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The courage to be earnest

When Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah was growing up in Spring Valley, New York, he didn’t realize writing was a career path. He felt drawn toward the art, even though he was unaware that “actual human beings” composed Harry Potter books, science-fiction, and the fantasy works and anime he enjoyed.

“I didn’t come from a place where I saw writers in the flesh. I didn’t think of it as a possibility until I went to college,” Adjei-Brenyah says. “In college, I started realizing that this is doable.”

Last October, Adjei-Brenyah released Friday Black, his debut collection of short stories. In just four months, the book received critical acclaim from The Washington Post, The New York Times, The Guardian, and more. Adjei-Brenyah’s work also landed him on the National Book Foundation’s annual “5 under 35” list, and on longlists for the Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Fiction and Nonfiction and the Dylan Thomas Prize.

As the Times’ review notes, Friday Black is “not an easy read.” The collection explores complex topics that Adjei-Brenyah feels compelled to address: consumerism, the criminal justice system, and race and prejudice in the United States. Creating the book felt deeply personal to him, though he didn’t hesitate to break from reality. It’s “dark” and it’s “tough,” Adjei-Brenyah says of his themes.

In spite of Friday Black’s intensity, Adjei-Brenyah wants readers to feel lightness—to “exist without hopelessness” in a world filled with terrors. Without hope, he says, there is only inaction. “For me, writing is like gathering the courage to be earnest. I try to avoid cynicism and be unflinching if I can,” he says.

In his short stories, he achieves this through endless revisions and revisiting. He initially struggled with finding his voice, and it sometimes took him hours to write a handful of sentences. “I tried to chase [ideas] to get something out of [them]. More often than not I’d get something terrible or nothing. Sometimes something sticks,” he says. “Revise, revise, revise, and sometimes you get something good.”

With Friday Black, Adjei-Brenyah has clearly ended up with something good, and he says he feels “lucky to be one of the people who gets to say something.”

“My high school was predominantly underrepresented minorities,” says Adjei-Brenyah. “Publishing is homogeneous and there hasn’t been a lot of minorities. …Growing up, I liked the idea of being an author that someday some kids get to see.”

Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah will read excerpts from his debut short story collection Friday Black on March 22 at Common House.

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Comedian Hannibal Buress on the business of being funny

Since Hannibal Buress began his comedy career in 2002, he has hit screens in a variety of ways—from the series “Broad City” to the films The Secret Life of Pets, Tag, Blockers, Baywatch, and Daddy’s Home.

Though Buress is booking big gigs and taking his stand-up tour nationwide, he’s unsure about fame. Even his bio jokes about his “mild” popularity.

In his Netflix special “Comedy Camisado,” Buress berates the media, police, and a hotel receptionist who doesn’t believe his identity. Last summer, he hired a double who arguably looks nothing like him to stand in during the Spider-Man: Homecoming premiere. Though the lights have been bright on Buress recently, his comedy is down-to-earth and celebrates the mundane, absurd, and everyday life stuff to which we all can relate.

C-VILLE: What was your first stand-up performance like?

HB: It was an open mic in Carbondale, Illinois. I went to one and watched a friend perform and kind of saw the open mic stage demystified. Anybody could get up. It made it so I could at least try it in a low stakes environment. I tried it out, had fun with it, and kept going from there.

You mentioned that a lot of your stand-up material is based on your life. Anything that’s happened recently that you’ve been noodling over?

Parking garages. The ones that make you get a ticket and then say, “Hey, before you go back to your car, please pay at machine.” You can pay at exit, too, when you’re driving out. [Laughing.] They make it seem like you can’t, but you always can.

That bothers me. [Laughs.] You always can. I guess it’s for speed purposes. They don’t even have it in small print. “We also make it very easy for you to pay at exit.” They say you must pay at machine before you go back to your car. It’s like, “You know I don’t have to!”

In “Comedy Camisado,” you talk about a police officer “fangirling” over you. Have you ever had a fangirl moment?

That bit was about my conflict in thinking about police brutality and what energy you put on that job. You don’t know if someone is a good person if you meet them on the street. Depending on where the job is, I get uncomfortable if a cashier asks me to take a picture. [Laughing.]

The other day I was voting and was in the booth for a while. A bunch of different judges in Chicago are up for re-election, so I was Googling them. I was in the booth for a half hour. I wasn’t in my normal mental state when I stepped out.[A woman taking my ballot asked] “Can I get picture?” I said “No.” In that moment that was the last thing I was thinking about. I was researching judges! …Anywhere else I would have been fine with it. I felt bad about the way I said it. I was just there doing my civic duty like everybody else.

