Opera

"Now they are
child stars
child stars
child stars
child stars
child stars
child stars
child stars
child stars
child stars
child stars
child stars..."

-- Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, "Upon This Tidal Wave of Young Blood"

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Taught two workshops this morning (second group was older, better, more suited to games and the ensuing calm), an hour both ways, in the deep woods east from Cincinnati. Apparently we passed George Clooney's house along the way. The creep. Figures he would live on the Ohio River.

The kids who wear the crappiest clothes will surprise you most. The one with the solemn looks, too. If you just pay them a little attention, they flick the switch back to ON and you realize that they didn't mean for the room to stay so dark; they just dared to ask the question, Why turn the light on if no one's around anyway?

So it was good.

--

Lunched with the office staff at a quaint rich condo, up in the Kentucky hills facing the city skyscrapers. Nature's answer to nurture.

There was a harp by the deck and huge windows and we could see the whole city skyline and also some of the shoreline, such as it is. The spinach salad with cranberries and vinaigrette was good, as were the tiny chocolate thimble cups of pudding. I couldn't help but feel out of place, with my casual work shirt, unironed khaki pants and loafers, not to mention my early-twenties-ness.

But it was good anyway.

Turns out, our hostess saw one of my performances in the traveling group. Said she enjoyed it. I can remember the day she showed up and asked if my boss was around. I thought that weird. Little did I know that within two months I would be asking her how she makes her delicious Asian slaw.

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Got back to the office and had thirty emails from parents wanting to schedule auditions. About two dozen more came in while I was responding to the initial thirty. All of them, the best child performers I will ever see, or hear about. They have all received standing ovations at school functions. They have all taken classes. They all believe this is something they want to do, now, at the ripe old age of...nine.

Some highlights from these:
- A father says his daughter is an athlete and she's willing to abandon her teams for a role on stage. Says she wants to audition. Says, too, that he thinks it's "a long shot, anyway," but is willing to patronize--er, support--her in her new desires.
- A mother says her daughter will come to the audition, but will not sing. She can't sing in front of people. Says it makes her nervous.
- A mother asks if I can recommend some dance/singing/acting instructors in the area. Told her I just moved here myself, really. Also referred her to the phonebook.

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While dropping a major deuce, I picked up a copy of Forbes, their "Culture Edition." It had a Van Gogh on the cover and many stories about art and how rich folks own most of it. Theatre didn't make the cut, though: They hit paintings, sculptures, and all the rest of the tangibles.

Opera made it. They talked about this really humble mezzo and how she sings at these ritzy dinner parties in front of black grand pianos and talks about being from Kansas before singing "Over the Rainbow."

But theatre and dance--na-ah. It's coming down, folks. It's coming down.

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Going to the opera tonight. Seeing a dress rehearsal of The Marriage of Figaro, which I've only seen spoofed.

And that one part of Amadeus.

Recently also got a call-back from the same company, asking me to play a Spanish matador in the background for act four of Carmen. The billboards for the show say, "Make it your first opera." It was, almost. I can't make the rehearsals and half of the performances, but gosh darn it, it was nice to be asked.

This one will be fun, I'm sure. I just hope they can sing faster.