No Resolutions Here! (Well, Maybe A Few)

I’m not one for resolutions – or at least not of the New Year’s variety. If I did, I would probably confess during my third glass of champagne some kind of regret for not posting to this blog more frequently, but I'm going to try not to go there. I write when I feel like it, dammit, and I roped in some help so that I wouldn't have to do it all by myself. I know that you have all enjoyed the fantastic entries by Mighty Toy Cannon in particular, as I have. (Happy New Year to you, MTC!)

And while I do intend to give myself more allowance to post less pithy topics (read: sharing some regurgitated Internet humor, perhaps?) from time to time in 2009 (that's NOT a resolution, do you hear?), I do want to share just a few of my hopes and wishes for the next 365 days.

• That most (if not all) of our arts organizations survive. Conventional wisdom says that in serious economic downturns like this, charitable contributions go up even while consumer spending (e.g, ticket sales) tanks. That’s why the next 6 months are going to be incredibly tough for arts groups: while donors have rallied around their favorite arts organization with year-end giving, the attention turns this spring to subscription renewals and early ticket sales for the 2009-10 season. Only those arts organizations that are anticipating shortfalls, and cutting their budgets accordingly, will be able to mount the seasons they have promised us. Organizations with chronic cash flow problems are in serious doo-doo.

• That President Obama lives up to expectations. On one hand, you gotta think that things can only improve when Barak takes office, but we all know that the economy is going to get worse before it gets better. I might find myself a little disappointed when the man fails to steer the economy the way of Yes-We-Can, but as long as he and his trusty advisors communicate with us about what they’re trying to do, and how we all can help, maybe the public will stay with him until the economy’s natural rebounding powers start kicking in. Then there are those little wars to deal with.

• That Sam Adams lives up to expectations. I have been guilty of leading Sam’s cheerleading squad because of his strong commitment to increasing arts funding, but I also recognize that he’s taken several positions that I completely disagree with (like the Headquarters Hotel, as Art Scatter discussed earlier this month.) If Sam can continue to grow and learn from his mistakes, I think he’ll be an excellent mayor, and we’re going to need an excellent mayor to finally pass a dedicated funding source for arts and culture in the region. So I’m counting on him.

• That bad service goes the way of the dinosaur. I have been really upset to have seen some of my favorite friendly neighborhood joints go out of business, while a few restaurants and retailers continue to offer substandard service and a holier-than-thou attitude. Sure, I don’t have to patronize these establishments (and I don’t), but hopefully the rest of Portland (and all of our visitors) can soon be spared from all the incompetence and impoliteness.

• That the Blazers make the playoffs. It’s looking good so far, but anything can happen as any sports fan knows. I’ll even be bold and wish them past the first round series!

• That the MAX green line opens on time and under budget. When the yellow line starts riding the green line tracks into town (travelling up 5th and 6th Avenues, rather than 1st), it will reduce 5 whole minutes from my public transit commute time! Plus I'm excited to see the sleek new trains. And less selfishly, I hope that it’s under budget and over-utilized because we need to be building many more of these trains and streetcars in the next decade if we’re going to cement our status a center for sustainability. (Sorry for all that unintended alliteration.)

• That communities begin to come together rather than growing more isolated. The economic crisis has only exacerbated our trend away from each other. Sure, technology has played a role in some of our increased isolation, but it has been furthermore observed that in an environment of fear, like we're experiencing now, humans react by hunkering down – while other species instinctually gather in groups. I don’t know if more “social grouping” is going to be the cause or the effect of our improved economy, but I’d like to think there is some power in the former.

Now having just typed this out, I suppose it's not appropriate to sit around with passive, idle wishes, so I just may resolve after all to take what actions I can to affect some of the changes I’m hoping for. For example: attending more arts events in 2009! It’s not easy (nor inexpensive) to attend several events per week, but to save the economy and ensure world peace, I will try and do the best that I can. Is there a support group for that?

Obligatory Christmas Letter

Happy holidays dear Culture Shock readers. Like most Portlanders, I've been slowed by the snow and now the slush. I've spent quite a bit of time out in the weather this week, rather than sitting by a toasty fire with a warm laptop atop my lap, lapping up nogs and grogs and topping up the blog posts.

A few times this past week, I ventured out to accompany the Dog Walkerer on her holiday rounds to visit dogs and kitties. We slip-slided through Portland streets to provide food and comfort to lonely animals. Like TriMet, UPS and nonprofit performing arts companies, the sloppy weather has given Portland's burgeoning pet-care industry a sleighful of challenges: from clients adjusting work and travel plans from moment to moment to the issues of mobility and access. The interweb petsitters network has been abuzz with horror stories, cries for mutual assistance, and friendly tips.

I've also been out walking our own hound for hours on end. Seems he needs to find just the right spot to "do his business" (as my grandmother would have politely said), and the snow has covered up all the familiar signals. I managed to stay upright, not falling ass over tea kettle, though I came close a few times. Snug in bed on Christmas Eve, it wasn't visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, but the strange sensation that my body was still slewing, as if I'd been on a boat for days.

Before all this holiday business got going in earnest, I started a post titled, "Robot Report!" that had nothing to do with arts and life in Portland. I lost track of what little point I may have originally had (probably none). Instead, I'll repurpose a few of the items from that post with some fabricated context:

(1) Christmas Toys: Imagine upwrapping a present from under the tree and finding these delightful wind-up toys. Both are vintage French automatons (the first is an unrestored leopard).






