Stage Fright Friday – Principles

Welcome to what I’m calling Stage Fright Friday.

This little end of the week outpost will be the new home for old pieces I wrote when I lived for a year in Charlottesville. Virginia. No Shame Theatre was lifeline and outlet both – an unparalleled chance for me to learn by working with people like Todd Ristau and Clinton Johnston who really knew their craft.

Please be kind to these old timers, they’re still doing the best they can in these changing times.

Principles

Cast
Ali – A smart and thoughtful young woman – principled and straightforward.
Johnson – A slightly sputtery authority figure.
Eric – A cool young man.

(lights up full)

Ali: You wanted to see me?

Johnson: Yes Alison, I did. Have you reconsidered my offer?

Ali: (stern) Yes Sir, I have.

(pause)

Johnson: And?

Ali: And I’m afraid I still can’t accept.

Johnson: (surprised) …because?

(slightly longer pause)

Ali: Because it’s Fascism Sir, plain and simple. I refuse to be involved with anything so morally bankrupt.

Johnson: (in total disbelief) …Morally bankrupt? …Fascism?  I’m not sure I/

Ali: (interrupting) Don’t patronize me Sir. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. (begins to rant). Fascism is extreme right-wing ideology that celebrates conformity to a mythical standard of “normalcy”. It cuts through all other notions of what is right or natural. It attempts to lull us into a false sense that there is no death or decay, just your perfect – and perfectly artificial – status quo. Any natural tendencies toward variety or individualism threaten your perfect organic community and must be crushed beneath your jack-booted feet.

Johnson: (getting a word in) Now look here, I don’t even wear boots and you know/

Ali: (cuts him off, continues ranting) Your sort of Fascism promotes the idea of (counting them off on her fingers) class superiority, hybrid inferiority, persecution, territorialism, expansion, and – of course – (her sixth finger raised is a forefinger that she points accusatorily at Johnson) genocide. Oh, it wears the face of a socially acceptable, politically correct movement. Of course it claims a noble pedigree, but please! It’s a Procrustean hotbed of senseless conformity that flies in the face of science and nature. It’s a violent and elitist tradition that has traditionally be the province of pampered young men. You feel that I’m lucky to even be offered this job, because I’m a girl – a woman, but the truth is no one is lucky to have this job. This job – this working for the man, for the Fascist pig dog – this job sucks! I pity you Sir. I really do. Good day.

(Ali turns and walks to the door. Eric enters as Ali exits. She gives him a dirty look as she passes.)

Johnson: (turns to Eric and sighs) Well… your sister still won’t mow the lawn. I guess I’ll need to raise the price after all.

Eric: A cool 20, minimum. (pause) Ya big Fascist.

(Blackout)

 

NOTE: Debuted June 28, 2002, performed by Bremen Donovan, Todd Ristau and Brandon Allison. Bremen’s sterling character and willingness to play the straight-woman inspired this loving diatribe.

Advertisements

Explorations of the East

This is the first year in a decade that I haven’t gone to the almighty San Diego Comic Con. But it was a worthy sacrifice as Readercon was a fantastic experience and a top notch convention.* And let’s face it, I’m not even a small fish amid the whirl of SanDiego (more like a small but stubborn barnacle). But to be the only artist invited to a convention of great authors, editors and readers? Priceless.

Flying into Newark, we had the extremely exotic experience of being the only people seated in the entire row of seats. This meant that as the plane descended we were able to quickly move across the isle to be on the side of the plane with the view of New York City. This was Venetia’s first view of NYC, and my first sight of the new World Trade Center building. From the air it looks suspiciously like a Transformer. Which is a rather brilliant defense strategy and we are very happy that the Transformers are so clearly on our side.

Untransformed Transformer

We spent a few days in New Jersey with Jim and Rhymer where a rare gathering of distant friends and family occurred, and where all food comes from diners. Fritz kindly gave us a ride north into NYC to stay with the gracious (and very talented) Michael Kaluta. His apartment in the upper east side is filled to the brim with art, books, and all sorts of fun objects like fighter pilot masks from different eras (and a few historical gas masks.) Venetia felt quite at home among the books, but the best book of all was the one that Michael gave her: “Venetia” by Georgette Heyer. Within the space of just two weeks she discovered that she is the star of two stories! (More on the second story later.)

