_{Artist of the Week} 17 Qs for Laura Pudwell

When was your first singing lesson (and with whom)?
First lesson was some time in the early ’80s with Lillian Weichel. I have been with my present teacher, Michael Warren, for more than 35 years.

Drink of choice?
Hm. Well, that would depend on the circumstances. Coffee in the morning. Sometimes decaf tea in the afternoon. ALWAYS sparkling wine. Big bold Cab Sauv for wine, never white.

Heels or flats?
When I was younger, I loved to wear heels. Now that I have bunions and hammertoes, flats. With extra toe room. So attractive…

Which opera role do you want to be singing in 10 years?
I have always wanted to sing Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd. I’m now the perfect age to do so…just saying…

Which role do you wish you could sing, but is not in your voice type?
I have always wanted to be a Puccini soprano. Or, if I could sing Isolde the way Birgit Nilsson did, I would die a very happy woman.

Tent or hotel?
If I could go camping and be assured of one of those totally fantastic Harry Potter tents, with chandeliers and hot and cold running water, I would choose that. Any day. Alas, I suppose I’ll have to stick with hotels.

What was the first opera you ever saw?
The first opera I can remember seeing was Magic Flute, at Art Park in Lewiston, New York. This would probably have been in the early 1970’s or so. When my brother was a treble, he and my father both sang in the men and boys choir at the Anglican cathedral in Buffalo, New York. We lived just across the river in Fort Erie, Ontario. When The Magic Flute was being cast for one of the summer shows, my brother auditioned and was given the role of Third Boy. I remember being SO jealous of him being able to run around the stage singing and having a great time.

Are there more musicians in your family? If yes, who and what do they play/sing?
I come from a very musical family. My mother was a church organist for more than 60 years and accompanied many choruses. My father was a beautiful tenor. And the same brother who participated in The Magic Flute all the years ago is still a great singer. Also plays drums in a cover band!

Where did you go to school?
I graduated from University of Toronto with an honours degree in English and history. I put myself through university by singing, pretty much. There used to be a CBC program called Two New Hours every Sunday evening, if I remember correctly. At least once a month, a group of singers would be put together to rehearse and record any number of new works. I was always a really good sight reader, so was usually asked to do that. I also had a church job and seemed frequently to be asked to do small projects around Toronto.

Which album did you listen to last?
My husband and I were driving home from Oakville last weekend, and after we finished listening to the BBC World news, we put on Bad Self Portraits by Lake Street Dive. As far as I understand, the band met while studying at the Boston Conservatory. Their bassist, Bridget Kearney, is absolutely fierce, and their lead singer, Rachael Price, has one of the most memorable voices I’ve ever heard.

What books are you reading at the moment?
I’m reading three books at the moment, which is pretty usual for me. I’m re-reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery for a book club meeting next week. I’m also reading Dead Wake by Erik Larson about the sinking of the Lusitania and Jane Urquhart’s newest novel, In Winter I Get Up at Night.

What is the best advice you have ever been given?
I taught at Wilfrid Laurier University for four years between 2002 and 2006. During most of those years, I shared a studio with Victor Martens. While I never took a lesson from him, he became a kind of mentor to me. One morning after coming directly off a red-eye flight from Seattle, he called me into our office and said “If you don’t mind me saying, you look terrible.” Of course, I began to cry. As he handed me a tissue, he said, “You know my dear, you have no idea what I would give to sing just ONE more concert. Now is your time to sing. Go do that and don’t look back.” So, I did.

If you could be stuck in an elevator with one person, who would it be?
Wouldn’t it be so cool to be stuck in an elevator with Michelle Obama? I feel like we could talk about so much, and it would be intelligent and interesting, and we would very likely laugh a lot.

What is one very popular thing that you have no interest in?
I’m not on social media platforms. Even my mother is on Facebook. My entire extended family and most of my friends just roll their eyes at me but I remain firm in my conviction. Mind you, I didn’t have a cell phone until I couldn’t figure out how to cross the border without one during COVID restrictions.

Do you approach singing and/or upcoming projects differently today than you did at the beginning of your career?
I have suffered from terrible performance anxiety my entire career, and so I have always needed to be very prepared for any performance in order to try to counteract all those negative thoughts. It takes me less time to feel prepared now than it used to, which is a blessing.

What’s the biggest risk you’ve taken for a production?
In 2003, I sang the role of Medée in Lully’s opera Thésée with the Boston Early Music Festival. The director specifically asked for a singer who was also a mother. My children were seven and five at the time. Medée spends the entire opera trying to win Thésée’s love, punishing his dear Aeglé. In Act 4, Medée has a solo scene where she finally realizes that nothing she does will ever make Thésée love her. The director closed the rehearsal hall to everyone except the two of us and two continuo players, and he made me sing the scene as if I were singing about my children. Each time I broke down he would have me just put one layer of filter between those emotions and the text I was singing. After about an hour, I could sing the scene without crying. Just. And that’s where we kept it for the rest of the run. 

When was the first time you cried at the opera?
In the mid 1980’s I was lucky enough to hear Mirella Freni sing Manon Lescaut at the Met. She was probably in her late 50’s or early 60’s at that point, but sang circles around everyone else on stage. At the top of Act 4, she came out to sing “Sola, perduta, abandonnata,” and I found myself somehow clutching the hands of the two people sitting on either side of me, both of them strangers.