Talley's Folly at Portland Stage: It's...LIVE. And it moved me to tears

Once upon a time, sitting in a dark theater close upon others and watching even more other humans interact on stage -- making music, making art, making drama, making beauty -- was a regular part of my life: of many of our most privileged lives. Recently, thanks to an unchecked/unmanaged pandemic in this country, we've had to settle for the performances made available to us in our private homes, on our screens.

Until you are back in the room with an audience and artists, it is difficult to describe the layers of humanity we are missing in these electronic interactions.

Kudos to Portland Stage for having the courage to lead us back together with its current production of Talley's Folly by Lanford Wilson.

As a fellow arts administrator who has worked with the actors' and stage unions, as well as with the public, I know Executive and Artistic Director Anita Stewart had to move mountains to make this happen.

Lucky for us, she did. In old fashioned reviewer terms: run, do not walk, to see this production. 

Not only will you get to see a wonderfully acted and staged live performance, you'll get to feel safe as part of an audience with others. Because everything Portland Stage does around this production is geared toward keeping us safe so we can carry on together in this new normal.

For carry on we must. It is not only grocery store and health care workers that are essential to our health. It's artists. And theaters. And musicians. And the big hearted, generous, earth shaking humanity of sharing live performance. We are not creatures of social isolation. We ARE creatures of INNOVATION -- especially artists. It is our job to figure this thing out. And figure it out we are -- with Portland Stage and Talley's Folly helping to lead the way.

Thank you.

In terms of the performance itself, I'll admit to some prejudices. I'm lucky to be friends and colleagues with the actors and director, Dave Mason, Kathy McCafferty, and Sally Wood. And they all do a wonderful job bringing forward a classic from set in the Ozarks in the mid-20th century to our modern New England ears. And Anita, doubling down as she often does as scenic designer, knocked herself out by giving us a set with...water. 

How magic is that? -- Answer: it always is, to see a river replicated live on stage.

Dave does an incredible job with a big role -- lots of language, lots of trickiness, PLUS some great physical acting (ice skates!) all wrapped up in a unique Lanford Wilson character that belongs so much to the WWII era. Ostensibly a romantic comedy, Talley's Folly tackles capitalism and anti-Semitism as it goes.

But the killer for me was much more personal. In the climactic scene, Sally Talley's secret is revealed. It is a secret my own adopted mother shared [SPOILER ALERT]: not being able to have children and, at that time, being thereby considered un-marriageable. 

It's a different world today, with so many options for women to have children, so I don't mind giving up that spoiler. But seeing Kathy/Sally wracked with pain, doubled over live before me on that stage -- brought home to me, with a stab to my gut, what my own adopted mother must have felt like and endured. Until, like Sally Talley, she met my Dad: her prince for nearly 50 years, precisely because he said, "No problem. We'll adopt."

Thank you, Dave, Kathy, Anita, Sally, and the rest of the Portland Stage crew. For giving me that and other moments of emotion, of our shared humanity, safely in our new normal.

Sunday Morning Observances: On Voting, Faith, and Compassion

The synchronicity of Election Day with All Saints/All Souls/Day of the Dead...

For many of us, we know and feel these times to be especially sacred: a moment when the boundaries "thin" between the living and our beloved dead...we remember them, we pay them tribute, we give them thanks, we call their names. We place marigolds around their photos.

It is this same faith in the love of the world that drives me and many others to vote. As the Franciscan father Richard Rohr has written, "voting is a deeply moral act—a decisive statement of Christian faith that I matter, that justice matters, and that other people matter."

It's the "other people matter" part of his statement from which many seemingly religious people have become disconnected. As Rohr goes on to note, many "Christians" do not connect their inner, "heaven focused" world with our collective economic, social, or political life.

There are, all too obviously and amost recently with our Supreme Court hearings, many strains of Catholicism. I was lucky enough to have been raised in the type that understand's Jesus's teachings as a message of social justice for all. Like Rohr, I ask myself: "how can I be good for the sake of my neighborhood, my city, my church, my community, and the world? It really is a different starting place. It’s not seeking my own ego enhancement, but the spiritual and physical well-being of others, as Jesus did."

As feminists we learned: the personal is the political. "There really is no such thing as being non-political. Everything we say or do either affirms or critiques the status quo. Even to say nothing is to say something. If we say nothing, we communicate that the status quo—even if it is massively unjust and deceitful—is apparently okay."

My faith means that public virtue is about solidarity with others -- not just about my own ego, well-being, greed, or "private sense of 'holiness.'"

Today, on All Souls' Day and in loving memory of my grandmothers, mother, and god mother, I challenge my fellow Christians who consider themselves to be "pro life" and are single issue, anti-abortion voters: what can you DO to improve the lives of women and children so that safe, legal abortion continues on the decreasing path on which it has been? How can YOU hold men accountable for their sexuality and violence? How can YOU ensure we as women have control over our bodies through full access for all to effective birth control? How can YOU vote for a compassionate world, in which poor and starving and abandoned and separated children are well cared for once they enter this world?

This is the work to be done: to VOTE FOR A COMPASSIONATE WORLD in which all are called to serve, and all are called to care. Not about your own self interest: rather, about those who struggle the most and are the most vulnerable. If you think of your vote from this perspective, your choice will be absolutely clear.

