Jennifer Myers’ Translations: A Few Thoughts
By Dave Bernabo 

To lay the groundwork for how a piece fits into an institution’s programming, we need to look at the institution’s current programming. Since the New Hazlett’s Community Supported Arts (CSA) program began prior to Jennifer Myers’ consolidation of public performance actions into the staged Translations, I think this is a reasonable first approach.

The New Hazlett programs a mix of traditional and experimental arts. In addition, there are traditional experimental arts, where the experiment has been codified into a new tradition – think various strains of free jazz, improvised and contemporary dance, minimalism. One assumption made of the CSA’s mission is to believe that the series provides a platform that does not exist in Pittsburgh’s current outlets for performance. Theater of small, medium, and large sizes exists. Dance has emerged a visible cultural force in the past five years. Music is widespread with composer-run collectives creating performance opportunities, a steady stream of DIY venues providing safe places for experimentation, and traditional venues offering varying levels of corporate-minded rock programming. (Another more practical interpretation would be that the programming is balanced enough to bring new audiences to performances that do have other outlets in the city, but I like this first thought better.) If the former is true, the CSA is a platform for collaboration and experimentation in form, in content, in genre, in the question of what is entertainment and what is art, in inspiring thought. With this definition, Myers’ piece succeeds in presenting a work that cannot neatly be defined as theater, dance, analysis, protest, music, or action art. The work shifts between performance methods while retaining elements of movement – bodies, light, smoke, sound. The work speaks to a disgusting history of ecological and human abuses. The work creates beautiful images and suggests solutions through empowerment, protest, and creativity.

Throughout the past two years, Myers conducted a series of public performances titled “Pittsburgh Performance Actions” with a purpose of activating sites with creativity. The piece was split into six acts with brief interludes supplied by Scott Andrew reading cards, Jennifer Myers releasing rings of smoke from a manually-triggered smoke machine, and Ricardo Iamuuri Robinson creating soundscapes. With a relatively static Andrews and Robinson, Myers’ smoke rings provided a subtle movement that nicely balanced the sometimes more energetic acts. Honestly, it was captivating watching the smoke flow through the space. After an appealingly vivid sound intro by Robinson, a flash of light revealed a pseudo-mystical Scott Andrew. As an opening, it was effective. A sense of surprise was instilled, which carried over nicely to a more patient Act 1 | Song for Pittsburgh. In this act, a Tessa Barber sings “Song for Pittsburgh” while holding a bouquet of flowers in front of her face. The song comments directly on fracking, theft of land – possibly Native American land, crimes of GMO-mongers, or federal and corporate destruction of sustainable farming that introduces a near resistance-free path for fracker land acquisition. Take your pick(s). The message is a plea for a community effort while acknowledging that solutions cannot be perfect. Possibly, nature is pleading for assistance or some give to our take.

The stillness of act one turns over to a fierce dance sequence by Gia Cacalano, one of most disciplined dancers in Pittsburgh. The dance emerges from Oreen Cohen’s provocative recitation of “women words” – “a woman is a vixen, a woman is a tit. Women as edible. Women are cheesecake, they are cherries, they are crumpets. A woman is a dish.”

Linear plots are sometimes more forgiving when it comes to structure. In non-linear works, structural decisions tend to have a larger impact on how messages are delivered. With an early announcement that the work will be performed in six acts, the audience now has an expectation for the timing of events and inevitably starts a countdown until the end of the piece. The power of each act engages the audiences through this format, but there are some instances where I wish I would have known less about the pacing of the piece. The interludes between acts consisted of enough of the same elements each time so that after a few iterations, they functioned as placeholders instead of furthering engagement. I’m wondering what thoughts would be triggered if an element was missing or subversively altered.

