The year of beginnings.

It's almost the end of my freshman year of college... the year of "beginnings" so to speak. It's an overwhelming thought. I'm excited because of the tremendous growth that I've experienced this year, and I'm excited at the prospect of many years to come. And yet, it's bittersweet, because the year of beginnings is coming to an end, and I now have to leave this place with which I've grown so comfortable. I was fortunate enough to engage in a very intriguing conversation this week, one that I feel is in desperate need of telling.

I was browsing the Container Store one afternoon with my friend Lauren. It was warm, muggy and overcast - the type of weather that makes you uncomfortable and cranky. We were searching for, well, containers. And where else to go but the Container Store? After finding a couple totes that we found were most suitable for our summer storage needs, we both realized that neither one of us had the least bit desire to trudge back to our dorms with the extra burden of 66 gallons of space and plastic. So, we hailed a cab. Or rather, two cabs.

After I hopped in the taxi, the driver struck up a conversation with me, which I normally find odd and sometimes annoying. I hate making small talk, especially when I can't understand what someone else is trying to say. But this man, dressed in boots, jeans, a denim jacket and a cowboy hat, was a conversation guru. He began by stating that containers were growing increasingly expensive, which to my disappointment, is completely true. (This is one of those moments when I miss things known as Wal-Mart and Idaho Falls, where you can buy a large tupperware tote for under $10.) He asked me how long I had been living in the city and what I was doing here, which inadvertently led to his inquiry about my major. After telling him that I was studying opera, he brought up the topic that has been plaguing my mind all week. My roommate Betty posted the link to a very incredible article on my Facebook wall regarding the under appreciation and lack of funding for not only the arts, but for opera in particular in America.

I highly recommend reading it. It's a short read, super simple, and very thought-provoking.
http://jenniferrivera.squarespace.com/blog/2012/4/6/arts-in-america.html

This woman, Jennifer Rivera, wrote this blog in response to a prompt that was projected by Spring for Music as part of their annual blogger challenge. Their prompt was, "Many countries have ministries of culture. Does America need a secretary of culture or a secretary of the arts? Why or why not?"

Rivera posits that as artists, we have a social responsibility to uphold, protect and advance the arts. While studying at Juilliard, she was involved in an "Arts in Education" class in which she taught two classes a week for under privileged first and second graders in the New York public school system. The experience that she gained was life-changing and rewarding - not only for her, but for the students. By the end of the semester, she said that "their collective excitement was absolutely unabashed" - and what an incredible image! First and second graders excited - truly excited - about opera.

And so, you can imagine my surprise at this Bulgarian taxi driver's deep appreciation for opera. His sister was a singer, he said, yet she never studied professionally. It was incredible - this conversation was so timely and coincidental. And as he continued to express his utter disdain for popular culture, I brought in the idea of educating our youth in the classical arts - both visually and musically. It has to start young, I posited, as echoes of Rivera's article reverberated in my head, and we have to take action. Because art appreciation can only lead to increased interest, which consequentially will provide more funding. And more funding will inadvertently turn into more opportunities for performers that have spent their lives working twice as hard for under-appreciated, mundane gigs with little pay. Because the life of a performer, unfortunately, is only defined in terms of "fame" and "success". But I have to agree with Rivera, whose vision for opera is echoed in the hearts of opera singers and advocates around the world. The extent of our career does not stop at the stage door - we are forever artistic ambassadors - our own "ministers of culture".

James Baldwin once said, "The world changes according to how people see it, and if you alter, even by a millimeter, the way people look at reality, then you can change it." And when we take the malleable perceptions of children and expose them to the beautiful production of an art that has become so foreign and estranged to a culture that recognizes auto-tuning and synthesizers as musical talent, we can and do change reality. Rivera confidently believes that the first and second graders she worked with will "have a different association with opera than most of their peers, who simply have never been exposed to anything like it". American culture has long associated classical music to a very specific target audience. In the words of Alex Ross, "The classical audience is assumed to be a moribund crowd of the old, the white, the rich and the bored" (Listen to This). But when I picture Rivera's second graders, begging to hear her play the opera L'Enfant et les Sortileges to sing along to, I feel as though I'm drowning in potential.  

The solution to this problem is so accessible, it leaves me thirsty for change.

