CULTUREPHILE: PORTLAND ARTS

too many 'toons man

5 Questions for Too Much Coffee Man’s Shannon Wheeler

The almost unbelievably prolific cartoonist talks shop about his 5 titles.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Oct 05, 2011 at 04:00PM 2 Comments

Too Much Coffee Man is probably the “Portland-est” comicbook character there is: Perpetually underdressed and prodigiously overcaffeinated, he splashes through puddles staging wordplay battles and withstanding countless bouts of neurotic, unrequited love. Coffee Man’s creator Shannon Wheeler has recently added one more TMCM title, Omnibus, to the 12-high pile, incorporating a forward by punk provocateur Henry Rollins*—but that’s not all. In the current calendar year alone, Wheeler’s work has been published in 5—that’s right, 5—different books. If everyone who drank too much coffee were this productive, just think what a wonderful world it would be!

Culturephile catches up with the unstoppable Wheeler for five questions on the eve of his upcoming One-One-One-One show at PCPA, which will show off and sell off one-hundred-and-one of his one-panel cartoons from The New Yorker‘s cutting room floor. He’ll also be on-hand at a First Thursday reception to address whatever we don’t cover here—which, with five titles, should be plenty.

Tell us about each of the titles you’re currently promoting, and the upcoming talk:

I have 5 books coming out now; Too Much Coffee Man: The Omnibus, Oil and Water, Grandpa Won’t Wake Up, God Is Disappointed In You, and a second printing of I Thought You Would Be Funnier. It’s just weird timing that they all came out together. What’s weirder is how different each project is. The Omnibus is a collection of cartoons and comics going back 20 years. Oil is a serious graphic novel written by Steve Duin about the BP oil spill. Grandpa is a kids’ book that isn’t really for kids, written by Simon Max Hill. Disappointed is a condensed retelling of the Bible by Mark Russell. And Funnier is a collection of New Yorker-type gag cartoons. I imagine that the First Thursday talk will focus on the Oil and Water book, because the idea of using comic books (or graphic novels) as a tool for social justice really interests me. Overall, it’s the avenue I’ve explored the least.

In Omnibus, you seem to obsess a lot about the actual process of making comics. Would you characterize yourself as a “comicbook artist’s comicbook artist,” and how does the mainstream reader relate to this facet of your work?

Most people say that a particular part of the comic relates to something specific in their own life. If people have made comics, they tell me about their drawing/staple/distribution adventures. People also love talking to me about their coffee drinking habits. Lately I’ve heard a lot of stories about magazine subscriptions to the New Yorker. The mainstream reader…usually it’s the coffee they relate to.

Besides “God Is Disappointed In You,” how would you summarize the overarching themes of the Bible?

Besides disappointment? That’s tough. There’s a lot of “why you should dedicate yourself to this or that way of living.” Fear is a big motivator. Ecclesiastes is my personal favorite, even though it’s a relatively small part. It’s an odd bit of philosophy that feels like optimistic existentialism. I could relate.

What’s your favorite Bible story and why?

Hosea made me laugh. A guy with a slut for a wife and a town that mocks him. He’d say that he loves his cheating wife because God loves mankind even though they cheat on him. My cartoon is Hosea explaining that he loves his wife because she makes a great metaphor.

What inspired Oil and Water?

A group of Portland folk when to the Gulf to see the damage from the BP oil spill, but there wasn’t much oil to be seen. BP had erased the obvious evidence of the spill with chemicals and beach cleaning. But talking to scientists, environmentalists, fishermen, bar owners, politicians, musicians, et cetera, we found that the damage was profound. Fishermen couldn’t fish, plants were dying, scientists didn’t know what the effects were, and tourism was crippled. In addition to the environmental damage, there was damage to people’s lives that is profound. We very much wanted to tell the human story.

*In his own book Get in The Van, this legendary straight-edge loner recalls going to diners and ordering not a cup, but an entire pot of coffee for himself. A man after TMCM’s own racing heart.

You can catch Wheeler at PCPA at 6pm on Thursday, or view his work at the gallery through December.For more about Portland arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar, stream content with an RSS feed, or sign up for our weekly On The Town Newsletter!

Add a Comment »

Tags: Interview, 5 questions, five questions, comics

TBA 2011: Andrew Dinwiddie

Five Questions with Brian Rogers, artistic director of the Chocolate Factory

Posted by: Claudia La Rocco on Sep 11, 2011 at 09:00AM 0 Comments

First came the record, courtesy of Jimmy Swaggart, circa 1971. And then came the theatrical reinvention, in 2010, courtesy of the creator and performer Andrew Dinwiddie: directed by Jeff Larson, “Get Mad at Sin!” was a sold-out hit when it debuted at the fabulous New York theater the Chocolate Factory last year. It deserved a longer life than the typical measly run given to new work. And now it has one.

Hooray to TBA for bringing it here. And hooray to Brian Rogers, the artistic director of the Chocolate Factory, for supporting the premiere run of “Get Mad.” Brian was gracious enough to answer a few questions about the show, his theater and the broader arts scene:

Can you talk a bit about the experience of seeing this show at the Chocolate Factory?

This will sound really cheesy, but the Chocolate Factory show reminded me of certain old Russian folks like Vakhtangov and Meyerhold—artists whose work I read about in college but (obviously) never got to see. Jeff & Andrew do not specifically reference that tradition (I have no idea if they are even familiar with those guys) but there is, for me, a really strong link in terms of the incongruous but totally compelling combination of sort of high concept theatricality (pink carpet!) and a really focused verisimilitude in the performance itself. Watching the show, you’re never not aware that it’s a performance with a capital P, but even so, at a certain point you start to really listen to & almost believe what he (Swaggart) is saying. A kind of conversion starts to happen, which—considering how offensive some of the material sounds to contemporary ears—is sort of magical.

