i made a happy birthday greeting

mac and cheese blossom

PILFERed

From the now defunct SPY MAGAZINE.

Commentator

A response to: Dude, You’ve Got Problems

“ I went to a conference on bisexuality about 15 years ago. A woman there said to me, "I wish you gay men would stop putting your energy into fighting homophobia and instead put your energy into eradicating misogyny. Because the problem society has with gay men isn't that they're with other men - it's that they're men who are "acting like women." If it were ok to be a woman in this culture, homophobia would just disappear." I think she's right.”

— Jess Thompson-Adams
Dude, You've Got Problems

Hmmm.... her argument isn't very prismatic "fighting misogyny in stead of homophobia" and her conclusion is a bit simplistic "homophobia would disappear." But I do think that there is a very insightful observation in this quote. When we step outside of prescribed gender roles it disrupts the dominant culture. I welcome the challenge to shift. I'd argue that by emulating, celebrating and nurturing complex gender expression we will "fight" both misogyny and homophobia.

Commentator

I think the sagging pants style is remarkable and may be unprecedented in the history of fashion because it combines not just a static piece of clothing, the pants, but also the drama that goes along with the possibility of the pants falling. And then there's the concomitant activity of hitching and slipping and hitching and slipping. For those of us who find young men sexy the style is compelling. It seems like a lot of work to wear your pants this way but for the viewer it is dynamic, entertaining and just really fun. Name me another clothing style that involves so much theater.

— Robin White, Oakland, CA

All Over My Face

hot gay artist sings about a hot gay lifestyle with inclusive gay groupies all over gay new york
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Upcoming from Permiso

Dear Friends,

Todd Shalom & Niegel Smith (Permiso)

invite you to join us

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

and Wednesday, March 18, 2009

at The Public Theater

425 Lafayette St., New York, NY

Performances will begin at:

7:30pm, 8:00pm, 8:30pm & 9:00pm

RESERVATIONS REQUIRED.

To make a reservation, please visit:

http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/58612

Love,

Niegel & Todd

Notes

Rest in peace Andrew Wyeth.

The artist who created one of the most stunning American paintings has moved on, passed on, let loose, newly breathed, withered, exasperated, floated away into ... what? I don't know.

It is strange.

He painted a world that was not mine - not my experience, not my private history nor the history of my forefathers, but uniquely bound up in my sense of self - my nation identity. In his detail and specificity he reminded me of the individual stories within a distinct culture which contribute to the richness/tapestry/multiplicity/layering/cocooning/budding/germinating/honeycombing/mounding/melting pot/box of chocolates/hope chests/collection plate that is our America.

Glimpsing into the struggles - the wood framed homes, obviously built by hand, the pastures plowed so knowingly/expertly, the simple coverings masquerading as clothing - offers an insight into a hearty American work ethic that I like to acknowledge as something I know intimately- though distinctly different than anyone in his paintings.

In his worlds, he revealed something common and something admirable in the human spirit.

Thankfully for us, he felt compelled to record those revelations in paintings. Paintings which will continue to inspire us - to force us to reconsider our connection to the land and our potential as reflecting beings.


A print of his painting: Christina's World (one of my most favored possessions and a gift from my friend Akin) hangs in my room. It is a reminder, a recording, a document, a gift, a loan, a testament, a poem, a lullaby, a treasure, a friend, a contradiction, a.

His New York Times Obituary is here.

Nappy New Year

Jenn and I, 01/01/09

QUOTEd

NY TIMES LETTERS: Does the E-Book Have a Promising Future

"...still, I myself take pleasure in stroking the page of a book ..."

Sam Goodyear
Oneonta, N.Y., Dec. 24, 2008

Dreaming

In this post, instead of my usual "dream five" - i attempt to transcribe the total experience of my dream last night. Please comment: is it clear? is it too confusing in the unabridged version? I never know what the right balance is for a blog post. I also have chosen not to change anyone's name. It's a dream - so everyone is innocent.


CHOOSING EDUCATION, CHOOSING COMMUNITY
a dream transcription

Inside a subway train?

Mandy, an Associate Artistic Director: You don't want to make plays with undergrads. It was great, but they aren't professionals. You want to achieve so much more.

I need to get out of the subway train. I need to run from underground. I need to emerge into the light and the fresh air.

***location shift***

A meeting: Bill T. Jones, Jim Lewis, some Producers/Donors, AJ, is this for FELA or a new project? I'm feeling stifled. I feel like crying. I need to work in education. I run outside.

Cast member: (with glee) Tears!

