Typically I would talk about my event and my connection to it. I will briefly, but I want to talk about something more than that in particular so I will provide the lead up to it.
This years winter nights was just a time for me to go and hang with my other Bardy friends(not to be confused with baudy, though these are not mutually exclusive) , get a little challenge. No intent on winning. I went with the intent of celebrating Bard friends and being connected to my community, old and new.
This was also Aegir’s first true bardic event. I wanted him to get a view of my world. The second we got there, he ran off with a friend he had made at another event to go make arrows. Whatever.
Round 1 had 26 competitors and every last one was enjoyable. I had asked Aegir what he wanted me to perform and he picked an Irish traditional piece called ” If I were a blackbird”. It fits the SCA feeling so I decided to go with it. It felt solid and I felt like I performed it well.
Round 2 was my first (and only challenge, spoiler alert). I was challenged to do a late period piece which would “Blow a hole through the roof”. This made me a little nervous as I hadn’t sang in about 2 weeks due to being ill. Whatever, I’ll pull it out. I’m a big girl! (5’11 and built like a valkyrie). I decided to go with a Monteverdi piece, “Lasciate Morire” from the opera L’Arianna composed in 1607 into 1608. I did indeed, blow the roof off. Everything, for the first time, with this piece lined up, like the stars and heavens. I was moved to even take the ground and sing from the ground. This isn’t easy to do, but it felt like the right thing to do.
Fast forward to the end of the event. We were all cleaning up and I was approached by someone who knows me from the outskirts but we haven’t been close. She approached me to tell me how much she enjoyed my performance and was wowed by me singing from the ground. I thanked her immensely for her words. They meant a lot to me.
Shortly after, Aegir advised he had been speaking with the same woman earlier. This is the conversation he provided to me. “She said she almost didn’t tell you that. She said you needed to hear it like you needed another hole in the head because you know it to be true.” So, moral of the story. TELL EVERYONE
The reason I wanted to bring this up is for one reason. If you hear or see something you like, tell the artist. We are our own worst critics. We have our own brain worms. I can tell you, day after day, I never feel good enough. The only thing I have to remind me I have some semblance of talent are your words and your tokens.
I find that there is a very large divide in the world of Arts and Sciences between those who create and have a half life and those who create and their art is fleeting. I fall very much into the fleeting art. I love to re-create music that has already been written and perform it in it’s period style. I find that I can compose in a decent manner, but my passion is the recreation. As I mentioned in my previous post, getting out there is difficult. I don’t have the money to get good recording equipment to get out reproduced tracks so I perform at as many events as I can
With that said, at Stonemarche’s winter feast celebration, I brought the handsome Aegir to his first event he’d be performing at. Aegir, ever since we started our relationship, has been very adamant that he wanted to sing with me as well as solo. I had him attend one of my classes on beginning stage presence, but he’d need to get out there to get comfortable. Stonemarche is a very relaxed group with very positive individuals, so this joyous event would be a good place for him to get his feet wet. We’d be the background music. The Event Stewart, Astridr, had contacted me a couple months prior, asking if I’d perform at the feast. I, of course, agreed. She not only asked because I am always performing at their events, but because my family is Jewish. The feast this year was a completely Jewish based feast so they wanted songs in Hebrew and Ladino. Also, we were staying away from traditional holiday music as well.
Aegir and I had a mixture of songs, from Hebrew to English, and some to banish the cold winter away. By the end of the day, his confidence about performance has been boosted and I also got in my need to sing.
Before the day was over, the current champion of Arts and Sciences had asked me if I would be providing anything for the Arts and Sciences competition. I hadn’t put in any thought to it, but I did keep my documentation of my works on my handy dandy smart phone. I am also stupidly organized in my personal life. I have folders for my folders, so I could readily find the documentation and art work to go along with a couple of pieces that I had composed.
