Inside/Outside: Images of Los Angeles | Manny Silverman Gallery breaks from its Abstract Expressionist focus with "Not the Usual Suspects 2," featuring an exhibition of paintings by Jamie F. Adams and photographs by Todd Squires. Curated by Gallery Director, Linda Hooper, Inside/Outside: Images of Los Angeles will present approximately 10 works by each artist, creating a dialogue between painting and photography within the hazy, urban backdrop of Los Angeles.

Feeding his love for photography, Todd Squires comes to his subjects from an intense interest in film and cinematography. A native of Los Angeles, Squires' work combines photography, digital art, film and mixed media. This body of photographic work has been greatly influenced by the advent of Instagram, through which the artist is trying to capture new visuals, ideas and concepts through images.



Jamie F. Adams was born and educated on the East Coast, before moving to Los Angeles in 1999. His meticulous paintings of clocks, light fixtures, roadside signage and palm trees, cast a sometimes eerie or "film noir" quality to the Los Angeles urban environment. Painterly, pink and yellow "magic hour" sunsets serve as beautiful backdrops to signage advertising gasoline or liquor stores. The works all share an underlying feeling for the passage of time as a seemingly tangible, yet unseen presence.

Inside/Outside: Images of Los Angeles opens July 26 at Manny Silverman Gallery, West Hollywood



Richard Bruland: Continuum | Bruland's panels of shifting colors create impressions of hazy atmospheric landscapes when viewed from afar. From a distance, content completely dissolves into form with faint horizons and tones reminiscent of Earth and Sky. At close range, they are surprisingly complex revealing strands of multicolored acrylic paint that form nebulous vein-like structures. Each painting is an accumulation of many layers of acrylic paint over a textured field, sanded down to produce continuous blends of color and texture. His newest paintings show an increasing interest in adding a more specific content to his continuing focus on the transition from light to dark, as well as a curiosity towards more perceptual issues.

Richard Bruland: Continuum on view through August 2 at Lora Schlesinger Gallery, Bergamot Station



Peter Zokosky: Unsettled | Zokosky continually returns to portraiture. In his own version the subjects are selected because they embody a sense of mystery. They are both beautiful and unsettling. Infants, monkeys, clowns, and ventriloquist dummies are his muses. They seem to exist outside of the confines of certainty, as if we are not sure of the proper way to look at them. He does not seek to clarify and codify, instead, he embraces the uncertainty. Zokosky's paintings balance the complexities of the human condition. He expresses the absurd and the sublime, the tragic and the heroic, the engaged and the detached, the earthly and ethereal. The oil paintings are contemplative, still, engaging, and a bit disturbing. Mindful of the folly, and propelled by genuine awe, he examines subjects we don't fully understand. Zokosky's audience knows that if they don't quite get it, they got it.

Peter Zokosky: Unsettled closes July 26 at Koplin Del Rio



In-Situ | This summer group exhibition features emerging Los Angeles artists never before shown at the gallery. Working in a variety of mediums, the selected works of Renae Barnard, Vera Bauluz, Tofer Chin, Abdul Mazid, and Patch Wright offer an invitation to think about the relationship between place and identity and the ways in which the artists' hand and materials of choice are inextricably linked to critique. Here, each artist either re-purposes, re-articulates, or re-imagines a given material and imbues it with new life and new meaning.

Renae Barnard (featured above) creates soft sculpture from paper, thread, and ribbon, materials and tactility typically associated with women and ascribed little consequence in the world. Each of Barnard's sculptures with their intricate twists, coils, folds, splits, and tears challenges the viewer to see beyond traditional and conventional modes of identity representation.

In-Situ opens July 19 at Shoshana Wayne Gallery, Bergamot Station

For the most comprehensive calendar of art events throughout Los Angeles go to Artweek.LA.

Last week, Nigel Redden, the director of Lincoln Center Festival, stepped out onto the stage of the David Koch Theater and greeted the company of dancers assembled there.

Twenty artists of the Bolshoi Ballet, dressed in the flowing skirts, coats of arms, and vague but non-specific national folk costumes of Swan Lake, applauded their host's assertion that "art speaks in one language."

It was understood that Redden was referring as much to Washington and Moscow's cross-purpose negotiations over Ukraine as he was to the language barrier between the dancers and most of the Lincoln Center staff.

As I wrote in May, the unfolding civil/guerilla/partisan war in Ukraine does not directly threaten US interests, and hence is unlikely to disrupt the Russian company's first tour to New York in nearly a decade. The seizure of Crimea, I wrote at the time, is no Cuban Missile Crisis.

But on the same day the Bolshoi premiered in New York, the Obama administration piled on extra sanctions against Russian businesses, and Vladimir Putin re-opened a dormant spy base in Cuba.

This week's catastrophic downing of a passenger jet over Ukrainian airspace ratchets things up further. The world might ignore a peninsular grab, but it doesn't easily forgive massive collateral damage strewn across Luhansk. The Security Council has taken up the matter, and we're getting closer to Cuban Missile Crisis level urgency.

The comparison may be inaccurate in geopolitical terms, but it is spot on in ballet history terms: in the autumn of 1962, as the U.S. and the USSR came as close to mutual destruction as they could, the Bolshoi Ballet was on tour in America. The Russian dancers arrived in the capital about a week after the Cuban Missile Crisis was resolved and were greeted with standing ovations and a White House reception.

Three weeks prior to that, they were on the West Coast performing Spartacus, when a U.S. plane was shot down by in Cuba. It was a spy plane, not a commercial jet. And Moscow owned up to it immediately, having no shadow separatists to hide behind.

The Bolshoi performs Spartacus at Lincoln Center next weekend. It's not a popular ballet abroad, and the company's Swan Lake was already panned by a bored New York Times' critic. At this point, perhaps only a miraculous de-escalation will win the dancers a standing ovation; a White House reception is definitely not in the cards.

A week is an awfully long time when an international crisis is brewing; it's a good thing that everyone at the Koch Theater speaks "in one language."

Looking back on history often allows people to get a clearer picture of what's wrong with the world. For example, not everyone is as wealthy as Mitt Romney.

Following her infamous statement during the 2012 Presidential election that "We've given all you people need to know and understand about our financial situation and how we life our life," several clever actors seized upon the opportunity to make videos mocking Ann Romney's slick expressions of elitism under attack.









The sad truth is that income inequality in America is not just a case of distinguishing between the haves and have nots. Many people (the poor, the protesters, the disabled, veterans in need of healthcare) are kept out of sight by today's media because the sheer act of acknowledging their struggles would be "inconvenient" for those whose privilege isolates them from such lower-class woes.

In recent years, the cult of victimization has taken on a perverse new face. Suddenly, those sitting at the top of the power pyramid have begun to insist that they are the true victims. Whether they suffer from affluenza, reverse racism, or willful ignorance caused by organized religion, the rising levels of stupidity that threaten us have become nearly as dangerous as climate change. (I especially enjoyed reading about the software programmer who was suing a stripper to get his Harry Potter DVDs returned to him).

Some people get marginalized from society because of medical reasons; others are subject to political persecution. Such people have often been shamelessly stripped of their credibility, their dignity, their souls, and their health by those in power. Why? Genuine victims are painful reminders to those in positions of authority that inconvenient truths must be swept under the rug.

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During the 2014 San Francisco International Film Festival, I was deeply moved by Bill Morrison's 18-minute short entitled Re: Awakenings. Backed by Andrew Sterman's poignant saxophone solo (composed by Philip Glass), the film contains archival footage of patients at the Beth Abraham Hospital in The Bronx who spent years in a near comatose state as a result of an early 20th-century epidemic of encephalitis lethargica.

When Oliver Sacks began to treat them with L-DOPA, many of the patients achieved much higher levels of functioning than the medical staff had ever imagined possible for them. You can see the difference in these two clips from Morrison's film.







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Political persecution never seems to go out of fashion. With 2014 marking the 25th anniversary of 1989's protests in Tiananmen Square, it's not surprising to encounter articles which look back to that fateful time and compare it to China's new role as a global superpower. CentralWorks recently presented the world premiere of Sally Dawidoff's play, The Crazed (which is based on Ha Jin's novel about people caught in the political turmoil of a country undergoing radical socioeconomic, cultural, and political change).

As the play begins, the audience sees a terrified Professor Yang (Randall Nakano) wearing a large dunce cap and attempting to recant his cultural crime of translating poetry. While abroad for a speaking engagement (at which he arrived too late to perform), Yang also spent money on an unconscionable luxury for his family: a refrigerator.

Suddenly, a briskly marching group of young soldiers from the Red Guards enters the performance space, sending a thrill of excitement through the room. As I sat watching The Crazed begin to unfold, I thought "This could be the start of something big."




Randall Nakano as the disgraced Professor Yang
in The Crazed (Photo by: Jim Norrena)


But I was wrong. Oh, so very, very wrong. While Dawidoff may be an accomplished poet, her skills as a playwright need greater development. Her lengthy first act (which was heavily weighted down with exposition) proved to be a crashing bore.

One must, however, consider the characters involved in The Crazed. In addition to a conniving, power-hungry female bureaucrat named Ying Pen (Jeannie Barroga) who lusts after a promotion, there are three students trying to find themselves as they lurch toward adulthood.

• Banping (Perry Aliado) is a classic, ass-kissing teacher's pet whose lack of social skills, empathy, and general awareness of the world around him easily transforms the character into a clueless villain (imagine a Communist Chinese version of Bud Frump). Portrayed as a young nerd with a fetish for his new sneakers, Banping is, almost by necessity, a walking cartoon.


• Mantao (Wes Gabrillo) is the trio's intellectual, the serious thinker who is radicalized by the political environment and feels compelled to join the student protesters in Tiananmen Square (where he meets an untimely death).


• Jian Wan (Will Dao) is Professor Yang's dutiful disciple whose plans for a future with his fiancée, Meimei (Carina Lastimosa Salazar), are sabotaged when Yang suffers a stroke and his healthcare falls under the pernicious purview of the scheming and manipulative Ying Pen. After she assigns Jian Wan to watch over Professor Yang (instead of preparing for his final exams), the young man's personal conflict leaves little doubt that spending time in a re-education camp is in his future.

Will Dao as Jian Wan in The Crazed
(Photo by: Jim Norrena)


I'm not sure why the performances by Randall Nakano and Jeannie Barrogga seemed so unconvincing. Perhaps it was Nakano's bizarre style of vocal delivery (which had nothing to do with the side-effects of his character having suffered a stroke) or that Ms. Barrogga looked like an incompetent 50-year-old Meg Griffin stuck in a a position of academic authority (what many teachers refer to as a "school stupidintendent").

Directed by Gary Graves (with sound by Gregory Scharpen), The Crazed improved somewhat in the second act. Will Dao gave a compelling performance as Jian Wan with Louel Senores making brief but impressive appearances in a series of cameo roles.





Jian Wan (Will Dao) encounters Hao (Louel Señores)
in The Crazed (Photo by: Jim Norrena)


In an article published in The New York Times on May 30, 2009, Ha Jin explained that:

"I was in the People's Liberation Army in the 1970s, and we soldiers had always been instructed that our principal task was to serve and protect the people. So when the Chinese military turned on the students in Tiananmen Square, it shocked me so much that for weeks I was in a daze. At the time, I was in the United States, finishing a dissertation in American literature. My plan was to go back to China once it was done. I had a teaching job waiting for me at Shandong University. After the crackdown, some friends assured me that the Communist Party would admit its mistake within a year. I couldn't see why they were so optimistic. I also thought it would be foolish to wait passively for historical change. I had to find my own existence, separate from the state power in China."

