What happens when artists can’t make art together? Met Chorister Brandon Mayberry interviewed many of his colleagues to get a sense of how the chorus was faring during the extended closure of the Metropolitan Opera due to the COVID-19 pandemic, and wonders what the future may hold for all of us.

by Brandon Mayberry

Thursday, March 12th, 2020 began as a typical day in the life of a Metropolitan Opera chorister.  It was late morning as we assembled in List Hall to rehearse music for a handful of upcoming operas, still recovering from the previous night’s performance, which was a scratch tape (a recorded performance that precedes the Live In HD broadcast that following Saturday) of the demanding new François Girard production of Der Fliegende Hollander. After returning from a scheduled 10 minute break, Chorus Master Donald Palumbo announced that the remainder of the rehearsal had been canceled, that we were to exit the building as soon as possible, and that the Metropolitan Opera would be closed for the next two weeks. There was only enough time to say a few quick goodbyes to our colleagues, while contemplating which belongings we could shlep home on a moment's notice.

Four months later, still furloughed from our jobs due to COVID-19, we have a lot to unpack. Two weeks of closure turned into a cancellation of the rest of the 2019-20 season, as death counts in and around New York City soared. Then, in June, the Met announced that the Fall portion of the 2020-21 season would be canceled as well. Uncertainty looms heavily while the spread of the virus remains unchecked in large portions of the United States. Many of us furloughed at the Met are dependent on the State and Federal Pandemic Unemployment Benefits (PUA), the latter which is set to expire at the end of July. PUA, provided by the federal government, is critical to many in the chorus who are already running low on savings and struggling to see a future where they can support themselves and their families. Many have found subletters for their apartments or have given up leases altogether, moving away from the costly areas surrounding New York City and Northern New Jersey.

Beyond the unemployment statistics and impassioned social media campaigns are real people who are unable to do their job. How will our job change? Will there be a job at all? How do I make ends meet until there is a vaccine? Will the government come to our aid? We all grapple with these questions while desperately trying to find financial and physical security amidst the shifting sands of the current landscape. 

Several members of the chorus have graciously allowed a look behind the curtain of their lives in order to illustrate how this pandemic has affected them over the first four months of our furlough.

Soprano Rachele Schmiege, having joined the regular chorus this past season, candidly admitted that "for a long time after March 12th, I did not want to sing, watch opera, or even hear music. I felt like everything I worked so hard for (a coveted position with the Metropolitan Opera) turned on its head overnight. It took awhile to be okay with my new normal." Rachele stuck it out in New York City for a month before she and her husband left their apartment to move in with her parents in the Midwest. "We are continuing to evaluate our life and situation on a weekly basis." While furloughed, Rachele has remained busy as she continues to learn and create, something many of us have needed in order to maintain balance and purpose. "I'm doing a daily vocal course, a Non-Violent Communication course, helping family members build websites, I joined a bookclub, and I’m working with the Met Opera Chorus Social Media Committee." Rachele's creative pastimes include knitting, gardening and, recently, pour painting. "Pour painting has become an unexpected joy. My mom had some canvases and some left over acrylic paint. I watched a zillion YouTube videos to learn techniques and look at color combinations. I am proud of my progress and I have a few I would hang up and proudly display."

One chorister who wishes to remain anonymous comes from a family of war veterans. “When crisis hits, we run towards danger, not away from it.  When COVID hit, I wanted to find a way to help support my family and also contribute to my community during this crisis. I found that working on the front lines as a COVID screener for the IBM corporation since April 1st."

Tenor Dustin Lucas and his wife Lexi are the proud parents to toddler Alivia and baby Isabelle, born this spring. "Life has been turned upside down" as his family was forced to sell their recently renovated home and relocate due to the virus. "The stress of everything leaves me wondering if I will ever get through this without therapy." He implores artists to prepare for the continuation of pandemics such as this one and to develop multiple marketable skill sets.

When it comes to trimming monthly costs, veteran chorister Suzanne Falletti says, "There's just so much one can do." Falletti, who doesn't have the option of moving in with family, contends that even if that were an option, the savings from moving would likely be lost when considering the costs of storage and moving fees. "And there's all the emotional considerations to think of as well. When everything else seems out of your control, the one thing many of us might feel comfort from is our home. Giving that up would be a huge loss of stability."

Fellow soprano Anne Nonnemacher, celebrating 20 years in the chorus, sees it similarly. Years ago, she made the costly decision to live in Manhattan with her husband and son in exchange for valued family time, due to the challenging work week that is typically demanded of a Met chorister. "Despite the dire situation and the fact that a lot of people have lost their jobs, from no fault of their own, there has been no rent relief." She admitted that having moved several times since her son was born, she simply couldn't stomach the thought of doing it again.