We headed uptown for lunch at a delicious Thai restaurant with man about town Jack Lechner, but first stopped at the Nicholas Roerich Museum. It is a small but elegant three-story apartment, each room filled with art. Venetia was enthralled and after lunch, we returned again (this time with Jack) to marvel at the colors and vibrancy of the art, which is sadly lost in reproduction. His works are mostly done on canvas in egg-tempera and come from the mountains of Tibet and India where Roerich painted them.

Jack aided our explorations of the Upper West by bringing us to the cathedral of Saint John’s the Unfinished. While properly imposing on the outside, it was even more stunning within, both in the grandeur of its high arches and stained glass windows and the fantastic detail of the individual alcoves. One of the greatest things about a mighty cathedral is that there’s no need for sameness. It’s bigger than any one builder and it’s only mete that the styles reflect the mass of humanity within and without.

Upon leaving the cathedral, we hopped on the subway and headed down to the Village for our dinner engagement. We were a little early so we walked down Christopher Street and wended our way to the fountain in the middle of Washington Square where Venetia cooled her feet. Dinner was sushi with Lindsay Ribar a colleague of Venetia’s whose first book The Art of Wishing is about to be published. Though not at all a business dinner, everyone at the table enjoyed their jobs enough to talk primarily of business-related topics, which in our line of work means books and art and the publishing world.

After our dinner on 3rd Street and we walked along through the canyons of Tisch and NYU a while before coming to Broadway. It was a hot night, but our guest quarters were only 80 blocks north and Venetia needed to see the city. It was a surprising walk for us both, Broadway has changed in extraordinary ways since I was last in New York. We passed an aluminum Andy Warhol north of Union Square and enjoyed the generous space given to pedestrians now that the street is no longer a traffic-jammed diagonal thoroughfare, but a curious one-way side-street. Times Square proved that even such a good idea could make for a splitting headache. Having crossed it once, Venetia is of the opinion that it would be worth going out of her way to avoid in the future. It is loud, full of flashing lights and tight crowds of people; altogether a stifling and dizzying experience. We noted the bleachers set about at intervals, wondering if they indicated particular events that required crowd seating but at the time of our visit, they seemed to hold nothing more than tired tourists taking a moment to sit down and gawk at one another. 80 blocks later we arrived at Michael’s aerie once more, pleasantly exhausted, filled with frozen yogurt and ready to fall immediately asleep after making quick plans for the morning.

Saturday was all about visiting with as many people as we could manage; beginning with the talented Tina Segovia and ending with a lovely dinner with Starstruck creator Elaine Lee and her brilliantly talented sons, Brennan and Griffin. Kickstarter and Starstruck were both discussed at some length. After dinner we went for a walk through Central Park with Tara Torre, a childhood friend of Venetia’s. We only walked through half of the park, not quite the same scope as the grand walking tour of New York the night before, but delightful nonetheless. Here, Venetia took here rightful place in Gotham’s Wonderland.

On Sunday, after a brief teaser of Sherlock and breakfast with the delightful Selena, we left the city. On our way out, we randomly stopped at a burger and milkshake joint for the best milkshake Venetia has had thus far. (We mentioned this to another New Yorker friend who immediately identified the name of the restaurant when we told her the location, so clearly we are not alone in this assertion of deliciousness.) Despite the wonderful start to the day, heading to Newark for our car rental we found what turned out to be the car rental from hell, though we were told at the counter that we should have expected nothing less at that price. Needless to say, this answer was not at all satisfactory and we were not happy with the deception of the Alamo car rental at Newark airport. In short: AVOID.

The ride up the Hudson was beautiful and green and we stopped frequently at the turnouts to admire the view of the city and river. We were additionally treated to a new view of the World Trade Center building and realized that it is not a transformer as we had previously believed, but in fact is the mounting space for a great, lidless eye, ever watching… Too soon? For dinner we had planned to stop at Mohonk Mountain House but after a remarkable trip to our nation’s great wonders in Glacier and Yellowstone, I forgot that the rich don’t much care for itinerant artists. We were turned away in the most snobbish and class-tastic fashion. So we stopped briefly in New Paltz and carried on.

We found our hosts, Stephen and Vicki Hickman, on their back porch enjoying a cool evening. They prepared us a delicious meal of chicken and corn on the cob. While I haven’t painted in Steve’s studio for years (not since we both lived in the Virginia suburbs), we stayed up well into the night discussing art and books and PG Wodehouse, and our curious industry.

