Opera alfresco: How a Seattle singer shares his gift during COVID-19
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Ann Scott Tyson Staff writer
| Seattle
Promptly at 5 o鈥檆lock one sunny afternoon, veteran Seattle Opera singer Stephen Wall steps out onto his raised front lawn聽鈥� a grassy impromptu stage 鈥� drawing a scattering of applause from scores of people gathered along the tree-lined street below.
Neighbors sitting in lawn chairs, parents pushing strollers, dog walkers, and a couple on a tandem bicycle 鈥� all arrange themselves, safely spaced 6 feet apart, and excitedly await the show in the waterfront community of Ballard.
A seaplane flies by overhead, a dog lets out a single yap, and then all falls silent as the portly, gray-bearded Mr. Wall launches into the Verdi aria 鈥淟a Donna 猫 Mobile.鈥� For a few minutes, seems to lift the audience up and away from earthly concerns 鈥� like a kite on the wind.
Why We Wrote This
Picture an unforgettable opera performance. A hall with perfectly engineered acoustics? Elaborate costumes, perhaps? Simply standing in his yard, this tenor is sharing his talent, in an even more moving way.
鈥淚t鈥檚 like a gift,鈥� says Mr. Wall, a classically trained tenor from Connecticut, who followed his wife Ginna, a nurse, to Seattle in 1979 and made a home here. 鈥淚t鈥檚 something to offer, and I hope it would inspire people to say, 鈥榃hat do I have to offer?,鈥� particularly in these strange times.鈥�
Editor鈥檚 note: As a public service,聽all our coronavirus coverage聽is free. No paywall.
With Seattle Opera and so many arts venues shut down, creative new ways for performers to keep sharing their gifts are springing up all around Seattle and indeed, the world.
Amid Seattle鈥檚 lockdown, a drive-in dance show called 鈥淐ooped Up鈥� allowed people in cars to watch dances unfolding in yards, porches, and windows. Arts Corps, an award-winning group, has distributed arts kits to child care centers in low-income neighborhoods. And many have pivoted to put classes, exhibits, and performances online聽鈥� from classes by Pacific Northwest Ballet to streamed Shakespeare plays.
They鈥檙e keeping people connected with the arts even as the region鈥檚 cultural and science nonprofits suffer, with nearly 5,000 people laid off and revenue losses estimated at more than $133 million this fiscal year alone, according to the Seattle-based arts advocacy and grant-making group ArtsFund.
鈥淭here鈥檚 an incredible amount of resilience and responsiveness by the cultural sector,鈥� says Sarah Sidman, vice president of strategic initiatives and communications at ArtsFund. 鈥淲e are seeing cultural nonprofits, whose mission is to serve the community, pivoting to make sure access to the arts is not restricted.鈥�
Mr. Wall鈥檚 20-minute performances, held each weekday, began almost by accident in April. He鈥檇 been teaching online music lessons all day in a curtained room, and stepped outside for a break.
鈥淲hen I finally emerged from my Hobbit hole, I realized it was a beautiful day,鈥� he says, and set out a speaker to play some jazz standards, thinking no one would mind.
On the contrary, people stopped to listen, or gave him a thumbs-up. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 not a typical Seattle vibe,鈥� he says. 鈥淪eattle is a little introverted, but everyone was just ready to interact.鈥�
A few days later, he opted to sing a few numbers himself. People applauded, and asked for more. And so, Mr. Wall鈥檚 mini-performances began, news spreading by word-of-mouth.
Martha Strickland, a teacher, lives one block away and first heard the singing on a walk with her daughter, Ada, and husband, Greg. The family was hooked and has returned for every performance since, pulling 3-year-old Ada in a red wagon.
On this warm spring day, Mr. Wall ends the Verdi aria with a striking high note.
鈥淏ravo!鈥� Ada cries out. Everyone laughs and claps.
Ada, wearing pink heart sunglasses, enjoys a large lollipop during performances. 鈥淲e鈥檝e upgraded to lollipops because she keeps shouting 鈥楳ary Had a Little Lamb,鈥欌�� Ms. Strickland confides.
As more children attend, Mr. Wall has pulled stunts such as his dramatic Figaro entrance: riding out on a bicycle from the side yard. (鈥淔igaro also swings in on a rope, which I am not up to,鈥� he says.) He donned a lion costume to sing 鈥淚f I Were King of the Forest鈥� from 鈥淭he Wizard of Oz.鈥�
Whoever鈥檚 in the audience, Mr. Wall introduces each song with a bit of history, translation, and a light sense of humor. 鈥淔or today I am picking mostly fairly cheerful songs for obvious reasons,鈥� he says, 鈥渂ut when dealing with opera, eventually you are going to have to get around to something tragic.鈥�
He paints a scene from the 19th-century Italian opera 鈥淧agliacci,鈥� when a clown must perform just after learning of his wife鈥檚 betrayal. 鈥淓ven though your heart is breaking, you must do the show. Perform! Laugh, clown, laugh!鈥�
The doleful clown holds special meaning for Mr. Wall, as he explains later, recalling watching his mentor, Richard Knoll, play the role at Kansas City鈥檚 Capri Theater in 1971. 鈥淭hat was it for me,鈥� he says. 鈥淪eeing him thrill an audience with that 鈥� the theatrical catharsis that the people felt that night with that incredibly over-the-top, melodramatic story 鈥� I thought, that鈥檚 pretty cool.鈥�
鈥淚 have been working on that ever since,鈥� he says wistfully. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like having a coin collection: You carry it with you the rest of your life, and you just keep enriching the value of what it means to you.鈥�
To his audience 鈥� a family gathered on the balcony next door, a woman relaxing on her porch swing, the lady in a straw hat sitting on the curb lawn with her white dog聽鈥� Mr. Wall鈥檚 joy in performing comes through.
鈥淚t鈥檚 just a beautiful thing,鈥� says Sofia Zieve, who came from northeast Seattle for the concert. 鈥淚 love that he was able to express himself and do what he loves 鈥� it was a two-way street.鈥�
Mr. Wall鈥檚 gift also returns the bounty he鈥檚 seeing and experiencing himself. For instance, the Brooklyn landlord of his daughter, an aspiring actress, just forgave her three months鈥� rent.
And his singing has brought unexpected healing. His estranged brother reached out from Maine. 鈥淲e have reconciled,鈥� he says, choking up.
鈥淵ou hear these stories, and tell these stories, and you can start crying,鈥� he says. 鈥淎m I a wreck? No, it鈥檚 the words coming out of your mouth are just miraculous. ... You can鈥檛 even believe your own ears,鈥� he says.
At Seattle Opera, Mr. Wall has appeared in 99 productions over 39 seasons (which, he says, 鈥渋s mildly driving me crazy; we baseball fans prefer round numbers鈥�). He looks forward to the reopening, but for now has carved out a niche in Seattle鈥檚 鈥渘ew normal鈥� arts scene.
His last song? As always, it is 鈥淣essun Dorma,鈥� an uplifting aria from Puccini鈥檚 鈥淭urandot鈥� that has inspired millions in Italy and around the world in recent weeks, describing the victorious dawn.
鈥�础濒濒鈥檃濒产补,鈥� he sings, with arms raised high. 鈥�痴颈苍肠别谤貌! 痴颈苍肠别谤貌! 痴颈苍肠别谤貌!鈥�
Editor鈥檚 note: As a public service,聽all our coronavirus coverage聽is free. No paywall.
