You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
Do you ever feel guilty as a reader? Not just in what you’re reading or in the things you “ought” to be doing in the time you’re engaged in a book or even a magazine, but also in the reality that you just can’t keep up in your particular field of interest?
And how about that nagging fear that maybe somebody else, somewhere, is already covering what you’re trying to develop … and probably doing it better?
Let’s begin with the competition. Readers are a minority in today’s society. If you want to tell your story or deliver the data in readable terms, it’s a shrinking audience, one further diced by increasing alternatives.
Let’s start with the first question. Do you read books? If not, nobody’s interested in yours. Period. Forget all the movies and so on of fame and wealth.
Google Books concluded that 129,864,880 books have been published since the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press in 1440 up to 2010. But, thanks to self-publishing and ebooks, there’s been an explosion since.
It’s enough to make the writing life feel futile.
Or at least making a mess?
The observation here originates with an artist’s amazement at the mess at the beginning of the book of Genesis in the Bible. As panelist on the Bill Moyers’ PBS series, he picked up on the matter of chaos at the outset. Not the blank canvas but rather all the surrounding disarray, probably including thinking.
More recently, I’ve been seeing that in our own home renovation project. For a while, there was a lot less of our house than when we began. How quickly the Dumpster got filled and another delivered!
The Eastport Arts Center was a major factor in my decision to relocate here. Quoddy Voices is one of its constituent groups.
Another was the Northern Lights film society, which only recently resurfaced but greatly diminished after the Covid hiatus.
I’ve found its offerings invigorating and sometimes disturbing. The deep discussions that follow the showings are especially valued, even for the recent Carnival of Souls and Night of the Living Dead horror vein.
What was perplexing was that the society was essentially two people, one a veteran of its 47-year history, give or take a few seasons.
They were asking those of us who kept coming each week for our input regarding possible selections from the two vendors available to us. Learning of the licensing hurdles for presenting movies even at a nonprofit arts venue was daunting. I’ll spare you the details.
I will, though, share my response to the possibilities and the situation we’re facing.
~*~
As I wrote:
Seems to me our thinking about the film society comes down to building a larger audience. That, in turn, adds considerations of “branding” – the image the public has – as well as the types of films we air and even our geographic range of appeal.
What do we show this week that will bring people back for our next film? That is, what’s our continuity or identity? What has them awaiting the next round? Are we an “art” films circle, an awards-driven following, a sensual experience sharing group? Do our screenings enhance or compete with other arts ventures in the region?
If we’re limiting ourselves to two showings a month, let me suggest making those the second and third Sunday evenings of the month. I’m feeling there might be a “bounce” in favor of that second showing, perhaps even with some common thread for the month. Let me also push for 6 pm so more viewers from throughout Washington County can readily attend. (Note, too, the problems of getting anyone out on a Sunday night, plus the competition with the winter Sunday afternoon series at the arts center and Stage East matinees.)
My thinking is that we might get some synergy and energy that way, especially in getting the word out. The Tides comes out on the second Friday (we might have occasions when the showing falls a week before that).
Orchestras and live theater companies have long relied on season subscribers but have been finding, even a few decades before Covid, that the model was eroding. Festival programming – a cluster – has been one alternative that’s created excitement and ticket sales. I’m seeing that as something that might work with the second/third Sundays model, perhaps even giving us the option of adding a fourth Sunday for a suitable extension.
That said, we are also shaped by the collections of our two distributors.
At the first, I’m steering clear of the traditional art films for now – the Italian, French, German, Japanese, etc.
Instead, I’d look at the USA (not Hollywood, for the most part, which is the global conglomerate movie center) and three Canadian films, many of them documentaries, and at the Latin films – Mexico, Cuba, Spain, Portugal, Brazil. Viridiana stands out on that front. Washington County has a large and largely overlooked Hispanic population.
Cluster options here: Orson Welles, Robert Downey Sr., Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, silents The Freshmen, The Kid Brother, The Most Dangerous Game, and King of Kings (if we can keep a straight face), Norman Mailer, John Huston (Under the Volcano and Wise Blood).
Among the docudramas etc.: A Brief History of Time (Stephen Hawking), Burroughs: the Movie, Don’t Look Back (Dylan), For All Mankind (astronauts), Gimme Shelter, God’s Country (Louis Malle), Jimi Plays Monterey or Monterey Pop, Louie Bluie, Multiple Maniacs (John Waters), Eating Raoul (Warhol).
