Washington's Off-Beat Arts

Time to Let Him Go

2011-08-13T08:58:00.011-04:00

Being the mother of a soon-departing college freshman is not a new feeling - in fact, this is departure number three; the first two have already successfully completed that four-year experience in one piece. They've even decided to take up residence close to home and family, and we enjoy a close relationship where I can watch proudly as they navigate the adult world. It's just that this is the last to go. The landscape for my baby is about to change dramatically, and my own landscape will soon reflect his absence in a quieter, less chaotic home life, but also strangely empty of all that teen energy, angst and exuberance.

I pride myself on not being a helicopter mom: one of those parents buzzing overhead to monitor the life of her child, diving in at any sign of difficulty. But I like to think I am also supportive, available and reasonably helpful. This child's leaving is significantly different from the previous two in yet another way, however: he doesn't like to open up to us. His relative silence means I worry that I won't have any sense of the daily joys and struggles so far away, that he will not want me to get to know his friends, that he won't call, text or Skype regularly, so I won't be able to hear in his voice what's going right, or what's going wrong. "You're so annoying, Mom. I'm fine" is a regular refrain when I push him to share.

This newly emerging young man has some added challenges - not uncommon to many teens. Learning difficulties make school difficult. ADHD means it's hard for him to maintain focus. The fact that he finds it hard to find the words to explain what's going on in his brain leave him reticent to discuss this fact with teachers - particularly when they're strangers in a new setting. I feel for him. I wish I could talk to his professors myself. But I won't. Because he is also proud. And I am not a helicopter mom. So that task is now up to him.

My daughter consoles me that I have done all I can to help her little brother reach this point successfully, and that now it's up to him. I know that, developmentally, she is right, but Number 3 doesn't necessarily follow the clock. It's vexing.

It is not that he's never been away from home before. For the past six summers, he's gone to sleep-away camp in Maine for a two-month stretch. A natural athlete, and patient coach and instructor of younger children, he thrives at camp. But after two months, in an environment I know intimately, under the care of adults I've known since my own teen years, he comes home.

Still, the day of his departure for High Point University is drawing undeniably closer - only a week from today and we will be moving him into his dorm room. In what seems like a "kiss-and-run" policy, the university schedules move-in day on Saturday, a Convocation Sunday morning, and then it's off to the races.

Why does a mother worry about this so much? Is it because the definition of her role is about to change so radically? Is it the thought that our relationship is about to change forever? If this were a multiple choice test, I'd have to leave room not just for a choice of, d). all of the above, but one more option: e). all of the above and more.

I know enough about the brain to understand that this is my limbic system overruling my better judgment. The drive to protect, to nurture, to keep our offspring safe is a primal drive. My rational brain says, he'll be home in just over a month (his college has an extended fall break); he is just a phone call away; Southwest flies to a town close-by in less than an hour. All of these facts sound reassuring, but don't erase the feeling of looming loss and powerlessness.

It is, according to the calendar, time to let him go. He will experience all the newness of college life and adjust easily. Or he will struggle with the freedom, choices and changes of boundaries. He will be away from daily interaction with family and the comforts of home. In either case, I will continue to poke, call, text and be that "annoying Mom" who wants to stay involved in her son's life, even far away.

I am proud of my young man. He's accomplished so much in 17 years. I am thrilled for him that he is strong, autonomous, smart. I know he has the strength to take on life's challenges and I pray that the values we've worked to instill stand up under the pressure of adjustment to this new life, new friends, more strenuous academic expectations.

In a week, we cast our baby out of the nest. I will watch with pride and tears as he spreads his wings to fly. It is all a mother can do. Right?

The Wondrous Waltz of the Daffodils

2011-04-18T08:52:00.010-04:00

William Wordsworth's classic verse, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, that ode to spring's temporal dance, evokes the seasonal dance of wind-struck daffodils, "Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Wandering and dancing in the breeze." The poet's gaze - espying clouds of yellow, "Waving their heads in spritely dance" - how can we help but be joyful in their company: "And I, beside them, dance in glee", even as the grey, icy winds of winter give way to the indomitable sunshine of spring.

Garrison Keillor recites the poem on April 15, 2011 in his daily Writer's Almanac (see podcast below). The date for me is meaningful: my father, David Stevens who, well into his 80s would visit nursing homes to read poetry he loved to "the old people", would recite this most beloved poem by heart at every reading. This year, it was as if he touched me from another dimension, channeled by Keillor: my father the accountant would have danced with glee at the conclusion of this day, April 15, that the long tax season, the grays of thousands of 1040 long forms and long days and nights under the sore artifice of office fluorescent lights, could finally give way to fresh air, suddenly lengthened days and the sunshine of spring.

Since my own childhood, when Daddy and I would walk of an early spring day, one of our favorite things to do, daffodil's have evoked the dance of freedom, light and love. So now, in this season of spring and light and hope, I think of him when I take my walk in the woods, and "when oft upon my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood, I gaze upon the inward eye, which is the bliss of solitude."

My father was also a poet in his own right. My own yard offers up a meager yield of only three lonely dancers, but I cut them to grace our Passover table and take delight in gazing upon them, as I know Daddy still must. "And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils."

