A colleague of mine always reminds our potential Eastman students that as you prepare for the life of a singer, the one thing you can be sure of is that you can never be sure of where life will lead you. Hard choices have to be made along life’s way.
Over the years, the pages of CS have addressed many of the problems that singers encounter. And over the years, I, or my friends, have dealt with a number of those problems. I turned 49 this year (although I intend to say I am 10 years older, so I won’t look or sound bad for my age!). I had vocal issues after a tonsillectomy, had to scramble to get singing after a C-section, had voice/technical changes to make (as I am convinced everyone does in their early 40s), had family concerns, and now have re-defined my career in theatre and character roles. I’m trying to balance teaching and performing as part of my work at Eastman.
I am not a singer who was ever “famous” or high profile, but a singer who has supported herself singing for 20 years. “Famous” brings other demands. Joan Sutherland told us once that she plants a garden, but never gets to see it bloom. Her housekeeper would send her pictures. In truth, my career would not have been possible or sustainable without the support of my husband, my son, my beloved friend and agent Peter Randsman, and singer friends who know how to help you ride the tough waves because they are on the surfboard, too. Yes, it takes a village.
Marriage Choices
Bob (Robert Swensen) and I have been married for 22 years, and had the advantage of having a few years together in New York City before we headed off to singing careers. As singers, we struggled together and understood the ups and downs. We also had a lot of hope and love for our art form.
Also, we were lucky. Yes, luck enters into it. We were able to move west to do Merola/Adler fellowships together. Being a two-singer couple put additional stress on our marriage, both financially and distance-wise. We lived cheaply so that we could put money into our IRA savings and phone bills. It helped us feel secure. When we started out in the ‘80s there was no email. Bob’s career has been primarily in Europe and my flights there were costly—and our phone bills were horrendous.
Careers seldom mirror each other, and we have never been competitive with each other. You have to make the choice to just relinquish your own agenda and be there for the other person. We did that joyously—and that may have been the key.
In our singing life, we were there for each other 100 percent, and continue to be there now, each other’s strongest critic and best fan. We learned how to listen, how to be ears for each other. For some couples this is difficult. We never tried to be a package, but relished the too-few times we got to sing together. Our relationship should have been more prioritized while we were building careers, but we work on that much more now.
Young singers tell me they don’t audition wearing their wedding rings, or reveal they have children, and I hear that with regret. Surround yourself with honest criticism, enthusiastic energy and positive help. If you need help, go for counseling. Create a family, whether it is your own, your choir, the people in the chorus job, your students, or a group of friends who appreciate your talent.
Family Choices
I met Mary Jane Johnson doing Faust in San Francisco, and then later we worked at the same time in Amsterdam. Walking to the theatre there one day, pushing her son in a stroller, she mentioned how her family was coming and that she had to carve out time for her husband. Later that night I heard her daughter pounding away on the piano in her dressing room as she got herself together for the show. I could not understand how she managed.
I understood very well. Soon, I too was up at 7 a.m. on the nanny’s day off, and in my wig by 8 p.m., ready to sing. I was tired to the bone, but once I started singing, the energy just came. Our son, Matthew, was born in Berlin. I was 38, so I had waited till my career was going by the time he arrived. I had had some fertility problems (including the two of us not being in the same place at the right time!). I sang until I was about seven months along—Isolier [Rossini’s Le Comte Ory], a pants part with a really BIG cape, at Chautauqua—singing because administrator Linda Jackson was supportive of me in this. I waited six weeks post-partum before I started practicing again.
The fatigue was the worst. Matt never slept through the night until he was 2 years old. When he was 10 days old, Bob was asked to sing at the Sawallish Farewell, so we found ourselves on a plane sitting in the same row as Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau and Julia Varady.
Varady said to me, “You are holding what is most important.”
We pulled one of the beds into the bathroom of the Four Seasons Hotel that night, so Bob could get a good night’s sleep alone.
Having a Child
Traveling with me, Matt has grown up in our life—but we have been very careful to be cognizant of the life a kid needs. He did not choose the life, we did. I sent him to our church daycare three mornings a week so I could practice. At first I felt selfish, carving out this time for myself only, but it was saving my career—and as an only child I knew it would benefit him to be with kids.
We have shared the childcare duties equally. This is possible because Bob is outstanding in this way. It’s hard for each of us to go off to sing, knowing that the parent left at home has the bulk of the responsibility. I shop ahead, freeze dinners and set up schedules. You have GOT to be organized. We now talk many times a day, thanks to the beauty of cell phones.
