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Moving forward: Two years after A12, how do we tell a new story?

It’s been two years since the “Summer of Hate,” and Charlottesville, to the larger world, is still shorthand for white supremacist violence. As we approach the second anniversary of August 11 and 12, 2017, we reached out to a wide range of community leaders and residents to talk about what, if anything, has changed since that fateful weekend, and how we can move forward.

Responses have been edited for length and clarity. 

 

What do you think of how Charlottesville, as a city, has responded in the aftermath of A12? What’s changed? What hasn’t?

It’s hard to say what’s changed in Charlottesville. Once heralded as America’s most ideal city, we’ve been outed as a place that is just as flawed as any other town. Having been forced to enter a conversation that has no easy solution, it feels like a collective healing from August 11 and 12 and its aftermath is going to take much longer than any of us want to believe. It’s a humbling and sober thought. That’s not to say there isn’t reason to hope—there certainly is—but I think that the pace of change—real, lasting change—is glacial. I think there’s a way to press on for a better future while extending grace to ourselves and each other.

—Sam Bush, music minister at Christ Episcopal Church and co-founder of The Garage art space

 

Charlene Green. Photo: Devon Ericksen

I think the way we tried to respond last year, from a law enforcement perspective, I think it was one of safety, we were definitely trying to assure the residents that no one was going to get hurt in the same way.

I think this year, the planning of Unity Days has definitely given community members a whole new opportunity to figure out how to be engaged about this, how to acknowledge the anniversary, and I think so far it has been a pretty successful effort.

It’s about constantly educating folks about what Charlottesville is all about, because we’re not a one-story town.

–Charlene Green, manager of the Charlottesville Office of Human Rights

 

I still think it’s a plantation, not a city. I feel that we should be going further with having transparency in the community to be able to work together.

The city hasn’t done anything besides make themselves look good, writing books, getting all these different recognitions for themselves, but nothing for the community.

[A lot of] the activists that were hurt…and that have been the true fighters for Charlottesville, are gone. And then you have some of us who are still left here, but I’m willing to leave, because I’m tired. Because this hasn’t just been going on for me since 2017, this has been going on for me for 13 years now. So I’m tired, because it’s like the more you’re fighting, it’s like it’s not changing.

–Rosia Parker, community activist and Police Civilian Review Board member

Rev. Seth Wispelwey and other clergy marched to oppose the KKK in July 2017. Photo: Eze Amos

It’s difficult to answer, because what people make of that weekend, whether they experienced it directly or not, is up to them, and relies so much on the stories we told about ourselves beforehand.

As a co-creator of Congregate, in our weeks of training, we always emphasized that it was about using the weekend of August 11th and 12th as a pivot point to the long, deep, hard, life-giving work we all can be a part of in dismantling white supremacy. So some people took up that call, and have continued to run with it, learning and growing along the way, and others covered their ears, and wanted to believe that this had nothing to do with Charlottesville or our collective responsibility to one another. And then still others were somewhere in the middle, believing that their ongoing efforts were sufficient, that the status quo was naturally going to lead to some sort of evolutionary progress. We’re a very self-satisfied progressive city.

I think it’s no secret that governing authorities, from City Council to the police force, in the summer of 2017 made choices that left our community vulnerable and exposed and suffering from violence. What hasn’t changed is there still has been little to no accountability for that, and so while people have undertaken their own healing processes, I still believe, even two years on, there’s a tremendous trust deficit between members of the community who saw the violent threat for what it was, and our ostensible leadership, who by and large prescribed ignoring it and left people to be beaten, and then prosecuted some people who defended themselves.

And again we saw that on the first-year anniversary, the over-militarized response. Treating the community and activists as the enemy has been the wrong direction so far. And I don’t think it would take much to repair that trust deficit. “I’m sorry” is free. But that’s going to take some work, and I haven’t seen changes there from city leadership.”

–Reverend Seth Wispelwey, former minister at Restoration Village Arts and co-founder of Congregate Charlottesville

 

I think in the aftermath of A12, we’ve seen a tremendous increase in civic engagement. More and more people are paying close attention to City Council and getting involved with local community groups. People are trying to understand where we’re at as a community, and how we can create real, lasting change.

The conversation around race and equity has completely changed and there’s an unprecedented level of awareness about local economic and racial inequalities. But we haven’t yet created the level of institutional change needed to fundamentally shift the balance of political and economic power within Charlottesville. We’ve planted the seeds of change, but we have a lot of work left to do when it comes to changing outcomes.

–Michael Payne, housing activist and City Council candidate

 

Everything and nothing. We’re still very much a city divided. There have been some efforts made…but I don’t think there’s been any real substantive change. We elected Nikuyah, but I’d like to think that that would have happened whether August the 12th ever did or not.

The city’s done a great job with the Unity Days events and that’s a huge start. But we’ve still got such a long way to go.