Author Ha Jin

"That was when I started to think about staying in America and writing exclusively in English (even if China was my only subject, even if Chinese was my native tongue). The Chinese language had been so polluted by revolutionary movements and political jargon that there was great room for improvement. Yet, if I wrote in Chinese, my audience would be in China and I would therefore have to publish there and be at the mercy of its censorship. To preserve the integrity of my work, I had no choice but to write in English. To some Chinese, my choice of English is a kind of betrayal, but loyalty is a two-way street. I feel I have been betrayed by China, which has suppressed its people and made artistic freedom unavailable. I have tried to write mostly about China and preserve its real history. As a result, most of my work cannot be published in China."

Jian Wan (Will Dao) argues with his estranged fiancée, Meimei
Carina Lastimosa Salazar in The Crazed( (Photo by: Jim Norrena)

Although I did not read Ha Jin's novel, I have a theory about why The Crazed imploded onstage. Despite trying to cover the impact of so many personal and political events in the protagonist's life, the heart of the story got lost in translation. I can't say how much of that took place because Ha Jin was writing in English instead of Chinese but I'm willing to bet that some of it happened when an American poet attempted to take on a Chinese expatriate's deep personal grief and political anguish and make it her own.

* * * * * * * * * *

Americans love a scapegoat. From Communists to slaves, from LGBT people to those suspected of witchcraft, the venom with which some Americans have shamed and persecuted innocent people is quite beyond the pale.

With the rabid ignorance of professional morons like Laura Ingraham, Sarah Palin, Allen West, Adam Kwasman, and Louie Gohmert in full bloom, anyone who thinks things have gotten better might want to note that, in her bio for the Custom Made Theatre's production of The Crucible, actress Melissa Clason dedicated this production to the strength and courage of her ninth-great-grandmother, Elizabeth Periment Clawson "who also in 1692 was accused, tortured, tried, and exonerated of witchcraft in Stamford, Connecticut."

When Arthur Miller's drama about the Salem witch trials opened at the Martin Beck Theatre on January 22, 1953, the playwright stressed that "The Crucible is taken from history. No character is in the play who did not take a similar role in Salem, 1692." After winning the 1953 Tony Award for Best Play, The Crucible went on to become an American classic.




Poster art for Custom Made Theatre's production of The Crucible


Composer Robert Ward adapted Miller's play for the operatic stage. Following its world premiere at the New York City Opera on October 26, 1961, The Crucible received the 1962 Pulitzer Prize for Music.

In a June 17, 2000 article about his play written for The Guardian/The Observer, Miller noted that:

"It would probably never have occurred to me to write a play about the Salem witch trials of 1692 had I not seen some astonishing correspondences with that calamity in the America of the late 1940s and early 1950s. My basic need was to respond to a phenomenon which, with only small exaggeration, one could say paralyzed a whole generation. In 1956, the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) subpoenaed me. I was cited for contempt of Congress for refusing to identify writers I had met at one of the two communist writers' meetings I had attended many years before.

In today's terms, the country had been delivered into the hands of the radical right, a ministry of free-floating apprehension toward anything that never happens in the middle of Missouri. It is always with us (this anxiety), sometimes directed towards foreigners, Jews, Catholics, fluoridated water, aliens in space, masturbation, homosexuality, or the Internal Revenue Department. And if this seems crazy now, it seemed just as crazy then. But openly doubting it could cost you. Salem village, that pious, devout settlement at the edge of white civilization, had displayed what can only be called a built-in pestilence in the human mind, a fatality forever awaiting the right condition for its always unique, unprecedented outbreak of distrust, alarm, suspicion, and murder. It is all very strange. But the Devil is known to lure people into forgetting what it is vital for them to remember. How else could his endless reappearances always come as such a marvelous surprise?"

Abigail Williams (Juliana Lustenader) and her friends disrupt
a court hearing in The Crucible (Photo by: Jay Yamada)


Arthur Miller died on February 10, 2005 at a time when the Bush administration's fear-driven control of the media was escalating to unimaginable heights. Guided by Karl Rove, smear campaigns like the Swift Boating of John Kerry allowed Republican talking points to reverberate throughout conservative media during each 24-hour news cycle to keep the populace feeling frightened and insecure. I've often wondered what would happen if a major news anchor looked right into the camera and said "Of course, we have no proof that Karl Rove is a child molester, but....."




Abigail Williams (Juliana Lustenader) and Reverend Parris (Andrew
Calabrese) in a scene from The Crucible (Photo by: Jay Yamada)


Custom Made Theatre's new production of The Crucible begins in darkness as (thanks to Liz Ryder's excellent sound design) the audience hears a chorus of girlish/ghoulish shrieks coming from the darkened woods surrounding Salem village. Once the lights come up on Stewart Lyle's set, the production takes on the rapidly accelerating pace of a community gripped by fear and living on the brink of hysteria.

Faced with a posse of late 17th century mean girls who have been dancing naked in the woods and acting out their fantasies with little regard for the well-being of others, wild accusations quickly course through the community. Egged on by the prejudices of the blazingly manipulative Reverend Parris (Andrew Calabrese) -- whose daughter, Betty (Kitty Torres), is lying in a stupor close to death -- malicious gossip spreads like wildfire.




Reverend John Hale (Nicholas Trengove) tries to comfort Betty
Parris (Kitty Torres) in The Crucible) (Photo by: Jay Yamada)


Although villagers are beginning to suspect the Parris family's black servant, Tituba (Jeunee Simon), of witchcraft, the real troublemaker is Abigail Williams (Juliana Lustenader), who lusts after John Procter (Peter Townley) and intends -- by whatever means possible -- to get rid of his wife, Elizabeth (Megan Briggs) so that she can replace her by Procter's side.

Tautly directed by Stuart Bousel, this production benefits from Custom Made's tiny performance space, which only heightens the overall sense of paranoia, magnifies the delusional behavior, and exposes the instances of religious persecution. Paul Jennings (as Deputy Governor Danforth), and Alisha Ehrlich (as Mary Warren) deliver powerful performances in supporting roles.




John Procter (Peter Townley) brings Mary Warren (Alisha Ehrlich)
to a hearing in The Crucible (Photo by: Jay Yamada)


As Miller's play details the remarkable number of residents who have been jailed and unjustly hanged as a result of their friends and neighbors bearing false witness, John Procter's determination to hold onto his name -- as the last thing he can rightly call his own -- becomes heartbreaking in the face of Danforth's legal bullying. Others in the cast included Ron Talbot as Giles Corey and Charles Lewis III as Marshal Herrick.




Elizabeth (Megan Briggs) and John Proctor (Peter Townley)
in a scene from The Crucible (Photo by: Jay Yamada)




To read more of George Heymont go to My Cultural Landscape

The hardest part about being a writer or an artist is having the inclination but not the talent. Rejection is the deepest of all artistic suffering because it is not just what we do -- it is who we are. And when we are celebrated for our work, there is nothing that comes closer to validating our soul.

Art is passion. You do it because you have to; it is your breath, your lifeline. But how far would you go for your passion? Would you kill for it? Steal it? Destroy it? Or protect it at all costs?

Enter Adolf Hitler.

Hitler's War began with the systematic destruction of the avant-garde, and now ironically, 70 years later, it is the piece of Holocaust history still making front-page news. His mission to destroy Germany's modern artists was not innately political -- it was personal. Yes, Hitler before he became "Hitler" was a painter. He had been rejected twice from the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna. He resorted to selling painted postcards on the street and later house painting; his dream of living as a renowned artist was never realized. He had been told repeatedly that he was not good enough, and to go find another trade to survive. One wonders how things might have been had he been "accepted" and his true passion encouraged.

I believe that these early rejections set the stage for what would come later ... the rape of Europe's masterpieces, and the eradication of those artists who didn't play by his rules. Once real power was in Hitler's hands, he alone decided what was considered art, who would be permitted to paint, and whose hands would remain bound. Those whose works were considered "un-German" were labeled "Degenerates" and forbidden to paint ... or else.

Hitler and his posse despised the avant-garde -- particularly Cubists, Dadaists, Surrealists, and especially his homegrown band of German Expressionists, who fell into two groups of artists -- Die Brucke (The Bridge) and Der Blaue Reiter (The Blue Rider). The Expressionists painted the emotion that a subject evoked, rather than the subject itself. Nature, people, buildings were a wild collage of chaotic and lush brushstrokes. Nothing made sense, and yet the imagery brilliantly impacted the viewer. Expressionism drove the orderly, neo-classical-loving Nazis crazy. Among the household name "Degenerates" were Beckmann, Kirchner, Marc, Dix, Nolde and Heckel. Their works were forbidden because of their deeply provocative style. And yet, it was no surprise that this passionate movement of art was celebrated, and taking the world by storm.

Hitler's plan of attack was simple: Crush it. Supply stores were shut down, galleries were boarded up, paintings were burned, museums were closed, teachers/curators were stripped of their jobs -- all artists who did not comply with the Aryan handbook of "What Is Art" were banned from exhibiting, selling their works, and most devastating of all: forbidden from creating even inside the privacy of their own homes. Too many artists were forced to hide; others fled, numerous artists sadly committed suicide, and others were imprisoned and murdered.

But the Nazis knew a good deal when they saw it. Degenerate works worth a lot of money were auctioned, sold, stolen, dealt -- profits from this "Despicable Art" were used to fund the Nazi War Machine. Talk about irony.

I am a writer not a painter, but I tried to picture what would happen if my computer was taken, my research confiscated, my manuscript burned, my phone line cut, my contacts threatened not to work with me, and creating a story -- even for my personal use -- was considered a crime against my country.

My passion - the very thing that breathes life into my day -- would be stolen from my hand, but not my head nor my heart. They couldn't take that, no matter what. And yet ... muzzling my artistry could break me, but somehow, I'd like to believe, not stop me.

Stolen art is considered one of today's hottest cultural topics, because of the magnitude of what is at stake: major artworks worth millions hanging on the walls of revered museums worldwide, and within the protective vaults of private collections. Possessing the art is the passion.

But even passion has its loopholes.

This past November, Germany dropped its looted art bombshell: a cache of 1,500 masterpieces (Picasso, Matisse, Chagall, among them) worth more than $1 billion was discovered in a German apartment. Prior to that, Dutch museums had uncovered 139 artworks "likely" looted by the Nazis. A few months ago, Canada announced the "hunt" was on for looted art hiding in its museums and private collections. A few months back, Austria announced that a house in Salzburg is being "probed" for stolen art. Weeks ago, France returned over 100 stolen paintings. In March, A Norwegian art museum returned a precious Matisse painting looted by the Nazis to the American heirs of the French art dealer Paul Rosenberg.

These "outings" will surely continue. Coming clean, like everything else, is all just a matter of time.

As we carry out our noble quest to reclaim stolen artwork, don't lose sight of the tiny names scripted illegibly in the corners of paintings. Always remember: Paintings have a canvas, but passion has a face.

Behind every surviving "Matisse" is the untold story of scores of young, aspiring artists whose potential brilliance never saw the light of a canvas; whose talent was destroyed too soon to have a legacy. Those artists whose hands were bound must have their place in our history.

Here's the thing: All artists, both the masters and the "starving" among us, are created equal when it comes to passion. How far we will go for it -- kill, steal, protect, save -- that is the question that has only one true answer: When it's in your soul, you will go the distance.

Lisa Barr is the author of the award-winning debut novel, Fugitive Colors (Arcade), a suspenseful tale of stolen art, love, lust and revenge on the "eve" of WWII.

Soprano Tony Arnold is a luminary in the world of Chamber Music and Art Song. Today's classical composers are inspired by her inherently beautiful voice, consummate musicianship, and embracing spirit. Audiences everywhere recognize her assuredness and mastery over a wide range of musical styles, vocal modes and dramatic challenges. On Wednesday, July 30 and Thursday, July 31, Tony appears at the Santa Fe Chamber Festival with the Orion String Quartet in the U.S. premiere of composer Brett Dean's String Quartet No.2 -- And once I Played Ophelia. Dean's composition was given its UK premiere last May and come November it will be presented in six cities across Australia. With text by Matthew Jocelyn (after Shakespeare), Tony describes the new work as a monodrama.


