Issue 26 • April 2020 • Facebook.com/TalkArts
IT’S ALL ABOUT
ARTS
RYAN H. WALSH
April 2020 In This Issue • Ryan H. Walsh by Ed Morneau Cover Photo credit: Ben Stas, Noise Floor Photography • eARTh Day by Janice Williams • Studio Without Walls by Bette Ann Libby • Poetry Compiled by Curt Naihersey THE INCARNATIONS OF CARING by Gail Spilsbury and A SPRING DAY HAIKU by Stephen Levin • “To Do” Around Town in April by Tess McColgan • Pictorial Splender by Curt Naihersey Featuring: Tara Casey; Elizabeth Pothier and Jason Getz • The Local Music Corner by Perry Persoff • Afterland Part Four: An Accumulation of Dust by Edward Morneau More........ • Centre Cuts Salon and Spa, Roslindale • SPACE Exhibit at Square Root, Roslindale • World Faces in Art
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Ryan H. Walsh: Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man (or is it a Trashcan?*)
by Ed Morneau
He stands there, bedraggled, hair uncombed since he was six, clutching his guitar, bewitched by its electricity—beauty and racket vying for possession of his psyche. His band, Hallelujah the Hills (HtH), explodes, releasing every noisy conceit conjured in the mind and heart of Ryan Walsh, where everything matters and belongs and can live together—like stuff in a trashcan, except that nothing is ever thrown away. (*Portrait of an Artist as a Young Trashcan is one of their albums). It can be argued that James Joyce’s first novel, originally titled Stephen Hero, is more an autobiography than an allusion to Daedalus, the mythic god craftsman from Greek mythology. Like Daedalus and Joyce himself, his Stephen Daedalus rejects conformity, seeks exile from Irish nationalism and religious conformity, and uses language and indirect speech as the best expressions of intellectual and moral freedom—all in the name of developing a conscience and consciousness that embraces the surprise of purpose and rejection of stoicism. Ryan Hamilton Walsh is a practitioner of indirect speech and is blessed with similar attributes and drives, and never fails to surprise. Just a few days ago he posted on his web site (band@hallelujahthehills.com) and on social media some fundamental, but liberating questions, regarding how to eliminate personal point of view distortions when engaging with others: ?’s: Who benefits from me thinking this way? What do I gain by thinking/posting this thought? What do others gain by me thinking/posting this thought? Can I cycle through the milestones of how I arrived at this belief? Are my sources factual or emotional? Trustworthy? High School Self Portraits?
Thoughtful, probing questions, honest concerns, especially in this Age of Opinion where the desecration of facts and truth seem to drive the most insignificant conversation. I shouldn’t be surprised by Ryan’s timely pause and this posting, but I was, alerting me to how easily I get drawn into dissembling information for the sake of nailing down a point. And I’m not surprised because Ryan has been this way from the very first. Before I continue this narrative, let me share a little of his biography, taken from his web site: It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020
Ryan H. Walsh is a musician, and journalist. His debut book, Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968 (Penguin Press), received rave reviews from The New Yorker, The Guardian, Rolling Stone, and was a New York Times end-of-year Critics’ Pick. Since publication, Walsh has toured internationally speaking about his work at The Belfast Literary Festival, The Irish Literary Festival in London, and locally at The Harvard Club, Boston Public Library, Google, Northeastern, and Suffolk University. He has also been honored by Boston Mayor Martin J. Walsh and Cambridge Mayor Marc McGovern in official city proclamations for the historical accounts of both cities presented in the book. His culture writing has appeared in the Boston Globe, Vice, Pitchfork, and Boston Magazine. He was a finalist for the Missouri School of Journalism’s City and Regional Magazine Award for his feature on Van Morrison’s year in Boston, from which his debut book developed. His rock band Hallelujah the Hills has won praise from Spin, Rolling Stone, and Pitchfork; declared “Boston legends” by the Boston Globe; and toured the U.S. extensively over their 14-year existence. The band won a Boston Music Award for Best Rock Artist, and Walsh has twice won the award for Best Video Direction. He lives in Boston, Massachusetts. Not bad for someone who could easily pass himself off as a cartoon character. Ryan is also an artist and filmmaker. He is a cartoonist and collagist, studied film as an undergraduate at Boston University, and has created a myriad of visuals treats—lyrical and abstract—to accompany his other interests and deliver a Joycean-like liberation. I first met him as a student in my Media Studies class at Dedham High School. Already a writer distracted by everything, he easily absorbed the nuances of visual literacy and toyed with a precocious wit his own way of seeing the world. His presence in my class was deeply human, revealing what most excited me as an educator—the effort a student makes to see the art in everything. Often, he’d pass in the wild cartoons he’d draw during class (evidence of his presence), while remaining engaged in what we were about (evidenced by his achievement). I believe he was and will always be of two minds, or maybe even several. As Media Director, I let him run wild in our editing suite and he produced a video as a background to that year’s Airband concert. It was a fully realized piece, complementing a Faith No More song he and his friends were pantomiming. It did not surprise me that he went on to study film. Some mutual friends gifted him with guitar for graduation and soon he and his friends formed a band (The Stairs), won a grant to buy recording equipment, recorded their first CD, got myriad Dedham residents to participate, and put on a celebratory concert at the Partial assembly of Walsh’s caricatures, characters, and such, circa 1996 . the high school to wild acclaim. Several minds plotting, working in tandem, inviting chaos and creation.
It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020 The Stairs web site banner and discography
The Stairs disbanded for reasons most bands disband—life and ambitions change and the future calls—but Ryan never lost his focus in regard to his first passion— music; and has never strayed too far from his creative paths. I asked him: What experiences and influences in high school and at BU pushed you down these paths and helped you refine and focus them?
