Exit West by Mohsin Hamid

Here's a newsflash. Healthcare isn't the only political issue that's complicated. Immigration is a pretty complex topic as well and, I suspect, one that won't be resolved with the building of a wall.

Authors, of course, are often inspired by current events. In "Exit West," Mohsin Hamid envisions a magical way for refugees to escape an existence where devastation and risk confronts them at every turn. While the means by which his refugees travel is captivating, his real focus is on the stories of the people forced to leave their homes and how they adapt to their new environments.

We meet Saeed and Nadia, our protagonists, "in a city swollen by refugees but still mostly at peace, or at least not yet openly at war." They are students still trying to pretend that their lives will proceed as planned.

Hamid contemplates the instinct. "It might seem odd that in cities teetering at the edge of the abyss young people still go to class...but that is the way of things, with cities as with life, for one moment we are pottering about our errands as usual and the next we are dying, and our eternally impending ending does not put a stop to our transient beginnings and middles until the instant when it does."

Mohsin Hamid

Hamid has brought his readers an interesting pair in Saeed and Nadia. Saeed is a traditional Muslim who lives with his parents and prays daily. Their family home was once enviable, with its tall windows and balcony. But now, "It was the sort of view that...would be most undesirable in times of conflict, when it would be squarely in the path of heavy machine-gun and rocket fire as fighters advanced into this part of town: a view like staring down the barrel of a rifle." 

Nadia is anything but traditional. While she dresses in an abaya that covers her from chin to ankles, when she leaves class she dons a motorcycle helmet and takes off on her ride. We later learn that she wears her robe not for any religious reason, but so men won't bother her. She has been irrevocably separated from her family due to her decision to venture out and live alone as an unmarried woman. The breach was "something all of them, all four, for the rest of their lives, regretted, but which none of them would ever act to repair, partly out of stubbornness, partly out of bafflement at how to go about doing so, and partly because the impending descent of their city into the abyss would come before they realized that they had lost the chance." 

Over time, Saeed and Nadia come together to form a make-shift family.When they finally decide to flee their country, it is with considerable regret.

I don't want to say much more about the story, which should unfold on its own for each reader. But I will say that Hamid's writing dropped me into Saeed and Nadia's world in a way watching the news never could. Yes, Hamid writes eloquently about the pair's physical survival. But he also envisions the impact their changed circumstances have on their identities and their relationship.

Nor does Hamid neglect the impact of the refugees' migration on the larger world. "The news in those days was full of war and migrants and nativists, and it was full of fracturing too, of regions pulling away from nations, and cities pulling away fron hinterlands, and it seemed that as everyone was coming together everyone was also moving apart."

"Exit West" is truly a novel of our time. Read it. 

Discovering Duncan McClellan Glass

Work by Richard Jolley

Is there a world record for the number of times someone has spontaneously uttered "oh my god!" in an hour?  If so, I surely beat it during my recent visit to Duncan McClellan Glass in St. Petersburg. This off-the-beaten-path gallery is chock-full of stunning, creative glass sculptures. 

The first portion of the gallery is dedicated to the current exhibit, which changes monthly. (If you happen to visit during St. Pete's Second Saturday Art Walk during the season, you can meet the artists.)  I methodically worked my way around the space, resisting my desire to dart from work to work that caught my eye. With 7,800 square feet of display space, this required more than a little discipline.

Work by the Salvadore Brothers

At the end of the gallery, there's an enclosed room that you enter through a door with handles made of blown glass. I have no idea how it's determined which works are displayed there, but each piece was brilliant. 

The work by Marco and Mattia Salvadore were ablaze with color. Coincidentally, Dorrit and I had recently marveled at some glass musical instruments blown by their father, Davide Salvadore, at Ringling College's Basch Gallery. I learned that the carving in these pieces is done by fellow artists Pietro and Ricardo Ferro, whose work is also on display. Perhaps not surprisingly, both the Salvadores and the Ferros are from Murano, Italy. For an interview with the Ferros by Eric Goldschmidt at the Corning Museum of Glass (and a demonstration of "cold work"), click here. 

