First Thursday with Barbie Mathis - Coming up November 2nd

Please join the Jasper Project as we welcome Barbie Mathis to First Thursday at Sound Bites Eatery on Thursday, November 2nd!

Barbie Mathis, a native of Columbia, SC, has been working as a professional artist since 1980. Over the years, she has evolved as an illustrator, designer and painter working in various media with her main emphasis being Watermedia (Acrylic and Watercolor) painting. Barbie’s primary focus has been on realistic florals and landscapes immersed in layers of colorful glazes, dramatic lighting and rich, natural backgrounds. She has also created her own artistic renditions of people and animals. Most recently, Mathis has been experimenting with a variety of realistic, abstracted and mixed-media styles in Acrylic Paint.

Mathis studied Fashion Design and Illustration at Bauder Fashion College in Atlanta, GA. She has since worked in advertising, graphic design and mat design for various newspapers, printing companies and art galleries. She has been published by Bentley House Publishing and currently self-publishes a limited number of fine art prints. Barbie was awarded her Signature Membership in the South Carolina Watermedia Society in 2006. She has exhibited and won awards in numerous shows, and her work is in both public and private collections around the country. Barbie was an adjunct instructor at Midlands Technical College for 9 years. And, she currently teaches painting at City Art Gallery in Columbia, SC. She also teaches private classes and workshops for individuals and art leagues in South Carolina and throughout the Southeast. Her work and contact information may be found on FB: Barbie Mathis Studio or IG: @BarbieMathisArt
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Artist Statement:
“The Great Experiment,” a show of small, experimental Acrylic paintings by Barbie Mathis

My word for 2023 has been Experiment. Exploring Acrylic paint, and painting some of the many looks and styles that it can achieve has been my “Great Experiment”. This show represents a variety of ways that I have used Acrylic paint to look like Watercolors, Oils, Acrylics and Mixed-Media in all of its thick and thin, realistic to abstracted styles. I have also explored both hard and soft details and patterns in nature, shapes and artificial textures. It is my hope that the viewer will find pleasure in the differences.

Sergio Hudson at Columbia Museum of Art

The Columbia Museum of Art presents Sergio Hudson: Focused on the Fit, an exhibition showcasing the work of iconic fashion designer and Midlands native Sergio Hudson, on view Saturday, November 18, 2023, through Sunday, June 30, 2024. Organized by the CMA in partnership with Sergio Hudson Collections, LLC and community curator Megan Pinckney Rutherford, this exhibition showcases the remarkable moments of a designer who fell in love with fashion at 4 years old while living in Ridgeway, South Carolina, and has become one of the biggest names in the industry today.
 
“Many things are happening in my life that I could only dream of — this exhibition at the CMA is one of them,” says Hudson. “I feel very lucky, and I hope my story can inspire other young men in South Carolina to believe in themselves and follow their passion.”
 
Hudson and his colleagues Inga Beckham, co-owner of Sergio Hudson, and Charles Lynch, co-creative director of Sergio Hudson, will be at the CMA on November 18 for a special opening day program.
 
“We are honored Sergio Hudson is sharing his story and craft in his home state museum,” says CMA Executive Director Della Watkins. “Visitors will feel his extraordinary sense of glamorous style and passionate enthusiasm for making women feel confident and fabulous. This ascending artist is signature South Carolina special!”  
 
Born and raised in Ridgeway, Hudson has always taken inspiration from the strong women in his life, particularly his mother, Sheldon Hudson, who exposed him to sewing and fashion design. Since launching his first eponymous label in 2014, his fresh perspective on luxury American sportswear has taken the fashion world by storm. Hudson’s high-profile clients include Michelle Obama, Beyoncé, Serena Williams, Jessica Alba, Blake Lively, Rihanna, Kamala Harris, Kendall Jenner, Issa Rae, Jessica Chastain, Rachel Brosnahan, and Keke Palmer, a close friend whom he has called a muse.
 
“Sergio is an example of what it means to ignite a passion and never let go of the dream. Focused on the Fit is not only a show about fashion, but also a story of how one makes their mark in the world,” says CMA Director of Art and Learning Jackie Adams. “We are so proud to present Sergio’s work, and we hope this show will inspire and educate visitors about a creative visionary driven to make a difference in how we choose to show up in the world through fashion.”
 
Hudson’s philosophy is that fashion should be for everyone and include everyone. He designs to empower the wearer and often includes a nod to the ’90s of his youth. Exploring his journey from the early days winning Bravo’s Styled to Rock in 2013 up through the present day, Focused on the Fit features nearly 50 works — some 38 illustrations alongside 10 signature garments from key moments in Hudson’s revolutionary career, including Keke Palmer’s stunning ensemble from the 2023 Met Gala, Megan Rapinoe’s star-spangled suit from the 2021 Met Gala, a suit ensemble worn by Beyoncé in 2019, and a custom suit made for Issa Rae in 2018. Visitors get an opportunity to see the creativity and teamwork behind the building of a brand from concept to craft to collection in a holistic look at the design process.
 
“As a lifelong lover of fashion, I am thrilled to be the community curator behind this exhibition showcasing the incredible work of my dear friend, Sergio Hudson, a successful Black fashion designer that was born and bred right here in the Midlands and is well on his way to becoming the next iconic American designer,” says Rutherford. “I am honored to get to share his story with a community that inspired and supported him, and also with the next generation that I’m sure will be inspired by his familiar beginnings.” 
 
Sergio Hudson: Focused on the Fit overlaps with newly opened exhibition Lee Alexander McQueen & Ann Ray: Rendez-Vous, providing museumgoers two iconic fashion exhibitions to experience this fall and holiday season.
 
This exhibition is organized by the Columbia Museum of Art, South Carolina, in partnership with Sergio Hudson Collections, LLC and Community Curator Megan Pinckney Rutherford. Bronze Sponsors: First Citizens Bank; Dr. Suzanne R. Thorpe and Dr. John W. Baynes. Patron Sponsors: Gina Trippi and John Kerr; Barbara B. Boyd; Friends of African American Art & Culture. Friend Sponsors: Hotel Trundle. Grantors: City of Columbia; Experience Columbia SC; Richland County Government; South Carolina Arts Commission; Discover South Carolina; and a grant from the Coastal Community Foundation at the request of CMA member Bonnie Adams Kapp.
 
Sergio Hudson: Conversation with the Designer
Saturday, November 18 | Doors at 1:30 p.m. | Conversation 2:00 – 3:00 p.m.


Celebrate and learn about the remarkable moments of a designer who fell in love with fashion at 4 years old while living in Ridgeway, South Carolina, and has become one of the biggest names in the industry, designing for modern icons. On opening day of Sergio Hudson: Focused on the Fit, join Community Curator Megan Pinckney Rutherford for an intimate conversation with acclaimed designer Sergio Hudson along with Inga Beckham, co-owner of Sergio Hudson, and Charles Lynch, co-creative director of Sergio Hudson. Attendees receive a complimentary signed exhibition poster. Sparkling wine and sweet treats included. Registration required as space is limited. $100 / $75 for members.

Poetry of the People with Amy Drennan

This week's Poet of the People is Amy Drennan. To meet Amy is to walk into bright sunshine. She is Charleston's house mother of lost poets. She is a gifted writer and poet who feeds and houses poets who need a safe place to land and sacrifices her opportunity to shine to promote others. She is a gift and a treasure and my friend.

Amy Drennan was born and raised in Los Angeles CA. As a reluctant military spouse, she’s lived all over the states, and now calls Charleston SC, her permanent home. She is an advertising executive, an above-average wife, and mom to several exceptional humans, a scraggly dog, and anyone who finds themselves in need of some love. She enjoys writing, as her Irish heritage has rendered her impervious to traditional forms of therapy.

If You’d Tried 

It’s ok.

I’m a bit much.

Not everyone likes a woman

with a gap in her teeth

who cries

a lot.

 

Some can’t handle a bunch of words,

being fed all the time.

Some prefer hungry.

 

I’d just tell you

you’re beautiful every day.

You wouldn’t want to hear it,

couldn’t bear it,

already know and don’t need it.

Maybe you don’t have needs.

 

You may not like your name

when I say it.

I’ve whispered your name

into a few mouths.

Some don’t care for whispering.

