One of the literary highlights of the year for me was attending an LBBT literature festival in Washington, D.C. this fall. And one of the highlights of the event was a keynote talk by Circlet Press publisher Cecilia Tan. Her talk largely reflected some inspiring thoughts she expressed just after last year's distressing election.
The money quote from her keynote: "Self expression is self preservation." It helps to explain why fiction, poetry, art and music that celebrate sexuality and particularly forbidden or marginalized sexual identities and experienced must be recorded, imagined, examined.
I can't do justice to Cecilia Tan's words, which are much more articulate than anything I can do to summarize her, so I'll just put a link to her initial election response right here.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Brooks, Powers, Ashbury, Walcott
I have to credit the 92nd Street YMCA, known more for its cultural programming in New York City than it's athletic and aquatic activities (though they have plenty of dance and athletic activities as well), for celebrating the work of departed poets, many of then giants of 20th Century literature.
Earlier this month, I attended a celebration of Gwendolyn Brooks life and work, which featured some of the most prominent contemporary poets reading her work along with recordings of Brooks reading her own poetry. They saved the best for last, with Tyehimba Jess reading -- performing, really -- some Brooks poetry, which brought out plenty of Bravos and practically a standing ovation. (There's a lot of Jess reading/performing to be found on YouTube. I'm particularly fond of a Ted presentation he did about the McCoy sisters.) The 92nd Street Y is celebrating the work of John Ashbury tomorrow (12/13) and has a Derek Walcott event scheduled for January 18 of next year.
In an unrelated note, I also attended a reading at the KGB Bar recently, where I sat on a barstool sipping red wine and listened to Nicholas Powers read -- and compose -- his work. I was not previously familiar with Nicholas Powers, but I can tell you I'll be going to hear him again any chance I get. His poetry was socially engaged and engaging, but what really struck me was his extemporaneous work. He invited audience members to suggest topics/phrases/ideas, and just sort of riffed up poetry on the spot. Such an improv challenge would terrify me, I can assure you. I particularly remember the last one he did, which I'll call "elements" and "elephants," both of which figured prominently in his on the spot composition. I hope the KGB records their readings, so I can go back and hear it again.
Earlier this month, I attended a celebration of Gwendolyn Brooks life and work, which featured some of the most prominent contemporary poets reading her work along with recordings of Brooks reading her own poetry. They saved the best for last, with Tyehimba Jess reading -- performing, really -- some Brooks poetry, which brought out plenty of Bravos and practically a standing ovation. (There's a lot of Jess reading/performing to be found on YouTube. I'm particularly fond of a Ted presentation he did about the McCoy sisters.) The 92nd Street Y is celebrating the work of John Ashbury tomorrow (12/13) and has a Derek Walcott event scheduled for January 18 of next year.
In an unrelated note, I also attended a reading at the KGB Bar recently, where I sat on a barstool sipping red wine and listened to Nicholas Powers read -- and compose -- his work. I was not previously familiar with Nicholas Powers, but I can tell you I'll be going to hear him again any chance I get. His poetry was socially engaged and engaging, but what really struck me was his extemporaneous work. He invited audience members to suggest topics/phrases/ideas, and just sort of riffed up poetry on the spot. Such an improv challenge would terrify me, I can assure you. I particularly remember the last one he did, which I'll call "elements" and "elephants," both of which figured prominently in his on the spot composition. I hope the KGB records their readings, so I can go back and hear it again.
Sunday, November 5, 2017
Words and Music at Quinn Violins
For the life of me, I don't know why more poetry readings don't incorporate more live music. Of course, I have little experience in organizing readings, and I've never collaborated with musicians, so I'm part of the problem. But I've just returned from an inspiring trip to Quinn Violins in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Quinn Violins is more than just a music shop. The building includes studio space for musicians and some musicians offer classes there. Today's collaboration between poets and musicians featured the poets Ardie Medina, Michael Kiesow Moore, and Thomas R. Smith. They were joined by the Asiginaak Singers and cellist Lars Krogstad Ortiz.
In truth, more than collaboration was at play. Ardie Medina, in addition to reading her poetry, also sang with the two other members of the Asiginaak Singers. Robert Smith followed reading his own work by strapping a guitar over his shoulder and transforming himself into Jim Morrison and John Lennon.
But the highlight for me -- and I'm indebted to Michael Kiesow Moore for generously blurbing my chapbook -- was his collaboration with cellist Lars Krogstad Ortiz. Michael read, with Lars accompanying him on the cello with music that he must have composed with the poems in mind. The music added a degree of depth and texture that amplified the poetry rather than interfering with it.
