Monsters

Monster you, monster me, monsters all of us.

Photo by Donovan Reeves on Unsplash

I have been feeling stuck trying to make things happen. As everybody else in life, so, nothing new, nothing special.

I started reading and doing The Artist’s Way, a self-help book, with more commitment than the first time I read it.

I used to think it was kind of dumb. And in a way it is. But it’s not about what I think.

It is a way to talk to that part of me that is not rational. I think I could choose something else and as long as I believe in it, it will work. Wow, I sound very self-helpie.

I also read a book by film director and life character Alejandro Jodorowsky. Same idea. The rational part of me, the one I think is very smart, has a lot of problems trying to communicate with the other part. The irrational one.

That’s why I am allowing myself to do the silly exercises proposed by the author and I am not ashamed to say I am loving those silly exercises!

Anyway, today I had to write about people who have crushed my feelings about what I do.

The book names them “your monsters”.

I was in my first year in Canada and my first year doing my master’s in opera. There was a famous guest singer invited for a masterclass.

I was very excited because this singer was one of my favourite modern singers. It was also my first experience in a masterclass in North America!

I was chosen. I had to decide what to sing. I was between a German aria called “Mein Sehnen, mein Wähnen” from Die Tote Stadt by Korngold. In case you are curious. Perfect for my lyric baritone voice.

The right choice for me.

People-pleaser-me thought that this was an Italian singer, whose repertoire was basically Italian. And that he wouldn’t have anything interesting to say about that aria. So, I decided to present the Death of Posa from the opera Don Carlo. Verdi, Italian, and he was a famous Italian opera performer. Very ambitious.

I heard later that he was nervous because masterclasses were not his thing.

North American singers are always well prepared and in general, he had little to say to the singers who sang before me. I thought he was a little frustrated. Nothing big to show to the audience.

Until I performed.

Masterclasses tend to be more of a show for the audience than a meaningful learning experience for the students.

I sang my 2 arias. It was correct singing. Definitely not for my voice. But I gave him something to say. Not that what he said was wrong. But as soon as I finished singing in front of an audience full of guests, donors, invited guest speakers and, most important, friends. His first words were something like, (I’m paraphrasing because I don’t remember the exact words) “that’s an example of singing something that is not for your voice” “you are not a Verdi singer” and there I was, the example of what not to do as a singer, extremely deflated because I could have sung the german and be safe and instead I had chosen to humiliate myself.

He was nice after the comments and gave me some suggestions, and sang a line with me. I know he didn’t make the comments from a bad place. It still felt horrible.

So, I was remembering this experience. He was my Monster.

I guess the masterclass was a meaningful learning experience in a bad way!

Oh, poor me.

Then I remember that once I too was somebody’s monster.

After I graduated from university years and years ago, I got a job as a voice teacher for the Student Life Services at a university in Colombia.

The first day, I had a lot of students coming to the introductory lesson. The class was open to all the university students so I had a variety of interests and singing levels. And the objective of the course was beyond being a singer. It was about wellness, tools to enrich life and to develop a well-rounded human being.

This was a very well-known top elite university, and most people came from wealthy families.

I asked people to introduce themselves to the group.

Students started saying their names and career and things they liked.

There was a young woman. I could tell that this woman came from a lower class. She was pronouncing some words in a way that showed that she hadn’t had the same opportunities in her education as the rest of her classmates.

Entitled-I-know-more-than-you me, chose to point out all her speaking mistakes in a very rude manner in front of all the other students. Almost making fun of her. Showing her where she came from.

After my harsh comments, I could see her face turning red with embarrassment. She remained silent the rest of the lesson.

I didn’t feel bad at that moment. I thought I was superior and that I was educating her. Almost as if she had to be grateful that I had corrected her.

She never came back.

Today I realized I am her Monster.