2013-05-18T21:53:03-04:00 James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=james-scarborough Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for James Scarborough Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3262798 2013-05-12T11:43:51-04:00 2013-05-12T17:14:17-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ in Collision with the Alive Theatre (they just merged; this is their first joint effort -- bravo!), are insightful despite their analysis of meaninglessness, inadvertently funny, and off the wall enough to get you to reconsider everything you've ever known about yourself and the world in which you live.

The two productions reflect the meaninglessness of the world a few years after the end of World War Two, a world devastated by unimaginable tragedy carried out on a monumental scale, all conducted with the infuriating and mechanical banality of "I just followed orders." We don't live in such a world now, yet, at least the horrors are not perpetrated on so large a scale. But even if there's not the global conflagration that scourged the planet in the middle of the last century, there's still the banality that Mr. Sweet describes in his Director's Notes, banality made possible by ubiquitous personal technology. "The Bald Soprano" shows the inanity of communication, while "The Chairs" shows how hard it is to establish and then communicate meaning in a world, perhaps a post-apocalyptic one, which eschews meaning altogether.

In both productions, the acting was excellent. In "The Bald Soprano," Mr. Smith (Jeff Budner) and his wife Mrs. Smith (Jonelle Holden) entertain the very-late-arrivals Mr. Martin (Matthew Julian) and his wife Mrs. Martin (Sally Nguyen). The Smiths have a Maid (Rachel Star Albright), who conducts an affair with The Fire Chief (Brandon Gillette). I'd summarize the plot but I can't.

It had to be hard enough for Budner, Holden, Julian, Nguyen, Albright, and Gillette to recite lines that are full of non-sequiturs, that don't have any context, that don't advance the action forward, that are funny, not because they're funny, because they're played as serious, like something out of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." It's downright miraculous for all the actors to recite these lines in perfect synch. There's a humorous disconnect between what the individual actor says and how these words would fit into the plot if there was a plot, which there isn't, if you think of plot as a journey undertaken by characters as they develop as they confront some manner of challenge, striving to reach some goal.

In "The Chairs," the cast surmounted equal challenges. An Old Man (Craig Johnson) and his wife, an Old Woman (Robbie Danzie) prepare for a lecture. The Old Man, who worked as a general factotum, has somehow managed, in his head at least, to assemble luminaries that include generals and an Emperor, in his modest home on an island, to hear the product of his research into the meaning of life. It seems like it would be a welcome message; from what is said, Paris has been destroyed and God knows what's going on in the rest of the world.

It's clear he's had a life of persecution and travail, but he's intends to redeem himself with this presentation. He's even hired an Orator (Lysander Ruesehk) to read his findings. Johnson's tone throughout the production goes from fluttery desperation to manic impotence. This is his big chance. More an enabler than a dutiful wife, Danzie is her quixotic husband's Sancho Panza. Never mind that these guests, with whom they conduct obsequious conversations upon arrival, don't physically exist -- they're ghosts; never mind what the Old Man and the Old Woman Do at the end; and never mind what makes the Orator unqualified to reveal the meaning of life. What's significant is how, at the end of the story, the characters from both productions assemble on the stage and, after they receive our applause, they sit in the assembled -- and empty - chairs and look at us, as if we're the characters and they're the audience.

It's a disorienting experience, to say the least. Whether it's the pitter-patter of utter nonsense in "The Bald Soprano" or the delusion in "The Chairs," it's clear that the mental baggage we brought to the evening -- a play is constructed from a coherent script, discrete characters, some manner of plot, it purports to convey some manner of meaning - has been left behind in baggage claim.

The evening's success resonates on several levels. First, the choice of Ionesco whose relevance we may no longer be attribute to themes of absurdity and more to themes of banality. Second, Sweet's choreography of nonsense and absence that gets the characters to play their roles either as they recite lines that don't make sense or else to carry on conversations with a stage full of empty chairs. Third, to the casts' formidable ability to enact their roles as if nothing were out of the ordinary. And fourth, to the subtle though nonetheless powerful way in which these stalwart characters, by the end of the evening, sit to watch us, as if to say, Yeah, we may be up on the stage but, face it, this is all about you.

Performances are 8 p.m., Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. The show runs until June 8. Tickets are $15-$18. The Theatre is located at 251 E. 7th Street, Long Beach, 90813. For more information call (562) 433-8337 or visit www.thegaragetheatre.org.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3196810 2013-05-01T20:02:11-04:00 2013-05-02T14:28:23-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ Photos courtesy of Mickey Elliot.

Fred Astaire once crooned about "the bumpy road to love" which, in relationship matters, is the alternate route to love-at-first-sight. It's not the way these things begin, it's not the day-by-day messes and misunderstandings that need to be cleaned up, it's the long-term result that counts, right? If you want to see the ups and downs, the joys and despairs, the false starts and back-on-tracks of a relationship that endures, hie thee to Little Fish Theatre's moving, well-enacted production of Victor L. Cahn's production of "Embraceable Me," directed by Ryanne Laratonda.



Beginning at a critical juncture ("I'm engaged to someone else") in the relationship between Allison (Lydia Medeiros) and Edward (Victor Holstein), the production goes back in time to chart their sweet-enough but unglamorous meeting, a notable first kiss, an equally notable dirty holiday in a cabin, through the vicissitudes of careers, the dating-of-others, and lonely existences in separate cities, to a breathtaking conclusion in which the two protagonists finally really realize what we've known all along - they're bloody well meant for each other.



The set is minimal and there's no intermission, all the better to focus on the pitter-pat, rapid-paced, non-stop dialogue, leavened by occasional asides to the audience. It's these asides to the audience that are particularly endearing. We're the confidants, the flies on the wall, and the keeper of secrets.



From their first words uttered, Medeiros and Holstein perfectly capture, not just their respective characters (she, breezy, enthusiastic, he, reserved, stable), but also the thing that made them perfect for each other: she uplifted him, he anchored her. There are times when he is on the verge of becoming a hermit, a tendency she quickly slaughters with spontaneous (and sometimes sober) explosions of mirth. And there are times when she's about to spin off the stage with a manic work ethic and utter job dissatisfaction, malaises he relieves with normalcy and consistency. His desk is geometrically tidy, her bedroom is an organic mess. She speaks in gushes, he provides a background hush, she sprawls over furniture (and him), he's rectilinear, a perfect means of physical not to mention emotional support. In brief, the casting was inspired; the actors' timing was perfect; and their sense of connection, even in the middle of frequent and sometimes funny firefights, was genuine and convincing.



The script nails the way they complete each other with the real-life and metaphorical task he dutifully performs throughout the entire production. He edits her articles and by extension, her life. She gives him purpose, he gives her sanctuary. And really, really, isn't that the means to the end of a relationship-that-lasts, two people, each with flaws and idiosyncrasies, melding into a functioning and embraceable whole?

Performances are 8pm, Wednesday & Thursday (May 15 & 16), 8pm, Friday, May 10th, 8pm, Saturday, May 11, and 2pm, Sunday. The show runs until May 16. Tickets are $20 - $27. The Theatre is located at 777 Centre Street, San Pedro, 90731.
For more information, call (310) 512-6030 or visit www.littlefishtheatre.org.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3196787 2013-05-01T19:55:26-04:00 2013-05-03T11:35:57-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ Photos courtesy of the artist.

About eleven years ago I met J.W. Reeves (Man or woman? No clue) in the comments section of a lively but now defunct publication, New York Arts Magazine. I was bowled over by her lapidary wit, her cultural fluency, and, mostly, by her ornery, spot-on insights.

Only later did I learn that she was not only a she but an artist. And what an artist! An essay I've been carrying around in my head begins with the observation that her work at that time combined the levitating bands of words you find in Renaissance Annunciation paintings (Think levitating fortunes in Chinese cookies) with the puckish, Waiting for Godot figuration of early 20th century circus posters. I believe she called this her Transcended Slug phase. Her work was as cheeky as her comments and, little surprise, her criticism and rumination pieces felt like fight scenes from "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon."

I marveled at how her paintings (and, later, her sculpture cum photographs) perfectly mirrored her words, her character, and her personality. There were no fuzzy, inchoate spaces between what she thought and what she painted, wrote or said; no posturing, no irony, and not a lick of insincerity. Were the dramatic arc of her output a movie, Mozart ("Eine Kleine Nachtmusik") would provide the soundtrack and Victor Hugo ("Jesus wept, Voltaire smiled") the script.

And now she's making art on Facebook. Not to promote or otherwise document herself, not to float pre-exhibition trial balloons, not to elicit comments or feedback. Instead she seeks to explore and expand the possibilities that the social networking platform provides. And so...


JS: If, as you say, "Facebook is a medium for making art," then what are its formal elements and how do you compose them? Similarly, how do you define its pictorial space and its audience? Is the space more like a canvas, a stage, a movie set, or a forum? What are the obvious artistic benefits of Facebook-as-medium?

JWR: Facebook sucks as a medium. I have to live with the company's limited sense of pictorial space, a pictorial space that places mass needs over unique potential. On the other hand, plenty of artists have had to work around a client's constraints: Michelangelo and the Pope, for instance. It's an interesting challenge to take on. I find that constraints are like catapults; they hurl you into avenues you hadn't thought of before.

JS: What led you to first post the images and texts? At the beginning, did it occur to you that you were tapping into something with limitless potential for art making? If yes, can you describe that potential? What have you learned along the way?

JWR: My first posts did not have images. I WAS CONTRARY AND USED A LOT OF CAPS. My motivations were to get attention. I'm petite and feminine in person so I thought I had to yell. Maybe I did. I'm not sure. Whatever the case, I began to finesse my sarcasm or drop it altogether. I learned it's not bad to be an ambitious woman. Getting attention is fine, depending on the kind of attention one gets. I mean, if people are offended they can't hear you.

JS: There seem to be at least three things going on here. First you have the narratives. They feel spontaneous, off-the-cuff; they have that staccato tone of hard-boiled detective stories. The entries are profound and personal, discussing things like custody battles, childhood trauma, dating, the art world, and inspiration. Where do they come from? Are they autobiographical? Did they pre-exist, perhaps in a journal, or do you write them as you go along? Do they reflect or otherwise continue your prior art critical writing?

JWR: The narratives come from suffering. Yes, they are based on my life and the people I've known. But I allow myself the freedom to extrapolate; the narratives are riffs. I'm not interested in memoir. I'm interested in parable. I want to identify the point at which suffering blooms into wisdom. I want to step on the stones to cross the stream, not wade around in a stagnant pool feeding leaches.

