| by John Willett Overcoming 'Yes, But' disease,
photographer ML Hart wows worldwide with a seminal volume about opera
In this era of diversification and mergers, it should
come as no surprise that artistic institutions are consolidating resources as well as
branching out. So are individuals. So are a lot of women.
In the merger department: No new production seen at San
Diego Opera these days is the effort of SDO alone. For example, its scene shop is one of
the most respected in the country, building not only SDO's own productions but also those
for television, the legitimate stage and others nationwide. But nowadays, such
extraordinarily expensive ventures as newly designed operas are always a joint venture of
two to five companies from Texas to Florida to Seattle and elsewhere across the country.
The reason? Money.
When it comes to branching out, here's a case in point.
San Diego Opera recently emerged as publisher of a new book, "The Making of
Opera," a handsome tome of arresting photography and sensitive narrative by ML Hart.
(No periods between the initials, please: "Its the way I sign my name," says the
artist.) The book teaches a lot about the great art of opera, American's opera heritage,
San Diego's prominence in that heritage and about the day-to-day business of art in
general. It's a mesmerizing tale that will hold the interest of even the most
dyed-in-the-wool sports fan.
Over Belgian waffles with pecans and maple syrup, a real
splurge for Hart on one of her "two or three mornings a year that I go out for
breakfast," the photographer tells the tale of her emergence from what was, until
recently, a chrysalis of professional discontent with her place in today's world of
business. "I was feeling very frustrated and angry because I was pushing aside,
ignoring, the nature of what I should be doing."
Hart, now 44, began her odyssey among a loving family
that, alas, suffered from the "Yes, But" Disease, a wrong-headed thought process
still prevalent and deeply embedded in the American psyche. "That's lovely dear, and
we definitely think you should pursue it for your own enjoyment, but how are you going to
make a living?" they asked.
Martha Hart, Oregon-born but raised in Arizona, Maryland
and San Diego, got straight As in high school, yet never took a college degree despite
spending five and one half years in academia. Why? "I didn't like the structure: I
didn't fit in with other kids. Then there was the partying, and everything I was being
taught was non-practical theory. It finally dawned on me that I didn't need to be
there."
After three shots at college, the last in theater design
at San Diego State University, she ended up in the costume department at the Old Globe and
also worked for a year at the Asolo Theater in Sarasota, Fla.
Then, tired of starving, Hart went to typing school, took
a job as a legal secretary and finally, via on-the-job training, got into paralegal work.
And into what she describes as a 13-year low of
frustration and anger.
"I'm an artist and it took me a long time to accept
that, much less live it."
How did she change? "I had a great therapist,"
she says without hesitation. Hart had started seeing her because of problems with family
and friends, "who all seemed to want a piece of me."
"One of the first things she said to me was, 'When
you resolve the central issue in your life, everything else will take its proper
place.'" It took a while but Hart finally realized that the relationship between her
personal self and her artistic self was the most important issue of her life.
"Most women believe the most important relationships
in their lives should be their spouses or their family. Society, religion - all sorts of
things condition us for this. We feel it is wrong somehow to say, 'I am the center of my
life.'"
Hart set out to do something - anything - strictly to
please herself. She went back to school while working, and in three years learned American
Sign Language and interpreting, just because it was something she wanted to do. At the
same time, again, because she wanted to do it, she took classes in art history.
"This was an important loop in the path," says
Hart. "It forced me to come out of myself. It pushed me to find new boundaries, meet
new people, do things I didn't think I could do. The fact that it didn't result in
anything tangible or a product for me was irrelevant."
Among other things, she and her husband Michael Hart
decided not to have children. "It was a conscious decision. Without knowing who or
what I was going to be, I did know I couldn't be whatever that was going to be and a
mother, too. You can't do kids halfway."
Through all this, Hart was very successful in the
business arena. She rose to paralegal status in the office of a malpractice attorney, then
moved to health care administration, where she spent four years in risk management, then
procedural and regulatory affairs at the UCSD Medical Center.
"You keep changing jobs because you think the next
job is going to be better." This was not the answer, as Hart found out. Stress became
worse: Hart was burned out.
"I had been working with my therapist for six months
before the question of being an artist ever came up," Hart says. It was then she
started experimenting with cameras, but had no thought of making a business of it. It was
a weekends and spare-time thing.
But would this be enough to satisfy?
"Gradually the balance began to change, "she
says. "It's not always clear; there's not a morning when you wake up, the clouds
part, music starts to play and there's 'The Answer.'"
But when UCSD began downsizing and absorbing the tasks of
departments and individuals, it provided Hart with the opportunity to make the big shift.
From then on, her story reads like that of so many
talented people: she struggled until she mounted her first photography show at La Vae
Gallery in La Mesa, where she still exhibits. Then she took part in a group show in Denver
put together by photographers who had met on the Internet.
That's how she met Richard Bram, who had working
photographic sessions with the Louisville Symphony. "I was so envious," Hart
recalls.
Then came the idea to look at the workings of an opera
company. She put a detailed proposal before SDO general director, Ian Campbell, and was
astounded when he accepted.
"The Making of Opera," some three years later,
is the result. Needless to say, Hart is not only making a modest living as a photographer
but, because of the book, is en route to national recognition.
Campbell reports that of the initial 5,000 printed, 475
volumes have been sold and five libraries have ordered. The Opera needs to sell 2,600
copies to recover its costs.
"When you consider that this was designed to be a
long-term sales project, that's a significant number. Orders have come from all over the
U.S., Europe and Australia," says Campbell. "The book's visibility will increase
in months to come and we anticipate reaching our intended target with no problem."
To hell with the Yes-Buts of the world!
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an author, lecturer and consultant, John Willett
critiqued music, dance and the arts for more than 17 years.
all material ©1998 by John Willett and San Diego Metropolitan Magazine |
