New York is becoming mundane. Of course, I realize that this is mostly because Matt is in Colorado, snow is in Colorado, cold weather is in Colorado, and none of these things are in New York City. Anyway, on Monday I realized that every week is the same for me. Every Tuesday is hell, despite being lesson day (traditionally my favorite day of the week) due to getting home at 11pm, every Wednesday is wonderful (especially tonight--will explain later) and every weekend I walk down the Upper West Side with Emily and go out to dinner with friends. (Weekends are a blast actually, there's nothing wrong with them! Oh, and SO excited for Harry Potter this weekend!
Still, even though I don't work 40 hours a week, I have fallen into a routine. Routine can be great, but I guess I'm a little surprised by how consistent it is for me, being in New York City and all. This place is like a whole other country, but I never go anywhere except home and work and the frequently attended audition sites.
Up until two weeks ago, I hadn't been outside of the city for three months. I finally took the train to Pleasantville to get some head shots and hang out with some great new friends, Courtney and Tyler LeCompte. Courtney has a great website for her handmade, one-of-a-kind jewelry found at this link: courtneyorillion.com She is a wonderful artist and did a great job with the photography and helping me look good! It was so fun to model her jewelry as a part of the head shots. Courtney and Tyler are great friends and I'm so glad to have found them in the Big Apple!
Back to the mundane (what a horrible way to start a paragraph...my apologies...it gets better...): tonight I decided to get down to business with grad school applications. So I did what every Bohemian starving young artist does: I bought an expensive bottle of German Riesling and a $1.29 wine glass from the dollar store (one thing I love about NYC!) and got quietly bombed while chipping away at essays, fees, bio info, and getting letters of recommendation in order. It definitely worked, because I'm satisfied enough with my progress to be able to blog tonight! I wrote a cracker-jack essay in 20 minutes and celebrated by walking down to the corner bakery for a piece of chocolate cake. And ice cream. And cookies. (Again--it is my goal and duty, as an opera singer, to eat as much sugar and become as fat as possible.)
The catch: I just remembered I have a meeting downtown at 10:30am tomorrow for my church job (not a big deal) and (whoops) I do have to sing tomorrow--Morgana and Zdenka in opera scenes. I may be making a temporary appearance as a mezzo-soprano thanks to the vino.
I am looking forward to next weekend in Tampa for Thanksgiving. It's going to be great getting out of The City, not to mention seeing Matt and family. No singing engagements for two weeks! That usually means less stress and more wine, but then I can't wait to get back in the swing of things! What a great life! I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
On Becoming a Better Non-Singer
I did a great workshop this past weekend with a program called Operaworks. It's run by Anne Baltz, who is a highly esteemed coach in the opera world, and who has created this program for young singers and educators.
I went into the weekend with one objective: figure out what is wrong with my auditioning, and learn how to fix it.
I expected to get very concrete feedback. "Your dress is wrong." "Your voice is wrong." "Your diction is poor." "You aren't confident when you enter the room." Contrary to what I expected, I received praise for most of these things! Needless to say, there are still many, many things I need to work on. Some of them I was aware of, and some of them I only just became aware of.
For the past year or two, I've entered almost every audition as though it's completely out of my control. I enter with resume and head shot in hand, looking my best, hopefully sounding my best, greet the judges, do my sing thing, and then leave with a "bye, hope to hear from you if the fates are in my favor" attitude. This strategy has not served me well. It is time to change--to grow. It is time for me to leave "Elena the singer" behind, and become "Elena, the organic human being with a soul filled with music and depth and excitement and compassion and every other human emotion." It is no longer about how well I sing. It is about who I sing. Everything that happens when I'm singing a character--whether in a song or an aria--needs to be that person. Every gesture, every thought, every movement, every bit of imagination I can scrape together needs to form a character that is visible and audible to the audience. After all, isn't that why I love this in the first place?
This is going to take me a while to figure out. I'll never have it completely perfected. It was an emotional breakthrough for me when I realized how much I have to change--things that are abstract and from within, rather than fixing something technical. But now I know what I need to do, and I know that I am more than capable moving the hearts of those around me. It is not because I am special or more talented than others, but because I have realized the depth of the human soul. I believe that this ability to relate to others is embedded in our beings, and it has become my job to translate that, with the beauty of music, for others.