I know they (some cast members) are talking about me. I run around the corner and finish crying. When I'm done, I go back to the meeting which is in an underground restaurant - at a round table covered with a very fine white cotton tablecloth.

Bill: (implying I'm late) Nice of you to join us.

Me: I was stuffy and needed to blow my nose. (why couldn't I have asked someone here for a napkin)

Jim: (Hands me a bowl of soup.)

***location shift***

Super Mario Galaxy: I open a "new world," but in order to play it I have to loose all 22 lives I already have. I decide to go into a "previous world," but I'm ceaselessly chased in that "previous world." The characters chase me into the real world. Why didn't I decide to just open the "new world?" The "new world" was vivid yellows and purples and greens and reds - very very vivid - why didn't I choose it instead?). Who cares if I would have lost all my lives except for one, I wouldn't have been pursued by the characters in the world I decided to open up.

***location shift***

A sculpture/dance hall: presenting work.

***location shift***

A stage: in an auditorium. The auditorium was in a building, on a small lane (like European towns) cobblestone, skinny buildings crammed together. But I knew it to be Greenpoint, the neighborhood I live in - in real life. I was directing a community production of a play (Streetcar Named Desire? No, a new play much like it). It starred people from my community - people I knew really well, people I wanted to succeed. But one of the actors was out (sick?), and I had to play her roll. My scene partner missed his cue, but Hilton Als - who had become a fan of the show - was in the audience and yelled out his cue. It changed the whole feeling of the last part of the show. I was struggling to read my lines, which I couldn't see and were hidden from audience view. I fell to the ground but kept it in character. I played the rest of the scene in partial view of the audience. It was terrifying.

***location shift***

After the end of the show I went next door to a new restaurant. It was opened by Liza (who just permanently closed Queen's Hideaway in Greenpoint). At the her new restaurant, they were serving hot mexican soups. The chef (a very old mexican man who knew english better than I did) and the waiter (a very young mexican immigrant) nurtured me and spoke to me and told me about their sister restaurant next door (which Liza also owned) that served only hot soups! After finishing my soup I decided to go next door.

***location shift***

The cold soup restaurant: was below ground. They had dug out a little patio - making an open air, basement level piazza, complete with a large fountain in front of the main door. Behind the main door was a little foyer with yet another door that dazzled with white and silver etching and framing. I went inside and the staff was still preparing. They were going to open the cold soup restaurant the next day - because cold soup (I surmised) took longer to marinate thank hot soup. Liza was nowhere to be found, but I walked in the kitchen anyway. I saw the beautiful radishes, partially grated for their zest, lemons grated for zest, someone chopping bunches of long stemmed onions. Brilliant colors: purple, yellow, greens, whites. It was almost as though my eyes could take close up shots of all the foods.

Niegel: (to myself) they must all be organic

Sous Chef 1: What are you doing here?

Niegel: I'm a friend of Liza's.

Sous Chef 2 (a black lady with a tattoo (of a star?) on her right cheek): You're not supposed to be here yet. We open tomorrow.

Niegel: I know, but I wanted to see what you were up to. Did you work at Liza's old restaurant?

Sous Chef 2: I don't remember. I may have. I don't remember.

Sous Chef 1: You should really leave now.

As I leave, I can sense that the head chef can see me as I'm leaving. He checks to make sure I don't steal the keys from the door.

***location shift***

Back at the theater: My scene partner from earlier is checking on the giant muffins. We are in the cafe of the theater - where they serve giant muffins. I attempt to apologize for my performance (wow it's hard being an actor). He seems to hear me but doesn't acknowledge my apology. He is proud to have just gotten to work with me. His friends have gotten him a gift. It is a peach pie - brilliant brown - and they are pouring a fresh orange juice around the outside of the pie. (they've prepared a moat of sorts between the center of the pie and the crust.) He is loved. I hug him. He thanks me.

Niegel: I hope I get to work with you again. I never even imagined that you were an actor.

Friend: I did it once in high school. Thank you for this opportunity. It was wonderful. Please think of me next time you direct a community play.

Niegel: (truly moved - almost to tears)

Niegel: (to myself) Will I think of him? Will I direct another community play?

Still at the theater: Because I acted in the show, I'm now on the email list for the actors. I don't just get new emails though: my iphone downloads all the previous emails too and in them I see my friend's questions about the show, about the profession and his praise for my leadership. After reading three messages, I notice that he is a bit embarrassed. So I promise not to read anymore. I feel a stronger connection to him than I've felt to anyone in a long time. We hug again.

I remember that I need to wake up and try to look past the edges of the dream.

I wake up.

advisory

COULDN'T SAY IT BETTER...

...a new addition to my blog.