Tony Arnold. Photo, Claudia Hansen

"Many composers have been attracted to Ophelia," said Tony, "mostly because she appears so infrequently in the play, but has this incredible emotional impact. She is also emotionally mysterious. We take her to be young and naive, but I think there are more robust ways of looking at her. That is what Brett Dean is trying to get at in this piece. The words that are used are not only from Ophelia, but also from Hamlet, her father and brother. I am not her character in this monodrama. We are seeing her through the eyes of others -- seeing her react to the way others treat her. Maybe even seeing her from beyond as she looks back or looks over the scene -- an omniscient vantage. It's very extreme, very lyrical and complex. She is conflicted, for sure."

In Act III, scene i of Hamlet, the King and Polonius (Ophelia's father) have set her up in order to encounter Hamlet. They will observe the exchange out of sight in order to determine if Ophelia's virtue and beauty are the cause of Hamlet's strange behavior of late. Hamlet then enters, ruminating on the notion of suicide, "To be or not to be." At the end of his speech, Ophelia enters pretending to read a book. After a brief greeting, she tells Hamlet that she wants to return certain gifts to him. "Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind." Hamlet becomes agitated and begins a string of verbal assaults. He tells Ophelia five times to get herself to a nunnery. By Act IV, scene v, Ophelia has gone mad -- in scene vii, the Queen enters to say she has drowned.

"We're seeing all of her emotions through a prism," said Tony, "and it keeps turning. There are five movements in this continuous piece. We keep seeing her through a new facet of that prism. The first scene is reflective of Hamlet's text, 'Get thee to a nunnery.' He thinks she's being a whore. We're not really seeing her responses to that per se, but she becomes possessed by his words. The text is his, but she is embodying, digesting, and processing his words -- perhaps remembering them in the afterlife, after she drowns. We don't know why she drowns. People speculate that she committed suicide, maybe she didn't. But the weight of the water, the weight of the words, the weight of the opinions of others, the weight of her place in the world -- there are a lot of ways to look at her character."


Tony Arnold. Photo, Claudia Hansen

Collaboration is an essential force in the world of chamber music. The renowned Santa Fe Chamber Festival, now in its 42nd season (7/20 - 8/25) is all about collaboration. The creation and presentation of Brett Dean's And once I Played Ophelia, written for high soprano and string quartet, is a great example. The work is a co-commission by the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival, the Britten Sinfonia, and Australian String Quartet. In addition to the benefits of combining resources, the new work then enjoys exposure around the world. Soprano Allison Bell was featured with the Britten Sinfonia in the UK premiere last May. Soprano Greta Bradman teams with the Australian String Quartet for the November tour which will play to audiences in Perth, Melbourne, Sydney, Canberra, Brisbane, and Adelaide. I asked Tony how she became linked to the project.

"Two years ago, I was invited to the Santa Fe Chamber Festival to sing Requiem: Songs for Sue by Oliver Knussen. It is a great work written in memory of his wife. After hearing me sing this, Marc Neikrug [composer, pianist, and Artistic Director of the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival] suggested to Brett Dean that he might think about writing a work that would include me. I did not know him before this and I still haven't met him in person. Marc invited me back to do this. It's always an honor to give voice to a new piece."

My first experience of Tony Arnold's exquisite soprano voice was via YouTube -- Virtue, by Christopher Theofanidis. All at once, I'm absorbed into the beauty of the composition and Tony's magnetic performance. Her homepage includes several hours of live performances featuring material by such composers as George Crumb, Eric Chasalow, György Kurtág, Arnold Schönberg, Alban Berg, Julio Estrada, and Josh Levine. Tony's stunning vocal flexibility makes her compatible with every work, her interpretations of the varied texts are rich and nuanced. After several viewings of her mesmerizing rendition of Seven Armenian Songs by Gabriela Lena Frank -- I'm very glad I asked Tony a variation on Cary Grant's classic question, "How does a girl like you get to be a girl like you?" Tony earned a BA in Vocal Performance at Oberlin College in 1990. I asked what she sang when the assignment was about Puccini.

"I never had those assignments," she said. "My teacher at Oberlin was Carol Webber. She really understood to not press young voices that weren't ready to go in a particular direction. She knew that my skills and my tastes were someplace else. She said to sing some songs by Schubert and to look at the other six hundred that nobody ever does. And so I did! I went on these quests - listening to repertoire and, because I had skills as a pianist, read through a lot of stuff at the keyboard, not just with my voice but using all my skills and finding unusual things. Another direction I went was with languages. Nobody was singing the Dvořák songs in the original language. I had a friend who was a member of a Slovak church. The Reverend at that church knew how to speak Czech. I asked him if he would help me with these really cool songs. I had found a repertoire that spoke to me, that was my own. There were no hard and fast expectations, there were no great artists who had made recordings of these songs. I found my own way to sing them - because of a very wise teacher, pointing me in a direction. She knew that if I was trying to imitate what was out there and bend myself into an operatic mold that -- not only might I not succeed -- mostly, I would not be happy."

Tony Arnold is the enchantress who can persuade even the most resistant into the realm of chamber music -- particularly at a live performance, especially in the expectant atmosphere of an event such as the Santa Fe Chamber Festival. Its venues provide a more up-close and personal encounter -- such as with a dazzling contemporary/classical-type soprano in company with a string quartet, going off about a character out of Shakespeare that we've all known or been confused by since high school.

"Because commissioning money is short everywhere, what has been happening more and more are co-commissions. So, here is one piece that gets multiple premieres in multiple areas. When I began devoting myself to contemporary repertoire, it was as much about working with a particular group of people -- not a defined group -- but a certain kind of musician that had a certain kind of commitment to what they were doing. Nobody does contemporary music who doesn't already have a certain level of skill and ability already. More importantly, it takes a lot of time. Within the field, that level of commitment is actually very high. I've always found that to be very gratifying and fun. It's the way I like to work. Since I'm making new pieces all the time, I can often get things written for me and work directly with the composer to get something that fits my voice very well."

"I'm involved in a similar kind of project -- Virtue, by Christopher Theofanidis. It is a co-commission by New Haven Symphony, the Fairfax Symphony in Washington, D.C., and the Adrian Symphony in Michigan. I did the premieres with Fairfax and Adrian and will do the premiere with New Haven in November. It's going to be performed in a church and they're going to do some staging. The piece is based on a work of Hildegard von Bingen. So, with the video we'll have of that - the hope is to present it to a number of other orchestras and see if they would like to perform it. That may or may not involve me. But we'll have done three big things to give this work a springboard, to having more life. That is what's going on with Dean's piece as well. If you do co-commissions like this, it does improve the chances that the piece will be picked up by somebody else."

Tony is coming to San Francisco, November 16 to work with her friend Steve Schick - percussionist, conductor and Artistic Director of the San Francisco Contemporary Music Players. Together they will premiere a new work by George Crumb. On December 8 she will be at UC Davis performing with the Empyrean Ensemble -- seven pieces by graduate student composers she has been working with over the past year. The following May she will perform at Stanford University -- again with Doctoral student composers writing pieces for her. It appears that future sopranos have a growing cache of Chamber material to look forward to.

"Let's hope so," said Tony. "I talk to young composers about that a lot. They need to be encouraged to try a whole bunch of new things. They also need to consider in their writing what kind of tools they want to have, what kind of audiences they want to hear their work and who else they want to have sing it. I encourage them to think about not only writing for my specific voice, but how voices work in general. Some people have affinities for particular styles, some singers have a trumpet for a voice, some have a flute. You need to take a lot of things into account when you start writing for posterity."


Tony Arnold. Photo, Claudia Hansen

"In a way, Art Music has always been a quiet endeavor. Sometimes that is a hard thing to imagine in our world which is all about grand gestures and big scale -- reaching a lot of people, mass media. That is what recordings and technology have done. That's all fine. But I think there is something about the nature of what we do that is very quiet and reaches people on a level that is body-by-body. If I thought I had to reach everybody, that would just be overwhelming. My dialogue with any audience is an immediate dialogue. It's happening right now and precisely in this moment. Between us. That makes me able to continue to do it."

Flatfoot Dance Company's Mzamo Jabu Siphika, Sifiso Selby Khumalo, and Sifiso Thamsanqa Majola performing July 7, 2014 at the Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts| Photo by Ken Carl

In 2013, Chicago-based Deeply Rooted Dance Theater (DRDT) became the first American dance company to appear in the 15th annual JOMBA! Contemporary Dance Experience in Durban, South Africa. JOMBA!'s founder Lliane Loots first connected with Deeply Rooted through the tireless work of Lorna Johnson, a DRDT board member and consultant on international exchange programs. Last year's appearance, sponsored by the U.S. Consulate General in Durban with funding from the U.S. Department of State's Arts Envoy Program, marked the beginning of a three-year creative exchange that has since been further supported by a MacArthur Foundation grant promoting international collaboration. DRDT Artistic Director Kevin Iega Jeff and Associate Artistic Director Gary Abbott have both commented on the impact the trip made on them as dancers, and as people. "It will inform what I do for the rest of my life... I felt complete," said Abbott about his experience in Durban.

This year it's Flatfoot's turn to make the voyage across the Atlantic, and what has now been dubbed the JOMBA! Initiative took the shape of four special events in opposite corners of the city of Chicago. Over the course of two weeks, Flatfoot and DRDT have shown work and participated in community symposiums in Hyde Park, held an open house at the Old Town School of Folk Music in Lincoln Square, and presented Loots' 'the inheritance of loss' alongside DRDT's Summer Intensive performance at Lincoln Park's Athenaeum Theatre.

In 2015, DRDT returns to JOMBA! to perform a collaborative work with Flatfoot that signifies a culmination of the exchange. However, it might be said that the meat of this initiative is not as much in the dancing as in the dialogue taking shape between two seemingly disparate cultures.

What is possible in a cultural exchange between Americans and South Africans?

What can we learn about our commonalities and differences with regards to slavery in America and apartheid?

These questions may appear to be the stuff of sociologists, cultural anthropologists, historians, and activists. Instead, they were the basis of July 7th's opening symposium at the Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts on University of Chicago's campus in Hyde Park. My experience as an attendee was that two hours is not nearly enough time to even scratch the surface of these questions. Moreover, three years will likely not be enough time to fully explore the possibilities of what we have to gain from an exchange with South Africa. Is dance an appropriate or even possible venue to engage in this discussion? If I gained anything from July 7th's tiny, really tiny, chipping away at a monstrous topic, it would be absolutely yes. Dance, in fact, may be the perfect place to start.

DRDT's Artistic Directors first reflected on how visiting South Africa has informed their perspectives about the global dance community, and both companies performed excerpts from their respective repertories. The symposium then brought together the three artistic directors to discuss their roots, uncover the similarities in DRDT and Flatfoot's missions, with further insights revealed at a special Mandela Day Celebration at Arts Incubator.


Flatfoot Dance Company's Artistic Director Lliane Loots | Photo by Ken Carl

Flatfoot's Artistic Director Lliane Loots grew up in apartheid South Africa, attended an all white school, and attended ballet class - "as a good young white girl does." In adulthood, Loots' growing awareness of and distaste for the politics in her country drew her away from the rules about what young white girls are supposed to do. "People were being shot in the streets, and attending ballet class somehow seemed inappropriate," she said, but never lost touch with movement as a source of communication and conversation. "Our bodies are political. Our hair, our gender, our food, our class, and our movement... Our art IS our activism." In 1994 (coincidentally, the same year apartheid ended), Loots began a training program with the goal, in part, of providing quality dance training for all citizens in her community. In the 20 years since, she founded Flatfoot Dance Company, created the internationally recognized dance festival JOMBA! and, perhaps most importantly, developed outreach programs for the outlying communities in her province of KwaZulu-Natal. Loots and the members of Flatfoot spend a significant amount of time teaching dance to people who will never become professional dancers, but see the program as an opportunity to engage with communities who struggle to access enough food, water, and education to thrive. Flatfoot provides structure, and a positive activity that is otherwise inaccessible to the individuals it reaches. Loots and her dancers care as deeply for their community initiatives as they do for world-class dance. "We are looking at art as a tool for transformation," she said. "It's not a band-aid, it's not a feeding program; it's a chance to self-actualize."


