A Rainy Night in Artland

I've been uploading photos to flickr this week. For some behind the scenes images of the DICTATION performance please visit here. To hear the interview with Tim Bowring about the performance and exhibition please click here!

David Williams' short video of DICTATION

Ay yi yi. October is finally over - in seven minutes. Maybe NOW, during November there will be time to breath freely and take in the season? (please?) The Harryman and I have a number of events on our calendar but nothing could compare to the frenetic pace of October. If "True Richmond Stories" were published in 2008 instead of 2007 how would it describe the past month? An ode to my bronchial crud? A few notes dedicated to the Folk Festival?... but that is all for naught. November is here. The David Williams video above documents our performance of DICTATION @ Plant Zero this past Friday.

Most everyone you see in the video braved awful pouring rain and wretched traffic to be there - I suppose there could be a few people who were already at Plant Zero when it started raining cats and dogs... but most of the rest of us would have been home otherwise! Of course... THE SHOW MUST GO ON (!) and it did. David Williams was especially wonderful to get out in the weather and shoot and edit the DICTATION video for us. David is most known for his films "Thirteen" and "Lillian." I was fortunate to work with him for several years during the making of "Long Art." Guest artists include two of the Richmond Art cheerleaders: Kendra Wadsworth and Rebecca Goldberg Oliver.



The DVD monitor at Plant Zero will also feature the Praxis Trailer (the other video depicted here) which I put together earlier this year. I hope I'll be able to go in and re edit the credits since they are practically unreadable in the smaller format. I can understand why so many artists and painters go into film and videography... if your media/technology works it is kinda fun.

Henry IV, part I

I love Agecroft Hall and have been anticipating an evening of Shakespeare on its grounds all week. It's not The Globe but one can count on a ringside seat at The Richmond Shakespeare Company's productions. "Henry IV" was no exception, though it was standing room only. At The Globe, during Shakespeare's day, the groundlings stood or sat on the ground and they might boo or throw cherry pits on stage if they were displeased with a production. The Groundlings stand Globe as in Shakespeare's day and with their payoff being a more affordable ticket price. I dodged cherry pits during a production of The Tempest at The Globe during the summer of 1999 and wish we had been able to see the TRSF version which ran from mid June through the first week of July (during much kinder weather).

Agecroft Hall, one of Richmond's greatest treasures, offers theatre audiences the opportunity to picnic in its Elizabethan Gardens prior to enjoying a plein air production of Shakespeare. It is a delectable treat since the gardens surround a romantic Tudor Estate that was created in England more than 500 years ago. It was moved and painstakingly reconstructed in Windsor Farms by Thomas C. Williams during the late 20's and is currently run by non-profit foundation and is open to the public.

Scents of herbs and the ancient boxwoods from Agecroft's gardens waft over the crowd while the cicada and crickets add a sultry tone to this TRSF's version o Henry IV. Exciting moments of this Sopranos(ish) play were abundant but we particularly enjoyed the breezy wake cast by characters running from one another. How can a family feud in 100 degree heat with the sounds of summer as a soundtrack? Humor! The cast's ability to maintain their energy and enthusiasm in the heat wearing period costume was impressive but I couldn't help but wonder if it would have been more fun for them if they were dressed in the street clothes of today, weather appropriate, of course; as the thespians of Shakespeare's day. Maybe it wouldn't be as much fun? I know one thing - if they were Shakespeare's peers they'd be drinking pints of ale in the heat since potable water was much harder to come by. I hope to see Part II of "Henry IV" next summer since it was a very lively- if sticky evening.

summer survival skills

New Orleans Cold Drip Coffee

(a variation of a recently published recipe in the NYT based on time and experience drinking gallons of cold drip coffee in NOLA, Paris and Richmond )

The ingredients listed here are based on my first cup of authentic cold drip coffee purchased at PJ's in uptown NOLA in `84. This concoction will result in eight cups of coffee concentrate:

1 pound dark roast coffee and chicory, medium ground
10 cups cold water
Ice (coffee ice cubes are even better!)
French Vanilla Extract
Organic milk or Half and Half

1. Put coffee in a glass or nonreactive container, (stainless-steel). Add 2 cups water, stirring gently to wet the grounds, then slowly add remaining 8 cups water. Cover and let steep at room temperature for 12 hours. (a link for purchasing a chicory coffee or a toddy kit is posted below)

2. Strain coffee concentrate through a medium sieve, then again through a fine-mesh sieve.

3. To make iced coffee, fill a glass with ice, add ¼ cup coffee concentrate, 1/4 filtered water and 1/4 to 1/2 cup milk, a 1/2 tsp of french vanilla extract, then stir or shake.

Concentrate will keep in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.

Note: Coffee with chicory or a Coffee Toddy Kit may be ordered through French Market or Blue Bottle.

When the heat is raging and the humidity even worse it will get you through a dog day afternoon. Of course there is no health substitute for drinking plenty of cool filtered water but the rewards of such good behavior surely merit a dip in salt water followed by a New Orleans style iced coffee chaser.

a now a moment for a word from our sponsor

I am not a God fearing gal though I think there should certainly be more Godliness in the world. We're wired for it, right? That's what they say though I don't know what side of the propaganda fence is being paid for that research... Anyway... regardless of how busy we are we've always taken time out to celebrate the wonder of spring and the rebirth it signals in all of us. It is a sacred time for us if there is one. Harry and I walked across The Fan to Monument Ave to pay our respects to the season, drink wine (too much, too early!) and honor this time in our lives.

