'You either do this or you disappear'

Rufus Wainwright has had the kind of year where every peak had its valley, every victory was a bittersweet celebration. In March, the singer/songwriter released "All Days Are Nights: Songs for Lulu," an intimate album that hinges on his voice and piano, and chronicles the final days of his mother, Kate McGarrigle, who died in January. Wainwright's first opera, "Prima Donna," debuted in England last summer after a long journey of creative differences, only to be met with mostly mixed reviews.

From his home in Montauk, N.Y. -- where, he says slyly, his boyfriend has planted a bed of roses for him and gets up early every morning to water them -- Wainwright spoke in advance of a Minneapolis concert this week about how he has turned his grief into art.

Q Of all your records, this new one seems like it would be a real challenge for you to perform live, given its intense connection to your mother. Has it been tough to play these new songs in front of audiences?

A I've learned that what seems emotionally and technically daunting onstage is actually a true reflection of the grief I'm experiencing. It's a chance to get up there and kind of torture myself in front of people, and really express and work through the physical and mental anguish I'm in the middle of. It has actually been very, very helpful. I think one of the best lessons I've learned in this whole process is that it's important at the beginning of grief to not be faced with the void, to occupy yourself as much as possible.

Q When you were writing this album, did you have an early sense that you wanted to keep it just you and piano?

A I knew right away. I had attempted something similar to this earlier with "Release the Stars" [his symphonic 2007 release], but it didn't happen then. I really needed the right life circumstances to pull off such a daunting project.

Q I thought the album was a real reminder of how far you've come as a vocalist since your 1998 debut.

Q Have you thought much about how your mother's passing has altered your family dynamic?

A Oh, it's completely shifted everything. Martha [Wainwright, his sister and fellow singer/songwriter] and I now rely on each other very strongly. The family has had to restore its connections. And that's been a wonderful experience. It's all, of course, tinged with sadness, and we wish we didn't have to be doing this. On the other hand, you either do this or you disappear.

Q Is it disappointing to think that it took your mother's death to restore some of those bonds?

A Someone said the most important thing to me recently when I was in Italy. They said, your mother gives birth to you twice -- once when you're born, once when she dies. And I think that a good mother is such a massive force that one cannot help but experience a whole new life when she's gone, for better or for worse. That's part of the power of motherhood. Martha and I really got some incredible gifts near the end in terms of things that Kate got to do. I can't say that there are many regrets in terms of things that didn't happen.

Q What did you take away from the experience of conceiving and finally executing your first opera?