Vote like OUR LIVES depend on it: because they do.

#allsaintsday #AllSoulsDay #dayofthedead #GOTV #yourvoicematters #EveryVoteCounts

Sunday Morning Observances: On Single Issue Voting and What an Ethics of Support for All Life Really Means

I had the terrible experience, this week, of hitting a wild turkey on route from work to my island home.

As always when one hits an animal on the road, the thud of the live body against the weaponized tons of steel of my vehicle moving through its home was sickening. The soft flesh and feathers were no match, and when I stopped to remove the turkey from the road and say a prayer of apology and goodbye to it there were feathers and blood everywhere.

All of life IS sacred. Many humans, however, seem to have a difficult job discerning how to act in regard to the sacred nature of ourselves and the world around us.

Of the many contradictions around this issue, the one that makes me the most sad are "single issue voters:" those who will tolerate many abuses of life while voting only on a “no abortion” platform.

These single issue anti-abortion voters -- I can't call them pro-life because of all the other anti-life issues they not only tolerate, but perpetuate -- encompass a range of so-called Christians. These voters overlook immigration issues, the treatment of the poor, the amassing of unjust wealth, the abuse of workers, mass incarceration and the death penalty as long as a candidate espouses to be anti-abortion.

As the Pope himself has said in regard to the lives of the unborn and the issue of abortion: "Equally sacred, however, are the lives of the poor, those already born, the destitute, the abandoned and the underprivileged, the vulnerable infirm and elderly exposed to covert euthanasia, the victims of human trafficking, new forms of slavery and every form of rejection." We all have a role in achieving social justice, in working toward truly common goods rather than our own individual well being alone.

I am adopted, pre-Roe vs. Wade. You’d think I would be strongly anti-abortion.

Here’s why I’m not.

I was placed by Catholic Charities into a family whose faith stated that the primary commandment is to love our neighbors. This seemingly simple dictate translated into support for John F. Kennedy, whose photo bore a place of honor on our walls; Lyndon Johnson and ultimately Jimmy Carter for their support for voting rights and a social safety net (Medicare) and the rights of laborers to be protected by unions.

Unfortunately, this broad view of what it means to love our neighbors has been damagingly overshadowed by those who like to have their faith in more black and white terms.

It is one thing to loudly proclaim one is “pro life” and quite another to act as if one really is.

You can’t be “pro life” in America without acknowledging and examining our history as a nation whose economic wealth is built on exterminating the native populations to steal their land and on enslaving African labor through centuries long campaigns of terror and torture. These are historic facts about which too many white Americans are in denial.

We have, as a nation, systematically dehumanized this continent’s native peoples and the Africans we brought here: and this dehumanization continues to result today in unexamined inequities including mass incarceration, the death penalty, housing, and possible remedies for poverty.

Loving one’s neighbors, and the planet, makes seeing all life as worthy of consideration. So-called religious voters can be anti-abortion because they don’t see women as fully human and with our own set of rights. These same voters can be supportive of racist policing and justice policies that have resulted in the mass incarceration of our African-American population: because after centuries of dehumanization, they don’t see Black people as fully human.

Believing that women who need abortions and Black people convicted of misdemeanors for which no white person would be imprisoned are criminals allows these voters not to understand how “anti life” their single issue voting actually is.

The first step, always, acknowledgement: in this case, to study and to admit to the brutality against certain groups of people that has built tremendous wealth for some at the expense of others. Truth. The second step is to ask for forgiveness for our ancestors’ and our own roles in this terrible history in which life is not treated as sacred. Reconciliation. And the third step is to publicly reframe our policies to heal and to begin repairing these centuries of oppression and damage, by shifting funding from racist enforcement to education and programs that make up for the years of discrimination and enforced poverty of so many. Reparations.

Truth. Reconciliation. Reparations. The heart of a multi-issue, pro-life stance.

#nomoresingleissuevoting #lovethyneighbor #reallyvoteyourfaith #truthandreconciliation #reparationsnow

Sunday Morning Observances: On Privilege, Entitlement, and the Extended Damage it Does to Our Communities

If you're like me, you've got some anger to burn off these days.

I've started to spend Sunday mornings in my basement gym, whaling on my heavy bag while listening to something inspirational. This appears to be an excellent combination for allowing me to respond to and engage with the rest of the world in a nonviolent manner. 

There are a few human behaviors in this miraculous, beautiful world I actively despise, and they are all so prevalent at this moment, actively roaming around in our lives like zombies, that it is difficult not to feel embattled and aggressive.

These include but are not limited to:

• White Privilege, male privilege, entitlement, and their everyday, negative impacts on our communities large and small: racial, social, economic and cultural oppression and inequity at every level, rural and urban.
• Unauthorized uses of armed force, the next steps onto the slippery slope of authoritarianism; 
• Presidential Lying -- 'nuff said; 
• Mismanagement, such as the federal government's response to COVID that is going to extend the community health and economic suffering far longer than necessary;

Having done my rounds of jabs and power punches at the bag this morning, let's think about this first set of behaviors -- unacknowledged privilege -- and how they relate to the last -- mismanagement.