RYAN: Well, I thought I needed permission to be a creative person. I deep down felt like I was, but it seemed outrageous, or even kind of gross, to just declare: "I am an artist." But I had a secret plan that involved never calling myself anything, to keep on making stuff, and then wait for others to call me that if it was true. You and Chris Macek at Dedham High School encouraging that side of me without a doubt altered the course of my life. You got me my first guitar, you told me to apply for artistic grants. It was the permission I was searching for! I'm not sure I've ever been as creatively productive as I was in college. I was at BU for film, but I was cranking out everything: collages, albums, screenplays, films. I still am in awe of how much jet-fuel-level motivation I had during those four years. It's important to note that much of it wasn't very good at all! I was clocking in and starting my 10,000 hour long shift. I knew when I got off work, if I wasn't any good, at least I could face myself in the mirror knowing I had tried. Ryan never stands still for too long, and if he does, it’s to take emotional inventory regarding setbacks, false starts, or how sometimes the best laid plans go awry. The Stairs were wildly inventive, noisy, impossibly eclectic, and a musical education that drove Ryan and other Stairs to form Hallelujah the Hills. Inspired by a 1963 film of the same name by Adolfas Mekas, who, along with his brother, Jonas, survived a Nazis forced-labor camp in Elmshorn, Germany, the film left a lasting impression on Ryan: I had never seen a movie like it; it seemed like you could watch it very closely or have it on in the background at a party. That struck me as a rare, but interesting quality for a piece of art. I related to the two friends retreating to the woods to engage in total nonsense as a way of trying to get over a heartbreak, too. It was funny, it was surreal, it was emotional, and it was unique. All of those things were qualities that I hoped the new band I was about to start would strive for; plus, it was filmed in New England: “The weirdest, wooziest, wackiest comedy of the year. A gloriously fresh experience in the cinema”—Time Magazine.
Ryan, here with Jonas Mekas—LithuanianAmerican filmmaker, poet, and artist who has often been called "the godfather of American avant-garde cinema.”
This was in 2005, when the brothers Mekas muse moved into Ryan’s heart. Jump to the present, it’s still there, and Hallelujah the Hills (the band) is about to embark on an East Coast tour with their new album, I’m You—a deeply reflective collection of songs that fully explores It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020
that emotional inventory, possibly in all the weirdest, wooziest, and wackiest musical glory, ascribed by Time, but tempered with a kind of spiritual lyricism that leans away from Walsh’s oft-bewildering and abstract observations.
I’m You
Rock n Roll improved my chemistry And prog rock got me out of bed And punk rock made me hate the government Then heavy metal became my friend And R n B let me dance with you And Zydeco seemed like a strange dream And hip hop made me trust the universe And psych rock pushed me past the point But the one thing they all taught me is… I’m you Don’t freak out https://youtu.be/Amz8lS4uB7I I’m you.
Having developed a durable songsmith eclecticism, what recent song of yours delivers your musical and lyrical essence to the listener: RYAN: I think the title track (I’m You”) off our new record is a milestone in the life of the band. It communicates so much of what I've been trying to say in all different kinds of ways for so long. Its musical structure is repetitive, but then unexpected things happen. And it's dreamy, sonically, so it invites you inside in a warm way. It also honors so many of the musical genres that have inspired me over the years in that final verse. I'm very proud of it. […] “I’m You” attempts to erase the border between performer and listener, singer and audience, band and fans. The album digs so deep into the concept of self-identity that, by the time the final song ends, you might just feel like me. If there was a Venn diagram featuring these two overlapping circles—wildly triumphant and overwhelming melancholy—the overlap zone would be where “I’m You” live. Mysteries and off-kilter points of view abound in so much of what Ryan and HtH do. To dig deeper, I asked him: What are your earliest emotional experiences in life that motivated you towards your current creative paths?
RYAN: I just couldn't believe how good music made me feel. I couldn't believe how movies made me feel. I watched the Wizard of Oz every Sunday morning for years. It was like I was trying to unlock its secrets or was refueling myself on its narrative. Very weird! I remember daydreaming in my childhood bedroom about a magical jukebox where you could call out any song ever recorded and it would instantly play it. That daydream now exists in everyone's pocket. If there is actual magic in the world, I think music must be it. While I’m You may be a crowning achievement for HtH, it’s a terrible injustice to ignore their previous SIX full-length albums. The first few were deliberately noisy lo-fi affairs, but had moments that pointed towards an authentic semi-polish in sound and refinement in music and text. And all of them circle around the growth and convictions of Walsh’s particular obsessions It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020
with subverting lyrical expectations: What is your impulse towards lyricism, especially how this impulse has refinements exploding out of your experiences as you age? RYAN: With very few exceptions, I'd say all of the songs I've written follow a kind of insular logic. In other words, it might seem like abstract poetry or collections of surrealism, but there are rules being followed. In other words, I'm trying to create little universes and I'm also always writing the handbook for how to live there at the same time. That's the case for each and every song. Funny enough, the song that shares the same name as our band is probably the biggest instance of random word cut-ups I've ever made. Because that song is so strongly associated with us, I can see why people might assume I've written the words for seven albums merely by jamming dictionaries into a blender, but they'd be wrong.
L-R: Collective Psychosis Begone (2007); Colonial Drones (2009); No One Knows What Happens Next (2012); Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Trashcan (2013); Have You Ever Done Something Evil? (2014); A Band Is Something To Figure Out (2016)
Critics have been effusive about this band. Fans and fanzines all over the country have a particular love for the lo-fi honesty and a genuine desire for rock to be subverted. [Go to the HtH website (band@hallelujahthehills.com) for this expansive rapture]. But even the mainstream media has taken particular notice of their entire canon, and especially I’m You. A shortlist of their excitations regarding the latter: A Ginsberg-esque telling of present day America backed by a band with a similar chaotic synchronicity as the band from Ziggy Stardust—WBUR * A deep and encompassing sound that pulls you in by the ears and spins you for a walk through bursts of thoughtful lyrics and enchanting harmonies, all built within the framework of firm rock beats—Dig, Boston * They’ve crafted an epic. Somehow every song on “I’m You” has an equal-but-totally-different energy. Ryan Walsh is one of the only rock musicians capable of writing songs about writing songs—The Boston Herald * The result is an album unlike anything Hallelujah the Hills has done—The Boston Globe * Hallelujah The Hills is a band that radiates the essence of Boston indie rock— WGBH. As the lead singer and songwriter of HtH, Ryan is quick to eschew all the credit and quicker to acknowledge the contributions of his bandmates. They are as pre-disposed to the same joy and melancholy of making music that expresses and subverts. I ask him: While you are the singular driving force behind your music, how does HtH inspire and complement your ideas as a collaborator and advance mutual musical ideals and your collective impulse to incorporate noise? Is it decorative, expressive, or are you not well? It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020
RYAN: I understand why I am the focus of a lot of the press about the band, but there is no band without these fellas, my dear friends and collaborators. I bring in song ideas and then five very different people start pushing and pulling the songs in certain directions. It's a thrill every time we do it, arranging new songs. This might sound kinda dumb and self-evident, but every day is full of strange noises: the pipes clang, the truck beeps, the wind howls. Why wouldn't you wanna put those noises into songs? Tom Waits said it best: ‘My theory is that songs have to be anatomically correct. They need to have weather in them and the name of a town and usually something to eat — in case you get hungry’ [Boldface emphasis—Walsh]. The current Hallelujah the Hills: Ryan Walsh—guitar, vox Nicholas Ward—guitar, piano Brian Rutledge—trumpet, synth Joseph Marrett—bass Ryan Connelly—drums David Michael Curry—viola
HtH is a true band in that it may exert the greatest influence on Walsh. The parts form a whole, but on many songs these are thoughtful collaborators, full of musical industry and thrift, and wisely disappear or emerge ahead of the song itself. Walsh speaks with the same affection he has for his bandmates as he does for his heroes, who, like Tom Waits, remind him of how he makes purchase of their inspiration. RYAN: Three biggies here. David Lynch (through his work and interviews) taught me that you have to be so devoted to your original idea that failing will always be, and must be, a viable outcome, but staying true to the idea will be worth it in the long run. Bob Pollard (Guided By Voices) led by example to broadcast the message that creation isn't the proprietary field of elites or those in the most esteemed art schools; it doesn't matter where you studied or what equipment you use. All that mattered is that you try to do it your way and express your interpretation of what it's like to live on Earth in the body you've landed inside. And then David Berman (The Silver Jews) taught me that, lyrically, there are so many new places to go that we haven't even begun to scratch the surface of yet. He had the radical idea that you should strive to write combinations of words that had never occurred before. He coined the term/strategy ‘Google purity’—i.e., trying to write only things that would yield ‘no results’ on Google. And not just random surrealism either, we're talking real meaningful ideas and concepts that had yet to be conjured.
