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State of the art: How COVID-19 is affecting Charlottesville’s arts community

 

As we adjust to life amid the COVID-19 pandemic, we’ll likely turn to the arts—a favorite poem, a beloved album, a treasured painting—over and over in search of comfort and relief. Art, in all its forms, is a vital part not just of our personal lives but of our community. Social distancing measures and the resulting venue closures have turned the local creative world upside down, both for individual artists and the organizations that support them. Here’s what some of those folks are saying about the state of the arts in Charlottesville, and what might come next.


St. Patrick’s Day was supposed to be Matthew O’Donnell’s busiest day of the entire year. A multi-instrumentalist who specializes in Irish music, he was booked for 15 hours of serenading audiences, from senior center residents to late-night beer-swigging revelers.

But this year, his St. Paddy’s calendar was wide open. As the COVID-19 pandemic spreads throughout the United States, Virginia governor Ralph Northam has banned all nonessential gatherings of more than 10 people. In response, local venues that support the arts—concert halls, theaters, galleries, bookshops, libraries, restaurant-bars, you name it—have shuttered their doors for an undetermined amount of time.

This leaves O’Donnell and many other artists in Charlottesville without physical places to share their work—not just for art’s sake, but for a living. It’s also worth noting that many local artists participate in the service industry and gig economy—they tend bar, wait tables, work retail, drive ride-shares, and more. And most of those jobs are gone, or paused until, well, who knows when.

O’Donnell makes his entire living from performances, and he looks forward to the month of March—in large part because of St. Patrick’s Day—when he can bring in twice what he makes in an average  month, to make up for the lean ones (namely January and February).

“I began to get concerned in late February,” as the senior communities closed their doors to visitors, says O’Donnell, and that concern grew as gigs canceled one by one during the first couple weeks of March. “I thought the worst-case scenario would be that everything would shut down, but I honestly didn’t think the worst-case scenario would come.”

Matthew O’Donnell, who has seen his gig calendar wiped clean by the threat of COVID-19, hosted a concert via Facebook Live on March 18. “It went astoundingly well,” he says. “A boatload of people tuned in, [made] lots of requests. People sent videos of them and their families dancing to the music. It was really beautiful.” Photo by Katie McCartney

At first, “it was a professional worry of realizing that all of my business is gone,” says O’Donnell, who hopes he can make some money by playing donation-based virtual concerts. But the worry, the sadness, has turned personal: “These people are my friends,” he says of his audiences, particularly those folks at the senior centers. When he sings with them, he says he “feels something profound. And [now] I can’t go see my friends. I do want to be looking forward to the next thing…but all I know is that the next thing I do is going to be very different from what I’ve been doing.”

Graphic novelist Laura Lee Gulledge knows that, too. “I’m friends with change and constant reinvention,” she says.  As a full-time artist Gulledge relies not just on book sales and illustration commissions but art teaching residencies. She says she often feels like she’ll “get by on the skin of my teeth, but [I] make it work.” Artists are always having to come up with new business models, she says. “It’s implode or evolve.”

Her new book, The Dark Matter of Mona Starr, is scheduled to be released on April 7, and she planned to launch it at last week’s Virginia Festival of the Book. But the festival was canceled due to the threat of COVID-19, as was the rest of her North American book tour.

In a way, the book is more relevant than Gulledge could have predicted, or ever wanted to imagine. The protagonist, Mona, is a sensitive and creative teen learning to live with anxiety and depression. In the back of the book, Gulledge includes a guide for creating a self-care plan for particularly dark and stressful times, and she shares her own.

“It’s like my masterpiece,” she says of The Dark Matter of Mona Starr. “I was finally mentally prepared to own it and step into it, and start conversations about mental health and not feel like a fraud.”

Rather than consider the whole thing a wash, Gulledge will do a virtual book tour via Facebook Live, where she’ll be talking about topics such as drawing through depression and cultivating healthy artistic practices.