This article was originally published at artintecepts.org, and is reproduced for the Huffington Post with slight modification.



2) Flatfoot Dance Company's Artistic Director Lliane Loots | Photo by Ken Carl

Dear Brian,

I don't very much enjoy looking at logos in general. I know too much about them. I take them apart and see the curves and shapes, the essence for what they are, not the emblems that are imbued with their sexualized similarities. I like your use of Belo. The upturned heart, as some have said it looks like, which reminds us that we'll eventually find ourselves in the right place again.

I understand B., running a business, much like running a life, with the intent to create, is one of abstraction. The operations of this "shared economy" go on without you once you've employed your men and women, but the essence of the body -- corporal or incorporated -- lives on. The shared economy is also, indeed, the shared experience and beyond any "Vagina Logo Buzz," to create one's world in any of the arts takes courage. It's also an imitation of life built from the depictions before you.



Do not bristle at the sounds of the "Vagina Logo Buzz"; a logo is a fragment of things because it seems to make its statement, as well as, or better than the whole could. How could you have depicted the conglomerate of hosts and houses that open its doors to the pioneers, the hoodied and coding, those on a sex-capade, the ones that will make toast in your kitchen and use all your jam and ask for your Wi-Fi code?

What would be the essence of the home but the womb, as one Internet newspaper man who covers technologies wrote, "After all, [your] new logo is all about 'belonging.' And a mother's womb is the ultimate symbol of a safe, warm and welcoming place."

Searching for the macro symbol of your greater and most hospitable economy was essential, for a company cannot depict the shared economy as it is, but rather as it is felt. What's more essentialist than crafting an icon from the original home and the roots of our beginning? When a company designs "the home," in its formal qualities, in a huge scale, one could never ignore its beauty.

At Lake George, I'd often take a flower or look at my bulbous knees in my boat and really look at them, and it was all the world for that moment. I'd like to commend your efforts in helping the wayfarers find solace, a place to rest their heads, a reminder of their gestation. You can say so much through color and shape.



I can understand your frustrations if the gadflies are harping on the implications of your rebrand. I never intended to offend or titillate my viewers either; rather I wanted to set myself a part from others. Both you and I, we are formalists at heart, providing the architecture for those to experience our work.

Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower, bulbous knee, your Belo or, perhaps something else? They should see it whether they want to or not.

With love,
Georgia

Widely considered one of Africa’s greatest art collectors, Joseph Murumbi spent his life collecting a vast collection of art and books. Born the son of a Goan father and Maasai mother, Murumbi rose to become one of the leaders in the Kenya African Union. When he died he left behind more than 50,000 books and letters of correspondance, which included 8,000 rare books (these were books that were published prior to 1900).

Before his death, Murumbi and his American-Kenyan friend, Alan Donovan, another prolific art collector, co-founded The African Heritage House (often called ‘Africa’s most photographed house.’). Designed by Donovan, the beautiful building overlooks Nairobi National Park, and is described by Architectural Digest as “an architecture rising from the serene Kenyan plain like an outcropping of earth, a vision of usefulness informed by the African genius for decoration.” The house itself is “a combination of the mud architectures from across Africa.”

In 1969 Alan Donovan, one of the last Americans sent to Nigeria by the State Department during the Biafran war, decided he no longer wanted to be a bureaucrat.  He did, however, want to see the rest of Africa, so he learned French, bought a Volkswagen bus and drove across the Sahara. -- Architectural Digest, 1996

The House not only hosts art collections that span over 50 years of African history, but also rare artifacts whose value is considered priceless. The cultural value of The African Heritage House to all of Africa is “immeasurable.” Up until recently it was going to be turned into an Advanced African Studies Center, dedicated to the memory of Murumbi.

Donovan spoke to Architecture Digest about the inspiration behind the House in 1996:

Although I tried to use features from the various architectural forms that enchanted me in my travel in Africa,” says Alan Donovan, “an equally important reason for my home is to show people how to live with African arts and crafts.  I think this indigenous artistic and cultural heritage is under appreciated, both in Africa and worldwide.  My house is a step toward preservation.

However, this priceless piece of cultural history is now under threat. The Standard Gauge Railway seeks to demolish the house to use the land for construction. 

There are several points to challenge this:

1. The present railway was built in l889, fifty years before the Nairobi National Park came into existence which used the railway line as its border. As there were no blasting materials at the time, the Railway line meanders around stone outcrops. The SG railway should stay on the railway reserve but it needs to straighten the old colonial line for the 21st century train and should be allowed to do so.

2. The SG railway can be built on a platform so that wild animals can pass freely below it. This would not require any additional land, just a leeway to pass through park land as is already being planned through Tsavo National Park by the same SG railway.

3. The families living along the border of the Nairobi National Park have all occupied these lands for over 40 years. These borderlands provide a bulwark to protect the park from unwanted structures, poaching, sewage, lights and noise. To take these lands would not only be an environmental disaster but would cost taxpayers huge amounts for compensation. Whereas if the SG railway remains on the present railway route the costs for construction, including the platforms, would be paid by the contractor, not the public.

4. The existing route would provide passengers with sweeping views of the park, as well as preserve the borderlands along the park for other uses that are compatible with the Nairobi National Park.

When asked about the possibility of reconstructing the house elsewhere, Donovan says he may move the Murumbi collection to California. However, this vast collection of African art and artifacts should remain in Africa, where it belongs with the African people. 

What you can do: Sign this petition to the President of Kenya.

Read more at Daily Nation.

A music therapy interview with Claudia Nicastro

Research shows that music affects our creativity and productivity. A series of experiments has investigated the relationship between the playing of background music during the performance of repetitive work and the efficiency in such a task. The results show that there is a positive economic benefit for the music industry. Conversely, absorbing and remembering information is best done with the music off, suggests a 2010 study published in Applied Cognitive Psychology.

Another interesting research at Stanford university, in California, has recently revealed a molecular basis for the Mozart Effect, but not other music. Dr. Rauscher and her colleague H. Li, a geneticist, have discovered that rats, like humans, perform better on learning and memory tests after listening to a specific Mozart sonata. The Mozart effect suggests that listening to certain kind of music -- Amadeus Wolfgang's classical works in particular -- impacts and boosts one's spatial-temporal reasoning, or the ability to think long-term, more abstract solutions to logical problems that arise.

Talking about Mozart, or other great classical composers, like Antonio Vivaldi, Giuseppe Verdi, Béla Bartók, Joseph Haydn, George Gershwin, Carl Orff and Franz Schubert among others, there are kids that are training with these composers on a daily basis. Claudia told me the other day.

Claudia is a music therapist who works with children with disabilities. She guides them in the knowledge of musical instruments ( violin, cello, drums, piano, small percussions, harp, marimba, contrabass) , by teaching them to play together in an orchestra, creating a perfect harmony of sounds and putting together a marvelous sequence of chords. Claudia follows children for three years and monitors their path and progress in music through this period. The health benefits associated with playing music are palpable: firstly, children develop a higher ability to express themselves and their inner emotions. Through music then, which is a non-verbal communication tool, children also develop their ability to interact and socialize with the other members of the orchestra, which puts them in a socialization space where their listening, concentration, precision, determination, creativity, empathy, patience and attention level skills increase due to their full participation and contribution to a "bigger picture" framework (the orchestra) where they will be playing together. The final outcome is to learn about common rules in order to reach a final result, where every single member of the group contributes to the success of the entire orchestra.

The emotional intelligence of the children evolve and enable them to live together. Overcoming differences and barriers, listening to others and being empathic to who surrounds us makes us greater human beings.

Curious about this learning methodology, I asked Claudia what her greatest achievement was when she looked at "her" children. "Resonance, that is -- the ability to get in touch with the outside world- is key in children' development" -- she continued. Self knowledge is the first path to their health improvements. Through music, they start a journey of both self discovery and discovery of other people, along with a discovery of music. They learn to control their emotions and , as in musical terms, they "modulate" ( in music modulation is the act of changing from one scenario to another one) them according to the orchestra needs. In this way they fully listen to both themselves and other people' needs as they learn to enter their "musical world" (when they "get in touch" with people and their inner music).

The line between music and mind is very subtle here. I imagined us like giant worlds with headphones on. Our headphones are of different colors, shapes and form though and, of course, they are playing different songs. The amaziness comes here: when we "get in touch" with another person (another world) , we do not stop listening to our songs in the headphones, but instead we can choose to share songs with others. A new paradigm of exchange, sharing, mixing and listening takes place. New songs are created. New relations are established. New emotions are felt.

Do you remember the iPod people dancing commercial? Think different ( as Steve Jobs encouraged us) Think that they all decide, this time in synchrony, to dance, listen and sing a new playlist of shared songs.


Photo credit: Apple Inc.

With a nod to the films Rebecca and Mildred Pierce, not to mention a sly reference to The Glass Menagerie, entertaining camp has scored again. Drop Dead Perfect by Erasmus Fenn, starring downtown actor Everett Quinton, is a clever send-up of movie queens and 1950s' melodrama.

Now at the Theater at St. Clement's, Drop Dead Perfect is fast-paced and funny. Set in 1952, Quinton plays Idris Seabright, an eccentric matron of a Key West estate, whose ward Vivien (a terrific Jason Edward Cook) and Cuban nephew Ricardo (Jason Cruz), double as the Lucy and Ricky of Florida.

Vivien, the victim of an overbearing Idris, has artistic ambitions, while Ricardo, a hot Latin boy with his own agenda, stirs up the household in unforeseen ways.

Idris, a rather demented grand dame, given to quoting her deceased sea captain father's off-the-wall remarks -- "I know how many beans make five!" -- is forever changing her sizable will. Obsessed with stillness, she wreaks havoc on loved ones, while hiding various family scandals and secrets.

The tale, narrated by Michael Keyloun, has a wonderfully overheated quality, thanks to a strong ensemble and Joe Brancato's lively direction. Paying homage to the outrageousness of Charles Ludlam's Ridiculous Theatrical Company, Drop Dead Perfect parodies pop culture from the '40s to the '60s with a keen eye and tongue-in-cheek naughtiness.

First done at the charming Penguin Rep Theatre in Stony Point, NY, the production utilizes Quinton's gift for oversized performances as he channels Joan Crawford, joined by a sexy Cruz, versatile Cook and even-keeled Keyloun. Sound designer William Neal's love of Laura-themed music, coupled with a perfect set by James J. Fenton, ensures the comedy clicks.

Drop Dead Perfect is delicious summer fare.

Photo: Ed McCarthy

The American View: It would be so great to be working in a European arts institution. After all, those organizations get such a large portion of their budget from the government; I have heard that some arts organizations get 70 percent of their budget from one government grant. That would be so easy and I would not have to worry about fundraising at all. In fact, a lot of them don't even have to worry about ticket sales either. That is why they can be so adventuresome in their programming and can do so much avant garde work. It doesn't matter to them if they don't sell any tickets since their government subsidies are so huge. Then they look down their noses at us for being so conventional -- it isn't fair. You try balancing the budget without a big chunk of government funds! And they don't need to engage their board members the way we do. If we don't get our board members raising money we won't make our fundraising targets for the year. In fact, I can only get a few of my board members to raise anything. The others are too busy or too uninvolved to help. I spend so much of my time mounting galas, lunching with prospects, cultivating donors. Is this why I decided to work in the arts world? It would be so great to work in France or Germany or anywhere in Europe, really. All I would have to do is focus on making the art that I want to make.