I had produced my songs Ah weh and lullaby for the queen. Besides presenting my physical documentation, I was asked to perform them as well. (TWIST MY ARM). These were pieces I had written in a Norse fashion using skaldic poetic style and typical Scandinavian composition patterns. Singing was not the problem, it was talking about my work. It’s very personal to me. I had never sat down in front of a panel and had to equate why my work was good enough. On top of that, I felt like I was speaking a foreign language to the panel. Musician’s speak their own language.
The panel was kind and warm. All in all, I feel like this was a step in the right direction for the fleeting arts. I don’t feel like I won, as I don’t feel like my work was as adequately prepared as my fellow artisans, but I do feel like with some tweaking, it could be.
Jingle Bells, the Baron Smells, MacFrode laid an egg…
Ahem, sorry.
This is the year I get to attend, and have no responsibility. The Viking was incognito, donning 13th century garb, trading in my beads for a veil, and a fancy belt. However, never leaving my side is my Bard-Book — like a safety blanket, it goes with me everywhere.
Music was supposed to be run by someone else this year, so it was time for me to be a regular bystander and enjoy the atmosphere. Besides, I had my own little event to worry about back home, I didn’t want to do anything but eat, drink, and be merry. However, we know how these things tend to work out.
A familiar tugging on my kirtle occurred, but not from Photographer-Girl — she was absent this year, and I missed her greatly, — but from the Music Maestra herself. Inquisitively, she asked when music would begin. I gave her a blank stare. I said it was her show, and I was happy to sing whenever she needed me.
More time passed, and another tugging, from a different individual. However, same question. It seemed like it wasn’t just the food that brought people to this event. Finally, a third tug had me deciding to snap the chariot reins. I Oyez’ed for interested participants, and made a space for singing. Luckily, I had brought my security blanket full of a plethora of holiday music. We gathered in the hall, and sang through my usual repertoire. When I ran out of music, it turned out that the Music Maestra had indeed brought her own holiday SCA filks.We sang through those, and the event soon ended after.
I’m starting to wonder if I’m a musical Moses. I hope I’m not doomed to wander for 40 years.
Who’s smart idea was it to let the bard autocrat an event? Who’s smart idea was it to let the Viking bard autocrat an event? Vikings are known for pillaging, ravaging, and burning, not planning, and organizing, and decorating!
However, this Viking likes food. And I had an awesome kitchen staff. Despite all the hare in the stew.
I spent months planning my first event {Trust me, she did, it’s all she would talk about at fencing practice. (Shut up, Karen!)} And I never took for granted how much work the autocrats put into their events, big or small. I had excel spreadsheets, checklists, and lists for my excel-lists and checksheets. No, wait.
And best of all, the best deputy a Viking could ask for. My deputy found my masterful feastocrats, and also helped to find the perfect location. I didn’t just want this event to be delicious, I wanted the atmosphere to feel like home. If home had servers. And live music. And dancing. And games. And a silent auction. And room to seat 120.
Oh, and two surprise guests I couldn’t even imagine would grace my small event. But that comes later.
Before I had even submitted my bid. I made sure I had beat all my ducks into submission, and they were all in a neat row. I had lined up all my volunteers, and had my menu planned, and waited several weeks anxiously to find out my bid had been accepted.
Once everything had been lined up, I had about a month and a half to complete everything on my checklists. Everything fell into line easily, almost like I had planned it to. Until two weeks prior to the event…
Dun dun DUUUUUUN!
I had received a message on the Tome of Visages from Astrid, head retainer for their Royal Highnesses. “Hey Solvieg, Guess who’s coming to visit?”
I don’t know, Batman and Robin?
Good guess, but think a little bit fancier. With pointy hats.
Batman and Robin putting on a Statue of Liberty cosplay?
Close, but still no cigar.
Their Highnesses!
*insert cursing in my brain*
My heart began to palpate. What are you supposed to do to royalty? Or is it *with* royalty? Do I also have to dress up fancy and wear a floofy dress? Gosh darn it, I don’t wanna! You can’t make me!
