Meet Our Singers: ROSALIND PLOWRIGHT, La Zia Principessa

Rosalind Plowright sings the mezzo soprano role of Angelica’s aunt, the Princess, in our upcoming production of Suor Angelica. But thirty years ago, at La Scala, Plowright sang the soprano role of Angelica herself. Plowright is an inspiration—a great Verdi soprano who reinvented herself as a mezzo, a fully-wired modern diva (check out her new website at www.rosalindplowright.com) and a powerful actress with a rare gift for finding sympathy and vulnerability in the most extreme characters. She very kindly took some time the other night to speak with me about her characters, about Twitter, and about whether or not Suor Angelica could happen today...

Rosalind Plowright as Klytämnestra in Elektra

Thanks for participating in our Seattle Opera social networking...I notice you’re among the ever-increasing ranks of opera singers who tweet! (Follow Rosalind at @raplowright!)
I haven’t been doing it very long, but it’s fun! And good for networking. I do find it difficult to fit everything into those 140 characters and of course, once you join a social network, all your privacy goes out of the window!

I love how you succinctly describe yourself on Twitter: “Opera Singer, (specialising in Witches, Bitches, Bags & Hags), actress, teacher, mother and fell walker. Loves cappuccinos and good wine.” What is fell-walking?
[Laughs] Oh, it’s an English thing. You know about our beautiful Lake District, in the north of England. It’s not as huge or dramatic as your Olympic Peninsula here, but it’s very beautiful. The mountains are lower, so we call them “fells.” My husband and I go up there twice a year, knees permitting. We rent a little cottage, put on our ruck-sacks and go out fell-walking.

And this isn’t backpacking, overnight, carrying your tent and sleeping-bag...
No, no, day hikes. The fells are wild, and the scenery is wonderful.

And it’s different from walking the trails in southern England, the Cotswolds ramble...
It’s nothing like that. The fells are the highest part of England. We also have Mt. Snowdon in Wales and Ben Nevis, up in Scotland. Those are major mountains.

So, will you go out to our Olympic National Park while you’re here?
I did last time! I had a three-day gap between performances so we went out to the Olympic Peninsula. I remember once we came to a sign that said, “If you meet a bear, here’s what to do,” and I totally freaked out! [laughs] I thought, I don’t know if I really want to be out here!

Rosalind Plowright at Seattle Opera as Klytämnestra in Elektra
Bill Mohn, photo

Now, changing the topic to opera, you were amazing as Klytämnestra in Elektra in 2008. People around here still talk about that performance, particularly how you managed to make this grotesque horror so vunerable and sympathetic. Does she have much in common with your role in Suor Angelica, this Zia Principessa?
Not really. Klytämnestra is a murderer, isn’t she?

Yes, but with good reason.
[laughs] I don’t care! The Principessa is a devout Catholic! She wouldn’t murder anybody.

Rosalind Plowright as the Zia Principessa in Palermo
Photo from www.rosalindplowright.com

No, she just psychologically tortures her poor niece for years and years...I’ve never seen anything so sadistic as the way you treat Suor Angelica...it’s worse than Scarpia!
That’s what [director] Bernard Uzan told me to do, you know, to just treat her with...total disdain. I would say that both La Zia Principessa and Klytämnestra are regal and powerful. As I play Klytämnestra there are some areas where she totally loses control. Vocally the roles are quite different. The Zia Principessa is not long, but it’s very exposed. Klytämnestra is not quite as intimidating.

That’s interesting; the Zia Principessa is more in control, Klytämnestra is more scattered. Certainly the words are just tumbling out of Klytämnestra...
...whereas the Principessa knows exactly what she has to say...

...and takes her time to do it.
Yes, absolutely.

Rosalind Plowright and Maria Gavrilova rehearse the scene between Angelica and her aunt for Seattle Opera's performance
Alan Alabastro, photo

So in terms of grandeur, there’s a similarity. I love the acting side of all my roles and I love doing the character roles, these old ladies. I’m having much more fun now than when I was a soprano, playing the tragic heroine (as was mostly the case). There were many occasions when the director just left me to my own devices and as most of Verdi’s music requires the stand-and-sing delivery, for me that was very frustrating as I wanted to do more. The best thing I ever did was an Aida in Frankfurt by a cult German director called Hans Neuenfels. The production was extremely controversial, actually...

You sang Aida, or Amneris?
Aida, in this case. That’s another opera, like Suor Angelica, where I’ve done both roles. Neuenfels had set it in a museum, Aida was a chambermaid, and the King was a mummy that had been dug up. The last scene was especially shocking, for instead of being entombed, Aida and Radames were gassed. Not a good idea in 1981 Germany, or perhaps it was, because it caused such a scandal there were queues around the house every night.

You get juicier acting roles playing these older mezzo characters. You’ve sung Jenůfa— Kostelnička. And there’s one in Kat’á as well—Kabanicha.
No, I haven’t done that one yet. I do another Janáček role, Mila’s Mother in Osud. It’s a very short part but she has this completely manic scene, only about 3-4 minutes, and it’s fantastic. It’s a rarity—a wonderful, wonderful piece! It needs to come back into popularity.

What fun to play all these horrible, horrible characters!
Yes, well, the part I love the most is not horrible. That’s another nun, Mme. De Croissy in Dialogues of the Carmelites. Again, a very regal person and the role sits perfectly in my voice.

Rosalind Plowright as Mme. de Croissy in Dialogues of the Carmelites at Stuttgart Opera
Photo from www.rosalindplowright.com

Have you ever done the less regal—the crazy old bag lady type, Azucena, or maybe La Frugola in Il tabarro?
No, I haven’t. I never did Azucena. I did Leonora many, many times; it was my calling-card, I recorded it with Giulini. I would have liked to have sung Azucena but having had so much recognition with Leonora, perhaps people didn’t think I was right for it...that’s fine. The closest I did to this kind of character was the Beggar Lady in Sweeney Todd, we did it at Covent Garden with opera singers playing every character.

Now when you were speaking with Fred Plotkin, who wrote an article for our Suor Angelica program, you said that Suor Angelica was perhaps your favourite Puccini opera.
Well, I love all of Puccini’s operas. I sang Tosca many times, and Manon Lescaut. Suor Angelica is certainly up there with them. You know, I was taught by nuns, I went to a Catholic primary school and then a Convent school, so I had nuns as teachers all the way. Some of them were real battle-axes and some of them were very endearing. So I did get some insight into convent life which I think helped when I sang Suor Angelica. I thought the piece was a real gem, I still do, especially that final chorus, it’s heaven. I adored the music so much that I found it very hard to sing. I got too emotional.

What are your other Puccini roles?
I’ve done Madama Butterfly...in some aspects that felt physically wrong. It was a very controversial production for its time, directed by Ken Russell...do you remember him, the film director?