And let's take this away from the federal government, as that is just too easy and obvious. Let's acknowledge instead that the patterns that exist in our families, small organizations, towns, businesses -- nonprofits and otherwise -- and communities are amplified at the national level.

Using my experiences with rural nonprofit boards as a consultant and a board member, here's how this works. (Truthfully, its underpinnings can be found in the white Calvinist Protestantism on which our nation is founded: the idea that American "exceptionalism," success, and wealth are signs of God's providence. Go with me here.)

a. People who have been materially successful, due to birth (including but not limited to historic land theft and enslavement), education, work, or a combination of any of these believe this success makes them uniquely qualified to do anything. This is ENTITLEMENT.

b. These "uniquely qualified" people are sought after for nonprofit boards or community service in the hope that they will share their wealth and bring their friends along with them. They immediately vie for leadership roles because their privilege is evidence that they know best. Thus, people with no experience in leadership roles believe they should be leaders. People with no experience in event production believe they should be producers. Etc.

c. In meetings and during decision making, such people--feeling themselves uniquely qualified by their wealth (or maybe even chosen by God, who knows?)--take up a lot of air space with their opinions. So much so that others often can't get a word in. White/male privilege is terrible at listening as the nature of these complexes lead individuals to believe, mistakenly, that they don't have much to learn: rather, they believe others need to learn FROM them. They promote themselves and their own opinions over others, even when said opinions lack the foundation of any expertise.

The sad truth is that there are many, many organizations -- and whole communities -- whose mission-based work is hampered by dysfunctional boards and committees weighed down by the entitled behaviors of privileged white people.

I've been a reporter, silently observing, in many of those meetings. I've been a consultant, hired to observe and to counsel. I've watched local rural people talked over, talked down, and otherwise silenced by newly arrived retired residents from the city. As a board member I've had to endure people with no expertise taking up so much space that decisions never get made. I've watched as people unconscious of their privilege assume their rightness, speechifying without ever asking questions. I've watched good programs get sunk by the obstructionist behaviors of those who feel they are more right than those they are there to serve.

White privilege and entitlement is a CULTURE. It is a set of habits and behaviors that are the root of racial and economic and gender inequities. Its behaviors--characterized by an unconscious inability to put one's own needs and beliefs to the side, TO STEP OUT OF THE CENTER--are also the enemy of the good in many other situations.

This is why a heavy bag and a pair of boxing gloves come in handy during Sunday morning observances.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire: Ovations at Home

Here we all are: at home, respecting the need for social distancing in the era of COVID-19, the "novel" coronavirus, and all feeling vaguely...on fire. With a passion for the arts.

The last public event I attended before hunkering down was a new French movie: Portrait of a Lady on Fire, written and directed by Celine Schiamma. It's informed my consumption of art at home over the last week. Because not only is this an 18th century love story between women, it is also a portrait of an artist -- and the movie's passion for arts at the center of our lives is inspiring.

It reminded me that the way I initially knew who I was in the world was, in fact, via these three creative forms: by drawing. By reading. By playing and listening to music. And it lit a fire in me to once again fill my days with art, coronavirus or no.

The film is built around the creation of a painting: i.e., seeing and being seen. One of the two lead characters, having recently departed a cloistered life, mourns the lack of music outside the monastery. We are then treated to an exploration of Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons" as well as some incredible vocal harmonic singing by a group of women around a bonfire. And finally, the film includes and uses as metaphor a vibrant discussion of Ovid's literary version of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Within this magical context, which I wish also for you, here's a few things I've enjoyed at home this past week: I've been listening to everything from the the complex musical stories of Vivaldi to those on Esperanza Spaulding's newest recording, 12 Little Spells. I've finished reading Tommy Orange's debut novel, There There, and moved on to Becoming Ms. Burton, hailed here by the NYTimes Nicholas Kristof. I'm trying to draw a little bit every day. And oh yeah: even though I'm a bit of an anglophobe, I've been watching the British Netflix series Sex Education -- and being glad I don't have to re-do those high school years.

How about you? Tell us what is working / not working in your household during COVID-19 social distancing.

We're All Touched By the Same Water: Arturo O'Farrill, Son Jarocho, and Us

So much more connects us than divides us. 

Like...water. Water divides our continents, our states, our cities, our nations. And it connects us. Not only does it run through our places and our planet, it runs through our cells.

Cuban-American pianist Arturo O’Farrill reminded us of this last night during a free concert at @Bowdoin College here in Maine that I was highly privileged to attend. Sharing space in the same room with these fantastic Afro-Latin musicians and the audience was, as O’Farrill noted, sacred. One of the finest parts of the evening was watching the musicians wordlessly communicate with each other on stage: their eyes. Their gestures. Their smiles. Their music. Their bodies. We were, briefly and for this one moment, never to be repeated, bodies together in that room. We were, briefly and for that one moment, breathing the same air. 

