Seattle Opera Blog

Meet Our Director: JOSE MARIA CONDEMI

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Time now to check in with our wonderful Orphée et Eurydice director, Jose Maria Condemi (left), who has also been involved in the design of this new production every step of the way. Jose Maria has been associated with Seattle Opera for about ten years. When he and I spoke last week, we remembered ancient history, talked about some of the design choices you’ll see in our production, and about the importance of willpower, both to avoid looking at Eurydice and to resist the temptation to scarf Oreo cookies.

Jose Maria, first tell us about your history with this opera.
I staged Orfeo ed Euridice, the Italian version, four years ago at a small opera company in Palo Alto. We had a very small budget, so we really had to strive for simplicity because there wasn’t much by way of resources. But that’s what Gluck wanted to do—his concept was ‘noble simplicity,’ and so the budgetary constraints became something powerful for the piece. When this opportunity came up, to do the French version for Seattle, with a little more money, I wanted to keep it simple.

What other operas share this aesthetic of ‘noble simplicity’?
Dido and Aeneas, let’s see, Carlisle Floyd’s Susannah. In those the minimal approach helps concentrate the juices.

Is it possible for a production to interfere with the opera by getting too busy?

Everything depends on whether the story is well-told. It can be told many ways. Bob Wilson did a very static Orphée, and it can also work with Baroque eccentricity. The older I get the more I realize that the real question is, does the approach strengthen the story-telling, or does it distract from it? For instance, now we’re doing the French version of Gluck’s Orphée, and in the score, after the last vocal cutoff, there’s 20 pages of dancing. After the story is over. For me, cutting that was a no-brainer. The dances earlier in the opera, we use for story-telling. But once the story is over, there’s no reason for these dances to go on and on. We want to concentrate it. It’s like when you make a really good marinara sauce, you slow-cook it for a long time, and concentrate the juices over many hours.

Let’s talk about your history with Seattle Opera.
Yes, I first came here more than ten years ago. I was the assistant for Salome and Un ballo in maschera—

Whoa, that was a long time ago!
--and then after that I came to do the full-year residency with Mourning Becomes Electra, Carmen, and Ariadne, and Fanciulla, the first year in the new hall.

And you directed Così fan tutte for the Young Artists Program in there.
Yes. I loved that year! To get to work with so many directors, and I loved doing the Così for the Young Artists.

What were some of the things you learned from the directors you assisted?
One of those shows, I worked with a fantastic theater director who didn’t have that much experience directing opera. So that was about watching somebody try to find a way of translating that work—even the language is different, you talk to an opera singer differently than you do to an actor. You use different words. With Mourning Becomes Electra, well, Bart Sher was great, and Lauren Flanigan is a dramatic powerhouse, so the discussions between them were juicy. It was great to assist Bernard Uzan, who has a lot of experience, knows exactly what he wants, and is very practical and to-the-point. And with Chris Alexander on Ariadne, it was fascinating to see him weave his way through. I learned a lot by watching people do what I do now, in their own different styles.

Jose Maria Condemi in rehearsal (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Then, in 2007, you made your debut as director with La bohème.
Yes, with that dream cast, with Nuccia Focile. I love working in Seattle—it’s difficult, because usually you have the two different casts, but it’s great because it keeps a director humble. I can have the best ideas for an opera, but if I don’t know how to communicate them well, it ends up being just great ideas. But here, where you have two different casts, it tests whether you’re really good at communicating your ideas. Because one performer might get it, and the other might not. And that’s not their fault—maybe I need to find an alternative way of saying it, or getting one particular performer to the same place I got the other one. That’s wonderful. It’s hard. It requires flexibility, to negotiate ideas with two very different casts. This time, with Orphée, it’s the first time in Seattle I’ve had only one cast. I feel a little like: “Where’s the Silver cast?”

Which would you rather direct: an opera like Orphée, which is abstract and dreamlike, or an opera like La bohème, which is almost cinematic in its realistic specificity?
They are different challenges. With Orphée, which is almost Baroque, the challenge is to avoid letting people sing beautifully without telling a story. You have to really dig into the material and sometimes even add layers that are not there. Because otherwise, when you present these operas to a twenty-first-century audience, they can feel a little dated: “I already got the point, why are you nailing it over and over to me?” That’s the challenge, you have to be respectful, but you have to take what’s in the music, and use it to tell a story. It’s about finding 25 different shades of gray. Whereas with a piece like Bohème, most of the fun for me is to challenge the performers to think about what they take for granted. With an opera like that, people get too used to it, and then they don’t think about it—it loses freshness. What you want is for the staging to become a choice, instead of something they repeat just because it’s what you’re supposed to do.

Are there any operas that you absolutely refuse to direct?
I hate Werther. Don’t ask me why. I just want to give him a gun and tell him to go and use it.

The production team works on the Orphée designs. L to r: Connie Yun (Lighting Designer), Heidi Zamora (Costume Designer), Susan Davis (Costume Shop Manager), Jose Maria Condemi (Director), and Robert Schaub (Technical Director) (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Can you tell us a bit about our Orphée production? I hear we’re using the trap door, and according to the production notes we seem to have lots of mud and bowls of water and flower petals...
The mud, I wanted to find something universal, for the first scene, about how people grieve. I don’t want to set this production in any specific time or place, but a lot of communities throughout the ages, and throughout the world, have used mud, applied to the body, as a way of cleansing grief. You give yourself grief to take away grief, you use mud to clean your body. As for the trap door, that’s part of our story-telling: I mean, he does go down into the underworld! I think it helps organize the story. On the journey back, when Orphée is leading Eurydice back to the upper world, they’re coming up through the trap. I’m excited about the design, I think it’s simple but effective for the story and should still leave a lot of room for interpretation—so people can bring what they want to bring. If they want to see the pastoral, which is in the piece, they can. If they want humor, well, we’re playing the human qualities of the gods.

Of Amour, the god/goddess of love.
Amour, but also Orphée. He’s a demigod, but here we play him just as a guy. We were just talking about The Queen, the movie starring Helen Mirren, and I think the power of that movie is that it presents Queen Elizabeth as a person. In most poignant moment in that movie she’s driving and her jeep breaks down, and she has to call for help. Orpheus may be divine, but he’s dealing with a very human problem: grief, what do you do when the person you love dies?

Rehearsing Orphée et Eurydice: Davinia Rodriguez (Eurydice), William Burden (Orphée), and Jose Maria Condemi (Alan Alabastro, photo)

What do you make of the big struggle in Act Two, when Eurydice keeps asking “Why aren’t you looking at me?” and Orpheus keeps saying “No, I must not look at you!”
That’s the biggest challenge for Orphée. He gets through the Furies with ease. What ought to be the hardest part of his quest, to convince the Furies to let him go down to Hades, he does like that [snaps fingers]. But there’s this little fine print the gods gave him, this condition: You can talk to her, but you cannot look at her in the eye and you cannot tell her why. You can speak with her—in fact they have a long conversation—but you cannot say “the reason why I can’t look at you is because you will die.” It’s about restraint. Can you control yourself, can you delay gratification? Amour says very clearly, “If you do this, you WILL have a happy ending!” Yet Orphée is really struggling. It’s the same thing with me and the Oreo cookies that tempted me yesterday—some people are good at dieting, some are not! I know that sounds a little pedestrian, but that’s what it’s about. That’s what keeps us interested in that scene—will Orphée be strong enough not to look at Eurydice?

What’s the biggest surprise about working on this production so far, to you?
It’s not just this production, but people have these ideas about what Baroque opera is—that it’s either a frilly little thing, like an eighteenth-century painting with little Cupids in the corners, or that it’s extremely modern, something they saw on YouTube from a European production. There are these extremes. The one we’re doing here—I don’t really call it modern. Nobody doing anything that you could pinpoint to a specific time. It’s just general human behavior.

Will it remind Seattle Opera audiences of your La bohème or Il trovatore?
No, not in the slightest.

In rehearsal, Director Jose Maria Condemi and Choreographer Yannis Adoniou check a still photograph for reference (Alan Alabastro, photo)

One last question: what is the role of still photography in your work as a stage director?
I love photography, and I love photography-as-storytelling...when an image tells a complete story.

But you’re aren’t a photographer, yourself?
No. I collect photos. Sometimes one image becomes the gesture for an entire production. The trick is, can I to tell my performers why? It’s almost like a gut feeling...that what I’m seeing speaks to what I feel about a piece. I was watching today as Yannis Adoniou, our choreographer, worked with the dancers. They have these hoods, in the Furies scene, but when they pull them back you see the contour of their faces. And it’s exactly the image of the Pompeii casts, which was one of our dramaturgical source-photos for this production. You know, the corpses at Pompeii. They’re obviously dead, but they were caught in a very life-like position. That always felt to me like the Furies, but I didn’t know exactly how it was going to play in the production. Between how the costumes turned out, and what Yannis is having them do, it has worked out exactly.

For more from Jose Maria Condemi, as well as a sneak peek of Orphée et Eurydice rehearsals, watch his recent Director's Talk video below:

ORPHEUS ODYSSEY - Week 2 Clues!

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 18:28:00 +0000

2/22 Update: This week's tickets have been claimed, at Dusty Strings in Fremont! We figured an instrument shop would be the perfect place to hide Orphée et Eurydice tickets--but where will we hide next week's pair? That's top secret, but come back on Monday for another round of clues!
_____________________________________________________________

Originally posted on Monday, February 21, 2012, at 10 a.m.

Our first "Orpheus Odyssey" hunt lasted only a day, thanks to winner Nick G., a diehard fan of The Simpsons who quickly figured out our first clue, a reference to a Krusty the Clown quote that pointed to That's Amore! Italian Cafe in Mt. Baker. But now we start fresh, and there's another free pair of Orphée et Eurydice tickets stashed somewhere in Seattle, just waiting for you. If you need a refresher on how these treasure hunts work, check out this post. If you're ready to travel on, here are clues for Week 2's Orphic mystery:

CLUE #1 (posted 2/20)
There’s something a bit bovine about this sunbeam and litigator.

CLUE #2 (posted 2/21)
Gateway to dulcet melody of the mountains

CLUE #3 (posted 2/22)
Ashes to Ashes, This on These Subatomic Particles

WEEK 2 PASSWORD
"Luck (forgot the umlaut!)"

Know which business this is referring to? If so, a pair of tickets to the March 10 performance of Orphée et Eurydice await, available for claiming this week from 10 a.m.-6 p.m. this Monday through Saturday, or 12-5 p.m. on Sunday.

If you're stumped, fear not...Orpheus and other Greek heroes found many entrances to the Underworld. Just come back to this blog every morning this week (or check out our Facebook or Twitter pages) for a NEW CLUE, until the tickets have been won. A new hunt begins next Monday.

Good luck...