"Floater Five Cosmonaut"
by Rik Allen

The work of Rik Allen blew me away with its creativity. It's fair to say that the last thing I expected to see when I entered the gallery was an astronaut blown and sculpted from glass.  Allen graduated from the prestigious Pilchuk Glass School in Seattle and worked for more than a decade on William Morris' sculpture team. But the vastness of space always appealed to him, not least of all as a means of inner contemplation. For a great article about Allen and a look at more of his work, click here. 

I would be remiss if I didn't share some of Duncan McClellan's own work in this post. By and large, his work made its home on the top of floor to ceiling shelves, so it was difficult to photograph. But the gallery boasts an outdoor area with an impressive sculpture garden where several of McClellan's pieces can be found amidst the greenery. It made me a bit nervous to see blown glass displayed in the elements, but I was assured the works were so heavy they wouldn't come to harm in the absence of hurricane-force winds.

"Tandem" by McClellan

McClellan studied the creation of glass art in both Italy and the U.S.  He exhibited his work for more than 30 years before converting an abandoned tomato packing plant into his gallery. In time, McClellan added a workshop where he and other glass artists create.

McClellan and his wife also call the gallery home, which explains the comfortable seating areas throughout -- and a shower hidden behind etched glass. The space is available for event rentals and was being set up for a wedding the day I was there. What an incredible spot for a celebration -- so long as you can count on your guests not to be clumsy!

Rogers' "Retro Trees"

Back to the sculpture garden, which includes a variety of non-glass works.  I was struck by the beauty of Mark Chatterly's sculptures and the whimsy of Dale Rogers' work, like these "Retro Trees." (I'm fairly certain I've seen Rogers' work before at the Marietta Museum of Whimsy.)  Rogers says he hopes his work will serve as a "mental postcard."

I'm thrilled to have discovered Duncan McClellan Glass which, in my opinion, rivals the contemporary collection at the Corning Museum of Glass. I can't wait to visit again. With any luck, I'll also have the chance to take in a demo.

To read more about the Gallery, the artists who show there and upcoming events, click here. Better yet, plan a visit of your own. 

Introducing Ira Aldridge

Edmund Kean as Othello

Let me set the stage before launching into my story. Back in 1603, Shakespeare wrote "Othello." For those of you who (like me) don't have immediate recall of Shakespearean plays, here are the relevant points for purposes of this post.

Othello was a general in the Venetian Army. He was a Moor. His wife was Desdemona. During the course of the play, he becomes convinced that Desdemona is having an affair with Cassio and, in the final act, kills her. (Belated spoiler alert.) 

Historically, the part of Othello was played as a light-skinned Moor of Arab descent by a Caucasian in blackface. One of the most famous Victorian actors to play the role was Edmund Kean. In an 1833 performance at Theatre Royal in Covent Garden, Kean collapsed on the stage. A new Othello had to be found--and quickly. Son Charles Kean was also in the cast, and it was assumed that he would step into the role. Instead, African-American actor Ira Aldridge was brought in by the show's manager.

"Red Velvet" by Lolita Chakrabarti tells the story of how this historic event played out. The announcement that someone other than the younger Mr. Kean was given the role caused a bit of a stir among the cast. Most were not familiar with Mr. Aldridge's work. One actor had a friend who had acted with Aldridge, so was aware of Mr. Aldridge's color. (He rather gleefully kept this tidbit  to himself.) Actress Ellen Tree, who would be playing opposite Aldridge as Desdemona, had heard of him, but did not know any personal details.

Portrait of Ira Aldridge as Othello
by James Northcote

When Aldridge was introduced, the shock was palpable. Aldridge's attempts to shake hands with the cast were generally rebuffed. The actors were not used to interacting with blacks as their equals. The cast also had to contend with the tradition of the lead actor taking charge of the production. (Theater companies at the time didn't have directors.)  So not only was the cast asked to quickly adjust to Aldridge's ethnicity, but also to the tweaks he wanted to make to the performance. (The suggestion that he and Desdemona should look at each other with passion in the scene when they are reunited was met with audible gasps. You can imagine the reaction when he kissed her hand.) 

After Aldridge left the room, the conversation became heated. Ellen Tree was fine working with Aldridge, but did comment that "When I read 'black' in the reviews, I assumed it was the mood."

