Performing Arts

Mike is a globe-trotting father who leaves his daughter at home as he travels the world to explore the the social networks of the third world. Mike works for startup Xubu, and his job is to understand how these networks can be brought online, so the Xubu can somehow profit. While Mike travels, his daughter Sam can only connect to him through video chat. And Sam’s nanny, Deb, explores her new city, Minneapolis, and documents it through a video blog.

Photo by Eamon Lochte-Phelps

Mike and Sam initially have trouble having a real relationship through video chat, but eventually make a go of it. The technology doesn’t matter as much as the time they put into it. Mike realizes he needs to be proactive and not use the chat as a crutch, but rather put actual non-work time into the relationship with his daughter. It is interesting that the adults are the ones who seem to have the most trouble connecting via video. Yet Sam, who is only 11, becomes more than acclimated to seeing her father only through video. When he finally is going to be home, Sam is indifferent.

Meanwhile, J.V., Mike’s boss, becomes increasingly frustrated with Mike as he focuses less and less on his work for Xubu and more and more on his daughter. Mike is realizing that Xubu isn’t going to solve the world’s problems and J.V. isn’t happy to see Mike’s decreased enthusiasm.

The show’s attempts to ground itself to the visiting city were interesting, but verging on over the top. The main foil for this is Deb, who’s vlog journals her explorations of Minneapolis. Her jokes about the different flavors of Lutherans or the history of the river came off a bit forced, trying too hard to connect to the local audience. On the other hand, when Deb retells a visit to an ethnic grocery, it was more relevant to the main story line. I got the sense that it might actually be telling the audience something they hadn’t already heard. Again, when J.V. is talking with his friends via video chat, he mentions Sarah Palin’s appearance on SNL last week, touch of timely presence that helps to place the show and add a chuckle.

The show dazzles with technical proficiency. The set features a spectacular array of folding and un-folding screens, of all different sizes and locations. It is is a spectacle that works, being entirely relevant to the meaning of the show. When the screens first fold open, there is an initial “woah” factor, but after a while they almost become actors in themselves.

I am a fan of art that doesn’t beat around the bush with it’s intentions and message. When a work is direct and has a clear call to action, I am in love. But I also expect there to be a subtle and deeper weave of meaning behind the initial message. Continuous City certainly meets my criteria for being clear about it’s intentions, to an extent that is perhaps too much for someone who appreciates bluntness. It leaves no allusions about the paradox of an always connected wired world. We can use our connectedness for good or for bad. We should use it as a tool, but not a crutch. Virtual presence shouldn’t suffice for the real thing.

The plot executed this well, but there was an opportunity to explore the complexities of this a bit more. J.V. felt under-developed as a character. We got glimpses of his personal life and of his far flung friends, but delving into his personal life even more might have worked better to serve as a counterpoint or secondary plot-line to the main father-daughter plot.

Again, the father-daughter plot was so much more compelling, it left Xubu itself feeling a unintegrated. It served mainly as a tool to facilitate the father and J.V.’s interactions, and to try to connect the to the larger world. We caught glimpses of the Continuous City the title alludes to, but they were fleeting and interrupted.

Despite the flaws, I still appreciated the power of the work. Few artists come close to not only revealing, but reveling in the social implications of technology in our world. To work with it as fluidly as The Builders Association does is a feat to behold.

The Builders Association's Continuous City

Generally when I’m not at my desk in the Marketing Department of the Walker, I’m somewhere making theater with children. This week, however, worlds have collided. New York-based theater company The Builders Association has been hard at work rehearsing their latest creation Continuous City in the McGuire Theater and I’ve been at the side of Caroline O’Neill, the youngest performer in the show as her acting coach. Between scenes I took the opportunity to ask this charismatic young person a few questions about the multimedia show that recently premiered at the Krannert Center for the Performing Arts on the University of Illinois campus.

Here’s what she had to say:

What is your name?

Caroline O’Neill

How old are you?

Nine.

Who is the character you play?

Sam. Short for Samantha.

What is Continuous City about?

Connecting to people you love . . .if you’re in one place you might feel like your family’s really far apart, but you have this wonderful technology to connect you.

