When life and art intertwine

KS Sir Simon Keenlyside returns to the Vienna State Opera in October and November in a series of performances of Claude Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande as Golaud.

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I have been asked to write about my artistic self-image, about the humus that nourishes my artistry. Now I feel quite insecure about this, because I find it so difficult to define myself as an artist. Sometimes I feel more like an archer than an artist. An archer who hopes to have enough arrows in his quiver so as not to be too frightened in the difficult existence on the road of life.

I love my work as a singer, but all the things that inevitably accumulate around this profession are unbearable for me. Ten years ago, for example, it got to the point where I simply couldn't see any more hotels. And since then I've been moving from city to city with my motorhome and my motorcycle. Some will think that's eccentric. Maybe it is, but I'm really happy with this decision. Of course, I don't invite colleagues or even directors into my motorhome - they wouldn't understand. They don't have to. I can vividly imagine what they think about comfort and the like. But as I write these lines, I am sitting on the edge of the Ardennes in one of the most beautiful forests the day after the Falstaff premiere in Brussels. What is the humus of my artistic existence? Well: nature. It calms me, inspires me, comforts me and allows me to connect with this wonderful world we live in.

So in between performances, I sit here in the forest, picking mushrooms, carving wooden spoons or a bowl. Or I simply go for a walk and review the opera texts, the music, the instructions of the directors and conductors. Life and art intertwine in an ideal way. I don't need much and have everything around me in my mobile home: a fan, a few tools for handicrafts, a small library, sheet music, a photo album with pictures of my wife and children. A stove for the winter. Just a small study. Or even better: a temporary home. So I travel around my home all the time. What is the humus of my life as an artist? My family! Unfortunately, they can't be with me all the time, but that's okay.

In the last twelve months alone, I've had to learn three new roles - the title role in Falstaff, for example. That's a lot of music! That's exhausting! But music is an important source of existence for me. In general, I love art in all its forms. And the more they unite, the better. Synaesthesia is something great - this synopsis of all the senses: seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting. The art form of opera uses a lot of this.

I'm expected to say: "The opera, the performances and rehearsals, the music, the works fulfill me." And what can I say? It's true. And when I perform in one of the big cities, I also visit the museums. Or I stroll through particularly beautiful districts - of which there are many in Vienna, for example.

Do I have a recipe for life? Yes, I take to heart the final insight of Ford (which I was allowed to sing for a quarter of a century), which says that anyone who cannot overcome their fate must accept it with grace. Very clever. So you shouldn't try to control everything in life, but embrace what gives. I have actually lived by this maxim for much of my life - tried to, anyway. And as I get older, I realize more and more how true this wisdom is.

So what am I going to do next? I'm going to go to that big beech tree behind the motorhome and see if the mushrooms have grown back. They are very tasty. But I also like the poisonous ones - just to look at them. They are beautiful. And afterwards? Then I go through the Falstaff again. For no particular reason - it sits anyway, but something inside me longs to bring out the notes.