends to be Shakespeare, and even that doesn’t deal with the masses of chorus.

I also find that in my theater life I'm a bit more organic in my relationship with the actors and their costumes. There's a lot more conversation in a fitting about their costume evolving. Here, just by of the mass scale of it, by the time we go into a fitting, there are so many decisions that have already been made. The pressure to have made it right even before the singer arrives is a little higher.


Photos by Monte Jacobson

First Day of LUCIA Rehearsal

Yesterday was a big day. Not only was it the first day of rehearsal for Seattle Opera’s upcoming production of Lucia di Lammermoor, it was also my first first day of rehearsal. Yep, I’m new to the organization, having just joined the SO staff three weeks ago as Public Programs and Media Associate. And my first 20 days here at SO have all been building up to Lucia, so when I had a look at Monday’s busy schedule, I was excited to be a part of the production in any way I can – which, in my case, means staying informed so I can help get the word out about SO’s latest endeavor.

The day began with an hour-long design presentation for the artists and staff, where Director Tomer Zvulun, Costume Designer Deb Trout, and Set Designer Robert Dahlstrom explained their vision for this Lucia, which is set in the period of composition (mid-19th century) and features an adaptation of the multi-level set Dahlstrom created for I puritani in 2008. For more details on the set, read this recent chat with Dahlstrom, and come back to the blog tomorrow to read an interview with Trout that discusses her approach to Lucia’s costumes.

After the presentation wrapped up, I had a chance to mingle with the singers at the casual Artist Aide buffet, organized by a group of volunteers who had spent the weekend shuttling to and from the airport, picking up singers as their flights arrived in Seattle.

As we nibbled on lunch, baritone Ljubomir Puškarić, who along with Phil Cutlip plays the role of Enrico, chatted about his native Croatia, dispensing travel advice about the country’s many islands. Tenor Eric Neuville (Normanno) and I talked about his beautiful home state of Wisconsin. And tenor William Burden (Edgardo) complimented my hair, which is really all I need to be immediately endeared to a person.

But soon it was down to business, and the Friday/Sunday cast headed into the rehearsal studio where they began singing through the score for conductor Bruno Cinquegrani, who is making his SO debut with Lucia. Also debuting with SO is the lovely Davinia Rodríguez, a soprano from the Canary Islands tackling the role of Lucia for the very first time. As I sat and listened to Rodríguez, tenor Scott Piper (Edgardo), Cutlip, mezzo-soprano Lindsey Anderson (Alisa), Neuville, tenor Andrew Stenson (Arturo), and bass Arthur Woodley (Raimondo), I got more and more excited for Lucia, which opens on October 16. And, OK, I’ll admit – a little envious, too. So much talent in one room! I definitely feel the urge to do something creative now, but maybe it’s best for everyone that I don’t attempt to sing.... I’ll leave that to these pros.

-- Tamara Vallejos

Scott, Historical Fiction, and Lucy of the Lammermoors

While our upcoming production of Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor isn’t about kilts and ancient Scottish blood feuds, it’s worth looking at the opera’s literary source, The Bride of Lammermoor by Sir Walter Scott. So many opera composers have found this kind of story attractive. Today, historical fiction is a popular category of literature, often to be found on the New York Times bestseller list. Sir Walter Scott is often credited with inventing this genre, in which an author does his or her best to make the past come to life.

My favorite works of historical fiction are Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose and, more recently, the great books detailing the construction of a cathedral by Ken Follet called The Pillars of the Earth and its sequel World without End. Often in historical fiction there is some mystery or conflict between the characters, just like in most pieces of fiction. What separates it from the other forms of literature is the inclusion of meticulous historical research to recreate a very specific historical time and place. Eco’s story is a well-researched portrayal of monastic life during the 14th Century, so much so that the monastery at the heart of the tale becomes another living and breathing character in the ensuing mystery. Follet's tale of love and romance includes the building of a magnificent cathedral, along with the battle for power at a very specific moment in history, the death of Henry I. And there are countless more contemporary examples of this popular form of fiction.


