So that was it! The month finally came to an end and we performed our recital at the historic Alte Börse. I was able to perform two pieces (both by Schumanns) one was “Die stille Lotosblume” by Clara Schumann and the other was “Widmung” by Robert Schumann (which I learned a little bit later into the process than I care to admit translated to dedication).

The piece by Clara Schumann which translates to “the still lotus flower” is a very symbolic piece centering around of course a lotus flower and several other natural/organic potentially male actors. Apparently this structure was common in her pieces (especially in her art song where about one third of the compositions centered around flowers). I learned this funnily enough because of an article stemming from Princeton titled “Speech and Silence: Encountering Flowers in the Lieder of Clara Schumann” (you can find Dr. Heller in the footnotes!!) which talks about the imagery Clara utilized and its symbolism regarding gender when she discussed floral metaphors in her pieces. Namely the figures of the Moon which pours its golden rays into the bosom of the flower (somewhat reminiscent of impregnation) and the swan, which circles around the flower, gazing upon it, singing its song in which the swan wishes to fade away are the primary “male” influences according to the background the article provides. Their difference in roles (the Moon having such a profound, direct effect on the flower while the swan helplessly swims around it, its song almost fading away with it) provide an interesting juxtaposition to how Clara Schumann thought about men and their influence in a female figure’s life. In this specific piece (and apparently often in her lieder which focused on flowers, Clara would center whichever flower she chose and yet leave it un-impacted by the actions of “male” actors. What she truly meant by this choice is unclear and definitely up to interpretation.

Interestingly, I also learned from Christopher Parton’s article that Clara was gifted a flower book by Brahms, a common gift that women would use to share pressed flowers amongst each other (a sign of friendship). Some sources have said it was a subtle way for Schumann and Brahms to express their romantic interest in one another (perhaps with a pressed rose), but, similarly to Clara’s lieder, the flower book or “Blumenbuch” was definitely not a simple secret message carrier. Clara eventually filled it with flowers and titled it “Blumenbuch für Robert” and laid it upon her husband’s grave when he died.

Wow! I’ve given so much space to Clara, I may not have enough space for Robert! (Since that so rarely occurs the other way around, I think I’ll keep it this way). I think through translating and re-translating Widmung, I’ve re-interpreted it over and over again and still don’t know how to think about it. It’s such a strong dedication of love and affection but at the same time full of darkness, especially with the line “you are my grave” following sentiments like “you are my soul, you are my heart.” I honestly still have more thinking to do about how this piece really functions tonally. Is there a hint of desperation? Sickness? Or in its darkness does it really encapsulate the painful nature and backwardness of love?

TBD for now!

Gabrielle

I. Introduction

I have always loved music. I grew up listening to almost every genre you can imagine (excluding certain facets of country music, thanks to my parents’ strong preferences). I’ve been known to obsess over the soundtrack of an obscure film, or stop mid-conversation in a department store to Shazam a song that caught my ear. That passion has always been part of me. But does that make me a true listener?

Before coming to Leipzig, I realized my relationship to music had mostly been about enjoyment: what sounds good, what moves me. I rarely asked why it moved me, how it was structured to do so, or what about the space, the performers, or the history made a piece land a certain way. I arrived expecting to keep listening the way I always had—passively, intuitively. But over the course of this program, through the concerts, seminars, and just being here, something changed.

Leipzig’s musical spaces, architectural design, and historical weight pushed me to listen differently. From the sacred reverberations of the Thomaskirche to the clear acoustics of the Gewandhaus, each concert reshaped how I experience sound. Through this immersion, I came to realize: Leipzig didn’t just show me great music, but impactfully changed the way I listen to it.

II. Sound Meets Space: Architecture and Acoustics

When I first arrived in Leipzig, I believed I knew how to appreciate music. I expected the concerts to be enjoyable and maybe even inspiring. What I did not expect was that they would change how I listen altogether. That shift began with the Friday cantata concert at the Nikolaikirche. Sitting in the pews of this centuries-old church, I was struck not just by the music itself, but by the way the space carried and shaped the sound. The acoustics made each note feel both intimate and monumental. I could feel the vibrations of the performance surrounding me, not coming from a speaker or headphones, but from the architecture itself.

