I stopped posting on this blog nearly three years ago, when my personal website died (see last from 2011 below), and I was planning a return to Seattle.
Fast forward to 2014, now a year after having left Seattle (again--short story: going back didn't work out in any demonstrable way). I returned to Toledo last January to pick up my unfinished academic threads, and am so glad I did. My old website's still dead, but I have found a vital new outlet in working with the incarcerated, which has been something I have attempted to pursue since (re)entering school in 2007.
I may start another blog soon to discuss the rewarding work I do with the inmates (I currently teach acting, and hope to soon be teaching philosophy as part of the Inside-Out program). I think a discrete blog from this one is probably best for that, and I will post here when/if I set that up. However, in the meantime, take a look at the other blog I have just started, Pell Grant Writing Initiative, which is an effort that is shared by myself and prisoners at Toledo Correctional Institution. Only one post is currently up, but look for much, much more to come in the future.
Happy New Year!
~Sasha
Friday, January 3, 2014
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Nowhere gal.
I can no longer access my personal website (ascarborough.topcities.com). My login won't work, and my repeated messages to the "contact us" page go unheeded. There's no number I can call, no recourse--as it's a free site. So, now my life is trapped in some sort of weird virtual bubble that floated off on May 12th, 2011.
Perhaps that means the May 12th version of Alexandra died and my parallel self is currently typing this. Even if so--and I suppose that would be sort of cool, in a Source Code-y kind of way--it's still frustrating. My parallel self is still aware of the old self, and I desperately want to sync us up. Hell, just to have a conversation, if nothing else.
This is so frustrating. I can't delete the account, I can't update it. It just sits there, hanging in the ether; trapped like a bug, writhing upside down in a pool of water.
Damn it.
Perhaps that means the May 12th version of Alexandra died and my parallel self is currently typing this. Even if so--and I suppose that would be sort of cool, in a Source Code-y kind of way--it's still frustrating. My parallel self is still aware of the old self, and I desperately want to sync us up. Hell, just to have a conversation, if nothing else.
This is so frustrating. I can't delete the account, I can't update it. It just sits there, hanging in the ether; trapped like a bug, writhing upside down in a pool of water.
Damn it.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
From The D. to shining Sea.
One thing I can say about my life is that it's never static. As a good Buddhist, I should merely smile and say, "yes, of course!" As a middling Buddhist, though, I say, "Holy crap! Is my life ever gonna be settled?!" Answer: never, even if I'm physically still. That's just the way it works.
This kind of sums up my experience, and I guess after nearly 40 years I have accepted it (for the most part).
As you may know, the plan post-grad was to move to Detroit. That is no longer true. For reasons that don't necessarily need to be elucidated here, several people (including myself) would benefit by my moving back to Seattle, instead. So...now I'm doing that.
Admittedly, this is not without some sadness. As much as I adore and have missed Seattle, I did have my energies directed toward the Detroit experience, odd as that may sound to some of you. I had actually fallen in love with the city. All the things I said about it in my previous post are true. But, when worthwhile opportunities that seem beneficial for numerous parties present themselves, you have to grab 'em while you can.
Therefore, all the stuff I asked for when I talked about moving to The D?--those hold true for Seattle, too. If any of my Sea-town compatriots know of any work opportunities, feel free to send me the details. I have a lot more experience and education than I did the last time I lived there, but I'm open to all kinds of stuff, despite having hopes I'll land something in academia and/or the arts--which are my two great loves.
I haven't seen some of you for 13 years now, and I look so forward to picking our threads back up. I also look forward to the smell of Elliott Bay, the abundant opportunities for cuisine and culture, and all of that GREEN. So green. I can smell the Douglas firs as I type this.
See you soon, Emerald City.
This kind of sums up my experience, and I guess after nearly 40 years I have accepted it (for the most part).
As you may know, the plan post-grad was to move to Detroit. That is no longer true. For reasons that don't necessarily need to be elucidated here, several people (including myself) would benefit by my moving back to Seattle, instead. So...now I'm doing that.
Admittedly, this is not without some sadness. As much as I adore and have missed Seattle, I did have my energies directed toward the Detroit experience, odd as that may sound to some of you. I had actually fallen in love with the city. All the things I said about it in my previous post are true. But, when worthwhile opportunities that seem beneficial for numerous parties present themselves, you have to grab 'em while you can.
Therefore, all the stuff I asked for when I talked about moving to The D?--those hold true for Seattle, too. If any of my Sea-town compatriots know of any work opportunities, feel free to send me the details. I have a lot more experience and education than I did the last time I lived there, but I'm open to all kinds of stuff, despite having hopes I'll land something in academia and/or the arts--which are my two great loves.
I haven't seen some of you for 13 years now, and I look so forward to picking our threads back up. I also look forward to the smell of Elliott Bay, the abundant opportunities for cuisine and culture, and all of that GREEN. So green. I can smell the Douglas firs as I type this.
See you soon, Emerald City.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Moving to the D.
If you had told me two years ago when I moved to Toledo I would be relocating--by choice--to Detroit, I would have laughed in your face. My intention was to come here simply for grad school; it was to be a life transition and nothing more.
Granted, I have no plans to stay in Toledo. There are some nice things about it, but there simply isn't enough left in this once-grand town to keep me engaged. I had hoped to move back to the west coast (had my eye on going back to Seattle, or maybe the Bay area) after grad school, but quite honestly, I don't have the funds for that. As well, I am truly tired of making the "once-every-few-years" giant move across the U.S., as I've been doing for nearly a decade, now. And finally, I've gotten somewhat accustomed to being on this side of the nation, despite how much I pine for L.A. and Seattle every day. I miss the ocean and the damn near luxury of west coast living, but seasons also appeal to me. I didn't realize how much I had missed that.
