“Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll” will open Oct. 29, with full COVID-19 mitigation policies in place.
The popular adage that is often tossed around in show business, “the show must go on,” met its match this year as COVID-19 has practically shut down the arts and entertainment industries for months.
Since we made the decision to close our venues to the public starting March 13, 2020, we’ve been strategically preparing for the moment in which we are able to safely welcome guests back through our doors.
With cautious optimism, starting Oct. 29, 2020, we look forward to hosting The Midnight Company’s production of Eric Bogosian’s “Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll,” at The Kranzberg.
We do not take the decision to host a production lightly, and we have spent hundreds of hours staying up to date with the latest information from public health officials. We recognize the gravity of the current public health situation and acknowledge our responsibility in maintaining the utmost standards when it comes to keeping guests, artists, and our staff safe.
In order for the show to be approved for our stages, The Midnight Company has gone through an exhaustive process including being vetted through our own greenlight plan, receiving certification from Missouri ArtSafe, and finally, approved by the City of St. Louis.
The nature of the production has also been taken into consideration. This one-act, one-person production eliminates potential complications with intermission and social distancing on stage.
The Midnight Company’s COVID plan, which was developed alongside the Kranzberg Arts Foundation and approved by the City of St. Louis, is publicly available on their website so that guests know what to expect when they walk through our doors.
“We’ve taken steps to help everyone — cast, crew, and guests — stay as safe as possible through extensive vetting and work alongside our public health officials,” Executive Director Chris Hansen said. “The Midnight Company is committed to ensuring best practices are in place including staging a one-act, one-actor production.”
Additionally, venue capacity will be limited to ensure proper social distancing of six feet or more between guests.
For organizations and artists interested in producing a show in one of our venues, you must be able to effectively take care of your cast and crew. A plan outlining your COVID procedures must be submitted and approved by the Foundation and the City of St. Louis.
“We look forward to welcoming the show to our stage, and will continue working to support the safe creation and presentation of art,” Hansen said.
As we enter the seventh consecutive month of venue closures, we are methodically working through ways in which we can continue to steward the vital infrastructure for artists and arts organizations so that we can once again say without hesitation, “the show must go on.”
“We have learned to fly the air like birds and swim the sea like fish, but we have not learned the simple art of living together as brothers.”
-Martin Luther King Jr.
Full disclosure: When I initially came up with the idea for Consider…, my vision for this show revolved around reaching a very specific group of people in my world.
You know these people. I’m sure you have them in your life, too. (Heaven forbid you are them…)
The people who are so nice when you meet them! They would bend over backward to make you feel at home in their space. If you only saw them every now and again, you would think them excellent friend material.
But then, you start to notice the weird things they say half under their breath to you…things that make you a little uncomfortable, cause that’s not quite how you see the world. But you don’t want to offend them.
You notice the things they post on social media. It’s like Facebook’s out to get you because suddenly the only posts you see seem to come from that person and your six mutual friends who think more like them apparently than you. You begin to notice those things they said half-under-their-breath to you at that graduation party last weekend, they are practically shouting now. Like, seriously, don’t they have anything better to do than be on Facebook all day sharing one salty meme after another?
It’s those people. I have a lot of them in my life. They come from all walks of life; rich and poor, suburban, urban and country, Republican and Democrat, gay and straight, male and female, old and young. They have two things in common: they are always right, and they will fight to the death anyone who challenges their views.
Everything they do is driven by fear and pride.
Fear is a liar. Fear is a big, bad bully that comes up and steals your lunch, and then dumps you in the trash can for good measure. Fear takes all the beauty and glory out of the world around us, smashes it up, and then heaves us into the cesspit of suspicion, doubt, and comfort in the status quo. Fear makes sure we don’t ever stray out past the edge of our own worldview, like a dog wearing a shock collar. Should we even think about sticking a toe over the line, fear zaps us back with something that proves leaving our safety net of what we know and understand to be true is just not worth the pain.
I know this because I struggle with fear every day. I’m afraid of all kinds of things, real and imagined. I’m afraid of getting into a car accident on the highway, (which could happen), and I’m afraid there are monsters under my bed (which is a ridiculous fear for someone in their 30s, but here we are…). I’m afraid that people won’t like me, especially if they hear what I think or feel. I’m afraid of crying because I think it makes me look weak. I’m afraid of large crowds and tiny spaces. I’m often afraid of myself, of my own talents, and what my life could look like if I succeed or if I fail at the things I try.
I also know pride all too well…pride makes us feel like we are in charge, and being in charge feels good. Pride tells us that we are right, and anyone who challenges us is obviously either misguided, delusional, or else is a threat to our power and so must be silenced. Pride lets us play the gracious teacher, trying to lead that poor stray soul away from lies into the truth. But more often than not, pride makes us into the bully who will do anything to stay on top. Pride takes all the exploration and joy out of life, and makes everything about status, about appearance, about power and control.
