Scottish Opera: Access all arias

As a child, Gibson had been taken by his parents to see a production of Puccini’s opera and it left a strong impression. He conducted Madama Butterfly once more, on 5 June, 1987, marking the end of his 25-year tenure as artistic director.

A quarter of a century on, Scottish Opera is about to celebrate its 50th anniversary. The birthday on Tuesday is, arguably, one the company will reach with relief rather than elation, given the devastating financial problems it has suffered in the last decade. Yet recent notices have been excellent, and the new season promises a mix of classics, pop hits and a 50-date tour of La Traviata.

What strikes most of all when spending time with the performers and behind-the-scenes team is their commitment to and passion for the art form; their faith that Scottish culture ought to include opera if it is to be considered a proper culture at all. Opera, of course, is hugely complex to stage. It takes a lot of artistry and elbow grease. So here are just eight of the people who provide both. n

Scottish Opera’s Cavalleria Rusticana and Pagliacci, marking the company’s 50th anniversary, is at Glasgow City Halls, Tuesday, 7.30pm; Tosca is at Aberdeen Music Hall, from Tuesday, 7.30pm (scottishopera.org.uk)

THE MAESTRO

As A young teenager growing up in Milan, Franceso Corti would often queue for cheap standing tickets on the uppermost level of the famous opera house La Scala. He would then run up eight flights of stairs with a huge pair of binoculars banging against his chest in order to get into prime position before the overture. These binoculars, his constant accessory, earned him the nickname The Admiral from La Scala’s uniformed ushers.

Since August 2007, when he became only the fourth music director in Scottish Opera’s history, the Admiral has steered the ship through rocky waters. The decision two years ago that the orchestra should go part-time he describes as “a knife in the back” and explains that he keeps up morale among his musicians by maintaining an intense focus on the music.

He is looking forward now to conducting Massenet’s Werther as part of the 50th anniversary season. Now approaching 50 himself, he brings a zealous focus to what is clearly more vocation than job. “It is not,” he insists, “just about waving the stick in the air and wiping the sweat from the forehead.”

THE SINGER

When Marie Claire Breen was 11, Scottish Opera visited her Saltcoats school to put on a show. “There was one solo verse and I was desperate to sing it,” she recalls, “but I ended up sitting in the corner playing the triangle while dressed as a Viking.”

Happily, this setback did not deter the soprano. Now 27, she has spent the last two years on Scottish Opera’s emerging artist programme. She has “simulated degraded orgies” in The Rake’s Progress and is now in Tosca. As part of the 50th anniversary season, she will appear in Elephant Angel and visit China. So how does she feel on stage? “That moment of sheer clarity is electrifying. It’s as if something has shifted in the atmosphere and you can feel it in your body. This is your moment.”

THE COSTUMIER

“The short answer?” says John Liddell when asked how he first became involved with costume-making. “I am self-taught. I was playing in a rock ’n’ roll band. I stole a red velvet curtain from a gig and I made myself a pair of flared trousers.”

He has been with Scottish Opera for 26 years and is in charge of a department that may be called upon to create multiple outfits for over 60 performers in a production and brings to bear a level of skill comparable with Savile Row tailoring and haute couture.

Liddell, clearly, is an aesthete. His office is a vision of antique furniture and groaning bookshelves (sample title: The History Of Ladies’ Underwear). A pipe rests on a copy of Horace’s odes. There is a signed photo of David Niven on one wall. The pelt of a mink is draped around his computer screen. A brass breastplate – a refugee from Das Rheingold? – serves as a wastepaper bin. Make no mistake, this is the lair of a dedicated man.

“I don’t think we should be celebrating 50 years,” he demurs. “Let’s just keep going until we die.”

THE EDUCATOR

In Garrowhill Primary in the east end of Glasgow, on the hottest day of the year, 100 schoolchildren are the very picture of fair puggled, rosy-cheeked and sweltering in boiler suits and deely-boppers as they perform The Big Bang Show. Each year the company works with 10,000 children in primaries five, six and seven, part of a commitment to education that began in the 1960s.

“Look at those weans’ faces,” says education manager Audrey Blake, a former actor and one-time “funny fairy” in the King’s panto. “It’s so important that we catch them early and plant that seed. OK, it’s a wee 30-minute show in a dinner hall, but it means a lot to the kids. They have a fantastic experience which they will remember for the rest of their life. I’m so proud that we fly the flag for Scottish Opera every day.”

THE ARTIST

Having worked for Scottish Opera for almost 30 years, Kelvin Guy is one of the longest-serving members of staff. He is the head scenic artist, the man responsible for painting the backdrops that give the productions their wow factor, which make audiences gasp. His recent work, a huge looming skeleton for The Rake's Progress, certainly has that. It took him two days to draw in charcoal then six to paint. The backdrops measure 15 metres by eight and up to half a dozen may be required for a single opera. “There's nowhere else you would have the privilege of working on art that size," he says. His cloth backdrops, when a production is over, are either recycled for future productions or folded away for future revivals. He is quite stoic about this.

Guy works on the floor, using a large, long-handled brush and acrylic paints, to the sophisticated sounds of Radio 3. Though he is now 65, he has no thought of retiring. "I wouldn't know what to do with myself," he laughs. "I think I'll have to be forcibly ejected."

THE COMPOSERS

The Glaswegian composer Craig Armstrong is best known for his film work; his current project being Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby. However, in collaboration with the novelist Zoe Strachan, who has written the libretto, he has composed a new opera, The Lady From The Sea, which will premiere at the Edinburgh International Festival.

Armstrong first became exposed to classical music as a child when a blind octogenarian aunt taught him to play Mozart’s sonatas on the piano. Through later study with Cornelius Cardew he came to know the avant-garde operatic work. His introduction to lighter, more romantic pieces, notably those of Puccini, came via attending summer festivals in Tuscany with his Italian wife.

At 53, Armstrong has reached a point in life and career where the idea of writing his first full-length opera is intriguing rather than daunting. “If you think you can do something beautiful,” he says, “give it a go.”

THE MUSICIAN

Scottish Opera’s 50th anniversary coincides with Teréz Korondi’s tenth as one of the company’s 18 violinists. Moving to Glasgow from Budapest when her first son was six months old, she plunged into Wagner’s Ring Cycle. Now 38 and mother to three young boys, she juggles family life with the demands of rehearsal and performance.

Korondi comes from a musical family. Her father and sister are opera singers and her mother is a violinist. One of her earliest memories is hearing her father practising Lensky’s aria from Eugene Onegin. At the age of six, Korondi began to play the violin and felt immediately a sense of kinship. She considers it a living thing, a partner in her art rather than a mere tool. For her, playing is about emotion, about the huge feelings engendered by the melodies, rather than a clinical performance of the score.

“You have to be totally engaged with it,” she declares, “otherwise there’s no point in making music.”