Sunday, October 21, 2012

A Little Charity That Could: National Inclusion Project

Back from the National Inclusion Project's ninth annual Champions Gala, held for the first and probably last time ever in Washington, D.C. Beautiful venues - the J.W. Marriott on Pennsylvania Avenue, adjacent to the National Theatre - probably came at too high a price for the organization and its base of supporters, which continues to consist almost entirely of project co-founder Clay Aiken's fans.

The 2012 event benefited from the added star power of Arsenio Hall, Debbie Gibson, and Ruben Studdard, all of whom did their duty tweeting to their own followers to support this event. I was a little surprised, though, that there was, to my knowledge, no local coverage.

As is the case whenever one is involved with an earnest organization like this, one thinks it is the most important thing in the world and that its work should inspire, impress, and engage everyone. But the thing is, charities like this are a dime a dozen in D.C., and it's next to impossible to get attention. You do your best to tell the story (and the stories of the honorees were all inspiring and impressive), but if there is no audience, there is no communication.

I spoke informally with one of the NIP's leaders, and learned that the PR work for this event was coordinated by a third party, whose efforts to engage the local media were less than productive. Despite the organization's efforts to stand on its own merits (originally called the Bubel/Aiken Foundation, it renamed itself National Inclusion Project to clarify its mission and rely less on Clay Aiken's spotlight), the local media suits saw celebrity dollar signs and offered only some kind of expensive promotional package.

Excuse me, but WTF?

I don't work in public relations, but I do work in a small, earnest organization that, like NIP, hopes to better the world. We know how hard it is to get attention, but we have our own communications director who puts a lot of work into message building and outreach. He shapes the story to the audience he is addressing. Press releases are not one-size fits all anymore. And it is important that the organization be the one to tell the story itself, not job it out.

(The National Inclusion Project's story, by the way, is a timely one. All of its honorees last night shared the same basic message that inclusion conquers the social segregation that produces bullying. The theme of "Let's ALL Play" overcomes the fear of differences.)

I have learned a lot from watching the National Inclusion Project grow from the mind of a college student working on an independent project to complete his degree in special education. The Project's biggest strength is the partnerships it has built. In my opinion, that partnership ought to have included the media in a more personal and direct way. Put a TV anchor on the program, or even emcee; tell the same stories that inspired the supporters in the first place. Those kinds of stories are extremely appealing at the end of an evening news broadcast.

Maybe I'm naive (or old fashioned). But as an editor for a nonprofit organization's magazine, I simply don't believe in paid content. We don't buy stories, and we certainly don't sell them. Either transaction is a disservice to our readers, who are our members and supporters. I believe there are still members of the for-profit media that share this principle. Those are partnerships worth cultivating.


Edited to clarify: My "WTF" was about the package deal that this consortium of local stations wanted to offer to give NIP coverage. It's not a criticism of NIP or its PR efforts. They didn't take that stinky deal, nor should they. I simply don't want to live in a media environment where the feature stories on the news are paid content. 

Yet, just look at today's local listings on the TV schedule: hours and hours of "paid programming." Sigh.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

The LuPoneness of Patti

Back from last night's last night at the Strathmore for Patti LuPone's tribute to a thousand different kinds of love, her "Matters of the Heart" revue.

 
Press image by Ethan Hill         From Gypsy (2008), uncredited 

I always find it fun to attend a performance with a room full of fans of a given performer, and Patti was well loved by the approximately 80%-90% filled hall. I have to say I am more of a "fan" of Patti's occasional touring partner, Mandy Patinkin, and would love one day to see them perform together. The gentleman sitting next to me had seen them in the original Evita back in the day.

I had last seen Patti in Gypsy during my last weekend of SPAMalot Clay-hunting. Last night she brought back Mama Rose and then some to what felt like a thoroughly rehearsed theatrical experience. The fact that she never wavered or appeared to deviate from her program of showstoppers made me almost yearn for someone to take a flash picture so we could have a spontaneous "How dare you" meltdown. (Almost. Actually, that would have ruined the evening for the true Patti lovers there.)

The "Matters of the Heart" program ostensibly supports her 1999 album of that title, and that's the closest I could find to an actual set list. "Shattered Illusions" was there, as was the charmingly naughty "I Never Do Anything Twice" (both my friend and I had to Google the term "golden shower." Heh). 