It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020
And then there is Woody Guthrie: Another of your heroes is Woody Guthrie, who was very political and was labeled a Communist by the HUAC. Are you inclined to be political, but in a more subversive way? RYAN: I’ll tell you a little story. I read Joe Klein's Guthrie bio in college and I found it very inspiring. His life seemed to be connected to the United States in an almost supernatural way. I just loved it. Berman has a lyric that goes, "When the governor's heart fails / the state bird falls from its branch." I feel like when Woody died it wouldn't have been unbelievable if the Statue of Liberty shed a tear or the Grand Cooley Dam ran backwards. He struck me as a living tentacle of the democratic experiment. In the book I learned that in the mid 1940s, Moses Asche convinced Guthrie to write a whole album of songs about Sacco & Vanzetti, who had been wrongly executed in 1927. Their trial happened at the Dedham Court House and, during that time, they were held at the Dedham County Jail—literally a block from where I grew up. The jail was still open when I was young. I have a vivid memory of walking by it once and seeing all these men in black and white uniforms doing work out in the yard (could they have been smashing rocks?). It was an old jail and people were escaping from it all the time. My dad, sister and I were once out on the swing set and encountered a panicked escapee asking for directions to his getaway car. Anyway, when I tracked down this Guthrie album about them, I was flabbergasted to hear, in two songs, Woody sing the name of my beloved hometown. It seemed so unlikely to me, that I felt the detail had been hastily dropped into the timeline at the last minute to dazzle me. In the book there's a reference to Woody visiting Boston to research their story. If he had visited the jail, I then realized that Woody Guthrie had stood on the street I grew up on. And if that was true, I figured, perhaps his presence left some energy behind and blah blah blah—magical thinking. I went to the Woody Guthrie archives to find out if he had visited the jail. I read his diaries from that year. They were inconclusive. Best to keep it a "maybe" to perhaps keep the dream alive. But I like how Guthrie still seems to be interacting with the present moment. Like this song where he's bitching about what a mother fucker Donald Trump's father was. Guthrie railed against Trump's crooked landlord practices and his racist policies. I aim to be on the right side of history. I hope our songs present a POV that reflect that aim as well. This everything-but-the-trash-approach may have had messy and glorious results as musical expressions, but Walsh pulls everything out of the hamper with his critically acclaimed literary opus, Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968 (AWASH’68). More than a love letter to Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks and an attempt to understand Morrison as an artist and hothead, Walsh uses both to stitch, or rather, cut and paste together a dozen other stories that, to me, are far more interesting: The chronicling of the Mel Lyman/Fort Hill/Avatar Magazine phenomena takes center stage, and then is quickly It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020
upstaged by PBS’s What’s Happening, Mr. Silver—Boston as an asylum and psychledelicatessan. Forays into the chilling tale of the Boston Strangler, the cathartic James Brown concert at the Boston Garden in the service of peace after the assassination of Martin Luther King; the devotion of Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground to Boston as a the place to find its footing; and the investigation into Boston for its proclivity for Puritan spirituality and mysticism conjure the notion that maybe meaning escapes us because we do not embrace life as the fractured mess it is. Nothing fits, but everything works——I dare say he may be at the glorious precipice of falling into his own invention: the narrative collage. Not unlike a puzzle consisting of a dozen different puzzles, Walsh somehow does fit them all together, pursuing an anecdotal path to a larger meaning. And he does this through obsessive research, a personal search for an elusive spiritual connection between events and individuals, and a wild appreciation for the ebb and flow of eccentricity. His use of film theory’s cardinal belief in the suspension of disbelief serves him well, as he never shorts circuits his story through the cool skepticism of hindsight. Mel Lyman
At every turn, the characters in AWASH’68 walk time’s tightrope, challenging the norms of behavior, intent, consequence, jubilation, regret, and endurance. Just as the Fort Hill Community thrived on conflict, as Walsh states, the entire cast of characters and events mobilize conflict into some kind of larger pastiche of understanding time and space, which is where we wind up with the author’s loving tribute to an album that makes whole the fracturing of a broken heart. Ryan invokes space at the end of his impressive effort. Soon, in another year, we would be walking on the moon and we’d be forever dazzled by what the astronauts saw as a world under the sun, under the clouds, glorious dust, a shimmering blue globe surrounding by brown firmament—a reflection of the grand collisions of the universe. The critical embrace for AWASH’68 not only validates the ‘everything matters’ zeitgeist of the cultural accumulation Walsh pursues, it heralds the arrival of a writer of uncommon and subversive craft. Of the many accolades singing its praises, I chose a few that touch upon the actual achievement of Ryan’s impressive devotion: “One of the finest books written about Boston…Walsh weaves the stories of luminaries who had crucial experiences in Boston—Morrison, Lou Reed, Timothy Leary, James Brown—around the forgotten and often astonishing history of the city when it was old, weird, and grimy”— Boston Magazine. It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020
“Ryan H. Walsh’s new book, Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968, takes up Morrison’s suigeneris masterpiece and unearths the largely forgotten context from which it emerged…In documenting the milieu out of which the album came, Walsh also argues for Boston as an underappreciated hub of late-sixties radicalism, artistic invention, and social experimentation. The result is a complex, inquisitive, and satisfying book that illuminates and explicates the origins of Astral Weeks without diminishing the album’s otherworldly aura”—Jon Michaud, NewYorker.com. “The story Walsh has unearthed is so mind-boggling, so full of extraordinary detail and coincidence, and strange, now impossible ambitions, that one can only share in his delight at the sheer improbability of it all…Possibly if you were to spend years investigating a crucial period in the life of your city, you would find stories as good and as rich as these, but even then you would have to have an eye as keen as Walsh’s, a nose as sharp, an ear as sensitive and as attuned to the frequency of the times. This is a wonderful book, I think, funny and interesting and completely