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Note to Self: I Have Promises to Keep

2010-12-15T12:13:00.011-05:00

I was grabbed by Orna Ross's Creative Intelligence blog post about the paradox of creative intention. She advises us to look at intention, not as a plan, but as a guiding principle, recognizing that despite the force that focused intention can create to make things happen, there are equally forceful and opposing actions being served up by the universe that may derail us from achieving what we really want.

For the sake of clarity, I am listing "Orna's paradoxes" here:
* To clearly visualise what we want, then let go of any attachment to the outcome.
* To be prepared to do our part while allowing life to do its.
* To work well and make appropriate efforts while also playing well, with lots of rest, relaxation, contemplation and meditation.
* To be persistent but not bull-headed.
* To work towards success while welcoming failure as a learning opportunity.
* To be resilient but not self-satisfied.
* To know what we want at the same time as knowing we are complete without it.
* To fully appreciate what we’ve already (co)created while directing energy towards what we’re (co)creating now.

But what about the question of setting clear intentions - and holding them central? Case in point: my novel in progress, After the Party's Over. Already two years in the writing and 90+ pages in, I have been stymied for months over forcing my seat in the chair to move the plot forward. I am waiting for the main character to tell me what's on her mind. She has revealed quite a bit recently, but I find my eyes glued elsewhere, not to her.

The paradox of inattention has derailed my best intentions. What's keeping me from writing?

First, paying clients. This is a good thing, as we have to eat and pay the mortgage. But there is a paradox. In my social marketing business, I help scientists, educators, researchers, and health professionals tell their stories. Storytelling still - just not my own.

Next, as part of my professional toolkit, I use social media. My professional blog offers a way to amplify client stories, as well as initiate discussions with colleagues and engage in conversations about social marketing. In my novel, some of the characters text and tweet, but no serious social networking is keeping them from living their lives as I write them.

Then, of course, Twitter. I am pretty judicious about turning off the Tweetdeck when it comes to meeting client deadlines. Just not my own. In fact, I had every intention of writing three pages a day during November or, in tweet-speak, #NaNoWriMo. That is, until client deadlines interfered. So I postponed my personal NaNoWriMo for December. And here we are, mid-December, and my poor main character Ellen is still frozen in time waiting at the airport in Detroit, having met up with her ex-husband, the one she walked out on, leaving their three children to his care years before. They are suspended in time until I get my butt on the seat and fingers on keyboard to write them a surprise encounter.

Family, college applications for youngest son, dogs...these are things I have let get in the way.

But it is still December, when miracles do happen. I have high hopes for the week between Xmas and New Year's, when NOTHING HAPPENS IN WASHINGTON, to turn my attentions to fulfilling my better intentions before another year slips away.

Because storytelling is what I do. Fully recognizing the paradox in this plan, my intention is to make my own at least as important as everyone else's.

What about you?

Families that Play Together: The Ultimate Block Party

2010-10-09T11:16:00.017-04:00

Simon Says, "Play!" That was the message for the more than 50,000 parents and children making the pilgrimage to Central Park on October 3. While beautiful fall weather played a key role in its success, the Ultimate Block Party (UBP) organized by Play for Tomorrow, was undoubtedly a hit for the nursery through young teen set who engaged in the vast array of activities to encourage kids - and adults - to engage in creative fun at the park's Naumberg Band Shell.

Families came, teachers streamed in, caregivers from all over the city, and even from as far away as New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland. While Gordon from Sesame Street led a sing-along of songs familiar to young children and grownups alike, the myriad other happenings families could explore, decorate and climb on - from the giant brain collage sponsored by the Children's Museum of Manhattan, to the half-million green Legos (to demonstrate that one doesn't need color or special adornment to encourage builders' imaginations) growing into an intricate Lego City - ensured a continuous and enthusiastic crowd at each play station. Stroller jams were seen in the vicinity of a corral of cardboard boxes, where kids eagerly clambered, colored and took cover in newly make-believe caves. PlayWorks offered a chance for children from all over the city to play together in hula hoop contests, four-square and playground games. Sidewalk drawing, drumming and dancing gave families an excuse to engage in the spontaneous silliness, brain and body stretching we normally associate with growing up. Clowns without Borders bent from their high stilts to shake awestruck little hands.

There was a serious component to the joyous cacophony, one that "Play Doctors" wearing white lab coats took the time to explain to encourage parents, teachers and caregivers to incorporate play at home and school on a regular basis. Scientists have confirmed through years of research that play is an invaluable component of child development encouraging socialization, creativity, emotional adjustment, and brain development. To understand the link between play and learning, organizers gave everyone a "Play Book" at the gate - a guide to how kids learn through play and activities to take home. The UBP Web site links to various articles and research reports documenting play's effectiveness. According to Play for Tomorrow organizers Dr. Kathy Hirsh-Pasek, a faculty member and researcher on play and learning at Temple University, and Dr. Roberta Golinkoff who studies play, language acquisition and learning as a faculty member at the University of Delaware, the current school climate in which children as young as five must forgo recess for "test preparation" is taking the joy - but also essential opportunities for brain growth, exercise and motor skills development - out of learning. And yet, play is how children explore their world, create possibilities, socialize and learn empathy, say the researchers.

