Connecting the Dots
by Daniel Helfgot
Daniel Helfgot: It seems you traveled quickly from the point in your career when you were singing Kate Pinkerton and similar roles in regional companies to the point where you were singing the lead in La Cenerentola at La Scala (see photo on right). Do you consider yourself an overnight success story? How did you connect the dots in order to reach such a privileged place?
Joyce DiDonato: I have two minds about this. On the one hand, I know that I have spent a great amount of time working and toiling away; all of my years in either the university or apprentice level were full of covering, second casting, and chorusing. At times it felt like that might be all I would ever do. On the other hand, I feel as if I've blinked, and all of a sudden I'm doing much more than I ever dreamed of. While studying, I saw that "everyone else" was winning competitions while I was coming in third or fourth place. I also saw "everyone else" getting the coveted roles while I was covering them or sang the chorus. Hindsight shows me that this really gave me the time to focus on myself and digest the fact that I needed an incredibly deep foundation of technique, language, and my own artistic "voice" to stand on my own feet. Now I look at that time of frustrations as most invaluable because, when the "overnight success" happened, I was ready.
How do you balance "being at the right place at the right time" with selecting the next step with a planned agenda?
It's a matter of balance-this is a lesson that I continue to learn on a daily basis. It requires making certain that you are as prepared as possible mentally, technically, and personally. It is also a matter of placing yourself "out there" over and over. You will never be in the right place and time if you fail to take the risk of being heard. This means possibly hearing "NO" over and over and over and over. Then comes the painful task of filtering the feedback you're receiving. We must constantly balance the criticism with the praise-filtering the constructive from the destructive-and learn from each and every audition, competition, or performance. However, if you haven't prepared yourself fully, you will not be ready when those opportunities come up, and then you'll never get "lucky."
Are you the sole decision maker for your career, or there is room for agents, colleagues or other people you trust?
The buck definitely stops with me-any singer who blames other people for missed opportunities, bad decisions, or failings isn't being truly honest with him or herself. If we don't take full responsibility for our failings, we can't take responsibility for our successes. However, any singer who thinks they can do it all on their own, without constructive feedback, guidance, and support is in for a very lonely trip. I believe in gathering as much information as possible; in arming yourself with knowledge and then making the decision. There have been a number of times I have relied on my manager's advice, and because I trust him implicitly, I follow his advice. However, I would never blame him if things go wrong. The final decision is always mine. And, ultimately, it is my responsibility.
Anybody's words of wisdom that guided your path?
I was preparing for my La Scala debut, and I began to panic and wonder if I was missing something. It was to be my European debut, and it was happening in an unexpected way. You're supposed to toil away at the European scene for years, and then maybe, just maybe, you might get that break. As the nerves started kicking up a notch, I turned to Patrick Summers, my conductor for Cosi at the time, and I asked hi,, "Patrick, what do I need to do before I take the stage at La Scala in order to not be booed from it?" He gave me advice that I constantly return to: "Joyce, just go there and be yourself. Don't try to reincarnate the spirit of someone you think they expect you to be." It's the most useful, valuable advice I've ever gotten. It dawned on me that this was the only option available.
You are young and look strong like an athlete. Do you draw from this physicality? Does your fitness, or the lack of it, affect performance results?
Well, that depends on whether you think I look like a weightlifter or a gymnast. Okay, realistically, I fall somewhere between the two on a good day. But I do absolutely rely a great deal on how I feel physically. Again, it goes back to our body being our instrument-and not just vocally. I just finished playing the Fox in The Cunning Little Vixen, and there is no way I could have done half the things required of the part if I didn't have a certain degree of flexibility and physical capability. On a more personal level, the better I feel physically the more confidence I have as a performer. I really enjoy lifting weights, and as a direct result, I know that my posture is better, that I carry myself with more authority. And, without question, that goes a long way on the stage.
Singing is a physical activity. The instrument is a part of your body. Rehearsals are long, performances could be on raked stages, clothing could be uncomfortable, and sometimes one has to work in closed, dark, unhealthy environments. Do you follow any health habits? Do you subscribe to diets, vitamins or other routines to stay healthy?