(2) Harold Pinter Tribute: In honor of the late, great playwright, here's a machine by artist Michael Kontopolous that captures all the tension and silent pauses of Mr. Pinter's finest works:

Moving Portlandia?

Although she's nestled perfectly into the pedestal of The Portland Building, I was surprised that our beloved Portlandia didn't make an appearance on The Amazing Race finale a couple weeks ago. After an hour-long cab ride from the Bridge of the Gods, taxi drivers appeared discombobulated with all of the downtown transit mall construction, and when competitors were finally dropped off at the Portland Building, they were instructed to find a 3-foot dinosaur in the lobby of The Standard Building across the street. (Huh? Can someone please explain the significance? It would have been much cooler if they had to find their next clue in the temporary art installation in the lobby.)

Peek-a-boo: Portlandia, you're on national TV but we can't see you...

But throughout this entire downtown Portland adventure -- maybe 60 seconds of content outside of the building -- there was not so much as a hint of our copper goddess. Maybe there were copyright issues in filming the Statue of Liberty's little sister. Or maybe the camera angles were deemed unworkable, and the trees legitimately obstructed her visage. But it all served as a reminder that ever since she was positioned just above the treetops on 5th Avenue, several folks have been working diligently to re-site Portlandia someplace where she'd be much more visible. And now Ron Paul thinks he has the perfect location: the Public Market that's now targeting the West end of the Morrison Bridge.

Here's the entire concept that popped up on www.portlandpublicmarket.com yesterday:

Picture two graceful pavilions nestled into the arcs of the cloverleaf ramps, connected by a market hall under the bridge; the design will allow for a large number of permanent vendor stalls as well as seasonal day tables. Our private development partner, Melvin Mark Development Company, proposes constructing an iconic high rise that will create the Market's front door on SW Second Avenue. The ground floor arcade, filled with fresh food and flowers, will beckon guests toward a covered pedestrian bridge crossing the MAX tracks and leading to a grand entrance between the two pavilions. We'll even have a place for Portlandia where she'll be visible from all sides, reaching toward the river.

I was having trouble picturing all of this too, so I was glad they included a preliminary design -- one of several, I'm told. If you look real closely you can indeed see Portlandia perched on the lower pedestal of the building that splits the street in two.

As many of you know, it's been a long process for Ron Paul and the Market supporters, as many coveted sites over the past few years have fallen through. First there was the opportunity at the fire station near Saturday Market, but when the fire department decided to actually stay in that building, organizers turned their sights on the Federal Building at 511 NW Broadway. This was the site of a long-fought battle between the Market and PNCA, with the art school ultimately receiving the prized building from the feds earlier this year.

In honor of Portland's own native son and late culinary master, the market -- if it ever gets built -- will be officially named for James Beard, which is an appropriate tribute for a project that dreams of upstaging Portland's living room and becoming Portland's kitchen. It certainly is a grand vision but I'm going to take a little while to digest it before offering my opinions.

Arctic Storm Blast: Countdown #1

Don't worry, I'm not really planning to start a song series to count down the chill days of winter. After all, there's no telling how long Arctic Blast 2008 is going to last. Will it turn into Arctic Blast 2009? Will Christmas be cancelled due to lack of mobility?

Here's "White Winter Hymnal" from Fleet Foxes to warm the cockles of your heart on this slip sliding day.

Art to Come

Figure 1: Let's look into our crystal ball, shall we?

Figure 2: The Crystal Ballroom, site of the Portland Jazz Orchestra's upcoming “Intricate Rhythms," one of 102 projects receiving funding for 2009.

While our friends at Art Scatter were shaking the money tree last Wednesday, the RACC Board was quietly approving record sums of grant funding for artistic projects in 2009. Now that artists and organizations have had time to receive their award letters (and rejections), I'm giddy to help announce the winners.

Actually, let me just link you to the full description of all projects that have received awards for the year ahead. This is one story that actually gets a fair amount of attention each year, as the media and bloggers have fun picking out the projects they are most excited to see. What's your favorite?

Two themes are especially noteworthy here, in my opinion. First, how many of these project grants would you guess are going to the "same old" groups vs. first-time winners? Would you believe 50-50? It's true.

Secondly, this is the most money ever awarded by RACC for project grants, and while the recipient artists and organizations have plenty to cheer about, I suspect it will trigger a few critical remarks from folks who think this a frivolous investment amidst serious economic woes. You'll notice that the press release was written to counter any such sentiment, but we as an arts community must be sure to respond swiftly and intelligently to any Letter to the Editor or other public document that ridicules these investments or calls for arts funding cuts. It's time to gear up for the spring budget cycle, and we have much work to do to maintain arts funding locally as well as renewing statewide arts funding, including the Oregon Cultural Trust, for the next biennium as well.

To arms!

The Nose Knows

Friday evening, I dashed through bone-chilling rain to catch the bus to the eastside, cursing my lack of an umbrella and the inadequate supply of awnings to keep my head dry. Portland crows about its brilliance for urban planning and design, but lacks the civility to mandate awnings on downtown buildings? Mr. Mayor, an awning tax, if you please!

I was in a rush to commence a cocktail engagement badly needed after an overfull week and a drear day. My destination was the Victory Bar on SE Division and 37th. Are you now, or have you ever been a radical? If so, you’ll note that the Victory Bar is located in the spot once occupied by Laughing Horse Bookstore, the collective where you filled out your Chomsky collection. The leftist outpost has been transformed into a cozy, neighborhood bar with tasty nibbles and potations. ¡Viva la revolucion!

