CLA France 2024 Perspectives: Rebecca Clark

“I am forever grateful that my voice, my French, and my life will always bear the fingerprints of CLA France.”

“Each has his own work to do daily; for you it is hunting, for me, study.” I first sang Barber’s The Monk and his Cat in the frigid months of a Michigan November, with no idea that not too long after, I would be living the dream of which I sang (cats and all!). From the first moment I glimpsed La Ferme d’Hermance in all its sunny glory, to the moment I left in a gray drizzle befitting the pain of separation, CLA France was a singer’s dream come true - and it was certainly mine. At CLA, I was immersed in the repertoire that holds so much magic for me, and every aspect of the training I had such a hunger for was addressed. Glenn, Raphaël, Gaspard, and Hélène met me where I was, strapped on rocket boots, and off we went! Each poured their knowledge and various areas of expertise into our time together, and everything from my [y] vowel to the way I sing Massenet changed. 

“Pleased with his own art neither hinders the other; thus we live ever without tedium and envy.” The environment was electric - there was certainly no time for tedium! We hit the ground running, yet never felt rushed, and being surrounded by such work ethic and passion was inspiring. Never before have I been privileged to be part of a group of singers so high in caliber, and so on the same page. Our coachings were held in the downstairs of two of the three houses, a separate building with acoustics perfect for pure-vowel identification, and a picnic table, so there was nowhere you could go without hearing an amazing voice flying in the rafters, or someone laughing over their fifteenth correction on a schwa that coaching. 

I was honored to even be sharing the stage with these singers, who I quickly learned to call friends. From drives to the pharmacy and markets with the windows down, to the cheer section you could count on at the end of every scene and aria performance, to dinner games and food truck night with French jazz, dancing, and foie gras, I felt surrounded by support and love from these grade A human beings. Every success by everyone was celebrated, and every word of encouragement that could have been given was given. Glenn, Raphaël, Gaspard, Hélène, Emmanuel, and Vincent were our rocks. It was clear in the way they taught that every faculty member loved teaching, and genuinely cared about us and our success (and our vowels). Their passion for the repertoire was contagious, as was Vincent’s passion for food! We ate like royalty as he enthusiastically shared the most delicious part of French culture, and I certainly felt ready to sing some Lakmé after Emmanuel’s breakfasts. They wanted us each to shine and grow. You could feel that they came to that farm in the south of France for us.

I’ve always been most passionate about concert singing, and it was a privilege to sing for our loyal and joyful audiences in their native language. My French improved by leaps and bounds with all the practice and instruction - my coachings were given in an eclectic mix of English, Italian, and mostly French upon my request, mimicking the international and multilingual environment one expects to find in a European opera house. Even outside our coachings and conversations with our French friends, we students gradually began speaking to each other in the French we knew - and no one looked at each other weirdly for trying. Poor Raphaël was inundated with questions about everything from wine regions to the proper use of a verb, and I came out of our French classes having not only learned French diction rules and formant methods to the satisfaction of a native speaker and singer, but also having done dramatic readings of Cyrano de Bergerac, and written a surrealist poem - in French! I had to take a picture with his statue outside one of our concert venues in Bergerac.

I can still hear the Debussy floating out of the doors to one of the houses, from an impromptu singing of Beau Soir, on a soir that was certainly beau. I can still feel the sunshine and taste the ratatouille, and I am forever grateful that my voice, my French, and my life will always bear the fingerprints of CLA France.