The European View: It would be so great to work in an American arts organization. Everyone there is used to giving to the arts. Everyone is so rich there that they can afford to contribute to their favorite arts institutions. I have heard of people giving up to $100 million to a single arts organization! It must be wonderful to have board members who are so generous and raise so much money for their organizations. I don't know why they are so conservative with their programming, however. With all that money they don't really have to worry about money, do they? Not like here where our government subsidy is falling every year and we have to scrape together the money we need just to survive. I can do almost no forward planning since I can only plan my art after I learn what the government is going to give me this year. It was so great a decade ago when I could count on a large government grant each year. Now I have to worry about ticket sales and expense control and finding new sources of revenue. I have to go to one seminar on fundraising after another and I know none of that stuff will work here. My audience members are not Americans and they simply won't give to the arts. And one board member had the nerve to suggest we consider mounting more populist shows to build our revenue. Imagine that!

With their backs to the wall, creative artists are struggling to come to terms with the forces of gentrification that are altering their lives beyond recognition.  So, in a sense, it's no surprise to find a playwright wrestling with this subject, which after all, touches many of them personally.  On the other hand, probably
due to the complexities of the issues surrounding rent control, eviction proceedings, social engineering, city corruption, etc., there haven't been many attempts.  That's why Between Riverside and Crazy, a new play by the Atlantic Theatre Company, represents a real act of courage by playwright Stephen Adly Guirgis.  Handily defeating the dark, depressing nature of the subject matter, the play was hilariously funny, poignant, and infinitely enjoyable.  Clocking in at just under two hours, the time went by in a flash.  After the intermission, as an attempt is made to move the plot forward, the play becomes both less funny and less believable at the same time.  However, the first act alone is well worth the price of admission.

The play opens in the kitchen of the rent stabilized apartment of the main character, "Pops," an elderly retired cop played by Stephen McKinley Henderson.  Having lost his wife a year ago, Pops is in poor health, he drinks a lot, and he's fallen prey to his middle-aged son and his son's no-account friends, an air-headed prostitute and a drug-addled thug who live in the apartment rent-free.  Ominously, Pops has been ignoring court summonses from his landlord.  To further complicate matters, Pops's old NYPD partner and her corrupt upper-brass fiancé arrive to try to talk Pops into accepting a settlement in his lawsuit against the city.  For Pops, it turns out, was disabled when a white cop, in an apparently racist incident, shot him in a bar eight years before.

The actors are uniformly good, especially Stephen McKinley Henderson who, as Pops, an irascible, Fred Sanford-like old curmudgeon, ranges from mirth to righteous anger,  dominating the play seemingly effortlessly--scarcely moving from his dead wife's wheelchair--and is a joy to behold.  Hopefully we'll be seeing a lot more of him.  Michael Rispoli, of Sopranos fame, gave a typically fine performance.  Victor Almanzar as Oswaldo the confused drug addict, and Rosal Colon as the chipper, dippy prostitute, also excelled in their roles.

The set, by designer Walt Spangler, is impressive: with the high ceilings, the ornate moldings, the tubular steel table and chairs, the accumulation of bric-a-brac, it really looked like an old pre-war apartment that someone had been living in for decades.  My favorite touch is the apparently authentic glass-fronted art deco kitchen cabinets.

One of my few quibbles with the play is that, while admittedly still in previews, the plot is a bit convoluted, requiring some contortionists tricks at the end to pull all the elements together and then to tie up the loose ends.  The reasons for Pops's eviction aren't really well spelled out, either.  It's suggested that he is being accused of violating the terms of his lease by harboring criminals engaged in shady enterprises--but whether this would be enough to evict an elderly, disabled former cop from a rent stabilized apartment that he had occupied for three decades, is open to debate.  There's also a few vague hints that the police, who want Pops to settle his lawsuit, may be colluding with the landlord in some way.  And maybe that happens sometimes.  But they'd also have to fix things with the courts and the various housing agencies.  The logic of gentrification and eviction sometimes seems so arbitrary, so unfair, and so counterproductive and absurd that, for anyone not well up on the issues, it probably does just seem like it's all controlled by the fiat of "The City"--or by some vast conspiracy of corrupt politicians and greedy developers.

In any event, everyone who cares about the state of our nation's great cities, and in particular New York, should see this play, if for no other reason than to laugh in order to keep from crying.

Opening July 31, 2014.

Limited Engagement through August 16, 2014

Atlantic Theater Company at the Linda Gross Theater (336 West 20th Street)

Arab art is hitting the global art world with the force of a haboob, a summer sandstorm. A lot of the credit goes to Edge of Arabia. The initiative is the brainchild of two artists, Stephen Stapleton (British/Norwegian) and Ahmed Mater, (Saudi Arabian). Both shared a common desire "to create a real artistic movement inside Saudi Arabia that also connected with the outside world." Stephen and Ahmed were later supported by fellow Saudi artist Abdulnasser Gharem.

This group of artists decided to challenge the collusion at that time, both in the Gulf and the West, between artists, market forces, elite groups, and a government intent on sustaining the status quo. They wanted to test a new system which would have more independence and, ultimately, more "soft power."

Stephen and Ahmed met at the Al Meftaha Arts Village in 2003 in Abha, the capital of Asir province in Saudi Arabia. In 2004, they conceived of Edge of Arabia as a border-crossing collaboration and artistic movement. They developed the collective over five years. In 2008, supported by the Jameel Family amongst others, they co-curated the first ever international exhibition of contemporary art from Saudi Arabia. The exhibition was staged at the Brunei Gallery in London.

Their efforts have paid off. In 2009, Eight Saudi artists exhibited at the 53rd Venice Biennale. The collective followed that up with a world tour: "Grey Borders/Grey Frontiers," in Berlin and "TRANSiTION," in Istanbul, both in 2010. In 2011 they staged "Terminal" to coincide with Art Dubai. Later that year, they staged "The Future of a Promise," the first pan-Arab exhibition as part of the 54th Venice Biennale; and in 2012, they presented a provocative public exhibition of Saudi contemporary art in Jeddah called "We Need to Talk". Since then they have returned to East London for #COMETOGETHER (2012) and last year presented a new generation of Saudi artists in Venice with RHIZOMA.

Based between Battersea, London and Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, Edge of Arabia maintains creative independence without government funding. With its exhibitions, educational programs, and publications, it seeks to foster new audiences and cultivate global understanding of Middle Eastern art and culture. It also serves to inspire young artists to develop independent and authentic practices and to collaborate across borders.

Edge of Arabia has embarked on a multi-year tour of the United States in partnership with Art Jameel. The tour brings Middle Eastern artists to the USA through events and exhibitions -- introducing them to american audiences and fostering cross-cultural dialogue. Along with bringing artists to FotoFest in Houston (March 2014), Edge of Arabia has also partnered with the ISCP in Brooklyn to support a three month artist residency with the Foundland Collective and Taysir Batniji -- and with the Rothko Chapel for a multi-disciplinary event in September.

Mater's work is currently part of the "Here and Elsewhere" exhibition at the New Museum in Manhattan.

This conversation with co-founder Ahmed Mater will discuss his thoughts on the origins of Edge of Arabia, the recent popularity of Arab art, the challenges that Saudi artists face, and the Saudi art scene.

JS: For starts, where does the phrase Edge of Arabia come from, especially the Edge bit?

AM: In 2003, we had a common concern against the backdrop in that moment in history, that artists were too much part of the system from advertising, artists too much in system of Government. We were also against the war at this time in Iraq. Our concern at this time was to give artists a voice in different issues: in the socio-political and economic context behind this time of conflict and transformation. We aspired to influence our societies. To have a part in transforming it.

We were the first generation in this region to be connected through technology. We were the first Internet generation. We wanted to position ourselves as protagonists in this moment in history. We felt so much on the periphery of the main conversation at that time. For example, Stephen, myself, and a group of friends were discussing a recent edition of National Geographic that had a feature on the Kingdom. On its cover was a sword-wielding Saudi prince, while inside were photos of veiled women in malls, camel markets and the urban youth in fast cars. The article was called "Kingdom on Edge." I asked Stephen what the word "edge" meant in this context. We began to talk about ways of turning it around and using it in a positive rather than a pejorative sense. Being in Abha, we were on the edge of the country. Contemporary art was at the periphery, or edge, of what you would expect to read about from Saudi Arabia, and so Edge of Arabia seemed to encapsulate what we wanted to do by raising the profile of Saudi contemporary art. Stephen and I committed there and then to build a project under that title.

JS: You met Stephen shortly after 9/11. How did events of that day influence your decision to create Edge of Arabia?

AM: We were the same age and met in 2003; at that time the real formal reaction and impact to 9/11 was only just becoming evident. We were in some ways children of that event and all the reactions that happened afterwards. We were interested in the idea that voices from the periphery at that time might become voices at the center. And that centers of energy and history were shifting and being replaced by places that used to be on the edge.

Along with the horrific loss of life in that moment and in the wars that followed, we know what the real financial cost of 9/11 was. For example, a recent New York Times article estimates "that Al Qaeda spent roughly half a million dollars to destroy the World Trade Center and cripple the Pentagon. What has been the cost to the United States? In a survey of estimates by The New York Times, the answer is $3.3 trillion, or about $7 million for every dollar Al Qaeda spent planning and executing the attacks."

JS: Does Edge of Arabia have a primary audience?

AM: Because we were grassroots and cared a lot about the cultural narrative of our time, we have always been part of the audience. We presented things that we would be interested in ourselves. We were interested in the idea of accessibility and "common". We were learning and educating ourselves through the process of developing the project. We were part of the primary audience and we did not necessarily expect other people to be interested.

We have built an interactive audience in order to create dialogue: there were those we connected with directly: who came to our exhibitions, or passed through our education programmes. We have had over 300,000 people through these activities.

We also have a virtual audience, which has become much more important with the explosion of social media over the past few years. This audience is much bigger and more diverse and includes ordinary people who have watched reports on the project and its artists through news articles or online. These might include a farmer in Kansas, a musician in Tokyo and a teacher in Yemen. We believe in the potential of our project as a storytelling democracy. We estimate to have reached a much larger audience through this virtual storytelling. This is why we try and push the story and virtual archive as much as we do physical events.

JS: Creating a formal infrastructure for Edge of Arabia, you emphasized art education for all grade levels. We're really talking two things here. There's Edge of Arabia's educational efforts for the rest of the world. There's also your educational efforts in Saudi Arabia. What are the similarities, differences, and challenges of both? How do you think your efforts will encourage young Saudi artists working at home and abroad?

AM: We wanted our grassroots story to give hope for those around us and, especially, to inspire the new generation to start moving. Grassroots has to start with education. Internally and externally, education and information about Saudi art is a "blind spot." When we started Edge of Arabia, there was little information or opportunity for outside audiences to learn about what was happening in Saudi. There was also no foundation of archive or books on which to form any continuous narrative of our artistic development. Religious education is very, very strong in Saudi Arabia, both in the home and in the school and the mosque. The imam was the most important teacher in Saudi. The most important voice at that time was the religious teacher (and not the celebrity like in the west). There was a need to develop the cultural side of teaching.

JS: How do you fund your shows? I see you get support from the Abdul Latif Jameel Community Initiatives in Jidda and from Arraaj Capital in Dubai. Is there progress being made for government support?

AM: From 2003-2008 we funded the project ourselves and developed the project hand to mouth. Our main supporter since 2008 has been Fady Jameel of Art Jameel. We have also had support from other sponsors but it has always been individuals behind these organisations that believed in us. The artists also supported the project through sale of work to raise funds for exhibitions, for example, when we first went to Venice in 2009 the artists raised half the funds for that show.

JS: Arab art is suddenly getting a lot of attention. Why do you think that is? What had to change? Is it timing? For instance, could you have had the same success with Edge of Arabia had you started it ten years earlier?

