Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
A Firebrand at Any Age…Margaret Owen
Standing at the Millennium Hotel, I wondered who might be already be there from the group SERVAS. I had been invited as part of the Commission on the Status of Women to meet the original couch surfers’ organization to talk about peace. Eyeing a chair, I asked the sitter if she were about to leave. When I told her I was hoping to be part of a peace meet up, she became politely irate. Can you have a peace discussion while the worlds on fire” she asked.
Margaret Owen is a Barrister, Human Rights Advocate, recipient of an Oder of the British Empire, an occasional actor and a mother of 4 and grandmother. She is also ninety-three years of age.
Of course, I couldn’t let this precious person with whom I almost share a birthday disappear into the night. I knew she had more in her brilliant mind than twenty of my younger friends and I asked her to meet me for coffee and share some of her life. I’ve been a member of a group called International Women in Radio and Television (IAWRT), yes, lots of initials at the UN…and I’d never met anyone like her before.
The next day Margaret beat me to the restaurant and before we had barely sat down, bubbling with the enthusiasm of a school, she listed some of the areas of injustice that most concern her. Cambridge educated, she speaks beautifully and it is no surprise that she played lead roles in several of Shakespeare’s plays while there, even reciting a bit of Portia as we waited for our grilled cheese.
The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
‘T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown
Margaret’s mother and father were born in England. Her mother’s family were originally from from Lithuania, her father Poland and have lived for three generations in the United Kingdom. Both her parents were both professionals, her mother practiced medicine. her father a solicitor. She was close to her mother but always felt that her two brothers were more important in her mother’s eyes. Perhaps this was the beginning of her understanding of patriarchy.
After Cambridge, studying law and becoming a Barrister, she worked at Granada television in documentaries, got a degree in anthropology as well as a Degree with Distinction in Social Administration from the London School of Economics. Her entire CV could put the D in Distinguished but she does not dwell on herself. Her main concerns are the victims of discrimination across the globe. She headed the Law and Policy division of the International Planned Parenthood Federation, been a founding member of Gender Action on Peace and Security UK, and monitored trials and elections in Turkey. She is also an adviser on women and children’s rights to the Kurdish Human Rights Project. And that’s just a few highlights.
“It was so strange to be in a room at the Church Center, where they were discussing aging as if it were something strange and here, I sit, being aged and not thinking there’s anything different about me,” she chirped.
She then raced on to the subject of UK Labor PM Keir Starmer’s cozying up to President Trump and the resignation of International Development Minister Annaliese Dodd from her job due to the cuts Mr. Starmer is making to development and aid in exchange for more funding for defense. And we are sending this money to Israel for war! she politely declaims. Owen is Jewish and spent six months in Israel in 1956 riding around on a lambretta and doing free-lance reporting. She travelled all over including Gaza and does not approve of the Israeli Prime Minister’s endless attacks on the Palestinians. In fact, upon her arrival back in London, she will stand with the JNP (Jewish Network for Palestine), a grass roots organization committed to debate on settler conflict in Palestine. It is anti-Zionist and she has met with her local Rabbi to discuss. She hopes to get arrested.
This s knowledgeable woman has an educated opinion on so many issues. As a human rights lawyer who believes in the law: it is abhorrent that there is a government that is now flagrantly violating international laws and structures set up after World War II to secure peace and prosperity for everyone. The world has changed last March to this March since Trump.
She mentions her son Dan, now working as an anthropologist for the World Bank in East and Southern Africa, telling her that he is already seeing the suffering around him since the laws have been changed and international agencies dismantled by Musk’s raiders.
Margaret takes no prisoners. She almost bailed from the CSW last year when Saudi Arabia had been chosen as the chair of the UN commission … a commission that is supposed to promote gender equality and empower women across the globe, the Ambassador to the UN from Saudi Arabia was chosen to chair the conference. They were unopposed in their bid for leadership despite being condemned by human rights groups and the kingdom’s record, most recently arresting a young woman activist for her twitter hashtag asking for the end of male guardianship. This appointment is a slap in the face to all the women who travel great distances and a great expense to come to New York to partake in this yearly event. Margaret’s friend, fDr. Carole Mann researcher and novelist, threatened to organize a boycott of the CSW in France unless the position was rescinded.
… instead of conclusions, I hear political declaration.
.
Margaret feels that the CSW’s draft should have emphasized the bush backs on women’s right rather than simply calling it progress which is uneven at best. She was very surprised that at the opening event, it was not even mentioned once at how how much the world has changed since Trump’s election.
There’s an extreme roll back in every part of women’s lives. Who would have imagined that women’s reproductive rights in 2025 are being slashed?
Each year she returns to the US hoping to see progress; after all, she was at Beijing where so many dreams were made.
Every aspect of women’s lives has touched Margaret. When her husband, an astro physicist died in1990, she found herself a widow at 58. She never stopped working, teaching judicial administration to Commonwealth magistrates. While hosting a Malawian mother and her sick baby she learned of the crisis of widowhood around the globe. The visiting woman could not believe that Margaret was permitted to live in her own house after her husband died and keep the things that “belonged” to him.
Widows’ lives in the Global south are determined by patriarchy, misogyny and misinterpretation of religion and traditions. They are treated like chattel with no right to their land and subjected to torture. Mourning and burial rights include drinking water from the husband’s corpse, and having sex with his cousins to show she is not guilty of her husband’s death. They are raped, their possessions are taken away and they are exploited as servants in the extended family. These practices are common to many countries in Africa and South Asia, differing according to cultures and religions. They should be defined as torture and criminalized.
In the Congo they can be raped and sometimes burned alive. They are called witches and stoned to death. They can be taken as a sexual slave or sent into the desert to die.
Widowhood exports poverty. Their daughters are withdrawn from school and are sold into forced child marriages, often with much older men. They then often become child widows themselves.
Their sons then become unaccompanied child asylum seekers, desperate to access education and decent employment so that they can support their widowed mother and younger siblings. It’s a vicious circle.
All of this led Margaret to founding Widows for Peace Through Democracy…the first international organization to address human rights in the context of the state of widowhood. For her contribution to the advancement of women’s human rights, and especially for her work on widow’s rights, Margaret received an Order of the British Empire in 2013.
But that is not enough for this dynamo. She is a Patron of Peace in Kurdistan, where she served as a witness and reporter to the trials of Kurdish activists in Turkey. Turkey has an official policy in place that denies the existence of the Kurds as a distinct ethnicity. An organization of activists PKK (called terrorists by Turkey) had been formed to liberate Kurds from Turkey. Their leader. Abdullah Ocalan, was imprisoned for 25 years along with countless Kurdish intellectuals, not even permitted to see a lawyer and isolated on an island.