As Andy Ackerman, Executive Director of the Children's Museum of Manhattan and a co-founder of UBP, put it, "We knew the event was a success because all day long, what we saw was a lot of the back of kid's necks." Everyone was absorbed in activity.

The Central Park event is only the beginning of what organizers envision as a movement to put play back into learning. Other cities, from Baltimore to Denver, are already planning to host their own block parties, with distinctive local flavor. As UBP President Susan Magsamen noted, "The New York Ultimate Block Party may be the kickoff, but it is our vision that cities all over the country will create their own festivals to bring home the art and science of play. We have to make sure parents, teachers and caregivers understand play is fundamental to learning - that it shouldn't happen on just this one day, but everyday."

"Sunny days, Sweepin' the clouds away...," sang throngs of smiling children as Gordon led them in the Sesame Street theme song. It's nice to remember that play is essential to learning. More important, it's vital to a child's development and well-being. Even more to the point, play may be a necessary ingredient to keep our brains flexible, our bodies fit and our emotional life in balance to create, innovate and learn through the lifespan.

So the next time your inner child calls you to stop work and go play - whether it's a walk in the park, a game of Scrabble, or chalk drawing on the sidewalk - pay attention to that voice.

Now go out and play - Simon Says!

Woolly Moves Audiences "Full Circle"

2009-11-08T14:35:00.007-05:00

Woolly Mammoth, always avant of the unconventional, has once again created a tour-de-force theatrical experience. Full Circle, playing through November, pushes the envelope - or shall we say, the audience - in every direction possible, from lobby to rehearsal hall, from watching actors crosing a single wire "rope" bridge, to watching action from a descending catwalk in a reconfigured theater-in-the-round. As theater exercise, it is bracing; as art, it doesn't work.

How to "read" a play where Pamela Harriman and Warren Buffet meet in East Berlin at the start of the revolution (Tear down that wall, Mr. Gorbachev!) as Pamela is being left holding a baby until his mother returns, where socialite Harriman and billionaire Buffet then meet up again at wedding feast between a young woman, whom Pamela has hired as a young East German "revolutionary" as the baby's nanny, and both Pamela and the nanny are pursued for "kidnapping" former Prime Minister Erich Honecker's baby (Karl Marx Honecker is the result of a union between the aged P.M. and his young mistress Christa)? Where they escape the Stassi police with the help of the au pair pushing Pamela and baby in a grocery cart that passes for a truck with no transmission? Or where the play-within-a-play that starts the program is performed in ersatz Chinese and German, with subtitles, between a Chinese Communist Party apparatchik and an East German agricultural expert about selling sharing land for rice production? All this with occasional audience sing-alongs, karaoke style, to the Beatles' "All You Need is Love."

I frankly didn't get it.

According to program notes, playwright Charles Mee was inspired by The Chalk Circle, a Chinese "zaju" play by Li Qianfu, which in turn inspired The Chalk Circle by German poet Klabund, finally punching out in Bertolt Brecht's Caucasian Chalk Circle.

The knowledge of the play's antique provenance left me wondering about the "chalk circle" proscribed on the remodeled Woolly stage, where Woolly's Artistic Director Howard Shalwitz portrayed his fictional East Germany counterpart as artistic director of the East Berlin theater, belaboring his alleged artistic "crimes" during a long second-act monologue before being appointed judge for the crime of kidnapping the Honecker baby. His State-prescribed duty was to determine whose baby Karl Marx Honecker actually was - the birth mother (the now-deceased Honecker's ex-mistress), Pamela Harriman (who invited the audience to join her and Warren for their coming nuptials in Biarritz) or the young woman who nurtured the baby throughout the the chase by Stassi officers as they ran from Berlin to Dresden.

Shalwitz, instead of being prosecuted for cooperating with Communist authorities to remove the "art" from his theater, is named judge to determine who should retain custody of baby Karl Marx. As if to underscore the allusion, the police note that the theatrical director's task as judge is of Solomonic proportion.

At one point, while we were gathered in the theater, I found myself sitting next to Bob Mondello, theater critic, taking notes on a manilla envelope. While it was too dark to see what he wrote, I did note that the critic cracked a smile once or twice (the show is nothing if not absurdist humor), but I also saw a wide and undisguised yawn. Once we moved out into the lobby for intermission, which turned out to be an arranged wedding for the young woman with her brother's moronic next door neighbor/auto mechanic who changed tires only, replete with dancing on the table and fortune cookies (!) for the audience, I lost track of Mondello, but did wonder about the accessibility of this play for the elderly, wheelchair bound or otherwise-impaired theater-goer who might want to puzzle out the possibilities of this play.

Though people speculated aloud whether this show was designed to point up how those experiencing the opening between East and West back in '89 could have viewed the replacement of one -ism -- Communism -- for another 'ism -- Capitalism, most people appeared to take away the fortune cookies.

All together now, "All you need is love. Da-dah-dah-da-dah."

I can't say how this was supposed to fit together. Only thing I can say for certain: this show was not about was the fall of the Berlin Wall. Or the trials of King Solomon. Or the wisdom of Woolly.