Oh, yes! Mahler and Lisztomania and all those...
Well, he did not want the conventional look-alike geisha, and he certainly got it with me!! He did this production, first in Spoleto, USA, and then later in Houston where I sang it. He set it in World War 2 and of course being set in Nagasaki, at the end, the atom bomb went off! The Houston audience was very shocked!

Once in Italy Ken Russell ended up with a death threat when he made Mimì a drug addict. It caused a huge scandal and I think he was banned from working in Italy again. Behold, recently I was watching Netrebko singing Mimì in Salzburg, and what is she? A drug addict! But back then, you couldn’t do that and especially in Italy....these operas were sacred.

Times change, values change. Speaking of which, do you think there’s a ‘moral to the story,’ with Suor Angelica?
Never really thought about it being “a moral” as such.....Don’t get pregnant out of wedlock? Is that what you mean? The thing is, we don’t know the circumstances by which Angelica got pregnant. She could have been raped. The opera doesn’t say. But at the time the story took place, (the latter part of the 17th century) religion ruled and punishments were very severe for that sort of thing.

Rosalind Plowright in rehearsal as the Zia Principessa
Alan Alabastro, photo

I find myself sitting here and being judgmental about la Zia Principessa, calling her a cold, unfeeling, hypocritical monster, but...what if she’s right?
Well, it would be difficult to update this story to the present day...although...

When I was at music college in the late ‘60s I had a friend who got pregnant. This was back in the days of free sex and drugs and hippie morality. When her baby was born he was taken away from her and she never saw him again.

Just recently they finally closed the last Magdalene Laundry in Ireland that was run by nuns. This was a place where girls who had been promiscuous were sent to “pay for their sins” and in most cases there family disowned them. There was a film, based on a true story, made about it called The Magdalene Sisters, and it’s absolutely shocking what the nuns made these poor girls go through to pay penance for what they did. So I don’t know, maybe you could set the story of Suor Angelica in the present. This situation with the Magdalene Laundry is based on the same morality.

What happens to the Zia Principessa after she walks off the stage here? Does she just go home and live her life and forget all about Angelica?
I think it would always haunt her. I think...she loved her sister very much and I think she’s done this for her sister, for Angelica’s mother. This child has brought disgrace upon this family, and she cannot forgive her.

Now that you’ve been both a soprano and a mezzo, tell us the truth: who has more fun?
Mezzos. Maybe it’s my age and experience but now when I perform I feel less pressure. I’ve nothing to lose!! I’m enjoying it so much more now. As a soprano there’s so much pressure. You have to hold everything together and sit on the top of those huge Verdi ensembles. I enjoyed it at the time but there was also a lot of angst. Now I’m delighted to take a back seat.

Meet Our Artists: Maestro GARY THOR WEDOW

Gary Thor Wedow is back to conduct our double-bill of La Voix Humaine and Suor Angelica. Wedow first came to Seattle Opera in 2007 to lead the earliest opera yet the company has yet presented, Handel’s Giulio Cesare. He made plenty of Seattle converts to this world of Baroque opera, and has returned to conduct Gluck (Orphée et Eurydice and Iphigénie en Tauride) and Mozart (Die Zauberflöte). I checked in with him the other day about his own deep history with “Voix” and “Suor,” as we call them backstage, what the two pieces have in common, and how they relate to the Baroque music he’s conducted in Seattle. And, as always happens when you speak with Gary, I learned something fantastic--in this case, about the role played in the creation of La Voix Humaine by Maria Callas!

Maestro, this is wonderful—your first non-18th-century opera in Seattle!
I know, can you believe it!?

Do you conduct a lot of 20th century operas?
Yes, I’ve done several world premieres—I’m doing a new opera this fall at the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia, a multimedia performance piece, Biennale. I studied with a big Liszt pianist, Jorge Bolet, so I’ve also done lots of Romantic nineteenth century music. The opera I’ve conducted the most is actually Carmen! I actually came to Baroque music backwards—my first love was not Baroque music. But, as the Buddha says, “Those who do not go smiling toward their fate are dragged!”

Chorusmaster Beth Kirchhoff, l, and General Director Speight Jenkins, r, pay close attention to Maestro Gary Thor Wedow at Suor Angelica rehearsal
Alan Alabastro, photo

So Baroque music has been your fate, to some extent, and not just in Seattle, where you’ve done these wonderful Gluck and Handel operas for us, and Messiah for the Symphony...
Yes, my first job out of conservatory was with the Handel and Haydn Society in Boston. And I knew very little of that repertoire, so for me it was a learning process.

I would think that if you live mostly in a Baroque musical world, with its strict formal patterns, this shapeless 20th century prose thing which is La Voix Humaine must be...a bit bewildering.
Oh, you said it. But I also find it reminscent of Monteverdi and Cavalli. It has sections of free or semi-free recitative mixed with these incredibly beautiful and lyric, but relatively brief, outbursts of melody. And that’s the nature of early Baroque opera. It’s very much like Rameau. It’s interesting, in Italian Baroque opera the recitatives are set, however hapharzardly, or with elaborate rhythmic configuarions, in common time. And with a genius like Handel they’re often breathtaking. But in French opera of the same period, in the eighteenth century, composers like Rameau and Lully wrote their recitatives in ever-changing meters, to reflect the prose and the stress of the text. And that’s exactly what Poulenc does.

Gary Thor Wedow in rehearsal
Alan Alabastro, photo

It seems like the subject of this opera, the donna abbandonata, was popular in the Baroque. Didn’t they all write operas or monodramas about Arianna, deserted by Theseus, or Dido abandoned by Aeneas?
Oh, very much. We were talking in rehearsal the other day—Bernard [Uzan, the director] asked, “Why is it called La Voix Humaine?” Which really got me thinking, and I looked it up, and it turns out “La voix humaine” was a phrase coined by Lamartine in the nineteenth century in a poem in which he said, basically, the human voice is the greatest vehicle for expressing the torment of the soul. Cocteau then came to that expression via the Dada-ists, who used that concept, after World War 1, to express a new kind of soul’s anguish, in the aftermath of this awful new war.

And you think that concept, the power of the voice to express that existential torment, would have resonated with Monteverdi or Cavalli?
Yes, they all understood the expressive potential of the voice, Monteverdi even tried to categorize it: how different tessituras, different rhythmic patterns reflect different emotional states. And it’s all here. [pats score of La Voix Humaine.]

Now, bringing the discussion from the seventeenth century all the way to the twenty-first: is La Voix Humaine a gay opera?
[Laughs]

Because I was discussing this question with Nuccia Focile the other day, and she suggested that her character could very easily be a man!
Well, yes. There’s been a lot of speculation about that, and Cocteau when he wrote the original play was in his personal life going through a difficult time with Jean Marais, his longtime partner. So...probably, yes. It turns out that Cocteau had volunteered to make a recording of the play himself in the ‘30s, but it was considered inappropriate for a man to be saying these lines!