It was perhaps the most entertaining and inspiring poetry events I've been to in long time.
The event took place in a small room lined with violins, appropriately enough. And isn't a rather poetically named music store -- Quinn Violins -- an appropriate setting for a musically infused poetry reading.
Quinn Violins is more than just a music shop. The building includes studio space for musicians and some musicians offer classes there. Today's collaboration between poets and musicians featured the poets Ardie Medina, Michael Kiesow Moore, and Thomas R. Smith. They were joined by the Asiginaak Singers and cellist Lars Krogstad Ortiz.
In truth, more than collaboration was at play. Ardie Medina, in addition to reading her poetry, also sang with the two other members of the Asiginaak Singers. Robert Smith followed reading his own work by strapping a guitar over his shoulder and transforming himself into Jim Morrison and John Lennon.
But the highlight for me -- and I'm indebted to Michael Kiesow Moore for generously blurbing my chapbook -- was his collaboration with cellist Lars Krogstad Ortiz. Michael read, with Lars accompanying him on the cello with music that he must have composed with the poems in mind. The music added a degree of depth and texture that amplified the poetry rather than interfering with it.
It was perhaps the most entertaining and inspiring poetry events I've been to in long time.
The event took place in a small room lined with violins, appropriately enough. And isn't a rather poetically named music store -- Quinn Violins -- an appropriate setting for a musically infused poetry reading.
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Gotham Gray is Out
As you can see below, my chapbook of poetry, Gotham Gray, has been published (thanks to Finishing Line Press for making that happen).
It's currently available from the Finishing Line Press website, Amazon, Barnes & Noble's website, and IndiBound, a website owned by independent bookstores that offers online book shopping.
By the way, in doing Web searches to find out just how easy it is to find my little book online, I discovered that there really is a paint color called Gotham Gray, though I can't remember which company makes it. At any rate, I'll check it out the next time I have a chance to remodel an apartment.
It's currently available from the Finishing Line Press website, Amazon, Barnes & Noble's website, and IndiBound, a website owned by independent bookstores that offers online book shopping.
By the way, in doing Web searches to find out just how easy it is to find my little book online, I discovered that there really is a paint color called Gotham Gray, though I can't remember which company makes it. At any rate, I'll check it out the next time I have a chance to remodel an apartment.
Saturday, June 17, 2017
A New Voice on Capitol Hill
Tracy K. Smith, pulitzer prize winning author of Life on Mars among other poetry collections, spoke with National Public Radio in an interview broadcast today about her appointment as Poetry Laureate of the U.S. (And, officially, consultant in poetry to the Library of Congress.) I remember living in D.C. in the mid-1990s, and readings or lectures featuring the poet laureate (I distinctly remember Rita Dove in particular) were always a highlight of D.C.'s literary calendar.
I was struck by somethings Smith said in her NPR interview about the role of poetry in a country facing times of division and dissension. Poetry is not just a vehicle to describe our own feelings, but also those of others -- serving as a vehicle to transport empathy. As such, she views poetry as something that becomes more essential in times of turmoil.
"The things that poems encourage us to acknowledge are more vital during times when we're up in arms about where we are going as a nation or where we're going as citizens," she told NPR.
I think Smith, whose work does not flinch from political and cultural hot spots, is an excellent choice for the laureateship. And I hope she will succeed in helping expand the audience of people who listen to poetry across the country.
I was struck by somethings Smith said in her NPR interview about the role of poetry in a country facing times of division and dissension. Poetry is not just a vehicle to describe our own feelings, but also those of others -- serving as a vehicle to transport empathy. As such, she views poetry as something that becomes more essential in times of turmoil.
"The things that poems encourage us to acknowledge are more vital during times when we're up in arms about where we are going as a nation or where we're going as citizens," she told NPR.
I think Smith, whose work does not flinch from political and cultural hot spots, is an excellent choice for the laureateship. And I hope she will succeed in helping expand the audience of people who listen to poetry across the country.
Monday, May 15, 2017
Stewart vs Trump
I have to admit, though I'm not a regular viewer of the late night talk shows, I enjoy Stephen Colbert more than any other late night host since, well, since David Letterman, whom Colbert replaced. And I was mostly a big Letterman fan during the early years of his career, when I was young and inclined to stay up late on a regular basis.
