After a long silence, a musician rants

Being a musician is hardly a 9 to 5 job. Practicing, gigs, studies, pr, teaching - usually a musicians life is a creative cocktail of things to be scheduled. Sometimes, when I'm writing yet another list of things to do or practicing on yet another Sunday, I really wish I had chosen the other option: work and free time separated, and someone giving me clear instructions on what to do and when. Not to mention a regular income.

How is this related to our opera, you might ask. Well, it isn't. And still it's the reason why I haven't written for so long. Writing this blog has been on my to-do list for two months, but life got in the way. Life and poor time management.

So I find myself thinking about this eternal problem of the quality of a musicians free time. I miss free time without guilt. You know this, but I'll spell it out anyway: it's the feeling ​you get when you're watching TV or meeting friends or having any kind of a good time, really, and at the same time you're haunted​ by all the repertoire you're not practicing, all the emails you haven't sent - an endless list of unscheduled stuff. And who's doing the dishes, I'd love to know!

 

For me personally it can at times be hard to let the undone things remain​ undone. I find myself lying awake at night stressing about everything that I should do instead of snoring peacefully. I really don't think I'm alone in this​, either​ - and that's why you're reading this rant.​ I'd like to know how do you do it? How do you make your life work, what's your secret? I myself stay sane mainly thanks to lists and an incredibly patient driver/cook/boyfriend, who picks up the pieces when i run out of steam.

But please, tell us your tricks. And I'll add "update blog more often" to my next to-do list.​

Fourth meeting: Sometimes music pees on your shoes

An honorary member of our group, Mr. Patamon.

 

The fourth time we met I invited everyone to my very own box of a home. A lot of coffee was involved, even though we gave up on the morning-thing and met at noon. Juho had written two new chapters, again, and plans were made about how to proceed from here. Having decided that four scenes or so would suffice for an opera about 45 minutes long, Juho promised to bring a draft of the whole thing to our next meeting. That might be a very exciting turning point for us, since then the actual composing can begin.

All this was very exciting and promising, but just after the meeting was over I got an email announcing that we didn't get a penny from SKR. So we're as poor as ever. Talking of which, if anyone has some money they don't know what to do with, why not just give it to us? Donating to our enterprise would guarantee you a free ticket to our show - and maybe, if you're lucky, an autograph or two ;)

(...is it alright to use a smiley face in a blog that's trying to be somehow credible? No? Didn't think so, and did it anyway. Oops.)

But, money matters aside, in this meeting of ours we had a very fruitful discussion about cats. Iida, Itzam and Juho were the connoisseurs, since I don't know the first thing about them, but the others had all sorts of psychological insights to the matter: and cats in pairs, single cats, allergy and cats, and other such fascinating subjects were talked through. Cats and music wasn't an issue, but I got to thinking that maybe there's something there. The independent, I-don't-really-care-if-you're-there-or-not attitude often attributed to cats is very much what I'd think about some compositions I've attempted to play at some point or other during my glittering career as a pianist. The music just couldn't care less if you've got issues with playing thirds or reading more than ten accidentals in one bar - sometimes it feels like the score on the piano is staring at you mockingly, hissing, and probably later peeing on your shoes. Any similar experiences, people? Or am I just -

Never mind what I'm just. You take care, go to work, earn your salary, and send 15% to us. And I'll keep you posted about what's next on our way to the mysterious world of opera.

Third meeting: Changing the world

Juho, Milla and Itzam talking about the death of art.

Our third meeting took place on a Friday morning, exactly like last time. We have a thing for mornings. Juho, Itzam and I dragged ourselves from the comfort of our (separate) beds to once again enjoy Milla's baking. Fortified with coffee and bread (straight from the oven, yum!) we went through two new scenes of the libretto. The first is a perfectly beautiful dialogue between a person and a dog, and the second includes the aria partly filmed in the previous post.

Having gone through the formalities of long-term planning, dreaming of performances to come, and talking about grants, next meetings and other necessary things, we then moved on to more interesting fields. Milla gave us a passionate speech about the death of art. There are many problems young artists have to face trying to carve themselves a place in this crowded, economically challenged, ungrateful world. Getting people to see your work is one huge issue. Theater and classical music are obviously not as interesting to the common folk as they were a few hundred years ago, and something needs to be done about that. A major problem is the way arts are (not) present in schools. Children should have the benefit of being exposed to art more and in ways that are accessible to them, so that they could form their own opinions about it after experiencing it first hand. Another thing is the preconceptions people have about opera, theater, contemporary music, etc. This is not only the audience's problem - also artists themselves tend to have pretty fixed ideas of what their work should be like, where it should be presented, and to whom.

