Meet Our Singers: WILLIAM BURDEN, Orphée

Tonight will mark the second performance of Orphée et Eurydice, starring tenor William Burden as the devoted musician Orphée. Burden is a familiar face and voice with Seattle Opera, most recently singing the role of Edgardo in last season’s Lucia di Lammermoor (a production that featured our Eurydice, Davinia Rodríguez, as Lucia in the alternate cast). Now he’s back for his debut in this role, and today we chat with him about the challenges of singing Orphée and what this powerful myth means to him.

Orphée et Eurydice runs for five more performance, through March 10. For ticket information, visit our website.

You and Conductor Gary Thor Wedow have previously worked on another Gluck opera, in 2007 when Seattle Opera did Iphigénie en Tauride. Why is it good to have him leading this music?
First and foremost, Gary really likes singers. That’s huge for us singers, because he always comes at the work with our best interest at heart and with a deep understanding of what we do. He gets what we’re experiencing so he can be as helpful as possible. In this music, he has a wonderful ability to keep us on the straight and narrow and keep it specific and very stylistically French, and then within that framework find freedom for our individual expression. It just really makes for the best opportunity for us to do our best work.

William Burden as Orphée in Seattle Opera's current production of Orphée et Eurydice.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

The tessitura of this role is extremely high, especially if you use modern intonation. Is that unusual in your repertory? Do you have to do anything special to prepare your voice to live up in the stratosphere for these weeks?
What it requires me to do, from a technical standpoint, is to sort of change my concept of tenor singing. If I’m singing anything that is in later standard repertoire, high notes become events. In this piece, because of where it lies, that is not the case. High notes are simply part of a context of an overarching role.

Do you have a favorite moment in Orphée et Eurydice?
There are aspects of each scene I love. Orphée basically starts out on earth, on this plane of existence, and then Orphée travels into the underworld, first going into this sort of purgatory with the Furies, and once there he has to rely on his gift of music to try and make his way through all these obstacles. There are beautiful chorus moments here that I love to listen to. Throughout this piece, the chorus is an incredible character in itself. Then Orphée goes into the Elysian Fields, which is more like heaven, and the Blessed Spirits sing exquisitely beautiful music. So I have to say I truly enjoy the listening time in this.

Orphée (William Burden) with the Furies in the underworld...
Photo by Elise Bakketun

...and with the Blessed Spirits in the Elysian Fields.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

But the variation of my music in all these different places is also really interesting. I guess from an acting standpoint, one of the things I really love is the duet moment when he has found Eurydice and they’re trying to make their way to the surface. It’s a wonderful moment, and it is the most dramatically exciting moment because of the give and take between the characters. There’s so much of this opera that is about Orphée trying to express himself, so it’s kind of a relief to have that extended dialogue with someone else. There’s time with Eurydice and that wonderful duet, and then after the short period where she dies again, Amour comes in and there’s a trio. In a piece like this, it’s sort of a relief to get to sing with other people! [Laughs]

Of all the tests the gods could choose, why do you think Orphée is not permitted to meet Eurydice’s gaze on the way back up from the underworld?
Well, I think it’s probably because they knew it would be the hardest thing for him to do. And I think it’s not so hard for him to not look at her; the hardest thing is not being able to explain to her why he’s not. If he could just say, “Give me 15 minutes and I’ll explain it all,” but he’s not allowed to. There’s a moment we’re playing with where he almost accidentally sees her, and then says to the gods, “When is it going to be enough?” Finally, he can’t take it anymore and does turn to her. It’s very Greek—they always put the most obvious but most difficult hurdle in front of the mortals they were trying to test.

What does this story mean to you?
Not to cop out on my answer, but I think I’m still coming to terms with that. What I’m finding most interesting is the levels of love and loss and the emotional highs and lows of that, when you lose the greatest love. The most complete sense of loss is at the end of the famous aria, “J’ai perdu mon Eurydice,” and we’ve staged it in this really wonderful way where Orphée is almost like a little kid. He just can’t see through his own tears, and he’s desperate and alone. I think opera in general has always dealt with those themes, but this opera is so specific and, consequently, universal because of it.

Orphée (William Burden) mourns Eurydice (Davinia Rodríguez) in Seattle Opera's current production of Orphée et Eurydice.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

Initially, I was disappointed to discover this version of the Orpheus myth had a happy ending tacked on. But now I think going from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other is a wonderful thing.
Yeah! It is so beautiful. I hope people get to do that. I hope people get to experience that incredible sadness and then not be disappointed by the happiness at the end. But, you know, that was the convention of the times. There’s a ridiculous word for it—“apotheosis”—and they had to have this intervention of the gods that makes everything OK in the end. In some versions of this story, his despair is so great that his music actually moves the women who hear it to literally tear him apart. But if that were to happen, he would still get to be with Eurydice, so in essence the ending is somewhat the same.

The other thing I think is really curious—and I’ll be interested to hear people’s response to this—is to take it from Eurydice’s perspective. Even though she’s lost so much, once she gets to Elysium, she doesn’t remember all that. She’s in this incredibly blissful place. How hard it must be to be taken away from that! That’s why it’s so difficult for her, and hurts her so much, when Orphée won’t look at her. Not only did she leave a place where she was so content, but now he’s treating her like that? She even says at one point, “Why did I leave there so you can go afflict me?” Those are huge emotions. It’s big stuff.

Eurydice (Davinia Rodríguez) and Orphée (William Burden) reunited.
Photo by Elise Bakketun.

Act 1 of Orphée is mostly about expressing grief, and Orphée continues to suffer, and to tell us about it, as the opera goes on. Is there a danger of this character coming across as self-pitying?
There definitely is. I think what actually stops it from becoming self-pitying is Amour coming in and basically saying, “OK, snap out of it. You have options, and now we’re going to see whether or not you’re man enough to follow through.” I think grief in itself is an incredibly selfish emotion; when someone has passed on, they’ve gone on. To something else, or to nothing else, depending on your belief system, but they’ve moved on. And grief is our sense of having lost that person. Self-pity is part and parcel of grief, and what gets you through grief is recognizing, “I’ve allowed myself to feel this way, and now I’m going to embrace that person’s life and move on myself.” Or, you can wallow in that place that eventually has nothing to do with that person you’ve lost. I think that’s probably one of the reasons this piece doesn’t get completely to the point of self-pity, because it remains about Eurydice and getting her back.

