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Sulpicia Songs is a solo opera-theater fever dream voice, electronics, and keyboard. 

Caught between an ancient and future self in the endless process of “coming of age,” performer-composer Elliot Menard looks to the 20 BCE poems of Sulpicia (the only ancient Roman female poet whose work survives) to explore her own 2026 CE growing pains and power struggles in love, work, and family. 

The music blends experimental opera with confessional pop, weaving Sulpicia’s Latin elegies (voice and electronics) together with Elliot’s songs (voice and keyboard) through personal stories. Projections by director-designer Rosie Tabachnick are both supertitles (text & translation) and glimpses into the inner worlds of each song.

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Artist Bios

Elliot Menard (creator, composer, performer) is a performer-composer and opera-maker. She creates, composes, and performs in interdisciplinary opera-theater that experiments with narrative and musical form. In her original work, she explores how text allows music to emerge, the expressive range of the voice, and lately, the latent music within Latin poetry. Drawing from her background in classical philology and classical voice, this “archaeological excavation” of sound is an abstract form of translation, focusing on the spaces between words and the multiplicity of interpretation. She aims to strike the right balance between clarity and abstraction, intention and intuition, decision-making and question-asking. She also serves as Director of Operations at Overtone Industries, which is part of her larger artistic practice of community-building, collaboration, and creating infrastructure that supports emerging voices in experimental opera. 

Rosie Tabachnick (director, designer) is a director, dramaturg, designer, multi-media artist, and champion of new work. Currently based in Philadelphia, Rosie is an artistic director at Commutator Collective, an experimental theater cohort in residence at a former acrylics factory, and the 2026 artist in residence at Kintner Hill Farm. In addition to her theater work, Rosie is also a painter, sculptor, book maker, live event creator, and fiber artist.

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Texts & TranslationsSulpicia I
  Tandem venit amor, qualem texisse pudori
quam nudasse alicui sit mihi fama magis.
Exorata meis illum Cytherea Camenis
attulit in nostrum, deposuitque sinum. 
Exsolvit promissa Venus: mea gaudia narret,
dicetur si quis non habuisse sua.
Non ego signatis quicquam mandare tabellis,
ne legat id nemo quam meus ante, velim.
Sed pecasse iuvat, vultus componere famae
taedet cum digno digna fuisse ferar. At last, love has come, the kind that to have covered up with a rumor
may be of more shame to me than to have bared naked to anyone.
Appeased by my muses, Venus brought him
to me and dropped him in my lap.
She delivered her promises: let her tell of my joys
if anyone is said to not have their own.
I should not wish to send off anything in my wax tablets
lest anyone else read it before he does.
But it delights me to sin, it is tiresome to keep up appearances
for the sake of rumor: may I be known as a woman worthy to have been with a worthy man.
 Hinge Hole
I was living with my boyfriend at the time in LA
Together 5 years we were taking a break
So I went home to New York to give us some space
And as soon as I landed in JFK
Downloaded Hinge at the baggage claim
To see what was out there, what awaits… and 

I fell into a hinge hole
I got lost in a hinge hole
I fell into a hinge hole
I got lost in a hinge hole

‘Cause I need validation
I got lost in a hinge hole
‘Cause I need male attention
I got lost in a hinge hole

I’m young, I’m smart, I’m beautiful
What could go wrong in my hinge hole?
Obsessive, compulsive, I’m out of control
The ghosts of my past haunt my frontal lobe
Fueling the fire of my limerent soul
Teenaged yearning, at 30 years old… and 

I fell into a hinge hole
I got lost in a hinge hole
I fell into a hinge hole

‘Cause I’m addicted to this distraction
I’m addicted to validation
On hinge

I fell into a hinge hole
I got lost in a hinge hole
I fell into a hinge hole
I got lost in a hinge hole

I’m learning so much about myself
Deep in the pits of my hinge hell
Like why am I drawn to men in their 40s
What is going on will someone tell me please
Like not even normal men in their 40s
Actually maladaptive men in their 40s

I fell into a hinge hole
I got lost in a hinge hole

I fell into a hinge hole, hinge hole.