Jean Marais and Jean Cocteau at the Venice Film Festival, 1947
Collection Pierre sur le Ciel

But more than that, it’s the universal human soul. The feelings in this opera could be about anyone. Maybe it had its kernal in a gay incubator, with Cocteau and Marais...but a student once asked Denise Duval, the first soprano to sing the opera, this question, and she said, “No, no, no, no, no, he wrote it about me! I was having a horrible time with a break-up, so Poulenc wrote it about me!” Did you know that the impulse for Poulenc to write the opera came from Maria Callas?

No, I didn’t know that!
Yes, Poulenc dedicated the score to his publisher, Dugardin, who was a close personal friend. Poulenc and Dugardin were at La Scala for the world premiere of Dialogues des Carmelites, in 1957, and they went to another performance with Callas and Di Stefano, the very famous performance where she stepped forward in front of him to take a solo bow, and the story goes that Dugardin turned to Poulenc and said, “You know, what you really need to do is to write a one-person opera, for her!” And Poulenc said, “No, no, not for her, but for Denise Duval.”

Maria Callas and Giuseppe Di Stefano
www.fanpix.net

And who was Poulenc breaking up with at the time?
Oh, I don’t know, he had several friends. But to the question, more seriously, there are several places in the text where, if you speak French, there’s a double entendre...when she says, “People wouldn’t understand our relationship...now that we’re breaking up, they’ll drag us through the sewers.”

What do you think these two operas have to do with each other?
There’s obviously a betrayed, lonely, sad lady at the core of both operas. But for me what has been wonderful is to find in Suor Angelica Puccini at his most French. He uses many techniques of the impressionists: parallelism; planing, which is these beautiful chords all in a row; orchestration reminsicent of Debussy, etc. I find that in terms of the composition the pieces are tied together in a very interesting way. They use similar harmonic languages and similar orchestral effects. And that hadn’t occurred to me when we began talking about this double bill.

Gary Thor Wedow with Head of Coach-Accompanists David McDade at the piano at La Voix Humaine rehearsal
Alan Alabastro, photo

So how will you and the orchestra shift gears, from the Poulenc to the Puccini, during the performances?
I told the orchestra, “French music is Chanel, a Chanel suit. Simple lines, everything restrained. Italian music is Versace. Beautiful, exotic colors, lack of restraint, more portamenti.” So, although they’re made from the same vegetables, these are two very different stews.

Have you conducted these operas before?
The last time I conducted Suor Angelica, actually, I was in college! And—this was also long, long ago—I used to play for Miss Massachusetts, who would put this negligée and a telephone in the trunk of her car, and we’d drive to these clubs all over the east coast, and perform a 25-minute version of La Voix Humaine with me at the piano! So yes, I’ve had a longtime relationship with these two wonderful operas.

Excellent, we look forward to hearing what you do with them now!

Seattle Opera Creates New Dragon for EMP Museum

Seattle Opera’s good friends and neighbors at the EMP Museum opened their dazzling new exhibit “Fantasy: Worlds of Myth and Magic” to the public today. Visitors to the museum are able to get up close and personal with Adalinda, a beautiful dragon caught on a recent excursion to the North Cascades by the talented artists at Seattle Opera Scenic Studios.

Adalinda in her new home.
EMP Museum, photo

Seattle Opera’s team, who have created an entire zoo’s worth of dragons and other beasts for the opera stage over the years, gave us a sneak-peek at how Adalinda (named by popular vote on EMP’s website) was born. We spoke with Michael Moore, Manager of Seattle Opera’s Scenic Studios, about this marvelous monster.

Michael Moore giving Ring 3’s Fafner a check-up
Seattle Opera, photo

Michael, tell us a little about Adalinda and her lair in EMP’s new “Fantasy” Worlds of Myth and Magic” exhibition.
Yes, our shop worked on three main elements: the dragon’s head assembly (including a head, a wing, and a clawed foot), the cave in which the slumbering dragon resides, and the dragon’s tail. The animatronic dragon seems to be asleep, with a wing that crosses over her body and moves up and down slightly as she breathes. If a visitor gently touches her tail, the dragon’s left eye may open and she’ll make a soft purring sound. But don’t roughhouse with her tail...I’ve tried it, and she doesn’t much like it.

Associate Resident Designer Phillip Lienau with a model of the Dragon’s Lair at EMP’s new exhibit.
Elise Bakketun, photo

What is she made from?
A great variety of materials, including wood, steel, aluminum, various types of both rigid and flexible foams, plus fabrics, upholstery materials, synthetic skin, and two glass eyes.

Lead Scenic Artist Rick Araluce explains how Adalinda’s skin is created.
Elise Bakketun, photo

How much does this dragon weigh?
Adalinda tips the scales at a relatively svelte 240 lbs. (on an empty stomach).

How big is she?
The dragon’s head is approximately six feet long. If she were to open her jaws, she would have a “bite” just a bit bigger than a Great White Shark. The dragon’s claw has a grasp of 18”, her tail is about the length of an adult saltwater crocodile, and if she were to open her wings, they would stretch to more than 36 feet; slightly more than the wingspan of a Cessna airplane.

Master Scenic Artist Kitty Kavanaugh with Adalinda’s claw.
Elise Bakketun, photo

How many dragons have you created over the years?
Over the past 35 years, we have built three different productions of Wagner’s Ring, so we have plenty of experience fashioning Fafners! Ring 1, in the ‘70s, starred a hefty dragon which crawled half-out of its cave on its belly. For Ring 2, we used a different dragon each time we did the cycle—three completely different dragons! Seattle Opera Scenic Studios also created a dragon for a Los Angeles Opera production of The Magic Flute. And of course there’s the fully-articulated dragon for Ring 3, which will be onstage at McCaw Hall this summer. We’ve built various other creatures for the stage, but with Fantasy: Worlds of Myth and Magic, our dragon count is now up to seven.

Michael Moore installs Adalinda’s animatronics
Alan Berner/Seattle Times, photo

To see all of Alan Berner's photos for the Seattle Times covering Adalinda's installation, CLICK HERE.

EMP Museum's new "Fantasy: Worlds of Myth and Magic" is the first exhibition of its kind to examine the proliferation of the fantasy genre in literature, film, television, and video games. From classic folklore to epic tales of good and evil, the exhibition content spans more than four centuries and includes an authentic 16th century suit of armor, rare costumes from the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz, and original hand-edited manuscript pages from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.

Meet Our Singers: MARIA GAVRILOVA, Suor Angelica

Russian soprano Maria Gavrilova makes two important debuts on May 4, 2013—her Seattle Opera debut, and her role debut as Suor Angelica. In fact, it’s the first time anyone sings Suor Angelica at Seattle Opera—like La Voix Humaine, Suor Angelica is new to our stage. This delightful young woman, who has sung many heroines of Italian and Russian opera at the Met and at the Bolshoi, told me a little about growing up in a theatrical family and about the overwhelmingly powerful music she sings in this opera.