–Don Gathers, community activist and former Chair of The Blue Ribbon Commission on Race, Memorials, and Public Spaces

 

 

Photo: Amy and Jackson Smith

“I was still new to Charlottesville when A11/12 happened; I had only been here about eight months, so I don’t have a great deal of perspective on Charlottesville before that time. The changes that I have seen, though, I would characterize as a greater urgency around the conversations that Charlottesville and the country as a whole must engage in—conversations around systemic and institutionalized racism, equity, and the historical inequalities that continue to resonate locally and nationally.

One of the things that worries me in the community is that I continue to hear people say things along the lines of, “they (meaning the white nationalists) weren’t from here…” True, some did come from other places, but I think it is dangerous not to acknowledge fully that this is our problem, too.”

—Matthew McLendon, Ph.D., director of The Fralin Museum of Art at UVA

 

In terms of where we are this year—with no active threat of more violence and a plan for less police presence, I do want to emphasize that there is increased possibility for the beginning of a healing journey, both at the individual and the community level. It was very hard to begin that process that year, as so many people felt unsafe around the anniversary, so that feels to me very different this year.

Mental health-wise, reflecting on the changes over the past few years, there are many more therapists and other people in our community who are prepared to respond to traumatic experiences and to facilitate healing—in particular the establishment of the Central Virginia Clinicians of Color Network.

Obviously, trauma is historical and something we’re still grappling with. On the positive side, our community is looking very explicitly at health disparity and in particular racial inequity around health outcomes for the first time. Everyone’s coming together in our community health needs assessment to say our number one priority is to address inequity in health outcomes. So I think that is a positive change. Has that disparity changed yet? No. So we have a lot of work to do, but awareness is the first step.”

—Elizabeth Irvin, executive director of The Women’s Initiative

 

Susan Bro. Photo: Eze Amos

I think Charlottesville is working to bring awareness to the citizens and change its image. There have been intensified efforts to shed light on the truth of the past. That’s a good beginning. But the racial divides in housing and education seem to still be just as bad as before. None of us at the Heather Heyer Foundation actually live in town or even Albemarle County. So we are on the outside, looking in.

—Susan Bro, mother of Heather Heyer and president of the Heather Heyer Foundation

 

It is always a challenge in the aftermath of a traumatic event, like A12, to move from the initial reactive state to a long-term adaptive state. The city, local businesses, organizations, and citizens responded to the events with a great deal of energy and attention. When we realized that many of us had turned a blind eye to the racism in our community, our leaders took on new initiatives and made demands for change with gusto. But the real trick is what happens in the next 5-10 years.

—Bree Luck, producing artistic director, Live Arts

 

What do you think the city needs to do to move forward?

One huge step would be to visibly and viably take ownership for that weekend and what happened, and the role that they actually played in it. It’s still very much a point of contention that the folks who directly lost their jobs were two men of color.

The council, whatever it may look like on the first of the year, they’ve got a huge task on their hands. The new buzzword of course is civility, and I think that we’ve got to become comfortable in the incivility for a while, because this was so very painful and hurtful for so many people. Now I’m not saying that 10 years down the road folks still should be shutting down meetings because of it. I don’t see the necessity of that. But if something triggers a person…I think we have to allow space for that, and understand it.

They’ve got to figure out how to bring about some level of trust between the city and the community and the police department. Because that’s what’s sorely lacking right now. And figuring out how to do that, that’s the E=MC squared equation.  What it looks like and then how to make it happen. That’s something that’s vital to the renaissance, if you will, of Charlottesville, and getting us to a point where we’re not recognized as just a hashtag.

—Don Gathers

 

We certainly have issues in this community that we’re working on, but there’s also a lot of great things that are happening. The Chamber of Commerce is in a great position to help with that.

It’s not surprising that the business community [and tourism have] taken some hits from the events that happened in the last couple years. Nobody wants to minimize some of the tough conversations and hard work that’s going on here to build equity, but you can work on those things and also highlight the things that are going really well-—companies that are launching and doing world-class work here, opportunities that are opening up for new careers, that’s the piece that the business community thinks needs to be out there more.

It would be helpful if there was cooperation between elected officials and the business community and others, trying to get toward some shared goals.

—Elizabeth Cromwell, President & CEO, Charlottesville Regional Chamber of Commerce

 

We have to commit ourselves to the work of making Charlottesville a more equitable city, not just in word but in deed. And we have to hold space to celebrate and document who we are as community and what we’ve accomplished. Fundamentally, we care about this community because we love the people in it. We can’t be afraid of acknowledging that.

—Michael Payne

 

I was fortunate to hear Bryan Stevenson, the founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, speak earlier this year, and I was moved by his insistence on the need for “proximity.” He stressed that we must be close to, and by extension listen to, those who are not like us.