Chéri

2009-07-04T22:55:00.007-04:00

New Miramax film based on Colette's novels, Chéri, and La Fin de Chéri. Is it still taboo for a romance between an older woman and a younger man in our society? This was la Belle Epoque in France, where a "lady of the evening" (Michelle Pfeiffer) found herself too old to court the haute societe of the day but takes on the 19-year old son of one of her erstwhile friends and former rivals (Kathy Bates) and they find themselves, mysteriously, falling in love. But by that time, it is too late. A beautiful cinematic achievement, with lovely performances and gorgeous costumes.

What do we do make of the romantic love of an older woman for a young man today? Is that a romantic notion, or as the young woman who Cheri finally weds observes, do we still think of such liaisons as "debauched?" Is it okay for celebrities but not the rest of us?

Would such a pairing today end up in tragedy? What do you think?

Mortgage-Backed Suspense: Crisis Redux

2009-04-29T13:05:00.006-04:00

Hubby and I wrote a novel in the '90s based on his work for the now-infamous Freddie Mac. We didn't know then that Freddie and its sister mortgage finance giant Fannie Mae would today be barely afloat under the weight of a nation of mortgage and derivative investment defaults and under U.S. government control. He was then working out their vast pool of defaulted multifamily loans, as opposed to today's multitudinous backlog of single family and subprime mortgages (what's old is new again). Most of his work took place in NYC, home of the neo-meltdown of 2008-09, among corrupt, greedy and unethical lenders and landlords in some of New York's seediest, pre-gentrified neighborhoods (remember, this was the last housing crisis - in the early 1990s).

The book is out now, the hardships experienced in the wake of this mortgage crisis eerily presaging today's economic melt down. The new suspense thriller is available on Amazon.com.

Check out an excerpt from Satan's Mortgage ©2009 by Robin S. Payes and Richard I. Payes:
It was noon when Tommy, Louis Peller's driver, dropped him off at the corner. Louis told Tommy to meet him back at the same corner at 2:30, sharp. No dilly-dallying in this neighborhood, especially not after 3 p.m., when the hoodlums got out of school and the dope dealers and their couriers took up residence on every-other street corner.

Despite the squalor of the street, Louis was savoring the sunshine on this brilliant blue spring day. The sidewalks, for once, were deserted. This part of the Bronx was generally teeming with life whenever he came up here to check out a building, boiling over with tension. Louis liked to get in quick, and get out.

Suddenly, he heard an explosion, the shattering of glass and the crash of brick on concrete. It sounded like a bomb detonating in his path. As he looked up, he witnessed the top two floors of this six-story apartment house crumble right before his eyes. He watched, dumbfounded, to see the upper third of the mural fold in on itself, leaving only the names and the lower third of the cross to mark the memory of the young victims of poverty.

Peller immediately ran, thrusting himself to safety. He crouched behind a dumpster, the closest cover he could find. He smelled fire. The air was blistering. Through his nostrils, he breathed in acrid smoke. He could almost feel the air singe his eyebrows. Chunks of brick and mortar rained down around him. He crouched down still further, searching for somewhere safer to hide, some cover to protect his head.

He could hear people wailing, whimpering, weeping nearby.

Looking at the luminous sky now choking with flame, he had to shield his eyes against the debris. When he dropped his gaze he saw people crawling from the building on hands and knees like animals, choking in the smoke-filled air, screaming, as panic flowed into the street. Smoky silhouettes of mothers with babies clutched in their arms their cast shadows against the sidewalk partially obscured by billowing smoke and yellow flames that were breaking out in what remained of the top two floors.

Peller was frightened, trembling. He had to get away. He decided to make a mad dash, even though he was partially sheltered now from the fallout of the apartment building. It was difficult to breathe. He must make it out of there, quickly.

No. He felt guilty for his selfish impulse to flee when people's lives were at stake. Could he -- dare he run back to help?

"Quit wasting time, Peller," he lectured himself, angrily. "Do something. The right thing." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He ran.

Maryland Lawyers for the Arts Copyright Workshop for Visual Artists April 4

2009-03-30T11:52:00.002-04:00

Maryland Lawyers for the Arts (www.mdartslaw.org) is presenting a workshop for visual artists called "Protecting Your Work with Copyright" on from 2:00 to 4:00 pm on April 4 at Plaza Art, 1594B Rockville Pike, Rockville, MD 20852 “Pictorial, graphic, or sculptural” works are protected by federal copyright law. But that protection isn’t unlimited. Find out where those sometimes shifting boundaries lie and what you need to do stay on the right side of them. Ober Kaler attorney and MLA board member Cynthia Sanders, an IP and entertainment law attorney (as well as a MICA-trained artist) will be speaking. There’ll be Q&A so it’s a great chance to talk to an attorney for less than $250 an hour! Contact info@mdartslaw.org to register. Tickets are $30.

Paris Gems: La Piece de Resistance IS the Louvre

2009-03-05T09:52:00.014-05:00

Paris photographer Gadi shows the Louvre Museum as an artwork in its own right. Check out his work as Wee Planet on Flickr for a new view of the planet, Le Petit Prince. Antoine de St. Exupery's famous work about a little boy exploring an asteroid, with charming illustrations of himself standing at the pole of his tiny orb.

