Culture & Arts

Kodaline images above and videos below courtesy of shootmepeter.com.

So many of the friends I had as a kid have come and gone. Sure, some of them are "friends" on Facebook but it's not the same. It's not like I'm sharing stories over beers or coffee, and I'm certainly not in a band with them. Well, I guess that's another reason to be jealous of Kodaline. The Dublin-bred rock band of childhood pals Steve Garrigan (lead vocals) Mark Prendergast (guitarist), Jason Boland (bassist) and Vinny May (drummer) have been a mainstay on alt-rock radio since they dropped their debut album - In A Perfect World - in October 2013, and rightfully so. The album was killer, and its single "All I Want," in particular, was featured in several television shows (Grey's Anatomy), movies (The Fault in Our Stars), and ad spots. As it should have - that song is gut-wrenching. But, they're more than just a pretty first single.

Kodaline's sophomore album, Coming Up For Air , just dropped and they're sharing more ear love. The band recently took part in an A-Sides session, performing a pair of songs ("Ready" and "The One"), sitting down for a chat, and as you can see above, spontaneously playing a game of musical chairs.

"Ready"

"The One"

Interview

Like Kodaline, Night Riots have had a lot of traction on alternative rock stations and have been buds for quite some time. Formed in high school, the band, formerly known as PK, have been making music that sort of sounds like Gaslight Anthem fronted by Robert Smith or the other way around, or maybe not even at all. Comparisons suck sometimes. Let's just say Night Riots have a unique alt-rock sound all their own, and proved it on their current hit "Contagious," which hit number one on SiriusXM Alt Nation's Alt18 Countdown. The song comes off the Cali band's Howl EP, which immediately hit the Billboard Heat Seekers Chart.

The band - Travis Hawley (Lead Vocals/Synth), Nick Fotinakes (Guitar), Matt DePauw (Guitar), Mikel Van Kranenburg (Bass) and Rico Rodriguez (Drums) - recently filmed an A-Sides session at Primary Wave in NYC. Before you have a look and a listen, check their tour dates for the summer. Round, round they get around.

"Contagious"

Watch the interview with Night Riots, click here.

A-Sides "Delve Into Twelve" Countdown
Each week A-Sides unleashes its top 12 tracks of the week AKA the "Delve Into Twelve" based on the following contributing factors: songs I'm playing out that particular week (no matter when they were released - think overlooked songs, unreleased tracks and old favorites), songs various publicists are trying to get me to listen to that I did and dug a bunch, song posts and trends I've noticed on my friends' Facebook walls and, most importantly: what my toddler is currently enjoying thoroughly with an assist from my newborn.

About A-Sides with Jon Chattman:
Jon Chattman's music series features celebrities and artists (established or not) from all genres performing a track, and discussing what it means to them. This informal series focuses on the artist making art in a low-threatening, extremely informal (sometime humorous) way. No bells, no whistles -- just the music performed in a random, low-key setting followed by an unrehearsed chat. In an industry where everything often gets overblown and over manufactured, Jon strives for a refreshing change.

Stay Connected:
http://www.thisisasidescom/
https://www.facebook.com/thisisasides
https://twitter.com/ThisIsAsides

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

The classical music scene in New York City is amazing. Not only for the quality, but also for the depth and breadth of the offerings. Yes, there are always the A-list attractions, Netrebko at the Met, Argerich at Carnegie. But on any given night, first class concerts are presented all over town, in churches, bars and even floating barges. I remember a remarkable St. Matthew's Passion, complete with two orchestras, choirs and children's choir at Saint Ignatius. I remember seeing Pretty Yende, the super-nova Soprano from South Africa, perform at Weill, the tiny space at Carnegie. And of course we have the 92nd Street Y, Merkin Hall, on the Lower East Side, SubCulture, and Spectrum, plus BargeMusic, floating on the East River, not to mention the other Brooklyn venues like Roulette and the Old Stone house, often overflowing with concertgoers (and young concertgoers at that ) hungry for the music.

2015-06-04-1433437639-9971018-ScreenShot20150604at10.06.25AM.png

One of my favorite venues has been the Hotel lobby at the Gershwin, now the Evelyn, where I've seen many concerts presented by Operamission, led by its Artistic Director, the indefatigable Jennifer Patterson. Operamission's mission is "to bring the art from the composer to the audience." Ms. Patterson specializes in older music, especially Handel, but her tastes embrace a wide variety of styles: I've seen Kurt Weill and Poulenc cabarets there, and one of my favorite evenings was from her "assembly required" series, where she rehearsed and conducted Mozart's "Cosí Fan Tutte" right in front of us, putting the opera together piece by piece with the artists and orchestra! Plus the singers she enlists are always first class. (This is New York and the talent pool is overflowing. With the demise of City Opera and other companies, far too many incredible singers have gaps in their schedules and are more than happy to take quick, smaller gigs.)

I recently attended another Operamission presentation at America's Opera Center on 28th Street, a concert of Clint Borzoni's music featuring a world premiere Song Cycle and a workshop reading of scenes from his new opera When Adonis Calls. Although Borzoni's not yet 30, he has already finished four operas, (one of them commissioned by Opermission) and his songs are routinely performed in recitals alongside such veterans as Jake Heggie, Stephen Paulus, and Ricky Ian Gordon.

The first piece, Earth, My Likeness was a cycle for Countertenor Daniel Bubeck, who commissioned the piece, based on poems by Cavafy, Whitman, plus two poets who were new to me, May Swenson and Sandra Penns.

After hearing Patterson play many times over the years, I knew she had a "tell," just like a poker player who unknowingly tips her hand with an unconscious gesture or grin. She always accompanies singers brilliantly, but whenever she's particularly vested in the music, she'll give it a little extra: more emotion, a deeper fluidity. (My mother would have said, "a little utz, a little zetz!")

From Borzoni's initial rumbling bass tonal clusters, I could tell Patterson was passionate about this music, music that seemed to resonate from the depths of the earth itself, climaxing with the entrance of the countertenor singing Whitman's

Earth, my likeness,
Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there,
I now suspect that is not all.

Patterson was on fire!

With the possible exception of Dickinson, Whitman has been set by more composers, especially Americans, than any other poet, and it's a tribute to Borzoni that he was able to make the great gray poet's words reverberate with highly original yet lyrical music, taking familiar poems to unexpected places. Borzoni's natural gift for melody and harmonic structure informed the entire countertnor cycle.

2015-06-04-1433438653-6260361-ScreenShot20150604at10.23.26AM.png

I don't think I've ever heard an entire cycle for countertenor, and frankly, I'm not sure I've ever wanted to. I haven't yet joined the countertenor operatic bandwagon so in fashion today, yet there was a muscular sweetness to Bubeck's singing that was instantly compelling, especially in Whitman's "We Two Boys Together Clinging."

When Adonis Calls, the opera in progress, is based on "homo-romantic poetry" by Gavin Geoffrey Dillard. A former porn-star, now a very serious and well-published poet, Dillard is known to virtually every classical singer in America as the lyricist to Jake Heggie's oft-performed cycle, "Of Cats and Gods,' though I wonder how many performers know about his "oft-performed" early career.

Dillard's poetry was fashioned into an opera libretto by the director/choreographer John De Los Santos and arranged into the story of an older "Poet," sung by baritone Grant Youngblood, who is seduced by a younger poet called "The Muse," sung by baritone Michael Weyant. It is unusual to have two baritones in the same piece, as composers traditionally employ different-ranged singers to delineate character, but Borzoni's music easily defines both the "Poet" and his "Muse." I didn't know the work of either performer, though both had major credits; they sang rather difficult music with great ease and intensity, Youngblood's voice commanding the small theater and Weyant's lighter baritone floating through the air. Their voices caressed some of Borzoni's loveliest melodies, accompanied this time by a string quartet and percussion, and I look forward to seeing the entire work staged with sets and a few costumes (or no costumes!) It was fun to hear the sold-out audience get its unexpected kicks from Dillard's masterful poems, especially the naughty bits. Naughty words in opera seem to work every time.

My next off-the-beaten-path musical adventure took me to St. Ignatius of Antioch on West End Avenue to hear a concert presented by the New York Chamber Choir, which, as far as I could tell, is the only Chamber Choir performing in the city. I lived in England for many years, where there is a great tradition of Chamber Choirs (a small group of singers, usually two or three on a part.) With a Chamber Choir, the sound tends to be more ethereal than with larger choirs and more precise because of the few members, and I was looking forward to this concert. Reading in the program, I learned that Alistair Hamilton, founder and Artistic Director, is from London, by way of Scotland. No surprise. It's his mission to bring the tradition over to the Big Apple, as well as to start a free music-education program with a newly created Children's Chamber Choir culled from schools in the tri-state area. Quite an ambitious young man.

But the real reason I went to this particular concert was to hear the guest soloist, the great mezzo Isobel Leonard. If this young organization was able to enlist Ms. Leonard, one of the superstars of the Met and perhaps her generation's definitive "Cenerentola" and "Rosina," something magical was bound to happen.

2015-06-04-1433437101-3996081-ScreenShot20150604at9.56.56AM.png

I was not disappointed. In this ornate little church, the Chamber Choir of New York's sound was simply radiant, and Ms. Leonard, looking lovely in a deep purple gown, sang with the sound she is world famous for: gorgeous legatos, sensual, long phrases, and a warmth that is beyond compare. Hearing an artist of her stature perform in an intimate church is thrilling. And hearing her sing with this well-rehearsed choir raised me to heaven. Glad I was in a church.

2015-06-04-1433437409-7853232-ScreenShot20150604at10.02.46AM.png

Another interesting thing about this group is the repertoire. The title of this concert was "The Music of Royal Composers" and besides the usual suspects of English music--Byrd, Tavener, Purcell--Hamilton programmed music by Paul Mealor, the most successful choral composer in Britain but virtually unknown here. Leonard and the choir performed the 2nd movement of his Stabat Mater, and the results were sheer bliss. Mealor himself will be a guest at their next concert, and with the help of this choir, I'm hoping we can hear more of this man's music, here, across the pond, as they say.

In addition to these gems, this was the first performance of the Children's Chamber Choir, singing music by Holst and Henry VIII. Quite a challenge for a newly formed group. I have no idea how they were able to sound so polished, so professional, in this, their first concert. If this is the future of Chamber Choirs in New York, I'm glad I got to hear them at the beginning.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Modernity is ubiquitous. There's little way of escaping it, unless you're convicted of something and become an uncooperative prisoner. Then you will be put in solitary confinement, still a widely used form of punishment, which has little to commend it beyond the fact that it so steadfastly avoids the notion of progress. The New Yorker ran a story this past fall about a young man who ended up in solitary confinement for months after initially being apprehended for a petty robbery he didn't commit ("Before the Law," The New Yorker, 10/6/14). Confined to a small cell with none of the amenities of modern life, you will, if nothing else, have found a respite from the virus of apps and appliances which make one place so much like the rest. The truly great wall of China is not the one we read about in travel books, but the firewall the Chinese have put up to keep control the internet ("China Further Tightens Grip on the Internet," NYT, 1/29/15). So this is one solution. Another one is fundamentalism which sharply controls a citizen's ability to avail himself of many of the pleasures of modern life. No one wants to be Suge Knight, who could face a stiff sentence, for his recent hit and run in Compton ("Suge Knight Arrested on Suspicion of Murder in Compton Hit-and-Run," ABC Eyewitness News, 1/30/15). But you could look at hardened criminals, Chinese ideologues and religious fanatics as being fugitives from modernity. One doesn't want to have to commit a crime against society in order to be freed from the nightmare that has made reality into an out take from the Bill Murray comedy, Groundhog Day. But can one really revel in the notion of being free, when most human beings are living in a predicament where they're basically chasing their tails and where all roads lead not to Mecca, but Dunkin' Donuts?

