Immersive Van Gogh: Should you Go?

 

                “Immersive Van Gogh”, which premiered in Toronto in 2020, has become the best selling exhibit in the world and is now touring to nearly 30 cities in the U.S   Its popularity has spawned several similarly named imitators.  (Buyer beware!) My friend Mary and I, like many art lovers, are familiar with Vincent Van Gogh’s sad biography and we’ve enjoyed seeing his original paintings in museums in France, Holland and New York.  But we headed to Charlotte, N.C.  with mixed expectations.  Some had questioned if this was really art.  A few critics had panned it as “cheap appropriation of genius…a perversion of traditional art with a glaringly commercial intention.” (Elena Foulidi); “a series of rather jarring juxtapositions…” (Sarah Hotchkiss). The expansive gift stop attests to the commercialization of the experience and maybe if you’re stodgy the kaleidoscope of images could be called jarring but we came away awestruck and amazed.

                In Charlotte the Blumenthal Performing Arts Center is staging the exhibit in the Ford building, a cavernous former missile plant in the city’s redeveloping Camp North End.  Unlike passively attending museum shows or reading erudite books that elucidate Van Gogh’s work, psychosis and techniques, Lighthouse Immersive creators Luca Longobardi and Massimiliano Siccardi and their collaborators compel us to plunge into a new way of looking at art. Perhaps staid museum experiences play down art’s emotional impact.    “Immersive Van Gogh’s” technical wizardry made it impossible for us to observe passively as waves of booming music enveloped us and images crawled along the floor and up the huge walls.  We felt in touch with the creative tsunami that compelled Van Gogh to create 2,000 oil paintings in ten years.  We understood Siccardi’s vision:  “We are witnesses to a life filled with passion and unstoppable desire and we abandon ourselves into this timeless beauty.”     Van Gogh said, “I dream my painting and I paint my dream.” We floated into that dream. It was cathartic and emotional.  Jason Farago wrote in the New York Times that audiences “should bring a fully charged camera phone; some might also enjoy a psychedelic supplement.”  Many were trying to capture the trippy images on their phones where they looked paltry in comparison.

                Mary and I will never stop strolling through hushed museums to look at beautiful art but this was a more visceral experience.  It‘s like the difference between walking on the beach and swimming in the ocean.  A stroll on the shore is beautiful but diving into the waves is an all encompassing sensory experience.                 

If You “Gogh”

https://www.immersivevangogh.com/    In Charlotte through Sept. 12, 2021 and touring to 30 U.S. cities.

Spoleto Pivots to new Venues

          You do not want Mike East’s job. When Spoleto USA began its planning over six months ago, it was impossible to predict whether the festival could happen at all this year. Audiences certainly wouldn’t be able to safely crowd into the usual large venues. As the Director of Production, Mike had to find alternatives. His team searched for possibilities that were up to the high standards of the festival‘s performers and comfortable for audiences. “There have been a lot of iterations. We had to pivot every five minutes,” Mike says. Quickly changing medical guidelines made it complicated. They wanted a “decision based on science” so they collaborated with MUSC’s Back 2 Business Group, where medical experts gave each plan a thorough vetting.

 

Ballet Under the Stars

          Several locations were considered including Brittlebank Park which seemed like a good idea until the roar from nearby baseball games was considered. The College of Charleston, whose Cistern Yard has long been a venue, suggested the use of River’s Green. Located behind the Addlestone Library on Calhoun Street, the large lawn has plenty of space. And may challenges. There’s a big fountain in the middle. There is no covered space in case of rain, no fly space or a green room. Furthermore, the location is unfamiliar. Google Maps doesn’t even know the address. The team was also mindful that Rivers Green is a burial site for enslaved Africans and wanted to be respectful. Undaunted, Mike and his team came up with a vision to create “a world that has always existed.” A 40 X 32 foot stage will cover the fountain. Pipe and drape will create changing rooms, fake brick walls and covered trusses will be assembled and risers with distanced space for 306 patrons installed. 

