The Eyes of a Stranger — AddieRose Brown, Mezzo-Soprano

One of the most beautiful things about being a musician is that it so often asks of us to enter a room, look into the eyes of a stranger, and love them.

I don’t mean the acting out of being in love with one another — though of course that’s included in plenty of operatic plots. No, I mean the love required for true ensemble, for taking risks, for opening oneself enough that there is space for an audience to be allowed into the experience of a musical & dramatic work.

I remember thinking this vividly for the first time when in grad school, working with a conductor I’d never met before, singing some music I loved very dearly — the kind of music you sing or play for the first time and feel it meet something you didn’t know you knew about yourself, down inside your core. I knew the music lit up my soul; I knew that put a light of love behind my eyes. I remember being ever so slightly startled then to meet the eyes of the conductor, because — oh! I look as if I’m in love. But… aren’t we all?

I realized in the moments after that that it didn’t matter. (Does it ever really matter if we look like fools?) That if and when that eye contact happened, which the nervous teenager that lives in all our brains is scared of, all it meant was that the conductor would know that I trusted them, that I was listening, that I knew they were there for me, and that I would give back.

There are plenty of times, in music and in life, when we may not be able to fully achieve this, for one reason or another. For one thing, it has to be reciprocal, and we never know for sure what kind of people will be in a room. These days, though, I have been profoundly lucky to be spending my hours in a room full of people who all seem willing to do this. In the midst of instabilities, constant shifts due to the nature of the performing arts world in this moment, extraordinarily tricky music, nerves, windowless rooms…. In the midst of all the trials and tribulations, artists who are willing to be courageous enough to look at one another with love are what opens the door to creating a work of real beauty.

photo by Brian E. Long. | Timothy Wilt as Golaud & AddieRose Forstman as Mélisande | dell’Arte Opera Ensemble’s *Pelléas et Mélisande* directed by Chuck Hudson
music director - Chris Fecteau | scenic & lighting - Barry Steele | costumes - Angela Huff | hair & makeup - Georgi Eberhard

It is this sort of love that allows us to feel safe even when our characters abuse each other onstage, knowing that the eyes looking at us are full of kindness behind the violence being portrayed. It is this sort of love that allows us to lock eyes with each other in the most stressful & challenging musical moments, when our staging may not allow us clear sightlines to our conductor, and know that we will get each other through, whatever happens. And it is this sort of love that allows us to trust one another with the most fragile and intimate gaze by which we share the joy and tragedy of two characters finding safety in one another, and having it ripped away.

photo by Brian E. Long. | James Danner as Pelléas & AddieRose Forstman as Mélisande | dell’Arte Opera Ensemble’s *Pelléas et Mélisande* directed by Chuck Hudson
music director - Chris Fecteau | scenic & lighting - Barry Steele | costumes - Angela Huff | hair & makeup - Georgi Eberhard

What a gift to be given, as a human being — this gift of trusting the eyes of a stranger. What a gift, because when we offer each other that trust, we can scarcely be strangers any longer, and perforce will carry some profound grain of connection with us long after we have left the theater. And so in the process of creating a work of art to give to our audience, we are afforded something perhaps lovelier than we can ever hope to offer them. They will experience a gorgeous work of art, a deeply touching story, but we, the artists, will leave with the world’s greatest treasure: friendship.