O’Farrill is a soft-spoken, energetic, sweating teddy bear of a man, son of the great Cuban musician Chico O’Farrill and father to two successful musicians, Adam and Zack. We had the great pleasure of meeting and hosting the O’Farrill family when the boys were quite young for a week in Stonington when O’Farrill appeared at the Deer Isle Jazz Festival, as part of which he was in residence at Haystack Mountain School of Crafts. I chased him into the backstage elevator after last night’s concert, to be rewarded with a giant hug all the way down. #blessed

Arturo reminded us of all that we share in his brief comments between extended stretches of music. Music is a language, he said. It connects us to mother Africa and to each other, trans-migration, cross boundaries. He told us about a new project he had recently completed, a documentary of which is scheduled to appear this month: Fandango at the Wall, in which he gathered musicians on both sides of the wall between San Diego and Tijuana for a jam session that built upon son jarocho music: Veracruz sound, “a venerable 500-year-old Afro-Mexican musical tradition.”

“Sound is not stopped by a wall,” O’Farrill reminded us lightly. Later, he told us that at a concert in Washington, D.C., he was making similar comments and a woman in the audience told him that music and art should not be political. “But music has always been political,” Arturo said, again in his calm, mild voice. “All of jazz. Nina Simone. Folk traditions. We have always used music to communicate about what matters to us.”

You can come experience some authentic son jarocho music on March 19 in Portland, when Portland Ovations brings the Los Angeles bad Las Cafeteras to PortCity.  Their enthusiastic style crosses musical borders, and will bring the world to Maine that evening, welcoming us all home here from wherever we may start.

O’Farrill’s 18 piece Afro-Latin Jazz Orchestra mixes players young and old and, despite its traditions, features three female brass players as well. With five saxophonists, four trumpets, one bass and three regular trombones, three percussionists, a bassist, and O’Farrill on piano the Jazz Orchestra finesses an amazing range of modalities, treading softly and sweetly on ballads prior to blowing the doors off the hall with the four trombonists coming to the edge of the stage to rock out a grand finale of New Orleans tradition in “Iko, Iko.”

Hey now. Hey now. How has art transformed YOUR heart and mind today?

Improv on Immigration: Gabriela Montero Rocks Maine

Immigration. It is the hottest and most critical issue of our era.

Pianist and Venezuelan ex-pat Gabriela Montero knows this dearly enough to have built a performance around what she called "a very emotional theme." Montero's unique program, "Westward," was presented by Portland Ovations as part of an extended focus, commemorating Maine's bicentennial of statehood, its people and places, past, present, and future.

"I'm an immigrant," Montero said from the stage at Hannaford Hall Saturday afternoon, January 25, 2020, in introduction of her improvised score to Charlie Chaplin's classic silent film, "The Immigrant." "Being an immigrant is something you carry with you all your life, it never leaves you."

Fully attending to her words and music in the packed house were not only those one might expect to see at a classical music concert featuring the works of Prokofiev, Stravinsky, and Rachmaninoff--three Russian composers/pianists who fled "westward" to the United States as a result of the Russian Revolution of 1917.

The rapt, enthusiastic audience also included University of Southern Maine music students; and Portland High School students and their mentors from the Portland Mentoring Alliance program, participants in Ovations' new pilot for greater ticket accessibility, O2 Community Tickets.

"This was fantastic," said Jennifer Cook, PMA's Program Coordinator as her students, most of them immigrants as well, swirled happily around Montero after the concert, snapping photos and acquiring her autograph.

Montero's performance was preceded by an Ovations Offstage panel discussion, "The History and Impact of Immigration in Maine," in partnership with the Maine Historical Society on January 18. Panelists Maulian Dana, Tribal Ambassador, Penobscot Indian Nation; Tilly Laskey, curator, Maine Historical Society; Alain Nahimana, Executive Director of the Greater Portland Immigrant Welcome Center; Colin Woodard, journalist and historian, author of The Lobster Coast and American Nations, among others drew the full arc of immigration in Maine, beginning with the impact of the first white settler-colonists from France and England on the region's native peoples. And just prior to the concert, pianist Laura Kargul delivered a lecture-demonstration on the renowned improvisational skills of some of the greatest classical composers including Bach, Beethoven, and Chopin.

"I do believe Chopin invented jazz," she said, in reference to the composer's Ballade No. 4. "If anyone had brains in his fingers, it was Chopin."

"When I improvise it is something new that will never happen again," Montero said before launching into an audience-suggested improv on the "Star Wars" theme.

The well-received programs were made possible by the generous support and kindnesses of two former Ovations' nonprofit trustees: Susan Goldberg whose family fund, the Susan and Jerry Goldberg Fund, underwrites Ovations' piano concerts; and Jane C. Wellehan, whose bequest provided the foundation for O2 Community Tickets.

#ExperienceOvations #Maine200 #ImmigrationInMaine

Are We Merely Visiting?

I am in the midst of this undeniable privilege: traveling to explore other places and communities in this world. For a week of rest and relaxation and learning, Judith and I chose an island further down east from our home in Deer Isle, ME, and journeyed to Prince Edward Island.

PEI is an island community home to approximately 135,000 souls and, like Deer Isle, hosts a robust fishing community -- although theirs is both more regulated AND more supported by the Canadian government, making Canadian lobster the primary competitor to our Maine crustracean. Additionally, there appears to be a somewhat robust bluefin tuna fishery here at this time of year, complementing the potato harvest. The red soil and long beaches make this a beautiful place, and we pass by field after field of potatoes newly harvested and awaiting the wheat, oats, and barley that will come next. The potatoes love the red, iron-rich soil and Irish Cobblers and other potato varieties are much beloved. With the decidedly Celtic lilt in the people's voices, it is easy to imagine a time when no ocean divided Ireland, Scotland, and Canada's Maritime Provinces.

