September 13, 2007 Archives

Wednesday night's show at the Wonder Ballroom featured eclectic indie music + film from Sarah Shapiro, the Gay Deceivers, Pash(ly), and BARR (Brendan Fowler).

Sarah Shapiro's two music videos, for her original music, are exhibits in low-fi filmmaking, elementary art, and wry humor. The first video, featuring cutouts of animals and trees, follows an animal love story, including a bear or raccoon drinking at a bar. The second video, which looks like it was filmed in a primary school cafeteria, includes BARR (Brendan Fowler) as an earth mother figure who befriends Shapiro. Both are whimsical movies that compliment Shapiro's quiet indie folkpop.

The Gay Deceivers, two ladies who play raucous bass and guitar, with a guest drummer, ramped up the evening with heavy rock and punk music. I got the sense from the picture in the TBA guide that this was dance music; few people danced and the music was more abrasive than rhythmic. Of course you can dance to anything, and they were jumping on stage a bit, enthusiastic but mostly stationary. Low tech video footage of girls smoking, people dancing in streets, and space recordings projected on the screen behind them. One of the final songs, called "Metal," involved screaming and thunderous guitar. The audience seemed happy.

Pash(ly) began with a sultry number, with Pash(ly)’s sensuous nonchalant movement. Behind her, a projection of live video of her dancing magnified the sensuality of the performance. Subsequent songs similarly featured video and music and dancing, and included rope rigging from a ship, among other props. The music was more danceable and yet forgettable than The Gay Deceivers, and the changes between songs took attention away from the performance.

BARR, aka Brendan Fowler, began by telling us the long story of how he came to TBA without a band (except for a bassist) and without a flawless recording of his new record. He was going to come and play the new record, song for song, with his band. But then they broke up. So he was going to bring the master recording of his new disc and just play that (for piano and percussion, etc.), but the digital copy had computer difficulties resulting in audible glitches. So he decided to just go with it and use the broken recording. BARR pressed play on the stereo and began talk-singing over his bassist’s live accompaniment. He sang indistinctly mostly, so it was hard to make out the lyrics for his songs of love, loss, and Gen X musings. The audience had dwindled quiet a bit, and the Wonder Ballroom was nowhere near the near-capacity crowd I saw the previous night.

Posted by Dusty Hoesly

New Media and Performance - Lunchtime Chat Thursday, Sep 13th.

The New Media and Performance chat revolved heavily around technology, Internet and video, and understandings of them held by artists and audiences. It also meandered into other pastures pertinent to the panelist's respective areas of work. The discussion went from posing scenarios about the future of the internet and how we would use it ("social network analysis" of our "persistent digital identities" will be big), to thinking aloud about PICA's funding coming from Wieden + Kennedy, present employer of the sell-out formerly known as AC Dickson. There was also some interesting points raised about how new forms of media, often present in tba performances, are influencing works of art themselves; if our hyper-sensitivity to being connected via technology and the "art" of documentation is distracting audiences from the fundamental work at hand.

The panelists included more tech oriented types from Urbanhonking.com, to people less addicted to the web, like Peter Burr and Andrew Dickson. Urbanhonkings Mike Merrill went so far as to say "I don't like being where there isn't wifi." However, he clearly seemed to like to be in contact, and viewed wifi as a means to another end. This was a guiding metaphor for the Chat, that the internet and use of technology in general was kept in perspective, such that it wasn't the end all goal of these artists, or people just out in society. Mention was made of artists to whom the internet itself is the medium and endpoint, but not these panelists. It seemed the degree to which each participant used the internet correlated with the content of their responses to this question concerning technology. Everyone in the room seemed primarily a supporter of new media in performance art, and panelists didn't swing too anti-tech or questioning of new media. Points of contention that did come up: fear of the digital permanence of performance, loss of ethical standards in digital arenas, and a general sense that there is a limiting of "real" life by constant digital mediation.

Stephanie Snyder moderated the conversation with insightful comments and questions, also nicely locating the discussion in Portland by referencing present social and political issues. A good conversation overall, especially for someone who is comfortable with using the web. How it pertains to works of art and artist practices on display at tba needs to be talked about more, and lucky for us this festival has plenty of opportunities.

Posted by: Benjamin Adrian

I am crazy excited to see Gatz on Saturday!

