Leo K. Theatre Opus By Michael Hollinger Directed by Braden Abraham October 30 - December 6, 2009
Melia Watras and Michael Jinsoo Lim have been playing together as one half of the Corigliano Quartet for 12 years. They’ve also been married for 16 years. But you wouldn’t know it to walk in on a practice with the quartet: there is no hand holding, no wistful glances cast over violin strings. “We don’t act married in the quartet,” says Watras.
The all-business attitude towards one’s spouse may seem strange to someone on the outside looking in, but it’s a key to keeping the quartet running like a well-oiled machine. “When we’re working in the group, we are all equals,” says Lim.
A sense of equanimity is key to the functioning of any small, tightly knit group, but especially so in a quartet like Corigliano, which Watras describes as “four strong voices that care passionately about making music.” As anyone who has ever watched a Sunday morning political roundtable can tell you, four strong voices discussing something passionately is the sort of thing that can turn ugly in short order.
So how do the members of a quartet make beautiful music on stage and off for years on end? “Generally, the way decisions are made in an orchestra is there’s one boss and what he says goes. In a quartet, there are four equal voices. And that can be better, and it can be worse,” says Lim, who compares the decision-making process within the group to ‘controlled anarchy.’ “The only way it can work is if everyone respects each other.”
When she compares the atmosphere of a quartet to that of working in an orchestra, Watras doesn’t mince words. “The money is usually not as good. The hours are much, much longer. And the possibility of problems is much greater.” Not exactly the sort of job description anyone is likely to jump on, is it? She also makes clear that the drama portrayed on stage in Opus is no less realistic than real-life horror stories she’s heard from colleagues (and playwright Michael Hollinger cites the eerie similarities between Opus’ interpersonal drama and what happened in the Audubon String Quartet when they fired their first violinist).
“All of this could happen,” says Watras. “We’ve been lucky enough that none of it has happened to us.” But if life as part of a quartet has the potential to be so emotionally draining and so professionally volatile, then why do people choose it over an often more stable and almost always less nerve-wracking career in an orchestra?
The answer is simple: With high risk comes high reward. While being part of a quartet is more demanding, it also lends musicians more of a sense of ownership. While it can be frustrating, it can also be transcendent. “When you’re performing with a quartet, you’re outside of yourself,” says Watras. “You become part of a whole that is greater than the sum of the parts.” Lim concurs. “There are a lot of difficulties, but when it works, there is nothing like it. You are being pushed to a higher level by your colleagues, and that is an incredible feeling.”