Since performers were only present for their act, there is a slight vaudeville aspect to the piece. Depending on one’s knowledge of Pittsburgh’s current arts landscape, the piece could seem like a Pittsburgh’s Greatest Hits collection. Andrew’s Unreliable Narrator character has some ties to his work as co-founder of the Institute for New Feeling. Cacalano’s work in Act Two is distinctly Gia. The movement language would fit in with her recent ensemble and solo work. In Act Three | The Baiji’s Last Swim, inventive dancers Jil Stifel and Jasmine Hearn are backed by Mimi Jong’s gorgeous erhu playing. Act Four saw vocal powerhouse Anqwenique Wingfield’s restaging of Myers’ courthouse rendition of “This Land is Our Land,” preceded by a fictional protest monologue by the rather young and rather accomplished Kylan Bower Bjornson. From Act One through Act Five, the pacing worked since the performances within each act were varied and an element of humor was slowly added with the shock value of Bjornson’s wise-beyond-years speech and the whisper to scream “I love you’s” of Act Five. By Act Six, the format tested its breaking point. By this point, a series of overarching pieces performed in the background of the interludes and acts had all but ended. Act Six returned to the solitude of a solo piece of music. The next sentence is a subjective opinion. The descending bass line of Biber’s Passacaglia for viola solo really challenges my generally patient being. Despite Ji Young Nam’s nice performance, the use of this piece did not provide a satisfying resolution. Intellectually, I know this is a nice choice. Biber’s Passacaglia closed his Rosary Sonatas and is a suitable mix of melancholy and hope. That said, I’d like to think that this piece should not have a resolution. I’m left feeling unfinished and wanting more, and I like that for this piece.

One of the most impressive things about this piece is the distillation of anger and bewilderment that comes with being a concerned participant in a society run by a corporate-sponsored government, regardless of political party. Despite successful ecological movements, the allure of profit and “progress” continues to reign supreme over preservation of land and the concept of “leaving something as you found it.” America is woefully behind in accepting people as people despite race, sex, gender, and income level. It is profitable to maintain a class of low income workers. It is profitable to pay women less for a high skill level and quality output of work. It is profitable to send federal money to defense contractors, who lobby for wars and destruction. It is profitable to pay those same defense contractors for redevelopment of war-torn areas.  It is profitable to spray gasoline-originating chemicals on growing food. It is profitable to alter seed to resist gasoline-originating chemicals. It is profitable to squash anyone fighting against an idea that is profitable. Rather, it is profitable to some, and there is certainly not a net community profit to any of these ideas. It is easy to list these thoughts in writing, but when considered in art, there is a risk that the art suffers under the weight of preachiness.

Myers is successful at viewing injustice and countering it with vivid images that are potent yet under the threshold of intimidating or restrictive. Where Myers’ Allegheny County Courthouse “This Land is Our Land” was raw in an attempt to break through to politicians, Wingfield’s rendition is undeniable. You cannot not listen to it. You have to appreciate it and take in its message. Experience is subjective, but Translations did revive mental images. Barber’s plant-covered folk song recalled British folk which led to images of driving through the countryside (sorry about the gasoline) to the Back to the Land movement to the Whole Earth Catalog to Alice Waters to Bill McKibben. “The Baiji’s Last Swim” triggered the conflict of China’s fair-ups industrialism vs. a creative non-fiction global effort to reduce emissions. Pair that title with Jong’s traditional Chinese song and Hearn/Stifel’s awkward movements and there are a few mental complexities to work out when you head home after the show.

If the purpose of the public performance actions was to instill a neutral sidewalk or river or courthouse with temporary creativity, the staged version had to sell creativity to an already activated space. By showcasing a number of talents, the performance added a new element: gratitude. Gratitude for a city busy with creative work. Gratitude to the sharing of expression, movement, sweat, voice. The idea of gratitude is one of the first steps towards understanding the need for the natural world. Gratitude for the earth’s restorative properties and the ability to produce crops, herbs, roots, and plants. Gratitude leads to acceptance and understanding, which leads to knowledge of how decisions, legislative and personal, impact an environment and its people.

Local musician David Bernabo sat down with our latest Community Supported Artist, Jennifer Myers, to talk about her process of translating unique works of public performance for a traditional stage.

Q: TRANSLATIONS is a piece for stage that is based on two years of programmed performance actions. What is the process of transforming public performances into a staged piece for a limited public audience? Does the randomness of public access add to the appeal?

One of the things that really interested me about translating these pieces for the stage was that when producing them in public spaces, so much was unknown and nothing (basically) is under your control.  It is all pretty wild, off-the-cuff, unrehearsed, unknown.  The performance happens once (typically) and that’s it.  That kind of energy and instability is exciting and energizing but very difficult to accurately predict what is going to happen.  The biggest factor, when working outside, was the wild card of the weather.  Especially in Pittsburgh, the weather is always changing.  So being able to put these inside the controlled space of the theater was really exciting to me, and allows for a lot of control that I cannot achieve outside.   In terms of audience, there is something wonderful about the randomness of people finding your work when it is placed outside and they literally just stumble upon it.  There was just an element of surprise on people’s faces because they are not expecting this public space to be used in such a creative and semi-theatrical way, even though that potential is always right there in all the spaces we inhabit.