Some don’t like their mouths.

 

There’s peach fuzz

at the base of my back.

It’s ok to dislike peaches

and my back.

The way I’d curl it into you.

The way I’d arch it in your honor.

Some prefer the front,

like to see what they’re dealing with.

 

I’d love you so softly,

so loudly,

you’d be sick of it by now.

 

Maybe heat isn’t your thing.

You’ve been burned,

had your fingertips singed off.

You don’t touch anything warm now,

you promised.

 

I have freckles on my freckles.

Maybe you don’t like freckles.

Maybe you’d learn to love them.

I’d have shaved my legs for you,

if you’d told me you were coming.

 

Do you like women in bathtubs?

What if they stay there

till sunrise,

writing and not sleeping,

writing about not sleeping?

Would you like to not sleep with me?

 

You wrote your number for me

on a notepad, a matchbook,

the back of my hand.

I didn’t keep it, it kept me.

 

I’m calling you from up North,

down South,

out East.

Somewhere you’ve never been,

have always wanted to go.

 

You might think I’m a firefly, a star,

Christmas lights in June.

From this distance there’s no telling.

 

We could be night sky.

Two blinks to navigate by.

Point A and point me.

The shortest distance between us,

a wish.

We could’ve found each other

if you’d tried.

 

 Kissing a man without lips

 

Last night I dreamt a tiny tooth

broken on your boyhood gums

sunk into the flesh

of my cellulite thigh,

my stretch marked hip,

my salt lick neck,

my all I have is yours,

if you’d like it.

 

The first time you planted in me

up came everything hardy,

hungry,

difficult to kill.

 

It’s peach season in the south.

You can travel there

without leaving the West.

You can wipe sticky sweet

from your chin,

eat till your belly hurts,

till Summer is an abomination.

 

I am a fire you set.

A sun plucked from its sky,

made brighter for shining

in dark places.

 

My memory is thick and unforgiving,

but yesterday you is forgotten.

I can’t recall you before you now.

Punch drink me,

and you a punch pourer.

 

A lover of your own reflection.

I make an awfully good mirror.

 

 What I will tell your daughter

who is old enough to ask

 

Your dad was maddening

and he was loved

 

He held his ear

to a glass

held the glass

to my chest

he listened

he listened harder than anyone

 

He heard pins drop

secrets spill

belly aches and butterflies

 

He heard pieces break

the push-pull

of stitching back together

 

He washed my hair once

I didn’t ask

but he heard me

always listening

 

He had the softest spots

the brokenest bits

he thought himself ugly

but he cried like music

when he cried

he was the bluest

most beautiful boy

 

 Not sorry

 

You are sorry not sorry

‘bout the fire you’ve become.

 

By the time you read this,

I’ll have flown the coop.

By the time you see this,

I’ll be blue eye disappeared.

 

I loved more

than either wing,

gave up flight for you,

stopped singing.

 

Each leaf I know

has turned color

and dropped.

Every leave I know

has left.

 

I’ve gone gone before.

Old news,

fresh ink,

ablaze in the end.

 

I wove you a bed

you’d never need,

stepped lightly over,

apologized never.

 

Don’t deliver the news of our deaths

 

Repeat after me.

We are ok.

It’s all ok.

 

We can breathe

don’t need to breathe

to be here. 

 

We don’t die,

we make room.

 

We are enough light

to fill a teacup,

a sky,

a memory full of here

and gone again.

 

Bushels of babies are born

while grievers grieve.

 

If we hold our ears

to them,

lay hands,

we can hear the whole ocean,

feel what made way.

 

We wish us

Hallelujah

each time we walk

through a door.

 

We wish us

a soft touch

a gentle goodbye

when it’s time.

REVIEW: A New Brain at Workshop Theatre

William Finn’s 1998 Off-Broadway musical, A New Brain, paints an autobiographical portrait of a struggling writer who, while attempting to pen two children’s show songs, suffers a rupture of the arteriovenous malformation in his brain. Upon realization he needs a life-threatening craniotomy, he has to reckon with what he has yet to accomplish as musician, son, and lover.

Workshop Theatre’s production relies on a cast rife with Workshop veterans, and even those new to Workshop are not new to the stage. This stands out in the production, and each cast member brings a take on their character that feels real and lived in. Jocelyn Sanders makes good decisions as director, and though there are places where the play falters, it overall shines. 

In terms of elements that don’t work as well, let’s get the major one out of the way: the screens are weird. The set design itself, led by Patrick Faulds, is bare but works for the small stage. The stage is set with two Plexiglas walls with a major object or two (like a hospital bed) that shifts in the foreground. Two small screens on either side of the stage are used to flesh out the background, and they are certainly unique and at times fun, but they are ultimately awkward and distracting. They are a bit too small to really serve as a backdrop and seemed confused in purpose. At times they display what would be in the background of the scene, like Gordon’s messy apartment; however, there are moments where they show elements already on stage. For instance, the hospital room screen shows an empty bed even though there is already one stage, or when Mr. Bungee – the frog – is on stage, there is also a cartoon frog on the screen. Additionally, one of the two screens unfortunately failed about 30 minutes into the show, showing an error sign, which was eventually turned off and had to be fixed during intermission. Of course, technical errors happen all the time, but it seemed like an avoidable issue when, with the intimate stage, strong props, and solid blocking, the set design works just fine on its own. 

The other background elements work well. At times, the stage feels crowded, but this claustrophobia works with the tone of the musical. There were a few moments of stillness, but for the most part, Saunders’ direction and Crystal Aldamuy’s choreography works at ensuring there’s movement across the stage. Further, the lighting, also led by Faulds, keeps the stage and characters consistently well-lit. The live band is fantastic, and the sound—managed by Dean McCaughan—is overall good. The balance of the live music and the singing is great; however, when many people are singing at once in background, the central solo can be hard to understand. In terms of costuming, Andie Nicks picks outfits that all seem appropriate to the respective characters. A highlight is Mr. Bungee, whose green suit, multicolored vest, and frog head fit the character perfectly. A weak point is the Homeless Lady’s clothes that, while good in general styling, are far too pristine for a homeless woman: unwrinkled and unstained.

 When this show shines, though, it really shines, and the highlight of this show is, without a doubt, the singing. The production had a vocal coach (Lou Boeschen), and it shows. Nearly all notes are hit (with a few occasional weak soprano notes), most of the actors’ notes are consistently supported, and the harmonies are fantastic. Similarly, the acting is good, though not as stellar as the vocals. The actors are overall better singular versus together, with chemistry being a weaker point. This being said, each actor brings a special take to their relative character that makes each one a joy to watch on stage. 

Taylor Diveley as Gordon is great as main character—strong on vocals with good comedic timing. He often uses micro expressions that shine among Gordon’s typically flat affect, and he does a good job of building his expressions as the character grows over the production. The mom, Mimi (Kathy Seppamaki), and the best friend, Rhoda (Grace Farley), were good, but they didn’t stand out until their scenes in Gordon’s coma dream. The mom lacked some variation in emotion earlier in the show, but her tone of gentle acceptance in her final solo brought heart. Farley as Rhoda was fantastic in the puppet scene, showing prowess in facial expression, vocals, and body language—a definite show highlight.  

The nurses helped flesh out the humor and added variation. Heather Hinson, who plays the “thin nurse” (as well as the waitress and an assistant to Mr. Bungee) has great body language and is fun to watch on stage. Adai’shun Cook, who plays the “nice nurse,” is genuinely hilarious and really plays with his voice as instrument—though sometimes he can be a bit hard to understand. Gordon’s boyfriend, Roger (Craig Allen), serves as a nice foil to Gordon, and Allen does a good job at embodying the character—particularly during the “Sailing” scene—but the audience may end up wishing for a stronger connection between the couple. Pat Gagliano as the doctor and Mr. Bungee is solid at the former but really shines at the latter, with a sardonically honest take on the character that really works well. The Minister’s (Samuel Eli McWhite) presence feels very neutral on set, but his vocal prowess is evident.

The standout in the cast, however, is Sheldon Paschal as Lisa the Homeless Lady. Her facial expressions are fantastic, and she really knows how to play the crowd. She is in control of her body and her voice, and both her scenes breaking the fourth wall and interacting with characters on stage are strong. Her vocals were wonderfully supported, and she has a great mix with a light vibrato—her solo “Change” won several rounds of applause from the crowd.

