"Tonight was our recital. It was the first time I sang in front of a big crowd. And loud too. We did great." Sahiba, a freshman, shared on Facebook last night right after Oakland Technical High's small chorus gave its solo voice recital. (I've been directing the program at the school for about two years.) She was clearly proud and excited. In fact, she sang "Smile" wonderfully, even though pundits would have criticized the fact that she sang along with Michael Jackson on recording. As a beginning singer, she understood she wasn't quite ready to sing on her own to piano or karaoke accompaniment.
The whole event was unorthodox; our group of shy beginners didn't look remotely like "Glee." Some sang out of tune from nerves. One student, when he sang in front of people, forgot the words and needed someone else to be singing with him so he could keep going. One young woman who rarely speaks, in class or outside of class, mastered her fear and sang -- even though many of her notes were "wrong." The singers' faces showed determination, fear, focus, and total lack of pretense; they weren't ready yet to add "performance values" of facial expression and gesture. Just getting up to bare their voices in public was a huge challenge and victory because revealing our singing voices makes us unbelievably vulnerable. To sing means to let go.
And yet, hearing the tone, texture, colors, sweetness or roughness of each voice blessed us who listened. We looked briefly into the spirit of each young person, just as they are. We entered the miracle of self acceptance, if just for a moment.
Before the performance, I tried to explain my philosophy about singing to the audience of parents. I tried to explain that the reason to sing is because you love it and you love music, not to impress people or be a great singer. I tried to explain that each person's voice is unique and beautiful right where it is, that it takes time to find where your voice feels right in terms of technique, that telling people to "be quiet, you can't sing," is a huge mistake. But Anne Lamott said it better than I could, in her commencement address at UC Berkeley in 2003. I believe that she captured the reason why we sing. Here's a quote from that speech:
"Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and precious life you have been issued. Whether you're going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over people and circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are....... It's magic to see spirit largely because it's so rare. Mostly you see the masks and the holograms that the culture presents as real. You see how you're doing in the world's eyes, or your family's, or yours, or in the eyes of people who are doing better than you -- much better than you –or worse. But you are not your bank account, or your ambitiousness. You're not the cold clay lump with a big belly you leave behind when you die. You are spirit, you are love, and, while it is increasingly hard to believe, you are free. If you find out next week that you are terminally ill -- and we're all terminally ill on this planet-- all that will matter is memories of beauty, that people loved you, and you loved them, and that you tried to help the poor and innocent."
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
West Side Story
Last week I lived in King's Beach, CA, next to Lake Tahoe, directing a project called "West Side Story Remix." The project, sponsored by an amazing organization called Arts for the Schools, consisted of a week of rehearsals for an adapted, student cast version of West Side Story, and four days of creative writing classes at Truckee High School. My heart/mind is still "processing" the impact on my life of a week of magic, tears and love.
It snowed. A lot. From a gray and green rainy Oakland landscape I was immersed in a pure white wonderland.
In a sports-oriented rural community, high school age boys were at first reluctant to join the cast (singing and dancing don't feel as masculine as snow boarding?). But when they did, they loved it.
A few days after we began rehearsals, a beloved boy at one of our project's high schools committed suicide. Students in the monologue writing workshops wrote about feeling lost, alone, and seeking. Suddenly we faced the fact that young people in our society need a different kind of support than just "stay in school." The project became much larger than putting on a wonderful performance of an iconic musical theater work. The transforming nature of the dramatic form called Tragedy began to connect us to our own real lives.
Our cast of 20 middle and high school performers were largely inexperienced. Many had never even been in a play before. As the week proceeded, I watched the miracle of our teens blossoming. Living night and day with the ancient story based on "Romeo and Juliet," thrust our bodies and spirits into the center of life's questions about Love, Loss, Hate, Betrayal, Hope, Redemption, Heroism. I believe that the audience for our one performance last Friday night was transformed as well. I believe they left the theater knowing the power of love.
It snowed. A lot. From a gray and green rainy Oakland landscape I was immersed in a pure white wonderland.
In a sports-oriented rural community, high school age boys were at first reluctant to join the cast (singing and dancing don't feel as masculine as snow boarding?). But when they did, they loved it.
A few days after we began rehearsals, a beloved boy at one of our project's high schools committed suicide. Students in the monologue writing workshops wrote about feeling lost, alone, and seeking. Suddenly we faced the fact that young people in our society need a different kind of support than just "stay in school." The project became much larger than putting on a wonderful performance of an iconic musical theater work. The transforming nature of the dramatic form called Tragedy began to connect us to our own real lives.
Our cast of 20 middle and high school performers were largely inexperienced. Many had never even been in a play before. As the week proceeded, I watched the miracle of our teens blossoming. Living night and day with the ancient story based on "Romeo and Juliet," thrust our bodies and spirits into the center of life's questions about Love, Loss, Hate, Betrayal, Hope, Redemption, Heroism. I believe that the audience for our one performance last Friday night was transformed as well. I believe they left the theater knowing the power of love.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Freedom
Hopefully it won't fade from the news, the crisis in Libya. My heart reaches out, and I try to make sense of what's happening. The revolution's purpose is to get rid of a dictator,and also to achieve freedom, right?
The dictionary definition of freedom is "absence of restraint, coercion or necessity of choice or action." Pandora's box opens; by this definition no one is really free, since we can't do whatever we want if it involves hurting others or taking away their rights. Now in Libya the rebels are under fire. How can they agree on creating a new government, or even achieve unity when so much sacrifice is required?
I take basic political freedoms for granted and complain about the lack of habeas corpus at Gitmo, or the recent threats to collective bargaining. The day to day accounts of the chaos, death and pain happening in North Africa force me to wonder: what is so important that I would sacrifice my comfort and my life for it? As an artist and educator, do I just express my ideas, or do I have the courage and integrity to walk them?
The dictionary definition of freedom is "absence of restraint, coercion or necessity of choice or action." Pandora's box opens; by this definition no one is really free, since we can't do whatever we want if it involves hurting others or taking away their rights. Now in Libya the rebels are under fire. How can they agree on creating a new government, or even achieve unity when so much sacrifice is required?
I take basic political freedoms for granted and complain about the lack of habeas corpus at Gitmo, or the recent threats to collective bargaining. The day to day accounts of the chaos, death and pain happening in North Africa force me to wonder: what is so important that I would sacrifice my comfort and my life for it? As an artist and educator, do I just express my ideas, or do I have the courage and integrity to walk them?
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