{This was originally posted to The Screaming Pope, Francis Levy's blog of rants and reactions to contemporary politics, art and culture}

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

First, let me say several laudatory words about Marcy Heisler, who wrote the book and lyrics for Ever After, having its world premiere at the Paper Mill Playhouse, and Zina Goldrich, who wrote the music for the extravagant stage adaptation of the 1998 movie starring Drew Barrymore and Anjelica Houston.

Heisler and Goldrich are a first-rate, top-drawer songwriting team, who've particularly been making contributions to the cabaret community for a couple decades. They've established at least one standard in "Taylor the Latte Boy," as humorous and charming a ditty as has been sent into the atmosphere for the last long while. Their Dear Edwina has become a popular children's musical, and when they find the time, they perform their own polished and irresistible act.

As a fan for some years, I've been plugging for them to supply the score to a spanking big Broadway tuner. They've long had it in them to do, which makes me hugely sorry to report that much as they deserve a long-awaited click, Ever After isn't it -- and for several dismaying reasons.

Since I haven't seen the Ever After screen version -- and am not now inclined to make up for the lapse -- I can't say how faithful Heisler's book is to it. Word does get back from those who have, however, that this treatment follows the original closely enough. If so, Heisler is unluckily late with the Cinderella spin wherein feisty Cinderella stand-in Danielle (Margo Seibert and Isabella Jolene Burke or Giada Blume when young) outwits her cruel stepmother Baroness Rodmilla de Ghent (Christine Ebersole) and stepsisters Marguerite de Ghent (Mara Davi) and Jacqueline de Ghent (Annie Funke) at winning the hand of Prince Henry (James Snyder).

Heisler and Goldrich may have been developing Ever After for some time or maybe not, but either way they've become victims of the enervating Broadway-as-Little-Girl-Land syndrome. Depictions of spunky youngsters have now -- after Wicked, Matilda, Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella, Gigi and what else? -- grown annoyingly stale.

Making matters worse is the emphasis on the proactive heroine. It's not enough these days for Cinderella to step out of her slipper accidentally. She has to take matters into her own hands and remove the slipper herself or somehow inform the Prince it's hers. Look, this Danielle is a young woman who reads Thomas More's Utopia to pass the time of overworked day.

Furthermore, the Prince isn't simply charming. He's got his own problems. He doesn't know who he wants to be or what he wants to do. In a state of pique he actually insists, "I don't need a ball." (Blasphemy!) By the same boring token, the stepsisters -- when there are stepsisters -- aren't both evil. In Ever After and the R&H on-the-boards Cindy, one sister is actually good.

Compounding the trouble for Heisler is that she hasn't constructed a taut version of the old story. Her treatment, perhaps due to unwisely hewing to the film, is overrun with plot diversions and digressions. Though it's about two and a half hours long, it feels as if it goes on forever. It's no longer the story of a young girl of the cinders who goes to a ball thanks to a fairy godmother. It's the story of a young woman who becomes involved with a prince worried about where he belongs in the world. It's the saga of a young woman kidnapped with her royal swain by a band of thieves who believe she's the queen they've been promised.

There's just no easy unraveling the script's myriad tangles, and perhaps most surprisingly, the score by regularly inspired Goldrich and Heisler lacks consistent inspiration. The cleverest songs are "After All" -- a ballad Ebersole sings in her crystalline way when Rodmilla is in an unusually reflective mood -- and "Is There Anything Leonardo Can't Do?" That one's offered by an expertly drilled chorus about Leonardo da Vinci (Tony Sheldon), who's a crucial character. Both numbers are examples of what Heisler and Goldrich can do at the same level as the best Broadway tunesmith predecessors.

Otherwise, the many songs, as well orchestrated by Bruce Coughlin and including the title tune, remain workmanlike. Their combined craftsmanship is evident throughout, but not much more than that. In particular, the ballads, though often marked by Goldrich's propulsive melodies, don't rise beyond mid-level heights. It's as if Heisler -- usually writing from her cannily sophisticated observations of the world around her and possibly her own checkered romantic experiences -- has set those prompts aside in order to fit songs into a storyline that only intrigued her to a certain degree.

The ordinarily inventive Kathleen Marshall directs and choreographs on a similar earthbound touch, although she does get a chance to goose the proceedings with some of the 16th-century court dances and with the athletic gypsy gang. She also prods the cast to be as peppy as the lines allow.

Seibert is lively enough. Looking properly plain as Adrian in last year's Rocky, she glows here and sings so beautifully -- as does Snyder -- that it's a shame neither she nor he aren't given more stirring pieces to deliver individually or in tandem. Ebersole, who can do no wrong, hasn't got enough to do right, but what she has is choice. Others -- including the wonderful Julie Halston -- toil conscientiously but to only so-so avail.

The most impressive elements about Ever After are the Derek McLane's sets, which are augmented by projections McLane and Olivia Sebesky concocted, and Jess Goldstein's costumes. (Side note: I think I've seen four new McLane sets in the past week. How does he do it?) The sets and costumes deftly recreate the late Renaissance look and presumably at great expense. They impress all the more as lighted by Peter Kaczorowski.

Over the last couple seasons, Newsies and Honeymoon in Vegas traveled to Broadway from the Paper Mill Playhouse. Given the lushly expensive look of this undertaking, the theater's folks have been hoping to make it a triple play. But as things appear now, it doesn't seem as if Ever After is likely to have a Broadway ever after.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

"The lack of money is the root of all evil." -- Mark Twain

Four nonprofit institutions committed to preserving the legacy of Samuel Langhorne Clemens, known more famously as Mark Twain, collaborated with Congress (one of Mark Twain's favorite targets) in 2011 and 2012 for the passage of the Mark Twain Commemorative Coin Act. Now, in an unusual collaborative fundraising initiative, they are joining forces again to ask "Twainiacs" around the globe to support their efforts to preserve Mark Twain's homes, papers, and publications through website-giving that equally divides all donations among the four sites:

The Mark Twain Boyhood Home & Museum in Hannibal, MO; The Mark Twain House & Museum in Hartford, CT; The Center for Mark Twain Studies at Elmira College in Elmira, NY; and The Mark Twain Papers & Project at the Bancroft Library at UC-Berkeley in Berkeley, CA.

Background: The Coins
In 2016, thanks to the passage of the Mark Twain Commemorative Coin Act, the U.S. Mint -- at no cost to taxpayers -- will manufacture a limited number of $5 gold and $1 silver coins that bear Mark Twain's iconic image. They will be sold to collectors with net proceeds being divided equally among the four nonprofit organizations that preserve Twain's legacy. Leaders at the four sites worked together and with their respective Representatives to bring this to bear.

Good for Congress! They haven't agreed on much lately, but preserving Mark Twain's legacy was something even they could get behind.

Now, a handful of years later, the institutions' leaders are embracing the opportunity to collaborate again, and they're hoping their unusual request will resonate with the author's fans.

The request: donate any amount via a single website (marktwaincoins.org), and proceeds will be divided equally among the four Mark Twain preservation sites.

The Challenge
Since the economic downturn in 2008, corporate giving to nonprofit institutions is in decline. Despite reports of record corporate profits in the last few years, many corporations (not all, certainly) are reluctant to return to their old levels of giving. This has created dire circumstances for any number of nonprofits as they scurry to find new support.

Giving by individuals, however, has taken on a life of its own. With sites like Kickstarter and GoFundMe, grassroots giving has never been easier or more popular. Maybe because so many individuals felt the sting (or worse) of the downturn they are eager to pitch in for causes that resonate with them. Whatever the reasons, it is heartening.

The Four Mark Twain Sites

Hannibal: The Mark Twain Boyhood Home provided the setting, characters, and many of the events later immortalized in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Sam lived here from the age of four to 17. Today the nine-property museum complex welcomes visitors from all corners of the globe. The museum collection includes such treasures as the iconic white suit coat, the Oxford gown Clemens wore when receiving his honorary doctorate, and 15 original Norman Rockwell paintings depicting Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.

Hartford: Clemens and his wife Olivia built the 25-room mansion now known as The Mark Twain House. The young couple would raise their three daughters here, and in the third-floor billiards room the author worked on those famous manuscripts. Today the House welcomes tourists from 75 countries and all 50 states and hosts author events with the likes of David Baldacci, Stephen King, and Dan Brown. In addition to housing the famous Paige Compositor that nearly bankrupted Clemens, the House maintains the largest collection of Mark Twain photos in the world.

Elmira: Olivia Langdon Clemens was from Elmira, NY. For more than 20 summers the family summered there at her sister's home, Quarry Farm, and inside an octagon study built on top a hill the author piled up manuscript during those summers. Today Elmira College preserves Quarry Farm, maintains an extensive collection of Mark Twain's books and personal items, and promotes scholarship through the Center for Mark Twain Studies. The study has been moved to the college campus so visitors can see where Mark Twain wrote many of his greatest works. The Clemens family members are buried in Elmira's Woodlawn Cemetery.

Berkeley: Since 1949, The Bancroft Library at The University of California-Berkeley has been the largest repository of Mark Twain papers. Upon her death in 1962, Clemens's only surviving child, Clara, bequeathed her vast collection of her father's private papers to the Library, now home to the Mark Twain Papers & Project. Manuscripts, notebooks, photos, and thousands of letters are housed here and available for scholarly research. In addition to other critical editions, the Project has published Volumes 1 and 2 of Mark Twain's Autobiography; the third and final volume is expected to be published in the fall of 2015.

Sam Clemens of Hannibal, Hartford, and the World
Formal safety nets for families did not exist in Sam Clemens's time (1835-1910). His father died when Sam was 11, and at the age of 12 when his mother could no longer support him, he left school to earn his keep as a typesetter's apprentice. At 17 he took himself to New York City, Philadelphia, and beyond, supporting himself as an itinerant typesetter wherever he could get a job. Many children were forced into similar situations, and nowhere is there a record of Clemens lamenting the challenges he faced. He was in the same situation as many other children, after all, and some were far worse off than he.

As Mark Twain, Sam Clemens became a legend in his own time, and his legacy endures -- as social critic, travel writer, and the memoirist who fictionalized his own remarkable life. Oh, yes, and humorist, since he somehow makes us laugh even while pointing out our flaws.

Like many other Americans of that era, he faced economic ruin after the Panic of 1893 -- the nation's worst economic collapse in its young history. In 1895, Clemens embarked on a yearlong lecture tour around the globe to avoid filing bankruptcy. His wife and middle daughter accompanied him. When the trip ended, instead of celebration, the family endured a greater tragedy -- the death of their oldest daughter Susy from spinal meningitis. She died at their Hartford home, and their grief was so profound the family could no longer bring themselves to live there.