Charles Kean was much less sanguine. His view was that because Aldridge was black, playing the role of Othello wouldn't be acting; instead, he would just be letting his true nature be seen.  "Acting is an art. Transformation is an art," he said. "My father, a small, physically challenged ageing man, to see him become a warrior Moor is an art, isn't it?  People come to the theater to get away from reality. And...what I mean to say is...he will prevent them from escaping reality..."

Aldridge's performance as Othello was met with standing ovations from the audience. The critics, however, had a different response. 

The Spectator was quoted as having said, "An African is no more qualified to personate Othello than an huge fat man would be competent to represent Falstaff...English audiences have a prejudice in favour of European features, which more than counterbalance the recommendations of a flat nose and thick lips....It is superfluous to enter into any detailed criticisms of such a performance as this. It was upon the whole a failure..but the applause bestowed on his performance induced the Manager to announce it's repetition." 

Another critic was reported to have said, "...at Covent Garden they have brought out a genuine n***r to act Othello. This gentleman is the colour of a new half penny, his hair is woolly, and his features, although African, are considerably humanized. But owing to the shape of his lips it is utterly impossible for him to pronounce English in a manner to satisfy even the unfastidious ears of the gallery." 

After two nights, the show closed due to the political backlash.  At the end of the play, we see Aldridge 30 years later preparing to play King Lear -- in white face. 


Britta Ollman

The play raises all sorts of questions that continue to be relevant to theater today. I was the only one to show up to a pre-show talk with Britta Ollman (who played Ellen Tree), and we had a lovely conversation. It was great to have the issues queued up for me so nicely. We chatted about the topic of colorblind v. color conscious casting. (For an interesting discussion of color conscious casting from a director's perspective, click here.)

We talked about the role of women in the theater. Britta noted that women had been acting onstage for a century by the time this event took place, including in "pants roles" (i.e., playing men.) Tree herself had been lauded for her performance as Romeo. Still, it was exciting for Tree's artistic opinion to be solicited by Aldridge.

And, of course, we touched on the overarching issue of racism, both on and off the stage. An interesting note is that students of theatre history, even those who study the Victorian period, rarely learn about Ira Aldridge. As the playwright notes, "His achievements had tragically slipped through the cracks of my theater history and Shakespearean studies, and it was as if he had never existed." This is despite the fact that Aldridge was internationally famous for his dramatic portrayals and helped translate Shakespearean plays into Russian, German and Polish. His accomplishments were not wholly unappreciated, however. Aldridge was awarded the Prussian Gold Medal for Arts and Sciences from King Frederick William III, the Golden Cross of Leopold from the Czar of Russia, and the Maltese Cross from Bern, Switzerland.

To return to "Othello," it was nearly 100 years before another black actor took on the part in London. Paul Robeson was cast in the role in 1930; he reprised the role on Broadway from 1943-1945. American film continued the tradition of casting Caucasian actors in the role of Othello as well, among them Orson Welles and Laurence Olivier. It wasn't until 1995 that a movie version came out with a black actor--Laurence Fishburne--in the role.

All in all, "Red Velvet" was a wholly satisfying evening of theater. Kudos to freeFall Theatre for bringing the production to our area. 

Sarasota Creators & Collectors' Tour

The annual Sarasota Creators & Collectors' Tour is always great fun. I love getting a chance to peek into artist's studios and chat with them about their work. Dorrit's as keen as I am, so she's the perfect partner in crime.

Raven Skye McDonough

Our first stop was the Galleria at the Ringling School of Art + Design, where an assortment of artists were gathered. Although we methodically worked our way around the room, I had my eye on Raven Skye McDonough from the moment we walked in. I am familiar with Raven's collages from a couple of shows she entered at the Visual Arts Center. As she likes to say, she "paints with paper." She often incorporates her own handmade paper and photographs into her work.

I particularly loved this colorful collage (whose name I neglected to note). Raven shared that her inspiration was the bust of a Roman emperor she had seen in the St. Petersburg Museum of Art. If you look closely, you'll see that the eye of the "emperor" is the head of a nude woman, so he's seeing things from a female point of view. Clever. To see more of Raven's art, click here.

