September 15, 2007 Archives

Polygraph

Detector of Connection

The face of the polygraph claims that it is the Detector of Deception. But you soon realize the show isn’t about truth; it is about interaction and emotion. Liz has created a structure to have interactions with random people. This highlights the physical and emotional sensations that are part of social interaction. The performance reveals how we affect each other.

The people coming to see this performance find themselves in an unfamiliar form of social interaction. They come into a glass room and sit down at a table across from Liz. They don’t really know what to say to her and she doesn’t really have anything in particular to say to them. The rules and purposes of the exchange have to get made up on the spot. The polygraph meter serves as a stand in reason for interaction – you want to get that bar to move. The ‘audience’ is on the line. They find themselves having to bring something to offer the performance. People want to succeed in this strange social setting and the way to determine your success is measured by how far the meter moves. Liz said a lot of people are really uncomfortable when they first enter the room.

When it was my turn to go into the glass room and sit across from Liz I asked her how it felt for her to be a performer performing just herself. While she was thinking, before she responded, the meter of the polygraph lifted partway up the dial. Then she said that being herself is what the project was about. This performance is a way for her to emphasize being real and present with people – to practice it. And we get to practice it with her, if we choose.

Ariana

Having no preconceived notions about Claude Wampler as an artist, there was many assumptions that I took liberties to make based upon her interview with Mark Russell during the noontime CHAT at PNCA. Going into the show yesterday evening I felt informed, prepared and excited to for whatever was or was not going to happen. Then I went to the show and tried my hardest to keep my mind open and my patience firm, eagerly searching until the end for something to take away from this experience... alas, I came out with not much, but a half-hearted explanation that I made to myself about how this it was a valuable artistic experience. Although, I was not too convincing.

Claude Wampler is an exceptional individual whose brilliance is apparent in the subtlest of facial expressions. During the CHAT, she told the tales of her beginning days and earlier works, explaining intention and execution with confidence and insight into the theater going experience. (By the way, if you can listen to the TBA podcast of this chat then I cannot be more enthusiastic that you jump on that opportunity immediately. It was insightful, interesting and inspiring.) She discussed her influences and her inspirations in creating new works. She discussed her appreciation for the manufacturing of spontaneity (she called attention to the inherent paradox) and how this ties into the specific theater goers experience of feeling "special." She discussed past works in which the original perception of what the piece was to be was flipped in order to challenge the audience. She also discussed her past use of "plants" in the audience to create small localized performances within the whole show.

So the show: it started right on time, which challenged my preconceived notions of "the waiting" being part of the show based on what I had already heard. The show kept going and there was no annoying people in my vicinity to speak of, even in my "heightened state of paranoia." Then the show kept going and people started to leave halfway through. By the end, which was not clear, people seemed hesitant to leave as if waiting for the something that they came to see. It did not seem to show up and after looking around at their neighbors uncomfortably for many minutes, most people finally made their exit. The final encore of the show is to take place tomorrow night at the Works, so maybe I should reserve my final judgments until that time.

posted by Noelle

Krone and Waller, Authentic American Beauties.
-posted by Patrick Alan Coleman

Whereas Hand2Mouth’s Repeat After Me, tears American music down to its emotional foundations, Larry Krone and Holcombe Waller build upon those foundations to create work that is honest, riveting and unique. Drawing upon folk and country traditions, both musicians use their voices to light the dim corners our society might otherwise ignore.

Larry Krone rests confidently in the dichotomy of sad songs and gaudy costumes. Like the country music mavens of the 70’s, he uses this dichotomy to put an audience into a pleasant vulnerable confusion. His deeply honest lyrics cut to the core of human experience. At one moment in his short set, he is dressed as a little girl, complete with crinoline and bow. One might think that his gaudy get-up would be a distraction, but it actually works to illuminate a song about a father’s death and the wishes for just one more dance with him. It is a wonderfully moving moment. Krone’s set is full of these bittersweet moments. Sure, he says he is a drunk, that he is in pain, that he has loved and lost… But he has such humor and charm, that all we can do is love him.

I want to take this moment to apologize to Mark Russell. Last year I was collecting secrets at the Works and I intercepted him during Holcombe Waller’s set. He was a bit perturbed that I’d interrupted his listening, but told me his secret was that he was falling in love with the quiet young man on stage. I remembered that moment as I listened to Waller’s entrancing songs at the Someday lounge and felt a ping of guilt for having taken Mr. Russell out of the spell that is cast by Waller's sweet folk melodies. I too found myself falling in love.

