Statistics, and then...stasis. By a six-month silence you may take it that I have been busy. Busy living the things (and more) about to be chronicled. I fancy it good living, myself.
Though much of that living involved singing, little of it was public singing, so there hasn't been much occasion for announcements. But now, I have one, as my title indicates: One year of grad school is down, and the second (and hopefully last) is before me. I've been telling my mom that I will finish higher education by the time I'm 30. Unless someone convinces me to get an artist's diploma (and by convince, I mean, offers me one for free), I think I'll have a good chance; I'll be 29 and 3 months a year from now. And a year is nothing, as we all know, a few thousand heartbeats. So I've begun to wonder what lies beyond the school life, which has been my life for nigh on 23 years.
My first thought is basic, instinctual, and potentially desperate: get paid. This thought would be the child of a relatively new reality in my life, massive school debt. Just for all y'all who were wondering about sopranos at New York conservatories: if you want a scholarship, be a tenor, or play the oboe. My hope is that I will feel the cold metal of my ball and chain every time I step foot on stage for an audition of any kind, and I will sing as if my life and freedom depended on it.
It's worth it, of course. I'm finding that out, anyway. I'm finding out what it's worth it to me to sing for people. I thought I was fine singing in my living room or for a few friends. Performing was something I thought I didn't need to do, but would do if God asked. Well, He did, and now, I need to. This need has grown as the price of saying yes to this has grown. I've discovered that a person can move all the way to New York City, take out a bunch of loans, go to grad school every day, get good grades, get excellent grades even, work hard, show up, and still not pay the price to be a singer. This came to a crisis point for me this year when my voice teacher confronted me, something like this:
"Do you want to sing?"
"You mean, as a career?"
"Yes."
"Well, yeah. I do."
"Well, I'm not convinced. I'm not saying you're not working or not learning your music or anything. But you don't come into a lesson just ready to suck the marrow out of it. If you're going to be in this business, you have to know that you'll die if you don't sing. You have to be a killer."
At this point I laid out the various fears and questions that had been weighing on my mind.
"Yeah, you don't know if you'll get work. This is a scary job. Everybody has fear. I know the sacrifices you have to make for this. It's not easy. That's why you need to be a killer--your need to sing has to overcome your fear. When I watch you sing, it still feels like you're standing outside of yourself, watching, critiquing. You're not giving yourself completely."
The timing of this confrontation, frankly, sucked. But maybe that's how it always is with the truth when you really need to hear it. I went home, cried it out, yelled it out, talked it out, and finally, set to work getting this truth into me. Point of grad school: Become a killer.
To my relief (and perhaps yours), I've realized that a killer is not a psycho-diva whispering curses at the competition (though these exist). In my case, I think it's a matter of adding something to my whole way of being that has the potential to balance me out both as an artist and a person. And I actually think it has to do with love. I have always had an uncomfortable relationship with performing because the nature of the gesture always seemed like self-promotion or neediness to me. I would only play or sing if someone asked me to. Similarly, I always felt it was more loving and humble to wait for permission or invitation to share myself in relationships. But now that I've been invited to sing, I'm learning the other side of love, the side of initiation, pursuit, and giving. A good performer does not promote herself, but gives herself generously to her audience. It is not about what she needs, but what she has to offer. A true "killer" is one who sacrifices herself in a way to give her beauty to others. I was trying to explain it the other day to a friend (a brilliant artist and a Christian), who almost instantly and quite astutely said, "If you would save your life, you must lose it." I guess it's the truth in art as in all things.
I'm thankful to be home in Oregon for a couple months, writing, reading, singing, celebrating family milestones, drinking coffee and having marvelous conversations with Mom, and resting my eyes and ears from the urban jungle in wind-wild, evergreen country. My last summer between school years...
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