Deborah Popham SOPRANO with BEN HARRIS on PIANO

Distinguished Concerts Artist Series

presents Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall Monday, December 7, 2015 at 8:00 pm Deborah Popham SOPRANO WITH BEN HARRIS ON PIANO

FEATURING

MUSIC OF: Respighi Rachmaninoff Barber and others

DISTINGUISHED CONCERTS INTERNATIONAL NEW YORK Iris Derke, Co-Founder and General Director Jonathan Griffith, Co-Founder and Artistic Director 250 W. 57th St., Suite 1610, New York, NY 10107 (212) 707-8566 | [email protected] Dates, repertoire, and artists subject to change. @DCINY | #DeborahPopham Monday, December 7, 2015 at 8:00 PM Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY)

Iris Derke, Co-Founder and General Director Jonathan Griffith, Co-Founder and Artistic Director

Presents

DISTINGUISHED CONCERTS ARTIST SERIES DEBORAH POPHAM SOPRANO Featuring Ben Harris on Piano

Program Music by Reynaldo Hahn:

À Chloris

Quand je fus pris au pavilion

L’Énamourée

Dans la nuit

Music by Ottorino Respighi; Text by Antonio Rubino:

Deità silvane, P. 107

I. I fauni

II. Musica in horto

III. Egle

IV. Acqua Music by Sergei Rachmaninov:

Ne poj krasavica, pri mne, Op. 4, No. 4 (Text by Alexander Pushkin)

Na smert’ chizhika, Op. 21, No. 8 (Text by Vasily Zhukovsky)

Vesenniye vodi, Op. 14, No. 11 (Text by Fyodor Tioutchev)

Music by Ben Moore:

So Free am I

I. Mutta (Text by Indian Buddhist nuns, trans. by Uma Chakravarti and Kumkum Roy)

II. Interlude (Text by Amy Lowell)

III. Orinda Upon Little Hector Philips (Text by Katherine Philips)

IV. Nervous Prostration (Text by Anna Wickham)

VI. The Poem as Mask: Orpheus (Text by Muriel Rukeyser)

VII. Mettika (Text by Indian Buddhist nuns, trans. by Uma Chakravarti and Kumkum Roy)

Music by Richard Hundley:

Sweet Suffolk Owl (Text is Anon. 1619)

Music by Samuel Barber:

The Monk and His Cat, Op. 29, No. 8 (Text is Anon. 8th or 9th Century, translated by W.H. Auden)

Music by Irving Fine:

The Frog and the Snake (Text by Gertrude Norman)

Music by Lee Hoiby:

The Serpent (Text by Theodore Roethke) Program Notes

Music by Reynaldo Hahn:

À Chloris

Quand je fus pris au pavilion

L’Énamourée

Dans la nuit

Reynaldo Hahn was a truly international man. He was born the youngest of twelve children. His mother was of Spanish descent and his father was German, but he was born in Venezuela and moved to Paris at the age of four. He began studies at the Paris Conservatoire in 1885, where he had Massenet as a teacher and became acquainted with Maurice Ravel. His music fell out of fashion after his death, but since the 1970s, his music, especially his mélodies

À Chloris To Chloris (Text by Théophile de Viau) If it be true, Chloris, that you love me, S’il est vrai, Chloris, que tu m’aimes, (And I understand that you do love me (Mais j’entends, que tu m’aimes well), I do not believe that even kings bien,) Je ne crois pas que les rois could know such happiness as mine. même Aient un bonheur pareil au How unwelcome death would be, If mien, Que la mort serait importune it came to exchange my fortune With A venir changer ma fortune Pour la the joy of heaven! All that they say of félicité des cieux! Tout ce qu’on dit ambrosia does not fire my imagination de l’ambroise Ne touche point ma like the favor of thine eyes. fantaisie Au prix des grâces de tes yeux. Quand je fus pris au pavillon When I was caught in the (Text by d’Orleans) pavilion Quand je fus pris au pavillon De When I was caught in the pavilion ma dame très gente et belle Je me of my lady most noble and brûlay à la chandelle Ainsi que fait beautiful, I burned myself in the le papillon. candle’s flame as does the butterfly. Je rougis comme vermillon A la I blushed crimson in the brightness clarté d’une étincelle Quand je fus of a spark, When I was caught in pris au pavillon De ma dame très the pavilion of my lady most noble gente et belle. and beautiful. Si j’eusse été esmerillon Où que If I had been a falcon or had strong j’eusse eu aussi bonne aile, Je me wings, I could have shielded fusse gardé de celle Qui me bailla myself from her who stung me de l’aiguillon Quand je fus pris au with the dart when I was caught in pavillon! the pavilion.