The next night’s performance at the Salle de Pologne brought a different type of transformation. The Coffee Cantata, full of humor and theatricality, showed me the importance of performance beyond sound. The soprano’s acting, much of which she told me afterward was improvised, gave the music an energy that I could see as well as hear. That experience helped me understand how much meaning in music can be communicated through gesture, body language, and tone. I began to listen with my eyes as much as with my ears.

By Sunday, during the St. John Passion at the Thomaskirche, I noticed something had shifted. I was no longer attending concerts as a passive observer. I was learning to listen with intention. I became more aware of the emotional pacing of each piece, the relationship between music and space, and the powerful silence that follows a moving performance.

Rather than simply hearing what was being played, I was beginning to engage more fully. Leipzig gave me the opportunity to discover that listening can be active, reflective, and deeply connected to a place.

III. Performer Energy and Audience Connection

One of the most meaningful moments of my time in Leipzig was stepping into the role of a performer during our final recital at the Alte Börse. Until that point, I had spent most of the trip absorbing music from the audience’s side. I had been listening and reflecting, growing more aware of the spaces and stories that surround a piece. But performing inside a historic building, alongside fellow Princeton students I had grown close to, added an entirely new layer to that understanding.

As a performer immersed in the experience and space, I became intensely aware of the acoustics in a way I never could have imagined as just a listener. Every note we sang bounced back in surprising ways, sometimes ringing longer than expected, other times vanishing more quickly than I thought they would. Rather than feeling like sound was something we created and sent out, it felt as if we were working with the room, shaping each phrase with care and instinct.

There was something powerful about performing with people I had experienced Leipzig alongside. We had walked the same cobbled streets, sat in the same pews during concerts, and now shared the responsibility of creating something together. That connection made the music feel more alive, more personal. It was not just about getting the notes right. It was about expression, attention, and trust.

This experience reminded me that listening and performing are not separate. Each informs the other. Performing helped me realize that the act of music-making is just as much about responding to space and to each other as it is about technical skill. At that moment, I was no longer only learning how to listen, I was living it.

IV. The Role of Space

If Leipzig changed the way I listen, then its spaces were some of my greatest teachers. The architecture of each venue shaped the sound in a way that made the experience feel not just musical, but spatial and emotional. I began to realize that where you hear something can influence how you hear it.

The Thomaskirche, for example, gave works like the St. John Passion and the B minor mass a sense of reverence that could never be replicated in a conventional concert hall. The sound seemed to linger, filling the arched ceilings and stained-glass with something that felt almost weightless. Sitting in that space, I wasn’t just hearing the music, I felt surrounded by it. In contrast, the Gewandhaus offered clarity and balance. When I heard Brahms’s Symphony No. 4 there, I was struck by how crisp and articulate each section of the orchestra sounded, especially the brass and lower strings.

It wasn’t until I performed in the Alte Börse that I fully understood the intimacy that space can create. The hall was small, warm, and richly detailed. Singing there, I felt close to both the audience and my fellow performers. There was no sense of distance. The room invited a sense of reflection, control, and connection.

Across all of these spaces, I learned to listen not just to the music itself, but to how it responded to its surroundings. I started to understand sound as something physical, that moves through material and air and reaches people differently depending on where they listen. That awareness has stayed with me. It makes every performance feel more alive.

V. Personal Reflection: A Changed Listener

Before coming to Leipzig, I thought of myself as someone who simply loved music, but love alone doesn’t always mean deep listening. I rarely stopped to think about why I was drawn to certain sounds, how music worked, or how the space around it might shape my experience.

This city changed that. Through concerts in sacred churches and historic halls, I learned to listen differently. I started paying attention to more than just the melody by listening to space, to resonance, to silence.

Leipzig showed me that being a listener is active. It’s about being present, being curious, and letting the music shape you in real time. Sharing that experience with other student performers reminded me how vulnerable and joyful music-making can be. I’ve learned that the spaces we sing and play in carry meaning, and that being aware of them enriches every note.

