Soprano Mandy Brown and pianist Tatiana Loisha open the 2024/25 In the Stacks Concert Series with a performance exploring the history of witchcraft and persecution of women labeled as witches.
Drawing inspiration from historic and rare books about witchcraft and herbalism at the George Peabody Library, the program will trace the evolution of witch stereotypes and reconcile these inaccuracies with true stories of women who were often healers and sages.
Proclaimed “consistently impressive” by DC Theater Scene and “completely winning” by the Chautauquan Daily, Mandy Brown is a soprano who is sure to charm. Her performances have brought her praise for her rich warm voice and refreshing honesty in her dramatic interpretations. She is passionate about operatic and concert work, as well as an avid recitalist and a sought-out performer of new works. She has performed in venues such as The Kennedy Center, The National Gallery of Art, Opéra-Théâtre de Clermont-Ferrand, Schlessinger Concert Hall, Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center, and Linehan Concert Hall.
Brown’s 2023-2024 season commences with an international collaboration & workshop of contemporary Irish Art Song with Irish composer, Fiona Linnane in Ballyvaughan, Ireland. Works by Linnane will be scheduled for a US performance in the 2024 year. In October, Mandy has the joy of performing with one of her favorite ensembles, the Grammy nominated Inscape Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Richard Scerbo. Together they will be presenting Quatre Instants by Saariaho. Also this autumn, Mandy will be performing the soprano solos in Poulenc’s Gloria with Montgomery College and then performing as a soloist with Baltimore Musicales on their program, Phenomenal Women. In February, Ms.Brown will be performing the soprano solos in Mozart’s Requiem with Alexandria Symphony Orchestra under the baton of maestro James Ross. The season will finish with performances of chamber trios with clarinetist, Albert Hunt, and longtime colleague pianist, Patrick O’Donnell.
Mandy is an ardent lover of art song repertoire and has a passion for recital program curation. Specializing in themed programing, Brown has curated over 15 different full-length programs, with a variety of instrumentation, and has had her programs procured by Millennium Stage at the Kennedy Center and has toured her programs in the Mid-West and Mid-Atlantic regions of the United States. Recently, she has also been added to the roster of Baltimore Musicales, an organization specializing in art song performance. During the pandemic, Mandy created a new style of online concert series, “Sips, Snacks, & Songs”, which is a themed bite-sized concert that is paired with either a “sip” or a “snack” tutorial. The series is in its second year and features, on average, one new concert each month.
In addition to her performance career, Mandy maintains an active teaching studio in the Washington D.C. metro area. With over 20 years of teaching experience, she uses her musical knowledge and performance background to expertly craft customized lessons for each of her students based on their specific needs and musical goals. Several of her private students have performed at venues such as the Music Center at Strathmore, the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center, and the Kennedy Center. In alignment to her firm belief that music is there to enrich one’s life at any stage or age, she was the music director for a local community choir, Second Wind Chorus, from 2015-2022. Mandy offers online and in-person private instruction for voice, piano, and harp. She is happy to work in a variety of musical styles and welcomes students of all ages and abilities.
Ms.Brown received her Master’s Degree in Opera Performance from the University of Maryland and her Bachelor’s Degree in Vocal Performance from Wichita State University. In addition, she participated in Chautauqua Opera and Opera in the Ozarks’ young artist programs.
In 2016-2019, Tatiana worked as a staff accompanist at Cleveland Institute of Music and Baldwin Wallace University, and as a rehearsal and performance pianist with Cleveland Opera Theater. Recent productions included Traviata, The Rake’s Progress, The Barber of Seville, Madame Butterfly, The Threepenny Opera, The Marriage of Figaro, etc. She also worked as a pianist at Oberlin in Italy program (Arezzo, Italy) in the summer of 2018.
Since first moving to the D.C. area in 2014, Tatiana has been working as a pianist accompanist with the Potomac Vocal Institute and actively performed in the D.C. Metropolitan area accompanying singers and instrumentalists.
Tatiana Loisha studied at the Belarusian State Academy of Music, Minsk, Belarus, where she graduated with a BA in piano performance and a graduate degree in collaborative piano. Tatiana is a winner of the Shostakovitch competition (St. Petersburg, Russia, 2001), International Competition for Young Pianists (Brest, France, 2002), and also a winner of contests for singers and pianists duets in Vilnius, Lithuania, 2006; St. Petersburg, Russia, 2006; Kazan, Russia, 2007.
Tatiana collaborated with well-known vocalists, Yuri Gorodetski, Oksana Volkova, and Ilya Silchukov to name a few. The collaboration embraced preparing for and performing at international competitions, i.e. Queen Elisabeth Competition, Operalia, BBC Cardiff Singer of the World, and Montreal International Musical Competition.
