The Singing Revolution

I just read in Yes Magazine about how, from 1987 and 1991, Estonians sought to free themselves from decades of Soviet occupation in a non-violent revolution. How? They sang.

Basically, once Mikhail Gorbachev came to power, and proclaimed a new era of free speech, the Estonians decided to test it by singing (frequently a highly patriotic song called "Land of My Fathers, Land That I Love") every time they wanted to protest something. It proved an effective tactic, with no violent repercussions.

They came to realize that as long as the Estonians didn't shed any blood, Gorbachev couldn't justify sending in tanks to quash demonstrations. So they developed a highly conscious tactic of non-violence, and in the end, achieved Estonian independence.

There's now a documentary film about it called The Singing Revolution. Here's the trailer. Be inspired.

Art Saves The World

An old family friend, Ruth Bolliger, just sent me the welcome address to parents of the incoming freshman class at Boston Conservatory, given by Karl Paulnack, pianist and director of the music division at Boston Conservatory.

A little selection:

If there is a future wave of wellness on this planet, of harmony, of peace, of an end to war, of mutual understanding, of equality, of fairness, I don't expect it will come from a government, a military force or a corporation. I no longer even expect it to come from the religions of the world, which together seem to have brought us as much war as they have peace. If there is a future of peace for humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible, internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists, because that's what we do.

Thanks Karl.

You can read the whole address here.

First Reading

At long last, the Gang and I had our big reading at their graduation ceremonies.  Special thanks to Matt Schlein and the whole team at Walden for letting us invade the proceedings.  And super-special thanks to Ben for being our last-minute, no-rehearsals puppeteer and magnificent manatee voice.

We've got another reading coming up on June 20 with adult actors.  I'm looking forward to hearing it again (without people chatting in the background).  

The Poster

Describing this play to someone else has been almost impossible.  Hopefully, now I can just say, "Look at the poster."

We'll be doing the reading with the students on Wednesday, and then a reading with adults on Sat, June 20, 7pm at Bristol Yoga in lovely little Bristol,  VT.

More Mask-Making

The Team and I have been in the shop this week making masks and puppets.  Thought I'd share a few images:

White Buffalo Woman and a flock of birds.

The Chronopage (time-eating grasshopper).

Antikythera Mechanism in a suitcase, a manatee, and Samantha's freaky bird mask.

Coyote goes through a big transformation in the show.  Mostly, he wears the mangy-looking mask on the left.  But when he heals, he wears the fur hat on the right.  I'll also be making him a fur bow tie.  Very Noel Coward.

Kristen's amazing tiger mask.

Fiona making her bunny mask - which ended up being covered in millet.

The whole crew.

Long Live Philip Baruth

I just spent the weekend teaching at the New England Young Writer's Conference, and it was a remarkable experience.  I'll expound in several segements, but for now, I want to share a bit from the keynote address delivered by Vermont author and pundit political, Philip Baruth:

"At the beginning of every great fantasy story, there’s a moment when the young hero is told something in great confidence, a secret, something utterly unpredictable and yet something that suddenly makes sense of a thousand senseless details in his otherwise mundane life:  the hero is told that he or she is actually a person of great power, and that without that power the world will come to an end.

It’s true of Bilbo Baggins.  Why does Gandalf mark Bilbo’s door of all the little round doors in the Shire, and in fact why mark the door of a hobbit at all, when there are stronger and braver and sharper warriors ready to hand?  It turns out the answer is much deeper than it seems:  it’s not just that hobbits are light of foot, or that Bilbo is destined to find the Ring of Power hidden away beneath a mountain.  It’s that only a hobbit, and only Bilbo Baggins of all hobbits, could carry that particular ring as long and as far as it must be carried without turning into something grasping and evil.

The same is true of Harry Potter.  In some sense, Hagrid doesn’t tell Harry anything he doesn’t already know, when the half-giant busts down the door to explain the difference between Wizards and Muggles, when he explains that Harry himself is not merely a wizard, but a wizard of great power, a crucial element in an ancient, ongoing struggle. 

So what Bilbo Baggins and Harry Potter learn at the beginning of their adventures allows them to understand things about themselves of which they have always been dimly aware — things they’d rather not know, actually, because along with the knowledge of their dormant power comes a crushing responsibility. 

And these are only two of the most famous examples, but there’s also Meg Murray and Thomas Covenant, and the brothers and sisters who discover the lion, the witch and the wardrobe.  And almost any one of you could think of fifty more.  Because you’ve read these stories avidly, compulsively, for almost as long as you’ve been able to read.  They spoke directly to something inside of you, something of which you’ve always been only dimly aware.

I said I knew the reason why you read these books, and this is it:  you read them because this wondrous moment I’ve been describing, when the heroes learn who and what they really are, when they learn that their hidden power is power of a higher order altogether — that moment is never going to happen to you.  Ever. 

In fact, society has adopted the term “fantasy” to describe this genre specifically to drive home the message that this is never going to happen to you.  Ever.

Except tonight.  Except in this legendary place, here and now.  Welcome to the Breadloaf Campus, my friends.  It’s long past time you knew who and what you really are."

I could have sworn he was talking about me!

To read Philip's whole, marvelous address, click here.

Mask-Making, Part 2

I love getting to do the hands-on stuff!  Part of me could easily give up the writing and performing and become a props person.

A gorgeous early spring day, and Fiona, Kristen, Noah, and the long-lost Samantha have come over to make more masks and read the latest draft of the script (or the first few scenes thereof).

Kristen and Fiona have decorated WBW a little, and we've decided to also give her horns using the talons from an owl skeleton I found in my raspberry patch.  I'm also going to make her a necklace from the wishbone and some vertebrae.

Noah, who will be playing Coyote, has volunteered his face for today's smear-and-wrap.  The challenge is that Coyote is part human, part animal, and we're not quite sure how to pull off the snout.

We decide to build the face out first using an old toilet paper roll, and then once the mask is dry, add more plaster to make it look more streamlined and dog-like.

Noah is a good sport about all of this, and plus, did I mention it's a gorgeous day for lying in the sun?

The other big issue to solve is how to make a manatee.  I've got chicken wire, fiberglass window screening, floral wire, and more plaster, but manatees are so lumpy and shapeless, it doesn't seem like we're headed in the right direction.  

I think maybe I could stuff an old sleeping bag and paint it.  Still doesn't seem quite right.

Then Fiona suggests we move down a dimension and rather than try making a 3-D manatee, she could just project an image of one on her art room wall, trace it, and back it with cardboard.  Then we can paint it, and make it look however we want.

Given that we're just doing a reading, this makes a lot of sense, and also seems like a great idea for the Grasshopper Of The Apocalypse.  More on that later.