Monday, March 30, 2009
1989 Dmitri Hvorostovsky
So, here's the deal. I'm trying to educate myself on the voice of a baritone.
They sound so weird. No offense. I think it's gonna take a while before I'll learn how to love that sound.
Hvorostovsky. I don't like his singing today. But man was he good in 1989.
It was just so simple. It use to be so simple.
Just sung. That's all. No artsy fartsy stuff.
Cabbage Wabbage
Nothing more I love than:
Surprise letters
Care Packages
Encouraging and sweet notes
Hugs from MANY little kids
Smiles and smiling back
Sun light
light
Colors...many many many colors
Animal watching (Coz people are too dumb to watch)
Reading e-mails from family NOT school
and of course...
REAL music =)
REAL musicians
Cabbage Wabbage
Care Packages
Encouraging and sweet notes
Hugs from MANY little kids
Smiles and smiling back
Sun light
light
Colors...many many many colors
Animal watching (Coz people are too dumb to watch)
Reading e-mails from family NOT school
and of course...
REAL music =)
REAL musicians
Cabbage Wabbage
5 More Days to My First Off Campus Recital:
I am so close to my recital to the point where I don't know what to do with my music. How flexible should I be with accepting changes? Should I keep practicing? What more can I do with the music at this point?
I feel like in this past week, my voice has gotten bigger. Like...WAY bigger. It takes a lot of energy to focus on my air and I need to take much deeper and bigger inhale breaths.
So, I've decided that since changes happen whether or not I like it, why don't I just keep practicing until I can practice no longer. These recitals are not the end point to my career. It's just another destination that I must past to get to my end point.
I've learned and experienced so much from preparing for these recitals. I can't imagine having to learn more than what I have already learned.
I guess that means more excitement and adventures for the future.
THE UNKNOWN.
Somehow, it's a very bitter sweet thought.
I am so comfortable with where I am at right now. Why must I leave?
Cabbage Wabbage
I feel like in this past week, my voice has gotten bigger. Like...WAY bigger. It takes a lot of energy to focus on my air and I need to take much deeper and bigger inhale breaths.
So, I've decided that since changes happen whether or not I like it, why don't I just keep practicing until I can practice no longer. These recitals are not the end point to my career. It's just another destination that I must past to get to my end point.
I've learned and experienced so much from preparing for these recitals. I can't imagine having to learn more than what I have already learned.
I guess that means more excitement and adventures for the future.
THE UNKNOWN.
Somehow, it's a very bitter sweet thought.
I am so comfortable with where I am at right now. Why must I leave?
Cabbage Wabbage
Nothing more I hate than:
Unfaithful friends
Untrustworthy co-workers
Rudeness
Bullshit from authority
Passive aggressive room mates
Pricks that are directing opera companies
Oh and also,
when I get my cash card stolen...
sigh....
Cabbage Wabbage
Untrustworthy co-workers
Rudeness
Bullshit from authority
Passive aggressive room mates
Pricks that are directing opera companies
Oh and also,
when I get my cash card stolen...
sigh....
Cabbage Wabbage
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Leontyne Price Said...
The ultimate of being successful is the luxury of giving yourself the time to do what you want to do.
I am here and you will know that I am the best and will hear me. The color of my skin or the kink of my hair or the spread of my mouth has nothing to do with what you are listening to.
For a long time the only time I felt beautiful -- in the sense of being complete as a woman, as a human being -- was when I was singing.
Art is the only thing you cannot punch a button for. You must do it the old-fashioned way. Stay up and really burn the midnight oil. There are no compromises.
Once you get on stage, everything is right. I feel the most beautiful, complete, fulfilled. I think that's why, in the case of noncompromising career women, parts of our personal lives don't work out. One person can't give you the feeling that thousands of people give you.
On performing in the new Metropolitan Opera House: The ghosts from the old house -- Caruso, Flagstad -- all those folks -- have moved uptown, too. When I'd look up at the gold ceiling, there they'd be, swingin' around, saying to me, "Lee, you mess it up and we'll take care of you!"
I absolutely love her. She is DEFINITELY my role model.
Cabbage Wabbage
I am here and you will know that I am the best and will hear me. The color of my skin or the kink of my hair or the spread of my mouth has nothing to do with what you are listening to.
For a long time the only time I felt beautiful -- in the sense of being complete as a woman, as a human being -- was when I was singing.
Art is the only thing you cannot punch a button for. You must do it the old-fashioned way. Stay up and really burn the midnight oil. There are no compromises.
Once you get on stage, everything is right. I feel the most beautiful, complete, fulfilled. I think that's why, in the case of noncompromising career women, parts of our personal lives don't work out. One person can't give you the feeling that thousands of people give you.
On performing in the new Metropolitan Opera House: The ghosts from the old house -- Caruso, Flagstad -- all those folks -- have moved uptown, too. When I'd look up at the gold ceiling, there they'd be, swingin' around, saying to me, "Lee, you mess it up and we'll take care of you!"
I absolutely love her. She is DEFINITELY my role model.
Cabbage Wabbage
It Never Cease to Surprise Me
How one piece can be sung in so many different ways.
Different artist, different interpretation.
However, the interpretation must lie in the convention of the composer's intent.
If it leaves the composer's expression, then it is no longer true to the music.
So, how does an artist know if she is true to the music?
When the artist feels comfortable and right in her own skin while singing the piece.
When the artist knows that the voice is doing justice to the music.
When the artist is generous, not fake, but sincerely willing to give all she can through the music.
A gift is only a gift if it is worth something precious in the eyes of the giver.
A gift is only a gift if the presenter does not expect anything in return after giving the gift away.
A gift is to be given away whole heartedly.
And that's how the giver of the music knows that she is being true to the music.
If it feels right, then it is.
If it feels selfish, and self sabotaging, then it definitely is so.
If you find yourself sweating and panting at the end of the piece, but you could still go on singing your life away, then it is right. You are right.
Do you get it? There's no limit to great singing. There are no rules involved.
It's just you and the music.
Cabbage Wabbage
Different artist, different interpretation.
However, the interpretation must lie in the convention of the composer's intent.
If it leaves the composer's expression, then it is no longer true to the music.
So, how does an artist know if she is true to the music?
When the artist feels comfortable and right in her own skin while singing the piece.
When the artist knows that the voice is doing justice to the music.
When the artist is generous, not fake, but sincerely willing to give all she can through the music.
A gift is only a gift if it is worth something precious in the eyes of the giver.
A gift is only a gift if the presenter does not expect anything in return after giving the gift away.
A gift is to be given away whole heartedly.
And that's how the giver of the music knows that she is being true to the music.
If it feels right, then it is.
If it feels selfish, and self sabotaging, then it definitely is so.
If you find yourself sweating and panting at the end of the piece, but you could still go on singing your life away, then it is right. You are right.
Do you get it? There's no limit to great singing. There are no rules involved.
It's just you and the music.
Cabbage Wabbage
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)