As far as the inspiration for The Bride of Lammermoor, Sir Walter Scott was a lawyer by training, but after visits to the Scottish highlands to oversee a case he began to write tales with a focus on Scottish history. His first great success came out of sheer necessity, since he was dealing with a number of financial difficulties. He anonymously wrote Waverley, a tale of a man torn by love for two women, each representing a different side in the political struggle for succession of the 1745 Jacobite rebellion. In the story, Waverley takes part in an historical battle, recreated to include both real and fictional characters. This novel was a huge success; the future King George IV loved it so much he demanded to meet the author. Scott had found his niche and would continue to tell tales based in historical reality, but with his own stories of love and daring superimposed on top of historical events.

Scott wrote a number of novels set in Scotland, including Old Mortality (very loosely used as the basis of Bellini’s I puritani) and The Bride of Lammermoor (the inspiration for Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor), among others stories of regional Scottish people and their affairs. Rob Roy is another well-known tale of Scotland that looks at the area through a much wider lens as Scott compares the lifestyle of Highlanders and Lowlanders, once again set against the backdrop of political revolutions and a mysterious title character.

Throughout his novels Scott digresses to write about people living in specific areas, often writing dialogue in a gruff Scottish brogue. These may seem like meandering diversions from the central action, but these intimate moments add flavor and color to the story, bringing the times and places that Scott is writing about alive before our very eyes. It’s about the journey, not the destination, in Scott and in historical fiction as a whole as the authors re-imagine history.

McDade Studies Donizetti’s Manuscript Score

In preparation for the start of Lucia di Lammermoor rehearsal next week, Seattle Opera’s Head of Music and Principal Coach/Accompanist David McDade (at piano, right, with Amelia composer Daron Hagen; Rozarii Lynch photo) spent some time last month with a facsimile of the manuscript score--in Donizetti’s own handwriting--at the Juilliard School in Manhattan. I got a chance to run some questions by him about his experience.

David, why don’t you just work from the printed scores put out by the music publisher (in this case, Ricordi)? Why go to all the trouble of finding the composer’s manuscript and deciphering his (usually illegible) scrawls?
Actually Donizetti’s penmanship is far cleaner than a number of other composers that I will not be so unkind as to name! In studying a number of Bellini operas (Norma, Capuleti, Puritani) in manuscript facsimiles, I found the publishers made some errors in typesetting. It is possible the editions were prepared from a copyists’ copyists’ copy. Sometimes there are wrong notes, rhythms or words; more often I find that there are MANY expression markings (dynamics, accents and the like) that never made it into the printed editions but are clear in the composer’s hand. To be fair, Ricordi has recently partnered with University of Chicago Press to produce critical editions of Bellini, Donizetti and Verdi, consulting the primary documents from the time of the world premieres (original manuscripts and/or original orchestra parts). There are TWO critical editions of Lucia, the first (by Jesus Lopez-Cobos) published back in the early 80s (and recorded with him, Caballe and Carreras for Philips) and the newer one (by Gabriele Dotto and Roger Parker, 2003, used by the Met and recorded by Sir Charles Mackerras with Andrea Rost and company for Sony). And Ricordi also has published Donizetti’s French version, Lucie de Lammermoor, in a critical edition by Jacques Chalmeau from 2000. These critical editions have been a godsend, but if you’re a fanatic like me (I spent eight hours of vacation poring over Donizetti’s manuscript) you’ll always find surprising things when looking at the manuscript.

Manuscript of Donizetti's Elisir d'amore

Which finds are the most valuable to you?
All in all it’s like the difference between a typewritten letter (or email) from a friend and receiving the same note handwritten on stationary; there is just something extra and personal about the latter. I love the personal touches that bring me closer to the composer. As I looked at the great Sextet, I saw that Donizetti had run into a problem: he hadn’t allowed enough lines for all the soloists! He had to draw an extra staff at the bottom of the page to write Arturo’s part.