What singers do is athletic, without question. I make a very concerted attempt to always train like an athlete-physically as well as mentally. Still, I am not always successful. If I'm on a two-week gig, the goal of finding a gym sometimes goes unattained. But I will say that I feel an enormous difference when I fall out of my routine. That to me is one of the biggest challenges of traveling so much: finding some kind of regime that you can follow regardless of location, time zone, or quality of facility. There is no question that I feel an enormous difference when I am working out regularly. The primary benefit is a real release of stress-we have an incredibly high-stress job, and I find that working out aids tremendously in the handling of that. Not to mention, I feel stronger and more confident on stage as a result. Plus, it makes it a lot easier to enjoy the local cuisine without guilt. A daily vitamin is a must. And then: water, water, water, and then, more water.
Are there any roles you rather stay away from?
There are roles that, no matter how much I'm dying to sing them, would wreck my voice. Sadly, this means no Verdi heroines, at least for a while. I have been incredibly fortunate to do a wide variety of roles, from world premieres to the Baroque to the ever-perfect Mozart role, and I love the variety and the challenge each presents. Some singers wonder about specializing in a certain genre: "Do I need to be a Handel specialist?" This is definitely a question that has to be answered on an individual basis.
Any roles you'd love to go back to?
If I never sing Kate Pinkerton again, I will definitely NOT be brokenhearted. If I never sing Sister Helen in Dead Man Walking, I WILL be brokenhearted. I've only covered Sesto in Clemenza, but I will finally get the chance to sing him in a few seasons. It will not be soon enough!
Any roles you wish you hadn't done?
I am most fortunate to say there has never been a role I've had to recover from vocally when all was said and done. I cannot think of one valid reason why a singer should take a role that is above and beyond him or her. The risk of injury is never worth it.
What's the next role you want to learn?
Idamante-because it's coming up very soon, and it will take a long time to flesh that role out! Dream roles? Charlotte in Werther, without a doubt, but unfortunately, it's not done too often. And I should say Octavian, but that one scares me. I've never done a big German role, and that seems incredibly daunting to me. However, is there more glorious music than that final trio? No. It's a "must learn" for me.
Any landmarks that defined the direction of your career?
The Placido Domingo Operalia competition. This is my "right place/right time" story. My manager heard me in the finals. I sang one aria ("Non piu mesta"), and from that, he contacted me and asked to represent me. I went against conventional wisdom and signed with a London agent instead of taking the New York route. Actually, that's slightly misleading. I had already sung for six top New York Agents, and no one wanted me, or rather, they "weren't looking to expand their roster just now" (polite cough). My manager convinced me that he really believed in me, and to this day, nearly five years later, he believes in me more than ever. As a result of that one competition, things have unfolded in just the right manner.
Everyone in our business has to deal with the stereotype of the opera Diva or Divo. Any thoughts on this?
I am terrible at putting on airs, and acting like an opera singer! I just can't begin to take myself that seriously! However, it's easy to fall into that mindset, because we think we need to behave in a certain way. Nope, for me, I just don't buy it. What makes Frederica von Stade a truly engaging performer is that we see her. We see her spirit. When we make ourselves vulnerable, and present ourselves, without air, without pretension...guess what? Then we're not generic. We're giving the world our unique selves.
What do young singers lack the most today in preparation for a life of singing?
I think the business side of things. We don't get any advice about financially structuring our lives once the career begins to take off, or finding ways to raise that $4,000 to do an intensive European audition tour. I think there is also a lot of co-dependence on other people (voice teachers, agents, coaches) to make day-to-day decisions. I remember being in a staging once where the director was asking a colleague to change the direction of a recit. The singer's earnest reply was, "but I wasn't coached that way." That's a bit dangerous...yes, take the coachings, the lessons, and prepare yourself. But, we must then own what we do and trust our ability to make artistic and business decisions.
When should a young singer start thinking about the cost of starting a career?
At the very onset, if not earlier! The demands grow, the requirements change as we go along, but at no point in the journey can you stop thinking about it. We have to embrace the fact that if we are to pursue this career, we will be the CEOs and CFOs of our own companies, and no one else will be tending the books. At the start, it means getting incredibly creative in earning money. I waited tables for 10 years as I put myself through college and conservatory; however, I pursued "fine dining" restaurants where the possibility to earn very good money was much greater than if I worked at the local pub. By doing so, I had to only work three nights per week as opposed to six. This enabled me to attend rehearsals more rested and prepared. If you must work, find the very best work that you can. You'll need the money to attend competitions, travel to auditions, create a demo CD, get killer head shots. The more money you invest, the smarter your "product" will be. This, however, assumes that you as a performer are very well prepared and trained! As you delve further into the actual career, you suddenly need to know how to juggle foreign taxes, find affordable housing in different cities, and spread three months of income over the entire year. We really should have degrees in accounting!