The realization that the event was a week and a half away, and I don’t know what to do with royals or where to put them, or even where they went on my excel sheets, I did what any insane person would do: reach out to my 50 closest friends who had run events before, and ask for their sagest knowledge. And when that didn’t cut it, alcohol suggestions.
I was blessed with copious suggestions, and my mind was put at ease.
Hooray! The day of the event!
Wait, what is all this white stuff?! Why is it snowing?!
Because it’s January in Maine. Gah.
Thanks to the presence of our Royals, the event was sold out before the doors even opened. I had more volunteers than I knew what to do with for set up. And more kept coming. The hall was beautiful, filled with everything from garlands to banners of personal arms. We even glitter bombed their Highnesses chairs (thanks Karen! {My pleasure! His Highness said I gave him craft herpes, hehe!})
The fragrance of fine food filled the air. (<– see, I made alliteration work this time!) And I had just enough servers for the tables, even with Karen bouncing in and out of the kitchen as needed. We even had a small court, thank goodness for no set up. The removes rolled in, and empty dishes rolled out. Between removes, the Malagentian Bardic Players even performed. When there were no Malagentian Bardic Players performances, solo bards got up to do their own. Some I had pre-arranged, and some were a surprise. I felt almost empty, not having performed up to that point. It was my duty to make sure the event kept running smoothly, however, my deputy advised me that for five minutes, the event would be under control with me {Oh, what a liar!} (Shut up Karen!). She encouraged me to get up and sing, and so I did just that. I performed one piece by myself, and then an improvised duet with a friend.
{Karen even got up with the same friend and sang The Feast Song with her! And Karen doesn’t sing in public!}
As the night came to a close, their Highnesses presented me each with their tokens, which were the first ones minted of their reign. On top of that, the numbers were run for the event, and we made a $750 profit {on an event that usually loses money! Wow!}, and a $450 donation to the Riding of Ravensbridge through the Silent Auction.
The snow continued to fall, though my wonderful volunteers stuck around to help break down the event. I think I made it home in one piece. I didn’t leave site until 11:30. I don’t remember how I got home, I just remember crawling into bed and sleeping until noon the next day. What an exhausting and wonderful experience. The cherry on the sundae was receiving from many individuals about how much they loved the variety of bardic performances throughout the evening. 8.5 out of 10, would definitely consider running again, in a few years at least. As long as it’s not a last minute Royal Progress…
Eight months prior to the event, I received a message on the Visage of Tomes from Mistress Aneleda. And within this message, she inquired whether I’d be willing to serve as an ad hoc choir director for an Elizabethan immersion event. Without hesitation *damn helium hand* I said sure! She quickly put me in touch Mistress Aife/Master Valentine, as well as the autocrat for this event. Most of the communication was done through email. Me, being an introvert with extroverted tendencies, I really just wanted a phone call. But I’d make this work anyway.
I was in charge of obtaining vocalists, selecting the music, and rehearsing for a one-day event. Now, you might think, this is crazy, how can you do that, why would you do such a thing, that’s impossible? Trust me, I asked myself these same things over the course of eight months. I’m sure these are the same questions I would be asking myself if I ever found myself knocked up, and some mornings, thinking about the task I had taken on, I woke feeling queasy.
Much like the first trimester, these feelings passed as this baby grew. I tried to figure out the best way to communicate with my potential vocalists: would it be via the book of faces, email, yahoo groups, carrier pigeons, messages in bottles (I felt like I needed to drink a lot of wine to get through this, so I might have some empty bottles), maybe smoke signals? And finally settled on Facebook, even knowing not everyone used it.
Four months prior to the event, as the second trimester as it were was wrapping up, my search for singers would begin. I joined EVERY Eastern Kingdom Facebook group I could find, and started to spread the gospel. The responses started to trickle in. Some committed, some didn’t, but it gave me hope.