ORPHEUS ODYSSEY - Week 3 Clues!

2/28 Update: This week's tickets have been claimed, at Utilikilts in Pioneer Square! Don't forget, the last round of our "Orpheus Odyssey" starts on Monday--and this time we'll have TWO chances to win. _____________________________________________________________ Originally posted on Monday, February 27, 2012, at 10 a.m.

Orphée et Eurydice opened Saturday night, yet the Orpheus Odyssey continues!

On the first week of our Orpheus Odyssey treasure hunt, Nick G. claimed the hidden tickets at That's Amore! cafe in Mt. Baker--after only one clue! Our second week clues proved a little trickier, but Stona Jackson, assisted by Orpheus-in-training Noah (pictured below), deciphered the second clue and picked up the second-week tickets at Dusty Strings, a music store in Fremont.

Photo courtesy Safia Jackson

Another hunt begins this week. We've stashed another free pair of Orphée et Eurydice tickets somewhere in Seattle; your job is to decipher our increasingly fiendish clues and liberate the tickets. If you need a refresher on how these treasure hunts work, check out the rules. If you're ready to travel on, here are clues for Week 3's great mystery of Orpheus:

CLUE #1 (posted 2/27)
223 years after pudding, glue. yUcK, Phlegethon!

CLUE #2 (posted 2/28)
A Cerberus of raven, mink, orca (and more) threatens those who seek what lies beneath.

WEEK 3 PASSWORD
"Open Brook"

Know which business this is referring to? If so, a pair of tickets to the March 10 performance of Orphée et Eurydice await, available for claiming this week from 11 a.m.-6 p.m. this Monday through Friday, or 10 a.m.-6 p.m. on Saturday.

If you're stumped, come back to this blog every morning this week (or check out our Facebook or Twitter pages) for a NEW CLUE, until the tickets have been won. The final hunts begin next Monday.

Good luck...

Art Credit: "Orpheus" by Karoly Ferenczy, 1894

Meet Our Singers: JULIANNE GEARHART, Amour

Today we chat with soprano Julianne Gearhart, a former Seattle Opera Young Artist and our Amour in Orphée et Eurydice. As the god of love, Gearhart gives a happy ending to this usually tragic Greek myth, so we ask her what motivates her character—and what it's like to ride a shiny golden bicycle on stage.

Orphée et Eurydice opened on Saturday, and runs for five more performances through March 10. For more info, visit our website, and keep checking in on the blog this week for more Q&As with our artists!

Julianne, audiences at Orphée et Eurydice will certainly remember you from your unique entrance: riding a golden bicycle. What’s it like to ride a bike on stage?
You have to get really used to how far you have to ride and how long you have to get there so you can time it. There was a moment in rehearsal where I didn’t stop quite as fast as I was hoping to stop and I panicked that I was going to run into the soprano. It would be really bad if I run somebody over on stage! So there are things that can go wrong, but it’s cute and I think it’ll be really fun and effective and a good pun. I think director Jose Maria Condemi’s pun about the deus ex machina on the bicycle is hilarious—because I get my little machina.

William Burden (Orphée) and Julianne Gearhart (Amour) in Seattle Opera's production of Orphée et Eurydice.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

What are other unusual modes of transportation you’ve had on stage?
Well, I think the craziest one was here, in Ariadne auf Naxos in 2004. We had a custom-made grand piano as long as this room—30 feet or so—and put a sail on it and sailed it onto the stage.

The comics land on Naxos in the 2004 Ariadne: William Saetre (Brighella), Steven Goldstein (Scaramuccio), Seth Malkin (Truffaldino, holding up sail), Julianne Gearhart (Zerbinetta), and Philip Cutlip (Harlekin).
Photo by Rozarii Lynch

But I don’t think I’ve had too many crazy entrances. Maybe getting carried on by men, or that sort of thing. Or flying, or being in a hot air balloon. I’ve never actually taken a live animal, though, and that would be fun. I’ve never gotten to do anything that elegant.

This is a very serious opera but your character tends to bring a brighter attitude onto the stage. How do you expect that to play out with audiences?
There’s an insouciance about Amour and the way she comes across, and I think it’s fun for the audience—but it’s very serious for the people on stage.

Julianne Gearhart (Amour) in Seattle Opera's production of Orphée et Eurydice.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

What motivates Amour?
She’s just a god, this is her job. A little bit of the idea we’re going with is that that Amour rescuing Orphée is just one of a long list of recues she is getting through that day. The only interesting thing that Amour wants and gets away with throughout the course of the show is, she makes such a big deal of telling Orphée that “the gods hear your prayers and sent me,” and “the gods are the ones you have to thank,” and “give thanks to Jupiter,” but then the end of the opera comes, and Amour takes all the credit. So that’s the only thing I do that’s kind of personal in the whole thing. The rest is just part of the job. Amour is really just the messenger—but it’s fun to watch her say that throughout the opera and then, at the end, say, “Nope, it’s all because of meeeee!” [Laughs]

So, why do you think Amour commands Orphée not to look at Eurydice?
I think it’s just the message she was sent with. I don’t think it necessarily means anything to Amour. In rehearsal, we talked a little about the meaning of that order, because it’s translated from French as “silence.” It’s not only not looking at her; it’s not explaining the situation. When Amour makes a big deal about it, she’s telling Orphée to keep the silence and submit to the discipline. But I’m not sure there’s a reason why that’s chosen.

Julianne Gearhart (Amour) with the Seattle Opera Chorus (as Blessed Spirits) in Orphée et Eurydice.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

One of your first roles at Seattle Opera was Musetta in the Young Artists Program production of La bohème. But generally you don’t sing a lot of Puccini, do you?
Yeah, I definitely don’t even sing a lot of Italian opera anymore. As you progress in your career, you find some specialties—and, actually, now is a really nice time for me to be doing something like Orphée et Eurydice, because I like early music but haven’t had many chances to go back to it. I did some Monteverdi last year and that was my first chance. This is an exciting opportunity because I have been mostly doing late 19th century and 20th century German stuff, so this is like a new world that’s opening up.

Highlighting Orphée Instrumental solos

Musically, Orphée et Eurydice is a sumptuous feast for the ears, and before we open tonight I wanted to point out a couple of its special delights. Those of you who like to peer into the orchestra pit during the performance will see two instruments you don't always find in an opera orchestra: the theorbo, played by Stephen Stubbs (right), and harpsichord, played by Phil Kelsey (left).