"[the] target audience is the 10 percent of voters who told this week’s New York Times/CBS News poll that they did not feel as if they had received enough information to make an informed decision on the presidential race. I believe we have met them before. They are the men and women who get up at a town hall meeting after the candidate had just made a 20-minute opening speech about his/her plans for health care reform, and say: “What I want to know is, what are you going to do about medical costs?” My theory is that whenever they hear someone start to discuss the issues, they cover their ears and make humming noises, the way my husband does when I say it is time to take a look at our 401(k)s."

Gail Collins, The NY Times

Full article here.

On Poesy

this is
the thing
about things

DREAM five

Pronunciation: \drēm\ \fīv\

Function: noun

Usage: often attributive

1: an exercise I use to recall and record the five most memorable sensations from my night's dream -- compare rem sleep

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. There was a beautiful young man with dark hair who spoke French. We sat on a Terraced lawn overlooking the main avenue and the coast. I asked him what would be an appropriate gift for my hosts; he offered me several of the finest teas.


2. I did not recall the name of Todd's friend who lives with Danya. This seemed to upset her somewhat. It upset me most.

3. Two families with young children arrived at the house. They were just stopping by to take showers. This made me feel uncomfortable and cramped.

4. Something about a church and an election.

5. I was accused of leaking potentially destructive evidence about Barack Obama's character to The Economist.

PROSAIC

THERE IS NO THERE, THERE.
-Gertrude Stein, Everybody’s Autobiography

By describing the failed attempt to locate her childhood home in Oakland California, Gertrude Stein asks us to reconsider the intangible visions we often hold onto with fervor.

The obliqueness of the grammar allows 'THERE', the vision, to be something real or imagined in the past, present or future - removing its temporal qualities or the specificity of her search and forcing a more universal and inclusive reading.

In four words - she illuminates the space, distance, between the perceived and the hoped for and forces the question, "if THERE does not exist in its envisioned form, does it substantially frame our experience of HERE, and when we go in search of the THERE, are we denying the possibilities of HERE?"

Words to knit by.

WE LOVE
TO HATE
THE CURSE
OF LOVE
-Graffiti Artist, East Village NYC

Friendship is Blendship

Obvious Photoshop Posting for the Fall

Culture and Clarity

I don't know the history of newspapers printing non-prose articles, in any section other than the "Arts" section, but I was extremely thrilled to see a pictorial article by one of my favorite artists in the Opinions section of the New York Times today.

Kara Walker,

a visual artist working in silhouette forms using paper, transparencies, light, and film (to name a few of her mediums) has manipulated reconstruction iconography to question the ways we view race and class in America.

And, in this thrilling article AUTUMN she again surprises me and forces me to make new insights - linking the circular experience of time (through the seasons) to give insight into the repetitive gestures of language and figures and colors that we often use to manipulate the opportunities and self-image of "conquered folks."

Lately, I've had to confront my own assumptions about race. I grew up in Norwood, a small North Carolina town, where my culture (ultimately wrapped up in my race) was often mocked by white class mates. I remember in fourth grade we were studying North Carolina history and watching documentaries about our state. When we watched a video about religious practices, several white students decided that the cadence of black preachers and call & response of black parishioners was laughable. I had to endure weeks of heckling and indecent mimicry.

Having had to grow up in such an environment, I don't usually anticipate non-blacks to embrace black culture - in fact for much of my late teens and early twenties I tried to deny black culture. So, when I see non-blacks wearing Obama paraphernalia and displaying signs, I greet it with an unhealthy amount of skepticism and unease. "Are you really supporting a 'black' man - or is this some part of your personal performance of liberalism?"

For me: there is more maturing to happen, more healing to happen. I look forward to having accumulated enough positive interactions and reflections to overcome the biases of my youth.

Language Responsibly

I have been terrified lately. The thought of being vulnerable – of sharing in a public space, like this blog, has made me second guess my work. I'm excited to be venturing back into this medium.


I was reading this afternoon about fear and darkness. Why is it that when in a space where our eyes have not quite adjusted, we start to use our other senses: smelling, touch, hearing to create (fill in the blanks) of the world around us. Why is it usually that, that world around us is populated with potential pitfalls? Why not potential opportunities?

I suppose as a great poet once reminded us:

We die.
That may be
the meaning of life.

yet she goes on, in the same poem, to remind us how we shape our existence:

But we do language.
That may be
the measure of our lives.

Tonight is the first of our US presidential debates. Let's hope that both of the candidates chose their words well: words that will lead to actions which reflect the American people, words that will celebrate our civic responsibilities and words that will provide for our general welfare.