Titles that catch my attention: The Baron of Arizona, The Beales of Grey Gardens, Border Radio, Buena Vista Social Club, Cameraperson, Carnival of Souls, Chop Shop, Clean Shaven, Desert Hearts, Detour (possibly anchoring an international film noir survey), Dillinger Is Dead (OK, it’s Italian but still), possibly with I Shot Jesse James, Drylongso, The Honeymoon Killers, Push Cart Man, Paris Texas (yeah, it’s French), A Poem Is a Naked Person, Poto and Cabengo, Routine Pleasures, Smooth Talker, Slacker, Sweet Sweetback’s Badass Song, Symbiopsychotaxism, Twin Peaks, Thank You and Good Night, and The Watermelon Woman.
Looking way ahead, sometime it might be fun to do a festival based on Japanese Godzilla fixation.
And then, at the other: For the most part, these offerings strike me as highly commercial creations most people stream at home. Still, American audiences look for star-power rather than directors, so this might provide some extra punch for attendance. That said, some offerings to consider: Barbie, Oppenheimer, Gran Turismo, Joy Ride, Insidious, Tar, Asteroid City, Dear Evan Hansen, The Little Mermaid (with ArtsWalk), The Outfit, Samaritan, The Black Phone, and Cruella (if it’s not too Disney).
~*~
Well, we’ve had a second meeting and set a course for the next year, one that seems to be generating a buzz. We’re focusing on one boffo film a month, with both a matinee and evening showing, and tying the offerings into other events happening in town, when possible.
The first one is indeed Barbie on the Thanksgiving weekend.
One of the unanticipated developments in my life after I retired from the newsroom was that I became an amateur choral singer, first as a charter member of Revels Singers in Boston and now with the much smaller but no less excellent Quoddy Voices.
In that, I’ve been blessed to work under four incredible music directors and also experience a few other fine conductors, each bringing something unique to the enterprise.
Still, the newest vocal maestro is truly one of a kind, yet still of the highest standards.
When he stepped up to the task in September, he handed out stacks of sheet music from four or five different sources, a very wide range of repertoire, maybe 30 pieces in all.
We set about sight-reading these, and I found myself getting teary as I recalled earlier experiences. Leadbelly’s “Bring Me a Little Water, Sylvie” was a staple of the Boston Revels’ autumn equinox Riversing along the Charles River, and backing up our teens’ choreographed routines was always exciting. “Wild Mountain Thyme” always ended the spring equinox concert, with David Coffin leading the audience gathered into a large circle, holding hands. “All God’s Critters (Place in the Choir)” raised many other memories, especially of Quaker children but also with the composer himself, who lived just outside Dover. And then there was Sweelinck’s joyous “Hodie,” my introduction to polyphony at the opening of the second classical concert I ever attended, the Roger Wagner Chorale around 1960. Never, ever, would I have imagined actually singing that – well, not until the past few years.
~*~
While I’m relatively new to being a member of a musical ensemble, I can say it’s a remarkable identity to assume. We expect to be followers, even with our own grumbling in the back row.
And that’s where Gene threw us a curve ball this fall. He wanted our opinion in what pieces we want to do, including those on our upcoming holidays concerts.
As others said, “The conductor’s always come in with the the pieces and said this is what we’re going to perform. Let’s get started.” To which, in our new situation, they added they were feeling a bit disoriented and perhaps even dismayed.
Well, he did want us to rate the pieces before us, something like a homework assignment, so here’s what I added to my ratings sheet:
“I’m guessing that many of the others will be leaning toward pop/rock songs they’re familiar with and find fun. As you see, I lean the other way, looking for pieces that stretch me to explore and achieve more. Looking at scores from the bass line is a fresh perspective. The tenors and ladies typically get most of the action while we’re stuck in the basement. (No pun intended.) Or even sidelines. I don’t mind holding a drone note in modal music, including Eastern Orthodox services, but what I’ve seen in the pop/rock harmonies seems pretty rote, uninventive, or shallow with little to hold my continued interest, especially if we were to do some deep rehearsal.
“On the other hand, doing one-time run throughs, perhaps with an audience, could be a fun community event, our own version of a pops concert. Summertime, even?
“Or even a hymn sing?
“Still, you asked, and thanks for that. And you’d still get my vote if we were selecting a music director. (My, that was an experience with my previous choir down in Boston.)”