The Front Porch roots music school is also pivoting to an online lessons model, to keep instructors paid and to keep students in practice. Songwriter Devon Sproule (who had to cancel her upcoming U.K. tour) usually teaches somewhere around 80 students a week between group classes and private lessons, and, so far, a handful of them have made the leap to live virtual lessons. Keeping the routine and personal connection of a lesson could be particularly important right now, says Sproule. She had to teach one young pupil how to tune a ukulele, a task Sproule had taken on in their in-person lessons. “I had no idea this kid could tune their own ukulele, and I don’t think they did either,” says Sproule. “I think it was empowering.”

The Charlottesville Players Guild, the city’s only black theater troupe, has postponed its run of August Wilson’s Radio Golf, originally scheduled to premiere at the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center April 16. The paid cast and crew were in the middle of rehearsals, and while they hope to be able to open the show on April 30, things are still very uncertain, says CPG artistic director Leslie Scott-Jones. “When you hear medical professionals say this might go through July or longer, it’s like, ‘What’ll we do?’”

Leslie Scott-Jones, a singer and theater artist who relies on performance for all of her income, is one of many Charlottesville artists left wondering what’s next, as venues have closed due to the threat of COVID-19. Publicity photo

The JSAAHC has also had to cancel two benefit concerts for Eko Ise, a music conservatory program for local black children, that the center hoped to launch later this year. Now, they’ll be months behind in that fundraising effort, says Scott-Jones.

The Bridge Progressive Arts Initiative, which provides not only a physical gallery space for visual and performance art, but funding for public art and after-school programs, has canceled all in-person events (though it is finding creative ways for people to participate from a distance, such as its virtual Quarantine Haiku video series). The Bridge has also postponed its annual Revel fundraiser, originally scheduled for May 2. Revel brings in between 20 and 30 percent of the organization’s operating budget for the year, says director Alan Goffinski,

Gulledge makes an excellent case for continued support of the arts as we face uncertainty: “This is the sort of moment where people will look to the creative thinkers to generate hope, and to generate positivity and be beacons of light in this moment of darkness. This is part of our purpose.”


The Bridge Progressive Arts Initiative and New City Arts announced Friday, March 20, that it has established the Charlottesville Emergency Relief Fund for Artists. We will have more information on that soon.

The Front Porch and WTJU 91.1 FM are also teaming up to broadcast live concerts Friday and Wednesday evenings. Follow us at @cville_culture on Twitter for regular updates about virtual arts events that will take place over the coming weeks.

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Arts

Trickling streams: How digital has affected local musicians

Paul Curreri remembers getting rid of his CD collection. He and his wife, Devon Sproule, both musicians, were packing up their Austin, Texas, home to move back to Charlottesville in 2015, when Curreri realized he hadn’t added to his CD collection in a while. “There wasn’t a bad one in the bunch,” he says of the 2,500-odd discs. The collection “used to be super fun, and vital, and alive,” he says, but once he stopped adding to it, it wasn’t fun anymore. Curreri sold it all for about $400.

Paul Curreri

“Now we have Spotify, and we have Pandora, and [I have it all] technically, on a hard drive somewhere. …But then I open up Spotify and I literally can’t think of artists. It drives me nuts! It’s like I’ve lost my entire filing system without having [the albums physically] on the wall,” he says.

Curreri’s story likely sounds familiar, and it demonstrates how consuming and appreciating music has changed drastically in recent years.

There’s no shortage of talk about this on music blogs and in entertainment magazines, particularly how the advent of streaming pays artists only a fraction of a cent per song play. But how is it affecting non-superstar local artists, in a small city with a fairly robust music scene?

It’s hard to find an exact number for how much a single-song stream pays. “It is pretty meager,” says Alethea Leventhal, who records dark electronic, ethereal synthesizer lullabies under the moniker Ships in the Night.


Conversations with Charlottesville-area musicians of many genres reveal that for the most part, they’re not in it for the money; they’re in it because they have something to say and to share.