This part of America is definitely midwestern, but it is also punctuated by the culture of southern folks who migrated in the early-mid 20th century for blue-collar work, so it feels a bit familiar. The longer I've been here, it seems closer to my own experience than anywhere else I've lived. And although having been exposed to black culture once I moved west, the impression I get here among African-Americans here is that their culture is even more authentic, honest, raw. I like that. It reminds me of my own formative experience, what some refer to as "white trash" or "hill people." Those terms have very negative connotations, and to some degree we Appalachians have earned it. But even though everything about our culture is not always pleasant, one thing is for sure--we are very, very real and to the bone. And I see that among all of the people here--not just blacks. Sometimes the vibe in this part of the world gets a bit too passionate--just like now, when I hear people fighting in my apartment building parking lot, but that's part of the trade-off of being among people who are raw. With great poverty surrounding us and the certainty of bad times ahead, people can get pretty edgy; crazy--and they have no qualms about showing it. That quality of authenticity is something I have always understood, so I tend to value it in others. Sometimes it makes things more difficult because such an approach to life can be overwhelming, intimidating, threatening or simply irritating, but hey--at least you know always know where you are with folks.
Over the last couple of years, I drove into Ann Arbor a few times and really liked it; it seems like the "Boulder of Michigan" to me. I thought it was lovely, but it just didn't seem like somewhere I'd want to consider settling for awhile. But in January I drove up to Detroit and the minute I hit town it was like I'd been there before. It has the dirty/industrial feel of Pittsburgh or Cincinnati, the strip mall/gritty, graffiti-tagged sadness of North Hollywood, and the downtown feel of Cleveland meets Glasgow, Scotland. And of course, the numerous examples of abandonment are visceral. One of the first things I saw when I drove into the city was the old, beaten/shot-up beauty of a once-magnificent train station. Instantly, I was in love.
Everyone who knows me well knows I'm a melancholic. I find beauty in ruin. Hope in devastation. Thus, I couldn't help it; once I was inside Detroit's environs, I instantly wanted to help her. I know people have been attempting to do this since the 60s, and not a lot has changed. I'm not likely to make any tangible difference. But I would like to try.
For the first time in my life I want to get involved in community revitalization efforts instead of continuing to wallow in my own self-pity and existential hand-wringing. There are a lot of people interested in trying to make Detroit a city of note again, and I would like to contribute however I can. And, unlike Toledo (which is the D's little sister, in so many ways), there are many more arts outlets for me to explore--theatre, visual art, dance--and damn, have I missed nourishing that part of myself. Now there are multiple opportunities, not just one or two.
I've got a long-time pal who lives in New York City, and he's convinced I should move there (NYC). He has me pretty convinced he's right. I used to tell myself I'd be too old, but what's too old? Too old to what? I can be 45 and unsuccessful in NYC, or I can be 45 and unsuccessful in Iowa. At least I could enjoy a more vibrant world on the east coast. However, I can't quite move there yet. I don't have the money, and I believe a transition is important for me. I need to get away from school for awhile (I'm pretty burned out, to be honest), do some re-structuring and (hopefully) a little money-saving. What I'm most hoping for is even more growth and discoveries along the way, and I think moving an hour north will kick-start those into motion...
If any of my readers have Detroit connections--contacts, jobs, arts opportunities, arts jobs opportunities--let me know. I have mad skills in many areas, from executive admin to teaching to pet sitting to editing, and now I'll have a decent education to back it up. Any help/advice you care to share will be welcomed and appreciated.
For once in my life, I've finally decided to stop fretting over misplaced or even lost dreams and am willing to cast the net wide to see what I pull up. And I have to say, I'm damned excited about it.
Copyright 2011, Alexandra Scarborough. All rights reserved.
Granted, I have no plans to stay in Toledo. There are some nice things about it, but there simply isn't enough left in this once-grand town to keep me engaged. I had hoped to move back to the west coast (had my eye on going back to Seattle, or maybe the Bay area) after grad school, but quite honestly, I don't have the funds for that. As well, I am truly tired of making the "once-every-few-years" giant move across the U.S., as I've been doing for nearly a decade, now. And finally, I've gotten somewhat accustomed to being on this side of the nation, despite how much I pine for L.A. and Seattle every day. I miss the ocean and the damn near luxury of west coast living, but seasons also appeal to me. I didn't realize how much I had missed that.
This part of America is definitely midwestern, but it is also punctuated by the culture of southern folks who migrated in the early-mid 20th century for blue-collar work, so it feels a bit familiar. The longer I've been here, it seems closer to my own experience than anywhere else I've lived. And although having been exposed to black culture once I moved west, the impression I get here among African-Americans here is that their culture is even more authentic, honest, raw. I like that. It reminds me of my own formative experience, what some refer to as "white trash" or "hill people." Those terms have very negative connotations, and to some degree we Appalachians have earned it. But even though everything about our culture is not always pleasant, one thing is for sure--we are very, very real and to the bone. And I see that among all of the people here--not just blacks. Sometimes the vibe in this part of the world gets a bit too passionate--just like now, when I hear people fighting in my apartment building parking lot, but that's part of the trade-off of being among people who are raw. With great poverty surrounding us and the certainty of bad times ahead, people can get pretty edgy; crazy--and they have no qualms about showing it. That quality of authenticity is something I have always understood, so I tend to value it in others. Sometimes it makes things more difficult because such an approach to life can be overwhelming, intimidating, threatening or simply irritating, but hey--at least you know always know where you are with folks.