If you were that lady at Lovett School in Chicago, and you so happen to be angry Googling me since that moment, I apologize for my tone. But I don’t apologize for not taking a photo with you.

A recent New York Times article discussed your “prickly” relationship with the press. Is that how you’d describe the relationship?

No. I don’t know if it’s prickly. I’m just in several years of doing a lot of media. A lot of it isn’t rocket science. You know there are patterns, techniques, and strategies. Sometimes people lead you to a certain subject. …Make certain things be the headline to get more traffic, even if that was a small part of the interview. After doing hundreds of interviews I’ve been misquoted before. That’s part of the job. I don’t begrudge anybody.

Tell me about your body double at the Spider-Man: Homecoming premiere.

[Laughs, a lot.] I thought you were going to ask me about my body. I was about to say I’ve been working out. I’ll tell you about my body. I went to Thailand and got in the best shape of my life. I won’t say it all fell apart. I went out there to reset after a bunch of press in May and June.

But I can talk about the body double. I was filming Tag in Atlanta when the Spider-Man premiere happened. Everybody thought I didn’t want to go. I was on set in Atlanta.

There was a lot of downtime that day, so I was able to put this together. [Laughs] That’s how boring movie sets can be sometimes. You have enough time to put out an ad, respond, book the person, and get the info. Yeah, movie sets can be slow motion.

It was so fun because I remember watching him on Instagram live. It was really exciting, like Avatar or something. …I was laughing really hard. It was gratifying seeing fun ideas come together, really dope. I have to figure out more fun stuff like that.

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YOU Issue: Charlottesville Threshold Singers soothe with bedside harmonies

“The Charlottesville Threshold Singers have been singing to hospice patients and others in need of comfort and peace for more than a dozen years.”—Lynn Pribus

It wasn’t easy for Lynn Pribus to move from California to Charlottesville 11 years ago, despite being closer to her children and grandchildren. She missed writing for the Sacramento Bee, and the artistic community she’d been a part of while living in Sacramento for 25 years. Almost immediately upon arrival, Pribus saw an ad for the Charlottesville Threshold Singers in a Nellysford publication, and just one week after her cross-country move, she attended her first rehearsal with the group.

“I felt a great sense of harmony,” Pribus remembers. “Not just in the music and the harmonies we sing, which are often very rich. There was a harmony among the women members. I immediately felt at home.”

In 2000, Kate Munger founded the first Threshold Choir in El Cerrito, California, in hope of providing comfort to individuals “on the threshold” between life and death. Several members of Charlottesville Women’s Choir met Munger in 2006 at a Sister Singers Network festival in San Diego, and three months later, the Charlottesville chapter of the Threshold Choir was born.

Earlier this year, the all-volunteer singing group changed its name to the Threshold Singers. Pribus says the title change brings less religious imagery to mind.

“Our members are Jewish, Christian, and some not anything at all,” she says. “Some are longtime married, some are divorced, and some are single. We’re gay and straight. All you have to do is sing and care.”

The group sings as a free service at hospitals, nursing homes, or private residences, and also for residents of long-term care facilities like Cedars Healthcare Center, where they rehearse. When the singers gather at a person’s deathbed, they sing slowly and softly, and the songs are usually unfamiliar to listeners, with two or three lines of verse repeated.

Pribus says this gentle repetition transforms the song into a mantra. In one of the group’s lullaby-like serenades, singers recite, “We’re all just walking each other home.” In another—Pribus’ current favorite—the lyrics read, “In the quiet of this moment, I am at peace. / All is well.”

“I like that feeling of all is well, even when a person is very near death,” says Pribus. She tells a story of singing three times for one elderly man in the hospital.

“The second time we sang for him, he was restless, unresponsive, and seemed to not be hearing much,” Pribus recalls. When the singers returned for their next visit, someone asked if he’d like the women to sing for him again.

“He very clearly said, ‘Yes’,” Pribus remembers. “You could see him calming down. He drifted off to sleep. It was two days before he died.”

Pribus often sees friends, family, nurses, and doctors finding solace while the group sings for a patient. At a recent event in Alexandria that celebrated caregivers, she says many of the nurses and other caregivers in the room started crying.

“So often, what they give isn’t recognized. It becomes a part of who you are and what you do,” says Pribus.