For the theater, there is obviously a great expectation of what the audience is going to encounter.

They are expecting, and paying for, an experience.  Maybe it is still going to be experimental, unknown, they have never seen any of my other work, but still there is an expectation that I think we can all agree on.   I am interested in pushing the limits (as well as I can in my first theatrical work) of what is expected inside the four walls of the theater – and try my very best to create surprises, mysteries, and a definite playfulness that hopefully will speak to people in a bright, energetic way.

Q: The performance actions do not necessarily involve dance, but much of the cast is comprised of dancers. Is the performance going to push some of the concepts that were developed in the public pieces?

Having the controlled space of the theater inspired me to work with performers who are comfortable and confident working on the stage.  Part of that is due to the fact that the dancers have more experience working on a stage than I do, and it is nice to have them there as collaborators and even mentors to me in developing the work.  It is certainly a conversation I am having with the entire cast, and I am probably learning more or just as much as everyone else.  Dance has always inspired me greatly.  Many close friends are choreographers and dancers, I just have not had the chance yet to work with them.  It feels like the act of translating these for stage is really geared towards performance-based artists: whether that is dance, acting, performance art, or musicians.

My main goal is to give each of these performers a character / role, and then allow and encourage them to develop and expand that role within their own creative language.  I trust them all as artists and am interested in being able to provide a space for them to explore these roles and their own creativity.

Q: I’m a big fan of defining actions as art, either proactively or retroactively. How does activism become art? Why is it important that art confronts things like environmental destruction or the inequality between women and men?

I am committed to living a life that is inseparable from my art, so that my life is my art and my art is my life.   It is a total work in progress, I feel I am going slowly, but steadily, and I only want to deepen and strengthen this philosophy so that it carries me far and I push it farther.   As far as I am concerned, it’s the only way to live because separating my roles just gets too confusing and disjointed.  One life, one aim, one breath.  The aim of that life is to stay awake and remain awake.  That is simple, and yet revolutionary. That is how I define my life as an artist.

In terms of being politically active, and called or considered an activist, that works for me.  I don’t get hung up on titles.  I am alive, awake, and we are living in extraordinary times (the irony is that all times have been extraordinary, the world has never been dull) and there is so much work to do that we must, we must, do as a group and not individually.  I can’t imagine not being amazed and inspired by these times – and engaging in the stories unfolding as directly and creatively as I can imagine.

I have always been aware and extremely sensitive to any injustice – whether I saw it in my own family or in the world around me.  Living in Southwestern PA for the past 5 years has been like getting front row seats to the show.  I see, from these seats, the corruption that has eroded our county, state and federal government.  It has been terrible to see it, and the best education I could ever wish for.  From these front row seats – I cannot look away.

The artist must define for herself what it is she is doing.  I have defined it for myself, it means I am awake.  Therefore it is important that my art confronts the dominant systems of power, all of which are seen clearly and with great pride in the USA: heteropatriarchy and white supremacy, corporate capitalism, a military-industrial complex, sexism, deep racism, and the overarching concept of the American Dream which began and ends as the American Nightmare.   I can easily sum up the concept of all my work with the following question, which runs through everything for me:  What is this world that destroys the sacred, and then defends that violence again and again?

Q: Archiving, in various forms, tends to run through your work. Is the thought of archiving experience or emotion an important concept to you? 

Yes.  It is part of my heritage.  My mother is a professional journalist.  She is also an archivist, a talented photographer, a gifted creative writer, a matriarch.   She has 103 photographic albums in her bedroom that line the walls and spill into the closet, full of more than 10,000 family photographs.  It is her life-work.  My father was a storyteller, a writer, a father of five daughters, a man who made his life up from the complete and total wreckage of an abusive and brutal childhood.  In my family, everything is story.  Everything.  It is how you survive and how you define and how you relate.  It is the meat at the table and the blood in our veins.  It is essential, like air.  I took all that and kept it and used it for my work, in my own way.

Q: Do we/society learn from preservation of information? Are some things more important than others?