Over the last couple of years, I drove into Ann Arbor a few times and really liked it; it seems like the "Boulder of Michigan" to me. I thought it was lovely, but it just didn't seem like somewhere I'd want to consider settling for awhile. But in January I drove up to Detroit and the minute I hit town it was like I'd been there before. It has the dirty/industrial feel of Pittsburgh or Cincinnati, the strip mall/gritty, graffiti-tagged sadness of North Hollywood, and the downtown feel of Cleveland meets Glasgow, Scotland. And of course, the numerous examples of abandonment are visceral. One of the first things I saw when I drove into the city was the old, beaten/shot-up beauty of a once-magnificent train station. Instantly, I was in love.
Everyone who knows me well knows I'm a melancholic. I find beauty in ruin. Hope in devastation. Thus, I couldn't help it; once I was inside Detroit's environs, I instantly wanted to help her. I know people have been attempting to do this since the 60s, and not a lot has changed. I'm not likely to make any tangible difference. But I would like to try.
For the first time in my life I want to get involved in community revitalization efforts instead of continuing to wallow in my own self-pity and existential hand-wringing. There are a lot of people interested in trying to make Detroit a city of note again, and I would like to contribute however I can. And, unlike Toledo (which is the D's little sister, in so many ways), there are many more arts outlets for me to explore--theatre, visual art, dance--and damn, have I missed nourishing that part of myself. Now there are multiple opportunities, not just one or two.
I've got a long-time pal who lives in New York City, and he's convinced I should move there (NYC). He has me pretty convinced he's right. I used to tell myself I'd be too old, but what's too old? Too old to what? I can be 45 and unsuccessful in NYC, or I can be 45 and unsuccessful in Iowa. At least I could enjoy a more vibrant world on the east coast. However, I can't quite move there yet. I don't have the money, and I believe a transition is important for me. I need to get away from school for awhile (I'm pretty burned out, to be honest), do some re-structuring and (hopefully) a little money-saving. What I'm most hoping for is even more growth and discoveries along the way, and I think moving an hour north will kick-start those into motion...
If any of my readers have Detroit connections--contacts, jobs, arts opportunities, arts jobs opportunities--let me know. I have mad skills in many areas, from executive admin to teaching to pet sitting to editing, and now I'll have a decent education to back it up. Any help/advice you care to share will be welcomed and appreciated.
For once in my life, I've finally decided to stop fretting over misplaced or even lost dreams and am willing to cast the net wide to see what I pull up. And I have to say, I'm damned excited about it.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Fallen idol.
I followed the recovery of Mike Starr on Celebrity Rehab, a show I initially thought exploitative, but came to appreciate for its purpose. Sure, much associated with reality TV is exploitative, but I do believe Dr. Drew and company honestly want to heal people. If they're accomplishing such things, why not show it to a mass audience? It might actually push someone into action; to realize his/her own problems with substance abuse. The folks at the Pasadena Recovery Center understand addiction. Many of them are past addicts themselves and they want to guide people into positive change. They hope to facilitate the patients' journey into some sort of normalcy.
On both shows--Celebrity Rehab and Sober House--Mike showed himself to be a complex yet caring man who sincerely wanted to heal. He went through some very rough times (ever see anyone throw up mountains of barf on-screen, folks?) but he always stayed for the next step. He wanted to live, to feel worthy again. Unfortunately, the death of Layne Staley haunted him; it was something he mentioned time and time again during the series. He felt so much guilt for leaving Staley that night--after an argument--never to see him again. When Mike saw Staley's mother for the first time after Layne's death, I really thought that could provide the crux--a turning point for pushing through to sobriety. I was wrong.
Starr showed up on the penultimate episode of Celebrity Rehab 4--along with success stories Mackenzie Phillips and Tom Sizemore--to give support and encouragement to the new group. I was so proud to see him with bright eyes and hope; somehow, he felt like a brother.
For whatever reason, Mike chose to return to drugs. While not ingesting something as harsh as his previous addiction, heroin--I can imagine him reasoning "it's just to help me sleep," or "this is nowhere near the level of smack"--those mind-altering/numbing substances helping him deal with his ongoing existential pain still killed him. I'm not judging him at all; I understand crippling guilt. I just wish he could have held in there--by trying to keep up with his Sober House peers, if nothing else. But the ghosts that had haunted him since 2002 (hell, years before that) wouldn't let go of his psyche.
Truly...rest in peace, Michael Starr. I have no doubt your struggle inspired thousands of people. And although you may have succumbed to the raging and demanding demons of guilt/addiction, you illuminated my own experience. Thank you.
I think the afterlife probably doesn't exist, but if it does, I genuinely hope Mike and Layne are reacquainting themselves and laughing over the inconsequence of this mortal coil.
On both shows--Celebrity Rehab and Sober House--Mike showed himself to be a complex yet caring man who sincerely wanted to heal. He went through some very rough times (ever see anyone throw up mountains of barf on-screen, folks?) but he always stayed for the next step. He wanted to live, to feel worthy again. Unfortunately, the death of Layne Staley haunted him; it was something he mentioned time and time again during the series. He felt so much guilt for leaving Staley that night--after an argument--never to see him again. When Mike saw Staley's mother for the first time after Layne's death, I really thought that could provide the crux--a turning point for pushing through to sobriety. I was wrong.