L’Énamourée The Enamored One (Text by de Banville) If they say, my dove, that you are Ils se disent, ma colombe, Que tu still dead and dreaming beneath rêves morte encore, Sous la pierre the headstone, but for the soul d’une tombe; Mais pour l’âme qui which adores you, you awaken, t’adore, Tu t’éveilles, ranimée, O reanimated, oh thoughtful beloved! pensive bien aimée. Through the starry, sleepless Par les blanches nuit d’étoiles, nights, through the murmuring Dans la brise qui murmure, breeze, I caress your long veils. Je caresse tes longs voiles, Ta Your flowing hair and your half- mouvante chevelure, Et tes ailes closed wings which flutter among demicloses Qui voltigent sur les the roses. roses. Oh delights! I breathe in your O délices, je respire Tes divines divine, blonde tresses, your pure tresses blondes; Ta voix pure, cette voice, this lyre, moves on the lyre, Suit la vague sur les ondes. swell of the waters. And gently, Et, suave, les effleure, Comme un touches them like a swan which is cygne qui se pleure! weeping. Dans la nuit (Text by Moréas) In the Night Quand je viendrai m’asseoir When I come and sit in the wind, dans le vent, dans la nuit, Au bout in the night, On the edge of the du rocher solitaire, Quand je rocky cliff, When I no longer hear, n’entendrai plus, en t’écoutant, le listening to you, the sound My bruit Que fait mon coeur sur cette heart makes on this earth, Do not terre, Ne te contente pas, Océan, be satisfied, Ocean, to toss On my de jeter Sur mon visage un peu face a little foam! With the swipe d’écume! D’un coup de lame alors of a wave you must then carry il te faut m’emporter Pour dormer me away To sleep in your bitter dans ton amertume! depths!

Music by Ottorino Respighi; Text by Antonio Rubino:

Deità silvane, P. 107

I. I fauni

II. Musica in horto

III. Egle

IV. Acqua

V. Crepuscolo

Italian composer Ottorino Respighi is best known for his series of orchestral pieces about Rome: Pines of Rome, Fountains of Rome, and Roman Festivals. Deità silvane, or Woodland Deities, was composed in 1925 as a song cycle for soprano and small orchestra. In this cycle, characters from Greek mythology are given life through Respighi’s music. For example, in “Crepuscolo”, one will hear the flute of the Pan, the dancing of “Egle” (a beautiful Naiad, the daughter of Zeus and Neaera) in the moving figures of the piano, and the clashing cymbals in the secret garden in “Musica in horto.” This cycle celebrates an ancient world, full of color, emotion, and imagery. I fauni The fauns S’odono al monte i saltellanti One hears the bubbling streams in rivi murmureggiare per le forre the hills murmuring through the astruse: s’odono al bosco gemer secluded ravines, one hears the cornamuse con garrito di pifferi sighs of bagpipes in the woods, giulivi. E i fauni in corsa per and the chirping of the merry fifes. dumeti e clivi, erti le corna sulle And the fauns run in the thickets fronti ottuse, bevono per lornari and over hills their horns erect camuse filtri sottili e zefiri lascivi. over their broad foreheads, drink E, mentre in fondo al gran coro through their flattened nostrils fine alberato piange d’amore per la potions and lascivious winds. And vita bella la sampogna dell’arcade while beneath the great choir of pastore, contenta e paurosa trees they weep out of love for the dell’agguato fugge ogni ninfa più beautiful life, the bagpipes of the che fiera snella, ardendo in bocca Arcadian shepherd happy, and yet come ardente fiore. fearful of the hidden traps, every nymph flees, more agile than the wild beasts, whose lips burn like blazing flowers.