While a hot toddy would have been a warm comfort, I chose the Victory Martini, served in a chilled glass that brimmed with a lovely gin and a touch of cucumber-infused vermouth. It was the perfect complement for a plate of fried hush puppies with homemade ketchup. My tablemates went for the baked spaetzle – an upgraded mac ‘n cheese, with gruyere replacing the classic cheese food.

The Victory was just what the doctor ordered and the happy hour pricing was a nice bonus for these economic times. However, our prime objective was to catch up with Angela Sanders, a friend and grant writing colleague who we don’t see often enough. Angela is an engaging conversationalist with an eye for vintage clothes, a taste for classic cocktails, a talent for tarot, and an uncanny knack for bringing together fascinating dinner guests. She also has a mutt named Tex.

Angela can craft persuasive grant proposals, but that’s the least of her writing talents. Over our second round of drinks (this time I chose the "Monkey Gland"), she gave us an update on her in-progress mystery novel that promises intrigue, plot twists and Portland locations from Mary's Club to the safety deposit box vault at U.S. Bank. We also chatted about Angela's endeavors as a blogging “perfumista.” For the past few years, Angela has been applying her vast knowledge and love of fine fragrances to regular posts on Now Smell This -- one of the scores of websites dedicated to the art of the perfumer. Besides having a great name, Now Smell This enjoys a devoted following and Angela is one of its star writers. Her posts, which include both perfume reviews and general commentary, invariably engender a string of chatty and complimentary comments to which she dutifully responds. (Yes, I’m jealous).

Reading about perfume absent a sample to hold under your nose may seem pointless -- like pouring over a cookbook without breaking out the saute pan, or reading about a wine your pocketbook will never afford. But a skilled writer can engage your senses and delight your mind enough to overcome such deficits. Angela does that with writing that is passionate about its subject while being packed with delightful similes and smart, not-so-fusty prose. A good place to start is by reading one of my favorite posts on Now Smell This, in which Angela discusses the meaning of perfume.

And here are a few randomly selected, yet marvelous excerpts from some of Angela’s reviews:

“Wearing most of these Patous is like pinning on an old rhinestone brooch or carrying an alligator clutch from the 1930s. They don’t smell like anything made today.”

“Balenciaga Rumba’s flowers appear then disappear then gently reappear amidst the churchy wood, as if they’re blowing in from a night garden ... I imagine a Cuban bar with an outdoor seating area and a palm reader in the corner ready to tell you your fate while you sip your second El Floridita. Meanwhile, the music inside is loud, and a deadly handsome man is watching you (here insert Sean Connery circa 1964).”

“I also loved Normandie, which smells to me like a cedar chest with an armagnac-soaked prune in it.”

“Amber Ylang Ylang is as close to a pale gold cashmere sweater as you can get in smell. It's a simple cardigan with a jewel neck and small, mother of pearl buttons, and it hugs the body. It's silkily warm, well made, and goes with just about anything in the closet.”

“Imagine that you're standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Behind you is an acre planted thickly with pink roses. It's the end of an August day, and the sun is setting in tones of apricot fading to purple as it bleeds into the sky. Now add a full orchestra and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing The Beatles' 'All You Need is Love'. What you get is grand, passionate, lush, and faintly cartoonish. In other words, you get Guerlain Nahéma."

"Charlie smells like two-dollar sauvignon blanc served in a bruised glass lightly filmed with dishwasher detergent … In truth, to me Charlie smells just like hangovers from cheap mixed drinks served at the disco at the Holiday Inn on the outskirts of a depressed logging town. It smells like divorce, ratty polyester crepe de chine the color of Lucky Charms marshmallows, and an old Chevy Nova with transmission trouble. It smells like food stamps and Jimmy Carter on the television set. It smells like this plus June bugs raining down on the Kmart parking lot in August, all through the eyes — and also apparently the nose — of a little girl.”

“Lady Stetson ... is a lush, easy, drinkable brew — a sort of Snapple in a perfume bottle or what I imagine a supermarket viognier would taste like if it were packaged in cans like beer.”

“Prince Matchabelli Sexiest Musk is sexy like Revlon Cherries in the Snow lipstick and a cheap, baby blue push-up bra are sexy. Sexiest Musk is a powerful, sweet, straight-on, ambery musk with a subtle undercurrent of lavender, the kind that beats up Serge Lutens Clair de Musc in the schoolyard then goes to smoke cigarettes by the flag pole. There's nothing complex about Sexiest Musk. It's boy mechanic and New Jersey girl musk, frills-free and available at your local drugstore for less than the cost of a subscription to True Romance.”

“Rumeur opens with a sparkling floral burst that hints at a happy, gardenia-like scent. This fresh beginning quickly flattens into a dull, dry, vaguely rose, jasmine, and lily of the valley heart that feels fuzzy and high-pitched to me. Imagine standing in a stuffy storage room and looking at a dusty, plastic bouquet on a shelf a little too high to reach. You stand on your tiptoes and grab at the bouquet, but after a few minutes of fruitless struggle you give up and decide to open a window for fresh air to ward off a migraine. That's how the middle of Rumeur feels to me. And Rumeur goes on and on — through twelve hours, washing a sink full of dishes by hand, and a bath.”

“[Arpège] feels deep and elegant and wants to drag me out on rainy nights to see sopranos singing Schumann, followed by champagne and candlelight and polished mahogany tables.”

Comparing Amouage Jubilation 25 with Rochas Femme: “Its sheerness is one of the things that, in my mind, differentiates it from Femme. If Femme is a rumpled peach satin teddy, worn a day already, then 25 is a pale mousseline slip.”

