Possibility space(s): “Little Ones” and “The Raven” at Renegade Opera’s “Artist in Conversation Stage(s)”

On two nights in November, RO presented a workshop reading of Danielle Olana Jagelski and Rhiana Yazzie’s opera-in-progress about students at Utah’s Intermountain Indian School and a staged performance of Jesse Preis’ “fach-free” opera.
The cast of Jesse Preis' "The Raven" (L to R): Claire Robertson-Preis, Madeline Ross, Abigail Krawson. Photo by Tom Lupton.
The cast of Jesse Preis’ “The Raven” (L to R): Claire Robertson-Preis, Madeline Ross, Abigail Krawson. Photo by Tom Lupton.

The Center for Native Arts and Cultures, the national headquarters for the Native Arts & Cultures Foundation (NACF), has an exhibition space full of unique character. Formerly the Yale Union Laundry Building in inner SE Portland, the space upstairs once was a steam room. The weathered flooring, surprisingly smooth for being so old, shows the scars of its former days as a commercial laundry, as do the walls and thick, scarred white beams. More than a century old, it’s a piece of old Portland repurposed: artsy and cool, funky and yet still old-school working class, it silently demands respect.

On November 9 and 10, Renegade Opera partnered with the NACF to present a workshop reading of Little Ones, a forthcoming opera by composer Danielle Olana Jagelski (Oneida/Ojibwe) of RO and librettist Rhiana Yazzie (Dinė – Navajo Nation), partnered with a workshop presentation of The Raven, a chamber opera based on Edgar Allen Poe’s eponymous poem, with music by RO’s Jesse Preis.

Composer Danielle Olana Jagelski and librettist Rhiana Yazzie at the workshop reading of their upcoming opera "Little Ones." Photo by Tom Lupton.
Librettist Rhiana Yazzie and composer Danielle Olana Jagelski and at the workshop reading of their upcoming opera “Little Ones.” Photo by Tom Lupton.

“Are we blind or are we happy?”

On the 9th Yazzie gave an engrossing introduction, setting the scene at the Intermountain Indian School (a real place), a boarding school in Brigham City, UT. It was set in 1984, the year the school closed. Although much of the story of the Indian Boarding Schools is a tragedy of difficult-to-imagine proportions, tragedy was not the focus of this work. Rather the opposite: styled A Dark Comedy on the playbill, it focused on the lives of four students, two teachers, and the ‘lunch lady’ who served as a mother figure to the Native students who came from around the country. Formerly an Army hospital serving soldiers wounded in WWII, by the ‘80s the Intermountain Indian School became the largest school in the history of Indian Boarding Schools, hosting over 2000 students.

Yazzie also gave historical context as to the American Indian Movement, and various high-profile protests and incidents (she mentioned the 1971 occupation of Alcatraz and the Wounded Knee incident in 1973) that preceded Native peoples having more say in the direction of their education at the boarding schools. She said the work’s mission was to portray something of the “important way that boarding schools exist in contemporary Native peoples’ lives.”

The work opened as Ruby (Amber Kay Ball, Confederated Tribes of Siletz Indians), the matriarchal cafeteria worker who seems to know everyone at the school, speaks about how she sees her role: “I keep the seeds and grow the children.” This takes on a literal meaning as she presents a plate of home-grown strawberries to Marigold (Michelle Lafferty, Tłichό Nation NorthWest Territories), an Ojibwe girl who has just ended her berry fast, a coming-of-age ritual in some tribes wherein a girl abstains from eating berries for a year beginning with her first menses. The description of Marigold eating her first strawberry in a year is poetic and almost mystical; she takes great pride in her newfound womanhood, and the fact that she needs to explain the berry fast to other students drives home the diversity of the students here: coming from many different tribes and nations, they do not necessarily know one another’s traditions. Yet Ruby somehow seems to know; Jackson (Robert Franklin, Dinė – Navajo Nation) at one point tells her “You’ve been like our mother, when our mothers were a million miles away.”

The cast of "Little Ones." Photo by Tom Lupton.
From left: “Little Ones” cast members Michelle Lafferty and Robert Franklin, discussion facilitator Melory Mirashrafi. Photo by Tom Lupton.