Musica in horto Garden Music Uno squillo di cròtali clangenti A clash of ringing finger cymbals rompe in ritmo il silenzio dei rhythmically breaks the silence of roseti, mentre in fondo agli the rose gardens, meanwhile, at the aulenti orti segreti gorgheggia un end of the fragrant garden a flute flauto liquidi lamenti. La melodia warbles its liquid lamentation. The con tintinnio d’argenti par che melody, with the tinkling silver a vicenda s’attristi e s’allieti. bells, seems to alternate between ora luce di tremiti inquieti, or sadness and joy, now shining with diffondendo lunghe ombre dolente: an agitated, flickering light, now Cròtali arguti e canne variotocche! casting long, sorrowful shadows. Una gioia di cantici inespressi Ringing finger cymbals and merry per voi par che dai chuisi orti pipes! An inexpressible joy of rampolli, e in sommo dei rosai, hymns for you seems to rise from che cingon molli ghirlande al cuor the closed gardens, and at the top degli intimi recessi, s’apron le rose of the rose bushes, that weave soft come molli bocche. garlands through the heart of the deepest recesses, the roses open like soft mouths! Egle Aegle Frondeggia il bosco d’uberi The forest is heavy with fertile verzure, volgendo i rii zaffiro e vegetation the brooks are turning margherita: per gli archi verdi sapphire and white, through the un’anima romita cinge pallidi green arches, a lonely soul circles fuochi a ride oscure. E in te pale fires, obscuring twirling ristretta con le mani pure come dances. And lost in thought, with le pure fonti della vita, di sole e hands as pure as the pure springs d’ombre mobile vestita tu danzi, of life, dressed in the shimmering Egle, con languide misure. E a clothes of sun and shadow, you te candida e bionda tra le ninfe, dance, Aegle, with languid steps, d’ilari ambagi descrivendo il and toward you, innocent, fair verde, sotto i segreti ombracoli del nymph, with merry dancing like verde, ove la più inquïeta ombra the foliage beneath the hidden s’attrista, perle squillanti e liquido green shadows where the restless ametista volge la gioia roca delle soul grieves in gleaming pearl and linfe. liquid amethyst, flows the raw joy of the amber.

Acqua Water Acqua, e tu ancora sul tuo flauto Water, once again your sweet, lene intonami un tuo canto gentle flute play for me one of variolungo, di cui le note abbian your many-changing songs whose l’odor del fungo, del musco e notes seem to have the scent of dell’esiguo capelvenere, si che per mushrooms, of moss, and of the tutte le sottili vene, onde irrighi la silky maiden-haired fern. So that fresca solitudine, il tuo riscintillio through all of the thin veins that rida e sublùdii al gemmar irrigate the fresh solitude, your delle musiche serene. Acqua, sparking presence laughs and jokes e, lungh’essi calami volubili to the adornment of the serene movendo in gioco le crerulee dita, music. Water, while the thin reeds avvicenda più lunghe ombre alle along your banks move playfully luci, tu che con modi labili deduci their blue fingertips, create sulla mia fronte intenta e sulla vita flickering shadows in the light, del verde fuggitive ombre di nubi. along your winding way, you see on my brooding forehead and on the living green earth, the fleeting shadows of the clouds. Crepuscolo Twilight Nell’orto abbandonato ora l’edace In the abandoned garden, the muschio contende all’ellere i invasive moss fights with the ivy recessi, e tra il core snelletto dei for the hidden recesses and among cipressi s’addorme in grembo the small choir of cypresses falling dell’antica pace Pan. Sul vasto asleep in the womb of an ancient marmoreo torace che i con volvoli peace: Pan. On the large torso of infiorano d’amplessi, un tempo marble that morning-glories cover forse con canti sommessi piegò with flowery embraces, perhaps una ninfa il bel torso procace. one day, with a soft song a nymph Deità delle terra, forza lieta! leaned her lovely torso. God of troppo pensiero è nella tua the earth, joyful force! You have vecchiezza: per sempre inaridita become too serious in your old è la tua fonte. Muore il giorno, e age, your fountain has dried up per l’alta ombre inquïeta trema e forever. The day dies, and through s’attrista un canto d’allegrezza: the vast, restless shade, a song of lunghe ombre azzure scendono dal happiness trembles and turns sad; monte. long blue shadows descend from the mountains.