Art Credit: "Orpheus" by Franz Stuck

Meet Our Conductor: GARY THOR WEDOW

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 23:00:00 +0000

Gary Thor Wedow returns to Seattle Opera to conduct Orphée et Eurydice this season, after last season’s The Magic Flute—another opera about the supernatural power of music. A warm, inspiring presence on the podium who never lets his vast store of knowledge get in the way of communicating emotion musically, Wedow has led almost all of Seattle Opera’s recent excursions into 18th-century music, including Handel’s Giulio Cesare and Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride. We spoke to him about the spooky voices our chorus will use while portraying demons on the path to hell, the brilliant high notes sung by our Orphée, William Burden, and what Orphée et Eurydice has to do with Valentine’s Day.

First off, let’s talk about the actual notes in the score. How does modern pitch differ from what Gluck’s audience might have heard at the first Orphée et Eurydice in 1774?
Pitch changed and was different in every century. Every town had its pitch, and lots of towns had church pitch, which was fixed because it had to agree with their organ. Then there was concert pitch, where the pitch could coordinate with the instruments in the concert.

The pitch at the Paris Opera, where Orphée premiered, was much lower than most of Europe, but right after the premiere, the pitch started dramatically rising there. It was actually Goebbels, Hitler’s propaganda minister, who standardized European pitch in 1938. Previously, in the 19th century, Verdi had tried to legislate a slightly lower pitch. So it’s been a big discussion over the years.

So how do you think this high pitch sits with William Burden, our Orphée?
It sits beautifully with Bill’s voice. He’s a true high tenor, and his voice just glows up there. But that’s not the only component of this role. It’s famous for its high sections, but there are also low sections and there are huge dramatic recitatives that more or less take place in the range of spoken human voice. These composers tried to imitate famous actors of the day, and actors of the day sang their speeches more than they spoke them. “To BE! Or NOT to be!” You know, that sort of thing. Even David Garrick, who was famous for his naturalistic acting, performed in a much more declamatory fashion than we would ever expect an actor to do today.

You know, when the head of the orchestra of the Comédie-Française got bored in the orchestra pit, when he wasn’t playing, he would notate the intonation of famous actresses’ speeches. And he saw that they never varied from their pitch centers. Once they learned a speech they didn’t vary; it was like learning a melody.

Davinia Rodríguez (Eurydice) and Gary Thor Wedow, in rehearsals for Seattle Opera's upcoming production of Orphée et Eurydice.
Photo by Alan Alabastro

How much play do you usually get, as conductor, to ask your singers to disguise or color or otherwise transform the voice they’re using?
Gluck felt that every passion that was expressed in the poetry could be expressed with a timbre or a color of the human voice. So that’s what we’re looking for, constantly shifting timbres—not a bel canto uniformity. For example, when the Furies are singing in hell, I’ve asked them to sing with hell voices, The Exorcist voices. The way their voice teachers hate. We have an exceptional cast of people who are not only wonderful singers but wonderful actors, so they’re very eager to find these different colors.

That goes for the chorus, too?
The chorus is really the star of Orphée. They are three different characters. They’re the nymphs and the shepherds who are friends of Orphée and Eurydice in the first scene, and then in the second scene we’re in hell and they’re the Furies. And even in that scene as they soften, the musical writing changes—they have to change from this hellish voice to the most beautiful plaintive singing, and then we go to Elysium, where everyone must sing beautifully.

We’re doing this story with a male leading a female out of the underworld. But does the story make sense with other genders in those roles?
Absolutely. There’s not a culture in the world that does not have a myth of someone going into the underworld to reclaim the person they love. It’s in all of our dreams. Anybody who has ever loved can imagine parting from their beloved. The story of Jesus Christ follows this pattern, going into the underworld and coming out again. In the Greek myth of Orpheus, Orpheus was a man, so this is the love of a man, a tender man, for a woman. It’s actually a little confused with Orpheus, because Orpheus was considered by many to be the prototype of the homosexual man. Earlier in his life he had been a lover of Apollo. Our version of Orpheus and Euridice has a happy ending, but in the traditional myth he comes back without Euridice and then rejects love of any kind; so the Bacchantes, women who worshipped Bacchus, are so infuriated by this rejection that they tear him limb from limb.

Gary Thor Wedow working with musicians in the pit for Seattle Opera's 2007 production of Giulio Cesare in Egitto.
Photo by Chris Bennion

Why does Gluck’s version have this deus ex machina happy ending?
It was the nature of the theater at that time, in 1774, the audiences demanded a happy ending. It’s like Hollywood in the ‘30s, all movies had to have happy endings. I’m conducting three different Orpheus operas this year; Gluck’s Orphée here, then in May I’m going home to New York to conduct Orpheus by Telemann, which is a very different version of the story. In that opera, Eurydice has a rival, kind of a mad queen who Orpheus works for, and she organizes it that Eurydice gets bit by the snake, thinking that Orpheus will then love her, which he doesn’t. And she then has him ripped to shreds in the end. So it’s a very different story! And then I’m doing a workshop at Queen’s College of Rossi’s Orfeo from 1647. So I’m immersed in Orpheus!

Do you like the happy ending in our version?
We have to accept that it was convention. But also, Cupid, that is Amour in this opera, says a very interesting thing. She says, “The virtue of your love, the very high quality of your love for Eurydice, has changed our mind. That’s why the gods are taking pity on you.” I can get behind that because I’m all for love. My favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day. I love it. Boy, if there were a lot more love in the world, we’d have a much better world. It’s what makes the world go round. For me, rather than looking at the way the myth really ended, the story here is that if love is good enough and pure enough, it can conquer anything. Even Greek mythology.

Speight Jenkins writes in our Orphée program, “Gluck would spin in his grave to know they’re calling him a Baroque composer nowadays.” What do you think?
You know the story about Gluck and Handel? Gluck adored Handel, and until his dying day he had Handel’s portrait in his bedroom. They met once, in London, and Gluck [the younger composer] showed Handel his music. What Handel supposedly said was “keep it simple,” and Gluck took that very much to heart. And then, Handel is supposed to have told people, “My cook knows more about counterpoint than Mr. Gluck!” Which maybe isn’t as bad as it sounds because Handel’s cook was actually a singer and a musician, and he really did know a lot about counterpoint.

But I think Gluck, and Calzabigi, his librettist and director, and Noverre, their choreographer, they were very conscious of seeking a new kind of realism, what they called “a noble simplicity.” They were rejecting complicated counterpoint, complicated music, and attempting to try and get back to a kind of Greek simplicity, almost a primitivism. Art with a manifesto. That’s why I’m delighted we’re doing this the final version of this opera, because it’s a much better piece than the original version. But it’s not Baroque music. It kind of fits into the cracks. Neoclassism, if you want to call it that. But unfortunately what happened is, Gluck rejected Handel and had this tremendous success with this new kind of music; but then, who comes along next but Mozart, who wrote in a very complex way and was a master of counterpoint. So I feel kind of sorry for Gluck in a way, because his tremendous reforms only lasted for a minute. Handel was so popular until his death, and Bach—and then Gluck had this shining moment of glory, noble simplicity—and then Mozart came along with, as Emperor Joseph II said so famously, “too many notes.” But of course they are glorious notes.

Photos from “A Perfect Pairing” Gala

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 00:51:00 +0000

On Saturday Seattle Opera supporters enjoyed a magnificent Gala, “A Perfect Pairing,” celebrating Valentine’s Day, the immortal love of Orpheus and Eurydice, and our exceptional education and community engagement programs and Young Artists program. Here are some memories of a delightful evening:

The Gala took place in Woodinville, at the historic Chateau Ste. Michelle winery on the banks of the lovely Sammamish River. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

The evening began with a reception in the Barrel Room. Here Michael Souter, Karen Souter, Rosemary Willman, Seattle Opera trustee Ken Willman, and Patricia Caves enjoy a tasting of Chateau Ste. Michelle reserve wines. (Scott Squire, photo)

In addition to the exclusive wine-tasting, Gala attendees enjoyed a special tour of the winery and superb wine pairings with dinner: Chateau Ste. Michelle’s 2010 Cold Creek Riesling and 2010 Chardonnay from Columbia Valley, and 2006 Late Harvest Chenin Blanc from Horse Heaven Hills. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

The dinner included butter lettuce with apples, white cheddar and toasted hazelnuts tossed with a creamy apple cider dressing, followed by slow-roasted New York strip loin with bourguignon sauce, white truffle mashed potatoes, and seasonal vegetables; dessert was a caramel cake with milk chocolate mousse and hazelnut florentine. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Tenor William Burden, who returns to Seattle Opera’s stage next week as Orphée in Gluck’s Orphée et Eurydice, sang Lensky’s aria from Eugene Onegin for the guests. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Baritone Joseph Lattanzi, a member of Seattle Opera’s Young Artists Program, then joined Burden for the beautiful duet “Au fond du temple saint” from Bizet’s Pearl Fishers. Young Artist Christopher Lade accompanied the singers, who were enthusiastically cheered by the audience. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Attendees (including Trustee Ron Hosogi, Dean Tweeddale, Jiawen Shi, Board President William T. Weyerhaeuser, and David Jones, pictured here) supported Seattle Opera at the Gala. Net proceeds, which will help Seattle Opera bring the joy of song, dance, and visual art to students, teachers, and adults throughout our community as we cultivate the next generation of professional opera singers, amounted to nearly $170,000. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

JJ McKay and Sandra Dunn enjoy dancing to the music of the Dudley Manlove Quartet, which concluded the Gala. (Scott Squire, photo)

Meet Our Choreographer: YANNIS ADONIOU

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 17:06:00 +0000

I spoke the other day with Yannis Adoniou, the choreographer who makes his Seattle Opera debut with Orphée et Eurydice (right, photo by Alan Alabastro). Seattle-area opera fans can get a sneak peek at the work of Yannis, and his marvelous dancers, if they join KING-5’s studio audience Monday morning, February 20, for the live taping of “New Day Northwest:” Yannis, Stage Director Jose Maria Condemi, and four of the dancers will be on the show to introduce the opera and perform a brief scene in which some of the Blessed Spirits warn Orpheus what will happen if he looks at Eurydice. Yannis and I talked about the role dance plays in the opera, his career, and why everyone should dance more.

You’re new to Seattle Opera: welcome! We’d like to know a little about your background—where you were born, and how you became a choreographer.
Thanks. I was born in Athens, Greece. My family is still there.

Oh, so you should be able to tell us: is there anything Greek about this opera? The libretto says it takes place in Greece...
It is Greek! I knew this story growing up, my grandmother used to tell us these stories. These myths are Greek, but they’re also universal, that’s what is so beautiful about it.

You’ve come a long way from Greece yourself.
Yes, I live now in San Francisco. I began dance training in Athens, when I was a teenager, then went to Hamburg Ballet School in Germany.

You didn’t begin training until you were a teen? That seems late. Around here, at our Pacific Northwest Ballet school, they start them early...
Yeah, well, Greek culture, we start dancing the day we’re born. In our families it’s different—every event finishes with some kind of dance, dinner parties, birthdays, name-day parties, whatever it is.