absorbing, if you have any interest in just about anything this magazine holds dear— art, politics, fun, music, chaos”—Nick Hornby, The Believer. “The lost story behind a timeless album—a wandering Irish songwriter named Van Morrison, stuck in a strange town called Boston in 1968. Ryan H. Walsh digs deep into all the moment’s cultural and spiritual chaos, with a bizarre cast of characters—making the music sound even weirder and more beautiful than it already did. There’s no rock and roll story quite like Astral Weeks”—Rob Sheffield, author of Dreaming the Beatles and Love is a Mix Tape. I'm curious about the process by which you assembled such an original book. How did it morph as a collection of stories with Morrison and Astral Weeks. Ryan: Ed Park at Penguin must receive much of the credit here. He had the idea that perhaps it wasn't just a book about Van Morrison Velvet Underground in Boston writing Astral Weeks. "What if there were other interesting things happening in the city at the same time?" he asked me. As a lifelong Bostonian, culturally, I just didn't think I was going to find much. The wide-eyed wonder you read in the book is very genuine; I was so shocked how many fantastic, important counterculture stories and milestones had just fallen by the wayside. The oral tradition amongst the weirdos failed here in Boston, I gotta say. From there it was all about structure: Ed and I made certain rules that the interweaving stories had to follow and lean towards. Those restrictions, we felt, kept a truly crazy tale from ever going off the tracks. I was secretly delighted knowing that everyone thought I was writing a tribute to one record and in reality I was putting together an epic patchwork where Van and Mel Lyman were our Ying and Yang dual narrators pulling us through the haze. It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020
*
It’s hard for me to be completely objective about Ryan. As a teacher he has enriched my life and remains a life-long friend. But working backwards from I’m You and Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968, I understand better his growth from the clutter and claustrophobia of his earliest musical pursuits and now admire how loyal he was to his muses and to subsequently shape these early rough drafts of his wild expressions into a vital lyricism that is not obscured by the ‘haze’ he references above. I don’t know if he’s a generational amalgam of Joyce or Guthrie, and extension of his influences, or an artistic reflection of the cultural sky and abyss that frees and anchors the artist and dreamer, but he remains true to the questions he posed at the beginning of this profile, from which I will boil down to one answer: We have much to gain from being thoughtful.
Guthrie Links : Woody sing the name of my beloved hometown Like this song where he's bitching about what a mother fucker Donald Trump's father was racist policies.
* NOTE: Because of the Coronavirus, some of this tour will be postponed until a later date.
It's All About Arts Magazine April 2020
eARTh Day by Janice Williams
This month we celebrate thre 50th anniversary of Earth Day (April 22) established in 1970. Currently our earth has been scourged with a worldwide pandemic of Coronavirus. For the past few months, the virus has traveled around the world infecting thousands and killing thousands. It has overwhelmed our healthcare systems, rocked our economies and changed everyday life immensely for all. It is hard not to be scared and even harder to be optimistic. The most used word is “unprecedented”: Not sure where it goes from here. Earth Day has always held special meaning to me. It is celebrated on my birthday. I also identify with it because in 1970, I was a young and idealistic twenty-year-old. I was sure that I could be a force for peace and believed I could save the earth. Now 50 years later, I am no longer young, and my idealism takes shape mostly in my art work. I love to channel the goodness of nature (especially trees) in my art. So, while our earth is battling and presenting so many ravages, let’s take a moment to appreciate and think of ways to preserve all the goodness eARTh gives us, including ourselves. Earth Day According to Wikipedia: On January 28, 1969, a well drilled by Union Oil Platform A off the coast of Santa Barbara, California, blew out. More than three million gallons of oil spewed, killing over 10,000 seabirds, dolphins, seals, and sea lions. As a reaction to this disaster, activists were mobilized to create environmental regulation, environmental education, and Earth Day. Among the proponents of Earth Day were the people in the front lines of fighting this disaster, Selma Rubin, Marc McGinnes, and Bud Bottoms, founder of Get Oil Out. Denis Hayes, organizer of Earth Day observance day, said that Senator Gaylord Nelson from Wisconsin was inspired to create Earth Day upon seeing Santa Barbara Channel 800 squaremile oil slick from an airplane. In 1969 at a UNESCO Conference in San Francisco, peace activist John McConnell proposed a day to honor the Earth and the concept of peace, to first be celebrated on March 21, 1970, the first day of spring in the northern hemisphere. This day of nature’s equipoise was later sanctioned in a proclamation written by McConnell and signed by Secretary General U Thant at the United Nations. A month later a separate Earth Day was founded by United States Senator Gaylord Nelson as an environmental teach-in first held on April 22, 1970. Nelson was later awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom award in recognition of his work. While this April 22 Earth Day was focused on the United States, an organization launched by Denis Hayes, who was the original national coordinator in 1970, took it international in 1990 and organized events in 141 nations. For more info about Earth Day, visit https://www.earthday.org/ It’s All About Arts Magazine April 2020
15 outdoor sculptures from mastodons to magic! Riverway Park near the Longwood T stop on Chapel Street, Brookline, MA studioswithoutwalls.org facebook.com/studioswithoutwalls
Among the many new artists are: Bob Shannahan “3 Mastondons”; Julie Nussbaum “Alien Fishery”; Elizabeth Helfer, “Blinkah II” and Marnie Sinclair “Stellar Legs” Returning artists: Jeremy Angier; Ann Hirsch; Gail Bos; Anne Eder; Linda Hoffman; Janet Kawada; Bette Ann Libby; Madeleine Lord; Maria Ritz; Grey Held; Allen Spivack, and Delanie Wise by Bette Ann Libby Studios Without Walls is a Brookline-based collaborative group of sculptors who produce exhibitions of art in outdoor public settings. We emphasize our community ties as well as educational outreach. During the 5 weeks of our FREE “museum”, the 21st annual exhibition of Studios Without Walls presents “2020 See Change ”, which will feature the works of 16 sculptors, from mastodons to magic! Exhibiting from April 24th-May 31st. We have been producing exhibitions together since 1997 – originally at Allandale Farm and now at Riverway Park, Brookline hosted by Brookline Parks and Open Spaces. All members share in the annual determination of priorities and planning of the exhibits and receive feedback and stimulation from one another throughout the process. We seek to project a full and lively presence, increasing public visibility of creative thinking at work. We emphasize dialogue with the (continued) It’s All About Arts April 2020