Starr showed up on the penultimate episode of Celebrity Rehab 4--along with success stories Mackenzie Phillips and Tom Sizemore--to give support and encouragement to the new group. I was so proud to see him with bright eyes and hope; somehow, he felt like a brother.
For whatever reason, Mike chose to return to drugs. While not ingesting something as harsh as his previous addiction, heroin--I can imagine him reasoning "it's just to help me sleep," or "this is nowhere near the level of smack"--those mind-altering/numbing substances helping him deal with his ongoing existential pain still killed him. I'm not judging him at all; I understand crippling guilt. I just wish he could have held in there--by trying to keep up with his Sober House peers, if nothing else. But the ghosts that had haunted him since 2002 (hell, years before that) wouldn't let go of his psyche.
Truly...rest in peace, Michael Starr. I have no doubt your struggle inspired thousands of people. And although you may have succumbed to the raging and demanding demons of guilt/addiction, you illuminated my own experience. Thank you.
I think the afterlife probably doesn't exist, but if it does, I genuinely hope Mike and Layne are reacquainting themselves and laughing over the inconsequence of this mortal coil.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Unfinished business.
Everything we build up, achieve, hope for will eventually degrade, stop, slip away from us. Once we admit and accept this sobering fact, we might be liberated. We might even begin to enjoy our journey rather than worrying about where it may lead.
Then again, maybe not.
Image copyright 2007, Alexandra Scarborough.
Then again, maybe not.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Awesome vid.
I know Em says this album sucks, but I love this song and video. Dark and brilliant and a commentary on his struggle.
3 A.M.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Now we know...
...why Heather ended up marrying Tommy Lee instead of David Coverdale.
It's all about how you sell it, baby--and Tawny Kitaen she was not. Yikes!
Admittedly, all of it is cheese, but I have to say--despite fast-forwarding in time to learn of Tawny's slip into drug abuse vs. Heather's amazing longevity--at least at the beginning, TK had the upper hand.
It's all about how you sell it, baby--and Tawny Kitaen she was not. Yikes!
Admittedly, all of it is cheese, but I have to say--despite fast-forwarding in time to learn of Tawny's slip into drug abuse vs. Heather's amazing longevity--at least at the beginning, TK had the upper hand.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
More writing
I've been writing a column for the Independent Collegian, the University of Toledo's student paper, for several weeks now. You can access my other columns here, but there is one in particular I'd like to post. It concerns a young UT student who was killed in July. I received a letter of thanks for it this week; it meant so much that something I wrote might have given his family and friends some comfort.
On Roads Not Taken
Friday, August 20, 2010
I think...
...this is quite possibly one of the most beautiful videos I've ever watched. It probably helps that I'm from repressed Appalachia/the South. But it's lovely to me.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Revelations
After discussing justice, freedom and human rights this week in my Introduction to Philosophy class, we capped it off by watching an episode of 48 Hours Mystery on the West Memphis Three. I was so pleased to experience thoughtful excellent class response and comments, especially given that today was particularly challenging, as I lectured on just war theory and terrorism...a student in my class was involved in the whole Guantanamo Bay affair, so I felt an impulse to tread lightly. Nevertheless, I got all sides out there, and he didn't respond negatively. It probably helps that he and I have already spoken privately and candidly about his experiences.
Dialogue, different perspectives, seeing things from the other side--that's what this whole philosophy thing is about for me. I'm so glad I chose it!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Jeez. Back in the old days...
...they really knew how to take care of a gal's unpredictable emotions. All she had to do was visit her local doctor for some "water therapy" or "massage."
Nowadays, I have to call an escort for such premium services.
Sears and Roebuck, you have become SO square.
Better go, I feel my uterus floating around. It will soon be up to my neck, and I've got Marco's number on speed dial...
Female Hysteria
Nowadays, I have to call an escort for such premium services.
Sears and Roebuck, you have become SO square.
Better go, I feel my uterus floating around. It will soon be up to my neck, and I've got Marco's number on speed dial...
Monday, June 21, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Nothing more needs be said...
...as the title on MadonnaNation says it all: "Madonna strokes her pussy for Dolce and Gabbana."
That's my girl! :)
That's my girl! :)
Monday, May 31, 2010
How'd I Get 10 Followers?
Cool, and I don't even know 90% of you, but I love you all!
I'm active again on Flickr, after a bit of a hiatus. View here.
I'm active again on Flickr, after a bit of a hiatus. View here.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
A Wee Bit o' Writing
In addition to the large paper required for my Aesthetics class this past semester, we were required to turn in several less formal, "experiential" mini-papers--assessments of art we experienced, to be considered through the lens of the material we read for class. Although I would guess many of you haven't read Suzanne Langer's Feeling and Form or John Dewey's Art as Experience, I thought you might enjoy reading my thoughts on a couple of art forms I had the pleasure of witnessing. I'm leaving out the endnote references, because I'm not sure how to format them--just know they were there in the actual works. In regard to the Ferguson paper, it is the first time I've ever used the word "balls" in an academic paper. So liberating!
-----
Craig Ferguson
These days, Scottish-born comedian and actor Craig Ferguson is a household name in America. This is due to his five-nights-a-week program, The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, which follows The Late Show with David Letterman on CBS. Prior to his success as a variety/talk show host, he was best known for his portrayal as Nigel Wick on the long-running The Drew Carey Show; before that, as a mid-90s staple on the international comedy circuit, having had a career boost after the success of his BBC television show The Ferguson Theory.