I don’t like living with pride any more than I like living with fear. They are not welcome in my life, and it’s a daily struggle for me to send them packing.
So, when I see friends who struggle to see past the narrow end of their own noses, I understand. I get it. I’ve been there, too. I’m still there way too often. Sometimes things pop up in my Facebook memories that make me cringe. I can hardly believe that 18 or 21 or 25 or even 29-year-old me believed those things with so much assurance. I have compassion for those whose fear and pride keep them from being able to consider another person’s way of seeing and being in the world as valid and equal to their own. My heart goes out to those who look at the world around them and see only enemies and not fellow human beings.
Initially, this show is meant for them.
It’s a love letter to people who probably won’t come. It’s a call to come and consider others in a safe space. This show is a chance to take a deep breath, and then plunge into another person’s world and experience, even if just for a half-hour. It’s a call to come and consider how deepening friendship with people not like you can make you more human, more whole, and ignite a beautiful sense of wonder and curiosity about the world. This show is an opportunity to feel the complex emotions involved in learning to see a new way, to acknowledge it’s scary and hard to change your views, to see in new ways, to accept new understandings of the world, but it’s a beautiful struggle, and you will come out the other side ok.
I created this show with a specific group in mind, and my hope was that because they see me as a friend, they would trust me. They would let me guide them into a place where they could experience the grief and joy, the hurt and healing, the despair and hope, the fullness of humanity of others that they usually can’t see because of the blinders put up by politics, religion, tradition, etc. I earnestly desire to be able to lead them by the hand through each painting, portrait, and collage, and allow them, even for just a second, to consider another person’s way of the world as equal, valid, and worthy of their time.
But, even as much as I want to bring them in, I also wanted to challenge them, or really anyone who comes to see my work. Last spring, shortly before I sent in the proposal for this show, I spent some time reading about the Impressionists in France during the later bit of the 1800s. They often tried to get pieces into the Salon, but the art world and society of their day mocked and ridiculed their work, and most often denied it entry. Even when they could get a piece in, it was often lambasted in the strongest possible terms by the crowds who came to see the shows. Claude Monet and the others who started the movement decided to have their own show, but those early attempts were no more successful. For quite some time they were written off as hacks who couldn’t paint.
It’s not the first time (nor was it the last time….Piss Christ anyone?) artists have caused an uproar with their work because it goes against what is considered appropriate and artistic by the not-so-silent, silent majority. But it got me thinking; what would it look like to create work that would cause uproar amongst all the “nice” and “civilized” people in my life? What would it look like to take risks that didn’t try to sugar coat reality, but would call people to action? What would it look like to ask people to empathize and try to understand people they often actively speak against? And how willing would I be to face their ire if they decided they didn’t like being challenged and turned on me?
This tension hounded me all through the creation of Consider…; trying to strike a balance between wanting to help friends out of their fear and pride, but also wanting to slap them about the face a bit with the boldness and beauty of human beings they often seek to forget or deny. You’ll notice each painting features many layers of articles in the background. I choose articles from all the sides I see presented on Facebook and Instagram every day. There are conservative views, liberal views, progressive views, even the occasional anarchist or fundamentalist thrown in for fun. But, at the end of the day, people’s opinions on things don’t mean as much as their actions, which is why the articles are mostly covered over by paint and other pictures.
My mom is a wealth of catchphrases, but one, in particular, undergirded the work of every piece in this show. I first heard this phrase as a kid when fighting my brother for a toy, but it’s proven to be one of the most helpful reminders in my adult life, especially when battling fear and pride. She says people are more important than things. As a kid, it meant my relationship with my brother needed to be more important than my getting to play with some toy. She wanted me to see him as a human being, as my brother, as someone I love and care about, not as competition for something I want, and certainly not as my enemy. As an adult, this phrase took on a similar, but perhaps more nuanced meaning.
People are more important than things…things like national security, things like pride and tradition, things like religion, things like borders and walls, things like money and status, things like power and politics, things like the status quo or the desire to return to an old way of doing things.
Focusing on things will never allow us to consider others.
Focusing on things traps us, and allows fear and pride to wreck our connections to the world.
Focusing on things means that even when we try to be altruistic or generous to others, our actions will be hollow and meaningless.
Who cares if we packed a shoebox with toys for a kid halfway around the world when a kid just like him is sitting alone in a detention center on our doorstep? Who cares if we send money to build houses in third-world countries if we blame the poor in our own country for their poverty and make fun of them for trying to get assistance? Who cares if we voted for the right candidate if we spend all of our time demonizing our apparent opponents? Who cares if we are committed to being anti-corruption and pro-morality if we don’t listen to women who say they have been abused by men (or even other women) we like to have in power? Who cares if we invested in children’s education if the moment that they try to have a voice, we mock them, call them snowflakes, or tell them someone needs to give them a good spanking?