Louise Farrell “Gilded Phalanx- A Beginning” 2019
2020 See Change Studio Without Walls by Bette Ann Libby (continued) community-at-large, continuing to investigate opportunities for public art and elevating public discourse on the arts. This is our 13th year being hosted and welcomed by the Brookline Division of Parks and Open Spaces at Riverway Park near the Longwood T Stop.The Riverway Park has continuous daily use by commuters, students, medical personnel, patients, residents and Red Sox fans who frequent the paths and enjoy the art installations as a harbinger and rite of spring. Studios Without Walls members are professional artists who have exhibited locally, nationally and internationally, some teach in local institutions and have work in public and private collections. Our artists are encouraged to create pieces that may be interactive through light, sound or movement Please visit www.Studioswithoutwalls.org for photos of previous shows. Artists receive honoraria which are supported by grants from the Brookline Community Foundation and the Brookline Commission for the Arts. 2020 Supporters include: Brookline Arts Center, fiscal sponsor, MASS Creative, Brookline Department of Parks and Open Spaces, Friends of the Muddy River, Arts Brookline, Brookline Greenspace Alliance, Mass Cultural Council, The Emerald Necklace Conservancy, and other private funders.
Maria Ritz “Levity” 2019 It’s All About Arts April 2020
! THE INCARNATIONS OF CARING!
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My dad! blew through his life! with energy! like the way! he mowed the lawn on his tractor! relentlessly! all five acres! all afternoon! till pouring sweat! and achievement! the gin and tonic earned.! He plowed through his days like that! the routine packed! the goals! that drove him! in the hospital lab! the teaching halls! the profession,! and what success could buy —! more challenges! but these ones like games:! investments, cars, real estate,! vacations —! money, the fun, the power,! the freedom it brought —! and the hangovers,! the short fuse,! the annoyances,! the waste! and sometimes bad decisions.! And now, seeing him! through the glass doors! in quarantine,! an old man all alone! in a chair near the front desk! bent over in a doze! the days going by! empty, like purgatory,! I feel my heart ache! for the man I see there —! my dad!
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April 2020
! and not the one I thought he was! who never spent an hour with me! or praised me for my worth,! but as the man my father! whose meteoric energy! and accomplishment! was also for his family;! he made money! to build a world! for his family! like a god the creator;! he didn’t know how,! or he didn’t leave time,! to know his children! seen from afar as part of his vision,! but this was how he cared,! and deeply,! so apparent now in his hung head! his spent life! in quarantine.!
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- Gail Spilsbury!
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A SPRING DAY HAIKU!
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They’re selling pussy Willows on the street corner Lusty Spring has sprung
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- Stephen Levin
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It’s All About Arts Magazine
April 2020
April Issue of It’s All About Arts Magazine Tess Bio: Tess McColgan has been working for Roslindale Village Main Street as their Program Manager since April 2018. In this role, she plans community events, uses marketing to promote local businesses, and supports the projects of volunteer-led committees. Coming from a large family full of artists & musicians, she’s always had an enthusiasm for local art, and in October 2018, Tess started as Glenn William’s co-host for the It’s All About Arts TV show until its final episode in June 2019. In her free time, she continues to seek out local art, learns new crafts, explores museums, practices yoga & gets out in nature as often as possible.
Photo cred: Bruce Spero Photography brucespero.smugmug.com
Tess’s April To-Do List For now, my friends.
It's All About Arts April 2020
Sometimes pictures are worth way more than a thousand words‌
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TARA CASEY
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Tara studied at Mass. College of Art and Design. She recently retired from being a para-professional in the Boston Public Schools for the past twenty-one years. Her art interests lean towards water colors and acrylics, though she is currently intrigued by realistic paintings of landscapes and cityscapes.
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April 2020
Sometimes pictures are worth way more than a thousand words…
ELIZABETH POTHIER This a series of graphite drawings
on paper, inspired by my appreciation of the outside world
during daily walks along the seashore and in the woods…an accumulation of expressive marks
i n re s p o n s e t o t h e n a t u r a l surroundings that I observe.
Elizabeth Pothier is a visual artist and art therapist based in Plymouth, MA
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JASON GETZ
A local fireman and Veteran using his benefits to go to school for graphic design and finding a new love for his drawing talent.
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It’s All About Arts Magazine
April 2020
The Local Music Corner by Perry Persoff
All these years that I’ve felt resistant, sometimes disdainful of the techno-remote life. Online universities - ha! No learning of social interaction skills in that college experience. Last month I was interviewed online by three people from a medical patient support company. “Your office is in Back Bay, I’ll meet you in person,” I suggested. “No, that’s OK,” they insisted. And the people who webcast their fantasy gossip shows in hopes of becoming “online celebrities.” Thanks to the current virus situation, they all look like GENIUSES. What’s a fan of promoting a pro-active music community to do??? Well, generically speaking it is often amazing how we are able to do what we need to do…when we need to do it. So, if you have gotten in the habit of searching for concerts of artists IT’S ALL ABOUT ARTS has introduced you to, continue to do so - but with a twist. If their websites show them coming to a venue near you, call the venue. Or check the venue’s website. In other words, make sure the show is actually still happening. See if it’s been re-scheduled to a future date. Keep in mind the latest updates from your city regarding public gatherings and that some club’s sites may not be fully updated. Of course, as of this writing public gatherings in general are not happening. It’s really a matter of how far into the future you can make plans. For now, those more technologically savvy than I (er…that’s probably most of you) have stepped up with a novel approach to “live music events:” the webstream or video stream.