It is no longer about the beauty of the music.
It is about the beauty of humanity.
The beauty of the soul.
I went into the weekend with one objective: figure out what is wrong with my auditioning, and learn how to fix it.
I expected to get very concrete feedback. "Your dress is wrong." "Your voice is wrong." "Your diction is poor." "You aren't confident when you enter the room." Contrary to what I expected, I received praise for most of these things! Needless to say, there are still many, many things I need to work on. Some of them I was aware of, and some of them I only just became aware of.
For the past year or two, I've entered almost every audition as though it's completely out of my control. I enter with resume and head shot in hand, looking my best, hopefully sounding my best, greet the judges, do my sing thing, and then leave with a "bye, hope to hear from you if the fates are in my favor" attitude. This strategy has not served me well. It is time to change--to grow. It is time for me to leave "Elena the singer" behind, and become "Elena, the organic human being with a soul filled with music and depth and excitement and compassion and every other human emotion." It is no longer about how well I sing. It is about who I sing. Everything that happens when I'm singing a character--whether in a song or an aria--needs to be that person. Every gesture, every thought, every movement, every bit of imagination I can scrape together needs to form a character that is visible and audible to the audience. After all, isn't that why I love this in the first place?
This is going to take me a while to figure out. I'll never have it completely perfected. It was an emotional breakthrough for me when I realized how much I have to change--things that are abstract and from within, rather than fixing something technical. But now I know what I need to do, and I know that I am more than capable moving the hearts of those around me. It is not because I am special or more talented than others, but because I have realized the depth of the human soul. I believe that this ability to relate to others is embedded in our beings, and it has become my job to translate that, with the beauty of music, for others.
It is no longer about the beauty of the music.
It is about the beauty of humanity.
The beauty of the soul.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Food
Food is a problem in New York City. Well, for me, food has always been a problem. Since the age of 9, I've looked at food as though I have a sworn duty as an opera singer to get as fat as possible. Lucky for me, my family is made up of runners, and so I've somehow managed to balance my caloric intake with the excitement of buying new running shoes and the drudgery of going for a run up hilly Ft. Tryon park.
I've found out that people don't cook in New York. Don't, or can't, I'm not sure which. (Well, some people can definitely cook, but most of them are running a pricey restaurant where the rest of us suckers go to eat our 1400 calorie meal five nights a week.) I love to cook because, obviously, the end result is usually something I can eat. The next problem that ensues is that groceries are almost as expensive as eating out. I moved from a town in Colorado where there were at least three farmers' markets, all with cheap, affordable, fresh produce. Now I live in New York. Enough said.
New York has a law that requires all chain restaurants to post the amount of calories in a food or drink item in the same size font as the price. (See this link: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25464987/) The first time I walked into a New York City Starbucks and realized that my weekly scone had almost 500 calories, I ordered the oatmeal. Now I drink whole leaf tea instead of mochas (also easier on the pocketbook.) In general, though, I think that the majority of people (myself included) realize that, if they were eating it before and it didn't kill them, then putting a "CAUTION, TOXIC WASTE" sticker on it isn't going to make it any worse.
I do have weeks--usually the first few days after my roommate's parents take us over to Jersey for groceries--where I eat well. In fact, I think I even ate an eggplant last week (+10 points for me!) accompanied by green beans (let's add another 10...) which were promptly followed by a large, Kosher, Black and White Cookie, New York style. (I should include that it became my goal in my first month of living in the City to eat a large Black and White Cookie every day. If you haven't been to the City, let me know and I'll gladly send you one. And I'll pick one up for myself while I'm there...) Anyway, I definitely ended up in the negative points after the B&W Cookie, although I'm pretty sure the scale tipped upwards...