Andrew is influenced by a really specific dance and theater tradition in New York—do you see the echoes of artists like David Neumann and Annie-B Parson in his work? How do they manifest?

Well there’s a great tradition in downtown experimental theater of a certain kind of tour de force wrangling with a text or piece of material. And Big Dance has definitely done a lot of work in that vein; so I guess you could draw a strong connection there. Also, the ability to step in and out of the material….But Andrew’s show is much much more than a technical tour de force—there’s something about it that feels incredibly sincere, which I think sets it somewhat apart…

Your theater has such a marvelously specific energy to it. What is the experience like of seeing pieces that have been made for your space in other theaters? I’m thinking it must be something like seeing the movie after reading the book…

Yeah I’m really biased in this regard. I mean, I’m really proud & happy that a few works that started here are getting opportunities to tour; but I always develop an inflated kind of sentimental attachment that makes it hard for me watch in a different setting. That said, one of the things I love about my job is that I get to watch artists fight with and respond to our very particular architecture; so it’s kind of fun to watch that process continue in a different space.

Here’s a really big and vague and irritating topic: trends in contemporary performance … what are your thoughts on any fashions or patterns you’re seeing today, and how does “Get Mad at Sin!” fit in (or not)?

I do think that old is new again. And Andrew’s piece definitely comes out of an affection for the old vinyl record and what I take to be a kind of romanticization of the 60s & 70s. He also paid a lot of attention to the social aspect of experiencing the show. These are maybe not trends in performance so much as they are trends in the culture at large….you know, the speakeasy cocktail craze, hipstamatic—the fetishization of the pre-digital.

Catch, the series that Andrew and Jeff curate, is coming to Portland—what should audiences expect?

Something fun and all over the place and remarkably unpretentious. And a very short video from yours truly.

For more about Portland arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar, stream content with an RSS feed, or sign up for our weekly On The Town Newsletter!

Add a Comment »

Tags: performance, 5 questions, five questions, tba2011

from the newsstand

Five Questions for Isabella Rosellini

Posted by: Aaron Scott and Anne Adams on Mar 22, 2011 at 08:00AM 0 Comments

The actor-director-model-businesswoman visits Portland to discuss her career, her new Discovery Channel special, and bedbug love (maybe). Read article.

Add a Comment »

Tags: Interview, 5 questions, five questions, preview

tune in: radio

Tune In: Destination DIY

Learn more about OPB’s latest feature series, and meet the blue-haired host who “does it herself.”

Posted by: Anne Adams on Mar 03, 2011 at 07:45AM 0 Comments

Well, it’s a small world here in Portland arts—small enough that occasionally, a press release comes across my “writer” desk, promoting some project that I’ve actually contributed to in my off-hours “artist” role. Should I shun these projects in the press? Sometimes I do, on principle. But sometimes the same thing that drives me to participate in something, also compels me to promote it: it’s pretty good stuff.

In this case, the latter principle prevails, and I’m going to go ahead and alert you to an excellent local radio show. It’s called Destination DIY , and it’s been around for ages, springing up through KBOO grassroots, and recently reaching the limelight of OPB. As Portlandia calls the world’s attention to Portland’s thriving DIY subculture with sketches like “Put A Bird On It,” OPB has appropriately rewarded Destination DIY , a trendspotter of the real thing, with air-dates throughout March .

HOST JULIE SABATIER EXPLAINS MORE:

What inspired you to put radio and DIY together to form this show?
About five years ago, I had a lot more time on my hands and I was just getting into radio production. There was a half-hour monthly slot open in KBOO’s schedule, and I thought it would be a great way to discipline myself to really hone the craft of radio. (The production values of the early shows are pretty awful as a result.) The topic of DIY seemed like a great umbrella to discuss a lot of things I find really intriguing: people who apply their own creativity to all aspects of life, whether they’re artists, inventors, urban farmers or even economists! And I figured in a place like Portland, I’d never run out of material. So far, that’s been true.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever heard tales of people “doing themselves?”
I heard that the actor James Franco is teaching a master class on himself and his work—that’s pretty weird. And there was a crazy article in Wired Magazine recently about a woman who does surgery on herself to “extend her senses” by putting magnets under her skin and stuff like that. Yikes! I’m planning a show on DIY Disasters, which should yield some interesting results on this topic.

Why DIY, when someone else could “DIFY?”
I think a big driver behind DIY is the sense of pride that people feel when they try something that might be outside their comfort zone and they’re excited to share the results. And that applies to all kinds of projects, whether it’s something really personal like planning a DIY memorial service or just fixing your garbage disposal. Doing something — or at least trying something — yourself rather than having someone just “DIFY,” is always a more enriching, enlightening, and empowering experience.

You also work on Think Out Loud; how do the two shows compare?
Well, for one thing, they have a completely different relationship with OPB. Think Out Loud is produced at OPB with a full staff (which includes me) employed by the station and Destination DIY is an independent entity and is produced by me as well as some volunteers, freelance producers in other parts of the country, and an engineer that I contract with. The show is licensed to OPB for a very small fee. Of course, the formats are also widely different. TOL is a daily, live call-in show focused on news and culture statewide and Destination DIY is an occasional series of documentary-style shows for which all the material is pre-recorded and is not focused solely on Oregon. Destination DIY is a self-directed project, which reflects my own particular way of looking at things, while Think Out Loud is much more of a collaborative effort.