Overall, this is a play with heart. Sound, lighting, set design, and blocking may not be standout but are solid—save for the screens. The individual characters feel understood, realized, and nuanced, even if the chemistry could have been worked on. Regardless, patrons are in for a treat in witnessing these vocals. Fans of the production should enjoy this local take, and those unfamiliar with the musical are still likely to find it a fun and worthwhile way to spend 2 hours of their weekend.

 

A message of Thanks from Cindi

It’s been a truly lovely week for the Jasper Project, and I wanted to take a moment to say thank you to so many individuals who contributed to our current state of grace.

On Thursday, the Jasper Project was honored by being awarded the Governor’s Award for the Humanities at the 32nd Annual South Carolina Awards in the Humanities Luncheon and Ceremony at the Pastides Alumni Center in Columbia’s Vista. It was an incredible joy to  accept this award on behalf of the Jasper Project’s Board of Directors, past and present. Thank you to Jon Tuttle, Ed Madden, Kirkland Smith, and Wilma Ruth King for your faith in us and for recommending the Jasper Project for this incredible honor.

The following explanation of our selection for this award was shared by SC Humanities:

After 25 years of serving as an adjunct instructor of Gender Studies and freelance writer for national magazines, in 2011, Cindi Boiter founded Jasper Magazine, a publication devoted strictly to arts in the South Carolina Midlands. As the magazine grew into a touchstone for a number of multidisciplinary arts projects commemorating events in SC’s cultural history, as well as projects like the journal Fall Lines – a literary convergence and the 2nd Act Film Project, the organization became a 501c3 in 2015. With a robust working board of directors, The Jasper Project has continued to create and facilitate innovative projects that meet the needs of state and local artists of all disciplines, such as Syzygy, the Supper Table, and Sheltered, while offering artists support, promotion, and the validation to say, “I am an artist!” The Jasper Project is a true grassroots organization with no paid employees and little overhead. Both Boiter and the board of directors serve the extended community of SC artists as a labor of love. Boiter is a six-time recipient of the SC Fiction Project, winner of the Piccolo Fiction Project, the Porter Fleming Award for fiction, the 2014 Recipient of the SC Governor’s Award for the Arts (formerly the Verner Award), and the 2018 recipient of Richland Library’s Lucy Hampton Bostick Award. She is the cofounder, with her husband Dr. Bob Jolley, of Muddy Ford Press, has written or edited more than ten books and is the editor of Jasper Magazine and co-editor of Fall Lines – a literary convergence.

As the above clearly demonstrates, the strength of the Jasper Project comes from our hardworking board of directors – a group of individuals who have internalized the ideal of service to one’s community. This same cadre of artists and arts lovers were on deck Friday night when we released the fall 2023 issue of Jasper Magazine at the Ernest A. Finney, Jr. Cultural Arts Center.

We are incredibly appreciative of the hospitality of our host Professor Nikky Finney, the author of On Wings Made of Gauze; Rice; The World Is Round; and Head Off & Split, which won the National Book Award for Poetry in 2011. Her newest collection of poems, Love Child’s Hotbed of Occasional Poetry, was released in 2020. Finney is Carolina Distinguished Professor at USC in Columbia where she is also Director of the Ernest A. Finney Jr. Cultural Arts Center. Despite her distinguished career and accolades, Professor Finney demonstrated a hands-on philosophy and practice Friday night when she joined our team of board members, interns, and volunteers in set-up and break-down for the event, lugging tables and chairs and even digging through trash to prepare recycling more properly for the center.

Thank you, Professor Finney, for your hospitality and generosity of spirit. It is good to be on the same team.

Other thanks are also in order.

Thank you to performers Lang Owen, TiffanyJ, and Ezymoonstones, and to Black Nerd Mafia for facilitating much of the performance.

Thank you to visual artists Anthony Lewis, Jordan Sheridan, Malik Greene, Benji Hicks , and Jean Lomasto for sharing your art with us.

Thank you to board members extraordinaire Bert Easter, Keith Tolen, Kimber Carpenter, Loli Munoz, Wade Sellers, Emily Moffitt, Christina Xan, and Rebekah Rice for set-up and break-down at the event, and to intern Liz Stalker for all her help, too. Thank you to Kristine Cobb and Al Black for being on deck as well as to Jon Tuttle, Libby Campbell, and Laura Garner Hine for being with us in spirit. Working with these loving and kind individuals is one of the greatest joys of my life. Their dedication to something larger than themselves restores my faith in humanity every time I have the pleasure of their company.

Thank you to our guild members and organizations who help sponsor the publication of  Jasper Magazine with their ads among the pages. This includes, Columbia Museum of Art, the Koger Center for the Arts. Columbia Arts Academy, Harbison Theatre, the Palmetto Opera, and the University of South Carolina’s Department of Theatre and Dance. Please remember these important institutions as you select how you will spend your arts and culture time and dollars.

Thank you to the contributors to this issue of Jasper Magazine, especially art director Brian Harmon, music editor Kevin Oliver, poetry editor Ed Madden, theatre editor Libby Campbell, and film editor Wade Sellers.

Thank you to the artists whose stories are included within the pages of this issue of Jasper Magazine. There are too many to list here as, at 76 pages, this is our largest issue to date.

Finally, thank you all for your kind support of the Jasper Project. If you aren’t already, please consider becoming a member of the Jasper Project Guild. We would love to have you as a member of the Jasper family.

All the best,

Cindi Boiter

executive director, the Jasper Project

 (Apologies to anyone whose contribution I failed to mention — please know that you are appreciated.)

 

TIM CONROY's New Book NO TRUE ROUTE Launches Tuesday Oct. 24th at BAR NONE in 5 Points! Read Conroy's interview by MIHO KINNAS & Join Us at Bar None!

Poetry grounds us to the ordinary miracles around us - Tim Conroy

Tim Conroy’s second collection of poetry, No True Route (Muddy Ford Press, 2023) launches Tuesday night, October 24th at Bar None in 5 Points at 6 pm.

Tim Conroy is a poet and former educator. His work has been published in journals, magazines, and compilations, including Fall Lines, Auntie Bellum, Blue Mountain Review, Jasper, Marked by the Water, and Our Prince of Scribes: Writers Remember Pat Conroy. In 2017, Muddy Ford Press published his first book of poetry, Theologies of Terrain, edited by Columbia, South Carolina, poet laureate Ed Madden. A founding board member of the Pat Conroy Literary Center established in his brother’s honor, Tim Conroy lives in Florida.

Advance Praise for No True Route:

Poetry at its best gives the head and heart direction. In No True Route, Tim Conroy sends us straightaway to his life's truths, as he feels them. Words bitter, sweet, brutal, and blunt -- but always beautifully spun, make this intensely personal and pathfinding work worthy of taking along on your own journey. -- J. Drew Lanham, author of Sparrow Envy - Field Guide to Birds and Lesser Beasts 

“How not to be a body / suspended alone”: in poem after poem, Tim Conroy’s No True Route investigates that state of potential isolation, of fatal disconnection narrowly avoided… this “rope knotted to adolescence,” becomes for Conroy a life-line. “Do you recall the moment you first belonged?,” he asks, and the question – amid these “oyster cuts of memory” – is satisfyingly both poignant and affirming. -- Nathalie Anderson, author of Held and Firmly Bound and Stain 