Margaret is a huge fan of Ocalan. She believes his writings about equal rights and society are the most progressive and the book he wrote in prison, The Political Thought of Abdullah Ocalan, comparable to the writings of Mandala. Ocalan is now telling his followers to accept peace, even though Turkey will not legally allow its Kurdish citizens to speak Kurdish.
One might think a woman with this gusto could be exhausting. Not true. Her enthusiasm is catching as she is one of those geniuses who understands the limitations of others, humbly explaining everything, not to instruct, but to share. She wants you to feel what she feels and presents the facts, pouring them out of her head the way Dagwood Bumstead used to do math problems. She admits to having a photographic memory; that’s helpful for the data, but it’s her heart that is her real strength…feeling for the down trodden and using her smarts to balance the inequities of injustice.
I thought we might order rice pudding after our shared grilled cheese, but she was having a bit of a cough and cold and not hungry. With a coffee refill, she told me about her brand-new initiative. Drafted a few days before, she was setting up a campaign for all women in occupation—WAGLUO –whose voices are never heard at the CSW and many other places. They are too busy keeping out of harms way to get their stories out. This includes the Rohingyas, Yazidis, Kurds, Yezidis, Tamils, Baha, Baluchistans, and Kashmirs. among others. She hopes to introduce this to the UN this year.
She also hopes that the next head of the UN will be a woman but is doubtful that the men will share the power, so is willing to settle for a man and woman held leadership…something the Kurdish leader Ocalan describes in his book she so admires.
I’m certain that her days back in Europe will be jam packed… she’s been a member for a decade of an amateur theatre group, the Questers helmed by Dame Judith Dench, and may be hitting the boards again soon.
One of her last on-stage roles was that of Maria Josefa in Federico Garcia Lorca’s The House of Bernarda Alba. Margaret could in real life be less like Maria who represents repressed desire for freedom. Margaret has been speaking out for truth and freedom for woman and the downtrodden her entire life. Perhaps she is more of the character Hilde Wangel in the Master Builder:
I want my kingdom. The time’s up, you know.
photo courtesy of N.Cohen-koan
The Black Madonna Celebrated
by Nancy Cohen-koan
The Black Madonna is an icon of worship that can be traced back to pagan, pre – Christian times. She represents devotion to the Earth Mother, the African Goddess and to a time when people understood God to be female as well as Black. She is still revered in Italy and in New York there were no less than three churches that held worship for the Black Madonna in the East Village.
I.J. Isola, writing for the W.P.A. n 1936, noted: “The New York Black Madonna is credited by believers, with possessing the miraculous curative powers of the original (Sicily and other parts of Italy, Ethiopia, etc.), as is attested by the many votive offerings at her shrine.” Apparently, she could cure many of the parts of the body including arms, legs and breasts. Since pre-Christian times she has been the protector of gays, transgender and LGBTQ+ people, known as Femminielli in the Neapolitan Culture and Galli in Rome(where they were priests of the Phrygian goddess Cybele, or Magna Mater
Alessandra Belloni, a native Roman, studied in New York and realized that her true calling was honoring the Black Madonna through her love of Italian folk music. She learned the ancient tammorriata tradition of the Earth goddess and for 35 years has traveled the globe performing and doing research in this ancient form of empowerment. Along with her partner and fellow musician John T. La Barbera, they create a musical dance installation, as much art as sacred healing. I Giullari di Piazza, founded in 1980, specializes in medieval pilgrimage songs, Southern Italian tarantellas and devotional chants with ritual drumming. This concert celebrates the 45th anniversary of the group’s founding and features selections from its original opera, “Voyage of the Black Madonna,” which was a watershed creation for the company.
I was familiar with Alessandra before the show after watching a PBS program about buying houses in Italy, PBS series “Dream of Italy. She has a devoted following there and by the looks of the audience at St. John the Divine last Friday, one here as well. I saw many women signing up for her goddess -type classes; she infuses spirit and beauty and recognition of the female spirit. What could be bad?
In Alessandra’s show Mystic Rhythms & Sacred Chants for Seven Black Madonnas from Italy to Spain, she and her glorious troupe explore the different incarnations of the Black Madonna with ancient music, dance and stilt performance. It is a festive experience that recalls medieval street theatre, intoxicating and beautiful.
Her voice is deep and soulful and her percussion skills amazing… for this occasion, Giovannangelo de Gennaro from Puglia brought his magnificent voice… a voice perfectly suited for the wonderful acoustics of the chapel in St. John the Divine.
Graceful dancers performed wearing elaborate costumes… characters ranging from virginal maidens to the goddess who can control snakes…dancing with a real one. The Sun God on stilts moved through them, transporting all of us to another time where nature was revered and female power honored.
John la Barbera introduced a song which is based on pre-Christian notations of a melody found in Greece. He expanded on the tune and it was beautiful not only for his arrangement, but the knowledge that its origins are so ancient and yet feels so contemporary.
This magical show is a shoe in for Earth Day performances and must be included in environmental events that remind us of the power of nature and our requirement to love her and be grateful for her bounteous gifts.
Other musicians include: Mara Gerety (vocals & violin), Christa Patton(harp, oboe & recorder) and dancers, Francesco Silvano, Amaraand Mark Mindek (stilt dancer in the role of the Poet Virgil).
The troupe spends part of their time in New Jersey and Alessandra will be offering classes to the fortunate in New Jersey.
As for me, I’m dreaming to buy a place in Puglia and stay as close to the world that honors such a beautiful tradition.
For more information and future performance dates: http://www.alessandrabelloni.com
all photos by N. Cohen-koan
David Burliuk’s Legacy Celebrated in SLAP Performance
photo: Steven Pisano
Stepping into the East Village Basement Theatre to see SLAP is a time traveler’s delight. You carefully walk down icy stairs and find yourself in a space that is infused with the feeling of the sixties…because that’s what it is. Ellen Stewart had her first La Mama theatre here and now it is used for all sorts of artistic events. For the show Slap, the living room feel is transformed into a very basic theatre where once during the show, the lighting designer, Watoku Ueno, had to leave the back of the theatre to fiddle with plugs next to my left foot.
Time is a theme here…David Burliuk, Ukranian born and the subject of the show, was a painter, poet and organizer of the movement called Futurism, performing through Europe, Siberia and Japan, before landing in New York in 1922. He is interpreted by the great poet impresario, Bob Holman of Bowery Poetry Club fame, lending a little W.C. Fields to the madness of this strange and wonderful show. His co-horts on stage include Susan Hwang, as a Scythian goddess and viper, playing so many stringed instruments, you cannot keep count. On stage is narrator Julian Kytasty with his beautiful impregnated lute, the bandura. He keeps the story moving along as Burliuk travels the steppes of time in pursuit of something, though one is never quite sure what that is.