Mark Twain can fairly be called the world's first celebrity: he was famous for being famous. Biographer Ron Powers called him "the nation's first rock star." Smithsonian recently named him among the 100 most significant Americans of all time, leading their list of Pop Icons. His books are still bestsellers and published in roughly 50 languages. Most, however, are in the public domain, meaning there are no royalties for the four non-profit sites that work to preserve his legacy.

Perhaps Thomas Edison's views on Mark Twain's popularity are still true today: "An average American loves his family. If he has any love left over for some other person, he generally selects Mark Twain."

The caretakers of the four Mark Twain sites certainly hope this is true.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Image (c) Michael Ernest Sweet

While not all these photographers are strictly street photographers, they are, I believe, photographers that street photography fans should be acquainted with and know by name. These photographers do all have one thing in common - they are great masters. Additionally, I have also selected documentaries which are good quality and appropriate length. Enjoy!

1) The Many Lives of William Klein

I've always been a fan of William Klein. His early New York gritty, black and white photographs are what opened the door to much of what we consider "street photography" today. Prior to Klein's trailblazing in this area things like blur, skewed crops, busy frames, and even soft focus were all rather unacceptable. Early editors called Klein's work "shit", which tells us all we need to know about photo critics. Klein's personality - like his photographs - is edgy and blunt. Enjoy this fantastic full-length documentary on one of the true legends of the street.

2) Imagine - The Colorful Mr. Eggleston

Who doesn't love Eggleston? William Eggleston, like most of the photographers featured here, is a pioneer when it comes championing a new style or approach in photography. Eggleston is know for introducing color to the world of art photography. Prior to his work, much of color photography was either commercial or personal. Additionally, Eggleston made the "banal" interesting; this is seen most famously in his photograph of the red ceiling.

3) Just Plain Love - Henri Cartier-Bresson

Cartier-Bresson needs no introduction I'm sure, especially if you've found this page. He is, to all intents, the father of street photography. Most noted for his concept of the "decisive moment", HCB believed that a great photograph is largely made by knowing exactly when to activate the shutter - by recognizing the precise fraction of a second when everything is aligned. Whether caught on film by chance or by decisiveness, indeed there is that special moment when a scene becomes a photograph.

4) 1981 - Joel Meyerowitz

Joel Meyerowitz is a fantastic photographer and a genuine old-fashioned gentlemen also. Working much of his early career at the epicenter of street photography - New York City - Meyerowitz roamed the sidewalks of Manhattan armed with a Leica. He too was an early proponent of color photography. More recently Meyerowitz has been doing a lot more deliberate work and all over the world with notable stuff coming from Italy. Joel Meyerowitz, now 77 years old, is still active and producing and publishing photography.

5) Visions and Images - Garry Winogrand

Garry Winogrand is a name often heard in street photography conversations. Winogrand was a machine gun photographer before there was such a thing. Now, in the digital age, more photographs than not simply aim their cameras and hold down the shutter button. Burst shooting is more common than blue jeans. But, imagine working this way on 35mm film? This was the case with Winogrand. At the time of his death Winogrand left over 10,000 rolls of undeveloped and or unprinted film. This is only the stuff that was yet unexplored!

6) Mark Cohen

Although somewhat lesser known, Mark Cohen is a true pioneer when it comes to street photography. His work has largely influenced much of my own. Perhaps best known for his "fragments" of people and things in a rather close-up perspective, Cohen has been at work for many decades and is still photographing in the hills of Pennsylvania. In fact, that is another thing he exemplifies greatly - the ability to make street photography in small towns and even rural settings.

7) Near Equal - Daido Moriyama

Moriyama is another living legend when it comes to street photography. With many decades of work behind him, Moriyama is still producing photographs in his signature style - snapshots from cheap cameras. Although Daido famously used the Ricoh GR 35mm series for many years, he has been more recently spotted with a compact digital Nikon. Moriyama's work is not all classically street - but there is no denying that he has influenced this genre tremendously. His work is gritty, high-contract and always monochrome. Moriyama might describe his work as a "life diary".

8) The World According to Martin Parr

Martin Parr has told me that he objects to being called a "street photographer", or, at least he doesn't feel that it aptly describes him or his work. Despite this, there is no denying that he has influenced a huge number of street photographers. He is highly emulated. His work is also fresh and unique in many ways, especially some of the early stuff. A wonderful man and a photographer per excellence. If you don't know his work, and many might not, especially in North America, look him up - you'll be glad you did.

9) Mary Ellen Mark

I want to mention Mary Ellen Mark here for a few reason. One, she's a woman and we need more women represented in the genre. However, I don't simply mention her on this basis, her work stands on its own merit. Although not strictly, or more precisely, exclusively, a street photographer, Mark has put in her time on the street. The work is characterized by a gentleness that we often don't see in more contemporary street work. Mark connects with her subjects in a very intimate way and this always shows in her work.

10) Leaving Home, Coming Home - Robert Frank

Robert Frank is an unusual character. At age 90, he is still at work making and publishing photographs. He mostly uses a Fuji Instax camera now, but the point is that he is still tripping the shutter after all these years. He's more or less abandoned New York City and spends his time by the sea in a little place called Magog, Nova Scotia, Canada. Frank is a notorious recluse and rarely gave interviews. This particular full-length documentary is a rare opportunity to see into the life of this creative genius.

Michael Ernest Sweet is a Canadian educator, writer and photographer. His second full-length collection of street photography, Michael Sweet's Coney Island, was released from Brooklyn Arts Press in New York in 2015.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

2015-06-03-1433369535-2310969-WendyWhelansRestlessCreature169ChristopherDuggan1.jpg

Photo credit: Christopher Duggan

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon in Chelsea. Wanderers traipsed across the High Line, stealing light from the sun and embracing summer with selfies and gelato. Underneath them and a few streets east, crowds ventured into the Joyce, the heat outside prompting a soft malaise among them. But as the clock struck two and the theater dimmed, excitement wafted from seat to seat -- excitement that's absent in strawberries or strolls, picnics or the pool. There was a feeling that escaped season and even time: Wendy Whelan was about to emerge from a curtain, and hearts beat loud, waiting for brilliance.

With icon status come expectations. There's an assumption that once you attain a certain level of near perfection in your art, you'll continue to impress with an infinite supply of steamy energy. Whelan especially has a reputation for being dazzling and transcendental. She's beloved by some and deplored by others, her idiosyncratic movement proving divisive among critics. But her fans are diehard, extolling her emotionalism in pas de deux like This Bitter Earth and After the Rain. And no matter your stance, Whelan's lure is undeniable. She benefits from a unique skillset that allows her to not only defy gravity, but also technique, conventional line, and preconceived notions of ballet to become a spectral entity, the dancer who haunts your dreams.

But if audiences wanted to see that Wendy -- the one who walks on clouds with casual elegance -- at the Joyce last week, they must have endured a terrible surprise. With a few exceptions, she went AWOL in Restless Creature.

The bill was a collaboration between Whelan, Alejandro Cerrudo, Joshua Beamish, Kyle Abraham, and Brian Brooks and was conceived as an opportunity to feature one of the United States' most adored ballerinas alongside celebrated dancer/choreographers. It premiered at Jacob's Pillow in 2013, and somehow it transferred to the Joyce, demonstrating what names and money can do in the Manhattan arts scene.

Cerrudo's pas de deux, Ego et Tu, set the tone for the entire program, emphasizing Whelan's awkwardness without purpose. In fact, she seemed an afterthought; Cerrudo stood in the spotlight, magnetic but somehow uninteresting. As the piano bellowed and violins and violas hummed, the ambiance was suddenly laughable in its melodrama. There was a splattering of grey. There were "intimate" moments that felt cold. What was noticeably absent was content, something to grapple with or feel.

Beamish's piece followed and was slightly more convincing in its ingenuity. He's not as talented of a dancer as the other choreographers, and so he had to make up for his failings by actually caring about aesthetic. For a while, Conditional Sentences was bearable and even amusing. Beamish played with shapes and angles, highlighting quirks like in a Mondrian painting. Some of his subtleties in épaulement were delightful, and while he didn't put anything breathtaking on the canvas, his was a solid, albeit never-ending, duet.

Next, The Serpent and the Smoke was the afternoon's saving grace, and it was glorious indeed. Abraham harbors this dynamism that makes his every moment enthralling. You track his pinkie as it lingers in gravity. You stare at his intensity and hope it envelops you. But The Serpent and the Smoke wasn't about him; it was about an "us" that he founded with Whelan. They pranced like fireflies in darkness, and the stage transformed into an evening on the green. As Whelan's hair finally fell, she wasn't stiff anymore; Abraham calmed her, carrying her to that place where she could be a goddess in the ether.

Then, there was Brooks' work. In his defense, he tried hard to make something beautiful, and unlike his peers, he removed his own egotism from the equation, serving only as a platform for Wendy. He was never the focal point and existed in Whelan's shadow, deferential to her majesty. However, in the end, he stumbled into the trap that plagues so many artists: he discovered a motion that he liked, and so he did it endlessly until it grew tired from overuse. Duck. Catch partner. Drop to floor. Slowly stand. Repeat. Duck. Catch partner. Drop to floor. Slowly stand. Repeat. Duck. Catch partner. Drop to floor. Slowly stand. Repeat. And so on. Even typing the progression makes me weary.

As Whelan and Brooks dropped for the last time and all five dancers took their bows, patrons applauded politely, shouting extra praise for Abraham. They left the theater with much less enthusiasm than when they came, wishing for a refund on their $100 ticket so they could head to Lincoln Center for American Ballet Theatre's new Sleeping Beauty. Maybe it would be less disappointing.

I, in turn, walked towards 9th Avenue, perplexed. I understood Abraham's involvement, and he earned his keep. But as for the others, why them? Justin Peck can dance. Troy Schumacher, too. Marcelo Gomes is now choreographing. Female blood would have been nice -- say Emery Lecrone. With the right team, Restless Creature really could have been something. It wasn't.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

2015-06-03-1433346089-8240349-ALEXANDERPICOBway.com.jpg

I met up with Pico Alexander at the Cafe at the Signature Theatre on the eve of his 24th birthday. He was taller than I expected with a thick head of hair that he hid under his fedora hat. Pico has a spiritual energy to him, with a look and demeanor that reminds me of a young Johnny Depp. When I make the comparison he smiles and blushes; "He was my favorite when I was a kid. I used to pause the dvd Edward Scissorhands because I was crying so much. I felt so bad for him! Like when he punctured the waterbed or tried to cut the steak. I love that guy. Thank you for saying that." Sodas in hand, we sat down, with piano music playing in the background at the Cafe, and started chatting:

Where does the name Pico come from?
My grandfather started jokingly referring to me as Pico when my mom was pregnant with me. And then when I was born, they wanted to give me a serious name, so they named me Alexander. But nobody ever called me Alexander except for one teacher in sixth grade.