I came to Leipzig expecting to enjoy the music. I didn’t expect to be changed by it. But I leave with a fuller understanding of sound, of performance, and of what it means to truly listen: with attention, with emotion, and with a sense of place.

It’s hard to believe this is the last blog post I’ll write about Leipzig. After weeks of exploring, listening, performing, and reflecting, our final concert at the Alte Börse felt like both a closing chapter and a quiet celebration. The room itself was intimate, had golden lighting, and an extremely reflective atmosphere. I had the chance to perform two choir pieces and one trio with other Princeton students, and while I’ve performed many times before, this felt different. It wasn’t about perfection. It was about sharing something we had all built together.

There was something deeply personal about this final performance. Maybe it was the fact that we had all seen each other grow in just a few weeks. We started off as tourists who took the wrong trams to German instruction, and became extremely proficient in all things Leipzig. Maybe it was the music itself. Standing in the Alte Börse, I felt a strange mix of calm and fullness, like I was exactly where I needed to be. And as soon as it ended, I wanted to do it all over again.

Saying goodbye to the city hasn’t been easy. Every walk to seminar, every church bell, every lingering note in a concert feels sharper now, more defined. I’ll miss the sound of trams blending into Bach, the sounds of musicians of all kinds playing music everywhere I walk. I’ll miss turning corners and finding music spilling out of a doorway. I’ll miss the feeling of being constantly surrounded by centuries of musical history, and by people who care deeply about it.

One of my favorite memories actually came at a moment when I wasn’t expecting anything musical at all. I was grabbing lunch at the train station, half-focused and hungry, when I noticed a small children’s choir singing in the open space as part of Bachfest. A few people were sitting and listening. Most were passing through, busy with their day. But I stopped for a while. The simplicity of it, with  young voices echoing in a public space, Bach in the background of an ordinary afternoon, felt quietly profound. It wasn’t a major performance, but it captured something essential. That experience was so Leipzig.

I’m also grateful. For the spaces that held our voices. For the concerts that reminded me to listen. And for the friendships that turned performances into memories. I came to Leipzig looking forward to the music and beautiful language, but I leave remembering the people, the spaces, and the unexpected magic in between.

Bis bald, Leipzig.

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I felt like our final concert at the Alte Börse was quite a good way to wrap up the program, and I had a great time preparing for it! I wanted to just share some final thoughts and takeaways on each of the pieces I performed in, as I feel like I gained a lot of experience throughout the process.

Vocal pieces – “Jesus bleibet meine Freunde” and “O große Lieb”

These pieces were especially fun to play because I have never had the opportunity to play with singers in a setting like this before. It forced me to listen more closely so as to blend properly with the vocalists, and really control my sound in order to accompany well while still playing out a bit when they had rests to make the piece sound balanced. I also thought it was interesting going through and having the instrumentalists sing as well during preparation, as it made it much easier to accompany the singers knowing how it felt to be in their position. It also helped me internalize the music better, and knowing what the words meant was useful for developing the expression of the pieces. Generally I thought having these pieces to open and end the concert was a very fitting way to cap off our exploration of Bach!

Viola duets – J.S. Bach Invention No. 1 and W.F. Bach Duet for Two Violas in C Major

Starting with the invention, I thought this piece was a wonderful little introduction to the world of Bach for me, since I have played very little of his music before. It’s not especially long or difficult, but actually contains a good amount of nuance that was fun to work through. I felt like I learned a lot about phrasing and expression in a Baroque context through this piece. Initially the very systematic wall of sixteenth notes seemed intimidating and monotone, but once we had some familiarity with the piece I began to see ways to shape it creatively and add expression. Working with Vito on this was great as well, as I was able to learn about  Baroque stylistic and performance tendencies both through his preexisting knowledge of them and by working through our pieces. This was extremely helpful in both duets, and I feel like by playing them I have gained greater insight into how Baroque music really works. For the W.F. Bach duet, we ended up playing the first and second movements of the duet in C major (although we played the second movement first!). This piece was also quite interesting, as I knew very little about W.F. Bach and, as I was excited to learn, it was originally composed for two violas! I enjoyed this one quite a bit, as the viola parts were very interlocked and imitative, so it was a fun challenge to get the balance right and make sure the melody was always audible at a given time. I was also able to work on expression in a Baroque context as with the invention, but this duet also contained a few more accompanying sections and contrasts in mood which allowed a wider range of expressive nuances.