Tim Conroy's second collection, No True Route, continues self-investigation from his past that began in his first book, Theologies of Terrain. Through personal and poetic journeys, the poems have gained more profound insights into the heaviness of life's burden and the possible ways to lightness. -- Miho Kinnas, author of Waiting for Sunset to Bury Red Camellias, Move Over, Bird, and Today, Fish Only.

~~~~~

Interview Question from poet Miho Kinnas, author of Waiting for Sunset to Bury Red Camellias (2023, Free Verse Press), Move Over, Bird (2019), and Today, Fish Only (2019) from Math Paper Press.

 

What was it like to put together the second collection?

The second collection, No True Route, took six years of writing, revision, and difficult choices. Ed Madden, former poet Laureate of Columbia, South Carolina, helped me hone and order the poems. I am fortunate to continue to work with Muddy Ford Press and publishers Cindi Boiter and Bob Jolley, who have an unyielding ethic to connect regional writers with a community of readers. I hope readers find the poem in the collection meant for them. Or better yet, they will pick up a pen and write poems about their journeys. In No True Route, some poems express loss, brokenness, strength, and how we hold onto each other. Memories can fool and change us. My brother, Pat, would have recognized these themes in the collection as familiar terrain.

How did the changes in your life (retiring, moving to Florida) affect your writing?

COVID and Moving and Loss sharpened my perception of time and how we live during periods of significant change. One thing I tried to write about because of this change was that no matter where you live, you must never hide or forget your deceased family and friends. It is perilous to deny their presence in our lives.

What poetry are you reading now?

I have been reading and searching for poems with spiritual themes for a project. It is an attempt at an existential spiritual search questioning our relationship to the Divine in all our metaphors of beliefs and doubts. My Genesis or creation poem to enter this discussion is Ode to Dirt by Sharon Olds, then Ode to the Clothesline by Kwame Dawes, an excerpt from the Song of Solomon, Ask Me by William Stafford, Have You Prayed? by Li-Young Lee, Upstairs the Eulogy, Downstairs the Rummage Sale by Yehoshua November, A Violin at Dusk by Lizette Woodworth Reese, The Vast Ocean Begins Just Outside Our Church: The Eucharist by Mary Oliver, Kerr’s Ass by Patrick Kavanaugh, The Call by Ron Rash, A Prayer by Max Errman and Thank You by Ross Gay.

But I am still collecting and refining. I don’t know the shape of the final product, but I will hold “poetry worship” services using these poems where the poets are priests. The congregation will read these poems and explore the human need for something after death and an explanation of divinity. After all, we are “muckers” searching for the Kavanaugh’s “God of imagination.” Perhaps my poem in No True Route, Visitation, fits this mold. 

Why Poetry Matters. Figurative language is how we make sense of our creation, our moment. Poetry compromises the text of all faiths and beliefs. Poetry explores the ground of being like a hungry mole cricket. It’s the stirring language of the Cosmos and the soup spoon. It rises from dirt to sunflower to hearts. Poetry is our first and last breath in our brief lives of verses. Poetry grounds us to the ordinary miracles around us. But I warn you, it’s a mouse in the hole trembling to rush out to nibble on a crumb; satisfying, so risky.

Poetry of the People with Ron Digga Baxter

This week's Poet of the People is Ron (Digga) Baxter.  When Digga hits the mic it's all about lyric and flow  - word combinations jar and caress in alternating rhythms.  When it's over you ask for more.

Ron "Digga" Baxter is a native of New York, currently residing in Columbia, South Carolina. He graduated from South Carolina State University with a bachelor's degree in Professional English. Ron is no stranger to the Spoken Word community. He was Vice President of a Columbia based poetry club named Parallel World and a member of the Black On Black Rhyme poetry club. Ron is a student of the human condition, welding the written craft to enrapture the mind much like an artist wields a brush.

 

NERD POEM

The last of a dying breed

Evolution of a race that fought to be freed

I’m the dark elf ripped from the empire forest

Possessed by the chorus of a nymph

My story carved upon Egyptian hieroglyph

Drowned in the mystery of Atlantis history

And the fictional characters of Disney

Read only by Arielle & Triton

Resurrected by the Kraken

Reborn like the fallen phoenix

I’m a dark elf!

See, that’s knowledge of self

And this - this not a fucking fairy tale!

No board pieces but there are dungeons with dragons

I’ve seen the leprechauns potato famine & locked in jail

Robbed of their gold; stories still untold

The Cyclops clan prepared for death

Chased by ogres ‘til there was none left

Even watched giants gasp for breath

No bravery from a slingshot & rock

Just the Brothers grim with an automatic glock

Nobody lives happily ever after!

Life is a disaster filled with laughter

Mocked constantly by a crying jester

Cause he knows… there is no god!

Aslan is a has been

Ever since Caspian’s people spread across the land

My father was a dwarf obsessed with snow white

My sister sniped down by cupid’s arrow

Finally my epiphany when the industry

Began to manipulate my people’s chemistry

Turning Elves into Orcs

Willingly worshiping white wizards!

Forced my tribe to live in a hole.

My wife violently raped by a troll.

Her children bred into gnomes.

Forced to stab them in the chest w/ the horn of a unicorn.

After they were born

Watched as the druids got crucified,

Their halfling savior thrice denied.

Listened to the trees cry out in disdain.

The forest was the first to feel her pain.

Paved over by concrete & cement.

Turned our cheek as the world went Hell bent.

Watched the Smurfs become addicted to mushrooms.

Gandalf and Harry potter committed sacrilege.

While Ogres ban the fairies from marriage

Trembling gremlin eating after midnight.

Mischievous morphing members of the night 

And only I had the courage to fight

See, my mentor a centaur,

Primed for war like a Vietnam tour.

Taught me to pick up the broad sword,

Swing with all my might

Storm the dark castle

And defeat the Grand Wizard in battle

I am a dark elf!



LIVE-EVIL 

My soul is black…

Black as tar pit drowning a T-Rex

Witch’s hex, bird feather, dragon’s tooth

The TRUTH! You can’t handle the truth.

Jack Nicholson sipping gin in Eastwick

I give witches my ass to kiss

Playing Tavis’s cd backwards

I’m blasphemous.

Born of a jackal I cackle like a hag

Bay at the moon, gloom & doom

Your precious soul stuffed in a bag

Or maybe it’s just figment of your imagination

Dance in a circle speak in tongues like a Haitian

Yah meyjan pieces may bunga la dabbed

Scream when your voodoo doll gets stabbed

I’m Al Pacino playing Devil’s Advocate

Smacking Keanu around like Morpheus

But you… call me Morbius if you like!

Ask Yahweh he doesn’t really want to fight

He just wants to hang around… (sign of cross)

Saying daddy’s crossed at me

No wonder I set ablaze to the town

Singe my wings with needful things

Poured blood into the sea blending of chi…

Yang & Ying ending bending reality but actually

Free flowing, like the validity of the holy trinity

Ain’t shit to me- sin to be makes sense to me

                And I LOVE poets!

I’m the anxiety that makes it harder to breathe,

Tortured souls trapped in cages life on stages

Magic like mages wand waving words like wisdom…

Wise & dumb

Take a bite of my knowledge apple!

21st century I’ll blend it up call it Snapple

Crackle pop like dark elves feeding children a bowl

Serial killers is what I behold… toss a body n a hole

Let’s get really dirty… set off an atom bomb

WMD’s just ask Saddam; read the Quran

Temp you to smack a bitch, skinny-dip in my fire pit

Stare into the black abyss, dismiss your simple bliss

I’ll send you a telegram of a pentagram. GODDAMN!

You still want to know who I am.

I’m the Kennedy assassin, babysitter to Michael Jackson, shadowy clouds everlasting!

Acid rain, father of Cain. Trenchcoat mafia; call me insane.

And you still want to know my name?

To make my words clearer take a look in the mirror.

 

APOCOLYPSE

The worlds got to be coming to an end

Revelation told thru Nostradamus pen

Words bend the wind like they never did back then

Timeless tornados trample thru trees tearing & twistin the timber

This is the foretold December we’ll always remember

And why December, Just seems fit that the last days come in da winter

Natures picked up on what the humans don’t know

Ever wonder why the flowers don’t grow

Why bears bear the pretend death state when they hibernate

Why birds cross the border when they migrate

Enter the center of Hell’s gate.

Where the poisons are all in what we ate

Salmonella is known to kill ya

See, the birds knew about the bird flu

Ask me how; info came from the mad cow

And vegetarians ain’t got it so great

Eating tofu trying to escape

 Just take a look at what’s on your plate

Even the fruits are injected with a steroid

Everyone looking like I’m the one paranoid

And me! I’m just a mouthpiece but I’m here to tell ‘um

A cell phone can give you cancer of the cerebellum

And power lines can give you a tumor

Check the statistics this is more than rumor