More Christmas Cheer

Following Mighty Toy Cannon's review of A Christmas Carol, there was some chatter surrounding Holidazed at Artist's Rep. I for one have missed too many good shows this year -- shows that came and went before I got around to buying tickets (Dead Funny and The Receptionist come to mind), so I am pleased to report that I have just purchased my seats for the December 18 performance at A.R.T. and I invite Culture Shock readers to do the same.

If you've been tracking Art Spark, the monthly networking social opportunity for artists, then you know it falls on the third Thursday of each month, which just happens to be December 18, and this month's installment just happens to be taking place at ART. In a double feature for the 6@6 presentation, Cynthia Kirk will be reminding folks about the tax credit offered by the Oregon Cultural Trust, and Marc Acito will be on hand to deliver a few comments about his play. Guests are encouraged to stay for Holidazed at 7:30.

So December 18th offers a fantastic evening two-fer: come mingle with artists over a cocktail, and then see a funny play. But here's the catch: while the Art Spark reception is open to all, there are only 9 single tickets remaining for the play. I've put them all on hold. To buy yours -- complete with a 20% discount -- call the ART box office at 503-241-9807, extension 101. Ask for one (or two) of the tickets that are being held under the name Art Spark. (Hey, that would be a good new pseudonym!) No use trying the ART website -- it shows the show as completely sold out.

See you there?

Oregon loses an artist, curator and friend

Yesterday, we met tragic news on our morning blog tour. Barry Johnson at Art Scatter posted a rushed announcement that curator and photographer Terry Toedtemeier had died in Hood River, following a lecture and book signing for his recently released opus, Wild Beauty: Photographs of the Columbia River Gorge, 1867–1957. Last night, D.K. Row posted a lovely obituary at OregonLive, with a shorter article running in this morning's Oregonian. (The online version is worth a visit because it has a more heartfelt, personal voice).

Others will have much more to say about Mr. Toedtemeier in the coming days, and will say it more eloquently than I ever can. I met Terry just once, several years ago, when I conferred with John Laursen and him about grant writing and funding prospects for the book project that became “Wild Beauty.” The pair conveyed vision and infectious enthusiasm for the project, as well as a genuine, warm collegiality. As we talked, Terry pulled out beautiful prints from a portfolio case to give a hint of how magnificent the publication would be. My plate was overflowing at the time and I was unable to help them out beyond that initial conversation. They certainly didn’t need my help, but I regret not having the opportunity to get to know them better.

“Wild Beauty” is indeed a crowning achievement for a career and life distinguished by both artistry and scholarship. But it was only the first of what was to be the Northwest Photography Series, a project that Terry and John envisioned as an ongoing collection of finely designed and crafted photography books with a regional focus. While they were planning and raising funds for "Wild Beauty," they were already thinking excitedly about the next books in the series, including one based on a fascinating collection of photographs of Portland's Romany (aka "gypsy") community before it was pushed out of downtown. I'm saddened to think that Terry's passing may mean that we won't see the fruit of all that creative planning.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about Terry Toedtemeier in the context of contemporary dance, not photography. Since seeing Oslund+Company/Dance perform a few weeks ago, I’ve made several false starts on a blog post about choreographer Mary Oslund, a dear friend and an artist I greatly admire. I’ve long been curious about the mysterious (to me) process through which Mary creates abstract dance from source material that is often quite representative, including books, films and photographs. I’ve written many grants for Mary, acting as a translator converting her singular artistic voice into more standard proposal language (while trying to not water it into mush). In so doing, I gain early insight into how she's thinking about her creative work, often starting with an enigmatic working title alone. However, I admit that Mary's creative process is still a deep mystery to me.

Several years ago, Mary created Kinder Weather, describing it as a work inspired by her study of photographs of basalt formations shot by Terry, her colleague, friend and supporter. I've seen it performed at least twice, and it is a wonderful piece. However, I've never quite spotted a clear connection between photos of basalt columns and the precise, abstract movement on stage--if the thread is there, it's thin and subtle. Last night I checked to see if I might have a DVD of Kinder Weather to watch for the link again. (Many grant applications require video work samples, so I end up with a few extras lying around). Unfortunately, I could not find a reference copy and still can't answer that question.

My inability to connect the dots from Mary's source material to the final dance doesn't matter in the end—let the creative muse remain veiled. I can appreciate the dances without needing to understand them. In the case of Kinder Weather, the one thing I will assume is that part of what inspired Mary was her abiding respect for Terry Toedtemeier as a fellow artist and a dear friend. I know that there are other friends and colleagues who feel the same and who are grieving today.

UPDATES:

The Portland Art Museum, where Terry served as curator of photography, has posted remembrance. And the visual arts blog site PORT has posted a story here.

Federal Bail-Outs! The National Endowment for the Arts takes action.

Not a bail out of the arts by any stretch, but the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) recently announced its latest round of grants, including awards for seven Portland-based organizations (see below). Many on the list are accustomed to receiving NEA support, having achieved the vaunted status of “institution.” (Though none of those should take the award for granted). For the smaller, scrappier folks, such as Miracle Theatre and NW Professional Dance Project, receiving an NEA grant is an especially noteworthy accomplishment.