Mixed Signals
“I enjoy maintaining many instances of platonic 
but nevertheless close relationships. 
With women (and men) I don’t seek something out of them, 
if we are implying a kind of physical intimacy, 
and this is not the first time I have been accused of 
having given off mixed signals. 
I hope I was not the cause of too much anguish, 
and that you’ll learn that I view love 
as an all expanding force, which continues to surprise. 
And if anything else, 
I hope you continue to view me, 
in matters of the heart, 
as trustworthy and kind.”

I showed a couple platonic but nevertheless close friends (women)
To make sure I understood your intentions 
They said: run for the hills girl — that was bad and useless
It’s a red flag and whole lot of nothing
Saying:
“I don’t want you right now, but if I change my mind
Keep that window open, it’s just a matter of time
Here in this in between, stringing you along
I love your attention, it makes me feel young.” 

“I don’t want you right now, but if I change my mind
Keep that window open, it’s just a matter of time
Here in this in between, stringing you along
I love your attention, it makes me feel young.”

My attention feels good because it costs me something
If the window is open, I’ll be staring out of it

I’ll mourn the tenderness I could have let bloom
The feeling of wanting to drink all of you
So I draw up the boundaries I know you’ll press yourself to
I’m telling you now I won’t let you through
and I’ll call upon your services, professionally, soon
When I can laugh at myself, by the next full moon

My attention feels good because it costs me something
If the window is open, I’ll be staring out of it

And I didn’t know confusion 
Until I read your text
You want to play this game?
I choose petulance. And I said:
Hats off to you, you’ve stumped me once again
And I haven’t heard back yet. 


Sulpicia IV
Gratum est, securus multum quod iam tibi de me
Permittis, subito ne male inepta cadam.
Sit tibi cura togae potior pressumque quasillo
scortum quam servi filia Sulpicia:
solliciti sunt pro nobis, quibus illa dolori est
ne cedam ignoto, maxima causa, toro. Thank you for taking such pains over me,
For keeping me from falling on my face.
I hope you prefer your basket weaving whore 
to Sulpicia, daughter of Servius. 
They were worried I was going to marry below me anyway.

Postcard Song
Hello from the countryside 
(exact location: Pierrevert, Provence), 
having been ripped away from Marseille.

It’s uncharacteristically frigid and rainy here
And I’m trapped in a full house infiltrated by flu.
Every private thought interrupted by a cough.
Family dynamics hold me hostage.
Suddenly, again, I’m a stupid little girl,
Not allowed certain things — 
Like driving or free-will. 

Needless to say,
Sulpicia II resonates right now. 

My stupid birthday is here, which (miserable) must be
Carted off to the loathsome countryside, without Cerinthus
What is sweeter than the city? Or rather, should a farmhouse be suitable for a girl?
Not to mention the frigid river in the Arretine field.
Relax, Messalla — far too occupied with me
Now is not the time, cruel guardian, for a trip!
Abducted, I leave behind my heart and mind here
You, as you will, do not allow me free-will. 

Merry xmas!
From Elliot & Sulpicia


Sulpicia II
Invisus natalis adest, qui rure molesto
et sine Cerintho tristis agendus erit.
Dulcius urbe quid est? An villa sit apta puellae
atque Arretino frigidus amnis agro?
Iam nimium messalla mei studiose, quescas,
non tempestivae, saeve propinque, viae!
Hic animum sensusque meos abducta relinquo,
arbitrio quamvis non sinis esse meo. My stupid birthday is here, which (miserable) must be
Carted off to the loathsome countryside, without Cerinthus
What is sweeter than the city? Or rather, should a farmhouse be suitable for a girl?
Not to mention the frigid river in the Arretine field.
Relax, Messalla — far too occupied with me
Now is not the time, cruel guardian, for a trip!
Abducted, I leave behind my heart and mind here
You, as you will, do not allow me free-will. 

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Feedback
  Sulpicia Songs is a work in progress. I would be so grateful to hear your feedback, which you can send me through
this form 
or by email to elliotmenard425@gmail.com