I happened upon the Colbert show last week on a day when he'd invited Jon Stewart, previously host of Comedy Central's daily show (which reminds me, I like Trevor Noah, the new host over there, quite a bit as well) and quite a few other veterans of the Daily Show -- Samantha Bee, etc -- onto the show to have a bit of a love fest for their former mentor. This all happened a few days after there had been some kerfuffle over an off color joke Colbert had made about Trump.
Though I'm not familiar with the joke, I'm sure I would consider it fair game, given all the crude and insulting things Trump has said about other people over the course of his campaign (and career). But Jon Stewart himself came to Colbert's defense rather eloquently, I thought.
"For the life of me, I don't understand why we hold comedians to a higher standard than we hold leaders to," Stewart said. "We can insult. He can injure," he said, referring presumably to Trump.
I happened upon the Colbert show last week on a day when he'd invited Jon Stewart, previously host of Comedy Central's daily show (which reminds me, I like Trevor Noah, the new host over there, quite a bit as well) and quite a few other veterans of the Daily Show -- Samantha Bee, etc -- onto the show to have a bit of a love fest for their former mentor. This all happened a few days after there had been some kerfuffle over an off color joke Colbert had made about Trump.
Though I'm not familiar with the joke, I'm sure I would consider it fair game, given all the crude and insulting things Trump has said about other people over the course of his campaign (and career). But Jon Stewart himself came to Colbert's defense rather eloquently, I thought.
"For the life of me, I don't understand why we hold comedians to a higher standard than we hold leaders to," Stewart said. "We can insult. He can injure," he said, referring presumably to Trump.
Saturday, May 13, 2017
An Amazing Gala
In a city full of galas and other black tie occasions, the National Sawdust gala stands out as something special. The evening's agenda isn't filled with speeches, exhortations and backslapping. Instead, music takes central stage and some of the best singers, musicians and composers working today keep the audience entertained during a marvelous dinner. Highlights (and there weren't any low points) including performances by Helga Davis (National Sawdust artist in residence), a new work by composer and NS artistic director Paola Pristini, and a closing performance by the band Gogol Bordello.
In addition to providing space and support for music composers, National Sawdust has hosted some compelling collaborations between musicians and writers, including the poet Roger Bonair-Agard.
Below is a photo of Gogol Bordello from the National Sawdust gala.
In addition to providing space and support for music composers, National Sawdust has hosted some compelling collaborations between musicians and writers, including the poet Roger Bonair-Agard.
Below is a photo of Gogol Bordello from the National Sawdust gala.
Thursday, May 4, 2017
The Book of the Dead
Speaking of poetry and resistance, the good people at Berl's poetry bookshop in Brooklyn marked May Day with a marathon reading (repeated throughout the afternoon) of Muriel Rukeyser's Book of the Dead, a sort of epic, narrative poem about a lung disease that plagued and killed miners at a West Virginia mine. The silicon particles that infested their lungs and claimed the lives of many workers is vividly described in Rukeyser's poem, which summons outrage on a scale that no journalistic account could muster, though clearly the poem is inspired by investigative accounts of the tragedy.
Though the audience was modest, (I was the only non-reader present during one reading) the event served as a reminder (to me at least) that poetry does make a difference in the world. Sure, many believe that poetry does not make anything happen, but the inspiration drawn from poetry surely can inspire us toward engagement of the kind that can make things happen in the world. A poem sparking outrage against an industrial disease and the governmental neglect toward the working people affected by the crisis seems a particularly fitting choice at this time, with Congress considering legislation to peel away health insurance coverage from potentially millions of low income, older and sick people.
Though the audience was modest, (I was the only non-reader present during one reading) the event served as a reminder (to me at least) that poetry does make a difference in the world. Sure, many believe that poetry does not make anything happen, but the inspiration drawn from poetry surely can inspire us toward engagement of the kind that can make things happen in the world. A poem sparking outrage against an industrial disease and the governmental neglect toward the working people affected by the crisis seems a particularly fitting choice at this time, with Congress considering legislation to peel away health insurance coverage from potentially millions of low income, older and sick people.
Saturday, April 22, 2017
Poetry and the Resistance
The New York Times has a good article today on how the movement of resistance sparked by the election of Donald Trump to the White House (I still can't bring myself to use the P word as his title) has energized and politicized a lot of poets. (The article can be found here.) Some quick takeaways that reminded me that poetry today is more vital in the U.S. than it has seemed for a long time: Maya Angelou's poem, "Still I Rise," has been viewed on YouTube 470,000 times since the election. And I don't know if that even includes the version of Serena Williams reciting the poem that became an Internet hit after last year's Wimbledon championship. And Claudia Rankine's book, Citizen: an American Lyric, has more than 200,000 copies in print.