Overall, I thought the concert went well and it was a great experience getting to know Bach in the city where he spent so much of his life!

Nearing the end of our trip, we took some time to explore Mendelssohn House before attending a Lieder recital with Columbia students. Since we only had an hour to get through the whole museum, we had to make our time count. The museum was structured into three floors: the first explored general contributions of Felix Mendelssohn tied into Leipzig history, the second featured more about his home life and his wife, Cécile, and the third focused on his sister, Fanny Hensel who was also a composer.

Before going to the Mendelssohn House, I listened to an two episodes of the podcast: Opera After Dark which gave some background on both the Mendelssohns. I really enjoy the podcast because it’s well-researched (one of the hosts also speaks on the Met Opera Guild podcast and is a musicologist) but the tone is lighthearted and silly which for opera works really well since so many opera plots are fairly insane to begin with. Going back to the Mendelssohns, the episode I listened to on Felix centered more on his personal life with topics ranging from his somewhat parasitic relationship with Fanny, attempted affair later in his marriage, and his unflattering neck beard. The museum offered a much more positive view of Felix. It detailed his contributions to Leipzig, most notably through the Gewandhaus. As one plaque described, Mendelssohn was, for a time, the Gewandhaus orchestra’s conductor whose “sense of moral responsibility impelled him to call for socially minded benefits for the members of his orchestra” which included working for the official recognition of the Gewandhaus as a municipal institution and increased salaries for his musicians. It was extremely exciting to hear some of his music as part of the museum. This largely took place in the green room, where you could even self-conduct his pieces (we did this with his Midsummer Night’s Dream) and choose how loudly each instrument should be played and even the type of venue it would be played for.

Going into the Mendelssohn House, I knew there were mixed accounts of the relationship between Fanny and Felix. Fanny was the oldest of the Mendelssohn children, born 4 years before Felix. She was also a composer and played piano and Felix supported her composition — but only in private. Felix and Fanny lived in Germany in the same era as Clara Schumann (and actually were good friends with the Schumanns later in life) and during that time, a woman would play piano as an erudite hobby to imply higher social status, not as a career. This was a notion that impacted both Clara and Fanny (albeit in different ways). Both Felix and his father discouraged Fanny from showing her compositions in public and under her name. One of the most hotly debated issues arising from this is that Felix would play his sister’s pieces under his own name. Some, erring on the more favorable side of the debate will say that this was a way for Felix to get his sister’s music out there, even if she couldn’t take credit for it. Others argue that he purposefully stifled her public exposure out of sexism and a fear of competition. I believe both arguments have evidence backing them. For example, the first is supported by the fact that when Felix played for Queen Victoria and she requested one of Fanny’s lieder (“Italien”), he confessed to his sister having composed it. On the other hand, while Felix supported Clara Schumann’s public performance and composition career, he suppressed Fanny’s, leading one to wonder why his response towards his sister was so different. Was he intimidated by her? Did he see her innate talent as a threat? Overall, the relationship between the two siblings was quite positive, with Fanny speaking highly of him and occasionally depending on his praise to continue composing. In some of her letters (she wrote so many, that on her floor of the Mendelssohn house, there was a whole room dedicated to them), she confessed that if Felix didn’t believe her compositions were worthwhile, she would stop composing altogether. However, despite their close relationship, occasionally Fanny rebelled and played her own music much later in her life.

The Mendelssohn family also had an interesting relationship with religion, namely Judaism. Their grandfather, Moses Mendelssohn, was a “preeminent Jewish philosopher of the German Enlightenment” (Library of Congress) in a period where Jews were largely marginalized. Given the challenges of being Jewish and social/economic advancement during that time, the Moses Mendelssohn family children (the generation before Felix and Fanny) practiced different faiths. Of the six, two remained Jewish, two converted to Catholicism, and two converted to Protestantism. One of the two who embraced Protestantism was Felix and Fanny’s father, Abraham. There’s so much more to say on this topic, but this post is becoming quite long and I could write a whole book on this, so I’ll stop here for now.

