Final countdown: Three weeks left, and where's the fake blood?

Three weeks to the premiere looks like this:

Eljas and Milla finding meaningful things from the score.

Jenna pointing out meaningful things from the score.

So we've got the date, we've got the posters and we've got some publicity. 

(If you don't have anything too important to do tomorrow at around 14.25, tune your radio to Yle Radio 1 - or your computer to Yle Areena. We're performing an unforgettably shamanistic duet from Jääkausi.)

But what's really going on? - I thought I'd tell you.

I'm little by little hunting down things we will need in our performance, like red heels, fake blood and white overalls. I'm also finding out things about the things we will need in our performance, like how washable is fake blood really? (Answer: some brands are easily removed, some not quite so) and how noisy are the overalls in Motonet? In the meantime Eero, our visual designer, is coming up with solutions like how to have a sun in a bowl, or how to create the eternal spiral of time. Itzam is going through the score and learning how to conduct it, and the singers are trying to remember everything by heart.

In the rehearsals we're going through a mixed phase, which is beautifully reflected in the multiple schedules I've sent to people, depending on what they need to know. There are the rehearsals with only the band dealing with stuff; rehearsals with band and singers, tying to make music; then there are the rehearsals where only I'm playing and Eljas is making his staging art with the sopranos; and finally the full rehearsals with everybody and everything happening at once.

The staging side of things is slowly forming into a coherent whole, and music, too, begins to diminish. Diminishing in this context - for me - is as follows: When you start to learn a new piece of music, it feels huge. Moving from one page to the next is a lot of stuff, and the end seems to be very far from the beginning. Getting more acquaintanced with the music it starts to feel more like a graspable thing - you begin to have a sense of its structure, the overarching shape, and it really feels like the piece is getting smaller. You're not looking at it like an infinite field of notes, but more like a detailed map you know how to navigate.

(Reading this again I have understood that explaining myself clearly is a skill I'll have to develop further. But hopefully you grasp my meaning, or half.)

So. Having this petite piece in our hands and turning into an acted thing where players are also doing stuff, lights are on and a conducter is whirling his hands around - that's what happens now.

Ps. Have you seen a poster yet? I've heard they look amazing.

Seventh meeting: It's a date!

An iceberg.

Ladies and gentlemen! After two months of suspense, we're proud to tell you we've got a date. Take your calendars out, people.

1st of March will be the grand premiere of our opera, Jääkausi.

(That'd be "ice age" in English, but no, it's nothing like the movie.)

The seventh time this group met pretty much consisted of getting our heads around the fact that we have a date. Many details needed to be sorted out - what should be done about all the little details? Lights? Props? How's the marketing? What would the program notes be like and who would write them? When's the general rehearsal? Who will play?

After talking about all this and more we started slowly to turn our attention to some rather bigger details, such as the composition itself. Itzam has been working hard, and some of the scenes are already taking their musical shape. There is a lot to think about still - composing for singers has many peculiarities. Some words are difficult to be understood when sung really high, for example, and that has to be taken into account if we want anyone to know what's happening on stage. And the music has to be learned and performed to Eljas, so he can start thinking about staging it all.

Now that the Sibelius Academy has given us the performance, we have to advertise it, too. So our meeting ended with a photo shoot, and everyone had their picture taken by... me. We're embracing arte povera to the fullest, taking photos on a mobile phone camera and editing them ourselves. Well. Making certain boyfriends edit them, which is almost the same thing.

After everyone took their turn of smiling awkwardly to the camera, we went our separate ways heads full of things to be organized and thought about. The truly exciting times have just begun.

Booking a hall: Adventures in Kafkaland

You'd think it was the easiest part of making an opera, booking a hall.  Especially if the opera in question was a part of your studies, and the project was approved by all the necessary officials in your department. Well. Let me set you straight at once: booking halls is a project of its own and takes time and dedication.

In the beginning there was an innocent email: "I'd like to book a hall. How is this done?" I was instructed to go to one of the info desks in our Academy - the N-house info was mentioned as particularly helpful. I happened to be in Musiikkitalo, however, and thought I'd ask straight from there, the hall in question being in the same building. I met a charming young lady who had never heard of my studies ("Opera coaching? Errrm, really?") and said that she really doesn't know about booking any halls, either. She suspected that someone else might know more, and I was inclined to agree.

Next I went to the particularly helpful N-house info, and there my innocent question was met with "Who told you that it could be done here?" - and I was sent to talk to an Important Planning Person. I was told I also could write an email to a special booking system, but I was warned that they rarely book anything if a student asks.

This Important Planning Person was nowhere to be found. She'd escaped the bureaucratic inferno and went on a holiday - but luckily she'd named two other Important Planning Persons to look after her stuff. I was told one of them was hiding in T-house, so I went there, and asked from their info whether the person in question actually was hiding somewhere near. This was said to be the case, and having asked for coordinates from a helpful, important-looking lady, I found him sitting in a corner. I told him my dilemma, and he said that the other Important Planning Person assigned to deal with these things would be much better suited to this task. Unfortunately she was somewhere else, but would come back soon. When she'd come back she'd have to go to a meeting, however, so she really wouldn't have time for any of this.

At this point I was starting to get nauseous. In my despair I went to meet the secretary of our department, an amazing woman who has a lot of answers. This time was no exception: the superwoman said that she'd just book the hall herself and explain it later if anyone came asking. We found a suitable time and she clicked the screen to confirm the booking, and then we found out that she didn't have the rights to book the hall in question. She could book other places, but not that one. No, not my second option either. She also suspected that the Important Planning Person I couldn't reach probably wouldn't have known anything about this kind of bookings anyway, just the regular ones.

Not all hope was lost, though - the secretary gave me a name of a man who might be able to help. He had helped the department in the past, but nobody knew if he still would. I don't know what this mysterious man does, but somehow he's connected to bookings and halls. Now I'm waiting for his reply, and I'm supposed to call him if he won't answer in the next couple of days. If he says he cannot help, I have no idea where to turn to next - but then it most likely will not be an issue anymore, since all the free times in the halls will be gone and we'll have to perform our opera outdoors.

I'm breathless and bewildered, and I've lost all faith in humanity by now.