With an ensemble of fine musicians, Holcombe Waller allows his world to spill from the stage, unfettered. Yes, his music is somber and introspective, but it is also colored by a sense of hope and beauty. There was certainly no need for the video that accompanied some of his work. He could have easily carried the audience away with a bare stage and his guitar. At the end of his performance, my companions and I spun lazily into the night, high on Waller’s remarkable voice. Not wanting the spell to ever end.

Repeat After Me, “Hand2Mouth Rocks”
-posted by Patrick Alan Coleman

“In 86 minutes, I will know exactly how I feel about being an American.”

Well, maybe not exactly, but as I left the Interstate Firehouse Cultural Center after Hand2Mouth’s crazed, karaoke reflection on our country, I did feel a bit more hopeful about the good ol’ US of A. Though, I’m not quite sure why. It might have been the music- seemingly plucked from the radio during a random spin of the dial. It could have been the energy of the cast- who, at times, emoted a genuine air of patriotism. Whatever it was, it felt good.

The only real reference I have to describe this show is the ubiquitous Broadway jukebox musical. Think of the staged Billy Joel box set: Movin’ Out (or whatever it’s called), or Mamma Mia, based on the music of ABBA… etc. etc. Except, Hand2Mouth takes the genre, doses it with some clandestine psychotropics and sends it into a high school talent contest to see what happens.

The main thesis of Repeat After Me appears to be that, as Americans, we tend to define ourselves, identify ourselves and allow ourselves to be moved by our indigenous music. Hand2Mouth’s chaotic and sometimes messy program is a meditation on what happens when we give ourselves up completely to the catharsis of our national soundtrack.

The songs belted out (crushed, deconstructed, reassembled) by the wide-eyed cast are less performances of old favorites than frightening exorcisms of the pop daemons of American radio. These are the songs that infect you, whose choruses crawl deep into your brain where they spin lazily. These songs are the guilty pleasures. The country tune that you love, without irony. The summer jam that provides the thrumming backdrop a day at the beach. But these songs do not just inhabit us, we also inhabit them. We hear our own voices and guilty consciences and wistful memories in the lyrics. We see ourselves, “In the sweet, sweet summertime… with autumn closin’ in.”

These songs create tableaus in our mind, and the cast of Repeat After Me brings these to life, before tearing holes in the picture to show us the kind of desperation, anxiety and hope that lay beneath the surface. This seems to be a common concern in the program- stripping away the façade to see what’s beneath. At one point the actors, promenading to the front of the stage of the tune Johnny Cash’s “Las Vegas,” tear off their various wigs to reveal themselves. It’s an astute of allegory of Las Vegas itself- really just a desert full of plain boxes with extraordinary facades.

It must have been difficult for this young company to not fill the show with cynicism and irony. There are certainly some ironic moments, but there are moments that are incredibly touching and honest. In one such instance, a cast member inhabits a good ‘ol boy who is worried about his son. He vacillates between being a hard workingman for his wife and child and a hard partying cowboy. He is pulled between the two poles, torn between what we want men in America to be and what we expect of them. The scene is played with incredible care- both funny and heartbreaking.

All of this is helped, of course, by the skills of DJ Brokenwindow, who mixes the music live on stage. There are times that he is sloppy but he is more often dead on with his mixing, creating a fairly smooth ribbon of sound for the cast to follow.
All this plus balloons, beer, confetti, a gorgeous cast and some wonderful musical moments.
Hand2Mouth uses their 86 minutes to rip American music out of context and tell a story about being proud, loud, drunk and tender. That is… to be an American at the beginning of this millennium.

The first thing to know about Nature Theater's No Dice is this: you don't have to get your ham sandwich (or PB&J) at the beginning. You can wait until the intermission. Few of us understood this and we stood in line for sandwiches we weren't ready for then let them get stale during the first act.

So, I'll admit, it was tricky to stay awake for the first act--2 hours long--directly after dinner and a drink. The show was engaging--they're back and still totally fun--it's just hard to close a busy day with 4 total hours of theater and not get a little groggy. But Nature Theater says at the beginning that they saved the best for last, and it's true. The first act does the building up, and the second half does the unraveling and explaining. About 1/5 of our audience bailed at intermission, leaving the back row almost empty, so I thought a blog was in order to say "stay! It's worth it!"

It's good to see Nature Theater returning with a long and kind of trying show. They were such darlings of last year's TBA that they could have stormed in and done just about anything and been adored. (Their show last year was charm enough, but then they closed out the last night of TBA by setting up an impromptu stage in the parking lot of Audio Cinema, thumping out a song, and shaving their heads and armpits with an electric razor. For the lingering TBAers, sad to see the community dissipating again until next year, this was an ideal closing to an excellent festival.) But this time No Dice is a tougher one to get through, even with their trademark hand motions, clunky dancing and cozying up to audience members. They also face the audience the entire time, making eye contact, so it's impossible to zone out for even a minute.