Yet all over, too, we see how the economic consolidation of agriculture -- where once a 75-acre farm could support a family, now potatoes are grown on 1600-acre farms, just as in the U.S. midwest -- is creating gaps and shifts in the traditional island ways. Potato fields are given over everywhere to tourist cottages and second homes. And the Canadian government, either sensing or responding to these shifts or both, is a huge supporter of cultural tourism; which on PEI means Anne of Green Gables.

The beloved book by the native PEI author has an entire tourism trail named for its various locations, complete with actors dressed as Anne and a huge visitor center hosting bus loads of international tourists at the House of Green Gables. It's quite astounding.

As we drive, however, it is difficult not to wonder: are we merely visiting this earth, or living on it? As we have allowed our economies to develop uncontrolled, they at times appear to be eating us up rather than serving us. The truth is, the way native peoples once lived sustainably on our shores for thousands of years was never the colonial plan. British colonists in particular were in service to an empire on which "the sun never set" and from the time they set foot on these shores created economies that were about exports: exporting livestock (and enslaved peoples) and timber to the British colonies, in the West Indies or England; importing the rum and sugar and other goods they then needed to survive on their own. Colonization is about acquisition and consumption and the white narrative of North America is defined by this.

The House of Green Gables.

The question now remains for us to face and future generations to experience: now that we've eaten it all up, exported most of it and destroyed the rest (the deforestation of this island and much of the Maritimes is, as in parts of New England, a sad sight to behold) -- do we re-learn how to sustain our human (not just individual) selves and this world? Or will we be content to be merely visitors to this beautiful planet? And if the latter: how temporary will we make our visitation? how much of a foot print will we leave, how quickly will we consume what remains? Will we leave sustainable places to live for the generations of humans who could follow?

Falling in Love with Lubec: Vacation Fall 2019 Day #1

 “My worst day on the water is better than your best day in a cubicle somewhere.” - Ralph DeWitt, pilot boat captain, Eastport Harbor as quoted in Galen Koch’s project, The First Coast

Vacation Day #1. We make the drive down east along Maine’s Bold Coast. Completely rugged, wild, and poor. Destination: Lubec, Maine’s easternmost village from which the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Bridge arcs gracefully across the narrows to Canada.

Lubec is our first stop to see Galen Koch’s The First Coast exhibit and sound walk. Galen has been traveling in her renovated Airstream mobile digital studio along Maine’s coast to capture some of the voices of these hard-working remote communities in which people are struggling to maintain their traditional, sustenance-based ways of living: fishing, clamming, harvesting. She’s done a terrific job capturing these actual voices. Listening to them, seeing the accompanying photos by Greta Rhybus, and then exploring Lubec with Galen’s sound walk is a magical afternoon.

 Judith and I immediately fall in love with Lubec. It’s experiencing a bit of a renaissance since we first came through, 10 or more years ago, en route to Campobello. During that visit it seemed all the wooden, Gothic-style former smokehouses and canneries were collapsing into the water, where two large salmon farm pens lurked like sharks’ mouths waiting to swallow up the native fish. I can’t remember seeing a person on the street during that visit. Today there are people of all ages walking, the restaurants are full!

There is something magical about these end of the world places. You can feel how it could again be just you, the water, the land. Not about jobs, or going other places; not about cars or money. Just about being a part of this glorious planet.

There is an old church here for sale. It makes our eyes gleam with dreams. It’s in worst shape than the Stonington Opera House even was when we first stumbled upon it. But we can see what it might be. A new kind of community and cultural center, one centered in relationship to Maine’s indigenous communities and crossing borders of all kind. Small and simple, an end-of-the-world outpost where our stories can be told, shaped, imagined, reflected, re-told, archived in authentic ways. Another place where we can gather in community to learn.

A place of staying put. A place for introverts and artists. A place of growing and gathering berries. A tough place, too, where the huge fierce tides and the harshness of the climate compete for human lives. 

What is Avalon to Us?

Performance photo courtesy Opera House Arts.

Ah, Avalon. The magical Isle of Apples. Where King Arthur goes to heal, and from the mists of which he will come again. Sounds heavenly, no? Imagine the sweet crisp smell that is apple in salty, misty air.

The problem for us moderns, in this 50th anniversary year of Woodstock, is that we've yet to get ourselves back to this garden. When patriarchy crushed matriarchy, Christianity crushed the Druids, and life became about nothing so much as conquering and consuming to show who was right and called by God we lost an awful lot.

The newly commissioned, world-premiere, site specific performance "Avalon," written by Melody Bates in collaboration with the work of sculptor Peter Beerits at his unique sculpture park, Nervous Nellie's Jams and Jellies, and produced and presented by Opera House Arts at the Stonington Opera House, wants to remind us of what we have lost--and to what we still might get back.

Beltane: the celebration of the beginning of summer, when the cattle were driven to field, great fires were lit, and our ancestors danced around the May pole. This evolved into the Christian feast day of Pentacost, marked by the tongues of those same great fires signaling the arrival of the Holy Spirit in the apostles after Christ's death.