One of the modest goals of our opera is to try to change the world in this respect. It might not be a huge change, maybe not even a middle-sized one, but we want to take this performance extravaganza-to-be to schools, cafes, and all sorts of places where music, theater, art and excitement should be more present.

Always somebody dies

Here's a short video of Milla reading the beginning of an aria-to-be. For those who don't recognize the language: she's speaking Finnish, saying "always somebody dies". This dramatic start gives a good idea of what the monologue is about - a solemn reflection on the big questions of life. Taking place in a deserted bar, it's the most profound moment of the existing 4 scenes of our libretto. It is very serious indeed.

Second meeting: How Finns feel about trains

We met at Milla’s place. Not all of us were able to be there, though: poisoned by Unicafe, Itzam was throwing up at home, and Eljas had urgent plumbing business to attend to. So it was just Juho and the girls. That didn’t really lessen the excitement – Juho had written some sketches for the libretto and we couldn’t wait to hear what they were all about. Milla and Iida read them through to see how they’d sound. (Great.) Are you curious yet? Think about Finnish winter. Think about extreme cold, darkness, and ugly concrete buildings in the middle of nowhere. To this nowhere-place a person arrives on a train. This is the grand start of our libretto experience.

Here I’ve got to digress a bit:

To really appreciate the train scenario, you have to understand that the Finns have a very special relationship with trains. We have a state-owned railway company, VR, that has a monopoly in Finland. The prices are outrageous (to put it mildly), and the trains are very often late for various reasons. One of the reasons is snow. It snows every winter, and every winter VR is surprised by this strange phenomenon. Also many technical faults hinder the trains on their journeys across our dear country. Everyone knows someone who was in a train that got stuck for so long that the restaurant cart run out of alcohol.

The train station announcements are famous for their lack of foresight. ”The train to Kuopio will be delayed for five minutes.” You hear this and you think, alright, I can wait here, that’s not long. And five minutes later: ”The train to Kuopio will be delayed for another 10 minutes.” You’re annoyed, but you hold on. After four or five announcements like this, though, you start to have stronger feelings about trains, announcers, and life in general.

Probably the trains are not going to play a huge role in the opera, but. Anyway.

The libretto is progressing: Juho promised to bring more scenes to our next meeting, so the co-operation can really start. Now it’s mainly about Juho and Itzam working together to find the right balance between music and text – there are many things you have to think about when you’re writing something that’s going to be set to music. But more of that later.

Meet the Group: Juho

Juho is a 30-year-old dramaturge and playwright based in Helsinki. Originally from Vantaa, his childhood dream professions included being the president, an ice-hockey player, a clown and a writer.

In addition to this opera, Juho is currently part of the Finnish National Theater's project 'Routes to Kontula'. It consists of various performances, workshops and other art activities with the inhabitants of Kontula, a district in Helsinki. Read more from reittejakontulaan.blogspot.com.

- What's good and what's not-so-good about being a playwright?

In my profession I am officially allowed to be playful. My job includes both working alone and with other people, which is perfect for me. The biggest downsides are probably insecurity, unpredictability, competition, envy, and having to prove oneself all the time.. Also, the work is very personal - its up- and downhills can affect my state of mind very much, sometimes too much.

- What other interests or hobbies do you have?

Animals (especially cats),walking outdoors, music, movies and other arts. The world and society. Nature.

- Tell us something about yourself that others don't necessarily know!

Before getting into the Theater Academy, I have worked, among other things, as a classroom assistant, lawnmower, and as a publishing editor. 

If you want to know more about Juho (and/or his cat), write to us!

Meet the Group: Jenna

Photo: Anni Laukkanen

Jenna is a 25-year-old pianist who lives in Helsinki. As a child she wanted to be an accordionist, though. Currently Jenna is studying opera coaching in the Sibelius Academy and teaching piano in Keski-Vantaa music school. Rehearsing a solo concert program and some lied and chamber music keep her busy, but she manages to find time to write a seriously cool blog ;)

- What's good and what's not-so-good about being a pianist?

I love being on stage, even though it often scares me. And I really like accompanying singers. Practicing, however, can be so boring and frustrating at times.. Not to mention the constant worrying about money. But hey, it's a musician's life. Better marry rich.

- What other interests or hobbies do you have?

Books, food, knitting, crime and legal series, singing.

- Tell us something about yourself that others don't necessarily know!

I really enjoy singing pop, but most of the time I'm too ashamed to sing even at home.

Find more about Jenna from jennaristila.com.