Wings of an angel

Do you believe in the Angel of Music? Call me sentimental, but there was a time when I believed in it. Or at least I liked the idea, and the image of this angel launched me towards becoming a singer.

I was still attending grammar school and took music lessons at the music school in Békescsaba (piano, choir rehearsals and singing) when I read the The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux (and became a dedicated fan of the musical with the original cast later on as well), and I've got so fascinated by the image of the Angel of Music, and that the Phantom, Erik became this angel for Christine Daaé, that I wanted to meet him as well. My ever first goal that I wanted to achieve was to meet this magic entity somehow. I was amazed of the beautiful lovestory between Erik and Christine (I hated Raoul with a passion for stepping in their way), and I understood Christine's feelings to the utmost. Regardless her fear of Erik's looks, she respected him and loved him in her own gentle way, but she wasn't brave enough to stay by Erik's side - and I didn't like that.

I thought I will be able to find this angel, but instead as soon as I began to be involved with ensemble singing I started to grow my own wings as I was singing with others. Especially when I am singing in a choir and I know I have to pull the people on my part, I imagine that I spread my invisible wings above them and I take them from each phrase to another. I wanted to be able to lead and pull people with my voice and I grew wings to do that, but these wings are not good for flying (unfortunately... I've always wanted to be able to fly - either by having real wings, or without them), but they are good for singing, and that's good enough for me - at least for now...

Am I an angel? I don't think so. Do I behave sometimes as an angel? Maybe. Do I like my wings? If I'm singing or if I would like to protect someone dear to me, I love it. I just have to figure out what to do with those feathers all over around me...

Post-graduation shock

Oh, I already know, this entry will be just like the one with the title If I had ever knew that...
 
It is so amazing how your graduated musician friends and your teachers don't talk about the year after their graduation. To be honest, in the past year I seriously had moments when I was sure, I have gone slightly mad, or I have lost something I had during Conservatory. I missed the almost constant fizz and fuzz (but of course not the fuss), and I thought if I don't have this fizzy-fuzzy bubbly days constantly I must be doing something really wrong. Of course I've been told that I will probably need some time to get used to the idea that I have a bachelor and a master diploma, but I have never imagined they meant something like this.

And then last Thursday I went to listen to the bachelor final recital of a friend of mine, here in Tilburg. I met a few old friends as well, friends whom I haven't seen for a long-long time, and each of them asked me the same question: what are you doing here? They meant it in a way that since I am graduated, there's no school anymore for me, so they were wondering what keeps me still here. Many of the conversations were rather on the funny slide, and I explained them that I am living my life, and for that I have chosen Tilburg - for now at least. To the last person on that evening who asked me this question I confessed that I am trying to recover after that 6 years at the conservatory (however much fun it was, it was still an impulsive, intense and stressful period in my life), and honestly I wasn't really looking for opportunities to get employed according to my diploma's - to which he told me that it is normal. Appearantly, the year after the graduation is seasoned and featured with reaching the bottom (sometimes in extremes), and building up your career is not as easy as you have been told at marketing lectures. It is certainly not like sending dozens of application packages (including your CV, recordings, portfolio, etc.) to a dozens of professional ensembles and hoping they would call you back. That works in other sectors of the job market but not among musicians, and also not among singers (where you just throw a piece of rock and it hits at least 3 sopranos before it hits the ground gently, because the last soprano was really short).

The year after the graduation is the nihil that nobody likes to talk about and they would rather forget about it. And yet, I still feel blessed for this past year regardless all the struggle I have had. I would rather reach for the bottom of the bottom than to get to breaking point. I would rather have a few struggling days than to ignore the struggle and end up with a burn out. I felt guilty for not being able to do the same amount of work and pracitising hours without emotional outbursts, and I also felt guilty for not seeking the opportunity to perform whenever I can. I used to be someone who couldn't stay put for more than 5 minutes and was constantly making plans for the future. In the past months, especially since January I crawled back to my shell in shame and I was reading the books I wanted to read for a long-long time and also some more I was advised to read at that time. And now, about a 5 or 6 weeks ago I was finally able to come out from my shell and wake up from my slumber. I moved out from my old and tiny room from Doctor Nolensstraat and moved in to a more spacious house with a friend of mine (we are singing in the schola at Ringbaan West).Proving how silly a human being can be, after getting over my guilt about not wanting to show off my gifts like I did before, after moving in a more spacious house I felt guilty for being happy about having more space... Silly is that... And then the sun began to shine again, I spent a a few hours in the garden, enjoying the sunshine and I forgot about that remorse as well. My weight loss stopped and suddenly I began to gain weight again (I'm almost at the point that I am saying, Now, that's the minimum to survive, milady). Simply: I decided to enjoy life again, which I somehow mysteriously forgot to do for a few months in the near past...