You’re new to Seattle Opera—welcome! Can you tell us a little about Chelyabinsk City, where you grew up in central Russia?
Yes, it’s in the Ural Mountains, in central Russia. Lots and lots of factories, very industrial—so much so that the city has had lots of problems.

Including this recent meteor, which devastated things in March. Do you get back there very often, to see family, for example?
Yes...my husband’s family. There are not many left in my family. But my husband’s family is there, and every summer we go to Chelyabinsk and stay with them.

Is there an opera company in Chelyabinsk?
Yes, a very small but pretty opera house. Sometimes they’ve invited me to sing there, which is nice.

Maria Gavrilova rehearsing Suor Angelica
Alan Alabastro, photo

So do you make your home in Moscow?
Yes, I have an apartment in Moscow, and a little country house outside the city.

And you do a lot of work in New York, at the Metropolitan Opera...
Yes, I rent a little apartment there. Just near Lincoln Center, because while I have sung quite a few roles at the Met in scheduled performances, I very often cover roles, and if something happens to my colleague, I may have to be at the Met in ten minutes—always be prepared!

How old were you when you first began singing?
My parents were both singers, so I more or less grew up in the theater. I sang, first in choruses, and studied voice and piano when I went to college in Chelyabinsk. I was 23 years old when I went to Moscow Conservatory. And after three years, the Bolshoi theater invited me to be a Young Artist there.

You’ve sung a great deal at the Bolshoi, and at the Met. What’s your favorite theater?
It is very nice for me to perform in Moscow, at home. I don’t particularly like to fly.

And it’s a long way from Moscow to Seattle...we appreciate very much your making the trip! Now, you’ve sung many Puccini soprano roles: Mimì, Cio-Cio-San, Tosca, Manon Lescaut. What about La fanciulla del West?
Not yet!

And Suor Angelica, now, for the first time. Which has been your favorite?
I know people like to answer that question...but I really can’t answer it. Each role is me; this is my blood, these are my emotions, every inch.

Maria Gavrilova (Suor Angelica) and Rosalind Plowright (the Princess) rehearse the powerful scene at the heart of Suor Angelica
Alan Alabastro, photo

Is there one of them that’s easier to sing than the others?
I can’t really call any of them easy; but Suor Angelica is shorter than the others. And there’s so much in it; it’s so powerful. If you even begin to think how sorry you are for this girl, you start to cry. And then, that’s it, you can’t sing.

Now, there aren’t too many operas in which you get to play a nun...
Well, I’ve sung Khovanschina, by Mussorgsky, I played this character of Susanna, who’s a religious fanatic. Not an orthodox nun, in terms of the actual Russian church. In fact, a very ugly, nasty, terrible person!

Maria Gavrilova as Susanna in Khovanschina at the Met
Ken Howard, photo

In Suor Angelica, starting with the exit of your aunt, it’s just you alone onstage until the end of the opera. You sing your aria, “Senza mamma,” then build up to this wonderful, agonized, mystical death scene. How do you pace yourself through all of this?
Ah, but this is Puccini’s genius. It’s paced brilliantly—a little bit forward here, more emotion, more passion, and then you pull back, and give a little less.

Do you have a favorite moment in there? I like the section beginning “La grazia discesa dal cielo...”
Oh, of course... [sings]...you stay with this joy, and it’s so beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!

"Suor Angelica knows how to prepare remedies for all ills from the plants of the garden," say the nuns in Suor Angelica. Maria Gavrilova in rehearsal
Alan Alabastro, photo

And then she goes and poisons herself!
Oh, but that is not what she thinks. She thinks she is finally going to be with her son.

Ok, for her it’s a happy ending. And meanwhile, out there in the audience, we’re crying our eyes out!
Yes, sorry about that!

No, after all, that’s why we go to Puccini operas. We look forward very much to hearing you do it.

Meet Our Singers: NUCCIA FOCILE, Elle

What a thrill it was yesterday to sit down with the great Nuccia Focile, who sings the only character in La Voix Humaine at Seattle Opera this May. Focile told me a great deal about performing this fascinating Poulenc work, new to the company. Seattle Opera first fell in love with the soprano when she sang Tatyana in Eugene Onegin in 2002. She has since lit up our stage as Mimì in La bohème, Nedda in Pagliacci, Iphigénie in Iphigénie en Tauride, and Violetta in La traviata.

In La Voix Humaine Focile portrays a nameless woman (known as “Elle,” or “She,” for convenience) desperately attempting to stay connected on the telephone with an unseen lover who has moved on. She gradually comes to accept her situation, and the opera concludes with the devastating words, “My sweet darling...I'll be brave, let's finish. Hang up. Hang up quickly. I love you, I love you, I love you...” Appropriately enough, when we spoke yesterday the diva’s iPhone 5 (in its sparkly pink case) lay on the table between us! Technology may have advanced since Poulenc first wrote this opera, in 1959, but human relationships, alas, are no easier.

The many phases of "Elle": Nuccia Focile in rehearsal for La Voix Humaine
Photos by Alan Alabastro

Nuccia, how is our production of La Voix Humaine different from the production you sang in London in 2010, at Covent Garden?
First of all, in London I sang the opera in English, so that the audience would feel immediately connected to the text. The text is so important in this opera. But nobody was happy with the English translation, so we did a lot of hard work adapting it, changing rhythms and notes here and there. We had six weeks rehearsal, and the entire first week we didn’t do any movement, just sat at the table—like rehearsing a play!—analyzing the text, making sure the translation was accurate and that it would work musically. It was laborious, but necessary.

Would you say it’s preferable to sing the opera in French and use supertitles, as we’re doing in Seattle?
Yes, I relearned it from scratch to sing it now, and I love it even more in French. Now I can’t imagine it being sung in another language. The [French] text and the music fits together so naturally. The music is so French, the taste is so French, you know?

Now, you were born in Sicily...when did you first start studying French?
I studied a little bit in high school. But I’ve sung a fair amount of French opera—the Iphigénie here, Juliette of Gounod, Manon—and have always studied every role with a French coach.

What else in this production is different from London?
The size of the theater. In London we did it in the Royal Opera House 2, the Linbury Studio Theatre, which is an intimate space. There isn’t an orchestra pit, so the orchestra was behind the set. There was a see-through panel, so they could see me onstage acting, and I had a few monitors so I could see the conductor, Gary Walker.

Nuccia Focile in La Voix Humaine at Royal Opera Covent Garden
Photo by Tristram Kenton

Another Gary!
Yes, conducting this opera is challenging, because you have to be so precise. Gary [in London] did a fine job, and our Gary [Thor Wedow, who conducts in Seattle] is perfect, absolutely wonderful.

Yes, he’s got the precision but also the heart. We’ve heard that in everything he’s done for us, like the Iphigénie en Tauride he did with you in 2007.
There’s this fantastic combination, with Gary, of being precise and faithful to the score, yet he allows all the emotions to happen. Because with this score you have to be so meticulous. Everything, the tiniest little details, are written there. If you are faithful to the score, most of the work is done for you. If you really do what is written, if you analyze every bar. All the intentions—dramatically, musically, emotionally, it’s all there. But it’s up to the interpreter to pay attention and trust what’s in the score.