I usually write the posts in the morning. I get an idea and go with it, tweaking it later. Hopefully, I wait a day to let the writing settle. I may or may not have an image in mind. I have an archive of over 700 and counting from which to choose. In fact, the images are the journals. They are paintings created years prior to the written material but not always. There are no hard fast rules, here. The space I'm working in is enough of a constraint to deal with.

The critical writings feed into the current writing the same way old paintings feed into new ones; the ideas circle around and bite their own tails. I say the same thing over and over from different angles trying to get a grip on the ideas.

JS: Second you have the images that relate, even tangentially, to the texts. Displayed with the narratives, they feel temporary, like a Post-It on a work-in-progress. How do you connect the image to the text? Do you suggest that the process of life echoes the process of painting? How does Facebook mediate the creation and the experience of the work?

JWR: Intuition brings the text and the images together. The Facebook wall feels like an open sketchbook with an amphitheater. It makes creating less lonely and more infuriating. John Cage said, "When you start working, everybody is in your studio- the past, your friends, enemies, the art world, and above all, your own ideas- all are there. But as you continue painting, they start leaving, one by one, and you are left completely alone. Then, if you are lucky, even you leave." I still can have this sensation in my studio but not on Facebook. There's a danger of wanting feedback so much that one's autonomy is undermined. On the other hand, the company is refreshing. If someone makes an interesting comment you can feed off of it.

Do I suggest that the process of life echoes the process of painting (creating)? Yes but that's a rather sterile way of putting it!

JS: Third you have the books that you publish, independent in at least respect, from the Facebook work. You take the narratives, couple them to other, pre-existing work, photograph them, and create the book. Why don't you simply use the original Facebook images? In form, content, and vision, how are the Facebook pieces different from the published ones?

JWR: So far, I haven't liked the way the paintings look in print and it's too difficult to control the color. Their physicality is dependent on texture so it's better to see them in person. With the photographs of sculptures the physicality is not as much of an issue. The books are objects whereas Facebook is more ethereal. It's a conundrum since my painting is all about the texture but my Facebook work cannot be physically tactile. I try to be prickly in other ways--with the words I choose, by a mental touch--the same mental touch used in the paintings. It's not difficult to understand that a textured life can be reflected in a textured painting or book or online experience. That being said, I believe it is necessary to be able to demonstrate texture in the physical as a sort of proof of knowledge.

JS: So, in other words, for both the Facebook posts and the published book, the narratives and the images had individual existences until their moment of linkage. Does that suggest a fortuitous (and Surrealist) element in your work, the bringing together of previously unrelated realities to form a new one?

JWR: Yes, because the effect is psychological but I'm looking for reality not dreams. I'm trying to break through the mirage that would keep me down. These things, these seemingly unrelated realities, were always connected. I bring the narratives and the images together because they relate. They relate despite myself. Their comradeship surprises me. It's an upside down, inside out surrealism linked by similarities of texture. It's an absurd process.

JS: Speaking of process, you were impressed by a Matisse show at the Met, in particular, by the process shots that accompanied particular pieces. Why were you impressed and what, if any, connection is there between this in-process documentation of a finished work and this Facebook project?

JWR: Matisse slowly abstracted the figure. I am slowly figurize-ing the abstraction. I'm giving abstraction the power of representation--arms, a place to live, and a detailed particular life. Abstraction is taking on the power of representation, a power it has always had because, as I see it, spiritual sense, or inspiration, is real.

The art of Matisse wasn't, at first, understood. People thought it was dashed off without a thought. I would wager that this bothered him. His solution was to not just show the final work but to also show photographs of the painting as it progressed. He hung the painting along with the photographs so people could understand his creative thought process, in his case, the simple complexity of it. Matisse understood that, as Hans Hoffman once said, "Simplicity is pureness not poorness."

Thanks to photography the mind of Matisse creating could be recorded. Thanks to the Facebook format so can any artist's and with the additional value (or danger) of feedback. To me where the art really exists is in the place where it moves from one point to another, in the artist's mind. It's fascinating to watch the jumps and leaps and backtracking and contemplate the whys. Why is art created? What strange phenomenon is this? Why is there life there?

JS: Is there any cross-fertilization here? Sequentially or perhaps at a future date, do the paintings, the photographs, and the narratives influence one another? Do you conceive of them as steps along the same journey?

JWR: Yes, but I can't see where it will lead until I go there. I trust it will be worthwhile even if the final result is failure. Hopefully, someone else can pick up the remnants and make a Sistine Chapel out of it.

JS: These posts are very theatrical. They remind me of Joseph Cornell boxes and David Hockney stage sets. And, in fact, you used to act in high school. Is there some parallel here, some conflation of text, set design, and, one way or another, figuration? If so, do you see yourself more as a playwright, set designer, protagonist, or director?

JWR: What is it that makes art art? An artist can put a mark down on the page and that mark becomes something beyond itself. It is art. The same artist can put a mark down on the page and it's just a mark on a page. It is not art. What's the difference? How does that happen?

When I was a kid I was in the middle of a custody battle between my grandmother and my father. When the judge asked me whom I wanted to live with, I didn't tell him the truth because I was afraid my father would think I didn't love him. I don't see this as a failure but it was a noteworthy mistake that ended up being a pivotal turning point in my life and, therefore, my development as an artist.

I'll tell you why.... In college, I was in an improvisation class. I didn't know how actors could get themselves to cry. I tried to think sad things but it didn't work for me. During my improvisation something unexpected happened. I flashed back to the custody battle when I lied to the judge to protect my dad's feelings. In my mind, my improv partner was my father. I think maybe my scene partner asked me what I wanted to do. I immediately knew what I wanted to say but I hesitated. I felt my answer was going to determine the rest of my life, that it was a turning point. It seemed like a billion years passed in mere seconds. I felt like I was about to jump in a dark hole without knowing how deep it was. For many years I couldn't remember what I had said, I just remembered the emotion that gushed out of me upon saying it. I was amazed at how naturally the emotion expressed itself. It was an experience of feeling the difference between acting and being. It thrilled me. The next improv, though, was terrible. I felt so exposed I put my back to the audience the entire time. Today, I remember what it was I had said that made me so embarrassed in front of my college classmates and had brought on the ensuing tears. I had said, "I want to live with my grandmother."

The following summer I went to Vermont Studio School. New York artist, Archie Rand, was teaching a figure drawing class. He was trying to tell us something. He was agitated, he paced around the room talking about the difference between Van Gogh's early drawings and late drawings; how his early drawings were painfully awkward descriptions of nature. The later drawings had authority, his mark making had changed, a blade of grass WAS the grass. I puzzled over what he was trying to tell us. The model changed poses every thirty seconds. Then, it clicked. What Rand was talking about was the same thing I had learned in the improvisation class, the difference between acting and being. I changed tact. I began to feel the model and not merely draw her. The moment my thought changed, the drawings changed. Archie came around and pointed at my drawing. He said, "That's it. That's what I'm talking about!" It was a valuable lesson that I must continuously relearn.

JS: Can or will you take these Facebook posts in some other direction? At this point, do you see any potential dead ends? Do you see this - or whatever-comes-after-Facebook - as a viable artistic medium? Do you know of any other artists who inhabit and create in the same virtual space that you do?

JWR: Yes, I am not the only artist creating in virtual space. There are many others. The artists I know who are consistently utilizing Facebook as a medium for pushing the limits of creating are Judy Rifka, Oliver Wasow, John Monteith, P. Elaine Sharpe and NY Magazine art critic, Jerry Saltz, who brings criticism into the realm of the studio, not the artist's studio but the critic's.

Just yesterday I was talking with my friend Todd Masuda, an artist and lawyer. We were talking about how a sound is made. I asked him when he thought the sound happens? He said he thinks it happens before the artist touches instrument. He said, "There's a non-technical transformation that's more important than the technical one." To me, that means, art is dependent on an internal transformation or vitality without which it is but the dead letter. If this is true then an artist can use the new medium of Facebook to transform dead letters. It doesn't matter what medium an artist uses; all that matters is the way the medium is used. To me, that is spirituality, that is wisdom and a thoroughly viable artistic avenue.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3175799 2013-04-28T23:18:22-04:00 2013-04-28T23:18:25-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ Photos courtesy of Jonathan Lewis.

With hard-to-believe panache, energy and coordination, the Playhouse nailed this production of Georges Feydeau's 1907 farce, "A Flea In Her Ear." Directed by James Rice, it's a hilarious and aerobic romp through a misunderstood cause for an embarrassing effect that threatens to derail the otherwise um, vigorous marriage of Yvonne Chandel (Kate Woodruff) and her husband, Victor (Bill Wolski).

Yvonne doubts her husband's fidelity because he's no longer interested in sex. A Frenchman not interested in sex? Sacre bleu! Little does she know that his failure to launch has nothing to do with another woman and all to do with stress. (Speaking of bleu, Viagra was about a century away from being invented but nevermind).

Yvonne wants to get even and have her own affair with Victor's chum, Romain Tournel (Joshua Aguilar). Yvonne's chum, Lucienne Homenides De Histangua (Holly Baker-Kreiswirth), married to the jealous and, to put it mildly, fiery, Don Carlos (Pablo Alexander D'Adamo), dissuades her. Instead, she concocts a test, an anonymous letter to Victor that proposes an assignation at the Pretty Pussy, a discreet hotel (the name tells you all you need to know) run by former lady of the night Olympe (Judy Gish) and her ex-military husband Feraillon (Noah Wagner). Victor is flattered by the letter but, loyal husband he is, he's certain the letter was meant for Tournel, who goes in his place.

If the main story line sounds complicated, a slew of flirtations, infidelities, and idiosyncrasies further texture the production with generous doses of mayhem and hilarity. Victor is the spitting image of Poche, the hotel's alcoholic porter. Camille (Lee Samuel Tanng), Victor's nephew, has a speech impediment so he swallows his consonants. Rugby (Peter J. Rounds), a horny British patron, keeps trying to seduce the distraught wives that run in and out of his room. Antoinette (Eva Dailey), the Chandel's cook, is married to Victor's butler Etienne (Greg Wickes) but has coupled up with Camille. And, talk about great job descriptions, Baptistin (Douglas Seagraves), Feraillon's drunken uncle, gets paid to sit on his bed and drink. His only duty? To be spun on his bed, at the push of a button, from his room to the adjoining room of an in flagrante couple, who are whisked away from the eyes of the vice squad.