Is the technology enough to help Sam connect with her dad when he is far away from her?

Well, I think the connection between them can’t be completely gone.  If we didn’t have these wonderful electronics we wouldn’t be able to communicate at all when we’re far away.

How does Sam feel when she’s on her own?

In the first part she’s a little sad, then as the show goes on her mood goes up.

What changes?

She actually has someone with her.  [Deb, her nanny]

How do you act sad?

I think about my grandpa who died when I was little.

What was the process of working on a new play like?

It started last spring. Then we took a long break. Then we came back together and did all different things. The script changed completely.

How did you handle that?

Marianne. [The director, Marianne Weems]  She’s a very good person. She’s helped me through the rough parts and easy parts.

What makes this play unique?

The screens. There are about 1,000 of them.

Can you describe what happens with the screens to give someone who hasn’t seen the play an idea of what they’re like?

They are very, very, very active. There are many, they open and close a lot.  They show little films that the live actors are talking to.

Though they don’t actually number a thousand (there are thirty), the screens that Caroline talks about certainly fill the McGuire. The images that project on them bring faces from around the world into the show for a few moments at a time. You could even become one of them. The Builder’s Association created a fictional, international networking site called Xubu for Continuous City. People from around the world are invited to visit the website and post a recording that could be integrated into a performance.

The Fourth Annual Sage Awards went off without a hitch. Co-presented by the Minnesota Sage Awards and the Walker Art Center, the ceremony was held in the McGuire Theater and emceed by Donald LaCourse of Ethnic Dance Theater fame with opening remarks by the lovely Caroline Palmer. We were introduced to this year’s panel and given an overview of their process. Apparently, this year’s panel didn’t agree easily on anything, establishing a record for the longest final deliberation meeting–7 hours. This season held a variety of award-worthy candidates. Since the focus of this article is on the Sage Awards itself, I will bid you to go to the website sageawards.org to find out details on the winners. A special congratulations to all the nominees and winners.

I enjoyed the straight-ahead, no-nonsense ceremony: the live music, the brief performances, the to-the-point remarks from both the award presenters and awardees. Last year, I went to the Bessies in New York at the Joyce Theater. While Justin Bond and Taylor Mac (the emcees) were hilarious and “over-the-top” in the best way, the whole event lasted 2 ½ hours and I left stiff and sore from too much sitting. The Sages clocked in at a smooth hour and half. As I floated around the after-party in the Skyline Room, catching glimpses of the celebrants, I decided to ask my colleagues “what did you think of the Sages this year? And what do you think of the Sages in general?” In fact, I’ve been asking these questions to my colleagues since I was on the panel last year. I would love to take a moment to share my findings.

This dance community is comprised of a variety of artists, critics and philanthropists with a range of opinions. So it comes as no surprise that the Sages, as an event itself, is a hot topic of debate. Some love the opportunity to mingle with the community, to catch up with old friends, no matter the situation. Others like to watch their comrades get tipsy. Some love the Sage Awards because they like to see their colleagues acknowledged publicly, and in the case of Mad King Thomas, use it as a platform to shout out to their mentors. Others will not give it the time of day because it is too small potatoes, not east/west coast enough, not a real red carpet affair. They’d rather rehearse or have family time, even if they are nominated for an award. Some blow it off because they think it’s Stuart Pimsler’s pet project or because they think it’s “insidery.”

I found that some of my colleagues felt a little deflated by this year’s event, saying it was too dry and lacking of the personal charm of past Sage events. It turns out that some felt a little lost in the McGuire Theater and at the after-party. They couldn’t find “their people” and felt alone. Even though I don’t like the Skyline Room, I enjoyed having space during the after-party, unlike the crowded Ritz lobby last year. Space as you know, heightens our kinesthetic senses and makes us feel like moving!!! What could be better? I could scan the room and see the animated conversations. I could float like the social butterfly that I truly am and not commit to any one group. I could secretly check out people’s outfits. (Yes, the Sages is an opportunity to pull out and don your outrageous garb.) Of note was Suzanne Costello’s golden evening dress. Wow. As far as the overall environment is concerned, some wanted the Sages to be more raucous, more cabaret-like, more sweaty and sexy. It turns out that some were highly annoyed by the fact that they had to wait in line all night for a cocktail. Some want free drinks and food (like last year). Others don’t want to have to pay for a community event, especially if they are nominated for an award. They question not only the economics, but whether the Sage’s is really a community event.