Miller's Admit One Ticket Shoe

In the nearby gallery Made By--which exclusively shows work by Ringling students and grads--we enjoyed Louis Miller's "The Art of Shoes." There were a number of paintings of shoes on display, but I was more intrigued by the 3D works.  There were shoes made from wire and corrugated cardboard and other types of paper, including a roll of tickets. While chatting with Miller and his wife, she mentioned he had kept these tickets since he was nine years old, somehow knowing they would become useful someday. We also learned that she's the one with the shoe fetish, which I suspect he doesn't discourage.

Detail of work in Lucy Barber's kitchen shelf series

From there we were off to the artist studios. When we first entered Lucy Barber's studio, I wasn't sure about her subtle paintings. I tend to go for artwork with color that hits me over the head. But the more time I spent with them, the more I liked them.

In fact, I'd go so far as to say I fell in love with her "kitchen shelf" series. The inspiration for the series came from the light that fell on, yes, a kitchen shelf with five of her father's WWII journals on it. The kitchen walls were painted yellow and, she says, "glowed" when the morning light filled the room. Her works capture this feeling beautifully. For more of Barber's work, click here. (I'm really drawn to the radishes, too.) 

Two of the participating artists were located east of 75, territory into which I'd never ventured. Their studios were definitely worth getting off the beaten track to see.

Duncan Chamberlain's Camera Man

As people who go to galleries with me know, I sometimes break into a jog when I see a work of art I must get to immediately. (I know--it's not a pretty image.)  And so it was when I laid eyes on Camera Man by Duncan Chamberlain. Seriously, how could you not love a larger-than-life sculpture made from old cameras?

Duncan came to his art naturally.  His father, John Chamberlain, was a renowned scrap metal auto part sculptor. (This explains the multitude of bumpers lying around Duncan's studio.)  He worked as his father's assistant for a number of years, cutting, welding and fabricating parts. And then it was time for him to strike out on his own. In addition to Camera Man and some other whimsical works, Duncan's yard is peppered with some beautiful aluminum sculptures that I could envision in my friend Maggie's own sculpture garden. 

Last, but definitively not least, was Andrea Dasha Reich. Walking into her studio is a jaw-dropping experience. Her vibrant, large scale art takes over the massive space. It was hard to know what to look at first. Luckily, Dasha was on hand to provide an explanation. 

Although Dasha is Czech, her medium is not glass. Instead, she calls herself the Queen of Resin. She likens works such as the one shown here to a BLT sandwich, although a club would be more apt given the number of layers. When you see this piece from the side, you can appreciate how painstaking an effort it must have been to create. It's also a rather toxic process that requires gloves and a mask.

Reich with a Fusion work

Dasha's latest work is her Fusion series. The base of each work is a photograph of one of her paintings printed on canvas. She then layers on paint, resin and resin pieces to create a totally new work so expressive it nearly vibrates.

Click here to see more of Dasha's striking work (and a glimpse of her studio, which you can find if you scroll through the photos ). If you are in Sarasota, Dasha has an upcoming show at Alfstad & Contemporary, which opens April 7th. Her work can also be seen in State of the Arts Gallery, a truly fabulous gallery that features the art of more than 35 contemporary artists. 

We Love You, Charlie Freeman by Katilyn Greenidge

The Tournament of Books (ToB) is underway once again, compliments of The Morning News and Field Notes. Organizers refer to it as "a month-long battle royale among the year's best novels." They quickly back pedal a bit, though, saying, "But it’s not really a contest. We’re not even sure it’s a 'tournament.' What the ToB has been and will be, as long as we’re putting it on, is a month-long conversation about novels and reading and writing and art that takes place on weekdays in March." The winner is awarded this year's coveted Rooster. 

However it's characterized, the ToB is fun to follow.This year's short-list of 16 (or so) books included many I had already read, including The Nix, Homegoing and Underground Railroad. Then there were some books that I'd given the old college try to read, but had given up. (The Vegetarian and Sweet Lamb of Heaven fell into this category.) That left a few books with which I was unfamiliar.

After discarding a couple out of hand based on off-putting descriptions, I checked the others out from the library. Last year's ToB was, after all, how I found Chris Adrian and Eli Horowitz' crazy The New World (which I loved and nobody else seemed to even like) and Kent Haruf's lovely Our Souls at Night.

