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Arts Culture

Mentor and student unite in artistic dialogue at Les Yeux du Monde

Artists Isabelle Abbot and Barbara Campbell Thomas met when Abbot was a student in the MFA program at UNC Greensboro where Thomas was a professor. Thomas became an important mentor to Abbot, helping her achieve a looser, freer painting style and chairing her thesis committee. “Influence + Conversation” at Les Yeux du Monde reunites the two women in an exhibition showcasing their parallel approaches and ongoing artistic dialogue.

The most potent tie linking the two artists is their shared appreciation of the natural world and what this brings to their respective practices. “Barbara has always been very supportive of my time outside in nature,” says Abbot, who became a regular visitor to Thomas’ farm while she was a student. “She talked a lot about note-taking when you’re outside, moving through the world and observing things.”

These plein air notes, a central facet of both artists’ practices, help build a visual language they can draw from. Thomas, whose work is abstract, uses what she gleans from her forays outdoors to develop what she refers to as contemplations of an interior landscape. Her paintings combine sewn fabric, collaged elements, and acrylic paint. “I don’t start with a solid piece of material; I basically build it piece by piece, using small sections of fabric, to form a ground that gets stretched. When I’m done with the sewing, I start adding the paint and collage. 

“When I learned the technique of piecing fabric together it was like a lightbulb went off. I felt like it was the knowledge I needed. I don’t want to start with a large expanse of unblemished canvas; I want to make that too. It’s not something that’s a given. Instead, I build the ground myself.”

“Dear Star” by Barbara Campbell Thomas. Image Courtesy of LYDM.

Thomas’ reduced palette of blues and grays is inspired by a rag rug made by her great-grandmother. The rug features a pattern of diamonds, a motif Thomas has incorporated into “Central Medallion.” In this work, the artist plays with space in an abstract way. Surrounding the center diamond, four squares of fabric are attached to each other. Where the seams meet, the strips of material don’t exactly line up, imparting a kind of jangly energy to the piece. Lighter colored painted fabric around the edges frame the dark center, making it pop. 

Optically, the thrust of the work appears to be receding down a deep well, while at other times, it feels like it’s extending out toward you. This spatial push/pull animates the work and reveals Thomas’ interest in how movement affects observation. “The visual rhythm and visual cadence of my work is aided by the fact that my body’s in movement,” she says. This attention to rhythm and cadence is also seen in “Night Space,” which features a prominent horizontal direction, and “Dear Star,” which brims with staccato intensity.

Abbot’s connection to the physical landscape is more obvious, although in many works she embraces an abstract direction, using landscape as the jumping-off point. She creates her preliminary sketches outdoors, then takes them back to the studio and tapes them to the wall. “I look at them and see what I would call my go-to marks, my go-to shapes that I put together in different ways.” Moving from one painting to another, you begin to see elements of that vocabulary: descending slopes, triangles, and similar amorphous forms that crop up repeatedly.

In much of the work on view, Abbot, who excels as a colorist, favors a highly keyed palette of turquoise, yellow, and cerulean. Yet in “Ode to Greenwood,” she uses a more naturalistic color scheme. The painting reads true to nature, but in approaching the picture, you see how the color is created with a gutsy amalgamation of gestural hues that work together to describe reflections on water, the choppy contours of soft, muddy land, and shadows. 

In “Morning Glow,” blotches of bright pigment, resembling the fiery flecks that shimmer within an opal, denote pinkish sunlight glinting off structures and objects on distant ridges. The furthermost peaks are washed in pale yellow and pink, and Abbot uses vibrant brushstrokes and vivid aquamarine to convey a mountainside bathed in sun, tempering this bold choice with the dark verdant green of the adjoining hill.

For Abbot, like Thomas, it’s not just being in nature, but moving through nature. “For a long time, I painted the landscape like I was looking out a window at it. I framed it and composed it and then painted it.” But now she tries a more immersive approach, capturing the landscape in a holistic way. “It’s something that’s not way over there … you’re in it.” You see how this is implemented to great effect in “Field’s Edge,” a pastoral scene that is not just a stunning image, but is infused with the sensual qualities of its subject—buffeting breeze and warm sun—elements experienced by the artist firsthand and interpreted so effectively for us using her personal artistic language.