The premise is that the dialog is pulled from real conversations and then chopped up and looped and repeated. It doesn't always make sense, there's lots of ums and stumbles, and each main character repeats almost every group of conversation, so you hear it two to three times complete with awkward pauses. I can't think of another show I've seen where characters frequently stop and let out long "ums" between lines, and it is disarming to the viewer. If you left at intermission you would miss how this connects to us, to the world, and would leave with an idea of the characters but not the impact of the show.

The second half explains almost everything from the first half, and explicitly looks at the quality of conversation in our daily lives and in society. (I still don't get the beat boxing freaked out bat guy, but he's also my favorite character.) Last year I spent a good portion of the show trying to crack the code of their hand moves, and this year is no different. At intermission I started chatting with a stranger and she began making the hand moves as our conversation got trite--brilliant. I'll be making hand motions during small talk all year.

But then talk is what No Dice is about. As the show starts to wind down, a character faces the audience and asks, "what do we require if we want to enjoy ourselves in social situations?" Another says, "one might describe a civilization in terms of conversation" then they duck into the crowd, find an audience member, and repeat one of the most heartfelt--and heavily used--lines of the show.

This is what convinced me to go see Liz Haley. I'd been avoiding her lie detector set up at the Armory because I didn't have any questions for her. In the noontime chat she said that the lie detector situation lets people feel close, like old friends, and they skip the small talk and jump right into heavy questions that you would only ask someone you knew well. The lie detector and the visible needle creates the kind of trust and intimacy that usually take a long time to develop. But I didn't have any questions and so haven't been, until last night when Nature Theater got me thinking. Here's my new hypothesis: it doesn't matter what the question is, and I may not have any questions at all. What Liz Haley's lie detector sets up is a feeling of access to her raw emotion--and it is based on a feeling of power, but it's access to her all the same. A lie detector helps you skip past the low level conversations. I still don't have any questions for Liz, but what I want to experience is that feeling of instantaneous intimacy with someone, that potential for meaningful conversation with a stranger. And nothing deep or even interesting has to come out of it--maybe we'll say nothing--but I want to feel what that accessibility is like and trap it for use in future conversations with strangers.

Listen to Liz Haley's noontime chat here.

Nature Theater in chat with Kassys is here.

--Carissa Wodehouse
Blogger, member, enthusiast

Just go. Stop making excuses, and go. You’ll like it. It’s good for you. You won’t get bored. You’ll appreciate spending the seven plus hours not succumbing to your busy life. You’ll fall in love with the book, you’ll fall in love with the performers. You’ll be energized.

Gatz is a rare opportunity to sit in an audience, and know that you are a part of something very, very special.

I approached seeing Gatz as I would prepare for a long flight. I wore non-constricting clothes. I packed some socks and a sweatshirt in case it got cold. I stopped at the coffeeshop on my way to make sure I’d stay alert. I aimed to get there early to get a seat with legroom. I brought an apple and a crossword, just in case. I was skeptical going in, certain I’d lose interest at some point. Seven hours is a loooong time. But, I figured I’d at least get to check “read The Great Gatsby for real” off my list, without having to actually read it. It wasn’t like I was going into seven hours of challenging abstract performance art.

Like seeing Shakespeare, it took a few pages to warm up to the style of language. But once the plot kicked off and a few characters were introduced, I was sold. I was in for the long haul, almost immediately. In the beginning, relationships on stage between the office employees are pretty casual. There are no friendships, rivalries, or alliances, and they don’t seem to particularly care about each other’s business. This allows the relationships inside the book to be the focus. The actors and the audience could then become attached, involved, and committed to the story at the same rate.

The play takes place in a dingy, anonymous office, and the musty Imago Theater worked perfectly as a venue. Shelves of cardboard boxes, yellowing posters, outdated technology, greenish metal tables, and torn vinyl swivel chairs provide a bland backdrop for the action. The passing of days are marked through the sounds of a bustling city outside.

For such a mammoth accomplishment, Gatz operates on a pretty simple conceit. A man goes to work. His computer is broken, so he has nothing to do. He discovers a worn copy of The Great Gatsby in his desk and begins to read aloud. He continues to read until the end of the book.