Building upon his great success as a performer, Ferguson has tried his hand at writing and directing several films (The Big Tease, I’ll Be There), but more recently he has delved into literature. His debut novel Between the Bridge and the River is a funny and surprisingly poignant read. More recently, he released an autobiography (American on Purpose: The Improbable Adventures of an Unlikely Patriot) which details growing up and coming of age in Glasgow, his wild adventures as an artist, and his battles with addiction. Ferguson remains rooted in his Scottish heritage, but recently became an American citizen and details that process in his book, as well. Currently, he is touring the U.S. with his comedy act, and I recently attended his show at Playhouse Square in Cleveland.
One thing I have always enjoyed about Ferguson is his unusual approach to his art, whether as performer or writer. I find myself drawn to artists who choose subversive subject matter and who make unique or bold choices, in whatever medium they may specialize. For instance, one of Ferguson’s signature bits on The Late Late Show is to start his opening monologue before the title credits or show song, and he often does it with hand puppets, off-camera or in extreme close-up. His zaniness is a fresh approach to the tired and typical Leno/Letterman introductory style. Thus, I was not disappointed when Ferguson’s show began just as unusually with one of the recurring characters from his show—a tiny man, clad in leather shorts, chest harness and hat—skipping across the stage, playing a flute. Another show regular emerged playing the saxophone, and soon, Ferguson himself bounded out, dancing and lip-syncing along with an opening song. From that point on, the show featured an assault of witty observations, filthy commentary and improvised moments of response to a certain woman who kept shouting out non-sequiturs from the audience. Beyond my personal enjoyment of his show, something of particular interest to me—given what we have been studying in class—was how Ferguson always managed to tie every bit, scripted or not, back into his own experience of life. For example, when his set first began, the aforementioned woman yelled, “I love you!” Ferguson replied, “Yes, well, you say that now, then you take all my money.” It elicited a huge response from the audience, as most of us are familiar with his multiple attempts at marriage. Perhaps such an incorporation is not exactly what Dewey had in mind when he discussed “restoring continuity,” but it seems relevant to me.
Relationships, sex and marriage were big topics of the night (though admittedly, that is true of most stand-up comedy). When describing his taste in women, Ferguson said, “I prefer ladies with a little meat on them…you know why? Because I’m a heterosexual.” He later mused on why he has a particular preference for women with larger behinds: “In Scotland, we had no Playboy to look at, only the models in Sears catalog. You remember the kind…in the really big underwear and girdles, standing beside a tractor, holding a sheep or something? All of us boys would gather round, saying, ‘Wow, look at the eyebrow on that one!’”
Later, he described his frustration with young comics who drive him crazy by performing their act “holding onto to their balls, while they say, ‘Have you ever noticed how some things are like other things?’ No, I haven’t! I’m 47, I’ve been married three times, my balls nearly touch my ankles when I get up…I don’t notice how some things are like other things!” He followed that up with, “It’s true; my balls are leaving me, slowly. Sometimes I think I’m being followed by two little hamsters.” Ferguson simulated walking like an old man, looking behind him for the offending critters. He then glanced at the audience and quipped, “but I’m ahead of them, so I’m winning.”
Ferguson went on to discuss topics as varied as celebrity scandals, addiction, Scots’ discomfort discussing anything regarding sex, the odd way Yankees talk, and the Pope’s choice of head and footwear (which, according to the comic, had “PO” and “PE” inscribed on either shoe). But as with the earlier example, he always related each topic back to his own experience as a host, comedian, husband, father or Scotsman. It was fun to watch the masterful way he wove his narrative together.
Given Langer’s thoughts on wit and comedy in Feeling and Form, it would be interesting to hear her perspective on a performance such as Ferguson’s. Aside from my guessing she would be shocked by the ribald subject matter (unless of course, she was exposed to Lenny Bruce or Richard Pryor a good deal before her death—which I doubt), I think she could find places where her theories might be reflected in Ferguson’s show. For instance, in the bit where Ferguson is lamenting the aging/sagging of his testicles can be found a celebration, as well—Ferguson’s particular brand of “antagonist of the world.” As a man, in finding one of the bits of himself that makes him a man now “leaving,” he finds humor and triumph in the experience, instead of fatalism (albeit, all the while understanding it is a false triumph). In relating such ideas—silly as they may be—to a large audience, he creates a sense of community, not only by making himself the target of vulnerability and ridicule, but also by communicating a concept that all humans have to deal with—getting older.
Certainly, the physicality that was expressed by Ferguson all throughout the set (there was unrelenting movement; it was a very kinetic performance), could be tied into Langer’s concepts of dance as communicative mechanism. He did literally dance at the end, to Britney Spears’ “Oops, I Did It Again.” Granted, it was supposed to be funny, but the performance was carefully choreographed and was added at the end to show Ferguson’s commitment to entertaining his audience. Langer would likely find no merit in his motivations if they were only concerned with entertainment, but given the subject matter and style of his show, the song and dance number at the end served as a punctuator for Ferguson’s approach to all of his art—as “Cheeky Monkey”; a bringer of burlesque; a filthy word followed up by an astute and intelligent observation. Even if Langer found his act complete tripe, I would venture to say she would have a wonderful time taking it all apart. I certainly did.
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Imagining Medea—Creative Performance/Creative Survival workshop
Actress/activist Rhodessa Jones is a force of nature. Her performance style, attitude, exuberance and agility belie the 61 years that have come and gone since she has been walking the earth. Two and a half hours after meeting her, I felt I could tell her my deepest secrets and would not be judged for them. As well, I was convinced she could help anyone exorcise his or her personal demons.
