In January 2020, on the Brooklyn waterfront, the cold wind whipped through the streets as the premiere of “Ellen West” approached. My focus, however, was not on the opera; I had just received the devastating news that my brother had cancer.
When I arrived, a group was gathered on the steps. Ricky Ian Gordon, distinguishable by his hat, was in the aisle. I introduced myself, and to my surprise, he greeted me warmly with a hug, despite our not having met before. I took my seat, and he asked to sit next to me, mentioning he might need a quick exit after the performance.
As the opera progressed, he quietly slipped away near the end, only to return onstage for the curtain call, where he bowed alongside the cast. After the show, braving the cold, I said goodbye and received another hug from Gordon. His genuine kindness made a profound impression on me. A few days later, I received a message from him: “Chris!!!” I assumed it was regarding the review, which I felt was lacking, but Gordon’s note of thanks revealed that he had appreciated it.
I was taken aback. There was no way he could have known about my brother. Yet, his empathy, openness, and joy provided a much-needed lift during a dark time. His autobiography offers a deep insight into his development and character—its poignant, brutally honest narrative reveals much about the man behind the kindness.
Gordon’s Request and Personal Reflections
Earlier this summer, I received another message from Gordon, requesting my thoughts on his autobiography, Seeing Through: A Chronicle of Sex, Drugs, and Opera. He was interested in both formal and informal feedback. As I read through it, I was transported back to my own past.
In the chapter “My Father,” Gordon recounts experiences with his dad, a tradesman like mine. He describes a familiar scene: “One frequent test was sending you into the garage, his domain, stuffed to the gills with tools and all kinds of greasy smelly things, and asking you to bring something back, usually something you’d never be able to identify but would dare ask for further information. ‘Go get me the monkey wrench.’ …After being unable to find anything looking remotely like a monkey, you’d go back empty-handed for the same humiliation repeatedly.” I could relate deeply; I had been through similar situations.
Gordon’s book paints a vivid picture of his life, the people he encountered, the music he cherished, and the many friends and loved ones he lost to AIDS, including his partner, Jeffrey. Each chapter of Seeing Through offers a glimpse into Gordon’s world. He reflects on his mother, a former Borscht Belt singer and comedienne, who abandoned her career, leading to her bitterness and emotional turmoil. Gordon writes, “But my mother could also explode like the top off a pressure cooker. Then, she was the furthest thing from funny you could possibly imagine. These episodes involved smashing plates, running away from home, or sobbing hysterically, and they were almost always about having given up her singing career, or having four children with no help, or her marriage to a maniac.”
The Journey of Writing and Composing
Seeing Through was Gordon’s first foray into writing a book, and he faced a steep learning curve. He admits, “I’ve never written a book. So I was like, oh, I had no idea—even the format. [I was told] the lines need to be double-spaced. I’m like, what’s that? And then my writing group would talk to me about white space, and I would be like, white space? They were like, you need some space between these lines.”
Gordon approached the task much like Kerouac’s On the Road: he initially poured out 800 pages of text, sometimes without paragraphs, allowing his thoughts and words to flow freely. This was eventually trimmed to 468 pages, including the front and back matter and photos. A significant portion of the book, about half, is dedicated to his compositions.
The section on his works is particularly compelling. The Garden of the Finzi-Continis (which I also reviewed) had a “difficult birth,” marred by numerous problems, but it eventually succeeded when it premiered.
For Ellen West, Gordon adapted a poem by Pulitzer Prize-winner Frank Bidart. With Bidart’s permission, their correspondence sheds light on the creative process and the iterative nature of their collaboration.
Bidart commends Gordon’s opera in one letter: “Ricky, you’ve done it. The opera is beautiful. Eloquent, gripping, passionate… I love the score. It’s often gorgeous.” However, he suggests some changes to the Prologue: “Something hasn’t settled down in the Prologue. Right now, the Prologue is a little lumpy. Something stylistically doesn’t seem quite focused. …Maybe the Prologue should be shorter. We have to talk about this.” Despite this, Bidart concludes with: “You’ve done it.”
Once revisions were complete, Bidart wrote to Gordon: “The whole is a tightly strung bow aimed with great penetration.” Words like “riveting” and “compelling” reflect Bidart’s final assessment.
The creative process is often likened to an iceberg: only the tip is visible to the audience. The struggles, false starts, and revisions that lead to the final product are hidden beneath the surface. Gordon’s book pulls back the curtain, revealing the complex and sometimes unglamorous journey behind creating an opera.
Final Reflections
Anecdotes from productions offer valuable insights and encouragement, whether you’re composing a score, writing a libretto, crafting a novel, or penning an article. Gordon’s “insider” accounts reveal the highs and lows of creating an opera. His book serves not only as a memoir but also as a guide, providing both inspiration and practical wisdom for anyone engaged in creative work. It underscores that the struggles behind the scenes are as crucial as the final outcome, whether that outcome is a person like Gordon or a finished opera.
Gordon’s book is a compelling read, rich with intricate details of his life. It includes stories that both break your heart and uplift your spirit.
Reflecting on that cold January evening in Brooklyn, the immediate bond between us becomes clearer. “See, there is a weird thing about how sometimes you connect with people, and you don’t even know why,” Gordon said. “We have a lot in common.” Indeed, we do, and readers may find that they, too, have faced similar challenges, whether in battling addiction or striving to create art. Both are undeniably difficult. Gordon has navigated these struggles many times, and his colorful, tumultuous years could have easily ended in tragedy but thankfully did not. His story offers a deep understanding of who Ricky Ian Gordon is.
“Believe it or not, I was so scared for the book to come out,” Gordon shared. “I thought, all of these people are going to know these things about me. For better or worse, that is exciting. I don’t have to pretend anything—I really don’t—it’s all there. You either like me or you don’t, but this is who I am. This is who I’ve been in the world, and it feels incredibly liberating.”
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