The Fralin Museum of Art joined the larger national conversation on social justice by participating in the “For Freedoms” project with “Signs of Change: Charlottesville.” Working with our community partners, most importantly Charlene Green from the Office of Human Rights, we convened a series of workshops to bring people together to first learn about the histories of marginalized people in Charlottesville and then talk about ways we could help to stop history from repeating itself. There must be continued opportunities for proximity, education, and dialogue.

—Matthew McLendon

 

What the City of Charlottesville I believe needs to do in its various official capacities is apologize and take ownership for the exposure and violence that came. At its root, it was a failure to take the inherent violence of white supremacy seriously: these were terrorist groups who threatened violence, the city was adequately warned, and we know for a fact that the police were more interested in what “antifa” was going to do, or [suggested] that we should just ignore them. No one can tell me that if this had been an ISIS free speech rally that it wouldn’t have been shut down immediately. So it starts with that.

Honest and sincere apologies are not weakness, they’re a sign of strength, and I think what Charlottesville is fighting to do and what the city could help do is stop continuing to gaslight people and say yeah, we were wrong, we will take the threat of white supremacy seriously, and I think the temperature would cool across the board.

—Rev. Seth Wispelwey

Rosia Parker outside the courtroom after the James Fields verdict, in December. Photo: Eze Amos

One, you gotta listen to the community. Don’t just listen at the community, listen to the community. [Be] willing to be transparent, willing to create ideas together, that will make a thriving community.

—Rosia Parker

 

As a city, I think we have an obligation to help provide opportunities for folks to be engaged and for people to see that we’re trying very hard to walk the talk. At the Office of Human Rights, if we say that equity and social justice are important for residents, then we need to show it.

—Charlene Green

Photo: UVA

 

Moments of adversity and heartbreak sometimes give us an opportunity for collaboration and progress. Since August 2017, UVA and the local community have been working together in unprecedented ways. The UVA-Community Working Group that came together last fall identified the most pressing issues that we can begin to work on together—jobs and wages, affordable housing, public health care, and youth education—and efforts are under way now to address those issues through UVA-community partnerships grounded in equity and mutual respect.

So many of us love Charlottesville. I think the best way we can express that love, and the best way we can move forward after August 2017, is by working together to make our community stronger, more united, and more resilient than it’s ever been before

—Jim Ryan, president of the University of Virginia

 

We need to continue our efforts to rebuild the bonds that unite all of us, with the understanding that a community dedicated to issues of social justice and racial equality is a place that we can be proud to call home, and a place that more people will want to come visit.

—Adam Healey, former interim director of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Convention and Visitors Bureau

 

Addressing racism at the structural and institutional level remains the highest priority. In particular being able to give the mike to people of color, black people in particular, who have historically not had a voice, would be at the top of that list. From a mental health perspective that’s important because healing can’t occur without first acknowledging the trauma of people who’ve experienced this, and I think we still have a lot of work to do. Some of these events of Unity Days are beginning to give voice to that, and I think there’s a lot more room to do more.

—Elizabeth Irvin

 

My heart goes out to the city officials since they’re the ones who are publicly shouldering what is actually each of ours to carry. I hope that they will continue to serve humbly, to keeping listening and asking questions. I’ve found that bringing small groups of people from different backgrounds together can be an effective way to get people to speak honestly and calmly in a way that inspires others to listen.

—Sam Bush

 

Someone besides me to say what we need to do to move forward. People like me who have been in leadership positions for many years ought to create the space for other people living and leading quietly in our community to say what needs to happen.

—Erika Viccellio, executive director of The Fountain Fund

Don Gathers and others at the official unveiling of the Inside Out: Charlottesville mural. Photo: Eze Amos

What do individual people need to do to move the community forward?

If you see a need, don’t wring your hands and hope someone does something about it. Step up to see what you can do to move things forward. And then actually do it. Don’t play armchair quarterback. Put feet to your intentions and get involved. If you don’t step up and out, who will?  #StepUpStepOut.

—Susan Bro

 

I’m not sure the public speaking platforms of our age are as effective as we think they are. Many of us are speaking to people who already agree with us which, in turn, merely helps us feel better about ourselves while vilifying those who disagree with us. As a result, we seem quick to anger and slow to listen. The alternative, I think, is much more difficult but more effective. I think we’d each be better off by getting to know someone who couldn’t be more different from us and then befriending them. Easier said than done, of course.

—Sam Bush

 

There’s no magic pill here that’ll fix this. We’ve got to begin to have those tough and difficult and hard conversations. And we’ve got to stop talking about race and start talking about racism. We can’t just talk about white supremacy, we’ve got to actually have the difficult conversations about white privilege and white advantage. And once we embrace those conversations…then we can move forward and start talking about unification.

I’m not sure there’s a mediator or moderator in the world that could handle that, because in so many instances we’re still talking at each other instead of to each other. We’re still talking about each other instead of trying to handle and solve the problem as it presents itself. How it’s handled, what it looks like, I’m still trying to envision it, but I know that it’s got to happen in order for us to move that needle.

