…I don’t know why I bother; the aim should always be for “balance”, not something level and static. The autumn holiday chute from Halloween- which is now virtually stitched to Christmas shopping (gliding over Turkey and Stuffing), rapidly rattling us through New Years, into the back wash results of many manic compromises, debilitating family encounters, and possibly humbling overdrafts- has now idled into the slow grade of mounting another year..
..it was an incredible opening event, in DC, at Gallery Plan b last night; Rod Glover has struck out in a wonderful new direction, utilizing textures and char, leading an observer into an artist's envelopment of Nature; a dance that weaves associatively, between forest and fables; it is in perfect resonance with Paula Amt's new paintings, of structures and figures, in which are powerful character details;
…the smirks that come out, when someone speaks of opera, are often automatic and based on the image of the ample soprano, mouthing mulch in excessively broad mastication, showing decorative strain of the eyebrow, and a quaking bit of flesh at the back of the throat. Hands are either clasped in an aching clutch of penance, or make serious and abrupt movements detailing ‘anger’, ‘hope’, ‘despair’, ‘love’, in such stylistic synch, moment to movement, that the heyday of silent films is evoked, regardless of how modern the music or production. ..and then there are the tenors..
I was first contracted to put stories into lyrics for song when the Washington National Opera collaborated with the Ward 7 Arts Collaborative, in November 2009, participating in a project for the program Community In Bloom. For this, the recollections of citizens of Ward 7 were recorded; these reminiscences turned out to span more than a few generations of families, who had been in this particular area of the District, and spoke to a wealth of history slowly being erod
I have to admit, the first star struck thought that came to mind was –‘..it really is red..’ –And there really was a scrum of photographers, crammed on step ladders, huddled shoulder to shoulder, shoved along a “red carpet walk-way”, down the center of a very white tent, affixed to the entrance of the Ziegfeld theater.