I love the The Great Gatsby and taught it to high school juniors two years ago. Since we read most of the book in class aloud, they got to hear it and sometimes even read specific characters. Kids who do not normally read books assigned in school found themselves digging the mysteriously romantic Jay Gatsby, questioning the narrator Nick Carraway, and wondering what the hell is up with crazy Daisy Buchanan.

This book has everything: love, drama, money, comedy, excitement, action, gambling, money, mobsters, shootings, wastelands, money, jazz, mansions, feasts, marital infidelity, and implied sex.

Catch a bit of the action with this clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LmE8t6rD77I

Think of this as a kick ass audiobook, with real actors and staging. Plus, the narrator has memorized the whole book! [Talk about an easy connection to Fahrenheit 451, where books are banned so people memorize books and become human libraries.] The time will fly by since the book is so good.

I'll see you there!

Posted by Dusty Hoesly

You have three days to get your ass over to the Corberry Press to see Larry Bamburg’s installation. I’m not going to attempt to describe it, anything I write would fall short or sound pretentious. Besides, I’m sure you’ve already noticed that my writing isn’t up to the task of describing even the mundane (actually everything I’ve written so far is already getting on my nerves). But I do want to say that it is worth experiencing in person. This is not something you can get a feel for through photos or other documentation. The sensation of being within the installation is unique and indescribable, and after the 16th it will be torn down. Honestly I’m shocked that you’re still reading this absurd post, I’m not funny, there is no useful information contained within. Get your ass up and go down to the Corberry Press. NW 17th and Northrup.

Matthew C.

WARNING: This review contains secrets about the show and gives away the ending. Do not read this if you want to experience this performance like a virgin.

Claude Wampler’s “PERFORMANCE (career ender),” a performance art piece at the Gerding Theatre (the old armory), is tricky to write about. Complicating its analysis as “challenging” or “difficult” art, there are surprises that I probably should not describe without “ruining” the show for future possible guests. Under normal circumstances—I was asked by PICA to keep the secret—I would not disclose everything. However, I don’t feel I can fairly review this show as art without talking about it in its entirety. This review will take the form of a narrative.

I arrived 15 minutes early to the 6:30pm first showing. Overhearing that there was a delay due to technical difficulties, I ordered some ravioli at the Armory Café and sat at a table rereading the program notes from the TBA guide. After a hip blather of “isms,” the festival guide informs readers that this piece will play on audiences and audiences’ expectations using visual media and performance. It certainly did that.

The technical difficulties stretched into a 30 minute delay, but the show’s organizers assured us that we’d still be able to make it to Hand2Mouth Theatre’s “Repeat After Me” at 8:30pm, which would also be postponed. At my table, I talked with a woman who said she was from New York and making a documentary about five women choreographers, including Wampler. At 7pm, the organizers told us they’d begin seating at 7:20pm, and that we could not, in fact, see both shows: choose now between Wampler and Hand2Mouth. Having waited that long, I was not about to leave.

At 7:20pm they let us file down the stairs to the Gerding Theatre, where we waited outside the closed doors as a volunteer passed out programs for the show. Instead of a description of the piece or the artist, the program included a transcript of a TV news report about polar bears on melting ice caps and another about a seven-year-old boy who swam from Alcatraz Island to San Francisco. The titles of the two transcripts were crossed out and written over with pen: “sinking” and “swimming.” [Wampler had asked that this change be made earlier that day.]

We waited outside the closed doors until 7:50pm, a whole 80 minutes after the show was supposed to start. As I sat downstairs on a cushion, outside the closed door, I had the feeling Wampler was toying with us, purposefully delaying the production to test our patience. In any case, I read my book. Most people stood waiting, or talked quietly to neighbors in the line. A few others had demanded their money back.

When we filed into the small black box theatre, we saw a simple set design: a drum kit, a keyboard, microphones, and a white screen standing from the floor (about the size of two tall people standing together). When the lights dimmed we saw a video projection of a person in a polar bear suit walk around the stage. Following that, the projections of a drummer, keyboardist, and bassist/singer walked on the set and began practicing a new song, “Wildlife come for the fun and games,” an early-sixties-sounding tune with pop harmonies. They played the song again and again, getting in key, refining elements, and writing a conclusion, in addition to the banter between takes. Smoke occasionally billowed from near the drum kit, helping the projection look like a keyboardist was standing at the keyboard, an ethereal holograph. This effect was not successful, however, because the smoke did not blow often enough to maintain the holographic appearance and the projections often fell onto the black floor. The only character that we could see well was the bassist, who was projected onto the standing screen.