It's not just up to opera singers, classical musicians or rich old patrons. If my Bulgarian semi-cowboy taxi driver is talking about it, you can be too. So please, I ask you, share your thoughts with me. Share my thoughts with others if you concur. Help me to be an artistic ambassador - because the potential for change is at our fingertips!

Altering millimeters,

-Emily

As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts...

The long-awaited, much anticipated account of our outing in London. Since this took an entire month to post, I do extend my apologies. I hope you enjoy our brief (yet picture filled) journey through the brilliant streets of London.

Our first stop was Camden Market, which was really awesome. And weirdly enough, it reminded me of Brooklyn. We window shopped at the market and took lots of pictures.

The Eye!

We did the "touristy" thing (which feels weird... coming from tourist central New York) and saw the Eye, Big Ben, Parliament, Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus... and the like. It was incredible. We had some remarkable macaroons and tea at a place called Laduree. I had a raspberry one with a glass of sweet wine. Mmm.

And now for more touristy pictures!

Buckingham Palace

Big Ben

We ended the evening grabbing dinner at a quaint Italian restaurant that had some tasty dishes. But! Before we could return to dear old Yorkshire, I just had to visit Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross. Oh, yes, folks. It exists. 

I miss it very dearly. England was absolutely incredible to visit. Not to mention how much I miss my best friend, Mauri. I can't wait to go back!

♥ Em

Coming home: 19 days!

Long time coming.

I feel as though I should preface this post with a long apology coupled with a synopsis of what has otherwise occupied my time the past couple of weeks... but I feel like that would be a poor excuse. I should also commit to saying that aside from my two jobs, 18 credits of schoolwork, and rehearsals for both Grad Alley and the one-act that I'm in, I kind of got wrapped up reading the Game of Thrones series. So, needless to say... my time has been otherwise engaged. But with that... I have almost three full weeks of events to write about!

I was in the Player's Club One Acts! We performed today. It went well. I also have a choir concert in two weeks. If you live in New York, you should attend.

The past few weeks have been an ultimate blur. My birthday weekend was both insane and incredible. The weekend began when Lauren, Joe, Ben, Curtis and I went to see Leap of Faith on Broadway. I don't feel that I possess enough authority to adequately review the shows I see, but I cannot emphasize more strongly to anyone not to see this show. It was tremendously disappointing. The music was written by Alan Menken, so I suppose that I expected a lot more than what was delivered. The music wasn't bad, but the book was terrible - and the actors did very little justice to the script. We saw it the third night of previews, so I wasn't expecting that much, but they also had to stop the show for technical difficulties. Overall, it was  extremely disappointing.

The next night made up for my Leap of Faith experience ten thousand times over. Mary, Matt, Lauren and I went to see Sleep No More on the night of my birthday. It was the most incredible experience of my life. The performance begins when you enter an old hotel - you're given a mask to wear the entire time in order to "preserve your anonymity", and you are forbidden to speak. The ambiance is a very dark, sort of mysterious, vintage feel. An elevator chauffeur lets you out on a random floor, and you are left to explore whatever you wish. The performance is actually a mostly wordless telling of Macbeth. The majority of the story is a choreographed set of physical actions between the characters - and you rarely see more than three of them together at a time. You can rustle through papers, go through drawers, open cabinets, wait in a room - or follow a specific actor through the hotel. Your experience is entirely yours to control. The scene I saw first was what I believed to be the killing of Banquo. After following Macbeth for a while, I found myself just exploring as much as possible. I was pulled aside by three different actors during my experience. Lady Macbeth used my hands to wipe her face (weird) after she bathed, a male actor took me aside and danced with me, and a nursemaid locked me in a cabin with her. The interaction with the nursemaid was my favorite. She took off my mask and made me a cup of tea, then spoon fed it to me, and told me a story about when everything was dead. She pressed her finger into my palm, and then grabbed my arm and stood me up. After placing my mask back on, she pushed me out the cabin door and sent me on my way. The entire performance lasts about 3 hours. We entered the hotel around 11:15, and the performance concluded around 2:00 a.m. I cannot begin to explain how unique and incredible the entire experience was. We began the next day with Saturday brunch at a restaurant called The Park. Mmm! I worked the rest of the day, and spent Easter Sunday in Brooklyn with the sis. :) It was a relaxing way to end the weekend.

