In terms of opera, there are things that I look for, but again, do not always need to be present in order for me to call something opera.
Let me offer, then, a few ideas of what I believe opera does not need to be:
Long.
Big (in physical size and resources).
Sung all the way through.
Set to an orchestral score.
Performed on a stage.
Live.
So, right away, as I "don't" define opera, there are already five or so awesome areas for growth/change. Think of any standard opera (and any standard opera company), and most likely you will find that almost all of these categories still fit the old definitions of opera. So, if you want to make a new opera, still in the tradition of opera, a good place to start is with these ideas: making opera shorter, smaller, include spoken dialogue, score the music for smaller instrumentation and electronic instrumentation, perform the opera outside or in a barn or in a dance studio or at an art gallery, or create an opera specifically for the medium of film (i.e. Matthew Barney's "Cremaster V", or R. Kelly's "Trapped in the Closet").
...However, in its place, I would like to count as necessary to art making those things that guilt proposes to negate; rest, sustenance (culinary, intellectual, spiritual), space, time, comfort, ease, attention, health, conversation, movement, freedom (from "should", from over analysis, to change one's mind ((multiple times, if necessary)), to let something brew, to be fiercely obsessive or to be unconcerned), and, perhaps the first thing that vaporizes when the call of guilt sounds its menacing horn: Pleasure....
This last week we had Ryan Tracy and Chris Schavio from Collective Opera Company here for a Creative Residency to work on their upcoming Scarlet Fever. Ryan blogged about their residency on the new COC blog, check it out...
Dear Aynsley and Mathew:
I want to congratulate you on the success of your festival, Mt. Tremper Arts.
By creating anything new, we embody the spirit of Walt Whitman, who believed in nothing more than he believed in the possibility inherent in the American experience to set precedent; to do what has not been done before; to decide for ourselves that, yes, this is how we want things to be, even if it means breaking from tradition and/or propriety.
Although, with new things come risks. I’m sure you both know, as artists, that it is impossible to satisfy the taste of every person who comes into contact with artwork. Artists are always aware of this conundrum, and each finds her/his own relationship between their work and the public. We must agree, though, that, in terms of art, it is always better to err on the side of risk. Risk is how we grow, discover, and learn.
That is why I would like to commend you for the risk you both took to program–without interference–the dance work of Elke Rindfleisch, whose two dances I found compelling, bold, enigmatic, incisive, and thoroughly brave.