When what we believe, think, know, or understand about the world is driven by things and not by people, we lose our ability to have compassion, to be curious, to expand our knowledge of the world…we lose our humanity when we strip others of theirs and make them less important than objects, ideas, or beliefs.
I created this show with a few people in mind. They are the people who I prayed for daily and desperately, that they would come, they would see my work, and they would for even a second consider that there is more to this world than what they know and are familiar with.
As the pandemic descended, a lot of those people rediscovered that empathy muscle they don’t use often. When George Floyd was murdered, and the protests began, I saw an unprecedented number of them post sympathy and seem to actually seek to understand race in America.
For like two weeks it seemed that my show would land on hearts and minds open to the world, ready to be challenged to grow past their rhetoric and instead choose to love and embrace others as equal and human and whole.
But, like a dog returning to its own vomit, they went back to their old positions and diatribes. It felt like holding a bunch of marbles in my hands, and then someone jostled my elbow, knocking all the marbles out of my hands, and being unable to do anything but watch them scatter and roll away faster than I could possibly scoop them up. They quickly settled back into deeply held beliefs and trolling Facebook, thinking that will fix the world.
I say I created this show with one specific group of people in mind, but that’s not quite the whole truth. I also created this show for the people who I knew would listen; whether that’s because they can identify with one of my paintings because it represents some of their lived experience, or because they are like me, with a curiosity and a desire to know the world around them without the lens of fear and pride warping things.
Even as I thought about, prayed for, and mused on the first group, I thought about, prayed for, and mused on the second group. I considered how they would receive my work, I worried about telling stories that weren’t mine to tell, I obsessed over choosing imagery and symbols that could be triggering. I thought about those who are represented by the various paintings in my show, and I found the courage to not pull punches, but to also not lose my compassion in my frustrations with people who don’t want to listen and to learn. I prayed for those who would try to listen, to look at my work and understand it, that they would have open eyes to receive, and that the work would do mighty things in them.
I dedicate and give this show to anyone who will come and consider. Let those who have eyes to see come and see. Let those who have ears to hear, come, and hear. Hear stories that are not your own. See ways of being in the world that may be different from you. Hear the cries, the joy, the pain, the determination. See the love, the fear, the courage, the need. Come and consider what it feels like to be passed over and forgotten about. Consider what it feels like to be denied your full humanity. Chances are you already know what that’s like…we’ve all had experiences where we are new in a strange place, not unlike refugees who flee to uncertain shores looking for a new home. We’ve all have times when no one listened to us when we were gaslit into thinking our emotions or needs were ridiculous, not unlike victims of sexual assault. We’ve all had times where we just needed to be loved and accepted for who we are, like folks who are in the LGBTQIA community.
We are all human, and at the end of the day, more connects us than separates us.
So, if you come to my show, welcome! I’m really glad you’ve come. I’m glad that you took the time to consider my work. But what I hope is that you take even more time to consider the people in my work. I hope you approach each work with the question, “What don’t I know about….” and fill in the blank. As one of my favorite U2 songs says, “We thought we had the answers, it was the questions we had wrong.” So, start with the place of not knowing, of being curious about another person, of genuine desire to learn, to listen, and to understand. Don’t let fear or pride keep you from discovering something beautiful in someone not like you.
But, consider not stopping there. My hope is that at least one of the pieces in this show will grab you by the heart as well as the mind and that it will prompt action.
The simplest action we can take is to approach everyone we meet with a willingness to listen; a willingness to see a friend and not an enemy. Not everyone we encounter will allow for this; there are some people out there who we may not be equipped to listen to safely. But, if we start with considering others as equal to us, as valuable as we are valuable, as worthy of our time and attention, we’ve made a huge first step towards healing our communities and our country. This is why, though that first group of friends frustrates me, I refuse to see them as my enemies. They may not listen, they may lash out in their ignorance, their fear, or their pride. But, at the end of the day, they are people too. Until we can see all people as our brothers and sisters, as our neighbors, as humans, we will continue to polarize and divide.
Perhaps you are ready to do more; in which case, I would highly encourage you to look up resources for the particular painting you are interested in. In the coming weeks, I will be posting a resource list to my website with books, podcasts, Instagram accounts, documentaries, and other types of resources I found to be helpful in my journey. These are just a starting place, but they might help you focus your search and your journey into understanding others.
One resource I highly recommend if you loved the painting What She Has Done Is A Beautiful Thing is the Netflix documentary Athlete A. Rachel Denhollander is one of the ladies interviewed for the documentary, as well as being the central figure in my painting, and her work and words both in the documentary and in her memoir, What is a Girl Worth? are impactful and incredibly helpful at understanding victims of sexual assault and what we can do to make sure no one has to live through that sort of trauma. If you were interested in my painting Love Your Neighbor, then I highly encourage you to check out the documentary 13th, which is currently on Netflix and is free on YouTube.