The theatricality carried through on the pop selections in her program, including "Alone Again, Naturally" and "Time After Time," arrangements that would be initially praised by the likes of Simon Cowell for their originality, but then dismissed for being "too Broadway." Musical theater is about storytelling, and Patti's narrative was astonishing and touching. I loved these pieces.

I just noticed when I went back in my blog files to get the link for my Patinkin recap that I signed off, "Being alive." I don't recall whether Mandy performed that song, but Patti used it for her first act finale. (That's what you do in musical theater - you grab the audience by the throat before you let them out for refreshments so you know they'll be back for Act Two.) 

So it's the throat grabbing Act One finale, like in Les Miz, that keeps me coming back for more. Because it's really only in the theater that this particular audience member ever really experiences "being alive."

From 2008:

love, hosaa
precariously living vicariously


Sunday, September 30, 2012

To Fly

Back from Fly at Ford's, based on the story of the Tuskegee Airmen.

cast of FLY ~ photograph by Scott Suchman
 
I loved the production but was particularly impressed with the use of dance as a character and as a dramaturgical choice. It's an element that is unexpected in a non-musical but always adds richness and dimension. As the non-speaking tapping narrator, Omar Edwards was powerfully expressive.

Omar Edwards ~ photograph by Scott Suchman
 
In one scene, slowed down to a series of gestures, the black airmen are selected to guard the white bombers in a mission over Berlin. The blacks teach the whites their ritual of writing down their fears and throwing the paper into a fire; they are ultimately united by their fear, their bravery, their duty, and their freedom in flight.

It's truly an inspiring story, but Fly does not shy away from depicting the racism that the men faced. Ford's veteran actor James Konicek ("Captain O'Hurley"/"Instructor 2") seems to be called on frequently for these types of white-bigot characters. The heart-in-throat moment, though, came from Matt Bassett as one of the white bombers telling the black airman escorting him, "I'm sorry," an apology for having witnessed a lynching triggered by an incident at his father's store.

The small Sunday matinee audience gave the men a standing ovation. I wouldn't mind seeing this again, if only to try another seat. Honestly, are there any good seats at Ford's? I was in A-110 in the balcony, where the guard rail blocked half my view of the stage. I moved back a couple of rows and over a bit, still couldn't see around people and pillars.

No action on the Ford's stage should ever take place within 10 yards of the edge closest to the audience. Upstage is good. *g*

Still straining to see, I ended up in the second to last row of the balcony, which is where I fell in love with Ford's Theatre in the first place.

FLY plays at Ford's Theatre through October 21.
Written by Trey Ellis and Ricardo Khan.
Directed by Ricardo Kahn.

Cast:
Omar Edwards as Tap Griot
Christopher Wilson as Chet Simpkins
Eric Berryman as W.W.
Mark Hairston as Oscar (also dance captain)
Damian Thompson as J. Allen
James Konicek as Captain O'Hurley/Instructor 2
Matt Bassett as Staff Sergeant/Instructor 1/Barman/Bomber Co-Pilot Shaw (also fight captain)
Clark Young as Instructor 3/Colonel Snopes/Bomber Pilot Reynolds

love, hosaa
theater-flyer

 
 
 



Saturday, September 15, 2012

Haunting Tigers

Late again to recap the Thursday preview performance of Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo, now playing at Round House Theatre in Bethesda.

Danny Gavigan and Felipe Cabezas, photo by Danisha Crosby

Eric Hissom (the Tiger) by Danisha Crosby

Maboud Ebrahimzadeh and Pomme Koche, by Danisha Crosby

Maboud Ebrahimzadeh, by Danisha Crosby

I will say first that this powerful play was powerfully performed in spite of a sleepy weeknight audience. There are times when I think a production can be too overpowering for its audience. We sat there in the dark for far too long before erupting into polite applause. I felt sad for the actors, who were nothing short of phenomenal.

Such is the theatrical experience.

The play delivered what I thought was lacking in last year's ravages-of-war production, ReEntry.  The latter offered monologue memories of what happened "over there," while the Baghdad Tiger shows what happened, both internally and externally, for the soldiers grittily but poignantly played by Danny Gavigan and Filipe Cabezas. The lesson is that moral questioning doesn't end with death, and that guilt lives on to haunt us.