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Not waiting for it: Comedian Ashley Gavin stands up for diversity and vulnerability

When New York-based comedian and actress Ashley Gavin met Jerry Seinfeld, she asked him when he last bombed a show. Seinfeld’s answer? “At a party last New Year’s Eve.”

“I bombed a show last week. Everybody bombs,” Gavin says. “People think it stops happening.”

She feels less likely to fall flat when performing stand-up comedy than improv. For Gavin, stand-up offers fewer logistical barriers, it’s easier to practice, and there’s no one to blame but yourself if you fail. That’s why five years ago, she left Upright Citizens Brigade—the sketch comedy group whose original cast included Amy Poehler and Matt Walsh, among others—to pursue her stand-up, acting, and writing career.

Before joining the Brigade, Gavin studied computer science at Bryn Mawr College in Pennsylvania. After graduating, she designed and taught a computer programming course at the nonprofit Girls Who Code, partnered on a project with Google, and worked at a another tech company. While Gavin calls her tech experience “really fun,” she says it’s not funny, so audiences at her shows don’t hear much about her early professional pursuits.

Gavin delivered her first stand-up routine during an open mic night at The Lantern in New York City. It went so well that once she finished, she remembers thinking, “Oh. This is what I should be doing.” The performance launched a flourishing career. She’s on the heels of a recent sold-out show at the Times Square comedy club Carolines on Broadway, and her current tour takes her up and down the East and West coasts, headlining at colleges and clubs nationwide.

Gavin is also working on a movie script, and her online miniseries, “Gay Girl Straight Girl,” has received over 400,000 views on YouTube. The show provides an absurd yet realistic representation of the dynamic between two female friends with different sexual orientations. In episode two, “Gay Girl Teaches Straight Girl How to Work Out,” Gay Girl (Gavin) takes a reluctant Straight Girl (Gavin’s writing partner Lee Hurst) on a run. Straight Girl, wearing a “Resting Brunch Face” shirt, doesn’t fare well on Gay Girl’s athletic regimen.

Gavin performs on November 17 at the Paramount, as part of the eighth annual United Nations of Comedy Tour along with comedians Mike Recine, Antoine Scott, and Funnyman Skiba. So what might you hear at her show?

“A lot of stuff on feminism. That’s my most-covered thing. There will be some stuff on my being gay, some stuff on race and class,” Gavin says. “I’m offering my unique perspective on topics that have been talked about thousands of times. Like Oreos.”

Lately, Gavin likes to talk about the “deeply emotional” aspects of daily life—like her dad dying when she was a child, the ups and downs of her career, and a recent terrible breakup.

“They’re dark, but I think about those things as weird social commentary. We all have those things in common. I don’t think we talk about those things very often and in public,” says Gavin.

Gavin’s sexuality is another aspect of her identity that she feels gets caught in a cycle of receiving too much or too little attention. As a gay female, it’s been difficult for her to book acting spots. She must choose whether she wants to be “flamboyantly gay,” or totally avoid the topic.

“I’m not visually gay enough to play a gay woman on TV,” Gavin says. “In auditions where I play a woman in a young [heterosexual] couple, or a mom, I have a tell. The only roles I ever land are ones where sexuality is totally not present.” And Gavin says that’s difficult, because, “People don’t realize how present sexuality is. If you look at any commercial ever, it’s there.”

Gavin’s routine doesn’t focus entirely on her sexuality. The jokes that explore her experience as a gay woman take place during her routine’s first few minutes, to “get them out of the way,” Gavin says. But even a short bit creates challenges.

“I could do a joke about loving Oreos and it could become a joke about how gay people love Oreos,” says Gavin. “Not being a straight white male, my jokes are filtered through the thoughts that other people have.”

She is especially frustrated by the cycle movie studios create when they hire heterosexual and cisgender big-name actors and actresses to play LGBTQ+ roles in order to draw crowds.

“There are no gay actors in that category because there are so few roles for gay people. Those parts simply don’t exist for gay actors in a truly significant way,” Gavin says. “How could those gay actors ever get to the point where they’re taken seriously for an Oscar film about being gay?” Despite the hurdles, she’ll continue to push against the stigmas and typecasting. It’s another facet in Gavin’s career where she is not afraid to fall flat.


New York-based comedian and actress Ashley Gavin performs at the Paramount as part of the United Nations of Comedy Tour on November 17.

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Breaking point: Approaching 50 years, Leonard Bernstein’s Mass remains relevant

Half of the people are stoned / and the other half are waiting for the next election. / Half the people are drowned / and the other half are swimming in the wrong direction.”

