We were lucky to catch up with John Tibbetts recently and have shared our conversation below.

John, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. Can you open up about a risk you’ve taken – what it was like taking that risk, why you took the risk and how it turned out?

Like many in the performing arts, I watched my career vanish almost overnight during the pandemic. Contracts were canceled. Auditions disappeared.

That’s when Amelia Island Opera was born — a company that didn’t yet exist, in a community without a dedicated opera presence, launched during a time when people were afraid to gather at all. There was no guaranteed funding. The biggest risk wasn’t financial — it was personal: stepping beyond the identity of performer into leadership, fundraising, and community building. I had to rethink who I was in this industry, not just what I did.

I’d spent years doing it the traditional way — music degrees, constant auditions, contracts around the country. I knew how hard it was to build a career in opera, and how many talented people simply don’t get the chance. In 2021, I realized I could help change that.

So I reached out to colleagues, found co-founders, pitched our vision locally, and staged our first concert. Then another. Then a full opera. People came. Donors stepped up. A company took root.

All while I kept performing — juggling contracts around the U.S., running the company from green rooms, rehearsal breaks, and airports. It’s been one of the most demanding and rewarding chapters of my life.

Taking that risk — to create something from nothing in a moment of uncertainty — gave me not just momentum, but purpose.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I’m John Tibbetts — a baritone, performing artist, and co-founder of Amelia Island Opera, a growing regional company based in Northeast Florida. I’ve performed with organizations across the country, from the Atlanta Symphony to Cincinnati Opera, and everywhere in between. But I’m not just a performer — I believe opera shouldn’t be locked behind velvet curtains. It should be alive, accessible, and rooted in the communities it serves.

What sets our company apart is how we care for both artists and audiences. We pay meaningful fees that help artists build sustainable careers — because even a small part in someone’s ability to keep going matters. We also think carefully about how the work is presented: the length of a program, the clarity of the storytelling, and tools like projected supertitles that make every word accessible, no matter the language. It’s about creating an experience that welcomes people in.

I got into this work the traditional way — music degrees, auditions, years of hustle — but what’s kept me here is something deeper: storytelling.

In 2021, I co-founded Amelia Island Opera — first as a response to the pandemic, but more importantly to fill a gap. We started small: concerts in churches, bookstores, community centers, even a pub. But the vision was always bigger — to build a company that supports artists, serves audiences, and reflects the full spectrum of vocal music. Today, we produce full operas, chamber works, Broadway revues, art song recitals, and genre-blending projects that stretch the definition of what opera can be.

What sets me apart is the dual perspective I bring. I’m still performing across the U.S. while helping run a company from the ground up. I know what artists need because I am one — still preparing for the next show, navigating contracts, flying to New York for auditions. And I work closely with community partners to ensure we’re not just presenting work to people, but with them — building something that’s both high-quality and deeply local.

What I’m most proud of is how Amelia Island Opera has become a space for connection — where artists can thrive, and the community can see itself reflected in the music. Whether we’re staging Madama Butterfly or an evening of Broadway hits, the throughline is care: for the craft, for the people in the room, and for the future we’re building.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

Early in my career, I was on a contract in Colorado when a coach told me I should stop dressing up so much for rehearsals. At the time, I took the advice — but looking back, it was a mistake. People see you everywhere: at the airport, at the coffee shop, even outside the rehearsal room. It’s important to show up with intention. As the Italians say, la prima impressione è quella che conta — first impressions are everything.

I grew up with two military parents, so putting myself together has always been second nature. For me, that means a kind of uniform: a vest and tie — a bit of polish that helps people recognize who I am and what I stand for. This is how I show up for rehearsals, for work, for non-profit events and board meetings — always with intention, hair slicked. It’s part of how I communicate respect for the event and the people in the room. Later, when they see you in sweats, it’s endearing. It shows you’re human. But first? Dress for the job you want, right?

For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?

The easy answer is that final bow — but what’s most rewarding is getting to exist in a world I’m also helping build. I’m performing, yes, but I’m also behind the scenes — fundraising, organizing, learning the admin side of things. It’s made me respect the entire process so much more: the auditions, the cancellations, the chaos — especially the divas.

When I take a day trip to NYC for an audition, I relate so much more now to the administrators and creatives I’m singing for. I also have a deeper appreciation for the incredibly talented pianists I get to make music with in that fleeting moment. I understand the parade of no’s, the ghosting, the sheer volume of work they’re juggling. I’ve been on both sides. So when someone else succeeds, I feel it differently. Their wins make me more grateful for my own.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.ameliaislandopera.org/pastperformances
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ameliaislandopera/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AmeliaIslandOpera/
• Other: https://www.operajohn.co/ — This is my personal page

Image Credits

Lea Gallardo
Ivan Seligman