Can’t wait to keep learning about the Mendelssohns and their beautiful music!

Gabrielle

https://www.loc.gov/collections/felix-mendelssohn/articles-and-essays/felix-mendelssohn-and-jewish-identity/

Bach Cello Suite no. 6 in D major, BWV. 1012

The prelude of this grandiose suite is the longest prelude of the six suites. There is speculation that Bach intended this suite for the five-stringed violoncello piccolo, cello da spalla, or viola pomposa, but there is no way of knowing for sure. What we do know is that this prelude (and suite) is set very high in the cello’s range and is incredibly difficult to play. I have been listening to this suite ever since I was quite young and have always noticed how many different ways there are to play it. Therefore, when I began learning the prelude, I naturally explored the many options. I found that I prefer a slightly more romantic approach than some other cellists do, mostly in terms of articulation and bow stroke. I tend to use a more “into the string” stroke, whereas a musician with the goal of being as historically accurate as possible might use a lighter, drier stroke. A huge challenge that I encountered during the process of learning this piece was the idea of balancing technical issues with phrasing & musical things. Obviously a large part of learning this movement is simply getting the notes down, but it is also important, as always, to make the music interesting to listen to by playing what Bach wrote (dynamics, following the lines up and down), but also by adding my own musical ideas to the music. Another consideration that I want to mention is the differences in performance spaces and their varying acoustics. When playing anything in a super resonant hall (but especially this Bach movement), I had to be careful not to take too fast of a tempo at risk of losing clarity. Since this Bach Prelude has so many moving notes and many changing harmonies, it is important to play according to what the space allows. This adjustment can also be achieved through articulation—shorter notes and less vibrato might work better in a resonant space, whereas you might be able to afford to play more legato and with more vibrato in a drier space. 

Mendelssohn: Auf Flügeln des Gesanges

The lyrics of this song are borrowed from the poem “Auf Flügeln des Gesanges” by the German Romantic poet Heinrich Heine. Originally for voice and piano, I borrowed this song for cello and piano (arranged by David Popper!!). When working on this song, I found that it was important to try to sound as similar to the human voice as possible and to try to phrase as a singer would, keeping the words and their meanings in mind at all times. There was so much freedom in this song, especially in terms of timing—there were many instances where it just made sense to take a breath before continuing. Throughout my time working on this piece, a big focus of mine was to make the second time through (there was a repeat) different from the first. I explored the possibilities—louder, softer, a bit slower, a bit faster—and ultimately decided to create that difference with my tone and with timing. There was a section that I played more or less straight the first time, but decided to use rubato the second time to create more of a sense of flow. Additionally, during the second time through, I tried to make the quiet sections extremely delicate and special by playing closer to the fingerboard, tilting the bow hair towards me, and applying less pressure to the string. Overall, I am so glad that someone (Ruth, I think) suggested doing this song—it is absolutely beautiful and I am so happy that I got to work on and perform it with Andy.

Unser Konzert!

Firstly, I was struck by how nice the space was! For the past month I had been walking past the Alte Börse (see below) but had never realized what a beautiful structure it is. So, I just wanted to express how lucky I feel that we were able to perform in such a space. I am also so proud of everyone—from watching the concert, I could tell that everyone had put in a lot of hard work, and I really enjoyed each performance. I thought that it was so nice that all the people from InterDaf came—it was very supportive and I appreciate them taking the time to do that. I am so glad that we got to play/sing the two Bach pieces together—it was a really nice way to begin & culminate the program, and I just felt lucky to be making music with everyone. 