Perhaps you are ready for action and are looking to connect personally with people. In the resource list, I will be posting, there will also be organizations, local, national, and international, that I have found to be reputable and who have a variety of ways you can practically get involved with listening, loving, and knowing your neighbor, be they in your city, your state, your nation, or the world. Most of these are continuing to innovate and find ways to safely serve others even in an age of social distancing, and there are plenty of opportunities for you to get involved. Again, it’s not an exhaustive list, so please feel free to do your own research, and find something or someone who is doing work that you can get excited about and participate in.
By way of getting you started, if you loved Fishers of Men, you should definitely check out Welcome Neighbor STL. They work with local refugee populations here in St. Louis and provide some awesome ways to connect people so they can learn about each other’s cultures, including a supper club that they now do as a drive-thru event in this season of pandemic and social distancing. Another group that I found (and whose members inspired the painting I Thirst) is No More Deaths/No Mas Muertes. They are an organization that provides aid to migrants along the border, and they have dozens of ways for people to get involved in helping migrants. Their Instagram account is also full of lots of helpful information and opportunities!
In the coming weeks and months, both before and after the election, our nation is going to need us to be the kind of people that can say no to fear and to pride, and instead consider others and create moments of connection and community even with people we disagree with. Our world needs us to be willing to know something beyond our view of the world and to be willing to love people before things. It won’t be easy…in fact, it will probably only get harder as we go along. For whatever reason, loving our neighbors as ourselves is a more revolutionary act than it should be. You might get called names. You might have tough conversations with people who think your priorities are crazy. You might feel all alone.
You are not alone. I am not alone. We are not the only ones in this world who are willing to come and consider. I hope the artwork I have created for this show inspires you, challenges you, and gives you the opportunity to consider others, to find your neighbors in a variety of places, and gets you pumped to love your world a little more. And, if you are someone who identifies with one of the paintings I created, I hope you know how loved you are, how worthy you are, how gloriously human you are, and that we need you! I hope you are encouraged and energized to keep speaking your truth, to keep looking for those who will embrace you, and that you don’t get discouraged by the haters out there.
And, if you are one of those people I initially set out to create this show for, if you somehow managed to set aside the fear and the pride for a moment to come and consider, I praise God for it! I’m so glad you came too. This is a safe space for you to try to understand, to be challenged. I hope you consider how you can make a change in how you see the world, and in so doing, help make this world a more loving and less violent place for all of us.
I created Consider… as a way to try and shake us up, to challenge all of us (myself included) to change how we see and how we know, to bridge the gap between those who see enemies everywhere and those who just wish to be seen. I tried to honor the vision I received for this show, to make it a place where people from all backgrounds and persuasions can come and consider, and find each other, even if just for a short moment. In the process, I learned how to better listen to, love, and forgive my neighbor. I learned how to lament with those who are still weeping. I learned how to not make people a monolith, and to take the time to listen to individuals and try to understand. I learned how to find joy, even in the midst of hardships. And, I learned that to be a peace-maker means dealing with the violence that resides in my own heart first before I attempt to bridge the gap between people, to be truly able to look at others not as enemies but as human beings like myself. I remembered daily the wisdom of my mother; that people are more important than things, and I looked for ways to root fear and pride out of my life. It’s been a crazy journey, and it is my joy and honor to share it with anyone who is willing to come and consider.
I dedicate this show to those who have the courage, the creativity, and the conviction to consider others as just as important as them, who are willing to look past differences, who are willing to listen and to learn, and who are willing to take steps to make this world a place of real peace and true joy, where everyone is welcome, and no one is unloved.
So please, come and consider.
Peace to all,
Megan Kenyon is an artist and grad student living and working in St. Louis. Her primary medium is oil, but she loves to dabble in everything from pen and ink to ceramics. Her work focuses on making space for empathy and understanding between disparate groups and/or ideas, looking for common language in both words and pictures. Her work draws on religious and cultural imagery to create pieces that are accessible and yet complex, allowing the viewer to set aside presuppositions and prejudice to experience something new. She has shown work with Webster Arts, being one of the selected artists for the Connecting Communities: Meacham Park show, as well as in their Small Works XII show. Megan also leads The Makers Art Group and helped to host its first art show at Crave Coffeehouse, MADE TO GROW, in 2019. Megan is a graduate student with Fuller Theological Seminary pursuing a degree in Theology and the Arts. You can check out more of her work on her website, or on Instagram and Facebook @servantscrystudios.
“Caffeinated Curation” is a routine book and beverage pairing that highlights Blueprint Coffee and relevant reading recommendations from High Low resident artists and community members. Our latest chapter of the series comes from High Low barista Josie.
Sometimes a book just calls to you. One day working at High Low, “Leo the Late Bloomer” by Robert Kraus just jumped out and intrigued me deeply. After picking it up, the art touched something in me even more. Upon reading, it still surprised me.