I was already aware of some discrepancies. Donizetti wrote three numbers in higher keys than appear the published score: Lucia’s entrance aria (“Regnava nel silenzio”), the Act 2 duet between Lucia and Enrico, and of course the mad scene. I found one baffling omission of four bars in the chorus lines of the Act Two finale (which we’ve restored for our production). There was an extended cadenza in the harp solo that opens the second scene which is shown as an alternate in the published Ricordi orchestral score; the vocal score only prints the incorrect version (we are correcting this as well). And at the beginning of the Lucia/Enrico duet in Act Two there is a famous and lovely oboe solo that in the manuscript turns out to have been written for clarinet! (We’re giving it to the clarinet.) And there are MANY missing notes; it seems no instrumental line was 100% accurate in the published score. I think I was most startled by the sheer number of little things. I like to think Donizetti would appreciate our correcting all these errors in our scores and parts.

A Donizetti self-portrait

Studying manuscripts is a way to get closer to the real person, some composer who died centuries ago. To look at Mozart’s manuscripts of Don Giovanni or Die Zauberflöte is to see his composition process, what came first, what came next, and amazingly how much seems to have flowed directly onto the paper without error or corrections. Contrast that with Mahler’s clear but rather severe writing and you see a different creative mind at work. Then there’s Puccini’s sketches for Turandot, so messy that it is amazing that Franco Alfano could use any of it for his completion of the opera.

The history books tell us that Donizetti rewrote his scores all the time, tailoring each opera to fit the vocal prowess and skills of the specific performers he was working with--THAT month, at THAT particular theater. Do we still rewrite his operas when we perform them? What are we cutting, in our upcoming Seattle Opera Lucia?

There is a really interesting book, recently published, entitled Divas and Scholars, by Philip Gossett, about the problems involved with producing bel canto operas and how scholarship and critical editions both benefit and clash with traditions and artists. I recommend it for anyone: it’s entertaining as well as informative. The issue of cuts has always been with us. There are a number of fine recordings from the 1950s where the scene with Lucia and Raimondo is cut in its entirety; we will be performing that scene, albeit with a small cut. Almost never seen in live performance is the opening scene of Act Three (usually referred to as the “Wolf’s Crag”); it will be omitted in our production. But these cuts are not recomposing, merely tailoring the scenes for our particular production. Donizetti DID recompose the work for France as Lucie de Lammermoor; there is a recording with Natalie Dessay and Roberto Alagna. The composer adapted the musical notes for the French text, rewrote sections, shortening, lengthening, changing. And then other passages are identical. It’s a fascinating listen; familiar and yet not.



Maria Callas taught that a major part of the opera singer’s job was to study the articulations in the score--spiccatos and marcatos and sforzandos and forte-pianos and so forth--and use all these expressive markings to express character. But some composers gave more instructions than others. Does Donizetti tend to write out all his instructions, or do you have to fill in the blanks sometimes?
Donizetti sure loves to write accents! That jumped off the page at me from looking at the Lucia manuscript immediately; there are far more than are found in the Ricordi scores. He also has an unusual way of notating legato that seems almost to designate shapes and connections more than just “sing this all connected”. Sometimes it looks more like articulation markings or bowing markings you’d see for wind or string instruments.

What about cadenzas?
Cadenzas are all notated very precisely HOWEVER...there are so many traditions associated with those! Back in the composers’ time they are intended as much for vocal display as anything. The famous Mad Scene cadenza with flute actually dates from the late 19th century. In Ricci’s book of variants and cadenzas there are several versions, all of which were considered “traditional” when the book was published fifty-some years ago. And many people sing the cadenzas Maria Callas used verbatim. Today we are very concerned with theatrical values, so a cadenza ought to have dramatic meaning as well as musical finesse. The opera can no longer just stop to show off vocal prowess.