So we sat there watching no one, an empty set peopled with illusions, with digital projections. We sat there for maybe 45 minutes watching and listening to the same song repeatedly. The song, although initially catchy, became a bit grating after hearing it so much. And the fly-on-the-wall feeling of watching a band practice a new song soon faded into the ennui of repetition and overuse. The dark theatre beckoned sleep. This is art designed to test endurance.

A girl sitting next to me sucked loudly on a BlowPop throughout the performance. The man in front of her turned to watch her, perhaps signaling that she was disturbing his experience of the show. She rocked in her seat, making deliberately obnoxious sounds with her body and mouth. I thought it was funny, and I thought she must be a part of the show. I wanted a lollipop too. When she began blowing bubbles with the gum, it confirmed my suspicion that she was a plant for the performance. People in Portland don’t do that sort of thing, and Oregonians are usually too non-confrontational to tell someone like her to stop, I thought.

After about 45 minutes of the projections of a band rehearsing, the same actors walked on stage and played a live version of the song, in person. The plants in the audience rocked out, stood, sang along, clapped. Most people just sat and watched. When the three-minute song finished, the lights came up. The show was over. One man said, “Is that it?” I thought, “Do you want more?” I asked the girl next to me for a lollipop and she was nice enough to give me one. On the way out the door, organizers handed out a paper listing an encore performance of the song Sunday night at midnight at the Wonder Ballroom. At the bottom of the paper were the words: “There is more.”

So, is this art? Sure. Is it worth seeing? Probably not. I’ve experienced art before that test audiences’ reactions, where artists want viewers to be aware of their role as viewers, to make choices and think about the limits of propriety. Mostly we reaffirmed that Portlanders are patient, non-confrontational, and eager to see experimental art. This “career ender” may work as a conversation piece, but I think you can get the same idea/analysis from hearing about this show as you can from experiencing it. If you are keen to see Claude Wampler, look for her in the aisles. If you want to see this performance, bring a book or a friend.

If this review feels like I gave away the store, I would direct readers to the initial disclaimer. If it saves you from “ruining” a night waiting in line and missing other shows, then enjoy the other shows. If it excites you to experience “PERFORMANCE (career ender)” for yourself, then great; I’d like to read what you think about the piece on the comments section of this post.

Posted by Dusty Hoesly

Amazing. The Claude Wampler performance I saw yesterday was amazing. It's now 5pm the following day and I still can’t stop thinking about it. And that tune, that oh so catchy tune is now dancing around in my head. I’ve spent the day alternately humming the music and reliving the performance with my co-worker who was there with me. This piece above any other I've seen this year at TBA caused me to react in a visceral way. My body was left shaking and sweaty. It inspired me to swim in the Pacific, or trek to the top of the world. I wanted to go out, buy a pair of silver lamé underwear and dance in a fog filled landscape. I was also impressed with the strong connection forged between performer and audience, some of whom were so moved they jumped up from their seats to dance along with the music (admittedly some audience members seemed more inspired than others). After the performance I overheard another audience member say to his friend, “That was sooo TBA”. I couldn’t agree more with whatever that means. Go to this performance immediately. Amazing.

Matthew C.

(Most of) The films by Guido van der Werve rock. I went to the Living Room Theater to watch them the other day. They have each of the six different films in one of their six different theaters.* Due to circumstances outside of my control I unfortunately didn't get a chance to see one of the six films, so I can't say with certainty that 'all' of his films rock, but the five I saw certainly did. Each film was filled with bizarre juxtapositions of beauty and the unexpected, or the ordinary, or sometimes just more beauty. The humor throughout the films is often times dry and subtle, though occasionally more brash or tongue and cheek. Either way it created these wonderful bridges between the sorrow and beauty on display in the films. The films are all wonderfully shot and scored and are an absolute pleasure to watch. If you have the chance to catch them at the Living Room Theater, I'd strongly suggest it. The longest film is perhaps 15 minutes most are around 5, you can easily see all 6 in an hour. The films are showing from 11-2 daily, an ideal time to grab lunch and head to the theater. For anyone who's interested, here is the artist's website roofvogel.org.

