Years ago, while living in Italy, I never ceased to be amazed by the reaction I got when I answered the question, “What do you do?” When Italians found out I was a singer, specifically an opera singer, they always reacted with sincere admiration. Often, they commented about the amount of work that goes into such a profession, adding that pursuing the arts is indeed a noble career.
I marveled at that reaction, mostly because it was in such contrast to American responses to the same answer. When I told Americans: “I’m an opera singer,” the response I most often got was: “How are you going to make a living?”
Jennifer Porto shares a comparable experience in this month’s installment of her adventures abroad. As she meets her fellow Fulbright scholars, she wonders if what she is doing in Germany is as valid as the endeavors of the other scholars, who are pursuing things such as finding medical cures or solving economic crises. Jennifer finds herself questioning her societal importance as a musician, but a dinner with her fellow scholars brings her to some important realizations about the power of music to bring people together.
I think perhaps every singer has experienced a similar situation, a time when the dark wing of doubt casts a shadow over the validity of what we do. In a profession where a degree in no way guarantees employment in your field—where singers work full-time, non-musical jobs to pursue their real profession “on-the-side,” where funding cuts continue to decrease employment opportunities for singers—it can be difficult at times, perhaps often, to remember that what we do as singers is vitally important to society.
So we question this great truth and find ourselves wondering if we, as singers, really offer something of critical importance to the world. Patrick Summers, music director at Houston Grand Opera, answers that question in the article “No Artifice” by Cristina Necula. Mr. Summers worked at the Shanghai Conservatory and directed the Chinese premiere of Puccini’s Tosca. He shares stories that illustrate the remarkable ability of opera to cross cultures and resonate in a profound way with all people, regardless of nationality, race, background, or occupation.
Sometimes, instead of doubting the validity of our career choice, we doubt our individual ability to make a difference, when so many others out there already are doing what we hope to do. Ana Maria Martinez, this month’s cover story, tried to ignore her musical gifts. In an effort to avoid her opera-singer mother’s shadow, she began studying acting in college. But when a college professor encouraged her to consider a career in opera, she finally realized she could make her own unique path, her own individual contribution as she discovered the operatic world through her own eyes.
Sensing our validity as singers often requires us to examine—and sometimes change—our motives for our career choice. If our motivation for choosing this profession is money and fame, many of us will end up being disappointed. If instead, we are singers because we love making music and can’t imagine doing anything else, we will always be satisfied.
That’s what those Italians were teaching me. Most had never heard me sing, nor knew anything of my background. They couldn’t tell whether I had any experience at any opera houses of note, or if I had won any major competitions, or even if I could sing in tune. The only thing they knew was that I was passionate enough about music to dedicate my life to it and proclaim it my profession. That was enough, in their eyes, to be admirable, worthwhile, and—yes—valid.