Last night at Magers & Quinn Bookstore in Minneapolis, prominent local poets Morgan Grace Willow, Lyle Daggett and Wang Ping read from a new anthology, Resist Much, Obey Little..., which was put together shortly after the election and represents something of an instant response collection (to the heck with that 'emotion reflected in tranquility business'.) The writers were generous enough to read work by other contributors in addition to their own poetry from the book. It seemed like the kind of event that deserves a larger audience than it got (a lot of readings seem that way to me). If poetry today is any indication, the resistance is strong.
Last night at Magers & Quinn Bookstore in Minneapolis, prominent local poets Morgan Grace Willow, Lyle Daggett and Wang Ping read from a new anthology, Resist Much, Obey Little..., which was put together shortly after the election and represents something of an instant response collection (to the heck with that 'emotion reflected in tranquility business'.) The writers were generous enough to read work by other contributors in addition to their own poetry from the book. It seemed like the kind of event that deserves a larger audience than it got (a lot of readings seem that way to me). If poetry today is any indication, the resistance is strong.
Wednesday, April 19, 2017
Pankake Poetry
So here's a quiz: in what city last night did a poetry reading at a University outdraw, by a considerable margin, the audience attending a public discussion about journalism in the Trump era featuring a prominent Washington Post writer?
In Minneapolis, of course. one more reason why I love this town.
Bao Phi was this year's Pankake Poetry reader at the University of Minnesota. (At first I thought the Pankake was a sort of hipster misspelling of pancake, and that the event might feature actual pancakes or something of that nature, but it turns out the reading series is held in honor of Marcia Pankake, a retired U librarian and poetry enthusiast who founded the series.) I've been lucky enough to hear Phi perform, because it's much more than just a reading, before. His poetry is urgent, at times uplifting, at times fueled by rage. He explores the experience of growing up in a working class neighborhood of Minneapolis as an Asian immigrant and the many alienations that confront immigrants and their children. His poetry ranges from tender to fiery, and he takes his audience on a ride to some unsettling places. I heard echoes from Whitman an other outsider voices. I can't wait to hear him again and delve into his new collection from Coffee House press, Song I Sing.
In Minneapolis, of course. one more reason why I love this town.
Bao Phi was this year's Pankake Poetry reader at the University of Minnesota. (At first I thought the Pankake was a sort of hipster misspelling of pancake, and that the event might feature actual pancakes or something of that nature, but it turns out the reading series is held in honor of Marcia Pankake, a retired U librarian and poetry enthusiast who founded the series.) I've been lucky enough to hear Phi perform, because it's much more than just a reading, before. His poetry is urgent, at times uplifting, at times fueled by rage. He explores the experience of growing up in a working class neighborhood of Minneapolis as an Asian immigrant and the many alienations that confront immigrants and their children. His poetry ranges from tender to fiery, and he takes his audience on a ride to some unsettling places. I heard echoes from Whitman an other outsider voices. I can't wait to hear him again and delve into his new collection from Coffee House press, Song I Sing.
Saturday, April 8, 2017
Poetry and Music in the Court House
It's a splendid early April in the Twin Cities, to which I have returned for the first time in 2017. And it didn't take long for me to stumble upon an accidental poetry experience. Looking for some free entertainment, I found a Courthouse Concert series event sponsored by Saint Paul's Schubert Club. It featured composure and guitarist Jeffrey Van, along with a violinist and a vocalist.
Mr. Van's first composition, which he performed solo, was a piece evocative of the Spanish composer Manuel de Falla, with whom I'm not familiar. But I enjoyed both that piece and the second composition, which was accompanied by the violist. But it was the third piece that really seemed destined for my enjoyment, because it featured an operatic singer performing poetry by Whitman, Crane, Wordsworth and Amy Lowell. The piece was titled Ring of Birds, and the vocalist was the amazing Clara Osowski. Aside from repeating some lines as a refrain, the piece stayed loyal to the original texts of the poetry. Hearing the words sung rather than recited reminded me that the divide between musical lyrics and poetry is, and should be, a rather porous one. As the title of the composition suggests, the poetry featured all had avian themes. (Whitman's "The Hermit Thrush," Crane's "Three Little Birds in a Row," Wordsworth's "...to a Skylark," Tennyson's "The Owl," and Lowell's "The Young Crows."
