Setting boundaries

We've been in Germany for nearly six months now, and I think it's finally sunk in that we live here.  I'm preparing for my third production (Handel Festspiele, y'all - they do early music for serious) and it's unlike anything I've ever done before.  The director specializes in baroque-style performances with candlelight and period makeup/costume and baroque gesture.  So it's kind of like dance, only not really.  And everything is choreographed, only not really.  We open next week, and I feel like I'm really getting the hang of this - I'm moving well, I'm able to put impulses into the fluidity, and all the long slow crosses are really giving my legs a workout when.......as if it were inevitable.....I'm overly tired at the end of a long rehearsal and I slip on the stairs and boom.  Ankle sprained.  My first ankle sprain in nearly 34 years on this earth.

Now I could elaborate with great enthusiasm about the wonderfulness of the socialized medicine system that got me in to see the ortho doc and into an ankle brace on the same day, and into physical therapy on the next day, but that's not what this post is about.  This post is about setting boundaries.

The week before a show opens, you can't just bail from rehearsal because you've sprained your ankle, especially when you're single-cast and orchestra rehearsals are starting.  I mean, I guess you could, but it would probably make life very very difficult and complicated.  I'm still perfectly able to hobble around (not nearly as gracefully as before, but there you go) and my singing is unimpeded, so I get a bigger shoe for the foot with the brace, and I start figuring out ways to do what I need to do without putting myself in pain or danger.  Into the fourth hour of a five-hour rehearsal (not counting the two hours of makeup and costume that come before work 'starts') my foot was really starting to throb.  I'd already popped an ibuprofen before rehearsal (medication and singing - that's yet another post) to keep the swelling at bay, but I knew it was just a matter of time before we got to the part in the third act where I get thrown to the floor.  In a medieval corseted dress.  This is hard enough when you have full use of both of your feet.  I did a full training course in stage combat so I know how to do this correctly, but when there's an injury involved, you gotta figure out another way to get the job done.

[Sidebar: there is no such thing as 'stage combat' in some European houses - there's a slap, you get slapped.  There's a fight, they expect you to figure it out.  This is NOT, I repeat NOT OKAY.  Safety first, no matter what anyone says, no matter who the director is.  NO EXCEPTIONS.]

So I say to the director, I can do it like so - he's already grabbed my wrists, so it looks like he's forcing me down to my knees, and then he flings me (read: he releases my wrists and I fling myself in a controlled and planned manner) toward the floor from there, smacking my palms on the floor so it makes a nice 'thump' and everyone in the audience gasps.  Now our director is a good guy, he really is, but he likes to do all the movements himself.  So he says, "okay, I try this myself," and off he goes.  In his jeans and t-shirt and flexible shoes.  And he says, "can you do it like this?" as he flings himself toward the edge of the set staircase.  And I say, "I'm not comfortable flinging myself backward toward a staircase I can't see."  And he says, "okay, we try it." And I say, "no, I'll try it slowly and see if it's possible."  And he says, "okay, we try it with the music."  And I say, "no, I'll try it slowly and see if it's possible."  And he says, "well if I can do it it's possible," and I say, "yes, but you're not wearing a corset and two skirts, and you don't have a sprained ankle. I have to try it myself.  Please give me a minute."

So I try it his way, slowly.  It's awkward and I don't know if I can execute it in real-time safely.  I tell him we'll have to try it a few times when the orchestra clock is not running.  We do it once, awkwardly, and then we move on.  We'll do it again on Monday.

One of the frequent questions I hear asked about the German Fest system is the danger question - will it ruin my voice?  Will I be forced to sing roles that aren't right for me?  Will I be doing back-to-back performances of dramatically different repertoire?

The answer to all of these questions is - Yes, if you allow it.

I have to sing a Flute on Saturday.  I've been rehearsing Handel nonstop since the start of January.  I told the AD I am not coming to rehearsal on Saturday morning.  She said, "oh, if that's what you would prefer, I will ask," and I said, "No, you don't understand.  I'm not coming.  I have to sing Queen on Saturday night.  I am staying home."  Tomorrow night, we have a rehearsal.  I am telling the director that I will not be staying past 8pm.  He's a nice guy, but he's not great with time management, so he'll probably be a little pissed.  But I have to take care of myself.  You don't get points for pleasing people at the expense of your professional output.  There is no "oh, she was overly tired from rehearsals but boy was she punctual" prize.  There is no award for being a person who always says yes.  This is a very hard lesson for me to learn, as I am a person who always wants to do what is asked of me.  But at some point, you have to be real with yourself.  If what you do to pay your rent is the thing that lives inside your body, not taking care of your body is just bad maintenance.  It's a bad return on the years of investment you put into building that instrument.  It's a waste.

Long story short - You do you.  You have to watch your own back.  You have to be your own guard and policeman and warden and judge and jury.  Everything else is someone else's job, and pleasing everyone is WAY beyond your pay grade.

With that said, I gotta put my foot up.  It hurts like a sonofabitch.