Series: Guiding Hands

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Carpe diem

This entry is part 13 of 17 in the series Guiding Hands

One of my graduate assistantship assignments was to accompany the opera workshop. Ms. Cecelia Schieve guest-directed the program for a few semesters. Based in Boston, she would come to Kent periodically, a few weeks at a time to give workshops and stage operas/scenes. Voice students would come to rehearsals at their assigned times. I, sitting at the bench throughout all the rehearsals, had the most chances to observe the classes and to learn from her.

Trained as a mezzo-soprano, Ms. Schieve always speaks with a rich tone. Big boned, she could seem stern when she wasn’t smiling. But once getting to know her better, I realized that she was caring and humorous.

Although limited by time, she still managed to provide students with as much information as possible. I learned about the fourth wall and how it allowed the actors the freedom to bring to life the imaginary world behind the proscenium. I learned of stage directions. I learned how the term “upstage” came about.[1] Extending her knowledge in dance, she demonstrated how one should move on an operatic stage.

From her, I learned that, good diction was more than correct pronunciations of consonants and vowels. The duration and the timing of each component of words could make or break a musical phrase. Of course, this kind of preciseness would require careful listening and practice. Having learned to be aware of such details, I was able to relate it to Mr. Wustman’s frequent mentioning of legato lines. Consonants interrupt the flow of sounds. However, they are crucial to the meaning of words and verses. They must be produced with clarity and energy but swiftly.

With limited resources and small group of students, Mr. Schieve introduced some contemporary one-act operas to Kent audiences. We did A Hand of Bridge by Samuel Barber, Angèlique by Jacques Ibert, and The Face on the Barroom Floor by Henry Mollicone.[2] These short operas prepared me for large works of modern era.

Ms. Schieve always had a book, often romance novel, with her. She would pull it out during breaks and read quietly. The other item that she carried around was a little notebook. Whenever she heard or saw something that she didn’t know, she would make a note, in order to learn about it later—meaning ASAP. Observing her, I realized how crucial time-management could be to one’s success. I also realized how knowledgeable people accumulate their information, and how they never stop learning. Carpe diem.

Ms. Schieve continues to be active in educating young singers and cultivating audiences. I hope that our works will bring us together again.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rake_(theatre)
[2] Face-on-the-Barroom-Floor, Vegas City Opera

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Ripetete

This entry is part 14 of 17 in the series Guiding Hands

I was required to study two languages, non-credit, as “research tools.” With my interest in vocal music, Italian and German became natural choices. I signed up for undergraduate beginning Italian course. Dr. Giovanna Jackson was our teacher.

On the first day of class, she walked in; greeted us in Italian and gestured for us to return the greetings. She avoided using English as much as possible. Whenever we were leaning new words or phrases, she would demonstrate and say, “Ripetete.”

Other than teaching Italian, Dr. Jackson was also the Director of International Student Affairs at Kent State. She taught a few other music students before me. So, she already knew me and my work prior to having me in her class. I was the odd duck in that class—Asian and a decade older than the other students. Having a supportive teacher was comforting, to say the least.

After one semester of group instructions, I began independent study with Dr. Jackson. We worked on translations of operas: Barber of Seville and La traviata. I remember her explaining the meaning of the word traviata to me. The word is the past-participle of “traviare,” in feminine form. It comes from tra, meaning “in between,” “across,” “beyond,” and via, “road,” “way” and “path.” Hence, traviare means “to stray from the path.” La traviata is a woman who’s lost her way. She would read the verses with me, showing me the flow of the sound—the built-in rhythm of the Italian language in sync with word stresses.

She was extremely encouraging and helpful in my planning to study in Perugia. Later, she joined my dissertation committee. Before my final defense, Dr. Shindle struck up a conversation with her, realizing that she was the fellow student at Indiana University who helped him with Italian texts in his dissertation. Life goes in circles.

Dr. Jackson came to the States at an early age. Because of her experiences adjusting to new environment and cultures, she understood the challenges of international students. She assisted students in immigration matters and their needs while studying at Kent. She held cross-cultural events involving local community. For some reasons, I always ran into unexpected immigration issues. She was with me every step of the way.

In her heart, Dr. Jackson was through-and-through Italian. She cared for her two boys as well as her students like an Italian mamma. She cooked delicious Italian dishes. She never stopped educating people about Italian language, films and music. From her, I saw the possibility of establishing a life in the States while maintaining my cultural identity. Sadly, she passed away twelve years ago. I treasured the time that we spent together.