Today was the same. Breakfast: Honey Nut Cheerios. We're off to a good start. One hour later, a black tea and double chocolate doughnut at Dunkin' Doughnuts (I'm just realizing how gross that sounds...), two hours later at lunch, egg and English muffin sandwich with A LOT of cheese (I didn't ask for extra cheese) followed by a hot chocolate for the cold, depressing Friday rush hour subway ride home, a homemade hamburger and green pees for dinner, and, to top everything off, I made a batch of chocolate chip-cinnamon-almond cookies while watching the Rangers beat the (damn) Yankees.
Enough with the Weight Watcher's food journal. Here's the problem in NYC: it takes almost everyone at least 30 minutes to get to work. That generally rules out eating lunch at home. And when you travel for so long during the day, who has time to pack a lunch? I had one lady tell me "My husband goes out for lunch every day! That's at least $10 a day! I said, that's it. I'm packing your lunch once a week." Clearly it was time to cut back.
Lucky for me, I don't work until 3pm, meaning that I can eat both breakfast and lunch at home, at least three or four days a week. Also, taking care of Stanzi means that I come home usually once a day if I have to leave in the morning, so I'm home for lunch to let her out of her crate anyway. The extra hour on the train is worth the joy of having a furry friend AND eating lunch at home.
The biggest "problem" with food in New York: availability. Everything is available wherever you are, whenever you want it, immediately. For a price. (Example: B&W Cookie. They're in every cafe/coffee shop/bakery window, and for three little dollars, why not? At my rate, that adds up considerably, and that's just dessert. Oh, and I haven't even started on Tiramisu yet, which was my second month's obsession and is almost twice as expensive.) New York pizza is as good as they say, and huge. It's a whole meal. I take that back. It's three meals. For one piece. A whole pie could feed an entire floor of the NYU dorms. (At this point, the hot dogs on the corner stands are starting to look healthy...)
Adding in all the variables, here's the equation: let's say a person eats breakfast at home. A bowl of cereal. Fine. There's no room in the small NYC apartment kitchen counter for a coffee maker, so the next destination is, naturally, Starbucks. Let's be stingy and say $5 for a drink and tip. Oh wait! He sees the petite vanilla bean scone for $1, so add that in as well. (What harm can it do?) He walks into work, and a bakery in Brooklyn was having a 2-for-1 sale, so a coworker brought in bagels. And cream cheese. Lunchtime. Panini and soda: $10. Back to work. Snack before the hour-long commute back home: fresh cannoli, $3. Get home at 8pm (most places in NYC open and close later than 9-5 everyday), not in the mood to cook. No fresh groceries. Order Chinese take-out: $22 including tip.
The Results:
final cost: $41/day, approximately $287/week (I suppose you could make the Chinese take-out last for another night.)
final calorie count: too disgusting to list.
final vegetable count: 0 (Unless you could the olives and artichoke that were in the Panini at lunch.)
final fruit count: (what's a fruit?)
The worst part about all of this is that most of the New Yorkers whom I've met wouldn't see what's wrong with this picture, as long as there is nothing wrong with the picture in the mirror looking back at them.
The food situation in New York could be, and surely is somewhere, a topic that could fill volumes. This is already unfortunate in length, so I will simply end by saying that I can't wait to live somewhere where there isn't so much good food.
I've found out that people don't cook in New York. Don't, or can't, I'm not sure which. (Well, some people can definitely cook, but most of them are running a pricey restaurant where the rest of us suckers go to eat our 1400 calorie meal five nights a week.) I love to cook because, obviously, the end result is usually something I can eat. The next problem that ensues is that groceries are almost as expensive as eating out. I moved from a town in Colorado where there were at least three farmers' markets, all with cheap, affordable, fresh produce. Now I live in New York. Enough said.
New York has a law that requires all chain restaurants to post the amount of calories in a food or drink item in the same size font as the price. (See this link: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25464987/) The first time I walked into a New York City Starbucks and realized that my weekly scone had almost 500 calories, I ordered the oatmeal. Now I drink whole leaf tea instead of mochas (also easier on the pocketbook.) In general, though, I think that the majority of people (myself included) realize that, if they were eating it before and it didn't kill them, then putting a "CAUTION, TOXIC WASTE" sticker on it isn't going to make it any worse.