Most everyone was dressed in winter garb and several asked Harry "Who are you supposed to be?" He always wears his seersucker for Easter, regardless of the weather and the undying tradition people have of never wearing linen or seersucker before Memorial Day. The birds like it. I like it. The rest of the world, with few exceptions, looked like they were going camping. I told my husband he should have answered "Oh, I'm supposed to be Harry Kollatz, Jr."

It was a splendid afternoon. The only thing that could have made it better would have been the presence of my mother, who has used up her time card for Virginia this season... and the presence of our beloved friends the Cusacks who were transferred to Massachusettes more than a year ago... where everyone must wear goose down until the summer thaw.

We miss them. Liz, I smoked a cuban cigarillo in your honor this afternoon!

Spring at last

This time last year I was waiting for spring to raise its sleepy head and it was taking its sweet laissez fare time. Really, spring doesn't do its thing until late April in Paris. The French Film Festival was about to happen at home and I knew my daffodils, crocus and weeping pussy willow would be bursting with glory... and it was still very much like February in Paris. As much as I adore this great city February made me homesick.

This year spring is literaly at my doorstep and every day I make time to plant something. Its difficult since everything else seems to happen in March. Deadlines make me dizzy this time of year and I've become as rebellious as I can afford to be... ok, maybe more rebellious than I can afford to be but that's the price of being 40 something. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do or else ya may never get the chance to.

Since I haven't had time to post photos of the spring here I've posted some rebirthish images from Chelsea and MOMA. Spring is where you can find it sometimes and it sure wasn't on the sidewalks when we were in NYC last weekend.

The blue-green painting to the right is by Joan Snyder. I wish I had asked for a title sheet so I could post it but I was distracted by the fact that she was in the gallery that morning and she was very beautiful and chatting up a young art history major. I asked her to sign her catalogue and then asked her if I could take a photo of her in front of one of her paintings. She said I was pushing it but she agreed to pose for me. I guess she empathized since if there is one thing she taught other women artists how to do is push it.

Between the East and West Side I found Currier and Ives

Sunday afternoon I left Harry and our bags at the NYC Historical Society where he spent time with NYC Divided - a timeline of the city during the civil war. It reminded me of Gangs of NY with real artifacts. We had several shows to see before our departure at 4:30 so I made my way across Central Park and found it to be even more enchanting than I expected. The roads had been cleared and were closed to automobiles so my journey was much easier than I assumed it would be. There were bagpipes, saxophones, joggers, strollers, dogs wearing designer galoshes and horse and buggies... it even had a soundtrack!

I tore myself away from all that to see the Lorna Simpson and Gordon Matta-Clark exhibitions at the Whitney. I encountered NO LINES! This was a first. I quess Whitney Lovers don't like snow. There proved to be nothing new for me in either of these shows since work by these two artists has been reproduced endlessly and both are well known. A few pieces stood out because they don't translate accurately photographically... particularly Simpson's photo silkscreens on flannel panel. I love those things. They have a quality that reminds me of the new tapestries Chuck Close is doing - though more subtle.

All in all it was a perfect afternoon made even richer when I dashed BACK across the park and came across a group of bagpipers from Quebec. (I am assuming this was their point of origin since French was being spoken.) Harry and I left the Historical Society and walked downtown to the ICP to see a collection of Louise Brooks photos (Harry's a Brooksian fanatic) and Cartier Bresson's scrapbooks. There was a wonderful video interview with Bresson I would have loved to have stayed for... maybe I'll find it on Netflix. Years ago I would dream of running into Bresson on the rue Rivoli and I was staying on rue de l'Hotel de Ville. Too late for that now.

We had an easy walk to Penn Station from there but barely managed seats on our bus at 33rd and Seventh. A lovely woman gave up her seat so we could sit together and that proved to be a real blessing. Sharing our dinner across length of the bus would have been true theatre. BTW, the Gyro place across the street from the bus stop is excellent!

Who do, voo doo, you do

So many things to write about this morning... perhaps coffee will crank my engine. It is rainy with occassional thunder breaking the quiet. Timing has been everything this week. It's been cold, grey and wet since we woke on Friday to Miro's bellowing.

I spent most of the day dreading the inevitable reality of listening to the infamous Dr. John perform outside in the cold rain at the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden. I don't blame the Dr. - who observed we all had more heart than brains... I blame the greedy promoter and the naive staff at the LGB garden for putting together such a thoughtless arrangment on an October evening. Yes, the folk festival is next weekend and yes it might rain but the folk festival is free and there will be tents. This event was not cheap, our tickets were purchaced more than a month ago and there was no tent. I'll never purchace tickets in advance again for an event to be performed there. It was simply lame. Putting together a music program isn't rocket science.

The ONLY reason I could justify staying the length of the show is that regardless of how miserable we were I knew it was nothing compared to what the artists and residents of New Orleans endured post Katrina. I tried not to whimper, but once again, I blame it on the management for their greed and unwillingness to address their responsibilities. C'est la vie.

The Who do link here will take you to an interesting artist blog I've been following. If you are interested in the questions artists ask other artists you'll enjoy it.
After visiting the Dr. last night, we saw some solid art and heard people still buzzing about the Jerry Saltz lecture from this past Wednesday. Mr. Saltz was just what the doctor ordered...
and more. He was a real ham... but the good kind.

Can you tell me who's in charge here? I thought you were. Can YOU tell me who's in charge here? Yes, I can.

He reminded us that its hard to make a difference from the center so you make wherever you are the center... the words of Dave Hickey - who should be a southerner if he isn't. That was certainly always my protocal growing up... particularly at university. It's much harder now... not impossible... just harder. The art world really doesn't care about anything other than gazing at its own navel so it doesn't matter if better things are happening elsewhere else as long as the belly of the beast is being fed. Yes, I agree with Saltz... the artworld is the wikipedia of places to have a career... much less make art.