Walk us through your process. How much raw audio do you capture? How do you edit and for how long? How often do you work on it, and how much do you do yourself?
My short answer is that a minute of Destination DIY translates into roughly an hour of work. That includes recording, editing, writing and mixing. It averages out to about 10 hours of work per week (on top of my 40 hour/week job) in a 6-8 week production cycle. If it’s just a simple back-and-forth interview, I’ll usually record between a half hour and an hour with a subject, and then cut it down to 5 or 10 minutes. If it’s a feature with lots of different voices and scenes, I might record as much as 8 hours’ worth of material and cut that down into little chunks. I transcribe the chunks and choose among them to start building a script. I like the story to really grow out of the audio, rather than writing something and trying to wedge the voices in afterward. I also work with other producers around the country, who pitch ideas to me. Once I accept a pitch and they’ve recorded their material, we might go through 7 or 8 drafts of a script before we do what’s called an “ear edit,” where they read the script to me over the phone and I play the clips from my computer to simulate what the finished piece will sound like. Once I have my entire show script recorded and edited and the whole show cut to time, my awesome engineer, Clark Salisbury goes over it with a fine-toothed comb, tweaking the volume, fixing bad edits, and making sure the musical interludes sound good. Clark and I work together to make small adjustments to the timing to get it just right. I probably listen to the full hour 4 or 5 times before it airs.

Destination DIY airs on OPB throughout March. Click here for air schedule . For more upcoming arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar, stream content with an RSS feed, or sign up for our weekly On The Town Newsletter!

Add a Comment »

Tags: Interview, 5 questions, five questions, Radio, tune in

Five Questions With Vin Shambry

Superior Donuts’ frontman talks shop about acting fresh, conjuring courage, and breaking his own heart backstage.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Jan 21, 2011 at 04:00AM 1 Comments

“Hey, Good-Lookin’!” exclaims a beaming young man to a bleary-eyed older one. Arthur Przybyszewski, a downtrodden donut-shop owner in a rough Chicago neighborhood, sighs, seeming to regret opening his door. But hyper-energetic 21-year-old Franco Wicks is unstoppable. Franco immediately hits Arthur up for a job, then, without missing a beat, starts bouncing around the shop cracking jokes and trying to make improvements. The Eeyore/Tigger tension between the two is palpable at first, but Franco gradually wears the old man down (or, more accurately, buoys him up) until the two characters can actually see eye-to-eye.

In Artists Rep’s staging of Superior Donuts, Vin Shambry plays the role of Franco with a radiant, irresistible charisma that lets him pass for an earnest first-timer, rather than the classically-trained Broadway theater vet that further investigation reveals him to be. On the night Culturephile caught his act, he so thoroughly “punked” young audience members, they seemed ready to invite him to a kegger. Judging by this performance, and his recent return to PDX, it seems we’ll see more of Vin. So let’s engage him in a round of five questions:

In this play, your performance is very natural and doesn’t come off as “actorly” at all. If someone didn’t know your resume, they might guess that you were a fresh face who lucked into a character very similar to himself. Are you a lot like Franco Wicks, or is it a stretch for you? If it’s a stretch, how do you keep your energy so fresh and unaffected?

Well, I guess I am still a fresh face here in Portland since I just returned home a little over a year ago. During my eight prior years in New York training at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy and performing on and off Broadway, I played a number of roles… but indeed none that I identified with as much as Franco. But I actually found that the similarities between Franco and myself—our backgrounds, the life of the hustle, our general outlook on life—made this role more challenging. Because Franco and I do have a lot in common, I had to go deeper and really reflect on my own self in juxtaposition with Franco. Reflecting on the spaces where Franco and I are actually very different people, allowed me take only what I needed from my own personal life in order to fully step into the world of Franco Wicks.

Though Franco starts off very idealistic and energetic, after a long disappearance, he returns jaded and despondent. What do you do backstage to make that mental transformation?

From the moment I step onstage, I am experiencing every moment of Franco’s journey. I feel every instance of hope, joy, frustration, etc… During my quiet time off stage, I am still Franco. As I sit backstage and listen to the scenes, I have time to reflect on how my world is falling apart – my relationship with Arthur is changing, I don’t have a job anymore, my fingers have been cut off, my book is destroyed. I think anyone who allows himself to walk in those shoes, even if only for 2hrs a night, would sincerely feel heartbroken, and it would show on stage.

Courage (or lack thereof) seems to be a big theme in this play, from the slur “pussy” that’s painted on the wall at the beginning, to the final word of the first act, “coward.” Franco starts the play with a lot of courage, then seems to pass it on to Arthur, but in the process, it seems like his wellspring runs dry. Where does courage come from? Is it a bottomless resource, or does it deplete and have to be refilled by others?

I think that every character in this show has (or develops, in Arthur’s case) a sense of hope. It is exactly that hope which gives them courage. However, every character also has fear lying just below their surface which tugs away at that hope… and simultaneously depletes their courage. I think at the end of the show Franco loses his hope and thus his courage. The last scene is Arthur’s chance to help replenish that hope and courage within Franco.

Your costar Bill Geisslinger (Arthur Przybyszewski) has a much quieter stage presence than you do, but that seems to work in this play. What’s it like to bounce around and crack jokes while your counterpart performs such a somber slow burn, versus playing off a whole cast of livewires (like you did in RENT or Alice And Wonderland?)

I knew from the beginning that I had to drive the show with youthful energy and maintain it regardless of how the other characters reacted to me. My safe haven has always been musical theater, which requires a lot of raw energy but also allows me to rely on those singing and dancing on stage with me to help produce that energy. In Superior Donuts I had to create and maintain that energy alone. However, when you play opposite someone of Bill’s caliber, even through his silence and somberness he is giving me a lot to play off of in order to keep up my level of energy.

According to your bio, you’ve been on Broadway, but call Portland home. Will we be seeing more of you in local productions? What are you working on?

I am here to stay! Born and raised here, Portland has always been my home. Opening Feb. 22nd, I will be performing in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Portland Center Stage), followed by How I Became a Pirate (Oregon Children’s Theater) opening April 30th. I look forward to working in Portland for years to come.