Jones and longtime artistic partner Idris Ackamoor run a theatre called Cultural Odyssey in San Francisco, California. They have collaborated on numerous projects, all of which emphasize the importance of diversity and culture in art. The enterprise that brought them to the University of Toledo is called “The Medea Project: Theater for Incarcerated Women.” Jones and Ackamoor offered a cross-disciplinary, three-day event of workshop, lecture and performance, to promote the success of this amazing and transformative endeavor. Being a former professional actress and someone who has always been interested in the philosophical ramifications of punishment and imprisonment, I felt it necessary to see what these artists had to offer.
The audience filed into Studio A in the Center for Performing Arts building as Jones and Ackamoor were doing physical warm-ups. The stage was bare, save for two heavily used (and possibly, in the case of one, kicked in) full-length mirrors on either side. Jones and Ackamoor split up, and each moved to the catwalks above our heads. Jones began an impressionistic song with movement that echoed the spirituals of the American south combined with the lamenting wails of a woman in anguish; a mother being arrested. Ackamoor accompanied her by making unusual sounds through his saxophone and banging on the rails of the catwalks, bringing to mind the image of tin cups being clanged against jail house bars. The two eventually came back together in the center of the playing area, where Ackamoor took over, presenting a combination of sing-a-long, sax accompaniment and tap dancing. The audience was reticent about joining him in the sing-a-long—as the rhythm was complex—but being the unabashed improviser that I am, I barreled ahead, perhaps convincing everyone else to join in. The energy again shifted; now we were back to focusing on Jones as she rapped/spoke over Ackamoor’s distinct skills on sax and percussion. With intensity and physicality, she shared a multi-layered narrative of a mother who was dealing with an abusive husband and father; a man who held her at gunpoint in front of her children. Before I knew it, I was completely engaged in the story and the storytelling; the telltale sign being I had moved to the front of my chair and was leaning forward in anticipation.
After the performance piece, Jones and Ackamoor sat down for a question and answer session, informing us of their work with the incarcerated. Their stories of bringing art into the prison system were fascinating. They described the hurdles they had to overcome (such as getting official permissions and breaking down personal barriers with prisoners) in order to bring forth their message of empowerment. Jones mentioned how sharing her own difficult experience of having a child at sixteen often helps break down walls with female prisoners, allowing her to move forward with them by encouraging them to tell their own stories through performance. Ackamoor related their recent trip to South Africa, where the females incarcerated at Sun City are allowed to keep their children with them until they are adoptable, reflecting the many differences between countries’ attitudes toward the imprisoned.
Following the Q&A, we in the audience joined Jones and Ackamoor in exercises and games they use with prisoners to foster collective engagement and community. I have not had so much fun engaging in the spirit of play since I worked with a professional improvisation troupe in Seattle, where incidentally, some of my best artistic work has materialized. There is something significant about the process of being thrown into a situation with strangers; it lends itself either to sheer panic or creative release.
Jones and Ackamoor’s demonstration of their work in the arts with the marginalized and forgotten was inspiring. The people they work with often come to prison having emerged from a long cycle of abuse and lawlessness; many times it becomes clear through their own work that what they were always looking for was to simply be heard. In this way, the artists’ project echoes perfectly some of John Dewey’s musings on art. While he does not address this form of expression directly (I doubt anything of the sort was in place during the era he was writing on aesthetics), he does discuss how the early Greeks viewed art as a form of “mimesis” (imitation, mimicry). Art became culturally significant for the Greeks because they reenacted stories from their culture as a way of imparting lessons; recreating experience to inform. What Jones and Ackamoor displayed in their short performance was exactly that: an all-too-familiar narrative of those who are trapped in a cycle of pain and criminality. By being given the opportunity to express themselves artistically, prisoners can engage in the “necessary part of humanity” that has been stripped from them. Whether the prisoners’ stories end up as an expression of lament, regret, injustice, or fear (or some combination of all), engaging in such a release of their experience through art gives them a sense of self-worth and purpose. Ultimately, the prisoners are doing art for themselves, but they do have the opportunity to perform in an organized show for the public in downtown San Francisco. Apparently, these performances always have sell-out crowds, as audiences are interested in understanding the human condition as experienced by those behind bars.
Dewey was paraphrased in our class as saying, “Living has to have some kind of artistic component. It’s a particular human need.” Through their Medea Project, Jones and Ackamoor give that very component back to the incarcerated, ultimately fostering understanding and appreciation among our human culture. Such a valuable project helps break down the barriers of misconception between those who are physically imprisoned, and those who are not.
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Craig Ferguson
These days, Scottish-born comedian and actor Craig Ferguson is a household name in America. This is due to his five-nights-a-week program, The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, which follows The Late Show with David Letterman on CBS. Prior to his success as a variety/talk show host, he was best known for his portrayal as Nigel Wick on the long-running The Drew Carey Show; before that, as a mid-90s staple on the international comedy circuit, having had a career boost after the success of his BBC television show The Ferguson Theory.
Building upon his great success as a performer, Ferguson has tried his hand at writing and directing several films (The Big Tease, I’ll Be There), but more recently he has delved into literature. His debut novel Between the Bridge and the River is a funny and surprisingly poignant read. More recently, he released an autobiography (American on Purpose: The Improbable Adventures of an Unlikely Patriot) which details growing up and coming of age in Glasgow, his wild adventures as an artist, and his battles with addiction. Ferguson remains rooted in his Scottish heritage, but recently became an American citizen and details that process in his book, as well. Currently, he is touring the U.S. with his comedy act, and I recently attended his show at Playhouse Square in Cleveland.
