In Praise of Pleasant Follies

IN OUR LAST INTERVIEW, YOU MENTIONED THAT YOU WANTED TO IMMERSE YOURSELF IN MORE INTIMATE, MORE ORIGINAL SHOWS, BEYOND OPERA PRODUCTIONS. IS THIS WHAT LIES AT THE SOURCE OF THIS PROJECT?

Stéphanie D’Oustrac: Undoubtedly. This programme was born out of my collaboration and long-standing friendship with Héloïse Gaillard, the artistic director of Ensemble Amarillis. She seeks out the hidden corners of the repertoire and puts together programmes for artists she likes. She had already proposed several to me in the past: we did one on the character of Medea and another on Mary and Dido. And now there is this recital devoted to Folly, seen from several different angles. The show as a whole is strung together with a scenario, a highly precise and poetic dramaturgy. I am more than happy to give it my all.

HOW DID THE PROGRAMME TAKE SHAPE? DID THE NARRATIVE COME FIRST?

SD: Héloïse really likes to research scores. She likes to go digging. Knowing me, knowing my temperament, she was looking for a specific line of approach and this then turned into the project. She certainly had several well-known pieces from the repertoire in mind, such as Purcell’s Mad Songs and Handel’s Ah, crudel! nel pianto moi. She then tried to find other, rarer works by lesser-known composers: Reinhard Keiser, André Campra, André Destouches, Marin Marais. This led to the narrative journey that we recorded on CD and that we will present in Brussels. It revolves around Folly as a character, at first seductive and triumphant, who abandons herself to the pleasures of love. However, her inconstancy and passion lead her to jealousy, languor, hope and, inevitably, sorrow …

IN YOUR OPINION, WHY WERE BAROQUE COMPOSERS SO FASCINATED BY THIS CHARACTER?

SD: I think that at the time, there was a great conflict between Reason and Folly. It was the dawn of the Enlightenment, a period full of questioning and reflection. Parallelly, everything that could not be channelled through Reason had to find another outlet. Combine this with the renewed passion for the great ancient myths and their characters, and you can see why a character like Folly spoke to the playwrights and composers of the time. For example, I’ve just finished a series of performances of Lully’s Armide at Versailles. What an extreme character! In what she allows herself to experience, to do and feel, everything is quite literally extraordinary. It must have been quite enjoyable to experience this on stage. And it still is today.

IN YOUR OPINION, DOES THIS LEND A PARTICULAR FLAVOUR TO THE MUSIC OF THIS PERIOD?

SD: Absolutely. The extremity of Folly allows both singers and instrumentalists to explore limits, the limits of feelings, colours, ornaments. And from this search for limits stems beauty.

DO YOU EVER INDULGE IN FOLLIES?

SD: Not at all, I’m extremely reasonable (laughs). My job requires great rigour and a certain lifestyle. It’s like for top-level sportspeople. We can’t afford to make exceptions. It’s our duty if we want to aspire to a certain form of excellence. Fortunately, I’m lucky enough to be a singer and to play rather extreme characters, which allows me to bring a certain folly to this daily rigour. Working on a programme like this is highly enjoyable and cathartic.

WHAT KIND OF FOLLIES APPEAL TO YOU AND WHAT KIND DO NOT?

SD: Pleasant follies, follies that feel good, that refresh us, that help us maintain a young state of mind, are important in life, I think. On the other hand, there is also a destructive side to folly, that which pushes us to commit unreasonable, harmful acts. We are all too familiar with that. There is also the ‘medical’ folly, the illness, madness. When the brain is damaged, when we are no longer in control of ourselves, and it turns against us.
What I am most wary of, however, is collective folly. Those group dynamics that carry us away by lack of reflection, by lack of courage, by fear. For my part, I try to remain vigilant. And to favour pleasant follies. After all, some believe my very job is itself a folly. Because there is no routine, there are no guarantees. But that’s precisely what I like about it. I like taking risks and I feel it allows me to hold onto my childhood spirit.

IT’S VERY PRECIOUS FOR ARTISTS TO MAINTAIN A BRIDGE TO THEIR OWN INNOCENCE, TO A SENSE OF WONDER …

SD: Of course. It allows you to keep developing. I have the impression that the moment we start to rest on our achievements is the moment we start to decline. Technically too, if you are too sure of yourself, you may feel comfortable, but it’s extremely dangerous. Because our bodies change, because every day is different. I believe that if there is one profession in which you can’t rely on much, it’s ours. You need to be able to always question yourself and to adapt, you can never stop working on your vocal technique, your physical condition, your memory …

IN THE APPROACH YOU DESCRIBE, TO WHAT EXTENT DOES IT HELP YOU TO ALWAYS EXPLORE NEW FACETS OF YOUR JOB, LIKE WITH THIS ORIGINAL PROGRAMME?