The theorbo is a type of lute developed in Florence during the late sixteenth century. Typically it has fourteen courses (pairs) of strings and eight long single bass strings, stopped on frets. Given its size, the theorbo makes enough sound to be heard in a vast modern opera house. Stephen Stubbs, the international lute superstar and Artistic Director of Pacific Musicworks, alternates in these performances between it and baroque guitar.

Phil Kelsey, meanwhile, is playing a replica of an early 18th-century German harpsichord, built by David Calhoun of Seattle, owned by Tamara Friedman and George Bozarth, and maintained by Devin Zimmer. Phil, who is Seattle Opera's Assistant Conductor, spoke to us on Staff Chat recently; he also conducts the offstage banda during Acts 1 and 2 of Orphée:

In Act One, the banda (above, l to r, Matt McGrath (double bass), Chuck Jacot (cello), Penelope Crane (viola), Xiao-po Fei (violin), Timothy Garland (violin), Ben Hausmann (oboe)) echo the lamentations of the lonely Orphée, who keeps tossing his voice into the vast emptiness and hearing the sounds he makes come back to him courtesy of Ben Hausmann's oboe. In Act Two, the offstage banda is pizzicato strings and harp (played by Valerie Muzzolini-Gordon), as Orphée plucks away at the heart-strings of the terrible Furies in their great confrontation:

After Orphée makes it past the Furies, he heads for the Elysian Fields, where we hear the famous "Dance of the Blessed Spirits," featuring a solo performed by Demarre McGill, principal flute player of Seattle Symphony.

During this solo, the Blessed Spirits, as danced by (l to r) Daniel Howerton, Kate Chamberlin, Scott Bartell, Marissa Quimby, Demetrius Tabron, Roxanne Foster, and Kyle Johnson, welcome us to Elysium.


All photos by Elise Bakketun

Orpheus and Eurydice: Preview Trailer

Showcasing the stately sophistication of Gluck’s miraculous music, the trailer video of our new production includes footage of Orpheus lamenting his lost love, confronting the Furies, basking in the tranquility of the Elysian Fields and, with help from Amore, leading Eurydice out of the underworld to a joyous reunion. Compelling choreography, splendid choruses, evocative scenery, and spirited singing enhance this classic story in which love conquers all.



Learn more about Orpheus and Eurydice on the Seattle Opera Website

Meet Our Director: JOSE MARIA CONDEMI

Time now to check in with our wonderful Orphée et Eurydice director, Jose Maria Condemi (left), who has also been involved in the design of this new production every step of the way. Jose Maria has been associated with Seattle Opera for about ten years. When he and I spoke last week, we remembered ancient history, talked about some of the design choices you’ll see in our production, and about the importance of willpower, both to avoid looking at Eurydice and to resist the temptation to scarf Oreo cookies.

Jose Maria, first tell us about your history with this opera.
I staged Orfeo ed Euridice, the Italian version, four years ago at a small opera company in Palo Alto. We had a very small budget, so we really had to strive for simplicity because there wasn’t much by way of resources. But that’s what Gluck wanted to do—his concept was ‘noble simplicity,’ and so the budgetary constraints became something powerful for the piece. When this opportunity came up, to do the French version for Seattle, with a little more money, I wanted to keep it simple.

What other operas share this aesthetic of ‘noble simplicity’?
Dido and Aeneas, let’s see, Carlisle Floyd’s Susannah. In those the minimal approach helps concentrate the juices.

Is it possible for a production to interfere with the opera by getting too busy?

Everything depends on whether the story is well-told. It can be told many ways. Bob Wilson did a very static Orphée, and it can also work with Baroque eccentricity. The older I get the more I realize that the real question is, does the approach strengthen the story-telling, or does it distract from it? For instance, now we’re doing the French version of Gluck’s Orphée, and in the score, after the last vocal cutoff, there’s 20 pages of dancing. After the story is over. For me, cutting that was a no-brainer. The dances earlier in the opera, we use for story-telling. But once the story is over, there’s no reason for these dances to go on and on. We want to concentrate it. It’s like when you make a really good marinara sauce, you slow-cook it for a long time, and concentrate the juices over many hours.

Let’s talk about your history with Seattle Opera.
Yes, I first came here more than ten years ago. I was the assistant for Salome and Un ballo in maschera—

Whoa, that was a long time ago!
--and then after that I came to do the full-year residency with Mourning Becomes Electra, Carmen, and Ariadne, and Fanciulla, the first year in the new hall.

And you directed Così fan tutte for the Young Artists Program in there.
Yes. I loved that year! To get to work with so many directors, and I loved doing the Così for the Young Artists.

What were some of the things you learned from the directors you assisted?
One of those shows, I worked with a fantastic theater director who didn’t have that much experience directing opera. So that was about watching somebody try to find a way of translating that work—even the language is different, you talk to an opera singer differently than you do to an actor. You use different words. With Mourning Becomes Electra, well, Bart Sher was great, and Lauren Flanigan is a dramatic powerhouse, so the discussions between them were juicy. It was great to assist Bernard Uzan, who has a lot of experience, knows exactly what he wants, and is very practical and to-the-point. And with Chris Alexander on Ariadne, it was fascinating to see him weave his way through. I learned a lot by watching people do what I do now, in their own different styles.

Jose Maria Condemi in rehearsal (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Then, in 2007, you made your debut as director with La bohème.
Yes, with that dream cast, with Nuccia Focile. I love working in Seattle—it’s difficult, because usually you have the two different casts, but it’s great because it keeps a director humble. I can have the best ideas for an opera, but if I don’t know how to communicate them well, it ends up being just great ideas. But here, where you have two different casts, it tests whether you’re really good at communicating your ideas. Because one performer might get it, and the other might not. And that’s not their fault—maybe I need to find an alternative way of saying it, or getting one particular performer to the same place I got the other one. That’s wonderful. It’s hard. It requires flexibility, to negotiate ideas with two very different casts. This time, with Orphée, it’s the first time in Seattle I’ve had only one cast. I feel a little like: “Where’s the Silver cast?”