There's no question that something holy becomes visible to us as life is reborn in the blooming of the spring fields.

Our shadow selves -- Mordred in legend and play, he who is ultimately responsible for killing the King Stag, Arthur -- are very visible in "Avalon." How easy to indulge the adolescent, narcissistic shadow, how difficult to keep it at bay. Yet at the end of this play, it is Mordred whose speech holds the biggest moment of truth for attendees: it is not he, he points out, (or Trump) who is responsible for the blood tide of war in which we live. Our choices -- each and every one, small as well as large -- make the tide. Giving more life to Mordred, our shadow selves, is a part of our collective will -- or lack thereof. And Mordred (played smartly by Shawn Fagan) is real, and therefore loveable, as well.

Neither the wizards nor the Druids (nor later, the native Americans) knew how to defeat the bloody tide of the Anglo-Saxons. Their relentless, irregular warfare -- their ability to commit genocide and still consider themselves Christians, in combination with their hatred of women -- drove civilizations and their peoples into the ground from which we have yet to emerge. We are stuck in a blasphemy of unholy leaders: men who, like their slave-holding kin before them, will let no life go unscarred, no lie be untold, in their quest for power and personal gain. The sad, lost culture in which we try to honor each other and the earth is one of taking rather than giving.

We need, collectively, to dream a better dream -- and wake to join the dance that brings it to life.

"Avalon" points the way. And for those of you who simply want to be a child again, and play in the magical woods: come wander.

Avalon
an Opera House Arts at the Stonington Opera House world-premiere production
every evening at 5:30 p.m., now through August 25
Nervous Nellies Jams & Jellies
Sunshine Road
Deer Isle, ME

Making Different Choices

The Taunton River in southeastern Massachusetts.

The picture of the Taunton (pronounced Ton-Ton by the native tribes of this area) River to the right is familiar to any of us who grew up in southeastern New England: a gently tidal, brackish waterway lined by salt marshes and once teeming with fish and life -- and now subject to marinas and both the intentional (dumping) and unintentional (boats, roads, etc.) pollution that is the hallmark of white settler colonialist development in the 21st century.

The Taunton River was one of the most sacred to the Wampanoag people, who resided here for thousands of years prior to the unchecked immigration of British Calvinists, a.k.a. Puritans, who assumed rights to what they called the Massachusetts Bay Colony.

Lisa Brooks' new history of what we know of as King Philip's War, "Our Beloved Kin," gives us -- based on a careful reading of historical documents, primarily land deeds, as well as a knowledge of Wampanoag language (part of the Algonquian language family) -- a new, more balanced perspective on the white European immigration to this continent and in particular to this place.

Growing up in southeastern CT, the only histories we were provided were those told by the white settler colonists themselves -- Miles Standish, John Winthrop ("The City on a Hill"), and the various victors of numerous native extermination campaigns. One of the most notable of these, which I knew nothing about as a middle and high school student in Mystic/Stonington CT, was the slaughter of more than 700 Pequot women and children by Captain John Mason (for whom Mason's Island in Mystic is named) when in 1637 he set fire to their Pequot Fort overlooking the placid Mystic River -- less than a mile from our house.

I could go on about the mistaken impression, repeated in the Wikipedia entries on the Massachusetts Bay Colony, that King Philip's War was a native uprising against the colonists and that the natives were "soundly defeated." But you should really read "Our Beloved Kin" instead, which includes a digital companion and, for the Mainers reading this, informative sections on the Wabanaki coast of Maine as well as the Wampanoag's and southern tribes northern migrations to and through Maine as they attempted to escape the colonists.

What I want to convey in this piece instead is the devastation our white settler colonialist ancestors have wreaked on southeastern Massachusetts and Rhode Island. If the fact that New England is not a "hot spot" in climate change is not enough for you, take a drive through these once sacred places and try to remember what the natural world once looked like here. It is next to impossible to do so, the development is so extreme.

Roads roads roads and "private" property prevent one from reaching the Taunton and myriad other rivers -- once teeming with fish and used for sustenance fishing by the Wampanoag. The traffic is intense, and there is barely a field or marsh or square foot of earth without a house, a mall, or a disheveled, suffering little town such as Taunton itself. One does not sense happiness here and most are speeding through it at 80 mph to reach the Cape.

This is what we've wrought over 400 years. The devastation not only of this continent's native peoples but of the earth they once so well stewarded. When the Puritans arrived, they brought with them livestock and an English patriarchal culture inimical to native stewardship of agricultural fields, forests, and waterways. The Wampanoag's practiced crop rotation and field maintenance that allowed them to thrive here for thousands of years. The Puritans livestock trampled these fields, and with the subsequent fencing off of paddocks and "private" property the migration of wildlife was severely crippled.

Climate change is but one symptom of our broken planet, and it is every one of our choices as to how we live that impacts how we proceed. We can all take some simple steps to try to reverse the damage we as white settler colonists have wrought upon this continent -- and on ourselves, and the future of the planet for our descendants. The choices are ours and need to be made every day in regard to all the things we take for granted and to which we feel entitled. And while some of these choices may seem to be a privilege: yes, they are. And we all need to be activating whatever privilege from which we may benefit to improve our culture and save our planet.