Yannis in rehearsal with dancers (l to r) Daniel Howerton, Kyle Johnson, Demetrius Tabron, and Scott Bartell (Alan Alabastro, photo)

And how did you decide to become a professional dancer?
I was always interested in being creative: with my voice, with my body. When I was 16, I met a girl who was a trained ballet dancer, and that made me want to get my body more defined as an instrument. Accidently, I found out through a magazine about some free dance classes for men. So I started taking classes, and half a year later the national ballet school in Athens accepted me as a talent. I had wanted to become an interior designer or an architect, and I was painting as well, so it was a big decision. I was very serious: “I don’t want to do it if I’m not good at it.” But they said they believed I could have a real career, so that’s how it started, and from there I have followed my heart and my brain.

How do you come to be in San Francisco?
After training in Hamburg I was dancing in Bonn, with a classical ballet company, doing Swan Lakes and that stuff. But I was unhappy...I didn’t want to be in a form where everything had been determined by someone else a hundred years back. I was interested in today. So someone who saw my choreography said, “You should talk to Alonzo King, this choreographer in the Bay Area, because the way you move, he’d be very interested.” So I met him and he invited me to come to San Francisco. I danced with the Alonzo King LINES Ballet for seven years, and then started my own company.

And how did you first get involved with Orphée et Eurydice?
I had the pleasure to work with San Francisco Opera for fifteen years as a dancer as well. They have a corps de ballet on staff—it is one of the best contracts, for a dancer. It was interesting because in Europe I had worked in big opera houses, but when I came to the US and started doing contemporary dance, you don’t get that scale of production, with live music. But working for San Francisco Opera brought back that memory. Although I felt the conflict that happens at times between opera and dance.

Dance came from opera, originally; the reason for dance was to support the opera. But then they split, and would only come together when it was necessary. With Orphée, [Stage Director] Jose Maria [Condemi] knew me from San Francisco Opera, and when he first produced Orphée with West Bay Opera, he invited me to work with him and we found a compatible approach, a very collaborative process. Gluck’s music for Orphée is absolutely made for dance.

Dancers Scott Bartell and Kyle Johnson practice lifting Kate Chamberlin while Yannis, in back, instructs (Alan Alabastro, photo)

There are some operas where although the dance music may be good, the dances aren't relevant to the plot, so if you’re an opera company on a tight budget, you cut them. But here it seems the story of the opera continues during the dance numbers.
Dance used to function just as entertainment, you know, fresh meat, something to stimulate the eye--there's all this activity onstage, all of a sudden! Which is fine, it’s always good to be stimulating. But Jose Maria and I are interested in moving the story along: finding a purpose for everything, a way for these different forms to come together.

Here, the dance is part of the story; but for me it’s more the energy of the story. So if Orpheus is talking about his love for Eurydice, the dancers portray the energy of that love. And it’s not so much about what we see, it’s what we feel. With the Furies, it’s a struggle for survival, about pushing through the most difficult, uncomfortable experience in your life. And then there’s a different energy in the Elysian Fields, one that just takes you, it guides you, says “This is where love is, this is where happiness is.”

An experience everyone should be able to share. Which brings me to another topic: can everybody dance?
Of course. I heard this woman talking on TV today: “Get your kids to paint before they become conscious about it, before they begin worrying that they may not be good painters and they stop painting.” It’s the same with dance. People stop dancing when they say, “Oh, maybe I’m not good at this.” If we didn’t have this consciousness, everybody would be dancing much more, with better results.

Yannis Adoniou explains a dance move to Davinia Rodríguez, who sings Eurydice (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Is this phenomenon worse in America than it is in Greece?
Oh, my goodness. Dance is a social thing—it is friction, it is manipulation of time and space. By way of answering your question, one thing I notice when I see people in the U.S., here we never cross paths. You go to the supermarket and you want to get your biscuits, or whatever, and when someone comes in front of you, you say “Excuse me,” and you get out of the way—you avoid that person. This is dance. Actually, it’s a technique we call ‘avoidance.’ In the U.S., you’re not going to cross that person’s energy. People here avoid that friction, whereas in Greece, yes, people touch each other all the time, they push each other, they are more familiar with expressing themselves through movement. And again, at the end of any festivity everyone will dance. Are they better dancers? Not necessarily. And it’s the men, not the women. In many parts of the Middle East, men are the better dancers because the society is all about men dancing. Whereas in the West, men don’t dance. You know, they say if you dance you’re gay.

I noticed that, as an American tourist in the Middle East, my gay-dar didn’t work: you’d see guys holding hands or hanging on to each other, which here would indicate they were a couple—but in fact all it meant was friendship, that they belong together.
Yes, even kissing. In the Middle East, you kiss someone, a man or a woman, to show your respect. Here you’re not going to kiss someone unless it’s sentimental or sexual.

That’s interesting. And it reminds me—you can do this opera with either a male or a female Orpheus.
Yes, there was a female singer when we did it in West Bay, a mezzo soprano. She was dressed as a male, and I think the public understood. That’s the lovely thing about theater: you can do things onstage that you might not be able to do in real life. For instance, in the end they kiss each other, and it’s one of the most beautiful, juicy kisses. And both women were straight! That was amazing to see: two women kissing onstage, and no one was offended. Now, we were in the Bay Area, and it’s diverse and all that, but it’s interesting to be able to see it as a love story between two women and have it be absolutely appropriate.

Would the story work if it were about a girl going to hell to retrieve a guy, and he was the one saying “Look at me, look at me, look at me!” And she was saying “No, no, I must not!”
I think it would work. I believe love is strong, it doesn’t matter which direction. Also, when you walk down the street, you don’t think, “I’m male, I’m tall, I’m short, I’m hairy, I’m not hairy, I’m wearing red or green.” This is what other people see. But as you walk, you’re just you, an energy. I don’t think we’re constantly saying to ourselves, “I’m a man!” It’s when we get beyond that exterior body, the part that’s choreographed by society, that we’re able to reach common ground. That’s where it’s more true, more real, more universal.

Meet Our Designers: HEIDI ZAMORA, Costumes

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 20:54:00 +0000

Though she's a familiar face at Seattle Opera, Heidi Zamora is actually making her debut as Costume Designer with our upcoming production of Orphée et Eurydice. We spoke with Heidi about working in the Costume Shop, about sources of inspiration for this exciting new production, and about what the ancient myth of Orpheus means to her.

You’ve worked in our Costume Shop for quite some time, but this is your first proper credit as Costume Designer for Seattle Opera. Can you explain what your role in the Shop has been prior to this?
My official title is Assistant Costume Shop Manager, but one of the big parts of that job is I act as Design Coordinator for the shows that we rent or remount. If we have a set of costumes in our stock and we’re going to remount that production and the original designer isn't coming to Seattle to oversee everything, then I’ll be the de facto designer. I’ll be the one in the fittings, choosing new buttons, telling the Shop that the hem should be higher or lower, and a lot of times there are costumes that need to be redesigned because they don’t fit the new director’s vision of what the show is. Or, sometimes our principal costumes don’t fit our new singers so, since we need to make new costumes anyway, we’ll design something new. I do a lot of ghost designing and redesigning around here.

What are some recent examples of costumes you’ve worked on?
The last show I worked on here was Carmen, with costumes originally designed by James Schuette back in 2004. This time around we had new singers and a new director so I designed all of Carmen’s new costumes, except for her last look which was the original look James Schuette designed. I also designed a new Micaëla dress and the Cigarette Girls’ costumes.

Zamora's design for Carmen's Act One costume and Anita Rachvelishvili wearing the finished costume (Elise Bakketun, photo)

We're excited to see your name in the Orphée et Eurydice program book! What has the costume design process for this production been like for you?
It’s been a long process—we’ve been working on it for over a year. I started by listening to the opera and reading the libretto. There was also a production of Orphée that our director, Jose Maria Condemi, directed at West Bay Opera, so I watched a video of that production to see where he was coming from. Then when he came to town, we met along with set designer Phillip Lienau and lighting designer Connie Yun, and shared images of stuff that inspired us or felt like the piece.

The design team discusses Orphée et Eurydice. Left to right, Set Designer Phillip Lienau, Lighting Designer Connie Yun, Costume Designer Heidi Zamora, Costume Shop Manager Susan Davis, Director Jose Maria Condemi, Technical Director Robert Schaub, and Production Director Vincent Feraudo (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Then there were several more rounds of research and sketches, until it was finally time for me to purchase fabrics and decide which costumes we were actually going to build ourselves and which could be shopped [purchased off the rack].

Where did you get the inspiration for your final looks?
All over the place. We wanted a production that felt earthy and natural, so when we were thinking of scenery, we looked at the artist Andy Goldsworthy, who does a lot of installation of natural elements in an ordered fashion. For example, he’ll take rocks and stack them or arrange sticks in a spiral shape.

Collage of work by Andy Goldsworthy

That partially inspired the direction the costumes were going in, too. I also looked at a lot of fashion research for inspiration. I looked at a lot of Greek and neoclassical fashion, and a lot of modern clothes that felt Greek or neoclassical in how they were draped. And the inspiration for the Furies costumes came from modern dancer Martha Graham, who did a pretty famous dance inside a stretchy tube of fabric.

Image of Martha Graham's "Lamentation"

The whole idea was that the chorus should be enclosed in a cocoon shape, originally inspired by the ruins of Pompeii, where people have been encased in ash for thousands of years.

Visitors at Pompeii

That felt like Hades to us, and that went through a number of iterations before we landed where we did. You don’t really see that Pompeii inspiration in what we ended up with, but that’s very much where it started.

Costume design by Heidi Zamora for the Furies

Do you have a favorite costume in this production?
I think I do. I like the Furies a lot because I think it will be really striking on stage, but I think my favorite costume is Eurydice’s because it’s very simple.

Costume design by Heidi Zamora for Eurydice

Davinia Rodríguez is a beautiful girl, very easy to dress, and the design is clean, simple, and very balanced. When you do things that are simple, it’s hard to get it perfect because all the little details really show that much more. But I think it looks like an Oscar dress, and it looks great on her. The ice blue color is going to look amazing on stage, and it was such a hard color to find. Everything was either bright blue or gray; it took weeks to find the right color.

Where do you shop for fabrics?
Sometimes, on a larger show, Costume Shop Manager Susan Davis and the costume designer will take a trip to New York. Other times we’ll hire a swatcher in New York, which is what we did this time. I’ll tell them what kinds of fabrics I’m looking for, and they’ll go around New York and fill bags of fabric swatches and send them to me. I select the ones I want and the fabric store—Mood or New York Elegant, for example—will send what we need.

That’s a long way to go for fabric!
Well, people don’t make clothes like they used to! Local fabric stores tend to gear toward quilters and though they have some fabrics from dressmaking, it’s not like it is in New York, which has Broadway and film and a dressmaking industry that exists in a way it doesn’t here. There are some stores in L.A. that are great, too, and sometimes we swatch there. But there are a lot of supplies the Costume Shop needs that aren’t available in Seattle. Like buttons! You might think we can just go to the fabric store here and get whatever buttons we need, and sometimes we do, but a lot of time it’s not the right button. You need the perfect button.

Costume design by Heidi Zamora for Amour.

What are some considerations you need to take into account when designing specifically for singers, as opposed to non-singing actors?
Well, they need to be able to breathe—which seems like a simple request, you would think, because actors need to breathe, too. But singers breathe differently and they breathe differently from each other. Some do so from their chest, some from down low, so they need to have the appropriate movement in their costumes. Some singers really like to wear a corset because that supports their breath, and some people can’t. So we really need to account for that and make sure they’re comfortable so they can do their best work.

