Category Archives: Thoughtful

Make a new plan, Stan.

I had a great conversation yesterday about giving up dreams.

(You’ve just finished your autumn auditions, and you’re thinking “How could that possibly be a great conversation?!” Bear with me…)

I’ve known this pal since my Carnegie Mellon days. Both of us knew, at some point, that we weren’t going to attain the performance level that we wanted to – it was a physical thing. The voice, in my case, was likely never going to be as large or as distinctive as I wanted it to be, which was going to influence the roles and repertoire in which I could be effectively cast. And, while I could strive to make it the best it could be? It was likely never going to be quite good enough. For him, the combination of a past injury and the pressure to be perfect -which created a tension that affected his performances – kept him from reaching the level he wanted.

We both got pretty close. And then? We stalled out. And we both struggled to figure out what life would look like after this singular focus was gone.

It was like a break up, an ugly break up. I remember telling myself that I was not a quitter, and wouldn’t give up. As I continued to pursue the dream, it seemed harder to give up, as I had spent so much time and energy (and, let’s be honest, cashola) on its pursuit. I was firmly caught in that sunk-cost fallacy, and changing direction would mean losing face, admitting I wasn’t good enough, dealing with the feelings of shame and inadequacy that were part and parcel. I postponed the decision until, really, I couldn’t anymore…until the cons outweighed the pros, and the feelings of insecurity that I felt at my position in the field were greater than those that I felt at the prospect of changing career paths.

I’ve cited Augusten Burrough’s Two Minute Memoir before, in which he talks about giving up his initial dream (acting) because he finds he’s not as good as it naturally as he’d want to be. And he found something better – which he wouldn’t have, had he not actually been give a realistic view of his skills. He had a mirror to look through – the recorder gave him an unvarnished view of his performance, and he recognized that he was missing that something that would allow him to make a  career in theater.

As a teacher, I knew I had to tell the truth to my students – it wasn’t just a moral obligation, it was that they could smell falsity in the air. They knew if I wasn’t being 100% honest with them…most of the time. It gets harder to regulate your inner b-s monitor, however, when someone is telling you something you want very much to hear. And rather than surrounding myself with tough-love, I tended to surround my singer self with students and pals who thought I was amazing. (Good for the ego, terrible for the technique.)

Janine Shepherd gave a TED talk about her path to recovery after a horrible accident. She had self-identified as an athlete for all of her adult life, and her physical prowess was taken from her . The video is here, but let me share with you a quote that I found relevant to yesterday’s discussion:

The philosopher Lao Tzu once said, “When you let go of what you are, you become what you might be.” I now know that it wasn’t until I let go of who I thought I was that I was able to create a completely new life. It wasn’t until I let go of the life I thought I should have that I was able to embrace the life that was waiting for me.

All this to simply say that if it’s not working for you? It’s ok – something will. Don’t be afraid to look.

(And as a side note? The song that the title’s taken from. I didn’t know what this song was about for a long time, but I loved it because my name was in it.)

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Back on the bicycle.

imgresIt takes a lot of courage to walk away from a career path that you thought was going to be your life’s through-line. Most of the time it feels like breaking up with a guy (or girl) whom you’re deeply in love with, but who is not really the best thing for you. (Haven’t we all had -at least – one of those?) It takes a lot of thought and preparation, soul searching to the highest degree.

Oftentimes it seems like the easiest thing to do is to walk away.

We justify our new career by throwing ourselves whole-heartedly at it, like we did with that first artistic love. We decide, since we’ll not ever be the Second Coming of Pavarotti that singing isn’t worth it at all anymore.

This is an extreme approach, admittedly. But for some folks there’s no middle ground – you’re either doing it, or you’re pointedly not doing it. Sometimes that separation is extremely valuable – allowing a reprioritization of life goals, and an amount of  personal freedom not found in pursuing high artistic ideals.

Here’s the kicker. After a while? Most of us really miss that artistic thing…the singing, the playing with an ensemble, the creating moments in time and space that are special, distinct, that have artistic value…the collaboration…the sensation of losing ourselves in a practice room or studio for hours on end, feeling like only minutes had elapsed. As we get older, that sense of flow that seemed so easy to capture as a young artist seems more elusive.