Which brings me to one of this year's contenders -- We Love You, Charlie Freeman by Katilyn Greenidge. The description of the book piqued my interest with its story of the Freemans, an African-American family that decides to participate in a study at the Toneybee Institute in rural Massachusetts. They move to the Institute, where they are introduced to their new family member -- Charlie, a young chimp abandoned by its mother. The family brings fluency in sign language to the project, and their job is to teach Charlie how to sign. But of course it's not as straightforward as that.

The book moves between the present, with various family members narrating the action, and 1929, with Nymphadora of Spring City as our protagonist. The characters share a connection to the Institute. 

The Freemans' story is hard to explain, much less in a concise manner. So I'll settle for telling you how the family came to know how to sign.

Laurel, the Freeman matriarch, grew up in Maine as an only child in a family officially designated as the northernmost Negroes in the United States. Her family's tree farm was given the sole entry for the State of Maine in The Colored Motorist's Guide to America (a book I first heard of last year in the play "Alabama Story.") 

Laurel learned to sign after the Hallelujah School for the Colored Deaf came to the farm. She was fascinated with the expressiveness of their hand movements.

"She [Laurel] was no longer adrift in Farragut, Maine," Greenidge tells her readers. "She had discovered a universe where silence wasn't cold and stony but warm and golden, where there was no need for speech. Signing was full. Signing made words important. It was beyond condescension or awkwardness or fear or loneliness. It wasn't avoidance or dismissal. It was, as far as Laurel was concerned, the perfect language."

Her children, in turn, learned the skill when they were growing up. Until they moved to the Institute, they primarily used sign language to talk behind their parents' backs.

The family's time at the Institute is filled with complicated interpersonal dynamics, both inside the family and in a world in which they are outsiders. Their story is interesting and unsettling and thought-provoking.

Portrait of a girl by W.E.B. Du Bois from Paris Exhibition

But it is the story of Nymphadora that continues to haunt me. When we first meet Nymphadora, we learn that, like her mother before her, she was a Star of the Morning. (Her given name was Ellen, but she liked her chosen religious name much better.) Her parents committed suicide when she was a girl, leaving her to find her own way in the world.

She became a teacher, which is how her path crossed with that of Dr. Gardner of the Toneybee Institute. Gardner was lurking around the school at which Nymphadora taught, sketching pictures of the children. It fell to her to ask him to stop.

"I am an anthropologist and I enjoy studying all people. The [African-American] people of Spring City are excellent specimens," Gardner told her. Upon seeing her face, he tried to explain.  "If you are familiar with the science of anthropology, you can see why I would want to draw your students." 

"Yes," she responded. "And I can see why I shouldn't allow it. I don't want them ending up somewhere in some study, examples of Negro buffoonery, like you scientists like to do. I won't have them studied, if that's what you want to call it." 

They get into a discussion in which Nymphadora tells Gardner that similar studies have already been done. In fact, a picture of her as an Infant Star was included in W.E.B. Du Bois' Exhibit of American Negroes at the Paris Exhibition. Gardner takes note of her pride at having been included in the exhibit. Perhaps, he suggests, she might like to take the place of the children as his subject. One things leads to another, with disturbing consequences. 

We Love You, Charlie Freeman is a book that has lingered with me. It is well worth adding to your reading list.

Sadly, though, I can't root for We Love You to advance in the ToB. It is up against my favorite book of 2016, The Nix by Nathan Hill. It will be interesting to see which book comes out on top.

For more about the Tournament of Books, including this year's brackets, click here.  Happy reading!

Embracing Dr. Seuss Differences Day

I rarely get the chance to interact with kids. In fact, living in Punta Gorda, I hardly ever even SEE children. And so when I read that Sarasota County's Embracing Our Differences program was seeking volunteers to read a Dr. Seuss book to an elementary school class, I signed up. It was a wonderful experience.

I was assigned to read Dr. Seuss' The Lorax to Rebecca Shipley's third grade class at Glenellen Elementary School in North Port. We were encouraged to practice reading the book out loud a few times. I dutifully checked The Lorax out from the library. I was a bit surprised to find that it was 32 pages long. I was also struck by how political the book is.