Francesco Cavalli (1602-1676): Dell’antro Magico
John Woods Duke (1899-1984): The Grunchin’ Witch
Robert Schumann (1810-1856): Waldesgespräch (Forest Conversation)
Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847): Hexenlied (Witch Song)
Modest Mussorgsky (1839-1881): Baba Yaga
Poetry reading: “Witches” by Fleassy Malay. Performed by Dorothy Randall
Manuel de Falla (1876-1946): Seguidille
Samuel Barber (1910-1981): Secrets of the Old
Evan Snyder (b. 1991): Practical Practices for when Plagued by a Plague
Jake Heggie (b. 1961): Animal Passion
Clara Schumann (1819-1896): Scène Fantastique
Poetry reading: “Her Kind” by Anne Sexton. Performed by Dr. Emily Lathrop
Fiona Linnane (b. 1978): A Noisy Story of Honor & Glory
Jórunn Viðar (1918-2017): Vökuró
Evan Snyder (b. 1991): Dedication– A Drop of Good
From the magic cave
Screeching hinges
Open the passage for me
And in the darkness
Of the black shelter
Leave me.
On the horrible ark
Of the Stygian lake
Let the fires burn
And up they send
Fumes that swirl
The light of day.
A-down the wind she comes,
The grunchin’ witch, the devil witch,
Riding out of a foul moor ditch,
Joggling along on a limping pig,
And gerrrrrumping on her drums.
The horny witchies come,
Down the screaming wind they scut,
Witching it in a boggy rut;
And gerrrrrumping on her drums.
The crooked witch, the roosting witch,
Lurks her bleak and haggish eye
Till the yelping witchies come,
Slinking into their dirty lair,
they sleep in the witch’s spriggly hair,
Or snore in a furry fum.
“It is already late, it is already cold,
why do you ride alone through the woods?
The woods are vast, you are alone,
you beautiful bride! I will lead you home!”
“Great are the deceits and cunning of men,
from pain my heart is broken,
The forest horn strays here and there,
O flee! You know not who I am.”
“So richly decked are mount and lady,
so wondrously beautiful, the young figure;
Now I know you, God stand by me!
You are the witch Lorelei!”
“You recognize me well,
From lofty cliffs gazes
my castle deep into the Rhein.
‘It is already late, it is already cold’,
You shall nevermore leave these woods.”
The swallows fly, Spring is triumphant
And gives us flowers for wreaths;
Soon we will scurry quietly out the door
And fly to the marvelous dance.
A black goat, a broomstick,
The oven fork, the distaff
Snatch us swiftly, like lightning and wind,
Through roaring gales to mount Brocken!
Around Beelzebub dances our coven
And kisses his clawed hands!
A swarm of ghosts, takes us by the arm
And swings the torches of fire in the dance!
And Beelzebub promises the coven
of dancers gifts upon gifts:
They shall be beautiful dressed in silk
And dig up for themselves pots of gold.
A fiery dragon flies around the roof
And brings us butter and eggs.
The neighbors then see the sparking flames,
And make a cross on themselves before the fire.
The swallows fly, Spring is triumphant,
The flowers are blooming for wreaths.
Soon we will scurry quietly out the door,
Huzzah! To the marvelous dance.
In the past they burned us,
because they thought we were witches.
Just because we knew what to do with herbs outside the kitchen
because we knew how to dance, how to seduce, how to pray.
Because we moved with the cycles of the moon.
In the past they burned us alive
because they knew that we are witches.
So now we cast spells with our mouths
pieces of our hearts spill out.
It is incredible, the power of a woman
who is not afraid to say ‘no’.
No we won’t sit any longer while you ponder on our rights.
On our rights to give or not give life.
On our rights to make another woman our wife.
On our rights to be safe, to get paid an equal wage.
To have a voice, in a place where we might make a change.
It is incredible, the amount of ways they have slayed just to keep us small.
If they could’ve they probably would’ve burned us all.
But they couldn’t with fire so they did it with words.
Laid down laws to determine the amount of our worth.
They kept us in contracts.
They separated our circles.
Erased us from pages
and made labour saving devices our saviors.
It is incredible how quickly knowledge can fade.
How much effort was invested to lead us astray.
But we will not come quietly.
So I’ve claimed back that ‘no’ as mine.
Because every ‘no’ I throw against their forces
is another ‘yes’ I retain for my own self-worth.
It is a spell cast for my own protection.
It is incredible, the power of a woman
who is not afraid to say NO.
And this old witch?
I’m done with broomsticks.
I’m done with ‘know your place’.
This witch knows that some knowledge
just won’t fade.
That every woman is my sister.
Through the hubble and the bubble
and the toil and the trouble
we grow stronger
when we cast our spells together.
We entered the fire.
Now we rise from the ashes
and we are holding our candles
and lighting our matches
until the night becomes lighter
and our voices can grow
because we have remembered
we are witches
and we have learned to say ‘NO’.
A petticoat snug on her hips,
An enormous comb in her coiffure,
Quivering leg and dainty foot,
Eyes of fire, pale complexion and white teeth;
Aha! Olé! Behold! The carefree woman.
Gesturing boldly, speaking freely,
Salt and pepper a handful,
Perfect forgetfulness the next day,
Erratic love and queen of grace;
Aha! Olé! Behold! The carefree woman.