(When I use “us,”  “we,” “you?” I really mean “me.”)

I wound up, thankfully, in a job that’s intimately involved with the performing arts. It has its positives and negatives:

  • I hear singers all year round that could clean the floor with my best past attempts.
  • I am inspired and challenged as a listener.
  • I have colleagues who also have strong performance backgrounds – dancers, instrumentalists, actors, singers.

Sometimes those colleagues challenge me. They have a great idea for an ensemble, a send-up of a popular song, an original tune. And I am a willing volunteer to hack around in a practice rooms for HOURS on any number of projects. (I have always loved rehearsal – the exploration and growth that happens in the room is the most exciting thing IMHO.) But getting onstage? Never really an easy thing for me…not when I was singing or playing, and certainly not now when I’m so out of that routine. It’s terrifying.

But sometimes? They ask. And I bluff my way to a “sure!” And I sweat like a villain in a Bond movie.

And it actually ends up being OK. Fun, even.

Turns out that once you’ve learned to ride that bicycle? You can, in fact, still ride it years later. Maybe you can’t pop a wheelie or race anymore, but you can get from point A to point B.

(And by “you?” I mean “me.” And also, “you.”)

Thanks to KC and GB for letting me play along with this year’s Christmas tune. I had a blast!

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Sandy: A Metaphor

So, the coincidence of a Frankenstorm blowing through the eastern seaboard smack dab in the middle of the autumn audition season is just too much to pass up.

Sometimes life shakes up the puzzle pieces – forces us to shelter in place, take stock of our supplies. We need to determine what things are truly important and what things are tangential. Pare things down to the essentials – what do you need? Music? Attention? Collaboration? Renown? (Be honest – it’s a simple question, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to answer.)

Hoping that, if you’re trying to make an audition, you can do so safely. (We’ll be traveling – either flying or driving, depending on the post-storm situation – on Wednesday to continue with our own tour.) And if the mountain seems too steep to climb this season? I’m hoping that something new and equally interesting enters your field of view.

Stay safe, friends.

The Audition Muscle

Writing this from New York City, on the eve of a week’s worth of auditions. If you’re in the biz, you know that the autumn months are a gauntlet of sorts for singers- applications, acceptances, rejections, auditions, offers, contracts. Aside from being one of the weirdest interview processes of which I could conceive, (you have 10 minutes to tell me all about your training, your aspirations, and your artistry…the catch is that you have to tell me using someone else’s words, and most likely do so in a foreign language. But, as a plus, you get to use some pretty killer tunes to make your point.), it’s the basis on which our corner of the art is built. A necessary evil.

We talk about auditioning being a muscle that, when worked out regularly, improves. I don’t believe that anyone really enjoys the experience, but I think that it does become easier with practice. Most things do.

This is also the time of year when people will start to second-guess their career paths. They didn’t get the auditions, or any offers for next summer or next year. The choice is to either dig in more fully, or to look around and investigate other options. Everyone’s timetable is different, as are the the thresholds.

Let me put it one way: after 7+ years of sitting on an audition panel, hearing over 500 singers each year? I can say that 90% of the singers I hear are doing a lot of things right. They’ve done the work; they know the text and subtext of their piece, they have good diction, they sing in tune. (That last one’s a bigger deal breaker than you might think.) There are 5% who end up singing for us who are not ready, in one way or another. And then there are the super-shiny top 5%, who give us an authentic artistic experience when they walk into the audition room. The performances aren’t perfect, but they’re compelling- fundamentals are exceeded, and we get a sense of the singer’s artistic voice.

If you hate auditioning? Before you walk away, do it more often; so that the hate becomes mere dislike, and less epic. If you can’t get there? Well, then you’ve given it a fair shake, and maybe investigating other options is the way to go.

Commit. Ride the wave. (And, when you get to shore? Decide whether you want to go back in, or whether it’s time for an ice cream on the way home. )

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On standby.