All of the music and movement madness makes this show a delight and is a reminder of when theatre was less concerned with box office and had real fun with itself. The paintings made by Burliuk are projected on the wall…they, too, are wonderful, a sort of Fauve/Cubism that really helps carry the travelogue along. The players have co-created on Slap with director Virlana Tkacz who is terrific at molding story material as well as finding extra chairs for late comers.
I won’t give any of the audience participation moments away…just rest assured that yelling out is encouraged. And don’t we have a lot to yell about these days?
The Yara Arts Group is behind this confection… step into the future and the past at the same time—delight in the poetry, music, art and fun of one of East Village’s earliest genius residents, David Burliuk. There’s a reason they all landed here for a moment or two. And Veselka is across the street in case you find you’re hungry after so much travelling.
Unpacking the Tensions in ‘Armand’
Armand, the film creation by Scandinavian film royalty Ingmar Bergman and Liv Ullmann’s grandson of Halfdan Ullmann Tondel is uncomfortable but offers up a feast of realizations about our lives
Elizabeth, played by the risk-taking actress Renate Reinsve (The Worst Person In the World), finds herself confronting the school board of her six-year-old son. What could such a young boy do to warrant the condemnation from the parents of another boy, his friend, and why do the principal educators though uncomfortable, still feel its their duty to accuse. The victim’s parents are at first patent with Elizabeth’s shocked response to the accusation. They are all from the same community and have history; so why would this sensitive issue be put in such a formal setting? This is where the real mystery begins.
Small towns have secrets and judgments and memories of its citizens that go back to their own student days. Elizabeth’s husband is recently deceased and the judging teachers at first want to be sensitive with her because of the loss, but Elizabeth is out there emotionally and doesn’t fall into the shaming that the system seems to need to put on her. Much is made of her laughing scene which for me was a bit long…but everything else she does is so beautifully strange and at same time, familiar, as if we are watching her and ourselves in our private spaces. She reveals herself through public through outbursts, and dancing…she is beautiful and they all want to judge her and it seems also be her or be with her. As an audience we want to condemn the condemners for their inability to probe themselves and project their fears and insecurities on the single woman… the societal witch, who is bursting with real life.
There is much to explore in an educational documentary on what is normal child play…here though we see adults acting like they did in their own childhoods, gossiping, having nosebleeds and wanting to avert responsibility.
I spoke briefly to the director wondering if he had seen the film Suddenly Last Summer, where Tennessee William”s character, Sebastian Venable, played by Julian Ugarte, is seemingly cannibalized by a culture that need pieces of him for themselves. Elizabeth’s world is like that. As the town’s actress, she serves as the vessel for all their unrequited impulses and we see how dangerous non actualization can be. Only when the truth is revealed, and the ‘children’ re draw the lines on the playground, do we experience the tension leaving our own bodies. The rain purifies and she, with Buddhist equanimity, moves on.
The director who has worked in an elementary school has much talent for showing the everyday intimate responses that is part of the human experience. He’s got the genes for it.
The Heretic
by Nancy Cohen-koan
I must give testimony: I could watch Hugh Grant perform bunion surgery, that’s how much I adore him. I even wrote a script for him, not knowing if he could do a Scottish accent or jump over a burning Maypole, but never mind, he’s gorgeous, and his voice completes the package, now deeper and more assured.
He also has a self-mocking humor that reminds me of my best therapy sessions.
In The Heretic, directed by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, Grant plays a man, Mr. Reed, who has no truck for church or the gods that come with it and his man-‘splaining on the subject is full on.
Into Reed’s lair, two devoted young Mormons show up, Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) and Sister Paxton (Chloe East), innocently hoping to get their baptismal quota in by five o’clock. They are fresh and shiny and have little doubts about their faith and the work they do to spread it. But these girls are not empty-headed groupies for God…they are well spoken, thoughtful and clever enough not to take liquid refreshment from a strange man.
Being chaste, they are not permitted to enter the potential convertees home if no other woman is present. But Reed assures them his wife is in the back making a blueberry pie. Never will I touch this fruit again without thinking of the evil baked into its crust. Pies, of course, are a great American hoax symbol…everything that is good in the world is America and her pies…. but now we know the levee is dry and innocence doesn’t sell. The missionaries have been caught in their own sales trap, but it’s hardly a fair match. They know little of life outside their tight community and though they have never met a monster like Grant, they are smart enough to be frightened.
Mr. Reed’s clever gamesmanship recalls Laurence Olivier’s character in Sleuth… someone who prides himself on playing tricks with their opponent’s mind. Reed’s erudition on religion is so delicious that I patently refused to his bad boy side until more than mid-way through the film, even when he dons a pair of yucky 80’s aviator frames.
There’s a bit of the lady or the tiger routine in the escape question scene, but I won’t spoil any of the suspense by saying more. What’s nice is at one moment there is concern for the sisters and in the next, we are curious to see what clever Reed will pull off.
Unless the host can fly, some of Reed’s tricks would seem to require a valet or two to assist and I was very surprised when shy Sister Paxton is suddenly able to spew out an analysis of the night’s events.
Usually, I tend to lose interest in horror as the bloody moments pile up and secretly yearn for a more civilized resolution, but still, the film followed me into my nightly dreams and was there the next day. It was very satisfying, though still, I am left with two questions: Mr. Reed… are the older women we meet later on in the story actually missionaries or your ex -wives and, yes, how good does Mr. Grant look in a kilt?
Mrs. Stern Wanders the Prussian State Library
I don’t think we’ve ever seen Stockhausen syndrome quite like the relationship between philosopher Hannah Arendt and her Nazi jailor Karl in Jenny Lyn Bader’s Mrs. Stern Wanders the Prussian State Library. Arendt, as played by a very effecting Ella Dershowitz, has a mind like quicksilver. As soon as she observes jailor Karl’s ego needs to pull rank, she defers and reigns in her erudition in exchange for survival. Karl, once somewhat of a student himself, is in awe of her and we see his struggles to follow orders clash with his own instinctual curiosity. What can a good Nazi do in the hands of such a fine German mind, never mind that she’s a Jew?
Her crime it seems was to have been seen copying images of antisemitism from papers for a group who sends them abroad to advertise what’s really going on in Germany. She is aghast at hearing this…her pure research is what took her to the library and nothing else.
Hannah must balance a nature in pursuit of truth with a writer’s talent for bending the narrative in order to save her own skin. After all, she certainly was not uninterested in Jewish issues and Zionism as she tries to convince Karl. In fact, quite the contrary. Her deception is so sweet…she has an authentic love of German thinking and wouldn’t think of involving her ex-lover Heidegger for help. For every turn Karl makes to accuse her of a misdeed, she does a sharp right or left turn, leaving him in the dust. If she had any crime, it was neglecting her own research to hunt around through the files for a recipe for her mother’s favorite cake. The care and intelligence with which she describes the ingredients and making of the dessert is the same thoroughness she puts into her political theories.