Music by Sergei Rachmaninov:

Ne poj krasavica, pri mne, Op. 4, No. 4 (Text by Alexander Pushkin)

Na smert’ chizhika, Op. 21, No. 8 (Text by Vasily Zhukovsky)

Vesenniye vodi, Op. 14, No. 11 (Text by Fyodor Tioutchev)

Sergei Rachmaninov was one of the best pianists of his time. He had large hands which allowed for great power in his playing, and therefore in his compositions. As one of the last great Russian Romantic composers, Rachmaninov is probably best remembered for his piano works. He also wrote many compositions for orchestra and numerous songs, with “Do not sing to me,” and “Spring Waters” being two of his most famous songs. In the United States, Rachmaninov’s songs are among the best known Russian songs, perhaps due to the fact that he toured and lived in the United States intermittently throughout his life. Ne poj, krasavitsa, pri mne Do Not Sing, oh Beauty, to Me (Text by Pushkin) Ne poj, krasavitsa, pri mne Ty pesen Gruzii pechal’noj; Do not sing, oh beauty, to me your Napominajut mne one Druguju melancholy songs of Georgia; they zhizn’ i bereg dal’nij. remind me of another life and a distant shore. Uvy, napominajut mne Tvoi zhestokije napevy I step’, i noch’, Alas, your cruel melodies remind i pri lune Cherty dalekoj, bednoj me of the steppe, the night, and the devy! moonlight, the features of a distant unfortunate maiden. Ja prizrak milyj, rokovoj, Tebja uvidev, zabyvaju; No ty pojosh’, The dear and fatal apparition I i predo mnoj Jego ja vnov’ forget when I see you, but you voobrazhaju. sing, and once again I imagine it. Ne poj, krasavitsa, pri mne Do not sing, oh beauty, to me your Ty pesen Gruzii pechal’noj; melancholy songs of Georgia; they Napominajut mne one Druguju remind me of another life and a zhizn’ i bereg dal’nij. distant shore.

Na smert’ chizhika Upon the Death of a Linnet (Text by Zhukovsky) In this coffin lies my faithful V sem grobe vernyj chizhik moj! sparrow! He was nature’s lovely Prirody miloje tvoren’e, Iz mirnoj creation, From this peaceful oblosti zemnoj On uletel, kak earthly region He flew away, like snoviden’e. On dlja ljubvi na a dream. In this world he lived for svete zhil, On nezhnoj pesenkoj love, He paid for sweet caresses privetnoj, Za lasku nezhnuju platil, With his tender friendly song, He I podletal k ruke privetnoj. No flew toward a welcoming hand, v svete strashno i ljubit’: Jemu But in this world it is dangerous to byl dan druzhok krylatyj; Chtob love: He has a winged companion; milogo ne perezhit’, On v grobe In order not to outlive his dear skrylsja ot utraty. one, He his himself from grief in a casket. Vesenniye vodi Spring Waters (Text by Tioutchev) The fields are still covered with Jeshchjo v poljakh belejet sneg, A white snow, But the springs are vody uzh vesnoj shumjat -- Begut already in a spring mood, Running i budjat sonnyj breg, Begut, i and awakening the sleepy shore, bleshchut, i glasjat... Running, glittering, announcing loudly… Oni glasjat vo vse kontsy:”Vesna idjot, vesna idjot! My molodoj They are announcing loudly to vesny gontsy, Ona nas vyslala every corner: “Spring is coming! vperjod. We are the messengers of young Spring, She has sent us to come Vesna idjot, vesna idjot, I tikhikh, forward. teplykh majskikh dnej Rumjanyj, svetlyj khorovod Tolpitsja veselo za Spring is here! And the quiet, nej!” warm May days Follow her, merrily crowded, Into the rosy, bright dancing circle