—Don Gathers

 

 

Lisa Woolfork and members of the Hate-Free Schools Coalition of Albemarle County, who fought for a ban on Confederate imagery in county schools. Photo: Eze Amos

People can support community members who are already doing the work to build a better Charlottesville. City councilors need to respect and support Mayor Walker’s leadership. Voters need to vote for strong racial justice supporters. School administrators need to respond with deep policy changes to address concerns about racial equity raised by students and families. We need to stop protecting Confederates and their white supremacist legacy. We can create a brighter future if we do the difficult, sometimes uncomfortable, yet necessary work of liberation, learning and unlearning.

—Lisa Woolfork, UVA professor and community activist

 

Listen! We are each, as individuals, responsible for change. I am clear that as a white male, I need to listen to people of color and other marginalized communities with lived experiences different from mine. By listening we can understand what we need to do to be active allies. My fear for our whole society is that far too many people want to speak and too few have the self-discipline or awareness to listen.

—Matthew McLendon

 

Choose to live in community. In an age of climate change, neoliberalism, and tech-mediated communication, we are encouraged to remain fearful and isolated. To paraphrase bell hooks’ essay “Love as the Practice of Freedom”, the road to healing our wounded body politic is through a commitment to collective liberation that moves beyond resistance to transformation. We all have a positive role to play in healing and transforming our community. Yes, that means you too!

–Michael Payne

As individuals we just need to get involved, and stay aware. Because we can’t depend on one agency or one entity to handle it all; we need to all step up as a community, and in whatever way you feel the most comfortable. Hopefully you’re able to push yourself out of your comfort zone. It’s when we stay in our little circles of comfort that we tend to perpetuate stereotypes and assumptions about people in different groups. So to push ourselves to get involved and be challenged, and to challenge each other, I think are some of the things we can do.

–Charlene Green

 

Photo: Nick Strocchia

First and foremost is that self-reflection and working around issues of race and privilege. And within that, being willing to take care of ourselves and recognize what we need to do around our stress and anxiety so we can continue to have uncomfortable conversations and meaningful dialogue, but also continue to challenge ourselves moving forward.

Relative to the traumatic aspect of the anniversary itself, people who were more directly impacted still may be experiencing a lot of traumatic stress, so I just encourage those people in particular to reach out for support.

—Elizabeth Irvin

 

My own perspective shift came from new and growing relationships in Charlottesville, thanks to a lot of grace and space afforded to me by people who have been working on anti-racist advocacy for a long time here.

The truth is we all have space and grace to grow forward, and so what individuals can continue to do, and I’m talking about cis-hetero white individuals particularly, is not just listen to voices and perspectives that are threatened and crushed by white supremacy, but start to foreground their asks and desires. It will be costly for a lot of the privilege we carry, but it’s a cost that liberates, and is really life-giving in the end.

We can’t all be responsible for all the things all the time, or we’ll burn out, so get plugged in and focus where you feel most called and led. There’s a multitude of opportunities, but life’s too short and racism is too strong in this country to not try a bit harder to show up in embodied solidarity, somewhere.

—Seth Wispelwey

 

For those of us who weren’t born and raised here I think we need to be committed to better understanding the community we live in. It is only recently that I started regularly attending events and tours at the African American Heritage Center. I have a new, and essential, emerging understanding of the community I’ve been “serving” all these years.

—Erika Viccellio

 

One thing that we can do as individuals is to extirpate the systemic racism that plagues our culture. At Live Arts…we have begun to explore the systemic barriers to [theater] participation, including obvious issues like cost and content representation—and not-so-apparent barriers like architecture, language, food, and transportation. With the help of community partners this year, Live Arts offered more “pay what you can” tickets and scholarships than ever before. Also, we are diversifying representation on our stages by making more stories written and directed by and about persons of color and women.

Education is the key to effecting change. At Live Arts, we discussed micro-aggressions, unconscious bias, and workplace discrimination each month in board and staff meetings. This summer, we invited volunteer directors to join a diversity, equity, and inclusion workshop so that our creative teams have the tools to create a safe space to work and play.

We are far from perfect. But the aim is not to create a utopian society where we all say and do the right thing. Instead, the goal is to have an equitable culture of belonging, prosperity, community, and creative exploration.

—Bree Luck

Categories
Arts

Art reaction: Powerful moments from creative voices

The planning of our annual Power Issue always gives us pause in the arts section. Is an administrator or an artist powerful, or are they a conduit for the evocative grace of emotion that art produces? Assigning a numerical evaluation to people in the arts has always felt uncomfortable to me, so this year, in the face of power struggles on many levels, we sought perspective from the creative community by asking for personal stories about the power of art.