Growing up, you went to LaGuardia High School. What did you focus on?
I auditioned for music and for acting because that's what my parents were breeding me to be. I played classical piano and trumpet for awhile. My mom has this fond memory of me getting into her car after the audition and saying 'Mom, i'm going to be an actor'. But in reality I had been writing that in journals for years.

You are kind of a man of mystery. You aren't very active on social media. You don't use twitter or have an instagram account.
No social media for me.

Why's that?
I think that I spent too much time comparing myself to other people and it didn't seem very real anymore. All of a sudden you have more than a thousand friends and everybody is posting all the best things that happened to them. And it kind of unsettled me really. I started posting a status and waiting to get the likes. If I got the likes then I was validated as a human for that day and if I didn't it was like "f***, nobody likes me"

Who is Pico?
I don't know. I'm trying to figure that out. I'd be hesitant to give any sort of an answer because its always changing.

What would your friends say about you?
They would probably say I'm one of the most immature people they've ever met!

In what way?
I can be my share of selfish and uncompromising and loud and obnoxious and a bit of an asshole and definitely mean to my share of people. And not very empathetic. And these are the things that I'm working on now. It definitely took me awhile to realize that I'm not the center of the universe.

Did your off-Broadway show Punk Rock help in that way?
Sure, I think Punk Rock had an effect.

Let's talk about What I Did Last Summer. Who do you play?
I play Ted. He's a local boy, a Canadian. He can be a little bit of a rowdy influence and he's a friend of Charlie, the protagonist. Charlie meets Anna Trumble who is a bit of an outcast and eccentric and she taps into his potential and tells him that he has a gift and he has to work on finding out what it is. She unlocks that for him and he goes and finds out there is more to life than what he originally thought.

Do you have a pre-show ritual?
We pretty much just lose it back there in the dressing room. It's me, Noah Galvin, and Dan Weiner our drummer. We all share the dressing room, get hyped up, and listen to music.

I saw that you played a young Joe Carroll in FOX's The Following. What was it like being on set?
The scene was a lot bigger beforehand. There was a fish in the scene and the character Doctor Strauss puts the fish on the table and its flopping around and the Doctor wants to illustrate to Joe that he's enraptured by it. Which was super interesting because, by law, you are only allowed to take a fish out of water for 20 seconds at a time. So we had a dude standing by with a bucket who would constantly interrupt the scene and grab the fish and throw it in the bucket and take another fish and put it on the table.

I read online that you want to swim with sharks. Is that right?
Yeah, I'd love to swim with sharks! Sharknado. A bit of a metaphor for wanting to risk it all in a way.

What are some of your hobbies?
I'm writing a lot lately. And I'm very fascinated with my dreams. I'm taking a sober year this year. I had a crazy experience at the end of last year. I was away on a small island with my family and I swam in this bio-luminescent bay and thought - it's not going to get any better than this - and on the spot decided to try a year of sobriety as a challenge. Because of that, my dreams are so vivid this year. So I want to really focus on that unconscious self this year and connect with that self and see what it is that I truly want.

Do you meditate?
I meditate a little bit. Not as much as I'd like to.

One question I ask everyone: What's one thing you would tell your 15 year old self?
To slow down. Listen. Observe. Help people. Help them up not push them down. And to be honest. High school is a really tough time for everybody and we don't really understand that at the time. Be honest about your fears and your shortcomings. And just be nice.

What do you like best about yourself?
That's crazy. I never think about that. It's so easy to get wrapped up in melancholy. I think I like my honesty. I'll ask people questions that might be uncomfortable but will also put myself one hundred percent out there. I'd rather fail than be mediocre.

Is there anything that you want people to know about you?
No. He laughs. I'm always weary of putting anything in writing because it's always changing. If I had to choose, I would want them to know that I'm loyal.

Do you have any favorite quotes?
I like the quote "It is written" from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. Because it means it is what it is and everything is what it is and that's ok.

For tickets to see Pico Alexander in What I Did Last Summer at the Signature Theatre now thru June 7th, click here.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Rain Dogs: Jin Young Won
Photo Credit: film still

When I think of a lake, I imagine its stillness and peace. Calm looms over a clear surface without tides. No matter if the wind shouts or murmurs, the water barely stirs. It's settled, unperturbed. It craves nothing but silence.

Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet is more like a river. It disturbs and shatters, splashing to disrupt tranquility. Its dancers run and leap; they dislike stagnancy.

People rarely talk about lakes. Rivers, on the other hand, benefit from a sex appeal that's the stuff of ballads. This is no coincidence.

At BAM's Howard Gilman Opera House, Cedar Lake makes waves with its farewell season this week. The dancers move with reckless abandon -- rushing, flowing, daring. As they share the stage for a final time, it's heartbreaking to accept that a troupe with such chemistry, vivacity, flavor, and joy is saying goodbye to its home and to one another.

My Generation: Ebony Williams
Photo Credit: Juliet Cervantes

Wednesday evening's bill opened with a premiere by Bessie winner Richard Siegal, but the performance began at the opera house door, where patrons swarmed like schools of fish lost in a stormy brook. Ushers directed traffic until everyone found their seats as the clock struck seven-thirty-five. For a moment, there was complete serenity; then, a burst of energy. Navarra Novy-Williams exploded into view, swaying with panache to French music that better suited a runway than BAM. The room went cold, even frigid. Nobody knew what to make of the action until Ebony Williams came onto the scene and all was right, and genius, and unparalleled in its novelty.

The latter Williams is the dance community's Beyoncé. As her legs managed a 180-degree line in a side tilt, she proved her technical prowess, but it was her unhindered attitude that made her especially unforgettable. Sassy, fresh, fierce -- she could be the poster child for je ne sais quoi.

My Generation: Matthew Rich
Photo Credit: Juliet Cervantes

The rest of Siegal's piece, My Generation, was like a Monster high that you never want to end. Siegal's vision coupled with his diverse cast embodied the 21st century with its technological obsession and fast-paced lifestyle. Dancers moved with synchronized intensity, mimicking the plugged-in robots we've become. Matthew Rich lip-synced like a rock star, crashing to the floor over and over like a track on repeat. The millennials were in the spotlight, their carpe diem mentality on display. The culmination? Chaotic, blinding bliss.

Next was Ten Duets on a Theme of Rescue, Crystal Pite's work from 2008. Lights glimmered like at a stadium, when you're alone and pretend that all the world's watching. Cliff Martinez's score haunted bodies that intermingled in the dusk, falling, chasing, barely arriving. Lifting. Heaving. Sacrificing. You felt that if you joined them in their intimate space, you would somehow reach enlightenment, and that enlightenment would look something like love.

Ten Duets: Ida Saki, Jon Bond
Photo Credit: Sharen Bradford

Finally, Johan Inger's whimsical Rain Dogs made its NYC debut. A man crawled with a tape player, slurring through the lyrics of "We Are the Champions." A dog stood center stage, burning. Women switched clothing and gendered mannerisms with men, and Vânia Doutel Vaz claimed that the piano had been drinking. Ida Saki sat prone, waiting for her partner's approach. Muscles flexed along the floor, setting libidos ablaze. Inger's universe was enchanting, intoxicating. Desirable.

The show no doubt merited a standing ovation, and it got one. But Cedar Lake itself deserves some applause, too. Rarely can dance become more than movement, a stirring feeling in your gut. There are barriers. There's an invisible screen. There are steps leading to the stage, and an orchestra pit, and balconies, and it's all very grandiose and isolating and placid.

Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet is more about making noise by tearing down the fourth wall. Its roar will be missed.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

What will they think my neighbors,?" says Apu (Soumitra Chatterjee) in the third installment of Satyajit Ray's Apu Trilogy, Apur Sansar (The Word of Apu, 1959), currently being revived at Film Forum and other theaters. "I'm invited to a wedding and come home with the bride." In another scene Apu, a fledgling novelist is chastened by his friend Pulu (Swapan Mukherjee) "to experience everything." "Is imagination worth nothing?" Apu asks in response. Significantly one of the first jobs the destitute young writer applies for is that of a labeler. Taking one look at the Dickensian workshop, Apu flees, but the scene is prescient. While the first two films in the trilogy Pather Panchali (1955) and Aparajito (1957) are about the awakening of consciousness, Apur Sansar is about action. And the action is more like life than art to the extent that it defies easy categorization. All three movies are based on two Bengali novels by Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay and you think the pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together. The movie will be the story of a successful novelist who marries into a wealthy family. Yet Apur Sansar defies expectations. Apu literally throws his writing to the wind and in a memorable scene is about to turn his back on the one connection he has left in the world, a little boy, Kajal (Alok Chakravarty), he barely knows. Amidst all this we are confronted with a melodramatic Bollywood style cast which includes a mad groom and would be mother-in-law who treats Apu, as an incarnation of Shiva. And there's even a period of seeming repose-- in which Apu and his new wife Aparna (Sharmila Tagore) fan each other as they eat on the floor of their humble one room abode--an idyll that is soon taken away. The only constant is change might be the motto of the this last of the Apu movies. There's an unforgettable scene in which the rambunctious Kajal appears in the distance. The moment of comfort is followed by the prospect of the literal winding road that faces Ray's protagonist. It's an ending that eludes any clear direction and poses more questions than answers about Apu's prospects and ultimate fate.

{This was originally posted to The Screaming Pope, Francis Levy's blog of rants and reactions to contemporary politics, art and culture}

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Izabel Lam's aquatic Sing for Hope Piano prepares for its journey from the studio to its summer home at Castle Clinton at the Southern tip of Manhattan (and yes, that is a giant starfish on top of it).

This evening, a fleet of moving trucks will pull up to NYC's parks and public spaces, from the Bronx to Brooklyn and beyond, and roll out pianos -- enormous grands, sturdy uprights, some decades old, some of fresher vintage, all painted with designs as diverse as our city. By sunrise tomorrow, 50 Sing for Hope Pianos will have been placed throughout the 5 boroughs, bringing to 286 the number of street pianos placed here since the project's 2010 debut, and making New York City the host of more street pianos to date than any other city in the world.

And it all started 3,000 miles away with one piano that couldn't make it up the stairs.

Scene from the Sing for Hope Pianos art studio in midtown: Marc Evan focuses on the final details of his piano inspired by his son Luke, whose gaze will welcome piano players at Brooklyn Bridge Park.

In 2003, in Sheffield, England, a grad student named Doug Pearman found himself unable to get his beloved secondhand piano up the stairs to his new flat on Sharrow Vale Road. Doug's cousin, Hugh Jones, a Cambridge-educated mathematician working as a cabinetmaker, suggested that they just leave the piano where it was. They tracked down a stool for it, stapled on a tarp for protection from the sudden South Yorkshire showers, and attached a sign inviting passersby to sit down and play, right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

The world's first street piano was born.

The accidental debut of the Sheffield Street Piano was a hit, and the instrument quickly became a local, then national, celebrity. Like any celeb, it had a period of thrilling ascendance, a splashy website, the occasional tussle with authorities (in the form of the Sheffield Council and its pavement obstruction laws), and a few newsworthy scandals, including being stolen in the dark of night, only to be replaced later by a group of committed volunteers.