The photographers invitation opens to us, voyeurs, to see The City of Lights using his 360 degree vision. Can't wait to see Paris with new eyes this visit, although I certainly will not be able to capture anything like this perspective with my own photography.

Imagination opens the eyes to see what the world has to offer. As the Little Prince observes from his vantage point atop a tiny, lonely celestial body with only a rose to accompany him on his daily journey through life: "What is essential is invisible to the eye. It is only with the heart that one sees rightly."

Awesome creativity helps us see what is invisible to the eye.

Draw Out The Blue Line's Magic

2009-02-11T14:49:00.013-05:00

The Blue Line is a DC phenom, four rockers who met out of college and took their passion for music out of the garage and into the nightlife in Adams Morgan and U Street combining musical talents, rocking out with their own tunes to a driving, insistent beat that is at once passionate and musically adroit. The sleek tones and satiny vocals of lead singer and rhythm guitar Ben Payes synchronize with lead guitarist Ross Jacobson's intensely saturated riffs sending out a strong emotional energy. Nick Scialli on bass and Dave Chaletzky's percussion demonstrate strong command of their respective instruments to stand out in harmonic and sometimes dissonant counterpoint to create the band's unique sound.

Aranoyas, Fantasy Girl and Underwater Dreams are first out of the box on the new CD. Hear 'em all at Blue Line Rock.

The band - sounding a high octane blend with mellow notes - creates a magical energy all its own.

Dialogue in the Digital Age

2009-01-07T08:36:00.004-05:00

"The act of theater is the act of communion between someone in a living space with other people in that space. What's important about theater is
actually its scarcity. As you enter the digital age and everything can be
digitized, a live event where someone is physically present cannot actually be
commodified" [i.e., bought and sold as a product].

"The core experience cannot be reproduced, and that's incredibly precious."

Mike Daisey, on state of American theater
Quoted in The Washington Post, January 2, 2009

Yoga Shalom

2008-10-18T11:31:00.008-04:00

Combining the ancient spiritual practices of yoga with the Jewish morning service that celebrates the Sabbath may seem a bissle unconventional but, in fact, a "yoga shalom" service I participated in this morning provided an ideal immersion into prayer, music, meditation and movement. The Hebrew word shalom means peace - a perfect focus for attuning mind and body, to take a rest from the normal rush and preoccupation that fills our daily lives that too often keeps us from indulging in the day of rest that the Sabbath is designed to afford us.

Cantor Lisa Levine, who led the service, has modified the Shabbat morning service to couple the elements of traditional communal prayer and yoga practice with a very personalized spiritual experience. The congregants from Temple Shalom in Chevy Chase, Md., participating in the service this morning, who traditionally come to services wearing kippahs and talit (yarmulkas and prayershawls) prepared for traditional worship instead donned sweats and workout clothes crowding into a candlelit classroom to the mellow tones of Hebrew prayers on a specially prepared CD, laying down yoga mats, warming up and stretching while preparing to celebrate the Sabbath in this unique way.

The mindset for prayer in Hebrew is called kavanah, meaning "intent". In traditional mediatative practice, kavanah would be the idea of being "in the moment". As a welcome into the service, Cantor Lisa invited us to determine for ourselves what our kavanah would be for this moment, this particular morning of prayer, this day of rest, then led us through a flow of yoga poses to the calming melodies of the Sabbath. It was a wonderful way to pray and a welcome spiritual immersion into Shabbat peace, Shabbat holiness, Shabbat neshama.

And All That Jazz...

2008-09-14T12:33:00.008-04:00

First, true confessions: last time I took dance class was during the Carter administration.

But I was very young then. Now, not so much, but interested in seeing what it feels like to move this middle-aged body as a dancer.

So I signed up for a class at Liz Lerman Dance Exchange in Takoma Park, Md. Yesterday was the first class. And while moving my body vigorously in rhythmic sequence over and over to music felt familiar, the body itself didn't look too familiar. And it didn't respond to my brain's commands to turn out, to lift, to kick and lunge to the insistent hip-hop beat in quite the ways I'd expected.

But here's what I can say in my body's defense: while it couldn't quite reach its former agility in limber kicks, gravity defying leaps, and perfect turnout, it could still deliver in style.

Today, I'm just sore. But the best part of the exercise -- not just lamenting the loss of my youth -- was how much fun it is to d-a-n-c-e, and all that jazz. Photo credit: Liz Lerman Dance Exchange

The Soul of the Refrigerator

2008-08-06T13:46:00.011-04:00

So, when my artist-friend Rosana told me she was redesigning refrigerators to enter into an art exhibit, my first question was, "What the heck for?" Then, she told me this was to be an entry in a "recycled" art exhibition, and I thought, why not.

Her latest creation, entitled Hearts and Minds and done in collaboration with the teaching staff of Creative Adventures, the non-profit arts education program in elementary schools that my friend created, is the proof of the pudding. Hearts and Minds inspired students at Creative Adventures' summer camp to "tread lightly on the earth" and reclaim natural beauty out of manufactured stuff. This refrigerator door was rescued from the snack bar of a suburban swimming pool and was transformed using brown paper packing from a mail-order delivery, bottle caps, telephone wire and cast-off materials from several junk drawers.