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Arts

New interpretations: Opera and American Sign Language come together in performance at VHO

Amber Zion started analyzing acting techniques when she was 5 years old. The only deaf child in her family, she grew up watching movies without captions, and she made up her own stories based on what she saw in the actors’ expressions and gestures.

When she watched MTV, she’d ask her mother to act out scenes from different videos—such as Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”—then she’d jump in and follow along.

Those videos “were very artistic, and I wanted to be able to give that to the deaf community,” says Zion, who got involved in theater in college and has since made her own music videos of popular songs like “Let It Go” and Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep,” performed in American Sign Language. She’s also performed the national anthem at the Super Bowl. “I wanted to create our own meaning behind the music,” she says.

This week, Zion comes to Charlottesville to tackle a new type of musical expression: opera.

Over the course of a three-day workshop, three deaf actors and three hearing opera singers, along with a director, a conductor, an ASL master, and a pianist, will explore a selection of scenes from Francis Poulenc’s Dialogues of the Carmelites, written in the 20th century and set in a convent on the eve of the French Revolution.

The public will have the opportunity to experience the resulting performance (performed simultaneously in English and ASL) on February 27 at UVA’s Old Cabell Hall, as part of the UVA Disability Studies Symposium.

Victory Hall Opera, an innovative local company, proposed the initial concept. Artistic director, Miriam Gordon-Stewart, a hearing soprano who is also singing in this experiment, got the idea from reading Andrew Solomon’s Far from the Tree: Parents, Children and the Search for Identity, a book about parenting children who are different from their parents.

One section of the book looks at the experience of a deaf child growing up with hearing parents, and Solomon explains the origins of sign language: French priest Charles-Michel de l’Épée founded the first known public school for the deaf in Paris in 1755.

Gordon-Stewart’s mind “immediately went to” Dialogues of the Carmelites, an opera singer’s opera, set about 35 years later. “Wouldn’t it be great,” she thought, “if we could talk about Dialogues of the Carmelites through a deaf lens?”

That provoked further questions, such as “What is opera without sound? Is there a unique performing style to opera that can transcend the sound itself? How can we heighten the visual elements of opera to express its essence?”

Director Alek Lev is curious to discover (among other things) what operatic sign language looks like. Sign language looks and feels a certain way while signing Shakespeare, and that’s different from how the language looks and feels when signing, say, Neil Simon dialogue, he says.

Plus, he says, there’s an “essential metaphor” in the opera—one of fighting against the system—that might resonate with the deaf community, whose members have been “historically marginalized and misunderstood…they are more and more fighting for their linguistic and cultural rights, their civil rights,” says Lev. “It’s exciting that [Dialogues of the Carmelites] gives us this pretty easily.”

There’s a unique physicality to singing opera. “The body resonates as an instrument to produce these enormous amounts of sound; there’s an athleticism to it,” says Gordon-Stewart.

And there’s a certain, also unique, physicality to signing, implies Sandra Mae Frank, who will sign the role of Blanche.

“I don’t need to hear [music] to understand it,” Frank says. “I don’t need to hear what everyone else hears, because I see it. I feel it. I understand it on a deeper level. When I sing in ASL, it’s like I can almost see the wavelength of the song. My body glows inside and my heart pours out openly. I’m not interpreting the music, I am performing it with emotions, inside and out. I use my entire body, including my facial expressions and using the right translation to show the beat of the music. In a way, singing in ASL adds more abstract emotional quality. It’s not always about hearing the music, but seeing and feeling the music.”

ASL “is already a visual language that sometimes stands alone without adding any actual choreography,” adds Frank, and sometimes it can work with choreography to convey new layers of emotion and meaning. To “hearing audience members, that’s dancing, but to the deaf/hard-of-hearing audience members, that’s ASL. It’s beautiful how both naturally come together,” she says.

With this in mind, Frank, whose credits include Deaf West Theatre’s Broadway revival of Spring Awakening, is curious to find out if she’ll sign differently in opera than she does in musical theater.