And yet, with this commotion that more resembles a rugby scrum than a French farce, there is order, purpose, and humor. Credit Rice's ability to juggle the complex story lines with unerring accuracy and the cast's ability to stay in character under a full head of steam without tripping over each other. Most of the memorable second act is an extended sprint in and out of the Pretty Pussy's rooms. Set designer David Scaglione gets kudos for creating a stage that ensured no bottle necks and Donna Fritsche gets customary kudos for period perfect costumes.

Performances are 8pm, Friday & Saturday and 2pm, Sunday. The show runs until May 11. Tickets are $14 - $24. The Playhouse is located at 5021 E. Anaheim St. For more information call (562) 494-1014 or visit www.lbplayhouse.org.



]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3120704 2013-04-20T00:56:52-04:00 2013-04-22T13:22:33-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ All photos courtesy of Henry DiRocco/SCR.

The world premiere of The Parisian Woman, written by Beau Willimon (inspired by Henri Becque's La Parisienne), directed by Pam MacKinnon for South Coast Rep, doesn't just enact the ambition, maneuvering, and dirty tricks you associate with political life in Washington, D.C. It takes it one step further, turning an no holds barred campaign to secure an Attorney General nomination into a fascinating portrait of a bored Beltway wife. Think of it as a cross between Dangerous Liaisons and Sex in the City. Willimon's script is riveting and MacKinnon's superbly acted production is witty, startling, and thoughtful.

It's late fall in the nation's capitol. Tom (Steven Weber), a private practice lawyer, is married to Chloe (Dana Delany). As a team, they are formidable and in synch. They are wealthy, connected, and ambitious. They are J. Crew gorgeous, especially Chloe, who is effortlessly chic and sexy. But then, so is everyone else in that environment, which makes Tom's goal, to get the nomination, that much more difficult. He's done all the right things to achieve this long-held goal. He's stayed out of trouble and he's kept influential people out of jail. Like other likeminded souls, he may have the smarts, the looks, and the credits he's accrued in the favor bank. Unlike the others, though, he has a secret weapon, the guiles of his wife whose goal, so we think, parallels his.

She has no problem conducting an affair with the influential, rich and, as it happens, hapless Peter (Steven Culp). Tom doesn't, either - it's just the cost of doing business. Peter has access to the President's Chief of Staff and can thus influence the Attorney General nomination, which is the stated reason behind Chloe's adultery. But Chloe spurns him because, silly boy, he's fallen in love with her. When Peter disses Tom to the Chief of Staff, all seems lost.

But is it? Chloe pulls out the heavy artillery. So heavy that she can't even tell Tom. Tom trusts her and away she goes, blackmailing Rebecca (Rebecca Mozo), the daughter of the Secretary of the Treasury nominee, Jeanette (Linda Gehringer). The result? Tom got the nomination.

If it were just about the securing of the nomination, it would be a compelling Beltway thriller. But layer on the spectacular character of Chloe, spectacular because of Delany's performance, and you've got a memorable production that seems plot-driven but is really a profile of a Washington, D.C. wife with a few secrets of her own.

Willimon's script is both lighthearted and devious, which makes it all the more chilling. The action focuses on the swath Chloe cuts through the obstacles that could thwart her husband's nomination. She's intelligent, savvy, and bored. Do these affairs serve as a means to Tom's end or do they provide her with a deeper satisfaction? That's what's so fascinating about the production. Everyone around her is playing chummy cigar store chess while she's playing at a grandmaster level on a cut throat national stage.

It's important that the team of Chloe and Tom is portrayed as credible. With Delany's seeming adoration for her husband and Weber's implicit trust in her, they function as a taut, well-armed commando unit. Delany's Chloe is magnificent. On two separate occasions she draws audible gasps from the audience. In a climactic meeting with Jeanette, she is so terse, so lethal, that she seems to psychologically stab the Treasury nominee in the heart before we even know the weapon's been drawn. You'd like to see a sequel eight or so years in the future, with Tom's new goal: the Presidency. Chloe as First Lady? Wow.

Culp and Mozo do well with Peter and Rebecca, who may be otherwise intelligent but are putty in the hands of Chloe. Rebecca, bless her young soul, has no clue what's going on behind the scenes. Gehringer gives a nice portrayal of an old school Washington politico who, having attended the right schools, having made the right connections, serves as the exquisite foil to street fighting Chloe.

It's said that otherwise qualified candidates won't run for public office anymore because of the scrutiny into their public lives. The Parisian Woman gives another reason - the things you have to do to get it.

Performances are 7:45pm, Tuesday - Saturday and 2pm, Saturday and Sunday. The show runs until May 5. Tickets are $20 - $52. The Julianne Argyros Stage is located at 655 Town Center Drive, Costa Mesa, CA 92626. For more information call (714) 708-5555 or visit www.scr.org




]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2926254 2013-03-21T15:41:42-04:00 2013-03-22T13:47:07-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ JS: When and how did you decide you wanted to be an artist? What challenges did you face growing up as a female artist in Lahore? Why did you leave? Describe your immigrant experience in Australia as a woman, a Pakistani, and an artist. How is this expressed in your work?

NLQ: I do not really remember deciding to become an artist- just did not want to study sciences. I chose to study art in college and then to apply for National College of Arts, Lahore. That is where the thought developed - that doing art/making art for living/for life is not an impossible idea. It was and probably still is one of the easier options to aim to be an artist in Lahore if you happen to be a young woman.

Leaving Lahore was for personal reasons. Australia is a quiet place in many ways. People can decide to live the way they like, generally speaking. But as a young-ish (politically) nation, it is not caught in the melodrama of cultural and religious righteousness; there are other basic concerns and desires that can be fulfilled without encroaching on others' rights and without offending their belief. The opposite of that is happening in Pakistan - non-conformation means offence in contemporary Pakistani vocabulary. So, as a quite place, Australia offers a chance to contemplate and offer a comment in the form of artwork.

JS: You belong to a generation of Pakistani artists who have reinvigorated and then furthered the Mughal miniature tradition. How did you discover this tradition and why did you study it? What initially interested you in the visual history of South Asia? What continues to interest you now? How did you further the tradition? Were you consciously aware of belonging to a generation who revived this tradition? Was there a correlation between what was happening at that time in Pakistan and your revival of the miniature tradition? Is your work in any sense nostalgic? Why or why not? What visual, technical, and conceptual relevance does working in the tradition have in 2013?

NLQ: I was exposed to this form of expression at National College of Arts. I found the paintings fascinating due to their detail, structure, deliberation and craft. It seemed extremely different - exotic even (if you can believe the use of this expression here! It was perfectly exotic in comparison to the Euro-American art history and practice that was taught at NCA). The detail, colour was fascinating - so was the impossibility of creating something on the scale it was. Along with the images, I gradually became interested in the people who were depicted in those paintings and then who had painted them.

My interest in the visual history is on two levels: firstly, the richness and depth of cultural expression in all forms of art; secondly, its potential use to comment on various social and political issues that concern me. I think that tradition of any kind is a reminder that there were similar ideas that have been thought through in some form, that have been repeated in similar forms until a new-er form was explored. It seems that the people of twenty-first century are more obsessed with the idea of individualism - expressed through buying the same gadget and wearing the same pair of jeans!

Anyway, on a more serious note, tradition offers a resolution that has been reached in a particular problem at some point in the past; it is not a definite answer, just an answer. Remaining within this sphere, there is possibility of more and differing answers. In the context of visual expression, it is probably a matter of personal preference and option rather than an obligation to follow a certain tradition.

I would not say that my work is nostalgic- I do utilise the romance of history but only to fragment and disrupt its charm.

I consider the current situation sometimes quite ridiculous - as many artists used this genre as a launch pad, without trying to understand it - a little bit like an ill-fitting and ill-suiting latest fashion accessory.

JS: What recurring themes do you explore in your work?

NLQ: Loss, depravation, past and history, and disregard towards it - political history mainly. Other ideas that keep reappearing are layering of influences and multiplicity of origins/identities. The difference and distance between self-perception and how others perceive you.

JS: What role does the past play in your work? By past I mean religion, art history, politics, and social history?

NLQ: Past sometimes serves as a counter-balance to the banality of the present. There is more to life that 'like' an idiotic religio-political slogan on Facebook or tweet your 'reaction' to a video of a sleeping cat that probably resembles the new pope. In my work it serves as a tool for reminiscence to some extent.

JS: What's the relationship between your miniaturist technique and your subject matter?

NLQ: Fluency usually.

JS: What are the technical challenges in working so small?

NLQ: Limited room for technical error! I sometimes think it is 'within my means', that is when it becomes frustrating.

JS: Do you think of yourself as a craftswoman? Does the idea of perfection figure in the creation (on your part) and assessment (on the viewer's part) of these pieces? What's your distinction between art and craft?

NLQ: I think of it in this way: there are things I can do better than others and there are things I do not want to do in my work, I do the things that suit that work.

The distinction between art and craft is probably a bureaucratic distinction or facility. Some people like to distinguish works of art from craft by measuring the 'thought' or ' process' that goes into making of something.

JS: Explain the inclusion of hands in your work.

NLQ: Gesturing hands refer to religious iconography and to the idea of implementation of that religious ideology upon masses.

JS: Sometimes you work on large-scale installation and multimedia. How do you reconcile these larger pieces with your miniature ones? Is anything lost in the translation of scale?

NLQ: It is more of a problem of perception than of expression. I sometimes work in collaboration with my husband on large scale works; these projects offer a liberating space, out of the 'expectation zone' of the viewer/curator/critic.

JS: Do you pay any attention to art criticism? What's your take on Australian art criticism and art history?

NLQ: I try not to pay much attention - not much at all - especially to the hydroponic variety of critics. I am highly suspicious of 'people' who amputate the artist from art and then build their career on that discourse - obstinately discussing art as it appeared out of thin air without artistic, human intervention.

JS: What are you working on now?

NLQ: I am exploring identities-their formation and mutation. Some exploration has taken the form of large-format photographs of myself dressing up as different people.





]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2926231 2013-03-21T15:37:24-04:00 2013-03-23T10:34:39-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ JS: When and how did you decide you wanted to be an artist? What was it like growing up in Lebanon, personally and artistically, and why did you leave?