Since you’ve had to examine this opera so closely, what would you say its story means to you?
Obviously, it’s about love and loss. Being a new mom and being relatively recently married, my little family is such a huge part of me now, so the idea of losing my husband or losing my son is unimaginable. I think about it briefly and I feel like I get punched in the stomach. That feeling, to me, is what Orphée is going through. He’ll do anything to have his wife back, and I totally understand that. And I think anybody would understand that. I think people will start crying in Act 1, if William Burden is doing his job—and he will. He will break your heart; he just has such a beautiful, warm voice. But in the end of this version, Orphée is reunited with Eurydice, which is great.

Costume design by Heidi Zamora for Orphée.

ORPHEUS ODYSSEY - Week 1 Clues!

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 18:30:00 +0000

2/14 Update: The first week's tickets have been claimed! They were found at That's Amore! Italian Cafe in Mt. Baker. Thanks to everyone who played this week, and don't worry--you still have four more chances to win. Stay tuned for another round of clues, coming up this Monday.
_____________________________________________________________

Originally posted on Monday, February 13, 2012, at 10:30 a.m.

We officially kick off the first week of Seattle Opera's "Orpheus Odyssey" treasure hunt! Besides true love, the greatest thing in the universe is free opera tickets, and four pairs of tickets to Seattle Opera's Orphée et Eurydice, hidden in different parts of the city, await the dauntless, the devious, the persuasive.

When you've figured out where in Seattle the tickets are hidden, your job is to journey forth and use the password posted here to entreat the Furies at each location to yield up their treasure (during business hours only!). Please read the full details and rules here.

And now, as promised, we reveal the first clue. Further clues will follow each day this week until the tickets are found.

CLUE #1 (posted 2/13)
Allegedly inspired during a flight of the “I’m-on-a-rolla-Gay”

CLUE #2 (posted 2/14)
She laid down the law to Orfeo in Vienna

WEEK 1 PASSWORD
"Green Mountain"

A pair of tickets to the March 10 performance of Orphée et Eurydice await, available for claiming this week from 5-9 p.m. Monday through Friday, and 4-10 p.m. on Saturday.

If you're stumped, fear not...Orpheus and other Greek heroes found many entrances to the Underworld. Just come back to this blog every morning this week (or check out our Facebook or Twitter pages) for a NEW CLUE, until the tickets have been won. A new hunt begins next Monday.

Good luck! Happy hunting! May you find opera tickets AND true love!

Orpheus and Eurydice: Director's Talk

noreply@blogger.com (Seattle Opera) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 23:17:00 +0000

See the Orpheus drama unfold in rehearsal. Stage Director Jose Maria Condemi shows the singers at work, explains the storyline, and gives us a peek at the dancer choreography. If you are on the fence about seeing this opera, then watch this video!.

Learn more about Orpheus and Eurydice on the Seattle Opera Website

Announcing Seattle Opera's "ORPHEUS ODYSSEY!"

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 22:49:00 +0000

Inspired by the touching story of Orpheus, the famous musician who journeyed to hell and back in search of true love, Seattle Opera launches another treasure-hunt beginning next week. Our "Orpheus Odyssey" will lead intrepid adventurers around Seattle, rewarding bravery, brains, and persuasive power with the only thing better than true love: tickets to the closing performance of Orphée et Eurydice on Saturday, March 10, at 7:30 p.m.

How it Works

Each Monday for the next four weeks—February 13, 20, 27, and March 5—Seattle Opera will leave tickets to the 3/10 performance at a different business in the city of Seattle, and post clues that tell you how to retrieve these tickets on this blog, as well as on our Facebook and Twitter pages.

The first person to identify and reach the location (during their business hours) must use the password, posted with each clue, to persuade the dire guardians of the tickets to let you have them. Truly Orphic heroes will also immortalize their adventure in a photo of themselves taken at the location, and send us a copy for the blog!

In addition, a fifth pair of tickets will be offered, the final week (week of March 5) to the one who solves the riddle of the passwords. The first person to arrive at Seattle Opera’s administrative offices, at 1020 John St. in South Lake Union, and successfully explain to the all-knowing sages of Seattle Opera’s Box Office staff what connects the four weeks' passwords, will win the fifth set of tickets. In honor of our mythic hero, riddle-explanations MUST be musical.

The first clue will be posted this coming Monday by 10 a.m., with additional clues released daily throughout the week until the tickets have been retrieved. If you don't find them the first week, don't worry: new searches in new locations begin on February 20, 27, and March 5.

The Rules

The "Orpheus Odyssey" contest is open to those who are at least eighteen years of age or older. No purchase necessary. Employees of Seattle Opera as well as immediate family (spouses, domestic partners, parents, siblings, and children) and household members of such employees are not eligible, nor are employees of businesses participating in the Odyssey. One winner per household. Participation in Seattle Opera’s "Orpheus Odyssey" Contest constitutes entrant's consent to Seattle Opera’s use of entrant's name, likeness, photograph, voice, and opinion for promotional purposes in any media, without payment.

Any Questions?

Leave us a comment and let us know. Or, send an e-mail to Tamara Vallejos, Seattle Opera's Public Programs and Media Associate, at tamara.vallejos@seattleopera.org.

Good luck!

Orpheus and Eurydice: Speight's Corner

noreply@blogger.com (Seattle Opera) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 21:32:00 +0000

General Director Speight Jenkins sat down with Orpheus star William Burden (fresh off the airplane) when he arrived in Seattle for rehearsals. The two discuss the success of this opera, what it takes to sing in French, and more.

Learn more about Orpheus and Eurydice on the Seattle Opera Website

AUDITIONS: Female dancers and actor for Turandot

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 17:59:00 +0000

The Barbe/Doucet production of Turandot, pictured here at Pittsburgh Opera, which will open Seattle Opera's next season.

© David Bachman photo

Seattle Opera is holding auditions for our upcoming production of Puccini’s Turandot, directed and choreographed by Renaud Doucet. The production opens the 2012/13 season on August 4, 2012, and runs through August 18, 2012.

Seattle Opera is casting:

6 women who are classical/contemporary dancers with strong classical ballet and modern techniques
and
1 woman actor, possessing martial arts skills and between the heights of 5’10” and 6’

All positions are paid, and daytime availability for rehearsals is required. The show begins rehearsing on July 6, 2012.

Auditions will be Monday, February 27, 2012. For more information and to sign up, please phone Paula Podemski, Seattle Opera's Production Supervisor, at (206) 676-5812.

Orpheus and Eurydice - Behind The Scenes: The Sets

noreply@blogger.com (Seattle Opera) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 19:07:00 +0000

The sets for Orpheus have the challenge that they must portray two worlds: above-ground earth and the underworld. Go behind-the-scenes as the Scene Shop builds an 800 pound tree -- both its above ground earthly stature and its unruly underworld root system.

Learn more about Orpheus and Eurydice on the Seattle Opera Website

Seattle Opera's 2012 Gala: "A Perfect Pairing"

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 19:45:00 +0000

A great voice is to the ears what a fine wine is to the palate—which is why Seattle Opera’s 2012 Gala, “A Perfect Pairing,” is at the lovely Chateau Ste. Michelle in Woodinville (pictured above). We’re all looking forward to this black-tie evening, on Saturday, February 11, and not just for the delicious wines.

A benefit event for Seattle Opera’s education and community engagement programs and our Young Artists Program, “A Perfect Pairing” will feature a gourmet dinner, dancing to the music of the Dudley Manlove Quartet, and performances by celebrated tenor William Burden and promising Young Artist Joseph Lattanzi.

William Burden as Edgardo in Seattle Opera's 2010 Lucia di Lammermoor.

© Rozarii Lynch photo

You may recognize Burden from a number of recent Seattle Opera productions, including his moving portrayal of Edgardo in last season’s Lucia di Lammermoor. Next month, he’ll sing the role of Orphée in our upcoming production of Orphée et Eurydice, Gluck’s take on the Greek myth of Orpheus. Baritone and current Young Artist Joseph Lattanzi recently made his mainstage debut as Moralès in Carmen, and he’ll join Burden for the duet “Au fond du temple saint” from Bizet’s The Pearl Fishers, accompanied by YAP Pianist Christopher Lade. And as for the dancing? The Dudley Manlove Quartet has been called “the quintessential party band” by the Seattle PI.

For more info on our 2012 gala—only two weeks away!—visit www.seattleopera.org/gala/. The different ticket levels come with a variety of great benefits, including an exclusive winery tour, tickets to an Orphée et Eurydice dress rehearsal, meet-and-greets, and more.

Meet Our Singers: MIKA KARES, Attila

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 17:30:00 +0000

Finnish bass Mika Kares is not only making his Seattle Opera debut as Attila on January 22, he’s also making his American debut following several years performing primarily in Germany. We recently chatted with Kares about the opera scene in Finland, how Seattle compares to his homeland, and what direction his promising career is taking now that he’s traveling the world and taking on heftier roles.

Welcome to Seattle Opera! This is your company debut, so can you tell us where you’re from and how you began in opera?
I’m from Finland, which is far away from Seattle! It was a long way to get here, but it’s nice to be here; this is actually my American debut. I’ve been mainly singing in Europe. I sang in Germany for five years and now I’ve been traveling for roles. I sing in Spain, France, and even in China. I hope, now, I can sing more frequently in North America. I would love to be here more.

I started singing when I was 22, so I started late. I was an actor before I started to sing; I started acting when I was 15. All of a sudden I was on stage, and no one could get me off! After one show, I was singing in the shower and another actor overheard and said, “You know, you have a voice.” And I said, “OK…” and then he said, “You should get some lessons,” and I thought, “Well, why not?” So I tried, and everything went pretty fast after that. After four years of studying I was already in Germany working. I worked there for five years and now I have done this work as a freelancer for three years. So it all started pretty fast.

What is the opera scene like in Finland?
Well, we only have one opera house, the National Opera in Helsinki, and we have one big festival, in Savonlinna, so we don’t have too many singers but the ones we have are of good quality. We have some big stars who are giving us youngsters an example of how to do this work. So it’s nice, and we have a good spirit. We have Finnish operas, too, and Finnish National Opera does maybe one or two per year.

Mika Kares as Attila in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

Is the Finnish language a difficult one for singers?
Well, if you don’t know it already, it’s a really difficult language. In a way it’s pretty close to Russian, so if you know that, it can help a bit. But for me, it’s my mother tongue and I can really get to those special colors. It’s always so painful when I’m singing Italian or something, and I just want to get specific colors, and then I see an Italian singer do it amazingly.

Do you still make your home in Finland?
At the moment I have an apartment in Helsinki but I’m travelling a lot. This season, I’m spending nine months away from Finland, so I only sort of live in Finland. I pay my taxes to Finland! But that’s normal for an artist.

This is your American debut, but have you ever visited the United States before?
Actually, this is my first time in America. I’ve never been here, never even for a holiday. I’m a little bit surprised by Seattle; it has so many Scandinavian roots, and it shows! People are really friendly here, and the weather is pretty much the same as it is in Finland. It’s different, but not as different as I expected.