I have witnessed the way you work in front of students. You are extremely sharp when you offer masterclasses. You know how to pinpoint a problem and how to address solutions. Where does this talent come from?
I've only done a handful of them, but I just love being involved in that process. I have no doubt that this stems from all those years of "chorusing and covering," when I really had some specific problems of my own that I had to work out. I think having had the vast majority of those problems myself, I can recognize them immediately.
Can you mention the most common things you see when you are in front of a class?
I was the Queen Mother of jaw tension, tongue tension-you name it. But I can now see it from the other side (yes, there is life after jaw tension!), and I know the importance of getting rid of it. As a result, I'm passionate about conveying the importance of addressing it, and letting students know that even if it means cracking and wallowing away in no man's land for awhile, it is worth it.
In the area of physical awkardness, I also know firsthand the stupid things we do in audition situations. My personal favorite is how my right elbow begins to stick out at a 90 degree angle, for no particular reason whatsoever. But I think it can be really comforting to have someone who knows how ridiculous we can be, and how tough the audition situation is, to point those things out.
It used to be that Europe, or particularly Germany, was the place for young Americans singers to go. Nowadays, because of new geopolitical issues and a new world economy, it is not any longer so. And yet, you commute back and forth over the Atlantic. Would you elaborate? Would you suggest ways for young singers to face this new scenario?
It feels as if it's still in the process of changing, so I'm not sure I can give a definitive answer. Besides, I am certain that each singer's path will be different. Absorbing the language, the culture, the life over the Atlantic has done me an incredible service. Plus, I find that, on the whole, you can take many more risks as an artist in Europe, and whether they fail or succeed, they do provide the opportunity for growth. All this having been said, the experience I've gained across the ocean would have been to no avail had I not first been prepared and had the invaluable technical training.
I can tell you that I think the training we receive in America is, without a doubt, the best and most comprehensive in the world. I've had a number of top conductors tell me just that. However, the very next thing out of their mouths is that the US turns out perfectly prepared, technically adept "clones." They feel that we emerge from the top training programs as generic, a deadly term in our field. I used to hear that and get quite upset and defensive. However, I'm beginning to understand what they mean. I think we tend to focus so intently on being "right" and being "correct" that we forget to make music.
Is this the elusive difference between singing and performing?
Text being paramount. All the technical things we first must learn to do (dynamic range, colors, clarity of vowel, use of distinct consonants without airflow disruption, legato, breath control) all work toward the goal of delivering the text. Every technique we struggle to master, every action we take on the stage, every nuance we strive for in a phrase, are all set in place to convey the text. Basta. There is no other reason for us to sing.
Beyond that, we must find our uniqueness: it's like a figure skater at the Olympics-you can tell immediately which athlete is technically flawless and has been the beneficiary of great training. But nine times out of 10 it's the daring, risky, edgy skater that takes your breath away-those are the ones the audiences crave. To me, as a singer trained in the best American programs, the challenge has been to take my comprehensive training and use it to find my own, unique voice. And I found coming to Europe has given me a very fertile ground to do that. You're immersed in the language, which is the absolute key to what we do.
How does your experience with directors relate to this issue?
We are, without question, in the age of the producer-it's all about the new production, which means directors want and need to take risks to make a name for themselves. Sometimes this pays off in the most rewarding of ways-when you find a director who refuses to let opera singers fall back on stock gestures, to phone in dramatic performances, then you actually stand a chance at having the drama and the music truly unite. This is what I live for as a performer and as an audience member. However, you also run the risk of being forced into inane staging just to satisfy the director's desire to make "a statement"-regardless of whether it's a statement about the opera or not! My rule is that I will try anything once-I'm not naive enough to think I know it all-the director may really be on to something that I just can't see in the heat of the moment. However, I simply am not a good enough actor to convince the audience of something if IÍm not convinced of it myself. So I find a way to have a dialogue with the director until we find the common ground. I have yet to encounter a situation where the director says "my way or no way." I'm relatively certain that if they feel that you are trying to see it their way, to find a way to make it work, they will work with you until it gels. My intent is to tell the story, and as long as we can find a way to do that, then I'm game.
