The arrival of fall means that our CLA 2022 applications are just around the corner. We’re so excited to share with you what we have planned for next year!

While we wait, enjoy this reflection from one of our newest faculty members, Performance Coach Daniel Isengart.

When Glenn wrote to me in mid-June, asking me if I could step in on short notice as a performance coach for the French Chapter of Classic Lyric Arts’ Summer of 2021 program, I did not hesitate for a second, even though I had a long-standing commitment for the week of July 4th that would not be easy to get out of. But there was no way I would forgo this offer. When opportunity knocks on your door, you graciously invite it in, and this was an exceptional opportunity. The key was to prove that mine was the right door. Glenn and I had been introduced to each other back in 2019 but had never had a chance to work together. Serendipitously, a mere week after he reached out to me, I happened to give a private Masterclass in the home of a critic, and Glenn was able to attend. After witnessing my style of coaching that evening, he generously told me that he thought I could bring something valuable to the program and gave me carte blanche.

What a blessing it was to be able to spend two weeks in the special atmosphere Glenn and John created for what was effectively the first Classic Lyric Arts program held in the United States, up in beautiful Hudson Valley. They had assembled a fantastic team of inspired coaches and pianists, and picked a group of excellent and wildly enthusiastic students, each of them bringing something unique to the table. We were all united by the simple will to find and express the magic in some extraordinary French music and French poetry. And did we, ever. The Darrow School may not have been shaking as the grounds allegedly used to when they were inhabited by actual Shakers, but I like to think that it gently swayed from the vibe we all breathed into it, some with an accent, some without it, but all of us giving ourselves over to the sheer bliss of creating art through careful study, thoughtful interpretation and fearless experimentation.

It was a journey of discovery for all of us as we pushed our limits to reach a higher ground, working tirelessly day after day without showing signs of fatigue – and, thanks to the healthy mix of comedic and dramatic repertoire devised by Glenn, having loads of fun along the way. “Perform the song,” I’d tell each singer, “and I will show you what we, the audience, see.” That was just the beginning. My goal was to help them find ways to be as expressive with their body posture, gesture, and eyes, as they already strove to be with their voice. We dug deeply into the text – and context – to come up with a convincing interpretation for each number. Ultimately, we looked for ways to let the music become physical as a way to make contact with the metaphysical. More often than not, we found that the music gave us all the cues we might need in addition to those we got from the lyrics, and I came to think of what we were developing together as something akin to choreography, bringing the body in tune with the music, the lyrics and the spirit of each number. I soon realized that it did not matter if I was already familiar with the repertoire they were coming in with on any given day; all I needed was the French lyrics, which were easy to look up online. In fact, it was at times quite useful when I did NOT know the material yet as it challenged the singers even more to be very specific in their interpretation and expressiveness. Sometimes, bad habits, like odd posture, automated gestures, or little ticks, acquired over the years, got in the way, and we worked on creating an awareness of them. The large mirror I had requested to be placed in the sun-drenched meeting room I had been assigned for my sessions, came in handy – until I found an even better way to use it, as a hilarious prop in an ensemble piece from an operetta that we presented in our concerts.

I loved it all. The intense daily sessions with the singers. The collaboration with our four wonderful pianists. The shared cafeteria meals around those huge round tables. The guest house I stayed in with my two amazing French colleagues, Laetitia and Anicet, and the relaxed evenings we spent together, engaged in loose French banter. The huge black bear we saw on a Highway section as we drove to a special rehearsal in a restored barn on a spectacular estate in the Berkshires. The buzz in the air backstage during our concert presentations. Most of all, I loved the music we made together. Many times, I was overcome with emotion and gratefulness as I sat there, facing these gifted young people who poured their hearts into what I consider the highest art form. Witnessing their work reminded me, again and again, that we were doing something that was not merely beautiful or valuable, but essential for our culture, for our rattled era, for humanity. They proved to me what in my heart I already knew to be true: that to be an artist is to find and express the nobility of humankind. There is no higher calling. And so, for some magical moments during those two weeks, we all jointly achieved the miracle described in Baudelaire’s poem, Invitation à un Voyage, set to music by Duparc and performed beautifully in one of our four concerts:

Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.

I can’t wait to come back next year. Until then, the music we made will continue to gently reverberate in my head.

- Daniel