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Where We Sing: Then & Now
Opera houses, living rooms, churches, assembly halls, class rooms, public parks. Do the places and spaces you sing in inspire or depress you? Singers put enormous time and energy to thinking about how and why we do what we do. Let’s take a moment to think about where we sing. What about a singer’s sense of place?
By Lisa Houston
Originally published by Singer’s Spirit
Ah, the school show! Up at dawn, an hour on the freeway, a quick rehearsal, then back-to-back performances of a forty-five minute version of the opera, which may include almost as much singing as doing the whole thing, but with less time to rest between arias.
On one recent occasion, my role was Carmen, the location, a middle school in Fremont, California. Despite the brutality of the early call, the shows went well. The girls made excellent cigarette factory workers and the boys were adorable soldiers. After the show, the girls rushed the stage to meet Carmen and the boys to meet Escamillo. Having sung Carmen for high school shows as well, I couldn’t help thinking that in a year or two, those longings would be reversed and all the boys would rush to Carmen and the girls to Escamillo. All in all, it was a blast. A perfectly fun way to spend a Monday morning. Well, almost perfect…
Upon arrival, I went to sign in at the school office. The secretary directed me to something called the “multi-use room.” The multi-use room, for those who manage to avoid the American school system, is a gymnasium cum assembly hall cum theatre. Built with the latest materials, still out-gassing the chemicals that willed them into existence, the acoustics were not much better than the car I warmed up in on the way down, and the space had all the architectural beauty of a storage room in a mega-store.
As it turns out, a few short blocks from the newly minted “multi-use room” stands Mission San Jose. Part of the system of California missions built by the Franciscan missionaries in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the Mission San Jose is located beneath rolling hills on the banks of the San Joaquin River. (The mission is actually in the town of Fresno, not San Jose, having been founded before the city of Fresno was incorporated.) Mission San Jose, like the other missions in California, was a strategic outpost as well as a center of culture and religion. Being a singer in California, I have enjoyed singing in missions before with great pleasure, but had never visited Mission San Jose, so I decided to make a pitstop on the way home to check it out.
First, I took my time walking through the museum located in the former Padre’s quarters. The exhibits showed artifacts from the lives of the Ohlone people as well as displays of church and Spanish inhabitants. I admired the small adobe rooms, the clothing and tools from the period, including a large stone basin they used to filter water.
Then, I stepped into the long, narrow adobe structure with exposed wood ceiling that is the chapel itself. The first thing I noticed was the quiet. The adobe walls must make good sound proofing because I didn’t hear the street traffic at all. This must’ve been a great place for concerts.
In 1806, Father Narcisco Duran came to the mission. Reportedly a skilled musician, he created an orchestra of thirty Indian musicians to play for feasts and special occasions. The orchestra included flute, violin, trumpet and drums and people came from all around the central valley to hear it. This structure was actually built in 1809, but the mission was founded in 1797, the year of Schubert’s birth. After admiring the chapel, I waited around a bit until other visitors departed and then let loose with a few passages of Ave Maria.
The acoustics were exquisite. The music ricocheted and danced around the adobe walls, adding depth and even a magical quality to the sound. The sound bounced back and forth between the narrow walls, creating unintended harmonies, and I wondered about music heard here in the early nineteenth century, and in Germany, and how the acoustics supported religious ecstacy. Now remember our “multi-use room.” This place would add weight and meaning to any performance, and a sense of respect and reverence in the listener that the new “functional” space could never provide.
When I think of the great singers of the past and the performances they gave, I have to wonder, would Adelina Patti have sung in a “multi-use room?” Would the awe and splendor that surrounded Caruso have existed if he had sung in a “multi-use room?” Would the great operas have been composed if composers knew they would be performed in a box of carpet, linoleum and laminate?
It’s easy to say well, “that’s what’s available these days, so let’s make the best of it.” But in this instance, it wasn’t even an issue of availability. That morning, the Mission stood empty. The Mission is not owned by the state of California, so there would have been some logistics involved, but how difficult would it have been to march the kids a couple of blocks in the sunshine to the Mission to watch the show? The travel time would have made the event even more memorable for them. The extra effort taken to arrange it would have been an example to them of the importance of art and music.
The time and way a space is created leave a mark on what transpires there forever. The War Memorial Opera House was built in 1932 to honor all those who died in World War I. The first conference of the United Nations took place there in 1945, and obviously it continues to be a home to world class opera. Think of the joke: “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” Can you imagine anyone asking “How do you get to the “multi-use room?” or seeing such a place as a goal, or inspiration of any kind?
I know I’m sounding cranky, but remember, I got up early.
I know we must make do with what we’ve got, but as we give so much care and preparation to create beautiful singing, I think we should also give consideration, as individuals and as a community, to the location of our performances.
Get to know the venues in your area. Decide which places inspire you and work toward performing there. And if you’re on the organization end of things, take care to consider less practical concerns such as inspiration and beauty of place. I once gave a recital in a beautiful space that had only one public bathroom. The second half started a bit late, but that didn’t do the music any harm. At the time of Father Narcisco Duran’s orchestra performances, I think the bathroom situation was cruder still, and yet people traveled for hours through the central valley heat to gather, to experience the joy and meaning of music in a place worthy of the art created there.