Hannah has one visitor, Drew Hirshfeld, whose character Erich is symbolic of so many Jews who could not believe that their beliefs that they were true Germans meant nothing to the Nazis. He is a lawyer and has heard of her plight through the inner circles. Hannah is surprised that he has come or else pretends. Either way she is not excited to have him represent her, neither wanting her affiliation with anything Zionistic to be recognized nor believing he can do anything to help. He has the shadow of death all over him as he speaks of other lawyers who have been brought down while still trying to convince her and mostly himself that he will survive.
The environment is frightening, yet the humorous banter and cigarette sharing become between Karl and Hannah, gives relief. Through it we feel a razor thin light of hope. Karl has a child of his own and is not unfeeling to Hannah’s concern for her mother also imprisoned. Something stirs between them…perhaps it is their love of dancing or the way Hannah finishes the German folk poem Karl had begun reciting; both touchstones of their common humanity.
The acting is terrific in this play and the simple prison cell set serves as a blank slate for the plethora of ideas that playwright Bader make dance within the walls of the cell.
The play produced by Luna Stage is running at 59 East 59th Theaters until November 10th.
La Viuda…a strange tale
The only other time I saw a play by Irene Fornes was one in which a lovely, quite middle-aged male friend of mine surprisingly appeared naked. I was not prepared for that and so to be fair, I might have missed some of the finer points of the play.
A good friend of mine worked with Ms. Fornes at PS122 and so I was intrigued to give the playwright another chance to convince me of what makes her so special.
I’m not positive that Dogteam’s La Viuda was a good indication of her later more developed work, but it was intriguing. The production, action, set design and whimsy were terrific. To tackle a strange piece about characters who may or may not have existed, mostly talking about them through letter reading is very difficult and the players had fun.
Beautiful Angela, Jay Romero, first surprises, but in little time, the male perfectly embodies a woman of the mid-19th century and we soon forget she is a he. (can I say that?)
The formality of the period is off set by the occasional broad humor …giving it a sort of early Bunuel quality …and so we never tire of all the stiff necks because surprising things happen that seem out of place and time.
Walking home from the show, my friend and I met up with Fidel Vicioso who plays Father Craavet brilliantly. He shared that it was a challenging play to tackle as the stories were perhaps true and perhaps not. That it was written with a sort of revenge story in mind…but that only the emotional history may be accurate. And his feelings for the mixed gender casting of Angela had something to do with Ms. Fornes and an adopted son and the anti gay politics of Cuba. The reader will have to do his/her/your / own research.
There is a feeling of not being able to put your finger on the emotional truth of Angela as she may not really have known what was going on… which of course, is the way reality works. Here we have a woman standing in her stately living room waiting for her lost husband to return from Cuba. She imagines herself to be important to him, but if that were the case, why did he go off and have four children with another leaving an ill son back in Spain to wither away.
It is a good question as to what Ms. Fornes is trying to say. Do men abandon women? Does being a self-righteous prude have its downside? And is the self- imposed imprisoned life of a proper woman denigrating to the spirit of all women? If so, the play definitely succeeds.
There is a balletic moment where all the play’s characters don the widow’s black veiled hat that has fallen into their hands from the sky., giving the other characters the same opportunity to stand apart from the living with judgment, superiority and fundamentally fear.
All the actors did a wonderful job and I found myself falling head over hills for the young Salvador, Jacob Joseph.
Dogteam is a company with serious intentions and a great creative spark.
Show runs through this Weekend at Atlantic Theatre Stage 2.
admiration not fandom
I am too old to have a crush on Ryan Gosling. These days I have crushes on specific flavors of ice cream and a brand of English muffins from Citarrella. But heaven help me, afrer watching that little guy play a Jewish Neo-Nazi, I have been infatuated with his acting. It’s as if his essence is always there, but he adapts himself to every character in such specific ways that make for a delicious twist of believability and charm. His smoky sort of citified voice (odd for someone from Canada) and that Scorpionic stare are riveting.
I am good at discoveries. I was one of the first to cheer on the comedy show Schitt’s Creek. I have an eye for spotting heart and talent and Mr. Gosling is dripping in them both. Plus, like Schitt’s Creek, he is so funny.
Last night I paid extra on Amazon Prime to catch him in a 2005 film ‘Stay’ (director Marc Forster) where he plays a 20 year old depressed art student…is there any other way to be an art student? In this visually hypertonic smash up of alternative realities, shrink Ewen McGregor tries to help him unravel his pain. Though not the most satisfying cinema event, Ryan’s performance sells. He is both young, confused and dangerous in equal measures and you believe his future art will be great because he has walked the edge. Even when he is insolent, you want to love him as he manages to hold both remoteness and vulnerability in the same breath.
I’m hoping his star continues to rise and he continues to get the kind of roles he deserves. And as much as I’m addicted to those Facebook captures of Ryan on various talk shows, I hope he doesn’t burn out on the PR circuit. What’s so interesting about him is that even when he does these candid tell-alls, he is still seems neither egotistical nor whiny and maintains a level of mystery which is so compelling.
From the little I’ve read, his mom Donna raised him singlehandedly and supported his visions. Take note all you Mama Roses out there…
So mea culpa Ryan… you rock my boat and I will sail with you in whichever seas your talent travels.
Musical works
these are example of musical pieces written with dave ogrin
Chicken Man aka The Hunger
By Nancy Cohen Instructions to the reader: In many cities prior to PETA, one could often find a bit of entertainment called the dancing chicken… usually found down dark alleys, there’s be a chicken in a cage and a slot where the audience would slip in a coin. Lights would come up, electric coils heated, under the foul’s feet. Then the music would start…and voila.. a dancing chicken.
We are on a busy New York street.. Horns blaring, bus wheels squeaking. Above the din, sounds of high, high heels. A frantic looking red haired woman is walking quickly.. .from what appears to be a court building, a woman on the move. She has just been on jury duty.
NICOLE
(screaming to herself)
Oh, god, find me a jury of my peers. I hate jury duty!
I’m so hungry I could eat a horse. They didn’t give us a coffee break. Where’s the justice?
She fumbles in her bag for a banana…pulls it out, but it’s rotten.
NICOLE
Just like my computer date… all pulp.
I don’t know this neighborhood. Where the hell can
I get lunch? I’m starving? For anything.
She finds a take out menu on the ground, reads from it and begins to sing.
HUNGER SONG
Bibimbap or udong
Sushi or some ramen
Chow fun and a pizza
NO TOO COMMON
.
I’ll take one from column A,
column B.
I’m not scared of spicy,And wash it down
I’ll drink that sweet ice tea.With a glass of ice tea
There’s a hole inside of me,
This craving must be set free,
Voracious
I’m not so gracious
But I’m voracious
Watch me close and see what I’m gonna do
I’ve got wiles and style that’s awfully new
Voracious.