Musicians are setting up cameras at home and setting up whatever else needs to be set up to broadcast - oops, I mean webcast or video cast - their performances. I have heard of some venues possibly doing the same sort of thing if it involves very few people…who can keep at least six feet apart. You have the camera and you stream a performer playing to the empty venue…but playing to you in the safety of your home. The Fallout Shelter in Norwood (home to The Extended Play Sessions) is digging into their archives for some “Best Of” shows to go on their Facebook page and YouTube channel. Another approach for musicians is entering the NPR Tiny Desk concert. For example, singer/clawhammer banjo player Yani Batteau had a show booked for April 18 at The Lily Pad, the intimate Inman Square venue in Cambridge. While that show will not go on, The Show will go on for her. Just not there and then. She has entered the Tiny Desk contest, with a rousing song that includes blues harp, upright bass, and drums. You can check out her entry at th
https://youtu.be/vi92f9e-XXY.
So, check the artists’ websites. Check the venue’s websites. It may be that they have worked out a novel approach for you to enjoy a show from - and I emphasize this the safety of your home. Please do what’s necessary to stay safe. You can even get up to wash your hands again before continuing to read this. It’s OK, I’ll wait. I mean, it’s not like I’m going anywhere, right?
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************************** Oh hey, thanks for coming back. So where was I? Oh yes. Of course another way to stay a pro-active part of the music community is to keep up
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April 2020
with new songs or albums. Obviously, what’s happening these days is wreaking havoc on new music releases as well as touring. Here once again, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, the internet comes to the rescue. You can order or otherwise acquire new music from the artist’s websites. Or from Bandcamp and a myriad of other similar sites that promote artists. And then you can do something refreshingly old fashioned in our current context: you can call a friend on the telephone and say, “OMG, you should hear the new album by _______, it’s like they were in the room visiting me!” OK, maybe you don’t say “OMG.” I’m just trying to appeal to the younger demographic. You know what I mean though, there’s a rush you get from enthusing to a friend about a new piece of music. Which strangely enough (not really but I love that expression) leads me to this.
are on your own and looking out the window of a gray, bracingly chilly New England day. In other words, Spring in New England is the perfect time to release this album. >> One reason I can’t wait for COVID to safely leave us be - besides the obvious - is that I can’t wait to hear Ry, Duke, and Jennifer play these songs live. They were going to be spending the spring touring the album. Obviously, that’s been put on hold. So when the time returns that we can all go out and play again, I hope they tour the album. Come on Ry, it will always be a good time to tour this record.
April 2020 brings us Ry Cavanaugh’s first solo album in 20 years, TIME FOR THIS. It’s an album of songs his father had written going back 40 years. Ry enhanced some of the songs here and there a smidge between lyrics and arrangement. But for the most part, the songs are the way his dad left them. Ry’s father George was a Country and Honky Tonk singer and regional touring artist in the 1970’s. He died of heart failure when Ry was but 22 years old in 1993. Ry’s memories include lots of musicians and instruments always being at the house. >> Ry - of the Boston band Session Americana - recorded TIME FOR THIS with Duke Levine and Jennifer Kimball (Ry’s wife). My initial gut reaction to the songs was…they’re…really really good. Spare, stripped down, subtle. To the gut. Personal like they’re talking only to you. Townes Van Zandt meets James Taylor. Especially good for a day when you
************************** Back in the days of taking a walk to the town square just to see what’s happening, just to feel the vibe of people out for the day, it wasn’t uncommon for me to see Mike Hastings singing behind a stand-up microphone. There was something about his style I always liked. Over the last few months he recorded a pair of singles with Christian McNeill as his co-producer. This is another example of our current reality, where going to the artist’s website is the thing to do more than ever. Check out www.MikeHastingsBand.com. He’s got a few songs posted there. But wait, the new one is not there yet. Go to Mike’s site, then send him an e-mail and ask about the song “Wash Ashore”. Tell him that Perry Persoff guy said it’s a great piece of music and ask, “How can I hear it; then how can I get it?” The track is well produced but not overproduced. So many people, who are
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************************** Another album I am watching out for is Billy, Jimmy, and Dave, which I hipped you to in the January article. That’s ex-Treat Her Righters Billy Conway, Jim Fitting, and David Champagne. Access to it is out there in Cyberspaceland.
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effective live, get into the studio, and what’s effective about them gets squeezed out when produced. Thank you, Christian McNeill, for not doing that to this song. Good work, guys. ************************** This past December, when it appeared Christian McNeill was moving back to Ireland, there was a concert that featured him and many people he’d played with over the years. It was so heartening to see Jeff Berlin among them, drumming for Hybrasil. Jeff had multiple strokes in 2015. But he has re-built his drumming skills. What a (continuing) recovery. Annually, there has been a Jeff Berlin fundraiser. It continues, and it benefits Our Space (ourspacerocks.org). Our Space offers creative play and exploration to kids with chronic illnesses. This year’s fifth benefit had been slated for April 19 . As with many looked-forward to live shows that have been canceled this Spring for public safety concerns, it has been re-scheduled. Sunday Sept 13 is the new date, at the Burren in Somerville. The show will include the Baker Thomas Band, Deupree/ Steinberg duo, Andrea Gillis, Duke Levine, Hybrasil, and Bow Thayer with Dana Colley & Jimmy Ryan.
still ways we can let music get us through tough times - yes, even if we are mostly at home. Check with the venues and the artists’ sites for updates. And let’s be in touch with each other so that we can be as together as possible while being more remote. Call a friend, neighbor, or family member to say hello and exchange bad jokes. Be healthy and safe.
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************************** Finally, I can’t emphasize enough that out of the shadow of our disappointment that many concerts have been postponed…and many favored hangouts are suspended… it’s all a short term disappointment in service to the long-term gain. That being safety and not getting significantly ill or worse. Let’s hang in there and do what we need to do. Hope for the best, and remember that sometime down the road we will get to hang out with each other in groups again. Until then, it seems there are
photo by Ivan Vennti
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April 2020
Afterland by Edward Morneau Part Four: An Accumulation of Dust
From Part Three: “Because he killed Kennedy?” Zorwell gestured as if to afCirm. “Then who stole his soul?”
“Another good question. My 3irst inclination was that it would have to be someone so terrible that the Soul Retrieval System (SRS) could not, technically speaking, register this person’s possession of a soul. “You mean someone like Hitler?”
