If you’re a 20-something – heck, even if you’re a mumblemumble-something – check it out.

This article came up on my newsfeed today. I love the fact that the NYTimes is tracking the career paths of performers who have had alternate careers. As a voice student, I was in awe of all things Juilliard. It’s nice to know that the self-examination, struggle and discernment that I went through wasn’t unique to my circumstance.

Look back on your last 10 years. Where are you now? Where did you think you’d be? Are you content where you are?

(I give the author huge props for not imposing his own perspective on the study’s results, and simply acknowledging that there’s not a one-size-fits-all answer. Hurrah to complexity, to gray areas, to waiting until a conclusion can be drawn before drawing a conclusion. What a breath of fresh air!)

If you’re a performer hoping to figure out a path into another profession, I’d encourage you to take a look at an opportunity with my company. This Fellowship is paid, and allows you to cycle through several departments to learn a wide array of skills. It’s a way to take that passion for music, and parlay it into an off-stage career. For additional info contact our Education department. It’s a great opportunity!

This one, touting the skills learned in MFA studies as much as those in MBA studies made me smile. Even if realistically it’s years away, it’s still a turn in an interesting and gratifying direction. (I’m imagining all those suits signing up for drawing class or piano lessons – that’s a picture I could learn to love!)

And this one, touting the benefits of creative leadership over authoritative leadership, speaks the truth. (I know, because I’m fortunate to work for and with an amazingly creative leader.)

Maybe I’m just picking and choosing articles that resonate with me, regarding creativity and the workplace, but even if that’s true there seem to be many more of those articles than there were even a year ago.

Change is, indeed, good.

Last May, Eric (San, known professionally as Kid Koala - Ed.) asked us if we would participate that fall in his world tour, which he described as a vaudeville show. He said that this time, besides energetic dance routines, he wanted us to incorporate puppets into the act. My puppet would be three feet tall, the torso of a robot character from one of Eric’s graphic novels.

[...]I didn’t have the faintest idea how to make an inanimate object move on stage. And the challenge was even more daunting since we wouldn’t even see the puppets until hours before the world premiere in Geneva, because they were still being made in Canada.

[...] I wanted to do a good job because I take pride in my work. But I also wanted Eric to hire our group again so we could continue collaborating with him.

The first point that resonated with me is the main brunt of the article – being challenged to tackle a new skill. It’s something that makes changing careers seem, at least at first, daunting…especially when you’ve spent thousands of hours and dollars mastering skills for a primary field. After encountering rejection or friction in the field that has been your passion, well, taking a leap of faith into a new field, learning something foreign can seem to be both ancillary (“but I don’t love it.”) and a huge risk (“How do I know that this will work out for me?” Answer: you don’t. No one does.)

The second point is wrapped up in that last excerpt…being only as good as our last project, performance, piece of work. There’s a delicate balance between wanting to put out your best work because it meets your standard, and wanting your best work to open doors. In the best possible world, the dominos fall and one great performance garners offers: but there’s a big difference between wanting to reach that artistic ideal and cobbling enough opportunities together to make rent.

The third point? Is simply that Ms. D’Amore-Robinson states in the article’s first paragraph that she has three different jobs. Three. Different. Jobs. It’s de rigeur for millions of artists (and non-artists, too), but totally a foreign concept to a wide swath of folks. (It was my norm until I started at my current workplace.)

No big conclusions to draw – just thankful for an interesting performer POV in the Times.

I’m an educator at heart, and I believe strongly that I have a duty to each applicant. I need to read each scrap of paper thoroughly; I must make articulate, thorough notes on each application so that, should I look back on who we’ve decided to interview, it’s clear who rises to the top. Because I not only need to find the student who best fits each summer position, I need to make sure that I know enough about them to help them grow throughout their experience.

But this process brings out my inner cynic. And mostly? It’s due to carelessness.

The writing samples are usually pristine, although there are many thesis statements that seem to be very lightly linked to the actual content of the essays. The recommendations are also usually pristine – being that they’re from professionals, teachers, professors. (That being said, I’ve already received more than one recommendation on behalf of a student that references an internship at another arts organization.)

The areas with which I struggle, on a yearly basis:

• The cover letter. Typos and mechanical issues are de rigeur, and I say that knowing that I likely catch only half to two-thirds of them. Really, it’s worth it to have someone – and we all have pals who are great at this – look over your materials before you send them in, and comment on spelling/grammar/structure. (I am not a grammar goddess, but I do notice when prepositions are used incorrectly, when you misspell a word in one sentence and then tell me how “detail oriented” you are in the next… it doesn’t inspire confidence.) Also, there are an awful lot of folks telling me why the internship would be great for them, but not very many take the time to tell me why they’d be great for us. It’s a subtle distinction, and one likely born out of youth and inexperience, but I’m always impressed when an applicant shows some knowledge of our operation and draws parallels that make it easy for me to say “sure – let’s schedule her for an interview and learn a little more.”
• The résumé. I’m not looking for a college junior to have a full page of professional credentials – don’t pad, and don’t use marketing-speak unless you’re applying for a marketing position. (Although if you do had a full page of credentials? Please spin them slightly towards skills/traits that you think I might have interest in, or have asked for in the posting. For example, babysitting/nannying demonstrates responsibility, flexibility.) But please, list your experience in reverse-chronological order. Check the spelling (especially my operatic pals, as spell-check might change Aïda to Aide). Check for consistency – dates are formatted the same way throughout, headings are denoted the same way, etc. Pretend that you’re laying this all out for someone who is – in my case – really really blonde, and make it easy for me to find the important information.
• The format. I work on both Mac and PC platforms. If I open up your application with an older/newer version of Word, or heavens forbid  from home on my Mac (that does not, at this time, have any Microsoft products on it) using Pages, all of that lovely formatting you’ve done is going to go out the window, and I’ll be wondering if it’s the program or the document that is the problem. Go ahead and .pdf those important documents so that they look the same to everyone involved.