Caleb Teicher and Company

Three dance troupes will be presented there. Caleb Teicher’s company blends American dance and music traditions including soft shoe, tap and swing dance set to music ranging from beat box to Ella Fitzgerald. Ephrat Asherie Dance is a high energy hybrid of break dancing, hip hop, vogue and house set to the live music of Afro-Brazilian composer Ernesto Nazareth. And Ballet Under the Stars will feature some of the brightest ballet luminaries from the American Ballet Theatre and New York City Ballet.

Ephrat Asherie Dance

Another new venue presented even greater challenges.  The bus shed at the Charleston Visitor’s Center was to be the site for the play The Woman in Black, Susan Hill’s gripping ghost story.  However, until 5 PM every day, busses drive through it loading and unloading tourists.  The plan was to magically, transform the space by 8:30 each show day by hanging lights and other gear above the commotion and move the staging, scenery and chairs in and out quickly each night.  Fortunately when the CDC changed the guidelines, Spoleto was able to move the event to Festival Hall.  

Audiences of Spoleto USA trust the festival to bring exciting new concepts, ideas and art experiences to Charleston. The staff works hard to keep our trust each year. Thankfully the mix of colorful people, enthralled audiences and international performers that we missed so much last year will fill our city again beginning May 27. Despite the challenges, the shows will go on. This year in some surprising places.

If You Go:

Rivers Green: 71 Coming Street, Charleston

Charleston Visitor’s Center Bus Shed: 375 Meeting Street

Spoleto USA: https://spoletousa.org/

Photo credits:  Em Watson, Christopher Duggan and Rosalie O'Connor courtesy of Spoleto USA  

Sandpiper Gallery: The Heart of the Arts on Sullivan’s Island

  

Jim Darlington marsh scene

                While vacationing from Raleigh, Julie Dare Cooke and her husband peered through a window with a “for rent” sign on a Sullivan’s Island storefront.  The space was full of paraphernalia left behind by Mr. Gruber who’d had a variety store there for years: hulking photo finishing equipment, boxes of assorted mismatched furniture parts, wines that had lost their labels floating in Hurricane Hugo floodwaters, nests of wild animals.  “I brought a tape measure.  I didn’t know I needed a shotgun!” their contractor joked.  The roof was even missing. But somehow they had vision and Julie’s motivation to escape the cubicle where she’d worked as a process engineer for 15 years. Over the next 6 months they took the space down to the studs. “We needed 14 dump trucks to clear it out.”  When Sandpiper Gallery opened in 2001, it displayed the work of ten local artists including Jim Darlington who remains among the gallery’s most collected painters.      

Beth McLean Beach Scene

            Julie’s passion for the project is unabated.  “Art is a soulful thing,” she told me as she pointed out the myriad of subtle colors in a marsh scene by Leslie Pratt Thomas as an example of what Paul Klee meant when he said:  “Art does not reproduce the visible; rather it makes visible.” These days the gallery represents over 80 full time painters, jewelers and sculptors that Julie discovered at shows, through art magazines and from the many inquires she receives.  They’re from the Southeast to as far away as Italy. Although Lowcountry landscapes inspire many of the creations, the subjects are wide ranging:  Kris Manning’s stirring Osceola series, Robin Cooper’s whimsical collages of dogs, Pete Rock’s stunning tables with Gullah basket tops by Adeline Mazack, Sarah Sander’s beautifully crafted Goat Island Treasure Boxes and mobiles by

Leslie Pratt Thomas Beach scene

Stephen Kishel.  The jewelry is particularly well curated with standouts including Karen Hakim’s cloisonné and Emily Cook’s fused glass pendants that include sand from area beaches.  “I don’t want people to come in and think they can’t afford anything or touch anything,” Julie explained.  It’s typical for a vacationer to become captivated by a piece on an after dinner stroll and buy it days later on-line when they can’t forget it.  Designers too, rely on Sandpiper Gallery for sourcing the best art in the area.   Collectors appreciate Julie’s messages when their favorite artists release a new piece.  In 2012 Sandpiper Gallery moved to a larger space near Home Team BBQ.  Each night the large windows are alit with colorful pieces. Sometimes Julie passes by on her way to her cottage near Fort Moultrie and she smiles at the passersby stopping to look.   “It’s really fun to drive by at night and see people pointing to the art.”