As he is reading, the novel begins to come to life in his surroundings. It begins as happy coincidences (a phone rings right before he reads, “the phone rang.”). Then, his coworkers begin to take on characters until the office becomes completely absorbed in the novel. The actors seem confused as to what is going on. Does the novel overcome them? Or, are they driving the plot themselves? Possession of the story is made unclear (and F. Scott Fitzgerald is barely referenced in the program notes). I found this blurred possession a key component to keeping the performance alive for such a long time.

Gatz strikes a perfect balance between the simplicity of reading a novel aloud, and the theatrics of staging a play. It turns the private, solitary experience of reading into something public and shared. It respects the language of the book, but avoids obnoxious reverence. The actors approach both their employee roles and the roles of the novel with an understated psychology that allows the language of the book to maintain the momentum of the show. Gatz mines the simple pleasure of reading, and adds just the right amount of texture through beautiful lighting, 20s music, and incredible acting. It is like a library Story Hour for adults—capturing the childish joy of witnessing a beloved book come to life, but with the sophistication and tenderness of a forward-thinking theater company.

In the end, I felt, well, as if I’d been on an airplane. But instead of feeling woozy from half-napping for seven hours, I felt as though I’d engaged in conversation the whole time with an incredible new friend I’d never see again. I was a little out of it, but felt a little bigger in the heart. I can’t think of a lovelier way to spend an afternoon/evening.

posted by Kirsten Collins

Posted by Cody Hoesly

Fred Frith, Zeena Parkins, and Ikue Mori packed the Wonder Ballroom Friday night. I haven't been to the Works every night of TBA, but I've been there most nights, and no other night was as full as this night. A testament to the legendary status these artists have achieved, at least in their respective spheres. Sure, the usual TBA hipsters were there, but the crowd was decidedly more diverse, and, I'm assuming, not just because it was Friday night. As a friend of mine commented: "There're a lot of gray-hairs here tonight." Which I took as a sign that we were in for a solid show from a proven artist.

The trio did not disappoint. Their eclectic instrumentation and playing brought forth all manner of strange noises and imaginative soundscapes. The first sounds to come from the stage reminded me of the Starship Enterprise going through a wormhole -- or at least reminded me of the sound effects used at such times in such movies. Soon a pod of whales was following the Enterprise. From there, I lost clear imagery. Jimi Hendrix floated in, but receded just as quickly.

Later, the music became more melodic. That is not necessarily to say pretty. It seemed like everytime the improvised sound was cruising toward one mood, Frith or Parkins or Mori would add a new dimension, destroying the temporary peace their sounds had found. One time, the music was almost lilting in its quiet peace, and I saw Frith stand there with hand to chin, thinking -- the next minute he was hitting his guitar and razor-edged thunder was pealing forth, destroying the prior tranquility. Later, the vice versa occurred.

At all times, the music was morphing. Mori, motionless at her laptop (or so it seemed from the balcony), created pulsating beats that undergirded and inspired Parkins and Frith. Parkins was all over the place. One minute hugging plastic foil, the next spinning and whacking her electronic harp, the next bending down to adjust her pedals. Frith paced back and forth between his guitar and a table outfitted with chains and a variety of other "found" instruments. At one point, he raised and dropped a chain repeatedly to achieve his desired sound.

The one disappointment I felt in the show was the audience in the balcony, or, more specifically, those near the bar. They talked, and talked, ever more loudly to get over the music. I wondered to myself whether they were at the Works to be seen, or what, because they clearly weren't there for Frith. Luckily, most of the audience was there for Frith, as the rapturous cheers following the show underscored. Let it not be said that hour-long improvisational soundscapes don't have fervent fans.

T:BA:07 Day Nine – Friday, 14 September 2007

9:30a Nature Theater of Oklahoma Workshop, PNCA
12:30p PERFORMANCE Now, PNCA
6:30p Andrew Dickson, W+K
8:30p Zoe Scofield & Juniper Shuey, PSU: Lincoln
10:30p Fred Frith / Zeena Parkins / Ikue Mori, Wonder

The day was to begin with a workshop with the Nature Theater of Oklahoma, but it was sold-out, and I could not get in. C’est la vie.

After cleaning up the house a bit, which has been getting messy in this T:BA frenzy, I headed down to the PNCA for today’s Noon:30 chat. [Stopping off at the daily café for a yummy amazon cupcake first though.] Visual and performance artist Claude Wampler was supported by Philip Bither [Senior Curator, Walker Art Center’s of Performing Arts] and Mark Russell in the discussion about the expectations of art, honesty and creativity.

Claude talked about trying to create a genuine experience, and that she felt it was only possible by first creating something completely controlled. A sentiment which was shared by the Nature Theater of Oklahoma yesterday.