Matthew C.

*Actually I'm assuming that's the setup. Unfortunately when I went, the theater management decided to shut down one of the films for over an hour in order to have a meeting within that theater... a meeting between 3 people in a theater that seats like 30-40 people. Now I'm not a scientist, but there has to be another space in the complex that could accommodate 3 people. Perhaps the empty-at-11.30-in-the-morning restaurant/bar could work, or maybe the spacious lobby would fit the bill... fuck, you could even squeeze into the bathroom, I'm pretty sure there are 3 stalls.

Everybody show your tEEEEEEth!

Strangely beautiful and surprisingly amusing, tEEth’s Normal and Happy presents a world that could be at its very beginning (think primordial ooze) and/or reemerging post-apocalypse. Survival in this world depends on human contact and strength in numbers. Crude gestures and vocalizations evoke the beginnings of an evolutionary process, while hairless bodies in latex costumes, live video feed, and electronic music provide a more futuristic sensibility.

Normal and Happy incorporates many of the characteristics that pop culture uses to parody contemporary dance. A woman dances inside a latex sheet (think the “performance art” scene in She’s All That). Crude grunting and stomping are a leading component to the choreography. Swimming cap style costumes bring out the obnoxious little boy in me (“teehee…penis!”). At first glance, I want to roll my eyes and scream “stop trying so hard!” at the stage. tEEth, however, manages to quickly use these characteristics with enough purpose and complexity that it works. The entire dance is driven by an honest exploration of basic human needs—touch, friendship, help, affection, struggle, voice, movement. They are thus able to skillfully avoid pretension, both in the choreography and the dancing itself, by maintaining a true commitment to something simple and universal.

The dancers constantly interact, and touch most of the time. It as if the audience is on a journey through another world, periodically encountering a different species, and spending time observing what makes each new creature tick. Several different “species” emerge: the couple in white who touch heads, fit in each others’ curves, and struggle between the impulse to clutch and the impulse to break away; two sisters, kept in a mirrored kaleidoscope, wearing once-pretty dresses constantly discovering each other; a flock of dancers encased completely in white, traveling in unison with slight assertions of individuality; four women (pictured in the catalog) adorned in bubbling rubber foliage, providing some humor with a silly secret handshake routine, inspecting each other, puling their cheeks, always moving in pairs; an older gentleman in an odd white tuxedo; a ghostly young girl tiptoeing around the stage and then dropping into convulsions. All are connected through movements of grasping, breaking free, and squishing up against each other. They assume angular, splayed postures, spread their legs to the audience, and crinkle their toes.

The show is technically complex as well, and tEEth does a great job of using technology in an interesting way without showing off. They’ve set up a mirrored box in the middle of the stage, and it looks like an Exploratorium exhibit. Two girls dance inside it, interacting with each other and their reflections. The mirrors turn simple video projections into a crazy giant kaleidoscope.

At several moments, the audience is made intentionally uncomfortable through loud screeching music, light flashing in their eyes, and zoomed-in projections of yucky, pulsating body creases and skin textures. This helps maintain a tension throughout the piece between complete collapse and remaining on edge. Is this tension similar to the tension between feeling genuinely “normal and happy” and the stress of striving for a normal, happy life? I’m still trying to figure out what to make of the title.

The show does take an ounce of initial audience buy-in, but once I was able to get past pointing out obvious opportunities for dirty jokes I was completely enthralled with its peculiar characters and strange sequences.

Way to represent.

posted Kirsten Collins

Not convinced? Check out this radio piece about GATZ on OPB's Oregon Considered.
http://www.opb.org/radio/archives/2007/09/fitzgerald_made.php#more

posted by Kirsten Collins

Kommer is not a theater piece followed by a video piece. Kommer is a single work about artists whose lives on stage may be more real than their lives off. That their post-show habitations and rituals are not unlike our own only adds to the impact that their everyday remains a shallow reflection of the world they create in performance.

In performance they play family members brought together by the mysterious death of “Holden”. The play begins with casual conversation but one by one the characters drop out, their stomachs no longer support them. They bow. They walk slowly to a plant box, lean all their weight into one hand and proceed to the back curtain. They reach out to nothing, move to the side curtain and then return to the stage.