Karen Hakim

Peter Rock with Adeline Mazack,

         It took a singular vision and a huge leap of faith to look at that dilapidated storefront and imagine an art gallery. This fall, the gallery will celebrate its 20^th anniversary on Sullivan’s Island. It has become the island’s heart of the arts.  Islanders flock to the frequent artist receptions where artistic collaborations are born, artists are discovered and careers are made. “I could not have asked for a more supportive and artful community!” Julie said appreciatively. 

If you go:  2201 Middle Street, Sullivan’s Island https://sandpipergallery.net/

Farm, Circus and Merriment at Bee Haven

 

                Deena Frooman is a juggler.  That’s not just a metaphor.  She’s actually a world-class juggler who’s travelled the world to learn from the best. She turned her passion into Good Clean Fun, a company that brings crowd-pleasing activities to corporate events and festivals.  Ingeniously, she’s also developed a curriculum for school residencies, the STEAM Circus, using hands-on activities to demonstrate the physics of Newton’s laws.  Now she’s juggling yet another venture at her rural Wadmalaw property “Bee Haven” turning it into a destination for family play experiences.

                When my granddaughters Lana and Emilia and I arrived for a visit, Deena was busy packing up 140 kits that included juggling balls, spinning plates and other props for a school program but she took a break to show us around the property. “When families come, the dads always want to tour my tiny house first.” We did too.  It’s a work of art. The resourceful use of space includes a loft bedroom and a miniature bathroom with an reclaimed airplane sink and walls lined with Deena’s kitschy tin lunchbox collection.  Through the windows you can see the thriving garden and, in the distance, the bee hives.  But my grand daughters were eager to meet the animals. And the Nigerian Dwarf Goat siblings Dandylion (“he is pure rascal”) and Carolina Jessamine (“named for South Carolina’s vining flower…sweet and mellow.”) were excited to show us their tricks.  They can “high five”, dance, scamper up and down the teeter-totter, and come like dogs.  Deena said, “I learned how to train them on YouTube,” where she’s learned most all that she knows about farming.  She discovered that the goats needed rain water because the local water had too much iron in it and she learned the clicker method of positive reinforcement that she’s using to train her chickens and the super-cute bunny named Tisha.  Who knew you could train chickens!?         

         Once I was able to coax Emilia to put the cuddly bunny back into its cage, it was time for “Instant Art-ification”.  We took turns sitting on a crazy looking pedal powered spin art contraption made from a bicycle.  The girls put paper and paint into the cylinder mounted where the handlebars would normally be and pedaled until the paint splattered.  Instant art.  Meanwhile, we learned about centrifugal force and primary colors. We bumbled and laughed as we tried to spin plates on long sticks while learning about center of gravity.  We dipped expansive wands into buckets of homemade solution and blew humongous bubbles and we clapped for Deena’s stupendous juggling performance.  It was a day of old fashioned, unplugged family fun and the best nearby road trip we’d taken.  As we made our way home Emilia was already planning to have her next birthday party at Bee Haven.  Lana was dreaming of living on a farm and we all agreed with another recent visitor who said “Bee Haven is two acres of WOW.”

If You Go:

http://goodcleanfunfamilyplay.com/  Bee Haven in 30 minutes from Charleston.  For private visits, group tours and birthday parties.