Leo can’t write, draw, read, or talk … yet all of the other kids can. In some aspect of our lives, all of us have felt “slow” or “behind,” or that we didn’t live up to the expectations of others. Every time we see Leo, he looks uncomfortable, frustrated, or defeated. His watchful father is constantly looking for signs of progress. “What’s wrong with Leo?” We learn after a while that bloomers can’t bloom while being watched. Even when not being watched, the seasons pass. Still no blooming. Still no blooming! Until finally out of nowhere, he does. The first time he speaks, he says a whole sentence. Turning to his mother and father with elation in his eyes, he says … “I made it!”
The drink I’ve chosen to pair with this book … Let’s just call it Josie’s Special. Really, it’s my guilty pleasure. This book made me cry a lot, so I do need it. I also find it fitting because I make this drink in a very individualized way. I cater myself in the way I would for someone I really want to feel loved. To make it extra special, just for that person exactly the way they like it. Which is my favorite way to prepare any beverage.
First, I add just a tiny bit of water to the bottom of a 12 oz cup and completely fill the rest of the cup with ice. I brew a double shot of espresso and pour that over top, in an even swirl to melt the ice. I then agitate the beverage and swirl the cup for as long as it takes to fog up the glass and bring everything to its coldest possible temperature. And then I fill the rest up with even more ice. Lots of raw sugar, to taste. I usually go back and add more. A lot of ice, because I savor it and want to drink it slowly (probably over the course of a couple of hours) without the flavor diluting too much while the ice melts. It has to have a straw so that I can texturally enjoy the crunchiness and the more complex molasses-y flavor of raw sugar as a chaser. When the coffee stays separate from the sweetener, each shot retains its individuality and I remain an active listener to the flavor and present in my sensory experience.
This drink has been with me — and there for me — for a long time. To this day, I have a soft spot for the burnt-toast flavor of the over-roasted and unevenly extracted shots I tasted in some of my favorite community-oriented spaces over the years. A lil’ bit of sugar can take the edge off of anything.
Prior to the pandemic, the two artists were scheduled to hang their show centered around caregiving and parenthood at the end of May. As everything began to shut down, Jessica and Christine were given the option to reschedule for the following year or follow through with their show as the first physical show scheduled since the shutdowns occurred. The second of these two options would pose several unknown challenges for public viewing and the logistics of creating a collaborative show while social distancing. Both mentally and physically exhausted from homeschooling their children and working remotely from home, the artists had to make a decision. Christine called Jessica that evening and said, “I think we should do it. When has our subject matter of caregiving and parenthood been more amplified than in this current situation?” Both of them decided to sleep on it and make their decision the next day. Ultimately the two friends motivated each other to take on the unknown along with making new works, and the exhibition “It Hits Home” was born.
Artist Christine A. Holtz shares her creative process making new artworks for “It Hits Home”
I make all my artwork in my living room — which transforms into a studio once everyone else is in bed. When the pandemic started, I began furiously jotting down inspiration and conceptual ideas in my notebook/sketchbook. My emotions about the pandemic needed an outlet. My dining room table, now a schoolhouse and home office, caused stress just looking at it. To add insult to injury, I would step on Legos at the base of our stairs almost daily (which inspired “One Step from (in)Sanity”). A huge part of my artistic practice is a reflection of the absurdities endured during my everyday life. The pandemic provided an abundance of absurdities. In the evenings, my husband and I would work out in our living room after the kids were in bed as a way to relieve stress. We often elbowed or kicked each other due to lack of space, but it made us laugh. It helped us stay connected. Exhausted and feeling defeated from the day, my living room transformed from family space to workout room to studio, where working on art provided me with a release for my flood of emotions.
“Covid-19 Work Blazer” is a work uniform for the pandemic. The blazer has three sets of sleeves to show the extra arms needed to take on the additional job of homeschooling while also transitioning my job of teaching to a remote format. I plan to wear it this fall while teaching on campus.
“Up a Creek Without A Paddle” filled up my entire living room floor during construction. It is made from an old set of bed sheets out of necessity and to symbolize the home. Due to tight quarters and the size of the piece, I had to actually sit on the floor and move my sewing machine instead of the fabric to make each of the seams. I needed to make this boat. I needed to do whatever it took to keep my family safe. I know it is absurd — so is the situation. It is also a very raw display of how helpless the pandemic has made me feel.
More people being confined to the domestic environment due to the stay-at-home orders has amplified the uneven division of labor in the home. I wanted to follow through with this exhibition in hopes that the work would resonate with more people right now. I can’t help but wonder if our show would have been received the same way without a pandemic.
Artist Jessica Witte shares her creative process making new artworks for “It Hits Home”
As soon as we made our decision and connected again to talk strategy, Christine shared her idea for a huge mask/boat titled “Up a Creek Without a Paddle.” Her idea was inspiring and could be an anchor for the show’s new direction. Christine added, “I know it will be hard, but I think we will both feel better if we can process this while it is happening.”