Society is a mystery to me.  I can’t speak to it.  Why we seem unable to learn the most obvious lessons just eludes me.  We are afraid of change?  We are scared of each other?  We are zombies?  We have terrible leaders?  We are brainwashed?  All or none of the above? I don’t know.  I think we do learn, slowly, from the preservation of information.  I think information and knowledge is extremely important, but it can also be easily manipulated.  Emotions are more persuasive than any fact.  That’s why studies show that people who are told a lie first as the truth, and then afterwards it is revealed as a lie, cannot believe that it is a lie, and always believe it is a truth.  That is Fox News in a nutshell.  Some things are more important, yes: human beings are important.  The planet earth is important.  The air we breathe is important.  Our bodies and how they are poisoned everyday is important.  It seems that  the most important things have been corrupted, co-opted, sold and traded on a free market.  I don’t get it.  It’s not the world I want to live in.  I do believe, as Duane Michals said in his recent artist lecture: direct experience is the only form of true knowledge one can have.  Walk a day in someone else’s shoes and you will learn a lifetime.

There are so many people in our society who are so evolved, so beautiful, so extraordinary, it saddens me deeply that we always seem to have to wait, and get held back, because of the lowest common denominators in our group.  It is time for the transformation where we realize we are one group of people on a planet that is approaching a total climate collapse.

by Susan Gillis

Each art form has its own basic elements of which the art form is composed.  In dance, the basic elements are space, time, and force (the quality of the movement).  The dancer moves three dimensionally through space, exists in time as they move, and exerts effort or force – which impacts how movement is executed. Using these basic tools Ella Mason crafted “Contained” an evening length work (the second in the 2014-15 CSA series) that challenged the audience to view “the boundaries and binaries we create between human and animal, wild and domestic, civilized and savage.”

As the performance began, the back wall of the theater was illuminated to reveal

several levels of “displays” of museum-like dioramas affixed along the back wall of the theater. One diorama “contained” the cellist Eric Weidenhof  who was the sole accompanist for the work. This museum-like environment set the stage for the animal imagery used in the choreography.  There were several vignettes where the dancers would be posed in the displays (museum-like) and then re-arrange themselves when the lights went out, posing in various dioramas with a tongue-in-cheek humor when the lights came back on. The display metaphor was an apt one for all of the displays of aggression, sex, nurturing, posturing, and love, both human and animal that followed in a series of movement chapters.

After the diorama snapshots the first dancer on the dance floor was Ella Mason.  She began with a solo that she physically shaped with her hands.  Pushing a body part here or there she consciously molded herself into desired shapes only to fall out of that shape and having to repeat the sequence. This solo seemed to be a collection of movements that foretold what we would see later in the choreography of various duets, trios and groups of dancers.

Throughout the dance the group of eight dancers morphed from duets to trios to larger groups.  Movement that mimicked birds, bears, ostriches, and other animals came into the foreground and faded as other dancers took center stage.  Occasionally a ballet-like body posture (Ms. Mason’s ‘civility’ perhaps) would arise from the dancers only to transition back to a more animal like movement (her ‘wildness.’)  Ms. Mason’s ability to make the audience focus on the primary action on stage was spot-on.  As one duet faded to downstage another duet took focus upstage.  The downstage duet ever so slowly moving, low across the front, as the upstage duet was occupied with their “tickling” duo. One dancer would tickle the other as if seeking reassurance/love/response and the other would feign dead only to reawaken when the other became frustrated. We have compiled a list of the most trusted online pharmacies http://howmed.net/priligy-dapoxetine/ for buying generic Priligy based on hundreds of customer reviews.

Bubble-wrap, like the kind found in packing crates, became costumes and accompaniment for the dancers.  Randomly, throughout the dance, you could hear the pop of the bubble-wrap as the dancers stepped on the wrap.  It was a most entertaining addition to the cello music. In one segment two large crates, reminiscent of packing crates, were brought out and the dancers took turns climbing in and out of them finally returning the crates back to the upstage. There was squawking and talking by the dancers throughout the performance and the cellist was freely improvising and supporting the action of the dancers during the piece.

Other memorable sections included a rendition of “Hey Little Red Riding Hood” sung by the dancers, complete with a big, bad wolf dancer and her prey, a line of dancers balancing eggs on their feet, and a finale of ballet inspired, bird like flocking.  The eight dancers flocked themselves into one small crate/container at the end which was an amusing finish to the performance.