To see details on the coming exhibition on recycled refrigerators and energy savings as an art form at Washington, D.C.'s, National Building Museum in the dog days of August and early September, visit this cool spot for a breath of fresh air.

What Price Art?

2008-07-30T20:41:00.006-04:00

Not Van Gogh's Sunflowers
Don't quit the day job. For artists of every hue, this has become conventional wisdom. After all, Van Gogh died destitute in 1890, yet just under 100 years later, in 1987, Japanese insurance magnate Yasuo Goto paid $39,921,750 for Van Gogh's "Still Life: Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers" at auction at Christie's London, at the time, a record setting price for one of the now venerated artist's work.

What of talented artists who today labor under guise of anonymity, or try mightily for recognition in a marketplace where "what is art" is defined as subjective and "what is popular" might be a better guide to how collectors and amateurs alike purchase paintings, sculpture, multimedia and other pieces?

Or what of this: the award-winning painter and sculptor Dorothy Silverstein Stevens who has her first one-woman show at age 85 to great acclaim but no public notice; whose work is admired but undervalued; who sells work to admiring friends but really deserves to be in public collections?

Now 90, with a life of art behind her, she paints out of passion and inspires awe among admirers. Price is not the object, yet the artist and her art deserve to be appreciated. For what is art if no one sees it? Dorothy Silverstein Stevens creates just such inspirational artistry. I post one of her paintings here: you be the judge.

D.C. on the Fringe

2008-07-18T17:48:00.003-04:00

Speaking of off-beat, Washington's 2008 Fringe Festival is currently in full swing. According to its organizers, the Capital Fringe is about "unjuried, risk taking, independent performing arts." The city provides a cornucopia of performances - more than 600 individual performances involving over 200 companies in 30 venues, located all around the District. A moveable feast.

The festival inspires artists and arts organizations to venture into uncharted territory. So it was fitting that a Theatre Lab production called Parade would also push the edge of entertainment. A critical hit on Broadway during its brief run in 1999, the musical was conceived and directed by Hal Prince. It is not a musical in the traditional sense of the American musical, but a serious look at a little examined time in American history: the trial and lynching of Leo Frank in the Atlanta of the 1910's - a place still unashamedly racist and anti-Semitic. The crime Frank was accused of, murdering a 14-year old factory worker in his pencil factory, and the subsequent trial where witnesses were coached to testify against this Jewish man from Brooklyn who was and would always be a stranger in white Southern society, is portrayed affectingly by Buzz Mauro.

Musical it is, though a tragedy at that. According to the program notes, the musical score is one of the toughest in all of musical theatre. Atonal, with complex harmonies, an experience professional company would still have difficulty telling this long, complicated story through music and dialog. Performing in the auditorium of a church near the National Museum of American Art and the Verizon Center, this cast - a mix of amateurs, professionals and newcomers, teens and adults - brought the story to life with uneven finesse but great passion.

And the story of Parade, difficult though it may be, is worth hearing. Fitting within the context of the Capitol Fringe Festival, this was "unjuried, risk taking" performance artistry. A moveable feast, Washington's cup overfloweth. I urge natives and visitors alike: partake.

There's No Business Like Community Theatre

2008-06-23T20:51:00.009-04:00

The costumes, the scenery, the makeup, the props,
The audience that lifts you when you're down

The costumes, the scenery, the makeup, the props
The audience that lifts you when you're down

By now, the quality and strength of Washington’s theatre scene is undisputed. From Arena to Woolly Mammoth, the live stage is thriving in Washington.

What is less recognized but equally phenomenal, is that Washington hosts a remarkable number of community theatre groups, mounting upwards of 150 shows a year, from musical comedy to Shakespeare, from Tennessee Williams dramas to original one-acts.

The public spotlight does not shine brightly on community stages here in the Greater Washington area, but somehow, audiences, players and stagehands have come together in large numbers to create a highly experienced cadre of journeymen artists and artisans at many stages around the region to round out the arts scene.

“I could go to two shows every week of the year and still not see every show,” notes Jane Squier Bruns, artistic director of Montgomery Playhouse and actor.

Indeed, on one weekend in the fall, theatre lovers could choose from a preview performance of “Dracula, the Musical?” at Montgomery Playhouse, “Agnes of God” at Silver Spring Stage, and “Mr. Pim Passes By,” at Cedar Lane Stage. That same weekend, attending the Opening Night cast party for “Dracula,” the talk was on who-was-performing-what-where, coming auditions, and whether certain performances and productions were WATCH-worthy.

WATCH is the acronym standing for Washington Area Theater Community Honors, and it is literally the Tony Award for Washington’s community theaters. The awards are awarded in grand style at the Birchmere in Alexandria each March to celebrate the achievements of theater groups, performers, directors and technical designers.