The Sheffield Street Piano survived for five years, and when it was finally removed due to weather damage, its model for urban harmony had gone viral. Sixty miles to the south in Birmingham, an enterprising artist launched his version of Street Pianos -- 15 instruments emblazoned with "Play Me I'm Yours," which then traveled to other cities as an "internationally touring artwork." Off the coast of Southern China on Gulangyu Island, Street Pianos enlivened a biennial piano festival. In the United States, towns from Jacksonville to Orange County have produced their own Street Piano installations, each one bringing its own flavor to the mix: surfing themes in Southern California's "OC Can You Play," an adventurer spirit in Denver's "Keys to the City," a Sarah Palin/George Bush impersonator duo heralding the Street Piano launch ceremony in central Florida (admittedly, I'm not sure what to make of that one).

Detail from the Sing for Hope Pianos art studio: a luminous mosaic in progress on the lid of Jessica Browne-White's grand piano, which will shine under DUMBO archway in Brooklyn.

This summer, for the fourth time, New York City will play home to a truly Big-Apple-flavored street piano installation. The Sing for Hope Pianos project is the world's largest annual street piano installation in which:

each instrument is an individually credited artwork by a dedicated artist or artists' group chosen through an open application process

all artists involved volunteer their time and talent because of a shared belief in "art for all"

the pianos are part of a year-round continuum of arts outreach to communities in need, with each piano donated post-street-residency to a school, hospital, or community organization to serve as a hub for ongoing creative arts programming in under-resourced areas.

As an "artists' peace corps" powered by professional artists who volunteer their time, Sing for Hope is uniquely positioned to produce a piano project worthy of the city that never sleeps. Year-round, concurrent with our ongoing arts outreach programs, we collect abandoned pianos from donors and wholesalers. Our technicians rehab the instruments in our midtown art studio, and our team makes multiple visits to sites throughout the five boroughs, meeting with city agencies and park managers. We enlist volunteer "piano buddies" to cover the pianos with tarps in case of rain and report on missing keys and other occupational hazards, and we lay the groundwork to donate the pianos to our partner schools, healthcare facilities, and community organizations after their public tour of duty. Our deeply committed Founders' Circle -- The Arnhold Foundation in loving memory of Sissy Arnhold, The Anna-Maria & Stephen Kellen Foundation, and Ann Ziff -- amplify the project through their ongoing support, our dedicated Board of Directors steps up with additional gifts, and hundreds of grassroots donors complete the funding picture with gifts ranging from $1 to $10,000. Our volunteering piano artists work alone, in groups, and in collaboration with our students from New York City public schools. One by one, the instruments are brought to vivid new life.

Our students from Haven Academy in The Bronx create colorful magic with their piano, reminding us of Picasso's words: "Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up."

In final weeks before the pianos hit the streets, the Sing For Hope Piano Studio is abuzz with round-the-clock activity, the collective energy and inspiration heightened, like a modern-day atelier. Hodaya Louis makes refinements to intricate patterns on her piano with the help of neighboring artist Paul St. Savage, who introduces her to the tools that are bringing his piano's cartoons to life. Nick Stavrides incorporates iconic spots of the NYC music scene into his piano, and José Aurelio Baez découpages his piano in flyers sourced from his daily Brooklyn-Manhattan commute. Jessica Browne-White makes adjustments to optimize the sunlight that will shine on her luminous mosaic piano, and Moksha Kumar's geometrically precise grid plays counterpoint to the lyrical curves of her grand. Yuki Sakaguchi brings a phoenix to life on her piano, symbolizing the many layers of rebirth in the project, while Drue Kataoka creates a piano that resonates at the nexus of art and neuroscience, referencing her other activist work and beckoning passersby with a beautiful show of hands. The Keith Haring Foundation creates a vibrant "Radiant Baby Baby Grand" with designs made famous by the late Haring, an iconic voice for urban harmony silenced far too soon, and a powerful reminder for the Sing for Hope team of our origins in artists responding to AIDS. And poignantly, two exquisite pianos happen to stand side by side toward the front of the studio, both commemorating beautiful, brief lives: Marc Evan's homage to his late son Luke, and The Lulu & Leo Fund's communally created instrument, curated by volunteer artist Patricia Espinosa, and symbolizing the resilience, generosity, creativity, and hope at the very heart of the Pianos project.

Patricia Espinosa soars in the studio with The Lulu & Leo Fund's communally created instrument, which will encourage its visitors in Central Park to "make a wish."

These volunteer artists, and scores of others equally gifted, work alongside groups from Sing for Hope's year-round programs. Our students from The Bronx's Haven Academy festoon their instrument with their school colors. Our partners from United Cerebral Palsy create ornate designs in colors reminiscent of fine Wedgewood. Our Sing for Hope Youth Chorus members sing while painting their piano and expressing their excitement that it will be featured in Times Square (as they exclaim, "the center of the world!").

Embarking on our fourth year of the Pianos project, we are not without our questions. As a grassroots, artist-led movement, will we be able to ensure future of this beloved, impactful program as part of our city's great annual traditions? Can we find a sustainable solution to our need for artists' studio space? Will our heroic "early believer" funders inspire new donors to join and help endow the project? The justifying numbers are there: over 2 million New Yorkers have played the SFH Pianos since their 2010 debut (thousands touching a piano for the first time in their lives), and the project has received over one billion media impressions, making it the most widely covered public art project in the country in the last decade. In terms of civic pride, touristic/economic impact, and simple, unquantifiable joy, the Pianos speak for themselves.

Community members from United Cerebral Palsy, with whom we work year-round in our Healing Arts program, create ornate designs in colors reminiscent of Wedgewood china. Their piano will grace the patio of the Conference House on Staten Island.

The infrastructure required to sustain the program is significant, but the return on investment -- in terms of urban harmony, civic engagement, and ignited creativity -- cannot be overstated. Admittedly, our dream of sustainability for the project is a big one. But as the piano by the high schoolers in our Sing for Hope Youth Chorus reminds us, in black-on-yellow lettering: "dream big, speak loud." Communal creativity is a worthwhile investment, and the time to support is now.

When the Sing for Hope Pianos make their debut tomorrow, from Coney Island to Central Park and from the Bronx to Staten Island and the Far Rockaways, they will inspire melodies, conversations, and random acts of musical kindness -- including, hopefully, yours. And we hope they will inspire imitators in cities around the world for years to come.

To quote Hugh Jones, who started it all on Sharrow Vale Road over a decade ago, "Perhaps one day, street pianos will be a familiar sight everywhere. Now wouldn't that just rock your world?"

Learn more about Sing for Hope and find the SFH Piano nearest you at www.singforhope.org.

A Sing for Hope Piano by Adam Suerte overlooks the Manhattan skyline from its vantage point in Brooklyn Bridge Park.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

On Sunday night, Broadway will hand out Tony Awards. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time is nominated for best play. Gary and I saw it on our recent visit to New York. During the first act, I shifted nervously in my seat. The play had scenes that were painfully familiar. At intermission, I looked at Gary. "Should we leave now?"

We decided to stay. A lot can happen in the second act.

There were a lot of truths in the portrayal of Christopher, a teenage boy with autistic behaviors who tries to solve a murder mystery. Although my daughter, Ariela, did not have autism, we had a lot in common with the family in the play. Without giving too much away, here are just a few of the play's insights that I related to.

1. Motivation. With great difficulty, Christopher navigated trains and subways, because he wanted to find his mother. Ariela had just started to use a new communication device, a complicated system that required patience and practice to learn. When her doctor told her she needed surgery, she used her device to tell him she was afraid. Then, when she was in pre-op with the IV inserted in her arm, she looked up at her surgeon. "This isn't going to be easy," she said with her synthesized voice. She wanted him to know that.

2. Teachers. One teacher can change a life. Christopher was fortunate to have one gifted teacher in his corner. Ariela had many teachers who misunderstood her, dismissed her or neglected her. In all of her years of school, from pre-K through grade 12, I can count on one hand the teachers who supported her, believed in her, and nourished her. They were the ones who wouldn't stop until they could find a way for her to learn.

3. Animals. Sometimes it's easier to connect with a pet than with another person. Christopher had a pet mouse. Ariela connected with horses. She loved to ride. Two therapeutic riding programs in our area wouldn't take her. "She's too medically fragile," they said. But Joell Dunlap at Square Peg Foundation accepted Ariela without condition.

4. Fighting. Parents of children with special needs have a lot to fight about. When there are no roadmaps, there are no right answers. Like Christopher's parents, some of our biggest fights were about who did what and how much for our daughter. Those were hurtful battles. It took us years to begin to acknowledge that we both did the best we could do.

5. Controls. We all have our own ways to control the overwhelming stimuli in our environment. Some meditate, some medicate, some move to the country. Ariela closed her eyes and put her head down. Christopher turned to mathematics. I believe the last time I studied the Pythagorean Theorem was in the ninth grade. In The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, I saw its beauty.

There's a lot more packed into this two-hour production, but I don't want to spoil it for you. I just read that The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time will be on tour next year. I hope it comes to a theater near you. Go see it for yourself, and don't leave at intermission. It gets better.

For more information, check out my website and follow me on Facebook.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Answer: Party at the Plaza Hotel into the wee hours!

Question: This Sunday at the American Theatre Wing's Tony Awards, after the last circular medallion is handed out at New York's Radio City Music Hall, what happens next?

For the fifth year, the nominees, presenters and other VIPs hightail it to the famous and historic Plaza Hotel for a Tony gala for the ages. "We're the only event that takes over the entirety of the Plaza Hotel including the Todd English Food Court, the Palm Court and the Terrace Room. That makes it very special," says Charlotte St. Martin, president of The Broadway League, which presents the Tony Awards along with the American Theatre Wing.

This year's theme is Marie Antoinette with shades of pink, flowers and crystal galore. "It's very Versailles looking which certainly matches the decor of the Plaza," says St. Martin. In fact, the shindig has been in the works for an entire year. As Heather Hitchens, president of the American Theatre Wing explains, "the Tonys is June 7. On June 8, we begin planning next year's Tonys."

The glam Tony gala is a collaboration of 24 different businesses. So what can the partygoers expect at this year's gala? For a preview of the big night (from 1,800 glasses of champagne to 1,500 pieces of shrimp), click on this story at Parade.com

The Tony Award Gala at the Plaza Hotel, 2014

Getty Images/Photos Used with Permission

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Answer: Party at the Plaza Hotel into the wee hours!

Question: This Sunday at the American Theatre Wing's Tony Awards, after the last circular medallion is handed out at New York's Radio City Music Hall, what happens next?

For the fifth year, the nominees, presenters and other VIPs hightail it to the famous and historic Plaza Hotel for a Tony gala for the ages. "We're the only event that takes over the entirety of the Plaza Hotel including the Todd English Food Court, the Palm Court and the Terrace Room. That makes it very special," says Charlotte St. Martin, president of The Broadway League, which presents the Tony Awards along with the American Theatre Wing.

This year's theme is Marie Antoinette with shades of pink, flowers and crystal galore. "It's very Versailles-looking, which certainly matches the decor of the Plaza," says St. Martin. In fact, the shindig has been in the works for an entire year. As Heather Hitchens, president of the American Theatre Wing explains, "The Tonys is June 7. On June 8, we begin planning next year's Tonys."

