I went to college on a violin scholarship, not really sure just what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I knew there must be something that combined everything I loved – music, teaching, leadership skills and working with people. And I knew that, when I found it, I would know. Well, I was right. My junior year, I discovered conducting, and it changed my life.
As you may have guessed, I don’t exactly fit your typical stereotype for a conductor. I’m not 60-years-plus in age, and I don’t have a receding gray hairline (although I once thought about dyeing my hair gray to see if it would help me get a job). Nor do I have some sensational European accent, or speak 10 different languages perfectly. My name is not even right. It’s much too plain to be given a second glance. Even with the middle initial inserted, it still lacks the exotic appeal of a name like Zubin Mehta or Pierre Boulez. Notwithstanding all these factors, by far the biggest problem I faced early in my conducting career was the simple fact that I was not a man.
For years, decades, centuries, orchestras have been conducted by men. Until about 25 years ago it was extremely rare for a woman to play in a professional orchestra and even rarer to consider conducting one. Graduate programs offering advanced training in orchestral conducting were basically closed to women until the radical ’60s. I guess I should be thankful for the feminist movement, because by the ’80s, the rethinking of the roles and career opportunities for women had really begun to open doors. As a result, there are now close to 20 women conducting recognized orchestras across the United States, while many others occupy positions as assistant conductors with major orchestras.
Being accepted as a woman conductor in 1994 is still a great challenge. Of course, there is something to be said for being a novelty item. When I apply for a conducting position (along with the 300 to 400 other young conductors who submit applications for every opening in the country), I am usually remembered because of the relatively small number of women who apply. When I was selected as one of the five finalists for the position of music director/conductor of the Symphony of Southeast Texas in Beaumont in the spring of 1991, I was pleased and flattered, but also realistic. I figured that I was the token woman, thrown in to appease all those in favor of equal opportunity.
Imagine my surprise when, after guest-conducting the orchestra, I was selected unanimously as its new music director. Times were definitely changing. It seemed that everyone in the Beaumont community was very excited about having a new, young conductor – who happened to be a woman. Some people even bragged to their friends that they had the only female music director/conductor in the state of Texas. (Recently the East Texas Symphony in Tyler hired a woman, so there are now two of us!)
This little gender detour from tradition has taken everyone by surprise. When I meet new people, they are always thrilled to hear that I am a conductor, but often they have difficulty disguising their disbelief. Once they get beyond the initial shock, they have a stream of questions to ask me. Suddenly all those well-formulated rules and social graces we have always associated with the great “maestro conductors” don’t quite fit. Everyone wants to know the proper new traditions and guidelines that apply specifically to female conductors.
Again and again I’ve been asked, “What do we call you?” Conductor? Conductress? (I really don’t like that one.) Maestro? I always laugh and tell them they can call me anything they like; just plain Diane will be fine. After a time, here in Beaumont, Texas, we have finally settled upon the Italian word “maestra” as our way to address or introduce a conductor who is female. The board of directors of my orchestra loves this because it retains the glamour that has always been associated with the conductor of a symphony. (As for the musicians in my orchestra, they just call me Diane.)
The next major area of concern to all was “what are you going to wear?” Traditionally, men (in this century, at least) have conducted in white tie and tails. Because I’m not of the customary gender, I chose to start a new tradition of my own. Elegant gowns, skirts and blouses, especially selected for each concert. Long, flowing outfits with sequins and lace. And who says a conductor must always wear black? I began to mingle silver and gold with the standard black and white, adding a touch of pizzazz and excitement to our stage. We even toyed with the idea of a marketing campaign called “Dress the Conductor,” in which local fashion stores would select attire for each concert. Throughout the years we have kept concertgoers guessing. “What are you going to wear?” they all ask me. “Come to the next concert and find out,” I reply. Ticket sales have increased dramatically!
