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Visual Art: Dance: Theater: Theater: Outdoors:
LCC
Artists at DIVA Printmaker Susan Lowdermilk organized the exhibit "Artists Who Teach," hosted in five of DIVA's seven exhibit rooms. The exhibit showcases prints, sculpture, paintings and drawings by 22 LCC instructors in Art and Applied Design.
Lowdermilk's woodcut, Another Chance, is a modular piece, which shows both wit and craftsmanship. "It's like having two imaginary people playing tic-tac-toe in an ongoing game," Lowdermilk said. "The games played before have faded away and come up in lighter values of gray. I like the positive message: There's always another chance, something more to be done." She notes that her wood engravings and etchings also feature "objects as metaphors." Viewers are invited to consider a range of possible interpretations. Sculpture is strongly represented by Ellen Tykeson's figurative and narrative work. Beloved, a clay bust, is particularly striking in its classicism. Andreas Salzman's mixed media sculptures are "about people and their relationships to the world in which they live," Salzman said. They combine "primitive ceramic firing processes" with carpentry into large, unusual assemblies. A versatile sculptor who works with both metal and wood, Lee C. Imonen's creative energy ranges from abstraction to architectural functionality. Inside Out and Outside In, steel and bronze respectively, stand monumentally erect like exotic cacti. Zig Zag Bridge is a steel-and-wood model for a lovely walkway that playfully snakes through wetlands. Although vastly different in style, four of the most impressive two-dimensional artists in the show appear to share a similar fascination with light, its representation and emotional impact in painting and drawing. Adam Grosowsky's large-format oil paintings use chiaroscuro less to create an illusion of depth than to create visual and emotional intensity. Grosowsky's deep blacks, complex and luminous, result from glazed layers of color and, like his intense whites, range from cool to warm. Use of complementary blue and orange, purple and yellow, further heightens contrast. Grosowsky does not let us forget the two-dimensionality of the canvas. Depth is created where dark meets light, whether we hover at the edge of a young woman's profile against darkness (Geneva #2) or look with her outside the window toward the suffused northern light, which creates a subtle halo where it meets her dark hair (Kristen in a Window). Caught in an intimate, pensive, brooding mood, Grosowsky's female figures remain private, remote. Partly lit by intense light, they remain largely robed in shadow, their gaze directed away from us. Great economy in composition counterbalances the dramatic light, and as light becomes subject matter, such compositional minimalism leans toward abstraction. Avenue of the Trees #2 partakes of the logic of Rothko's luminous rectangles with its three horizontal bands organized according to a dark-light-dark scheme. But here tree silhouettes, black against the lit sky, serve together with secondary light reflections to break the pattern. Monique Belitz's titles to her sparse oil landscapes point to light itself as subject matter. In Glare, acid hills are pitted against a cool dark blue sky, each with respective accents of orange and purple. In Desert Stream, the hills blaze more warmly. Orange hues are matched by intense reddish purples. Splintered Light is the most abstract. Landscape is a pretext to explore part of the spectrum of refracted light, from russet-orange to yellow-green. Belitz adheres to a yin-yang composition device, according to which each dominant tonal mass includes a sample of its counterpart. Satoko, "intrigued by the notion of transience," turns her attention not just to ruins but to the evanescent play of light reflections in her Italian landscapes. In Reflection, evening lights and abstracted house-shapes reflect ambiguously on wet pavement or water. Yellows, oranges and reds contrast with blues, purples and green accents – a vocabulary of colors also used by Grosowsky and Belitz, albeit in a different style.