The McKnight Foundation provides the money for this event. Stuart Pimsler Dance Theater organizes the affair and decides how to spend the money. They give it to the panelists, the administrators, the entertainment (the performers at the ceremony), and the visual artists who make the actual, physical awards. It covers the costs of publicity, the ceremony and party essentials like space rental, flowers and food. In fact, it seems that everyone involved in the Sage Awards gets paid except the awardees. I’d love to see this change. I say, why not give the winners a little something too? (The Bessie Awards includes a $1000 stipend for “Best Performance”.) An honorarium of $100 would be significant, even in today’s economic climate. Some might argue that money would make the Awards more competitive. I say, they already are–especially when nominees are announced in advance, which is meant to draw the candidates and the curious to the event. Also, let’s go back to the free food and drinks. I know this generates more administrative work, but the money that was given to Wolfgang Puck at the Walker could be allocated to an individual to organize volunteers and donations.

And what about the ticket price of the event? Let’s face it, some of us really have to pick and choose what we do with our money from week to week. We just don’t have the cash flow of 9-5’ers. I know of two nominees who mentioned that they did not want to pay the $12 ticket price for the event. In fact, one nominee, who is financially challenged at the moment, attended at the last minute only because her friend bought her a ticket. Paying $12 for a ticket and then $16 for two drinks means that this event is a $28 expense. What about a pay-as-you-can Sage Award Ceremony? That would alleviate the financial pressure for the financially strained, providing a fluid structure that supports the entire community. With the involvement of volunteers, then we really have a community event, because the shaping of the event is accessible to all. Still, some will get paid for their work and some won’t. But, if you want to be a part of the event, then you can be. If you don’t want to be, then you either pay for your ticket, or stay home.

I just want to say that I support the Sage Awards–and the controversy that surrounds it.
I want these conversations to continue, and I want to encourage people to give voice to their criticisms as well as their salutations, congratulations and compliments. As Suzanne Costello said so eloquently and passionately at the ceremony (and I paraphrase badly here), “let’s hold up a mirror to what we see going on around us.” I want to ride the wave of her invitation and invite you to do the same. I think the Sage Awards has the power to reflect the strength and courage of the consortium of artists in our midst. Go forth, speak, make art and continue make and break the rules; and i will see you next year and the Sages.

I saw Eiko & Koma perform many years ago in Studio 6A in the Hennepin Center for the Arts. I don’t recall the title of the piece but I remember water all over the stage and the sound of dampness lapping against marley. Their intensely slow and slothlike movement quality was like nothing I’d ever experienced. The Minnesota Dance Alliance at the time had been working with corporate sponsors on audience development so there were some folks from American Express in the crowd that night. I’d imagine this was like nothing they’d ever seen, either. The post-show Q & A began with silence because we didn’t have words to talk about this; we were all dumbfounded by the intimacy and sorrow of the piece. Finally, one of the men from AmEx who spoke with a southern drawl raised his hand and asked good-naturedly “How do y’all stay so darn thin?” I felt mortified; I cringed at his question because of its apparent lack of depth and clumsiness but now, some seventeen years later, I realize this was his way into the work and now think of his question as somehow charming. I’m still finding my own ways into work, often clumsily.

With that said, I arrived late and didn’t have a chance to read the program before it started. I had some inkling of what it would be like from seeing them before.

The musician started playing with mallets that muted the sound in an odd way that I couldn’t quite identify. I instantly tried to define what that was and found myself distracted by the mallets, held sort of sideways in his hands, as if they were eyes looking around the theater out at the audience. The whole instrument became a creature and the musician receded. I decided that the sound had a swallowed quality that was resonating along the sides of my upper teeth. It wasn’t an entirely comfortable sensation and left me unsettled.