Almost without fail I wear something that has a belt, a sash or a cummerbund at the waist. I do this now on purpose, though at the beginning it happened quite by accident. I am tall (5 feet 9), and I happen to be slender as well. When I am on the stage, it appears as though I have an incredibly small waist. I assure you, it is really not that small, but perception is everything. When the audience sees me on the stage at concerts, my “small” waist becomes a focal point – creating envious looks from women and a fascination for the men. Therefore, I must admit that by far the most-asked question from both men and women is not the standard “What music are you going to play?” or the popular “Who is your favorite composer?” or even the expected “What made you pursue a career in conducting?” The most burning question is: “What is the size of your tiny Scarlett O’Hara waist?”
title: “Roll Over Beethoven” ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-19” author: “Lucretia Wilson”
title: “Roll Over Beethoven” ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-26” author: “Anthony Hernandez”
Machover unveils his ““hyperinstruments’’ on a grand scale this week with ““Brain Opera.’’ Part concert, part interactive fun house, it debuts in New York at Lincoln Center’s much-anticipated Festival ‘96, and will travel to a dozen cities including Chicago, Paris and Tokyo. Don’t expect a plot, sets or the fat lady. And caffeinate before you go, because you’ll have to work. The opera’s not finished; each night the audience – both live and online – will help compose it.
First the live audience (125 people, eight times a day) will spend 50 minutes improvising on five different hyperinstruments, hitting, singing or moving around sensor-rigged computers that can make any sound from a single violin line to percussive roars. Then they’ll go to a performance space outfitted with more electric field sensors, which measure their every move. There they’ll listen to the opera as it’s assembled from their music fragments, Machover’s composition and online music played by people on the Internet. Computers will instantaneously modify the opera to match the audience’s mood – if they’re dancing, the music will get … dancey. ““Think of it as a gigantic Handel “Messiah’ Sing-Along,’’ says Machover, ““with singers on the Net, and the piece partially improvised.’'
To Machover, ““Brain Opera’’ is a picture of the mind having a musical thought. It’s based on the theories of artificial-intelligence guru Marvin Minsky, who believes that intelligence rises not from a central ““conductor’’ in the brain but from seemingly unconnected mental processes in constant negotiation. But the opera’s also a picture of Machover’s egalitarian ideal of creativity, where people off the street can collaborate to make music. ““This is for people who listen to music all the time but don’t play,’’ says Machover. ““Give them the right instrument, and give them a chance to find out in a visceral way, instead of a didactic way, what music feels like.''
What has stopped them so far, he thinks, is not just a culture of mind-deadening passive entertainment, but instruments that require too many years of practice. ““So many virtuosi don’t have a single thing to say musically,’’ says Machover, a Juilliard-trained cellist. ““They spend all their time being jocks and lose sight of what music is about. I’d rather see the effort go into musical imagination.''
Not that Machover won’t work with classically trained virtuosi. The Beaux Arts Trio’s Ani Kavafian will play a Machover piece for hyperviolin at Lincoln Center this Thursday. Her friends think she’s nuts. ““They’ve asked me, does this really feel like music? It absolutely does. Tod’s not trying to make computers more important than people. I’m in charge, and the computer’s my accompanist. And I’ve never made a sound like this with my Stradivarius.''
How ““Brain Opera’’ will sound is almost impossible to anticipate, partly because it will be different every time. Imagine a salad of Bach-like melodies and Beatlesy pop, tossed by John Cage. The crowd-pleasing magicians Penn & Teller successfully used a hyperinstrument in Las Vegas last year. ““We took a Sensor Chair from MIT, did 20th-century, 12-tone opera and got away with it, ’’ says Penn Jillette. ““No one was hurt, and we didn’t die of gross embarrassment.’’ The Artist Formerly Known as Prince proposed going into the ““musical furniture’’ business with Machover. Instead, the composer sent him Sensor Frames – which The Artist had reshaped to look like a naked female dancer. In October the German retailer Karstadt will install the ““Brain Opera’’ in the middle of Berlin’s largest department store, to blur the line between entertainment and shopping.
Something about the ““Brain Opera’’ invites that kind of silliness. In his note on the ““Brain Opera’’ Web site, Machover’s almost giddy: ““Let’s discover how friends and strangers, near and far, online and face to face, can make surprisingly beautiful music together!’’ That sounds a little optimistic, but why not? Everyone into the Sensor Chair. And start waving.