This is Zion’s first opera performance as well. Opera singers “have so much more emotions in their voice,” she says, and “[as deaf actors], I think we will be able to bring that out through our beautiful ASL.”

In many musical productions featuring deaf actors and hearing actors, two actors essentially split a role, where one signs and one speaks. And there will be some of that in these Dialogues of the Carmelites scenes, but Gordon-Stewart says they won’t stick strictly to the doubling. Such an approach will allow the cast and crew to plumb some of the work’s spiritual themes and explore the bonds between characters and between actors.

Both the hearing actors and the deaf actors expect to learn plenty from one another throughout the workshop. That’s what acting’s all about anyhow, says Zion. Whether performing an opera about nuns or The King of Pop’s dance moves, “you will never stop learning, and that’s what makes you a great actor.”

Frank agrees. “That’s the beauty of theater: You never stop learning something new together.”

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Arts

Block by block: Local teen creates a full-length Minecraft animation film

When it comes to creating a feature-length movie on the silver screen, animation studios like Pixar deploy millions of dollars and hundreds of people to make the magic happen.

Well buckle up, Hollywood, because one local teen did it right from his basement studio in Louisa. Fourteen-year-old homeschooler Jack Buckley created what he believes to be the world’s first full-length feature film using Minecraft animation.

Minecraft is the best-selling video game in the world. In it, players use digital blocks to create structures, resources, and just about anything they can imagine.

“There are probably millions of Minecraft animations out there, but even adult teams have never taken it as far as to make a Minecraft-animated feature film,” Buckley says.

The film is Remnants, an action-comedy movie that’s also a fantasy and a buddy film. It follows protagonist Chris and his mentor Milo as they attempt to stop the warlord who killed Chris’ father.

“There’s a lot of heart in the movie. It’s heartwarming…heartbreaking at some points,” Buckley says. “This film doesn’t have a message per se, but I [hope it will] affect people.”

The young filmmaker, who wrote, produced, directed, animated, and voice-acted in the project, says he’s a storyteller at heart.

“I started writing books when I was 7 years old. When I was about 10, I began to make games, but I realized the only part of making games that I really liked was the creative aspect behind it. Even with making this film, I didn’t necessarily love doing the animation. For me, it’s more about filmmaking.”

 

To create the visuals for Remnants, Buckley imported models and worlds from Minecraft into a 3-D animation program called Blender, then animated the characters and landscapes to suit the plot.

He worked with more than 40 other teenagers, including voice actors, animators, and a composer. His sister, Mia, wrote and sang the final track, but most of his collaborators live elsewhere. Buckley won’t meet his co-star, a Kentucky native named Nicholas McCamish, until the film debuts at Vinegar Hill Theater on Saturday.

Buckley found many of his collaborators through YouthDigital, a now-defunct company that gave student coders a place to share their work. The movie itself began as a 16-minute short, uploaded to the platform.

“It got an extremely positive response,” Buckley says. “Everyone was like, ‘We need more Remnants.’ So I decided to create more, and eventually it just turned into a feature film.”

It took three years and 3,200 hours for the young filmmaker to achieve the final product.

“I’m definitely more resilient,” he says. “What I found helpful, especially in these last few months when I’ve been working eight- to thirteen-hour days, is to not think about where you are now but where you will be when the project’s done.”

Remnants will premier alongside a documentary Buckley made about the making of the movie. A Q&A with several cast members will follow.

Eventually, Buckley says, he plans be an executive producer. Soon, he’ll begin making more live action films. But now, he just wants to inspire others.

“Throughout this entire process, I’ve learned that just because you’re a kid doesn’t mean you can’t do things, like creating a movie at 14, with the help of a bunch of other people,” he says. “I want to give the message to kids that they don’t have to wait until they’re an adult to try to do great things.”

More info at remnantsmovie.com.