Which would you rather direct: an opera like Orphée, which is abstract and dreamlike, or an opera like La bohème, which is almost cinematic in its realistic specificity?
They are different challenges. With Orphée, which is almost Baroque, the challenge is to avoid letting people sing beautifully without telling a story. You have to really dig into the material and sometimes even add layers that are not there. Because otherwise, when you present these operas to a twenty-first-century audience, they can feel a little dated: “I already got the point, why are you nailing it over and over to me?” That’s the challenge, you have to be respectful, but you have to take what’s in the music, and use it to tell a story. It’s about finding 25 different shades of gray. Whereas with a piece like Bohème, most of the fun for me is to challenge the performers to think about what they take for granted. With an opera like that, people get too used to it, and then they don’t think about it—it loses freshness. What you want is for the staging to become a choice, instead of something they repeat just because it’s what you’re supposed to do.

Are there any operas that you absolutely refuse to direct?
I hate Werther. Don’t ask me why. I just want to give him a gun and tell him to go and use it.

The production team works on the Orphée designs. L to r: Connie Yun (Lighting Designer), Heidi Zamora (Costume Designer), Susan Davis (Costume Shop Manager), Jose Maria Condemi (Director), and Robert Schaub (Technical Director) (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Can you tell us a bit about our Orphée production? I hear we’re using the trap door, and according to the production notes we seem to have lots of mud and bowls of water and flower petals...
The mud, I wanted to find something universal, for the first scene, about how people grieve. I don’t want to set this production in any specific time or place, but a lot of communities throughout the ages, and throughout the world, have used mud, applied to the body, as a way of cleansing grief. You give yourself grief to take away grief, you use mud to clean your body. As for the trap door, that’s part of our story-telling: I mean, he does go down into the underworld! I think it helps organize the story. On the journey back, when Orphée is leading Eurydice back to the upper world, they’re coming up through the trap. I’m excited about the design, I think it’s simple but effective for the story and should still leave a lot of room for interpretation—so people can bring what they want to bring. If they want to see the pastoral, which is in the piece, they can. If they want humor, well, we’re playing the human qualities of the gods.

Of Amour, the god/goddess of love.
Amour, but also Orphée. He’s a demigod, but here we play him just as a guy. We were just talking about The Queen, the movie starring Helen Mirren, and I think the power of that movie is that it presents Queen Elizabeth as a person. In most poignant moment in that movie she’s driving and her jeep breaks down, and she has to call for help. Orpheus may be divine, but he’s dealing with a very human problem: grief, what do you do when the person you love dies?

Rehearsing Orphée et Eurydice: Davinia Rodriguez (Eurydice), William Burden (Orphée), and Jose Maria Condemi (Alan Alabastro, photo)

What do you make of the big struggle in Act Two, when Eurydice keeps asking “Why aren’t you looking at me?” and Orpheus keeps saying “No, I must not look at you!”
That’s the biggest challenge for Orphée. He gets through the Furies with ease. What ought to be the hardest part of his quest, to convince the Furies to let him go down to Hades, he does like that [snaps fingers]. But there’s this little fine print the gods gave him, this condition: You can talk to her, but you cannot look at her in the eye and you cannot tell her why. You can speak with her—in fact they have a long conversation—but you cannot say “the reason why I can’t look at you is because you will die.” It’s about restraint. Can you control yourself, can you delay gratification? Amour says very clearly, “If you do this, you WILL have a happy ending!” Yet Orphée is really struggling. It’s the same thing with me and the Oreo cookies that tempted me yesterday—some people are good at dieting, some are not! I know that sounds a little pedestrian, but that’s what it’s about. That’s what keeps us interested in that scene—will Orphée be strong enough not to look at Eurydice?

What’s the biggest surprise about working on this production so far, to you?
It’s not just this production, but people have these ideas about what Baroque opera is—that it’s either a frilly little thing, like an eighteenth-century painting with little Cupids in the corners, or that it’s extremely modern, something they saw on YouTube from a European production. There are these extremes. The one we’re doing here—I don’t really call it modern. Nobody doing anything that you could pinpoint to a specific time. It’s just general human behavior.

Will it remind Seattle Opera audiences of your La bohème or Il trovatore?
No, not in the slightest.

In rehearsal, Director Jose Maria Condemi and Choreographer Yannis Adoniou check a still photograph for reference (Alan Alabastro, photo)

One last question: what is the role of still photography in your work as a stage director?
I love photography, and I love photography-as-storytelling...when an image tells a complete story.

But you’re aren’t a photographer, yourself?
No. I collect photos. Sometimes one image becomes the gesture for an entire production. The trick is, can I to tell my performers why? It’s almost like a gut feeling...that what I’m seeing speaks to what I feel about a piece. I was watching today as Yannis Adoniou, our choreographer, worked with the dancers. They have these hoods, in the Furies scene, but when they pull them back you see the contour of their faces. And it’s exactly the image of the Pompeii casts, which was one of our dramaturgical source-photos for this production. You know, the corpses at Pompeii. They’re obviously dead, but they were caught in a very life-like position. That always felt to me like the Furies, but I didn’t know exactly how it was going to play in the production. Between how the costumes turned out, and what Yannis is having them do, it has worked out exactly.

For more from Jose Maria Condemi, as well as a sneak peek of Orphée et Eurydice rehearsals, watch his recent Director's Talk video below:

ORPHEUS ODYSSEY - Week 2 Clues!

2/22 Update: This week's tickets have been claimed, at Dusty Strings in Fremont! We figured an instrument shop would be the perfect place to hide Orphée et Eurydice tickets--but where will we hide next week's pair? That's top secret, but come back on Monday for another round of clues!
_____________________________________________________________

Originally posted on Monday, February 21, 2012, at 10 a.m.

Our first "Orpheus Odyssey" hunt lasted only a day, thanks to winner Nick G., a diehard fan of The Simpsons who quickly figured out our first clue, a reference to a Krusty the Clown quote that pointed to That's Amore! Italian Cafe in Mt. Baker. But now we start fresh, and there's another free pair of Orphée et Eurydice tickets stashed somewhere in Seattle, just waiting for you. If you need a refresher on how these treasure hunts work, check out this post. If you're ready to travel on, here are clues for Week 2's Orphic mystery:

CLUE #1 (posted 2/20)
There’s something a bit bovine about this sunbeam and litigator.

CLUE #2 (posted 2/21)
Gateway to dulcet melody of the mountains

CLUE #3 (posted 2/22)
Ashes to Ashes, This on These Subatomic Particles

WEEK 2 PASSWORD
"Luck (forgot the umlaut!)"

Know which business this is referring to? If so, a pair of tickets to the March 10 performance of Orphée et Eurydice await, available for claiming this week from 10 a.m.-6 p.m. this Monday through Saturday, or 12-5 p.m. on Sunday.