A few years ago, the NEA converted to an online application system, replacing an old-fashioned paper process which inevitably entailed a hurried sprint from Kinkos to FedEx to meet the deadline. The modern age has not made the task easier; while a necessary step into modernity, the online grant process is still a daunting, bureaucratic obstacle course. Much of it has been outsourced to create the illusion that government has shrunk by shifting tasks previously handled by civil servants to corporate cronies. Conservatives argue that government agencies are run by bumbling bureacratics bent on blocking hardworking (real) Americans from freedom. Their theory is that outsourcing jobs to the private sector will allow the invisible hand to streamline everything. I hate to break it to them, but the federal grant application process is now even more confusing, largely thanks to the fact that many entities, both private and public, have a piece of the action.

The first step in applying for an NEA grant is to register with Dun & Bradstreet to secure a DUNS (Data Universal Numbering System) number. Registration is free for the organization, but undoubtedly costs taxpayers a little fee for Mister Dun and Mister Bradstreet. Your next stop is to register with the Central Contract Registrar (CCR), an organization which “collects, validates, stores and disseminates data in support of agency acquisition missions.” What do Halliburton and a local dance company have in common? They both have to get a DUNS number and register with CCR if they want to get federal money.

Registering with CCR will get you a Trading Partner Identification Number (TPIN) -- write it down before you forget! With your TPIN in hand, you can drop over to Operational Research Consultants (ORC), a “credential service provider,” where you will create yet another username and password.

Congratulations, you can now register with grants.gov, the central portal for most government grants. Don't start on that proposal yet! First you need to register your organization’s Authorized Organizational Representative (AOR)--that's the person who can submit proposals on your behalf.

Hold on there partner! Before an AOR can act, your E-Biz Point of Contact (POC) will have to log on to authorize the AOR. I forget how to designate who is the POC -- maybe back there with CCR or ORC. By the way, you haven't even started the grant application yet.

My point is that it takes both fortitude and smarts just to get your proposal to the NEA in the first place, let alone have it stand out when examined by the panel of your peers. While your project description and work samples are important, it sure helps if the panelists are already familiar with you. Since the NEA no longer sends panelists on site visits to see your work and to meet the artists, that DVD you sent better be in focus.

I'm not trying to trash the NEA, which I wholeheartedly support. I just want to cite a few of the reasons why securing NEA funding is tough for any organization, especially those that are small or young. Frankly, the money from the NEA is helpful, but it's not a huge amount; the Regional Arts and Culture Council gives operating support grants that outstrip the recent NEA awards to Portland groups. However, the recognition bestowed by the NEA certainly has prestige value and can leverage other contributions. (By the way, I remember hearing Kristy Edmunds nobly declare that the newly formed PICA wasn't going to accept government grant funding -- how long did that last?)

With that tiresome preamble, let me extend my hearty congratulations to Portland’s latest winners of the NEA lottery:

Miracle Theatre Company ($15,000): To support a production of The Shrunken Head of Pancho Villa, written by Chicano theater pioneer Luis Valdez. First performed in 1964, the play represents a watershed moment in the development of Chicano identity in the United States.

Northwest Professional Dance Project ($10,000): To support the creation and presentation of three new dance works from choreographers Sarah Slipper, James Canfield, and Thaddeus Davis. The works will premiere at the Portland Center for the Performing Arts.

Oregon Ballet Theatre ($10,000): To support the commissioning and performance of a new work by choreographer James Kudelka. The work will be performed at the Newmark Theatre in Portland, Oregon, and a variety of outreach activities will surround the project.

Portland Center Stage ($15,000): To support the 11th annual JAW (Just Add Water): Playwrights Festival. Artistic Director Chris Coleman and Associate Artistic Director Rose Riordan will lead the festival, supporting playwrights in the development of new works to enhance the repertoire of the American theater.

Portland Institute for Contemporary Art ($20,000): To support the Time Based Art Festival and related educational activities. The 10-day festival will feature local, national, and international artists working in dance, theater, music, visual art, film, and multidisciplinary forms.

Portland Opera ($12,500): To support the Portland Opera Studio Artists (POSA) and the POSA Chamber Opera. The training program provides education and performance opportunities for young artists, while the chamber ensemble provides audiences access to more intimate chamber operas.

White Bird ($20,000): To support the presentation of dance companies in the White Bird Uncaged series. The project will include master classes and lecture-demonstrations.

Piss Off

A couple months ago we were talking here about the relevance of newspapers and the shift to online content. Since that conversation I have come to realize how little I turn to The Portland Tribune anymore, even though they "publish" an online daily. Well, there's something I just hate about the online version, and it's the same thing I dislike about most online news sites: no matter how hard I try, I can't help but get sucked in and summarily pissed off by the "comments" section of any given article.

I recognize this is a strange sentiment for a blogger such as myself (however infrequent) to express -- on his blog of all places. As authors on the interweb, our egos rely upon feedback from readers (how else are we to know that you're out there?), and when a young blog like ours hits 5 comments or more we feel like we've hit the motherload of topics. (Not that we want to fall into the trap of posting topics for the sole purpose of accumulating responses.)

But here's the thing. The comments posted on Culture Shock, like most blogs I read, are wonderfully constructive and genuinely collaborative in nature. Blog commentators (commentors?) tend to lend unique insights to the topic at hand, ask wonderful follow-up questions, and can move a blogger's "article" into a wonderful conversation. On news sites like the Tribune, however, the comment section is invariably saturated with poorly crafted rhetorical statements against whatever the author has just written about. For the Trib, which tends to write more about the goings-on at City Hall than even The Oregonian, the online version tends to go something like this:

Tribune: City Commissioners enact ______________.