A bit on InterDaf ~

I really enjoyed the German aspect of this course. Though I realize that not everyone had a fully positive experience, I just wanted to talk a bit about mine. When I began the course, the teachers did not exactly know where to place me because I had not taken the placement test (it ended up having been sent to my spam folder and I just never found it). So, I tried out a few of the levels and ultimately ended up in C1 (see our class pic below). I was scared because, although I had taken German for a long time, I really did not feel secure speaking German and I had also not spoken for over a year (since the last time I spoke more than a couple of words was in high school). Anyway, for the first few days, even the first week, I was doubting my choice to do C1—it was hard to understand the teacher as she spoke rapid German in a Leipzig accent, and I felt that the others in my class were much better at German than I was. AFter that adjustment period, however, I began to greatly enjoy the course, partly due to how challenging it was for me, and partly due to the content. Gradually I became more comfortable making mistakes and asking questions, and I also started to understand a lot more of what my teacher was saying. Throughout the weeks, I felt my German improve, and by the end of the course, I became so much less scared of talking in German, not only in class, but also to strangers on the street. 

Bach in VR

The concept sounded really cool and I thought that I would really enjoy it. I did at first, virtual reality is seriously cool and the harpsichord that was in the middle of the room really looked real. However, as I wore the goggles for longer, it started giving me a headache, and also made me weirdly drowsy. I know that a few others had a similar experience—as I woke up for a moment during it, I noticed that others were also slumped over, fast asleep ;).

This was my favorite concert on this trip by far, due partly to the music, but also to the very comfortable seating and wonderful view of the musicians and conductor that we had. First of all, I had never before heard a concerto consisting of three pianos and an orchestra. I enjoyed the piece of music (I mean, it was Bach!), but did not really understand why having three pianos was necessary. The second and third piano parts were often doubled by one of the string sections and it just seemed maybe a little bit excessive. That being said, I’m not complaining—it was a sight for sure, and we got to watch them use the piano lift to transport the pianos underground. I also thought it interesting that they completely removed the lids of all the pianos, which is also not something that you see that often. 

The second piece of music was one that I had not heard before, but despite that, I quite enjoyed it. There was a lot of dissonance, which I have historically not always been the biggest fan of, but in this case, I thoroughly enjoyed the performance and was surprised by the end of the piece, where the composer transitioned away from dissonance. During this piece, I was especially impressed by the places where all the strings were playing the same rhythm. It was super together and there were a couple of parts where the whole string section pizzed almost perfectly together.

My favorite was Brahms 4. I had never heard this live before, which is kind of shocking to me. I recognized the themes from the first and third movements, but most of it was new to me. I loved it, of course. Brahms has always been one of my top two composers and this was no different. The long gorgeous melodies just make your heart want to sing. If I am being completely honest, I was a bit less impressed with the orchestra for the Brahms—obviously it was still amazing, but if I am being really picky, there were just a few issues with the winds and brass. The principal horn player had some minor intonation issues during his big solos, and there were just some parts that lacked cohesion, but again, these are tiny tiny things that did not at all affect the overall performance. 

Before the concert, my parents had texted me saying that I should try to meet a couple of the string players that they knew in the orchestra after the concert. Ruth was kind enough to go with me, and thank gosh she did—I would not have had the courage to just go up to random musicians and tell them that I was here to meet somebody. Anyway, this one nice man let us in backstage and found the principal cellist for us! He knew my dad and was a super sweet guy. We talked to him for a few minutes and Ruth got a photo of the two of us together (see below). It was a wholesome interaction and I am grateful to Ruth for initiating it.

Overall, I really enjoyed the experience. I also forgot to mention that despite having gone to many orchestra concerts in my life, I had never sat behind the orchestra before, so this was a new experience!

I had a lot of fun preparing for and performing in the final concert for this program, including the rehearsal and presentation of a section of Bach’s BWV 199. This cantata was composed during Bach’s time in Weimar for the 11th Sunday after Trinity in 1714. In particular, I find this cantata very special because it is one of the few to feature an obbligato viola part in the sixth movement choral.

For me, there is a lot to consider when performing Bach and other earlier composers. I try to be very conscious of historical practice through my playing, and having recently started playing baroque viola at Princeton with Nancy Wilson, many major concerns with historical playing have been brought to my attention.

Principally, with baroque viola/violin, there is no chin rest or shoulder rest, so most of the instrumental support comes from the left arm, and not the shoulder and head as it is with modern instruments. As such, I find there is a greater connection between the instrument and the body, making it an extension of the arm. With this conception, phrasing becomes not only a musical idea but also a physical one. It becomes imperative to move the instrument to observe the strong and weak beats of the bar on early string instruments. In an attempt to adapt this style of playing on a modern viola, while I do not need to push up my instrument to facilitate stronger bow contact on strong beats, I try to keep this image in mind to help with general phrasing.

