Duet

Holley, the librettist, emailed Larsen his completed libretto on Labor Day 2006 after two years of close communication with her. “Picnic” takes place on Labor Day, and opens with an exchange between neighbors: “Yoo-hoo, Flo! Happy Labor Day!”

The timing was perfect. Holley's libretto arrived with a playful note: “Yoo-hoo, Libby! Happy Labor Day!”

A composer's work begins with the libretto. The music flows from the words, and the two must come together seamlessly.

“Scoring opera is a monastic art form,” says Larsen, who runs marathons in her spare time. “It's sort of like running a marathon. You hit the hard part, the last six miles, but if you prepare well enough you know you're not really taking a risk. The only risk is when I let go of the piece. I'm never really nervous about it, and I think that's because I work so hard. All we (opera composers) have to live on is our ideas and how we project our ideas into being.”

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David Holley, director of UNCG Opera Theatre, wrote the libretto and directs “Picnic.”

When he didn't hear from Larsen for a while, Holley began to wonder.

“But my goal is not my pride,” he says. “The important thing is that my words speak to her.”

Apparently they did. Larsen loved his words, and made few changes. Then she set them to music.

“Her emotional reactions are in music. Libby hears it all at once. She thinks in music. She hears the voices, she hears the instruments, everything,” Holley says.

“Yes, yes, it's totally true!” Larsen insists. “I do think in music. I can't remember a time when I didn't have full-blown music in my head.”

Coda

At the sing-thru, Ted Taylor's fingers glide across the vocal chords of a grand piano. Rhythms and voices drift out into the damp December night.

Sometimes the music has a ragtime feel. Sometimes it takes the guise of a steam locomotive chugging toward a small Kansas town circa 1953.

Renee Huff massages Chuck Schneider's tense shoulders.

Melita Etienne smiles.

A young woman sings pensively that she'd like to “ride into the sunset!”

And beside the piano, a slender figure in black and white chews her pencil, fusses with her ponytail, tugs her turtleneck up over her chin … and mouths every line.