So... What am I doing here? I am living my life. I spend it sometimes with music (with Scherzi Musici or planning the up-coming concerts of Bartók Rózsái, sometimes with baking brownies. I make money to be able to travel and to get singing lessons (for the sake of my development, but on the first place, because I love to sing), and to make a living. I have a church choir to conduct in Reeshof at the St. Antoniuskerk, and I am singing in the schola at Ringbaan West on every 4th Sunday of the month. It is not that glamorous (yet), but I love it - and maybe I don't need the glamour, but I need to become the sparkle. And now I remember that I have a pile of motets from Bamberg Codex to make a selection from and make a programme and get the singers and musicians together for it. I have plans again, and my plans are crawling up on the hierarchy in my life with every single goodnight sleep... Oh, how I love my curtains and my new bed!

The scary freedom

It doesn't matter how I look at it, most people are afraid of freedom. At first I didn't really understand why, because I was convinced that everybody wants to be free, but I am coming from a post-communist country from the Eastern block of Europe. Though you better know, dear Western people, that neither Poland or my own country, Hungary doesn't like to be considered as being an "Eastern European", we are actually in the middle of Europe, and you know that, but you are too lazy to make a decent distinction. In our ears, being considered to belong to Eastern Europe brings back the memories of belonging to the Soviet Union, and it doesn't matter how exotic you think it was for us, it wasn't that fun. Mainly, because two or three generation grew up in a regime where people were forced to think and act in a certain way, so people were cuirtailed of their personal freedom. They couldn't travel whenever and wherever they wanted to and they were not allowed to say what they think about the regime. For Westerners it is even impossible to imagine what a nightmare of decades they were for the now post-communist countries.

For me it is just amazing to see how people can hold unto captivity, and how they are afraid of reaching out for freedom. I have been thinking about this for a while and now I think I figured what is so scary about freedom for most of us. Being free doesn't only mean that you are doing what you want to do, but that you have to take the responsibility for your words, deeds, decisions, and actually for whatever you are doing. You are basically stand on your own with anything you do and nobody will make decisions for you, neither will take the responsibility for them, and it is a huge risk to take.

And even then, the funniest thing is that everybody was born to be free in any single way. It is just an illusion that you may not have the choice to choose on your own free will. You are free to choose for the good or for the bad. If you are in captivity, you chose to be in captivity - in order to survive, probably... When you realize this, and you try to break free, and you manage to become free, the first period in like a "honeymoon-period", and then for some really weird reason when the "honeymoon-period" is over, and reality snaps you in the face and you have to face the consequences of your own acts, you just would like to go back where you were, because that seems immediately much better than it was back then (your memory sugarcoats the past). Yes, it does take a big courage to take the responsibility and face the consequences. It is not always nice, and you have to face the fact that nobody will make a schedule for you, but you yourself, and if you want to use your time in an effective way, you have to plan smart. It also takes to stick with the people who actually helping you in this and get rid of those who want to tell you what to do - anyway, after you are spending your days in freedom you get annoyed with these kind of people, so in one way or another they will disappear from your daily life. And then you are smiling at the things you don't have to do anymore.

So actually not freedom itself that is scary, but everything that comes with it: the unknown, the challenge and to face your own bad habits every day.

Anorexia vocalis - the singers' disease

I am not too good at Latin, I'm just guessing that "vocalis" means vocal or something that can be connected to the human voice. I've made up this fancy Latin name from the eating disorder's latin name anorexia nervosa (if anyone can correct my Latin, I will be more than happy).

