*Art Garden* report
Dec. 9th, 2004 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
capri0mniMeant to do this a lot sooner -- like the next day, when impressions were fresh, but our elderly (as in 23+ years old) cat was dying, and not dying quietly -- as her brain was winding down, she was wallking in circles, bumping into things and through things (she'd gone blind, and had been deaf for years), and I was distracted with worry for her (and my father, who had grown very close to her)... and my cousin was visiting, so... There just didn't seem to be a good time... But anyway, I'm doing the report, now... you can skip, if you want... I'm just writing this for my own sake, mostly... and in case any of you are curious.
This is what I got in the mail, announcing this Art Garden's theme:
TAKE FLIGHT AT THE ART GARDEN!
Birds do it, bees do it, jets and angels and dreamers do it. Flying holds a fascination for each of us, and the subject will take wing at FLIGHT, the forty-first Art Garden, on Saturday, November 27, at 8pm at the Philipstown Depot Theatre in Garrison, New York [ . . .]
---
When we got there, I looked throough the window of the box office, and thought I saw the editor/MC/hostess dressed as a rocketwoman -- it turns out that she'd made stylized "angel wings" for herself out of that shiny prism paper people use to wrap presents with.
Inside the theater, the stage area (it's actually level with the floor) was bare, but had a giant white oragami crane, with a wingspan of about 4-5 feet, hanging from the ceiling.
Here's the program we each got, with my notes about each piece as I remember it:
THE FORTY-FIRST ART GARDEN
Saturday, November 27, 2004 8pm
Phillipstown Depot Theatre, Garrison, NY
Meditation..........................giom grech
In general, I don't do well with complex guided meditations -- I want more silence and less beautiful discription, so I'm not a good person to judge whether it was an effective meditation, or not. It was a nice piece though, as art -- asking us to imagine that we're flying in a space shuttle of the future, looking down at the Earth below -- a world of land and oceans but without the borders or strife we see from down here...
Flying.................................Imogene Drummond
Imogene is a regular attendee of The Art Garden, but this was her first performance. She put a photo of a young man in what looked like a WWII photo (but it could have been the '50's or 60's) of him in a plane on a stool beside her as she read, so those in the audience could see it. It turned out to be her father. Her essay discribed him flying as a test pilot, then how she held his hand as he lay dying, taking flight from the mortal coil... She got choked up as she neared the end, and I think we all did, too.
Cargo Flights......................Brydon Fitzgerald (Doug Cole)
Brydon was busy moving house, so Irene (the MC/organizer) let her friend and ex-hubby read for her. Usually, Irene doesn't let proxies read, but this time, there were so many who were unable to come. that we wouldn't have had a quorum, otherwise. A poem about a Fed-Ex plane, I think, or about the boxes in the cargo hold of the plane, ending with her describing moving the boxes into her new home, iirc.. Brydon's poems are pleasant, but damned if I can remember them a few minutes later... Doug Cole, who used to be a radio announcer, did a better job reading the poem than Brydon usually does, who tends to read too fast and quietly... She's been doing this for longer than I have (I started in '89), and she still gets overcome by stage fright.
Class Conscious..................Merry Sanders (Cecile Lindstedt)
Merry was another one who hoped she could make it, but realized she couldn't at the last minute (she'd recently moved to Florida). This piece was a memior of a time when she was working as an international reporter, taking her friend along to Britian with her, and how a flight attendent snuck her friend from coach to first class, so they could sit together...
Rock 'n' Roll Whirlybird.....Doug Cole
From those days as a young radio guy: What happens when testosterone, college co-eds, minor celebrity, a helicoptor, and a dead battery mix? Embarrassment and chagrin, that's what.
Almost Paradise..................Cathy Gonick (read by her husband)
Another person out sick. A memior from the 1960's. When the author was in her teens, she and her siblings heard on the news that the Paradise Airlines flight their parents were on crashed in the mountains -- all aboard presumed dead. She's just coming to terms with this news, when her parents walk through the door, pissed that they missed the flight. As her father said later: "This is proof that God loves atheists."
Contact.................................Frank Ortega
I'm drawing a complete blank on this one, at the mo'... :-/ [edit: now, I remember why: there was a freight train passing at the time (it's not called "The Depot Theatre" for nothing), and Mr. Ortega kept on reading over the noise. It's a tough call. There would have been several minutes of him standing there saying nothing if he waited for it to pass completely.]