The plot centers around several intertwining threads: the students (as well as the teachers and staff) find out that the school will be closing in two months, due to a decision handed down from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The students lament that, just as they have made the school their own, the Bureau is taking it away from them; it is yet another decision that affects their lives immensely, and over which they have no control.  Against this backdrop are set two love stories: Marigold and Jackson, and another girl, Lily (Taya Dixon, Siletz), and Victor (Tristan Cameron). Or maybe it’s three love stories, albeit the third one unrequited: enter 20-year-old teacher Mrs. Ross (Madeline Ross), deeply religious and very much holier-than-thou. She herself is not much older than some of the students she teaches and is trapped in a passionless marriage with a much older man (also a teacher). Mrs. Ross has a wild crush on Victor, who, smitten with Lily, is completely oblivious to her attraction to him. 

There were many perspectives on display: the opera shows the teachers’ confusion and anxiety as well; their lives are also in upheaval due to the closing of the school, and there are other dynamics at play: expectations as to gender roles between Mrs. Ross and her husband, as well as between Marigold and Jackson after they have sex for the first time. Jackson seems to expect them to get married, while Marigold, an incredibly free spirit, just wants to enjoy this time and see where life takes her once the school closes. This contrasts with the relationship between Lily and Victor, wherein each of them is unsure as to whether the other likes them, even though to the everyone else it is clear they are both wildly in love with each other.

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The cast of "Little Ones." Photo by Tom Lupton.
“Little Ones” cast members , frm left: Tristan Cameron, Amber Kay Ball, Taya Dixon. Photo by Tom Lupton.

The students come up with an idea to stage a relay between Salt Lake City and the school (around 60 miles apart) and invite U.S. Senators as well as President Reagan to witness it, to show their commitment to continuing their education at Intermountain. The sense of urgency is palpable; at one point there is a chanted refrain of “two more months…two more months…”, and one can’t help but wonder whether the school will be saved, and what will become of Lily and Victor. But we don’t get to find this out…yet. The libretto is as-yet unfinished, and as it trailed off, everyone was left wondering.

Afterward the audience was given a taste of the music in the form of an open rehearsal, with Lafferty and Ross singing a duet where they argue with one another; Marigold chafes under the stern tutelage of Ross, who self-righteously maintains her innocence, and the rightness of her cause. Ross seems to genuinely care for the students, but from the other side of a colonizer’s mask. It was difficult to sense the context of this duet, but the music was promising, and it was fun to watch Jagelski workshop the piece a bit with the performers. 

Composer Danielle Olana Jagelski and librettist Rhiana Yazzie at the workshop reading of their upcoming opera "Little Ones." Photo by Tom Lupton.
Composer Danielle Olana Jagelski and librettist Rhiana Yazzie at the workshop reading of their upcoming opera “Little Ones.” Photo by Tom Lupton.

During a Q&A session afterward, Yazzie spoke about her strong desire to not focus on the tragedy that underpins the lives of Native peoples on this continent, and instead present a more rounded picture: there is joy and effervescence, the giddiness of youth. “Are we blind or are we happy?” the students ask themselves at one point; this could be the refrain of all teenagers everywhere in the world throughout history. Yazzie spoke about the universality of experience that was part of this story, and it shone through loud and clear. Though the kids in this story have unique histories and cultures from which they originate, in their mad crushes and half grown-up/half immature antics and actions they could yet be kids from anywhere. This is incredibly fascinating storytelling, told from a unique perspective. The titanic emotions of teenagers in love, especially from these cultures and in this setting—what more fitting topic could there be for the unique vehicle that is opera?

Nevermore…

The Raven, with music by Jesse Preis, was performed in the same space. On Nov 10 I returned, excited to hear a musical treatment of this famous poem by Edgar Allen Poe, an author to whom so many of us kids turned, we who were drawn to the darker side of The Force. The entire text of The Raven formed the libretto for this chamber opera. There were three vocal roles in the work: the Current Narrator (mezzo Claire Robertson-Preis), i.e. the narrator who is telling the story; the Past Narrator (soprano Abigail Krawson), who sings (almost) everything in the poem in quotes; and the Raven the third role (soprano Madeleine Ross), who only sings that singular word, “nevermore.” Emily Way played the score, showcasing her impressive piano chops.

The cast of Jesse Preis' "The Raven" (L to R): Madeline Ross, Claire Robertson-Preis, Abigail Krawson. Photo by Tom Lupton.
The cast of Jesse Preis’ “The Raven” (L to R): Madeline Ross, Claire Robertson-Preis, Abigail Krawson. Photo by Tom Lupton.