With the baseline anxiety of everyone being so high, I definitely felt the stress on my students, myself, and my family. I began hard training again with running to exhaust myself physically as well as emotionally and help me sleep. Even though I have resources and support, every so often the stress of the situation would leak out and emotions would run high at home. “Smoke and Mirrors: everything is fine” captured those moments when small accumulations of stress exploded into outbursts. To create these little bombs, I inserted wicks into wool and laundry lint felt balls. Stabbing the felting needle repeatedly to form the ball and seeing the works take shape was cathartic, (Christine was right, again).
Witte: Thinking of the viewer at the window
Many people would see the show from the windows on Grand Boulevard, so how could we arrange “It Hits Home” to make the artwork most visible from the street? We placed Christine’s embroidery artworks close to the windows so her intricately detailed drawings would not be lost. “Up a Creek Without a Paddle” and her “Covid-19 Work Blazer” were timely, personal, and still humorous so they were close to the title and window. My new artworks needed to attract the eye with contrast and size but be light enough to be handled by myself alone (due to social distancing during install). Once I had spatial parameters in place, I could start sketching ideas.
What did I most want to say about the pandemic? I worried about my Grandma Rose isolated in her nursing home and my sister-in-law undergoing radiation therapy being at high risk for the disease. Encouraging others to realize how their behavior affects some of the most vulnerable (and to see their value) was my aim for the floor works in “It Hits Home.”
I decided to convey the bright, sunny colorful spirit of Grandma Rose — and make her comfortable and safe during this health crisis. I brought out her pile of quilts to inspire me. How could I also convey her vulnerability? Grandma Rose could have visitors through the glass of the lobby but was too fragile to have close contact in the same room. A drawing on the floor would be similar — easily destroyed by a misstep in the room, but safe when viewed from the window. How could I make the patterns as bright as the colorful quilts and clothes my grandma made for my children? Drawing in sidewalk chalk with my kids between teaching, furiously cleaning, and home-schooling helped answer the question.
Witte: Selecting and learning a new medium
I made lap-blanket-sized powdered chalk drawings into bold quilt patterns. The chalk came in vibrant colors and with the thick application could catch a viewer’s eye from the street. I had a tight timeline to learn how to use this new material, as my previous floor drawings were in seed, with a limited color range. I tested various chalk brands and how to grind and apply a consistent dusting. I made small laminated paper and foam-core templates to quickly stencil and layer the colors.
I dedicated “Targeted Treatment” to my sister-in-law Lori and her fight with breast cancer. I interviewed friends and family who had battled cancer about symbols that best represent their treatment. Caretakers and patients mentioned a new sense of time after a cancer diagnosis. The pattern has seven columns and four rows like a calendar page. A ring of cancer-awareness ribbons surrounds crosshairs in each block. Bullseye targets are peppered throughout the “calendar page” of the pattern to make one think about being an easy mark for the virus.
“You Are My Sunshine” is patterned in bold blue and yellow sunburst shapes centered around archery target centers. I left every other square bare except for the center target highlighting the isolation of the residents of nursing homes.
Please wear a mask in public, reach out to your neighbors and loved ones, work out, get sunshine every day, and be kind.
High Low‘s “Caffeinated Curation” series of books paired with beverages from Blueprint Coffee is back for another work-from-home edition, this time from the general manager of The Dark Room, Abbie Finley.
“My mornings now as they always have, start with coffee. The Norikori is something unexpected. I eyeballed the pour-over at first, causing it to be under-extracted and sour. Then, with intention and patience, I repoured for the sweetness and balance.
“I bought this book as a means of escapism — the story that Rudy tells is a travel guide of Southeast Asia, as he and his wife try to cope with the immeasurable weight of loss. He is trying to find truth in the Buddhist scripture as they remove themselves from their own chaos, mourning through Thailand, Burma, and Cambodia.
“More than ever, I find solace in the thought of patience right now. The world is changing; my world is changing. It is easy to want to rush and to push forward out of the unknown. I think of the sour pour-over, that held the tropical notes back, and one of the Buddhist quotes:
Be stirred by things which may well move the heart, And being stirred, strive wisely and fight on! – Nyanaponika Thera
I was inspired by two art exhibitions at The Sheldon Art Galleries in Grand Center Arts District. The first was titled “Amazing Horns: Bridging Continents, Bridging Time.” The works were instruments from The Hartenberger Collection of Musical Instruments now owned by The Sheldon. Dr. Aurelia Hartenberger has been researching and collecting musical instruments and artifacts amassing more than 3,000 items. Ninety-four horns from the collection were on display in this exhibition.
Wikipedia describes horns as any of a family of musical instruments made of a tube, usually made of metal and often curved in various ways, with one narrow end which the musician blows, and a wide end from which the sound emerges. In jazz and popular-music contexts, the word may be used loosely to refer to any wind instrument, and a section of brass or woodwind instruments, or a mixture of the two, is called a horn section. As the name indicates, people originally used to blow on the actual horns of animals before starting to emulate them in metal or other materials. The original usage survives in the shofar (Hebrew), a ram’s horn, which plays an important role in the Jewish religious rituals. The genus of animal-horn instruments to which the shofar belongs is called Keren in Hebrew, Qarnu in Akkadian, and Keras in Greek.