And I feel like I’m ranting but that’s ok

Sometimes you need more than two minutes to say what you got to say.

And is it much of surprise, millions in Africa dying of aids

But Magic Johnson is on vacation in the everglades

Say the world’s going to hell in a hand basket

Makes sense all my role models are in a casket

Malcolm, Martin, and Marcus Garvey

Taught me to be proud of who I be

Biggie, 2Pac, and Bob Marley

Taught me to speak out lyrically

Hell you might laugh when I say there’s no hope

But you tell me how else can an ex-nazi become the pope

And heaven knows there can be only one conclusion

Prepare for revolution of evolution

As nature gets rid of the pollution of humankind’s institution.

The Preacher’s Poem

She says she wants passion

Heated eyes filled with lust and desire

I’m not interested in containing this fire

Usher in the inferno and let it burn

Pure pyromaniac perplexed by perfection

Like a prideful pharaoh

My goal is to sculpt precision

That mirrors a vision of infinity

Yes… I can give you passion

But I want to fulfill your spirituality

Because even in the dark I can see

My third eye never needed glasses

Always had 20/20 insight

Because I knew what I was looking for 20 years ago

My genesis includes restlessness of exodus

And I’ve been left searching

Seeking spirituality like whispered secrets of the universe

Let me read you a verse from Solomon

Where a solo man finds a true lover

Uncover the linear language of love

Complex yet simple like algebra and arithmetic

Because you plus me equal destiny

And I’ve never been good at math

Just be my divine denominator

Because I don’t think this eternal equation

Ends in X to the second power

It’s no secret I’ve been hurt

Hunted by deities and demons

Too many fairytale sleeping princesses

And clipped winged angels who ain’t

To pretend I’m a godly saint

Cause woman is holier than man

And I’ve worshipped your every hole

So anoint me with your kiss

Take the risk… hand in hand

Lead me to the promise land

And let me love you like you deserve to be loved

 

 

REVIEW: Stilt Girl Chapin Theatre Company

Izzy's dream is to make it in New York, but ever since an “incident" at an audition, auditions have dried up.  She eeks by on a part-time job at a cleaning company and has just discovered she’s been temporarily evicted from her roommate’s sofa. When she realizes the condo she and her bestie Jonathan (oops, “Stephon”) are cleaning, she comes up with the notion to spend the week in the condo, with the rationale that she'll deep clean the place during her stay. When Tina and Debi and their friend Therese arrive quite unexpectedly from Atlanta to celebrate their five-year survival of breast cancer, hilarity ensues, but so does a delightful evening of friendship, confession, optimism, and charm.

Zanna Mills’ Izzy is delightful to watch. Mills’ timing, and her skill at physical comedy – even when she’s stock still – is excellent. Her “floor work” is hysterical. Josh Kern is fabulous as Jonathan/Stephon. He throws himself into a belly dancing routine which had me truly laughing aloud, and that doesn’t happen too often. Debra Haines Kiser and Jane Turner Peterson play Atlanta bosom buddies Debi and Tina and it’s easy to believe these two have been friends for life. Their timing, their commitment to character, and their ability to toss off delicious throwaway lines is excellent. Jane Turner Peterson is a theatrical gem and it’s good to see her getting back onstage after a long absence. Her face is made of rubber, and she is fearless in her actions and reactions. She completely embraces her inner #ShimmyChick. She is gleeful. Jacob Cordes is Debi’s grandson, Max. His transformation from a concerned, uber-cautious grandson to someone willing to loosen up and “go with the flow” is seamless.

Jami Carr Harrington was certainly gifted with an excellent troupe of actors to bring Lou Clyde’s play to life. Working to put an original piece onstage is no easy task but these artists have succeeded in producing a delightful evening of theatre. Corey Langley’s set is exactly as a generic New York City Airbnb condo would look. The décor is perfectly bland and modern, except for one specific piece of décor which you won’t be able to miss.

There were a few times when volume was an issue. The theatre is small, and the audience seating is almost an extension of the stage so it’s easy to fall into a more conversational volume. I was seated in the middle of the house so I imagine some in the back row might have had difficulty hearing some of the dialogue. There were some scene changes when the music stopped rather abruptly when the lights came back up; a fadeout would have been more effective and less jarring. The Mancini was perfectI must confess I was pleasantly surprised. I fully expected Stilt Girl to be yet another Steel Magnolias knock-off about Southern Women of a certain age. I was dead wrong. There is nothing stereotypical about Lou Clyde’s script nor the characters these actors have so deftly brought to life. I regret that scheduling didn’t allow me to see the show earlier in its run. There are only 3 performances left, and the brevity of this piece is to allow this to be published in time for more readers to see it and made the decision to spend an evening in Chapin this weekend. The house seats 82, and there were only 5 empty chairs last night. The show lasts 2 hours, including a 15-minute intermission.

It is a drive, not gonna lie. Give yourself plenty of time to get there for the 7:30 curtain. There is a lot of construction on I-26 (quelle surprise), there are lots of orange and white barrels, and it’s dark out there! Wine is available for a donation, so do bring a little piece of money. The theatre is also taking donations for the South Carolina Oncology Association, which makes funds available to women who are unable to pay for cancer treatment.

Stilt Girl plays tonight and tomorrow night at 7:30 p.m., and on Sunday afternoon at 3:00 p.m.

 

 

Exhibit Reception for Jaime Misenheimer’s “Moon Crush” at the Koger Center

The Koger Center for the Arts has housed the work of Jaime Misenheimer since late September in their Upstairs Gallery. Misenheimer’s latest exhibit, Moon Crush, is a collection of paintings that are not only inspired by her life growing up in Oklahoma, but also by her time on the set of Killers of the Flower Moon, the new Martin Scorsese film based on the eponymous nonfiction novel. Misenheimer helped with set design for several scenes in the film and worked as a background actress. On November 1, from 6 to 7:30 p.m., the Koger Center will host an exhibit reception to celebrate the work of Misenheimer and to commemorate the first day of National Native American Heritage Month.

A graduate of the Hoffberger School of Painting at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, and the University of South Carolina, Misenheimer creates multi-disciplinary works, often from her memory. She is a native Oklahoman and member of the Choctaw Nation; her experiences working across cultures and disciplines continue to lead her to new questions and practices. The exhibition includes over 50 of Misenheimer’s pieces from 2019 to the present, ranging from small waterscapes like her piece Tvshkahomma to the massive Blizzard, a 98” tall, abstracted piece on linen. Misenheimer also created a mural exclusive to this exhibit on the glass windows of the Upstairs Gallery, evoking a different sense of place in the viewer depending on the time of day they look at it.

The reception is free and open to the public. Light fare and drinks will be available during the event, and Misenheimer will be present for all interested parties to talk to about her portfolio, intentions behind this collection, and other artistic endeavors. For more information, contact the Koger Center at (803) 777-7500.

"Moon Crush” artist statement: Moon Crush is a love letter to my home, featuring local flora and fauna like deer, catfish, and roadrunners. My work often explores the contrast between the inner and outer worlds we inhabit. In this collection, my focus is on the outer world, and sensory memories of it, capturing careful moments such as moonrise or heat, a particular bend in a tree, or the cool shapes around a sleeping dog. As a Choctaw citizen living in present day Oklahoma, my identity is deeply intertwined with the land. "Moon Crush" is a collection of paintings that also explores my relationship with nature through careful observations. Working from life and outside, each brushstroke captures a moment that is both personal and universal. Through this collection, I hope to share my connection to the land and honor the Choctaw people's legacy of reverence for our relatives, animals, and the natural world. With each painting, I endeavored to evoke the experience of being in nature - the sounds, smells, and colors that surround us in everyday life.

Jasper and the Koger Center present Alicia Leeke as October’s Third Thursday Artist

The latest artist to be featured in The Nook, the collaborative gallery space by the Jasper Project and the Koger Center for the Arts, is Alicia Leeke. The Nook is the newest location in the growing family of Jasper Galleries.

