I used to worry I was Opera’s biggest freak. Now I realize that’s not a bad thing. I approach operatic performance and writing the same way I do my favorite pastime: turning over rotten wood and looking for bugs. When you lift a dead tree or a rock, you’re bound to find unexpected answers and a whole lot of questions too. I search for the subtle nuance in 19th century parlor songs. I seek out the timeless humanity in Baroque masterworks. I extract the humble simplicity from mathematically engineered world premieres. Give me an Italian love song and I’ll sing it in a morph suit covered in flowers and rip them off one by one. Maybe you’ll catch one from the audience.