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It’s not so much data - it’s a true history. And my history with the program dates back to 1993.’ Andrea Fellows Fineberg is responding to my reason for being here at Santa Fe: that fifty years of the Pueblo Opera Program is a lot of data on First Nations engagement with classical music. We’re sitting in a cafe that wouldn’t look out of place transported to Brunswick, Melbourne, or Alexandria, Sydney, a bit different from the hummingbirds-and-clematis vibe of the Santa Fe Opera cantina. Andrea essentially created the role of Director of Engagement at the Santa Fe Opera; before her, most community engagement projects were run by the Guilds, chapters of Santa Fe Opera volunteers located in neighbouring communities. Since the 1970s, the Pueblo Opera Program ran largely as free opera tickets for Pueblo youth, managed by volunteers, and with Connie Tsosie Gaussoin as liaison to all the Pueblos and tribal councils. When Connie stepped down, an Advisory Council began, via an open call-out to Pueblo Opera program volunteers. At this point the relationship began to be more reciprocal, with Santa Fe Opera asking for input from the Advisory Council, and both sides working to develop more of a sense of community outside the opera season. ‘Part of what I always liked about the Pueblo Opera Program is that it’s a reciprocal relationship of hospitality and culture,’ says Andrea. ‘Hospitality is critical - we’re inviting people to our house - what does that mean? You take care of them, make them feel welcome.’ It’s a good way of thinking about inviting newcomers to classical music: not just as inviting people to witness an art form, but as guests being welcomed into your space. Inviting guests to your home becomes a pretty sterile affair if they don’t know how to be themselves around you, whether they’re allowed to help in your kitchen, if they have to take off their shoes - that kind of thing. As a first step in hospitality, the Santa Fe Opera started to provide dinners at Pueblo Opera Program Youth Nights, in part as a gesture of welcome, but also to acknowledge the size of commitment it was for some Pueblo folk to attend, especially from further locations. A couple of hours’ bus travel each way, plus a four-hour-opera, with no opportunity to eat, is not for the opera-ambivalent. Andrea is frank in admitting she doesn’t feel the Santa Fe Opera has always been 100% successful in terms of accessibility and providing a welcome to members of New Mexico’s sovereign nations. I ask what she thinks has worked, and, like Marita, she points to the importance of having people in leadership positions accept invitations to Pueblo feast days as part of the reciprocal relationship, instead of as ‘cultural tourism’. How do you make sure you’re not being a cultural tourist?, I ask. Andrea says to stay curious. She says it’s also important to teach cultural competency in your organisation, led by people from the relevant culture(s). And then, before you invite newcomers in, do your own check - what is the space you’re inviting people into? What did you need when you first went into that space yourself? What would have helped you? And, of course, ‘I believe in care and feeding,’ says Andrea. Not just water and food, but also considering practical accommodations like taking breaks at relevant times for people who may not be familiar with the experience, or, if they’re performing with you, the work. At the same time, she says, it’s still important to establish the conventions of the art form. Respect for the project is really important, as are boundaries and expectations. Yet again in Santa Fe Opera stories, Andrea points to the 2018 production of Doctor Atomic as clarifying much of this. Even thinking about it in the hectic atmosphere of the cafe, Andrea says: ‘I have chills. It was one of the most meaningful experiences I’ve ever had in my life. Walking across campus with [director] Peter Sellars is one of the most meaningful experiences you’re going to have in your life. But to work that closely with him, and to watch him work with the Pueblo communities and the Tularosa Basin Downwinders Consortium from the Trinity site, was a masterclass in being human.’ She talks about the different understandings of time between the Pueblo communities and the opera. For Pueblo people, the timing of a performance such as a corn dance is dependent on many things. A watch isn’t one of them. For Doctor Atomic, Peter emphasised that being on time is essential to everyone coming together as a community - that we can’t create a moment in time unless we all agree that time matters. A key part in ensuring that agreement worked was giving the Pueblo performers adequate time to arrive and prepare themselves for the work they were about to do. There were other practicalities around inviting non-opera folk to be part of the opera, and making them feel welcome. Much of it seems simple, but anyone who’s ever worked backstage will be able to think of environments where some of these requirements would need a little extra boost. Andrea’s advice extends beyond feeding performers properly. Make sure they have somewhere to sit or to rest. Sofas are better than chairs; for an all-ages community engagement project, a plastic chair for three hours won’t suit everyone. Provide backstage monitors so your performers actually get to see the show. Be responsive to what you hear around the traps, whether or not it’s your responsibility, and make sure there are avenues for feedback. Don’t make assumptions - and, importantly, this includes not micro-managing, worrying too much, or treating people too gingerly. Finally, Andrea says, ‘It’s also not being “done”. Not thinking everything’s set. And also accepting not everything’s going to be perfect.’ Andrea recalls being as surprised as I was as to the extent of support the Pueblo Opera Program has found among the Pueblo communities. For a number of Pueblo folk, it’s the chance to experience a Western European tradition in the place they live; they don’t have to travel far to learn about other people’s culture, and to share in its performance at a high level. Andrea points out that there have also always been people in tribal leadership who question the opera’s motives, and the assumption that going to the opera is just what you do as Pueblo youth. Like all communities, each Pueblo has its own diversity of opinion and working to engage with them all is part of the opera’s ongoing responsibility. ‘I’ve been asked, “how do we get a Pueblo Opera Program?”’ Andrea says. ‘Like really, people have asked that clumsy of a question, and I generally have responded by saying that the Pueblo Opera Program is such a misnomer. It’s really the Pueblo Opera Relationship. That’s where the Pueblo Opera Cultural Council has helped shift people’s understanding, because we can refer to the tenets and principals of the Council by way of explaining what does it mean to have a relationship with sovereign nations on land that was stolen? So that now is really the core of the relationship - that it’s Pueblo-driven, not opera driven.”  Mesas at sunset, viewed from the Santa Fe Opera. I don’t know whose idea it was to create Museum Hill in Santa Fe, but I think it’s a pretty good one - four museums and a botanical garden all in one picturesque location. We’re visiting the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture. Marita Swazo Hinds, who serves on both the Pueblo Opera Cultural Council and the Santa Fe Opera board, is the Museum’s Director of Education; we’re here at her invitation. She gives us a tour which stalls pretty much immediately in the pottery room. Mel and I have both fallen completely in love with Pueblo pottery, and Marita is a potter herself, patiently answering all our questions. The pottery collection shows examples from all the Pueblos of New Mexico and Arizona. Marita tells us about how the pots are made, and also about her work in an upcoming show that’s a Native American response to Georgia O’Keeffe’s art. She shares the Georgia O’Keeffe quote that acted as her inspiration: ‘God told me if I painted that mountain enough, I could have it.’ ‘Except’, Marita says drily, ‘it’s not your mountain, Georgia.’ Her artwork in response will involve a series of teapots and tea cups; O’Keefe was a huge fan of tea and had an extensive teapot collection. I immediately imagine these two women sitting down to tea together. I’m pretty confident Marita would have no problem getting her point across. Mel and I tour ‘Here, Now, and Always’, a beautifully educative exhibit using Native American art and cultural artefacts to outline tribal histories and culture, which inevitably deals with the impact of colonisation on Native American nations. We’re both shocked at the degree of resonance between Australia and New Mexico, even up to present-day struggles over water rights.  Mel, Marita & Sarah Later, Marita meets us for coffee so I can learn more about the Pueblo Opera Program. She tells me that it was originally initiated by a group of women associated with the Santa Fe Opera who wanted to bring opera to the neighbouring Pueblos, and to Pueblo children in particular, in part as an acknowledgment of the opera being on Pueblo lands. The program began, says Marita, ‘as just signing up kids, putting them on a bus and going to the opera.’ While other forms of community engagement have developed since, Marita agrees that what really shifted things was the 2018 production of Doctor Atomic, composed by John Adams, with librettist Peter Sellars also directing at Santa Fe. Conversations began among the Pueblo participants around wanting the opera to do more, to ‘see us’, Marita emphasises. ‘That was when we created the Pueblo Opera Cultural Council.’ Since then, the POCC has been full of ideas, from creating a Native American opera in a Native American language, to international cultural exchanges. Marita explains that the Pueblo communities look forward each summer to participating in the Pueblo Opera Program, geared toward youth and families and to introducing them to this experience of a different art form, music, song and performance. This is in contrast to their own songs and dances at their own Pueblos. It’s a cultural exchange, so to speak, honoring both expressions of music, storytelling and performances. Bringing reciprocity into the relationship is a significant part both of its success, and ensuring a respectful exchange rather than a colonialist one-way-street. Marita’s position on the Santa Fe Opera board, inviting board and staff members to Pueblo feast days, Santa Fe Opera musicians giving chamber music concerts at Pueblo community centres and aged care homes, creating and including a Land Acknowledgment pre-performance, and employing Native Americans backstage, as ushers, and as artists and designers, are all ways that the POCC and the opera are working to develop their relationship. There are also always scholarships available for Native American participation in the opera’s various music camps; the POCC has made sure of that. However it might develop, the continuation of the Pueblo Opera Program is critical. ‘This is generational,’ Marita says. ‘We’ve been doing this for a while. We’re all very passionate about it. Our children have gone through the program ... It’s been going on now for 53 years. So it’s something we’ll continue to work on and continue to do what we can to bridge that relationship with each other.’ Marita agreed to a place on the Santa Fe Opera board provided she felt her role was active and not token. Soon after she joined, a year-long Diversity, Equity and Inclusion program was rolled out, which brought up a lot of uncomfortable questions and difficult conversations, all of which Marita feels was definitely necessary for the board to move forward. ‘We know with the POCC that there’s still a lot of work to be done, but we report at every board meeting, we let them know what’s going on, they support us, so that’s a really positive thing’, she says. ‘They’re open to hearing things that we’re suggesting.’ One suggestion which Marita hopes will be enacted involves her role at the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture. She’s suggested that, at the start of each season, new staff and artists come to the Museum for a tour as part of their induction process, so they understand the land on which they’re performing. Having just seen the Museum, and preparing to head back for more after our coffee, this seems like both a very generous and an extremely valuable offer. If I were performing, I’d sign straight up. As part of her role as Director of Education, Marita often hosts interstate opera society tours at the Museum. With a cheeky grin, she says she enjoys introducing herself to them as a Santa Fe Opera board member and seeing their surprise. She’s well aware that both opera companies and their boards can be perceived as ‘kind of stuffy’, so for people to discover that Santa Fe Opera has a Native American board member is a surprise for them - a good surprise. I’m curious about where the idea of a cultural exchange with Australia originated. ‘With Sydney, we see that big opera house, and it’s just like the Holy Grail,’ says Marita. What’s impressive to her about the Sydney Opera House is the building itself, but Marita points out that while Santa Fe’s building is pretty impressive too, it’s the setting that makes it both wildly beautiful and totally unique. ‘There is not an opera house in the world like ours. So we can aspire to go to Sydney, but also, we have it really good over here too. Where can you see an opera like this?’ The answer is: nowhere. Our opera house in Sydney might be more famous, but there’s much about Santa Fe Opera that’s utterly unique, and that also includes the presence of the POCC itself - something from which we in Australia could learn a lot, while the POCC is equally keen to meet Indigenous Australian communities and artists, many of whom have unique and groundbreaking practices of their own. At the end of the day, Santa Fe Opera’s willingness to engage with the people to whose lands it owes most of its impact and uniqueness, coupled with the generous and engaged response from members of the surrounding Pueblo nations, has created, and is co-creating, something that shows opera’s potential to exceed one of its greatest contemporary questions: the art form’s capacity not just to survive, but thrive. And Marita is rightly proud of it. ‘I think, I can go all over the world and go to an opera and visit it, but it’s nothing like our opera. It’s very, very special.’ Next to the unique building and setting, Santa Fe Opera’s Apprentice Program is probably one of the most renowned jewels in the company’s crown. Originally conceived by Founder John Crosby as both a stepping stone to major companies for young American artists, and a way to provide chorus and covers for productions, the Apprentice Program still fulfils both these functions. Now, however, its international prestige means many of its singers are only a few steps away from appearing on the main stage in principal roles themselves. For example, in 2025 tenor Duke Kim is leading as the Duke in Rigoletto, after having last been a Santa Fe apprentice in 2021. In 2025, the Apprentice Program, directed by Chandler Johnson, has 39 singers, whittled down from a staggering 1,000 applicants worldwide. Coachings, not just on Santa Fe repertoire, but on a singer’s general audition repertoire, are available to apprentices, and I’m heading to a masterclass given by Chief Artistic Officer, David Lomelí. I know David from my time at the Hart Institute for Women Conductors at The Dallas Opera, back in 2018. Despite an increasingly busy consulting career, a big part of David’s Santa Fe Opera calendar is dedicated to apprentice workshops. I’ve met a number of the apprentices already. They seem a collegiate and friendly bunch, necessary as they’ll be together across five productions for three months. David’s advice to them is technical, practical, and often divided into what would work in a USA opera house compared to expectations in Europe. His breadth of knowledge is extensive, but it’s clear the singers value him most as a fellow singer - he’s been there, on some of the biggest stages himself, and knows exactly what it’s like. He works with one young tenor on his upper register, trying to keep the sound forward and full. As the notes climb higher, the tenor is sounding good, until he takes his foot off the gas right before the top. David immediately reassures him: ‘Don’t worry about cracking. We all crack.’ Cracking a top note in public is one of a singer’s greatest fears, so for David to normalise it as an unavoidable part of figuring out how to sing is a great way to help a young artist relax (and therefore be much less likely to crack in the first place). The next day, David and I meet for lunch. We catch up as much as we can on each other’s career adventures before I turn to my questions. David is well-known for his public stance on diversity in casting. He’s Mexican, so he’s walked the walk, and our conversations these days are often about the difficulties of encouraging organisations to walk as far as they talk.
A few years ago, David said to me that when he’s trying to make change in an organisation, he feels like he ‘wins’ 51%, maybe 52% of the time. It’s been an open question for him, and for me, as to whether you can live with the fact that such small shifts of the dial often seem to be all that’s possible. Opera companies are big ships to steer, and sustainable change is usually slow - frustrating when the world around you, and society in particular, can change expectations fast. I ask him about a comment he made on the Destination: Santa Fe podcast. In it, he said his mission is making the highest possible level of art that moves people to do action. So why is that high level of art important? It’s the impact on the human brain and heart, David says - awe, shock, the way you pay immediate attention to something that’s delivered at the highest level. And it’s not perfect technical execution he means. It’s a high level of heart, of emotional intensity, of artistic quality. Bringing together the highest talent for a common goal is like watching someone break an Olympic record; ‘perfection creates admiration’, he says. And it also generates funding. ‘There’s a human sensation that we have [established] in all the years of studying psychology of audiences - people want to be associated with success. So if you are the number one, it’s easier to fundraise than if you’re number twenty-three.’ David’s keen to point out that it’s not all about having a big budget. As long as you are seeking the absolute best for the money you have available, you’re creating a culture to ‘push the buck to the highest calibre’. And then success begets success, potentially leading artists who might be a little out of your league to feel differently about the possibility of working with you. I’m interested in his comment about wanting to move people to action. What kinds of action does he mean? Part of it is who you put on stage, David says. He gives the example of the current La Bohème production at Santa Fe. It’s a high quality production, with a diverse cast and a young conductor. Because of the quality that’s been invested in the show, David feels that it has the potential to change the lives of all the young artists performing in it. But he also wants to make art that’s ‘punchy’. Art that inspires people to connect with the music once they leave the opera, to have it on their playlists, to feel the urge to share it with people they love, perhaps even to reconsider some aspects of their own lives based on the impact of the story they’ve just seen on the stage. ‘That’s why I’m so high standards when I do things. I love when you’re in a performance and the imperfections (because there’s always imperfections) were not enough to get you out of it. That’s what I want - that’s the type of art. When [an audience members talks] about the technique, I feel like I kind-of fail, a little bit.’ And the Pueblo Opera Program? ‘I think that this is a very good example of phenomenal ideas that have been developed to a point, and now they’re in that phase of, what do we do now?’ He wants to see members of the Pueblo communities in every part of the company - on stage, backstage, operations, leadership. In particular, he’d love to see a Native American ‘fluent in opera’ trained up to lead fundraising initiatives, considering what a key role development plays in the reality of an opera company’s day-to-day. And, of course, a Native American opera on the main stage of Santa Fe. We finish up with one of my favourite questions. How do you sustain yourself in this work? David divides his work into three categories (which sometimes overlap): work that feeds his personal artistry, work that pays his bills, and work that energises him to continue. ‘If I have crossed paths with you and I’ve left you in a better position to succeed towards your dream, it does feed me, the energy,’ he says. He talks about his recent work with Vincerò Academy, bringing young artists from all over the world to perform on the biggest stage in Paris. He’s unsure whether any of the artists will choose to pursue an international performance career, or if they’ll succeed - but having the concert on their CV will already increase their earning ability as teachers and performers in their own parts of the world. Small steps, he says, but with a cumulative impact over the life of each person. As someone who thinks largely about the social impact rather than the economics of community engagement, it’s both refreshing and challenging for me to recognise David’s laser-like focus on the economic impacts of his choices. But it’s also useful to consider the ways in which community engagement can be a value-adding proposition. That’s it for lunch. David’s off to more workshops, I’m off to a Rigoletto staging call, where many of those 39 apprentices will be put to work in small roles and out-of-the-box choreography, led by Maestro Carlo Montanaro, my Master Teacher from Dallas. There’s another Santa Fe storm brewing but it won’t stop rehearsals, despite the fourth wall of each rehearsal hall being open to the elements; there’s no better way to train up the cast for what they might encounter on the mainstage. The rewards of working here must outweigh the difficulties though, if the application numbers for the Apprentice Program are anything to go by. The first monsoon of the Santa Fe summer season lands about an hour before Pueblo Opera Program Youth Night. The heavy rain plasters the fancy up-dos and bright satins, polished shoes and immaculate suits of the young folk turning up for what could be their first opera. There’s no requirement to ‘get all gussied-up’, Renee Royal of San Ildefonso Pueblo explains, but that doesn’t stop most of the audience. Renee and I are sitting in the cantina for the pre-show dinner, along with five other members of the Pueblo Opera Cultural Council: Renee’s husband Leon, Marita Swazo Hinds from Tesuque Pueblo, Toni Herrera from Santa Clara Pueblo, and Mina and Jordan Harvier, also from Santa Clara. Known as POCC, the Pueblo Opera Cultural Council formalised after Santa Fe Opera’s 2018 production of Doctor Atomic. The Pueblo Opera Program itself (POP) has been running for over fifty years. I’m especially interested in POP as I haven’t found another example of classical music and First Nations engagement that’s been running as long. To celebrate POP’s 50th birthday in 2023, the Santa Fe Opera commissioned a documentary: ‘The Pueblo Opera Program: And What Could Be Next’, directed by Santa Clara Pueblo film maker Beverly R. Singer, and produced by the members of the POCC. ‘What could be next?’ is a live question for the Council, who are keen to see the program develop further. Mina points out that the Pueblo Opera Program has historically centred on kids. Parents can attend, but ‘if you don’t have a kid to bring along, you don’t get to go’. Enter the POP ‘Date Night’ - dinner and an opera for adults only. And yes, friends count as dates. If the dinner is anything like the buffet we’ve just helped ourselves to, you can sign me up for date night. The food is generous and delicious, the menu collaboratively curated by the POCC and Santa Fe Opera, as generous hospitality and a communal meal are key elements of the reciprocal relationships developed between the company and the Pueblo nations. Renee’s young granddaughter drifts over for introductions, in a fuchsia party dress and colourful clips in her hair. Her grandfather Leon asks me if I intend to take any music into Australia’s First Nations communities. I tell him it’s part of what I’m planning, and I’m curious to hear how POP succeeded, because as many arts organisations in Australia have learned, free tickets don’t automatically equal accessibility. People need to feel comfortable walking through the door of a concert or rehearsal, especially if they’ve never been before. Renee says human contact, and information in hard copy, is essential. She puts information and sign-up sheets at her seniors’ centre; community centres are also good. The next step is being physically present to answer questions immediately and in person (just like the above, ‘do we have to get gussied up’? Answer: only as much as you want to). And then, there’s Doctor Atomic. Everyone on the POCC has their own Doctor Atomic story. It’s clear the production is still both a source of great pride, and a point of deep