A moment for me was seeing Patti Smith perform her ’88 election year anthem at Neil Young’s 1996 Bridge School Benefit Concert, with a crowd of 22,000 singing along: “And the people have the power / To redeem the work of fools / From the meek the graces shower / It’s decreed the people rule.” Smith’s lyrics and her ethos feel just as crucial today.—Tami Keaveny

Deborah McLeod

executive director, Piedmont Council for the Arts

When I was a young curator on the staff at the Peninsula Fine Arts Center, a former artist who had become essentially blind through medication often came to the center in an effort to continue enjoying the art of others. She would ask me to describe to her in intricate detail the works on view—the formal layout, the colors, the light, the comparative scale of things—the smallest, most discreet elements that the artists chose to include in their imagery. Her compromised eyesight, combined with my description, allowed her to “see” the work.

Coincidentally, it taught me to more clearly see each work too, as if some process that I previously used to experience art became more acute through serving as attentive, conscientious eyes for a sightless person. I feel this transformed my own ability to consider the aggregate of things, to respect nuance and deliberation, not just in art, but collaterally. …I see this as the primary gift of art too, that mutual exchange of careful saying and thoughtful seeing as the route to a richer, saner world.

Kate Bennis

actress/coach

In preparation for playing the role of a 52-year-old scientist with early onset dementia in The Other Place at Live Arts, I was introduced to a lovely woman who had been diagnosed around the same age as my character, Julianne. The friend who made the introduction had told her, “I know you can’t do a lot these days. But this is something only you can do.”

We had tea at her farmhouse. She came out of her bedroom with her shirt on backwards and inside out, one earring missing. At some point she noticed the naked earlobe, pulled off the other and hid it behind a sugar bowl. She struggled for words, but her face was full of expression, frustration, happiness, a glow. She said, “This is my journey.”

She wanted to see the show. I told her that I did not think it was a good idea. I thought it would be too painful. My character was nothing like my new friend. Julianna was a fierce, forceful, cruel woman with a hidden tragedy. But my new friend was resolute.

I asked that she be seated close to the exit. I told the cast that we should not take it personally if she left mid-play. She did not. She stayed all the way through the 90-minute, no intermission, harrowing journey. At the curtain call, I blew her a kiss and she beamed her beautiful, loving face.

After the play closed I ran into her. She asked, “Do you miss? Do you? Miss?”

“Do I miss the play? Yes.”

“No, do you miss her?”

Oh! I was hit by the incredible perception. I missed Julianne so much! I missed her strength and her passion and her determination and her ruthlessness. I did miss her terribly.

“Yes! I do miss her! Yes.” We stood together and wept for the end and the loss of it all.

Matthew McLendon

director and chief curator, The Fralin Museum of Art at UVA

Emily Noelle Lambert’s “Triumph.” Courtesy of the artist.

I have given dozens of museum tours over the years to a wide variety of groups, mostly very cultured, and almost without fail composed entirely of adults. I don’t have children. I largely find children a mystery.

A few years ago, a dear friend who was teaching at a Montessori school asked if I would give kids age 6 to 10 a tour of my exhibition “Re:Purposed,” which was composed of works by artists using cast-off items, detritus, garbage. I agreed begrudgingly.

The zenith of the experience came when a remarkably self-possessed 9-year-old girl stepped forward, among the brightly colored sculptures made of reclaimed wood and metal by Emily Noelle Lambert, and said, “What I’ve learned today is that we are surrounded by art if we only look for it. Anything can be art if you care to make it art. And really, that means that I can be art and you can be art.” No adult I’ve ever taken through a museum has even come close to that. She summed up the entire reason I’ve devoted my life to this pursuit and why I know museums are critical to our civilization.

Matthew Simon

director of operations and programming, The Paramount Theater

Recently, we had the off-Broadway play Black Angels Over Tuskegee. We had hosted two sold-out educational shows that morning to local kids who sat on the edges of their seats. The evening performance was accompanied by a lecture from a descendant of an original airman that was so well-attended there wasn’t room for everyone. The deeply powerful performance that surrounded an important historical event, in such an intimate way, was incredibly moving. As the lights came up so did the audience with a standing ovation. Entertainment and the joy that comes from a performance knows no race, gender or age.

Jack Hamilton

assistant professor, UVA Media Studies

UVAHamilton_KRS-1
KRS-One

I moved to New York City for college in 1997, about a week after my 18th birthday. It was a thrilling and bewildering time, when the world felt newly enormous. The first concert I went to after arriving was a show by Bronx rap legend KRS-One, at a Greenwich Village venue that no longer exists. KRS was in his 30s by that point, already ancient by the standards of his genre, and he was an artist who seemed to carry the entire history of a musical culture on his shoulders, proudly and effortlessly. It was a joyous, ferocious, electrifying show, transcendent in a fundamental sense. For a couple of hours KRS pulled a room full of strangers into a collective conviction that we were the only people in the world, and yet part of something so much larger than the sum of ourselves. In the too many years since, I’ve often thought back on that night, and how the best artists give us moments and experiences we want to relive again and again. Even when returning is impossible, the best way to honor them is to keep trying, and to keep trying to bring new people with you.