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Arts

Read local: Our annual roundup of Charlottesville-area authors

In 2018, over 50 authors living and working in the Charlottesville area published new books. They built fictional worlds populated by talking animals, anti-terrorist teenage space fighters, and ordinary humans trying to find the truth. They documented last year’s violent white supremacist rally in our city and dug into our history of racism. They redefined Appalachia, encouraged us to question our dependence on social media, and inspired us to draw and color our inner and outer worlds. They crafted lyrical lines articulating this human moment of advanced technology and precarious climate. And they reminded us what it’s like to hope, to love, and to dream. Here you’ll find just some of the local talent constructing worlds with words.

Fiction

Rita Mae Brown

Probable Claws: A Mrs. Murphy Mystery

In the town of Crozet, Harry and her animal companions search for clues to her friend’s daylight murder, and unearth centuries of greed and corruption.

Homeward Hound: A Novel

Humans, horses, foxes, and hounds must solve the mystery when the president of an energy company with plans to build a pipeline through central Virginia goes missing during a festive gathering.

M.K. England

The Disasters

When terrorists attack a space station academy in 2194, it’s up to five teens to save the space colonies.

Talley English

Horse: A Novel

A teenage girl befriends a horse in the aftermath of her parents’ separation.

John Grisham

The Reckoning

A Mississippi community must reconcile a horrible crime with the man no one would ever suspect.

John Hart

The Hush: A Novel

Titled for the fictional parcel of North Carolina land under dispute, The Hush delves into the historical trauma of colonization and the enslavement of Africans.

Jan Karon

Bathed in Prayer: Father Tim’s Prayers, Sermons, and Reflections from the Mitford Series (G.P. Putnam’s Sons)

Drawing from the 14 novels of the Mitford series, Karon distills the advice and encouragement of the fictional Father Tim.

Randall Klein

Little Disasters

A love triangle in New York City comes to a head when the city’s transportation system fails.

Doug Lawson

Bigfoots in Paradise

Dark comedic short stories set in Santa Cruz, California, explore human drama amid the threat of earthquake and fire.

Inman Majors

Penelope Lemon: Game On!

Majors’ fifth novel chronicles the online-dating misadventures of a single mom living with her mother.

Adam Nemett

We Can Save Us All

Princeton students prepare for the apocalypse and spark a revolution.

Anne Marie Pace

Vampirina in the Snow

Vampirina Ballerina and her family venture outside for snow day fun.

Ethan Murphy

Blackmoore: Gifted

Divine Influence: The Fall

Screenboy: The Departure

Slate & Ashe #6

Comic book writer Murphy premiered three new series this year featuring a female mad scientist, fallen angels, and an interdimensional cop, along with the sixth issue of his golem-cop partner series.

Thomas Pierce

The Afterlives: A Novel

A man with a heart condition that left him temporarily dead at 30 explores the possibility of an afterlife.

Non-fiction

Elizabeth Catte

What You Are Getting Wrong about

Appalachia

While she’s a bit further to the west, we’re including Catte here for her important challenge to Appalachian stereotypes, as an Appalachian resident herself.

Jane Friedman

The Business of Being a Writer

Advice for navigating the publishing industry.

Lee Graves

Virginia Beer: A Guide from Colonial Days to Craft’s Golden Age

A guide to award-winning breweries and the history of craft brewing in Virginia.

Laura Lee Gulledge

Sketchbook Dares: 24 Ways to Draw Out Your Inner Artist

Prompts to inspire anyone, regardless of skill, to draw.

Jeffrey L. Hantman

Monacan Millennium: A Collaborative Archaeology and History of a Virginia Indian People

A history of Virginia’s Monacan Nation from 1000 A.D. to the present.

Claudrena N. Harold and

Louis P. Nelson, editors

Charlottesville 2017: The Legacy of Race and Inequity

UVA faculty examine the relevance of our community’s history to our present following the white supremacist rally of 2017.

Uzo Njoku

The Bluestocking Society: a coloring book

This coloring book by local artist Njoku features renowned women of color with brief biographies, as well as portraits of anonymous women of color.

Charles Shields

The Man Who Wrote the Perfect Novel: John Williams, Stoner, and the Writing Life

A biography of cult-favorite novelist John Williams.

Hawes Spencer

Summer of Hate: Charlottesville, USA

Investigative journalist Spencer gives an accounting of the white supremacist rallies.