And speaking of unexpected themes for poetry, while I was still in New York a couple of weeks ago I attended a sports themed reading sponsored by Finishing Line Press at Poet's House. If you ever get a chance to hear Kentucky poet Ron Whitehead perform, don't miss out. His energy and spirit will lift any reading. (He read from his collection, Blistered Asphalt on Dixie Highway: Kentucky Basketball is Poetry in Motion. Also participating were Met's unofficial poet laureate Frank Messina, who did indeed read baseball themed work, female baseball umpire and singer composer Perry Lee Barber, Steve Dulachinsky and Danny Shot. Keyboard player and composer David Amram provided musical accompaniment. The whole excellent event was recorded by Poet's House, so it should be available online at some point if it's not already up there.
Mr. Van's first composition, which he performed solo, was a piece evocative of the Spanish composer Manuel de Falla, with whom I'm not familiar. But I enjoyed both that piece and the second composition, which was accompanied by the violist. But it was the third piece that really seemed destined for my enjoyment, because it featured an operatic singer performing poetry by Whitman, Crane, Wordsworth and Amy Lowell. The piece was titled Ring of Birds, and the vocalist was the amazing Clara Osowski. Aside from repeating some lines as a refrain, the piece stayed loyal to the original texts of the poetry. Hearing the words sung rather than recited reminded me that the divide between musical lyrics and poetry is, and should be, a rather porous one. As the title of the composition suggests, the poetry featured all had avian themes. (Whitman's "The Hermit Thrush," Crane's "Three Little Birds in a Row," Wordsworth's "...to a Skylark," Tennyson's "The Owl," and Lowell's "The Young Crows."
And speaking of unexpected themes for poetry, while I was still in New York a couple of weeks ago I attended a sports themed reading sponsored by Finishing Line Press at Poet's House. If you ever get a chance to hear Kentucky poet Ron Whitehead perform, don't miss out. His energy and spirit will lift any reading. (He read from his collection, Blistered Asphalt on Dixie Highway: Kentucky Basketball is Poetry in Motion. Also participating were Met's unofficial poet laureate Frank Messina, who did indeed read baseball themed work, female baseball umpire and singer composer Perry Lee Barber, Steve Dulachinsky and Danny Shot. Keyboard player and composer David Amram provided musical accompaniment. The whole excellent event was recorded by Poet's House, so it should be available online at some point if it's not already up there.
Saturday, March 11, 2017
Paterson in Paterson
I finally saw the film Paterson, Jim Jarmusch's beguiling take on a very private, blue collar poet in Paterson, New Jersey. In the end, I think the film is more a paean to Patterson, New Jersey, than to the poet protagonist, but it's still one of those occasional movies that may help broaden the audience for poetry, especially outside of its academic strongholds.
I was delighted to read in the credits the poetry used in the film was by Ron Padget. His straightforward, conversational verse seemed appropriate to the subject matter, both the town and the main character (also named Paterson.)
The story hovers in a kind of dreamscape between quotidian reality of Paterson's daily life, his work, his limited social interactions beyond the bus route and his home life, and a sort of phantasy world where you can't quite tell what is real and what is not.
One of the most affecting scenes in the movie comes very near the end, when a perhaps despondent Paterson (though his moods are always veiled in stoicism) sits in a park near the Passaic Falls and is visited by a mysterious Japanese tourist, who also happens to be a visitor. The visitor seems to almost intuit Paterson's poetic ambition, and seems to restore Paterson's muse after his private notebook of poetry is apparently destroyed. In the end, we hear Paterson reciting new work in his mind.
In some ways, the film seems to be a tribute to the little bits of poetry we all encounter in our daily habitats.
I was delighted to read in the credits the poetry used in the film was by Ron Padget. His straightforward, conversational verse seemed appropriate to the subject matter, both the town and the main character (also named Paterson.)
The story hovers in a kind of dreamscape between quotidian reality of Paterson's daily life, his work, his limited social interactions beyond the bus route and his home life, and a sort of phantasy world where you can't quite tell what is real and what is not.
One of the most affecting scenes in the movie comes very near the end, when a perhaps despondent Paterson (though his moods are always veiled in stoicism) sits in a park near the Passaic Falls and is visited by a mysterious Japanese tourist, who also happens to be a visitor. The visitor seems to almost intuit Paterson's poetic ambition, and seems to restore Paterson's muse after his private notebook of poetry is apparently destroyed. In the end, we hear Paterson reciting new work in his mind.
