“There’s an amazing wealth of projects that are being put out, but people aren’t really talking about, or getting to grips with why they’re working or not working.”
“In theatre you have your dress rehearsal and then previews to work things through. In opera you don’t. You do your dress rehearsal and then it’s press night.”
I was Boudicca. Note the warlike expression in my eyes. The proud, erect figure commanding the respect of men. The way I’m fiddling with my cardboard breastplates as if uncertain where the things they are supposed to be protecting might be.
It’s the huge, intelligent heart beating through his politics. He always found the time to tell his son Fermin – who grew up to be an accomplished artist – a bedtime story. His feminism. His firm principled life-long stand against all forms of oppression.
I play some online snippets of Haitian singer James Germain but none of them come anywhere near reproducing what I’ve just experienced in the church, where I’d sat in on the first rehearsal for Rochefort en Accords. I try again. “It’s the voice you’d want to sing you out of one world into the next…”
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