Gary Thor Wedow conducted Nuccia Focile in Iphigénie en Tauride at Seattle Opera in 2007
Photo by Bill Mohn

Speaking of “trust,” let me ask you about the many silences in this opera. Bernard [Uzan, the director] has written out what the man on the other end of the phone is saying in each of those silences, and he’s been carrying on the other end of the conversation with you in rehearsal. Did you know that would be part of this rehearsal process?
Oh, yes, because we did the same type of work in London. Every time she is silent, he is speaking; or when she answers a question, you need to know exactly what he asked. I write down all the lines in those silent moments, for what he is saying, what the operator is saying, or this annoying lady that keeps coming into the conversation because the phone lines get crossed! It’s important, in rehearsals, to have someone say the lines out loud. It’s the only way, really.

At La Voix Humaine rehearsal, l to r: Conductor Gary Thor Wedow, General Director Speight Jenkins, Lighting Designer Connie Yun, Director Bernard Uzan, Assistant Director Ben Smith, Nuccia Focile
Photo by Alan Alabastro

But then you get to the performance, and the person calling out those lines is gone, and all you have is a rest with a fermata over it...
...and then you panic! [laughs] You need to find the courage in yourself to sustain the silence. That’s why you need to know exactly what his words are, so it’s realistic—the pause cannot be just waiting, it has to make sense. Some of the silences are longer, some shorter. Poulenc says when he wants it “très longue,” for example.

That’s fascinating, that you describe it as courage...
...to sustain complete silence onstage.

Is it you or Gary [Thor Wedow, the conductor] who ends the silence? The way it’s written, sometimes the orchestra comes in first...
Yes...it all depends on how I react to the silence. There are moments where the orchestra is anticipating her emotions and then she joins in with them; and there are moments when she starts the new idea, the new emotion, and they catch up with her. It’s a real dialogue. Maybe I take a breath, to give my answer, and Gary is waiting for that and then comes in with the orchestra. He has to be act the role along with me for the reactions to be organic.

Nuccia Focile was rejected mercilessly in her Seattle Opera debut when she sang Tatyana to the Eugene Onegin of Vladimir Chernov
Photo by Chris Bennion

Could a performer who’s never been through a break-up do a good job performing La Voix Humaine?
It’s a good question...although you could ask that of any opera. If you have experienced a situation, in your own life—which in this case, I have—it adds sincerity, when it comes to expressing those feelings. Because those paintful memories are there. You don’t have to imagine what it might be like; it’s direct, it’s automatic. So in a way, it does help. On the other hand, the negative side is that you can let the emotion take over too much. Then it affects your concentration, your voice...

It seems to me this opera is so unbearably real, particularly to our late-twentieth early-twenty-first century lives. Who hasn’t been on this dreadful phone call, at the wrong end of a romance?
This woman is so real. She is around the corner, in every city, in every place.

Do you think the woman in the opera is really Francis Poulenc, the composer? That he was writing about himself?
All three of them—Jean Cocteau, who wrote the play originally, Poulenc, and Denise Duval, the soprano who did it the first time—all of them can see themselves in this role. And yes, this is also a story about two men.

“Elle,” the female character, can also be read as a stand-in for a man?
Yes, there are lots of moments in the text, we’ve been discussing it in rehearsals, where it comes across as a relationship between two men. She talks about how society wouldn’t understand, how quick people are to judge...it’s subtle, but it’s there.

Nuccia Focile as Violetta in La traviata at Seattle Opera in 2009
Photo by Rozarii Lynch

That’s interesting, I think in the ‘30s, when Cocteau originally wrote the piece, you did that all in code. It flew over some people’s heads, while others knew exactly what you were talking about.
Of course. But it works, because love is love. In my case, “Elle” is a woman, it’s the end of her relationship, and this is their farewell phone call. Every woman can connect to this, can see a little bit of herself in this story, even if she has not gone through such a dramatic thing.

Cocteau hasn’t given us a whole lot of specifics. Have you added more details to the story—who he is, how they met, what he does for a living, etc.?
Yes, we had to figure out the beginning of the story, as we go to enact the end of their story. So we believe that she is the one who initiated the relationship, that Sunday in Versailles. She went to him. She said she didn’t care about anything, she wanted to take the risk; she implies that she thinks it’s better that she’s had these five years of happiness, with him, even though now she has to pay the price. If she had to go back, she’d do exactly the same thing. We believe he’s a lawyer—we talk about a case that he’s on—and that she doesn’t have a profession. She says, “These five years I’ve lived through you.”

He’s been paying for her apartment, like that?
Yes, but more: he’s the only thing she’s had, these five years. He has been the air that she breathes. So when she loses him, now, she has lost everything. And he is to marry someone else tomorrow. My character didn’t expect this to happen so soon. She knows he is planning to take his new wife to Marseilles, and she begs him: “Please, do not take her to the same hotel where we used to go.” And he says, “Yes, of course, I promise.” And it’s so sad in that moment—she says, “Thank you, thank you for being so understanding, you’re such a nice man.”

I love how Cocteau and Poulenc have set it up with all this space between what they’re saying to each other and what the situation really is. I love how they lie to each other!
I think he is lying the whole time. Even when he says, “No, of course I won’t take her to that hotel.”

That’s where he takes her. Oyyy.
Ouch!

How true, though! And earlier in the opera, when she lies to him about having attempted suicide... she doesn’t tell him, at first. And he lies to her about where he’s calling from.
Right, he’s obviously at a party—“Oh, tell your neighbors to keep the music down!” she says, though she knows he isn’t at home. It’s wonderful. Just today, in rehearsal, Gary was saying: “This score is like an onion. You peel and peel and peel, and there are so many layers before you get to the actual core.” There’s so much in the score, and so much between the lines.

Do you have a favorite musical moment in this opera?
I like each time we hear the love theme...when she remembers Versailles, and how happy they were together. You can see, in my score [shows her score] each time that theme plays I wrote a little heart! I’m that pathetic! And this wonderfully sentimental waltz, which we hear when she begins to tell the truth about how she took all the sleeping pills.

That’s one of the real lyric effusions in the score.
And that music returns, when she begs him not to take the woman to ‘their hotel.’

What’s the best way for an audience member who is new to this opera to prepare?
Well, the music is very direct. But you have to understand the text first. So I think it’s worth it to read the libretto, so you can understand what she’s talking about.

It’s an opera that will repay the audience’s close attention. I’m so glad I have the chance to hear it multiple times!