Curreri says that when he began recording and releasing music in the early 2000s, he got regular checks, for hundreds of dollars a week, from his distribution service, CD Baby. His records were well-received by critics and audiences, and he started selling enough albums to make his money back on recording, and then some. But just when it seemed like he could make a real living off music, sometime around 2007 the checks started shrinking. That was the year Radiohead released In Rainbows, not as a CD, but as a pay-what-you-want download, and arguably altered the way people thought about releasing and purchasing music. (The physical version of In Rainbows was offered in January 2008 through Coran Capshaw’s TBD label, and was certified gold with 500,000 copies sold by March 2008.)

Crunching the numbers

BuzzAngle Music’s 2018 data shows that people are listening to more music than ever, but purchasing less with each passing year.

701 million

Total album consumption in 2018, including physical, digital, and streams (up 16.2 percent over 2017)

5.8 billion

Total song consumption (27.4 percent increase over 2017)

809.5 billion

Total on-demand streams (35.4 percent increase over 2017)

121.2 million

Album and song sales (a combined decrease of 189.6 million­—in 2018, there was not a single song that broke one million in sales)

Now, artists often record their music at a personal financial loss and rely on live shows—their cut of the door, plus merch and physical music sales—to make money from music.

Last year, one of Leventhal’s songs made it on to a curated Spotify playlist—a placement that Curreri likens to “getting on Letterman”—and while she only made a few hundred dollars from the resulting streams, she saw it as a channel to new ears. Perhaps some of those listeners came out to one of the 70-plus shows she played last year, or shared the song with a friend.

“That’s what inspires me to always keep sharing music,” says Leventhal. “Just that one person in a sea of many who it really, really reaches, and maybe helps.”

Kai Crowe-Getty

“We see Spotify not as a revenue stream, but a carrot to get people to come to our show,” where they’ll have a good time, buy merch, and hopefully see the band next time it rolls through town, says Kai Crowe-Getty, guitarist and vocalist for Americana/Southern rock band Lord Nelson.

“People want to experience things together, in the dark, with people they know and don’t know,” says Crowe-Getty. That part of enjoying music hasn’t changed, though he scratches his head at how some folks shell out $150 for a concert ticket, but not $15 for an album.

Indie rock band Stray Fossa had a few songs appear on various music blog playlists, and in November 2018, its single “Commotion” appeared (how, the band has no idea) on Spotify’s “Fresh Finds” and “Fresh Finds: Six Strings” playlists. Bassist Zach Blount says that while the resulting tens of thousands of song streams didn’t result in more physical or digital music sales via Stray Fossa’s Bandcamp page, “we have had people turn out for shows while on tour who said they had found us on Spotify and decided to check us out.”

Kate Bollinger, a third-year student at UVA, only releases her music digitally right now, with many tracks exclusively available on Spotify. She approached the platform, with its 87 million paying subscribers, not as a money maker, but as a way to get heard.

Last year, her song “Tests” appeared on a YouTube playlist with a considerable following, and was later added to several Spotify playlists. As a result, her songs now have more than 80,000 monthly listeners, and she’s almost certain that her Spotify artist page is what got a recent show mentioned in the New York Times.

Bollinger says that her Spotify success hasn’t resulted in a big check (or any check, yet), but it gives her confidence that music is something to pursue long-term.

Local rapper Kevin Skinner, aka Sondai, has previously told C-VILLE something similar: so far his 2017 single “One Chick” has more than 2.2 million listens on Spotify alone.

Curreri is now part of the growing group of artists, like Bollinger, that releases music exclusively online. He and Sproule have a Patreon page, where they release at least two new things—usually original songs, sometimes covers, videos, or even essays—each month, and supporters choose how much they want to pay per release. It averages out to about $400 a song, says Curreri, so while it’s not bad, it’s not enough to make a living. Part of why Curreri agreed to be interviewed for this story, he says with a laugh, is because he hopes a reader might think, “I’d like to hear what Devon and Paul are doing.”

Curreri implies that all is not lost—musicians are still making music, and people are still listening to it. He and Sproule have about 30 songs up on their page—making at least two songs every month “is something we would not have done otherwise,” says Curreri.

