The Justin Petersen Voice Studio

So happy to get to speak with David Sisco about Wholehearted Singing - We 'resonate' in our shared goals and vision of what it means to be a teacher of singing, and a singer.

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Ep. 2 ("The Master-Apprentice Model") - What Are We Doing as Teachers? Special guest Justin Petersen talks about what he hopes to instill in his students. Don't miss the full episode, which airs on Wednesday, January 29, 2025. S...

It’s here—my first article of 2025! The Voice in Dynamic Balance is live on Substack, and I’m thrilled to share it with you. At the heart of this piece is the messa di voce, that quintessential exercise of balance: between soft and loud, between tension and release, between artistry and control.

The messa di voce isn’t just a technical exercise. It’s a philosophy. It teaches us that great singing isn’t about extremes—it’s about the journey between them. This article unpacks how the principles behind the messa di voce can reshape your singing, your teaching, and maybe even the way you think about your voice altogether.

In this article, you’ll find practical tips for approaching the messa di voce as a tool to cultivate balance in your singing. We’ll also take a deeper dive into its historical roots, exploring why this timeless exercise remains so relevant to vocal practice today. Along the way, you’ll gain insights into how this deceptively simple yet profoundly complex technique mirrors the broader balance every singer strives to achieve.

The messa di voce is a LIVING thing!

The Voice in Dynamic Balance Exploring Messa di Voce

As voice teachers, our role is not to mold students into a prepackaged “ideal,” but to help them discover and amplify the beauty of their own unique voices.

When we approach teaching with an aesthetic agenda—whether that’s creating the archetypal “opera sound” or bending a voice to fit an industry standard—we rob singers of the chance to express their authentic selves.

Instead, the work should be about facilitating self-discovery, allowing singers to find their most natural and expressive sound, rooted in their individuality.

Historical accounts, such as those from Blanche Arral, reveal that individuality in singing was once celebrated, not stifled:

"If the scale is built on what is already there, the beautiful, personal quality of the individual voice is retained. Those teachers found the natural quality of each voice and preserved it, so that what nature had begun was developed, polished, equalized, not changed. That is why such voices lasted.

The pupils, finding art securely built on nature, grew confident as one never can be with artificiality. They gained the authority because they were manifestly singing the right way. They felt at ease and were able to express their individuality in song."

The great singers of the past were prized for their distinctive timbres, interpretations, and vocal colors. Their voices were not shoehorned into generic molds but developed in ways that honored their uniqueness.

To sing should be to reveal more of oneself, not less.

The training of a voice is not about erasing the singer’s personality and replacing it with a genre or style—it is about unlocking the truest, most resonant version of their voice.

Anything less is a betrayal of the art form itself.

When individuality is obliterated, art dies, and with it, the spark of human creativity that makes singing such a profound act of expression.

We need MORE group singing.

The Lost Pleasures of Group Singing While communal singing has gotten more infrequent, we arguably need it now more than ever. Here are a handful benefits from the ancient practice.

"It is on their labyrinthian maps (of mechanics) that paradoxically the study manuals of modern singing schools are based, generating a new type of singer: the robotic singer, lobotomized in his sensory faculties…"

I'm only in the preface, but I think I've found another Italian soulmate in Antonio Juvarra. 

It's always a delight to find someone speaking your ideas outside your own body from time to time, even if they are speaking in Italian. :-D 

What good is acquiring vocal technique if you constantly stand outside yourself - Roboticized and lobotomized against your own physical sensations and awareness?

I tell students, "Any technique of singing that forces you to distrust your own rational sensorial experience, and gaslights you that they are wrong WHILE YOU ARE EXPERIENCING THEM, is a pedagogy of manipulation. Pure and simple." 

"Educated to stay outside of himself and to observe the periphery of his own body in search of a non-existent keyboard, the singer of our times precludes himself from the possibility of knowing that true self, made up of images, sensations and interior visions that “rhyme” with each other in a game of references to indicate the true path of singing and being." (Juvarra)

I'm excited to share more of Juvarra's ideas as I find him an ally in the rejection of the mechanical (la scuola meccanica) and an embracing of the belcanto idea of indirect control (naturalezza). Am I biased against a mechanical school? Indubitably. Children can sing, and quite freely. 

It's always fun to find a compatriot in the pursuit of the natural, the free, the spontaneous in singing. 

Can't wait to share more of his colorful arguments to English readers. 

Stay tuned.

Pursue mastery, not status. As a voice teacher, I often see students chasing success as if it were the ultimate goal—landing a big role, winning competitions, gaining recognition. But success isn’t something you can chase. It’s not a target you can hit directly.

For singers, this means focusing on the craft itself rather than external validation. It’s about refining your technique, connecting deeply to the music, and finding joy in the process of learning and growing. When you dedicate yourself to the work, something remarkable happens. You stop worrying about how others perceive you and begin to experience flow—a state where singing becomes its own reward.