Earl Swift

Chesapeake Requiem: A Year with the Watermen of Vanishing Tangier Island

An in-depth look at the Chesapeake Bay community whose island is disappearing amid rising tides.

Siva Vaidhyanathan

Antisocial Media: How Facebook Disconnects Us and Undermines Democracy

UVA professor and director of the Center for Media and Citizenship chronicles how Facebook unwittingly became an instrument of propaganda, misinformation, and misdirection

Poetry

Paul Guest

Because Everything Is Terrible

Guest explores the end of the world and the end of words, destruction and its counterpoint, love and other things worth living for in “this emergency we call life.”

Erika Howsare

How is Travel a Folded Form?

A conversation between the poet and Isabella Bird, an Englishwoman explorer from the Victorian era, on their imagined travels together in the American West.

Molly Minturn

Not in Heaven

A chapbook of quick-paced thought with beautifully startling juxtapositions: “Please turn me deciduous. Scarlet / the parlor. My terrible arms wing up in the dark.” (A Child’s Garden of Verses)

Lisa Russ Spaar

Orexia: Poems

A collection on aging and desire, both of the body and the spirit.

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Arts

Letting it flow: Kyle Dargan fights futility with poetry

As a child, Kyle Dargan began writing rhymes largely as a matter of convenience.

“If you wanted to make music, especially back in the ’90s, you needed somebody with a studio and recording equipment,” he says. “But you could write [hip-hop lyrics] at home, on the bus, in a notebook, and share with people and workshop and take their feedback and try to get better at it.”

Now a highly awarded poet and writing teacher at American University, Dargan became interested in poetry just shy of high school. “One of the things I really push back against as a teacher at the college level is that by the time I get my students, most of them have probably experienced some poetry trauma,” he says. Whereas children are born with a basic element of creative freedom, he says he must “deprogram [his students] from the feeling that unless you are able to interpret a poem a certain way, you’re wrong or you’re wasting your time in reading it.”

Growing up in Newark, New Jersey, Dargan went to Saint Benedict’s Prep and then to the University of Virginia, where he was a graduate of the first-ever area program in poetry writing. He went on to Indiana University, where he received his MFA in creative writing, and then moved to Washington, D.C., to study art management and teach at American.

“I couldn’t have ever imagined it, but being here during the Obama administration I got to do some great work with the President’s Committee on the Arts and Humanities and [produce poetry programming] at the White House,” he says. “As much as D.C. is maligned, I really try to appreciate all the unusually marvelous things that can only happen here.”

Given Dargan’s penchant for exploring themes like contemporary masculinity and “America as a concept—not so much a place but an idea,” it’s easy to understand the relevance of his poems.


“As much as D.C. is maligned, I really try to appreciate all the unusually marvelous things that can only happen here.”


In his forthcoming collection, Anagnorisis, he explores the moment he understood his American fate in the same way a Greek tragic hero experiences crystalline self-awareness. “With all of the police shootings of citizens…I felt like, you know, ‘I have a feeling the country’s kinda going in a direction that I’m not quite sure of yet,’” he says. “And then the 2016 election happened. I was like, ‘Ah, okay, this is it. And I know what side of it I am on.’”

Still, he says, “when I think about America now, I’m one of the few who still believes America is heading in a post-racial direction. But I say that with a caveat that the hours, the years right before the change becomes real are often the most violent.”

After traveling to China twice in the last 10 years and examining why it continues to buy American debt, Dargan says he’s realized America’s biggest export is promise.

“I don’t want to look at it as hope,” he adds, “because I don’t think those ideologies are going to roll away easily. But I do think that America, more than anything, is a place of reckoning. It’s a difficult reckoning, and we are gradually becoming mature enough to handle that reckoning, but we’re not there yet.”

By helping heal the trauma inflicted on students’ creative self-expression, Dargan hopes to support that maturation process. “A big part of what makes creative communication work is being able to be present as yourself on the page, right? If you’re not open and vulnerable and honestly dealing with who you are and how you write, you’re limiting the potential of whatever communication you’re making with someone else,” he says. “I believe that the ability to communicate, first and foremost with yourself and then transferring that to others, definitely saves us all.”

