Many of us think of our singing as a calling and we prepare throughout our young adult lives for a career that means the world to us. We understand that we might have to make sacrifices. We understand we will come to crossroads and will either continue on the path we selected years ago or chose another.
On a bitterly cold January afternoon, I sat down at a cafe in Manhattan to speak with ADA Artist Management’s Shawn Marie Jeffery, a mezzo-soprano who was well on her way to an established career in singing when she was faced with a sudden realization—she wanted something even more than that career.
You said in your e-mail that you’re a former singer.
What happened?
Well, I was on the track to the big career—the opera career. I grew up in Fairbanks, Alaska and met my first voice teacher there at a music festival I attended as a teenager. She worked with me each summer.
When I was 17, I moved to San Francisco to study with her. I graduated from San Francisco State and then spent about 10 years in the Bay Area, which is a great place for young singers because there are a lot of regional companies for them to gain valuable experience. I did that for a long time and was auditioning for all of the Young Artist Programs. After winning the Rehfuss Competition, I went to Orlando Opera to do [Orlando’s] YAP. It was there that I had my huge epiphany—I wanted a family.
It was that early?
It wasn’t early. By that time I was 32. Now, working in management, I see many singers in their thirties struggling with the same issues. It is extremely difficult because the [singer] community doesn’t really offer support when singers come to face this issue. We don’t talk about it. Many of your peers find it unthinkable that you would even consider leaving the business. It leaves you feeling very alone.
Do you know what led to that epiphany?
I had a church job in Orlando. While I was in church each Sunday, I would be weeping. I finally realized that it was because I was seeing families and I knew the path that I was on was not going to lead me there. It was huge. When you’re 22 years old and you’re first starting out as a singer, everybody tells you, “You’ll have to give up what normal people call life.” You don’t think twice about it because you don’t know what that means yet. I never thought that I would be at that place, and all of a sudden, bam!
You were fortunate to have a moment of such clarity.
Oh, I cried for weeks about how difficult it would be. First of all, I was in a relationship that I knew wouldn’t lead me there. I would have to end that relationship and change my whole life.
Were there other aspects of a career in singing that also gave you qualms about continuing?
That was the biggest thing, but linked to that was a sense of aloneness. So many of our clients literally live out of their suitcases. They don’t have a place to vote because they’re not a resident long enough in one place to be able to vote. I knew that I wanted to be part of a community—and while yes, there is this community of artists, it’s so fleeting. You’re best friends for a month while you do the show and then you don’t hear from them for years. I had a hard time with that. It’s very difficult to feel close to someone and then all of a sudden think, “Where did they go?”
Another thing about life as a singer is that so much of your self-worth is put on: “What are you doing?” “Where are you singing?” “Where are you going to sing next?” Anytime a group of singers gets together, that seems to be the conversation, and I had this real sense of longing to be loved for who I was and not what I did. And while I don’t think it’s fair to say that that’s how everyone is, that seems to be the surface of it—and because it’s so fleeting, you rarely get beyond the surface.
OK, so you knew you had to make a change. Did you have any idea at that point that you would work in artist management?
No, I left Orlando and came to New York, continuing on the singing path because it was all I knew. When this hits you, it’s so hard because you realize, “All my life, I’ve been working toward this. I’m making my living as a singer—I’m doing it—and now I might not do it anymore.”
That must have been hard. What did you do?
Ana De Archuleta, whom I met while we were young artists together in Orlando, set me up with a friend of hers who needed a sublet for the summer. I had secured management and was headed straight to an engagement with Opera Festival of New Jersey. I wanted a sense of community in my life, so I began to hang out in a local pub, hoping to meet some people in the Astoria Queens neighborhood. That’s where I met Joe, my future husband.
Between gigs, I picked up temp work. During this time, I also worked with Opera New Jersey as their director of education. I adapted The Magic Flute to go into schools, translating it myself and reducing it to 45 minutes, using four professional singers in leading roles with the remaining roles played by children from each school. They still tour that show. I’m currently adapting The Pirates of Penzance for them. Having done outreach in schools as a performer, education is a tremendous love of mine.
After Joe proposed, everything happened quickly. I finished up my contracts, parted ways with my management, and stopped taking auditions. Shortly after we were married we decided to start our family. We bought our home in West Haven, Conn., a short walk from the most beautiful beach, ideal for raising our family. I was five months pregnant when we moved.
And this is your son you’re talking about?