Superior Donuts continues at Artists Rep through Feb 12. For more upcoming arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar!

Add a Comment »

Tags: Artists Repertory, Interview, 5 questions, five questions

phile under: five questions

5 Questions with Good Night Billygoat

Stop-motion impresario David Klein of Billygoat
opens a window into the band’s world of miniature magic.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Jan 11, 2011 at 08:00AM 1 Comments

We first published this piece in June 2010, but since then the music/film force known as Good Night Billygoat has made great strides, augmenting their live lineup with drummer Corey Nelson, finishing a new work called “Sophia,” recording a multimedia disc as merch, and embarking on a nationwide tour with Little Dragon . Last night, both Dragon and ’goat held the Doug Fir in awe, and as the crowd dispersed into the cold, a few were overheard murmuring theories and questions about the brilliant stop-motion animation. Here are at least a few answers.

David Klein and Nick Woolley, of Klein Wooley Productions, subsist on rustic soups; play ambient, epic multi-instrumental duets on harp, bass, and drum machine; and create intricate stop-motion films featuring birds, snails, and sylphs; all from the mossy confines of their workshop, a North Portland garage. (Magical realists, you were right all along—there are elves in our midst.) On the heels of the duo’s performance at No.Fest, Culturephile caught up with Klein, for the latest round of five questions .

You really can’t talk stop-mo without talking about frame rates, hours, number of pieces in a sequence. Run me through some of the numbers that pertain to your process.

Frame Rates run about 10-12 per second. [That’s 600-720 stills per minute.] As for hours—Geez. Nick and I will spend the day working on light-boxes and simultaneously prepping for shooting stills into the evening. We’ll spend about 4-5 hours taking photos. Getting 5-10 seconds per day is the goal. I’m usually editing from 1- 3am (while The Simpsons or NBC is massaging my shoulders) Not to sound like a total hippie, but the video is done for the evening when it latches on to a rhythm.

Your pieces seem to be very dreamlike, and they evoke a lot of familiar icons while still feeling unfamiliar. How do you decide what images and characters you want to create?

The imagery is always displayed in a somewhat simple form, letting an audience interpret what they will. Most of the images come from our environment, reoccurring dreams, and coincidences. And some images come from whatever is within reach depending on budget (which doesn’t actually exist). The people featured in the animations tend to come with the creative archetypes they are channeling, and we do our best to translate this into the video.

Let’s talk flow: do you decisionmake scene-by-scene, or do you mastermind the whole narrative arc of the imagery before you start?

I sometimes am amazed these things even have a flow. They’re constantly shifting/morphing. Now I just look at the set in the afternoon and will ask myself “What is the most practical way to approach this today without wanting to jump off St. John’s Bridge by nightfall?” So it’s really day-by-day at this point. Anything can happen, which is reassuring.

Does the music shape the animations, or vice versa?

The first two animations we did, really dictated the musical accompaniment, without a doubt. But sometimes the music and video will argue back and forth and we’ll have to lengthen/shorten one or the other. The current animation in progress, Sophia , is looking like the most open-ended of the three.

What experience or feeling are you trying to bring to your audience?

Before ever making any animation, I was reading a book on color and human responses and I got inspired by film-maker Cecil Stokes and his Auroratone Films, which were used to treat veterans post WWII. Not that we’re wanting to hypnotize the audience, but having a collective releasing session isn’t the worst thing that could happen. We’re here to make you feel good!

If you missed Billygoat last night, don’t fret—there are many more great events in the offing. For a list of upcoming events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar!

Add a Comment »

Tags: music, Interview, Queer-Friendly, Animation, 5 questions, five questions, stop motion

phile under: cultural recycling

Five Questions for Filmusik’s Galen Huckins

Local maestro puts new sounds in old cinema

Posted by: Geoff Earl on Nov 09, 2010 at 12:00PM 0 Comments

The title may be unfamiliar but its reputation precedes it. Dünyayi Kurtaran Adam (aka, The Man Who Saves the World) is the infamous 1982 Turkish Star Wars “remake,” that recently played to a packed house at the Hollywood Theatre. With its bargain-basement production, cheap monster costumes, ridiculous martial artistry and stolen and mangled clips from the real Star Wars, this movie, in theory, couldn’t sell out a telephone booth.

But the Filmusik version of Dünyayi Kurtaran Adam was a different animal. Every sound heard in the film was performed live. Galen Huckins is the leader and driving force behind Filmusik, an ambitious arts collective that once again has successfully breathed new life into a piece of cinematic trash. With an original score, deftly executed by the Filmusik chamber orchestra and five electric guitarists, and with contributions from professional voice actors and foley artists on the dialogue and sound effects, Huckins’s ensemble prove to be masters of cultural recycling.

The next production in Filmusik’s busy schedule is a screening and sound treatment of Will Vinton’s 1979 claymation productions, The Little Prince and Rip Van Winkle (Nov. 11, 12 and 14). Miraculously, Huckins was able to secure all of the original voices that appear in the films, as well as compose a new, original soundtrack for the stop-motion classics, with veteran animator Vinton himself along for the ride as a collaborator on the project.

It’s a lot of work, just to show a movie. We asked Galen Huckins to share his inspiration with us.

Why Turkish Star Wars?

We just started our Late Night series that pairs esoteric foreign cinema with local performing artists and composers. Turkish Star Wars is really an amazing film; the audacity of it and the martial arts make for a very rock and roll show. We always enjoy working with strange material because the viewer has so few expectations going into it.

How long have you been doing this?

This is our third season as Filmusik. Our first project in 2008 paired 6 different composers with the Fliescher animated Superman cartoons from the 1940s. Since then we’ve done live soundtracks for sci-fi with electronica and string quartet, a spaghetti western with a 40-voice chorus, Japanese monster movies and many others. We always have something in the works.