The glam Tony gala is a collaboration of 24 different businesses. So what can the partygoers expect at this year's gala? For a preview of the big night (from 1,800 glasses of champagne to 1,500 pieces of shrimp), click on this story at Parade.com

The Tony Award Gala at the Plaza Hotel, 2014

Getty Images/Photos Used with Permission

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

I am not one for predictions, particularly where the Tony Awards are concerned. In fact, I can't remember the last time I watched a Tony broadcast. I know the last ceremony that I attended personally was when Rent won everything posthumously for my late-friend Jonathan Larson in 1996. That was almost more than I could bear, and I haven't been back since.

This year, however, two things intrigue me: My kids' first-time stake in the proceedings, and Fun Home. Lea and Sara have seen a lot of Broadway theater this season. As a result, they feel personally invested in their Tony connection to You Can't Take It With You, On the Town, An American in Paris, Something Rotten!, The King and I. Each show is real to them. They know the names of even the supporting players (no-one made a bigger impression all season on all of us than Annaleigh Ashford and her sublime terpsichorean daffiness as Essie Carmichael in You Can't Take It With You). Sara is rooting hard for Robert Fairchild, the City Ballet-based star of An American in Paris, to take Best Leading Actor in a Musical. Lea is pretty high on Christian Borle's rock star turn as Shakespeare in Something Rotten! for Best Featured Actor, but she refuses to play favorites. "They were all pretty good," she maintains.

The point I come away with is this: The Tony Awards really need kids. If the Theater Wing could find a way to give kids a routing interest by getting more of them in to see these wildly overpriced productions (I know, it does try to), then the Neilsen numbers would follow. Kids ought to be part of the television show's focus -- not to infantilize the telecast any more than it already is, but to trumpet the party innocently and joyously, and end it early. Start the whole thing at 7:00, I say. Make the kids welcome and their parents might just follow.

Which brings me to Fun Home. I found it as exquisitely excruciating to watch as I first found Sweeney Todd, when I saw it at the Uris Theatre way, way back in 1979. The unexpected parallels between these two diversely original musicals only struck me after I'd gone home to recover from Fun Home. Not since Sweeney Todd has there been a Broadway musical anti-hero more sickeningly appealing and appalling then the child predator dad, Bruce Bechdel, whom Michael Cerveris grotesquely conjures. As with Len Cariou as Sweeney, I could not take my eyes off Mr. Cerveris, even as I badly needed to look away. I am, myself, a survivor of childhood sexual abuse -- though my predator was not a father figure but a rabbi, which, given the recent New York Times stories about the dastardly, sauna-centric Rabbi Jonathan Rosenblatt up in Riverdale, remains a painfully unresolved issue. But enough about me and rabbis.

A little over a decade ago, in my book Ever After about "The Last Twenty-Five Years of Musical Theater" up till that time, I devoted the better part of a chapter to Jeanine Tesori, then a promising young female Broadway musical composer (rarity of rarities). Ms. Tesori's progressive evolution since then has been a wonderment to witness. From Violet to Thoroughly Modern Millie to Caroline, or Change, and now Fun Home, her musical palette has shape-shifted and expanded, taking on new colors with the new demands of each project. While I couldn't say that her music for Fun Home is as spectacular as Stephen Sondheim's for Sweeney Todd (what is?), her score is clearly a noble descendent in its intense manipulation and reinterpretation of tradition. Classic Broadway music is alive and well in Ms. Tesori's Fun Home score (abetted by effortlessly expressive lyrics from Lisa Kron), yet it sounds reborn. Seventies Pop is, in a sense, Tesori's equivalent to Sondheim's deployment of Britsh Music Hall strains in Sweeney, and, as Sondheim did, the songs dramatize discomfitting moments in Lisa Kron's kaleidoscopic retelling of Alison Bechdel's extraordinary, troubling story in ways that I really have never experienced before.

Though it is full of kids -- talented kids, like the Tony nominated Sydney Lucas, who plays Small Alison -- Fun Home is not for kids. That said, I have discussed the show with Lea and Sara, who typically grill me these days when they find a Playbill lying around for a show they have not seen. Having already talked with them about my own childhood abuse -- in an effort to, if nothing else, warn them to be vigilant in their own self-defense -- it was not a huge leap to explain what Fun Home is about. Even my selectively generalized description disturbed them... thankfully. They should be disturbed. Both agreed that this was not a show they needed to see right now. Should it actually win the Tony Award Sunday night for Best Musical, I think they will share my surprise. They will also understand my satisfaction.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

(Photo Credit: Terry Shapiro)

The world of theater lends to inspire, to take the audience from their regular day-to-day rigmarole and reflect on what we all truly want in our lives. The story of Pippin is one of satisfaction, about a young prince on his own expedition for contentment. Pippin was an iconic musical 40 years ago during it's original run in the 1970s, but it's revival, directed by Diane Paulus with a score from Stephen Schwartz, brings the beloved story back with a modern spin. With its added acrobatic components, Pippin is a bigger extravaganza than even before.

Recently, I was able to chat with Pippin cast member Sabrina Harper (pictured above), who plays Fastrada and has been with the production since it opened on Broadway in early 2013, about the magical elements of Pippin.

How is it be a part of this reboot of Pippin, a musical that garnered so many accolades back in its original run in the 1970s?
It was quite an exciting experience. Let alone the story, the history of the fosse style and working with Diane Paulus, Gypsy Snider, and Chet Walker, just these amazing people to re-create what was once very iconic. I believe a story and musical that is being produced right now that will never be forgotten. The new, revival version of Pippin added a whole new element to Broadway, a whole new element to musical theater by adding circus to acting, singing, and dance. I think it will be one of those musicals that will be spoken of in years to come.

How is the revival of Pippin different than the original run?
Oh, in so many ways! A lot of has been cut out because times have changed. We have a female Leading Player instead of man; it was Ben Vereen in the 70s. We've added this circus element of acrobatics. In the 70s version, it was a troupe of players, a troupe of performers. We are the same, but you can say we are a circus troupe bringing a show to town. It's quite different. It's modernized. It's still set in the same era, but it's brighter, and maybe even more extraordinary than it was in the 70s just through all the stuff that's brought to the stage every night.

How did you get into theater?
I started at very young age. I was about three years old when my mom first got me into dance classes. I grew up in Southern California, so at a very young age I got involved in TV and commercials with the help of my parents. I really took it off and wanted to continue doing that and strive for it because I remember the days where my mom and my dad sat me down and said 'if you don't want to do this anymore, you let us know'. I tried other things. I did sailing. I did horseback riding. My passion still continued more towards dance, theater, and acting, so I've been doing it since I was a little girl. Five years old I think was my first performance going across the stage in The Nutcracker as a little mouse. It's been in my blood. Occasionally, my mom would help out at our local regional theater in the costumes or props departments. I remember sitting and watching her work and just being in that environment, and knowing that I wanted to be a part of this world.

What's your favorite moment of the show?
I have two favorite moments. I have the opening of the show, "Magic To Do", when the stage is revealed. I won't say anymore. It's just really a spectacular moment. I remember the first time I saw that on Broadway sitting out in the audience watching I got goose bumps from that moment of the reveal. Also, in the finale, there's also a reveal, which is really very heavy and touching.

What do think the overall message of Pippin is?
It's a young man's journey to find his purpose in life. I wouldn't say his purpose in life, that's too set in concrete, but a young man's journey in search of happiness, for fulfillment. I think that the overlying idea towards it is finding you're "corner of the sky". We leave home, go to college, graduate, and we stand there and say 'Oh gosh! What's next?' We continue to do that. We even continue to do that when you turn 65. You stand there and you go 'OK! What's next?' We continue and continue to search for fulfillment and search for our corner of the sky, our piece of the pie, or whatever makes us the most happiness. It may even be we found it and the happiness we have is sitting on our porch watching our family and having your children around you. But having come to that realization and be able to sit there and say 'This fulfills me'. I think that's an idea of Pippin; finding that moment of fulfillment.

Pippin is set for a run of performances starting June 9th through June 21st at the Fisher Theatre in Detroit. For more information, visit pippinthemusical.com and broadwayindetroit.com.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Ronnie Gilbert, an original member of the legendary folk group, the Weavers, died today (June 7) at the age of 88. While the prodigiously talented Pete Seeger was clearly the most noted member of the group (Fred Hellerman and Lee Hays were the other two members), it was Ronnie Gilbert who gave the Weavers their lyrical elegance.

While Gilbert could be as playful and whimsical as the rest of the gang, her contralto voice projected a haunting solemnity that stood out. Listen to her segment on the Weaver's version of the great Leadbelly song, "Goodnight, Irene." Her voice is so achingly "declarative," it's heartbreaking. Wonderful song, terrific singer. (Fun fact: Ken Kesey's book, Sometimes a Great Notion, takes its title from a Goodnight, Irene lyric.)

The daughter of Eastern European Jewish immigrants, Gilbert was born and raised in New York City. Her mother was a seamstress (just as the iconic Mary "Mother Jones" Harris was) and labor union advocate, and her father was a factory worker. Gilbert once said that it was listening to the "subversive" lyrics of Paul Robeson on the radio, when she was a kid, that inspired her to become a folk singer.

Anyone conversant in Cold War history and its attendant "Red Scare," is aware of what happened to the Weavers (formed in 1948). Suspecting this folk group of being too "leftwing," the merchants of hatred and fear, led by Senator Joseph McCarthy, smeared them as "Communists" and had them blacklisted.

Despite their hit songs (Goodnight, Irene, Wimoweh, On Top of Old Smokey, Kisses Sweeter Than Wine, et al), they were banned from appearing on radio or television, and their recording contract with Decca Records was abruptly cancelled. They went from being one of the most popular post-war groups to being almost totally ostracized, all the result of America's ideological ignorance and hypocrisy.

Basically, the Weavers were destroyed. The group formally disbanded in 1953. But even with the ruination of her music career, the irrepressible Ronnie Gilbert went on to become a fully committed social activist and organizer, traveling to Cuba, in 1961, and visiting Paris, France, in the turbulent year of 1968. She later earned a master's degree in psychology and became a psychotherapist.

When I was a kid, a friend's parents took me to a Pete Seeger concert in Pasadena, California. These people were folk music aficionados, owning records by Odetta, Baez, Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, etc. Of course, by this time the Weavers had long since been dissolved and Seeger was working as a solo performer.

During the show (which he performed on a homemade banjo), Seeger made a couple of memorable announcements. The first was addressed to Ronnie Gilbert. Without any explanation or introductory words, he issued a shout-out to her, wishing her "good luck." Apparently, she was either recovering from an illness or had been laid low by some personal problem; we had no idea. In any event, at the mention of Ronnie's name, the audience cheered.

The second thing Seeger did was remind us that when you write a song, you have no idea where it will wind up, which made it analogous, in his words, to "raising a child." He said the next song was one he had written but hadn't bothered to copyright. Still, its success had made him as happy as a "proud parent."

He then proceeded to sing, "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" (which became a big hit by the Kingston Trio). When the audience heard the opening chords, they cheered wildly.