 

               

               

                 

Our Hippy Holiday

 

            The wreath above the pool, shaped like a peace sign, was the only indication of the holiday season. As we floated naked in the hot pool with 30 strangers we were sure that this was the oddest Winter Solstice we had ever experienced.

We had come to Harbin Springs in search of California culture and knew we had found it immediately upon checking in. Despite its location in the California wine country, the rules included no alcohol.  In fact we were warned that if we went into town for a meal, we couldn’t bathe in the pools for at least 2 hours because others would perceive it emanating from our pores. The other rules: no drugs, nudity only in the spa areas and absolutely no cellphones.  In fact there was no cellphone signal at the top of this mountain that was the centerpiece of the 700 acres just north of Calistoga.  No televisions, no radios, no clocks and only two pay phones, one of which was broken.  But as darkness fell on our first night there, we started to get the idea. This was a retreat from modern civilization.  The cool drizzly night was uninterrupted by sounds of any kind.  Deer roamed the pathways between the cabins and dining hall.  Stars filled the sky.  People tiptoed quietly, speaking in whispers.  

“I don’t know about this.” Mark had said nervously that evening.  “C’mon” I urged him.  “We’ll never see these people again in our lives.”  We’d mustered our courage and made our way down the hillside to the brightly lit dressing room filled with naked men and women of all ages and sizes.  Our discomfort was in contrast to the ease of the others.  A man in stood in front of a seated woman engaged in quiet conversation about their recent fasts, her head at his waist level.  We undressed quickly and darted through the chilly night to the pool. 

Once we were submerged in the body temperature water, surrounded by deep breathing, we tried to relax.  Cold raindrops fell.  Crystals hung from tree branches overhead. Then Mark whispered with trepidation, “Uh-oh, What’s going on here?” Crouched at the side of the pool was a woman lighting candles embedded into a wreath.  She placed the wreath on her head like a crown, lit a bowl of smoking leaves that smelled like incense, slipped into the water and began a ceremony.  

“We welcome the winter solstice”, she preached.  Solemnly turning to each of us she asked, “Would you like to be smudged?” I thought “no way!” Mysteriously I said “yes”.  Perfumed smoke billowed into my face.  She set the mood by prompting the group to hum “Santa Lucia” over and over again.  The she directed us all to turn towards the east.  Confusedly, the bathers turned in one direction and another until she said, “This way is east.”   “We raise our hands to the east from which all wisdom flows” Obediently we reached from the warm water into the cool night air.   “We raise our hands to the west,” we all turned, “where the radiant sun that warms us sets.  We raise our hands to the south from which the summer heat comes, warming our bodies.  And to the north from which the winter winds blow signaling nature’s cycles.  Now let’s all look down towards the earth, honoring the Mother, our female nature.”  We were glad to plunge our arms back into the warm water.  “And now let’s raise our faces to the sky from which the cool semen falls.”  We tried not to giggle as the other bathers opened their mouths to catch the raindrops.

Then at her direction we circled the pool like children holding hands and singing  “Amazing Grace how sweet the sound…” Then Santa Lucia, hefted a large basket of grapes into her arms.  “Take a grape and feed it to the person next to you.  As you do, give them an incantation for the new season.” The woman to Mark’s right, a well endowed college aged woman with a big blond ponytail, took a grape and fed it to him.  He eagerly turned towards her with his mouth opened like a baby bird.   “For love and family”, she crooned as he gladly accepted the sweet grape and took one to feed me. He plopped it into my mouth sneering, “May God have mercy on your soul”, with only a hint of humor. 

As the weekend went on, we explored the resort.  Hiking until we got lost in the network of trails, taking yoga classes and trying some of the tasty vegetarian meals served in the dining hall. We perused the selections of massage and body treatments, many we had never heard of before,  Watsu, jahara, lomi-lomi, ayurveda,  and fantasized about coming back for workshops such as  “Tantric Massage for Lovers” or “An Evening of Ecstasy”.  

