So I'm going to Chicago tomorrow to audition for the Chicago Lyric Opera young artist program. In my zeal to better myself as a performer I have sought the advice of directors, professional singers, and my peers and I have come to this conclusion: being an opera singer is hard on the ego. I've spent the last 26 years forming who I am as a person, getting comfortable with being almost the tallest girl I know, coping with years and years of teasing about wearing glasses and having big feet and being too smart/not smart enough and liking myself as a nerd. And now that I'm okay with who I am, I have to transform into an opera singer. And you may ask yourself, "so how is this so different? you only have to wear costumes on stage..." but you would be wrong my friends, so terribly wrong. For being an opera singer unfortunately means assuming the role of an opera singer with the clothes, the shoes, the makeup, and the hair. I haven't colored my hair in about three years now and have quite happily gone to get my hair cut once every eight months because it just doesn't matter that much to me. Yesterday, I had to sit in the chair at the salon for an hour and a half, getting highlights that I don't want, hours at Talbots buying dresses I don't want and trying to decide which of the two bright colors I hate less so I can show up in something that's not my standard black and thereby distinguish myself from the herds of other sopranos who will show up in black.
Why do we do this? I don't know. Why is it that Anna Netrebko has sung three mainstage roles at the Met this year, and each time she has fastidiously avoided singing the high notes that are WRITTEN in the role. I'm not talking about the optional high notes for show-offs like myself, I'm talking about the ones that the composer inked out on purpose. Why does she get to sing these roles at the Met without singing the high notes? Because she looks like a supermodel and they can put her on stage as Violetta or Gilda or Norina in next to nothing and people go, "wow, an opera singer who looks good. Put away the horns and spears, I'm coming to see this girl!"
It's an aspect of the business that I hate, but if I'm going to continue to attempt a career as an opera singer, I have to get over it. So I bit the bullet, bought the pink dress (vomit vomit vomit) and the pointy-toed heels (oh how my feet cry for my Dansko clogs) and got the stupid highlights in hopes that some casting director will look twice at me. And with that said, I'm going to bed in my ugly flannel pj's. At least they can't tell me what to wear when I go to sleep at night.
Wish me luck, the Windy City awaits!
1 comment:
I like your feet. I may top out at a 6.5 but when I look at my feet, they look like a chinese foot binding experiment gone bad. You have nice toes.
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