Flyku....................................Cecile Lindstedt
Another in her series of haiku (I'm not sure of the middle line):
Falling, not flying,
I'm dreaming that you catch me --
Flying not falling.
for even pigs.........................giom grech
A short poem about how baby pigs do fly, because, like all of us, they are spinning through the stars on Earth...
Bon Voyage...........................Steve Lindstedt
Steve Lindstedt writes Garrison Kiellor-like monologues about growing up in a middle-class Californian Suburb. This piece was about his "flight" away from home, to New York, using the metaphor of a zeppelin whose tethers are loosening one by one. Most memorable image for me, when he came upon his dog, Tammy (who'd run away from home years ago, to live with another family), unexpectedly in the street, and she broke free and ran into his arms... the day before he moved away for good. Zeppelins are one of Steve's all-time favorite things, and I overheard Irene joking that, no, "Zeppelins" would not be a good theme for a future Art Garden.
First Flight.............................Tracy Strong
A piece about flying to another state to be present at the birth of their adopted daughter... Going out there, they didn't want to tell people they were adopting before it was finalized, so they told the stewardess (who asked about the empty baby carrier) they were picking up the baby from her grandmother's. The same stewardess was on the return flight, and she was quite surprised that they would leave such a young infant with Grandma... they told her the truth, then. ;-)
Father Christmas, Father Wind...Ann Magill
The piece I posted here, with a few alterations (made after reading it aloud a bazzillion times). It went over really well, and got laughs in all the places I wanted it to. Another train passed (Passenger, this time, so it was fast), right between the lines: "As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly" and "So up to the housetop, his coursers they flew..." The timing was so perfect, I had to fight not to burst out laughing. Can you say: "Polar Express," boys and girls?
The Flight Of The Kite...........Irene O'Garden
Usually, there's a guy (Mark somebody, iirc) who submits a song to each Art Garden... but not this time, so Irene read her own short poem about the relationship between a person and the wind, through the string of a kite. She prefaced it by saying it could be a metaphor for the creative process.
---
One thing that struck me about this time was how many pieces were about mechanical flight: Spaceships, airships, helicopters. I mentioned birds, but didn't really talk about how they fly... there weren't any bees, either, or angels. hmmm.
The next two Art Gardens: April 30, 2005 (over a month earlier than usual!): "Computers" -- think I can come up with something? ;-) Nov. 26: "Drink"
---
In other news, my aide recently painted her house, so she came by with fifty (50) metal paint can lids, with the thought that I could probably do something crafty with them... I dunno... I could always cover my walls with them, for the good ol' "TARDIS Interior" decor! ;-)
This is what I got in the mail, announcing this Art Garden's theme:
TAKE FLIGHT AT THE ART GARDEN!
Birds do it, bees do it, jets and angels and dreamers do it. Flying holds a fascination for each of us, and the subject will take wing at FLIGHT, the forty-first Art Garden, on Saturday, November 27, at 8pm at the Philipstown Depot Theatre in Garrison, New York [ . . .]
---
When we got there, I looked throough the window of the box office, and thought I saw the editor/MC/hostess dressed as a rocketwoman -- it turns out that she'd made stylized "angel wings" for herself out of that shiny prism paper people use to wrap presents with.
Inside the theater, the stage area (it's actually level with the floor) was bare, but had a giant white oragami crane, with a wingspan of about 4-5 feet, hanging from the ceiling.
Here's the program we each got, with my notes about each piece as I remember it:
Saturday, November 27, 2004 8pm
Phillipstown Depot Theatre, Garrison, NY
Meditation..........................giom grech
In general, I don't do well with complex guided meditations -- I want more silence and less beautiful discription, so I'm not a good person to judge whether it was an effective meditation, or not. It was a nice piece though, as art -- asking us to imagine that we're flying in a space shuttle of the future, looking down at the Earth below -- a world of land and oceans but without the borders or strife we see from down here...
Flying.................................Imogene Drummond
Imogene is a regular attendee of The Art Garden, but this was her first performance. She put a photo of a young man in what looked like a WWII photo (but it could have been the '50's or 60's) of him in a plane on a stool beside her as she read, so those in the audience could see it. It turned out to be her father. Her essay discribed him flying as a test pilot, then how she held his hand as he lay dying, taking flight from the mortal coil... She got choked up as she neared the end, and I think we all did, too.