Jane Kulow

director, Virginia Festival of the Book

I’m struck by the power of text. …Words, woven into a story, reveal the power of a reader’s emotional response, which continues to change in meaning over time. When I reread favorite stories, I expect my response to them may have changed, even though the words remain the same. In recent months and years, I have been particularly in awe of the ways in which writers and their words continue to respond to the unconscionable number of unprovoked violent deaths of African-Americans.

When Claudia Rankine published Citizen: An American Lyric, she dedicated a brief poem to the memory of Jordan Russell Davis, shot November 23, 2012. When she read from Citizen at UVA in November 2015, the copy I purchased and she signed lists 18 men and women in that dedication, ending with Sandra Bland. [More names have been added since.]

Rankine’s words indict our society; changing the story constitutes evidence; hearing her in person was an opportunity to reimagine the power structures in which we exist.

Abby Cox

reference librarian, Jefferson-Madison Regional Library

Earlier this year, the Jefferson-Madison Regional Library hosted a photography exhibit by local filmmaker and photographer Lorenzo Dickerson. His exhibit, #BlackOwnedCville, featured portraits of black owners of local businesses. In addition to drawing one of the largest crowds to attend JMRL’s First Fridays art walk, the powerful exhibit sparked discussion and helped to build a sense of community among those in attendance. The exhibit remained on display for the months of February and March, during which staff overheard library patrons discussing the people in the photographs, pointing out family ties and relating their own connections to the businesses and neighborhoods.

Sam Bush

curator, The Garage

Last summer, The Garage hosted a public reading of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, but given the novel and intimate approach of inviting strangers to read a play together, we didn’t expect anyone to show up. To our surprise, 14 people came, most of whom had never read the play. In the next two hours, we saw people step out of their comfort zones, put on new identities and have a great time. By the end of the night, everyone, it seemed, was delightedly surprised.

The smallness of The Garage—literally and metaphorically—rubs against the notion of success in our day and age. Our culture seems only interested in accomplishing big things. Yet, this brief interaction has left a lasting impression on me. As an artist—I’ve been a musician since I was young and in creative communities for a long time—embracing the beauty of smallness felt like a new realization.

Fugazi. Image: Joe Henderson/Courtesy of Fugazi Live Series
Fugazi. Image: Joe Henderson/Courtesy of Fugazi Live Series

Greg Kelly

former director/co-founder of The Bridge PAI and the Charlottesville Mural Project

If music is considered an art, I would say that a turning point for me was seeing Fugazi at the age of 16, in a room with maybe 100 others. It informed so much of what I would come to commit my adult/professional life to: cultivating safe/accessible space for youth to hang out, experience each other’s work and to be inspired by the work of others. It’s spaces like these that are so vital to the cultural health and wealth of our communities. A resource that is swiftly disappearing in the wake of new urbanism and unchecked development in our country today.

Darryl Smith

box office manager, Live Arts

My first modern dance piece “Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk” combined hip-hop, modern dance, tap and ballet. I was affected by its formlessness. Dance is such a powerful way to tell a story, not with words, but with movement. It is a celebration of styles and techniques. In performance art like Rent, I appreciate diversity of character and experience. Theater that doesn’t always give clean, easy answers, [but] allows me to make my own ending, and draw my own conclusion. Also, the first time I went to Amsterdam and saw Van Gogh’s “Starry Night,” in person. It was a painting so small and precise in scale, yet it had an effect on me. It was intimate and infinite, simultaneously. The artist reached not only me, but through me to the rest of the world—very “Sense8.”

Kendall Stewart

music director, WCNR/Charlottesville

I’ve been a member of Gorilla Theater Productions since the fall of 2015 and started working with our teen troupe about 9 months ago. I had the incredible opportunity to hold acting workshops with them while co-directing their production of Beauty and The Beast with GTP artistic director Anna Lien, who also wrote the script. Throughout the process I watched each member of the cast grow (some literally), learned what worked best for them and saw them apply the techniques we were working on to their performances. Two actors in particular blew me away because their characters were so different from who they are as people and—despite struggles early on—they transformed onstage and really embodied their roles. By the time the lights went up on opening night, Anna and I were in tears because these teens had given us one of the most beautiful shows we’ve had.

Sarah Lawson

assistant director, Virginia Festival of the Book

I supported a Kickstarter for a handmade vase by a local potter who was building a wood kiln. Time passed and the potter sent a note to supporters: Sorry, running behind; I promise it’ll get back on track. Another note a few weeks later, and others after that: It’s taking longer than expected; I just want to get it right; thanks for your patience. Then, nothing. Kickstarter regret: I gave a stranger my money for nothing. I think to myself: ARTISTS. Months pass and a stranger knocks on my door, sheepish. He says my name as a question and hands me a bag, which I open as he walks away. Inside: A handmade vase with a handwritten note explaining how it was made, what the kiln looks like, how the project impacted his work and life. I run after the stranger, ask if he’s the potter. He is. He is Noah of Muddy Creek Pottery and I shake his hand and thank him for taking the time to make this effort. The vase now sits on my windowsill, a reminder that the power of art isn’t in an object but a willingness to trust people and take creative risks.