I spent the next several minutes trying to breathe and settle into the slowness of Eiko & Koma hanging upside down against a metal wall. The wall looked fixed and solid and reminded me of the walls of the McGuire theater and how surprised I was to discover that they were not soft felt but instead hard metal. I wondered how they could stand the cold against their bare skin. I was struck by Eiko’s inverted torso and how it slowly morphed into a large upside-down face, the crease in her belly resembling an open mouth. Again, her torso became a creature that was exploring the audience, challenging our gaze, much like the instrument had a few minutes earlier. It wasn’t until Koma’s feet slid down the wall a bit more rapidly than before that I realized the wall was not solid, but a fluid chain metal suspended fence that was miked and was creating a live soundscore. This was revelatory to me.

Koma glides as he walks like noone I’ve ever seen. He shifts his weight almost imperceptibly in his shuffle and somehow suddenly transports across the space without me noticing, almost as if he melted his way there. Yet he also moves solidly, as if he’s made of dense clay that sculpts its way into space. Conversely, Eiko can suspend a gesture in a way that makes time stop but also twitches and jerks like one of those spiders you don’t know is a jumper until you reach for it. Her legs at the beginning when she was hanging upside down reminded me of chicken bones abandoned on a paper plate at a picnic, all hollow and angular. She masterfully and readily accesses this almost cartoonish quality of movement and when she holds her mouth open and dares you to look it is at once harrowing and mesmerizing.

Was the bag of rice (I thought it was flour) a bed? Deathbed? Dinner table? It looked like a giant crushed saltine cracker.

There was such a stark difference between the older duo and the very young performers (perhaps younger versions of Eiko & Koma?). I thought about how poverty and hunger are inherited and also of culture clashes between generations. The hues and textures of the younger performers’ skin tones and costume pieces were rich and saturated while Eiko & Koma were dressed in greyish rags and they’d muted and dusted their skin with powder or flour. I was startled by the young woman’s ability to manipulate her wrist joints; they almost appeared broken as she held them up in the air, giving her movements a jilting and haunted peculiarity. I thought about the gender roles in this piece and tried to translate that into music. I felt that both men’s roles and movements provided a round, soft thrumming undercurrent or drone for the movement score while the women’s performances brought forth chords and ornamentations. Both roles were integral and essential and complemented the other.

When they began eating the rice I thought of my grandmother and how she used to make me bowls of rice mixed with warm milk, cinnamon and nutmeg when I was little. Comfort food. They seamlessly transitioned from hungering for food into hungering for sex. Both felt primal and desperate and universally familiar. I also thought of prostitution and what we are willing to do for sustenance. There was a gorgeous moment where Eiko & Koma’s faces were buried in the rice. I swear I didn’t see them move, but the next time I blinked Koma’s mouth was buried in Eiko’s neck, with Eiko’s mouth on Koma’s forehead. Again, comfort food and intensely familiar. This was perhaps the most beautiful moment of the piece for me. Later, a ghostlike open-mouthed Eiko would settle upstage against the chain link fence with her arms detached from her shoulder joints floating above her head, her left breast pressed into the surface. Later her foot and wide-spreading toes would remind me of fiddlehead ferns, unfurling and reaching.

I wanted to know what lyrics the musician was singing and how it related to the movement and set. His voice was rich and sincere. I asked him after the show and he told me that the last section was improvised (which sounded the most mournful to me). At the end, the young duo painted black streaks on big pieces of canvas that were drawn up and suspended in front of the chain fence. The paintings were full of sharp geometry (like Eiko’s legs in the beginning) that resembled swooping birds or beaks. Or hunger pangs. The softer swirls at the bottom of the canvas looked more like seaweed. The sound of their paintbrushes swatting against the chain link fence echoed the raspy call of the waterbirds heard throughout the piece.

Now I’m off to read the program. And maybe eat something. Thanks for reading.

Suppose they gave a war and nobody came? Why then the war would come to you!

-Bertolt Brecht, 1898-1956

Bertolt Brecht

Bertolt Brecht was a poet, playwright and political agitator. Hanns Eisler was a one-time soldier, communist and composer who frequently collaborated with Brecht.