There’s a space I never fill,
A drive that won’t stand still,
Voracious,
I am loquacious
And so voracious.
Burrito or flauta
Mousse or an éclair,
Take me home to Bergdorf’s
Walmart you wouldn’t dare.
Silken robes and slippers
800 thread count sheets,
And someone soft to play with
I can almost feel the heat.
I’m so hungry I could eat a wild horse
Just one bite and I’m relieved,
It’s true, of course.
My head is crazy,
My eyes OF COURSE
ARE HAZYofgrow hazy.
Calm me down and give me what I need.
Had no breakfast and not much for dinner please,
Running like a fool, no coffee,
sex or cheese.
My stomach’s in knots,
I wanna boycott.
Slow me down and give me what I need.
..
Work so hard to try and look so beautiful,
Stayin’ thin and on my game,
I’m very cool.
I ‘m a great designer,
I wear a rich black liner,.
Feed my soul or watch it start to bleed..
.
Give me something, to tied me over,
A bone, a shot of love will do.
I’ll eat a chocolate
To stop this moanin’,
One lick I’m back on top
with …………serotonin.
Slow me down and give me what I need.
..
I’m so hungry I could eat a wild horse
Just one bite and I’m relieved,
It’s true, of course.
My head is crazy,
My eyes grow hazy.
Calm me down and give me what I need.
Hunger!
Nicole throws down menu and keeps walking… like a hunter stalking prey. She sees a lit store and walks in for directions. It is very dark. But she hears a loud noise and is drawn to it. She doesn’t yet see the source, but hears the yells.
Chicken Man
The sky is falling… the sky is falling. Look out the sky
the sky is falling.
Nicole follows the sound. It sounds more and more desperate as she gets closer. She is surprised at what she sees as she reaches the corner of the store. There, lit by a single bulb. Is a grown man looking somewhat like a chicken. He is in a box and is jumping from one foot to the other.
CHICKEN MAN
They sky is really really falling. Squack. The end is nigh.
Ow, my feet. It’s so hot on my toes!
NICOLE
(hardly noticing his dismay because of her hunger)
You, there… with the feathers. Where is that sushi place that
was supposed to be here. I’m in a massive rush and I’m starving to
death.
Chicken Man continues to jump back and forth. The floor he is standing on is bright red …it is actually red hot wires under his feet. He must jump.
CHICKEN MAN
Death …you want to talk death. I’ll give you death. Death is having to say the same line over and over for years: The sky is falling. I say it in my sleep!
NICOLE
Oh I think I got it…didn’t I once see you giving out samples from a tray – in front of barbeque joint?
She approaches the cage and peers in, then backs up.
CHICKEN MAN
Do I look like I have samples?
Nicole (sings)
Why are you familiar?
I don’t forget a face.
Was it a commercial
Or the egg and spoon race?
I know I’ve seen that chin before,
It’s my biz to spot that stuff,
But I’m sure you had a beard,
And you used to have more fluff?
CHICKEN MAN
No, I’ve never been able to grow a beard…(catches himself) but that’s not the point.. look The sky is falling…. Do you have a death wish?
NICOLE
That’s rich, coming from a chicken.
I guess you’re really in a stew.
I’d like to dye your wattle.
Maybe soft lime or iceberg blue.
CHICKEN MAN
Open up your eyes, you little carnivore – you, you reality slapper . The climate is going to pot. The world is at war. Give up.
NICOLE
Oh please, my slings are best sellers,
They fly off the shelves,
My style ‘s so hot hot,
It’s like I work with elves.
CHICKEN MAN gives out a huge cry.
CHICKEN MAN
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaye!!
NICOLE
You must be on drugs
Cause you’re really quite mad.
Is it Add, AdHd,
Bipolar ..or are you just sad?
CHICKEN MAN
It’s not funny… I have PTMSD.
NICOLE
What?
CHICKEN MAN
Post traumatic media stress disorder,
Nicole looks confused.
CHICKEN MAN
The papers blew the lid on this gig,
The story ran all over town,
How Henny my mom was a Polkette
And I’ve ended here like a clown.
Ten cents a dance what they pay me,
The heat burns on through the night,
I dream of my life on the big stage,
Too bad, I’ve got fear of the flight.
NICOLE .
What do you mean fear of ‘the ‘flight? Why don’t you leave? Call your manager…I know the economy is rough, but they always hire a chicken with talent.
CHICKEN MAN
You just don’t get it, do you? I’m paralyzed!!
CHICKEN MAN now sings Fear of Flying.
Fear of flying, for me it’s fear of flying.
It grounds me like a mouse stuck in a trap
Fear of flying, for me there’s no denying.
I’m just too bloody scared to go flap flap.
The years of crying, my career is simply dying,
No offers for the hero or the lead.
So fear of flying has landed me in shit and chicken feed.
I never made time for life, never had no chick nor wife,
My squack was heard around the world, for me success was rife.
But now I’m half dead inside, my liver’s almost fried,
The best thing you can do for me is hand me a sharp knife.
Fear of flying, For me, I’ve just trying
From leaving this small cage I call my home.
Fear of flying, it may seem stupefying.
But in my heart I know I’m scared to roam.
NICOLE
(recognizing her chance to be empathetic)
I’d like to say I don’t understand…but I do
I used to make children’s wear, each season and I swear,
The pinks and blues were really very lame,
But I just kept on sewing, cause kids they kept on growing
And I was trapped by money and the fame.
Fear of flying, I too had fear of flying
Cause I was stuck in limbo just like you.
But then I looked down the street, and saw all kinds of feet,
And started making shoes like Jimmy Choo.
Fear of flying, Now I’m beautifying,
The world with pumps and loafers everywhere.
Fear of flying, I have no need for lying,
Fly with me and you won’t have a care.
She prances around in front of the cage, showing off her stilettos.
NICOLE
And every season… they cry out for new designs. Yes, I too was in a
box… you just have to get out!! Come on, don’t you want to have lunch? Make a comeback? See the great white way?
CHICKEN MAN
I just don’t know how. Maybe I’m out of style…a has been – it’s too late ..
I’m rusty… too old, too fat..
NICOLE
This is absurd. So where is the key?
Chicken Man is jumping back and forth frantically.
CHICKEN MAN
Ouch.. Oh, the owner took it…. I’m his cash cow and he won’t let me go. And I need a pedicure… even my few fans are disgusted with my feet!
NICOLE
I Oh, let me look at it.
Nicole approaches the cage door and fusses with the handle and the lock.
NICOLE
My slingback pumps last year had a tricky buckle design…a brass piece
based on a Renaissance hinge..hmm, let’s see…
Nicole fusses and finally pops open the cage door.