AM: Usually art follows social/political tension. This leads to better understanding. International attention after 9/11 led to a big spotlight for the Arab world. 100 years after the colonial carve up of the Middle East and imposed control from outside, there was a need for change. The time was right at the beginning of the 21st century to start something different and significant. The political changes in the region demanded that artists wake up. Many factors changed: the Internet, mobility, links to the outside ... but most important the time was right for a break from the past in an attempt to release the full potential of artists as change makers in this society and between this society and the rest of the world. I am working at the center of the Islamic world, in Makkah, every day. The changes in this city will affect every Muslim community across the world. So what the artists are doing is both significant in terms of history but also art history

JS: You once said "Saudi artists want to talk. I think the world should listen." If they could speak with one collective voice, what would they say?

AM: They would say we are frustrated of being presented without our voice. The Saudi artists are eager to get involved in a conversation with the world. They would say: "we need to talk". Having said that, we need to work together towards an environment in which we can develop a collective memory ... not a collective voice. It is artist's job to not have a collective voice but to offer multiple perspectives. Without conflict. To build our authentic voice and then to test these ideas against society.

JS: How would your characterize Saudi art? Does there seem to be a prevalent medium, subject matter, themes? What about the balance between esthetics, politics, religion, and history? I read somewhere that Saudi art tends to be hybrid, the better to reflect a fluid society. Do you agree?

AM: Generally, it's the same as any art scene: there are shared concerns and shared aesthetics that come from our local context and our moment in the global history. There is a problem in defining the "Saudi" art scene within a western art history frame. Our scene is emerging, it's nascent, and history will tell if it is important. It is not for us. What people see outside is very different what is happening inside.

JS: Co-founder Abdulnasser Gharem says "I come from a background of bureaucracy, not democracy." Artistically, how do Saudi artists respond to bureaucracy?

AM: They negotiate it with creativity and patience and more negotiation. They negotiate it creatively, from the artist's point of view. Artists have a very important role in negotiating bureaucracy because they can approach situations with a different frame of mind. Democracy is not our aspiration. It is not our role. We are looking for something else. It is not a contract. It is very shallow to think about Saudi becoming democratic ... even across the Middle East. This is an American project. And it has not negotiated with the societies where it is trying to implement this. Artists can play an important role here in helping to imagine new systems. It's like TV, a game of democracy. Be involved in the development. Artists should be involved in the opportunity to shape change. Not just to be critical of it.

JS: You come from a turbulent region. How do you think Saudi art reflects this change? Do you think art has a role to play in Saudi society?

AM: Art is performing a very important role in Saudi. It is as a mirror to ourselves, helping us imagine things from different angles and perspectives, so we might make better choices as a society

JS: How do you balance artistic expressive freedom and living in a strict, religious-oriented society? Saudi Arabia is ruled under Sharia law by the al-Saud royal family. There are powerful, influential and conservative clerics, there no legislature and no political parties. King Abdullah encourages dialogue among his subjects. Yet theatre and cinema are banned and artists can't openly criticize the government. The Ministry of Culture and Information has to approve work that's displayed. How do artists get around that? Do you think it's makes them innovative? I'm thinking that, in this respect, Saudi artists employ the same strategies of humor and irony as their Russian Cold War counterparts.

AM: We are a product of our complex society and culture. We cannot resist that. We take the position of cultural activists, negotiating all the complexities of our situation, and using the tools we have, which include humor and irony and visual impact. We are also part of a wider network of activists within our own society (both within the system and outside of it) and internationally. It is more interesting to be an artist surrounded by challenges like ours than to be an artist surrounded by too much choice and unrestricted opportunity.

JS: In a profound and reverberating statement, Stephen Stapleton said, "In Britain, we have the power to say anything, do anything, so as an art-consuming public we've become blasé. In Saudi Arabia, art still has tremendous power." What is the power of Saudi art?

AM: The power to create new perspectives and broaden possibilities. This is a very urgent matter in our society. The Arabian Peninsula is a very important historical place. For example, the recent Roads to Arabia exhibition and the Hajj exhibition both showed the centrality of this place in the development of global trade, ideas and religions. Now the contemporary artists are re-imagining this place. For example, my Desert of Pharan project is looking at the unofficial histories behind the transformation of Makkah (the most visited and most exclusive place on earth). So our power, as Saudi artists, is directly related to our access to this place in this moment in history.

JS: Let's talk about the challenges that Saudi artists face at home. How do Saudi women artists fare at home?

AM: The women still have many challenges with their freedom in Saudi Arabia. My wife is an artist and I can see how it is more difficult for her than for me; to move around, to access places, to get support. Having said that, there are many women artists in Saudi and they are brave and deserve our support. They are challenging many things.

JS: What about limited exposure to Western art via shows or publications?

AM: Artists are traveling and studying abroad more than ever. The younger generation is also researching a lot on the Internet. But there is very little direct exposure to Western art within Saudi because of the lack of exhibitions, specialist libraries, art critics and curators.

JS: Publically or in private, are there dialogues about art's role?

AM: Yes. In independent spaces: like Ibn Aseer, U-Turn, Tesami, Telfaz 11. And especially on the Internet, Twitter, and Facebook.

JS: What is art education like in Saudi Arabia?

AM: There are art in schools in Saudi but the curriculum is not relevant to the society, especially to the new globalised generation. There are no art schools at a University level but things are changing within some private universities who are developing art courses within faculties of design and architecture. This is a good way to develop in our context.

The main challenge will be to develop a relevant curriculum that draws both on local cultural and civic identity and positions the Middle Eastern art history within the international canon.

JS: Can Saudi artists at home make a living selling their work?

AM: Very few ...

JS: What are the biggest challenges for Saudi artists and art students abroad? Stereotyping? Xenophobia?

AM: In the 70's, during Saudi's economic boom, artists began to study abroad, mainly in Europe, and this led to a tension within the Saudi art scene between local identity and modernism. This was clear in the literature and cinema and TV programmes of that time. After 1979, Saudi became more closed because of a religious awakening which swept the country. During this time Saudi artists lost their connection with the outside world.

After 9/11 and with the introduction of the Internet, a new generation of artists began to connect with the outside world again, both physically (through independent platforms like Edge of Arabia) and virtually. This is the foundation of the new movement. We are now negotiating our position in the international cultural conversation, and with that comes great opportunities and tensions as you mention.

JS: At present, how would you characterize the Saudi art scene?

AM: Energetic. Hopeful but still disconnected. There is much work to do but there are many good people committed to developing the scene.

JS: Do you have a critical tradition, as we have in the West?

AM: Of course, but it's more focused on literature and cultural practices specific to our society. Cultural activism has a long tradition in Saudi Arabia.

JS: Are there any notable collectors?

AM: Yes, both individuals in the Middle East, Europe and America and institutions like The British Museum, LACMA, Centre Pompidou, The Smithsonian Institute, et cetera.

JS: What gap do you think the King Abdulaziz Center for World Culture, a Saudi Aramco initiative, will fill?

AM: It is a new thing and the society is waiting to see what will happen.

We are full of nervous optimism about the potential of these new institutions to interact with the real movement that can be part of the change needed in this society.

At the same time we are aware and respectful of the constellation of entities and individuals that create art, that experience it, and that build and maintain the arts infrastructure in this country. This includes the individuals and public and private sector institutions that support the arts, for and non-profit organizations that provide support and venues for artists, the artists themselves who interpret the world around them and create works of art, and the general public, which participates in and supports the arts movement.

JS: There's a famous quote by Winston Churchill that concludes, in a wholly different context, "we are at the end of the beginning." Along those lines, Stephen Stapleton has said "I think the exhibition in Jeddah is the end of a chapter, and it feels as if the original vision has been fulfilled. We set out to create a bridge between Saudi artists and the art world." If that's indeed the case, what now?

AM: Now is the beginning of a new chapter. But the traveler cannot STOP, so the journey continues to be the destination. It is important to establish and archive the story so far (from 2003 to now) and we want to build on it into the future in many ways. The journey that we started is now influencing others. It is not just a physical journey to different parts of the world; it is also a spiritual journey towards artistic and cultural awakening ... towards a new way of cultural sharing.

"Water is another matter, it has no direction but its own bright grace..." --Pablo Neruda

WATER WORKS at Ojai's Porch Gallery.


The Dark Bob.

Water is an emblem of fluidity in the material world. In dream analysis, water is a common Jungian metaphor for the subconscious mind. Its various naturally occurring and familiar man-made forms -- rivers, lakes, oceans; rain, dew, puddles; swimming pools, faucets, fountains; waterfalls, brooks, tall cold glasses to drink -- and its various states of calm, agitation, storminess, damming-up; cleanliness, darkness, dirtiness, purity; scarcity, gentleness, power, depth, and danger indicate a range of emotions from fear to fertility, inspiration, exuberance, soaring serenity, and existential unrest. Dreaming these factors reveals an understanding of one's basic state of being. Painting with water is a little like that, too.


Fatemeh Burnes.

Water-based paints, inks, and dyes find their level, following water's laws which despite the pigments' duties as studio materials are in fact the laws of nature. Direct, immediate, nuanced, and responsive to the artist's hand, water-based mediums defy attempts at revision, demanding that the artist work quickly and intuitively, and be acutely present in the moment. These Water-Workers deploy their materials in a diverse array of styles; some embrace the chaos, some set themselves a challenge of directing it. But all are drawn to water's ineluctably lively physicality; and all have made their peace with getting wet and messy.


Jayme Odgers.



WATER WORKS is curated by Juri Koll, and features a group of artists who, "use watercolor, inks, and other liquid media for a variety of reasons...". Open through August 17 at Porch Gallery, Ojai.

Conformity isn't for everyone. Some kids are quickly tagged with the label "Does not play well with other children." Others grow up to become introverts, recluses, or people who see no need to keep up with the Joneses.

If any character in literature lives up to the description of a true eccentric, it is the sad and lonely woman created by Charles Dickens who, on her wedding day, was jilted by her fiancé. Humiliated beyond any hope of repairing her reputation, from that day forward she remained in her mansion, clad in her wedding dress and wearing only one shoe.

In 1977, composer Dominick Argento was commissioned by the New York City Opera to write a new opera for Beverly Sills. By the time Miss Havisham's Fire received its world premiere on March 22, 1979, Sills was close to retirement and about to become the General Director of the New York City Opera. As a result, the younger Miss Havisham was sung by Gianna Rolandi and the older Miss Havisham by Rita Shane.

As part of its effort to promote a new, made-for-television version of Great Expectations, publicists for the BBC dressed up five fashion models as Miss Havisham and sent them roaming around London's Underground.



Photo by: Drama/Tim Anderson


Though they are easily misunderstood, eccentrics are not necessarily tragic figures. While some may eventually be diagnosed with varying degrees of autism, others may be savants or have a spectrum of rare gifts. Those who are incapable of recognizing their potential at an early age might describe such children as:

• The runt of the litter.


• Marching to their own drummer.


• A horse of another color.


• Not playing with a full deck of cards.


• Someone who must have fallen off the turnip truck, or


• "Oy, a fagelah!"

If a gifted child is lucky enough to blossom into adulthood, identify his artistic strengths, and pursue them throughout the course of his life, he may end up with a successful career in the arts. If a professional career was never his goal, he may come to be looked upon as someone with a nice hobby (or a really kooky personality).

Two intriguing documentaries screened at the 2014 SFDocFest focus on remarkable men who, at the very least, would be called eccentric. One re-engineered his youth and worked to forge his artistic destiny from a very early age; the other epitomizes what it means to be a late bloomer.

* * * * * * * * * *

I have enjoyed few documentaries as much as When My Sorrow Died: The Legend of Armen Ra & the Theremin, a feature film dedicated to the antics and artistic vision of a Persian-Armenian free spirit who has garnered as much attention for his wild outfits as for his performance art as a theremin soloist.