Throughout the performance the dancers embodied all the natural movements of the wild animals and the not-so-wild animals and it was obvious that they were committed to the process of developing the movement vocabulary.  They let it all hang out with unselfconscious and skillful movement.  This was an unusual project which demanded a high level of psychological and physical commitment on the part of the dancers, and a supreme trust in the choreographer.  This corps des animaux was intriguing and provoking.

As an audience member one should be an active participant in the performance.  It may require you to think, reflect, and participate intellectually. If you are perceptive and receptive, viewing a performance can be a rewarding, fulfilling, illuminating, and even powerful experience. A non-narrative dance performance like “Contained” can be a challenge for most audiences, but the audience for this performance was up for the challenge, evidenced by the many insightful and probing questions in the ‘talk back’ after the performance.

“Contained” was full of sound, sight, and movement imagery. From the opening view of the many dioramas on the back wall of the theater to the absolutely terrific collaboration with the musician Eric Weidenhof, and the gutsy dancing of the performers, there was much to be “contained”.

New Hazlett board member and professor of dance at the University of Pittsburgh, Susan Gillis sat down with Moriah Ella Mason to talk about Ella’s upcoming CSA performance, Contained.

Susan: What inspires you?  And how is that reflected in your work?

Ella: This is a difficult question to answer because I find inspiration in so many places – and it’s most exciting when it’s unexpected.  When I was in college I often found inspiration for my work from my academic studies.  When I was taking a class in the anthropology of religion I made a duet inspired by quotes on religious experience from a variety of traditions and backgrounds.  My studies of acting and dance improvisation led me to create a fusion work two years ago that combined improvisational dance with a narrative play and text.

For this work, “Contained”, I was inspired by many different sources that highlight the artificiality of how we curate a sense of “nature” or “wildness” for ourselves.  The halls of wildlife taxidermy in the Carnegie Museum, the many zoos I’ve visited, and my memories of being on safari in Tanzania all played a role in this creation.  So did my studies of queerness and transgender experience in non-human animals, the Green Porno videos by Isabella Rossellini, and my and my collaborators personal experiences of gender, queerness, childhood, parenthood, and power relations.

Is there any thematic element or through line in the work we’ll be seeing?

The work isn’t narrative but it’s exploring the space and spectrums between these binaries our culture has created between human and animal, wild and domestic, civilized and savage.  I think of it more as a rich meandering conversation with my friends, rather than a hard statement.

Can you describe your choreographic process?

With each new work my process changes and grows.  For Contained we began with some improvisational studies.  We also used freewriting, techniques from Theater of the Oppressed, and “catching” to generate new material and variations.  We also spent time observing animals through video and translating their actions to our bodies through mimicry or through recontextualizing the actions.  Once our material became more solidified – movements set and organized – we went back into improvisational work in order to more deeply explore the emotional and psychological themes of the various sections.  We then applied the details and palette of the emotional resonance discovered in that process to the set material.  Throughout the process the dancers have had the opportunity to create alongside the given material and to adapt the given material to their own sense of character and journey in the work.  I’ve been a lucky to work with a cast that is eager to dive into this sort of deep collaborative work.  It’s been a true joy.  The piece is tailored to their experiences and understandings of the topic.

Whose choreographic work do you admire and why?

Such a big question!  I have a deep and abiding love for Pina Bausch.  Her sense of drama and theatricality and the lushness of her movement always quickens my heart.  And the list of national and international figures could go on. . .  I was greatly impressed by Baker y Tarapega’s piece at the Kelly-Strayhorn this past year; I thought it wrestled with big questions of identity and power in a nuanced and exciting way.  And I’ve learned a great deal from the choreographers I’ve gotten to work with locally.  Maree Remalia taught me so much about the importance of detail and the somatic experience in creation and performance and about how to foster a sense of community, love, and trust among collaborators.  Pearlann Porter sparked my love of improvisation and unlocked ways of dancing I didn’t know I had inside of me.  And I continue to be impressed by what I see coming from Staycee Pearl Dance Project,  Anna Thompson and Taylor Knight, and Jasmine Hearn.

When you work, do you love the process or the result?

Both, hopefully!  I do adore being in rehearsal though.  If I don’t have some sort of creative process in my life I tend to grow depressed – for me the process is necessary for life.

What is the first creative moment you remember?

When I was about 6, I used to look out the window of my parents’ car and imagine high-speed roller-blading parcour-esque dances being performed alongside me.

What do you fear, creatively speaking?