Because, yes... Music industry and digital recordings produce many vocal anorexic singers. When I am talking about anorexia vocalis, I am talking about the wish of every young singer: to sound like the big names on the recordings they hear when they are listening to CDs, tracks on Spotify, and so on... You wouldn't believe how damaging these digitally remastered and studio-steril recordings can be. But it's not the fault of studio workers, I wouldn't put the blame on them: they are just doing their job, though they assist in spreading the disease. No, no... The real suspect is the insane guy who came up with the idea of well temperament. I'm sure he just wanted to give a stable and easy system that would help musicians to find their way in the dark forest of tunings, and his intention was pure, I'm sure about that. Also, in the very beginning "well tempered" meant that the twelve notes per octave of the standard keyboard are tuned in such a way that it is possible to play music in most major or minor keys and it will not sound perceptibly out of tune.You see? People didn't play out of tune before the well temperation, it just sounded perceptibly out of tune.(Side note: I don't mean to rip on classical trained musicians, but meantone, pythagorian and other early music tunings don't equal with "playing out of tune"...). And on the other hand, this system suggests that there are no notes between E' and F': true, there is almost none for an instrumentalist (especially on a keyboard), but I assure you, there are plenty of notes between those two for a singer.

Intonation and how tuning works depends on several factor. It depends on the architecture of the building where you are singing. For example if you have ever sung in a Gothic church, or anything like that (like the Chapel at Fontys Conservatorium in Tilburg), I bet you've realized that the architecture pulls up the sound, and even if your intonation is flat, the architecture will pull it up (along with everything else) for you, while Roman churches are pushing down on your voice a little. Composers before the time of well-temperament were aware of this element, so they took it in account when they were composing a new piece (for example organum will never sound as marvelous in a Roman church as it does in Gothic cathedrals).
Another factor is the breathing: if the singer doesn't have a natural and healthy airflow, the lack of it will lead to intonational problems. If you are pushing the air instead of letting it flow, your intonation will be flat, and you cannot get into your resonance or at least you'll have some difficulties with it.

I know great singers, whom are considered having bad intonation, though they have excellent ears. They are constantly fighting with the negative feedback of exam committees and senseless concert venue directors (who - for some really weird reason - think that they know everything about singing... ridiculous...): they are told that they should develop a better intonation, but these "clever" people have no freakin' idea, that their feedback doesn't help the singer.

I suffered from anorexia vocalis as well until I figured out, that studio recordings are studio recordings, and "clever" people are not as clever as they think they are. Cleaning up the sound on a studio recording is like photoshopping a pizza into a woman. If you think it's not possible, just check the video below

I'm not saying that everyone sings like a pizza and then they are going to make a studio recording and they become a hot chic. Nope... I'm just saying that even the most excellent singers have bad days and they also sing out of tune every once in a while. I agree with Andrea von Ramm, that a concert where every single not is well in tune is a boring concert. Please, dear performer, make a mistake for me! Prove me that you are a human being like I am and you don't thing that perfect intonation rules above all. I'm interested in your talent not your perfect intonation.

On mainstream ad platforms

I don't like websites. Even though I have one, I still dislike them.

I don't like them, because everyone nowadays have one and I feel also obliged to have a website where I can show-off a little. Having a website is like getting and asking for attention 24/7 even if you don't need that amount of attention. Don't misunderstand me, I like to be in the middle of attention, I am an exhibitionist to the core, and I feel great on stage while performing, but the big difference between having the attention of people 24/7 and having their attention for a concert is the duration. Therefore I am obviously not aiming for being a mainstream artists in the sense of having a bunch of followers and/or stalkers who keep me entertained for the rest of my unnatural life.

I remember, when I was a little girl I loved to show my drawings to anyone around me to show-off with my drawing talent, but I hated when they wanted to watch the process as well. I haven't changed ever since: I like to share the songs I am singing and I enjoy the attention of the audience to the utmost, but when the concert is over and also the audience time is over afterwards, I enjoy to retire myself to my shell and (anti-social behaviour or not) keep myself away from people. That's also my main problem with fame, actually. You get unwanted attention and you have to keep your cool, otherwise you'll definitly loose your audience.

But back to websites... Yes, I have one and please feel free to check it out: http://www.johannafoldesi.com/

And no, I will not feel offended if you check out my website. I prefer to call it "online portfolio", or bungalow... or anything else but a website. The main reason why I hate to have one is that it wasn't my choice to get one, I was rather pushed to make one for myself, and even though I enjoy writing the contents and update it every once in a while, there's a slight loathing towards the fact that I am objectifying myself, I am making myself a product on 24/7 instead of doing that every once in a while by giving concerts. Let's nail my colours to must: an ensemble having a website or a facebook page, that's OK, I'm perfectly fine with that, because then a certain "organization" is advertising itself, and that's already condemned to objectify itself since it's not one personality but a mass of personalities.

