And God Created Great Whales

“met’a·phor” (met’ə-fôr”) n. a figure of speech, based on some resemblance of a literal to an implied subject.” ~Webster’s Dictionary

“metaphor

1530s, from M.Fr. metaphore, from L. metaphora, from Gk. metaphora "a transfer," especially of the sense of one word to a different word, lit. "a carrying over," from metapherein "transfer, carry over," from meta- "over, across" (see meta-) + pherein "to carry, bear"” ~www.etymonline.com

Rinde Eckert’s And God Created Great Whales, now showing at the Culture Project through March 25^th, is the tale of an elderly piano tuner, Nathan (played by Eckert), who is rapidly losing his mind to dementia. The only thing (temporarily) keeping him from floating adrift is his opera “Moby Dick,” personified by his Muse Olivia (Nora Cole). The play is laden with imagery of the ocean: it symbolizes the mind, Nathan and Olivia tell Melville’s story over the course of the play, the set (original design by Kevin Adams) is held together by hemp ropes, the color coded tape recorders that hold Nathan’s memories hang around his neck like an albatross at the end when his mind finally goes and he is, in the words of the play, “adrift.” The ocean is a metaphor for the mind, just like the tape recorders are functional metaphors for Nathan’s memory.

The above quotations indicate that “metaphor” is specifically a linguistic device. Eckert’s Whales makes an element of speech or writing into living, four-dimensional process. The central metaphors are Moby Dick and the tape recorders. “Moby Dick”, in this play, has three referents, all of which blend together over the course of the eighty minute play: the story by Melville, the opera that Nathan’s writing, and Nathan’s journey. In telling the story, Nathan and Olivia take on the roles of Ishmael, Queequeg, Ahab and Starbuck. They are acting. They are representing someone they are not. In so doing, they explode the four-dimensional definition of “metaphor” to all role-playing. The opera becomes Nathan’s “white whale” (a metaphorical turn-of-phrase inspired by Melville’s novel): his quest to complete it before his mind is finally gone gives him the life-purpose to create the external memories in the tapes, and to create (in his mind) his infallible Muse Olivia to keep him focused on his project. But just as Moby Dick is Ahab’s elusive prey in the literal ocean, “Moby Dick” is always tantalizingly out of Nathan’s reach in the ocean of his mind.

Early in the play, Nathan goes of on a rant, or “marginal note,” trying to find a way to preserve his memory outside of his failing brain in such a way that it would preserve the essence of his self. He evokes the Egyptian hieroglyphics – they preserve the Pharaohs’ humanity while their bodies mummify beneath the desert. “Moby Dick” is his pyramid, his monument for those he leaves behind. He is creating the metaphor for himself. And yet he must create smaller, more personal monuments – the tapes that metaphorize what he did the day before. Because the hieroglyphs are not in fact the Pharaohs and Nathan is not his opera. They are simply objects that stand for the people. And the tapes are not actually what happened the day before, but they memorialize it – they preserve the highlights for future Nathan so that he won’t forget past Nathan.

Metaphors as a mnemonic devise – they flow throughout And God Created Great Whales with such persistency that they are the play, because, as far as most people are concerned today, the Pharaohs are what they left behind. And as far as Nathan of today is concerned, Nathan of the past is only what he’s left him on the tapes.

And God Created Great Whales is playing at The Culture Project on 45 Bleeker St, and runs through March 25. Tickets are $55, or $20 for student rush. http://cultureproject.org/

Wood Bones

William S. Yellow Robe, Jr.’s Wood Bones, as heard in a staged reading by the Eagle Project on March 7^th, is intriguingly problematic. It’s about the spirit of a dying house who is bound to her burnt-out husk by the memory of a little girl who was molested inside. While a clearly fascinating concept and one with a lot of potential, Yellow Robe’s attempt to fuse Western dramaturgy and Native storytelling structure makes the play seem unfocused and unfinished. I would go one step further and submit that it is, in fact, unfocused and unfinished.

The central conflict is between the house, 121, and her awful memory of the little girl’s trauma. Yet Yellow Robe adds two other memories in dramatic action, and several “I remember” monologues on the part of 121. The monologues bear little discussion – either because of an underwhelming reading on the part of Madeline Sayet, or because “I remember” monologues are inherently undramatic, they took the wind right out of the play’s sails. The two enacted memories – one of a couple who moved in only to be evicted for being Indian, and another of the construction workers who caused a gas explosion – contribute nothing to the central conflict. As Yellow Robe said at the talk-back, “I could have written a play about each of these things – and I have.” Normally, I would immediately recommend cutting these extraneous episodes, but Yellow Robe’s intentions give me pause. He’s trying to fuse Western and Native dramaturgies, an endeavor I have a lot of professional sympathy with. However, Wood Bones makes me question the viability of such a project.