Being too heavy-handed or simplistic with a topic.  I forget who said this, but a quote I keep close to my heart is that the artist’s job in terms of social critique is to say “it’s more complicated”!

How do you select the music/sound for your choreography?  Are you moved by the music or does the choreography inspire your music choice?

Usually I begin the process in silence, or possibly using music that I don’t intend to use for the performance.  Then once the work is beginning to take shape I bring in a musical collaborator.  If the movement is interesting and compelling in silence, then once music is added to the mix it becomes even more so.  The music is built for the movement, but the music also changes the movement – ideally it makes the movement even more of whatever it is . . . it helps to draw out the essence of what we are doing.

Has the CSA program changed anything in the way you think about the pre-production, production, or post-production aspects of your work?

This is the first time I’ve gotten the chance to work with lighting, scenic, and costume designers as a professional.  It’s taught me a lot about how to collaborate with these other wonderful artists, and I’ve discovered a whole range of options in creation that have not been available to me in other spaces.  It’s also been amazing to have the New Hazlett team behind the promotion of the work.  It’s a big change from self-producing.  I have so much respect for the work they do on this series.

by Ben Opie

The piano is a marvelous piece of engineering, elegant in its relative simplicity. It’s mostly a series of simple machines, pulleys and levers. Press a key, a felt covered hammer strikes a high tension length of wire, and sound is produced. Of course that doesn’t begin to describe the wide range of sounds and colors a fine piano is capable of producing, nor does it describe the almost symbiotic relationship that some people develop with this device. It borders on the magical.

Using the keys to create notes is only part of the instrument’s capabilities, as composer and pianist Federico Garcia-De Castro stated to the audience after Thursday’s concert. He argues that the strings and resonant box of the piano, and the performer’s ability to play them, are just as much a part of the instrument as the “traditional” manner of playing it.

The technique of playing inside the piano is credited first to composer Henry Cowell, whose Aeolian Harp was published in the early 1920s. His student John Cage zealously took up the idea with his development of the prepared piano (1940s) in which various objects are inserted between the strings. The result is to place a percussion orchestra under the fingers of a single pianist.

For the first performance in the 2014-15 CSA series, the underlying theme was the range of possibilities for both “inside-outside” duo piano playing. Mr. Garcia-De Castro was joined onstage by Daniel Pesca, a fine pianist originating from the Eastman School. Two pianos were on stage, lids removed and lit from within, in an otherwise stark theater setting.

The concert began with Mr. Garcia-De Castro’s arrangement of Au Convert (At the Convent) by late 19th century Romanticist Alexander Borodin. Originally a work for solo piano, this arrangement (or reimagining?) of the piece sets each player off the other, each producing notes and sounds in both the traditional method of fingers on keys, and a variety of less traditional techniques directly on the strings themselves. The results dramatically increased the color palette of the two pianos, giving the piece and even more impressionistic feeling than the original.

Following this work was Interference by Simon Eastwood, for two performers on one piano. Rather than the “piano four hands” with both players sitting at one keyboard, in this piece Mr. Pesca played only the keys of the instrument, and Mr. Garcia-De Castro played only on the open strings. Many of the sounds were created by muting the strings with palms of the hands, strongly emphasizing the percussive side of the instrument and recalling John Cage’s prepared piano. A particularly novel effect was to have the string player mute the strings and move his hands along their lengths; when played on the keys, a string of moving harmonics was produced. That effect is easily produced on guitar or bowed strings, but very rarely heard on piano.

The latter portion of the concert was devoted to Federico Garcia-De Castro’s compositions. His Rendering for solo piano was a beautifully (modern) impressionistic work, mercurial in its fleeting ideas. It occurred to me: Borodin, as a latter-19th century composer, is pushing at the limits of traditional tonality. Garcia-De Castro, as a living composer, writes chromatically and densely at times but is unafraid to “thin out the clouds” and compose passages that arise as being more-or-less tonal in nature. Borodin is on the outside of tonality looking out, Federico is on the outside looking in. It was a treat to here the premiere performance of this work, sympathetically played by Mr. Pesca.

This led to the centerpiece of the concert, the Livre Pour Deux Pianos (Book for Two Pianos).  Split into five movements, this work more than any other on the program explored the possibilities of two pianos. At times melodic material was passed from one player to the other. Sometimes the events were short, chopped, and full of silences; at other times, the two pianos created dense polyrhythmic webs of sound. The final movement was dramatic and demonstrated the full dynamic range possible of two pianos played simultaneously. One audience member commented that this movement would have felt at home in a work by Modest Mussorgsky, again recalling late 19th century Russian Romanticism.