Sing, dance to the castanets,
And, in the running of the bulls,
Judge the movements of the toreadors,
All while smoking cigarettes;
Aha! Olé! Behold! The carefree woman.
I have old women’s secrets now
That had those of the young;
Madge tells me what I dared not think
When my blood was strong,
And what had drowned a lover once
Sounds like an old song.
Though Marg’ry is stricken dumb
If thrown in Madge’s way,
We three make up a solitude;
For none alive today
Can know the stories that we know
Or say the things we say:
How such a man pleased women most
Of all that are gone,
How such a pair loved many years
And such a pair but one,
Stories of the bed of straw
Or the bed of down.
While disease-warding magick saw their height with the plague,
in the year 2020, they grew timely again.
So if to stop a contagion, you’d do all in your power,
here are good healing customs, from the tomes I have scoured:
“Dried rosemary’s smoke, can cleanse through a home;
it works well in incense, as found in ancient Rome.”
“Using Gilead’s balm, you could steep out a tea,
adding lavender honey, to increase potency.”
“Woven crowns of amaranth carry healing intension,
Eucalyptus seed necklaces can be worn for prevention,
One can offer up prayers, burnt over blue candle, to Isis, to Brighid, or Apollo to handle.”
But in the twenty-first century we’ve learned more that’s beneficial,
which you can hear all about, from a public health official.
So do all the above, but one more thing I ask, stay six feet apart, and…
WEAR A DAMN MASK.
Fierce as a bobcat’s spring
with start-up speeds of sixty miles per hour
I want a lover to sweep me off my feet and slide me into the gutter
without the niceties of small-talk, roses, or champagne.
I mean business,
I want whiskey,
I want to be swallowed whole,
I want tiles to spring off of walls
when we enter hotel rooms or afternoon apartments
I won’t pussyfoot around responsibility
“shoulds” and “oughts” are out for good.
And I don’t want to be a fat domestic cat
I want to be frantic,
yowls and growls to sound like the lion house at feeding time
I don’t give a damn who hears, I don’t give a damn!
No discreet eavesdroppers’ coughs can stop us in our frenzy.
Let the voyeurs voient
and let the great cats come.
– Mona Chollet –
from In Defense of Witches:
The Legacy of the Witch Hunts and Why Women Are Still on Trial
– Matilda Joslyn Gage –
from Woman, Church, and State
(1893)
– Sarah Painter-
from The Island God
I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.
I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.
I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning that the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind.
The road to her house is delightfully dark,
I’ve brought her a basin for catching the moon,
And five marrow bones in an old wooden spoon.
I hear Biddy’s house is as broad as an ark,
With seven stars threshing the light for her bread,
And even the crickets are watered and fed.
The road to her house is delightfully dark.
I’ve brought her a basin for catching the moon,
And five marrow bones in an old wooden spoon.
I heard someone mutter.
It rattles. It knocks.
It pads like a lion, it nods like a bear,
It snapped at her messenger, Seed-in-the-Air.
Oh dinner most dreadful!
Who nibbles? Who knocks?
You chatter of basins, the nightingale sings,
While someone is sampling the tips of my wings.
I heard someone mutter.
It rattles. It knocks.
Oh, who has broken my sleep?
I head someone mutter, I heard something weep.
It calls like a fox, it cries like a lark,
it has shaken the hush from my peaceable dark.
Who has broken my sleep?
You may join my household and come to my feasts,
I dine with both earthly and heavenly beasts,
the swan and the goat, the great bear and small,
the mouse in the kitchen, I’ve room for you all.
But Honor must promise what Glory shall sing,
Honor! Thou shan’t eat thy neighbor, nor nibble her wing.
My farm,
my farm and yours
sleeps peacefully.
Snow falls quietly to the ground
My yard,
my yard and yours
stores the soil till spring.
Far away
wakes up the great world,
mad with cruel enchantments,
restless, fearful night and day.
Your eyes
fearless and pure
brightly smile at me
Magick is unique to each individual who invokes it.
It’s my hope that each person here today
Felt at some point the Magick inscribed in my tome,
But if that’s not the case for you…
Don’t let that be cause for disbelief.
Magick comes in countless forms;
It offers perfect design for each individual experience.
And even if it’s often sensationalized,
Its depictions outright fictitious,
That doesn’t negate the truth behind them.
There is a power in human will
And that is Magick.
So as we reach my final spell,
I hope only that you might lend me your will…
And see my words become truth:
“A single goal, through all my penning,
is that this work, bears this one meaning:
That through a smile, a laugh, or tear,
I gift some good, to all those here.
A drop of good, at first alone,
but then you add a drop your own.
And as combine those drops of good,
our drops become a tide, a flood.
Primeval force, all overwhelming,
our waters wash out, healing, helping!
And then unveiled, both new and strange,
as through our will, our world is changed.
When words cause change, through naught but will,
then that, for me, makes Magick real.
But, as we’ve reached my work’s conclusion,
I now must end this fair illusion…
And yet…
If ever Magick you would seek,
Or if some spellwork you would do,
Just turn these pages, read these words,
And let this book sing out through you.”