Tuesday is Travel Day!

Posting will be light for a while, as I’ll be on the road for our Annual Autumn Audition Extravaganza…over 500 auditions in eight cities across the country over the next four-and-a-half weeks. It’s an exciting and challenging time for us – we’re vetting repertoire choices as we’re listening to singers, trying to find the right mix for our 2013 season.

During this time, I’m always reminded of my own circuitous journey, that brought me to my seat on the other side of the audition table. I’m happy with where I am now, but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that it was a rough path getting here. I’m hoping to post some reflections, and a little bit of inspiration, during this year’s tour.

This Friday I’ll post a recap of the profiles we’ve seen thus far. And – if you have a story that you’d like to share, or want to nominate someone whose story you’d think would resonate with readers, please email me at indirectroutes@gmail.com.

If you’re auditioning this fall, please know that I am in awe of your courage and that I’m sending you good wishes from my side of the table. And if you’ve decided that this is your last audition season, or that your heart’s not really in it, or that you need to try something else but are too scared? Well, I hope you’ll check back for a little bit of support and some real-life examples.

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I’m of two brains on that point.

One of the things that I struggled with as an art student was the sense of ‘play.’ When I was doing my job? It didn’t feel like work – a great thing! But I also couldn’t quite figure out how to prepare for it, other than spending time in a practice room, doing as much research as I could, and trying to wear my creative heart on my sleeve. My family knew I was working, but I knew that they didn’t really understand or respect the training that I was saturated in: even my über-supportive dad called Eurhythmics my “Walking-And-Chewing-Gum Class.” (The fact that I got B my first semester? Well, that tidbit was brought up every time I got a little too big for my britches.)

Fast forward more years than I’m comfortable admitting: I spend more time doing work my family can wrap their heads around: spreadsheets and budgets and talent searches and hiring teachers and writing curriculum and proposals and grant applications. But the moments when I feel really energized at work are still those moments when I can think outside the box, lift restrictions, ask “what if?” and let my mind wander until it finds something interesting…when I can play.

I came across this article several weeks ago. In it, Linda Essig of Creative Infrastructure proposes that organizations do that very thing that I’ve been struggling with: to attack problems and situations (in this case, strategic planning) on two fronts: the analytical and the creative/emotional. Analytics and data are important in the life or an organization – but organizations are run by people, and we are some messy, messed-up beings, not easily squeezed into data sets or projections or strategic outcomes.

So, are you more creative/emotional? Or more analytical? Whichever side you identify more strongly with, I invite you to take a look over the neighbor’s fence and see what your opposites are doing…there’s always something to learn, right?

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Profiles, from another angle.

I am a big fan of Lifehacker. I get it delivered to my inbox, and make a habit to scan the whole thing before filing (yes, filing…sending them to the trash would be akin to throwing away gold on most days.) it away for future perusal.

They have a great feature that’s called How I Work. In it, they feature profiles of interesting, creative people like Maria Popova and Christopher Jobson, and track the ways that they use technology to make life easier, their secret abilities, and the best pieces of advice that they’ve received. (I am a big fan of Maria Popova’s Best Advice. Sometimes simple is indeed the best.)

I invite you to hop over to Lifehacker for some words of wisdom (I’ll be spending some time with this), and then join me back here tomorrow for a new Profile Phriday. (This week? My pal and colleague Peter Zimmerman, a reformed-performer-turned-talent-buyer.)

originally viewed on Colossal (www.thisiscolossal.com)

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Killing Dreams

 

We’ve entered a very specific part of my yearly work cycle. Sure, we’re prepping for the audition tour – finalizing flights and hotels, confirming appointments with director and conductor candidates – but the majority of those things are already completed, thanks to our Company Manager from the summer, Roxanna.

 

The harder part? Application screenings.