The Native dramaturgy appears in this play as the non-chronological structure and juxtaposition of thematically linked stories. It is superimposed on a Euro-American structured play, complete with its fourth wall and script. This two elements mix just like oil and water. Classic Native storytellers like Lame Billy of Weitspus and Skaay of Haida Gwaii who employed Native elements like those in Wood Bones with aplomb told their stories to an audience already familiar with them face to face and without a script. The audience’s intense association with the stories allowed the storytellers to combine them in unique ways without loosing the audience’s attention. The lack of a fourth wall or scripts also helped to keep the audience engaged. Bringing the fourth wall and scripts into Native dramaturgy lessens that engagement, and bringing the Native dramaturgy into a Western play muddles the storyline, which in turn lessens audience engagement.

Wood Bones is a play with a lot of potential, but will never be able to reach that potential until Yellow Robe really treats it for what it is: a structurally Western drama about healing from trauma. He has everything he needs to tell this story already: a great feel for Western dramaturgy, a compelling story about a young girl’s horror, and the seeds for great chemistry between 121 and Leroy. But as long as he superimposes elements foreign to this story on Wood Bones, it will never reach that potential.

The Bloody Butcher of Wall St and the Bull

On February 27, Occupy had a National Day of Action – Occupy Our Food Supply – to protest growing corporate control of the world’s food. The action in New York City included a march, a seed exchange, street performance, and guerilla planting. I’d like to focus solely on the performance, which I’m calling “The Bloody Butcher of Wall Street and the Bull,” for the purposes of this blog.

Pure agit-prop, “The Bloody Butcher” relied on pure symbolism and didactic dialogue. The symbolism rested in the characters and the three places where the play was performed: Liberty Square, in front of the New York Stock Exchange, and in front of the bronze Wall Street Bull. The symbolism of the Butcher figure and the NYSE were clear – they represented the malevolent influence of Wall Street on us the 99%. Liberty Square is the symbolic home and birthplace of the Movement that counters this influence. The Bull, however, has taken on a new complexity of symbolism. It has been used by the Movement since before the beginning in its role as the symbol of Wall Street, but now it is also used to represent stock animals in reference to the way they are abused by agribusiness.  

You can watch the day's proceedings at http://www.lenk.tv/. This particular performance is saved in the Lenk-Atlantic channel at the end of "1-Occupy Our Food Supply" and the beginning of "2-Occupy Our Food Supply".

Hurt Village

One of my major frustrations with the dominate culture is the way it lumps all ethnic minorities into one simple category. While the Greeks had their barbarians, and the Jews their Gentiles, white America has its People of Color.

That said, Katori Hall’s depiction of the social disintegration in the Hurt Village district of Memphis in her play of the same name was uncomfortably familiar to me. The drug use, broken families, dislocation, and men from poor communities used as military cannon fodder is as much a part of Indian country as it is the indigent black community in Hall’s story.

Eerily, the similarities don’t stop there. In the first act, Hall tells the story with her tongue in her cheek. I’m familiar with this kind of humor being used as a coping mechanism in Indian country, so I was surprisingly at home with its use in Hurt Village.

But the humor went away after the first act, and all I was left with were images of absentee fathers and people screwing their lives up with drugs. I see too much of that in real life, and it breaks my heart every time. I don’t need to see it when I go to the theater. But I wasn’t the only person in the audience. Maybe others there did need to see that kind of hopelessness and destruction? But I’m not so sure. I was the only Indian I was aware of there, and there were a few African Americans and Asians, but the audience was primarily affluent whites.

So my question is what is Hall trying to accomplish parading stories about poor blacks who have to sell crack to survive in Memphis in front of well-to-do white New Yorkers? The answer that seems most likely to me is that this is a therapy play – a piece to help the playwright work through some hurt that is setting on her. Once a playwright gets that out of her or his system, she or he can continue to tell all the other stories that need to be told. I’ve seen this sort of thing happen before, the only difference is that the other therapy plays I’m aware of have an element of healing, something Hurt Village lacks. To further argue against my theory, this is not Hall’s first play. It could be that it takes her more than one play to work through her hurt, but based on my previous experience with this sort of theater, I’m left questioning her commitment to her community. Is Hurt Village really a constructive piece of art, that helps a traumatized community and/or person heal, or is it simply a playwright capitalizing on that trauma by selling it to the highest bidder?