The body of work Leeke will exhibit during her time in the Nook is titled the Abstract Landscape/Cityscape series. She drew inspiration from the French Salon painters and how they captured history, social conscience, and architecture by painting the people and environments surrounding them. Many of the works in this series were painted during Leeke’s plein-air painting sessions. The act of traveling to each of these locations and taking in the sights and experiences around her helped immensely and led Leeke to create a body of beautiful impressionistic paintings inspired by nature’s ever-changing scenery and the idea of being in a familiar place but looking at and experiencing it in a different lens.

Leeke is a South Carolina based painter incorporating research-related imagery into her artwork. Originally a biology major and former graphic designer, she uses digital technology to blend her passions of art and science. Her evolution from painting to new media pushes the boundaries of her work even further. Leeke was awarded grants by the Joan Mitchell Foundation in New York City, the South Carolina Arts Commission, and a grant by the Charleston Scientific and Cultural Education Fund to produce a traveling exhibition entitled: View from Under the Microscope: Science-based Learning Through Art. The exhibition educates the non-scientific community about the importance plankton play in our life and

why we need to be good stewards of our water bodies. She is an international, award-winning artist whose work is collected around the globe from New York City to Finland, and Austria to Dubai.

The opening reception for the exhibit will take place on Thursday, October 19 from 4:30 – 6 p.m., prior to the Koger Center’s closing performance of Come From Away. The Koger Center gallery spaces—the Nook and the Upstairs Gallery—are open from Monday through Friday, 9-5 p.m. and an hour prior to any Koger Center performance.

Poetry of the People with Bentz Kirby

This week's Poet of the People is local arts activist and icon, Bentz Kirby. His poetry utilizes self-examination with a dose of grace and humility and we are better for it.  Unafraid to grow, he will soon add MFA to his long list of accomplishments.

Bio: Bentz Kirby lives in the Rosewood area of Columbia, South Carolina. Educated first as a social worker and later a lawyer, he has been writing poetry since around 1969.  A survivor of a Sudden Cardiac Arrest, he is a big fan of Automated External Defibrillators. Other than enjoying life with his wife, May, their children and a brood of pets, he writes and performs music with his friends.

Failures


Failures from the past should
hold no sway in the
arena where missteps accrue.
Imagining us seated on a pew
with worshipers at Mass
or in a strict teacher’s class.
Chalise contains toxic brew,
without a promised breakthrough.
Behavior clings, bound fast
to patterns and fate cast by trauma.
Days of queued rolling rocks.
Absurd hero, false faces,
ingrained strife, prevents
pursuit of life.
These failures slice like the dull knife, or
live birth without midwife.

Infrastructure


Trauma creates defensive strategies to
Escape pain, unwelcome memories.
Strategies create mechanisms to layer
Protection on the frightened child
By forgetting unwelcome memories.
Eventually, coping mechanisms construct
An infrastructure to protect this child,
And for a while,
It works.


Eventually the child matures, but not
Beyond the fear.
This infrastructure becomes a jail,
Protection becomes an impediment
To the adult.


Yesterday resides within internal infrastructure,
Prohibiting today’s garden from growing
Unless the child can dismantle coping devices
Creating space for all desires — to blossom.

Ritual for Submission


I submit the following,
this mechanical world consumes all to
ensure your capitulation.
 
Stop, pause, listen to the magic,
whether you believe or not. Give thanks — grass, flower,
bee, hummingbird observe your response.
 
Faeries dance among stones on hillsides while you
believe in Santa Claus, but disbelieve in faeries.
Mushrooms, birds, dogs, and cats who
 
speak in the forgotten language.
Pretending you are not blind and
accommodating the unholy
 
calling you to obscure this one true language
we should hear. Religion assimilates imprinted rituals,
leaving you forever forgetting all you know.
 
until we no longer listen to the trees and
mushrooms who speak the one true language.

Theia
 
Sounds welled above labyrinth, breaking glass
Startled us, awaiting in the womb
Secured by fairies, like us, once chained,
By stunted hollow disbelief, a construct
Of Gaia, Uranus, twelve Titians and magic --
Dawn, sun, moon, gold, shining glass reveal Theia.
 
Blue-sky, wide-shining, fails to dim Theia,
She who reigns over silver, gems and glass.
Giving sight to those who seek her magic.
Eos, Helios, Selene from her womb
Reveal Titans blueprints for their construct
Obscured by disbelief and those in chains,
 
Blinded from birth and accepting our chains
Denying the glowing face of Theia.
Men attempt to create their doomed construct,
Science built to shatter myths into glass.
Umbilical torn, scattered from the womb
Blasphemers scoffing, denying real magic.
 
We obscure life, magicians lack alchemical magic,
Crafting spells while the abyss creates our chains.
Expunging knowledge existing before the womb.
We forget the Titans and gifts born by Theia,
Appropriating mirror images, breaking glass
Allowing illusions to replace the construct.
 
Illusion births illusion, we create false constructs,
Deluded generations deny unerring magic
Creating sight through a murky glass.
Leaden mental deception, conceals our chains
Restraining our eyes from perceiving Theia’s
Previous prophecies embedded within her womb.
 
Dawn, Sun, moon, children sprung forth from womb,
Light beams reveal destiny and unavoidable constructs.
Radiant intrinsic value issues forth from Theia.
Mortal men observe such light as magic

Believing removes obstructions, we are unchained,
Heroes see face to face beyond dark glass.
 
From this womb proceeds what we call magic,
From beyond this construct we are in fact unchained,
From Goddess Theia all light illuminates through glass.


Don't Miss the Jasper Magazine Release Party Next Friday Night!

Jasper couldn’t be more excited about the release of the fall 2023 issue of Jasper Magazine and we’re celebrating the release  with a party at the Ernest A. Finney, Jr. Cultural Arts Center this Friday night – October 20th. The center is located at 1510 Laurens Street, just behind Railroad Barbeque.

The largest magazine we’ve ever published, this issue is 76 pages packed with pieces on Jordan Sheridan, Anthony Lewis, Malik Greene, Jean Lomasto, and Benji Hicks – most of whom will be showing their work on the night of the party.

The issue also features an article on the Finney Center itself, written by Nikky Finney, as well as a travelogue of Brandy and the Butcher’s time in the UK, a piece on Opus and the Frequencies, and an article on TiffanyJ, who will be performing for us.

Eezymoonstone, part of Black Nerd Mafia’s crew, whom we write about in this issue, will also be performing and Lang Owen will be opening up the music for the night.

We have an article on Darren Woodlief written by Kyle Petersen, a piece on Jason Kendal’s new film by Wade Sellers, an essay by Jenks Farmer, a piece on Ed Madden’s new book of poetry, and a piece on Jim Soni Sonefeld’s new album by Kevin Oliver.

There’s a review of George Singleton’s new book, poetry by Joyce Rose-Harris and Rhy Robidoux, a profile on Lonetta Thompson, winner of the 2023 Play Right Series, and interviews with theatre artists Marilyn Matheus and Ric Edwards.

We have a look at Marty Fort’s Columbia Arts Academy plus album reviews for SceneSC’s new release as well as albums by Decadence and Lowcountry.

And you know there’s always more!

Whew!

Please come out and join us from 6 – 9 pm. We’re working on making food available (let us know if you’d like to serve!)

Don't Miss New Theatre! Stilt Girl by Lou Clyde at Chapin Theatre Company

By Lou Clyde
Directed by: Jamie Carr Harrington
Produced by: Lou Clyde


Tickets: $18 Advance or $20 at the door ($19 for seniors & military; $18 for students)

Performed at
Chapin Theatre
830 Columbia Ave   |   Chapin, SC

Synopsis: Izzy's dream is to make it in New York, but ever since "the incident" at an unfortunate audition, her life has gone downhill. Her part-time job at a cleaning company barely pays the bills. When Izzy loses her spot on her friend's couch, she resorts to squatting in an Airbnb condo she just cleaned, rationalizing that she'll deep clean the place during her stay. Imagine Izzy's surprise when Tina and Debi arrive from Atlanta, ready to celebrate their five years cancer free. Stilt Girl is an uplifting farcical comedy balancing optimism, acceptance, and unlikely friendships.

Feedback from the first weekend —

"Fabulous show! Loved the hilarity and poignant moments throughout. Well done!"

"Go see it. Take Kleenexes, especially if you know anyone affected by breast cancer (and who doesn’t?) but even more than that, expect your jaws to be hurting from laughing so much."

"SO funny! I laughed and laughed and laughed! Totally made my day."

"Stilt Girl at Chapin theater was phenomenal!"

"I laughed, I cried I was inspired. Stilt Girl was wonderful."

For more info about this and upcoming shows check out Chapin Theatre Company!

Join Jasper, Luminal Theatre, and Emily Harrold Invite You to a Free Showing of In the BUBBLE with JAMIE

The Jasper Project is excited to be able to help spread the word about this important film, IN THE BUBBLE WITH JAIME, created by Emily Harrold, and thrilled to note that Charlemagne Tha God has come on board as executive producer. The story of Jamie Harrison’s quest to overtake the SC embarrassment that is Lindsay Graham is a story for the ages and an encouraging reminder that good people from South Carolina can make good things happen on the national stage. Congratulations to Emily Harrold and Seth Gadsden on this remarkable award-winning short!