Anne’s husband, who is a recording engineer primarily focused on classical music, has had all of his upcoming events canceled or indefinitely postponed, which leaves both of them essentially unemployed. "It was, and is, a shock. As a performing artist, I am certainly familiar with not getting the gig or not getting paid much, but I have never done ‘no work’ for any significant amount of time. It doesn't feel good. I like to feel like I'm contributing something to the world." For so many of us at first, making music made us sad and was a reminder of the loss we had to come to terms with. But in time, Anne's fervor for music returned, with the help of her husband Louis. "Eventually my husband and I started playing guitar and vocal music together; Renaissance music and Mozart aria arrangements we used to perform." This led them to presenting a virtual performance for her son's school. 

Tenor Salvatore Rosselli, twenty-two seasons at the Met, has found particular solace and connection to his beloved colleagues via the Met Opera streaming content and the weekly Zoom meetings. Sal regrets having lost six people to this nasty virus within his circle of friends and family, adding, "I have had to be careful with my expression of sympathy, so I would not become too depressed." While Sal's financial situation is stable, he "cannot emphasize enough the hardships many of my younger colleagues will be facing and that living on a maximum weekly unemployment of $504 a week will not be easy, especially if the current supplemental $600 isn't extended beyond July 31st."

In the past four months, Mezzo Rose Sullivan left her apartment, moved into her childhood home, and took care of her mother for two weeks, who had contracted COVID-19. “I was furloughed for weeks, which became months, which became the rest of the calendar year." She also embarked on and finished the Artist's Way with a friend. Since moving back into her apartment in New York City, she has enrolled in an intensive life coach certification program.

Mezzo-soprano Christina Thomson Anderson and her husband, tenor Brian Anderson are both in the chorus, and have 2 children at home. “Like so many in the performing arts, we have found ourselves faced with the deepest financial uncertainty of our lives. Brian and I encouraged one another to stay centered. There was so much coming at us: adjusting to the full-time homeschooling of our children, while wondering how we would weather this financial storm, even as reports of the pandemic grew ever more ominous." Christina referenced the quote,  "an unhappy bird cannot sing,” shared by a former voice teacher, as she alluded to the sorrow and uncertainty that led to an unintended moratorium on making or listening to music for the first few months after being sent home.

That was until late May when one day her 8-year-old daughter first pulled out her violin and then later shifted to playing some piano pieces she had been working on earlier in the year. Christina, watching it all said, "My heart began to open. From that moment on, we began to play more music, singing together at home and in the car, belting out show tunes and country songs, and even opera, together. Experiencing music again, through my children, has kept it alive for me." Brian has been taking IT classes as they continue to contemplate a way forward. "Many have left the city, but for now, our family is staying. Our children are settled in schools, we are settled in our community, and New York City is very much our home."

Through the clouds of struggle there are stories emerging of how being cooped up together has galvanized and deepened the bond between family and loved ones. For example, Christina points out, "We have experienced blessings that have been uniquely gifted to us through these circumstances. Because of the furlough, my husband and I have been the ones to put our kids to bed every night for the past five months. We are very aware that this cloistered family time may never come again, at least in this way, so we cannot help to observe the deeper connection that has grown between us and our kids." 

While Anne also echoes Christina and Brian's sentiment regarding having more time with her child, she adds, "I did have the chance to see, in more detail, what kind of things go on in school and observe more of the dynamics between my son, his teacher, and other classmates." She also implores those who can to help artists in need. The Met she says, "is a place that was built by people that wanted to create a place to present the highest quality experience and were not afraid to support it, despite the costs."

Suzanne's coping strategies involve finding comfort and companionship that her dogs bring. She's also busy creating a teaching website, took an intensive voice science workshop and is a member of an ongoing teacher mentoring program of David Jones. She's inspired by rising Met star Lisette Oropesa's online masterclass series and gives credit to her and others for "finding creative ways to keep the arts alive."

Soprano Lynn Taylor, who has had a varied career encompassing jazz, opera, musical theater, modeling, and acting acknowledges, "One positive thing this pandemic has done for me is afford the distance to meditate on the meaning of how I've spent my life and career, which has brought more pleasure than paranoia." 

There is one silver lining to report: since publication of this article, close to $300,000 has been donated to the Met Chorus Artists fundraising campaign, with more on its way! This will provide individual grants to many Met AGMA artists suffering financial hardship who have lost contracts at the Met as a result of the closure.

I thank my courageous colleagues for sharing their stories, which I'm sure all of us can connect to and sympathize with on some level. I'm wishing all of my many colleagues peace, good health and a speedy return to performing together. Thank you to all of the many supporters of the Metropolitan Opera and our artform. We are relying on you now more than ever, as we will most likely be the one of the last industries to return to work. Together we shall overcome.