Like the actors post-performance, I know the despair of a night drinking without friends, working an unrewarding day-job, visiting sick family, eating compulsively, exercising in an attempt to burn anxiety, and driving just to get out of the house. And yet these scenes in Kommer never became my own the way that first promenade became my own.

It is all too possible to become the stereotype of our selves. In so doing, we like the actors portrayed in Kommer become flat. However on stage their characters stretch catharsis to the point of absurdity. They acknowledge a reality that really is ridiculous. And through their portrayal, they experience the naked dualism of sorrow in a way that is far more real than the self-indulgent sorrows of their daily lives. There is a point on stage when one character (to great laughter) blurts out in all sincerity, “We are empathizing.” Indeed who, who hasn’t laughed, can really know heartache?

posted by: Marty Schnapf

HAND2MOUTH THEATRE
Repeat After Me

posted by laura becker

Last night Billy Joel made me weep. His song interrupted the light-hearted musical meditations on America and hit me like a sucker punch. The chopper sounds and the lyrics of numbered body bags yanked me away from the streamer-filled parade feel of it all, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face and all I could think was “How is this happening again? How stupid could we be? How could they do this to us?”

Up until that moment, I don’t think I had really comprehended how much I hate this war. Something about hearing the song out of nowhere got to me, and all of a sudden I remembered being a kid and taking for granted that assumption of peace for the rest of my life. Naïve and obviously wrong, I thought of songs like that as proof that everyone agreed starting a war was a bad idea. Songs like that were promises from our parents that we were the children that would grow up never having to fear the draft, never having to sacrifice our innocence, never knowing of (hidden) body bags. Oh well. Live and Learn.

But those angry tearful moments didn’t make me enjoy the show any less. I loved it. I thought the actors, especially the women, were amazing. I thought the energy was unbelievable. I thought it was the most creative, impactful, and impressive piece of TBA so far. And it made very proud that it’s a product of our state.

H2M: If you didn't know already, you're succeeding.

Dear Kassys,

(ahem). I love you! I adore you! You’re the best thing I’ve seen yet, and during this festival, that is saying a lot. So I’m going to gush a bit. You’re adorable, hilarious, smart! You’re like the thinking person’s survivor, only more real. Why? It is Kommer! It cuts to core of modern life’s cold, absurd, pathetic half attempts at communication, and never stops slicing. And there is a shark. Oh god, I love that shark.

And if I thought the misery was for the stage? Oh Kassys, that is when you twisted the knife even deeper, and I love you for it. Kassys, I love you truly! Do you love me? Kassys? Kassys? Are you Ok? How are you?

“yes.”

By abe

Hollaback?

I hate to admit it, but Sell Out has thus far been the most controversial, provocative show I’ve seen. I hate to admit it because the show itself doesn’t have all that much to it, it’s pretty much micro waved Power Seller, which isn’t bad in and of itself, it’s simple, humorous, light hearted fare, but with subject matter this serious, the evangelical, all-positive approach leaves out what I consider to be the most important aspect of selling out: that you lose something.
Now, this shouldn’t be a critique of the author (right?). I should stick to reviewing just the work (right??). I dunno. I guess I have to preface this a bit: I come from the peace punk mentality. I have a prison style Crass* tattoo on my arm (and I still love it). My definition involves the golden rule and not hurting people for a living, and the epitome of that is major advertising. Especially for Nike. (I am aware that the tattoo is a form of advertising – of beliefs – see, I’m making it all complex and stuff).
It bothers me to hear people, and artists especially, say “Thanks Nike, thanks W+K,” without any acknowledgement that their also saying “thanks for making people without pretty things feel like shit, thanks for making pre-pubescent girls hate their bodies, thanks for sweat shops.” It’s real. It’s really shitty, and it’s really real. And we go watch Las Chicas del 3.5 floppies and say “!Que terrible!” and then thank W+K again. You feel me? At all?
I swear I’m not trying to be holier than though. I’m really trying not to be. I’m not trying to personally attack people, including AC. AC, I’ll buy you a drink. No wait, you’re the sell out, you buy me a drink. Anyway, this is my personal definition, and I’m not about to put it on anybody. This is what it would mean for me to sell out, not anyone else. This is my line, your line is yours, and Andrew’s is Andrew’s. So what’s the point you ask?
Because as much as I don’t know Andrew, I don’t think we’re that different. And if I’m wrong, let me know, I take it all back. But I think AC does care about sweatshops, and girls hating their bodies, and being low and coercive. And that’s what I found lacking in “sell out” and that’s what I want to hear about. Great, you’ve got cash and healthcare, so do a lot of people. Miserable people. Does AC worry about that? Does AC worry about what he’ll tell his future children about conviction, what does he think about going from a reader of Adbusters to a target? I want to know what his wife thinks about it. And I’m not judging here, I swear, I really want to know. I think this is an important aspect of selling out, and I want to hear it from AC, because I hope I never find out for myself.

