Juliet Forshaw: From Opera to Orchard

On a quiet property not far from the shores of Lake Ontario, Juliet Forshaw moves gracefully between roles: professor, musician, gardener, and beekeeper. It is a life she could not have predicted in her youth, nor one she would have chosen during her early, ambitious years. Yet today, it is precisely the life she wants.“I thought I was going to be a career woman,” Forshaw said, reflecting on her upbringing in St. Louis. “My mother was a lawyer, and I assumed I would follow that kind of path. But the law never interested me. Music did.” That early pull toward music would shape her academic career, her creative life, and eventually the unconventional path that led her to Oswego, New York.

Forshaw’s musical education began early. She studied piano and voice throughout middle and high school, developing a particular interest in opera, a passion she shared with her mother. A pivotal influence came from her private music teacher, an immigrant from the former Soviet Union. More than a vocal instructor, the teacher introduced Forshaw to Russian language, literature, and culture. “She taught me quite a bit of Russian,” Forshaw said. “And she really opened up that whole world, Russian literature, Russian music. It had a huge impact on me.”

By the time Forshaw entered college, music had already taken hold as a central part of her identity. Accepted to Princeton University, Forshaw initially pursued music with the intention of becoming an opera singer. But over time, she began to question whether the demands of a performance career aligned with her personality. “I realized I didn’t quite have the temperament for it,” she said. “To be a full-time performer, you have to be very driven, very self-promoting. And I wanted a quieter life.” That realization marked a turning point. Rather than abandoning music, she chose to approach it from a different angle. “I thought, okay—I’ll write about music. I’ll teach people about music,” she said. “My teacher had such a big impact on me, and I wanted to do that for others.”

 Forshaw shifted her focus toward scholarship, setting sights on a career in academia. Graduate school brought her to Columbia University, where she studied historical musicology, specializing in 19th-century Russian opera. Her years in New York City were formative. “It’s a great place to be in your twenties,” she said. “There’s so much happening all the time.” Yet the intensity of city life eventually wore thin. “I was really ready to get out,” she admitted. Like many academics, Forshaw entered a national job search with little control over where she might land. Positions in higher education are scarce, and candidates are often expected to relocate wherever opportunities arise. “I had no idea where I would end up,” she said. That uncertainty led her to Oswego, where she interviewed for a position at the State University of New York campus. “I came here, I saw the lake, and I just felt like I was supposed to be here,” she said. It was the only job offer she received, but also the one she wanted. Forshaw arrived in 2014 as a visiting assistant professor. Within a year, she secured a tenure-track position. Not long after, another unexpected development would reshape her life even more dramatically.

In 2015, she met Michael. “That really sealed it for me,” she said. “He has family here, and I realized I wanted to stay.” Their relationship brought both stability and surprise. Michael is 33 years older than Forshaw—a detail she acknowledges with a sense of wonder. “I did not see that coming at all,” she said. “But it worked.” By 2017, the couple had purchased a home together, embarking on what Forshaw describes as a “huge leap of faith.” At the time, Forshaw’s academic focus remained firmly rooted in Russian opera. Her dissertation, centered on 19th-century works, had the potential to become a book, a key milestone for many scholars seeking tenure. But pursuing that project would have required extended research in Russia. “I had just met Michael,” she said. “And I knew I needed to be here. I couldn’t just leave for months at a time.” The decision that followed was both practical and deeply personal: she stepped away from her original research trajectory and began exploring songwriting and performance instead. “It was a big leap,” she said. “That’s not what I had been hired to do.” There was uncertainty, even skepticism, from colleagues. But Forshaw persisted, gradually building a new creative identity that complemented her academic role rather than competing with it. In time, she earned tenure—a milestone that affirmed her unconventional choices.

Forshaw’s entry into the local music scene came through a chance introduction at a gathering hosted by a fellow musician. There, she met Michael and became involved in organizing open mic nights and performing locally. “It’s a very different scene from what I was used to,” she said. “More community-oriented, more collaborative.” The shift from formal scholarship to grassroots performance allowed her to reconnect with music in a more immediate, personal way. “It’s not about prestige,” she said. “It’s about connection.” If music provided a creative outlet, the land surrounding Forshaw’s home became a source of grounding and transformation. After purchasing their house, she and Michael acquired the neighboring property for a nominal cost when it became available through a tax foreclosure. “We thought, well, we have to do something with this,” she said. What followed was a gradual but significant transformation. The couple developed gardens, installed beehives, and began raising chickens—creating a small-scale homestead. “I had never gardened before,” Forshaw said. “My family didn’t do that.” Now, their property produces a wide range of food, including vegetables, herbs, and fruit trees. They also maintain beehives, harvesting honey for personal use and sharing it with friends. “It’s just something we enjoy,” she said. “We’re not really trying to turn it into a business.” The work is physical, seasonal, and deeply satisfying. “There’s something about working with your hands,” she said. “It changes how you think.”

The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated their commitment to this lifestyle. “When everything shut down, we had time—and we had the land,” she said. “So, we leaned into it.” The result was an even greater focus on self-sufficiency and outdoor living. “I’ve never looked back,” she said. Today, Forshaw describes their household as intentionally simple: one car, no clothes dryer, and a reliance on homegrown food whenever possible. “We try to keep things uncomplicated,” she said. For Forshaw, this simplicity is not a limitation but a source of creativity. “I need space in my life,” she said. “If every minute is scheduled, there’s no room for ideas.” She finds inspiration in everyday activities—cooking, gardening, even washing dishes. “It’s like what Agatha Christie said, she got her ideas while doing the dishes,” Forshaw noted. “That’s very true for me, I used to be very focused on success,” she said. “Straight A’s, always pushing.” That perspective began to shift after she met Michael. “Falling in love changes your priorities,” she said. “You realize that if you’re only chasing success, you can lose everything else.”

Despite her personal fulfillment, Forshaw remains engaged with the challenges facing higher education. Recently appointed as chair of her department, she stepped into the role amid significant turnover. “We lost about half our full-time staff,” she said. “There were retirements, health issues, and some departures.” The transition has required extensive planning, from staffing courses to hiring new faculty. “It’s been a busy summer,” she said. She also noted broader trends within academia, including increasing bureaucracy and administrative growth. “It’s becoming more corporate,” she said. “That’s something a lot of people have noticed.”

Forshaw’s early exposure to Russian culture continues to influence her work. She remains deeply interested in Russian literature and themes of totalitarianism, which she plans to explore in an upcoming honors course. “It’s something that’s stayed with me for a long time,” she said. Looking back, Forshaw sees her life not as a departure from her original ambitions, but as a redefinition of them. “I used to think success meant climbing to the top of a field,” she said. “Now I think it means having a life that actually feels good to live.” That life, for her, includes music, teaching, gardening, and a strong partnership. “It’s simple,” she said. “But it’s enough.”

As the conversation concluded, Forshaw emphasized the importance of paying attention to the people and stories within one’s own community. “We don’t always know what’s happening in our own backyard,” she said. “We focus on big cities, on celebrities, but there’s so much here.” And so, for Forshaw, “here” sits a scholar who traded opera houses for open mics, research trips for raised beds, and ambition for balance. Not the life she once imagined, but it is the one she chose.