Regarding our reviews ...

Regarding our reviews, given the intimacy of the South Carolina midlands theatre community, we issue our reviews anonymously and sometimes collaboratively.  We stand behind our reviewers because we trust the credentials that qualify these reviewers to do their jobs.

In order to fully grasp the intention of a review, we also encourage our readers to do just that – read the review rather than the social media comments about the review which may misrepresent the actual message of the review or the manner in which it is presented.   

-The Jasper Project

To that end, let us direct you to a particularly salient essay from OnStage Blog

We Should Review Community Theatre … Honestly

by Skip Maloney

There is, and as far as I have been able to determine, always has been a problem with reviews of community theater productions. While the quality of the productions under scrutiny can vary widely from very, very good to very, very bad, community theater reviews always seem to err on the side of caution, which, in general, tends to produce an essay that tries hard, often too hard, to be nice.

The fault lies in the nature of an often unspoken relationship between the media that publish such reviews and the community it serves. Appearing in a local newspaper, or sometimes as commentary on a local radio station, community theater reviews (not all, but many) proceed from the assumption that since the local performers and production staff are unpaid, it's unfair to measure the performance with the same yardstick used to assess a more professional offering, which is nonsense.

While local theater companies operate under obviously tighter budget constraints, there is no single aspect of a theatrical production that is defined by the amount of money that can be thrown at it. I've witnessed productions that were mounted with the aid of millions of dollars on Broadway that worked better in community theater productions with far less to spend.

Equus comes to mind as a prime example. I've seen professional productions of it on Broadway (most recently with Daniel Radcliffe in the role of Alan Strang), and a variety of regional, professional theater productions and none were as effective as a community theater production of it that I witnessed in a 50-seat, small-old-schoolhouse in Reading, Massachusetts.

In a way, local theater reviews are hampered by a mindset, which asks the question, "Well, what can you expect?"

It's community theater, right? Local, unpaid performers and staff can't be expected to create a product with anywhere near the level of professionalism exhibited by companies that do this sort of a thing for a living.

This is nonsense, too; a particularly insidious form of nonsense, because it can affect the local performers and staff who mount local productions and end up believing that there's no way they can do professional work, and after all (they think), it's really just about being involved.

No one is expecting professional work, so why bother trying to achieve it?

Enter your local theater reviewer, who, bearing all of this in mind, tries to be nice. Makes comments about a particularly good individual performance, or the good lighting, or whatever it takes to "accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative and (not) mess with Mr. In-Between."

God forbid that a reviewer should note that a particular performer appeared to have no idea what they were doing, or that a trumpet player in the band couldn't hit a lot of the notes they were expected to, or that the production, in general, failed, fundamentally, to deliver the promise of a given script.

Ignore the fact that a performer in a minor role appeared incapable of paying attention to what was going on around them unless, and until they had lines to deliver.  And above all, never say "bad," "awful," or "horrendous" because the fragile egos of the people on and backstage will be incapable of dealing with it: might even write a nasty Letter to the Editor saying "How dare you?"

This equation does far more disservice to a community than the mere fact of a bad production, because it has a way of lowering expectations, on both sides of the proscenium arch. A local theatre patron reads a "nice" review, goes to the see the show, and assumes because the reviewer knew what they w talking about, that what they're witnessing is a good production, even if, in truth, they end up bored out of their skulls, anxious to get back out on the street and check for messages on their cell phones.

While the performers get to bask in the glow of the nice things said, they move onto the next production, secure in the knowledge that they're doing good work, when, perhaps, they're not.

Recently, having witnessed a particularly bad, horrendous, and just awful production of a play,  I was surprised by a local writer's nice, even glowing review. It wasn't even a play. It was an evening of original material sketch comedy, with trivia questions (???!!) thrown into the middle of it, presumably to keep the audience engaged, because there was very little else going on with the ability to do that.

Opinions are, of course, like certain body parts. Everybody's got them, but I saw at least half a dozen people texting during the production. Oh, they courteously had the ringtones and alerts silenced, forgetting that the glowing screen reflected on their faces was just about as rude as any noise their phone could make. And my wife, who is generally much easier to please, called it the "worst production (she) had ever seen in (her) life."

Misguided attempts to be "nice" are only part of the problem. Another component of this issue is incompetence on the part of the reviewer. Locally-based reviewers are often pressed into service with little or no background in theater, or understanding of what makes a production work, or not work, as the case may be. Such inexperience manifests itself in a review that criticizes the ingredients of a theatrical 'meal,' without ever comprehending the important, central role of the 'cook,' known as the director.

It is a critical subtlety of the art form and any attempt to write about it; a production stands or falls on the merits of the person at the helm.

In film, as proposed by the French, this is known as the "auteur" theory, stating that a film's director is the "author" of the piece; that what makes it pleasurable or not is directly attributable to the director. The theory holds to theatrical work, as well, which is where the assumption that there's some essential difference, related to expectations, between professional and community theater work breaks down.

A good stage director has to do two essential things: cast well, and assure that the basic conventions of any staged production are met. In so doing, a good stage director can direct less-than-professional performers to understand that acting is not just about learning lines and navigating the stage without bumping into furniture.

A good stage director will be able to assess the production capabilities of the group with which they work and tailor the production design to those capabilities (this has to start with a company's awareness of what it can and can't do when it comes to selecting a play to produce). Given those essential tasks, there is no reason why a director, and through him/her, the performers and staff associated with a production, cannot produce a highly professional show.

An understanding of this clears the path to a journalist's keyboard, allowing him/her to assess the quality of a production without fear that a less-than-nice review will somehow damage the value of the effort that was put into it. If you're ever tempted or asked to write a theater review about a community theater production, you'll do both the theater folk and your community a great service if you're brutally honest.

Employ the above-mentioned triad of negative words if a given production has earned them. It'll have a way of improving the work that you see, and elevating your community's awareness of the best that theater has to offer.

Poetry of the People: Miho Kinnas

This week's Poet of the People is my friend, the poet, Miho Kinnas. Miho's poetry makes distant lands feel familiar… just around the corner, up the street and within reach.

Wildflowers

                        Northern Ireland

From the stone pier
young men jump
feet first
into the Irish Sea
white skin turning pink.
They weren’t around when 
the crescent moon rose in red.

Mackerels jump 
beyond the outer jetty.
The clouds
wispy and broken.
Wind directions shift.
Scales reflect the weak sun.
An old weather saying:
They make tall ships carry low sails.

Bouquets of wildflowers 
protect boundaries 
from evil fairies.
Bright yellow ones are marsh marigold.
Pale ones primrose.
However, says ancient folklore:
the night scent of buttercup
may cause madness.

Two girls on the pavement
along the shuttered shops
learn to roller-skate
and not to hate
but to ask, why.

Helsinki

The engine hummed all night
like a 3-D printer 
building the city.

In the darkest hour
of the white night
the ship jerked once.

Men in blue and yellow 
uniforms hooked 
the anchoring ropes.

On the pier a few workers 
dragged the covered cargo
on wheels slowly across.