Cargo Flights......................Brydon Fitzgerald (Doug Cole)
Brydon was busy moving house, so Irene (the MC/organizer) let her friend and ex-hubby read for her. Usually, Irene doesn't let proxies read, but this time, there were so many who were unable to come. that we wouldn't have had a quorum, otherwise. A poem about a Fed-Ex plane, I think, or about the boxes in the cargo hold of the plane, ending with her describing moving the boxes into her new home, iirc.. Brydon's poems are pleasant, but damned if I can remember them a few minutes later... Doug Cole, who used to be a radio announcer, did a better job reading the poem than Brydon usually does, who tends to read too fast and quietly... She's been doing this for longer than I have (I started in '89), and she still gets overcome by stage fright.
Class Conscious..................Merry Sanders (Cecile Lindstedt)
Merry was another one who hoped she could make it, but realized she couldn't at the last minute (she'd recently moved to Florida). This piece was a memior of a time when she was working as an international reporter, taking her friend along to Britian with her, and how a flight attendent snuck her friend from coach to first class, so they could sit together...
Rock 'n' Roll Whirlybird.....Doug Cole
From those days as a young radio guy: What happens when testosterone, college co-eds, minor celebrity, a helicoptor, and a dead battery mix? Embarrassment and chagrin, that's what.
Almost Paradise..................Cathy Gonick (read by her husband)
Another person out sick. A memior from the 1960's. When the author was in her teens, she and her siblings heard on the news that the Paradise Airlines flight their parents were on crashed in the mountains -- all aboard presumed dead. She's just coming to terms with this news, when her parents walk through the door, pissed that they missed the flight. As her father said later: "This is proof that God loves atheists."
Contact.................................Frank Ortega
I'm drawing a complete blank on this one, at the mo'... :-/ [edit: now, I remember why: there was a freight train passing at the time (it's not called "The Depot Theatre" for nothing), and Mr. Ortega kept on reading over the noise. It's a tough call. There would have been several minutes of him standing there saying nothing if he waited for it to pass completely.]
Flyku....................................Cecile Lindstedt
Another in her series of haiku (I'm not sure of the middle line):
Falling, not flying,
I'm dreaming that you catch me --
Flying not falling.
for even pigs.........................giom grech
A short poem about how baby pigs do fly, because, like all of us, they are spinning through the stars on Earth...
Bon Voyage...........................Steve Lindstedt
Steve Lindstedt writes Garrison Kiellor-like monologues about growing up in a middle-class Californian Suburb. This piece was about his "flight" away from home, to New York, using the metaphor of a zeppelin whose tethers are loosening one by one. Most memorable image for me, when he came upon his dog, Tammy (who'd run away from home years ago, to live with another family), unexpectedly in the street, and she broke free and ran into his arms... the day before he moved away for good. Zeppelins are one of Steve's all-time favorite things, and I overheard Irene joking that, no, "Zeppelins" would not be a good theme for a future Art Garden.
First Flight.............................Tracy Strong
A piece about flying to another state to be present at the birth of their adopted daughter... Going out there, they didn't want to tell people they were adopting before it was finalized, so they told the stewardess (who asked about the empty baby carrier) they were picking up the baby from her grandmother's. The same stewardess was on the return flight, and she was quite surprised that they would leave such a young infant with Grandma... they told her the truth, then. ;-)
Father Christmas, Father Wind...Ann Magill
The piece I posted here, with a few alterations (made after reading it aloud a bazzillion times). It went over really well, and got laughs in all the places I wanted it to. Another train passed (Passenger, this time, so it was fast), right between the lines: "As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly" and "So up to the housetop, his coursers they flew..." The timing was so perfect, I had to fight not to burst out laughing. Can you say: "Polar Express," boys and girls?
The Flight Of The Kite...........Irene O'Garden
Usually, there's a guy (Mark somebody, iirc) who submits a song to each Art Garden... but not this time, so Irene read her own short poem about the relationship between a person and the wind, through the string of a kite. She prefaced it by saying it could be a metaphor for the creative process.
---
One thing that struck me about this time was how many pieces were about mechanical flight: Spaceships, airships, helicopters. I mentioned birds, but didn't really talk about how they fly... there weren't any bees, either, or angels. hmmm.
The next two Art Gardens: April 30, 2005 (over a month earlier than usual!): "Computers" -- think I can come up with something? ;-) Nov. 26: "Drink"
---
In other news, my aide recently painted her house, so she came by with fifty (50) metal paint can lids, with the thought that I could probably do something crafty with them... I dunno... I could always cover my walls with them, for the good ol' "TARDIS Interior" decor! ;-)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-10 04:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-10 08:27 am (UTC)