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Arts

Cartoonist Zach Weinersmith draws humor out of science

If you saw Zach Weinersmith around town, he might not immediately stand out. His thin frame and shoulder-length red hair fits the bill for an average guy in his 30s—he wouldn’t be out of place browsing at New Dominion Bookshop or catching a show at the Jefferson.

He’s not out of place at Three Notch’d Brewery, either. Weinersmith sits comfortably at one of the restaurant’s tables and chats about his life. “It’s not very interesting,” he says at one point, a statement sure to make aspiring cartoonists scoff. Aspiring physicists too, for that matter.

If the name doesn’t ring a bell, Weinersmith is better known as the creator of Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, a successful daily webcomic. It’s often one panel, sometimes more, with few recurring characters, and its themes are just as varied—topics range from neoclassical economism to world religions to imagining (tastefully) what Medusa’s pubic hair would look like. In short, SMBC follows the trajectory of Weinersmith’s brilliant, delightfully random mind.

So what brings him to Charlottesville? According to Weinersmith, his wife Kelly was the main reason for the move. “We thought we should move somewhere and buy some land to build a little laboratory,” Weinersmith says, explaining that he and his wife met in college—when Zach was a physics undergrad, and Kelly a biology grad student. He expresses their desire to pursue research “like gentlemen scientists from the 19th century, without having to deal with the tough stuff in academia.”

This tough stuff is “bureaucratic” and “very stressful,” Weinersmith says, adding that it only gets more difficult once you have kids. He and his wife have two—Ada, 4, and Ben, 1—and they romp in the background of the interview. Ben makes multiple bids for freedom throughout the interview, gleefully padding across the restaurant as Weinersmith dashes after him. “The problem is, he thinks it’s a game now,” he says after snatching Ben for the umpteenth time. Weinersmith feigns annoyance, but it’s clear he’s enjoying himself as much as his son.

Charlottesville “checks a lot of boxes for us,” Weinersmith says. “There’s a vibrant academic community, lots of yuppie stuff—used bookstores, coffee shops, stuff like that. And despite all that, you can buy a little farm for not that much money.”

The original tip-off as to Weinersmith’s whereabouts was a nonfiction cartoon he published earlier this year featuring caricatured versions of him, his wife, and anonymous small business owners of the community. The strip dealt with exorbitant health care costs, and “even when it was really awful, the community came together,” Weinersmith says, calling the experience very heartening.

Politics aren’t frequently tackled in his strips, but Weinersmith is working on a project that he expects will ruffle some partisan feathers. He describes it as a nonfiction graphic novel making the case for open-border immigration. Weinersmith is mostly doing illustrations, working with an author he labels as a right-wing economist. “The thought was to reach out to a different audience than would usually hear about it,” he says. “It’s a little bit terrifying, but as a rule I try to do at least one terrifying project every year or so.”

He’s also just finished a book co-written with Kelly, titled Soonish: Ten Emerging Technologies That’ll Improve and/or Ruin Everything. It’s exactly what it sounds like, an alternately hilarious and academic nonfiction work predicting the future of concepts like gene editing and 3D printers. Weinersmith’s comics are dropped throughout the text, one-panel punchlines to lighten up intellectual (and sometimes worrying) topics.

Weinersmith is modest about the success of the bestselling book. He also brushes aside the idea that explaining complex scientific theory is hard, saying that the trick is to “remember what was difficult to understand in the first place.”

The couple has other ideas in the works, but Weinersmith won’t go into detail, saying he doesn’t like to discuss projects that are “too tenebrous.”

As the conversation winds down, Weinersmith circles back to SMBC. Though he started it in the ’90s, he doesn’t foresee ending the comic. “You get to a point where you do a thing so often, it’s almost like a daily workout,” he says. “The comic has kind of become the launch pad. I’m working on other projects that are more narrative-driven, more involved, because I can. The comic is a reliable source of income. I know my family will be taken care of, so now I can try risky, crazy things.”

And this city is the place he and his wife have chosen to take risks. “I hope I die here—but not soon,” Weinersmith says.