*One word, “Thatchergate” – google it, love it, and go buy “Best Before”

By abe

Hollaback?

Upstaged by bugs! Credit where credit’s due, Mirah, along with backing from the lute, percussion, accordion, and cellist super-combo that is Spectratone International, performed on par, consistently delivering professional numbers blending a quasi-klesmer vibe with a folky, sometimes lullabyish demure softness. Still, the accompanying circular projection screen showing stop-motion films about insects seemed to take center stage (even though it was kinda off to the left a bit)…

The animated stop motion movies by Britta Johnson seemed to transfix the audience, all the more understandable by the fact lead singer Mirah stands behind a music stand as if she’s reading a speech. So if she won’t reach out to the crowd, perhaps a dung beetle will. Although somewhat looping in their action, the insects (created by yarn, buttons, tin cans, etc) garner the majority of attention, and while the music doesn’t necessarily sync up with any of the film’s corresponding action, it’s certainly interesting even if you’re not into entomology.

posted by sean mcgrath

T:BA:07 Day Seven – Wednesday, 12 September 2007

Today was pretty chill.
Which was nice.

12:30p Freestyle, PNCA
3:00p Hip Hop 101 Workshop, Conduit
6:30p [?] Nature Theater of Oklahoma, Art Institute
6:30p tEEth, PCPA: Winningstad
10:30p the Gay Deceivers & the Pash(ly), Wonder
11:00p BARR aka Brendan Fowler, Wonder

There was no workshop in the morning, so I got to sleep in until 9:30, heavenly!
Woke-up, typed up a little blog, it was great!

Then went down to the PNCA for the Noon:30 “Freestyle” chat with Kassys and Nature Theater of Oklahoma. As you might remember, I hated Oklahoma last year, and if it was not for one of my friend imploring with me that they were mighty captivating, I would have not even given them another thought. But, she did convince me, so I am trying to be pretty open minded about them. Kassys I saw the other night, and was greatly unimpressed, even though I felt they were quite professional and I know that others have appreciated them.

But, what I did get out of the Noon:30 chat is their sensibilities about theatre. They both agreed that theatre is about lies. Any script, any narrative, is false, and is simply portrayed for entertainment value. It is all a lie. This was rather enlightening, and explains a bit about why I do not enjoy theatre so very much, or at least very few works. If I get the hint, scent or even an aftertaste of a sham, then it completely turns my stomach. I do not like lies, I do not tolerate them, nor superficiality, nor b.s., nor games. I just don’t care to have them in my life, and I do not want to waste my time.

But these two companies have been exploring the gradation of lies. Kassys has been trying to dilute the lie to a minimalist expression, so that we believe it is fully real and about life as we know it. Oklahoma has gone the other extreme. They feel that if you are going to lie, that you should do it big time. Push it, make it as outrageous and incredible as possible.

OK, I’ll appreciate the theory, but I still do not have the interest to see their shows.

I had a little time to spare, so I wandered over to the Daily Café and had what has become my regular during the festival, their vegetarian sandwich and a side salad. Quite tasty.

Next I strolled on by Buffalo Exchange and Red Light to see if they had any leather pants in my size. Red Light had one pair, but they got stuck on my calf, and I had to pry them back off.

I also stopped by the Living Room Theater to see what the deal is with Guido’s films, as they had been closed over the weekend. I am not sure if the films there are the same as the ones at the Works in the Woolley Gallery, but they seem that they are open daily until 1:30pm. I, of course, was there around about 2pm.

Continuing on, I went by the FogHat studio to chat with Nat. He was feeling pretty good about the project, and has had some wonderful recording sessions. He is trying to convince one of my friends to do some R-rated groupie photographs for the project, but I do not think that she is going for it.