Celebrity activists are to be commended. After all, it would be a lot easier to sit poolside and count their money than to march in a rally or travel to a Third World country and promote a cause. But it's even more impressive when this "activism" is done by celebs who aren't millionaires, and is done without fanfare or the expectation of praise. Rest in peace, Ronnie Gilbert. You done good.

David Macaray is a playwright and author. His latest book is, Night Shift: 270 Factory Stories.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

It's not that easy for a person to disappear. In today's heavily connected world, it may be possible for someone to go off the grid or take an electronic sabbatical. But if an emergency arises (or someone files a missing person report), chances are pretty good he'll be found. Unless, of course, something terrible has happened.

Perhaps he's been kidnapped, murdered, or drowned.

Perhaps the local power utility turned off his electricity and he froze to death in the middle of winter.

Perhaps an old lady has died in her sleep and her pet cats have been feasting on her face.

Perhaps someone made a hasty exit, pursued by a bear.

Whenever someone goes missing, there's always a backstory which can explain their disappearance. How a writer will use that event to craft a novel, a stage drama, a screenplay, or an operatic libretto remains to be seen. Of course, that's assuming that the missing person's remains will ever be seen!

If you're a serial killer like Jack the Ripper or Jeffrey Dahmer, it may take years before you are found.

If you're haunting the Paris Opera House, Andrew Lloyd Webber may be your undoing.

If you're a demon barber named Sweeney Todd, chances are the remains of your victims will never be found.

Two missing person mysteries recently took center stage in San Francisco. One was a contemporary drama making its debut as part of the National New Play Network's Rolling World Premiere program (with future productions scheduled at the Cleveland Public Theatre and the Mo'olelo Performing Arts Company in San Diego).

The other was a notorious musical comedy flop that was pronounced dead on arrival after its opening night on December 8, 1991. The theatre critic for The New York Times (Frank Rich) ended his review by stating that "We can look forward to hearing a lot more from Ms. Prince. In the meantime, there is no escaping the unfortunate fact that the liveliest thing in Nick and Nora is a corpse." Potential ticket buyers quickly said "Asta la vista!"

* * * * * * * * * *

Directed by Giovanna Sardelli, the San Francisco Playhouse presented the world premiere of In A Word (a new play by Lauren Yee) as part of its Sandbox Series. As Yee explains:

"In this play, objects have a life of their own. Objects come up again whether you want them to or not. Words also come up again, and sometimes the characters realize this or not. Time is very fluid."

Jessica Bates as Fiona in a scene from In A Word (Photo by: Fei Cai)

The action focuses on a couple marking the two-year anniversary of their young son's disappearance. Nothing seems to make sense to the mother, Fiona (Jessica Bates), who is still clutching at straws. With the case about to be closed by the local police, Fiona has even thought it could be helpful to present the detective from the missing persons bureau with a cantaloupe that might have recently had the kidnapper's fingerprints on it. Needless to say, he's more interested in eating the cantaloupe.

Fiona's husband, Guy (Cassidy Brown), is trying to get Fiona out the door so they can at least enjoy dinner at a fancy restaurant and start to rebuild their lives. But with his wife's ongoing depression, distraction, and lack of logic, dinner seems a long way off.

Jessica Bates and Cassidy Brown in a scene from In A Word
(Photo by: Fei Cai)

The third (and, by far, most interesting) actor (Greg Ayers) keeps popping up as part of a game of Whac-a-Mole that is playing out in Fiona's mind. At any given moment he might be the photographer who snapped her son's school portrait, the principal (who was also her boss), or the kidnapper who stole her son while her car was parked at a gas station. He could also be the detective working the case, her husband's best friend, or her missing seven-year-old boy, Tristan (who might have Asperger syndrome).

Jessica Bates and Greg Ayers in a scene from In A Word
(Photo by: Fei Cai)

Despite its relatively short running time (80 minutes), it takes a while for Yee's play to gain momentum as the audience tries to follow what's going on in Fiona's extremely cluttered and confused mind. As a result, a great deal of attention is siphoned off to the actor inhabiting multiple roles, whose versatility at times may seem far more interesting than Yee's script. Thankfully, Yee steers the story to a touching resolution.

Working on a unit set designed by Catalina Nino, Sardelli's three-actor ensemble did a fine job of bringing Yee's script to life. Unfortunately, I still can't figure out the symbolism of the tree which haunts Fiona and Guy's home.

* * * * * * * * * *

Nearly 25 years have passed since Nick & Nora (a musical written and directed by Arthur Laurents with music by Charles Strouse and lyrics by Richard Maltby, Jr.) met a sudden demise on the Great White Way. Based on characters created by Dashiell Hammett for The Thin Man (and with a cast headed by Joanna Gleason, Barry Bostwick, Christine Baranski, Faith Prince, Debra Monk, Remak Ramsay, and Chris Sarandon), the show would seem to have been blessed with many tried and tested Broadway talents.

To understand what went wrong, perhaps it's best to follow the money. Nick & Nora was apparently underfunded and, in a misguided effort to save money, the producers decided against an out-of-town tryout (opting instead to run the show through 71 preview performances). Without the perverse appeal of a vehicle like Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark (which racked up 182 preview performances prior to its opening), the money needed for marketing during Christmas season ran out. Faced with fierce competition for entertainment dollars (and having exhausted advance ticket sales from theatre parties), the producers would have been hard pressed to fill the cavernous 1,611-seat Marquis Theatre during the holidays. With the traditional January box office doldrums on the horizon, a mercy killing was the obvious solution.

San Francisco's 42nd Street Moon (which specializes in re-examining "lost" musicals) recently revived Nick & Nora in a production directed by Greg MacKellan, with choreography by Staci Arriaga. While the show is nowhere as bad as some of the Broadway stinkers I've seen (Something More! Maggie Flynn, Georgy, Her First Roman, I Had A Ball), it's a weak and fairly mediocre vehicle that lacks the musicality of Jennie, the sophistication of No Strings, or the sentimentality of Here's Love! Even Bajour was more exciting.

Nora (Brittany Danielle) and Nick (Ryan Drummond) are asked
by Tracy (Allison Rich) to investigate a murder in Nick & Nora
(Photo by: David Allen)

With Dave Dobrusky as music director (and sets and costumes by Hector Zavala), 42nd Street Moon's cast handled the material with aplomb, enabling the crooked bookkeeper, Lorraine Bixby (Nicole Frydman), to rise from the dead (an especially nifty trick for an Easter Sunday matinee) on numerous occasions in an effort to explain why a wealthy, bitchy actress's husband had gone missing.

As the famous Nick and Nora Charles, Ryan Drummond and Britanny Danielle were a visually appealing couple (although I doubt the audience cared very much about their relationship or Nora's determination to prove herself as a female detective). Allison Rich scored strongly as the narcissistic Tracy Gardner whose Japanese butler, Yukido (Reuben Uy), proved to be the loyal villain. Megan Stetson drew laughs as Lorraine's lesbian girlfriend, Maria Valdez, who was hoping to break into motion pictures.

Justin Gillman (Spider Malloy), Brian Herndon (film director Max Bernheim), William Giammona (as a social-climbing former felon), and Michael Barrett Austin (as Lieutenant Wolfe, with an "e") provided sturdy support in smaller roles. Michael Kern Cassidy (as the missing Hollywood producer, Edward J. Connors) and Cindy Goldfield (as his overprotective wife, Lily) brought an added touch of Boston flavor to the proceedings.

Brittany Danielle (Nora Charles), Ryan Drummond (Nick Charles),
Allison Rich (Tracy Gardner), and Nicole Frydman (Lorraine Bixby)
appear in Nick & Nora (Photo by: David Allen)

42nd Street's production of Nick & Nora proves that the show is far from a total dud. It's reasonably entertaining and features some pleasant songs ("Is There Anything Better Than Dancing?" "Everybody Wants To Do A Musical," "People Get Hurt," "Men," and "Look Who's Alone Now").

One of the show's bigger problems is that the crucial relationship between Nick and Nora doesn't seem to generate much interest or sympathy (primarily serving as an excuse for the rest of the script's hijinks). Thankfully, Arthur Laurents (a veteran of Hollywood and Broadway) peppered his script with some zingers.

To read more of George Heymont go to My Cultural Landscape

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

TONY AWARDS PRESS ROOM -- Although the space where we flacks are packed into rows is provided with a simulcast and earphones, you don't have to watch the show if you don't want to. The winners are coming our way at times and that preoccupies us, but there are lulls, and you don't have to tune in to the presentation then either.

The show is now about seven minutes old and hosts Kristin Chenoweth and Alan Cumming have finished their uninvolving opening number. Just now on the tube is "It's a Musical," the first act biggie from Something Rotten. It's so beloved by those associated with the tuner that they do pretty much the same number in the second act, though under a different title.

Helen Mirren just won best actress for The Audience, and there wasn't much response in these quarters, but we're certainly waiting to get to her with questions when she arrives. There is, however, heavy mittage for Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron for their Fun Home score.

Changing costumes constantly on the show, Chenoweth and Cumming have done more below-par material -- some of it requiring sloppy lip-synching -- and it doesn't look as if things will get any better. So I'll leave them to it for the rest of this report.

Christian Borle wins his second Tony for his Something Rotten featured role. He's on screen as the winners of a special citation for regional theater talk to us. Attention is divided. But since no one is on the interviewees' podium during Annaleigh Ashford's win for her featured You Can't Take It With You role, she does get nice response from this gang for her cute on-screen chat.

Now Tony Yazbeck is doing a reworked number (or is it numbers?) from On the Town. Most television viewers won't be aware of the jockeying that goes on when deciding what numbers from what shows get televised. No one seems to consider that more often than not, larger numbers look pushy and tinny to folks sitting in their living rooms.

Helen Mirren, humble and direct and looking like a billion dollars, says the best advice she ever received about having a career was to conquer fear. While she was game to answer more questions, she was graciously cut off by one of the facilitators. John Cameron Mitchell talks about starting his career thinking he must hide his homosexuality and has learned that what's important is protecting yourself as a person when taking on roles, implying that hiding may not be the way but maintaining a remove might be. Christian Borle says he wished he'd learned sooner that other people's success is not your failure. That's a tonic.

This might be the time to note that the pressroom quiet stretches outnumber the active minutes. It's akin to a funereal pall. Even when someone is being queried from our crowd, things can be ultra-dull but there's no need to go on about that either.

Bunny Christie confides that while designing The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time set she repeatedly referenced both Mark Haddon's novel and Simon Stephens's script for more inspirations. That meant something to me, if not anyone else. Ruthie Ann Miles, having nabbed her Tony as featured actress in The King and I, said her advice to her younger self would be, "Don't be a dentist." Then she was movingly emotional talking about how her mother "sacrificed her life" so she could go to college.

Perhaps worth noting: Not one of the women is asked who designed her gown. Is this the difference between Broadway and Hollywood? Hold the iPhone. Costume design winner (The King and I) Catherine Zuber has just been asked if she designed her gown. Nope: Marc Jacobs did. So I ask Christopher Oram, whose Wolf Hall costumes won, about obtaining fabrics now that were used prominently then. He replies that there are fabric houses still turning out such materials. Kelli O'Hara is wearing Oscar de la Renta, but doesn't say it was defined before or after his recent demise.