Three months prior to the event. Huh, I should probably pick the music now, just like a parent would pick names, right? I had done my research months prior as to selecting what type of pieces — knowing that each piece had to be Elizabethan, — but the exact pieces hadn’t been chosen until I knew what vocal range my vocalists had, and how many I would have. You can’t do six-part harmony with only two people, after all. Even Vikings can do that much complex math. I settled on five pieces in polyphony, and a few rounds. I sent out a copy of the scores, midi recordings with all the parts, as well as individual parts, for song-learning, so even if my vocalists couldn’t read music, I should have my bases covered.
A few weeks prior to the event, I kept checking in with my vocalists, to see how part-learning was going. I myself had to study the scores and be ready to assist on any of the four parts as necessary. Also, with learning the score, is looking ahead, and anticipating where there might be part difficulty. My scores looked like a rainbow. It had also occurred to me that I would need suitable garb for this event, because while Vikings pillaged quite a bit, they weren’t around to pillage the Elizabethan court. Aw, hell. Thank goodness for Fortune St Keyne. This goddess, this angel of mercy, whipped me up some spiffy threads in but a few weeks time.
A week prior to the event, I still didn’t have a final number of individuals who would be participating. It was coming down to crunch time, time to push this metaphoric baby out, and it was like we didn’t have a birth plan. Or a hospital. Or something equally important, I don’t know.
Day of event! Don’t panic. Don’t forget your towel. I’m panicking! No, don’t panic!
I was early. I’m always early. I hauled my feast gear, my keyboard, my music, my pitch-pipe, my garb, my piano-bench, and other assorted things needed for the event up the stairs of this decommissioned church. I set my things up in my rehearsal space, and slowly began to decrease my heart rate. Don’t they talk about breathing in those birth classes? Something like that. In all my years of being a choir director, I had never been in this situation before. I didn’t know what levels of experience my vocalists had, or if they had even learned their music. Heck, I didn’t even know if anyone would show up. I asked my vocalists to show up at 10am, so we would have a good two hours of rehearsal time all together. In typical musician manner — or maybe it was Scadian manner? — they were tardy. Circa 10:30, we finally got down to working on the music. My vocalists were surprised that I insisted on warming them up, like I was a professional or something. In my own turn, I was pleasantly surprised that I had a well balanced and versatile group. And they had all learned their music!!! If I could work with them every time I had to choose vocalists in the future, I would in a heartbeat.
I was also pleased to find that every section of music that I anticipated difficulty with came up, and I was able to nip it in the bud quickly and efficiently. Proper planning prevents poor performance, right? The only surprise in the rehearsal was the sheer delight and ease of this experience. Every single one of my singers were prepared and respectful. It was beyond anything I could have even imagined. I even got to twirl in my dress.
The autocrat, Lady Olivia, had done a beautiful job with her dream, though through no fault of her own, had difficulties the day of the event, with kitchen mishaps beyond her control. The only reason I bring this up, because it affected performance time. We didn’t know when we would perform, but at least we had prepared a signal. What happened next was also incredible, performance time.
My angels took to the loft, and we assembled in the planned formation. Song after song, beautiful harmonies echoed throughout the hall. I got so excited throughout one piece, I lost control of my baton, and it left my fingers. I *think* it missed my vocalists, and landed somewhere in the pews next to us. I was saved the embarrassment of trying to climb beneath the pews by one of my angels, who retrieved said baton and returned it to me. Could a director get any luckier?
Video by : Anna Elisabetta deValladolid.
Even during one of the pieces, where it had slightly derailed, they continued to sing like nothing was wrong until we could get it back on track. They were true professionals in my eyes that day. There was downtime for soloist performers as well, which I had arranged, a few of my vocalists had asked me if I would sing that day. At first I refused, because that day was not about me, but I finally decided it was something I should do, if only to stop them from asking.
Photo by Lady Olivia Baker
I sheepishly approached the front of the balcony and waited for the moment to feel right. When it did, I sang the only Elizabethan solo piece I knew by heart. When I was done, I was glad I had performed, because soon after, I was approached by five individuals who presented me with their tokens. One was chocolatey and delicious.