“It’s a huge priority for me. It’s our work, and our art, and our opportunity and platform to present something to an audience, to insert something into the universe.”


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Arts

Local artists perform to benefit Indivisible Charlottesville

When Scott DeVeaux was growing up in New York in the 1950s, he encountered “a lot” of Civil War specters. Several relatives were named after Confederate generals, displayed Confederate figurines throughout their homes and celebrated memorabilia like trading cards commemorating the centennial of the War Between the States. Though he didn’t know what to make of the nostalgia, DeVeaux became fascinated by that period in American history.

After moving to Charlottesville in 1983 to begin his career as a music professor at UVA, DeVeaux discovered a surprise about his Yankee family tree involving his great-great grandfather Robert Bowles.

“My grandma’s grandfather was actually from Virginia,” DeVeaux says. “I went to Alderman Library to research [Bowles] and after getting debriefed by my grandmother, I found out he was in the 19th Virginia Infantry.” An “ardent Confederate,” Bowles fought and was captured during the Battle of Gettysburg.

“My great-great grandfather was in Pickett’s Charge, and I want the [Emancipation Park’s Robert E. Lee] monument to be taken down,” says DeVeaux. “It’s important for someone in my position to take a stand like this.”

As a member of the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church–Unitarian Universalist for three decades, the church’s choral director for the past six and a talented jazz musician, historian and professor, DeVeaux has faith in music as a model for society. He believes elements like rhythm unite diverse audiences and performers in the same “groove,” and that versatile musicians have the power to blur lines of race, class and artistic genre. He’s also a big fan of “The Rachel Maddow Show,” which DeVeaux has “watched religiously” since the election, and he’s felt drawn toward her reporting on the Indivisible Movement.

“[Indivisible’s] principle is that you bug your own representatives, rather than senators, because they’re sensitive to their constituents,” says DeVeaux. “As soon as I heard about it, I wanted to join.”

After attending an Indivisible Charlottesville planning meeting at The Haven, DeVeaux says he was ready to do anything to support the organization. With the help of friend and fellow jazz musician John D’earth, DeVeaux coordinated an impressive lineup of artists for Disturbing the Peace: A Benefit Concert for Indivisible Charlottesville, on November 5 at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church–Unitarian Universalist.

The bill includes hip-hop artist A.D. Carson, jazz musicians DeVeaux, D’earth, Pete Spaar and Greg Howard, percussionists Robert Jospé and Kevin Davis, poet Deborah McDowell, and singer-songwriters Devon Sproule, Mariana Bell, Wendy Repass, Peyton Tochterman and Bill Wellington.

“We want people to understand the ecumenical quality of music, to play effectively with each other, to say ‘Wow, I didn’t know that a jazz trumpet player could play behind a folk singer,” says D’earth. Though he doesn’t identify as religious, D’earth’s grandparents were Unitarians and he empathizes with the Unitarian concept of religion as rooted in social justice.

“I hope people will take away the idea that, ‘Yeah, I should do that,” D’earth says. “Let’s do something and say things, not just absorb.”

Carson hopes that the concert highlights other “institutional monuments” of white supremacy, “not just those named after Robert E. Lee or Stonewall Jackson,” he says.

“While it’s not surprising that the events of August 11 and 12 took place, what we find ourselves needing to do is improvise and collaborate to find our way forward,” says Carson. He will perform work from his recent album, Sleepwalking, Vol. 1, including pieces he hasn’t performed live.

Sproule initially struggled with where to put her energy as a musician. The current climate gives her “chronic low-level anxiety,” and she compares the stress to feeling like a child living in a house where she doesn’t feel safe. Sproule will perform “Turn Back to Love” at the concert. It’s a new tune and the culmination of her effort to find an authentic, resonant voice in the face of anger, hate and violence.

“It feels like you can’t do anything, but you definitely can,” Sproule says. “Charlottesville is a place where you can reach out to people and say, ‘I’m sorry. I’m feeling scared by myself, can I go with you to this concert or meeting?’ That’s being indivisible.”