Further, bowing is an equally important concern for me in early music playing. I was able to use a baroque bow for this performance due to Ruth’s generosity in bringing hers from Princeton. This helped a lot with phrasing and easing many string crossings in the movement, as the bow tends to phrase strokes naturally given its tapered structure, seeing that bow directions are decided properly. In addition to this, there is an intent in baroque string playing to imitate the voice I have learned from multiple teachers (but still am far from understanding completely). It is harder to get these nuances in the sound from metal strings, but in an attempt to emulate early music playing on a modern instrument, I focused on starting entrances with “t” sounds and tried to create long “h” sounds on downbeats. I also tried to observe some inégal with repeated 16th notes, as it might have been played in the 18th century and with the heavy French influence on Bach’s writing.

Finally, the most difficult topic for me would be ornamentation. I have always struggled with finding appropriate places to add vibrato, and tend to be a little too conservative with my usage. However, given the amount of notes in this selection, I don’t think it was a significant issue here. In terms of other added ornaments, I had gone through the music and tried out a few, but ended up not adding them in the final performance. I feel slightly conflicted with Bach and added embellishments, seeing something a while back about Bach disliking excessive ornamentation in his music (what would be counted as “excessive” in this time?) and also the idea that this choral is part of his sacred music, which might be a little more strict for performers.

In total, it was such a great opportunity to add this portion of a Bach cantata to my performance history with Gabrielle and James!

Oper Leipzig take #2: Mozart’s Don Giovanni. After a thematically confusing (occasionally disturbing) performance of Pique Dame, I can safely say Oper Leipzig redeemed itself with its performance of Don Giovanni. Having read the original play the opera is based on (actually a Spanish work called “Don Juan Tenorio y convidado de piedra) in my Spanish Literature class in high school, this was a very full circle moment for me. Before we read the play aloud, we chose roles, none of which we were briefed on beforehand. I played Don Juan (who became Giovanni) and by the end of the play my character had slept with 3 women, killed one of their dads, and then been killed by his ghost. Suffice to say, it was a lot to take in.

When I saw the chance to see Don Giovanni, I jumped on it, along with Vito and Lucien! The standout singers in our opinions were Don Ottavio (Dalla sua pace, one of his arias, made me tear up) and Donna Anna, who had an incredibly powerful and resonant voice. Luckily for us though, every singer across the board was fantastic and perfectly cast to their character. I especially loved the directorial choice made with regards to Leporello. He was dressed as a Doordash delivery guy when he first entered which made his carrying out of all of Don Giovanni’s ridiculous tasks even more absurd (and surprisingly, it wasn’t too cheesy of an effect)! Then, every time I passed a bike with a food delivery package, I chuckled thinking about Leporello (pretty good marketing).

The set design also made this production incredibly special. I’ve attached the best photo I took of it on this post to give you an idea of the layout. Basically the stage was designed to resemble Don Giovanni’s mansion with plenty of secret passageways and hidden entrances. Getting to see the multiple characters in their respective rooms during the opera was really well blocked to not be too much for the eye but just enough that if you focused on one character, you would look back at the others and be occasionally surprised by their new task. One strong example of this was when they surreptitiously replaced the stone bust depicting Donna Ana’s dead father with the real live singer so that the statue miraculously came alive! The lighting during any of the ghost scenes was really exciting as well — the whole stage was covered in this smoky green hue that we only got to see twice in the whole run — causing the effect to not feel overused.

From a more political standpoint, I think the piece dealt with themes of sexual assault against women well. Part of that is of course derived from the original libretto, but I appreciated how differently the characters of the three women (Ana, Elvira, and Zerlina) were portrayed (with some being more stereotypically innocent than others) and yet eventually unified in their efforts against Don Giovanni.

All in all, I absolutely loved the production and it’s now one of my favorite operas!

PS: Watch Amadeus if you haven’t already!

Gabrielle