42 Comments: City Commissioners are stupid tax-and-spend liberals. I'm so glad I live in ________ instead of Portland.

At first these comments can be enjoyed for the humor and irony they provide, and there is one person in particular who has the unique ability to turn the focus of any article on any subject (for example: the mental health care crisis) into a diatribe against public art. Over time, however, these relentless commentaries become tiresome enough so as to discourage me from visiting what would otherwise be a decent reporting of City Hall activities. For me it's become like watching Fox news -- you can only laugh it off until you realize that these people are serious.

For this reason alone, I haven't turned to www.portlandtribune.com for several weeks, but today I was looking for something else and stumbled upon another perfect example. One of today's articles is about Randy Leonard's new loo, with some well-quoted humorous banter (albeit still slightly awkward) back and forth between he and Mayor-Elect Sam Adams, who had the honor of the first flush. Anyway. Plenty of opportunity to have intelligent conversation about whether or not the City of Portland should be investing $100-$140K per public toilet, and to speculate whether they'll be maintained satisfactorily -- right? But soon enough the comments devolve into the same old refrain.

Sam Adams has just spent the equivalent of an Intel executive's base salary on a public urinal. What does he care? It's not his money.

and

You have got to love this! Portland City Hall is a laugh a day. Now I see why the citizens of Portland keep electing jokers, they are too funny! First Portland goes Green, now it's GO Brown! As an added benefit Portland can fill the pot holes in the roads with the sludge.

Then someone says they kinda like the loos, and so now THEY become the target.

By the way there Dale, what do you do? 1. A bobblehead city hall staffer, 2. a teacher, giving little skulls of mush a better way, 3. An "local artist," 4. A rich snobby lawyer are my guess's. [all sic]

Kinda funny, right? And yet not really, as it reveals the frightening thought process of people around us, and reminds us how easy it is to insult people when you cannot think of a more intelligent way to disagree with them. And as I'm reading these comments, I'm thinking to myself, "wait for it..." and sure enough:

Did this loo come equipped with some public art? That could be a follow-up story.

Alright. I'm just going to tackle that one head on, and give you the follow-up story right now: No, the loo did not come with public art. As if that were the stupidest idea ever. I wish there were public art associated with these toilets -- 2% of $140K would give us $2,800 to work with, which is a decent amount for starters. Let me show you some toilet-inspired works of art to get your creative juices flowing.







(This last photo was a temporary installation that appeared in the Portland Building in 2001, "Inheritance VII" by Heidi Fletcher. Click here for the artist's statement.)

And with that, I hope that some will comment on the pros and cons of the "comment" button, and/or the practicality of public art associated with public restrooms. Of course we welcome (and even seek out) comments from those who disagree, because Culture Shock readers and other blogging practitioners know how to disagree intelligently.

Monday Bagpipe Report #2

Four weeks ago, I posted a short report on the SE Portland unicycling bagpiper (or bagpiping unicycler). This afternoon, my wife phoned with an update, reporting that the fellow had just unicycled by dressed in a Santa Claus outfit and playing Christmas carols. I'm sure sorry I missed it.

I lieu of videographic evidence, here's footage of some remarkable unicycle trickery by a guy named Dan Heaton. Of the scores of unicycling videos on the interwebs, I chose this one for its connections to the region and to culture: (1) Mr. Heaton was featured in a recent Columbia Sportswear commercial; and (2) the footage, shot in Seattle, includes locations with public art. I'm not sure whether an act such as this should be classified as a stunt or performance art, though comparisons with Crutch Master Bill Shannon, who was a hit at PICA's TBA Festival a few years ago, seem apt.

God Bless Us Every One!

The Toy Cannon household went a-wassailing with Portland Center Stage for the opening of “A Christmas Carol” on Friday night.

I’ve long been a defender of this holiday chestnut. I’m a sucker for the story, from the original novella to oddball stage and screen permutations. And, I'm a fan of wide-ranging intrepretations of its central character, Scrooge, from Mr. Magoo to Henry Winkler. (You may chuckle about the latter, but I remember Mr. Winkler being quite convincing in the depression-era version, “An American Christmas Carol,” that ABC aired as a holiday special in 1979).

The opening paragraph of the Dickens novella strikes me a particularly modern in its metacommentary:

Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail. Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Many theater snobs (and I can be one) scoff at “A Christmas Carol” the same way balletomanes bemoan the annual NutcrackerFest, as if using these sacred cash cows to tow the cart of commerce is a transgression against Art. Granted, production crews have cause to complain; the ideal Victoriana version demands scenery on turntables, falling snow, billowing fog, giant puppets, flying ghosts and street scenes crowded with yuletide carolers in four-part harmony. In other words, “A Christmas Carol” can be a son-of-a-bitch to pull off.

Yes, the plot is a simplistic morality tale with hoary characters and a predictable arc of redemption with which we are all familiar. But damn, it can be tearfully joyous when Scrooge gets that second chance and--SPOILER ALERT--Tiny Tim lives. In tumultuous days of foreclosures, lay-offs and bail-outs, what better time to be reminded about the values of generosity, charity and human connectedness?

Portland Center Stage’s current version, now in its second season, uses an engaging adaptation by the estimable Mead Hunter (the Doyen of Dramaturgy). Wesley Mann in the role of Scrooge hits the sweet spot of portraying the cantankerous coot with enough humanity that the audience can root for him as he is blessed with the gift of awareness by his visiting haints.

On opening night, the audience favorite seemed to be Julianna Jaffe playing the Ghost of Christmas Present. She was flown in, perched on a tinseled wreath, singing carols with gusto, good humor and a campiness that was incongruent with the staging and tone that preceded her arrival but was a good goof nonetheless.

