18th Century Ornamentation: My Perspective from the Stage

When it comes to Baroque ornamentation, there are as many opinions as there are trills in a Vivaldi score. What I’d like to offer here isn’t the “right” way—if such a thing exists—but my way. These are the thoughts and experiences I gathered over nearly three decades of singing some of the most exquisite music ever composed.

Early in my career, I was still finding my voice—not just vocally, but stylistically. Ornamentation, especially for da capo arias, didn’t come naturally at first. I was fortunate, however, to be surrounded by musical giants. Martin Katz, my mentor and cherished collaborator, composed the ornaments for my first Tamerlano at Glimmerglass Opera in 1995. You can hear his stunning work in the aria “Ah! Dispetto” on my first Handel recording. Jane Glover, who conducted that production, loved most of the ornaments—but she tweaked a few. And I welcomed that with open arms. In Baroque music, collaboration is everything. And let’s be honest—when you’re working with a conductor, it’s wise to remember who has the baton.

As I grew more confident in the style, ornamentation became something I could shape on my own. I learned by watching, listening, and yes, borrowing from the best. I’m proud to say I “stole” ornaments from colleagues I admired—sometimes note-for-note, sometimes with a personal twist. And when I started hearing my ornaments pop up in younger singers’ performances, I didn’t bristle—I felt honored. That’s how the art form lives on.

Some conductors would come to rehearsals with pre-written ornamentation for me. This always puzzled me. For me, ornamentation had to grow from character, context, and the staging itself. It had to feel alive. That doesn’t mean improvising in the moment like a jazz riff, but it means letting the music, the voice, the words, and the orchestra breathe together. A whispered dynamic shift, a new vocal color, or an unexpected inflection—that, too, is ornamentation. It’s not about stuffing in twenty notes where one would do. It’s about honesty and expression.

Now, I’d be remiss if I didn’t share one of the more dramatic moments from my career. I was singing Saul at the Edinburgh Festival, under the baton of a very famous conductor. I had sung the role many times before and had strong ideas about how it should go. But the maestro had his own ornaments and insisted I use them. I politely declined. During the final dress rehearsal, he stormed over, ripped his manuscript pages into confetti, and tossed them in the air over my head—right there in front of the orchestra, chorus, and soloists. It rained down like a temper tantrum in G minor. I won’t name names… but Sir Charles Mackerras. Oops!

The truth is, you should never be afraid to ask for help. Great musicians are there to support your artistry, not stifle it. Ornamentation should never feel like a burden—it should feel like a gift you give your character, your audience, and yourself.

If you’re curious about this process—or want help finding your own voice in this glorious repertoire—I’d love to work with you. Whether you’re preparing for a role, an audition, or just want to dig deeper into 18th-century style, schedule a lesson with me. Let’s bring this music to life together.

Book a session and let’s make some Baroque magic.