Kathleen Caprario does not use color, yet the drama of value contrast in her graphite drawings creates an illusion of color. Exquisitely crafted, these slightly surreal, uninhabited landscapes receive their otherworldly light from veiled suns. Their Byzantine aura comes from the patterned gold and copper leaf that surrounds them with radiating geometric designs. In this stark world of stylized architectonic rock formations and water, light and shadows possess as physical a presence as the more tangible elements. "The drawings describe an interim location, a place situated between the physicality of the real world and a dream-like journey of the imagination," Caprario explained. But following her husband's death, Caprario's expressive vocabulary changed. "My past work was developed on a sense of abundance and embellishment," Caprario said. "I had to strip away to the basics to reach a state of elemental economy." By happy coincidence, Caprario's latest work, presence:absence, is showing at Karin Clarke Gallery through April 2. She dropped representation and chiaroscuro illusion of depth in favor of abstraction, color and a minimal vocabulary of simple shapes: rectangles, squares, circles and an abstracted boat shape that represents the idea of journey, transition and passage. Caprario's new pieces at Karin Clarke seek to address the dichotomies and binary oppositions that preoccupy her: presence/absence, life/death, loss/renewal, light/dark. "Negative shapes and figure/ground relationships are a great metaphor for the issues of loss," she said. But presence and absence were already present in her earlier pieces at DIVA both thematically (Hidden Passage, Ocean Arch, Tides of Memory) and formally, through chiaroscuro and attention to the relationship between positive shapes and negative space. In Transition Zone, one of Caprario's strongest new works, light continues to be a central preoccupation and subject matter. But Caprario's relationship to that light has changed. It has gone from trusting and straightforward to ironic and complex. The large fiery sun occupying the center of the square black wood-panel does not radiate light. Its edges are swallowed by the darkness that surrounds it. The grid pattern of the safety glass may be a protective device, but it also functions as a barrier that both separates us from it and dims it. It is obscured in part by a dark vertical bar, a perfect compositional counterpoint to the circular shape of the sun but also another irreconcilable binary opposite. DIVA will hold a second reception for its show on April 1 during Art Walk. The exhibition continues until April 30.
I
Heart Contact In 2000, after Contact garnered four Tonys, including Best Musical, I took a bold step for a decidedly downtown New Yorker. I bought myself a half-price seat at the World Trade Center ticket booth and gamely ventured above 23rd Street to see a show that had earned praise from (not all) critics, adulation from fans, and smirks from more than a handful of urban artists.
Contact's choreographer Susan Stroman was singularly revered that year for her revival of an art form on the ropes: Musical Theater. Slapped around by the pyrotechnic excess of bankable schlock, musicals had become dinosaurs, lumbering away from the snappy narrative, great lyrics and superb dancing that had defined the genre. The Musical seemed sadly mired in the tar pit of hydraulics and helicopters. By contrast, Stroman's "dance play" offered something new in its familiarity. Stroman gently waltzed audiences to a bygone era. Contact's first story is a frothy love-trio. Then, there's a snappy sitcom set in a 1950s Italian restaurant. The finale riffs in a present-day club, where a wallowing exec's ennui is interrupted when an enchantress makes it clear to him, and every other fella in the joint, that she's looking to make "contact." Using ballet, jazz and jiving swing, Stroman allows audiences to rekindle their appreciation for theater sans spectacle. Few could resist Contact's zippy musical selections. (By the way, this musical has no singing, and much to the dismay of musicians' unions, is performed to recorded music.) Who doesn't love the crispness of Grieg, the sexiness of Bizet? What a delight is a farandole by Branford Marsalis. Who can resist boogieing to Dion or the Beach Boys? Benny Goodman? Stroman knows it, and the pace and breadth of the show's song choices are like a soft massage to our downy unconscious. This show is palatable and friendly. Accessibility scores points with audiences. But when I saw Contact for myself, I thought it was like a slick retail experience: glossy, knowingly sellable and possessing the "magic" that leads audiences, as consumers, to feel that they are somehow participating in the dance.
Puppet
Sins, Puppet Pride Got sins to confess you just can't admit to another human being? How about a desire to see puppets, shadow puppets and marionettes yuk it up about sex and religion? Then get thee to Sam Bonds' second annual Drunk Puppet Night on April Fool's Day. The spirit of the Fool reigns supreme Friday, as a group of local puppeteers unite for an evening of irreverent, strictly-for-adults theater and "Puppet Confessional." Queen Accordionna, 2000's Slug Queen, will MC the event and lead the Drunk Puppet Band, performing arrangements of theatrical instrumentals like "The Good, The Bad & The Ugly" and "The Pink Panther Theme".