Soooo... back to "whoring"... Please check out my website: http://www.johannafoldesi.com/

All you need is Love - the tale of Max and the Nematanthus

About 2 years ago a friend of mine gave me a new potted plant, a nematanthus (they also call it "goldfish" flowers). I've already had an African violet since 2011, so I thought another potted plant couldn't be a problem.

You have to know, that before I had the African violet (which I will call Max, from now on, because that's his name, actually), plants just didn't want to survive around me. I've bought Max the day after I broke up with my boyfriend in 2011, and back then I was thinking that if this plant is going to survive, and it even going to bloom, I'm not that hopeless as a human being after all. My mother taught me that if you would like to buy a potted flower, you should buy the one that haven't yet open its flowerbuds, so I followed the instruction. I had done some research on how to take care of an African violet, also asked my mother (she's an expert in my eyes, when it comes to potted plants) and my grandmother (she has a lots of them at home) as well, gave him the name Max, and I was waiting what will happen after the flowerbuds open, and the flowers wither. I was expecting Max to die and was hoping for his survival at the same time, but he surpassed my expectations: instead of dying, not only he survived, he blooms like crazy whenever the time comes for blooming (mostly in spring, or whenever he's in the mood). Max brought me many nice memories with his flowers and made me proud (because of his flowers and my success, and it made me think "finally! I can keep at least a potted plant alive!"). He's still standing on my table enjoying scattered light, and next to Max there is the nematanthus.

In a way, it was completely different with the nematanthus. This little one almost prove my success with Max wrong, because in the first few days she spent in my room right next to Max, she dropped her buds. I did my research, like I had done when I bought Max (though neither my mother or my grandmother could help me, because they have never had a nematanthus before). I was looking at her dark green leafes and I didn't know what to do. It was clear she wasn't feeling comfortable in my room, though she didn't die right away, she just refused to bloom.
I had to realize that the nematanthus is more sensitive and more demanding than Max is. It was easy with Max: I just smiled at him proudly and he was happy, he felt at ease, and both of us were satisfied. So at a certain point, I literally told the nematanthus: I don't let you die. Made another vow as well, which brought a tiny vision along, but that's not something to share with the public (I have my secrets as well). The nematanthus arrived in November 2013, and around the first weeks of February 2014 a discovered she's growing a new sprout. Before that I was sure she would stay the way she were after dropping her flowerbuds (still hoping for some progress and growth, though I couldn't be 100% sure about the success), but more and more new sprouts appeared, and grew into new branches, aiming towards the window. I didn't do more than this during the whole time (ever since I made that vow): I was speaking to her, I was encouraging her and asked her not to give up, and I made her sure that I love her. She got the same treatment as Max always had, and kept talking to both of them. And then, in the end of August, last year, a flowerbud appeared on her, and though after blooming she didn't bring more flowers for a while, when I got back from Hungary in January two new flowerbuds apperared... and then again two more... and by now I discover every week a few new buds on the nematanthus.
The potted plant I was sure (regardless my bold vow, I don't let you die) I will only be able to keep in a vegetative state (without flowers) for a while, is now blooming, and I am grateful for every single little bud. This plant-experience reminds me to my grandfather (from my mother's side): the real plant and tree expert is him. He just smiles at his plants, flowers (especially his roses) and fruit trees in his garden and they are blooming, and the fruit trees are bringing delicious fruits, though the soil conditions in my hometown, Dévaványa is not a kind that a plant or a tree would wish for. And my grandfather also speaks to them, sometimes without speaking.

OK, why am I telling you about this gardening success of mine? In my opinion working together in an ensemble, working on your own development or your singing pupil's development is very much like gardening. And I am not talking about the botanical side of gardening, but taking care of a garden. I have never seen a good gardener whose garden would have been messy or filled with sick and dying plants, while taking care of others' gardens perfectly fine.
I obviously wanted to get better when I bought Max, and I wished for recovering when I saw the nematanthus dropping her flowers. I had to realize that not every potted plant needs the same treatment, just like not every individual is able to handle the same treatment when you teach them or work with them. It is essential that you stay calm and flexible at handling their problems, but above these you have to love them. Talent - doesn't matter if we are talking about a colleague's, a pupil's or your own - should be treated with love, and nothing more can inspire someone than knowing that he/she is being loved. Listen to them, look at them, pay attention to them, but never ever try to change them to be in a certain way on purpose, or force your way to the bottom of their heart. Be gentle, remain open and curious about the results they come up with: you never know what kind of and how many flowerbuds they'll show you. Just let them sing, guide them (based on what they need as an individual), comfort them when they are down, and never leave their side in crucial moments, just be their safety net. That's all they need.