I do have weeks--usually the first few days after my roommate's parents take us over to Jersey for groceries--where I eat well. In fact, I think I even ate an eggplant last week (+10 points for me!) accompanied by green beans (let's add another 10...) which were promptly followed by a large, Kosher, Black and White Cookie, New York style. (I should include that it became my goal in my first month of living in the City to eat a large Black and White Cookie every day. If you haven't been to the City, let me know and I'll gladly send you one. And I'll pick one up for myself while I'm there...) Anyway, I definitely ended up in the negative points after the B&W Cookie, although I'm pretty sure the scale tipped upwards...
Today was the same. Breakfast: Honey Nut Cheerios. We're off to a good start. One hour later, a black tea and double chocolate doughnut at Dunkin' Doughnuts (I'm just realizing how gross that sounds...), two hours later at lunch, egg and English muffin sandwich with A LOT of cheese (I didn't ask for extra cheese) followed by a hot chocolate for the cold, depressing Friday rush hour subway ride home, a homemade hamburger and green pees for dinner, and, to top everything off, I made a batch of chocolate chip-cinnamon-almond cookies while watching the Rangers beat the (damn) Yankees.
Enough with the Weight Watcher's food journal. Here's the problem in NYC: it takes almost everyone at least 30 minutes to get to work. That generally rules out eating lunch at home. And when you travel for so long during the day, who has time to pack a lunch? I had one lady tell me "My husband goes out for lunch every day! That's at least $10 a day! I said, that's it. I'm packing your lunch once a week." Clearly it was time to cut back.
Lucky for me, I don't work until 3pm, meaning that I can eat both breakfast and lunch at home, at least three or four days a week. Also, taking care of Stanzi means that I come home usually once a day if I have to leave in the morning, so I'm home for lunch to let her out of her crate anyway. The extra hour on the train is worth the joy of having a furry friend AND eating lunch at home.
The biggest "problem" with food in New York: availability. Everything is available wherever you are, whenever you want it, immediately. For a price. (Example: B&W Cookie. They're in every cafe/coffee shop/bakery window, and for three little dollars, why not? At my rate, that adds up considerably, and that's just dessert. Oh, and I haven't even started on Tiramisu yet, which was my second month's obsession and is almost twice as expensive.) New York pizza is as good as they say, and huge. It's a whole meal. I take that back. It's three meals. For one piece. A whole pie could feed an entire floor of the NYU dorms. (At this point, the hot dogs on the corner stands are starting to look healthy...)
Adding in all the variables, here's the equation: let's say a person eats breakfast at home. A bowl of cereal. Fine. There's no room in the small NYC apartment kitchen counter for a coffee maker, so the next destination is, naturally, Starbucks. Let's be stingy and say $5 for a drink and tip. Oh wait! He sees the petite vanilla bean scone for $1, so add that in as well. (What harm can it do?) He walks into work, and a bakery in Brooklyn was having a 2-for-1 sale, so a coworker brought in bagels. And cream cheese. Lunchtime. Panini and soda: $10. Back to work. Snack before the hour-long commute back home: fresh cannoli, $3. Get home at 8pm (most places in NYC open and close later than 9-5 everyday), not in the mood to cook. No fresh groceries. Order Chinese take-out: $22 including tip.
The Results:
final cost: $41/day, approximately $287/week (I suppose you could make the Chinese take-out last for another night.)
final calorie count: too disgusting to list.
final vegetable count: 0 (Unless you could the olives and artichoke that were in the Panini at lunch.)
final fruit count: (what's a fruit?)
The worst part about all of this is that most of the New Yorkers whom I've met wouldn't see what's wrong with this picture, as long as there is nothing wrong with the picture in the mirror looking back at them.
The food situation in New York could be, and surely is somewhere, a topic that could fill volumes. This is already unfortunate in length, so I will simply end by saying that I can't wait to live somewhere where there isn't so much good food.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The First One
There is always the moment before you start writing when you sit, looking at a blank screen, wondering how to start. All that was going through my head was "it's this, or the novel about the Alaskan wilderness with the ax murderer".