The costumes were predictably impressive, and the complicated set unfolded and swiveled on cue, while scenic elements dropped in, popped up and flew out to move the play through the many scenes of Scrooge’s spirit-guided journey. I’m sure it was a nightmare for the technical staff, but if you’re going to do a full-blown version of “A Christmas Carol,” pull out all the stops and make the kiddies’ jaws drop. To top it all off, they threw in a little snowfall during the curtain call.

My big quibble with the PCS production on opening night was the horrible sound quality. Miking actors seems to have become standard practice for musical theater no matter the size of the house (this production has plenty of caroling to contend with). But why do adult actors in a 600-seat modern theater need to be miked when speaking? And if you’re going to mike them, please do it right. The sound balances were off, lines faded in an out of amplification as actors turned their heads or came into proximity with other microphones, and the opening tunes were marred by grating sibilance. Marley's ghost was amplified and echo-chambered to give it a spooky, ghostly quality. Nice effect initially, but I presume one reason for casting Ted Roisum in the role is his booming, resonant voice. Unfortunately, the echo effect obscured that voice and buried some of the most poetic lines in the play:

I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you? Or would you know the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself?

This is a minor quibble, but it threw me into a Scrooge-like mood that took some time to dissipate before I could fully enjoy the show. Somehow it made the production feel small despite the money invested on stage--perhaps because amplification creates distance whereas the actual human voice draws one closer.

But never mind all that, there are endorsements that matter more than this writer's opinions. Bruce Livingstone, founder and director of Playwrite Inc, brought a group of young participants from that program to see the play. At the post-show reception, he reported that one of the youngsters gave this succinct review:

"That was better than television!"

Indeed it was, though I still think the Henry Winkler version is worth renting.

White Bird Uncaged: Skinner|Kirk + Bielemeier

I don’t know how to write about dance. I wish I could, but I suffer from a few handicaps.

First, my short-term memory seems to be atrophying. Coupled with the ephemeral quality of dance, that means I can't remember much of what I’ve just witnessed on stage, unless the work was so stunning, intriguing or bad that it was seared into my brain. By the time I’m in the car and starting to think about ice cream, most dance performances have already begun to fade.

Second, although I’ve seen a lot of dance, I lack the depth of experience and knowledge upon which a real dance critic draws to put a performance into context. I have a limited pool upon which to compare and contrast what I’ve just seen, and certainly no book-learning on the subject.

Third, my powers of description are as weak as a cup of coffee that is brown but not dark brown like strong coffee would be. I would be an unhelpful crime witness ("I dunno, he was a guy with a knife ... or maybe a gun?"), or wine critic ("Mmm ... tastes winey ... or is it wine-ish?").

Finally, I was raised with the adage, “If what you say behind someone’s back is unlikely to stay there, better to not say it at all.” The Portland arts community is small, convivial and full of hard-working, well-meaning people, so it’s uncomfortable for me to be critical out loud. (And don't think for a minute that Mighty Toy Cannon is a shielding alias--anyone who wants to know who I am can drop me a note).

With that caveat, the following is my take on the Skinner/Kirk + Bielemeier performance presented by White Bird on Wednesday night (continuing through this weekend).

For the next two years, White Bird has been exiled from PSU’s Lincoln Hall while the building is renovated. White Bird opted to take the smaller and edgier of its two subscription series on the road under the sobriquet, White Bird Uncaged. The dance presenters are bringing the four companies in the series to diverse locations – from Oaks Park to a YMCA gym. Regrettably, we missed the first in this year’s series in November – Kidd Pivot at Kaul Auditorium at Reed.

For this second outing of Uncaged, White Bird has adapted the black box of the Portland Opera Studio into an effective, intimate dance venue with approximately 200 seats. No doubt the Opera has the venue tied up for most of the year, but it would be fun to see more dance in that space. The dance floor is surrounded by seats on risers, creating a theater-in-the-round with good sight lines for everyone. Ticketing is general admission with a section of seats reserved for subscribers (which made me feel so special). In choosing where to sit, consider how much you like the frisson of almost getting kicked in the head – in the front row, you’ll be that close to the action. Here's a shot of what you might see if you sit up front:

The lighting design by Peter West, and the light installation by Hap Tivey are arresting: Shafts of light penetrate the space like a … um… like a Jedi light saber … or, how about… piercing beams of light trace filigree patterns while limning the illusion of solidity in a diaphanous ether. (whew). A gentle touch of “theatrical haze” gave the light effects dimensionality – an appropriate use of a stage trick that usually wearies me. (Note: Theatrical fog should be reserved for performances that are: (1) set in London, or (2) involve pirates or headless horsemen).

The first piece, Here and There, Now and Then, choreographed by Eric Skinner, was pleasant enough, though not much of it stuck with me. The dancing lacked the precision needed, and was marred by a few awkward lifts and mid-stage collisions. (More accurately, the problem wasn’t the lifting as much as the putting down). This may reflect first-night jitters or inadequate rehearsal time, so subsequent performances may be smoother. The piece featured a nice duet movement between Eric Skinner and Zachary Carroll. As it commenced, I braced myself for the banal four-step trajectory that typifies many male dance duets, e.g.:

Step One: Swaggering and strutting. "I'm the cock of the walk!"

Step Two: Wary circling. "You lookin' at me?"

Step Three: Wrasslin’ and tusslin’. "I'm gonna kick your ass!"

Step Four (traditional): Bemoaning the fallen enemy. "What have I become!"