Theremin virtuoso Armen Ra


Born in Tehran to a father who worked for Iran Air, a mother who was a concert pianist (and with an aunt who was an opera singer), Armen was lucky enough to travel the world on frequent vacations when he was a child. A precocious little boy, he delighted in sewing the costumes for his puppet shows and displayed a florid imagination which, as he grew, was applied to crafting his exotic persona.



Armen Ra



When political unrest in Iran caused his family to relocate to America, Armen was frequently bullied at school. He quickly decided that he had nothing in common with his classmates and soon found his way to New York City, where he began a new chapter of his life as a somewhat androgynous club kid, drag queen, drug addict, and alcoholic.

In 2001, Armen began to study the theremin, subsequently making his professional debut with Antony & The Johnsons. Released by Bowl & Fork Records in 2010, his debut solo CD ("Plays The Theremin") showcases classical Armenian laments and folk songs (his earliest musical influences).



Poster art for When My Sorrow Died


What makes Robert Nazar Arjoyan's film so entertaining is that its subject loves the camera almost as much as the camera loves Armen Ra. Whether preening at home like a 1940s femme fatale or performing live in concert, Armen is very much his own creation. If he occasionally needs to take a temporary job in a Los Angeles department store, that comes with the burden of having transformed himself into a fantastic creature who, at the very least, is a legend in his own mind.

Don't believe me? Check out the following trailer. This film is a real piece of work!





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A resident of Saco, Maine, Al Carbee was a World War II x-ray technician who spent many years as a commercial photographer and portrait painter. Few, if any locals knew about his work as a collage artist with a fetish for Barbie dolls. As the artist notes: "Every Barbie is different. Every Barbie has a theme. I photograph her so that every situation she's in, she feels comfortable."

In 1997, when Jeremy Workman was vacationing in Maine, he spoke to a friend who was a reporter for the Biddeford-Saco-OOB Courier. It was then that Aaron Smith insisted Workman to take an extra day to visit Carbee before returning to New York. "Ask him about his art," urged Smith.

That fateful phone call led to a decade-long friendship between Carbee, Workman, and the filmmaker's girlfriend (Astrid von Ussarwhich). Following Carbee's death in 2005 at the age of 89, Workman finally completed his documentary entitled Magical Universe.




Artist Al Carbee with some of his Barbie dolls


In his film, Workman details the growth of his friendship with Carbee (who also raised and sold guppies to locals) and his ongoing fascination with Carbee's immense collection of the man's strange works of art. Because of his New England accent, there are times when Carbee sounds like the Bizarro-world's counterpart to Bill Cunningham (the beloved fashion photographer for The New York Times),




One of Al Carbee's Barbie collages.


Although there are moments when the quality of film could be better, Workman has done a splendid job of capturing Carbee's childlike wonder about the process of creativity, his identity as an artist, and the joy he derives from his art. The story of how Carbee's work ended up being exhibited at the Saco Museum in honor of their "local artist" has a rare charm that would never be found in a big-city museum installation. Here's the trailer:





To read more of George Heymont go to My Cultural Landscape

Miss July, from M.D. Coverely's "Fukushima Pinup Calendar"

Each year writers, critics and scholars of "born digital" literature congregate at the Electronic Literature Organization conference. The latest, hosted in June by the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee, featured a juried, interactive show of works by an international array of both well-known writers (Judy Malloy, Steve Tomasula, Stephanie Strickland and Judd Morrissey) as well as newcomers as part of a "first encounters" online gallery.

As Kathi Inman Berens notes in her curatorial statement, this show embodies a current trend in e-lit away from self-confined browser-based work. Instead, many of the pieces cross into the material world by employing the user or author's own body, combining digital with physical texts or objects, or by intersecting with "real world" systems.

Christian Ulrik Andersen, Jonas Fritsch and Soren Bro Pold's, delightful "Ink After Print" illustrates all three kinds of material intersection. Installed previously in public libraries, the piece asks writer/readers to "navigate" an onscreen "page" using one of three wooden "books", each of which is connected to a database of writings by Danish poet Pete-Clement Woetmann. By rotating, lifting or lowering the book object, users capture phrases on the screen. The resultant poem can printed out on a little piece of paper resembling a library book slip for the patron to take home or share with others.


Screenshot of "Ink After Print"

In Abraham Avninsan's kinetic poem, "Collocation", depending on how a user moves an iPad in space, different words within physicist Neils Bohr's essay on complementarity (the way an observing instrument in part determines what is observed) become highlighted. Avninsan's process is a digitally mediated act of intimacy, whereby the user's movements reveal human(e) "sub-texts" which are not computer generated, but chosen purposefully by the author.


"Collocations"

Several works employ physical movements of the author or dancer to create works. These include Catherine Siller's, transcendent "Not Not 0.1", which documents her dance duet with semi-transparent images of herself and text, and Eric Suzanne's awkward wrangling with an overhead projector and solo dance in his performance of "The Obsolete Book in a Post-Obsolete World as Represented by a Post-Obsolete Book About Dance".

Virtual reality is the newest and most comprehensive technology to harness the body for storytelling. Anastasia Salter and John Murray's "View from Within," creates an "infinite" canvas wherein panels of Salter's hand-drawn comic, which visualizes various perspectives of a single moment, December 21st, the date prophesied by the Mayan calendar as the end of the world, are transformed into 3-D spaces. Caitlin Fisher also utilizes a moment of crisis and extends it. In "Cardomom of the Dead", virtual space is transformed into a surreal landscape littered with memories. Although neither work demonstrates what Ian Bogost calls "procedural rhetoric," that is neither directly questions the relationship of material and virtual worlds and bodies in VR, both provide ample evidence of the potential of the medium.


Cartoon from "View From Within"

Rather than specifically harness the reader's body, several works in the show focus on the materiality of the book and text itself. One standout is Amaranth Borsuk, Kate Durbin and Ian Hatcher's exquisite interactive poetry book "Abra" that utilizes special heat-sensitive inks (blow and words temporarily disappear), letterpress text, and "burned" and widening die-cut apertures. The book ends with the glossy surface an iPad that invokes water at the bottom of a well upon which words float by.


"Abra"


Other noteworthy examples include Jeff T. Johnson and Andrew Klobucar's "Letters from the Archiverse" that uses the popular architectural modeling software AutoCAD to create 3-D poems, and Nick Montfort's algorithmic poem "Round", directly addresses both the materiality of the digital. Here, the computer calculates digits of Pi in real-time and replaces them with one of 9 words or a line break, thus creating an endless and ever-slowing poetic engine in which increasing time and energy is required to perform the operations.


Screenshot "Letters from the Archiverse"

"La Separation/Separation" by Pierre Fourny (ALIS Company), Serge Bouchardon and Luc Dall'Armellina (i-Trace Collective) is a charming extended magic trick of a poem that exists both in a Kinect version and tablet version. In the installation I saw, participants choose a folded paper card upon which a word is typed. Through a simple onscreen manipulation, the initial word is halved and one half is removed and another complementary half is added. Thus, for instance, "separation" becomes "perception". Users continue the iteration, creating a kind of poem that plays with the materiality of letters as shapes and meaning through playful juxtaposition.



Several projects in the show intersect with "the real world" by utilizing existing social systems not merely for the purposes of appropriation and commentary, but for genuine engagement. Ben Grosser's courageously subversive Scaremail allows subscribers to have pieces of altered text from Ray Bradbury's sci-fi novel about censorship Fahrenheit 451 added to the bottom of their Gmails. Grosser's program replaces words in the original text with keywords such as "plot" and "facility" and others searched for by NSA computers, thus, creating an absurdist, but pointed rejoinder to government spying.

ScareMail from benjamin grosser on Vimeo.

Equally intriguing is the collaboration between Carolyn Guertin and Katherine Jin. Currently in development, and soon bound for Kickstarter, "Wandering Mei Mei" is "a bilingual interactive fiction app designed primarily for the huge cadre of migrant female workers in China who have left their homes to work in factories. Inspired by the traditional Chinese comic strip, Sanmao Liu Lang Ji (Wandering Sanmao), the female Meimei character, who works in a smart-phone factory, acts as a stand-in for these workers. Using the app, these young women can interact with MeiMei including sending and receiving SMS messages from her, solve puzzles, including QR encoded clues, and can post their own stories at the website.


"Wandering MeiMei" development slide

Inman Berens ends her curatorial statement by emphasizing the paradoxically ephemeral nature of digital literature. Here, she is not only referring to a work's potential obsolescence as devices, coding languages, and interfaces change, but also to the nature of the digital medium itself which is ever read and made anew each time it is called up. Moreover, although we now have the ability to easily store and retrieve information, the pace of information generation is such that our human brains cannot process let alone remember what happened even a few days ago. Thus, the changeability inherent in materiality and an abstract eternal now converge in the digital realm. It is not surprising then that several works in the show directly address the passage of time and the relation of the digital to history and obsolescence.

M.D. Coverley's "Fukushima Pin-Up" acts as a hybrid time-keeping object. Here, different forms of time are combined in the form of a printable calendar that features chimerical images of the recent Fukushima nuclear disaster that have been "prettied up" by the inclusion of World War 2 era pin-up girls thus linking two eras of history. The calendar features daily reminders of already forgotten news headlines about the disaster, the "obsolescence" of these contrasting with the unavoidable longevity of radioactivity.

Dana Coester and Joel Beeson's, "War Poems" began with the serendipitous encounter with a rare book of poetry written by two young black women, Ada and Ethel Peters, while students at the West Virginia Negro Collegiate Institute in 1919. The book both celebrates of the bravery and patriotism of African-American soldiers, and decries their treatment, calling for increased civil rights. The project serves as an interactive digital history centered around these recovered and, now, digitally conserved voices.

While she does not speculate on the causal link between the two, by emphasizing both the shift toward materiality in and the inherent ephemerality of born-digital works, in "Disperse the Light," Inman Behrens demonstrates electronic literature's unique potential to creatively explore and interrogate the critically important relationship between our analog and digital existences.

JOIN ME for two free talks on E-lit:
In Philadelphia on November 12th, I'll be speaking as part of Temple University Tyler School of Art Critical Dialogues Series.
In New York City on December 4th, I'll be part of a two-day symposium on immersive and innovative storytelling at the New School.

The emergence of creative enterprises is one of the fastest growing sectors in the world.


According to a 2013 United Nations Report on The Creative Economy:

"World trade ( in the creative sector) more than doubled from 2002 to 2011; the average annual growth rate during that period was 8.8 per cent"..."growth in developing-country exports of creative goods was even stronger, averaging 12.1 per cent annually over the same period."

Despite the rapidly emerging creative sector, many artists get little if any training in business or entrepreneurship or how to start a creative enterprise. While many universities are trying to remedy this situation by merging the arts broadly defined with their colleges of business, the market for new creative and cultural enterprise is just being more seriously discovered.

Part of the reason is a lack of understanding of how large or important the creative and cultural sector is or can be. Partly it's because launching such enterprises requires tenacity and temperament and the skill set of the entrepreneur.

Tom Aageson, former Executive Director of the New Mexico Museum Foundation is a restless man whose concern with the linkages between culture, creativity, commerce and community far exceed that of the general populace, and is the force behind a new effort to help the creative entrepreneur.

In addition to co-founding the famous International Folk Art Market, helping homeless veterans, funding a struggling Santa Fe school district, supporting artistic endeavors in northern New Mexico (and worldwide), he is also the founder and Executive Director of a relatively new organization: The Global Center for Cultural Entrepreneurs (GCCE), which is deeply involved with training and mentoring creative and cultural entrepreneurs.

Together with Alice Loy (currently Director of Programs) GCCE was established in 2008 in the belief that:

"Creative and cultural entrepreneurs drive global change, create economic value and promote cultural preservation and innovation. They enrich their communities and the world. They generate self-determination and self-reliance."