Opera houses, living rooms, churches, assembly halls, class rooms, public parks. Do the places and spaces you sing in inspire or depress you? Singers put enormous time and energy to thinking about how and why we do what we do. Let’s take a moment to think about where we sing. What about a singer’s sense of place?
By Lisa Houston
Originally published by Singer’s Spirit
Ah, the school show! Up at dawn, an hour on the freeway, a quick rehearsal, then back-to-back performances of a forty-five minute version of the opera, which may include almost as much singing as doing the whole thing, but with less time to rest between arias.
On one recent occasion, my role was Carmen, the location, a middle school in Fremont, California. Despite the brutality of the early call, the shows went well. The girls made excellent cigarette factory workers and the boys were adorable soldiers. After the show, the girls rushed the stage to meet Carmen and the boys to meet Escamillo. Having sung Carmen for high school shows as well, I couldn’t help thinking that in a year or two, those longings would be reversed and all the boys would rush to Carmen and the girls to Escamillo. All in all, it was a blast. A perfectly fun way to spend a Monday morning. Well, almost perfect…
Upon arrival, I went to sign in at the school office. The secretary directed me to something called the “multi-use room.” The multi-use room, for those who manage to avoid the American school system, is a gymnasium cum assembly hall cum theatre. Built with the latest materials, still out-gassing the chemicals that willed them into existence, the acoustics were not much better than the car I warmed up in on the way down, and the space had all the architectural beauty of a storage room in a mega-store.
As it turns out, a few short blocks from the newly minted “multi-use room” stands Mission San Jose. Part of the system of California missions built by the Franciscan missionaries in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the Mission San Jose is located beneath rolling hills on the banks of the San Joaquin River. (The mission is actually in the town of Fresno, not San Jose, having been founded before the city of Fresno was incorporated.) Mission San Jose, like the other missions in California, was a strategic outpost as well as a center of culture and religion. Being a singer in California, I have enjoyed singing in missions before with great pleasure, but had never visited Mission San Jose, so I decided to make a pitstop on the way home to check it out.
First, I took my time walking through the museum located in the former Padre’s quarters. The exhibits showed artifacts from the lives of the Ohlone people as well as displays of church and Spanish inhabitants. I admired the small adobe rooms, the clothing and tools from the period, including a large stone basin they used to filter water.
Then, I stepped into the long, narrow adobe structure with exposed wood ceiling that is the chapel itself. The first thing I noticed was the quiet. The adobe walls must make good sound proofing because I didn’t hear the street traffic at all. This must’ve been a great place for concerts.
In 1806, Father Narcisco Duran came to the mission. Reportedly a skilled musician, he created an orchestra of thirty Indian musicians to play for feasts and special occasions. The orchestra included flute, violin, trumpet and drums and people came from all around the central valley to hear it. This structure was actually built in 1809, but the mission was founded in 1797, the year of Schubert’s birth. After admiring the chapel, I waited around a bit until other visitors departed and then let loose with a few passages of Ave Maria.
The acoustics were exquisite. The music ricocheted and danced around the adobe walls, adding depth and even a magical quality to the sound. The sound bounced back and forth between the narrow walls, creating unintended harmonies, and I wondered about music heard here in the early nineteenth century, and in Germany, and how the acoustics supported religious ecstacy. Now remember our “multi-use room.” This place would add weight and meaning to any performance, and a sense of respect and reverence in the listener that the new “functional” space could never provide.
When I think of the great singers of the past and the performances they gave, I have to wonder, would Adelina Patti have sung in a “multi-use room?” Would the awe and splendor that surrounded Caruso have existed if he had sung in a “multi-use room?” Would the great operas have been composed if composers knew they would be performed in a box of carpet, linoleum and laminate?
It’s easy to say well, “that’s what’s available these days, so let’s make the best of it.” But in this instance, it wasn’t even an issue of availability. That morning, the Mission stood empty. The Mission is not owned by the state of California, so there would have been some logistics involved, but how difficult would it have been to march the kids a couple of blocks in the sunshine to the Mission to watch the show? The travel time would have made the event even more memorable for them. The extra effort taken to arrange it would have been an example to them of the importance of art and music.
The time and way a space is created leave a mark on what transpires there forever. The War Memorial Opera House was built in 1932 to honor all those who died in World War I. The first conference of the United Nations took place there in 1945, and obviously it continues to be a home to world class opera. Think of the joke: “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” Can you imagine anyone asking “How do you get to the “multi-use room?” or seeing such a place as a goal, or inspiration of any kind?
I know I’m sounding cranky, but remember, I got up early.
I know we must make do with what we’ve got, but as we give so much care and preparation to create beautiful singing, I think we should also give consideration, as individuals and as a community, to the location of our performances.
Get to know the venues in your area. Decide which places inspire you and work toward performing there. And if you’re on the organization end of things, take care to consider less practical concerns such as inspiration and beauty of place. I once gave a recital in a beautiful space that had only one public bathroom. The second half started a bit late, but that didn’t do the music any harm. At the time of Father Narcisco Duran’s orchestra performances, I think the bathroom situation was cruder still, and yet people traveled for hours through the central valley heat to gather, to experience the joy and meaning of music in a place worthy of the art created there.
©Lisa Houston 2022