What¹s on the calendar for Filmusik?

On November 11th 12th and 14th we’re teaming up with the famous Portland-based claymation studio Will Vinton for a live soundtrack show. We are performing a live score for their classic clay animated film “The Little Prince” made in 1979. We are honored to be working with the original cast now 30 years later to perform the dialog live with the film with live music and sound effects. It’s going to be a remarkable show and it showcases the work of Portland artists from the 1970s to today!

Where did the idea for performing live movie scores come from?

I was inspired largely by the silent film era of film accompaniment where live musicians were the norm. Having performers at movies was part of the theatre experience; whether it was live narrators (or “Benshi”) in Japan, live orchestras in Europe or Wurlitzer theater organists in the United States. It created an environment for music and for musicians and composers that fostered grand output and creativity. We strive to create opportunities for live music over canned music, for live and local performers to be a more regular part of our lives.

Are there any recent films that you¹d like to re-write the soundtrack for?

More than re-imagining new material, I’d love to inspire live film accompaniment of movie soundtracks by contemporary artists. There’s a lot of film coming out of Oregon, a lot of local musicians whose work appears in movies. It would be great to put together screenings of contemporary film with local musicians and bands. When you see a film with live performers, it engages you in a way that a static medium cannot. There is a vibrancy to it that reminds you of the person-to-person connection you experience at a concert.

Add a Comment »

Tags: music, Film, 5 questions, five questions

phile under: books

5 Questions for Viva Las Vegas

The stripper/author exposes her passions, motivations—and “Lutheran ethnicity.”

Posted by: Aaron Scott and Anne Adams on Nov 03, 2010 at 02:00PM 5 Comments

Maybe more book release parties ought to feature strippers. At Bunk Bar last Tuesday, renowned former Magic Garden stripper, singer, and authoress Viva Las Vegas flanked herself with a bevvy of babes to help draw the flies to her new book, The Gospel According To Viva Las Vegas: Best of The Exotic Years. In between the typical book-release readings from her latest, Viva introduced stripteasers, conducted interviews with guitarist Kerry King from Slayer and a notorious local fetishist known as “Smelly Sock Guy,” and even burst into religious song. Without further ado, Culturephile cedes the page to Viva Las Vegas:

1. As a multidisciplinary artist, what would you say are your signature traits? Is there a single vision that you bring to all your work—whether pen, pole, or song?

An artist has to create. I’ve been writing and making music since I was very young. My hope is that my creations—including dancing—hold up a mirror to society and individuals, and resonate with them and inspire them. As for the pole, I have no use for it. The stage is the thing. Plenty of people think I’m joking when I say stripping is art, but I find those performances to be the most effective in communicating with an audience in the moment the message that life is beautiful, horrible, painful, ecstatic, and brief, and it’s no small miracle that we’re all here now together.

2. Do your clients and fans tend to fetishize your left breast? And if so, is that creepy or poignant?

Most people don’t know/notice. I view my left breast as an interesting tattoo or scar—something that tells a story. Generally in my experience, people see the whole person rather than breaking you down to your bits. Sometimes I wish more people would notice or ask about it, because it is quite a story and I love storytelling.

3. Your latest book is a collection of older writings. What was it like going back through things you wrote years ago?

There was a lot of screaming. “Oh my God I can’t believe I wrote this! And it was published! And now I’m gonna publish it again?!?” But I prefer writing that elicits a reaction, even if that reaction is beating my head against a wall. It was interesting to see my voice develop—a preacher’s voice, full of confidence and passion—because I definitely wasn’t as confident as I come across in my writing. Finally, it was nice to revisit the person I was after I moved back from NYC in 2001 and before cancer. After writing Magic Gardens, I’m very familiar with my early Portland years, and I am all-too familiar with the last two cancer years, but to read my musings from 2002-2005 was healing and instructive. Many of the questions I was puzzling out then I still have now; I’ve taken my own advice very much to heart.

4. You’re a staunch advocate of “ho’s before bro’s.” How do we promote that ethos among more women?

Tough question. Maybe all ladies should strip for a few years? Many women seem to feel they’re in competition with each other, and perhaps we are on a primal level. But it behooves everyone if we work together. I grew up around boys and had relatively few close female friendships before I became a stripper. I had a hard time trusting women, but stripping for 14 years has fixed my wagon. Strippers are very nonjudgmental and generally very confident and unafraid. They’re straight shooters. So much societal bullshit is resultant of fear. Lose the fear, ladies. Strip!

5. You sang a hymn at your book release party, citing your Lutheran upbringing. In your adult life, how do you view religion?

My view of religion is that it’s caused far more pain than it has comfort. There are a lot of people who need to be told what to do, and all-too-many righteous charismatic dirtbags to tell them. I’m probably no better. I have very strong opinions and a tendency towards righteousness. For example, I’d like to see all vociferous homophobes burned at the stake. However there are a lot of brilliant religious teachers out there and plenty of people who are comforted and inspired towards good by them.

I consider myself ethnically Lutheran. It’s who I am on a cellular level. I wouldn’t call myself a Christian, although I am a big Jesus fan. But I am a huge fan of Martin Luther. Martin Luther was punk as fuck: he saw something wrong and he said it and tried to right it. That’s in my genes—you see something wrong, you say it. [Don’t get me started on the Missouri Synod…]

---

Now that The Gospel is out, Viva will shift her focus to a new music endeavor, Lesser Saints, a country music cover band that honors artists she’s informally canonized: Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, Emmylou Harris, and others. As the band kicks up a January residency at the Jade Lounge, Viva awaits approval on a grant to work on a book about her dalliance with breast cancer, considers an MFA program in NYC that would allow her to write the continuance to Magic Gardens, and courts a possible TV series. Long live Viva!

