"...stunning, combining a powerful vowel attack with a honeyed tone that flowed over a tightly coiled vibrato."
-ROCHESTER CITY NEWSPAPER
Praised by the Rochester City Newspaper for her "honeyed tone," and by the Boston Globe for “a rich voice that could go in a blink from speaking to soaring” - as well as her “killer side-eye” - soprano Paulina Swierczek is a vibrant story-teller, combining technical facility with a consuming passion for communication.
Recent concert highlights include Poulenc’s Gloria, Haydn’s Lord Nelson Mass, Bachianas Brasileiras no. 5 of Villa-Lobos, and Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire. Favorite roles include The New Prioress (Les dialogues des Carmelites), Donna Anna (Don Giovanni), and the Countess Almaviva (Le nozze di Figaro.) She made her international operatic debut in November 2016 at the Teatro Diana in Mexico premiering Don’t Blame Anyone by Carlos Sanchez-Guttierez and Ricardo Zohn-Muldoon. A 2017 Fellow of the Tanglewood Music Center, she performed Berg’s Sieben Frühe Lieder with the TMC Orchestra, songs of Ella Fitzgerald alongside Dawn Upshaw and Stephanie Blythe, and cantatas of J. S. Bach led by John Harbison. She also premiered Anthony Cheung’s All Thorn, but cousin to your rose, featuring the texts of Nabokov, Pushkin and Poe alongside festival curator and longtime ICE member Jacob Greenberg.
17/18 season highlights include a concert of the music of David Del Tredici, to celebrate the composer’s 80th birthday, her professional symphonic debut with the Albany Symphony singing Madame Herz in Der Schauspieldirektor, and the Queen in John Harbison’s Full Moon in March at Bard College, directed by Alison Moritz. She is also thrilled to be returning to the Tanglewood Music Center as a second-year Fellow.
Paulina attended the Eastman School of Music under the tutelage of Rita Shane, Dr. Constance Haas and Anthony Dean Griffey, and currently studies with Sanford Sylvan.
Most of the bookshelves in my apartment are doubly-filled. My favorite kind of pen is the Pilot Precise V5, extra fine. I have a cat, and his name is Spock. I like Catan, and other board games that show you just how cutthroat your friends can be. I don't like pickles.
When I was younger, opera was explained to me this way: recitative is where the action happens, and when we get an aria, it's because the character is simply feeling so much that speaking is no longer a sufficient means of expression. And that's why I sing - because sometimes speaking just isn't enough; not enough to say what you actually want to say, and not enough to get people to listen.
I sing because it's the most honest thing I can do. I sing because it's the most difficult thing I know. I sing because it is the most love-filled thing I can endeavor to make. I sing because it lets me make art with and learn from people who care as much as I do. I sing because it combines my two favorite things in the world - text and breath - into something much bigger than the sum of its parts.
I'm a very lucky lady.
When I'm not doing that, of course, I'm biting off more than I can chew in the reading department - though I somehow always make it through - and loving every minute, logging kitchen-experiment hours, making trouble (sorry, Mom) with friends, actively pining after Mass MOCA, and being the most dutiful of cat-moms.