PH: No decision in being an artist or not, simply doing what I felt the need to do.

And maybe Beirut was the one to push me to do and say what I have to say...

To face things instead of neglecting them,

It was simply a "Need",

the need to venture beyond the shelter of my university and confront the reality of the city's state of affairs. I was inspired by aspects of everyday life in the city, which tend to contextualize my way of thinking so that they influence my work in an unconscious way that I cannot escape. I don't impose any set of rules upon myself, but rather prompted by nothing but a single impressionable moment, to produce. As a result, using various mediums, including my own body and elements and forms of everyday life.

Oh! I am based now and here in Beirut!

I didn't leave on anytime - the only times was leaving for a short period in order to accomplish my mission and going back, like intervening with my project or , I did my study here and I am struggling with my everyday life here in Beirut like any citizen...

JS: What artists, movements, or schools have had the most impact on your work?

PH: The real impact came from with my confrontation with: social and political situation in my everyday life in Beirut.

JS: Describe the thinking that went into the three pieces you're showing at Art Dubai. What's the English translation of the Arabic printed (on what appear to be disks of bread) for Aysh? (Please translate "Aysh" as well.") What's your general intention that went into the series, "No Condition is Permanent" from which is comes? Likewise with "My Martry...No My Matyr." How does it fit into its "Beliefs in Self-Deception" series?

Finally, "From Dawn to Dusk," why include lipstick that looks like blood-dripped bullets? Is there any significance in the way you've arranged them, face down, in that particular linear squiggle?

PH: Aysh: This public intervention was inspired by wordplay, specifically the notion that citizens live on law, "'Aysh al-Qanun" in Arabic. "'Aysh" literally means "to live" but in popular usage 'aysh can also mean "bread." This play on words transforms the original rather abstract expression into "Bread of Law," which is at once more mundane and more poetic. A way of expressing this bon mot artistically was to take several loaves of Arabic flatbread and stamp them with the slogan "'Aysh al-Qanun."

No condition is permanent: works created in Amman, under the theme "no condition is permanent." All these pieces work with public space and food as metaphors of inclusion, national and otherwise.

on one level, these messages were my reading of Amman and how people are trapped within the Hashemite authoritarianism. Individual messages were meant to read like legal injunctions, while, as a group, the banquet's messages could be seen as a kind of legal code encouraging the citizenry to accept the status quo.

"Beliefs in Self-Deception" series: the title seem to be bold and delicate in terms of content - beliefs is very personal but "here" it is a life style... anyway so the general idea came from the idea of the "arm" (weapon) power, and how they exist out of nowhere in our context, they say for us we manage to have them in very discreet manner,

one of these examples is "fajir 5" is a 6.7meters rocket transported to Lebanon and Ghaza and they can reach a long distances so this why the raison to have them, to reach the center of the enemy!

in order to have conflict you need to have two opposing sides,

in order to have it this way you need to "feed" the other in order to keep a raison why you are in conflict with them...

so "from dawn to dusk" serving the "fajir 5" on a used tray like table used in our areas to welcome friends, this long rocket has these colours gold and red head,

"offering" is when you receive - since they feed us with few items but in parallel they destroy our countries completely (example summer 2006 war in Lebanon)
but we are so proud to say "we won"...!

"we are so proud to send one rocket"...! but in parallel we receive thousands in one shot,
downward direction as a receiving gesture,

So wining is a will - that follow us in whatever we do even when the city is destroyed,

This will reach the martyr, opposing is always the other side even if we are all Lebanese, believing that he is "ours" will makes it as a competition to simply "declare this is belong to us" as simple as is, the martyr is an object to deal with by pulling and pushing arguments... "My Martry...No My Matyr."

JS: Is this work any different than the work you've done for your current show in London at the Selma Feriani Gallery? Does it follow your same thought process, are there any departures?

PH: Yes same direction - pointing same issues differently - elaborated to understand the link between the lipstick and beauty idea and resistance...

JS: Do you consider yourself a Lebanese artist, an expatriate artist or a global artist? Why or why not?

PH: My work and the city are highly integrated. In Beirut, life goes on from one day to the next without the knowledge of what tomorrow will bring. Therefore, my perception of the future and its uncertainty defines the transitory nature of my work, so that a piece has fulfilled its purpose once is it exposed and the message is conveyed. This transient feature can be considered to be motivated by the instinct of survival during a politically volatile time in Beirut when artwork was often requisitioned by the authorities. For example, Protesting against the political situation in 2003, performance "01-02" lived only for 24 hours.

JS: As an artist, how do you differentiate, if you do indeed differentiate, between an art fair, a biennial, and a one-person show at a museum? I'm thinking in terms of prestige, branding, sales, and dialogue.

PH: Anyway each project for me is unique and I have to deal with it following certain criteria, Mainly context and type of public...

JS: What are your impressions and thoughts on the international art world? On the Middle Eastern art world? In 2013, does art have a purpose in local, regional, and global society?

PH: Art is becoming more and more for an elite - for selective public - for selective titles,

Plenty of theory and less of application which makes the art world with plenty of coding system and we are loosing the tangible aspect to do and change things with art!

JS: Do you pay attention to art criticism, about your work or in general? If yes, do you think it orients people's thoughts and feelings about the world in which they live? And, if yes, does it have any retrospective impact on your own work?

PH: Yes i pay attention on this when I have the chance to,

But people have the tendency to applaud more and more these days anything they see since they forget that Art has a purpose to change things and say things.

JS: What are you working on now?

PH: Public intervention in the north of Lebanon in April,

Building a piece for the collection of the Yacht Club in Beirut,
Group show in Beirut in July,

Participating in "Jeux de la Francophonie" that will happen in Nice - France,

And my solo show "Federica Schiavo Gallery," end of September, Rome - Italy.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2912849 2013-03-20T08:46:35-04:00 2013-03-20T08:46:20-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ JS: When you and your wife Priyanka began Experimenter in April 2009, what gap were you trying to fill? What inspired to open the gallery in the first place?

PR: We started Experimenter with a very clear focus. At the time we felt that contemporary practice was being under-represented in the country. There were several major developments that were taking place in the art world and we in India completely engrossed with commercial successes that came with it and there was no real effort towards a curatorial programming. More importantly we opened the gallery to show artists who dealt with contemporaneity in a particular way, who caught the current moment within their work, made the viewer rethink and re-evaluate one's pre-determined notions and what challenged the boundaries that we set for ourselves. Contemporary art gives us a window to enter into a world where real impact could be possible and Experimenter was established to provide that window to artists and therefore to viewers.

JS: What had the two of you done prior to Experimenter that best prepared you to run a gallery?

PR: We are both not from the arts. We both have management degrees and have worked with corporates before Experimenter. I had quit earlier and spent a lot of time understanding the art world in India and the region. I enjoyed the conversations I had with the artists and went to a lot of studios. Most of the artists I know were friends first. Priyanka joined a year before we started the gallery. She quit her highflying corporate career with Procter & Gamble to build our dream together. We traveled all over the world for 6 months, looking at shows meeting artists and the rest of the 6 months we built the gallery. At the last bit of the trip we did the South Asian Contemporary Art course at Sotheby's London. That was fun. We had pre planned exhibitions calendar for 18 months in advance before we opened the gallery. So it was a thought out process. Having said the above, reading and seeing was and still is our biggest preparation for Experimenter.

JS: What were your expectations when you opened the gallery?

PR: We opened the gallery knowing that the program will be completely different from what normally one would be familiar with, so to be honest, other than expecting to out up some really stunning exhibitions, which we had control over, we did not have any expectations. I knew for sure that Experimenter would not be a regular gallery and that we would live up to its name of showing contemporary experimental practice. Beyond that there was no expectations.

JS: What's your process and criteria for signing on an artist?

PR: That's such difficult question to answer precisely. It's a whole lot of things. It's like alchemy when it all comes together. Of course the work is what draws us to artists first and then all the other factors come together. It's a combination of many things, including belief in the practice, understanding the artist's personality and requirements from the relationship, some amount of gut-feeling too that make the decision for us. We represent 12 artists at the moment and are quite clear that that number is a good number to manage at our scale. The most important thing about all our artists is that we are friends first and the relationship between artist-gallery are like marriages for us... so we step very cautiously. Although there could be some divorces in so many relationships, for us they are all long-term marriage like relationships.

JS: You describe your gallery as being "highly" exploratory. Why "highly?"

PR: We do not ever limit our program or what the artists propose to any medium, or commercial viability of what we show. In the past we have done exhibitions that transformed everyday, interventions in the gallery that meant the viewer became part of the exhibitions, ephemeral works that disappeared by the time the show was over... many things that have never been seen or experienced before and all to a hungry audience. So its been exploratory in that sense of the word.

JS: Would you describe both your multi-disciplinary approach as well as your desire to challenge boundaries? What, as you see them, are these boundaries? Are they commercial, social, political, artistic?

PR: All of the above and also psychological boundaries. These are boundaries that we as individual set ourselves within, sometimes due to social conditioning or at other times owing to expecting a certain kind of response to a certain kind of experience. We changed / challenge the experience so deeply that it alters the response and therefore hopefully shakes up some wires in the heads of the viewers in turn. When I see a work of art that I connect with, something that makes me think of things that are happening around me, it moves me. At Experimenter we enable an atmosphere to 'rethink' things.

JS: For those of us dozens of time zones away, please describe Kolkata's Gariahat area.

PR: It's a very busy junction in south of the city. There are long stretches of street vendors, and shoppers milling about and a sea of people all the time. We are in a building built in the 1930's. The gallery is located at the back of the building. The gallery has a central feature, a small courtyard that used to be open to the sky earlier. Artists use that space very innovatively. It's a depression right in the middle of the gallery and most artists love it.

JS: What's the most exciting art being produced in India at this moment?

PR: India is at a very crucial juncture at the moment. There are a lot of good artists doing very interesting work. A lot of explorations are happening in the public arts sphere because in India, when its public, its truly "public" given the number of people who interact with the art. The recently concluded Kochi-Muziris Biennial had close to 450,000 registered viewers, a number far lesser than the number of people who saw the public art projects at the time in the town! This is with keeping in mind that Kochi is a very tiny place and the Biennial was restricted to a certain quarter of the old city.

JS: Can you briefly describe what I call the economy of the Indian art world? By economy, I mean the relationship of galleries, museums, critics, curators, collectors, and the general public, and, last but not least, the government?