In case it's been a while since you read The Lorax, it tells the story of the Once-ler, a man who decides to cut down a single Truffala Tree to knit a thneed. A passerby offers to buy the thneed. Before long, a factory's been built, the trees are being cut down four at a time, and the animals have headed off to friendlier climes. Eventually, all that's left is a landscape of stumps. Even the Lorax, who speaks for the trees, has departed, leaving behind a pile of rocks with the word "Unless." The Once-ler is baffled by the meaning, until a child shows up. "Now that you're here," the Once-ler says, "the word of the Lorax seems perfectly clear/UNLESS someone like you/cares a whole awful lot/nothing is going to get better/It's not." And, with that, the Once-ler throws the child the sole remaining Truffala Seed. Maybe, with time, the trees and animals will come back.

Theodor Geisel (aka Dr. Seuss) wrote the book in the early 1970s at the start of the environmental movement. Forty-some years later, the message seems particularly timely given the White House's desire to gut the EPA. But I digress. 

Walking to the school office to check in, I saw people dressed up like Dr. Seuss characters, with crazy socks and striped hats a la Cat in the Hat and "Thing 1" and "Thing 2" signs hanging around their necks. In keeping with the theme, I was given a bag of goldfish to sustain me. (Get it? One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.). 

I was greeted warmly when I got to the classroom. Remember how desks used to be set up in nice straight rows all facing the teacher?  Well, no longer. The kids were seated three to a circular desk equipped with laptops and headphones.  I would have loved to have seen how classes work in this environment, but I had a job to do.

Becky invited me to sit in a rocking chair at the front of the class and, if I liked, to put on the colorful boa awaiting me. The kids settled in on the rug at my feet. After I established how old they were (eight or nine) and explained that I might need their help because I was new to this, we were off. 

Not surprisingly, it wasn't a straight read-through. I had mentioned Seuss' nonsense words at the beginning, and at one point a boy noted--quite correctly--that "biggered" wasn't a word.  We discussed how the kids were able to understand what it--and other made-up words like "Grickle-grass" and "Whisper-ma-phone"--meant, though, given the context.

At one point someone referenced a scene in The Lorax movie, and the kids started giggling. "Is that funny?"  I asked. I was assured that, indeed, it was quite funny, but that I couldn't be expected to understand why since it was kid humor.

The best part, though, was the circle discussion after I was done with the book. The kids organized themselves, and Becky handed over a pencil that looked a bit like a Truffala Tree to the first child. Only the student with the "tree" was allowed to talk.

We had touched on the fact Dr. Seuss books are fun but also have great messages. Some of the kids picked up on that, with one boy saying how "inspiring" he found Dr. Seuss. Someone mentioned how bad corporate greed was. Not all the comments were so serious though, as a number of the kids just liked how the Truffala Trees looked. (They are pretty cool.)

One little girl earnestly commented how the book reminded her of the movie "Wally" (in which, apparently, people also wrecked the world). I was impressed by the analogy.

Way too quickly, the hour was over. The kids applauded and a couple gave me big hugs. It was a terrific afternoon. 

Note: Embracing Our Differences is a non-profit organization whose mission is "to use the power of art and education to expand consciousness and open the heart to celebrate the diversity of the human family." While it is not a part of Read Across America, it has joined with the fun of celebrating Dr. Seuss' birthday for the past four years with reading events in Sarasota and Manatee Counties. 

"Celebrating Friendship" by Adorable Monique (Naples, FL)

Brenna Wilhm, Education Director, talked with me about how Dr. Seuss' books fit with Embracing Our Differences' work with diversity and inclusion. "Cat in the Hat," for instance, provides an opportunity to discuss standing up to bullies. "Horton Hears A Who" explains the importance of listening to a cry for help. And "Green Eggs and Ham" shows that you have to look beyond superficial differences.

Next up for the program is an art exhibit in Bayfront Park in Sarasota that will run from April 1-May 31. Students from around the world submitted artwork and quotes interpreting the theme "enriching our lives through diversity." From the more than 10,000 submissions, 48 pieces of artwork and 46 quotes will be featured. Stay tuned for more on that.

To read more about Embracing Our Differences, click here.