Warren Parker

founder, WarHen Records

One moment that I always hold close is when I held the first ever finished copy of Sarah White’s “Married Life” 7”, the first record released by WarHen. I’d been talking about starting a label for years at that point, and to finally see it come to fruition and hold the record in my hands was really special. Lots of creative people came together to make that record, it was a wonderfully collaborative effort. I get a similar feeling every time a new release shows up at my house. It’s probably the most satisfying feeling about running a label. That, and being able to share the art with others.

Lyn Bolen Warren

director/owner, Les Yeux du Monde

The opening night of Hind-sight/Fore-site Art for the New Millennium at Edgehill when Tim Curtis lit the bonfire inside his “Visionary Spirit,” a larger than life bronze top coat modeled after one from Jefferson’s day. The onlookers gazed at the soaring flames and embers for hours and the spirit of the past and the future and present all seemed to merge in that modern fire ritual. Many great artists gave their time and energy to create powerful pieces throughout and around Charlottesville that summer of 2000 that looked at our shared past, considered our present and imagined a future that would be more equitable and beautiful for all. Other powerful pieces were Martha Jackson Jarvis’ “Markings in the Slave Cemetery at Montpelier” (she offered this to them at the time but they sadly refused it); Todd Murphy’s “Monument to Sally Hemings,” a beautiful white dress atop the Coal Tower (the structure for it is still there); Dan Mahon’s “Stomping Grounds,” a tribute to the Monacan Indians; and Dennis Oppenheim’s “Marriage Tree” that united all colors and types into one beautiful DNA shaped structure made of larger than life wedding cake figurines.

Matthew Slaats

founder/director, BeCville

Do you know who first capitalized the ‘A’ in Art?  I don’t. The phenomenon probably started at the beginning of a sentence. It was unintentional, a rule of grammar. But, then something clicked. If you capitalized that single letter, Art became something totally different. It was something that you only saw at a museum, gallery, or on a pedestal in the middle of a park. It took on meaning and importance. It was to be deeply thought about and considered intensely. International festivals should be created. Kids’ books should be written that depict epic battles between Pigcasso and Mootisse. All this was done for the purpose of erecting an edifice of value and prominence.

The moment that Art had power to me was when it once again became art. A short, squat word that if you added an ‘f’ to the front of it, pimply teenagers would giggle and laugh. That moment came for me when I realized that art, and it may be better to use works like culture or creativity, was all around me. art was a painted fence near a sports stadium that changed yearly, pronouncing a clever quip in support of the local team. art was the way someone styled their hair, being an extension of one’s identity and body. My only problem is that baldness has turned a lush landscape into a barren wasteland. art was the wealth of drawings that my children brought home from school on a daily basis, which my wife and I fawned over before moving them quickly to the recycling bin.

Art’s power is not in its scarcity, but in the fact that it permeates every moment of our lives.

Maureen Brondyke

executive director, New City Arts Initiative

One of the most powerful things about the arts is the surprising ripple effect of benefits it can have in a community, especially around how communities come together and understand one another. In 2013, a group of artists founded Charlottesville SOUP. At its core as an arts event, SOUP is an opportunity for civic engagement, an opportunity to meet your neighbor to ask what the arts in Charlottesville need. Guests each contribute $10, pool their funds and vote to award a grant of real financial support for projects. Attendees form new friendships with strangers they sit next to at their table. Last spring, an artist who didn’t win the grant had an attendee write her a check for the full amount she needed for her project.

Neal Guma

owner, Neal Guma Fine Art

I really love this idea, and thought about it for the last few days. It was tough to get done in 200 words, and the more I thought about it the less specific it became.

Thank you for asking me though; the idea took me back to an early part of my life in New York and the memories of a few paintings. And it made me think about how something painted can change the way we experience the world.

Edward Warwick White

marketing coordinator, Four County Players

I’ve been doing theater since I was a small child, and I’ve been involved with the local performing arts community since 2010. This past winter, I had the opportunity to design the set for A Charlie Brown Christmas at Four County Players. I was excited by the opportunity to take a show that’s already such a big part of the holidays for so many families and bring it to life on stage. Our 4 year-old nephew, Jack, from Staunton, was among one of the many children experiencing the magic of theater for the first time—meeting Linus (and his blanket) after the show. You would have thought he was meeting Santa Claus. The world felt like it had turned upside down all around us, but there was magic happening in that little school house in Barboursville. I think we all needed a little Christmas even more this year. I stood in the back for a few performances, and when the curtain would open on the snowy scene with the Peanuts ice skating, you could hear children go “wow” and see their eyes light up. I’m not sure if there’s any greater review than that.