The Wikipedia article on horns describes every horn imaginable from finger horns, marching horns, and saxhorns to horns used all around the globe.
Then I remembered another exhibition at The Sheldon Art Galleries, “The City of Gabriels: The History of Jazz in St. Louis, 1895-1973,” and the wonderful book written about it by Dennis Owsley, jazz scholar, St. Louis Public Radio jazz host and photographer.
Gabriel, of course, refers to the biblical character who blew his horn to announce the judgment day. The trumpet had more references in Owsley’s book than any other instrument.
The definition of a trumpet says it is a brass instrument commonly used in classical and jazz ensembles. The trumpet group contains the instruments (such as the piccolo trumpet) with the highest register in the brass family. Trumpet-like instruments have historically been used as signaling devices in battle or hunting, with examples dating back to at least 1500 BC. They began to be used as musical instruments only in the late 14th or early 15th century. Trumpets are used in art, music styles, for instance in orchestras, concert bands, and jazz ensembles, as well as in popular music. Adam Corre wrote an article titled “10 Of The Most Famous Trumpet Players of All Time,” and of course Louis Armstrong, Dizzy Gillespie, Wynton Marsalis, and our own Miles Davis were all on the list. But we forget just how famous St. Louis is for its trumpet players in general. The late Clark Terry in the forward to Owsley’s “City of Gabriel’s” says, “I am not certain of the exact reasons why my hometown of St. Louis has had such a great jazz trumpet tradition. It could have been the Midwestern atmosphere or the other great musical traditions of the city, but I know that the origins of that tradition come straight from the great Mississippi River.” Owsley says, “Trumpet players have shaped the sound and direction of St. Louis from the beginning. The sound of a St. Louis trumpet player is unmistakable, whether the trumpeter is Charles Creath, Dewey Jackson, Miles Davis, Clark Terry, Floyd LeFlore or Lester Bowie. The unique sound is described as a clear, singing tone, with many bent notes reminiscent of the human voice.”
There are many more notable horn players that have and continue to blow their horns in our city, but I’d like to end this commentary by paying tribute to David Hines (1942-1991) whose life was cut short in a motorcycle accident. By 1963, Hines was touring on trumpet with Albert King, T. Bone Walker, and Little Milton and in 1968, Hines was the jazz soloist with Woody Herman and held the same position with Ray Charles in 1970. Hines also played in theatre orchestra throughout the St. Louis area. He was the leader in halting discriminatory practices in the hiring of musicians for theater work by requiring auditions to be held behind curtains. He taught in various school situations and led the University City Jazz Band in the late 1980s. Hines toured Europe with Lester Bowie’s Brass Fantasy in the winter of 1986.
We can all toot our horns for St. Louis’ rich history of music where it shines in all its guises.
“The idea was that artists were well-equipped to run the artistic part of their careers but needed expert advice when it came to legal and accounting matters,” says Sue Greenberg, executive director of Volunteer Lawyers and Accountants for the Arts (VLAA), founded in 1982 by the city’s Arts and Humanities Commission and Saint Louis University School of Law.
VLAA and similar organizations throughout the country were modeled after Volunteer Lawyers for the Arts in New York City, the first program of its kind. St. Louis is one of three national organizations that decided to include accountants in the program. “I cannot imagine not having the accountants,” says Greenberg. “About a third of what we do is on the accounting side. It just makes sense if you’re trying to help people think about their businesses — that’s a key part.”
VLAA’s board and a law student ran the organization for its first few years. Then the Regional Arts Commission (RAC) saw the nonprofit’s potential and provided office space and funding, so VLAA could hire its first employee. Today, more than 300 volunteer accountants and lawyers provide counsel to artists and administrators in the greater St. Louis metropolitan area. Through the organization’s referral service, clients contact VLAA with a specific question and then are paired with a volunteer who has relevant experience. The questions they receive vary from bookkeeping and taxes to copyrights and trademarks. VLAA also offers assistance about how to set up an LLC and a nonprofit. “In the last 10 days, we’ve had three immigration cases,” Greenberg said in early December. “That’s an indication that what we’re asked to do is sometimes all over the place.”
Educational programming makes up the second part of VLAA’s work, and sessions have included QuickBooks training for nonprofits, how to sign up for health insurance, relevant accounting and legal topics, and a college outreach program called Upstart. There’s a 10-session series for individual artists that includes such topics as copyright, contracts, and taxes. Resources are also available online. “Part of our thinking behind providing information online was that if a filmmaker has a question or was looking for some sort of information, they might find our site when they didn’t know we existed,” says Greenberg.