This quatrain may bring a contemporary alternative-rock song or spoken-word critique on the political climate to mind, but it’s actually from a 47-year-old musical theater piece that simultaneously embraces and questions the country’s religious practices and spirituality.

The verse appears in the 15th movement of Leonard Bernstein’s Mass, a 32-movement piece commissioned by Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis for the opening of the John F. Kennedy Center for Performing Arts in 1971. According to a note in its first program, Paul Simon wrote the quatrain and gave it to Bernstein as a Christmas present, even though both men were Jewish.

Bernstein composed the work 14 years after West Side Story, eight years after Kennedy’s assassination, three years after the My Lai massacre in Vietnam claimed thousands of lives, and one year after members of the Ohio National Guard killed four Kent State students protesting the U.S. bombing of Cambodia. The primary role is that of a Catholic priest (the Celebrant), who must face an increasingly aloof and contentious congregation, represented by Bernstein’s Street Chorus. Harkening to traditional themes of Greek theater, Mass tells a story of hubris and an eventual reaffirmation of faith.

“There was a newer distrust of large institutions. It’s a piece that is of its time and ahead of its time,” says Michael Slon, conductor and producer of the regional premiere of Mass at the Paramount on Saturday. The performance is part of a global celebration of the 100th anniversary of Bernstein’s birth.

Slon is director of choral music and an associate music professor at UVA, where he also conducts the University Singers and UVA Chamber Singers, in addition to guest conducting the Charlottesville Symphony and serving as the Oratorio Society’s music director.

During the Paramount performances of Mass, the University Singers share the stage with members of the DMR youth chorus, as well as an ensemble of Charlottesville and UVA student singers performing as the Street Chorus, accompanied by an orchestra and with a dance performance choreographed by Demetia Hopkins-Greene. The massive cast includes more than 150 members.

After writing his dissertation on Mass as well as Bernstein’s Kaddish Symphony and Chichester Psalms, Slon is well-versed in the American musical icon’s productions.

“What Mass attempts to do, on the one hand, is to set up a structure of belief through the text of Catholic Roman rite. On the other hand, it challenges that structure of belief through English texts in the vernacular that are meant to present questions to that structure of belief,” says Slon. In the opposing forces, Mass reaches an incredible climax that comes to a breaking point, Slon explains. “From the broken rubble of the ritual, Bernstein builds up what he describes in the original Kennedy Center program as a ‘reaffirmation of faith.’”

Slon calls Mass part opera, musical theater, and dramatic theological play, and part ritual.

He’s worked on this performance for two years, joined by set designer and UVA drama professor Tom Bloom, and stage director and former UVA drama faculty member Bob Chapel. Chapel is no stranger to Bernstein or the stage either. By his own estimate, Mass marks his 100th production of a musical, and his 140th production overall. In fact, Chapel directed Mass 31 years ago for the reopening of The Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor. The production featured an 85-piece orchestra performing in front of 2,000 audience members.

“It’s very, very tough music for performers to learn,” Chapel says, pointing out that there is little dialogue in the piece. “Bernstein is presenting music that is classical, jazz, rock, blues, and some electronic music throughout the whole piece. There are a lot of moving parts. For people that don’t know it, it’s a very difficult piece to learn.”

Another Mass veteran performing in the Paramount’s presentation is Kevin Vortmann, who will sing Bernstein’s role of the Celebrant. In addition to appearing in a variety of on- and off-Broadway productions, Vortmann’s experience as the Celebrant includes a performance with the Cincinnati May Festival and a Grammy-nominated rendition with the Philadelphia Orchestra. Vortmann flew in from Seattle at the end of September and joined the cast for the first time.

“He opened his mouth to sing the first song and the Street Chorus—who are all really good singers—their jaws dropped,” Chapel says. “He’s a magnificent tenor. …Everyone is spot-on. They’re good actors, they move well and there is great diversity.”

Slon agrees. He calls the cast a talented collection of artists who have come together to perform a piece that is “very transformative to experience live.”

Mass puts extraordinary demands on performers in terms of the size of forces involved,” says Slon. “There are a number of disparate, modular elements that have to come together in a unified whole. It’s a challenging piece musically, and dramatically, to pull off well.”

But Slon and Chapel have faith in their cast and crew.

“It’s very relevant in terms of what I find to be tremendous turmoil and rebellion to power right now,” Chapel says. “That’s what this piece is all about. It’s incredibly relevant to our country and the world right now, but especially our country.”


