“I am seven feet tall. And I will kill you if I do not get the role I desire.”
HA!
But moving on, (because it’s not really ALL about me…) I’ve been meaning to post an email from a wonderful tenor I met in Seattle, whose big heart and boundless humor are matched only by his beautiful voice. I still choke up to read this. He touches on some of the things that I find most compelling about performing and studying music: how you open yourself to others in a way that doesn’t happen in daily life, and how the act of recreating art from an earlier time is not only thrilling, but a way of creating another world. Or rather, I feel, speaking with the dead.
Also below is Kevin’s portrait, when he miraculously matched the color of the dining room wall in my apartment in Seattle.
Dear Friends,
As I write, I am on the plane heading home. So much of me is still attached to each of you. Perhaps the only thing sadder for me than the end of the music is that awful feeling of letting go of people I have come to admire, people who have touched my life in some new and deeply meaningful way. Being a professional musician has so many glamorous benefits. There are the beautiful cities, the splendid costumes and of course, the glorious music. There is the excitement of travel and the anticipation of making those new relationships that lift us up to a higher, more beautiful level of being. What a gift it is to have music in our lives, and what a responsibility it is for us to preserve this great art, and to continually renew it either by recreating the past, or creating something new and significant for another generation.
These ten days past have been not only rewarding for me, but revelatory. I was able to rise to new challenges, conquer some old fears and most of all, to cement more than a dozen new friendships. At the moment, I confess that I am sad that time and place and art like what we have just experienced has now faded into the atmosphere. A darkened stage is the loneliest place I know. But I rejoice in the good will and the love that I came to experience with each of you, and in turn, I hope that there was something in or from me that made a difference for good in you.
I have a firm faith in the art of music as a catalyst for change. I believe with every fiber of my being that we, the purveyors of that which is good, just and beautiful were placed on this mortal coil to do good, to soothe pain, to challenge evil; to protect that which is eternal and to heal through sound. Music, like the spirit, never dies. Instead it continues onward into the cosmos on an infinite journey. Those sounds which now seem to have died have taken on a new life, and hopefully they will fall on receptive ears somewhere, somehow beyond our knowing.
To our wonderful faculty, thank you for the knowledge and the patience and for and for giving us the freedom to fly on our own. I can speak for us all when I say that your gifts to us are immeasurable.
To each of you: Borys, John, Yulia, John, Doug, Thea, Beth, Jennifer, Katy, Ilya, Amanda, Matthew, Amy and Jason; thank you for the music, and thank you for the love. Thank you for the gales of laughter and serious discussions. Thank you for the girl talk and even for the occasional admonition. You’ve all written a chapter of my story, and I have been blessed beyond measure to have shared in your lives. Perhaps it’s a bit corny to quote song lyrics. It’s almost as if I’m signing your yearbook or something. But I think that the songwriter said it well when he said: “Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better? But, because I knew you, I have been changed, for good.”
With the deepest affection,
Kevin
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