Because this post would be seven years long if I chronologically accounted for everything I did over the past three weeks, I've resolved to just give you some highlights.

Once. The musical. The new musical. On Broadway. Incredible.
Joined Instagram. Mmmm. New Obsession.
Classes are over in two weeks.
Started writing a book.
Filed taxes.
Hung out with David.
Started new countdown.

Cheers,
-Em
Coming home: 23 days!

Dreams and Denmark....

     It was a late Sunday afternoon when I found myself on a Manhattan bound R train. It was Palm Sunday, to be exact. A fact I was reminded of by the lady sitting in front of me with palm fronds splaying from her purse. I was coming from a morning of church and Sunday brunch with my sister and her husband. I was deeply engrossed in the book I’m reading, Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen. I had picked it up off the street for $3 a day or two ago. It caught my eye because I had fallen in love with the movie adaptation, and since I’m a sucker for books, I gladly parted with the small amount of change for a guaranteed weekend of reading. The train doors open and in pours a group of kids who look to be around 13 or 14 years old. I slide over as a skinny blonde girl in a hat and hoodie sits next to me. I sense her eyes on the side of my head and instinctively look up. Catching my eye, she smiles. I smile back and continue reading my book. I don’t know how to explain it, but I have the overwhelming urge to talk to her. I shrug away the feeling, silently chiding myself. It’s silly to talk to random strangers on the subway. I wouldn’t give someone the time of day if they struck up a conversation with me. That’s a lie. I suppose that I might make polite conversation. Blatantly ignoring someone is not in my nature. But the urge to talk to her doesn’t go away. At this point, it’s more than obvious that she’s reading over my shoulder, and I’m not sure how it happens, but before I know it, I reach the end of my chapter and close my book. Instantaneously, she asks me, “Have you seen the movie?”

“Oh yes,” I reply, “I loved the movie, so I had to read the book” She silently nods and smiles in agreement. “Have you seen the movie?” I ask in reply.

“Yes.” She says. I notice that a thick accent blankets her English. “Where are you going?” I ask. I find out that they are a group of students from Denmark, heading to “some Italian restaurant or something”. The boy sitting in front of us says few words, but seems to understand English better than she, translating one of my questions to the girl. Before long, an older boy in the group notices our conversation and comes to stand in front of us. His dark skin is accented by his short dark hair and dark eyes. He asks me where I study.

“New York University,” I reply.

“And what do you study?” He says. He doesn’t have as thick an accent as the girl.

“Opera… I’m a singer”

“You … study opera?” he asks, in some combination of semi-disbelief and awe.

“Yes,” I reply with a chuckle.

“Have you heard of Denmark?” He asks me.

I laugh again, “Yes, I have heard of Denmark.”

“What have you heard about it?”

What kind of question is that? Wait, what have I heard of Denmark? I’m baffled. I don’t know. It’s not like I strike up conversations about Denmark in passing. Erm…. I really don’t know how to answer this question.

“Oh, I don’t know… just… things… stuff?” I say. Ugh. That was a poor reply.

“Denmark is small, you know. It is small country.” He says.

“How many people live there?” I ask. Then I second guess my question. Would he know that? Should I ask that? I mean, really, it’s a freaking country.

“5.5 million. Is smaller than New York.”

“That’s awesome.” I say.

     Yes it is. Wow. I live in a city with 8 million people. 2.5 million people more than a small country.

“But we do not need many people” he says, interrupting my train of thought. “We have a good system, and I like it there. It is good. We do not need many more people. I like it there.”

“That’s awesome,” I reply. This seems to be my catchphrase.

“So is opera the only music you like? Or do you like pop?”

      

     Laughing again, I say, “Oh, no that isn’t the only music I listen to. But I don’t really enjoy pop music either.” I try to explain that I listen to neither rock, nor pop, nor hardcore… what do I listen to? It results in me explaining that I listen mostly to Indie music, music theater pieces and well…. Classical music. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is odd in foreign cultures too. He asks me if I will be famous once I graduate. I smile and say, “Yes, that’s the plan. I want to sing on Broadway, too. Not just opera singing, but all singing. I love to sing.” Maybe I threw the last line in the conversation for clarification or even emphasis, but the girl pipes up at this.

“You’re not the only one!”

“Oh, do you sing, too?” I ask.