Getting close to 3pm, I headed over to Conduit for what I thought was going to be a dance workshop in the realm of Hip Hop. But, instead it was an introductory tutorial on the basic of and language and culture. It would seem that tomorrow will be the dance and jam session, but I will be at Kristan Kennedy’s gallery talk, so I will miss it. They did let us know that the Someday Lounge has regular Hip Hop nights, and that you can find out what’s going down on this website: www.superhappywax.com
I would really recommend going tomorrow, as I is going to be totally cool.
They just got things started, and I feel they have a lot to offer.
They really want to share and open things up for dialogue and education, so please do attend.

Plus, they have this kickin’ packet of information with a Hip Hop time line, History of DJ / MC / B-Boy|Girl / Graffiti / Beatboxing, and best of all: Vursatyl’s Top Fifty MC’s and Hip Hop groups of all time!

[I was going to try and be open minded and go see the Nature Theater of Oklahoma at the Art Institute; but tickets were sold-out, which was really just fine by me.]

Having a little time to kill, I went over to the florist to pick-up the two dozen roses that I ordered for tEEth, and got a table in the backroom at Dragonfish for some friends and I to dine before the show. Their grasshopper roll was tasty, but I could have used a bit more to eat.

tEEth, oh what to say…
I really love the show!
The other night I saw it for the first time. It was amazing. At the end of the show, I was euphoric. [Please see earlier post.]
I did in fact feel “Normal and Happy”, as in the ah other people see the world in a way similar to me ‘normal’ and happy as in I just ate a delicious meal and my body is peacefully content.

The other night, I then went to a couple of other shows afterwards, and it killed my buzz.
I did not want to make that mistake twice, so I agreed to help them strike the set after the show, and forego any other things that night. It only took us a short while to break apart the set, vacuum up the goo and have it all loaded into the elevator.

What I did not talk about in my bLog the other day, since I did not want to give anything away, is the amazing costuming by Paloma Soledad. The performance was broken down into one, one / two / two / four / five. 1a was a cracked out ballerina with a sexy bodice with classical lines and a strung-out tutu. 1b was a white vinyl speak-easy tuxedo with an odd provocative flair for the elder that wore it. 2a was a pair of slit skin suits, worn by Jim McGinn and Alenka Loesh. 2b was my favorite, the chicken hawk twins had these subtle yet sexy kitchen sun dresses, that were fused with leather gowns. It reminded me of the siamese twins in the City of Lost Children, except these two were young and sexy. 4 was the group that I lovelying refer to as the toxic avenger umpa lumpas. Their heat-treated foam and rubber costumes really transformed the dancers to another place, as even looking at Gina and Laura in the eyes, I could hardly recognize them. Lastly were the 5 that I just cannot think of what to call them. I have toyed with the Fluffernutter Quintet, or perhaps a pack of rabid skydivers that crashed onto the Island of Misfit Toys, I just do not know. But, what I do know, is that Paloma does excellent work, keeps to established budgets, has an incredible vision, and is wonderful to collaborate with. I just might need to come up with a project and commission her sometime in the future.

The Gay Deceivers & the Pash(ly) and BARR aka Brendan Fowler were both playing at the Wonder Ballroom tonight, but I did not see them. I look forward to hearing some else’s thoughts.

Ciao,
Fredrick H. Zal
Architect | Sculptor | Advocate

Atelier Z
an.architecture and industrial design studio
advocating dialogue in the fine + applied arts
http://www.fhzal.com

Once again we are inundated with cello groups overpopulating the local music scene! Madness, I say! Alright just kidding. Not being a particularly pious symphony goer, it’s nice to be privy to the cello, especially when there’s twelve of them. Alternating between the gold standard of cello music, Elgar's Cello Concerto in E Minor Op. 85, Adagio Moderato, and more contemporary hits like the theme to The Legend of Zelda, the Portland Cello Group seems to have fun in the variance of their works.

While one may presume that purely cellos would become tiresome after some time, the PCG found ways to instill modulation in their repertoire. Bringing up local musicians to play lead, with backing cello accompaniment, is a unique way for the audience to witness the versatility of classical music (it’s not just for the 18th century anymore). Supporting by the ensemble, guitarists, keyboardists, and singers alike were bolstered by the PCG both musically, and mentally. How can you not feel confident when you’ve got 12 accomplished string players at your back?

Sean McGrath