View from the porch.

The next day was our excursion into Woodstock with Elaine Lee and her partner in crime Richmond Johnston – bagpiper extraordinaire. I’d been speaking with Richmond on and off for years, but this was my first chance to meet him. Woodstock did not live up to any possible expectations; we found it quaint, in its pipe and patchouli way. Upon our return, Steve took us on a tour of Red Hook, including a stop at the local ice cream shop where we split a giant milkshake. Venetia finished her namesake’s book while Steve and I got deep into the process of designing him a proper art book. Sobering to think that his last small folio is 2 decades old, and his new work is seldom seen (save for lucky collectors and those who commission his work). It was a long and productive night that included masses of show and tell (the sketches for upcoming paintings are simply spectacular). We left happily the next day, in possession of our own Stephen Hickman painting!

Before we left, we were given the helpful reminder that the Norman Rockwell Museum was in the area. After a tour of the New Barrington estate of Ethan Ham and his wife Janet (where V enjoyed some baby-toe-nibbling) we made the necessary detour to find the museum. The work is amazing. And Rockwell’s ambition was matched again and again by his results. We spent a good two hours admiring the Rockwells. And commenting on the heroification we observed in the descriptions of the paintings, the hagiography of Rockwell’s life, and the attitude of the hovering museum attendants. When so much truth can be found, when so much great work can be displayed, when so much actual scholarship exists, why dissemble? Why try to make a myth from a man? Who does it serve? I found it backward, unseemly and utterly unnecessary.

We were also surprised, but extremely gratified, to discover that the special exhibit this month was of Howard Pyle’s best paintings. While I had been a little sad to only have 2 weeks on the east coast, it was as though fate knew I couldn’t get to Delaware to see these old friends. And they had brought all the big guns: Stranded, The Flying Dutchman… glorious.

Interestingly, Rockwell’s entire studio had been transported to the grounds of the museum, which at first deceived us into thinking that he had actually painted in such a idyllic local. Too bad for him he didn’t. Too bad for context.

From the Rockwell Museum we headed into Belchertown, an apt name for the location of Jacob Lefton’s smithy. We received the grand tour of the forge and then of the charming town of Amherst, which of course included the local ice cream parlor. Travel in summer is difficult, and ice cream, it’s greatest reward.

As we settled in for the night at Jacob’s, various friends and roommates joined us for a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity, at which I eventually ruthlessly triumphed. In the morning we journeyed out by foot for fresh blueberries and cream-topped honey yogurt for breakfast. Given the lateness of the day by the time we left, we decided to drive straight to Boston, or more precisely, to the town of Melrose north of Boston. We had a wonderful family dinner with my old friends and hosts Scott and Rachel and their extended family. Scott débuted his new ice cream flavor: spicy apricot. There was much rejoicing.

The next day was our excursion into Boston proper. We took the T out to Davis Square and then walked via Harvard Square back to Cambridge out to the river which was teaming with beautiful boats. The extent to which there are less-that-perfect neighborhoods within blocks of MIT startled me. I would have thought that Boston’s horrific traffic might have led to more gentrification. Later, we met up with the lovely and formidable Sara and helped her make some fantastic dress choices at The Garment District. After another delicious home-cooked meal of steak tips, we ran off to Readercon for my first panel, a discussion of the visual media in relation to creating. Can one ever truly create without the undo influence of film? It seems that the panelists (including Elizabeth Hand and Caitlin Kiernan) could have joined me on the PR team for Blade Runner, should that need ever arise (Ridley, call us). Elizabeth’s points about the Sublime tallied well with my own, and with my recent trips to see the sublimity of the NW. At the end of the panel we joined Caitlin and other worthies for a rousing discussion of movies and literature in Caitlin’s room. Ed Wood was a particular point of admiration and disdain. Unsurprisingly, Caitlin and I were on the admiration side. Upon our return home we got a tour of Scott’s basement workshop, filled with even more exotic metals and ancient mechanical contraptions than the last time I’d stayed.