Categories
Arts

The Hill and Wood looks inward on When You Go

It’s hard to talk about these songs,” says Sam Bush over a mug of cooling tea at Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar. He’s unwrapped the CD copy of The Hill and Wood’s latest record, When You Go, and crinkles the clear plastic wrapping in his hands.

“There’s a lot of pressure these days for bands to…fabricate a story [about a record] that’s easily marketable,” Bush says. Everyone wants to know how and why a record was made; they want to know a record’s theme, its purpose. But the truth about When You Go, which drops January 19 on Randm Records, is that it just…happened.

Along with his friend and guitarist Chris Campanelli, Bush founded The Hill and Wood in 2009, during their last year at UVA. Shortly after, flutist and vocalist Juliana Daugherty joined the band and Bush says the extraordinary quality of her voice was so powerful that people would often think Daugherty was either the “Hill” or the “Wood” and that Bush was the other.

Enthusiastic to become full-time touring musicians, the band bought a van, made a record (2011’s The Hill and Wood), performed at SXSW in Austin, Texas, played a Daytrotter session in August 2012 and released an EP, Opener, in 2014.

A band needs momentum to thrive, “and unless you pick up an extraordinary amount of traction, it is very hard for a band to even survive,” Bush says. The Hill and Wood had plenty of momentum—until it didn’t.

Some band members went to grad school while others got married or moved to other parts of the state and the country. But Bush, who serves as music minister for Christ Episcopal Church and runs the art space/music venue The Garage on First Street NW, kept writing songs.

The Hill & Wood – The Tide Decides from Pando Creative Co. on Vimeo.

Bush always wanted to make a record with Colin Killalea (of indie-pop outfit Klauss), whom he’d met at White Star Sound in Louisa years ago—Killalea is a fearless musician and producer, Bush says—but it seemed like a dream. That is, until Randm Records, which describes itself as “an independent record label offering up, well, randomly great music. Indie, rock, Americana, blues, country, bluegrass, folk and whatever else we like,” e-mailed Bush in summer 2015 with an offer: The label liked his music and wanted to fund a record, no strings attached.

“Randm Records is a bit unconventional in its approach: When they believe in a band, they want to support them, which is wonderful,” Bush says.

He assembled what he calls his own personal dream team of musicians—Daugherty, who also performs solo and with local act Nettles, on vocals and flute; Curtis Fye on bass; Robby Sinclair on drums; Killalea, who produced the record, on guitars and keyboards; and Trey Pollard of Spacebomb Records (he’s arranged strings for Foxygen, among others) on pedal steel.

When You Go was recorded at White Star in the first half of 2016, then sent to Mark Nevers (who produced and engineered Andrew Bird’s 2002 Weather Systems and has produced records for Lambchop, Bonnie “Prince” Billy, Silver Jews and others) for mixing. For the cover art, Bush requested, and received permission to use, an image of an astronaut/deep sea diver suspended in darkness by Australian photo-realism painter Jeremy Geddes.

It’s an album that you can judge by its cover: When You Go is a bit darker, heavier than previous The Hill and Wood records, both in sound and perspective. It’s a record about being in your late 20s and early 30s and coming to terms with some of the stranger facts of existence. Take, for example, “Magnetar.”

“After everywhere I’ve been, everything I’ve been through / I’ve seen two types of people, ones like me and ones like you. / Me, I’m just a moon, just a cold ball that lingers / And you’re a magnetar with lights coming out of your fingers,” Bush starts off on the keyboard-heavy ballad. Here, he’s singing about his wife—he feels drawn to her, a star with a powerful magnetic field. They’re strongly bonded by the union of their marriage, but they’re still solitary figures.

“It’s very human to need something other than yourself,” Bush says, and usually you need another human. But there’s tremendous sadness and fear in realizing that even the person you feel most connected to isn’t the solution to life’s loneliness. In many ways, we’re all the figure on the cover, untethered and floating solo in the dark, tangled in the life bursting forth from our busted seams.

“That’s what we’re all connecting over,” Bush says. “In order to connect with yourself or with others, you need to write about things the way they are. Those ‘things,’ unfortunately, are loneliness, fear and…well, maybe just those two things,” he says with a laugh, letting go of the cellophane as he finds for himself the threads that tie these songs together.

For all that these songs lay bare but cannot fix, Bush hopes the tracks on When You Go “allow someone a little comfort, or empathy or compassion.”

“Gone are my days / When I saw my life in black and white. / Most of the time I feel like I’ve been blind,” Bush sings over fingerpicked guitar on the record’s final track, “The Tide Decides.”

“I don’t know where The Hill and Wood is going,” says Bush. “Whether a lot of people hear this music or a small number of people hear it, I feel lucky that it exists at all. I want to move forward with it, but I’m comfortable not knowing where it’s going. …Finally, just finally, desire and ambition have been wrestled from me and I can enjoy it for what it is.” The tide, with its ebb and flow, decides where The Hill and Wood will go, and Bush is fine with floating.