That’s my question, but you can see for yourself and make up your own mind. Hurt Village plays at the Signature Theatre on 42^nd Street until March 18^th. Tickets are $25 at http://www.signaturetheatre.org/tickets/production.aspx?pid=1940.

Stopped Bridge of Dreams

Walking into La MaMa’s Ellen Stewart Theatre for John Jesurun’s Stopped Bridge of Dreams, one is struck by the compelling stage design. The seats are arranged across from each other on either side of the room with projection screens hanging and sitting in the space between them. A video swirls pinkish red above on two of the screens – is it blood or is it fire? The play even begins floating above the audience’s heads. The action drops to the ground with Black-Eyed Susan and Preston Martin playing Mrs. X and Hiroshi – the Madame of the flying brothel and one of her whores - respectively. Video and performance and a multiplicity of stories swirl between the audience until pouring into the core story of a flying whore-house, an embodiment of disincorporation and groundlessness. Even sex, normally so earthy, is uprooted in the frank and business-like manner with which the characters treat it. All emotion, in fact, was pulled from its normal human-centricity, and an atmosphere of flight supplanted it. Instead of emanating from the humans, it incorporated from the composition – the juxtaposition of dialogue and narration, human flesh on the floor and their video images projected from multiple angles above. The groundless atmosphere and lack of sentiment are a response, according to Donald Keene’s program note, to the work of Japanese novelist Saikaku Ihara, “whose books are called ukiyo-zoshi or tales of the floating world.” The broader genre of Saikaku’s ukiyo-zoshi or Jesurun’s Stopped Bridge of Dreams – fiction – is one uprooted from reality. What Jesurun does is radicalize that core element of fiction, and he does it in a smooth and seamlessly constructed way. It closes this February 5^th, but if he brings it back in your area, I highly recommend seeing it, especially if you’re interested in seeing the art of fiction exploded spatially before you.

Ashland, Oregon's 24th Annual Martin Luther King Jr. Day Celebration

Ashland, Oregon’s 24^th annual Martin Luther King, Jr. Day was cleanly divided into two events: the official, city sponsored event, and the Occupy teach-in afterwards.

The first event was hosted by the Historic Ashland Armory. It was a potpourri of art and speeches geared around King and his legacy. There were three kinds of things that happened. The first consisted of specific references to the historic Civil Rights Movement, the second of work that people are doing in Southern Oregon today that continue that legacy, and the third was DeLanna Studi’s recitation of an old Tecumseh speech. The benefit of the references to the Civil Rights Movement was to give young and emerging artists a venue to perform: from Crater High School’s Flag Team and Teen Theater that began with an allegory of segregation to Ben Badden’s rap about MLK, this event was a great showcase for some of the best young artists the Rogue Valley has to offer. The continuing of King’s legacy was represented Mary Farrell, founder of the Maslow Project that helps homeless kids living in the Rogue Valley, and the Ashland Food Project, which organizes long-term food donations for the Valley’s hungry. DeLanna Studi, a Cherokee actor with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, read a speech by Tecumseh. I feel it’s important for Native folks to get their voices heard, especially in events with a focus on racial justice.

I’m not sure how you can talk about one of the most prominent social activists of modern times and not address the waves of activism that are currently sweeping the globe, from Arab Spring to the Tea Party to Occupy. But Ashland’s MLK event said nary a word about any of these things. From where I was sitting, I wouldn’t have even known Occupy was in the area until I got to the plaza to hear King’s “I Have a Dream” speech and saw a few signs and an “Occupy” banner. In admittedly critical terms, it highlights the way that activism can be incorporated into the establishment and historicized, even while this establishment struggles with living activism. Occupy’s event didn’t retain as many people as the City’s. In fact, it seems that many of the folks at their teach-in were in one way or another associated with Occupy. It’s something that I noticed at Occupy Medford’s teach-in on January 11^th – the only people they were teaching were people who already agreed with them. Democracy can’t exist if the only people you talk about our common issues with are those who feel the same way you do. But the fault doesn’t simply lie with the Occupiers of the Rogue Valley. The general citizenry of the Valley seem to have time for activism that can be historicized and is safe, but not for living activism that threatens to change the status quo.