Music by Ben Moore:

So Free am I

I. Mutta (Text by Indian Buddhist nuns, trans. by Uma Chakravarti and Kumkum Roy)

II. Interlude (Text by Amy Lowell)

III. Orinda Upon Little Hector Philips (Text by Katherine Philips)

IV. Nervous Prostration (Text by Anna Wickham)

VI. The Poem as Mask: Orpheus (Text by Muriel Rukeyser)

VII. Mettika (Text by Indian Buddhist nuns, trans. by Uma Chakravarti and Kumkum Roy)

American composer Ben Moore has a musical output that includes art songs, musical theatre, cabaret, chamber music, choral music, and opera. So Free am I was commissioned by the Marilyn Horne Foundation and the ASCAP Foundation/Charles Kingsford Fund in 2005. Concerning this work, the composer said, “The cycle consists of settings of poems addressing women’s experiences by women authors from various times and cultures. The title of the cycle quotes the first line of ‘Mutta’ from writings of Indian Buddhist nuns of the sixth century B.C., translated by the Indian Scholars Uma Chakravarti and Kumkum Roy. I’ve set two of these verses to form the first and last songs in the cycle. The musical figure for the text ‘So free am I’ has also served as a unifying device throughout the piece.” (2010) To me, this set is not about the oppression of women throughout time, but rather the freedom in being liberated from the ties that bind.

Mutta (Text by Indian Buddhist nuns, trans. by Uma Chakravarti and Kumkum Roy) So free am I So gloriously free! Free from three petty things Free from mortar and from pestle and from my twisted lord Freed from rebirth and death I am and all that has held me down is hurled away!

Interlude (Text by Amy Lowell) When I have baked white cakes And grated green almonds to spread upon them; When I have picked the green crowns from the strawberries And piled them, cone-pointed, in a blue and yellow platter; When I have smoothed the seam of the linen I have been working; What then? To-morrow it will be the same: Cakes and strawberries, And needles in and out of cloth. If the sun is beautiful on bricks and pewter, How much more beautiful is the moon, Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree; The moon, Wavering across a bed of tulips; The moon, Wavering across a bed of tulips; The moon, Still, Upon your face. You shine, Beloved, You and the moon. But which is the reflection? The clock is striking eleven. I think, when we have shut and barred the door, The night will be dark Outside.

Orinda Upon Little Hector Philips (Text by Katherine Philips) Twice forty months of wedlock did I stay Then had my vows crowned with a lovely boy And yet in forty days, he dropped away Oh swift vicissitude of human joy. I did but see him and he disappeared I did but pluck the rosebud and it fell A sorrow unforeseen and scarcely feared For ill can mortals their afflictions spell

And now (sweet babe) what can my trembling heart Suggest to right my doleful fate or thee Tears are my muse and sorrow all my art, So piercing groans must be thy elegy.

Thus whilst no eye is witness of my moan, I grieve thy loss (Ah boy too dear to live) And let the unconcerned world alone, Who neither will nor can refreshment give.