learning, that’s set a very high benchmark for future engagement. Jordan explains the director Peter Sellars chose to include a Pueblo Native American corn dance during the opera because he wanted to show the Pueblo peoples’ resilience: that despite everything they and their land had been through, they’re still here, dancing, just as they had for centuries before. Mina agrees on the symbolism: “It doesn’t matter what the chaos [around us] is - we’re here to bring the balance”. The Doctor Atomic corn dance was created especially for that performance. While each Pueblo has a corn dance, they differ in detail - music, traditional dress, choreography - so it was better to start over than try to amalgamate. This also helped address community sensitivities about displaying cultural dances publicly. Another key factor was that the opera’s choreographer, Yup’ik woman Emily Johnson, asked Marita to organise a meeting with the Governor of Tesuque Pueblo to let him know her plans and gain his permission to work on Tesuque land. After dinner, we pack into Stieren Hall for the pre-show entertainment - local arts educator Oliver Prezant’s incredible 3, 2, 1, Opera! A pre-concert talk with a difference, Oliver has commandeered the skills of the Santa Fe Opera costume department to fit out enough kids to represent each major role in Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro. Not skimping on the overture, which he has the whole hall singing, Oliver whirls through the plot. The kids model the characters with varying degrees of success and hilarity. Dr Bartolo’s performance is Oscar-worthy, but his scene is stolen when Susannah and Figaro refuse to hold hands (ew!), holding sleeve cuffs instead. I’m impressed to find Oliver teaching the kids how to sing key phrases from arias in Italian (‘it’s like Spanish, right?’ he encourages them). The whole event is funny, smart, and most importantly, full of active, intelligent participation. The following dress rehearsal for Figaro is spectacular. After the rain, New Mexico puts on a ravishing sunset, the liquid gold of the sun reflecting in the glittering bronze clockwork set. While some of the littlest kids and their families leave at intermission, there is plenty of audience remaining to laugh at the jokes until the show ends at midnight. We see most of the Pueblo Opera Cultural Council again before the La Boheme dress rehearsal the following night. It’s particularly fun to sit with Toni’s daughter, and see photos of her pets, including a wolf spider (a kid after my own heart). It’s the last time I see Jordan and Mina - they’re off on a road trip to see Metallica with their son. It was his idea, and he’s saved up to buy them all the tickets. So I ask them a final question: if you were me, and wanting to build a relationship with First Nations communities, where would you begin?
The answer’s immediate - start with the community’s elders and reach out to their leadership of each respected Pueblo who have their own Governor and Tribal Council. In an Australian context, that would mean starting with each nation’s Elders. They say I should explain what I want to do, and make sure nothing I’m planning is disrespectful, or unintentionally appropriating cultural content. I remember this comment when, a few days later, I’m at a Preview Dinner for Figaro’s opening night. I’m seated next to another POCC member, Claudene Martinez, and her grandson Damien, both from San Ildefonso Pueblo. Claudene is telling me about the shock Pueblo folk felt at their first sight of Janáček’s opera Cunning Little Vixen. On seeing singers costumed as animals, including foxes and deer, it took a while for the Native American audience members to decide that the characters were an original feature of the opera, and not a reference to Native culture. ‘That was one opera where everyone stayed to the end!’ Claudene says; they wanted to figure out what they were seeing. As a half-Czech, such a confusion would never have occurred to me; I’m surprised and then slightly embarrassed to realise it. Like a number of young people I’ve met, Claudene’s grandson Damien is a third-generation part of the Pueblo Opera Program. Figaro will be his second opera; he found his first opera ‘pretty interesting’. The fact this program is now generational is, to me, one of its most impressive elements. Something is working. Yet there’s still a desire to do more. Along with Doctor Atomic, there’s one thing every Council member raises with me. To my surprise, a major element in the ‘what could be next’ for POCC is a cultural exchange to Australia. Sydney Opera House is on their bucket list, but so is meeting Indigenous Australian artists and communities. So let’s make it happen, Sydney - and make sure the hospitality is up to standard, because these folk set great store by feeding a person, body and soul. |
AuthorWhen I was awarded a Churchill Fellowship to travel overseas and study socially-engaged orchestral and operatic models in September 2024, the trip seemed a lifetime away. Now, in June-August 2025, it’s here. ArchivesCategories |
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