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Creating a buzz: Local artists are ready to collaborate at The Hive

What happens when two artists walk into a bar?

Ask textile artist Tobiah Mundt and painter Kim Anderson and you’ll get the same answer: It’s an immediate connection. Both women relocated to Charlottesville with their families, Mundt from northern Virginia and Anderson from Nebraska, and sought a stronger connection to the art community. This past January, Mundt was looking for a studio and felt the space where she created her wool sculptures shouldn’t be “quiet and lonely.” After her children started attending school, Anderson reached a similar conclusion: When surrounded by people, she became a better artist.

The two connected during Craft CVille’s Galentine’s Day pop-up over their shared vision for a creative and collaborative maker space. Eight months and one big renovation later, that vision will become a reality. On October 6, Mundt and Anderson will open The Hive, an art-and-craft lounge in McIntire Plaza where visitors can order up an art project along with coffee, small bites, beer, or wine.

“The art bar is 16 feet long,” Mundt says. “The [project] tray comes with instructions and everything you need. You’ll be able to order from a seasonal menu that will change.”

For Anderson, what makes the space unique is that visitors can walk in anytime the lounge is open and create a tangible work of art. The price of each art project on The Hive’s menu will range from $1 to $20. Coffee and treats come from Milli Coffee Roasters and Paradox Pastry.

“You’re engaging with the arts without having to invest,” Anderson says.

The lounge’s décor also celebrates the work of local artists and entrepreneurs. Sculptor Lily Erb created The Hive’s sign and a fence surrounding an interior play area for children, and Wade Cotton of Timber Made Company created the lounge’s bar from fallen trees around Charlottesville.

Four art studios for rent inside the lounge will be named after African American-owned businesses demolished in the razing of Vinegar Hill. So far, two of the four studios have been named after Carr’s and Bell’s, Vinegar Hill businesses Mundt identified with the help of Tanesha Hudson, an activist and executive producer of the forthcoming documentary A Legacy Unbroken: The Story of Black Charlottesville.

“When my husband told me we were moving here, I Googled Charlottesville,” Mundt remembers. She says the history of Vinegar Hill was the first thing she found. “I had to ask myself, ‘How can I raise my family here? How can I build my business to honor what happened here?’”

In addition to hosting maker workshops that range from bows and arrows to bath bombs, Mundt says there will be more programming at The Hive that celebrates African American artists and professionals who have contributed to the Charlottesville community. UVA English professor and seamstress Lisa Woolfork will lead evening sewing classes in the lounge’s mezzanine workshop area. Mundt discovered Woolfork and her work by following the Instagram hashtag #cvilleart, which led her to Woolfork’s account @blackwomenstitch.

“I was like, ‘Is she in Charlottesville? There are black women in Charlottesville sewing?’ So I contacted Lisa,” says Mundt. “She keeps sending me project ideas. The number-one thing people have asked for is sewing classes.”

Anderson and Mundt will serve as craft-tenders behind the bar to provide tools and fuel for visitors purchasing an art project. When they’re not helping with a workshop or hosting a private party, Mundt and Anderson hope to find time for their own artistic pursuits. Anderson wants to continue teaching custom chalk painting and stenciling classes. Mundt plans to sculpt her wool creatures when the space isn’t busy. She says it will be an interesting artistic challenge, as much of Mundt’s work is deeply personal. Her needle-felted creations are simultaneously haunting and child-like, akin to the stuff of science-fiction monsters or a child’s nightmare.

“I think a lot of people make assumptions about my work and about me,” Mundt says. “The Hive is an open place. I want people to ask about [my work]. What’s scary about it? Not all of our artists are sugary sweet artists. …Everyone has many sides to them.”

Two artists with studios in The Hive are multi-media printmaker Emily Vanderlinden and jewelry maker Kelly Cline. Anderson and Mundt will rent the studios on a yearly basis and hope to add more artists and studios in the future. They also plan to take The Hive on the road by hosting workshops for children in the hospital.

“If you don’t have the words, you put it in sculpture or draw it,” says Mundt. “We want to make art in alternative ways.”

On any given day, Mundt says kids visiting the lounge might get to paint on the wall with their feet, or they might use “loads and loads” of what Anderson and Mundt cite as most parents’ least favorite art material: glitter.

“It will become a beautiful patina on our floor,” Anderson says.

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Exposure therapy: Photographer Richard Needham faces fear at Studio IX

Before meeting on the patio outside Kardinal Hall, Richard Needham worried about his outfit. He thought his white jeans might be too feminine, or that his “There is no planet B” T-shirt and rope necklace with a C-shaped bear claw tied to the end might be too much of a conversation-starter.