“I thought of that, but he’s too easy. Divinity would play the duality card and say that Hitler was necessary because, without a Hitler, there would be no Roosevelt or Churchill, but then again there are degrees of fault to Divinity’s consideration of the absolutes of duality.” “What? Hitler was necessary? That’s morally depraved. I don’t agree. The necessity of living saints does not give comfort to those who suffer from their opposites,” offered Bob in protest. “I guess…?" Zorwell nearly poked out his own eye. “The matrix of creation is imperfect and duality cannot speak to purity when imperfection reigns,” offered Zorwell in rebuttal. Now, he was sorry he brought it up. “So Hitler gets a pass?” Bob folded his arms. “No. He has a soul, but a much darkened one by his experiences. And I can assure you he is no longer in Purgatory.” Zorwell folded his arms. “Well, where is he then? In Hell?” “My app does not account for anything but Purgatory, so I’m not at liberty to say.” “But you invoked the Divine.” “As a euphemism, Bob, as a euphemism.” “So, what’s the point of Purgatory if it’s not a way station for Heaven or Hell?” Bob unfolded his arms. “Sir, I never said there was a point. If the Vatican big shots sent you here to get that out of me one way or another, you are on a fool’s errand,” unfolding his arms. Bob was 3lummoxed. Zorwell could play him the fool and tap dance around meaning all he wanted. For some time the attorney believed the lone assassin theory was simply not true. In all cases of sin, human cause and effect was prevalent. He did the math: the one who murdered Kennedy had lost his soul as a result, and did the crime at the behest of one without a soul. The cause and effect singularity of it all de3ied free will and… “To answer your question: Look to what I call The Chain of Souls. There is your answer.”
It's All About Arts April 2020
Bob the Vatican Attorney sighed and looked around at the rejected Michelangelo frescoes and felt as defeated. Though Mike went on to carve the Florentine Pieta, pretty soon after that he could only muster the divine inspiration to make models of future projects he’d never start or 3inish. “Everything okay? I’m sorry if you feel cheated.” “No. I just feel con3licted about your client. Where was he in this chain where he wound up with no soul? He killed Kennedy as a result. How could he not know who was closest to him in this chain? I don’t even know what questions to ask, and I’m an attorney—that’s my universe. It’s hard to reconcile the theft of his soul with having an intact conscience.” As an attorney Bob knew 3irst hand that sometimes he had to suspend his conscience to pursue certain ends, certain truths. “How did he take it after you told him his soul was stolen?” “Actually, he seemed 3ine after thinking about it. Other than his business with JFK, he accepted that he lived an eventful life up to this point, and that if he dies and is not given the chance to experience Purgatory, even if he misses out on the chance to ascend to somewhere, he will not, by design, descend to nowhere, if you know what I mean. He seemed in pretty good spirits when he left here, so to speak. Quite foolish, though.” Zorwell was beginning to regret telling Bob this fake JFK assassination story. But he had to bide his time. “What makes you say that? Why is he foolish? That the didn’t care or know who stole his soul? Was he an atheist?” “Well, he’s not an atheist, so his faith, whatever it is and however his wrath against Kennedy mediated this faith, has no intermediary reconciliation with his doubt.” “Again, that’s pretty obtuse. Yet, his sin is great. Maybe that’s why he is happy he could not connect with the consequence of the afterlife, or wherever the app delivers him.” “I call it the Afterland, thank you. Anyway, that’s dif3icult for a believer—the idea of inconsequence—but not for an atheist…a true atheist, that is.” “What’s a ‘true atheist’?” “Oh, God. A true atheist is so rare. All other atheists apprentice at disbelief and their lack of faith is more or less a decision they make outside of the consequence of knowing.” “You lost me.” “Hmmm. Let’s say you were born in a remote village away from the effects of a world outside your village; and let’s say you were nurtured until you were independent of those who nurtured you. Hopefully, you 3lourished as you aged, then rested as you got older, and eventually died in that very same place where your only function was to live—that is to eat, sleep, contribute, and satisfy your biological needs and urges, etcetera. In short, and most importantly, you never leave the con3ines of the place that allowed you to live such a life. All that pure living would not be considered work, so there’d be no word for work; you would not be a slave to any pursuits except living, so there’d be no word for slavery. In short, no thought of work or slavery, therefore, no thought of deliverance from any kind of involuntary subservience, cruel or indifferent. It’s deliverance that sets the soul to faith and accounts for the very soul itself. If you are aware of deliverance, then you are aware of the soul; this need is constantly recycled innumerably from the smallest It's All About Arts April 2020
to the greatest gestures of life, all ricocheting off the soul and the need to believe that the soul accounts for its own deliverance. The SRS does not lie. It’s an endless loop. And as funny as that may seem, that’s life. My app is a very handy way to keep track of your own deliverance. Kapish?” “Yes, but your example doesn’t account for the human imagination to create a larger world outside of the vacuum of a smaller world.” “Sure it does. The village has all the ingredients to satisfy a rich life as long as that life corresponds to the ingredients.” “Something has to account for attributing these ingredients to some larger force, and the natural inclination is to give supernatural signi3icance to these forces, whether it’s the gods of polytheism of the God of monotheism, or disbelief in either or both.” “You do know what accounts for the idea of God, don’t you?” Bob sighed and thought—This Chain of Souls? He relented. “Maybe I don’t. Tell me.” Bob sneaked a looked at his watch as if time were running out. This conversation was going nowhere…much like purgatory, he imagined. “This won’t take long. The diets of the ancients consisted of all sorts of things, most of which were plants that were hallucinogens. They regularly saw ghosts, eventually found them harmless, deemed them sentinels to another world, and attributed the everyday miracles of their lives to these Avatars, which were hallucinated, inverted, or distorted personi3ications of themselves. From there, rituals emerged and voila—a reliable belief system. As long as these Avatars were present and things remained constant, life was good. That’s all.” “Imagine—to live such a pure life, free of work and slavish pursuits. Hmmm. Seems impossible,” offered Bob, his body language signaling he had heard enough. “Thank God! Otherwise, I’d be out of business.” Bob and Zorwell exchanged the app royalty check and receipt for services rendered. The Vatican attorney left in a huff, obviously dissatis3ied with the goings on in the Vatican Asylum and purgatory itself, and possibly his own soul. Zorwell cared not a whit, feeling more certain than before that Bob had no soul, or his soul had been borrowed or con3iscated….but it was no matter. He got paid, and that’s all that mattered in such an imperfect world. But not really. Though elusive, purity was at the heart of the App Master’s app, knowing two things: Purity is the domain of a particular type of insanity; and without purity, Afterland maybe be the only place where insanity can be reconciled. This was the case of Fenton Bailey. Professor Fenton Bailey had audience with Zorwell prior to the Vatican attorney’s visit, and this was the reason why he was so obscure and evasive with Bob, and why he had to tap dance around the fate of JFK. The world had shifted. Fenton was quite old, his wife having passed away twenty years prior to his appointment as Quantum Mechanics Professor Emeritus at Harvard University. When his wife, Mollie, died, his work became his new bride. But at this stage in life, Bailey thought more about 3inal lessons, 3inal papers, 3inal conferences, It's All About Arts April 2020