If you're stumped, fear not...Orpheus and other Greek heroes found many entrances to the Underworld. Just come back to this blog every morning this week (or check out our Facebook or Twitter pages) for a NEW CLUE, until the tickets have been won. A new hunt begins next Monday.

Good luck...

Art Credit: "Orpheus" by Franz Stuck

Meet Our Conductor: GARY THOR WEDOW

Gary Thor Wedow returns to Seattle Opera to conduct Orphée et Eurydice this season, after last season’s The Magic Flute—another opera about the supernatural power of music. A warm, inspiring presence on the podium who never lets his vast store of knowledge get in the way of communicating emotion musically, Wedow has led almost all of Seattle Opera’s recent excursions into 18th-century music, including Handel’s Giulio Cesare and Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride. We spoke to him about the spooky voices our chorus will use while portraying demons on the path to hell, the brilliant high notes sung by our Orphée, William Burden, and what Orphée et Eurydice has to do with Valentine’s Day.

First off, let’s talk about the actual notes in the score. How does modern pitch differ from what Gluck’s audience might have heard at the first Orphée et Eurydice in 1774?
Pitch changed and was different in every century. Every town had its pitch, and lots of towns had church pitch, which was fixed because it had to agree with their organ. Then there was concert pitch, where the pitch could coordinate with the instruments in the concert.

The pitch at the Paris Opera, where Orphée premiered, was much lower than most of Europe, but right after the premiere, the pitch started dramatically rising there. It was actually Goebbels, Hitler’s propaganda minister, who standardized European pitch in 1938. Previously, in the 19th century, Verdi had tried to legislate a slightly lower pitch. So it’s been a big discussion over the years.

So how do you think this high pitch sits with William Burden, our Orphée?
It sits beautifully with Bill’s voice. He’s a true high tenor, and his voice just glows up there. But that’s not the only component of this role. It’s famous for its high sections, but there are also low sections and there are huge dramatic recitatives that more or less take place in the range of spoken human voice. These composers tried to imitate famous actors of the day, and actors of the day sang their speeches more than they spoke them. “To BE! Or NOT to be!” You know, that sort of thing. Even David Garrick, who was famous for his naturalistic acting, performed in a much more declamatory fashion than we would ever expect an actor to do today.

You know, when the head of the orchestra of the Comédie-Française got bored in the orchestra pit, when he wasn’t playing, he would notate the intonation of famous actresses’ speeches. And he saw that they never varied from their pitch centers. Once they learned a speech they didn’t vary; it was like learning a melody.

Davinia Rodríguez (Eurydice) and Gary Thor Wedow, in rehearsals for Seattle Opera's upcoming production of Orphée et Eurydice.
Photo by Alan Alabastro

How much play do you usually get, as conductor, to ask your singers to disguise or color or otherwise transform the voice they’re using?
Gluck felt that every passion that was expressed in the poetry could be expressed with a timbre or a color of the human voice. So that’s what we’re looking for, constantly shifting timbres—not a bel canto uniformity. For example, when the Furies are singing in hell, I’ve asked them to sing with hell voices, The Exorcist voices. The way their voice teachers hate. We have an exceptional cast of people who are not only wonderful singers but wonderful actors, so they’re very eager to find these different colors.

That goes for the chorus, too?
The chorus is really the star of Orphée. They are three different characters. They’re the nymphs and the shepherds who are friends of Orphée and Eurydice in the first scene, and then in the second scene we’re in hell and they’re the Furies. And even in that scene as they soften, the musical writing changes—they have to change from this hellish voice to the most beautiful plaintive singing, and then we go to Elysium, where everyone must sing beautifully.

We’re doing this story with a male leading a female out of the underworld. But does the story make sense with other genders in those roles?
Absolutely. There’s not a culture in the world that does not have a myth of someone going into the underworld to reclaim the person they love. It’s in all of our dreams. Anybody who has ever loved can imagine parting from their beloved. The story of Jesus Christ follows this pattern, going into the underworld and coming out again. In the Greek myth of Orpheus, Orpheus was a man, so this is the love of a man, a tender man, for a woman. It’s actually a little confused with Orpheus, because Orpheus was considered by many to be the prototype of the homosexual man. Earlier in his life he had been a lover of Apollo. Our version of Orpheus and Euridice has a happy ending, but in the traditional myth he comes back without Euridice and then rejects love of any kind; so the Bacchantes, women who worshipped Bacchus, are so infuriated by this rejection that they tear him limb from limb.

Gary Thor Wedow working with musicians in the pit for Seattle Opera's 2007 production of Giulio Cesare in Egitto.
Photo by Chris Bennion

Why does Gluck’s version have this deus ex machina happy ending?
It was the nature of the theater at that time, in 1774, the audiences demanded a happy ending. It’s like Hollywood in the ‘30s, all movies had to have happy endings. I’m conducting three different Orpheus operas this year; Gluck’s Orphée here, then in May I’m going home to New York to conduct Orpheus by Telemann, which is a very different version of the story. In that opera, Eurydice has a rival, kind of a mad queen who Orpheus works for, and she organizes it that Eurydice gets bit by the snake, thinking that Orpheus will then love her, which he doesn’t. And she then has him ripped to shreds in the end. So it’s a very different story! And then I’m doing a workshop at Queen’s College of Rossi’s Orfeo from 1647. So I’m immersed in Orpheus!

Do you like the happy ending in our version?
We have to accept that it was convention. But also, Cupid, that is Amour in this opera, says a very interesting thing. She says, “The virtue of your love, the very high quality of your love for Eurydice, has changed our mind. That’s why the gods are taking pity on you.” I can get behind that because I’m all for love. My favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day. I love it. Boy, if there were a lot more love in the world, we’d have a much better world. It’s what makes the world go round. For me, rather than looking at the way the myth really ended, the story here is that if love is good enough and pure enough, it can conquer anything. Even Greek mythology.

Speight Jenkins writes in our Orphée program, “Gluck would spin in his grave to know they’re calling him a Baroque composer nowadays.” What do you think?
You know the story about Gluck and Handel? Gluck adored Handel, and until his dying day he had Handel’s portrait in his bedroom. They met once, in London, and Gluck [the younger composer] showed Handel his music. What Handel supposedly said was “keep it simple,” and Gluck took that very much to heart. And then, Handel is supposed to have told people, “My cook knows more about counterpoint than Mr. Gluck!” Which maybe isn’t as bad as it sounds because Handel’s cook was actually a singer and a musician, and he really did know a lot about counterpoint.