I might even say the same about Occupy Ashland. According to the conversations I had with Ashland’s Occupiers, which are now archived at Lenk.TV, attendance at their General Assemblies surpasses that of either Oakland or New York. So the democracy that I’m not seeing in their direct actions may exist in their GAs. The actions they are putting their hopes in, though, seem in keeping with Ashland’s relative conservatism that became apparent to me at the Martin Luther King event: they are working within the current system to create change in terms of homelessness and City banking practices in the Valley.

Spotlight on the USO

This Thursday, Camelot Theatre premiered its new show, Spotlight on the USO. Camelot’s Spotlights are a recent innovation that, to paraphrase Artistic Director Livia Genise, feature “a little story and a lot of music.” This particular show is a deviation from previous Spotlights in that it doesn’t present the biography of an individual artist through music, but rather that of an artistic organization – the USO.

But I’ll come to all that later, because really the show Thursday night was a captivating 40s and 50s jazz concert by the Southern Oregon Jazz Orchestra. They played two sets of songs that I suppose were played for the service people overseas during the 40s and 50s, but that story was only secondary to what they were doing. They did branch out from their usual fare twice, both in the second set after intermission – once to give an example of the country music that started to appear in USO tours in the second half of last century with “Route 66”, and their final number was a medley of songs from the branches of the armed forces during which narrator Shirley Patton invited veterans of each branch to stand and be recognized during their song.

The meat and bones of the concert, though, were 40s and 50s jazz standards, and were they ever a hit! They had the audience singing along with “Minnie the Moocher” and others, and nearly every soloist got a rousing applause when they sat back down. Dianne Strong, a singer, was the featured soloist of the evening. An alto, she has a powerful focal and stage presence while she stays within her range. And when she takes short-note forays above her comfortable range, she’s riveting! But she certainly should not try to hold those higher notes – her attempt in “I’ve Got You under My Skin” was acoustically uncomfortable. While I’m pointing out weaknesses, the trumpet and saxophone sections could probably use a tune-up for “American Patrol,” but besides those two mistakes the concert was certainly a good night out.

Now let’s move on to the story part of the “little bit of story and a lot of music” equation. Peter Wyckliffe wrote the script, and Shirley Patton said it. Wyckliffe has certainly done his homework and has written a feast of information. This feast, however, lacks consistency: it ranges from history lesson with facts and figures to penetrating insights into what the USO was all about. The USO was and is meant to help the troops stay connected to home, and Wyckliffe illustrates that beautifully with a verbal illustration of the phones and letters and how they were and are often the only way the troops have to connect back to their families and loved ones.

The result of the inconsistent nature of Wyckliffe’s script is that it sinks or swims with the actor saying it, and it did both with narrator Shirley Patton. She got off to a slow start, and it definitely came off as a fairly dry history lesson. After she got into her groove, she came across as more grandmotherly and inviting. But she was always reading the script, and that was always a distraction. I suggest that a script is not necessary: the role of the narrator in this particular Spotlight was that of an MC. Some kind of structural outline that the performer can do from memory is what this part called for, but a word-for-word script is a death-trap. It makes the storytelling seem artificial, and Patton’s mixing up the U.S. Navy and Air Force songs when asking veterans from the different branches to stand at the end didn’t help.

While I’m on about inconsistencies, I have to take issue with the use of projections and backlighting. Designers Bart Grady and Brian O’Connor had three different things going on: pictures of the USO from the 40s and 50s up through the 80s and 90s, cool blue and purple washes, and a warm orange wash. The pictures were my favorite – they set the location for the story that Wyckliffe and Patton were telling. The cool washes gave an atmosphere of a smoky jazz bar and fit in a more general way for the orchestra, but not for the story. Orange is jarring color, but I probably would have forgotten about it if it had remained there the whole time. But the seemingly arbitrary shifts between images, cool washes and orange were, frankly, distracting.

That said, these weak points fall outside the crux of the show: the Southern Oregon Jazz Orchestra and their 40s and 50s jazz standards. If that’s your kind of music (and even if it’s not) it’s worth a listen. But if you’re going for the story of the USO, that part of the show has a few wrinkles it needs to iron out before I can walk away satisfied.

Spotlight on the USO is playing at Camelot Theatre, 101 Talent Ave., Talent, Oregon 97540 from January 12-22. Their box office can be reached at 541-535-5250. Tickets are $22, plus $2 for reserved seating.