NICOLE
Aah, ha..got it!
Nicole steps back. Chicken Man doesn’t move. She goes forward again and opens the door.
Chicken Man looks frozen as the red lights from the coils go off and the door is swinging open.
CHICKEN MAN
Where did that breeze come from? It’s chilly with the coils off and the door open like that… I think I’ll go back to bed. I’ll miss the mold.
NICOLE
Oh, not on my watch. If you don’t fly the coop, I’m gonna pluck you myself. Now come on. It’s better out here. Take my hand.
With that she reaches in and gives her his hand. He hesitates. She grabs his wing and tentatively he comes out of the cage.
Chicken Man now out of the cage, begins to test his feet and legs. He is awkward at first and then with grace, starts sliding a bit around the floor.
CHICKEN MAN
The air is better out here. Not that burning smell. (he sniffs at his feet).. he starts singing The sky is and catches himself.. hasn’t moved..yet!
NICOLE
Your coloring has improved 100 percent already.
With this new confidence, he fluffs his feathers and pats his wattle. He approaches Nicole.
CHICKEN MAN
Really? I look good?
NICOLE
Yummy. Shall we?
The music comes up and they start to waltz around the floor. They sing the Duet.
For Lovers
He: I saw you first,
She: You were so stuck.
He: My heart could burst.
She: We’re both in luck.
He: I guess, I’m as happy as hell.
He: My feet were boiling hot,
She: The air was teeming,
He: It was you I sought.
She: I heard you screaming.
She: I guess, I’m as happy as hell.
Together: Ahh, baby.
He: The sky’s still up because of you,
She: They say I am ambitious.
He: Reminding me to wake up too.
She: And here you are, delicious.
He: You set me free
She: I love to eat
He: You are the key
She: And you the meat
He :But wait, I’m still a little scared
She: Of course, you are neurotic.
He: You’re sure I’m safe right here with you?
She: Shh please, you sound psychotic.
HE: Your hair so red,
She: You lovely cock.
He: I want to crow,
She: Let’s stop the talk.
He: I guess I’m as happy as hell,,
SHE: The sky stays high
He: It will not fall
She: It’s time to gorge.
He:I love it all..
He: I guess I’m as happy …
She: I guess you’re as happy ..
Both: Iguess we’re as happy as hell.
They stop dancing and arm in wing, they leave the store. As they turn the corner, we see them from the back. Chicken Man is now full and plump walking with a swagger. From the bottom of Nicole’s coat, something red and bushy peeks out. It is her tail.
HUNGER SONG
Bibimbap or udong
Sushi or some ramen
Chow fun and a pizza
NO TOO COMMON
Bagel with salmon.
I’ll take one from column A,
column B.
I’m not scared of spicy,And wash it down
I’ll drink that sweet ice tea.With a glass of ice tea
There’s a hole inside of me,
This craving must be set free,
Voracious
I’m not so gracious
But I’m voracious
Watch me close and see what I’m gonna do
I’ve got wiles and style that’s awfullynew
Voracious.
There’s a space I never fill,
A drive that won’t stand still,
Voracious,
I am loquacious
And so voracious.
Burrito or flauta
Mousse or an éclair,
Take me home to Tiffany’s
Walmart you wouldn’t dare.
Silken robes and slippers
800 thread count sheets,
And someone to play with
I can almost feel the heat.
I’m so hungry I could eat a wild horse
Just one bite and I’m relieved,
It’s true, of course.
My head is crazy,
My eyes OF COURSE
ARE HAZYofgrow hazy.
Calm me down and give me what I need.
Had no breakfast and not much for dinner please,
Running like a fool, no coffee,
sex or cheese.
My stomach’s in knots,
I wanna boycott.
Slow me down and give me what I need.
..
Work so hard to try and look so beautiful,
Stayin’ thin and on my game,
I’m very cool.
I smell a French fry.
My lips are so dry.
Feed my soul or watch me start to grieve.
.
Give me something, to tied me over,
A bone, a shot of love will do.
I’ll eat a chocolate
To stop this moanin’,
One lick I’m back on top
with …………serotonin.
I’m so hungry I could eat a wild horse
Just one bite and I’m relieved,
It’s true, of course.
My head is crazy,
My eyes grow hazy.
Calm me down and give me what I need.
Hunger!
Nicole throws down menu and keeps walking… like a hunter stalking prey. She sees a lit store and walks in for directions. It is very dark. But she hears a loud noise and is drawn to it. She doesn’t yet see the source, but hears the yells.
Musical/Dave Ogrin and Nancy Cohen
Shelf Life – Treatment
2 characters: Lady Gaga, Guru aka the ghost of Janis Joplin/Sidney Epstein
Lady Gaga has just come off stage from doing a number at the Grammys (or Halloween benefit for disturbed children). She is wearing a white outfit, fuzzy. She is perturbed. The ‘green’ room is empty except for a table.
Gaga:
AAHHHHHHHHHH.. I can’t believe it… they’ve let that idiotic reality star Olga Ramishnikof sing a number right after me..what has she done, but dance badly on Former Russian Spies Who Can’t Keep Their Mouth Closed… . and at the Grammy’s yet! This sucks.. How can they do this to me…Lady Gaga…I’ve got bills, and houses, and staff and wigs to pay for…Aren’t I still young? And wonderful?… I can’t afford to lose my spot …I’ve worked too long, too hard.. I must be on top.
I’ve crawled up from the bottom, playin sucky piano bars,
And gagged on sleazy drummers who believed that they were stars.
I’ve paid my dues, made it through, I’m at my prime…
I’m queen – is that such a crime?
One sequin at a time is how I scaled up this music rock.
I’ve got the voice, got the hair, and even got the cock…i..ness
To state the truth that gnaws in me, it me ain’t so complex,
It’s better than men, better than god, even better than sex!
There’s nothing more important than being famous,
There’s nothing that I’d trade in for celebrity,
There’s nothing more important than being famous,
Famous for eternity!
How dare they upstage me and topple my throne,
Their actions enrage me, they need to be shown.
I’m GAGA!
From stage left a gypsy like looking lady appears. She is standing by the table.
She is the GURU BAMBA.
GURU BAMBA
(with an accent)
Hello darlink… now, don’t you worry.. the fans love you.
GAGA
(startled)
Who the hell are you?
GURU BAMBA
Your manager Sidney thought that I could help you. You can share your problems with me. Think of me as a mother. We’ll ask my magic board what your future holds in store for you. It never lies.
GAGA
Sidney sent you… that creep, that parasite of an agent..…he’s the one that hired that Soviet whore to steal my light. She can’t even dance…He’s a traitor.
Guru approaches Gaga and puts her hand out beseeching her to get close and trust.