Have you had any experience with Attila prior to this production?
No, this is my role debut. Before this, I’d not even seen a performance. I’ve only seen the DVD, the famous Samuel Ramey one. But I’ve been singing Attila’s aria for a long time already, it’s a really great aria for a bass. It’s sort of bass-baritone, but you also have to give it this dark sound, too.

What’s also interesting is I went through the whole history of Attila, and every history book says he was a small man, but John Relyea and I are both big—I think I’m 6’5” or something; in Europe I’d say I’m 196 centimeters.

Odabella (Susan Neves) takes her revenge on Attila (Mika Kares) in this scene from Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

Do you have a favorite moment in Attila? Attila’s big aria is great but I just love right after that, when the bishop arrives and Attila is thinking, “Is this a dream, is this reality?” The music is so beautiful, and Attila is oddly fragile, and then strong again, and then fragile. I really like that.

Do you ever feel limited in the kind of roles you can take on as a bass? Are there any roles you dream of one day doing?
That’s a tough one, but I would love to do Don Giovanni once in my life. It’s not so often done with a bass, but it could be done with a bass, and I would love to do that. And also Scarpia in Tosca. Most of the time, though, I’m just “King.” I was looking through my calendar recently and it was like, OK, last year I was the kings of Scotland and Egypt, and now I have King of the Huns, and the King of Spain next season. So that’s pretty normal for a bass. You’re the king, a priest, or a bad guy. But I sing all kind of repertoire at the moment because I’m only 33, and everyone calls me Baby Bass. I’m getting there, I’m Teenage Bass now. So I sing lots of Wagner right now, because the celebration year is coming, in 2013. I’ve done the whole Ring like 6 times already. And I sing lots of Verdi—mostly the priest in Aida, or the King of Spain in Don Carlo, but I also sing Handel and early music. So I’m now deciding what direction to take in my career, because the next four or five years are pretty important for me. I’m jumping into the big roles and seeing what happens.

Meet Our Singers: RUSSELL THOMAS, Foresto

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 19:33:00 +0000

It’s been nearly a decade since tenor Russell Thomas was last in Seattle—as a Seattle Opera Young Artist. Now he returns to sing Foresto in the alternate Attila cast, performing on Sunday, January 22. We talk to Thomas about his character, his experience with the Metropolitan Opera’s 2010 production of Attila, and how young artists programs have helped him kick off his career.

You were a Young Artist in the 2002/03 season. Where has your career taken you since?
When I left Seattle Opera’s Young Artists Program in 2003, I was invited by the Metropolitan Opera to join the Lindemann Young Artist Development Program. I was there for three seasons, made my debut, and had a great meeting with the director Peter Sellers. He invited to do a production with him, and then he introduced me to John Adams, the American composer. After that, John Adams invited me to do a world premiere with him, and those things sort of kicked off my career.

What’s it like to return to Seattle after all this time?
A lot has changed in the South Lake Union neighborhood [where Seattle Opera’s offices and rehearsal space are located] since 2003! There are a lot more buildings and new construction and restaurants that weren’t here before. But even though it’s been nine years, the city is still very familiar to me. I can get myself around.

Russell Thomas as Foresto in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

Let’s talk about Foresto, your character in Attila. On a positive note, he’s an inspirational leader to his people—but he also has a jealous, angry streak when it comes to Odabella. Our opening night Foresto, Antonello Palombi, says Foresto is just confused by her actions, and not really a jealous guy. What do you think?
I think it’s a bit of both. Without the jealousy, he becomes Don Ottavio, and not a person who really is a hero and is about to start the city of Venice. He also has this whole other issue, where he's afraid Odabella is being held captive—but when he finally sees her among the Huns, it looks like she’s just there of free will, like she wants to be there with Attila. So he is confused, yes, but at the same time, once she explains herself, he doesn’t buy it, because in the next scene when he’s ready to poison Attila, she stops him. So there is some confusion. There’s an angle of jealousy as well.

What was your involvement with the Met’s recent production of Attila? What was your experience like?
I sang Foresto in a couple performances, but I also sang the role of Uldino, the other tenor role in the opera. The production was a bit difficult to grasp, but the best part of it and the experience was having Riccardo Muti there. He was amazing, and he was so nice to me. He gave me so much of his time, because Ramón Vargas, the first cast Foresto, got sick, so I had to do a lot of the singing in rehearsals. He really tried to help me sing this role in a healthy way, in an Italian way, because who knows that better than Riccardo Muti? So now I get to try to bring that expertise here.

Another reason everyone put so much hype on the Met production was the costumes designed by Prada, but the only things that really looked like the Prada style were the coats and the boots and shoes, which were admittedly pretty cool. I actually prefer the costumes here in Seattle, because you can more easily tell by how each character is dressed and their color scheme which group of people in the story—the refugees, the Romans, the Huns—they belong to.

Susan Neves (Odabella) and Russell Thomas (Foresto) in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

How seriously should we take this opera? The plight of the refugees feels extremely real; but as in a lot of bel canto operas, the grim story inspired lots of peppy, jolly music.
The music being peppy and jolly was just a style; this is where they were musically. This is a transition from Donizetti and Rossini to the Verdi style that we get to know later down the line, in Don Carlo and Otello and so on. This is sort of in-between, like Verdi’s trying to stick to those traditional bel canto roots but at the same time build his own signature sound. That’s why the music is the boom-cha-cha that people know, and it’s up to the singer to make something happen beyond that. That was the point of bel canto: the orchestra stayed out of their way so the singers could show off what they could do technically.

As for the story, it is very serious. Especially the first few scenes when they’re starting Venice, that’s a very big deal. And when Ezio’s character talks about saving Rome, maybe he’s trying to being a traitor to his people—that’s what Attila calls him—but I feel like he’s trying to save his people while getting something for himself at the same time.

As a former Young Artist, have you had the opportunity to interact with any of our current Young Artists?
Only Jason Slayden, who sings Uldino in Attila, and only in terms of our interactions on stage, but not much.

It’s a recent development that our Young Artists have the opportunity to perform in mainstage productions.
The year that Seattle Opera did Norma, us YAP tenors thought, “Why aren’t we doing Flavio, instead of hiring an outside singer?” [Laughs] It probably would have saved a little money! But the whole point of young artists programs is to get young artists familiar with a company and its tradition, so when they get older, you can perhaps bring them back.

Meet Our Singers: SUSAN NEVES, Odabella

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Soprano Susan Neves’ turn as Odabella on January 22 is her Seattle Opera debut, but she’s been with the company before, covering in the 1995 Ring. Since then, she’s made the switch from Wagner to Verdi and we ask her about her past experience with Attila, and find out why she thinks sword-wielding Odabella is secretly a big softie.

Welcome back to Seattle Opera! You were last here covering Marilyn Zschau as Brünnhilde in our ’95 Ring. Have you been singing much Wagner since then?
No, actually not. I was doing Wagner then because at that point that’s what the Met had offered me. But I’ve been singing all Italian opera, basically, since then. My specialty is Verdi; I’ve been singing Attila, Nabucco, Macbeth, Aida, and Un ballo in maschera.

What is it about Verdi that appeals to you so much?
Everything. I love the music, and I love the fact that Verdi gives the singer a beautiful line and makes it each individual character’s own creation. The orchestra does its oom-cha-cha and you have the beautiful melodies on top, so each artist gets to put in their own special sound—within the bounds of the musical line of course. I love it, I love it.

Odabella (Susan Neves in Seattle Opera's production of Attila) vows to use her father's sword to avenge his death.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

What about Attila in particular?
There are some incredibly beautiful arias. Odabella’s second aria is like “Casta diva” from Norma, with these long beautiful phrases. The opera is relatively short, there are really only four principles, so we each get an aria or an aria and a half to show our stuff, and then we just sing duets or trios or quartets, and it’s just lovely. I’m thrilled I’m getting to do this here.

You were involved with the Metropolitan Opera’s buzzed-about 2010 production of Attila. What was that experience like?
I was covering Odabella, so I was there from Day 1, when it was created and then during the creation. It was extremely modern, and we’re doing a modern production here, too, but at the Met it was more about the set and the production then the actual characters and the music.

We’ve heard a lot about the Met’s use of Prada-designed costumes. What was it like wearing couture on stage?
It was odd, to say the least. Odabella looked like Marge Simpson. We had this gold costume for the banquet scene that kind of looked like a big Ferrero Rocher chocolate, but then we had this big long Marge Simpson wig that, instead of being blue, was grayish-blonde, but it looked exactly like her style. Here in Seattle, it’s a totally different look, a modern look. And I don’t mind doing things modern, but you become an opera singer so you can play dress up and wear pretty gowns ! [Laughs] But that’s not this production, and that’s fine. I’ll wear a pretty gown next time.

Susan Neves as Odabella in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

Odabella, like Abigaille and Lady Macbeth, is reputed to be a fearsome role to sing. Do you find it very challenging?
Well, her first aria is extremely difficult; it’s a coloratura showpiece, and you walk out and have got to show what you’ve got in the first 10 minutes on stage. But my specialty is Nabucco, and Abigaille is a much longer part and much more difficult. So, I love singing Odabella because once I get the first aria over with, I can just have fun and enjoy singing the rest of it.

We see Odabella in many moods: in the opening she’s proud and ferocious, then in her aria she’s sad and nostalgic, then religious, then devious, and finally driven to desperation. Which side of her character comes easiest to you?
The loving side of Odabella, which is what every reaction she has in the whole opera is based on—love for either her country, her father, or her boyfriend. Her anger that her father has been killed is because she loves her father. She gets upset with Foresto because she loves him and he thinks she’s betrayed him. At the end, even before she kills Attila, she says, “Father, I’m making this sacrifice for you.” Whereas, for example, Abigaille in Nabucco is very conniving and she’s looking out for herself. But in Odabella, I don’t see that. She’s not a mean person, and I don’t think she’s a violent person at all.

What other roles have you sung where you get to kill someone?
Well, I do sing Turandot. So I’ve had several tenors who have not given me the right answers and who have therefore lost their heads. I’ve sung Tosca and she kills Scarpia. More often, I’ve killed myself, in Il trovatore and Norma. But I don’t play murderesses too much.

Odabella (Susan Neves) takes her revenge on Attila (Mika Kares) in this scene from Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

What about other roles where you’ve wielded a sword?
Abigaille. And when I did Valkyries, we didn’t so much carry swords, but we had spears and shields. But I’ve carried lots of swords as Abigaille. In one of our staging rehearsals here for Attila, I was waving around the sword and director Bernard Uzan said, “Uh uh uh! This is not Nabucco, sweetie!” Because the Abigaille and warrior woman in me came out. But Odabella is not, I think, a warrior woman, so I’ve got to watch it. I like to play her softer. I want the feminine part to come out. Everything about her character is the fact that she’s a woman and she loves deeply, and I really like that.

The Show Must Go On! Performance Will Take Place Tonight As Scheduled

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 20:09:00 +0000

Seattle Opera’s performance of Verdi’s Attila will happen tonight as scheduled. Curtain is at 7:30 p.m.