But I think Gluck, and Calzabigi, his librettist and director, and Noverre, their choreographer, they were very conscious of seeking a new kind of realism, what they called “a noble simplicity.” They were rejecting complicated counterpoint, complicated music, and attempting to try and get back to a kind of Greek simplicity, almost a primitivism. Art with a manifesto. That’s why I’m delighted we’re doing this the final version of this opera, because it’s a much better piece than the original version. But it’s not Baroque music. It kind of fits into the cracks. Neoclassism, if you want to call it that. But unfortunately what happened is, Gluck rejected Handel and had this tremendous success with this new kind of music; but then, who comes along next but Mozart, who wrote in a very complex way and was a master of counterpoint. So I feel kind of sorry for Gluck in a way, because his tremendous reforms only lasted for a minute. Handel was so popular until his death, and Bach—and then Gluck had this shining moment of glory, noble simplicity—and then Mozart came along with, as Emperor Joseph II said so famously, “too many notes.” But of course they are glorious notes.

Photos from “A Perfect Pairing” Gala

On Saturday Seattle Opera supporters enjoyed a magnificent Gala, “A Perfect Pairing,” celebrating Valentine’s Day, the immortal love of Orpheus and Eurydice, and our exceptional education and community engagement programs and Young Artists program. Here are some memories of a delightful evening:

The Gala took place in Woodinville, at the historic Chateau Ste. Michelle winery on the banks of the lovely Sammamish River. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

The evening began with a reception in the Barrel Room. Here Michael Souter, Karen Souter, Rosemary Willman, Seattle Opera trustee Ken Willman, and Patricia Caves enjoy a tasting of Chateau Ste. Michelle reserve wines. (Scott Squire, photo)

In addition to the exclusive wine-tasting, Gala attendees enjoyed a special tour of the winery and superb wine pairings with dinner: Chateau Ste. Michelle’s 2010 Cold Creek Riesling and 2010 Chardonnay from Columbia Valley, and 2006 Late Harvest Chenin Blanc from Horse Heaven Hills. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

The dinner included butter lettuce with apples, white cheddar and toasted hazelnuts tossed with a creamy apple cider dressing, followed by slow-roasted New York strip loin with bourguignon sauce, white truffle mashed potatoes, and seasonal vegetables; dessert was a caramel cake with milk chocolate mousse and hazelnut florentine. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Tenor William Burden, who returns to Seattle Opera’s stage next week as Orphée in Gluck’s Orphée et Eurydice, sang Lensky’s aria from Eugene Onegin for the guests. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Baritone Joseph Lattanzi, a member of Seattle Opera’s Young Artists Program, then joined Burden for the beautiful duet “Au fond du temple saint” from Bizet’s Pearl Fishers. Young Artist Christopher Lade accompanied the singers, who were enthusiastically cheered by the audience. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Attendees (including Trustee Ron Hosogi, Dean Tweeddale, Jiawen Shi, Board President William T. Weyerhaeuser, and David Jones, pictured here) supported Seattle Opera at the Gala. Net proceeds, which will help Seattle Opera bring the joy of song, dance, and visual art to students, teachers, and adults throughout our community as we cultivate the next generation of professional opera singers, amounted to nearly $170,000. (Alan Alabastro, photo)

JJ McKay and Sandra Dunn enjoy dancing to the music of the Dudley Manlove Quartet, which concluded the Gala. (Scott Squire, photo)

Meet Our Choreographer: YANNIS ADONIOU

I spoke the other day with Yannis Adoniou, the choreographer who makes his Seattle Opera debut with Orphée et Eurydice (right, photo by Alan Alabastro). Seattle-area opera fans can get a sneak peek at the work of Yannis, and his marvelous dancers, if they join KING-5’s studio audience Monday morning, February 20, for the live taping of “New Day Northwest:” Yannis, Stage Director Jose Maria Condemi, and four of the dancers will be on the show to introduce the opera and perform a brief scene in which some of the Blessed Spirits warn Orpheus what will happen if he looks at Eurydice. Yannis and I talked about the role dance plays in the opera, his career, and why everyone should dance more.

You’re new to Seattle Opera: welcome! We’d like to know a little about your background—where you were born, and how you became a choreographer.
Thanks. I was born in Athens, Greece. My family is still there.

Oh, so you should be able to tell us: is there anything Greek about this opera? The libretto says it takes place in Greece...
It is Greek! I knew this story growing up, my grandmother used to tell us these stories. These myths are Greek, but they’re also universal, that’s what is so beautiful about it.

You’ve come a long way from Greece yourself.
Yes, I live now in San Francisco. I began dance training in Athens, when I was a teenager, then went to Hamburg Ballet School in Germany.

You didn’t begin training until you were a teen? That seems late. Around here, at our Pacific Northwest Ballet school, they start them early...
Yeah, well, Greek culture, we start dancing the day we’re born. In our families it’s different—every event finishes with some kind of dance, dinner parties, birthdays, name-day parties, whatever it is.

Yannis in rehearsal with dancers (l to r) Daniel Howerton, Kyle Johnson, Demetrius Tabron, and Scott Bartell (Alan Alabastro, photo)

And how did you decide to become a professional dancer?
I was always interested in being creative: with my voice, with my body. When I was 16, I met a girl who was a trained ballet dancer, and that made me want to get my body more defined as an instrument. Accidently, I found out through a magazine about some free dance classes for men. So I started taking classes, and half a year later the national ballet school in Athens accepted me as a talent. I had wanted to become an interior designer or an architect, and I was painting as well, so it was a big decision. I was very serious: “I don’t want to do it if I’m not good at it.” But they said they believed I could have a real career, so that’s how it started, and from there I have followed my heart and my brain.

How do you come to be in San Francisco?
After training in Hamburg I was dancing in Bonn, with a classical ballet company, doing Swan Lakes and that stuff. But I was unhappy...I didn’t want to be in a form where everything had been determined by someone else a hundred years back. I was interested in today. So someone who saw my choreography said, “You should talk to Alonzo King, this choreographer in the Bay Area, because the way you move, he’d be very interested.” So I met him and he invited me to come to San Francisco. I danced with the Alonzo King LINES Ballet for seven years, and then started my own company.