Meet Our OUR EARTH Artists: Pete Rush, Set & Costume Designer

At our free Earth Day Celebration on Saturday, audiences will have a chance to see and hear the first two operas of our new Our Earth trilogy, performed by Seattle Opera’s singers and Youth Chorus and the Seattle Youth Symphony. Eric Banks composed the lush scores for Irene Keliher’s engaging libretti. Today we check in with the set and costume designer for Our Earth, Pete Rush, who has transformed familiar Northwest landscapes and animals into vivid theatrical visuals that our team can use in a wide variety of spaces. Join us for this weekend’s show at Seattle Center’s Fisher Pavilion.

Pete, thanks for your distinct and personal work on Our Earth. Now, how did you get involved with this production?
Kelly Kitchens, the director of Our Earth, called and said, “I’m doing this project with Seattle Opera, and I think you’re the best person to work on this.” Particularly because the challenge was to do both costumes and scenery. There aren’t necessarily a lot of designers who do both.

Seattle audiences first saw Pete Rush's sets and costumes for OUR EARTH when Heron and the Salmon Girl premiered at Town Hall in February
Alan Alabastro, photo

Why is that so rare?
It’s like two different brains. Even in the same production, with sets you’re dealing with spatial awareness and the physical world, and with costumes you’re dealing with character and storytelling. And it’s two very different processes—as a scenic designer you do a lot of work up front, developing sketches and models, and you send it away and it gets built and boom! there it is. Whereas a costume designer is more in the trenches throughout the whole rehearsal and tech process: acquiring clothes, building costumes, fitting them, making adjustments up to the last minute based on quick changes, things that flop around that shouldn’t, things like that.

Have you done more of one or the other, sets or costumes?
Prior to moving to Seattle—I moved here about seven years ago—I did a lot of scenic design, I would say more scenic design than costume design. But when I came to Seattle, the first job I got was as a costumer, and since then people have predominately considered me a costume designer.

It’s all about how you get introduced! Do you yourself have a preference?
I’m happy to do one or the other. It’s actually really challenging to do both for the same production: it’s double the work! And double the focus; you have to be looking at two different things, giving both the same amount of attention.

Yet I’d think that there would be fewer opportunities for friction, than with a collaboration...
Yes, it’s a dream to be able to create a completely comprehensive world, where the clothes really do match the scenery. Conceptually, that’s a joy. But it’s also great to collaborate with other designers. We do all tend to get on the same page.

"Daydreams" by Pete Rush, an installation for Eight Square Schoolhouse in Dryden, NY
Pete Rush, photo

Now on your website I was impressed by an installation you had done, in Dryden, NY, inspired by the creative imagination of a child in school. As a designer do you approach a show aimed at young audiences differently than you would a show aimed at adults?
Yes, it is different. Younger audiences love being challenged to use their imaginations; they love when things are used in surprising or unexpected ways. And of course they love lots of color and movement and texture, things you’d imagine kids would appreciate. And, with theater or opera for young audiences, often you have fewer resources in terms of time and money, which forces a designers to be more creative.

Our Earth is your first opera, but you’ve designed a lot of Shakespeare. How are they different, in your experience?
That’s interesting, sometimes people lump these types of theater together sometimes because you may be dealing with big period costumes, or aiming for opulence, over-the-top pageantry. I’ve done a lot of contemporary Shakespeare, though, where that’s often not the priority. One big difference, I would say, is that in Shakespeare, the physicality of the performers is intense. In opera the performers may be dealing more with their voice and less with running all over the place climbing things. You have to take that into account.

Sets for Heron and the Salmon Girl by Pete Rush

Now for Our Earth, in talking with Irene Keliher, our librettist, we learned that there were some elements of local native lore that went into the story—people who can transform into salmon, a trickster raven, things like that. Did such elements influence your thinking in terms of sets and costumes, too?
Local indigenous art, yes. We looked at a lot of the woodcut art that comes out of this area, and it influenced the scenic design. We wanted to render these locations—mountains, lakes, ocean water—in a way that was very stylized, with this line art that almost looks 3-dimensional, like it could have been cut out of wood. Bold, thick lines with primary colors; taking something that’s natural and organic and reducing it to its basic shape. In terms of the costumes, though, I looked less at Native American representations of these animals and more at the actual animals themselves.

Oh, I see...you didn’t go after the way a local artist would represent a raven on a totem pole or a mask, for instance.
No, but we paid attention to the actual species who inhabit this area: their colors, for instance, bringing those colors into the costumes. The Great Blue Heron, for instance.

Heron (Sonia Perez) and Salmon Girl Alitsa (Rachel DeShon) in Heron and the Salmon Girl
Alan Alabastro, photo

Do you have a favorite animal costume you created for Our Earth?
We have the challenge here of transforming human characters into salmon. And it has to happen onstage, instantaneously—in about one second!

That’s right, you mentioned quick-changes just a second ago!
I think we came up with a pretty good solution for that—there are layers, they have their salmon costumes on under their human costume, they pull it off and there’s the shimmery, sequin-ey salmon layer...

Parr (John Coons) and Alitsa (Alexa Jarvis) transform into salmon to leap up the rapids in Rushing Upriver

I loved that moment, in Heron and the Salmon Girl, when Alitsa drops her coat and becomes a salmon.
There’s only that one change, in the first opera, and we have two such moments in the second opera and more coming up for the third. That’s been a fun creative challenge.

Another practical consideration for you: we’ll be presenting these operas this weekend in Fisher Pavilion, on a nice stage and with an orchestra, but these operas are getting around! They’ve already been to lots of schools all over the area...
Yes, the entire production has to pack up and fit in the back of two cars. So it’s been designed to store compactly, not to be heavy, to be set up easily and quickly and taken down again.

The set for Our Earth transforms rapidly from open sea to cityscape to forest.
Alan Alabastro, photo

You’ve found a good solution for the set with these banners...
Yes, this is the first project I’ve done with those. We went to a company that creates mainly displays for tradeshows, and it’s like a big windowshade, and you can print whatever you want on the banner. It’s wonderfully versatile; this way we have four units which we can use for three different operas and not have to deal with a lot of complicated, bulky scenery.

One last question: would you tell us a little about your work with TeenTix?
Right! I’m a co-manager of an arts access program, TeenTix, I’ve been doing it for four years now. We offer teenagers (13 to 19 years old) opportunities to attend arts events all around the city, with day-of-show tickets, for $5. The program is run through Seattle Center, and I’m really passionate about it. The future of arts and arts participation resides in introducing young people to the arts, getting them to try it out, getting them hooked. That way they’re willing to take risks as they grow up and look at all kinds of arts with a critical eye and a sense of openness. The program is doing very well. We currently have about 17,000 members, and we’re growing more popular with each season.

Meet Our OUR EARTH Singers: Alexa Jarvis, Salmon Girl & Raccoon

Earth Day is this weekend, and Seattle Opera is celebrating, with our friends and partners at The Nature Conservancy, Seattle Youth Symphony, Classic KING FM, and Seattle Center, by creating new work! Join all of us for a fun, free, family-friendly Earth Day Celebration on Saturday April 20 at Seattle Center's Fisher Pavilion--with performances of our two OUR EARTH operas by Seattle Opera's adult singers, Youth Chorus, and the Seattle Youth Symphony conducted by Stephen Rogers Radcliffe. Fisher Pavilion opens at noon; we'll hear the first opera, Heron and the Salmon Girl, at 1:30, and the sequel, Rushing Upriver, at 3 pm.