Yes, I have two sons now. Jimmy is 3 and Charlie just turned 1 yesterday. They’re fantastic! It all happened so fast. It was an incredible shock to my system. I completely lost my sense of self.
I think I know what you mean, but could you elaborate?
You mentioned earlier the feeling of your art being a calling. As a singer I certainly felt that. Without my identity as a “singer/actor” I felt completely lost, utterly worthless, despite the fact that I had a husband who adored me and a beautiful new baby boy. It’s ironic that what I wanted most in the world was for someone to love me for who I was, not what I did, and I finally had that. But I had to learn to love myself, to value myself. I’m still learning to do that.
So you began the family you wanted. How did you end up working with ADA?
They say certain people in your life are there for a reason. Ana became a much bigger part of my life after our time in Orlando. Since she had set me up with the sublet in Astoria, I felt she had played a part in my meeting my husband and I asked her to read at our wedding. Our friendship grew deeper after that. She had started the business in search of her own sense of security and desire to be more rooted. When it grew so quickly and she needed someone to work with her, she kept talking to me about it, but not asking me.
One day she finally said, “I want you!” To which I replied, “No, no, no, no!” I was afraid of losing her as a friend, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I am so glad she didn’t. Ana showed me a path and started me on it and I am thankful to her for so much I have in my life now.
She made it so attractive to me because I work mostly from home. I come into the city about once a week, twice a week during the busy season in December. I can be with my kids. Jimmy was 9 months old when she first asked me.
So you’re saying that she knew you better than you knew yourself?
Yeah! She knew that I had the skills that she wanted. Since she was standing outside of my box, she could look at my life and see that it was a good opportunity for me—even if I couldn’t see it for myself.
Can you tell me a little about how your life as a manager is different than your life when you were singing for a living?
I work part-time, so my day in management is about five to six hours long and it goes in and around my family life. Comparatively, my day in the life of an artist was selfish time.
What do you mean by that?
Well, I could do anything that I wanted. I didn’t have to think about anybody else. I didn’t have to plan my day around anyone’s schedule, aside from rehearsals.
Now I have a husband and two small children, so my day goes something like this: Get up, get the baby his bottle, jump in the shower, get the kids their breakfast. While I’m doing that, I get out my laptop and log in to talk to Ana about what needs to happen that day, while I make my husband’s lunch for work and do the breakfast dishes. My whole day is like that. I work for about an hour in the morning and then take the kids out, come back, give them lunch, and while they’re down for a nap, sneak in some more work. That’s the only quiet time I have during the day. I’m able to work again at night—that’s when I do most of my work at the computer.
What are some of your favorite parts of life as an artist manager?
Being with my children and being able to work from home is a huge plus, and the income is steady, so I’m not worried about where the next job is going to come from.
I also love auditions. One of us always tries to go to the auditions. It’s fascinating to see people and then talk with them afterward about how it went and give them feedback. I also really love our roster auditions. It’s hard because there are so many singers, but I love it because that’s when my creative part comes in—and I take apart their craft, and see where their strengths and weaknesses are, and where they might fit into this puzzle that is the opera world. My mind starts working when I’m in auditions.
Even though you’re not exercising your skills as a performer, you still use all of the education and experience you have in helping your clients advance their careers.
Absolutely. Everything I’ve studied is being applied, just in a different way—and it’s all because Ana kept hounding me!
Did changing from being a performing artist to an artist manager change how you look at performing itself? Sitting on the other side of the table, do you look at your clients and think, “I can’t believe I ever did that?”
Well, I think that goes back again to your sense of self-worth being tied up in what you do—and, yes, sometimes I can’t believe I ever did that. To go through those auditions again and again—it’s never ending. You put yourself out there for someone to approve or disapprove of you, and that response has such an impact on you.
Singing is so personal. It doesn’t feel like they’re rejecting your singing, it feels like they’re rejecting you as a human being. That I was ever able to do that is beyond me now.
I don’t know any singer who isn’t periodically devastated by rejection.
Oh, you get those letters in the mail, and they’re skinny little envelopes, and you don’t even want to open them.
Is this something you see yourself doing for a long time?
Well, I certainly get wrapped up in it. I care very much about what I do and I want to do it really well. As I do more, it becomes more satisfying
At the end of the interview, Jeffery showed me her new planner for 2008. It’s got a few special pages in the front to display photos—in this case, baby pictures. This way she’ll start the New Year with her priorities in plain view.
The Ana De Archuleta agency is online at www.ada-artists.com