$40 rush tickets for tonight’s performance will be available at the McCaw Hall Box Office beginning at 5:30 p.m. Seattle Opera encourages those who can get to the theater safely to take advantage of this opportunity to hear what OperaWarhorses.com describes as “an accomplished Verdian quartet that would be welcomed on any operatic stage in the world.”

Exchange privileges are available for subscribers as always, and (because of the weather) for holders of single tickets to the 1/18 performance as well. Please go to our Inclement Weather Policy for more information.

THIS JUST IN: Free parking tonight at the Mercer St. Garage (between Roy and Mercer, 3rd and 4th) if you are driving.

Updated at 3:54 pm.

Meet Our Singers: JASON SLAYDEN, Uldino

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 19:35:00 +0000

Uldino (Jason Slayden) presents Odabella as a gift to Attila in the first scene of Verdi's opera.

© Elise Bakketun photo

Today we speak with Jason Slayden, a tenor in Seattle Opera's Young Artists Program. Jason, who will sing the role of Ernesto in the YAP Don Pasquale coming up this spring at UW's Meany Hall, was kind enough to share with us his behind-the-scenes photos from the YAP Fall Tour a couple of months ago. He sang the title role of Werther in that tour; for a clip of him singing "Pourquoi me réveiller," check out his online bio. I spoke with him last week about singing Verdi, about performing in Attila, and about the busy travel schedule of an up-and-coming opera singer.

Let's start with your character, Attila’s Breton slave Uldino. Like most of the characters in this opera, his loyalty seems to be suspect.
Well, it’s interesting because the score doesn’t really give us a lot of information about him. The cast list says he’s a Breton slave, so at some point you know Attila came in and conquered Brittany and took slaves. And for some reason Uldino has become a high-ranking official in Attila’s army and is trusted by Attila. But we don’t know exactly why Uldino betrays Attila--

Yes, I noticed the other night that he's loyal in the first half of the opera. He only turns traitor in the second half.
So that’s been my challenge.

Must be a missing scene in there someplace. Maybe you'll get to sing it for the "Deleted Scenes" on the deluxe edition DVD.
It's possible that Foresto bribed Uldino into joining his uprising. Or maybe seeing Foresto stand up to Attila was just the final straw, and Uldino thought, “Ok, I have the cojones to do this now--“

You mean, seeing Foresto confront Attila in the banquet scene?
Well, no, Uldino has probably made his decision by then. That's when Foresto gives Uldino the poison, to poison Attila's goblet. And Odabella stops him. At that point everyone kind of knows what’s going on, except Attila.

Uldino (Jason Slayden) poisons Attila's ceremonial goblet at the banquet scene when Attila (John Relyea) isn't looking (Alan Alabastro, photo)

So did you have to make your own backstory, for all the stuff that's not in the libretto?
Absolutely. I think maybe he’s planned this all along. He’s gotten into a position of trust, because he wants vengeance for being a slave...

Vengeance for all those killed when the Huns sacked Brittany. Yes. Let's talk about this great composer, have you sung any Verdi before?
Sure, I’ve studied Alfredo, and the Duke in Rigoletto. I love Verdi.

Are you learning to sing the tenor role in this opera, Foresto?
No, that’s usually cast as a dramatic tenor or spinto tenor. I’m more on the lyric side.

How does your preparation for a brief role, like this one, differ from your prep for a long role like Werther or Ernesto?
Right, the performances aren't until April and we’ve already started rehearsals for Don Pasquale. Learning Uldino, the music maybe took a week. But I still have to go in and translate the entire opera. I have to know what everybody else is saying in the scenes I'm in. But it doesn't take as long to memorize the music, because there's not as much of it.

Jason Slayden as Werther (Bill Mohn, photo)

Does Uldino sing his own lines in the ensembles? Or do you add your voice to the tenors in the chorus?
It's interesting, it's sort of half and half. In Act One, I sing with the chorus. But in Act Two I sing all my own lines. Same melody as the first tenors, but my own words. There’s somewhere in the story where he thinks, “Ok, now I’m no longer just a guy in Attila's army.”

An opera singer’s life is often an itinerant one, with all sorts of comings and goings. What’s your travel schedule like this fall and winter?
In the fall I moved up here from Texas, and then I left two or three times for auditions during our season in October and November--went to San Francisco, went to Vancouver once. Then during our Thanksgiving break I was in New York for a couple of weeks, before Attila rehearsals began, doing auditions. And from New York I went to Boston and Philadelphia for more auditions. And now I’m basically here until April. I think most of the Young Artists have a similar schedule. Depends on what they’re doing outside Seattle Opera...Andrew Stenson, for instance, was in New York last week, making his debut at the Met.

And the singers in the Attila cast? Seems like some of them are coming from overseas.
Yeah...even the ones who don't live in Europe, they were coming from Europe because they were singing something there before.

Uldino (Jason Slayden) sleeps at the foot of Attila's (John Relyea)'s couch in the nightmare scene (Elise Bakketun, photo)

Why should people come hear y'all sing Attila?
It's got something for everybody! It’s got murder, intrigue, vengeance, drama, a little bit of romance...it’s a fun show, it’s quirky, it’s great music--you can see the beginnings of Verdi’s maturity. How he became such a great composer.

Had you ever heard it before?
No, I hadn’t, I think I'd seen the name on a list on Verdi’s Wikipedia page, but I’d never heard it! No one does it. It’s neat to see it coming to fruition.

I hear that, in addition to Attila and Don Pasquale, you're putting together a recital with some of the other Young Artists.
Yes, I’m doing 3 Duparc songs in French and 5 Tosti songs in Italian. Michael Uloth and Sarah Larsen are also preparing songs for this recital.

These songs are new to you?
I’ve done some of the Duparc before, I’ve never done the Tosti. They’re very upbeat, sort of tenor heaven! (Laughs.)

Extra credit: listen for the Cimbasso in ATTILA!

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 00:50:00 +0000

Those of you who like to look deep into the orchestra pit from your box seats may spot an unusual instrument at our performances of Attila: the cimbasso, played by Chris Olka, Principal Tuba for Seattle Symphony and Seattle Opera (photo of Chris, right, holding the instrument). Up until his final operas, Verdi wrote his lowest brass parts for cimbasso, which tends to blend more seamlessly with the trombones than a tuba. It makes a difference with a score like Attila, which--although chock-full of that toe-tapping, red-blooded Verdian vigor that we love from this composer--is technically a bel canto opera, and requires elegance and beauty in addition to sheer power.

Although many opera companies use a tuba to play Verdi's lowest brass lines, thanks to one of our donors Seattle Opera was able to invest in a cimbasso some years ago, and we're lucky that Chris is an expert with the instrument. In fact, his example has led other companies to follow suit.

Attila - Preview Trailer

noreply@blogger.com (Seattle Opera) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 17:42:00 +0000

Featuring the Huns versus the Romans and Odabella’s unstoppable path towards avenging her father’s death, our Attila trailer video is full of action. Most impressive though, is the showcase of star-powered voices that command the music and remind us why Verdi is the master of Italian opera.

Learn more about Attila on the Seattle Opera Website

Meet Our Singers: MARCO VRATOGNA, Ezio

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 20:43:00 +0000

Italian baritone Marco Vratogna makes his Seattle Opera debut Saturday night as Ezio in Attila. I stopped him the other night, between rehearsals of his big duet with Attila and his aria, and asked him about being a Verdi baritone, what this opera means to an Italian, and what it was like to sing this role at La Scala. (Some of his remarks here are translated from Italian.)

You’re new to Seattle Opera...welcome! But this performance is not your U.S. debut.
No, I sang in the U.S. for the first time in 2001 in Philadelphia, it was Escamillo in Carmen. My first and only Escamillo.

But that’s sometimes considered a bass-baritone part. Are you…
I’ve sung some bass-baritone roles: Scarpia, Iago. My second appearance in the U.S. was a couple of years ago, Iago, in San Francisco with Nicola Luisotti. And I sang Amonasro there, as well. After this production in Seattle, I will go to San Francisco to sing Rigoletto, my first time with that role.

Where did you grow up?
In La Spezia. I live there now, in a beautiful little village nearby, Vezzano Ligure.

La Spezia, wonderful! That’s where Wagner had the famous “Vision of La Spezia,” when he dreamed he was drowning in an overwhelming Eb major chord. Or at least that’s what he said, the inspiration for the opening of Das Rheingold.
Yeah, I don’t know if it’s true!

La Spezia was a spa, in those days…?
There used to be a great opera theater, with many important singers, Di Stefano, Callas, Tebaldi, Del Monaco. But it was destroyed…today there’s a cinema.

The town is near Genoa, is that right?
About 100 kilometers from Genoa. A bit farther to Florence.

What’s your favorite place to sing in Italy?
La Scala, I sang Attila there last summer and Tosca this year.

Do you sing at other theaters in Italy?
Yes, I sing at Teatro Regio di Parma, Teatro Regio Torino, Teatro Verdi Trieste, at Torre del Lago, Arena di Verona…

What about down south?
I haven’t sung in Naples or Sicily, but I sang Tosca in Bari at Teatro Petruzzelli; and in Reggio Calabria.

Marco Vratogna as Ezio in Seattle Opera's production (Elise Bakketun, photo)

Let’s talk about Attila. They’re doing it in San Francisco, next…
Yes, the same production we did at La Scala…

…and Ana Lucrecia García, our Odabella, who sang it with you at La Scala, is going down there for the role. But you’re not doing it there.
No, after this I have Un ballo in maschera in Dresden, and later Tosca in Valencia, then Vienna, La Scala, and Bari.

So this will be your last Ezio for a while, then?
Maybe. It’s a difficult role. This is my second production, after La Scala…

So let's talk about the La Scala production. In America, you’ve basically got a clean slate, because most audiences have never heard Attila. At La Scala, did you find that everybody in the audience knew the opera?
No, it was the same in Italy, it’d been twenty-some years since they had played Attila at La Scala. People were extremely excited about it, there was great anticipation. The singers, we were all scared. You know, La Scala is a difficult theater!

What was that production like?
It was directed by Gabriele Lavia, a great actor and film director. It was beautiful, very powerful, an important production. Luisotti was the conductor. The audiences were very happy. All the singers were nervous at the premiere, there was a lot of tension backstage, but the hard work we’d done in rehearsal paid off, it was considered a very intense, sophisticated, detailed production. It was important for all concerned, because after all it’s Verdi at La Scala. Verdi matured as an artist there, he’s part of that institution.

I promise opening night in Seattle won’t be that tense!
Oh, but there’s always tension, in every theater in the world! There isn’t a theater anywhere where you’re allowed to do less than your very best.

But at La Scala—
Yes, at La Scala there are people in the audience who sit in judgement, they’re there every night, they’ve heard thousands of voices, they know the libretti word for word. So that’s a different kind of tension. But it comes down to putting strength and energy into the preparation, and that’s the same everywhere.

Do you think non-Italians can care as much about this opera as Italians do?
Yes, there’s what you can only call the Italianità of this opera. It is pure.