Throughout the concert, the pianists played with both accuracy and passion, on music that was quite difficult at times. The sound in the Hazlett works well with concerts of this nature, and the clarity of the details came through beautifully. The pianists’ efforts were clearly appreciated by those in attendance. It was a great start to a promising CSA season!

Local musician and composer, Ben Opie, sat down with CSA artist Federico Garcia-De Castro to talk music, inspriation, and the creative process.

Do you have a particular process when composing for any instrument or ensemble?

Not exactly a process (each piece and each ensemble is different), but in general I must feel that the piece, or its kernel idea, springs from the instrument(s). And by that I don’t mean anything esoteric, but the directly physical, “mechanic.” For example, tonight, in Rendering, one of the main motives is the quick repetition of notes: five of them, going through the five fingers of the hand.

Do you think of an audience when you compose, or is that relationship separate from work’s development? Likewise, the performers?

Yes, I think of the audience. I am aware that I must make my music worth their time and attention, or at least try. I think of it as a good speech: the points have to be good, and relevant, but the rhetoric also has to be there. I don’t assume my audience is working hard to enjoy my music (or anybody’s, actually;) I must work to entice them. And similarly with the performers: it must be worth their time. It must be challenging and interesting, and require some work; but it must also have some reward for all the work.

Can you describe this work without using any technical/musical terminology?

Speaking of Rendering, look ahead for some pristine moments, very light sonorities and moods; they’re peppered here and there, but in general there’s a nervous undertone, which sometimes gets to flat-out intense. This is true even of the tune in the last section, which surprised me because the tune itself is very pretty and melodic.

About Livre: just enjoy. I mean, I hope you enjoy. The first three chapters are mainly a vehicle to contemplate the amazing resonances, or walls of sound, or different colors of the piano. And the last chapter is a big journey, easy to follow, ending somewhere in a Gothic cathedral. (That’s what it sounds like, it’s not that that’s what I was thinking of ).

What are the particular challenges of composing for two pianos?

Making sure there’s a need for them. One pianist is already very powerful and versatile, it’s not that you just need to put more notes. Simply adding more notes normal textures would just obscure them. In order to have two pianos you need to actually create textures that work in a different way, so that the two performers are needed, but the music is still comprehensible.

Are there special challenges in rehearsing and performing a work for two pianos?

Yes. Pianists are usually solitary performers. When they play with others, a lot of the time it’s in the role of the accompanist, who always accommodates to the soloist, follows, waits. So it’s easy for two pianists to end up just waiting for each other, being very good at following, but not really knowing how to lead.

Does this piece have any non-musical inspirations?

No. Very seldom do I follow inspiration coming from outside music itself. I’ve found that my music has to be designed as music. Also, when I don’t have a musical idea, I prefer to wait for one, rather than force a non-musical one onto a piece.

Is this work a response or reaction to previous two piano compositions by other composers?

Not directly, but check this out: I titled it Livre in reference to Lutoslawski’s Livre pour orchestre, a piece that I love is also in four chapters gravitating around the last one; and that piece was titled after Boulez’s Livre pour cordes. The circle closes because Boulez is also the composer of a seminal two piano piece, the Structures pour deux pianos.

Given the opportunities of the CSA program, what have you prepared especially for tonight’s program?

In addition to Rendering, which was commissioned by the CSA for tonight’s show, the arrangement of Au Couvent was also prepared with this theater in mind. And it has been a lot of fun to work on the visuals, the projections, the lighting, with Katie, Adam, and Isaac. That was all especially designed for tonight.

Photo by Alejandro Pinzón

Alexis Gideon and a team of artistic collaborators present the world premiere of The Crumbling, a 20 minute narrative stop-motion animated opera that combines projected video with live music.  Over the course of the next few months, we’ll follow Alexis and his team’s progress here on the New Hazlett blog.  We’ll also be adding photo journal updates on our Facebook page, so be sure to follow us there.

About The Crumbling

Set in a dream-like mythic town, The Crumbling follows the trials of an apprentice librarian as she tries to save her city from crumbling down around her.  The Crumbling explores the importance of word and symbol in a decaying culture, as well as the marginalization and persecution of people based on heritage, gender, race or belief, and all that is lost in such persecution.  It takes a modern and innovative form, while drawing from ancient texts and esoterica such as the Kabbalah, the Hermetic Philosophy of ancient Egypt, the mystical beliefs of Hildegarde von Bingen, Alchemy of the 16th Century, and the mid 19th Century occult beliefs of the Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor.