And how did you first get involved with Orphée et Eurydice?
I had the pleasure to work with San Francisco Opera for fifteen years as a dancer as well. They have a corps de ballet on staff—it is one of the best contracts, for a dancer. It was interesting because in Europe I had worked in big opera houses, but when I came to the US and started doing contemporary dance, you don’t get that scale of production, with live music. But working for San Francisco Opera brought back that memory. Although I felt the conflict that happens at times between opera and dance.

Dance came from opera, originally; the reason for dance was to support the opera. But then they split, and would only come together when it was necessary. With Orphée, [Stage Director] Jose Maria [Condemi] knew me from San Francisco Opera, and when he first produced Orphée with West Bay Opera, he invited me to work with him and we found a compatible approach, a very collaborative process. Gluck’s music for Orphée is absolutely made for dance.

Dancers Scott Bartell and Kyle Johnson practice lifting Kate Chamberlin while Yannis, in back, instructs (Alan Alabastro, photo)

There are some operas where although the dance music may be good, the dances aren't relevant to the plot, so if you’re an opera company on a tight budget, you cut them. But here it seems the story of the opera continues during the dance numbers.
Dance used to function just as entertainment, you know, fresh meat, something to stimulate the eye--there's all this activity onstage, all of a sudden! Which is fine, it’s always good to be stimulating. But Jose Maria and I are interested in moving the story along: finding a purpose for everything, a way for these different forms to come together.

Here, the dance is part of the story; but for me it’s more the energy of the story. So if Orpheus is talking about his love for Eurydice, the dancers portray the energy of that love. And it’s not so much about what we see, it’s what we feel. With the Furies, it’s a struggle for survival, about pushing through the most difficult, uncomfortable experience in your life. And then there’s a different energy in the Elysian Fields, one that just takes you, it guides you, says “This is where love is, this is where happiness is.”

An experience everyone should be able to share. Which brings me to another topic: can everybody dance?
Of course. I heard this woman talking on TV today: “Get your kids to paint before they become conscious about it, before they begin worrying that they may not be good painters and they stop painting.” It’s the same with dance. People stop dancing when they say, “Oh, maybe I’m not good at this.” If we didn’t have this consciousness, everybody would be dancing much more, with better results.

Yannis Adoniou explains a dance move to Davinia Rodríguez, who sings Eurydice (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Is this phenomenon worse in America than it is in Greece?
Oh, my goodness. Dance is a social thing—it is friction, it is manipulation of time and space. By way of answering your question, one thing I notice when I see people in the U.S., here we never cross paths. You go to the supermarket and you want to get your biscuits, or whatever, and when someone comes in front of you, you say “Excuse me,” and you get out of the way—you avoid that person. This is dance. Actually, it’s a technique we call ‘avoidance.’ In the U.S., you’re not going to cross that person’s energy. People here avoid that friction, whereas in Greece, yes, people touch each other all the time, they push each other, they are more familiar with expressing themselves through movement. And again, at the end of any festivity everyone will dance. Are they better dancers? Not necessarily. And it’s the men, not the women. In many parts of the Middle East, men are the better dancers because the society is all about men dancing. Whereas in the West, men don’t dance. You know, they say if you dance you’re gay.

I noticed that, as an American tourist in the Middle East, my gay-dar didn’t work: you’d see guys holding hands or hanging on to each other, which here would indicate they were a couple—but in fact all it meant was friendship, that they belong together.
Yes, even kissing. In the Middle East, you kiss someone, a man or a woman, to show your respect. Here you’re not going to kiss someone unless it’s sentimental or sexual.

That’s interesting. And it reminds me—you can do this opera with either a male or a female Orpheus.
Yes, there was a female singer when we did it in West Bay, a mezzo soprano. She was dressed as a male, and I think the public understood. That’s the lovely thing about theater: you can do things onstage that you might not be able to do in real life. For instance, in the end they kiss each other, and it’s one of the most beautiful, juicy kisses. And both women were straight! That was amazing to see: two women kissing onstage, and no one was offended. Now, we were in the Bay Area, and it’s diverse and all that, but it’s interesting to be able to see it as a love story between two women and have it be absolutely appropriate.

Would the story work if it were about a girl going to hell to retrieve a guy, and he was the one saying “Look at me, look at me, look at me!” And she was saying “No, no, I must not!”
I think it would work. I believe love is strong, it doesn’t matter which direction. Also, when you walk down the street, you don’t think, “I’m male, I’m tall, I’m short, I’m hairy, I’m not hairy, I’m wearing red or green.” This is what other people see. But as you walk, you’re just you, an energy. I don’t think we’re constantly saying to ourselves, “I’m a man!” It’s when we get beyond that exterior body, the part that’s choreographed by society, that we’re able to reach common ground. That’s where it’s more true, more real, more universal.

Meet Our Designers: HEIDI ZAMORA, Costumes

Though she's a familiar face at Seattle Opera, Heidi Zamora is actually making her debut as Costume Designer with our upcoming production of Orphée et Eurydice. We spoke with Heidi about working in the Costume Shop, about sources of inspiration for this exciting new production, and about what the ancient myth of Orpheus means to her.

You’ve worked in our Costume Shop for quite some time, but this is your first proper credit as Costume Designer for Seattle Opera. Can you explain what your role in the Shop has been prior to this?
My official title is Assistant Costume Shop Manager, but one of the big parts of that job is I act as Design Coordinator for the shows that we rent or remount. If we have a set of costumes in our stock and we’re going to remount that production and the original designer isn't coming to Seattle to oversee everything, then I’ll be the de facto designer. I’ll be the one in the fittings, choosing new buttons, telling the Shop that the hem should be higher or lower, and a lot of times there are costumes that need to be redesigned because they don’t fit the new director’s vision of what the show is. Or, sometimes our principal costumes don’t fit our new singers so, since we need to make new costumes anyway, we’ll design something new. I do a lot of ghost designing and redesigning around here.

What are some recent examples of costumes you’ve worked on?
The last show I worked on here was Carmen, with costumes originally designed by James Schuette back in 2004. This time around we had new singers and a new director so I designed all of Carmen’s new costumes, except for her last look which was the original look James Schuette designed. I also designed a new Micaëla dress and the Cigarette Girls’ costumes.