Joining the cast of OUR EARTH is soprano Alexa Jarvis (photo, left, by Michelle Moore), who plays Alitsa, the Salmon Girl, as well as an untrustworthy raccoon. (We checked in with our other soloists in February.) A Seattle native, Alexa shared with us a little about her background, the characters she plays, and her favorite approach to salmon.

Welcome to OUR EARTH, Alexa! This series of operas, created by Seattleites Eric Banks (composer) and Irene Keliher (librettist) is all about this area. And you've got deep roots here, no?
Yes, I was born and raised in Seattle on Queen Anne Hill, but moved to Magnolia in high school. My mom, sister, and I used to go down to the beach on Puget Sound and walk along the sand flats. Sometimes the flats stretch two or three miles deep on a low tide!

Puget Sound Beach

What do you like most about being a Seattleite? 

I love to ski, so having the access to a ski hill an hour away in the wintertime is SO wonderful. I also love the rain. Nothing beats the crispy air during a good rain.

How did you first become involved with music? 

My first musical experience was with the Northwest Girlchoir, and when I got older I joined Vocalpoint! Seattle. In Vocalpoint! we sang everything from Fleetwood Mac and Jackson 5, to works with the Seattle Symphony in their seasonal concerts and on Grammy-nominated recordings. Simultaneously, I was involved in The Onions, the advanced jazz choir at my high school (Seattle Academy), and took classical voice lessons on the side.

When did opera first become part of your world? 

In 2008 I moved to Chicago to attend DePaul University School of Music. It wasn’t until I was pursuing a music degree that I discovered my love for opera. I think the pinnacle of this discovery was when I was nineteen seeing Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde for the first time at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. It is my favorite opera to this day.

What's a favorite experience you've had as a performer? 

A performing highlight for me was singing Francis Poulenc’s Gloria last year as the soprano soloist in Chicago. Poulenc is one of my favorite French composers. (I can’t wait to see La Voix Humaine at Seattle Opera in May!) I also had a ball singing the National Anthem at the Sonics vs. Lakers game in 2007. You don’t realize what a little breed of human you are until you stand next to a pro basketball player!

Alexa Jarvis in Seattle Opera's Turandot
Elise Bakketun, photo

Now, tell us about your previous experience with Seattle Opera. 

When I was a junior in college I wanted to learn what went on behind the scenes of an opera company, so I applied to Seattle Opera’s Education Department and was accepted as a summer intern in 2011. After I graduated college the following year, I moved back to Seattle and began singing in the chorus of Turandot, and again, in the chorus of La Bohéme this past March. I can now say that I have sung in 18 live performances on the McCaw Hall stage! As a soprano myself, watching the Turandots, Liùs, Mimìs, and Musettas sing was such a gratifying learning experience. I studied their process and watched their growth from the rehearsal studio onto the stage. I never took a moment for granted. Night after night, when Elizabeth Caballero sang the high C at the end of Bohéme’s Act 1, I was awestruck backstage every time, hungry someday to feel what she was feeling in that moment.

Alexa Jarvis backstage at Seattle Opera's La Bohéme
Alexa Jarvis, photo

Who is Alitsa, and how does she change over the course of the two operas you’ll be performing on April 20? 

Alitsa is not your normal fourteen-year-old: she is a salmon-girl! At the drop of a hat, she can transform from a human into a salmon. With this special power, she is a strong-willed adolescent girl who is eager to explore. However, if a salmon-person stays a human for too long, she grows ill. This is what happens to her salmon-brother, Parr, in the first opera, Heron and the Salmon Girl. Alitsa has to be the strong younger sister while she helps Parr get better in the city, but in Opera #2, Rushing Upriver, Alitsa begins to grow weak herself, for she has been walking as a human for too long. Now it is up to Parr to save her.

What is your favorite part in these operas to sing? 

I love Parr and Alitsa’s duet at the end of Heron and the Salmon Girl. She sings “My brother, my only brother, I’m sorry it has taken so long. I brought your medicine, will you please come home with me?” The way the parts overlap in the drifting 11/8 time-signature is brilliant and parallels with the raw emotions the siblings are feeling. In Rushing Upriver, my favorite part is when I get to play the Raccoon and jump around singing about scrounging for food in garbage cans and picnic sites.

What research have you done to play a raccoon?

I’ve sifted through many pictures to see the different ways Raccoons carry themselves--sometimes on two paws and other times on four. They often look very hungry and guilty. What I’ve tried to do is pick a personality that I want to portray and run with that. While my character Raccoon is a garbage scraps kind of gal, I still want her to come across as sassy and persistent.

Has playing a salmon onstage changed your attitude toward them?
No question. After playing a salmon on stage and watching how different predators (orcas, heron, raccoons, and coyotes) prey after my character, I recognize more than ever the stiff competition between predators and civilization for salmon. However, I’ve loved salmon since I could walk, and I don’t think I’ll stop eating it, but perhaps choose an alternative meal sometimes.

Juvenile salmon are known as "parr," as is the character in OUR EARTH
Photo courtesy of The Nature Conservancy © Bridget Besaw

What’s your favorite way to prepare salmon?
A close friend of mine turned me onto this fresh and yummy recipe:

Grilled sockeye salmon with lemon and dill

1 lb. wild Sockeye Salmon
1-2 Tbs. olive oil
1 Tbs. lemon juice, plus wedges for serving
1 tsp. minced garlic or 1/4 tsp. garlic powder
1/2 - 1 tsp. dried dill
salt and pepper to taste
aluminum foil

Preheat grill.
-To make a pan out of foil, make aluminum sheet slightly larger than the piece of salmon. Take 1 inch on each side and fold over. Stand each side up and connect corners to form the shape of a pan. Place foil pan on a flat cookie sheet or pizza pan.
-Pat salmon dry and place in the foil pan. Poke holes all over the top with a fork. Squeeze on lemon juice, then pour on olive oil and then sprinkle with spices. Let marinate for 15-20 minutes.
-Slide the foil pan with salmon onto the grill. Grill on medium heat until done, usually 10 minutes per inch of thickness. Salmon should flake when done and separate easily from the skin.
-Serve with fresh lemon wedges.