Following a brief, icy lento introduction, an eerie moto perpetuo theme featuring a passepied-esque bass motif launched the work. Robertson-Preis’s expansive, warm voice lent a serious air to the work, and as Krawson joined in the vocal harmonies were sparse and spectral. The music suddenly and startlingly went silent at the first instance of the tapping at the chamber door. The score itself shifted moods manically but was anchored firmly by Robertson-Pries’s steady voice. The sudden and brief shift to a major modality upon the first utterance of “Lenore” was intense, like an extremely brief glimpse of blue sky on a bleak and stormy day–there for a second, and then gone, almost like it never happened.

Whenever the Narrators came together in chorus it varied in style: the first instance consisted of block chord movement, while the second was staggered entrances, feeling like a mournful round at times. Krawson’s voice was quavering and fearful on “it’s the wind and nothing more.” As the Raven finally entered, the piano took up a menacing basso theme, which soon shifted to a quiet tinkling, like the patter of winter rain on a cold pane of glass. When the Raven finally first sings “nevermore,” Ross used a piercing tone to expound the long melisma on the word.  When “nevermore” came ‘round again, it was sweet, simple repetitions at first, but nine times the Raven sang the fateful word, and it became more intricate as the refrain went on. Ross was suitably cryptic and bird-like as the Raven; it occurred to me then that this was not the first time we have seen her in the role of a bird.

Madeline Ross as the Northern Flicker and Maeve Stier as The Birder in Renegade Opera's "Bird Songs of Opera" at Leach Botanical Garden. Photo by Kristin Sterling.
Madeline Ross as the Northern Flicker and Maeve Stier as The Birder in Renegade Opera’s “Bird Songs of Opera” at Leach Botanical Garden. Photo by Kristin Sterling.

Preis reserved the most beautiful part of the score for the final stanzas. I had been anxiously awaiting the moment when all three of these marvelous voices would sing in chorus, and when it finally arrived, I was not disappointed. With flawless diction the trio sang, Ross’s agile voice effortlessly handling octave leaps that seemed to vault over the rafters. The word-painting on the word “lifted” was fitting and purposeful, and as the final line was repeated over and over, the singers shifted in and out of heart-straining suspensions. As the singers ceased and the piano trailed off the narrators drifted to slumber (or death? Poe famously equated the two).

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Afterword, Preis spoke about a number of interesting topics, including the influence that The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror had on him as a child (the first iteration  of these Halloween specials from the venerable show consisted of a partial reading of The Raven by the late, great, inimitable James Earl Jones). Also, Preis’ experience as a non-binary person informed this work; their desire was to create a “fach-free” opera; that is to say, one in which all vocal parts could be sung by any voice type. One of the ways they achieved this was by scoring much of the work with alternate variations of certain notes or phrases–if a bit of it is too low or high for a particular singer, they scored an alternate version to accommodate the voice. Their desire to write a composition that avoided the trap of a certain vocal type being pigeonholed into a stereotypical role was a key consideration (read more about this in ArtsWatch’s conversation with Preis here).

Jesse Preis, composer of "The Raven." Photo by Tom Lupton.
Jesse Preis, composer of “The Raven.” Photo by Tom Lupton.

Saturday night at Little Ones, the exhibition space put me in mind of a large old gymnasium at the Indian school; on Sunday night for The Raven, it was easy to see it as a drafty 19th-century chamber. The vast whiteness of the room was like a blank canvas, a possibility space upon which the imaginative could paint whatever they could feel. Immersive storytelling, hypnotic music, travelling to a particular point in space and time to commingle with our fellow humans and share these journeys, all these ingredients and more mix into a heady brew indeed. On both nights of this strange weekend I had been in a funk; not wanting to do much of anything as I pondered the events of the past week, I was sunk by the impenetrable madness of the world around me. And yet, both nights, when I came back from the opera my weltanschauung was changed. New music, new stories, new tellings of old stories—what resonance they have. In moments where the world is strange and stygian, I think there is still nothing more powerful.

A lifelong musician and writer, Lorin Wilkerson has been a part of the Portland classical music scene as a performer, writer, and non-profit board member for over 15 years. He has performed with the Portland Symphonic Choir, Bach Cantata Choir, and Classical Revolution PDX, and served on the boards of the Bach Cantata Choir and Musica Maestrale. A member of the Music Critics Association of North America, he has written for Willamette Week, Hollywood Star, Oregon Music News and other publications. An avid birder, he is the Field Notes Editor of Oregon Birds, the journal of the Oregon Birding Association.

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  1. James Bash

    I vote for Maddie Ross as the bird in Wagner’s Siegfried.

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