Friday, we enjoyed a leisurely morning before the whirlwind of the convention – I somehow ended up on a total of eight panels over the course of the weekend. After sharing the final kaffeklatch of the evening with the redoubtable Kyle Cassidy, we headed down to mingle with fellow attendees and happened to run into pretty much every person we needed or wanted to talk to, including Ty Franck to discuss a secret project and Michael Swanwick to get a book signed for Jacob. Michael was at first suspicious to see the book under Venetia’s arm, thinking it an unauthorized trade paperback edition but she quickly explained that it was an ARC, the very ARC in fact that I had read through in order to create the cover for Michael’s “Best Of.” Jacob was the current owner of the book, however, and he had insisted that Venetia borrow it for the weekend when he heard she had not read any Michael Swanwick. In return for the introduction to such an amazing body of work, Venetia got Michael’s signature in the book for Jacob. A happy ending to a happy story about a compendium of wildly impressive and not-always-happy stories. I love it when a plan comes together.

On the left, the renowned Boris paints a bull’s backside.
On the right, I paint a cover showing and hinting at the book’s actual contents.

My favorite panel of the convention was the “Book Covers Gone Wrong” with panelists Liz Gorinsky, Caitlín R. Kiernan, Daniel Abraham, Jacob Weisman, and Katherine MacLean. I led a lively discussion of bad book covers and the resulting sounds of the crowd’s appreciation managed to drown out any competing laughter from the neighboring “Bad Prose” battle. Victory!

The majority of my time at Readercon was spent on the multi-day panel: A Story from Scratch. The plan was for Elizabeth Bear and Michael Swanwick to create a story based on characters from the audience and props from the guests of honor. Kyle Cassidy would document the scenes from the book, and then I would create the book cover. Due to her lovely cheongsam, Venetia was chosen as the hero of the story – the proprietor of an Asian restaurant. After proposing to Eileen, the woman who would be her wife for the story, and, menaced by the evil Bracken and Tom Purdom (but really, they were both wonderful), she spent much of the subsequent panels in photoshoots with Kyle. I sat and sketched in the panel room as the story evolved, and Saturday afternoon I worked more closely with Kyle, directing a few shoots so that I’d have the grist for my cover. Much to my surprise, Bracken’s extraordinary tattoos supplanted the cheongsam as my background, and allowed me to show that he and Tom were the same person, decades apart. And really, could there anything more fun than tattooing Tom? Later Saturday, I began working on the cover in front of the panel audience. It took longer than the time allotted for the room, of course, but all was completed, including my choice of title, by the appointed hour on Sunday when Michael and Elizabeth read the story aloud while Kyle showed his photos. While the story itself is not yet available on the interwebs, here is the first viewing of the cover. When I asked the authors what they wanted me to call it, Michael told me I could call it whatsoever I desired. But that he and Bear would have veto rights. They didn’t veto it.

The panel finally ended on Sunday and after one last rowdy lunch with friends, we departed. We stopped to pick up the newly framed Steve Hickman painting and then headed out to a remarkable gallery opening of fantastic glass and electricity.

Monday was our last day in Boston and we spent it lounging about on couches in front of the electric fans (though we roused ourselves to head into Boston proper for a delicious Thai luncheon with the delightful Lindsay and Alex, creators of Baman Piderman.) Tuesday we drove back to Newark, stopping briefly in New York City for more Thai (our traveling food of choice) and the company of Allison Taylor, whose own Apple Core Theater Company I once had the pleasure of branding.

And thus we returned to Portland, to dive back in to the exciting new projects (soon to be announced) awaiting our homecoming.

* We were very pleased to read on Aug. 5th that the Readercon board resigned and the Readercon committee, many of whom we met and interacted with at the convention, had issued a public apology. We enjoyed Readercon as a convention a great deal and hope that it will not be ruined by the disrespect shown by its former governing board.

One Nation

Sometimes the very worst things imaginable turn out to be the most important. And the best.

When I met Jason Reeves in the inexplicably long Professionals line at the San Diego Comic Con neither of us had any idea what would follow. I had my portfolio (surprisingly declared “Gangsta”) and he had left his back at the hotel. Later, by chance, I ran into him in the mad hall upstairs and shanghaied him into showing me the big black folio of drawings he’d brought. He was a good kid who was trying mightily to get his work up to speed, but he had a long way to go. How long? Longer than anyone else in the Hall.

First back home to New Orleans. Then to lock-up, held under false pretenses and incommunicado, in the horrifically handled horror show called Katrina. Then, finally freed, back to look for his family.