Rehearsals Begin for the Double Bill

Today is the first day of rehearsal for this spring’s extremely exciting double bill of La Voix Humaine and Suor Angelica! As I post this, Maestro Gary Thor Wedow is downstairs in our rehearsal studio with the cast, getting the tempos and musical entrances organized with all the nuns at Suor Angelica’s convent. Everyone at Seattle Opera was delighted to meet newcomer Maria Gavrilova, the Russian soprano who is singing Suor Angelica for us. This wonderful performer, well-known at the Met in New York and the Bolshoi in Moscow, is not only making her Seattle Opera debut, she’s making her role debut as Puccini’s loving, suffering nun. (Listen to Gavrilova sing an aria of Cio-Cio-San’s HERE.) If you’ve never before heard Suor Angelica, you’re in for a great treat. I’ve loved this ravishingly beautiful opera since I was a kid--I remember listening to an LP of Joan Sutherland singing it whenever I needed a little tenderness in my life—and I know Gavrilova’s performance will be overwhelming.

Nuccia Focile sang La Voix Humaine for Covent Garden in 2011
Tristram Kenton, photo

Meanwhile, our costume shop is ready to fit Nuccia Focile, who sings “Elle” in La Voix Humaine, with a new costume, a dainty negligée designed for her by Melanie Taylor Burgess. Rosalind Plowright, who plays Suor Angelica’s aunt, was telling me that she and Focile were on the same plane from London to Seattle the other day--and that as they were landing at Seatac airport, in the middle of that surprise hail-storm Saturday afternoon, an enormous lightning-bolt that crackled past their plane heralded the return of these two great divas to Seattle in the grandest style!

Rosalind Plowright as La Zia Principessa in Suor Angelica in Palermo
Teatro Massimo, photo

Focile made her Seattle Opera debut as Tatiana in Eugene Onegin in 2002, and in recent years has sung Iphigénie in Iphigénie en Tauride, Nedda in Pagliacci, and Violetta in La traviata for us. Plowright, a British singer who had an extremely distinguished career as a soprano before transitioning to mezzo soprano, first appeared in Seattle in 2008 as a memorable Klytämnestra in Elektra. She impressed us, in that production, with her ability to make a traditionally unsympathetic character real and sympathetic, and I can’t wait to see her bring this skill to bear on Angelica’s chilly Aunt.

We’ll check in with these performers, and others involved in our production, over the next three weeks as we prepare for opening night of this unusual double bill. For now, let me leave you with a special treat: in 1983, Rosalind Plowright, then a soprano, made her La Scala debut as Suor Angelica. A telecast of that production is available:

Since she now sings the mezzo role of Angelica’s aunt, Plowright is in the unusual situation of intimately knowing two roles in the same opera! The last time this situation happened at Seattle Opera was also the last time we presented an opera with everyone in the case from the same gender: the year was 2001, and the opera was Billy Budd. Richard Stilwell, who had sung Billy at the Met in 1978, sang the First Lieutenant, Mr. Redburn, in Seattle.

From Seattle Opera's 2001 Billy Budd: Christopher Maltman as Billy, Richard Stilwell as Mr. Redburn
Gary Smith, photos

Our Young Artists Talk about "Viva Verdi!"

The Seattle Opera Young Artists have spent an entire season singing Verdi’s operas. They celebrate the great composer’s bicentennial in our "Viva Verdi!" concert on April 6—a dynamic evening featuring some of Verdi’s greatest music. The beginning of La traviata, the magnificent overture to La forza del destino, “Va, pensiero” from Nabucco, the arresting “Storm Scene” from Rigoletto...and that’s not all. What more could one ask for in a single performance?

2012/13 Seattle Opera Young Artists: Tenor Theo Lebow, Mezzo-Soprano Deborah Nansteel, Baritone Hunter Enoch, Soprano Dana Pundt, Bass-Baritone Matthew Scollin, Mezzo-Soprano Sarah Larsen, Pianist/Coach Christopher Lade
(photo by Alan Alabastro)

The fine young musicians of our Young Artists Program shared some of their thoughts with me—what they’ve learned, what they’ve found challenging, and how Verdi has changed them.

Dana Pundt starts the concert with what she calls Violetta’s tour de force. Violetta’s first aria in La traviata is the most challenging music Pundt has sung with the program all year. “It’s very exposed in places,” she says, “has high-flying acrobatics in others, and requires an incredible legato almost throughout.”

Dana Pundt and Sarah Larsen in La Cenerentola
(photo by Elise Bakketun)

Mezzo-soprano Deborah Nansteel is getting the opportunity to revisit a role she first sang in 2011 as a Young Artist in San Francisco Opera’s Merola Opera Program. Eboli in Don Carlo is a role she loves. “It is a big sing, and it is a very dramatic role so that makes it challenging,” she says. “But it is one of the most exciting scenes I’ve done.”

Theo Lebow in Fidelio
(photo by Elise Bakketun)

Usually a singer has only one challenging role to learn for a performance. Theo Lebow has three! The New York-born tenor plays Alfredo in La traviata, Don Carlo, and the Duke of Mantua in Rigoletto. “The challenge for me,” he says, “is balancing myself through three very demanding roles. The vocal writing is daunting, requiring a lot of conservation.” The rehearsal and training, he says, has taught him to pace himself as he transforms from ardent suitor to doomed prince to self-interested ladies’ man.

Pianist/Accompanist Christopher Lade, who is back for his second year as a Young Artist, will make his conducting debut with this concert, leading “Oh dischiuso è il firmamento” from Nabucco. “I'm just looking forward to working with the orchestra and accompanying Sarah Larsen,” he says.

Sarah Larsen in Madama Butterfly
(photo by Elise Bakketun)

In addition to singing Fenena’s aria from Nabucco, Sarah Larsen is looking forward to embodying Preziosilla in La forza del destina. “She gets to sing several rousing, zesty numbers,” Larsen says, “‘Rataplan’ being the most famous of all. The challenge of ‘Rataplan’ is one of ensemble—the chorus and orchestration are very crisp, so one has to be mindful of rushing the tempo. This is probably my favorite piece to sing on the concert.”

Hunter Enoch is also looking forward to singing an evening that ranges from ensembles to individual roles. “As a young singer, it is infrequent that one is fortunate enough to sing this music outside of a chorus situation. The music is amazing, and I am so glad that I have had this opportunity to sing it…I have learned a lot about the inner game of singing as well.” Enoch takes on Verdi’s tormented jester in the final scene from Rigoletto, and also sings music for Barone Douphol, Fra Melitone, and Rodrigo in Don Carlo.

Deborah Nansteel, Dana Pundt, and Theo Lebow in Verdi's King for a Day
(photo by Elise Bakketun)

Matthew Scollin is most looking forward to singing the role of the assassin Sparafucile in Rigoletto. He has enjoyed the opportunity so sing the “heavier” roles of Verdi, as compared to Mozart, for example. His main takeaway from a year with Verdi applies to every role he’ll ever sing. “I’ve learned that I need to have something to say when I’m singing,” he says, “not just go through the motions.”

Dana Pundt, too, has taken something meaningful and lasting from a year with Verdi. “I feel that I’ve rediscovered my reason for singing,” she says. “After being preoccupied with technique, study, and accuracy for so long, it’s become something artistic and fulfilling once again.”

Join us on April 6. It’s a performance you won’t want to miss!