On Christmas night the “Unconditional Dance” was well attended by visitors and residents.  Mesmerizing music boomed from speakers.  Strobe lights flashed.  Dancers spun and twirled, some with hula hoops or scarves.  Some stood on their hands; some fell to the ground ecstatically.  A heavyset women in loose clothes pranced by with a strand of Christmas lights woven through her hair.  As she danced, the lights fell around her like tentacles.  As the music’s rhythm intensified, she threw off her shirt to free her large, pendulous breasts.  A man danced up and artfully draped the lights around her breasts and over her shoulder as they twirled off together.  A California moment.  

I tried to call my family since it was the holidays.  The only operable payphone had a sign that said, “Please don’t use this phone right now.  We are meditating in the adjoining room”.  At first I was frustrated, thought about defying the rules and finding a signal.  But then I reconsidered.  OK.  I get it.  Silent night.  Peace on earth.  Really. 

Postscript:  Harbin Hot Springs was developed as a spa by settlers in the 1860’s, run as a commune in the 1970’s and sold to a New Age Church of Being in 1975 to become a retreat center and intentional community.  Since we visited in 2004, the resort was devastated by a fire in 2015. But it is rebuilding and accepting limited guests now.  A full roster of classes and events will be added soon. Creating guest experiences that are “consciousness-altering and deeply transpersonal, with a feeling of unity, and mental and physical calmness” is their mission. For more information: https://harbin.org/

 

Stiching Gratitude with Cookie Washinton

      

        In 2009 Torreah “Cookie” Washington and her mom Martha Moore were at the Historical Society of Washington, D.C. to celebrate one of Cookie’s greatest artistic achievements: her fabric art was part of an exhibit for Obama’s inauguration. But Ms. Moore was hesitant to enter. “When I was a little girl, we weren’t allowed in that building,” she explained. “We had to go in the back door like the janitors.” The historic significance of the moment was immense for Cookie. “I am a patriot in the purest sense of the word. Every man I have ever loved was in the armed services.” She attended her first protest march as a toddler in a stroller and considers her art her social justice work, her ministry. “I believe in the promise of America and I will work my whole life to see that that promise is kept.” 

         Cookie’s artistic vision includes fables, myths, and icons that precede enslaved people being brought to the United States. She says she’s a “way-shower”. “You can’t know where you’re going if you don’t know where you came from, even if it’s a fable.” Her needles pluck strong Black women from history: Calafia, the namesake of California who inspired the Conquistador Hernan Cortes, the Black Madonna and Sophia, the Goddess of Wisdom. "She is the one who is with you in your darkest hour…who faces disaster with you and…leads you out.” She learned that since 800 A.D., way before the sanitized Disney version, there were mermaid stories. Black mermaids were powerful punishers and grantors of wishes. She was captivated by the true story of Charleston’s “Mermaid Riot”. In 1867, 500 people mobbed a store to set a mermaid free. She swam away in a flooded street.      

        At her current exhibit at Brookgreen Garden’s Lowcountry Center (on view until Nov. 26) her artistry is striking. These are decidedly not your grandma’s sunbonnet Sue quilts which she says,” are usually the one your dog ends up giving birth on.” This is fabric art enriched with embellishments: beads, words, feathers, metallic threads…. "I am interested in making art that stirs your soul and makes you think, makes you feel something and makes you exuberantly happy. I am not at all interested in making art that matches your couch.” 

         Also striking is Cookie’s commentary. Emily Abedon describes Cookie’s art as expressing her personal journey through love, pain, death and rebirth and “a return again and again to a belief that collective human righteousness can create a more just and beautiful world.” A poem Emily wrote "A Piece of Peace", inspired Cookie to stitch a quilt to honor their friendship. 

A Piece of Peace by Emily Abedon

 I wish I could do that, you said, give

someone a piece of not being scared.

 

Everything about your wish speaks

For the way you live your life.  Even

 

The way you don’t wish to give it all,

just a piece, speaks for your humility.