In some ways, the film seems to be a tribute to the little bits of poetry we all encounter in our daily habitats.
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Oscar Sunday Digression
So I'm behind in my movie going this year. The only nominees for best picture that I've seen are Arrival, Manchester by the Sea, and Moonlight. (My vote would go for Moonlight.) Three innovative and compelling movies, but not a large enough sample for my unsolicited and unofficial vote to matter much.
Still, I have seen some interesting off-Broadway theater recently. Though I admire Wallace Shawn both as an actor and a writer, I was a little underwhelmed by Evening at the Talk House. I liked the surreal meditation on death and murder, but I felt the show lacked the kind of humor that could have lightened the philosophical musings of the show. But the cast was excellent and the New Group's staging intimate and inviting.
Yen has been selling out at the Lucille Lortell Theater, no doubt in part because Lucas Hedges, Oscar nominee for Manchester by the Sea, is in the cast. I have to say the small ensemble cast in this British miserablism show was excellent, but again the proceedings were overwhelmingly depressing. The show presented a compelling depiction of an impoverished family and the toll taken by parental alcoholism and neglect (as well as some level of mental illness in the younger of the too sons and sexual violence), I wanted to see some levity or hopefulness, which was only present in one character for the most part (the girl who befriends the two neglected boys). That may just be my taste or mood, and I'm glad I saw the show. But it didn't exactly lift my spirits (as I'm sure it wasn't intended to).
But the best thing I've seen on stage recently was part of the Public Theater's Under the Radar festival. Chicago-based Manual Cinema's Lula del Ray made the most creative use of overhead projectors that I've ever seen, on stage or elsewhere. (And who knew you could still get your hands on overhead projectors!) Told with minimal dialogue and maximum silhouette and puppetry stagecraft, the show is about a girl who runs away from a bizarre and lonely home on a satellite field, where her mother is employed trying to detect communication from alien civilizations. The show features original live music, and the ethereal score really propels the story of this lonely girl who runs away in hopes of meeting her favorite country western duo (the show's notes say the show was inspired by the music of Hank Williams, Roy Orbison and Patsy Cline). The show blends and blurs the line between cinema and live theater, and does it to great emotive effect. After the show, the theater company invited the audience to the stage to get a close look at the puppetry and stagecraft employed in the production, and I've rarely seen an audience, adults and children alike, take such an enthusiastic interest in the behind the scenes workings of a show.
Still, I have seen some interesting off-Broadway theater recently. Though I admire Wallace Shawn both as an actor and a writer, I was a little underwhelmed by Evening at the Talk House. I liked the surreal meditation on death and murder, but I felt the show lacked the kind of humor that could have lightened the philosophical musings of the show. But the cast was excellent and the New Group's staging intimate and inviting.
Yen has been selling out at the Lucille Lortell Theater, no doubt in part because Lucas Hedges, Oscar nominee for Manchester by the Sea, is in the cast. I have to say the small ensemble cast in this British miserablism show was excellent, but again the proceedings were overwhelmingly depressing. The show presented a compelling depiction of an impoverished family and the toll taken by parental alcoholism and neglect (as well as some level of mental illness in the younger of the too sons and sexual violence), I wanted to see some levity or hopefulness, which was only present in one character for the most part (the girl who befriends the two neglected boys). That may just be my taste or mood, and I'm glad I saw the show. But it didn't exactly lift my spirits (as I'm sure it wasn't intended to).
But the best thing I've seen on stage recently was part of the Public Theater's Under the Radar festival. Chicago-based Manual Cinema's Lula del Ray made the most creative use of overhead projectors that I've ever seen, on stage or elsewhere. (And who knew you could still get your hands on overhead projectors!) Told with minimal dialogue and maximum silhouette and puppetry stagecraft, the show is about a girl who runs away from a bizarre and lonely home on a satellite field, where her mother is employed trying to detect communication from alien civilizations. The show features original live music, and the ethereal score really propels the story of this lonely girl who runs away in hopes of meeting her favorite country western duo (the show's notes say the show was inspired by the music of Hank Williams, Roy Orbison and Patsy Cline). The show blends and blurs the line between cinema and live theater, and does it to great emotive effect. After the show, the theater company invited the audience to the stage to get a close look at the puppetry and stagecraft employed in the production, and I've rarely seen an audience, adults and children alike, take such an enthusiastic interest in the behind the scenes workings of a show.
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