 

We receive over 1,000 applications each fall for our two tiers of performers: the Filene Young Artist tier will be those singers who have established themselves as ready for a mainstage freelance career, and when we find them we’ll program a season especially for them – to showcase their unique strengths. The Studio tier will be folks who are in undergrad or are first years masters students who demonstrate talent and success in their training up to this point, but who may not have had the opportunity to hustle through a professional production period or figure out what their career landscape might look like for the next 5-10 years.

 

We don’t ask for recordings anymore, as the technology allows for enough sweetening of the sound to make them marginally helpful at best, truly misleading at worst. Both tiers submit applications and résumés, with the Studio tier needing to fill out some very basic essay questions.

 

The deadlines for Seattle, San Francisco, and New York City passed earlier this week. So I’ve been spending some quality time with those Studio applications and résumés. It’s the most difficult time of year for me – how do I weigh the potential of a senior in an undergraduate program that maybe doesn’t have a mainstage production every year against a singer who didn’t/couldn’t finish their undergrad but has cobbled together some small roles at tiny regional companies? And, having been a singer myself who sent in my applications and was rejected, my heart gets soft at this time of year, wanting to extend those audition offers to as many people as I can… but sadly, the math simply doesn’t work that way. There’s aren’t enough hours, so I have to eliminate folks from the running, before I even hear a note.

 

This whole thing weighs pretty heavy on me, and I tend to whine a bit on Facebook about it. A pal – one with whom I used to sing – weighed in and said:

 

“When one door closes, another door opens. Sometimes we spend way too much time knocking on doors that turned out to be the wrong ones. I should add that my own wrong doors have been closed many times in the past by people just like you and I’m still your friend and I’m telling you it was a GOOD THING! I’m grateful I didn’t go down that path now that I’m here looking back. So, since I can’t go back and thank all those people cause that would just be weird, I’ll thank you on their behalf. It’s the right thing to do.”

 

 

It made me feel better. In hindsight, my own experiences – painful as they were -helped me to distill and clarify exactly what it was I wanted to do. And while I hateHatehate spreading bad karma around, maybe I’ll try to reframe this part of the year…not as spreading bad karma, but as gently closing some doors so that people can notice the open ones…

 

I’ll be back tomorrow with a new Profile Phriday post – I hope you’ll check back!

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Saturday Musings

I’m writing this from my porch, on one of my final days of vacation leave from the office.

Our season is usually a pretty intense one, with long days and weeks that run together. I find that the odd free day that we get is usually completely spent on surfing email and voicemail messages for emergencies (which always seem to happen on company days off…Murphy’s Law, I suppose), doing laundry, and trying to regain a sense of normalcy with my little family. I know that I’m not alone in navigating the thin line that has become the border between work and home, especially in the arts when so many of our ’employees’ and ‘colleagues’ are also close personal friends.

So when I happened upon this article from the Harvard Business Review (granted, while sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, while wearing my favorite par of yoga pants and drinking my third cup of coffee), it made me pause.

One of the reasons I loved music in the first place – the making it more than simply listening in my own case – was that it could very easy get me into a place of flow, where I could lose whole hours exploring, refining, creating. When I started at my current position, the assimilation of new tasks, responsibilities, social morés all contributed to a similar feeling – staying on top of the game, trying to find ways in which it could be made better.

By the end of the summer? I’m just hoping that I have enough clean clothes to make it through the last performance without offending anyone, and enough brain cells to make sure I talk to the right folks, get the books closed properly, and get next season’s budget and NEA applications submitted. It’s a drastic change of perspective, and not a wholly welcome one.

But here, at the end of a full week away from the office, with very little traction with goings-on, I’m starting to feel re-energized. Like Tony Schwartz, the author of the HBR article, I’m reminded of how much we need time to recharge, to wipe the slate clean…and how, when we allow ourselves the time and space our mind naturally returns to those passions in an organic – and exciting – way.

If you’ve not had the time/inclination/ability to separate yourself from your job for a little bit of mental R&R (and, for the record, I am a HUGE fan of the Staycation.) I hope you’ll consider unplugging for just a little bit. (And if you can’t get away, Lifehacker has a Paleo Media Diet that should help you with clearing out the cobwebs in the attic and all of those archived mental emails.)

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