* Eat real, not processed, not chemically treated food. Food is sacred (for the Christians out there reading this: think last supper!)

* Do not waste food -- we have so cheapened food with subsidies and processing that many no longer hold it sacred. Food waste is the largest contributor to climate change.

* Drive less

* Stop flying

* Stop buying -- particularly unnecessary containers, plastic, styrofoam, etc. Remember that your power as a consumer is critical to what the market does or does not produce.

* Reuse what you can

* Recycle what you cannot reuse

* Run for office

* Vote in every election as if your life and the lives of others depends upon it: it does. Vote only for those candidates who recognize the need for change in American consumption and culture if we are to save our planet. Vote only for those who treat everyone around them with respect. Vote only for those who believe in being of service to others.

Every choice makes a difference. And our choices are ours. Not always easy to own, and still: ours.

Love Field

I fly in and out of Dallas from its originally airport, Love Field -- where President Kenndy''s Air Force One landed and departed on his deadly visit here in November 1963.

I was 26 months old. A year younger than the President's son.

I don't remember the assassination itself, but watching the funeral on TV is my first real memory.

My mother had taken us to visit her dear friend, Pat Regan, at her tiny Cape in downtown Old Saybrook, CT.

Pat had all the shades pulled down in her living room, creating a deep gloom around her black and white TV. She and my mother sat at the kitchen table just outside the doorway to the room, where they could keep an eye on where they allowed me to sit, transfixed, before the ghostly, flickering screen. The gray images were vague and shifting -- more dream than reality.

The dark, riderless horse with its backward facing boot is the image most lodged in my memory. John John's sad, obedient salute. And my mother and Pat crying behind me. I didn't understand then what had happened, but I knew it was very sad and ran to hug and be held by my mom.

It didn't take me long to understand. My generation was raised in the shadow of political assassinations. Within four years, four of our progressive leaders -- those trying to transition us from the World War II generation to a new era in which our nation might build its own equity across race and gender and spread its immense prosperity to create global equity as well -- were gunned down. Malcolm X (1965). Martin Luther King, Jr. (1968). And Bobby Kennedy (1968). 

The second Kennnedy death sent progressivism reeling -- not knocked out, for the anti-war and feminist and desegregation and gay liberation movements continued. We have continued slowly on our evolutionary path to consciousness as human beings. But our leadership was significantly derailed and has yet to fully recover.

Rather than a President encouraging our leadership and engagement and philanthropy and giving voice to hope -- "The American people expect more from us...For the world is changing. The old era is ending. The old ways will not do..." -- we got a President who resigned before he could be impeached for obstruction of justice around criminal attempts to influence an election in his favor. That was in the 1970s, yet today we find ourselves in an oddly deja vu situation, with a "mob boss" style President fearful that if held accountable for his dishonest tactics then the legitimacy of his presidency will be in question. As it is and should be.

"History, after all, is the memory of a nation." -- President John F. Kennedy

It is Easter weekend and the beginning of Passover. The memory of our nation has much for which to seek reconciliation and to make amends. When will we give up our addiction to those who will lie, bully, and strong arm voters to maintain their power and move fully and joyously toward these different values?

The memory of our nation is one of white brutality. One cannot travel across these beautiful prairies without mourning the wanton destruction of its native inhabitants. The U.S. Army used "total warfare" to wipe out the tribes,  their horses, and their sacred sustenance: the buffalo. "Total warfare" included the use of many tactics that would be prosecuted as war crimes today, from dawn raids on sleeping villages of non-combatants to the decimation of food sources to starve entire peoples.

Kennedy was no saint. He, too, was a child of privilege and he, too, felt entitled to use his privilege to his advantage.

Yet at the same time he also understood his privilege as a duty to make the world more fair and prosperous for others. He made plenty of mistakes in this work -- seeing Communists everywhere as the enemy and engaging U.S. Troops accordingly, for instance -- but his enduring legacy is to ask each of us,  and especially America's young people, to ask "not what your country can do for you, ask what you an do for your country...ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man."

Leaps of Faith

When I was growing up in the 1960s and 1970s, art was everything to me. No matter how small or how ill fitting or unsafe my family's world seemed to me to be, I was able to move beyond it by plunging my nose into a book, listening to or playing music, picking up pen and ink and drawing.

I was one of the lucky ones. While I was one of millions of babies in the post-WWII era born into traumatic circumstances and given up for adoption, I landed in a loving home: a white, round-faced, red-curled baby with plenty of meat on my bones in the U.S. during a time of great prosperity.

Azam Ali and Loga Torkian of the Montreal-based music ensemble Niyaz were not so lucky. As children, they became, as Ali said during a reception last night at Coffee by Design in Portland, “forced immigrants” thanks to the Iranian Revolution.

Few Americans understand the long-standing world tragedy represented by the western colonization of Iran for oil. Iran is the former Persia: a country of great geostrategic importance, yes, given its size and location and petro-resources — and more importantly home to some of the world’s oldest civilizations. Persians were once referred to as the "first Historical People" -- because the empire they ruled from Persepolis was the largest the world has ever seen, connecting over 40% of its peoples.