Nervous Prostration (Text by Anna Wickham) I married a man of the Croydon class When I was twenty-two. And I vex him, and he bores me Till we don’t know what to do! It isn’t good form in the Croydon class To say you love your wife, So I spend my days with the tradesmen’s books

And pray for the end of life. In green fields are blossoming trees And a golden wealth of gorse, And young birds sing for joy of worms: It’s perfectly clear, of course, That it wouldn’t be taste in the Croydon class To sing over dinner or tea: But I sometimes wish the gentleman Would turn and talk to me

But every man of the Croydon class Lives in terror of joy and speech “Words are betrayers,” “Joys are brief” The maxims their wise ones teach. And for all my labour of love and life I shall be clothed and fed, And they’ll give me an orderly funeral When I’m still enough to be dead.

The Poem as Mask: Orpheus (Text by Muriel Rukeyser) When I wrote of the women in their dances and wildness, it was a mask on their mountain, gold-hunting, singing, in orgy, it was a mask; when I wrote of the god, fragmented, exiled from himself, his life, the love gone down with song, it was myself, split open, unable to speak, in exile from myself.

There is no mountain, there is no god, there is memory of my torn life, myself split open in sleep, the rescued child beside me among the doctors, and a word of rescue from the great eyes. No more masks! No more mythologies!

Now, for the first time, the god lifts his hand, the fragments join in me with their own music.

Mettika (Text by Indian Buddhist nuns, trans. by Uma Chakravarti and Kumkum Roy)

Though I am weak and tired now and my youthful step long gone. Leaning on this staff I climb the mountain peak, my cloak cast off, my bowl overturned, I sit here on this rock and over my spirit blows the breath of liberty.

Music by Richard Hundley:

Sweet Suffolk Owl (Text is Anon. 1619)

Music by Samuel Barber:

The Monk and His Cat, Op. 29, No. 8 (Text is Anon. 8th or 9th Century, translated by W.H. Auden)

Music by Irving Fine:

The Frog and the Snake (Text by Gertrude Norman)

Music by Lee Hoiby:

The Serpent (Text by Theodore Roethke)

I am a big animal lover, which was the inspiration for this set: animal songs. In “Sweet Suffolk Owl,” listen for the hunt for the mouse as the melodic line becomes more disjunct, and the mysterious nature of the owl in the piano. “The Monk and His Cat” describes the differences between a scholar and his beloved cat, including the cat’s feet walking across the piano keys. “The Frog and the Snake” comes from a collection entitled Childhood Fables for Grownups. The bounciness of the piano imitates a frog hopping around while the ascending chromaticism mimics the slithering snake. Finally, in the last song, the poor serpent wants nothing more than to sing, much to the dismay of the other animals! Sweet Suffolk Owl (Text is Anon. 1619) Sweet Suffolk Owl, so trimly dight With feathers like a lady bright; Thou singest alone, sitting by night, ‘Te whit! Te whoo!’ Thy note that forth so freely rolls With shrill command the mouse controls; And sings a dirge for dying souls, ‘Te whit! Te whoo!”

The Monk and His Cat (Text is Anon. 8th or 9th Century, translated by W.H. Auden) Pangur, white Pangur, How happy we are Alone together, Scholar and Cat. Each has his own work to do daily; For you it is hunting, for me study. Your shining eye watches the wall; My feeble eye is fixed on a book. You rejoice when your claws entrap a mouse; I rejoice when my mind fathoms a problem. Pleased with his own art, Neither hinders the other; Thus we live ever Without tedium and envy. Pangur, white Pangur,

The Frog and the Snake (Text by Gertrude Norman) There was a little frog, He jumped upon a log And sat there smiling in the soft summer sun. Along came a snake, The frog began to shake, He didn’t know which way first to run. “Look here,” said the frog, “You may think I’m a frog, But I’m really not, I’m a golliwogg, And if a golliwogg gets eaten by a snake That snake will die of a tummy ache.” “Oh goodness,” said the snake “What a terrible mistake,” And he quivered and shivered and away did run While the frog sat there smiling and laughing and beaming, Smiling and beaming, laughing and beaming, Smiling and beaming in the soft, summer sun!