You know Jeff Lake and Tamara Crafts from the Country Fair, where they dazzle audiences as puppeteers with Trunk Full of Faces Theater (TfoF). The pair decided to get naughty and pulled together Drunk Puppet Night because, as Lake says, puppeteers get tired of the kid stuff. "It partly got started by people who do professional puppet theater that's mostly for kids who wanted to … do all the nasty crap that they could never do with the kids," he said. Lake and Crafts are friends with a group of puppeteers in Seattle calling themselves The Monkey Wrench Puppet Lab. TfoF performed Drunk Puppet Nights at Seattle's Rebar for five years, with a Portland debut at the Winninstad Theater last month. Lake and Crafts enjoyed it so much they brought the idea to Sam Bonds in 2004. Last year's event was a sold-out success, and organizers expect the same response this year. "People were raving about it," Queen Accordionna said. The first half of the evening is like a theatrical, vaudevillian stage show. "We definitely want the effect of a three ring circus," said Queen Accordionna. A "Puppet Confessional," where sinners can use a puppet to confess to another puppet, will be set up in Sam Bonds' courtyard. Celeste Rose, a well-known local puppeteer, will be there with her own Popeye the Sailor. Imagine-A-Nation will be doing "an original piece about some poor rejected schmuck," said Queen Accordionna. The Drunk Puppet Band has a four-piece horn section and will kick off the evening with music before the puppets take the stage. The band will continue to play throughout the night, accompanying and in between puppet performances. "I'm picking music with the theme of what each show is about," said Queen Accordionna, who plays a "mean nun" in one of Lake and Crafts' skits, "The Idiot Savant of Love." Said Lake, "It's a biblical story, the real story, not that Mel Gibson jerk's story! Think about the mother Mary being a housewife hag who's yelling a lot at her no-good adolescent son, the worst carpenter in Nazareth." Mary also has an orgasm during the Immaculate Conception, which Lake says is "not to be missed!" As the puppet shows draw to a close, the band will keep the crowd dancing into the morning with a set of Motown blues and soul featuring singer TK.
Twisted
Tales Into the Woods takes fairy tale characters from their pre-ordained destinies and puts them into a world where there are random elements beyond the characters' control. At first, the play doesn't seem to carry much depth, but it progresses into a powerful statement about human error. The play opens with three different sets distanced just enough to understand that we are seeing four different plots unfold. One is an original story of an infertile baker and his wife; the other tales are those of Cinderella, Rapunzel, Jack and the Beanstalk and Little Red Riding Hood. The main focus is on the baker and his wife, who must somehow obtain four items from the other fairy tale characters in order for a witch to lift a family curse of infertility. The plot progresses smoothly from point A to B. Like any self-respecting fairy tale, by the end of the first act everyone gets what they want and go off to live happily ever after — except that the narrator says, "To be continued." Either act of the play could stand on its own with some minor revision. The first act is a whimsical take on the traditional fairy tale that merely scratches the surface of why fairy tales do not accurately portray real life, either in content or in theme. It could function on its own as a simple fairy tale for children, but one that pokes fun at itself. The fairy tale dialect that seems perfectly ordinary within a book jacket is ludicrous onstage — and the cast takes every advantage of the comic potential. Little Red Riding Hood (Liz Kadel) makes the most of being "eaten" by the wolf, drawing chuckles from the audience at the obvious optical illusion. Part of the musical's charm is poking fun at the obvious leaps the audience must make for onstage optical illusions. In the second act, though, the plot goes beyond "happily ever after." The audience then finds out that the interactions between the characters have led them down an entirely different path. Questions no longer have clear "right" and "wrong" answers, and as adultery, death, envy, parenting dilemmas, and what seem like acts of God force the characters to reconsider their previously drawn paths. Conflicts, death and personal crises suddenly turn what were previously relatively flat characters into multidimensional people with flaws. The actors' characterizations of traditional fairy tale figures change from simplistic to more developed, realistic individuals in the second act. Watching the baker (Blake Hodgetts) grapple with grief and blame is especially moving. Though the first half of Into the Woods works well on its own, it is the second act that turns the play from a lighthearted jab at traditional fairy tales to a complicated tale about humanity's flaws. The musical sequences are delightful. Jill Gillett and Cate Wolfenbarger perfect the lilting princess voice, and the two pompous princes (Chris Carwithen and Matt Musgrove) delight the audience with their uproarious rendition of "Agony," one of the best musical numbers in the show. Though the choreography is relatively simple, it complements the vocals without being awkward or overpowering. The audience seemed spellbound by the ability of the play to be both whimsical and profound. The point is, though, that life doesn't work out as it should and that happily ever after, just like every other guarantee in life, is a sham. And though everyone knows by now that life isn't fair, watching tragedy strike characters who don't know it seems to make that very old piece of wisdom fresh and poignant.