“Well… not really…. But when I listen to the radio, I like to sing” she responds, blushing. I notice for the first time that she wears dark eyeliner and a lot of makeup.

      

     Her sheepish remark is adorable, highlighting her youth, and it hits me that this girl is only 5 years younger than me at most. I feel like I could be her mother’s age. The taller boy interrupts again and asks, “Have you heard of Aqua?”

“Yes, yes I have” I respond.

“Barbie Girl?” he says again,

“Oh yes!” I laugh.

He smiles cheekily and says, “They are Danes. We are proud of them”, puffing out his chest ever-so-slightly. At this, the difference of cultures becomes subtle, but so intriguing.

“And H.C. Anderson?”

The name isn’t familiar to me… “Um, no, I’m afraid not.”

“The author of Little Mermaid?” He asks, this time not bothering to hide the disbelief on his face.

“Oh! Yes, I know who that is…” I suppose if he would have said Hans Christian…. No, not even then. I don’t know. I tend to not interest myself in authors I don’t discover on my own. I didn’t actually know who wrote The Little Mermaid.

“Do you know where he is from?” He smiles again.

“Denmark?” I ask, knowing the answer to this question.

“YES! We are proud of him!” At this point, I am thoroughly enthralled in the conversation, and I really don’t want it to end. The interesting emphasis on pride fascinates me.  

“Do you play instruments?” I ask them. None of them do. None of them play sports, none of them play instruments, and not a single one of them claims to be a reader.

“What hobbies do you do?” I ask. (Please mind my grammar.) I get nervous around people that speak broken English. I’m always afraid I’ll mess up a conversation or say something that has a double meaning, resulting in offending their position or their character. I tend to mess up the English language when talking to people who don't speak it well. It may be silly, but then I’m racking my brain for the lessons I took in German verb conjugation. Do seems like a safe verb. It translates pretty well, right? Regardless, he understands my question.

“I do not play sports, but I run. It makes me feel… sporty and good. And I like French,” He says. “And Swedish. Sometimes when I am on my computer, I try to teach myself.” He seems, (not surprisingly) very proud of this.

I almost miss my subway stop because I’m so caught up in the conversation. Jumping up, I scramble to say, “Oh, I’m so sorry! This is my stop.”

“Oh, great! Bye!” They say abruptly, waving at me.

“Enjoy!”  Meaning to say something more like, “Enjoy your time here”… or “Enjoy the rest of your stay!” Instead, I just manage to say, “Enjoy!” and hope they know what I mean.

     Coming out of the subway station, I’m surprised to find that I feel giddy, inspired almost. I attribute this feeling to an interesting realization. It is the beauty of being able to talk to a group of teenage Danish students on a Manhattan-bound R train one late Sunday afternoon. It is beauty that reminds me of the incredible culture in which I live. But larger than that, it is beauty that reminds me of an incredible aspect of the world in which I live. I feel so uniquely a part of New York, and yet a part of a culture entirely removed. It’s hard to describe, but it’s an exciting feeling. It’s a feeling of promise and of unity. I didn’t even catch their names, but these three students, a mere 3 or 4 years younger than I, taught me more in a 15 minute subway ride than I could ever learn in a 4-credit class on global diversity or cultures and contexts. They revealed to me that we are all, so uniquely and inherently different, but universally and undeniably human.

I'm sorry this post wasn't about London, like I promised. I want to make my London post really good, and this encounter was just too good not to post. 

Thanks for reading. :)

-Em

Somewhere beyond the sea...

You alright, love?

Because my trip to England couldn't have been lovelier! Cheyanne and I enjoyed an immensely packed week - filled with everything from shopping to tourism, from walks through the scenic countryside to train rides and the busy streets of London. We arrived Saturday morning, our flight landing a full hour before schedule. And so we whittled away the subsequent hours waiting on our train by sipping down some fresh English coffee. Mauri met us at the train station and we walked back to her flat. Our first taste of English food was at a quaint little place called Barbakan. They served Polish food; I had some incredible pumpkin curry dumplings. Then we explored a bit of York, seeing the Minster, and checking out a few of the local shops. Then, for our first night experiencing England we went out for pub grub! We visited a place called the Punch Bowl for dinner, where Mauri and I split a vegetable tart and I experienced my first glass of English cider!