“It’s a double-edge sword. People tell me, ‘Well, a bear is your spirit animal.’ But this real bear died,” Needham explains. “A reindeer herder in Mongolia gave it to me. It’s like a talisman. I feel some sort of power when I wear it against my chest.”

Needham’s work as a documentary filmmaker and photographer has taken him around the world—from photographing Tsaatan nomadic reindeer herders in northern Mongolia, and teams of polo players who compete on elephants in Moo Baan Chang, Thailand, to filming 60 professional dancers with artist Dara Friedman on the streets of Miami. He credits Friedman and her focus on fashion, the human body, and street art as a large influence on “My Fellow Man: Don’ttalk to strangers,” his upcoming show at Studio IX.

“Everyone is a photographer now. You just pick up your phone,” says Needham. “It’s not mindful. The show is a meditation.”

In his latest images, Needham walked around densely populated areas—usually the Downtown Mall, though some images are from trips to Seattle and Walla Walla, Washington. He approached individuals who he found himself judging at first glance, whether positively or negatively, and asked if he could take their photograph. If they consented, and Needham found that most people did, he would photograph and record an audio interview with them. Needham’s creativity is influenced by his social anxiety about approaching strangers, his self-judgment that he “isn’t particularly good at words,” and his worry about the speed at which our world moves.

Photo courtesy of artist

The questions in each interview varied depending on the individual, ranging from “What’s troubling you right now?” to “What message would you like to share with people looking at your photograph?” Needham will display text from interviewees next to their portraits in the show, leaving the dialogue largely unedited.

The photographer, who has an MFA in film production from the University of Miami’s School of Communication, appreciates the ability to replicate the beauty of natural speech and cadence of human dialogue.

“My Fellow Man: Don’ttalk to strangers”

Opens September 7 at Studio IX

“I was surprised that politics wasn’t as much on the forefront,” Needham says of his conversations. “The current climate is there, but people appreciated the attempt to connect when it seems like social media is all there is. In a single sentence, everyone’s battling for dominance on social media. This [show] is the antithesis of that. It’s analog.”

It’s about connecting with people and humanizing them, and taking a moment to slow everything down—which is exactly what Needham had to do while using a Pentax 67 camera. It’s a large, 40-year old medium-format film camera that weighs five pounds. Needham says the camera takes a long time to focus, and makes a loud sound he describes as a “ka-lunk” when the shutter opens and closes.

Artists don’t traditionally use the Pentax 67 camera to capture street images, Needham says, though it is used often to take full-body fashion shots in a studio.

And Needham’s images resonate with fashion or photo journalism spreads that viewers might see in Vogue or Vanity Fair with subjects confronting the camera with confidence, comfortable in their own skin. As viewers stare back at them, Needham’s anxiety, discomfort, and fear become tangible. Needham says that in a certain sense, “these are all portraits of me.”

Photo courtesy of the artist

“With digital cameras, you’re always looking at the past. With this camera, I had no idea what I got. It’s very forward,” says Needham, who usually takes one or two shots of each of his subjects. “I like that way of looking at it. It’s frightening and scary. Fear is the whole project.”

One of Needham’s most forward moments involved Valerian and Elliott, the two individuals in the show’s title image. In the image, Valerian wears a floral maxi dress, a straw sun hat, white gloves flecked with red, and a beard past vis collarbone. Elliott wears a black graphic T-shirt, gray slacks, and sunglasses—both are smiling.

“I saw them walking down the street while I was driving, so I pulled around the block, parked, and had to run to catch up to them,” Needham remembers. 

Despite his anxieties, Needham is moved by the experience of talking to his subjects, and he encourages others to do the same thing. “Go first. Say hello first. Be the one to say hello when you’re in an awkward situation.”

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Staunton Music Festival pushes past tradition

What do two cellists, one percussionist, and a tennis match have in common? The answer is “a lot,” if you ask UVA faculty member and distinguished percussionist I-Jen Fang. On Sunday at the Blackfriars Playhouse in Staunton, as part of the Staunton Music Festival, Fang will be joined by cellists Jan Müeller-Szeraws and Michael Unterman. “Chair umpire” Fang and her “tennis players” will perform Mauricio Kagel’s 1964 composition Match—appropriately scored for three players, according to music publisher Universal Edition.