Add a Comment »

Tags: Interview, 5 questions, five questions, viva las vegas

phile under: TBA 2010

TBA 2010: Five Questions
with Ronnie Bass

It’s not too late to catch The Astronomer.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Oct 11, 2010 at 12:00AM 0 Comments

Almost a month ago, Rufus Wainwright strode onto the Schnitz stage, kicking off the TBA in a candy-striped velvet coat he’d borrowed from Gus Van Sant. Two weeks later, Blackfish let strains of slide guitar lapse into the Imago silence, to close the festival’s final live performance. But if you thought TBA 2010 was over —au contraire.

Several gallery exhibits at The Works have been open ever since, and will remain through next Sunday, October 17. This means there’s still time to take in The People’s Biennial, and maybe even get answers for the questions it raises in Kristan Kennedy’s special Sunday presentation and walk-through with Harrell Fletcher, David Rosenak and other contributors. You can still behold the bold sapphic futurism of Yemenwed, stroll through Storm Tharp’s High House —or enclose yourself, as I did twice, in the quiet dark confines of Ronnie Bass’s inner-space odysseys The Astronomer and 2012.

As minimal music tensely ticks along at less than one beat per second, Bass holds a conversation with a blanketed form, drills holes in moon-rock, and stargazes at the vast universe from a closet-sized room with a cot in the corner. After enjoying these video visions and his live performance at Drum Machine, I bumped into Bass by The Works’ beer-garden honeybucket. “It’s kind of peaceful in there,” he observed. “I don’t think anyone’s used it.”

Your songs contain a dialogue between a hesitant voice and a reassuring one—but both voices are your own. Do you think of these as a father and son? Or as one person, parenting an inner child? Any general thoughts on parenting or self-parenting?

I think of the dialogues as being between people, or the ones that I have created. It may be father and son, astronomer and nervous friend or any other variation. The dynamic is always similar: one person has a special knowledge and is ­consoling someone in need of guidance.

I’m currently working on a project with Tommy Hartung. We’ve been talking about using a disembodied voice via a shortwave radio. One issue that we’ve had is in how to keep the read of the voice as predominantly human without limiting other possibilities.

I didn’t originally think of the dialogue as as a self-parenting situation, but that read makes sense because of how minimally my characters are developed and how one-tracked/minded they may seem. They are almost the simplified representations of internal phases, but that’s also similar to the way that I make my stories, my sets and my scores. I always prefer the essential idea of something over its complex form.

The numbers you cite in your work, fall somewhere around your age—late 20’s to early 40’s. At one point you say, “I’m almost 35 now,” and at another you say, “The moon now hangs at 42. If we leave now, we might break through.” I’m reminded of Pink Floyd’s “No one told you when to run; you’ve missed the starting gun.” Am I right in guessing that your work depicts progress in relation to age?

I have never thought of it in relation to my work, but there absolutely is a thematic connection. You often hear a similar theme in hip-hop, and in social utopian philosophy, especially in that of Charles Fourier. As different as these forms may be, they all discuss a very similar thing: an escape from our current existence of oppression into a new world. Within hip-hop, it’s a world of lawlessness and extravagance. Fourier sees a refined way of labor and life. Waters and Gilmour don’t really depict a result, only the idea of leaving.

I did try to keep the numbers near the 30s to imply planetary alignment; a sign for the right time to act, but it is a coincidence that it corresponded to my age or ages. Beyond my age of 35, which will happen in the year 2012, the rest of the numbers were chosen because they rhymed with the words that I was using: 29 with time, 42 with through…
<br?

It seems like the title Leaving The Shed could indicate agoraphobia, shyness, alienation, and/or creative Insecurity. Do you personally struggle with any or all of these?

I have been accused of agoraphobia because I like to work in small spaces. For me, a small space holds the most potential for work and privacy. I think of the time that I’m making art as a hiding-out or as a retreat. My characters have a similar cocooning phase before their great idea or action. Also, within film, a small space (for me) alludes to the optimistic potential of a vast external space elsewhere.

I do have issues with alienation and creative insecurity. It’s part of being an artist.

Do you think you would enjoy actual space travel? Are you fascinated with the real thing, or just the metaphor?

I would not at all want to space travel. I have to make artwork. I am interested in science and technological advancements and space travel fits into that. In The Astronomer, I never thought of their destination as outer space, it is only that a cosmological sign prompted their journey. For me, their destination was an area that they could carve out within a space that has already been scripted with its own order. The optimistic aspect is that they would be able to live independently from, and simultaneously within, this scripted order.

Do you think the world is going to end in 2012?

Two big events are supposed to happen around that time: a giant solar flare and the flipping of the Earth’s magnetic poles. Scientists say that it could be devastating; but my answer is no, I do not think that the world is going to end. The sense of foreboding in my work is coming from my own observations of our current economic and social conditions. Within this nation, I predict a future of class division that will be several times more severe than what is currently occurring. It’s the nature of late capitalism emmeshed with corporatism. I’m not here to fight it or to change it. As an artist, I can only present it and propose questions. Any answers are fantastic renditions.

Add a Comment »

Tags: Art, outer space, modern, The Works, TBA 2010, TBA, five questions, 5 questions, Film, music, Ronnie Bass

phile under: TBA 2010

TBA 2010: Digging Their Own Graves

Dutes Miller and Stan Shellabarger answer five questions about their groundbreaking performance art piece.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Sep 11, 2010 at 01:30PM 2 Comments

Of course today would have to be sunny. After a week of overcast weather, the sun sprang out just in time to enliven your weekend—and make a grave digger’s job harder. Dutes Miller and Stan Shellabarger—whose performance-art piece requires them to dig their own graves and then lie in them—have broken a serious sweat as they wedge their way into the dirt on the perimeter of The Works. “We didn’t realize the soil would be this compacted,” comments Miller. “It’s all rock and clay.” But he and his partner are taking it in stride. They’re very patient men.