The Serpent (Text by Theodore Roethke) There was a serpent who had to sing There was. There was. He simply gave up Serpenting. Because. Because. He didn’t like his Kind of Life; He couldn’t find a proper Wife; He was a Serpent with a soul; He got no Pleasure down his Hole. And so, of course, he had to Sing, And Sing he did, like Anything! The Birds, they were, they were Astounded; And various Measures Propounded To stop the Serpent’s Awful Racket: They bought a Drum. He wouldn’t Whack it. They sent, —you always send, —to Cuba And got a Most Commodious Tuba; They got a Horn, they got a Flute, But Nothing would suit. He said, “Look, Birds, all this is futile: I do not like to Bang or Tootle.” And then he cut loose with a Horrible Note That practically split the Top of his Throat. “You see,” he said, with a Serpent’s Leer, “I’m Serious about my Singing Career!” And the Woods Resounded with many a Shriek As the Birds flew off to the end of Next Week. Meet The Artists

Deborah Popham, Soprano is an Associate Professor of Music, Coordinator of Vocal Studies, and Director of Opera Theatre at Shorter University in Rome, GA. She has performed internationally as a soloist throughout Canada, Italy and Switzerland, including the Festival dei Due Mondi in Spoleto, Italy, and is a founding member of the ensemble, Trio Roma. She has been guest recitalist throughout the United States, including South Carolina, Arizona, and Missouri, and performed with Arizona Opera, Rome Symphony Orchestra, and was selected for the Emerging Artist program with OperaWorks. Some of Dr. Popham’s performing credits include Madame Lidoine (Dialogues of the Carmelites), Michaëla (Carmen), Vitellia (La Clemenza di Tito). In 2014, she was selected as one of twelve teachers to participate in the prestigious NATS Intern Program. Originally from Cleveland, OH, Dr. Popham attended the University of Akron, where she graduated Summa Cum Laude, earning a Bachelor of Music degree in voice performance, and two Bachelor of Arts degrees in English and Philosophy. She concluded her studies at Arizona State University, where she earned a Master of Music in Music Theater Performance (Opera) and her Doctor of Musical Arts degree in Voice Performance.

Ben Harris, Piano studied piano at the Vienna Conservatory, Baylor University, Oklahoma Baptist University and Frank Phillips College. In addition to working with vocalists and instrumentalists, Harris has accompanied numerous university and symphony choirs, as well as serving as ballet accompanist for the Oklahoma Summer Arts Institute. Ben has also served as a staff accompanist for the American Institute of Musical Studies (AIMS) summer program in Graz, Austria. He has been heard as a chamber musician on National Public Radio’s Performance Today program. Harris was formerly on faculty at Shorter University (2008-12) and Western Illinois University (2005-08). In the fall of 2012, Harris was delighted to join Vanderbilt University’s Blair School of Music as a Senior Lecturer in vocal coaching. His other interests include German and French, aviation, and foreign travel. DISTINGUISHED CONCERTS INTERNATIONAL NEW YORK (DCINY)

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2016 DCINY Concerts – Please join us at our other upcoming events:

Monday, January 18, 2016 at 7:00 PM Tuesday, January 19, 2016 at 7:00 PM Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage, Carnegie Hall Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage, Carnegie Hall The Music of Karl Jenkins: A Requiem for the Living: The Concert for Peace Music of Dan Forrest

Jenkins: The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace Forrest: Requiem for the Living Songs of Sanctuary (for treble voices) James M. Meaders, DCINY Conductor Dan Forrest, Visiting Composer Te Deum Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director The Music of Dan Forrest: Te Deum and Principal Conductor Psalm of Ascension Karl Jenkins, DCINY Composer-in-Residence In Paradisum Jo-Michael Scheibe, Guest Conductor

Dates, repertoire, and artists subject to change. For a full 2016 listing and ticket details, please visit www.DCINY.org

@ DCINY #DeborahPopham

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