The container trucks 
that had gone first 
in Stockholm filed out.

The ferry continues
the Baltic voyage 
the thick fog is lifting.

Seagulls reappear 
in the leftover sunrise
suddenly.

The maritime fortress
built in the eighteenth-century
Suomenlinna 

punctuates the history 
obscures the earlier times
and reminds of the present war.

Nearing the harbor
more gulls circle.
I approach Helsinki from the sea.

The Pitch

Five mornings in a row, my mother tells me about her dreams.
She keeps dreaming about her childhood in Manchuria.

Like the silhouette on the revolving lantern.
Kaleidoscopic.
The sun was stunning dipping into the horizon!
How thick the ice was on the lake in the forest!
Did I tell you about the stolen skates we found 
at the thieves’ market in the morning?

In one of the last dreams I heard
she was a thirteen-year-old entrepreneur.
She and her friends sold cigarettes to passersby
near the Harbin bridge.

Our sales pitch was in Chinese and Russian!
Choyan ma? Su-kirt?
Choyan ma? Su-kirt?

I may die soon.
If you leave now I won’t see you again. 

I didn’t believe her. 
I still hear her voice repeating the pitch
with a chuckle in between.

Yokohama

I am drawing a map  
to my parents’ house on the hill.
The scale is confused.
There are many inaccuracies.

A little corner fruit shop is now a pet store.
Time may be psychological.
My boyfriend was always late. 

Older taxi drivers know the tomb-stone cutter.
Young ones know it like a ghost story.
The road zips through the fire station.

The big chestnut tree
no longer there where all summer
cicadas spent their one week on earth.

They were so loud —we often gave up talking, listened 
to them rolling our eyes to each other and broke into a big laughter. 
That shut them up!  

One day coming home from school a concrete pole blocked 
our view of the hill. My mother complained to the electric company.
It is still there.

A boy threw a pebble at my window. I was on the phone 
with another boy. I draw a little heart.
All three hearts were broken.

My mother served bowls of ramen noodle for my friends
complete with pork, eggs, sesame seeds, scallions
seaweed and spinach.

My mother began taking rests
on the way up the hill
the way my father did in his late years. 

The day I saw my mother for the last time 
she staggered out of the house without a cane.
I am fine, I am fine, don’t worry, I ‘m fine. I draw a stick figure.

With her open sky smile she held onto the edge of the fence with her right 
hand, her left hand sparkled a little. I draw her waving hand.

She watched my brother drive me away.


The Difficulties of Open Water Swimming　

It was more turbulent 
than it appeared. But that 
was not the only difficulty.

Pelicans glide by
one after another
sometimes low.

She blends in, assimilates 
appears as an image
in someone else’s success.

Moon straight up.
Eastern horizon deep.
Red of a rose garden.
She discarded garlands.

Change of heart.
Nothing stays still.
The sky abandons every color.

Someone stepped
into the ocean as
she made up her mind.

It’s in the genes, we say 
as if she is a bag of tricks.
Did she think he was
a trick of light?

Twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Miho Kinnas is a poet, writer, and translator. Her poems, translations, essays and book reviews appeared in various journals and anthologies including Best American Poetry 2023. She leads creative writing workshops at various locations including writers.com, New York Writers Workshop, and local schools. Her third book of poetry Waiting for Sunset to Bury Red Camellias will be published by Free Verse Press this year. 

Are You Ready for David Sedaris at the Koger Center?

How are YOU getting ready for the latest news and insightful comedy from DAVID SEDARIS, one of contemporary culture’s most hilarious and erudite storytellers who will be reading, speaking, and splitting our ribs with comedy at our very own Koger Center for the Arts, Wednesday, October 11th at 7:30?

At Jasper, we’re reading the latest from David Sedaris, Happy-Go-Lucky and think you should be, too! Here’s a little preview from the Sedaris website:


David Sedaris, the “champion storyteller,” (Los Angeles Times) returns with his first new collection of personal essays since the bestselling Calypso.

Back when restaurant menus were still printed on paper, and wearing a mask—or not—was a decision made mostly on Halloween, David Sedaris spent his time doing normal things. As Happy-Go-Lucky opens, he is learning to shoot guns with his sister, visiting muddy flea markets in Serbia, buying gummy worms to feed to ants, and telling his nonagenarian father wheelchair jokes.

But then the pandemic hits, and like so many others, he’s stuck in lockdown, unable to tour and read for audiences, the part of his work he loves most. To cope, he walks for miles through a nearly deserted city, smelling only his own breath. He vacuums his apartment twice a day, fails to hoard anything, and contemplates how sex workers and acupuncturists might be getting by during quarantine.

As the world gradually settles into a new reality, Sedaris too finds himself changed. His offer to fix a stranger’s teeth rebuffed, he straightens his own, and ventures into the world with new confidence. Newly orphaned, he considers what it means, in his seventh decade, no longer to be someone’s son. And back on the road, he discovers a battle-scarred America: people weary, storefronts empty or festooned with Help Wanted signs, walls painted with graffiti reflecting the contradictory messages of our time: Eat the Rich. Trump 2024. Black Lives Matter.

In Happy-Go-Lucky, David Sedaris once again captures what is most unexpected, hilarious, and poignant about these recent upheavals, personal and public, and expresses in precise language both the misanthropy and desire for connection that drive us all. If we must live in interesting times, there is no one better to chronicle them than the incomparable David Sedaris.

 

Poetry of the People: Elizabeth Robin

This week's Poet of the People is Elizabeth Robin. She speaks the past into the future with descriptive poems that engage the reader's memory and senses: there is a kindness that engages and you ask for more.

STEPHANIE ELLEN SILER MEMORIAL PRIZE

Omens

           The Alarm
The earth shakes me awake.
The fifth tremor in five days.

            Foul Warning
rain hastens the de-camp
and a knee-knock in the rush
replacement time

              lunch
coconut should feel exotic
aromatic and tropical, the grit-grain
slivers chew like shredded wood

              the commute
i follow the chicken truck
miles down I-26, baffled
jammed ten-high, box-huddled
feathers fly, shit sprinkles
behind the ride to slaughter
windshields grow snow-spots

              house call
cookie cutter cottages clutter
acres cleared for golfing clusters
club joiners locked into homogenized cells
white milk

               bland custard
down time
noodling a poem in the rain
a roofer’s nail-gun ruins the rhythm

               Tequila!
lick salt from the rim
slurp salsa from the chip
slam that shot

down

half moon dents riddle the bar

The Wedding Tree

after “Heaven and Earth” by Patricia Sabree

melding heaven and earth under
a Grandmother Tree, a family expands

in Sunday bests, not broom-jumping
but a rite recast with tree as witness, backlit

by spirits She captures in hanging blue
bottles among the moss: ghosts fire the sky
gold-orange to shock-pink, their dance
slow, save one livened ring-shouter, arms
raised in splayed finger joy, hands outstretched

wide hats shade the facelessness of their story
What do they mask? asks Mr. Dunbar. What
magnet draws them together, knotted
in a seedling branch, to a faceless love?

A Lesson in Sea Glass

tumbled in sea, salt, sand
random rubbish recycles

smoothed and pitted bits
transform noxema jars and skye
vodka, beer bottles, dead crystal
and french wines into shore search
and discovery, gleaning the beach
for the ocean’s spilled-out trophies

blue: slightly unique
well-worn, hard to find
and easy to treasure

everyday whites and greens and browns:
a rare vestige of print or rim or logo

proof some things, spent
old and odd-shaped
attract the discerning collector

The Nose Knows

On July 15, 2022 KRCC reports: Colorado Springs Man Becomes
Fourth Person to Push a Peanut up Pikes Peak with his Nose

if my quest seems silly, why, then, all the tourista
photo-ops? why the headlines: NPR, NBC

Colorado public radio, even? i did it, set a record
seven days up Barr Trail—thirteen miles, mind you—

don’t call me crazy. i planned it out, went through two
dozen peanuts and fought dehydration: life on the edge

how rugged pioneers and champions power-push
peanuts by the nose uphill, to fourteen-thousand one-

hundred fifteen feet: HA! ask me if i’m insane, or bored
or a cheater, pushing not really with my nose, but

a plastic spatula duct-taped to my face, used a CPAP
mask to affix—i am American ingenuity at work—no nut

here, just a man, Bob Salem, proving why i was born
not to solve a pandemic. or close ozone holes. not

to worry over fires floods famine
S U P E R B U G S

nitpick away, pass judgment, “the poster boy for human absurdity”
frivolous goals, you say? but i’m a headline now: who are you?

Elizabeth Robin, an award-winning poet, has three books: To My Dreamcatcher (2022), Where Green Meets Blue (2018),  Silk Purses and Lemonade (2017). In 2023 Robin established the 24-stop Hilton Head Poetry Trail and appeared at Piccolo Spoleto as a Sundown Poet. See her website.