GURU BAMBA
No darlink, that couldn’t be further from the truth. He wants the best for you.. for your career. Tell me your troubles. I’m all ears.
GAGA
You’re not getting any younger, that’s what he said,
When my French boytoy kicked me out of his bed,
I lost the lead in Women Behind Bars (Prison Girls?) or so I’ve been told,
To play Lindsay Lohan, they said, I’m too old.
GURU BAMBA
Gaga, my crumbcake, don’t’ vorry about Francois. He will come back.
GAGA
How do you know his name?
GURU BAMBA
I’m intuitive, they say. Come, join me here and we’ll ask the magic board for some answers.
GAGA
Because there’s nothing more important than being famous.
She leads her over to the table with a board on it.
GAGA
A Ouija board… I haven’t seen one of these since I was a kid.
GURU BAMBA
Put your hands down like this. (she shows her) Ok, Ouija Ouija, on our lap… tell us what is on the map?
GAGA
Oh, my gawd..it’s moving.
GURU BAMBA
Close your eyes…I’ll read the letters. (spelling out) S/O/ S-o-u-t-h-e-r-n. Southern Comfort.
GAGA
It’s moving so fast.
(Bamba screams like Janis Joplin. Suddenly she pulls off her uniform hat and great Joplin hair tumbles down. She stands up at the board, leaving Gaga in shock, hands still on board. The GURU BAMBA has become Joplin.)
JANIS
YES, JANIS IS IN THE HOUSE,
COME TO SAVE YOUR SOUL
I’M THE GARDEN FROM WHERE YOU GREW
THE FIRST QUEEN OF ROCK N ROLL
GAGA
OMG – Janis Joplin
JANIS
LISTEN TO JANIS, BABY
YOU GOT TO BEWARE
YOU’RE DRYING UP, YOU’RE GETTING OLD
JUST LOOK AT YOUR HAIR
THE ONLY WAY TO KEEP YOUR FAME
IS TO JUMP ON OUT OF THE LIVING GAME
GAGA
What do you mean?
JANIS
HONEY, JANIS IS MEMBER, A VIP
OF A VERY EXCLUSIVE SOCIETY
AND YOU GOT A SHOT, AND I DON’T MEAN A SHOT OF JACK DANIELS
TO KEEP YOUR FAME ETERNALLY
GOTTA BE LIKE YOUR MAMA BEAR , roarin’ JANIS
NOT A SCARED LITTLE CUB
CAUSE YOU GOT A golden invite baby,
TO THE TWENTY SEVEN CLUB
JIMMY HENDRIX, KURT COBAIN
EVEN THE GREAT TUPAC
JIM MORRISON AND BRIAN JONES
ALL PUNCHED OUT THE CLOCK
BUDDY HOLLY AND YOUR JANIS, GIRL
WE’RE UP THERE JAMMIN’ IN HEAVEN
YOU KNOW WHO WE ARE CAUSE WE REACHED OUR STAR
AND DIED BY TWENTY SEVEN
LIVING FAST AND DYING YOUNG
WHAT FAMOUS PEOPLE DO
CRASH AND BURN AND DON’T RETURN
AND THEY’LL REMEMBER YOU
ALL OF THOSE PEOPLE WANNA BRING YOU DOWN
HERE’S YOUR CHANCE TO SNUB
DON’T DELAY, SIGN UP TODAY
FOR THE TWENTY SEVEN CLUB
THE TWENTY SEVEN CLUB
GAGA
Are you suggesting that I kill myself?
JANIS
Uh huh.
GAGA
YOU DON’T HAVE TO DIE TO CHART REAL HIGH
MADONNA STILL HAS A CAREER
JANIS
SHE’S ALL DRIED OUT, JUST TO KEEP HER CLOUT
SHE NEEDS SURGERY EACH YEAR
GAGA
LOOK AT CHER, SHE’S STILL OUT THERE
LOOKING HOT IN LATEX CLOTHES
JANIS
YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME YOU’RE DESTINY
IS DOING VEGAS OLDIE SHOWS
YOU’LL LIVE IN HEARTS AND MINDS FOREVER
YOUR RECORD SALES WILL SOAR
YOU FANS WILL FORGIVE ALL YOUR SINS
IF YOU LEAVE THEM WANTING MORE
THE ONES WHO TRULY STAY ON TOP
AND KEEP THE SHARPEST CLAWS
ARE THE ONES WHO JUMP THEIR SAILING SHIPS
AND AVOID THEIR MENOPAUSE
GAGA
Menopause … yech! You know … maybe you’re right …… they DO all still love you.
LIVING FAST AND DYING YOUNG
WHAT FAMOUS PEOPLE DO
JANIS
CRASH AND BURN AND DON’T RETURN
AND THEY’LL REMEMBER YOU
GAGA
ALL OF THOSE PEOPLE WANNA BRING ME DOWN
HERE’S MY CHANCE TO SNUB
JANIS
DON’T DELAY, SIGN UP TODAY
JANIS AND GAGA
FOR THE TWENTY SEVEN CLUB
THE TWENTY SEVEN CLUB
Look at Jimmy, Buddy, too.
They all died young, so should you.
Die when you’re pretty, thin and rich,
They won’t discover No one will know that you’re such a bitch.
GAGA
What are you crazy? I’ve got loads of time,
So I don’t take drugs, is that a crime?
I’ve got it all, I’ve got the most.
Why should I listen to a silly ghost?
JANIS
By twenty-seven you’re over the hill,
Like a fadin’ plant on a window sill,
Spare the world your bags and fat,
Take you life, just like that.
Idea: like a jumprope song..
Brian jones, of the Stones
Kurt Cobain, just the same.
Their early deaths were not a flub,
Cause they belong to the 27 Club.
Live fast, die young, that’s what you do,
Like Jim Morrison, it immortalizes you.
Time is running, no time to wait,
Make Club 27 your next big date
Your fans they’ll want you more and more,
And record sales will simply soar.
Once fate has sealed you from their sight
Their love for Gaga will take full flight.
GAGA
But what about Madonna? She’s still alive? And she’s busy working.
JANIS
Yea, well, what about Mama, Mama Cass
‘At fifty, she’d have had the biggest ass,
And go to Paris to see Jimmy’s grave,
So many fans, it’s like a rave.
Living long is real old school,
Singing at menopause is down right cruel.
Take my advice and leave while you might,
Cher should’ve done it; she’s such a fright.
GAGA
But I never played Woodstock!
JANIS
Dying young is where it’s at,
The press at last will come to bat.
Alive you’re just a PBS hick, So you can die in just a flick
But dead, next year, a bio pic.
Because there’s nothing more important than being famous.
GAGA
Club 57, by joe, it has a ring.
I’m beginning to think it might really sing.
But am I ready to leave this earth,
Without her Gaga, it’ll leave a dearth…. Of idiot clones.