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Arts

Devon Sproule shares her songwriting process

While singer-songwriter Devon Sproule’s sound has evolved over time, she continues to write thoughtful and compelling lyrics. This month her eighth album, The Gold String, will be released. The record is themed on the idea of an invisible string connecting all things, and the possibility of finding “spiritual togetherness in everyday life,” Sproule says. For her this also means finding connection to her roots, wherever she is in the world. Lucky for us, she resides in Charlottesville with her husband, Paul Curreri, and daughter, Ray. She spoke with C-VILLE about her craft.

C-VILLE: What is your songwriting process?

Devon Sproule: I don’t write a lot of songs per year—I put out a record every two or three or more years—so my process tends to change with each song I write. Often I will be inspired by somebody else’s chord progression and it’ll kind of perk up my ears and I’ll figure it out…and then if there’s a way to sort of lift it without, you know, ripping it off, I’ll incorporate it into a song.

Being inspired by genres of music that aren’t your own is nice because once you filter it into your own language or sound, it doesn’t really sound like them anymore.

I will play with the chords and often my first thought is kind of boring for melody. And so I’ll play those notes of the boring melody and then I’ll feel around those notes and find the notes that I have forgotten to sing. Because often my voice will run these same sort of scales or patterns of notes that sound sometimes pretty but not very interesting. So I’ll play those notes on the guitar to remind my voice of the notes it’s forgotten.

I do most of it by ear. I can’t read music. So it’s a very intuitive process.

Can you give an example of a song that inspired you?

Kate Bush’s “Nocturn” from her Aerial album. That is one that I studied. There’s something about the melody. And also Amel Larrieux. She’s sort of jazz with R&B simple beats and expressive, decorative singing.

How do you come up with your lyrics?

I have a journal and sometimes it’s the most boring rundown of my day and sometimes it’s more verse. So, say I have a chord progression I’m interested in, sometimes I’ll take my notebook and kind of see if there’s anything in there that can fit with what I’m working with. I’ll have sort of half a lyric line and half a melody line and I’ll be trying to see if they can fit together. So they’re both created on their own and then I’m trying to ease them together and see if they can live together.

And I like to go through my senses…[for] any really distinct smells or tastes or colors or textures in the setting I’ve created for the song and then incorporate those. It’s just another way of—like that melody tool—finding details that don’t always come to you in your first sketch.

How do you decide whether lyrics will be narrative or not?

If it’s a country-sounding song or a really folk-sounding song then it tends to be more of a narrative or a story. And if I’ve been listening to ambient or experimental music it comes out more stream-of-consciousness.

How much do you draw from your life or experience?

Quite a lot. When I write or hear something that somebody else has written that feels unrelated to themselves or unrelated to something they feel strongly about then I feel like I can’t connect to it as well. So when there is that sort of humming emotional energy there, that’s when it feels most real to me.


Sampling
Devon Sproule

Lyrical

“You Can Come Home,” a collaboration with Mike O’Neill from the album Colours

When I began this / I ran a fast ship.

Top of the water / I barely scratched it.

But each empty day / I took on the weight.

I lost the wide eye. I lost the wide sky.

Colours_DevonSproule

Narrative

“If I Can Do This” from I Love You, Go Easy

The back part of the pond belongs

To the pilots and yellow belly sliders.

If you push to that part of the pond

On the mossy dock / and fall in / hang onto your bits.

To that part of the pond / we run—

Hot from the sauna / mud at the bottom.

If you pick the right path from the pond /

You’ll come upon God’s acre, the terra bathers.

ILoveYouGoEasy_DevonSproule

Stream-of-consciousness

“Healthy Parents, Happy Couple” from Don’t Hurry for Heaven

Take a book / for instance /

When it’s done / you are let down.

But when it’s smacking in your head /

You go attacking for the end.

Like a good love / too long in bed / besides /

Why should we do like the movies?

Moving doesn’t need a pattern.

Wooing matters / not the captain.

