The Post-Show Blues — Erin Leigh Koolman

Every musician, thespian, and artist knows what I mean when I saw “post-show blues.” You spend weeks, months really, in some cases maybe years, preparing and rehearsing and pouring your blood and sweat into a role or a performance. You spend hours on end, day after day with the same people and the time you spend outside of rehearsals you can’t seem to shut out the music. There would be many nights when I would wake up in the darkness and the music will be there running through my head before I can even register that I’ve awoken. If you push yourself hard enough the lines between your reality and the reality of the show start to blur. And I don’t mean “method acting.” You can just feel it inside you, you know the story so well it’s as if you were there. And in a show like Ainadamar, it doesn’t always look pretty. My nose would run and I could feel myself spitting from actual fear whenever I had to lock into the terror of the story.

Myself and Kathiana Dargenson (Soprano), who performed the incomparable, Margarita Xirgu

Maya Davis, my counterpart as Lorca. (See also, my on site Gen Z translator)

Suddenly, costumes are added. Hair and make up is applied and you start to settle into a new normal. One where you can see yourself literally disappear into your character as you stare back at yourself in the mirror. The lights come down, the curtain goes up, and the music starts. You try to live in the moment and savor each and every second you spend in this world that an entire village of people have worked so hard to bring to life, but it’s hard. The artist in you just wants to live there for a second and absorb the human experiences of friendship, resolve, terror, acceptance. But you have a job to do. There are specific steps you have to take, gestures and expressions you have to perform, lights you have to find, oh and maestro to keep in sight because you are performing an opera after all.

Osvaldo Golijov, composer of the incredible Ainadamar

And then just as quickly, you’re bowing and the curtain is coming back down. There is a whirlwind of hugs and handshakes, pictures, flowers, presents. “Thank you so much for coming!” You try your hardest to get pictures with everyone, knowing full well you’ll miss someone. You try so hard to grasp with your finger tips these last moments of existing with your colleagues and the role you’ve worked so hard to make your own. But you can feel it pull away already. They always say “all good things come to and end."

Director, Jeffrey Buchman. I’ve nothing but love and gratitude for this man.

And it does. The daily schedule stops coming into your inbox. You start up parts of your life you had to put on hold. The flowers wilt. It’s over, for now. It’s like you’ve been carrying this balloon around for months and someone just comes up behind you and sticks a needle right through the center. Less, eloquently…it sucks. Personally, I never thought much of my own talent. I had a hard time even calling it that. I am not the first, nor will I be the last, person on this planet to suffer from imposter syndrome or the anxiety that I may not be suited to this life I’m pursuing. But in the gloom of the aftermath of this role, I have found hope.

Some of the St. Paul’s Choir and friends drove all the way from Indy!

My oldest and best friend, Brent, drove 6 hours one way to see me.

It would not hurt this much for this show to be over, if I did not care. If I did not put my wholesale into this performance I would not feel the way I feel now. So many of the friends and family have told me how affected they were by my performance, and while I’ve received accolades before, this time feels different. I hope you don’t read this as bragging or that I’m trying to elevate my performance as flawless. We all see the cracks in the glass when we’re the ones looking through it. Even now, I’m taking an apologetic tone. Please don’t look to hard at me or you’ll see my flaws. Truth be told, I’m so proud of myself I could burst. I worked harder than I ever have and delivered a performance that raised the bar, even if only for myself. This is not my last.