I could go on, as could many, many others. But the reason why I say these things isn’t to lambaste an applicant for not spellchecking or being detailed or for submitting an application at the last minute. I say these things because I want each applicant – I want you – to have a shot at spending a crazy summer with us. But every time I notice one of these tiny things, your shot gets smaller and smaller.

Please, make it easy for me to send that email, schedule that interview, get to know you a little more. Because my end goal is to help get the very best folks into this field, to surround this art form for which I care deeply. Your cover letters have told me how much the arts mean to you: we’re on the same team. Let’s help each other out, shall we?

My office is closed today, and I’m exceedingly grateful to have time to putter, write and read. Greg Sandow has a wonderful, thought-provoking article up at ArtsJournal today about music schools and the dearth of creativity found therein.

But how do we do this? How do we foster creativity — celebrate the students who already are creative, and encourage the others to be — without turning the school upside down?

When we hear auditions every fall, we hear hordes of singers who are doing everything right – intonation, articulation, dynamic variation, strong language skills, good dramatic arcs to their arias. And shamefully, afterwards I often struggle to remember their performances. Sure, some of my mental fog is due to the sheer volume of folks that we hear in a short time. But more often it’s because the performances we see are careful. They are note perfect and earnest but not very memorable. By memorable, I mean that the singer has demonstrated that they’re careful students and stewards of the repertoire, but they’ve left many of the most important questions unanswered: they leave the room and I find that I haven’t learned anything about them or their artistry, how the aria resonates with them personally. It’s like scanning a CGI crowd scene, looking for one true facial expression.

(Caution: there are those of you who are memorable, because you’ve put the passion into the performance but are not quite as careful as you should’ve been in the learning process. It’s a double-edged sword, I realize… but please know that the preceding paragraph is not for you – go practice!)

I’ll agree with Mr. Sandow – discipline is important. Strong choices are exciting. The two should not be as opposed as they seem to be. So I ask you – were you challenged in school to be creative? Who gave you the most support? Where did you struggle?

(The ArtsJournal article is one of a series. I hope you’re looking forward to the next installment as much as I am.)

Question: What to do?

Answer: Try something else on for size. If you’re interested in the inner workings of arts non-profits, it’s a great time to get an internship. (Ours just happens to be ranked by BusinessWeek and the Princeton Review. We’re kind of a big deal.)

Here’s the thing, though: internships aren’t easy to get, and the best ones are not actually easy at all.

Internships are competitive. There are lots of basic articles about polishing your application materials (no stream of consciousness, please make sure that your cover letter is addressed to the company to whom you’re sending the materials, know what we might find if we google your name, etc.) As someone who pours through stacks of applications every spring, I can tell you that having clean materials and a specific voice is really important.I can also tell you that we really want to know who you are, because we need to know that you’ll fit into our wonderfully quirky family. (It’s a double-edged sword in the best way – because if we’re irritating to you during a 20-minute skype interview? Well, it’sa gonna be a loooong summer. For everyone.)

(Oh, and did I mention that we could’ve used you yesterday, so go ahead and take 5 minutes to get settled in and then we’re off to the races.)

Once you land one, chances are quite good that we’ll ask you to do something more than get us coffee. (We drink enough of the stuff that it’s usually close-at-hand-at-all times.) Your job duties may fluctuate between moving chairs, negotiating schedules between multiple artistic teams, and getting gussied up to talk with a board member or a major donor, sometimes all in one day.Our interns are part of our team, with the responsibilities, the long hours, the too-tired-to-function-so-we-get-the-giggles camaraderie that occupy our busy summers. We’re here to help – heck, many of us started as interns ourselves – but we’re not here to do your job. We need you, and we count on you.

Ready to get your hands dirty? Ready to learn something new that will keep you in the arts (without having to get in the woodshed nearly as often)? Here are the positions that we have open. Friday is the deadline – proofread before you hit send!

Ticket Services

Planning and Initiatives

Accounting

Information Services

Wolf Trap Opera Company
Technical Theatre
Costuming
Scenic/Prop Painting
Stage Management
Admininistrative
Directing

Programming and Production

Communications and Marketing
Photography
Marketing
Ad Sales/Group Sales
Graphic Design
Web Communications
Creative Copywriting
PR
Multimedia

Development
Special Events
Major Gifts
Annual Fund

Education

I certainly recognize myself.

I’m so very happy that Hanne Blank wrote this.