DontHurryForHeaven_DevonSproule


Related C-VILLE coverage: Singer-songwriter Devon Sproule comes home

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Arts

The Front Porch celebrates inclusivity at new location

The Front Porch’s Emily Morrison wants artists of all backgrounds to find peace at the roots music school she founded in 2015. With help from friends, Morrison began the school in a back room in her home and soon moved into a space at Mountaintop Montessori. Last June the nonprofit moved into the old Michie Theater space on Water Street East. Morrison says the school offers a service she couldn’t find locally as a burgeoning banjo player—a space to host jams, performances and lessons in genres ranging from bluegrass to African dance.

“The essence of what we’re trying to do at The Front Porch is encourage people to sit together and share inspiration, stories from their background and what moves them—to bring the songs they want to learn to the table and play with other people,” she says.

Since childhood, Morrison has felt drawn to the Appalachian sound and language of roots music. That’s not what excites her most about music-making, though—it’s the merging and blending of genres that happens over time as cultural pasts converge.

“There’s a source of music here that’s worth exploring,” Morrison says. “But, there are many other cultural groups with musical histories that are valid, important and should be celebrated.”

Upcoming at The Front Porch

Friday 3/3

An Evening with the Darrell Rose Power Trio

Saturday 3/4

Cathy Fink and Marcy Marxer concert and workshops

Monday 3/6

Songwriting class with Jesse Harper of Love Canon

Thursday 3/9

West African dance class

Friday 3/10

Starry Mountain Singers

Saturday 3/11

Sunny Mountain Serenaders

Morrison sees an increasing need for artists to have a peaceful place to communicate through the language of art, especially since words in today’s world can be so divisive, she says. Devon Sproule, a guitar and songwriting teacher who recently joined The Front Porch, describes her methodology as “musical mentoring.” Sproule sees music as therapeutic, and says she helps students process life’s joys and pains through creative writing.

“The Front Porch’s path is the same as that: It’s about connecting people and people enjoying music for the experience, not for competition,” Sproule says.

Pete Vigour has taught music for 30 years, tours internationally and teaches clawhammer banjo, fiddle, mandolin and guitar at The Front Porch.

“The philosophy to be inclusive of people of different backgrounds, ages and socio-economic background is quite exciting,” Vigour says.

To make The Front Porch more inclusive and accessible, executive director Morrison and board chair Angel Gunn plan to increase funding for student scholarships and strengthen partnerships with organizations like Big Brothers Big Sisters and International Neighbors, a nonprofit providing support for refugees and immigrants.

A number of “champions,” Gunn says, have been instrumental in the move to the downtown location. They began full-scale renovations by creating a large multi-purpose room that connects to classrooms and installed new dance floors, though Gunn says there’s still much to be done.

“We were given a raw space and we’re so grateful for it, but it was a puppet theater,” Gunn says. “There was a little stage and miniature bench seats for 4-year-olds. …We said, ‘Okay, we can fit 10 people in this space.’” Gunn says acoustic improvements and other renovations will continue in order to match the caliber of The Front Porch’s performers and teachers.

Fitting the bill for that quality are Cathy Fink and Marcy Marxer, who perform and host ukulele and guitar workshops. After meeting in 1980 at a Toronto folk festival, and receiving mentorship from musicians such as Pete Seeger and Tom Paxton, Fink and Marxer went on to play at hundreds of festivals and garnered two Grammys for their style of music that they call “well-rounded Americana.” The duo married in 2012, “pretty much as soon as we could,” Fink says. At their wedding, Fink, Marxer and Paxton performed Paxton’s “You Are Love” together, and Marxer says there was not one dry eye in the room.

“Roots music and activism have always gone hand in hand,” Fink says. “What we do as artists is distill the world’s complication and make it feel like we can do something positive with it—to make good music that inspires people.”

Their new album, Get Up and Do Right, aligns with The Front Porch’s mission to celebrate cultural exchange and tradition. They look forward to performing and teaching in Charlottesville, where Marxer says she sees a tremendous amount of talent and musicality.

“The list is long in how we’ve received support,” says Morrison. “It’s really been a beautiful experience.”