If I had a tough role to sing, Matt would travel with Bob. Twice we had to be away at the same time, but now we make the choice to avoid this situation. It’s too emotionally tough on Matt, and we need to feel more in parental control. Given the choice of you singing the role of your dreams at La Scala, or lying in the bed in the next room wracked with fever, your kid will pick the fever every time. I always did school volunteering, but I am still reminded that I was the only mother not at Colonial Days in 4th grade.
You are only as good as those who help you. I screened my caretakers VERY carefully and had them lined up way before the job started. Always ask them to be there a half hour before you have to leave—there is always some little crisis to discuss and that way you’ll be on time for rehearsals. I paid them a bonus if they were outstandingly helpful, hoping they would work for me again.
Try to make sure the opera companies you work for will not find your traveling with your child an issue. Local chorus members are always good sources for backup childcare. Ask as soon as you get there.
With extra expenses, I sometimes came home with very little left from my fee, but most companies were wonderfully supportive, and it was worth it to keep myself going. (When I was in Scotland, an administrator showed me a letter from an American soprano who “listed” her needs for her child on two pages of paper, including asking them to find playmates. I pretended I‘d never heard of her! Yikes.)
Now, our students help us out. We’ve chosen not to home school our child (would have been easier schedule-wise, I suppose) but we wanted him to have the school experience: socialization, soccer, sleepovers and music lessons.
When Matt was about 2, Bob had been in Italy singing for three months. He came home and Matt looked at him like he was a stranger. For Bob, that was the defining moment. Now came the choices. One child was what we could handle, emotionally and energy-wise, and still sing. When apart, I sent him books and tapes every few days, and faxes too. We are rarely separated for more than three weeks.
Once, Bob had five free days, and flew all day and night from Munich to Salt Lake City to surprise us. The front desk called us and said to come down and pick up a package —and there he was hiding behind the desk. Matt went crazy.
We took Matt everywhere except to Venice when Bob was at La Fenice. Matt was obsessed with water, so we thought he’d end up in the canal.
Matt has been singing roles in the Eastman shows, so he knows the drill and how to behave backstage. I continue to pray he will go to medical school!
Traveling is easier now. As Matt has gotten older, he has developed an excitement for what we do. Schools are supportive, as long as the work is done.
Midlife choices
Both Bob and I have always wanted to teach. Once Matt became 5, we had to make a decision as to what would benefit us as a family. We have found a home at Eastman, honored and lucky to be teaching at a school where both of us feel very supported by a faculty we love. We work and help each other’s students, depending on our strengths.
It has opened the door for Bob to do Lierder concerts, and he is recording the Britten Serenade “Canticle III”—with Matthew singing the Issac role—for a new CD. Bob sings a lot of concerts in Europe, which is more short term. We only take one operatic job per semester and work a lot in the summers or Christmas break.
We’ve had to refuse great jobs because they came at jury time. Teaching—with lessons, recital prep and advising—is a big responsibility. You must prepare yourself to be someone’s surrogate parent. To teach well, you have to get into the student’s psyche and tailor lessons for them. This takes energy away from your own singing, so going away to sing often seems like a vacation.
Next month, when Bob goes to sing in London, his teacher, George Gibson, will come in and teach for him. We make up lessons before we leave and using a substitute means we can save our voices. At Eastman this summer, we are starting a seminar for teachers who sing and singers who teach—addressing some of the things that concern us, such as energy and vocal health.
One surprise: we have been able to problem-solve some of our own vocal concerns, and feel strongly that we are singing better, despite the effects of aging. Teaching may play a big part in this. I try to instill in my students a strong pedagogical foundation. Young singers who seem to sing on sheer youth and talent are very often not able to help themselves as they mature. Mother Nature is not always kind to female singers. I have always relied heavily on a coach/teacher throughout my singing, whether I had a role to prepare or not. You need those ears.
The school year is hectic, but I see such promise, hope, and love for singing in my students and that ignites me. This fall, at City Opera, my phone went off just as I got a call to go on stage. It was two of my students, telling me they got into the next round of a competition, and asking what should they start with!
So that is my life now—and my goal is to prepare my students for a long singing life, no matter where they find themselves. My mantra to students before juries is: “Now that you have done all the groundwork, remember to sing because you love to.”
After 20 years of singing, I step on to the stage with a greater feeling of gratitude than ever before.
