I'm in Louisville this week singing for their New Music Festival. Three days of rehearsals, recording sessions, and concerts. So far, I'm having a great time, getting lots done and sleeping as much as humanly possible so when I return to Boston, I will not need to sleep off my worn-out voice. I like Louisville. It's strangely multi-cultural for Kentucky (no offense to anyone who is from Kentucky) and considering the most time I ever spent in Louisville was at the McDonalds off I-65 on my way home, it's a very pretty town. I miss living in a real town - where they have stretches of trees and houses with yards and parks. I know, I know, Boston has those things too, but the Boston Common isn't really a place where you can have a picnic and run your dog and enjoy the quiet. There is no quiet in Boston, not really. The closest thing to real quiet that you get is late at night at the train station when there's virtually nobody there because you're catching the last train out after opera rehearsals. It's eerily quiet then, no buskers, no newpaper vendors, even the pretzel guy has gone home. I spend a lot of time in the train station. At least twice a day, I stand on a platform and wait for the train that will carry me to or from my house. Moreso this time of year than any other, as I'm in and out of NYC at least once a week for auditions until this ridiculousness is over.
This brings me to the update on the audition scene. As most of you know, this is audition season, the season in which one sends out the best of her work to see if someone will take an interest. This process begins in mid-September with the preparation of the audition packets. Every company is different. Some of them want the application, the headshot, the resume, a CD with two contrasting pieces, letters of recommendation, proof of age. Some want the resume, some don't, some want letters, some only need the contact info for your references, some want two photos and a copy of your passport page. Personally, I think part of the weeding-out process is to see whether or not you have the detail skills to put the right stuff in the right envelope, but that's just me and my social-Darwinist brain at work. After you've sent off all of these packets and paid your fee for the pleasure of them opening the envelope, you wait for the first round of letters saying whether or not they are going to hear you.
Once you are given an audition, one trusses herself up like a Thanksgiving turkey with all the fixins and goes into any number of rented studios in NYC in order to sing two arias with all of the flair and panache that can be mustered (which is a sufficient amount, especially when sporting items of Grandma's bling) after which we sit and wait until one of two things happens: I get an envelope in the mail with an offer, or I get an envelope in the mail with a rejection.
I've been through my fair share of auditions now and I've grown accustomed to the format of rejection letters from companies who either weren't looking for a coloratura this year or have decided to hire someone back from last year, or would like to hear me again in a year or so. To date, the nicest rejection letter I ever received was from Chicago Lyric Opera's young artist program. I didn't feel bad reading it - they were supportive, said they very much enjoyed hearing me, and would really like to hear me again in a year, and that this should in no way be construed as a reflection of my level of talent. It was the perfect balance of information and personalization.
I'm in the middle of the season now, with most of my auditions lined up, three of them already done, and two more in the next week. It's hard on your ego to go into these halls, see all of the other singers lined up waiting for their slot, everyone humming into the wall or yodelling in the bathroom, trying not to check everyone else out, trying to stay focused on the job at hand. I don't do well with the waiting. I try to arrive as close to my actual time as possible so I won't have time to sit and fret and contemplate all of the reasons why someone else is better suited to this audition than I am. I'm auditioning for some big programs this year: San Francisco Opera, Wolf Trap, Houston Grand, Florida Grand. These are the programs that you really really REALLY want to get into if you wish to start a career in opera. I made it through the paper and CD round, and now they are hearing me live. So far, I've sung really well and should I get rejected, I won't feel bad because I really did give them a good sing. But it is this delicate process of which I spoke above, this balance that needs to be struck when telling a young singer that he or she is not going to be hired for this season.
And finally, that brings me to the rant of the day. Central City Opera is a small company in Colorado. They do pretty good productions with small-ish professional names and they have a young artist program. Last year, I was given a live audition but they did not hire me. I was not entirely surprised, as it was my first year of young artist auditions, and my resume was not nearly as filled out as it is now. Which is why I laughed out loud when my poor sweet husband told me (in a very sad voice) that Central City would not be hearing me this year in their live auditions.
First of all, the reason they cited was that I did not have enough experience and the level of talent they are looking for was not found within the contents of my materials. (this makes me wonder, is it possible that I became less talented and less experienced in the last year? I didn't know that one could actually lose experience and gain it at the same time!)
Second, the medium by which they conveyed this information was not a form letter, sealed in an envelope with my name on a label that was pasted on crooked by someone sending out the rejection letters. Oh no, that would be too classy. They sent a POSTCARD. A postcard upon which the words were so poorly printed, my husband noted, it seemed that the printer was running out of ink but they didn't care. A postcard with this very personal information pasted on one side for all of the world to read, the mailman, the sorters at the post office.
Not that any of these people care whether or not I have an audition for Central City, I assure you they do not care. But it's the fact that a company with a young artist program, who claim that they are committed to the development of young talent, would send out this kind of information, the kind of information that young singers wait by the mailbox for, on a postcard, as if to display to the world that this singer is not fit to be heard.
I have a year's worth of levity on this situation. You come to know what the letters look like, feel like, how the wording goes. It's usually a kind letter, couched in encouragement for next year. And so it should be. My feelings are not hurt this year. THIS year. Because when I look at my planner for the audition weekends, they are full of dates and times from other companies with better reputations and more selective criteria. So I bite my thumb at Central City Opera for being so couthless that they carelessly discard singers with a postcard. I bite my thumb at them because while I am missing their audition times, I will be standing in line for Seattle Opera, and Utah, and San Francisco. And I will not miss them one bit.