One thing I have always enjoyed about Ferguson is his unusual approach to his art, whether as performer or writer. I find myself drawn to artists who choose subversive subject matter and who make unique or bold choices, in whatever medium they may specialize. For instance, one of Ferguson’s signature bits on The Late Late Show is to start his opening monologue before the title credits or show song, and he often does it with hand puppets, off-camera or in extreme close-up. His zaniness is a fresh approach to the tired and typical Leno/Letterman introductory style. Thus, I was not disappointed when Ferguson’s show began just as unusually with one of the recurring characters from his show—a tiny man, clad in leather shorts, chest harness and hat—skipping across the stage, playing a flute. Another show regular emerged playing the saxophone, and soon, Ferguson himself bounded out, dancing and lip-syncing along with an opening song. From that point on, the show featured an assault of witty observations, filthy commentary and improvised moments of response to a certain woman who kept shouting out non-sequiturs from the audience. Beyond my personal enjoyment of his show, something of particular interest to me—given what we have been studying in class—was how Ferguson always managed to tie every bit, scripted or not, back into his own experience of life. For example, when his set first began, the aforementioned woman yelled, “I love you!” Ferguson replied, “Yes, well, you say that now, then you take all my money.” It elicited a huge response from the audience, as most of us are familiar with his multiple attempts at marriage. Perhaps such an incorporation is not exactly what Dewey had in mind when he discussed “restoring continuity,” but it seems relevant to me.
Relationships, sex and marriage were big topics of the night (though admittedly, that is true of most stand-up comedy). When describing his taste in women, Ferguson said, “I prefer ladies with a little meat on them…you know why? Because I’m a heterosexual.” He later mused on why he has a particular preference for women with larger behinds: “In Scotland, we had no Playboy to look at, only the models in Sears catalog. You remember the kind…in the really big underwear and girdles, standing beside a tractor, holding a sheep or something? All of us boys would gather round, saying, ‘Wow, look at the eyebrow on that one!’”
Later, he described his frustration with young comics who drive him crazy by performing their act “holding onto to their balls, while they say, ‘Have you ever noticed how some things are like other things?’ No, I haven’t! I’m 47, I’ve been married three times, my balls nearly touch my ankles when I get up…I don’t notice how some things are like other things!” He followed that up with, “It’s true; my balls are leaving me, slowly. Sometimes I think I’m being followed by two little hamsters.” Ferguson simulated walking like an old man, looking behind him for the offending critters. He then glanced at the audience and quipped, “but I’m ahead of them, so I’m winning.”
Ferguson went on to discuss topics as varied as celebrity scandals, addiction, Scots’ discomfort discussing anything regarding sex, the odd way Yankees talk, and the Pope’s choice of head and footwear (which, according to the comic, had “PO” and “PE” inscribed on either shoe). But as with the earlier example, he always related each topic back to his own experience as a host, comedian, husband, father or Scotsman. It was fun to watch the masterful way he wove his narrative together.
Given Langer’s thoughts on wit and comedy in Feeling and Form, it would be interesting to hear her perspective on a performance such as Ferguson’s. Aside from my guessing she would be shocked by the ribald subject matter (unless of course, she was exposed to Lenny Bruce or Richard Pryor a good deal before her death—which I doubt), I think she could find places where her theories might be reflected in Ferguson’s show. For instance, in the bit where Ferguson is lamenting the aging/sagging of his testicles can be found a celebration, as well—Ferguson’s particular brand of “antagonist of the world.” As a man, in finding one of the bits of himself that makes him a man now “leaving,” he finds humor and triumph in the experience, instead of fatalism (albeit, all the while understanding it is a false triumph). In relating such ideas—silly as they may be—to a large audience, he creates a sense of community, not only by making himself the target of vulnerability and ridicule, but also by communicating a concept that all humans have to deal with—getting older.
Certainly, the physicality that was expressed by Ferguson all throughout the set (there was unrelenting movement; it was a very kinetic performance), could be tied into Langer’s concepts of dance as communicative mechanism. He did literally dance at the end, to Britney Spears’ “Oops, I Did It Again.” Granted, it was supposed to be funny, but the performance was carefully choreographed and was added at the end to show Ferguson’s commitment to entertaining his audience. Langer would likely find no merit in his motivations if they were only concerned with entertainment, but given the subject matter and style of his show, the song and dance number at the end served as a punctuator for Ferguson’s approach to all of his art—as “Cheeky Monkey”; a bringer of burlesque; a filthy word followed up by an astute and intelligent observation. Even if Langer found his act complete tripe, I would venture to say she would have a wonderful time taking it all apart. I certainly did.
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Imagining Medea—Creative Performance/Creative Survival workshop
Actress/activist Rhodessa Jones is a force of nature. Her performance style, attitude, exuberance and agility belie the 61 years that have come and gone since she has been walking the earth. Two and a half hours after meeting her, I felt I could tell her my deepest secrets and would not be judged for them. As well, I was convinced she could help anyone exorcise his or her personal demons.
Jones and longtime artistic partner Idris Ackamoor run a theatre called Cultural Odyssey in San Francisco, California. They have collaborated on numerous projects, all of which emphasize the importance of diversity and culture in art. The enterprise that brought them to the University of Toledo is called “The Medea Project: Theater for Incarcerated Women.” Jones and Ackamoor offered a cross-disciplinary, three-day event of workshop, lecture and performance, to promote the success of this amazing and transformative endeavor. Being a former professional actress and someone who has always been interested in the philosophical ramifications of punishment and imprisonment, I felt it necessary to see what these artists had to offer.