Finally, I happen to know you have a special fondness for Bellini (Norma and I puritani), who was Donizetti’s rival when they were alive. Do people still take sides? Or do you find Donizetti’s music appealing as well?
What a loaded question! If I had to choose between Donizetti and Bellini I would choose the latter. Not because Donizetti is inferior, but there is a depth of feeling in Bellini’s greatest music that moves me more deeply. But then Bellini never wrote anything like Don Pasquale or L’elisir d’amore...I wouldn’t want to give up either gentleman’s music!

David McDade

Robert Dahlstrom and Designing Scenery

Robert Dahlstrom’s credits with Seattle Opera go back almost as far as Speight Jenkins; Dahlstrom made his debut designing scenery for The Ballad of Baby Doe in 1984, and has designed some 19 productions since then, including such memorable shows as Dialogues of the Carmelites ('89), Ariadne auf Naxos (’04), Tales of Hoffmann (’05), and Don Giovanni (’07). For Lucia di Lammermoor he, together with Stage Director Tomer Zvulun (photo, right, by Aubrey Bergauer), is adapting the scenic design he created for I puritani (’08). I checked in with him last week as he was heading in to a meeting about the designs for The Magic Flute coming up next spring.

Bob, or should I say “Professor Dahlstrom” [Dahlstrom is now Professor Emeritus of Scenic Design at the UW School of Drama], this Lucia presents a somewhat unusual situation: not a scenic revival, but an adaptation. Can you explain how you transformed the set for I puritani into one for Lucia?
Jon, it's Professor only in material published by the University, it's Bob at the opera. Let me share with you a little anecdote. When we first saw the Puritani set up on the stage, two seasons ago, we sat in front of it and said, okay, this is like a Shakespeare festival stage: a unit set that provides for a great many locales and a great many places where scenes could focus. It was made for I puritani, which it served very well, but the first thing we said was “We could do all the Shakespeare operas here.” Adapting it from I puritani to Lucia, it becomes our “Mad Lady” Set.

Wedding Scene from Act I of I puritani; Rozarii Lynch photo

What makes it a good set for Shakespeare?
With all the levels and platforms, it provides places for action to occur, between two singers, that can be observed by others singers who are visible to the audience but not visible to the characters who are singing. Thus there are lots of possibility for lurking, eavesdropping, overhearing.

Norah Amsellem as Elvira went mad in I puritani; Rozarii Lynch photo

And what makes it a good set for “Mad Lady” bel canto operas?
One of the things that was important to Linda Brovsky, who staged I puritani, and that Tomer [Zvulun, stage director of Lucia] also wants, is the possibility we have here for extended movement without repeating one’s path. A long entrance allows a character purposeful extended movement while he or she is singing and revealing character. In Puritani, for instance, Arturo makes a grand entrance, preceded by pages in white satin. He sings for a long time, and the route he takes allows for musical and dramatic accumulation, on his way down to meet his bride.

You’ve done scenic adaptations in the past. For our most recent Rigoletto (’05, directed by Brovsky, set in Mussolini’s Italy) you updated to the 1930s sets which you had originally created (in ‘87) for the time of the story (early 1600s).
Rigoletto was an adaptation of an adaptation! I had designed a production of Massenet's Manon in 1985. Rigoletto 1.0, in '87, used structural pieces (stairs and platforms and things) from that old Manon set reconfigured to show the locations called for in the libretto. It used background imagery from the Palazzo del Te, outside of Mantua, the beautiful frescoes there. Then, for the next Rigoletto, in 1994, we changed some of the backgrounds and added a big red curtain which related differently to each scene. Then came Rigoletto 3.0. Speight asked us to do something totally different, and Linda Brovsky got the idea of the Mussolini period and the anti-semitic legislation in Italy at that time. We put some phone wires and that sort of thing over Rigoletto’s house and made some new backgrounds; none of the drops from Rigoletto 1.0 survived in that production.

Kim Josephson, Norah Amsellem, Mary McCormick, and Frank Lopardo sang the Rigoletto quartet in 2005; Rozarii Lynch, photo

We used the big red curtain differently, I figured out a way of reversing the viewpoint on the Duke’s palace for Act Two, plus there was this fabulous Tamara de Lempika image being painted (left), in the first scene, that looked extraordinarily like Frank Lopardo [who played the Duke, below right photo by Rozarii Lynch].