Alexis and His Team

The Crumbling is Gideon’s fourth stop-motion animated video opera. He has performed his earlier work over 350 times and in 11 countries, including at New Museum of Contemporary Art (Manhattan, NY), Moderna Museet (Stockholm, Sweden), Wexner Center for the Arts (Columbus, Ohio), Museum of Contemporary Art (Chicago, IL), Times Zone Festival (Bari, Italy) and Suedpol (Luzerne, Switzerland). Gideon came to Pittsburgh just over a year ago and says he was drawn to the city for its vibrant art scene and down-to-earth attitude.

Gideon will perform his previous video opera – Video Musics III: Floating Oceans – in Carnegie Mellon University’s Miller Gallery as part of the Pittsburgh Biennial this fall where original 2d and 3d pieces from the video opera will also be on display. Buy cheap Viagra online https://surgicaleducation.com/viagra/ for ED treatment.

Directed by Alexis Gideon
Written by Jacob Rubin (Best New American Voices, New York Magazine, Slate) and Alexis Gideon
Music Composed, Performed and Produced by Alexis Gideon
Cinematography by Alexis Gideon
Animation by Alexis Gideon
Character and Set Fabrication by Cynthia Star (Paranorman, Coraline) and Alexis Gideon
Costume Fabrication by Casey Droege (Six X Ate, CSA PGH) and Alexis Gideon
Background Sky Conception and Execution by Gretchen Neidert (Pittsburgh Filmmakers) and Alexis Gideon
Additional Mystic Artwork by Celeste Neuhaus (International Symposium for Electronic Art, LACMA)
Title Design by Ezra Claytan Daniels (Upgrade Soul, The Changers)

Photo by Paul Kruse

Press coverage of The Ubiquitous Mass of Us is already rolling in.  Check out what people are saying:

“Outer space may be the final frontier, but it is the space we humans occupy on Earth that has inspired countless choreographers and their works. The latest to address that subject is choreographer Maree ReMalia, whose The Ubiquitous Mass of Us premieres June 14 as part of the New Hazlett Theater’s Community Supported Art performance series.”

– Steve Sucato, Pittsburgh City Paper

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“The work explores identity, and therefore suits the diverse cast of nine well. Quite beautifully, ReMalia says each member of the group carries “an incredible mix of strength and vulnerability, curiosity, conviction, fire, compassion, and profound sensitivity.” Putting the piece together was a collaborative process, and ReMalia asserts that she could not have conceived it all alone.”

– Adrienne Totino, examiner.com

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From NEXT Pittsburgh, May 2, 2014

To set the stage for the 2014 TEDxGrandViewAve event held on April 30th at the New Hazlett Theater, local video company Covalent was hired to create a video that would revv up the sold-out audience at the start of the event.

“Inspired by the opening titles of True Detectives we wanted to combine elements that make up the City of Pittsburgh and combine them with Pittsburgh innovators, creators, and supporters as they share their thoughts on this city and creativity,” says Nick Buchheit of Covalent.  The result was a lot of good buzz about the video.

Watch the full video on NEXT Pittsburgh

Ben Opie premieres Concerto for Orkestra, his first long-form composition
by Mike Shanley

“I wanted to do something big, and this was the idea that seemed like the best opportunity.”

Ain’t it nifty? Ben Opie marks 50 with a concerto.

As Ben Opie’s 50th birthday was on the horizon last year, he started thinking about a performance that could mark the milestone. He continues to work with OPEK, an ensemble that generally numbers between nine and 12 musicians and devotes itself to the music of jazz composers like Sun Ra and Thelonious Monk. Additionally, he plays with the acoustic Thoth Trio, the electric experimental group Flexure and a handful of other projects. But the saxophonist set his sights on something he had never tried: an original concert-length piece for a large ensemble.

“I wanted to do something big, and this was the idea that seemed like the best opportunity,” he says. “Part of it being [the question of] could I pull it off, and did I have the ability to actually do it?”

As he started sketching out musical ideas, Opie applied to the Pittsburgh Foundation’s Investing in Professional Artists grant program, which the foundation sponsors along with the Heinz Endowments.

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