Shifting
Sands Oregon is full of surprises, and one of the most surprising and interesting spots is the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area, a 40-mile long strip of shifting sands between Florence and Coos Bay that contains the largest expanse of coastal dunes in North America.
The juxtaposition of natural features at the Oregon Dunes is bizarre. Looking north or south, the barren, glimmering dunes will make you feel like you're in the Sahara Desert or the Arabian Peninsula. But glance to the west and you'll see the blue-green breakers of the Pacific Ocean colliding with the shore. And to the east is a wall of lush temperate rainforest. To get to the dunes, simply drive west on Highway 126 from Eugene for approximately 60 miles to Florence. Turn south on Highway 101 — the National Recreation Area is found between the highway and the shoreline and begins just south of town. There are two day-hiking opportunities near Florence that are very representative of the larger area. The Taylor Dunes trailhead is found at the Carter Creek Campground 8 miles south of Florence on Highway 101. A gate closes the campground during the winter. The trailhead begins in a small parking lot right off the road. The path skirts a shallow lake for a half-mile before reaching a viewing platform. From here the trail is poorly maintained. You will follow wooden posts through the sands for a half-mile to a junction with the Carter Dunes Trail. (You can skip straight to the Carter Creek trail by walking past the gate from the parking lot for a quarter of a mile and finding the trailhead by the first campground.) At the trail junction, head west to reach the beach or continue south through a crazy moonscape of dunes. The sand dunes here are "oblique" dunes found nowhere else on earth. Called oblique because they form at an angle to southern winter winds and northern summer winds, these are the tallest dunes in the area, growing as high as 500 feet. Oblique dunes are constantly moving, traveling from three to five feet a year, burying everything in their path, including forests, streams and lakes. Probably the most diverse and scenic part of the Oregon Dunes is found around Takhenitch Creek. To get there, drive 10 miles south of Florence on Highway 101 to the Oregon Dunes Overlook. The lookout itself isn't nearly as interesting as the hike that continues into the dunes, where you can head south towards Takhenitch Creek past strange islands of trees that survived the bulldozing action of sand dunes marching inland. To begin exploring Takhenitch immediately, drive 12 miles south of Florence to the Takhenitch Creek trailhead, which follows crystal clear waters as they wind their way west to the ocean past enormous sand dunes. This trail intersects a variety of interesting loop trails that take you south. In a weird twist, the sand dunes are managed by the U.S. Forest Service, which has dedicated half of the 31,500-acre recreation area to the sole use of off-road vehicle aficionados. Every summer weekend this obnoxious subspecies of boobus americanus holds a full-scale reenactment of the Normandy invasion on these beautiful sands. The dunes are literally being wiped off the face of the Earth by a quieter but even more insidious force than the invading army of dune buggies. Civilization detests dynamic natural features, and European beach grass was introduced to the dunes in the 1920s to stabilize the shifting sands. The beach grass has done its job too well. A foredune has established itself close to the shoreline and parallel to the beach. Vegetation growing on the foredune is preventing sand from the beach from moving inland and replenishing the big dunes. Unless something is done soon, the dunes could be rendered completely inert and beyond recovery within 50 years. Using high explosives or heavy equipment to blow holes in the foredune to allow sand to move freely inland would be an extreme, but completely warranted, restoration measure. Yep, drop a bunker-busting bomb on an Oregon beach. This place just keeps getting stranger and stranger, huh?
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