and 3inal arguments with his colleagues and students. When he heard of the Purgatory app, he desired concrete 3inality now that there was evidence of an afterlife. He had given up on doubling down on singularities, parsing parallel universes, shooting the arrows of time, and folding the laundry of tesseracts. He would no longer allow Schroedinger’s Cat to nap while he contemplated death, knowing that napping was sleeping and death may be a kind of napping. When asking Zorwell about visiting his own Purgatory, he confessed to the younger man that he simply wanted to see his wife again. Zorwell assured him that she was there and that he should be prepared for an Afterland perspective. As brilliant as Bailey was, he could not imagine what that meant. “It means that she will tell you something she has learned from this new distance—for no better word, a cosmic distance. At 3irst, she will seem a part of your universe, something familiar. The longer you spend with her, the more you will realize that she is coming apart from your universe, engaging in some profound state at which we can only guess.” “No matter. Everything counts, more so the things I don’t understand,” the professor confessed. With the app fully engaged, vertical and horizontal lines of mist appeared, which were normal for every transmission thus far. There were changing depths of 3ield in one moment and nothing but a deep horizon the next. Other 3luctuations gave the afterlife an otherworldly, but strangely inviting atmosphere. Flashes of light blinked intermittently, without design, but with varying intensity. The Purgatory app found its appropriate subject by utilizing some of the aural tools Zorwell used to record old history, matching the voiceprints of the seeker and the sought. This was accomplished by easily accessing stored phone messages from the Shilentnobyte Towers spread out all over certain parts of the world. When Mollie appeared, Bailey’s heart raced to her and she felt the pulse of his loving remembrance and presence. While he was speechless, she was not, as was the habit of those in the afterlife. The quietest soul on earth could 3ind its voice after death and reveal thoughts stored and sti3led with a clarity and conviction that compensated for whatever disabled those who feared or were reluctant to speak. As small talk is frowned upon in the Afterland, conversations usually accelerated to the point. “I wished that I had loved you more, my dear husband,” Mollie began. “I wished that I were of a single mind when it came to you, and had not divided you up into occasions and short conversations and meaningless events. I wished that in my hours of sleep I conserved my substance, not for the next day’s affairs, but for the sake of your heart and your spirit. I squandered you as I squandered my life. And now I am dead with regret, here now, somewhere, to somehow make amends for my mistakes. I cannot…” “Stop, Mollie…Stop!” Bailey interrupted her, grave with her contrition. He looked at Zorwell. He did not expect this—this confession. This kind of afterlife had no allure for him and he leaned toward in disbelief. “Say something to me, Bailey,” cried Mollie. “Why such regret? I never felt more loved in my life when you were alive. Since your death I’ve lamented my own neglect of you and sought distraction in my work.” “You can’t come here, Bailey. It is a place of regret. Don’t come again. Goodbye. I love you.”
It's All About Arts April 2020
Bailey’s whole being shot up and he waved desperately into the mist, its lines forming solids, then exploding into silence, and disappearing like a visual frequency dot on an old tube television. Bailey sat back down and con3ined his spirit to paralysis. Zorwell let him sit, knowing this is sometimes how an experience in the Afterland works out. He was beginning to keep a journal on what was occurring in Afterland, looking for parallel insights into what is expressed from the other side of death. He also wondered if this afterlife was more molecular than miracle, an accumulation of the dust reassembled through a digital lens that extended the formation of a life ended—the recording of human entities reformatted through the matrix of a super hard drive that spoke to the app as if the app were merely a trigger switch. Is the Afterland a 3ilm? He wondered. But it was the conversations that most interested Zorwell. Many were of the nature of confessionals, but adamant in some exemplar of sooth saying, for no better word. He could only guess why Mollie admonished Bailey not to revisit her, but was certain about her regret. He had heard this in previous conversations, one of which was a teenager who killed herself. Her mom, consumed with the hunger for sorrow and guilt, contacted her through his app and the teenager spoke an epistle to her cravings, knowing they would never be sated: “I will never be what I imagine myself to be. I 3ind no comfort in lies, desiring to not live for any time in concentric self-deception. I will not waste time facing myself daily on a schedule of deceit and become like you, mother. I am here to tell you this once that it’s not your fault; it’s the fault of forever. I only wish I had these words when I was alive." Of course this was in3inity’s jest—Zorwell’s territory, as in3inity is represented by math, by numbers, by everything between 0’s and 1’s. In3inity is not the language of a teenage suicide, so something other was in effect here. That was another thing that struck him: the poetry of the afterlife, the certainty of words and images, as if mere rhetoric had been damned, replaced by the wisdom of an ancient sage. The dead seem to have found their voice and a more appropriate vocabulary commensurate with this stage of eternity. Bailey left after tea and after we talked about Mollie’s warning. Zorwell suggested Bailey frame some questions for her for another visit, as he was taken by surprise by the certainty of the afterlife, even questioning the veracity of his experience. He left hopeful, at least, but terri3ied of what else he saw. To be continued…
Afterland & Collages Copyright 2019 Edward Morneau It's All About Arts April 2020
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WORLD FACES in ART Stan Eichner Chilean Goat Herder digital photography 16 x 13” $90. www.staneichner.smugmug.com @staneichner [instagram]
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It’s All About Arts Magazine April 2020
SPACE
Art Exhibit at Square Root Caffe
Oscar Lazo
Barbara Kibler
Stan Eichner
Luna Press Calendar Cover Image by Jamie Hogan
Lisa Domenicucci
Sherwin Long
John Tawa Eli Rosenblum-Stephens
On View Mar. 13 - Apr. 24 2020
Reception Tuesday - March 24 6-7:30pm 2 Corinth Street Roslindale, MA 02131
Curated by: http://www.itsallaboutarts.com