But those Rigolettos and this Lucia start with totally different ideas about making stage pictures. Rigoletto was illustrative; we were trying to represent several separate named locations: the Duke’s palace, Rigoletto’s house, the tavern at the river. For Lucia/Puritani, we make a machine for performing the opera that allows us the movement possibilities we need, and then add a very few new elements to each scene to locate it specifically: a fountain in the park, a private room, a great hall in a castle.

The crazy staircases in the I puritani set reminded some of Hogwarts Castle in the Harry Potter films. But I remember you saying the original inspiration for both were the Carceri etchings of Piranesi.

One of Piranesi's imagined prisons

Yes, Piranesi [1720-1778] was this architect in Venice and Rome who couldn’t get anybody to build anything, so he went into doing sumptuous etchings of Roman ruins and sold them to English tourists--you know, all the milords doing their Grand Tour would take his etchings back to their country house in Surrey. These were primarily decorative. But he then went into, as did Guardi and Cannaleto, cappricios, invented landscapes or architecture. The carceri, the prisons, are Piranesi’s invented series. They may have had those in mind for Hogwarts, yes, and certainly Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast--carcinogenic, metasticized architecture. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, as spoken drama and opera headed into Romanticism, the prison became a ubiquitous locale, so designs for prisons were very important. This is the period of Salvator Rosa’s dark, mysterious, threatening forests; the Alps, for example, at this time went from being seen as a nuisance, an obstacle to travel, to being an object of almost sacred exaltation.

What’s it been like working with stage director Tomer Zvulun on this Lucia?
I first worked with Tomer when he was a wonderful assistant director for the company. Of course, for Lucia Tomer wanted to make it as much a new production as possible, but the financial situation has necessitated simplicity. But he has a very sound and creative directorial instinct, basically he wants stuff singers can use, climb, hang onto, try to open, and he wants it to be very clear to the audience, for each entrance and exit, where people are coming from.

And working with your old friends down at the Seattle Opera Scenic Studios?
They’re great. The different scenes in the opera feature many different configurations of stairs, and that was fascinating, building a sort of “Lego Kit” that could work in many combinations. And one of things we came up with for this production is this imposing portrait of Lucia’s dead mother. Since we’re setting the opera in the period of composition [the era of Walter Scott and Donizetti, not feuding Renaissance Scottish clans], for our model we chose an 1860s painting, by Winterhalter, whose portrait of the Empress Eugenie and her court ladies is one of the monuments of mid 19th c. painting.

Empress Eugenie, by Winterhalter

At the shop they print the portrait full-scale, put a scrim over that, and then draw the image onto the scrim and paint it. It’s the same process for that astounding drop they made for Tales of Hoffmann. And yes, since it’s a scrim of course at some point in the show we’re going to see something else through the portrait!

Dahlstrom's set for Tales of Hoffmann, Venice Act; Rozarii Lynch

Scenic Artist Rick Araluce Featured in LA Weekly

Rick Araluce (left, consulting with installation artist Sarah Sze) has been working at Seattle Opera's Scenic Studios, in Renton, WA, for over a decade. But this Los Angeles native was recently profiled by LA Weekly, who reported on his work, not as a creator of gargantuan opera sets, but as a miniaturist and creator of dioramas. Read the LA Weekly article HERE.

At his WEBSITE, Rick writes about the inspiration behind some of his minatures:

“Empty rooms. Barren chambers. Ill-lit crawl spaces. Places where the dust settles, the paint peels, the plaster falls from the lath to scatter upon aged floor boards. Places where something has happened. Or where nothing has happened for years.

There are stories here.

If you look, if you listen, you will hear them.”

The Revenge of Silence

The Impossibility of Sound

The Ultimate Journey

Top photo by Bill Mohn; other images courtesy Rick Araluce