PR: The government is not very overtly active in the contemporary art world in India, but is slowly by surely recognizing its need to align itself with supporting contemporary art. The new public venues like airports, planned city developments are all ready to have a conversation that involves arts that was not the case even a couple of years ago. The galleries, museums, critics, curators, collectors is still very fluid in India given that the country is still young when it comes to contemporary work. The roles sometime overlap. Private galleries like ours sometimes need to take on larger educational roles like museums in the absence of public contemporary museum in India... so its not in very water tight boxes. We for example do the Experimenter Curators' Hub once every year. Its 3-day intensive where 10 curators come together to discuss and debate curatorial practice and their processes. The gallery has an amazing energy at the time. This has nothing commercial to do with the gallery but organizing the hub is like a responsibility we feel we owe to the artworld to co-develop its eco-system.

JS: I'm intrigued by your desire to facilitate a public dialogue. How, if at all, does criticism fit into this dialogue? What's the scope and nature of Indian art criticism?

PR: Indian art criticism like the whole art scenario is quite nascent in the country. The curators hub for example uses a public platform to critically think of curatorial practice in India. It's turning out to be a very important feature in the arts calendar for everyone. People look forward to it from months in advance. Criticism is important and is growing to be more specific and pointed which is great.

JS: In general, what's the value for a gallery to participate in an art fair? Specifically, what attracts you to Art Dubai?

PR: For us its new connections, new collectors, new relationships and meaningful long term dialogue that we can engage with in the region. Art Dubai is much more than just a fair. It's an entry point into a region that allows our artists to be seen by a larger audience and therefore builds their career.

JS: Finally, to pose that universal, old-as-time question, can you offer any advice to artists who want but can't seem to get gallery representation?

PR: It's the work that counts. Keeping true to your core practice is very important. A gallery provides a much-needed cover/cushion/protection but without it, work needs to stay true. Its not easy to make a living out of art but having said that in today's world, the opportunities are infinite, the possibilities of making a career out of art are more possible than ever before, so sooner or later there will be a right fit with a gallery for the artist. As I said, artist gallery relationships are like marriages Not only do they need time to connect but need work to develop and maintain like all relationships need.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2894145 2013-03-17T01:44:54-04:00 2013-05-16T05:12:02-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ Marker, curated by Lagos-based Bisi Silva for the seventh edition of Art Dubai, describes the societal changes sparked by the rapid development of West African cities. The founder and artistic director of the Centre for Contemporary Art, Lagos, she chose five West African artspaces -- Centre for Contemporary Art (Lagos, Nigeria); Espace doual'art (Douala, Cameroon); Maison Carpe Diem (Ségou, Mali); Nubuke Foundation (Accra, Ghana); and Raw Material Company (Dakar, Senegal) for her project. These artspaces feature such artists as Soly Cisse (Senegal), Ablade Glover (Ghana), Abdoulaye Konaté (Mali), Boris Nzebo (Cameron), and Taiye Idahor (Nigeria).

JS: What in your background has prepared you to curate this Marker show?

BS: Since 2007 I have also been the director of the Centre for Contemporary Art, Lagos curating and organizing exhibitions and projects with national, regional, continental and international artists, curators and institutions. This is coupled with nearly two decades of professional practice. My focus has been on contemporary art generally and within that my area of interest and research being Africa and the global south. On a formal level I think my postgraduate education in Curating of Contemporary Art from the Royal College of Art is a good starting point for curatorial practice.

JS: Explain the development of your "cities in transition" theme? How is it significant? How does it fit in with your interest with Diasporic art?

BS: I think this is an appropriate theme considering that over the last half century both regions have witnessed an unprecedented evolution in the way in which people live. It is one of the most fascinating and phenomenal sites where change manifests in our countries today. In considering the process of rural to urban migration, the collusion between tradition and modernity, the blurring the spatial boundaries between the public and private, it is palpable the way these changes are impacting on the way we live and think. A subtheme is also that of the environment and the way in which man's actions affects nature in a detrimental way. These everyday realities and lived experiences are reflected in the work of many artists across the region and the continent. However, they are not local issues or concerns but global preoccupations and I believe this makes the focus relevant within the context of Art Dubai.

JS: Why specifically did you ask these particular artspaces to curate exhibitions for Marker?

BS: The choice of the organisations is premised on the professional interactions and collaboration that I have had with them over the past decade or so. Also they have spearheaded innovative initiatives and projects which have impacted in important ways on their local art context many in the face of total governmental inaction. Whilst Doual'Art has been active for about twenty years, several new organisations such as Raw Material, Dakar, Centre for Contemporary Art, Lagos and Nubuke Foundation, Accra have been initiated over the past decade across the region. Chab Toure, director of Maison Carpe Diem, Segou, Mali opened the only photography gallery and bookshop in Mali in the early 1990s. These organisations have also worked with artists and curators whose work engages or explores the idea of the city and Marker presents an opportunity to work together.

JS: Is there a common link that runs through the work of the artists on display? Does the work mirror the society from which it sprang, or is it more global in conception if not execution?

BS: I believe that art mirrors the society from which it emanates as well as accommodating the life experiences of the individual artist. Most of the galleries and the artists will have a common link but from a diversity of perspectives. For example Doual'Art organizes a major programme, a triennial called SUD (Salon Urbaines de Douala) with the 3rd iteration coming up this year, which focuses on the urban context and art in public places. One of the artists they have worked with Joseph Francis Sumegne - whose work will be presented at Marker - has a huge permanent sculpture in a strategic location in the city centre of Douala. Nubuke Foundation will present the work of one of Ghana's established artist Ablade Glover, famous for his vivid painterly cityscapes. Many of the artists including Amahiguere Dolo and Abdoulaye Konate from Mali, Ade Adekola, Ndidi Dike and Taiye Idahor from Nigeria, as well as Henri Sagna and Soly Cisse from Dakar deal directly with or make allusions to the rapidly changing modernizing cities and the impact not only on the way we live but also on the environment.

JS: Can you draw parallels - social, political, economic, and cultural - between art produced in West Africa and that produced in the Middle East? The Middle East has its Arab uprisings. Is there something similar, operating now or in the recent past, that informs the collective subconscious of the West African artist?

BS: We have followed - like the rest of the world- the incredible effects of the uprisings in the Middle East and I think it has impacted indelibly on our own political consciousness and social responsibilities. Whilst the power of communication technology has been an unparallel change medium, it is through the Arab spring that we have considered it as a powerful tool for social and political change. In Nigeria it was effective in 2011 in reserving an 150% hike in petrol price and in Senegal made sure that the then president did not become a life president. These experiences are reflected in artists work across the region in their drawings such as Karo Akpokiere, collection of twitter messages by sound and video artist Emeka Ogboh both in presented in Marker and in the images of many photographers across the region.
'Cities in Transition' is an appropriate theme for Marker and Art Dubai considering that over the last half century both regions have witnessed an unprecedented evolution in the way in which people live. This manifests in the continuing transition from the nomadic and the rural to the more sedimentary and urban conurbations that we witness sprouting up around us with alacrity and the attendant consequences and impact on the environment. It also provides an opportunity to introduce the complex historical and social dynamics of West African cities to Art Dubai's visitors for the first time. This evolving urban ecology has greatly impacted many artists in West Africa and we felt that it would be well understood and received within the Middle-Eastern context.

An even longer interaction can be traced in the history of migratory trade during the trans-Sahelian trade routes from the 10th to the 19th century. This period witnessed the movement of goods (salt and gold) as well as human beings between West Africa and North Africa but also extended to the Mediterranean and the Middle East and even Asia. The history of West Africa and these regions are inextricably linked and I find this extremely fascinating. A recent article by a colleague highlighted the cultural legacy of Afro-Emiratis an area of research which has yet to be fully explored - to my knowledge - by either African and Emirati artist or even curators.

JS: What's your assessment of the West African art world in terms of artists, curators, critics, historians, galleries, and collectors? Is it thriving? How so? If not, why not? What work needs to be done? What impact do you think your participation in Marker will have on global perceptions of West African Art?

BS: West Africa has some of the most incredible artistic and cultural heritage in the world. Nigeria is famed for its Benin Bronzes, its Noks Terracotta, its Ife Bronzes. They remained unparalled anywhere in the world. In Mali and Ivory Coast we have the Baule and Fang Masks as well as Dogon sculptures to name a few. In spite of slavery, colonial and other foreign incursions which have contributed to the destruction of this culture, they, nonetheless, form part of a heritage that we claim today and that influences contemporary art. This is visible in the textile installations by Malian artists Aboubakar Fofana and Abodulaye Konate as well as in the sculptures of Amahiguere Dolo influenced by Dogon cosmology.

Art infrastructure - physical and intellectual - is still in an embryonic stage and each country has different structures. For example in Nigeria we have over 25 faculties of fine and applied arts at tertiary level offering under and postgraduate art degrees, whereas in other countries they may be only one or two institutions offering academic art courses. Whilst Nigeria does have a growing and vibrant commercial gallery system and collector base much needs to be done. However modern and contemporary art from West Africa remains under-represented internationally and the opportunity that Marker affords is an appropriate platform that will contribute to its increasing visibility.

JS: What's the role of West African art criticism? Is it undergoing any manner of recent transformation? In your opinion, beyond descriptive prose does it provide an adequate context for contemporary work? Do you feel that the art needs sophisticated criticism to develop?

BS: I believe more opportunities need to be done with regards to art criticism in West Africa. The Dakar biennale in Senegal has been central in its development over the past decade as they have organised several art criticism workshops mainly for art journalists from several West African countries as part of their educational programmes and in preparation before each biennale event. The Bamako African photography biennale in Mali also has a programme targeting photography criticism. These initiatives have contributed in introducing art writers to a wide diversity of artistic practice and artists as well as writing tools. The opportunities to develop art criticism is extremely limited in most countries with only a handful of critics and in most cases no art magazines or journals. In Nigeria we have writers who are members of the International Association of Art Criticism, have undertaken doctoral research in modern and contemporary Nigerian art and it is not uncommon to have 'heated' debates in the newspapers about art. Most universities had some form of printed platform for academic art writing but that dwindled in the late 80s with repression of intellectual activity by the military dictatorship and many academics fleeing the country.

However, most Nigerian newspapers have an Arts page and visual art is an integral part of that section. In addition to the staff art journalists, the section is complemented by guest writers and columnists. Art definitely needs constructed criticism to develop and I believe each context determines at what level it is appropriate for their locality and this will differ from one place to another.