I am also pleased that after this performance that I gained so many new friends and performers, that I would not give up this experience for anything. Okay, maybe the Elizabethan dress. If I could have done the whole thing in my Viking, the day would have been MUCH better!
When I was your age, I used to walk to school uphill, both ways, barefoot, in the snow!
Because, winter!
Winter Feast was my first event in Malagentia, WAAAY back in 2011. I can remember it back in the Grange hall, and the warm feeling of families feasting together. Since then, Winter Feast has always been a special event in my heart.
With my passion for the feast, I made sure I would attend this year. The Malagentian Bardic Group had been on the newer side of things, and was looking for an opportunity to perform. With their numbers small, and my need to be a ham, I quickly raised my hand to be part of this production. It was discussed at the monthly bardic brunch that they would be performing a piece about the local champions; with my connection to Stonemarche — being my second home after all — I quickly volunteered to play their champion, because Viking, right?
Feasting and festivities filled the night, as well as food, fun, friends, family, and [fr]alcohol — hey, I tried! I was lucky I didn’t go comatose after the copious amounts of food I consumed, after all, a sleepy champion wouldn’t make much of an impression upon the stage. We even roped in unsuspecting volunteers — poor Sir Ivan, what a good sport.
We had made cue cards for our volunteers, as well as actors who might forget their lines; we had makeshift costumes, and fun props as well. You might say we gave ourselves “mad props” for our props, yo. Hey, I’m a bard, this is what I do.
The bad word plays were plentiful, as were the laughs. I even got my Paul Reubenesque death, which was all I really wanted. This was the first real experience for the Malagentian Players to perform, and it would be the birth of their stage performances.
Season’s greetings! And all that falala. Christmas, Chanukah, and Kwanza have all passed, but now it’s time for us to celebrate with some logs and hidden babies in cake!
The household of Bard’s Rest, like it’s name, is notorious for making sure there’s entertainment at events, whether it’s alcohol, story, or song. This event would be no different. I had been told there was a need for performance, so I did what every good Jew does for Yule, and brings their Christmas songs. The room was filled with an array of homemade treats, chatter, and cheer — especially the alcoholic type. But what it didn’t have was music. I was still shy about performing in public, but with a little help from my friends, I had mustered courage enough to get up and perform. First I picked a few ditties of my own, then I received requests. Luckily, I brought my choral music as well, because then everyone wanted to sing.
It wasn’t the prettiest arrangement, but the experience alone was enough to bring smiles to everyone’s faces. There was even a photographer there, singing out of the corners of her mouth while she captured everyone else having a great time. We would later reunite, she as Photographer-Girl, and me as That-Bard-Who-Sings/Hey Bard!
It was then I realized how much music could bring a family together, and this, of course, was meant to be a family event.
This feast almost didn’t happen. The autocrat was a last minute decision, as was the location. But this didn’t take away from the delicious potluck feast which dwelled on the bottom floor of the grange hall. Scadians are terrible at famine. And I’m terrible at not eating Scadian food. An incident with a near-comatose Viking — though I promise I survived, or else these would be post-mortem stories…
Earlier this year, I had taken on the responsibility of becoming the musical director of Voce di Sonata, the vocal group of Malagentia. We rehearsed bimonthly, at different homes in Portland and Saco. We had been working on general medieval music as well as holiday themed medieval music. It was decided that we would perform at Winter Feast, to give us a goal to work towards.
When the food dissipated, and people were mingling, it was time to present what we had been working towards. It was interesting, because half of my group was sick, and two of my three bases canceled last minute. Eh, we could handle it.
One of my friends from Endewearde happened to be in town, and also happened to be a professional musician! She offered to join us, and would have no problem sight-reading the music. So we gathered in our typical horse-shoe choir shape, and let the music flow. This had been my first time conducting since I graduated college in 2009, and it was just like getting back on a bike, as long as you put the training wheels back on.
Meddlings of the Minnesinger 