Eric Hissom as the anthropomorphic Tiger achieves enlightenment in death but remains the creature of basic needs that he was born to be. "Heaven," he determines, is simply where he is not hungry.

The deteriorating garden where translator Musa (Maboud Ebrahimzadeh) has constructed his fantastic topiary "zoo" is both "God's garden" to the Tiger and Uday Hussein (Pomme Koche)'s garden, a tribute to ego and self-indulgence (and a place to lure Musa's young sister to her ruin).

Again, responding simply as a member of the audience, I wish my friends could have shared the experience with me. (Some can't tolerate the violence, others the cussing). It wasn't escapist entertainment with a tune to whistle the rest of the week. It was what theater, to me, is supposed to be: a place to feel something and experience something and think about something I would not otherwise feel, experience, or think. And it haunts, long after the darkness descends.

Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo by Rajiv Joseph, directed by Jeremy Skidmore, plays through September 30, 2012.

Cast
Tiger: Eric Hissom
Tom: Danny Gavigan
Kev: Felipe Cabezas
Mousa: Maboud Ebrahimzadeh
Uday: Pomme Koche
Hadia/Iraqi Teenager/Nurse: Salma Shaw
Iraqi woman: Nadia Mahdi

Kudos also to the sound designer, Eric Shimelonis, for just a fantastic, full-immersion aural experience.






Sunday, August 26, 2012

Art Out of the Closet--and Drawers

The decluttering project is unearthing some long-buried "works" by her own self. The file cabinet yielded multiple copies of early drafts of oft-rejected stories, along with their respective rejection slips.

Much of this is getting tossed. I saved a few originals (and the rejection slips, in case I become "a cult failure").

And out of the closet come the canvases from my studio work at college, all with their respective layers of grime and dust. The ones that were in the closet are now in the trash. Just because I can't really throw things away, I took a few photos.

Click on thumbnails to enlarge. (And if you're tempted to use them, please credit: C. G. Wagner.)








There was one that was in the closet that I think I'll keep. The caption (added long after the class) is what saved it:

I have six canvases from that era that are still on my walls (for now):




  Detail:


  Detail:


And these are behind my sofa, which means I never look at them. Thank goodness. They're on the chopping block:


Love,
hosaa, decluttering.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

The complicated life of a decluttering mind

Where have I been? Trying to stop putting off housework. Last weekend's task was clearing out a filing cabinet, getting rid of extra copies of failed stories.

Kept the file of rejection slips, though. I need the humble pie.

I came across this submission from August 2001 to The Washington Post's "Life Is Short: Autobiography as Haiku" column:
My niece, playing with my magnetic poetry kit, spilled words all over the kitchen floor.
"Please, no dirty words on the refrigerator," I joked.
My nephew asked if I would live in my tiny apartment forever, instead of asking if I'd ever get a husband and kids.
After they left, I found one tiny, insignificant word still on the floor. I put it on the fridge, in the middle, as a reminder. It's only dirty if it tempts me:
"ALL"

Love, hosaa
from that tiny forever apartment

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Keane at the Strathmore

The fact that I'm about a week and a half late in reporting this is somewhat telling. My friend really wanted to go to the Keane concert at our favorite concert hall, the Strathmore, and needed a buddy to go with her.

I know nothing about Keane, though she insisted I probably had heard their music at some point in my life. There's a pet food commercial that has licensed one of their tunes, I believe.

Anyway, the opening band was louder, but Keane had better production. The lead singer was a cutie, there was a backbeat, and the place was packed. Everyone stood except for us little old ladies. We slid over to a side section to rest our backs.

The show was enjoyable. Glad I went. I still haven't picked up the "Thank You" download from the little postcard, though. Amazon link to the album Strangeland

Since I wasn't all that into the music (no objections to it), I spent my time experimenting with the settings on my camera, in preparation for the next Clay Aiken tour. *biggrin*

As you can see from the results below, the high-sensitivity setting on my old Lumix is very noisy. I bought a new camera yesterday and hope for better results at the next event I need to cover in low light.

KEANE at the Strathmore (Bethesda, MD), June 14, 2012
Click to enlarge. All photos by C. G. Wagner / Hosaa's Blog. Please credit if used!