JS: What's your next project after Art Dubai?

BS: An important focus for me in regional collaboration and the next project comes up in May in Accra, Ghana. It is a 35 day intensive international art programme in the form of an art incubator for emerging artists from across the continent. About 15 artists from 8 African countries come together with a faculty of nearly 20 international artists, curators, art historians and art critics for the programme entitled The Archive: Static, Embodied, Practiced. Over a one- month period it will involve seminars, lectures, art and writing workshops, critiques, curatorial course and a final presentation using the Archive as the underpinning theme. This will be the third year of the programme and the first time that it moves outside of Nigeria. We hope it can be developed as a roaming pan African informal art academy. That is my next major project.


]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2893405 2013-03-16T20:31:10-04:00 2013-05-16T05:12:02-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/
Such is the case here.

Greg Mocilnikar does to space what Juan Gris, with his Synthetic Cubism, does to form. He dissects relationships of interior and external spaces (not to mention relationships of negative and positive space) and then rearranges them to form delicate and ethereal structures buttressed by color, shape, and scale.

Andy Kolar similarly abstracts features, in this case architecture and topographical, into elements of color, shape, and scale, and then aggregates them to form uneasy alliances between organic and hard-edged, spontaneous and calculated, with everything either on the verge of once again rearranging itself or finally settling into place.

Mocilnikar's work shimmers, as if crystallizing even momentarily from some prior existence while Kolar's celebrates a temporary truce between entropy and order.

To see them side by side is to appreciate the struggle to translate space and the things contained therein onto a two-dimensional surface. Having endured the process of abstraction and reformulation, the traces of which are apparent on each surface, the work seems to say, to each other as well as to the viewer, "Finally!"

The exhibition runs until March 30. Gallery hours are 11am - 6pm, Tuesday through Saturday. The gallery is located at 2642 S. La Cienaga Boulevard, Los Angeles. For more information call (310) 839-1840 or visit www.waltermacielgallery.com.


]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2850838 2013-03-11T00:17:52-04:00 2013-05-10T05:12:01-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ The Sharjah Biennial and Art Dubai are taking place this week and next. Showcasing the quality, relevance, and complexity of Middle Eastern art, it makes sense as well to investigate the achievement of contemporary Middle Eastern theatre. What follows is an interview with Lebanese Director Hadi Tabbal. Mr. Tabbal is directing After, a play which examines the travails of an Arab-American family in New York City, which will open at CUNY (City University of New York) York College on March 15


JS: How did the York College production of After come about?

HT: After submitting my resume to teach at CUNY, three years ago, I was contacted by professor Tom Marion a year and a half later, asking me if I would be interested in directing the spring production of 2013 as adjunct assistant professor. Tom specifically approached me because he was interested, on behalf of the department of performing arts, to produce a play that would involve the Muslim/Arab/Middle Eastern community of Jamaica, Queens, where the campus is. Jamaica is a very diverse part of Queens, NY. It is on the last stop of two, if not, three subway trains, and includes a wide variety of ethnicities. The definition of Arab/Muslim/Middle Eastern was and still is hazy, as anywhere else, but the main incentive was to produce work that would encourage that specific community on campus to be involved: whether in the production or as an audience; basically, to produce a play that pertains to the targeted culture. Being a NY theater artist originally from Lebanon, born and raised in Beirut, and theatrically educated in New York under a Fulbright Scholarship, I believe I was the right candidate. Regardless of my religious affiliations (or the lack of, to be specific), I am familiar with the culture, and indeed, I am.

JS: Why did you ask Tala Manassah and Mona Mansour to write the play? What parameters did you give them? How long did the process take? Will you collaborate again with them?

HT: Last year, in the spring of 2012, I played the lead role of Adham in Mona Mansour's world premiere of The Hour of Feeling at The Humana Festival for New American Plays. This festival is one of the foremost and most competitive festivals in the nation, producing only world premieres. You know, the Middle Eastern theater scene is very tight in New York, where pretty much everyone knows everyone. I had just moved back from NY and I wasn't really immersed in that scene yet. So my agent sends me out on my first audition with that agency, and I book the lead role. No one knew where I came from. And this is how I met Mona. Tala Manassah, on the other hand, I had met through mutual friends through a film connection from Sundance. Tala and Mona, of course, knew each other.

Mona Mansour is an American playwright born in Lebanon. Tala is a Palestinian American educator. Mona and Tala have collaborated before as playwrights. They wrote The House and The Letter, which I saw produced at Golden Thread in San
Francisco, a theater organization dedicated to Middle Eastern Theater on the west coast.

I approached the writers because I did not want to produce a play that has been already done, especially for a project of the sort. There is something not exciting about working on previously produced material if it is contemporary, unless it is a classic whose main raison d'etre is to be reproduced. I wanted something new, because I am interested mostly in directing new work, and because I wanted to give the students the opportunity to be in a world premiere, to orginate roles.

I asked Mona and Tala because they write truthfully about the Middle East and because they are friends I like to work with, and because I knew they would generously give me and the students what we needed. And because Mona and Tala are exactly the kind of writers who are interested in projects of the kind. Because of their interests and cultural backgrounds, their plays have a specific Middle Eastern (or shall I say Arab or Palestinian?) feel. And I was in Mona's play before. I played a Palestinian scholar who flies to London with his newly wed wife to give a lecture on Wordsworth during 1967, during which the 6 day war breaks out, and he is forced to make a very tough decision. Mona's (as well as her writing with Tala) work is full of Arabic (actually Arabic spoken on stage with subtitles), and intellect, and pathos. And I like that. After has all three. The students playing the Jordanian characters (who are Hispanic) speak in Arabic with subtitles on the upstage wall. It really is thrilling for students as well as audiences in Jamaica, Queens.

I gave the writers no parameters other than: 'a play about Middle East/Arab American/maybe Muslim issues'. To be honest, I wasn't even clear about that, but I knew it wouldn't matter. At the end of the day, all this jargon is context and not content. The content will always be universal if the writing is good. That's it. I don't like to interfere with the writing in any way. I consider myself a play developer (if that word exists) and a director, but not a writer in any way. I have an interest in a subject, a context, an issue, or a project of a specific goal, and I communicate that to the writer, I give them more information if they need, and then I wait for a story and a script.

I followed the same process with the other play I am developing called Honey, written by Bekah Brunstetter. I commissioned Bekah to write a play about a Lebanese family in English, that could work for both a Lebanese and American audience. I communicated to her the type of theater I like to do: psychological, visceral, and realistic. I gave her a lot of background on social structure and issues in Lebanon, dramaturgical information, and personal subjects of interest that I would like to talk about in the play, but I was never even interested in being part of what the story is about. The writer sends me the story, and I say: 'I love it.'

The process for After took a solid 6 months. We didn't really have a full play yet by the time rehearsals started. Rewrites continued to happen after rehearsals started (which is typical of new plays), and they continue to happen, thankfully. You are always discovering the best way to do something when you are working on a play that has never been tested before.

I would most definitely keep working with both writers. I think the above provides enough reason to.

JS: What was there about After that made you want to direct it?

HT: To be honest, it is hard to answer this question because the process was not the classical one, where a producer approaches a director with a play, and the director accepts or not. I am not there yet. I was going to direct After whether I like it or not, because it was being generously written for me to direct for CUNY. But the thing is, I knew I was going to like it, and that is why I asked Mona and Tala. Now that I have the play and we are about to open, I can imagine if someone approached me with it. I would say yes. Because it engages the youth, teenage characters, it has a truthful Arab-American voice, it fills a gap in the theater by approaching young audiences of all ethnicities who identify with this family on stage. It is also a great educational endeavor, to produce a world premiere by nationally recognized writers for CUNY students in Queens, New York. Opportunities like this are rare for all of us: teachers, students, audiences.

JS: Have you cast the play yet? How important is it that your actors contribute to the production?

HT: The play was cast in December. I find casting to be one of the most confusing processes of producing a play, most specifically a world premiere, because you know what you are looking for, but then you don't, because you feel every other moment, that you are working on assumptions, but then again, there are no parameters. It really is a tough one: casting. Now add to that casting at a university, where turn out is not necessarily that great. But once I saw the students that I cast, I was sure. I really was. I knew that we had to work on acting skills. I knew that we had to go back to some technical basics at the beginning of the process, but what I mostly knew was that the actors had that human spark, which is what I am most essentially looking for: a spark or humanity, a heart, emotional luggage, a need to express, something moving that is hidden in there, and a kind presence most of all: a kind and pleasant presence in the room. And I see that mostly and I cast based upon that. And of course, there is the technical side of casting the actor who is right for the part (because they look the part and feel the part), but when you don't have eighty actors to choose from, you look for the most essential: the heart.

I taught in Beirut for several years, both college students at Notre Dame University and independent actors at my own workshop at Al Madina Theater. I always auditioned students before accepting them. At first, it might sound presumptuous. Why I am auditioning students in Beirut to take a workshop in acting? It's not Julliard. But that was not the point. The point of the auditions was not to see if they deserve to be in the class, but for me to get the chance to look for that spark: the heart, that emotional echo without which acting has no meaning whatsoever.

When I auditioned Matthew Echevarria, I knew immediately that he was to play Tariq. Same with Mariel Suriel to play his cousin Rania. During the auditions, I made them improvise a scene in Spanish (which is their second language) and the joy and connection that came out of that was really surprising. Malika Alami Binani was called back to play the role of the Mom, which is tough for a young college student to play. And here is the shocker. You could swear she is Tariq's mom, and she is literally his age. Only in college programs this type of casting happens (and usually it is very disappointing), but not this time. Malika also happens to be half Moroccan, so her tongue is familiar a little with Arabic. She says all these Arabic words so believably. Isaac Lama was cast as Joe, the American grad student, and his presence is so pleasant on stage, he is literally what Joe the character is. As for Amelia's role, the young activist, I cast Bukola Ogunmola, who I saw play the lead role in the fall production of the farce A Flea in Her Ear. I was sure of her the minute I saw her. She just does it so well.

