Laura sings LuciaJerusalem PostJerusalem, April 29, 1999
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After 10 years young American soprano Laura Claycomb finally feels ready for Lucia at the New Israeli Opera The title of soprano carries with it a heavy bag of operatic tripe and cliche. It is said sopranos are the essence of romance, that they are always beautiful. Wagnerian sopranos are larger than life who wear funny hats and tote little dogs along with them wherever they go. They are the divas, the virgins, and always the object of so much attention. Laura Claycomb, an exciting young American soprano, making her second appearance this May for the New Israeli Opera, carries the storied diva tradition that accompanies her vocal range with relative ease. "The whole diva infatuation is actually quite fun," a glib Claycomb remarks. "I admit, I have this cute little dog I take wherever I go and I wear the occasional funny hat, but on the whole I'm not too difficult." While Claycomb may not be difficult herself, the role she is set to play for the NIO bears the sort of weighty burden reserved for characters - and the operas they are in - in the rarefied echelons of the operatic world. Lucia di Lammermoor opens at the Tel Aviv Performing Arts Center on Saturday, and for both Israel and Claycomb, this will be a first. The opera, composed by Gaetano Donizetti, is based on the novel "The Bride of Lammermoor" by Sir Walter Scott. It is bel canto opera with all the trimmings: death, betrayal, romance as bloodthirsty seriousness, and of course, an angel-like soprano filling the opera house with her sweet sweet arias. The powerful sextet from Act II and a demanding coloraturs aria conveying Lucia's insanity have made Lucia di Lammermoor a staple of the operatic repertory. It was first performed in Naples in 1835, and though respected, it wasn't until the legendary Maria Callas sang Lucia in 1952 that the opera became a popular classic. Opera lovers had been used to light, coloratura sopranos who sang Lucia with what would be seen as fluffiness in comparison to the dramatic heroine interpretation Callas brought to the role. Especially in the mad scene, Callas hit notes with such passion, such vocal verve, that the role of Lucia would be considered one of her greater successes. For Claycomb, the history of the opera and Callas in particular, have made Lucia a daunting character to play. "I've worked on the opera since 1989, and I have not done it till now," she explains. "It's a frightening role. It's this war-horse of an opera. Of all these great, great sopranos - I'm talking about anybody that had any kind of coloratura - they all played Lucia and made it their own in some way. So you have this amazing tradition of singers doing this role, plus," Claycomb becomes a bit breathy and rolls her eyes to the sky, "I have Callas's Lucia in my brain." Claycomb has waited 10 years both to be able to interpret Lucia on her own terms and for her voice to develop adequately for the role. And develop it has. At 30 years old, her youth belies a veteran repertoire. As a budding soprano, the young Claycomb was already winning voice contests and dreaming of her life in the musical world. However, like most who reflect on their adolescent years, high school provided for 'I'll-show-them' incentive rather then a stage for which to show her talents. "The big thing at my high school was the musical. Each year they'd put this musical on and each year they'd throw me in the choir. I sang better then the people who were doing the leads," Claycomb says good-humoredly, but with a hint of bitterness. "It's so stupid and petty and silly, and of course it was high school, but those are our formative years; it's the little stuff that really makes an impression upon us. For years I always thought to myself, 'If I ever get a Grammy, I'm gonna go up and say thanks to mom and dad and no thanks to that stupid choir director.'" Incompetent choir directors aside, Claycomb went on to Southern Methodist University in her home state of Texas, following her long- time voice teacher, Barbara Moore, and received a double major in foreign languages and music. Her big break came when she was chosen for an Adler Fellowship with the San Francisco Opera, which from 1991- 1994 saw her performing numerous roles including Papagena in The Magic Flute, Xenia in Boris Godunov, and Marie in La fille du regiment. It was during this time that Claycomb addressed what she considered her biggest weakness - acting. Aware of the contemporary operatic criticism lamenting the loss of sopranos with personality - those half-baked vocalists with the stage presence of an overwrought cheerleader - Claycomb concentrated on the theatrical side of things. "At the time, I felt quite inhibited by my acting. The comment I always got was, 'That's a beautiful sound, but it's kind of out there, not really connected.' I really worked hard on it - it's not something that comes naturally - and now people often talk about my acting first." Not long after the conclusion of her Adler Fellowship, Claycomb made her European operatic debut stepping in at the last minute to perform Giulietta in I Capuleti e i Montecchi - with the Geneva Opera - to great critical acclaim: "...a voice pure and full bodied, with total facility, silvery top notes and a core voice of clear and gentle subtlety," exclaimed the Tribune de Geneve. Her initial success produced bookings and engagements years in advance and, finally, in 1997, Claycomb found herself in Tel Aviv performing Gilda in Rigoletto. The experience was positive and critics enthused of a voice capable of, "exquisite coloraturas expressing the fragility, purity and devotion of the composer's ideal of the Eternal Feminine." But the "Eternal Feminine" for Claycomb was a far easier interpretation then the prospect of Lucia; that terrifyingly complex femme fatale with oh so much history. It took two more years and a near nervous breakdown over her ex- boyfriend for her to understand the emotional depths of Lucia's character. If Lucia is indeed a femme fatale - a female whose attraction and/or desire have fatal consequences - Claycomb claims she is a problematic one; not a harmful woman but a woman harmed because of love denied. The climactic moment of madness is one in which the audience must question whether Lucia, from the very beginning, was crazy, or was she experiencing what any sentient soul might feel after a murder and the death of one's true love. Sir Walter Scott's powerful description of the scene leaves little doubt as to where he stood on the question: "...her eyes glazed, and her features convulsed into a wild paroxysm of insanity. When she saw herself discovered, she gibbered, made mouths, and pointed at them with her bloody fingers, with the frantic gestures of an exulting demoniac." Claycomb chooses to see Lucia less as a "demoniac" and more as a woman temporarily broken by the existential weight of immense pain. "What is crazy, what is madness? In that time period a woman who actually acknowledges her sexuality, who is out of the norm; a woman who is doing something deemed not acceptable - is she crazy or is she just doing what the hell she wants to do? In the very end she has gotten to the point where she just doesn't care what other people think, because she has been so beaten down. In your most horrible moment is it crazy to envision you might act similarly?" Questions of interpretive resonance will ultimately be judged the day of the performance, a day, both Claycomb and the NIO have anticipated for quite some time. Photo; Caption: Lucia's madness is born of the existential weight of immense pain thinks Laura Claycomb.
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