David Gordon is a contemporary choreographer, writer and director who chose Brecht and Eisler’s musical theater script Roundheads and Pinheads as an inspiration for Uncivil Wars: Moving with Brecht and Eisler, a performance piece created with his company David Gordon Pick Up Performance Co(S.) to be presented at the Walker in March. And local performers are invited to audition to be part of it. . .
AUDITION NOTICE

WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 15TH 4:00pm-6:15pm BARKER #300

AND

THURSDAY OCTOBER 16TH 7:00pm-10:00pm BARKER #100

(If you attend the first, you may also be asked to attend the second)

THREE WEEK WORKSHOP W/DAVID GORDON CULMINATING IN PERFORMANCES OF UNCIVL WARS: MOVING W/BRECHT & EISLER W/NYC-BASED PICK UP PERFORMANCE CO @ WALKER ART CENTER

*AUDITIONERS MUST BE ABLE AND WILLING TO BEND, TURN, MOVE BACKWARD, FORWARD, TALK, SING, HUM.YOU MAY BE ASKED TO DO TWO ORMORE OF THESE AT ONCE.

#1) WEEK OF JAN 12, 09: MOVEMENT & TEXT/INVENTING GAMES BASED ON BERTOLT BRECHT THEATER WRITING W/DAVID GORDON

#2) WEEK OF MAR 2, 09: REHEARSE W/PICK UP PERFORMANCE CO, COMMUNITY ARTISTS & DAVID GORDON FOR UNCIVIL WARS

#3) WEEK OF MAR 9, 09: REHEARSE W/PICK UP PERFORMANCE CO, COMMUNITY ARTISTS & DAVID GORDON FOR THREE PERFORMANCES OF UNCIVIL WARS MAR 12, 13, 14 @ WALKER ART CENTER

U of MN students successfully completing the audition will be required to register for COLA (Collaborative Arts) 3950 for 3 credits

Non-student participants are invited to audition and participate as volunteers; Continuing Education credit may be available.

**Uncivil Wars: Moving W/Brecht & Eisler based on Bertolt Brecht’s Roundheads and Pointheads (as translated by Michael Feingold) w/music by Hanns Eisler directed/choreographed/edited by David Gordon

***The land of Yahoo has a large deficit & an overproduction of corn so the leader convinces half the citizens (Roundheads) that the other half (Pointheads) are illegal aliens taking jobs away & for the economic good of the country Roundheads must wage war against Pointheads.

The Barbara Barker Center for Dance is located at 500 21st Avenue S on the West Bank of the University of Minnesota Campus.

Questions may be directed to Pick Up Performance Company: pickupperformance@earthlink.net

The Magnetic Fields are one of my all time favorite bands. They are an intersection of many loves of my life. I have a certain fondness of the eclectic mix of instruments the band makes music with. Also, the people who play those instruments have a special place in my heart. It’s no secret that I have a big, fat artistic crush on front man Stephin Merritt (I just think we’d get each other, he owns a chihuahua named after Irving Berlin and plays the ukulele). And the special guests are particularly distinguished as well.(On an occasion, an accordion player Daniel Handler, a.k.a. Lemony Snicket, sits in with the band.)

Stephin Merritt

But mostly, it’s the way the band makes melodies that somehow manage to be poppy and catchy but also epic at the same time.Merritt’s lyrics are unparalleled in my opinion. He’s been inspired by the saccharine sounds of his favorite band, Abba.The songs he writes have an emotional momentum similar to what I hear in Abba, but the fantastic images he paints in song are layered with more irony and his voice is a deep, rich, sardonic counterpoint to Abba’s style. Listen to Papa was a Rodeo on volume II of 69 Love Songs for a prime example of his work.

There’s no perfect analogy in the material world, but I imagine that the songs are like what candy would be like if it was sugary but also nutritious and eating it made you think about all the ways love had let you down.

And guess what? Even though the show’s tomorrow, it’s not too late to get tickets. And I say do it now because Stephin Merritt is a reluctant rock star, he’s a little shy and dislikes applause. So the band doesn’t tour nearly as often as I wish they would. You can catch the show at the State Theater, in case you need more incentive, the opening act is a slide show presented by The Forewords.

For tickets, call the Walker Box Office at 612.375.7600 or check the Walker Calendar.