“The percussion is like a judge and we have to act. I’m putting my hand out and saying, ‘You, go!” Fang says. She enjoys the theatricality of the piece, and the challenge of not knowing how the cellists performing alongside her or the audience will react.

Ever since Fang began her music education at age 6, she’s incorporated a sense of innovation and fun into her studies and practice. She grew up in Taiwan playing with a Chinese drum as a toy, which she looks forward to playing again in Match. She’ll also perform Kagel’s composition using various types of cymbals, police whistles, castanets, toy instruments, and a Brazilian drum called a cuíca, which Fang says creates a funny sound similar to crickets’ chirping or a dog barking.

For professional artists like Fang, the Staunton Music Festival provides a 10-day-long opportunity to delve into avant-garde musical territory such as Kagel’s contemporary work, while also celebrating classical compositions by Beethoven, Wagner, Vivaldi, and dozens more. (For many performances of pre-1850 symphonies or chamber music, musicians will play historical instruments made in that era.) Festival executive director Jason Stell says this lineup highlights the festival’s ability to bring together works that aren’t typically programmed together and creates an intimate listening experience.

“Performers love coming here because they do things they don’t get to do anywhere else,” Stell says. “They’re not just coming here for a paycheck. They’re here to reconnect with old friends, be challenged musically, and to perform music they are inspired by that they don’t get to stage elsewhere.”

Stell points out that of the festival’s nearly 80 artists, approximately 60 of them participated in the event last year. Host families in Staunton have offered to house over half of the artists for the musical celebration, something founder and artistic director Carsten Schmidt says is an important feature of the festival.

“It’s a great way to connect [artists] to the community. It’s one thing to just come stay in a hotel and perform, but some artists have been performing here for 10 to 15 years. There is a sense of community,” says Schmidt. “There is a special feeling that’s created.”

Another performance that contributes to this unique gathering is opening night. It’s a semi-staged presentation of Handel’s baroque opera Hercules. By Schmidt’s estimate, the festival’s staging of Hercules will be the first time the opera has been presented in the United States in a decade, and only the third stateside production.

“It’s a big deal,” Schmidt says of the rarely-heard opera. “It’s not a stuffy opera. Some people might think it’s a little out there, but it’s very much in relation to the contemporary world we live in.”

Peter Walker, who sings the role of Hercules, agrees with Schmidt. “At the end of the day, human nature hasn’t changed appreciably since 18th-century England or ancient Greece,” says Walker. He concedes, however, that clothing has changed over the course of that millennium, and points out that his modern costume includes a leather jacket instead of the hero’s oft-depicted lion skin garment.

Though Walker performs in locations ranging from St. Petersburg to London and other international destinations, he looks forward every year to returning to the Staunton festival. This August marks his fifth year performing in it, though he feels “lucky enough” to perform in the Charlottesville and Staunton region several times a year with the baroque ensemble Three Notch’d Road. During the festival, Walker also attends as many shows as he can. He feels it’s a wonderful chance to hear “some of the best chamber musicians in the world” performing repertoire both familiar and new.

Fondly remembering a conversation he had last year with a local restaurant owner who attended his performance the night before, Walker says, “I think this [experience] shows a level of connection that’s rather unique, and very special when it happens.”

Staunton Music Festival

Downtown Staunton

August 10-19

Categories
Arts

Electric connection: Golara Haghtalab partners with Computers4Kids to see the light

On an overcast and humid evening on the Downtown Mall, multi- media artist Golara Haghtalab seems to fill the Mudhouse with light. She recognizes a barista from when she worked there “a long time ago,” and though Haghtalab can’t remember his name at first, she still strikes up a spirited conversation. With that same palpable, kinetic energy, Haghtalab reflects on her identity as a Turkmen, Iranian and Muslim immigrant.

“The mirror of who you are shatters when you immigrate,” Haghtalab says. “I came to America and the mirror of my identity shattered.”

Haghtalab repeatedly returns to this image of shattered mirror as central to who she is as a maker, scientist and Iranian immigrant. She feels drawn to the Japanese art of kintsugi, which is both a method of repairing art and a philosophy that celebrates what is broken. To fix a cracked piece of pottery, Japanese artists practicing kintsugi fill gaps using gold, silver or platinum-dusted lacquer.

“My philosophy of life is like this art,” says Haghtalab. “When something breaks, they fix it with gold to keep the experience of it, to nourish it and to make it more beautiful.”