Both wear long beards, white tee-shirts, and blue jeans. Both wield standard shovels. At high noon, each has excavated about a foot’s depth, and stands chipping away at a rectangular hole. At first, I didn’t know a) if they were the artists, or if the artists had hired some help, and b) if they’d want to talk. But it’s seeming okay. And since “Shellanbarger” is a hell of a handle, Culturephile will henceforth refer to these guys by first name. Meet Dutes and Stan.

I know I can read my program…but I’d like to just ask, what’s this work about? Is it a meditation on mortality? Or does it have something to do with the figure of speech, “you’re digging your own grave?”

The two seem surprised. “We haven’t been asked that question before,” says Stan. “What do you mean?” asks Dutes, leading me to flounder for an explanation. “Well, digging your own grave, typically meaning error, right? Like doing the wrong thing, then doing more wrong things—expending more effort to worsen your results. Or futility.”

“Hm,” they both respond. “No, it’s not really about that,” says Stan. “I guess no one’s asked that because we’ve only done this piece in Switzerland, so maybe there was enough of a language barrier, that they weren’t thinking about the English figure of speech. Maybe more people will ask that here. But—no. It’s really about me and him and our partnership. I was really inspired by two books by Jacques Derrida: The Gift of Death, and The Work of Mourning. In them, he talks about the responsibility and the rules of friendship, how as soon as you meet a new friend, there’s an understanding between you that one of you is going to die first. And it’s at that point, that you begin the mourning.”

I understand you two are romantic partners as well as art partners. Has doing this piece, and contemplating your and your partner’s mortality, changed your relationship?

Both respond in the affirmative. One says “Definitely,” and one says “Certainly.”
“Well, when we get about five feet down, we’re going to dig a small tunnel just here, and then as we each lie in our graves we’ll reach through and hold hands,” says Dutes. “While it’s a very sweet idea that we could hold hands in the grave, underground, of course it’s an impossibility.”

“Yes, it’s changed our relationship and how we think about each other,” says Stan, “but we’ve also been working together for a long time. Many of our pieces are autobiographical; still, we hope there’s enough there that an audience can connect to their own experience. We were part of an exhibit in Maine called Mindbending With The Mundane , about marriage equality, where we had images of ourselves with our beards tied together. And there’s one piece we do called Pink Tube, in which we’ve crocheted a pink tube of yarn, and when we exhibit the piece, we crochet on opposite ends of the tube. We only work on it in public—we don’t sit around at home crocheting it—but it’s now about 60 feet long. Of course the longer it gets—the longer we work together on it—the further apart we can get from one another. Sometimes when we exhibit it, we’re placed in different rooms. There’s generally a bittersweet aspect to our work.”

So several of your pieces have a long duration then. How do you handle that—do you go into a sort of meditative state? Do you get impatient, or fatigued?

Both laugh a little. “All sorts of things happen,” says Stan. “Sometimes it can get meditative, but then when people engage and ask questions, then it’s not meditative at that point. And of course there is fatigue. With the Pink Tube piece, we pretty much made a pact that we’ll work on it until one of us physically can’t anymore, due to—well, arthritis, or—”

“loss of limb,” Dutes interjects, laughing. “You know, not nice things to think about, but possible.”

“Sure. And when one of us dies, the other one will unravel the tube,” Stan finishes.

Along with the repetitive nature of the work, there must be a lot of repeat questions. What do you guys get asked all the time?

“‘What are you doing?’ is the biggest one,” says Dutes. “And then sometimes they’ll think they’re being a smartass and say, ‘Digging a grave?’ and when we say ‘yes,’ they have nothing else to say. Some people will tell us their own stories, too. Like with Pink Tube, people will tell us about their grandmother who crochets, or with this, people will tell us their own stories about death and graves. We welcome engagement with the public. There’s not the idea that it’s theatrical. There is no ‘fourth wall.’ Our work is concept-driven. We’re not presenting a story, per se, so there’s no feeling that the audience is disrupting anything.”

You mentioned marriage equality. Could the struggle represented in your work, along with the intimacy—be read as a statement on the struggle for marriage equality?

“We always feel unfortunate that our work is political. It’s just because we’re two men, that it’s political,” says Stan.
I say, “Sorry, I won’t frame it that way.”
“No,” says Dutes, “It doesn’t matter; because people will frame it that way. As soon as people read that it’s two men doing this, it becomes symbolic of something political as well.”
“Maybe not so much here in Portland,” I offer.
“Maybe not,” says Dutes. “That’d be great. This town does seem to have a lot of unisex bathrooms; that’s always a good sign.”

I thank Stan and Dutes for their time, and tell them I might be back later to snap a picture. “That’s fine,” they say. “We’ll be here all day.”

For more information on TBA events, visit PICA. A more comprehensive list of upcoming events can be found at our Arts & Entertainment Calendar.

Add a Comment »

Tags: Art, Interview, performance art, Queer-Friendly, 5 questions, five questions, TBA, TBA 2010, The Works

phile under: TBA 2010

5 Questions for Claudia La Rocco

Culturephile’s esteemed TBA Guest Blogger
forecasts her visit to PDX and TBA.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Sep 08, 2010 at 05:00PM 2 Comments

For many arts appreciators, Claudia La Rocco needs no introduction. A dance and theater critic for the New York Times who’s covered everything from Baryshnikov to Broadway shows, Ms. La Rocco has developed a strong following and a unique voice in arts critique. Starting tomorrow, she’ll step off a plane in Portland, to sample the diverse offerings of PICA’s TBA.