The audience filed into Studio A in the Center for Performing Arts building as Jones and Ackamoor were doing physical warm-ups. The stage was bare, save for two heavily used (and possibly, in the case of one, kicked in) full-length mirrors on either side. Jones and Ackamoor split up, and each moved to the catwalks above our heads. Jones began an impressionistic song with movement that echoed the spirituals of the American south combined with the lamenting wails of a woman in anguish; a mother being arrested. Ackamoor accompanied her by making unusual sounds through his saxophone and banging on the rails of the catwalks, bringing to mind the image of tin cups being clanged against jail house bars. The two eventually came back together in the center of the playing area, where Ackamoor took over, presenting a combination of sing-a-long, sax accompaniment and tap dancing. The audience was reticent about joining him in the sing-a-long—as the rhythm was complex—but being the unabashed improviser that I am, I barreled ahead, perhaps convincing everyone else to join in. The energy again shifted; now we were back to focusing on Jones as she rapped/spoke over Ackamoor’s distinct skills on sax and percussion. With intensity and physicality, she shared a multi-layered narrative of a mother who was dealing with an abusive husband and father; a man who held her at gunpoint in front of her children. Before I knew it, I was completely engaged in the story and the storytelling; the telltale sign being I had moved to the front of my chair and was leaning forward in anticipation.
After the performance piece, Jones and Ackamoor sat down for a question and answer session, informing us of their work with the incarcerated. Their stories of bringing art into the prison system were fascinating. They described the hurdles they had to overcome (such as getting official permissions and breaking down personal barriers with prisoners) in order to bring forth their message of empowerment. Jones mentioned how sharing her own difficult experience of having a child at sixteen often helps break down walls with female prisoners, allowing her to move forward with them by encouraging them to tell their own stories through performance. Ackamoor related their recent trip to South Africa, where the females incarcerated at Sun City are allowed to keep their children with them until they are adoptable, reflecting the many differences between countries’ attitudes toward the imprisoned.
Following the Q&A, we in the audience joined Jones and Ackamoor in exercises and games they use with prisoners to foster collective engagement and community. I have not had so much fun engaging in the spirit of play since I worked with a professional improvisation troupe in Seattle, where incidentally, some of my best artistic work has materialized. There is something significant about the process of being thrown into a situation with strangers; it lends itself either to sheer panic or creative release.
Jones and Ackamoor’s demonstration of their work in the arts with the marginalized and forgotten was inspiring. The people they work with often come to prison having emerged from a long cycle of abuse and lawlessness; many times it becomes clear through their own work that what they were always looking for was to simply be heard. In this way, the artists’ project echoes perfectly some of John Dewey’s musings on art. While he does not address this form of expression directly (I doubt anything of the sort was in place during the era he was writing on aesthetics), he does discuss how the early Greeks viewed art as a form of “mimesis” (imitation, mimicry). Art became culturally significant for the Greeks because they reenacted stories from their culture as a way of imparting lessons; recreating experience to inform. What Jones and Ackamoor displayed in their short performance was exactly that: an all-too-familiar narrative of those who are trapped in a cycle of pain and criminality. By being given the opportunity to express themselves artistically, prisoners can engage in the “necessary part of humanity” that has been stripped from them. Whether the prisoners’ stories end up as an expression of lament, regret, injustice, or fear (or some combination of all), engaging in such a release of their experience through art gives them a sense of self-worth and purpose. Ultimately, the prisoners are doing art for themselves, but they do have the opportunity to perform in an organized show for the public in downtown San Francisco. Apparently, these performances always have sell-out crowds, as audiences are interested in understanding the human condition as experienced by those behind bars.
Dewey was paraphrased in our class as saying, “Living has to have some kind of artistic component. It’s a particular human need.” Through their Medea Project, Jones and Ackamoor give that very component back to the incarcerated, ultimately fostering understanding and appreciation among our human culture. Such a valuable project helps break down the barriers of misconception between those who are physically imprisoned, and those who are not.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Coming soon to a blog near you!!!
This thing's gettin' an overhaul.
First, I must say (as I've said recently), I've gotten profoundly lazy with updates. The slide in number of posts from 2007 to now is significant. Hell, before I hopped over to Blogger and was simply posting to my Topcities page, I kept up better than this! Yes, I've been in school and have been incredibly busy these last couple of years, but I find time to post all sorts of silliness to Facebook--so why not parse out a little of that goof-off activity to share my musings on my old (10+ years) friend "Commentary"?
Mostly because the presentation, the angle, the purpose...was starting to feel stale.
So, I'm going to reframe it. Soon. With a new layout. Content. Title!
Just you wait. School's out in a few weeks, and then you'll see...
First, I must say (as I've said recently), I've gotten profoundly lazy with updates. The slide in number of posts from 2007 to now is significant. Hell, before I hopped over to Blogger and was simply posting to my Topcities page, I kept up better than this! Yes, I've been in school and have been incredibly busy these last couple of years, but I find time to post all sorts of silliness to Facebook--so why not parse out a little of that goof-off activity to share my musings on my old (10+ years) friend "Commentary"?
Mostly because the presentation, the angle, the purpose...was starting to feel stale.
So, I'm going to reframe it. Soon. With a new layout. Content. Title!
Just you wait. School's out in a few weeks, and then you'll see...
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