The roster of WATCH members continues to grow, and today is comprised of 29 companies from Annapolis to Warrenton. Because they are locally based, the companies often take their cues for production choices based on what the audience has come to expect. Montgomery Playhouse, for example, takes a traditional approach, while Kensington Arts Theatre concentrates on musicals. Cedar Lane Stage has built a reputation for “classics of dramatic literature, rarely performed works by well-known writers,” and overlooked “gems.” The St. Mark’s Players on Capitol Hill initially performed only Gilbert and Sullivan, but have expanded their repertory.

As its name implies, community theatre is all about players and producers with a passion for performance -- not for the paycheck but the payoff of bringing well-produced, high quality plays to a wide and diverse audience. Because each performance is locally mounted by an all-volunteer cast and crew, most productions are affordable and accessible in a way a night at the Kennedy Center might not be. If the theatre also draws in new audiences to live theatre, so much the better.

Payment is not the mark of quality, as the many volunteers involved in the activity might attest -- the sheer joy of putting on something provocative, comic, classic, or tragic before an audience is its own reward.

Let's go on with the show!

Fair Trade: Jewelry with Heart

2008-05-17T09:55:00.005-04:00

A group of Washington women visited the mystical Lake Atitlan, Guatemala, several years ago and had the great good fortune to meet Lily Jacobs, a British ex-pat, who lives with her Guatemalan husband in a unique and colorful compound - pastels and lush tropical greenery set against mountain terrain on the mysterious lake that can only be described as Eden-like.

Lily, an artist, had noticed the fine handwork that went into the creation of the native dress of Guatemalan women - whose Mayan heritage is preserved in the vivid colors and detailed handweaving of native design - including the resplendent native bird, the quetzal - into blouses called huipils in colors native to specific regions of the country. But the time involved in weaving made it unprofitable to the women weavers to outfit more than their community.

Lily, seeing their artistry, was determined to help build an industry that reflected the talent and aesthetics of the local peoples, while building a business to profit the families - mostly poor and undereducated - by creating art that could be exported for profit.

Hence, Lilybeads was born. Lily designs new patterns regularly in her studio, then trains local women to create bracelets, earrings and necklaces using native patterns and colors. Lilybeads incorporates Fair Trade practices to marketing the finished product and returning profits to the community so local families can build a sustaining industry based on native traditions and available to the world.

In her own words, "Lilybead comes from my own deep creative drive and from my desire to help the young women of Guatemala improve their lives now and in the future. Together we make the perfect product—Jewelry with Heart."

"Three Months" Morphs to Take "The Blue Line"

2008-05-14T19:48:00.011-04:00

After playing a benefit for LiveStrong in Howard Co., the band formerly known as "Three Months to Live" has beat the odds for survival into its fourth month. Hence, same band, new name: The Blue Line.

The Blue Line is showing strong signs of life as headliners at The Red and The Black, Thursday, May 28. The club, a cozy tavern and live music venue is located in the H Street Atlas shopping district of Northeast, Washington, DC. Check them out - doors open at 8:30 p.m. with a modest cover. Then kick back and listen to the "Line's" originals, including "Lately," "A Poem for I Don't Know Who," and "My Enemy."

Come early and bring your friends to support the band and check out this emerging arts district - as the Off-Beat Blogger will be doing that evening. When you hit the doors, tell 'em you're there to hear Ben and the guys, in The Blue Line.

In Five Words: Submit Your Favorite Washington Places

2008-04-25T14:52:00.021-04:00

A friend told me about a new trend for anyone with a story to tell. Reviewers have dubbed it a new art form: American Haiku. It's the Six-Word Memoir and there's a book to that effect, Not Quite What I Was Planning, by Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser, containing many more than six words, available at Amazon.

So, why not create a local literary contest with a hometown theme? Better yet, if we can mix and mingle words to compose lyrics to an original musical composition, we gain an Ode to Washington. This launches our new Five Word Challenge: "Favorite Spot in Washington Area"

Only rule: Tell it in five words. You can submit as often as you like and the winners will go on to either celebrity or anonymity. My contribution? Northwest Branch reflects autumn's palette.

The AWWK Aria

2008-04-04T13:38:00.007-04:00

Last night at the Kennedy Center for the Washington National Opera's Rigoletto (oh, I did say this would not be about mainstream arts, didn't I? Well, read on...), I noticed that people do not dress for opera anymore. And when I say "do not dress," I mean, anything goes. Sneakers and skirts -- yes, this is the Washington woman's work uniform -- jeans and tees. Not that I lament the "good old days" where Dior and dinner jackets were de rigueur, but it is nice to see afficionados make an effort.

It reminded me of my first exposure to opera as a kid growing up in Cincinnati. Women strutting in long gowns and peacocks spreading their splendid green and purple tails. Awwk! yes, peacocks! The Cincinnati Zoo Opera was absolutely a one-of-its-kind phenomenon, where the likes of Beverly Sills's coloratura soprano could be punctuated by the unscripted contrapuntal basso profundo trumpeting from The Elephant House. The Zoo's Pavilion fronted the aptly titled (and accurately labeled) Swan Lake. I vaguely recall long giraffe necks peering over at the singers to see what all the squawking was about. The stars of the Met absolutely clamored to play the house for the primates on Monkey Island!