York Minster

Sunday left us extremely jet-lagged, and after church we went out for tea and scones. The British eat their scones with clotted cream and jam. Standard British scones are usually currant, but you'll see the occasional cranberry scone served at coffee shops. Most tea houses will serve Cream Tea for somewhere around £3 - which is a pot of tea with milk and one or two scones with clotted cream and jam. It is absolutely delightful, and I'm pretty sure we had tea and scones every day we were there. On Sunday, we also walked around the wall and saw Clifford's Tower - this awesome tower on a hill that's in the middle of a parking lot.  

Clifford's Tower

On Monday, we hopped on a train to Whitby and saw the coast! Whitby is a super cute town right on the coast in the Northwest of England, located kind of between Scarborough and Middlesbrough. We ate at a place called the Magpie Cafe, located right on the harbor, (or harbour as they spell it). They serve super fresh, locally caught fish and supposedly have some of the best fish and chips in almost all of England. And I, vegetarian extraordinaire, actually ate fish and chips! And I have to tell you that I was insanely impressed. I'm not a fish eater, mainly because I've never had good fish before. This was fish that I could possibly eat interminably. After fish and chips, we walked up to the Whitby Abbey, St. Mary's church and Caedmon's Cross. We had a beautiful view of the entire town, and walking further, we went onto a pier and saw the wondrous expanse of the North Sea! We did a small amount of shopping before catching a train back to York. The English countryside we saw on the way was incredible. It's absolutely beautiful, and no description I can give will do it the justice it deserves.

Whitby

The remains of Whitby Abbey

On Tuesday, Cheyanne and I explored a lot of York, doing tons of shopping and even more window shopping - swearing to come back to every store we stopped in. (And of course allowing for a tea and scones break). We eventually met up with Mauri and did some grocery shopping. Grocery stores in England are nothing extravagant. I have little to report, except that you can buy a six pack of crumpets for a mere 88p, which astounds me. I thought it was cute, though, they sell packs of tea cakes and crumpets at the store! We picked up Wensleydale cheese and some crackers, which were incredible. We took few pictures on Tuesday, mainly due to being overwhelmed, jet-lagged and pictured out.

On Wednesday, we went to Mauri's Galatians class, did a bit more shopping and then had Indian food. They say that Indian food is the best in England, and I will admit that it was quite tasty. Not to be overly picky, but I have had some incredible Indian food since moving to New York, and unfortunately, I only tried one dish at the restaurant we went to, Garden of India. The dish wasn't my favorite. We went out with a few of the other kids from the Bible college, and had a wonderful time filled with conversation. 

Thursday was a blur; Mauri had class in the morning, so Cheyanne and I revisited the stores we had sworn to see again, finally making some purchases, grabbing MORE scones and tea and then meeting Mauri back at her flat once she was done with class. That night we went to Johnny Depp's favorite pub in England, the Evil Eye Lounge. They serve incredible Thai food, and for whatever reason, I ordered falafel. (haha) However, they had a really awesome Elderflower cocktail. After the Evil Eye, we went to Betty's - a really fancy tea house and restaurant/dessert shop. We enjoyed some delightful desserts before heading home. 

Friday morning we attended Mauri's theology class, which was really interesting. Then she took us to see the sheep fields. But there were no sheep. We took a beautiful walk along the river to get there. Everything in England was so green and so incredible. It was quite lovely. That afternoon I met up with my brother, Sean, who is currently working in Sheffield designing video games. Sheffield is only about an hour's train ride from York. The beautiful thing about Europe is that nothing is more than a short train ride away. We walked around York for a bit before going to (once again) the Evil Eye. This time, I did try their Thai food, and it was incredible. After our late lunch, we did some more sight seeing, taking some great pictures of the Museum Gardens and of the city in general. After a lot more walking and talking, we settled into another pub for some drinks and ended up talking the night away! It was incredible to see him and catch up. I've been incredibly blessed this past year with opportunities to start to get to know my siblings. I would be a fool if I didn't take them. But of course, with both of us in England  - of all places - at the same time, was an opportunity impossible to pass up. 

Saturday was our day in London, which truly deserves a post of its own. And so, I will be crafting my London post over the course of this next week, because we took a million pictures! I also have a post about the musical Once up my sleeve, so check back for a mid-week post and my weekly Sunday post.

Cheers!

-Em