When Katrina happened, my first thought was of Jason. My second was how sad it would be to never visit that fabled sunken city. But Jason was, like far too many, unreachable. But for all that I fretted for him, Jason took care of himself, and of his family. Finally we were able to get word that he was OK, even though his possessions were not. It seems that the original disaster was bad enough, but if you’ve been incarcerated for days for the crime of not being sufficiently pale or wealthy, you can’t really salvage the moldy remnants of your life.

And so it came to pass that I was his lucky host for 6 months (I offered him a couple years board, but he couldn’t stand the Oregon weather). He, who had lost so many things, found dear friends and work, and a landlord to critique each and every piece he drew – from comics to t-shirts to a first, (now-long-replaced) web site. He grew and thrived and grew some more – because that’s how he rolls.

And it was because of Jason I did finally get to New Orleans, several years later – for Jason and Kemi’s wedding. There, their Nanny June gave me an unparalled tour of the city, of its beauties, its damage, and its recovery.

I also got the call to make a comic cover for Jason’s new project: One Nation. So here’s the cover I painted of the mysterious and magical Sundiata (with helpful critique from our dear mutual friend Adam Danger Cook). Below that is the blurb for One Nation. Please check it out if you can.

ONENATION is a five-issue limited series featuring the hero Paragon, the first superhuman the world has ever seen, whose idealistic views of being a superhero and doing good for mankind is challenged when the reality of changing the world hits. At first harkening in name, design and deed to the likes of Captain America or Superman, as the series progresses Paragon; along with a rising generation of superhumans called Keramats, find the trappings of being a superhero ill-fitting when it comes to his larger role of saving the world…from itself.

**MATURE READERS**

Written by: Alverne Ball
Pencils by: Jason Reeves
Colors by: Luis Guerrero
On sale August 22, 2012 in digital & print @the 133art comicshop.

Olms For The Poor

Who is Gustav Olms?

When I first encountered this battered book, literally falling apart at the seams, I had no idea. And neither did the internet. What I did know was that it was excellent, fascinating work. The kind of work that I have long admired and yet created by an artist who was utterly unknown to me. And what’s more, I’d never heard my brilliant colleagues (Steve HickmanMike Kaluta and Charles Vess, et al.) even mention him. So I scanned the whole book and prepared to send them the files… only to discover that the assembled compendium was too big to send. So it sat on my desktop. For 2 years.

One of the greatest things about the internet, one of the greatest miracles that is opening itself up to us is the ability to meet and to better understand artists that we’ve never heard of and never had occasion to encounter in our lives.

Richard Hescox in particular  is doing us the great favor of introducing amazing talent such as William Joy, Gaston Bussiere, Maximilian Pirner, Frank Dicksee, Henry Meynell Rheam, Edward Frederick Brewtnall, Norman Lindsay, and John Bauer. And that is just from the last few weeks!

While I now know the works of Norman Lindsay and John Bauer that Hescox features, it’s sobering to think how long it took me to find out about them.

Excerpts hilariously translated by Google from the German website on Olms:

“(…) And if I still maintain that he was one of the most important artists of Düsseldorf, Düsseldorf, so shake yourself some head because he is still quite unknown to them.” (Willy Sparrow)

Painter – so called Olms officially, and with that title gives no indication as to what he in fact earned his livelihood. In fact, he worked as a graphic designer (he designed addition to the aforementioned illustrations and packaging for chocolate Tengelmann) and worked mainly for publishers. He moved to a certain extent as part of a family tradition, but he came from (the ninth child born as a book printer) Hildesheimer a printer and publishing dynasty.
The craftsmanship of his work as a service, it will always been conscious, and he’s probably the illustrating of children’s school books and not seen as art. The contradiction between free and applied art at that time may have been felt even more blatant, been bridged completely, he is not even today, at least in part, but has an awareness and appreciation for graphics and illustration established as an independent art form. Olms and also for posterity has been preserved primarily by his excellent illustrations.

“And so this book is in itself a particularly cordial atmosphere dedicated to the memory of this man, alone and abandoned, misunderstood and much loved, much hardship and suffering in his earthly existence lived, who was a man, honest and faithful in all, an artist full of passion and big, strong skills, as which he will long live up to what he made ​​of his contemporaries, – the suffering, but it, and perhaps most recently collapsed because it was not given the chance to all become what he in lowest was appointed. ” With those stirring words of the publisher William Steiger initiated from Moers 1930 his book Niederrheinisches say. Gustav Olms, whose last work, the book was brought, died shortly before.

So here I must shake myself some head at Gustav Olms’ big, strong skills.