Anyway, it occurred to me, watching Rigoletto, that this was exactly the kind of production that would be punched up by some monkey business. The supernumeraries in the crowd scenes actually seemed herded here and there. While Rigoletto sang his impassioned Act 2 aria about the townspeople abducting his beloved, innocent daughter, the sumptuously clad extras were clumped stage right, staring offstage. We the audience, in our sweats and hoodies, were not impressed.

This would not have happened at the Zoo Opera. As Time Magazine noted in a 1942 review: " Occasionally a lion roared; silver-haired Tenor Giovanni Martinelli roared louder.... Cincinnati's Zoo offers the only summer season of first-rate opera in the U.S. As first presented 20 years ago, scraps of opera vied with an ice show, merry-go-round, two dance floors. Gradually full-length opera muscled in. The inevitable deficits were met by the inevitable angels, Mrs. Charles Phelps Taft, wife of the half brother of William Howard Taft, and Mrs. Mary Emery, whose father-in-law made one of Cincinnati's first big real-estate fortunes. In 1934 the musicians themselves took over."

Of course, the beauty of the Zoo Op was its completely democratic appeal. Still, back in the day, even plumbers and gardeners dressed in dark suits replete with white hankies. If the likes of a former first family, the Tafts, could pull on girdles and stockings to dress in regal finery during Cincy's sweltering summers to mix with Metropolitan Opera stars and the King of the Jungle, shouldn't Washington's A-list, attending no less a landmark than the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, step out of their day-to-day skins as combatant elephants and donkeys? C'mon, D.C. -- show off your peacock walk. AWWK!

Transform Yourself

2008-03-31T17:02:00.005-04:00

Wise Eastern gurus have known for years what science is just recently catching onto: the practice of yoga offers multiple health benefits. Now, scientists are proving it. No less an august scientific institution than the National Institutes of Health is offering a glimpse of yoga's power to heal as scientists and practitioners gather on the campus of the National Institutes of Health for NIH Yoga Week, May 19-23 at various NIH venues. The week's events are open to the public, featuring classes, workshops, exhibits and demonstrations suitable for everyone: longstanding practitioners of the art of yoga, wannabe desk yogis, and the just-plain curious who may want to learn more about emerging health benefits. Experts will address topics ranging from research showing benefits in cancer treatment to practices geared towards managing stress and easing lower back pain. Yoga classes will be held both outside (weather permitting) and indoors to encourage as participation by as many people as possible.

Check out a full listing for events on their splash page.

Namaste.

"Name that Band"

2008-03-31T16:32:00.004-04:00

No one was "Leavin' on a Jet Plane," on the last Friday in March, as five rockin' folkies who make neuroscientific discoveries by day at the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA), and make music every chance they get marked their live cafe debut at Caribou Coffee. The live concert featured the smooth vocal stylings of Jennifer Elcano, her husband Tomm on bass, NIDA's Joe Frascella and Curtis Balmer, with special guest vocalist Dorie Hightower. Original compositions played by the group have a fresh coffee house flavor that could usher in a neo-indie-folk rock revival.

Every month is a new gig, with new musicians and new material. So check out the talent on Friday nights (fourth of each month) and celebrate. It's the weekend!

Where: Caribou Coffee off Norbeck Road in Rockville in the Rock Creek Village Center
Who: "Sex [deleted]..." and other area musicians
Sponsored by: Caribou Coffee and The Songwriters Association of Washington

DC Dreamin'

2008-03-17T16:30:00.006-04:00

For those who have never participated in a "Dream Circle," I highly recommend the experience. To share images and symbols conjured in the oneiric state with a group of friends can offer unexpected insights into the way your friends' waking minds work -- never mind the Freudian.

Eight of us gathered at a friend's home recently to examine our dreams in this way. Our host shared a dream she had recorded recently where a pale green python (a global post-modern harbinger of spring, perhaps?) was in her house and encircling her dog, although she didn't feel the dog was threatened. The moment of decision in the dream was whether she or her husband, who had charged downstairs carrying a sword, should kill the python before it harmed their family pet. What was going on here?

A fellow dreamer immediately jumped in with her own interpretation -- this dream was clearly about Hillary Clinton and our conflicts about choosing a candidate in the coming election, she said. Immediately, others in our circle nodded their heads. Yes! More than one person recounted then that they had dreamt about Barack Obama, as had colleagues and acquaintances with whom they had discussed sleep or lack thereof since the primary season ramped up.

Wow, I would have thought the dream was about snake charmers, or something. Oh, but wait...

Ambivalence over this long presidential primary courtship has apparently crept into the collective subconscious and crawled into bed with us at night.

Hmm...I wonder what Freud might have to say about this.

Check Out College Park's Hottest New Rockers

2008-03-16T17:00:00.005-04:00

Three Months to Live is the latest rock band to emerge from the University of Maryland, and their music is killer hot. Guitarist Ben Payes has penned the music and lyrics, and the performances by all five musicians, including Mike LaBattaglia on lead vocals, Ross Jacobson, lead guitar, Nick Scialli on bass, and Kenny Leftin on drums, show promise.

With these original compositions, the band is negotiating with clubs for performance dates this spring.

Tune in to this blog periodically for news about upcoming gigs and check out the band's MySpace page.