Ironically, the singers who focus on growth and artistry rather than applause are often the ones who achieve the most success. True artistry shines when it comes from a place of love for the process, not the pursuit of status. So, focus on mastery. Show up for the work. Trust the process. Success may follow in unexpected ways, but even if it doesn’t look how you imagined, the journey will always be worth it.

In my latest Substack article, I briefly review Pablo Larraín’s MARIA—a visually stunning but emotionally uneven portrait of Maria Callas.

I reflect on the film’s portrayal of the legendary diva, the emotional complexities of losing one’s voice, and what Angelina Jolie’s singing lessons reveal about the cathartic power of sound.

As a voice teacher, I explore how singing connects us to our deepest selves and why breaking through emotional and physical barriers—what Wilhelm Reich called “armoring”—is essential for singers.

This is a piece for those who love Callas, admire Jolie’s commitment, and are curious about the profound emotional truths behind the art of singing.

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Theatre, and by extension singing, is a living, breathing art form—not a theoretical dissertation. Hagen reminds us that while intellectual
preparation has its place, the stage demands something entirely different: spontaneity, instinct, and honest action. When we over-intellectualize singing, we shackle ourselves to self-consciousness, robbing the performance of its vitality.

Yes, understand the mechanics. Yes, study the nuances. But by the time you’re on stage, let it all go. The work must live in your bones, not in your brain. The audience doesn’t come to watch your homework; they come to witness your truth. Free yourself from overthinking, and give them something alive and unforgettable.

This week, we’re safeguarding our precious Venetian glassware from the perilous tonal projectiles of our beloved (but occasionally misguided) tenors! 🎶💥

In today’s episode of Vocal Chaos: 1820-1840 Edition, we bring you none other than Gioachino Rossini himself, dropping some fiery commentary on the era’s trend toward, shall we say, “shouting chic.” 

During Rossini’s reign as the Maestro of bel canto, he witnessed the rise of what he dubbed “hydrophobic passion”— a musical storm where long, lush legato was swiftly replaced by sporadic outbursts, also known as the ‘grand cri’ (or as Rossini likely muttered under his breath, that infernal racket). 

Gone were the silky lines of bel canto, and in their place: an all-consuming, nerve-jangling, histrionic fervor, as audiences chased after the newest shock and awe like kids with a fresh bag of candy. 🍬🎶

Enjoy today’s look into Rossini’s world, with a side of sass only Rossini could deliver! 

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In today’s Substack, the fourth installment of The Opera House Size Myth series, I'm covering how 19th-century voices responded to an evolving musical landscape. Figures like Berlioz made claims about larger theaters, but as we’ve covered, these assertions don’t hold up. Edward Foreman illustrates the shift in vocal style, where cadenzas evolved from cohesive melodic phrases to showcases for climactic high notes—a phenomenon he aptly calls the “high note virus.” This change transformed how composers wrote for the voice and defined the era’s musical aesthetics.

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For years, it’s been said that singers changed their technique to match the growing size of opera houses. But is this really the case? In Part III of my series, Edward Foreman dispels this common misconception and explores the true forces that shaped 19th-century vocal technique.

Through an examination of legendary voices like Isabella Colbran and Maria Malibran, among others, and the evolving orchestration of composers such as Rossini and Verdi, we come to understand the deeper factors behind the vocal demands of the era.

If you’re a singer or voice teacher interested in understanding the roots of vocal technique, you won’t want to miss this. Read the latest on Substack now.

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In my latest Substack article, I'm exploring a pivotal era when the traditional Italian school of singing—celebrated for its clear, agile voices—began to fracture. This shift came as tenors like Gilbert Duprez pushed the boundaries of vocal expression, and orchestras grew larger and more demanding, forcing singers to adapt to survive.

The departure of the castrati did not just signal the end of a unique voice type but also marked the loss of a centuries-old method of training that left singers confronting new realities on stage. The 19th century’s opera houses became battlegrounds for the human voice, where the fainting of sopranos, shattered clavicles, and hoarse tenors were not merely dramatic anecdotes but evidence of the escalating demands placed upon artists. The line between vocal mastery and physical collapse was often dangerously thin.

How did singers navigate this shifting landscape? Did they find innovative solutions, or did they turn to unhealthy habits in a desperate attempt to be heard above the orchestra’s increasingly dense textures? And what lessons from this turbulent past might still hold value for today’s vocal pedagogy?

I'm not only examining the evolving techniques and emerging voice categories of that era—such as the dramatic soprano and spinto—but also considering the long-term effects that shaped the trajectory of operatic singing. It is a story of resilience and transformation that reaches beyond historical interest to offer insights into the present-day art and science of voice.

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