Claudia’s Official Bio
Claudia La Rocco writes about performance for the New York Times, is an editor-at-large for the Brooklyn Rail, and has written for a range of other outlets, including Artforum, Classical TV and Musical America. From 2008 to 2010, she served as a cultural critic for WNYC New York Public Radio, where she created the social and online Performance Club. She has taught criticism at the School of Visual Art’s graduate program in Art Criticism and Writing and Long Island University’s CW Post campus, and has been a guest lecturer and teacher in a variety of settings, including Arizona State University, the Springdance/festival in the Netherlands and the NEA Arts Journalism Institute in Dance at the American Dance Festival. She is a member of the Off The Park poetry press, where she is currently editing an anthology of poems by painters, and reads regularly in New York.

In the coming days, Culturephile will be publishing lots of TBA coverage from Claudia. Meanwhile, Anne Adams welcomes her to town with the customary five questions:

1. Tell me about a recent favorite event that you blogged.

I’ve actually been on a blogging hiatus for a few months (and I’ve never
Twittered…) … but my favorite blogging event was actually an invention:
the Performance Club, an online and social organization I created that
functioned like a book club for live art. It was fabulous: we went out and
saw shows, hung out after and then continued the conversation online:
http://blogs.wnyc.org/culture/performance/

2. What’s unique about TBA from the usual content you cover?

Hmmm. Not sure about unique, but it is (sadly) unusual in that it’s one of
waaay too few festivals in the States with a true focus on progressive
contemporary work. Cathy Edwards is an incredible curator – she’s really
missed in New York (she was at Dance Theater Workshop a few years back, and
her seasons are still talked about).

3. Have you spent much time in Oregon? What (besides TBA) are you
looking forward to doing/seeing/trying during your visit to town?

I have NEVER been! Embarrassing. Suggestions, please … how should I be
spending my time? *

4. Which TBA event are you most excited to see?

I’m not sure that there’s one single thing. I find that interdisciplinary

festivals like this usually take on a rhythm and energy of their own
-usually it’s pretty distinct. I’m curious and excited to see what TBA is
like on that front. And also several of these works I’ve already seen -will
be great to get a sense of how/if they’ve changed in the time since they had
their premieres.

5. What makes a performance-art piece stand out for you? What should it
do?

Oh, Anne! …. that’s an impossible question to answer. You know it when
you see it, right? Art should do whatever the hell it wants to do. Except be
polite. Save that for the office.

*Readers, this is known as a “comment op.” Chime in and tell Claudia what parts of Portland she needs to see!

For more information om TBA events, visit PICA. A more comprehensive list of upcoming events can be found at our Arts & Entertainment Calendar.

Add a Comment »

Tags: Art, TBA, writer, five questions, 5 questions, new york times, performance art, Interview, performance, TBA 2010

phile under: five questions

5 Questions with Allen Nause

Artistic Director of Artists Rep talks shop about Long Day’s Journey Into Night.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Aug 13, 2010 at 10:00PM 0 Comments

Haven’t you heard? Artists Repertory Theater is about to host Long Day’s Journey Into Night, starring Oscar-winner William Hurt. On the eve of the big Portland debut, Culturephile eeked five answers out of understandably preoccupied Artistic Director Allen Nause, who, as it happens, has a long history with Mr. Hurt.

I heard you sort of “came up” with William Hurt in Ashland. How is it working with him again? What’s the same, and what’s new?

William and I were young, idealistic actors who were new to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in the summer of 1975. We didn’t act much together that summer (except to carry spears in Romeo and Juliet) but we did share a dressing room, where we got to talk a lot about our artistic goals and ideals. We definitely shared a love and respect for the art of acting. When we reconnected and got to work together 30 years later, it was amazing to discover that we’d both retained those ideals. The thing that impresses me most about William’s work is his relentless, unswerving dedication to the process, and his continuous search for excellence and truth!

When you curate an Artists’ Rep season, I imagine you have a list of essential elements that you want to include. What are those, and which of them are covered by this play? (Or to put it another way, how does this play fit into the season as a whole?)

Our mission at Artists Rep is to do challenging plays that are either premieres to Portland, or classics that still speak to us today, that we can give a fresh interpretation. Long Day’s Journey Into Night certainly fills both bills, as a classic, and as a piece that’s challenging. Eugene O’Neill practically invented serious contemporary American theater, and LDJ is his masterpiece. It challenges the artists and the audience with its emotional depth. And it has the courage to probe deep into the human psyche and the family dynamic. Artists Rep audiences expect to be challenged, I think, by great material that is interpreted by artists at the top of their game. Long Day’s Journey Into Night delivers that. Also, I think the themes about family and America are as vital today, as when the play was written.

Much has been said about the leading men in the play. What can you tell me about the leading lady?

Robin Nevin, who is playing the mother, Mary Tyrone, has been described as the “queen of Australian theater”. She’s also the previous Artistic Director of the Sydney Theatre Company [prior to Cate Blanchett]. I’ve be so impressed with her work; she combines amazing emotional depth with a great technical facility.

What is the hardest thing to “get right” about Long Day’s Journey?

The hardest thing to “get right” is to get to the truth of the play and not settle for clichés. That takes the artistic courage to go to scary places you’ve never imagined with your fellow actors.

There’s reportedly a pretty extreme contrast between Long Day’s Journey and Ah, Wilderness! (Artists Rep’s next offering, also penned by Eugene O’Neill). What would you say are some hallmarks of O’Neill that can be found in both?

Both plays explore similar themes, but from different sides of the coin. They’re both about family, but Long Day’s Journey Into Night is very much about O’Neill’s actual family; there are many autobiographical elements in it. Ah, Wilderness!, on the other hand, is about the family Eugene O’Neill wished he had. It’s also O’Neil’s only comedy. So it’ll be a rare treat for Artists Rep’s audience to see these plays in close proximity.

Add a Comment »

Tags: Theater, Interview, 5 questions, five questions