Would you address the timing, responsibilities and consequences of jumping from the role of student or learner to true musicianship, or in essence being your own teacher?
This is such a vital evolution, and I'm certain each singer must find it in his or her own way and time. I do think that unless we make the essential mental switch from thinking as a "student," to thinking as an independent "artist," we run the risk of simply being a singer that reproduces the sounds or phrases we've been told are correct. If we pull from the enormous amount of information we've absorbed throughout our training, eventually we will come into our own ideas and thoughts-we will find those things that we can bring to the table-things we alone have to offer. Now all of a sudden it's not a matter of being correct, it's a matter of creating. If we manage to risk making a bold choice that is simply ours, because it is something we must say, then we're jumping that divide between dutiful student and creative artist. And then, along the road of hits and misses, we'll find that we're edging away from that generic line, and we're giving the audience our own "voice." The other reality is that we're on that stage completely alone. We must allow ourselves the freedom to make a choice in the moment, and if we're completely reliant on our teachers and advisors and coaches, we'll find ourselves without a life jacket swimming upstream!
Any thoughts about the choice of family versus career?
This is probably the Holy Grail of questions for singers. The kicker about this career is that it is incredibly taxing whether you are married, partnered, single, recently singled, or even a pet owner. It's definitely a lifestyle that exaggerates what is already present in you, so if you're content, it serves to enhance that sense of joy; but if you're not, I'm afraid it can intensify that feeling as well. I think each person has to determine what they need to be fulfilled for themselves, and work very, very hard to make that a reality. I can't imagine anyone making this work if they didn't have a teflon-strength support network around them, as well as within them. But it requires finding what fulfills you, and staying on that path.
Auditioning is an unfair process, both for the judges and for the singer. Any thoughts you wish to share on this unavoidable task?
It is always incredibly frustrating to be in an audition and feel as if the listener has decided your fate either immediately after you've entered the room, or certainly after the first five bars.
One valuable nugget of advice I received early on from one of those "anonymous faces" is that judges want you to be good; they want you to be the next great star. But the reality is that they are tired, and they are hungry, and they've listened to "Una voce poco fa" 24 times in the last three days, and they don't owe it to you to be a rapt audience. I will say, find out what you do best; put out a product that no one can argue with. The onus is on singers to grab judges' attention, and yes, we must do that within the first few bars, by being incredibly committed, prepared, and "on." We have to do it when we walk in the room. That's our responsibility.
Would you address the issue of obtaining management as a young singer?
The advice I received regarding management issue I believe still holds true-you can't get management until you have something to manage. As thrilled as I am with my management, I know that they only provide the circumstances for me to land a job-it is ultimately up to me to do the actual landing. Or, even if they do get the job for me (through a cancellation, for example) it's up to me to deliver the product in order to ultimately get rehired. Getting rehired is the goal, as it means not having to suffer the pain of yet another audition!
How about a publicist?
I am currently in the process of finding a publicist, and I wonder, what good is a publicist if there's nothing to publicize? From a business standpoint, the more well-known you are, the bigger your audience or fan base, and therefore, a company may be more inclined to take a risk in bringing you in for a high profile project. But then you run the risk of becoming simply a product of marketing, and before long the audience is applauding the publicity instead of the actual performance.
What should schools and conservatories offer that they do not?
I do believe firmly that our training institutions have a responsibility to demand that their students behave professionally and humanely. Any time you see unprofessional behavior in the rehearsal room, I'm certain it only arrived there because it was tolerated early on. And I guarantee you unwelcome behavior (diva fits, lack of preparation, etc.) is born of low self-esteem. The harder we work at that in ourselves, the better off we will be on stage, in life, and for the future! Therapy can be an incredibly useful tool for an artist. Some people may seek the help of a therapist, others rely on a partner, a parent, or a mentor-the more in touch we are with ourselves, the more we have to offer to an audience. If we can sort out some of our "neuroses" offstage, we'll be less likely to need to do it onstage. Also, I do think the more balanced a person you are, the more successful you'll be in handling the complexities of a singing career. It's a lifestyle where I'm finding that there is very little room for "middle ground." The highs are incredibly high, and the lows are extremely low. If we find a way to experience both extremes while keeping a good balance, I think we'll be much happier, more adjusted, and therefore, capable of incredible growth and development.