A phrase like the one you sing in the first scene: “Avrai tu l’universo, resti l’Italia a me!” (You can have the universe, but give me Italy!)
That’s a very important phrase. Cappuccilli was wonderful there.

Now there’s an interesting thing about that line and that scene—to many of us, Ezio doesn’t seem very heroic, because he comes onstage and, almost the first thing out of his mouth, he offers to betray Rome, the Roman emperor Valentinian, whose ambassador he is.
No, I think Ezio is a hero. Attila is about to march into Italy, and Ezio knows that he will destroy the country. Ezio will do anything to protect Italy, at that moment. Yes, he has problems with the emperor, who is very young and who has recalled him to Rome, and later on he’s offended, because he has risked so much to save his country. But Ezio is a valiant, heroic character; he’s won a thousand battles, he tells Attila, “You remember how I defeated your Huns at the Battle of Châlons…”

The problem is his duplicity.
There’s a compromise. And Attila refuses to accept compromise. So Ezio has no choice, it’s war. And he’s done everything possible to save his country. But that behavior is normal, no? For a brave military person like that.

What’s your favorite moment in this opera?
I like my cabaletta, “È gettata la mia sorte,” a lot. The aria is very nice, but the feeling in the cabaletta is heroic and powerful.

Marco Vratogna as Ezio, with Ana Lucrecia García as Odabella and John Relyea as Attila (Elise Bakketun photo)

Have you worked with any members of our Seattle cast before?
With Carlo Montanaro, the conductor, we’ve done Un ballo in maschera together in Dresden, we do it again in February. And I sang Nabucco with Ana Lucrecia García in Arena di Verona this summer, she was Abigaille.

So in that one you got to sing a duet with her.
She is an amazing singer, yes. This is the first time I’ve worked with John Relyea, who is fantastic. And Antonello Palombi, we sang together in Nabucco at the Baths of Caracalla, in Rome, and also L’amore dei tre re, a marvelous opera by Montemezzi.

That’s another opera we never hear in America.
This was in Torino, a very beautiful production. The problem is it’s very difficult, it’s hard to find the singers who can perform it.

Antonello Palombi as Foresto with Marco Vratogna as Ezio (Elise Bakketun photo)

One last question: as a Verdi baritone, which is your favorite Verdi opera? It sounds like you’re excited about singing your first Rigoletto in San Francisco this year.
Yes, I’ve been waiting all my career to sing Rigoletto. You have to be mature to do it. I think Rigoletto has all the other Verdi operas inside it. My first opera, back in 2000, was Stiffelio, my second was Simon Boccanegra (as Paolo), and my third was Nabucco. I’ve sung Di Luna many times, Amonasro, I masnadieri, Luisa Miller, many Verdi operas. I love Rigoletto, but also Simon Boccanegra, Macbeth, Nabucco. I don’t have one favorite opera, I have a lot of favorite operas.

Meet Our Singers: MICHAEL DEVLIN, Leone

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 00:42:00 +0000

At last night’s orchestral rehearsal I spoke with Michael Devlin, who plays a small but significant role in Attila: Leone, the religious leader who single-handedly (well, assisted by the power of God) repels Attila and saves Italy from the Hun’s ravaging hordes in the great climax to Act One. This production marks a return of sorts for Devlin, who has the unusual record of singing one opera with Seattle Opera in each of the past four decades! We talked about some memorable productions from long ago, about how to make a big impression in a small role, and the power of Verdi’s glorious music.

Welcome back to Seattle Opera! Can you tell us about your early history with the company?
I first came here, my first time in the city and with Seattle Opera, to cover the great Norman Treigle in Boito’s Mefistofele in 1974.

Norman Treigle as Mefistofele (Beth Bergman NYCO Photo)

That’s right, that was a production originally from New York City Opera, Speight Jenkins once told me it was one of the most exciting nights of theater he could remember. One of those productions where, years later, he remembered every single thing that happened in that show.
Yes, and Treigle was doing it all over the country. In Seattle I was supposed to do one performance, but he got a cold, so I stepped in for a second performance. I fell in love with the city—it’s just a wonderful place. I moved here in 1980, and have lived here ever since. I sang my one Horace Tabor in The Ballad of Baby Doe the first season that Speight took over [1984], and then I sang Golaud in the famous Pelléas et Mélisande designed by Dale Chihuly in 1993. I’ve also sung many times with Seattle Symphony. But this is my first time singing in McCaw Hall. From the stage you can hear more sound coming back. You know, when a singer gets on the stage, and sings forte, you can feel the sound coming back. But here it sounds better to me than it did in the old theater for the Pelléas. The architects and acousticians did a great job!

I’ve heard a number of singers say that—that it’s reassuring to hear yourself, your own voice coming back at you the way it does in McCaw Hall.
Oh, yes. You don’t ever want to feel like you’re just singing into a carpet, that’s the worst feeling in the world. Because that encourages you to push harder. You mustn’t do that because that distorts the voice.

1974 Mefistofele Production Photo

So the Seattle audience has only ever heard you in really unusual roles: Mefistofele, Horace Tabor, Golaud, the Haushofmeister in our YAP Ariadne at Meydenbauer a couple of years ago. Do you ever sing any repertory that isn’t so offbeat?
Hey, I sing whatever they pay me to sing. If I can sing the low notes and the high notes, and what’s in the middle, I’ll do it! I’m a bass-baritone, basically, but I’ve done some Verdi baritones, Amonasro, Germont, things like that. And some bass roles.

What about Wagner?
In San Francisco, I once did the Rheingold Wotan down there, and Gunther in Götterdämmerung, covered Alberich in Chicago. Wagner is so loud, and long! I was more comfortable with Mozart, early Verdi, and with French rep. I loved doing Tales of Hoffmann. And I sang a lot of Figaros and Counts and Don Giovannis.

Michael Delos as the Bellboy, Michael Devlin as Horace Tabor, and Claudia Cummings as Baby Doe in Seattle Opera's 1984 Ballad of Baby Doe (Chris Bennion photo)

And not only have you never done Attila before, you said you’d never even heard it before!
Not completely, before I started rehearsals for this production!

What other early Verdi operas have you sung?
I did some concert performances of Alzira.

Really? Wow, that’s even more obscure than Attila.
That was one of my first Carnegie Hall roles, in New York back in the ‘60s. Jonel Perlea was the conductor, it was one of his last jobs: he was partially paralyzed at the time, but he managed to conduct Alzira.

He conducted the recording of Aida I grew up with: Milanov, Tucker, Boris Christoff as Ramfis—great recording. But getting back to Attila (what is it with Verdi, all these operas that begin with the letter ‘A’), your character, Leone, only sings one line. How do you make an impression with such a small role?
That’s really up to our wonderful director, Bernard Uzan. He’s staged me coming right down the middle of the stage, with a follow-spot, and a snow-white costume in the middle of everybody else with dark brown and black costumes.

Do you have a long white beard, too?
I don’t think so, although we don’t do it with make-up and lights until tomorrow. I do have a nice shiny bald head, as you can see. I hope it’ll make a strong, if brief, impression.

Have you ever had such a short part?
When I was first starting out, sure, there’s lots of little bit parts where you come out and sing your one line! But this is interesting, my solo here lasts exactly 33 seconds, I timed it. And to make a good impression in 33 seconds, about all you can do is stand tall and sing as loud as you can.

The character of Leone, mysterious bass whose voice seems to have this supernatural power to defeat evil, reminds me of the Frate, the eerie Monk from Verdi’s much later opera Don Carlo.
I did sing the Monk once. Yes, it’s the same kind of thing, the same kind of small role that makes a big impression.

Neither character sings much by way of melody. It’s all monotone, isn’t it?
Any time Verdi wrote a nice short part like this, where you come in and declaim your big line, it’s usually on a middle C or middle D, right in the best part of the voice for a baritone.

Isn’t that what Monterone does, in Rigoletto?
Monterone, yes, as well as the usher who brings him in—that was one of my first roles, about 45 years ago. And the “La cena e pronta” man in La traviata, and the Marquis and the Baron, these characters sing their lines all right around middle C, which is just wonderful. You can be nice and loud!

Michael Devlin as Goulaud with Sheri Greenawald as Mélisande and Kenneth Cox as King Arkel in Seattle Opera's 1993 Dale Chihuly-designed Pelléas et Mélisande (Gary Smith photo)

The other thing that’s really odd about the line Leone sings is that it’s a repeat.
Yes, Attila sings to Uldino that he had this vision in a dream, who spoke to him, and then I suddenly appear and I look the same and sound the same as the figure in the dream. Maybe if the audience hears it a second time they can hum along!

Now Attila is inspired by history, although a) it’s not very good history and b) in our production, the action is contemporary. What can you tell us about the historical background for your character?
It’s [Director] Bernard [Uzan]’s idea that it would look a little strange for the pope to come all the way out and speak to a bunch of rebels in the middle of the woods. So we’re telling the story that this is Leo before he became a pope, maybe he’s the head cardinal, or something like that. I was hoping for the little red shoes and the tall pointy hat, but they gave me a long tunic with a white coat over it. I’ll have to wait for the next production to do the red shoes.

What’s it like to play a Catholic priest in an opera by Italy’s most staunchly anti-clerical composer?
It’s true, Verdi had a few run-ins with the church, they made him change his settings, twist the plots around. The church was quite a political force in Italy back then, probably even more so than it is now. You really couldn’t cross ‘em. And he probably did.

What’s your favorite thing about singing Verdi?
Part of it is listening to what’s going on around me. He’s such a wonderful, wonderful composer for the voice. If you have a Verdi voice, and work on the legato, it’s wonderful: dramatic, but with the chance to sing some beautiful lines. It’s great to hear them, and sometimes to sing them!

Michael Devlin as the Haushofmeister, surrounded by the YAP cast of Ariadne auf Naxos: l to r Megan Hart as Zerbinetta, Michael Krzankowski as Harlekin, Alex Mansoori as the Tanzmeister, Marcy Stonikas as Ariadne, and Stephanos Tsirakoglou as the Musik Lehrer (Chris Bennion photo).

What’s your favorite thing about singing at Seattle Opera?
It’s great to be home. I’ve been doing this for 46 years, going to New York all the time, and to Europe, all the major cities in this country and minor cities too. I’ve been traveling and living in hotels and motels and sublet apartments for 46 years, and, while I’m not tired of singing, I still like to sing, I’m really tired of the traveling. So I said goodbye to New York after this past season at the Met. I’m always happy to sing at home, but the traveling is getting to be a bit much.

Archie Drake as Jacob, Charles Palethorpe as Barney, and Michael Devlin as Horace Tabor in The Ballad of Baby Doe (Chris Bennion photo)

Meet Our Singers: ANTONELLO PALOMBI, Foresto

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 23:26:00 +0000

Italian tenor Antonello Palombi may be a familiar voice to the Seattle Opera audience by now. He most recently sang Manrico in Il trovatore in 2010, and has also sung in the company’s recent productions of Aida, Pagliacci, and La fanciulla del West. (He’ll also be returning in 2012/13 as Calaf in season opener Turandot.) Now he takes on a role debut as Foresto, the leader of the Aquileian refugees in Attila. We chat with Palombi today about his character and what—in his admittedly biased opinion—makes Italian opera so special.