Zamora's design for Carmen's Act One costume and Anita Rachvelishvili wearing the finished costume (Elise Bakketun, photo)

We're excited to see your name in the Orphée et Eurydice program book! What has the costume design process for this production been like for you?
It’s been a long process—we’ve been working on it for over a year. I started by listening to the opera and reading the libretto. There was also a production of Orphée that our director, Jose Maria Condemi, directed at West Bay Opera, so I watched a video of that production to see where he was coming from. Then when he came to town, we met along with set designer Phillip Lienau and lighting designer Connie Yun, and shared images of stuff that inspired us or felt like the piece.

The design team discusses Orphée et Eurydice. Left to right, Set Designer Phillip Lienau, Lighting Designer Connie Yun, Costume Designer Heidi Zamora, Costume Shop Manager Susan Davis, Director Jose Maria Condemi, Technical Director Robert Schaub, and Production Director Vincent Feraudo (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Then there were several more rounds of research and sketches, until it was finally time for me to purchase fabrics and decide which costumes we were actually going to build ourselves and which could be shopped [purchased off the rack].

Where did you get the inspiration for your final looks?
All over the place. We wanted a production that felt earthy and natural, so when we were thinking of scenery, we looked at the artist Andy Goldsworthy, who does a lot of installation of natural elements in an ordered fashion. For example, he’ll take rocks and stack them or arrange sticks in a spiral shape.

Collage of work by Andy Goldsworthy

That partially inspired the direction the costumes were going in, too. I also looked at a lot of fashion research for inspiration. I looked at a lot of Greek and neoclassical fashion, and a lot of modern clothes that felt Greek or neoclassical in how they were draped. And the inspiration for the Furies costumes came from modern dancer Martha Graham, who did a pretty famous dance inside a stretchy tube of fabric.

Image of Martha Graham's "Lamentation"

The whole idea was that the chorus should be enclosed in a cocoon shape, originally inspired by the ruins of Pompeii, where people have been encased in ash for thousands of years.

Visitors at Pompeii

That felt like Hades to us, and that went through a number of iterations before we landed where we did. You don’t really see that Pompeii inspiration in what we ended up with, but that’s very much where it started.

Costume design by Heidi Zamora for the Furies

Do you have a favorite costume in this production?
I think I do. I like the Furies a lot because I think it will be really striking on stage, but I think my favorite costume is Eurydice’s because it’s very simple.

Costume design by Heidi Zamora for Eurydice

Davinia Rodríguez is a beautiful girl, very easy to dress, and the design is clean, simple, and very balanced. When you do things that are simple, it’s hard to get it perfect because all the little details really show that much more. But I think it looks like an Oscar dress, and it looks great on her. The ice blue color is going to look amazing on stage, and it was such a hard color to find. Everything was either bright blue or gray; it took weeks to find the right color.

Where do you shop for fabrics?
Sometimes, on a larger show, Costume Shop Manager Susan Davis and the costume designer will take a trip to New York. Other times we’ll hire a swatcher in New York, which is what we did this time. I’ll tell them what kinds of fabrics I’m looking for, and they’ll go around New York and fill bags of fabric swatches and send them to me. I select the ones I want and the fabric store—Mood or New York Elegant, for example—will send what we need.

That’s a long way to go for fabric!
Well, people don’t make clothes like they used to! Local fabric stores tend to gear toward quilters and though they have some fabrics from dressmaking, it’s not like it is in New York, which has Broadway and film and a dressmaking industry that exists in a way it doesn’t here. There are some stores in L.A. that are great, too, and sometimes we swatch there. But there are a lot of supplies the Costume Shop needs that aren’t available in Seattle. Like buttons! You might think we can just go to the fabric store here and get whatever buttons we need, and sometimes we do, but a lot of time it’s not the right button. You need the perfect button.

Costume design by Heidi Zamora for Amour.

What are some considerations you need to take into account when designing specifically for singers, as opposed to non-singing actors?
Well, they need to be able to breathe—which seems like a simple request, you would think, because actors need to breathe, too. But singers breathe differently and they breathe differently from each other. Some do so from their chest, some from down low, so they need to have the appropriate movement in their costumes. Some singers really like to wear a corset because that supports their breath, and some people can’t. So we really need to account for that and make sure they’re comfortable so they can do their best work.

Since you’ve had to examine this opera so closely, what would you say its story means to you?
Obviously, it’s about love and loss. Being a new mom and being relatively recently married, my little family is such a huge part of me now, so the idea of losing my husband or losing my son is unimaginable. I think about it briefly and I feel like I get punched in the stomach. That feeling, to me, is what Orphée is going through. He’ll do anything to have his wife back, and I totally understand that. And I think anybody would understand that. I think people will start crying in Act 1, if William Burden is doing his job—and he will. He will break your heart; he just has such a beautiful, warm voice. But in the end of this version, Orphée is reunited with Eurydice, which is great.

Costume design by Heidi Zamora for Orphée.

ORPHEUS ODYSSEY - Week 1 Clues!

2/14 Update: The first week's tickets have been claimed! They were found at That's Amore! Italian Cafe in Mt. Baker. Thanks to everyone who played this week, and don't worry--you still have four more chances to win. Stay tuned for another round of clues, coming up this Monday.
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Originally posted on Monday, February 13, 2012, at 10:30 a.m.

We officially kick off the first week of Seattle Opera's "Orpheus Odyssey" treasure hunt! Besides true love, the greatest thing in the universe is free opera tickets, and four pairs of tickets to Seattle Opera's Orphée et Eurydice, hidden in different parts of the city, await the dauntless, the devious, the persuasive.

When you've figured out where in Seattle the tickets are hidden, your job is to journey forth and use the password posted here to entreat the Furies at each location to yield up their treasure (during business hours only!). Please read the full details and rules here.

And now, as promised, we reveal the first clue. Further clues will follow each day this week until the tickets are found.

CLUE #1 (posted 2/13)
Allegedly inspired during a flight of the “I’m-on-a-rolla-Gay”

CLUE #2 (posted 2/14)
She laid down the law to Orfeo in Vienna

WEEK 1 PASSWORD
"Green Mountain"

A pair of tickets to the March 10 performance of Orphée et Eurydice await, available for claiming this week from 5-9 p.m. Monday through Friday, and 4-10 p.m. on Saturday.

If you're stumped, fear not...Orpheus and other Greek heroes found many entrances to the Underworld. Just come back to this blog every morning this week (or check out our Facebook or Twitter pages) for a NEW CLUE, until the tickets have been won. A new hunt begins next Monday.

Good luck! Happy hunting! May you find opera tickets AND true love!