What is very special about this production, casting wise, is Yusef Bulos, who plays the grandfather, a pivotal figure in the play. For this one, I did not want to cast a student, because that would be stretching it, and I also wanted the students to have the chance to act with a professional actor, and learn from them. Yusef is outstanding. His broadway, off-broadway, and regional credits are nothing short of spectacular. He has acted and worked with the best in the industry. He is originally Palestinian and fluent in Arabic, and has been acting in New York since the 60s. I did not cast Yusef Bulos. I asked him to join us, and he so generously did. His presence in the rehearsals is a gift to the actors and to myself: to see him work with the words, ask the right questions, inspect the play, and perform is such a pleasure. His relationship to the students and the love between them, the real family feel, is indescribable. If a stranger walks in, they would never be able to tell that this is an established actor in the presence of students. One sees actors together having fun. I almost describe this as an outsider, but I do give myself some of the credit of creating this positive momentum.

JS: How does this production differ from other productions you've directed?

HT: It doesn't differ much on a technical level. All productions pretty much follow the same pattern: script, casting, rehearsals, design, tech rehearsals, dress rehearsals, opening night, run, closing night. What made this production different is the love between the people working on it, between the actors, and between myself and the actors, a feeling of spontaneity that is usually stalled in many productions in the professional world, where the stress of the industry (of the profession) makes the actors and directors relate to each other on a pretty rigid level, which was not the case with After, where no one is doing it as a job so to speak.

JS: Which was the most challenging aspect of this play for you to direct?

HT: Several things. The script changes that accompany a new play. The scheduling nightmares that come with a cast that is juggling their education, their jobs that pay for their education, and rehearsals. Artistically speaking, I guess the biggest challenge lay in understanding some of the material in a playable manner, in a manner that one could translate into exciting behavior on stage. Another thing, which didn't turn out to be much of a challenge actually because of how talented and committed the actors are, was to direct and require from the students certain artistic standards when in fact, in terms of training, they were not necessarily equipped for that. But again, it wasn't a challenge because once I set the level of specificity at which we will be working, the actors just got it. They just did and they flew.

JS: Are there any accommodations you have to make, given the layout of York College's theatre?

HT: The theater actually is a thrust, where there is audience on three sides of the stage, which is tricky when it comes to staging: because there is always some part of the audience that will not see this or that character. And the challenge is this: you don't want to be too concerned about placing the actors on stage for visibility's sake, because then you end up with an artificially staged play and frustrated actors who were not allowed to live in their movements. So achieving this balance of allowing the actors to stage themselves based on their instincts while making sure they are not misplaced on stage can be considered somehow a technical accommodation.

JS: Will the play travel?

HT: No. It won't, but I'm not sure about the life of After after this production. You know, sometimes you do plays and it just feels that they are a one-off gig so to speak. With this one, I feel it has a life thereafter. I can see the play being produced in other schools or interesting theaters who want to engage young audiences. It has that potential.

JS: How did you interpret your mandate to direct a play that deals with Middle Eastern/Muslim-American issues? What's your directorial vision?

HT: With a little bit of irony actually. You know, I left the Middle East because I wanted to do theater in the US. And it is always counter-intuitive, yet so intuitive at the same time, when I see myself (and when the industry sees me most of all) as a Middle Eastern artist, because at the end of the day, I am. The irony is that the family I come from is Lebanese Greek Orthodox, and here I am creating a play about Middle Eastern/Muslim issues. But then again, though the Middle East is the culture I come from, when you do theater, all of that doesn't really matter. Again it's context and not content. The content of a good play is always specific and universal, whatever setting it is placed in. I also take a lot of pride in being hired to direct a play that I am specifically equipped to direct. You can't write what you don't know, and the same thing goes for directing.

I never understood the word vision to be honest. It always seems general. Each play is different, and has a different world that one needs to create. It's really about the connection between the characters and the story that matters. As long as you stick to the essential of truth on stage, you are fine. Vision I think is a result that we see, but is not at all a process -oriented concept.

JS: In terms of set design, who or what will be your visual influences?

HT: The set designer, David T. Jones, created a vibrant one-set bookstore for the characters to live in. The process was simple: to create one set that is simple and efficiently accommodates the action of the play. There is a bookstore in Beirut, on Bliss Street, facing the American Unviersity of Beirut's main gate. It's an old bookstore that survived until recently. It basically had no customers, but it was there, in one of the highest real estate areas in Beirut, and it was blue, very blue. It was basically the bookstore that I kept imagining for the play. Eventually, we painted a lot of our bookstore with the same exact blue. It looks terrific. It's almost like a small homage.

JS: How do you anticipate the reaction to this play, given it content and that it will be staged on a university campus?

HT: York College is very progressive. There are no boundaries for what they produce on stage, no restrictions or taboos. The play deals with ethnicities, racial profiling, generational conflicts, sexual orientation, and family. It might be sensitive for some people, but the community will be very receptive. I guess the Q&A after the shows will tell us.

JS: What advice would you give a student who is considering becoming a theatre director?

HT: I think directing is one of those things that you can't advise for, simply because I believe it is something that comes to you as opposed to something you really aim to do. I understand when someone wants to be an actor or wants to be a writer, but a director? It just happens to you. So you really can't tell someone: "if you want to be a director, you have to do this and that." But then again, once you are a director, I think the best advice is this: Create the world of the play for the actors. Help them understand what they are doing with the words they have to say. And then step back and let them do it. They will do it better than you envisioned.

JS: What kind of experience will audiences have when they come to York College to see After?

HT: A very exciting one because the show is exciting! It is colorful, it has a beautiful repertoire of music, from punk rock to Fairuz, the legendaryLebanese singer. In fact, Fairuz is a huge part of this production. She is mentioned in the play, and the music I included creates the Arab world of the play. Not to mention the emotional impact of her music. The story is exciting because it is about young adults, acted by young adults. It is dangerous and insecure and raw and wonderfully acted. Because I think audiences will identify with the story, they'll enjoy it.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2832610 2013-03-07T19:12:03-05:00 2013-05-07T05:12:01-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/
It's a story about moving on from grief. Set in New York's Upper East side and lower Central Park West in February of 1970 (Good Lord, an analog clock radio!), the production shows how, in matters romantic, at least, the past continues to inform the present and, in this case, extends forward into the future.



It's funny and sad. Funny in the way that sudden and cataclysmic love (George with Jennie Malone - Trisha Miller) turns a reasonable albeit temporarily poleaxed widower into a jumping-up-and-down fool. It's sad in the ways that the remnants of a prior love threaten to subvert this sudden and cataclysmic love. It feels real, that is, it's not as black and white simple as: Wife dies, he meets another woman via his brother Leo (Tony Cicchetti), they fall in love or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof and, two weeks later, they get married. Oh, no - it's much more textured, nuanced, and painful than that. And that's why it rings so true.

The cast acquits itself well as four characters try to navigate unstable and/or disintegrating, relationships. Married or not, their emotional lives are in flux. They can be transitional (George - widower; Jennie - divorcee) or they can be, as with Leo and with Faye Medwick (Dana Pollak), Jennie's best friend, in Facebook terms, complicated.



Initially and strategically, Perloff plays his George at half speed. Devastated at the loss of his wife, he's listless and despondent. He's just come back from what presumably was a cathartic trip to Paris but which instead, because he revisits their old haunts, only fuels his loss. When he picks up steam - when he hits his stride with Jennie - the transformation is nothing short of miraculous.

Though she too is heartbroken at a no-more relationship, Miller's Jennie is kind and giving, should the opportunity present itself. She beams with credible and intrinsic goodness that shines through in her inflection and her eyes, goodness that makes you want her to find someone who will appreciate her. Someone like George. Their initial encounter (giddy) and the final scene (weathered but committed) are moving; they're soul mate material.



Cicchetti's Leo and Medwick's Faye nicely balance Perloff's George and Miller's Jennie. Both are inadvertently funny. Because Leo's a smooth-talking (and well-meaning) press agent, he can (and does) can rationalize anything. Faye's a soap opera actress whose own life is bubbly, to say the least Though they both face and deal with relationship problems in a kneejerk (and hilarious) manner, their issues are not as life-and-death as those that George and Jennie face. To Vest's credit, he keeps the distinction clear.

This sweet production affirms that love, at least its first flowering, is not, as poets declaim, a hermetically sealed, self sustaining climate. No, it's emotionally permeable with, for better or worse, what went before. As we see with George, you don't simply flip a switch and wipe the emotional slate clean. Accommodations must be made, messy accommodations. All of which make for good drama and happy endings.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2714158 2013-02-19T10:38:01-05:00 2013-04-21T05:12:02-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ Gotta Gittit Done, written by Glen "Frosty" Little, directed by Achille Zavatta for The Bixby Park Community Players, presents a threnody for the passing of the father of two nameless characters played by Otto Griebling and Bev Bergeron.

It's the story of a brother and sister who parade to the four neighborhood bars their just-deceased father, a colorful barfly, used to frequent. Their mission? To tell his chums about his passing. They don't speak a word throughout the production; their performances are one extended pantomime, gesture and movement, both conveyed with great emotive effect. As minimalist a production as can be, it consists of no sets, just two on-stage characters (and four off-stage voices), bathed in cigarette smoke haze, the murmur (and occasional ululation) of bar patrons, and low volume jukebox songs - Patsy Cline, Bobby Darin, Jim Reeves, Frankie Yankovic, Kyu Sakamoto - from the Sixties.



Because Gribeling and Bergeron don't speak, we don't know at first that their father had just died. Their body language, though, - slumped shoulders saddled with grief, seasick posture, raspy, sobbed out voices, and marbled, sleepless eyes -shows us they have suffered a loss. They face us for the duration of the performance, barely moving, as they listen to the disembodied voices of four different characters - Yuri Nikulin, Ernie Burch, Hilary Chaplain, and Michael Lane Trautman reveal a previously unknown aspect of their father. We are witness to the effect the news had on the bartenders. The change in voices signifies that the protagonists have moved on to another bar.

Each bartender (well, at least their voice) first expresses sorrow and surprise at the news. Then, like Chaucer's Canterbury pilgrims, they tell stories, happy, buoyant, and, perhaps, apocryphal stories. Stories of his days in the Pacific island-hopping as a World War Two Marine; of how he had appeared on the Tonight Show where, to a mortified host, Steve Allen, he extracted the venom from a rattlesnake; how he used to have waking dreams of Abraham Lincoln sitting next to him on a tree branch thanking him for the dignity with which his long-ago family had treated their slaves. They learned that he had conducted a one-man commando raid, with a station wagon full of guns, into the burning streets of Watts in the Mid-Sixties to extract the extended family of one of the bar's patrons. That he had, variously, in the bars they visited, delivered a child, performed three Heimlich maneuvers, performed CPR, thwarted four armed robberies, each time with a pool cue and an eight ball. That he had almost died of tuberculosis before his children were born and spent six months in the Veterans Hospital.