“Pre-colonization there were so many ethnic and religious cultures and music [in Iran]," Ali said during her comments. "Most of which were lost to colonization. What is the Iranian identity?”

Niyaz's music -- a part of Ovations' "Seeking Resonance" series exploring artists and art inspired by or connected to spirituality -- will take us to these many, many worlds outside of Portland.  The band has, in their own words, "created a 21st century global trance tradition by seamlessly blending medieval Sufi poetry and folk songs from their native Iran and its surrounding countries in the Persian Gulf, with rich acoustic instrumentation and state-of-the-art modern electronics."

"Art became the homeland that we no longer had," Ali said.

She believes it is art that can connect us in our increasingly global and secular societies. "To thrive in a secular society," she said, "Art becomes the shining light. Art is where people go to church."

Seeking resonance.

Ali and Torkian's families, like so many world citizens, were forced to take a leap of faith and leave their homeland.

Mary Allen Lindemann, CBD's vibrant founder and an Ovations' board member, opened the evening by reading a poem written for her by a local poet: a woman who types her poems on an old-fashioned typewriter while sipping coffee at CBD.

"...we are all on our way somewhere./how can we know/how can we know where the wind,/i mean water, will carry us." wrote Katherine Ferrier on February 14, 2019 in "Leap of Faith."

How can we know. Where do we each find our resonance.

"...sometimes the practice is to leap/to leave what we know/and let the world open us/until we are river, and the sea/ that welcomes all wandering water/back home," Ferrier concludes her poem.

Often we have to leave what we know to find ourselves welcomed anew.

As Azam concluded her remarks: "And on that note, I hope I can take you to church tomorrow.”

Portland Ovations was proud to present Niyaz at PortCity Music Hall last night, March 15, 2019. For more information on the ways Portland Ovations brings the world to Portland and home back to many of its peoples, see www.portlandovations.org.

The Trocks are Coming, the Trocks are Coming!

MONDAY, MARCH 4--Last night I got to do something I love to do: sit in the dark, surrounded (mostly) by strangers, watching a movie. It is especially lovely to do this -- what feels like such a commonplace luxury -- in a small venue and community like Portland's SPACE Gallery.

Having handed out show info, greeted patrons, and introduced not only the film but the film's raison d'etre -- the Trocks are coming! the Trocks are coming to Maine via Portland Ovations! March 28 - 29 -- I'm sitting in the second row alongside a colleague who happens, similarly to the movie's subjects, to be a dancer who is also an excellent comedian.

We've both cried four times at least during Rebels on Pointe, a documentary of Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo -- the first documentary, in fact, of this notoriously fun and skilled male drag ballet company founded over 40 years ago, rising out of Stonewall and Charles Ludlam's Ridiculous Theater Company. Any evening on which you are moved to tears multiple times by art is a great night.

I can't remember now all the scenes that moved us to tears; there were many. Maybe one time it was the young, beautiful dancer from Cuba (Carlos Hopuy) describing how he and his family (and, basically, everyone) were starving during the 1990's; and how much he wants his mother, also a dancer, to be able to get out of Cuba to come see him dance. Maybe it is the sweet faced dancer-turning-educator as he heads into his 40's, going home regularly to northern Italy between tours to visit his dad, who has Parkinson's disease. Maybe it is when the first young Trocks couple gets married -- something neither Trocks' Artistic Director and retired dancer Tory Dobrin nor I thought we would ever see in our lifetimes. Most likely for me, it is when Dobrin talks about losing half the company to AIDS during the epidemic period of the 1980's-90's -- including his own partner. I remember too well when gay men were dying all around us, every day.

And that's one of the amazing things about the Trocks: their history spans a remarkable 40 years of gay history as an integral part of their own. The up's and down's of the dancers, the support of their families, the company's growth and evolution, their rock star status in Japan: it's all within the context of queer history and male dancers in drag satirizing one of our most elite performing arts forms -- ballet.

The comedy and satire the Trocks bring to ballet ironically "normalizes" what has become, for too many, an inaccessible form. They bring ballet down to earth both with their incredible skill on pointe and their commentary on the form itself -- and of course, their humor. Broad understanding is best fed by laughter.

SPACE Gallery's screening of Rebels on Pointe was a generous collaboration with Ovations in the run up to the Trocks' arrival, and was sponsored by Maine AARP. Portland Ovations presents Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo at Merrill Auditorium on Friday, March 29. As part of our Ovations Offstage (O2) community programming around the performance you can also take advantage of the following activities and events:

Wednesday, March 27: 

• 12 p.m., University of New England: Aging with Grace and Movement -- Health Challenges Faced by the LGBTQ Community, a collaboration with UNE and SAGE. FREE.
• 7:30 p.m., Austin Street Brewery: Drag Queen Bingo with Cherry Lemonade

Thursday, March 28:

• 5 p.m. FREE Intergenerational, LGBTQIA Movement Workshop with the Trocks

Friday, March 29:

• 7 p.m. FREE pre-performance lecture, "Dancing Queens, How the Trocks Satirize Classical Ballet," with former Trock dancer and Maine resident Roberto Forleo, Merrill Auditorium
• 8 p.m. PERFORMANCE