 

You feel a divine being is the only one

who could contain all of fearlessness.

 

I like to think of that divinity from time

to time, a holy vessel, the possessor

of the antidote to life-threatening fear.

 

I like to picture the vessel is near me,

not the hovering metal ship of an alien

looking down from the sky, but more

like a kidskin reticule suspended at my hip.

 

I like to imagine that I need only reach

deep into my purse to find the numinous

net that collects butterflies in the stomach,

 

It is easily mine, and that by choice

I don’t, because I know that being scared

Makes me human, and that human

Is really all we’re supposed to be.                                 

     That message was like a ray of sun through the fog of fear that had settled around me. Cookies's words followed me into Brookgreen's glorious gardens with a renewed sense of hope.  “Through the choppy seas of serious challenges and lessons for me this year, God has allowed my hands and heart to continue to create fiber art…With each stitch, I whisper a prayer of gratitude—for one more day and one more opportunity to give back to my beloved community.” 

See her portfolio:

Cookie Washington 

Beaded detail 

Fun In the Time of Corona

 

 

Leigh Cort's "Chapeau Runway" card

            When the term “rage cleaning” struck a chord with me I knew I had to make a change.  The timeline of this forced isolation was coming into focus. The news was dreadful.   I needed a breather. Some inspiration.  What were my creative friends doing to lighten things up?

Painting by Julie Glass

            It was apparent that the lethargy that had infected so many of us had not contaminated my friends.  They were productive and engaged.  While I was doing well to tune into my weekly Zoom Spanish class, two of my classmates were studying 3 foreign languages.  One was researching her imminent move to France.  Sharon, after a career as a travel writer specializing in nature adventures, was enthusiastically streaming naturalist’s tours.  Their message:  embrace the virtual world.  I may be slow on the uptake but now I’m in the front row (for free!) streaming full length concerts on YouTube instead of whining about missing live music.  

Kris Manning's lion made with pop tops

 All around me art is rescuing my friends from anxiety.   Tate Nation gets thank you notes from around the country for the therapy his art puzzles provide:  “It saved our family’s sanity…” It’s the closest family time we’ve had in forever…” Among Kris Manning’s myriad of projects, she’s turning thousands of pop top lids and toothpicks into fantastic mythical creatures. Julie Glass opened an Etsy store and became a “happy full time artist". Creating a Snapfish photo book of her mom’s life has kept Lila busy. Mosaic artist Meryl Weber designed an entire art camp for her grandchildren.  Snazzy “Chapeau Runway” note cards that Leigh Cort designed are perfect for the snail mail we have time to write. I’m best at kindergarten art.  Granddaughters and Modge Podge have turned boring days into messy fun. 

            Music is a strong muse too.  I spent too many afternoons brooding at my piano pounding out “St. James Infirmary” on repeat while my ambitious piano partner Madelyn was skillfully arranging West Side Story for our 8-hand piano quartet. Even the quieted world sparked ideas. The empty beach access paths on Sullivan’s Island prompted Tom Noren to compose beautiful guitar music for each one.  For a quick blast of joy, I turn up"Cha Cha Charleston" by our city’s best musicians,.

           

Meryl's Mosaic wall

            My ambitious friend Sharon wrote 4 short plays and presented a live reading during quarantine. But Laurie’s idea to write six-word stories was more my speed.  Here’s an example:  

Dumped stock portfolio. Buying toilet paper. (David Lenzi). 

 Here is mine: Stuck inside. What now? More Scrabble? 

My creative juices are flowing again. The virtual world is my second home. Cheerful Haydn sits on my music stand. Six-word stories are accumulating on my desktop. The aroma of Modge Podge makes me smile. I’m reminded that art celebrates the best of human nature so it’s an antidote to the nightly news. These creative sparks are not inconsequential or frivolous. They keep our spirits ignited. They’re the fuel of resiliency.