SD: It helps a lot, in fact. And this has much to do with the scale of this kind of projects. Opera is a huge machine that involves so many people. Small structures are less of a burden, and they challenge your ability to adapt yourself. They also imply a level of intimacy that allows for beautiful musical interactions. I react a lot to what the musicians of the ensemble give me and vice versa. There is this very direct form of exchange.

WITH THIS SHOW, YOU ARE DIPPING INTO A REPERTOIRE THAT IS PERHAPS NOT SO WELL KNOWN. WHAT WAS YOUR GREATEST DISCOVERY?

SD: I honestly think that Héloïse each time gives me a huge gift, which is to say that I know almost nothing of what she unearths. She introduces me to the vast majority of the works. But to answer your question, it almost depends on each evening. There are moments when we are so in tune with one another, so free, that something new emerges every time. For example, there were some excerpts from a Handel cantata that were terribly difficult to prepare, but in concert there was a certain excitement to performing them. It’s really thrilling.

THE JOURNEY YOU PROPOSE IS AT ONCE MUSICAL, POETIC AND THEATRICAL, BUT IT REMAINS WITHIN AN INTIMATE SETTING. DO YOU ENJOY THIS MULTIDISCIPLINARITY?

SD: It’s ultimately almost like for a classical recital. The pieces follow one another and it is up to me to embody them. There is, I feel, a dissociation that takes place within me. I become another character, or in this case another Folly. This is conveyed through my body, my expressions, my voice. You have to perform everything aptly, and everything rests on details. Here, from one piece to another, the tessitura is quite different, for example. The colours change. I can move from feminine to masculine, from shy to expansive. With that alone, you can build up quite a broad palette.

THE BAROQUE REPERTOIRE HAS ITS UNCONDITIONAL FANS. ARE YOU ONE OF THEM?

SD: To be honest, in general, I much prefer performing to listening. Maybe it’s because I work a lot and therefore I need to take my mind off things. I’m not the kind of person who goes to every concert. I’m so carried away by music that I need holidays. My moods need to rest (laughs)! I’ll sometimes listen to music, but mostly to podcasts. At the moment, I’m listening to a lot about relations because I’m always asking myself questions about my connection with others. Since I’m a teacher, it is important to try to position myself as well as possible in these matters. Where does our need to teach come from? Our need to share? How can we avoid being emotionally dependent? I’m also listening to a very interesting podcast on the brain and its capacity to manipulate us. Or on self-confidence, which is one of the most difficult things to acquire when launching into this profession. I try to find things that can help those around me.

SO WHEN YOU’RE ON HOLIDAY LISTENING TO PODCASTS, IT’S TO WORK ON SOMETHING ELSE …

SD: Yes … I’ll never change (laughs).

OUR LAST DISCUSSION TOOK PLACE DURING THE PANDEMIC. YOUR PREVIOUS RECITAL COULD NOT IN FACT BE HELD IN PUBLIC. A LOT HAS HAPPENED IN THE WORLD SINCE THEN. HAVE YOU NOTICED ANY DIFFERENCES IN THE RELATIONS WITH THE OTHERS THAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT JUST NOW?

SD: It’s rather ambivalent. I can see that there is a lot of fear among young people. There has always been fear in the artistic world – the fear of not succeeding, of not being good enough. But I’ve rarely seen so many burn-outs, for example, among both teachers and students. And that makes me wonder. I think people are really suffering at some level. Perhaps I was rather unaware of the perils of the profession, perhaps I was quite carefree. With colleagues and friends, we’ve noticed a downward spiral towards great emotional fragility. The passion and desire are the same, but come with questions and concerns, or an inability to know what to prioritize. In these cases, you can quickly lose yourself in a maelstrom of panic, without being able to put things into perspective.

HOW DO YOU MANAGE TO PUT THINGS INTO PERSPECTIVE?

SD: Maturity helps. But I also possess a certain confidence. With hindsight, I feel like I’ve always had it. It’s a great strength, because I hate being afraid. It gives me the courage to state things clearly. I’m passionate about what I do, there is no doubt about that. But nothing beats feeling aligned with yourself. And if, all of a sudden, my job didn’t align with me anymore, didn’t bring me the fulfilment I need, the most important thing for me would be to find what would be able to make me happy and make me do good around me. This is my church. Listening to what I think is right. Not being afraid to move. Before and during the confinement, I asked myself whether I wanted to continue in this profession. I find it important to ask that question from time to time. But, for now, I have the reassuring feeling that yes, I still have things to say, I still have things to share.