It's hard to resist pointing out that underscoring the "In Memoriam" section Josh Groban comes close to burying "You'll Never Walk Alone."

The biggest response in this room by far is Kelli O'Hara's win. She thanks her Oklahoma vocal coach Florence Birdwell, who, obviously not by accident, also was Kristin Chenoweth's vocal coach back in the day. (Is her phone ringing right now? It should be.) The second biggest response goes to the Fun Home win for Best Musical.

OK, so the show is over, but we're sitting here waiting for the later winners to address us. Alex Sharp, direct from Juilliard into Incident of..., says Al Pacino movies were early influences for him. The applause Kelli O'Hara gets in this room emphasizes how popular the win is with those of us who follow these things daily.

I notice this is a surprisingly short account of the year's Tony Awards as scoped from the press room. I can only suggest it's an indication of the excitement the event didn't create from start to finish.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

2015-06-08-1433749701-5012486-MatthewblackbirdcloseupMatthewBrown.jpg

Matthew Poppe. (Photo: Matthew Brown)

We are born naked, the rest is drag.
- RuPaul Charles

"People who haven't lived their whole lives as women... shouldn't get to define us," asserts Elinor Burkett in The New York Times, in an exasperated reaction to Caitlyn Jenner's heavily orchestrated arrival on the planet: one of the greatest male athletes of all time squeezed, Old Hollywood-style, into a corset, looking like a million dollars on the cover of Vanity Fair.

And yet, provocateurs of gendered transgression have often illuminated our blind spots.

For centuries, female impersonators -- variously straight, gay and transgender -- have employed their ephemeral art to remind us that we are all, at some level, performing gender.

2015-06-08-1433750126-8361637-MatthewblackbirdMatthewBrown.jpg

Matthew Poppe. (Photo: Matthew Brown)

The history of Western society's obsession with women's looks can be traced through the often peculiar, but revealing, history of gender representation on the ballet stage.

Ballet's twin aesthetic of ethereal beauty and youthful sexual allure -- with an idealized view of women at the focal point -- has been achieved over centuries of restrictive body ideals and a monastic discipline.

Yet, in the early days of Renaissance court ballet, only men were allowed to portray women onstage.

They were eventually edged out by the 19th century ballerinas who developed a virtuosity to rival the men's, and the ability to dance on pointe -- which outclassed the men altogether, relegating them to the role of lifters and the occasional comedic character.

The politics and economics of the era, however, ensured that men remained firmly in control of the ballet world, with ballerinas treated offstage as little more than kept women, even as their feminine mystique was celebrated onstage.

The phenomenon of Diaghilev's Ballets Russes at the turn of the 20th century -- with its emphasis on powerful male dancing, and the daring new androgynous look exemplified by Nijinsky -- reconfigured the gender battlefield in ballet once again.

Since then, the ballet world has seen little shake-up in gender roles, with choreographers (still predominantly male) riffing on predominantly heterosexual couplings. Performing en travesti has been limited mainly to roles like the Ugly Stepsisters in Cinderella.

A conspicuous exception has been the formidable Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo, who, over the past 40 years, have won a devoted global following.

2015-06-08-1433750374-5631006-TrocksparkbenchZoranJelenic.jpg

Artists of Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo (Photo: Zoran Jelenic)

This all-male troupe performs the classics with astonishing fidelity, gleefully subverting the ideals of the art form, while paying homage to it. Their mind-blowing mastery of pointework and of the fine points of ballerina style from different eras often make audiences forget that these are all men onstage. At other times, their artful exaggerations and their demented, self-sabotaging humor remind us of the fine line between high art and trash, between the sublime and the ridiculous. A glimpse of a ballerina's hairy underarms, feathers moulting from a swan tutu, a grand battement that goes rogue and knocks a partner on his fanny, attention-seeking curtseys, little acts of passive aggression between feuding ballerinas - all momentarily peel back the curtain on the elaborate, centuries-old illusion that is ballet.

It takes a man in drag... to illuminate the fact that a ballerina is nothing but a woman in drag - impersonating a swan, or a princess of a non-existent kingdom, a temple dancer in an India that never was, one of Apollo's muses, or a superhero like the Bomb Squad 'In the Upper Room'.

2015-06-08-1433750260-1231578-MatthewswanMatthewBrown.jpg

Matthew Poppe. (Photo: Matthew Brown)

Ballet to the People recently stalked one of her favorite new Trocks, 23-year-old Matthew Poppe, who, in the time-honored tradition of the company, adopts a vaguely Russian, punning stage name, complete with manufactured bio larded with pretentious academic dancespeak. Poppe calls himself Doris Vidanya when he dances ballerina roles, and Ilya Bobovnikov when he dances male roles. So far, his performances have been split about evenly between the two.

Catching his breath between the company's tours to Spain and Italy, the engaging Poppe graciously made time for an intimate chat.

This Arizona native spent three years at New York City Ballet's renowned School of American Ballet, between the ages of 15 and 17, and danced with Ballet Arizona for one season, before heading to Boston Ballet. After three years with Boston, unsure of his future, he enrolled at Fordham University.

Then, the Trockaderos beckoned.

"When I was eight years old, I read a book about a ballet. It made me want so badly to do pointe, even though I had never seen it done live," he noted wryly. "Taking ballet classes as a kid, I kept asking 'when do I get to go on pointe?'"

Up to the time of his audition for the Trockaderos, however, he hadn't seriously studied pointe. It is simply not part of male ballet training. After a season of dancing with the Trocks, he has the battle scars: "I've now lost both my big toenails, several times!"

But, like a true hardcore ballerina, he is proud to point out, "I don't have to pad my toes anymore. I just tape them."

Pointework has improved his alignment, he notes. And the practice of rolling up and down in pointe shoes, in repetitive fouetté turns, for example, has strengthened his feet. The demands of female technique do force him to stretch more - male dancers often hate stretching - which has also upped his game.

It's not just the pointework that challenges a Trock: "The tutu and the bun - that definitely took some getting used to!" Poppe acknowledged the unfamiliar paraphernalia that, on first encounter, threatened to throw him off his balance.

The competitive athlete in him constantly pushes him to the edge. Each time he tackles his solo variation in Paquita, for example, he tries something more daring than the last. There are at least 8 fouetté turns, he noted, "so I'll try double, single, double, with a triple at the end!" He relishes the petit allegro in pieces like the Napoli Pas de Six, hungering for "that fiendishly fast beaten footwork, like we learned to do at SAB."

Poppe does not come from a ballet family, though athletic prowess is in his DNA - "my dad played football, and always hoped to play professionally." His younger brother ended up following in his footsteps to the School of American Ballet.

His favorite roles so far are both male parts: the carefree Basilio in Don Quixote, and the lead male in the bravura-filled Russian classic Esmeralda. The dancers who have most inspired him are fellow Trock Chase Johnsey (a.k.a. Yakatarina Verbosovich), who dances Basilio's frisky love interest, Kitri, in Don Q, and James Whiteside, with whom he danced at Boston Ballet, and with whom he also used to perform in drag.

Johnsey is "gracious, beautiful, and tiny... believe it or not, the easiest person I've ever had to partner." More importantly, says Poppe, he is a true artist. "He has taught me to get inside the head of the character I'm dancing, to think like him or her."

Whiteside has gone on to conquer many of the lead roles at American Ballet Theatre, proving to be one of most versatile dancers in the company. "You want to be the best you can be, and still have fun doing it," Poppe learned from Whiteside.

Margot Fonteyn's autobiography also taught him "not to take yourself so seriously." He marvels at Fonteyn's combination of naiveté and bravery - particularly during her harrowing escape from Holland with the Sadler's Wells Company, who had been on tour when the Nazis invaded in 1940.

Matthew Poppe (Photo: Ihaia Miller)

The Trockaderos' whirlwind tours (23 cities in Italy, Japan and the U.K. over the next six months - and they were just back from Serbia and Spain) are a unique gift to a young dancer like Poppe. But the jet-setting life of a Trock is equal parts glamour and tough grind.

And not without conflict. Poppe says there is unease within the company over a proposed tour to Russia, given the heightened controversy over the oppression of gays under the current regime. "I get why some dancers would not want to go. The situation in Russia is troubling. But I really think we should." The Trocks' repertoire is steeped in the Russian tradition. "I think the Russians would see us for the artists we are," he maintains.

It's hard to look in Poppe's wide, trusting eyes and not be concerned that he is in for a shock.

"I'm gay, and I grew up never being stereotyped, never stereotyping others. I know I'm probably naïve. But I'm going to be who I am," he insists. "I have this opportunity to learn my art from the greats, and I've got to demonstrate it, pass it on."

A crucial part of his art is his face: he takes great care and pleasure in his make-up. What may be a painstaking chore for some drag performers is a rich creative outlet for him. The transformation from character to character is breathtaking. And infinitely more entertaining and revealing, more outrageous and more nuanced, than the heart-to-heart girlfriend chats about hair and make-up that Caitlyn Jenner has promised to give us in her upcoming reality television series.

2015-06-08-1433750195-2297292-MatthewSwanCloseupMatthewBrown.jpg

Matthew Poppe. (Photo: Matthew Brown)

Skip reality television and opt for the unreality of Matthew Poppe and the Trockaderos, whose wicked caricatures keep us on the edge of our seats, unsettling us with Doris Vidanya at the matinee and Ilya Bobovnikov in the evening, and skewering our pretensions along with the ballet world's. Amid the moments of great beauty and dazzling virtuosity, we are aware of the frenzied desperation with which the performers strive to keep the illusion alive, to keep the fake eyelashes from coming unglued, the ruffled lower basque of the tutu from riding up the backside. There is a moving truth in the artistically engineered travesty, which has riveted audiences for 40 years, and will continue to do so long after we have tired of Caitlyn Jenner's beauty regimen.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

A-Sides With Jon Chattman: Get 'Ready' for Kodaline; Catch What 'Contagious' Night Riots Have

Unexpected Places

Groundhog Day

First Nighter: The Marcy Heisler-Zina Goldrich Musical 'Ever After' an Unlikely Ever After

Coins for Clemens: Collaborative Fundraising for Mark Twain

10 Documentary Videos For Street Photography Fans

"Restless Creature" Could Be A Little More Restless

Rising Star Pico Alexander Talks Social Media, Bioluminescence and Taking Risks

An Adieu to Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet

Satyajit Ray's Apur Sansar (The World of Apu)

286 Hubs of Harmony: NYC Street Pianos Past, Present and Future

5 Truths from 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime'

An Exclusive Peek Inside This Year's Tony Awards Gala

An Exclusive Peek Inside This Year's Tony Awards Gala

The Tonys, 'Fun Home' and Kids

Revival of Broadway Musical Pippin Hits Detroit For Mid-June Run at the Fisher Theatre

Rest in Peace, Ronnie Gilbert

Meanwhile, Back at the Missing Persons Bureau

First Nighter: The Tonys as Experienced in the Press Room

Beyond the Lashes: Matthew Poppe and the Trockaderos