Nearly seven years ago, while Haghtalab was in her third year of architecture school, the U.S. Department of State randomly selected her to win a diversity visa. Within six months, Haghtalab, her parents and siblings immigrated to Charlottesville. As lifelong advocates of education, Haghtalab’s parents chose Charlottesville for its proximity to UVA. In Iran and in the United States, Haghtalab says they remained “encouraging in every aspect of education.”

During her first few years in Charlottesville, Haghtalab felt “totally lost.” She found the “machine” of American culture isolating and “scary,” and missed the architecture, culture, stories and languages of Islamic and Persian cultures. After being admitted to and enrolling at UVA, Haghtalab “once again found [her] balance.” She fulfilled a double-major in chemistry and studio art and graduated in May 2017.

“The last three years have been the best in my life…I was able to figure out who I am,” says Haghtalab. “One of my findings through my rediscovery is that I love the arts and sciences together. I stand between these two.”

After graduation Haghtalab worked at BrightSpec, a local startup that specializes in molecular rotational resonance spectroscopy. The company developed a unique software that allows scientists to more quickly obtain the chemical makeup of samples. Haghtalab says her time at BrightSpec greatly impacted her art-making approach and processes, learning ”about chemistry, waves and mirrors, which started to make me feel curious about how to use these materials in my art.”

As a Tom Tom Founders Festival artist-in-residence at The Bridge Progressive Arts Initiative this past April, Haghtalab incorporated many of those elements in her exhibition “Who is your RGB self?” The solo show featured dance, paintings, poetry and sculptural elements like CDs woven together with metal chains. Haghtalab points out an interactive piece of the exhibition that rendered visitors’ shadows in hues of red, green and blue.

“You see your shadow go in three different directions,” Haghtalab says. “And when you interact with other people, it changes colors.”

After a two-month collaboration with Computers4Kids’ youth members, Haghtalab’s participation- and technology-based art will light up The Gallery at Studio IX for a First Fridays reception on August 3. Though the collaborative installation is titled “Seasons of Light: A Kinetic Experience,” Haghtalab refers to the roughly four-foot by three-foot piece in anatomical terms. The “skin” is a painting of a willow tree that uses limited pigments and might be what viewers see first, Haghtalab explains. Arduino programmable circuit boards, color-changing LED lights and sensors behind the thin painting make up the artwork’s “bones” and “nervous system.”

Haghtalab and mentees at Computers- 4Kids artfully fused each of these elements together to create the experience of watching a willow tree change through nature’s four seasons. As viewers approach the piece, the tree’s leaves go from green to red, orange and yellow. Lights in blue and yellow hues will also illuminate a body of water near the willow tree and the sun, and Haghtalab hopes the exhibition will include in-process images featuring Computers4Kids members. 

She says she never imagined she would work with children to complete a piece like “Seasons of Light,” and now “all [she] wants to do is work with kids.” Haghtalab calls herself a STEAMer—an advocate for science, technology, engineering, arts and math. She believes that the future of education is in making those disciplines more inclusive.

“I don’t like to say we need to empower women. We are already powerful,” says Haghtalab. By bringing children together to experience the arts and STEM fields, “you remove the fear.”

“When you work hands-on, you bring everything together. It’s teamwork,” Haghtalab says. “The only indicator of your success is if a lightbulb turns on.”

Categories
Magazines Weddings

Find the write words: Ceremony readings that tell your love story

Describing love is hard. Describing the love you and your partner share in front of a congregation of family and friends? That’s hard enough to render any author speechless—even UVA creative writing professor and distinguished poet Lisa Russ Spaar.

When couples ask Spaar for recommendations, her go-to, she says, is poetry. “Everything looks like a love poem, depending on how you read it,” she says.

Spaar’s daughter, Suzannah, will be married this November, and while Spaar hasn’t yet been asked to pen a poem for her daughter’s wedding, there are a few moving pieces on her list of recommendations.

Song of Songs 2:10-12, King James version of the Bible

“My beloved spoke, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away […].

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.”

Passage from Letters to a Young Poet
by Rainer Maria Rilke

“I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other.”

“The Shampoo”
by Elizabeth Bishop, lines 13-18

“The shooting stars in your black hair

in bright formation

are flocking where,

so straight, so soon? —

Come, let me wash it in this big tin basin,

battered and shiny like the moon.”

“Blessing the Boats (at St. Mary’s)” 

by Lucille Clifton, lines 1-9

“may the tide

that is entering even now

the lip of our understanding

carry you out

beyond the face of fear

may you kiss

the wind then turn from it

certain that it will

love your back”