Have you ever wondered how many opera singers there are in New York City? Let me narrow it down--we already know all about the famous ones and how great they are. I'm more curious about the not-yet-successful singers. I mean, if we could take a poll, say at Grand Central Station, asking what people are doing in NYC, I wonder how many would answer that they are here to study opera. My theory is that it's actually less than people think, but then I don't really know what people think.
Regardless, I am one of many young opera singers in the city. I moved here two months ago to study with a fabulous teacher and to become a better (and bankrupt) musician. So far, I am happy to say that everything is going according to plan.
My goal for this blog is to record my year (or first year) in New York. I realized tonight, while talking to my brother on the phone, that there is way too much going on in my life to not record it. (Consequently, there is also way too much going on in my life to record it all, so I'll try to find a happy medium.)
Moving to New York City after growing up in a tiny town in Alaska (a few miles further west and you can see Russia...) is obviously a big adjustment. Rather than go through all the events that have transpired (although at some point I should recall the strolling-and-entry thieving that happened the third night in my apartment, as well as my adventure at Yankee Stadium) I'll just say that I have met some incredible people in my first weeks here, and have received help from many sources, both human and Divine. I have discovered that New Yorkers, while perhaps louder and more aggressive, are also the ultimate humanitarians. You just might not always catch them at the best time. Seriously, though, I've met some amazing people in the past two months. It just goes to show that you're never alone and that people do care about you.
One example that I'll include was an email I received from the priest at the parish where I hold a church music position. After a long, semi-depressing day of YA and grad school app. preparation (preparation for the inevitable rejection, that is...) I got this email:
Dear Elena,
I have an "in" with the angelic choirs and you should know that I have requested my personal guardian angel, Guido "The Hammer" Bombardi to keep an eye on you. He has spent most of his guard duty in the Bronx before coming to watch out over me. He needs a little "Youth" ministry now. So, when good things happen...say "Thank you, Guido." He doesn't ask for much, just a thank you from time to time and a fresh cannoli on the window sill."
I think I'll go get a cannoli.
Soli Deo Gloria.
Have you ever wondered how many opera singers there are in New York City? Let me narrow it down--we already know all about the famous ones and how great they are. I'm more curious about the not-yet-successful singers. I mean, if we could take a poll, say at Grand Central Station, asking what people are doing in NYC, I wonder how many would answer that they are here to study opera. My theory is that it's actually less than people think, but then I don't really know what people think.
Regardless, I am one of many young opera singers in the city. I moved here two months ago to study with a fabulous teacher and to become a better (and bankrupt) musician. So far, I am happy to say that everything is going according to plan.
My goal for this blog is to record my year (or first year) in New York. I realized tonight, while talking to my brother on the phone, that there is way too much going on in my life to not record it. (Consequently, there is also way too much going on in my life to record it all, so I'll try to find a happy medium.)
Moving to New York City after growing up in a tiny town in Alaska (a few miles further west and you can see Russia...) is obviously a big adjustment. Rather than go through all the events that have transpired (although at some point I should recall the strolling-and-entry thieving that happened the third night in my apartment, as well as my adventure at Yankee Stadium) I'll just say that I have met some incredible people in my first weeks here, and have received help from many sources, both human and Divine. I have discovered that New Yorkers, while perhaps louder and more aggressive, are also the ultimate humanitarians. You just might not always catch them at the best time. Seriously, though, I've met some amazing people in the past two months. It just goes to show that you're never alone and that people do care about you.
One example that I'll include was an email I received from the priest at the parish where I hold a church music position. After a long, semi-depressing day of YA and grad school app. preparation (preparation for the inevitable rejection, that is...) I got this email:
Dear Elena,
I have an "in" with the angelic choirs and you should know that I have requested my personal guardian angel, Guido "The Hammer" Bombardi to keep an eye on you. He has spent most of his guard duty in the Bronx before coming to watch out over me. He needs a little "Youth" ministry now. So, when good things happen...say "Thank you, Guido." He doesn't ask for much, just a thank you from time to time and a fresh cannoli on the window sill."
I think I'll go get a cannoli.
Soli Deo Gloria.
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