The stories flowed like Pabst Blue Ribbon from a tap. The four voices, gravely, mellifluous, chatty, and somber, each brimmed with obvious affection for this crazy sonofabitch who had spent hundreds of hours nursing his Jim Beam as well as the souls of his bar chums, regaling them with tales weird and wonderful. Four times we watch the two characters react to these revelations about their father: the lean-in to listen, the slow-forming smile like the morning sun coming up over the ocean, the clench and unclenching of hands. Though there was no intermission, we were as entranced by this barely moving ballet enacted up on the stage as we were by the voices coming from God-knows-where.

It was a lovely experience, incredibly touching. Most amazing, the dramatic arc was sustained entirely by the onstage character's reactions to the voices. That there was no set design and barely any lighting suggest that a great deal of effort went into both and the fact that it was so unnoticeable attests to the pitch-perfect vision of the enterprise that Zavatta conceived in his head and Griebling and Bergeron carried through for the duration of the performance. If that doesn't describe the pinnacle of live theatre - voice, gesture, and expression greater than the sum of its parts - then I don't know what does.

Performances are 8 p.m., Friday and Saturday, 2 p.m., Sunday. The production runs until March 31. Tickets are $4.50, the same price as a shot of Jim Beam at the Director's watering hole. The Theatre is located at 3400 E. Broadway. For more information, call (562) 438-4590.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2649072 2013-02-08T17:36:17-05:00 2013-04-10T05:12:01-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/


Set in 1953, the production examines the nature of marriage proposals, be they broken, severed, or disregarded. it's the story of what turns out to be the last time the Hines family convened at their resort in the Poconos. It's told by Clemma Diggins (Lisa Renee Pitts), the family's housekeeper, confidant, and North Star. From way off in the future she looks back to a crazy 24-hour span when all hell could have potentially burst loose. Burt Hines's (Barry Pearl) ex-wife Annie Robbins (Tracy Lore) arrives for a visit from France. Daughter Josie (Andrea Paquin) breaks off her engagement to Harvard law student Ken Norman (Andy Stokan). Ray Dolenza (Jeffrey Christopher Todd), Josie's one-time lover and possible soul mate, shows up with Sammii (Nicole Manly), who's nothing at all like Josie. Vinnie Bavassi (Jason Paul Evans), who glimpsed Josie for one enchanted moment in Florida, appears without notice at the front door. And, perhaps most significantly, Clemma's long gone husband Lewis Barnett (Timothy McCray) returns to try to rekindle their marriage.



Though it sounds soap operatic, the production is intimate and uncluttered. That's due to Nielsen's sure handed pacing, James W. Gruessing Jr.'s simple, efficient set, and Pitts's magisterial performance. We see that summer day through her eyes; and it's a soft, pastel day, made possible by her dulcet voice, beaming smile, and kind eyes. The love she felt for her adopted family parallels the soothing tone with which she tells the story. Clemma recounts the story to us. She takes us into her confidence, as if we accompany her on a long train trip.



The performances are grand. Nielsen elicits great chemistry between Pitts and Pearl, Pitts and McCray, and Pearl and Lore. And we love Clemma. She hits the middle notes of Clemma's personality with perfect pitch. Not despairing, not ebullient, but more like a fireplace giving off just-right heat and glow to the audience sitting around the hearth. It is a marvel (and a pleasure) to watch Pitts effortlessly run the gamut from comic resignation to heartfelt loss. Her character feels genuine, true to life, and three-dimensional, that is to say, she radiates warmth, generosity, and compassion. We easily invest an evening in her character's reminiscences about a long-ago summer and, as a result, the story carries us through with delight and surprise.



Pearl's Burt shines as a reformed albeit reluctant Type-A man, as he recovers from a second heart attack and the loss of his since remarried wife, who didn't appreciate his long hours. Like Pitts, he occupies an effective middle ground between funny (he's an inveterate eavesdropper) and poignant (after all these years, he still wears his heart on his sleeve for Annie).



The rest of the cast nicely supported the rest of this moving production. Paquin's Josie, confused and conflicted; McCray's Lewis, a gentle if flawed husband; Evans's hilarious Vinnie, a splashy master of the malapropism; Todd's Ray, Josie's one-nighter and possible soul mate; Stokan's Ken, scorned by Josie and sadly funny on the rebound; Lore's Annie, comfortable in her new life but still torn by feelings for Burt; and Sammii, Ray's unlikely date.

Because we identify with each and every one of the characters and their issues, we leave feeling as if we've known them for years. Having watched this well-acted, well-directed production, it's heartening to realize that anything - be it marital woes, splintered families, uncertain futures, and health issues - can be managed and healed by the maternal affection of a Clemma and, yes, eventually, the passage of Time.

Performances are 8pm, Friday and Saturday, 2pm, Sunday. The production runs until February 24. Tickets are $38. The Norris Theatre is located at 27570 Norris Center Drive, Rolling Hills Estates. For more information, call (310) 544-0403 or visit www.norriscenter.com]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2528200 2013-01-22T14:58:19-05:00 2013-03-24T05:12:02-04:00

James Scarborough http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-scarborough/ Larger than life.

On the plus side, the phrase characterizes the personalities of the two protagonists in Jamrack Holobom's "The Apotheosis of Herman Rodman Guidry," directed by Jackson Timbers for The Theatre at the Pike. On the negative side, it describes this unwieldy albeit hot and holy mess of a story that Holobom adapted from his 393-page novel of the same name.


Edna Purviance as Gladys Knudsen Grout

To its credit, the four-act production, which clocks in at a too-long three hours, captivates and entertains, as it shows the swath that the uncouth, uncultured, and petty Gladys Knudsen Grout (Edna Purviance) cuts, or tries to cut, through the lives of her docile husband, Floyd Otto Grout (Chester Conklin), her too-trusting-for-her-own-good daughter, Martine Jaeger Grout (Louise Fazenda), and her untamable son-in-law, Herman Rodman Guidry (Snub Pollard), with whom she engages in a memorable tug of war, at least from her end; Herman Rodman Guidry didn't know there was even a competition. (The characters refer to each other by their three-part names, like something out of Tolstoy.) All this sets up an astonishing ending: Gladys Knudsen Grout's unlikely and spectacular act of attrition to atone for her errant past.


Snub Pollard as Herman Rodman Guidry

The problem is, none of the novel's cinematic richness and complexity come across in the production, whose enactment seems better suited for a silver screen than a black box. Timbers, perhaps not the best choice to adapt his own own novel for the stage, seems too much in love with scenic minutiae and less concerned with the story's overall arc. The title is actually the name of a painting that Gladys Knudsen Grout commissioned upon the death of Herman Rodman Guidry, a death that chastened her and occasioned her miraculous epiphany.


Chester Conklin as Floyd Otto Grout

Present in the novel but not in the adaptation is the story's context that, were it somehow included or otherwise alluded to, would have structured what we saw on stage. The novel begins with a prologue in which femme fatale Mabel Normand, the niece of Joseph Schildkraut, "Apotheosis" artist, is in the Ambassador Bar, telling John Bunny, a boozy, lusty, and tweedy critic the story of the painting, which has caused a minor sensation after its inclusion in a much-ballyhooed "Naïve Art: Conceptual or Con?" exhibition at Los Angeles County Museum of Art. She contends that the plot elements constitute a love story, which doesn't sit well with John, who wants stylistic influences and iconographical explanations, not to mention a phone number and a better glimpse of Mabel's décolletage. Without the context the prologue which would have provided, the four scenes feel like four unconnected vignettes, each hilarious and extremely well-drawn, but which don't carry the story forward.


Louise Fazenda as Martine Jaeger Grout

Having said that, we were enthralled, first, by the casting. Three of the actors, Purviance, Conklin, and Pollard, have expressive faces. Even without uttering a word, lifting a hand, taking a step, they exude that ineffable quality of character. Withered, wistful, and satyr-like, it seems as if the actors had auditioned for a silent film, where facial expressions and physical gestures alone carry the story. And then, in exquisite equipoise to her mother, father, and husband, we have Fazenda's Martine Jaeger Grout, who looks like she just walked in off the street by mistake. Situated within that unholy triad of Purviance, Conklin, and Pollard, she's like Marilyn on "The Munsters."

Timbers couldn't have chosen two better actors than Purviance and Pollard for Gladys Knudsen Grout and Herman Rodman Guidry. Purviance plays her Gladys Knudsen Grout like a Barbie doll in a Thomas Kinkead painting. Purviance's lissome figure and sponge cake hair serve her well, making each space she inhabits feel like an empty lot after a circus has left town. Tousled and tattooed, Conklin plays his Herman Rodman Guidry like a card-counting blackjack player, knowing he's going win most hands and yet, Kipling-wise, treating both the winning and the losing as two sides of the same coin. Their many exchanges are the highlight of the evening, Gladys Knudsen Grout exasperated, Herman Rodman Guidry, divinely serene.

Another nice touch was scene designer Kenneth Harlan's interior of the Ambassador Bar that, to this reviewer, rings unusually true. Using digital projections, even for a brief moment at the very end, in place of real sets usually spells theatrical disaster. Here, though, we go back in time to see Herman Rodman Guidry, in his prime and surrounded by cronies and barbells, holding court at the Ambassador Bar. That human moment freezes and then -- how I have no clue -- the live cast dissolves into the painting project onto a hitherto invisible scrim and, a moment later, the curtain falls and the lights rise. It's our first glimpse of the painting which, by itself, was a fantastic work of art, like a family portrait done by Caravaggio. Ruddy, spider-veined faces happy and grinning, life pouring out of beaming, bloodshot eyes, it's like Harlan was looking at Goya's "Los Borrachos" when he conceived of the image.

Having said all this, it is a splendid production, the way the story shows both the capacity for spontaneous and joyous life as well as the potential for magical transformation that lies in everyone, even lemon-sucking, spindly prima donnas like Gladys Knudsen Grout.

Performances are 8 p.m., Friday and Saturday, 2 p.m., Sunday. The production runs until March 3. Tickets are $15. The Theatre is located at 71 South Pine Avenue. For more information, call (562) 437-8300.]]>