~*~
I am happy to report that the Renaissance and other classical repertoire that I favor came in at the top of the stack, but there’s also a healthy blend outside of my usual comfort zone. The process did cut into our concert preparation time, but I’m confident we’ll catch up.
This really is a fun group to be part of, and that runs top to bottom and back up. I’d say things are percolating.
One of the benefits of donating even a modest amount to the Metropolitan Opera’s broadcast fund is that you receive an annual schedule booklet, 36 colorful, glossy pages with the casts, broadcast times and estimated lengths, and summaries of the plots. The booklet arrives a month or two before the next season begins, and I keep mine as wonderful future references.
The upcoming Saturday matinee broadcasts, which start airing on Dec. 9, have already been controversial, due to the company’s shifting focus toward increased contemporary and sometimes realistically gritty works. The first presentation of the season, in fact, is Florencia en el Amazonas, inspired by the writings of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and only the third Spanish-language opera to be performed at the Met. (Carmen, after all, is in French and will be heard on Jan. 27.) Other works from our own era are Dead Man Walking (Jan. 20), X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X (Feb. 3), Fire Shut Up in My Bones (April 27), John Adams’ opera-oratorio El Nino (May 4), and The Hours (May 18).
That unprecedented string of operas by living composers doesn’t mean the usual masters aren’t on the menu. Mozart (3), Wagner, Verdi (4), Puccini (3), Bizet, Gounod, Donizetti, Johann Strauss Jr., and Gluck are all in the lineup, with two of the dates yet to be announced. Conspicuously absent is Richard Strauss.
Two of the archived presentations feature my favorite-ever conductor, Max Rudolf: Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro on Dec. 30, with Victoria de los Angeles and Cesare Siepi, and Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore on April 6, with Luciano Pavarotti, Judith Blegen, and Ezio Flagello. As one conductor once told me, Rudolf could have been famous, if he had wanted that. At the Met, he worked largely behind the scenes as Rudolf Bing’s artistic administrator before going to Cincinnati and rebuilding that city’s great orchestra.
Also of note is that the long-running broadcast series has a new sponsor, the Robert K. Johnson Foundation, only the third in its history. The series was underwritten by Texaco from 1940 to 2003, followed by Toll Brothers luxury homebuilders (2005 to 2023).
Gee, have Texaco’s red-star gas stations been gone from the landscape 20 years already?
Even tradition changes.
Does she read a cookbook
the way I read poetry?
It might even have commercial opportunities.
How would you apply it?
Have to admit it’s been an exciting, though not exactly lucrative, past 12 months since Quaking Dover appeared in print. The 255-page volume is quite different from my earlier publications. It’s history, rather than a novel or poetry, and its tone and outlook pushed my journalism training in new ways. I’ve even come to see this as my major creative nonfiction opus.
Reader reaction has been enthusiastic, and the book’s perspective has challenged the conventional take on New England history and its impact on the rest of America.
Friends Journal magazine called it an “eminently well-argued and documented account,“ while others declared it “a rich feast of a book” or said “It’s like you’re speaking right to me! It’s not like a history at all!” or simply “enjoyed your conversational writing style.”
Unlike my novels, its publication led to a festive book-release party in the Dover Quaker meetinghouse, followed by other events – some of them with unique PowerPoint visuals – in Dover, New Hampshire; Haverhill and Cape Cod, Massachusetts; and Eastport and Pembroke, Maine. Ten in all, and all well received. Didn’t get to do that with the novels. I’ve even had strangers stop me in the street to tell me how much they like my reading. And creating the presentations and accompanying illustrations has been fun in a whole new way for me.
One thing that’s impressed me is the way this has connected with people. It’s about places they live in or have visited, about families and communities they know, about values they share. It’s more concrete than fiction but no less personal.
Overall, it’s sold close to the U.S. average of 200 copies a year. Considering that the book is, at its core, the story of a small congregation in a small city in a small state, I’ll take that as a good start.
Robert Bly once said that to write a line of poetry requires two hours. Not so much for the actual writing. Not even for the inspiration. Though certainly for the revision. As well as compression and redistillation. And more revision.
His estimate, to me, seems quite optimistic.
I’m thinking it can be applied to many more examples of where human creative action is involved, too.
Go ahead, name one where you wish you had more time for the project.
Jnana's Red Barn 