She also spoke about the intent of creating art, and of staying true to that intent without selling-out just to make works that can bring in cash. She joked about often loosing money in the creation of her performances, but this is a sense that Mark had put forward a few days back that to have a show in NYC, “that you need to pay to play”.

It is a shame if that is the case.
Someday we really do need to look at the Netherlands model, and find a way to bring it into action in the United States. We need to be able to create works, and be patrons as is appropriate for serious inquiry, exploration and creation.

Andrew Dickson put forward his 29 steps towards getting paid as an artist, but in a path of ‘selling out’. I must say, I was not a fan of his past work. But, today’s powerpoint really did hit home. Except for the part about wearing John Deere hats, I felt like he was divulging much of my life story. [OK, so I do wear a bit to Mountain Hardware and such gear, which has brand names on it…] Oh, and he also talked about Monsieur Quentin T's fashion line, and how he trades clothing for marketing them. www.monsieurt.net

Yes, much of what he said did hit home, but I hope that even though I still make some choices [note the rationalization there] to take some commissions that will help get food in the refrigerator, that I am still on a path towards the truth in art that I desire. It is a difficult things sometimes, but I have been doing my art without any ‘day job’ for seven and a half years now, and it is going GREAT! Sure, I never really know if I will be able to eat next month, but that’s just part of the fun.
;)

Claude spoke earlier about some of her work being ‘difficult’ versus other pieces that her gallery agent likes more because they are easy to sell. But, she cautioned against creating work simply for the sake of what would sell, and even went so far as to state that she has no idea what it is that would sell, or how one would go about creating it.

Andrew’s 29 steps had one Deux et Machina to it…
Wieden + Kennedy came to him, and asked him to ‘sell out’.
This means that he was ‘discovered’.
Andrew did not actually sell out, that's his schtick, that's his theater. W+K just pays him to do what he loves. It is a Medici, not a sell-out. Don’t be fooled by his snake oil, don’t go and sell your soul for a simple path.
Claude did not. She pushed herself forward, not taking no for an answer, and assuming that any silence was an implied ‘yes’ and propelled her artistry further along.

Andrew did point out some nice things about selling out, namely that you would then have the fluidity to assist other artists by patroning their work, which is what this is all really about.

Btw, you might enjoy this Map of Online Communities [image] that Andrew had pirated from some other artist.

After a nice little stroll to Pizza Schmitza, and over to Portland State University’s Lincoln Hall; I settled into my seat with some new T:BA friends, and some long standing friends. Zoe Scofield & Juniper Shuey were dancing this evening. It was a lovely performance, even though it could use a bit more rehearsal. Zoe Scofield brings a lot of strength to her work, and you can feel her formal ballet training in play. There was a solidity to the dancers from their lower ribs through this upper hips that read in the way of a ballerina staying on point while their arms gracefully captured space. But, it was Zoe that ran the show. It was not clear why she started the piece solo before the curtain, and the sudden costume change that shielded her breast about a bold beginning, but you could feel that the other dancers were following about 5% behind her in passion, energy and feeling. I enjoyed watching her dance, with or without the rest of her flock. But, there was one portion of the evening when another duet flowed forth, and their bodies broke from the formalism of the rest of the choreography. During this moment, the two of them moved with fluidity from head to toe, which was purposefully restrained in all other portions of the dance. Also, if you do not mind my testosterone showing for a bit, Zoe looked quite ravishing, and I believe this is something that would be agreed upon by most women, men and children, but your opinion might differ. Her prominence in the pace and blocking of the dance put her forward as a bit of a diva, but as I do not know her personally, I am not sure if this is portrayed character on stage, or her in real life. Perhaps I will learn more on Sunday at her Conduit workshop?

Also, Zoe, if you do not mind, your swan dress was an inspiration for a bellydance collaboration I have in October at Imbibe, so I might need to follow-up on those ideas…

The night at the Works ended with a dissonant performance by Fred Frith, Zeena Parkins, and Ikue Mori. I think that Fred could have stepped down, and things might have been better, but that is just my opinion. If you enjoyed this, at all, then I would highly recommend you experience the music of Synchronicity Frequency www.synchronicityfrequency.comor Soriah www.soriah.net here in Portland.

I felt like today was a day that I over hyped in my own mind.
Claude became the highlight, Zoe was about 80% and the Works fell well below my expectations.
But, Andrew was quite a surprise, as I went expecting it to suck, and I really enjoyed it much to my shock.

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

Prior ‘Day in the Life’ Posts:
Navigating T:BA;
Day 01 – Opening Night;
Day 02;
Day 03;
Day 04;
Day 05;
Day 06;
Day 07;
2:01 AM | Permalink | (0) Comments