The GCCE mission supports "the training of creative - cultural entrepreneurs by working to create and scale their enterprises... (advocating) for the importance of creative entrepreneurship and the value of the cultural economy... (and connecting) a global network of creative entrepreneurs."

GCCE came to the realization that "few tools, case studies, texts, or mentoring programs were devoted to supporting creative and cultural entrepreneurs." As a consequence, GCCE has launched the first educational program to teach community leaders how to start creative enterprises, provide ongoing mentoring and help fund the new enterprise if appropriate.

This new educational effort has the financial support of the National Science Foundation, and NM EPSCoR, New Mexico's Experimental Program to Stimulate Competitive Research (NM EPSCoR to build the state's capacity to conduct scientific research. Faculty and students from NM universities and colleges are working to realize New Mexico's potential for sustainable energy development. NM EPSCoR is also cultivating a well-qualified Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics (STEM) workforce and supporting a culture of innovation and entrepreneurship.

Additional partners in the program are the Hyatt Regency Albuquerque, where the "start up accelerator" five day forum is held, "Submittable", a cloud-based online curation platform used by organizations to curate digital content, applications, and film and audio submissions and "dsire", a creative strategy, design & technology company ... and importantly, 34 experts in their field who are mentors in the program.

According to GCCE:

"In addition to teaching core entrepreneurship concepts, Creative-Startups increases your leadership skills, helps you develop your interpersonal communication "toolbox", and connects you with a supportive network and resource set through mentoring and alumni engagement."

They are appealing to people who are passionate about starting a business in "fashion, education, music, film, design, apps for arts, cuisine, architecture, publishing, craft, or performance."

While GCCE encourages a wide range of entrepreneurs to apply, it cautions those who do that "only about 20% of applicants (15-20 startups) will be accepted," and that they "look for entrepreneurs who blur the lines between technology and the creative industries." It includes an intensive 6-part Creative-Startups online entrepreneurship course and materials; an opportunity to compete for a pool of $50,000 in seed investment; and 6 months of Mentoring for Top Finalists.

The fee for attending the forum and for six months of mentoring has been significantly reduced to attract the ideal candidates. Almost everything (except travel) is included such as all materials, 5 days/nights lodging at Hyatt Regency in downtown Albuquerque, and all food, snacks, and beverages. Angel investors will be on hand to provide seed capital if the proposal seems meritorious.

A limited number of scholarships are "available for exceptional applicants whose financial resources preclude their participation" and awarded to applicants who come with creative ideas, vision, and an "expressed financial need for tuition support."

As GCCE asserts, this is only program in the U.S. for creative-cultural entrepreneurs taught by very successful creative-cultural entrepreneurs whose only goal is to have other creative-cultural entrepreneurs succeed.


August 31 is the deadline for applications for the "creative startup" fall program.

I'll spend my whole life long chasing ways to live inside a song.

That line in Trillium's upcoming EP (extended play music album) represents exactly what Janet Krupin and Alex Caraballo hope to accomplish as they aim to revolutionize the dance music scene.

"What makes Trillium different [is that] yes, we're dance music, but we want to be dance music with integrity, with consciousness," Krupin said. "We want our live shows to be that wonderful wellness, tribal experience that I think -- at its best -- dance music is. I want more people to be exposed to that."

Krupin is currently in the Broadway show If/Then starring Idina Menzel, someone Krupin cites as being a powerful inspiration in Krupin's desire to create music. Yet though Krupin may be a "Broadway girl," she wants to do as much as she possibly can with music -- and that included heading to Brooklyn night after night once the Broadway show ended in order to record original music with Caraballo, a law student and musician/producer.

Krupin and Caraballo have a vision of electronic dance music (EDM) that refreshes people through movement and sound, a vision of dance music that leaves people with a cleared mind and increased connection with the universe.

"The anxiety and depression I've battled throughout my life completely evaporates when a song takes you in its arms and hugs you and tells you everything is going to be okay," Krupin said. "I feel safe and happy in songs. And I think other people do too."

Krupin and Caraballo will be performing Trillium's Aurora EP at a release party on July 26 in New York City. But Krupin hopes this is only the beginning of Trillium's desire to revolutionize the world of dance music. She hopes to expose as many people as possible to the healing power of the dance music scene.

"I hope [people] get their heart rate up, smile, and hug your friends [at our live performances]. That's a very eastern thing to do, but it's very allowed and encouraged at these dance music things," Krupin said, "so that's what we're going to do."

Between Krupin's busy Broadway schedule and her work with Trillium, I had the chance to catch up with her last week. Check out the interview below for more information about what Trillium means to Krupin, how the acting industry is like playing bingo, and her advice to aspiring musicians.

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How did you come up with the name "Trillium" and what does it mean to you?
Trillium is a wildflower. I grew up in Washington state around tons of nature, and one [flower] that always stuck out in my head was a trillium because it's a rare flower. I liked how [Trillium] sounded kind of elemental, nuclear almost. And I liked how the word "trill" has kind of entered urban dictionary to mean "true" and "real."

Our Trillium is the opposite of entropy, an element like a benevolent kryptonite. Our logo is called the ScarStar: the mystery and magic in the phenomenon of what was supposed to destroy you, instead making you stronger. A rarity, but with an adrenaline-like potential for growth and power.

How and why did you get interested in the dance music scene?
I grew up in a small town, [and] I was into theater, so that's all my mother took me to. I didn't go to my first real concert until I was 18. I remember every live concert I saw after that was a unique and special and wonderful thing. It was a new kind of magic that I wasn't very used to and totally mystified by.

It wasn't until I was on the road with Bring It On did I think I'd like to make some of this. I didn't [go through with it] until I lost my job last year, barely paying my rent, looking around like "oh my God, this Broadway thing comes and goes, doesn't it?" I wanted to make music and take people on a journey. And I also had a deep desire to try to help people.

How have your experiences working on Broadway influenced your music?

I don't know that any of this would be happening if I hadn't got to sit in the room for three Broadway shows in a row and watch it be born. I think that's a pretty unique perspective that I feel very privileged to have had. Especially since something I felt like I battled coming from the small town that I did, moving to L.A. at 18... it made me have this sense that I was supposed to be timid because I didn't have actual knowledge. I didn't feel like I had permission to create [until] I sat in these rooms [for the Broadway shows] and watched people that I loved and admired have an idea and then the relentless process to make it the best it can be. And I thought, "I have ideas; I think I have something to say that's worth saying."

I'm going to be very honest, I love performing, [so] I find being a swing [on Broadway] a little hard; but on the other hand, if I hadn't had this wonderful job and this warm and encouraging workplace -- which is so rare -- then I don't think that any of this would be possible. It's a lovely work environment here. When you meet someone like Idina Menzel who I've looked up to ever since I heard the Rent cast recording... not only is she a goddess, but she's the nicest. It's utterly inspiring.

You mention on your website that the music community has given you so much and that you want to do more than just to contribute. What has the community given you?
What haven't they given me? I feel fortunate having grown up away from Broadway because the way I was exposed to these stories [was] listening to [Broadway soundtracks] over and over again, [and] pictures would just paint themselves in my head. Music was a key into my imagination. When I was on the road with Bring It On and totally feeling lost -- tour was pretty hard for me, I had never done it before -- being able to put on my headphones [was incredible]. There's something about electronic music that really encourages you to choose your own adventure inside your mind, and that excites me. There's still story there, but there are blanks you're expected to fill in.

The website mentions you and Alex both have faced hardship in your life. What type of healing powers have you found in music?
The experience of those concerts were like the best church I've ever felt. When I go out dancing with my girlfriends, I'm always kind of searching for that -- you close your eyes and you get sweaty and you work through whatever thing has got you entangled. I know that I've seen other people doing that at these concerts too. It happens more with dance music than at another genre. There's like a musical therapy aspect to it that is healing. I feel better after I go to a really great concert, I feel more connected to universe, I feel more connected to my fellow man, and I feel more connected to myself and what I want to be and manifest.

If you had any advice to young people or people hoping to break into the music scene as you have, what would it be?
There's this thing in the industry where you have to wait for a job to come. It's cosmic bingo. You get a card, and half your numbers are filled in (you were born here, you are this tall, you have this color of eyes).You get to fill in the other half of the card (I took singing lessons, I went to dance classes, I made it to New York). You still have to wait for the industry to call N39 before you call a Bingo. But you could spend your whole life waiting for them to call N39.

If you're in an industry that demands that you wait for them to call N39, the best thing you can possibly do for yourself and for the community that built you is to start playing Connect Four. What are you good at? What do you love doing? What makes you happy? And just start doing it. Don't wait for permission.

Join Janet Krupin and Alex Caraballo at Trillium's Aurora E.P. Release Party at Iron Bar (45th and 8th) in New York City on July 26 at 11 p.m.

Be sure to follow Janet Krupin and Trillium on Twitter to stay up-to-date with their music!

Photo Courtesy of: JWNY 2014

If you grew up in Southern California during the 80's and 90's, and were exposed to street gangs and violence anywhere from San Diego to San Luis Obispo, you might have remembered that summers were some of the most violent periods. Famous gangster rappers like Snoop Dog, Ice Cube, Mack 10, and D.J. Quik all mentioned something to the effect of the oppressive summer eras, like the killing seasons in certain neighborhoods. People would hear more gun shots at night and gang members walked around their neighborhoods in the daytime wearing brown-colored gardening gloves to avoid fingerprints on their guns. The visual is so stark in my mind---bald heads, white t-shirts, shrink-to-fit Levis, white sneakers, and the ever-famous "brownies" on people's hands. Recently I started listening to a band called "Prayers" from San Diego, who recently released an album titled "Gothic Summer." The album itself is a trajectory of the survival mechanisms and philosophical tools needed in order to have survived such a lifestyle. In Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan, he maintains that in a state of war, life is nasty, brutish, and short. That is the condensed version of the quote and since being part of a street gang organization is the equivalent to adopting a social contract, it couldn't be more true for gang members.

Prayers' front man, Rafael Reyes, has been described physically as a cross somewhere between Dave Gahan of Depeche Mode and Tupac Shakur. Short in stature, Rafael carries himself like a giant with scattered gang tattoos all over his body and the piercing eyes of someone who has endured long-term strife. And like Dave Gahan, he's definitely the rebirth of cool with his dark sunglasses, earrings, gothic necklaces, vintage cowboy boots with intricate detail, onstage without a shirt while he dances to the sound of a minimalist, dark wave, kill wave synthesizer. The term "Cholo goth" has been thrown around for their heavy use of dark keyboard influence and contradictory street narratives that are often romantically devastating. Quite fitting and introspective for the message being conveyed. The beat maker, David Parley, looks like he stepped out of a dark romanticism-type novel and as soon as he starts playing you immediately think---Pet Shop Boys danceable, yet somber, bleak, and unsettling. It is a perfect blend of the barrio and dark wave in symbiotic union, especially for those of us exposed to both growing up.

The new video for "Gothic Summer," takes you on a noir journey to the cemetery gates as you enter in a vintage Ford or Chevrolet pick-up as it slams onto the concrete of the underground. Reflections of palm trees and other greenery on the front windshield of the vehicle are a dire contrast of glamorous Southern California in where the topography and climate make the myth of what booster campaigns sold to the world as our main image. However, the band arrives fashionably uninvited to debunk the myth. In the lyrics to "Gothic Summer", Rafael Reyes recalls an incident of getting caught slipping and getting stabbed in the face, and when a friend finds out, he engages in the cycle of revenge and now sits in prison for life being haunted by dead souls. The narrative tells of the dangers and high price paid for when you join the social contract of a street gang organization and the plague that follows. As we start a new season of bliss, those of us who were involved in prior gothic summers can put them to rest, yet we recall the age of coldness with anxiety and discomfort. Gothic Summer is this year's anthem of dark progressivism and should be played all over Southern California radio stations to carry along the regional reality, rather than the dream of how this place was sold.