Living in the world of extremes

It doesn't matter how I look at it I still think we are living in a world of extremes. What makes me say this? Well, take a look at the artworks and peformances of nowadays. Art has always served as a mirror to reflect what's happening and also exaggerate it a little so it would bat an eye (at least a little).

But now this mirror-effect is even stronger. I mean, if I take a look at how different music genre's (classical, ligh music and early music) vocal music sounds like, the difference in vibrato preference is almost abstract, if not extreme and insane. Once a guy said in the end of 19th-century that using a lot of vibrato is considered as bad taste, and now everyone (especially authenticity freaks among early musicians) thinks that music should lack vibrato (if you ask me, this is simply a misinterpretation of a source reading, but that only my humble opinion, or in other words: don't take everything you read literally). As for me, I don't mind vibrato on the voice at all (and I am a non-authenticity freak, and a graduated singer specialized on early music repertory), if it's elegant and natural. Those who prefer this laser-voice thingie (I'm sorry, but I don't have a better word for this) don't know anything about the physics behind producing a sound: when the air is vibrating, it becomes something audible (it depends on the vibratory if we are able to hear it or not), and if the vibration has a regular pattern, it's called a sound, but if this pattern is irregular it's called a noise.

On muscular level and if you don't know how to produce this non-vibrato laser thingie you just grab your own larynx and don't let it move on it's natural way. Ehm... I think I've written something earlier about manipulating the muscles and how damaging it can be if you do it longer than you should (in this context "longer than you should" means "any length", so just try not to do it), but here you go: if you don' let your body work for you, although your body knows much better than your brain how to produce a sound, you'll get problems. The larynx is supposed to move freely without any manipulation during singing. That's one of the edges of the extremes; the other one when you try to move your larynx in a certain way in order to create the vibration - I don't think I have to repeat myself, so just shortly put: since it's manipulated, controlled, therefore it's bad for your voice. In both cases, also the breathing is being controlled and is by no means free, so there's a huge possibility that there's other muscular tensions in the body while you're trying to either create one of them: the vibration or the non-vibration - instead of letting it happen.

But my point is... It is extreme how classical singers' vocal interpration is full of vibration, while early music is almost weirdly and unnaturally non-vibrato, and then you have the light music singers who mix the two a little, and they sound still more natural than any singer who uses bel canto. And it is weird, because bel canto is all about following the natural muscle movements of the body (especially the larynx), while for example belting (as far as I experienced) is doing the opposite but still in a good way so you wouldn't harm your larynx and the vocalchords.

Another extreme shows in how musicians treat improvisation nowadays. A few weeks ago a friend of mine shared and interesting article which says (already in the title) we are playing classical music all wrong, because composers wanted us to improvise. I remember how afraid I was from improvising simply because I've never done it before, but the moment I began to experiment with my voice and explore my limits, this fear turned into curiousity towards the unknown. Last year in November I had the luck to participate in a project based on vocal improvisation (for those whom are interested: check out the Klankconcerten or if you don't speak Dutch, just watch this video to get an idea). When I was preparing for the rehearsals (we've got a few instructions on the improvised pieces) a part of me, which was still afraid of making mistakes, was also afraid of improvisation. What if I do something wrong? But then I thought: there's no way I can make a mistake if I listen carefully to the other singers - and I was right.

Why don't classical musicians improvise? They are not used to it, and most of the teachers at the conservatories don't push them towards improvisation (except for those who actually teach improvisation). Early musicians are a bit better on this, because the earlier the repertory, the more improvisation is required (in those good old times in the 10th-14th-centuries the scribes just didn't write everything down). Yet again, we have the other edge of extreme: jazz, which is (comparing to classical music performances) full of improvisations.

So yes, we are living in a world of extremes. I'm just wondering could this Planet and the Humanity be saved, if every artist would try to balance the sharp and wounding difference between the edges of the extremes? Maybe even wars and terrorism could be stopped, but that's just an idea...