This is your fifth engagement with Seattle Opera; by now, you must know your way around town pretty well!
I think I know the terrain, yes, and I have to say it was disappointing to see some shops had closed since my last time here, or their names changed or something like that. But actually, if I need something I know where to go, and things my family can do while I’m rehearsing (I have two daughters, one is 8 and one is 14, and both are here right now). We know places for shopping or activities, like the Pacific Science Center, or there’s an ice skating rink at Seattle Center right now. That’s not for me—I can’t take the risk—but my family went skating.

You also have to understand, Seattle was my first American city. I made my American debut right here. So for me, it’s a really important city. Seattle has a place in my heart. I like the people, I like the mood, and when I come here and see the Space Needle, I think, “Well, we are home!”

Antonello Palombi starring as Canio in Seattle Opera's 2008 production of Pagliacci.
Photo by Bill Mohn

Specifically, this is the third Verdi role you’ve sung for us: Radames, Manrico, and now Foresto. What’s your favorite thing about singing Verdi?
I love to sing, singing is my life, and so for me, I like Verdi, but I also like most of the Italian composers. I like to give voice to all the characters in the Italian repertoire, assuming they are compatible with my voice. The Italians, we have in our mouth what we have in our heart, most of the time. And we can say the rest of the world likes to copy us. Our architecture, our food, whatever—you know what I mean. “Made in Italy” means something important. In our opera, you can feel this. Italian opera is about the heart and soul of the people. The emotion and drama is very strong and connects to audiences. You also hear people everywhere singing “Nessun dorma” or “La donna è mobile” or “Libiamo ne' lieti calici.” You’re less likely to hear someone singing the Queen of the Night or something from the Ring.

Of course, I say all this because I am Italian! My mother language is Italian.

Are you as passionate about Attila?
As for Attila, Verdi was still developing his writing. This “Young Verdi” is close to another kind of repertoire that is not very close to my vocality. But in any case, this role was sung by all the most important singers of the past. I’m going to do my best to do whatever I can to give a voice to Foresto, who is not an unimportant character. He’s very strong, a person that trusts his country, is faithful to his love (Odabella), and wants to take revenge on the barbarians that killed her father.

You mentioned Foresto’s faithfulness to Odabella. He also seems very jealous. Is that a fair assessment, or does he have good reasons to be suspicious of Odabella?
Early on, Odabella doesn’t reveal to Foresto that she wants to kill Attila. And it’s not written in the score, but she probably was afraid Foresto would try and stop her. Like most heroines, she makes this decision on her own and that’s what makes her very strong. But when she finally says she wants to avenge her father’s death and reveals this to Foresto, he kneels at her feet and says, “I’m sorry, I’m so stupid, you are amazing.” You can see this moment in the opera, and they sing about happiness because everything is settling back into place. But then Foresto is surprised again because she almost gets him killed when she tells Attila that Foresto has poisoned his cup. At this moment, he doesn’t understand what is happening. I think he has good reason to be confused.

Antonello Palombi as Manrico (with Lisa Daltirus as Leonora) in Seattle Opera's 2010 production of Il trovatore.
Photo by Rozarii Lynch

Meet Our Singers: ANA LUCRECIA GARCÍA, Odabella

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 19:58:00 +0000

Seattle Opera's premiere of Attila opens a week from Saturday, which means it's time to get to know our singers! To start off, I talked (in Spanish) to the woman who single-handedly takes down the King of the Huns: our opening night Odabella, soprano Ana Lucrecia García. In 2008, García alternated as Aida in what is a much better-known Verdi opera, but she's excited to return to Seattle for Odabella, a role she's long admired. She recently stunned La Scala audiences as a last-minute substitution in the role, and we ask her what that experience was like, why she loves Verdi and Odabella, and what it was like growing up with access to Venezuela's legendary system of music education.

What is music education like back in Venezuela, where you’re from?
Fortunately, Venezuela has an organization called Sistema Nacional de las Orquestas Juveniles, which has a presence in each city in Venezuela and gives all of us access to music. When I was very little, I began studying violin and was playing in a symphony orchestra by the time I was 8 years old. You can say I grew up surrounded by music, because my mother sang in a chorus. So I knew what it was to make music as part of a group, and that’s very important. It’s a very healthy activity that helps the formation of your character, makes you a more stable person. It was influential for me to have that access to an instrument, to play in that orchestra, because it has formed so much of my life, to the point that music is now my career.

Do you still play violin?
Very rarely. Sometimes I get a little nostalgic, and I take out my violin and dust it off. I’m surprised by what I still remember—entire scores!—and my fingers will move by themselves, through muscle memory. But lately I’m too vain and I like having my nails long. [Laughs] I don’t want to cut them to play the violin.

Ana Lucrecia García as Aida in Seattle Opera's 2008 production of Aida. Rozarii Lynch photo

How did you switch from playing the violin to singing?
Well, I went from my hometown, Coro, to Caracas to play in a professional orchestra and once I was there, I had my first brush with opera. I knew symphonic music, and I knew choral music—in my hometown, around Christmastime, we’d do choral programs that included Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, lots of stuff—but I had no experience with opera. What’s more, I didn’t even like it. It sounded like strange screams to me and I thought, “Who could like this?” But when I went to Caracas, we had programmed my first opera: Carmen. I recognized the overture because it’s so famous, so marvelous. But when I heard that tragic death theme, I was captured by how descriptive the music was. And then to hear singers explain the story? For me, it was a revelation. I went crazy for it. After Carmen came other operas—The Barber of Seville, Turandot, one after the other—and I started to imitate the singers. I did them all—sopranos, tenors, baritones—and it was all as a joke. My friends and I laughed and laughed and we even made Latin arrangements for the operas, adding drums, and so on. It was nuts, and we had a good time with it. But the older people in the orchestra said, “We think you could be a professional singer. You should think about studying.”

Ana Lucrecia García shares a smile in rehearsal with Antonello Palombi (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Another time, one of my colleagues stopped me as I was walking and asked, “Ana Lucrecia, do you sing? Because when I watch you move, I see a singer.” It was like a premonition! But that’s how it began, as a joke. I imitated and then I found my own voice. I began studying when I was 23, and at the time, my own voice was something to laugh at—I sounded like a squeaky little bird. But little by little, I found a genuine joy in singing, much more than what I experienced playing violin. That surprised me, because my violin was my great love, my first love. I was already a professional violinist, teaching classes and playing in an orchestra. But singing was like an explosion, like starting my life for the first time.

Now you live in Madrid. When and why did you move to Spain?
I moved in 1998 because I began studying voice at Reina Sofía. They had scholarships that allowed me to go without having to pay tuition, and they had the prestige I wanted at the time. So I auditioned and they accepted me.

Ana Lucrecia García and John Relyea rehearse a scene for Odabella and Attila (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Let’s talk about your role in Attila. How do you feel about Odabella and this opera?
This type of dramatic coloratura role appeals to me very much. Attila is strong and warlike but at the same time it shows a musicality that I love. Verdi’s music is a favorite of mine, for how honest it is. It is straight from the heart. It’s different from passion, which is more visceral; with Verdi, it’s all heart. It’s friendship, love, all the noblest of sentiments. It touches me so much; I feel it and I hear it in every note.

Specifically, I love Odabella. Hers is some of the music I listened to before I became a singer, and she was one of my favorites. I thought, “How can one possibly do that? What a marvel it must be to sing that role.” So now the satisfaction is twice over. I’m in awe of the role itself, but I’m also singing with a joy, and a gratitude to God, that I’m able to do this.

Last summer, you sang this role at La Scala. What was that experience like?
Ooh, it was mind-bending. I was going with the obvious joy of debuting at La Scala—imagine that, singing at such a temple! How spectacular. But on the other hand, I was a little apprehensive, wondering how the public would receive me. I had heard so many stories of people booing if they didn’t like you, and I was terrorized by the thought. I thought, “No, no, no! That can’t happen with me, they must applaud me!” [Laughs] But, of course, you later realize that their audience is just sincere. If they like you, they tell you. And if they don’t like you, you’ll hear about it.

When I arrived, I was very prepared. I’d been studying the role for a year, because it was a double debut—debuting at La Scala and debuting in the role. I thought that I needed to come double, triply prepared, to surmount that lack of experience, so I could sound like a true professional. But it ended up being fantastic, I was treated and received so well. The atmosphere was just beautiful, and I have wonderful memories. They applauded me, thank God! [Laughs] It was a very emotional experience.

How do you relate to Odabella? What’s it like to slay Attila?
Me, personally, I’d never do something like that! But that’s the magic of opera. You can play pretend, and live out these roles and say, “Today I’m going to be the bad girl.” Though, of course, Odabella’s not bad, she’s good. She goes after Attila only because he’s killed her father. But in my personal life, I’d never cut off someone’s head. Normally, I’m a total pacifist, all about peace. [Pauses] Well, it depends. If you did something that bad to me, I’d probably turn into Rambo, too!

"Distress" at the Costume Shop

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 20:47:00 +0000

Next week is Tech Week for Seattle Opera's production of Attila, when the company moves into McCaw Hall and one by one adds all the elements of production: the set, titles, orchestra, costumes, hair and make-up, lights, and finally the audience. So this week, at the Costume Shop, they're putting finishing touches on the costumes to get them ready for the stage and the lights. With the contemporary look Melanie Taylor Burgess has designed for Attila, finishing touches includes the curious process known as "distressing" the costumes.

Attila tells a down and dirty story of war, invasion, refugees, uneasy truces, and brutal power politics. The characters need to look as though they've been living hard for a while. So our skilled craftspeople in the Costume Shop distress the costumes, giving them the theatrical equivalent of years of wear and tear. Here, for instance, is a costume piece for one of Attila's men, before distressing:

And after, with dirt and texture painted-on:

The chain hanging from the pocket of this camouflage jacket is typical of the tools used by Jeanna Gomez, the artist responsible for distressing this piece; the heavy weight stretches the garment, bringing out the natural folds and wrinkles, and Jeanna then paints highlights onto the cloth, darkening the parts that get buried and brightening the spots where the lights will hit.

Stage light has a tendency to make everything look flat; the painting we're doing here, like stage make-up, fights that tendency, giving the pieces even more depth then they'd have in real life. When you buy new clothes off the rack, you want them to look flat and clean and spanking new. Distressing is the artful way of ruining that nice new look.

A couple weeks ago we posted photos of lots of our Attila costumes on our Facebook page. Those photos were taken pre-distressing:

Here, for instance, is Attila's great cloak, smudged as if he's gotten too close to one too many campfires while out on campaign:

You'll see some costumes getting destroyed onstage, too. The people who end up in Attila's entourage, whether soldiers or slaves, use the insignia of a big letter A. Here it is as painted, permanently, on a distressed costume:

But in the opening scene, you'll see Attila's men take several new prisoners and mark them in full view of the audience. They use a kind of chalk that can be sprayed at each performance and washed off between shows:

That way, the same costume piece will get distressed again and again--and the audience can see the process!