JANIS
No one will ever replace you,
Your death so young will make you true.
And all your critics will feel the shame,
Gaga lives forever, you will have the fame.
GAGA
Oh, you must be right … they all still love you.
JANIS
You got that right! So come on, let’s suicide you.
GAGA
Ok, but first I need to get a new wig and my make up artist will give me a special look… (she gets up to go) .. I’ll do it tomorrow… I’ve still got a number to finish in this show … it’s in my contract.
JANIS
Blow that off… it’ll make better press. And here, some special chocolate from Egypt…one bite and you’ll keep your looks forever, just like Nephriti.. and it’s 98 percent cocoa. Hmm.
She puts chocolate in front of Gaga’s nose.
Take a little piece of my chocolate now.
Take a little piece of my chocolate..
Come on, come on now, take it.
Come on, I’ll even break it.
You know you child, it’ll make you feel good.
Gaga reluctantly takes chocolate from Janis. But she’s afraid to eat it. Janis breaks it in half, takes one half, chews it, giving Gaga the confidence to nibble. Gaga bites… and she’s down. As Gaga goes through a Sarah Bernhardt swan death, Janis gets up, goes stage left. She quickly puts hair up in to CEO style ponytail, flips on hat, and suit jacket and returns to the table with a cigar, voila…Sidney Epstein, agent. Turning to stage left, she yells to the paparazzi.
SIDNEY
Come on boys…it’s feeding time. Bring out those Nikons. (to Gaga) What’d you think Gaga…I was gonna put up with your temper tantrums. Let me get the first shot.
Sidney takes a photo of dead Gaga with his camera phone.
I’m the best agent you’ll never see,
On earth and even the galaxy.
I take their blood and I take their bones,
OOOOhhhhh…. Hear their moans of
Liberty. Freed from me..
With this he goes over and licks Gaga’s arm.
SIDNEY
Ah, fifteen percent never tasted so good.
He turns around and sings: There’s Nothing more important than being famous.
He puts angel wings on Gaga. She gets up, sings with him and floats out.
Climate change theatr excerpts
https://www.instagram.com/climatechangetheatr/ https://www.tiktok.com/@climatechangetheatr
1998 Contributed piece, Saturday Afternoon Journal 1998, No. 13, Flashback, edited
by Elvin Whitesides Michael Simmons & Cynthia Walker. Hollywood: The
Humorous Corporation.
ART & PHOTOGRAPHY EXHIBITIONS
- denotes award-winning work
2016 SLA307 Gallery, Resistance and Laughter – My Dinner with Abbie Screening & Art
Show
2016 Kimmel Center, NYU – Political Art Collage
2016 Jersey City Art Show – Selected Photographs
2017 City Optician, Store Window Art – Thanksgiving Political Art
2016 *DF Mavens, Xmas Star – Photograph, Winner: Best in Show
2015 City Arts, Xmas – Peace Tree Sculpture
2012 MOMA, with New School/Paper Tiger – Workshop Media Presentation
2011 Curate, Longview Gallery, NYC, Toy Show – “In the Grass” (Photograph)
2011 Parsons Gallery, Taos, NM – “Don’t Fence Me In” (Mixed Media Sculpture)
2010 Bigapple Brits Group Show – Queen Elizabeth (Painting)
2009 Thompkins Square Park Wow Art Show – “No More Bush”
1982—- Kwok Gallery – “Freud’s Toilet” (Sculpture)
1985—- Stefanie Wynn Gallery – “The Other Woman” (Sculpture) (with Brad Kalhamer)
–1996– Tribe Gallery Woodstock Show – “Andy’s Boot” (Sculpture)
COLLECTIONS
MOMA, New York – “East Village Street Life” (photograph)
Charles Saatchi, UK, private collection – “Candy Man” (gift)
Private collection – “Don’t Fence Me In” (mixed media sculpture)
HONORS & AWARDS
2010 FedCap Poetry Contest, Honorable Mention
2010 Hundred Words or Fewer Essay Winner for “Incandescent”
2009 Wurlitzer Foundation Fellow
2007 Winner of Tribeca Short Short Film Award for “Knot Marr
Tuesdays with Morrie
c Jeremy Varner
I can’t remember if I ever watched Morrie Schwartz on the Ted Koppel show as I may have confused him with Andy Rooney who signed off on 60 Minutes. But the book Tuesdays with Morrie was very familiar. It was written by Mitch Albom and explores his very close friendship in the last year of Morrie’s life, when Morrie lay “living” with ALS.
This memory play produced by Sea Dog Theater is a touching story about mentorship, life, and the importance of love above all else. Chris Domig, who is also the artistic director of Red Dog, does a fine job as Mitch, conveying the angst of a young man, unsure of himself and the choices he has made in life which give him success but not peace. He is a gifted jazz pianist who throws over his art for a real career in sports journalism, but something is missing. When he chances upon his old Brandeis professor and learns that he is ill, he makes weekly visits to his coach, enabling them both to put closure on a special relationship that Mitch abandoned while trying to grow up. He starts out the show playing jazz piano, so the audience doesn’t know if he’s a warm up or part of the show.
It’s a tough role…… Mitch is a whiny guy who is frightened of his feelings. He needs the warmth and wit of Morrie to come alive and as played by the fabulous Len Cariou, he eventually does.
Mr. Cariou seems feeble at first, holding onto the piano for balance…but when he opens his mouth, there is so much richness, that even when his character is close to death, you feel you are still with the most alive person in the room, including the audience. When he tells Mitch about trying to have kids, his face takes on the look of someone remembering all the good sex he and Connie, his wife had, while trying. Of course, the one-time demon Barber of Fleet Street is sexy still, with his deep, resonating voice as he goes through the stages of his last year with grace and strength.
Morrie and Mitch’s conversations about life and death are humane and identifiable. Morrie is a man who sees the big picture while understanding that it’s the small gestures that make a good life.
The writing, thanks to Jeffrey Hatcher and Albom is sharp and it’s terrific that Mitch taped those conversations because we really get to hear Morrie’s wit first hand.
Directed by Erwin Mass, the show moves at a nice pace and cleverly uses one main prop. The chair Morrie sits on becomes the symbol of his body’s changes, with Mitch adding foot pedals and a head rest as Morrie becomes sicker. This gives Mitch something to touch and fuss over…until he’s finally able to touch Morrie’s head and surrender to his real feelings of love.
The only pick I have is that Jerry Rubin went to Oberlin College. It was Abbie Hoffman who studied at Brandeis and after seeing this wonderful play, I wonder if Abbie’s life would have been different if he too had been coached by Morrie Schwartz.
Tuesdays with Morrie runs until 4/20 at St. George’s Episcopal Church, located at 209 East 16 St., between 3 Ave. and Rutherford Place
notjustaboutsex 