Step Four (alternative): Falling into a homoerotic embrace. "Let's get a room."

Skinner’s choreography surprised me by not going in that direction, and was much more interesting as a result (though two days later I can't recall any details, so sorry about that). I liked the women's costumes: simple black frocks with a little ruffle of colored petticoat peeking out (see picture above).

The advance press on the show reported that Daniel Kirk would be absent, called away to tend to a serious family illness in California. Fortunately, he was able to return to Portland and perform last night. As the stagehand rigged the ropes in the darkened space before Semita, my warning system shrieked: “Aerial Dance Ahead!” Fortunately, rather than flying around in loopy-de-loop circles and other standard aerial vocabulary, Kirk used the trapeze as a simple sling from which he was suspended as the lights came up. Slowly, he uncurled from a Half-Pietà to a Full-Crucifix Extension. Some stigmata and a thorny crown would have enhanced the effect.


Kirk’s dance partner, Elizabeth Burden, slinked in on her back, slowly inching her way along a path of projected light. She rose from the floor, he dismounted from the sling, and the rest of the piece was a slow-motion duet that was quite lovely in its stillness and precision. Kirk’s physique (which I understand is referred to as "chiseled") may be the most memorable aspect of the piece, likely to be appreciated by anatomy students and aficionados of Renaissance sculpture.

The final piece, Half of Some, Neither of Either, was packed with Gregg Bielemeier playfulness, wit and energy. For a few moments I thought I was seeing a reprise of some of the gestures and poses struck in Skinner’s opening piece, as if Bielemeier was parodying that work. (Which I thought would have been hilarious, if a little unkind).

A highlight of the performance was Habibi Addo, a titan-sized dancer whose rotund heft evaporated under the grace, fluidity and humor she brought to the stage. In a playful duet, she and Eric Skinner shoved and tugged at each other in repeated phrases as they crossed the stage on a diagonal. The movement was fun in and of itself, but Addo imbued it with personality that popped and was a joy to watch. Unfortunately, much of the rest of the ensemble work didn’t reach a level of infectious elation I think Bielemeier intended – the kind that spills from the dancers to the audience. While a few choreographic jokes got chuckles, the audience struck me as attentive but affectless through most of the performance.

Mild disappointment was setting in until Bielemeier arrived to perform a high-energy solo that stood out in both technique and emotion. Catching my attention was the way he conveyed a balance between exuberance and world-weariness. I may be projecting a lot into it--that dichotomy may not have been the choreographer's intent. Since seeing Oslund+Company dance two weeks ago, I’ve been thinking about dance artists, such as Oslund and Bielemeier, who have played a hugely influential role in this region, yet who struggle year-after-year to secure grant funding, solicit donations, obtain commissions and sell tickets so they can pay the bills and pass some along to their dancers and designers. I admire the artistic drive that keeps them from throwing in the towel, and am intrigued by the idea of artists who are pushed, inevitably, to create and perform no matter the financial and physical obstacles. World-weariness would certainly be an appropriate emotion. (More on that topic in a future post).

Throughout the final piece, vocalist Lyndee Mah wandered the periphery of the stage scat-singing over a recording of herself scat-singing a score she wrote with jazz composer David Ornette Cherry. It was a nice theatrical effect and fun, though I had a hard time discerning Mah's live singing from the taped loops, and it was all a bit busy.

Conclusion: This isn't the dance performance of the season, but go see it anyway for three reasons:

(1) Venturing out and discovering new performance venues is a good thing. I think it's a challenge to get audiences to venture out of their geographic comfort zones to see performances. Bravo to White Bird for an experiment that may help break that pattern.

(2) Supporting local choreographers and dancers is laudatory. Bravo to White Bird for continuing to support local dance -- now it's your turn.

(3) This show may not be groundbreaking or memorable, but it is engaging and has enough stand out moments to make it a worthwhile way to spend 60 minutes.

Final Note: If you’re going to this show, look up the directions to Portland Opera’s Hampton Center carefully. Instead of relying on Google Maps, a GPS system or your own, unerring sense of direction, visit White Bird’s website for specific directions. The City's Big Pipe project has blocked some of the routes that may be what you're used to. Give yourself time to stroll over to the river’s edge to gaze at the sparkling view of our beautiful city. (As we left the performance, a perfect partial moon was pinned just above the skyline to the west).

UPDATE: Go visit to Art Scatter for a more detailed and skillful review of the performance, apparently from the Friday evening show.

Photo Credits: Chris Roesing

A Tuesday Appetizer

I tried hard to make the video below serve as a keen observation on culture and life in Portland. Then I pondered how I might relate it to current events, or append some cogent and witty political commentary to it. I considered using it as an on-ramp for a trip down memory lane ...all to no avail.

Instead it will serve as filler -- an amuse-bouche, if you will -- with the goal of keeping Culture Shock lively and full of daily surprises in the hope you'll come back for meatier courses later.

Let the Season of Spending Begin

Welcome to December. Today is “Cyber Monday,” the big e-retail sales day which follows “Black Friday.” May I suggest names for other days on the holiday retail calendar?

Stampede Saturday
Sucky Sales Sunday
Tramplin’ Tuesday
Weltschmertz* Wednesday
Throw-in-the-Towel Thursday

(*Weltschmertz: Sorrow or sadness over the present or future evils or woes of the world in general).

Actually, news reports are that Black Friday didn’t turn out so badly for retailers, proving that Americans haven’t completely lost their consumer mojo. USA! USA! USA!

Now go buy some tickets to the performing arts as gifts for all your friends.