VLAA has more than 200 new referrals each year. They don’t capture the continued relationships between clients and volunteers but have heard about “people who have been matched with a volunteer and keep going back to them, sometimes for 10 or 15 years, when they have a question,” says Greenberg.
The move seemed like a natural fit. “Kranzberg Arts Foundation has dedicated the building to freedom of expression through spoken and written word, and we’ve always been very committed to freedom of expression issues throughout our history,” says Greenberg.
VLAA hopes this synergy and proximity to other arts organizations will help expand support. “We are looking forward to the writers-in-residence program and think there’s a place for us to support what those writers are doing. I’ve also met with some of the Foundation’s music artists-in-residence,” says Greenberg. “It’s just opening up more possibilities for us to collaborate.”
Greenberg also hopes to find ways to support the St. Louis Art Place Initiative, an effort to renovate vacant houses near Cherokee Street and make them available for low-income artists. “It’s a really great concept,” says Greenberg. “There is a place for us to help them get their finances together.”
High Low also offers event space, which VLAA is using for educational programs and its library.
Artists and arts organizations often thank VLAA for its free services, Greenberg says, though the volunteers also frequently express their gratitude to be part of the nonprofit’s mission. “The volunteers are constantly thanking us for the opportunity,” Greenberg says. “It’s a really happy place here.”
As any plugged-in music fan will tell you, the music scene here is rockin’ and rollin’ — no help needed. On any night, you can find local, regional, and national acts in everything from gritty little rooms to stadiums. Now, a trio of new or reworked events aim to shine a light on the city’s lively musical happenings, leveraging connections within the community and bringing the music to a wider audience.
“Our city has a roster of artists that are on the rise,” says Sean Smothers, director of strategic partnerships for the Kranzberg Arts Foundation. “The number of folks I was starting to see kind of come into their own was just phenomenal. You saw Tonina [Saputo] getting name-checked by the president!” he says, referring to Barack Obama’s year-end tweet about his favorite music of 2018. The city’s contributions to the global conversations on jazz, the blues, Americana, and hip-hop are legendary.
Smothers reflected on his admiration for the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, a marquee event that grew from just a few hundred people in Louis Armstrong Park to an international destination. Festival founder George Wein hit upon a stroke of genius in developing the backbone of that festival. “Wein made an overt effort to make sure culture was embedded in the festival in the right way,” says Smothers. “Really, the success of that festival came from not being able to really separate the New Orleans part from the music and heritage part.”
That baked-in culture piece, alongside recognition of the city’s deep well of talent, informed the formation of Saint Louis Music Week, the reimagined Music at the Intersection, and (in 2021) the Midwest Music Summit. St. Louis is known for a tradition of exchange and collaboration, even more so than a specific genre.
“It’s tough to really put your arms around and draw out a single St. Louis sound,” Smothers says. “It’s everybody’s sound. We happen to be right at the geographic center of all these music hubs. We’ve had all these great people pass through our city and leave a piece and take a piece. We’ve also had artists from other places land here to share a new take. That intersection is worth celebrating by lifting up what we have and growing infrastructure for our music economy.”
The whole initiative is in three parts, Smothers explains. St. Louis Music Week, September 4–13, is focused on marketing — illuminating what’s already going on across the city’s vibrant collection of venues. Think of it a bit like Restaurant Week, with artists and venues signing up for no-cost promotion and fans following on social media.
Music at the Intersection, September 11–13, is a place-making event with eight stages hosting more than 60 bands, including local, regional, and national acts. The Intersection name isn’t new; its previous iteration ended about three years ago with a series of shows with local artists in Grand Center Arts District. This new, three-day concept adds the opportunity for music lovers to navigate their own cross-genre music experience.
The Midwest Music Summit aims to join artists with publishers, producers, studios, national representation, and each other. Fostering these connections through panels, workshops, exhibitions, and classes will lead to opportunities and relationships. Behind the scenes, partners in the initiative are undertaking a three-year partnership with Sound Diplomacy, an international organization specializing in understanding a city’s unique music economy. This collaborative work will help St. Louis gain a clear picture of the role the music industry plays in our city (economic output, job creation, tourism interest) as well as ways to grow and protect it. The data and insights from the work undertaken by Sound Diplomacy will be made available to the public upon completion.
The effort is uniquely inclusive and grassroots. “We have 100-plus volunteers on seven committees who are helping to inform every aspect of this initiative,” says Smothers. “We don’t consider this initiative as belonging to Kranzberg Arts Foundation. We are helping continue the conversation, but we see this as belonging to the music community and to our city. We see ourselves as the organization that’s helped ‘build the box.’ But a multitude of organizations are coming forward to put their unique stamp on it.”
That includes bookers from venues across town who are informing the programming for all three events, and marketing directors from a variety of organizations and firms that are pitching in, too. “Instead of viewing this as something that would be competitive, they’re viewing it as something that will lift the tide for all boats,” Smothers says. “It’s a true collaboration.”
For serious music geeks and casual fans alike, the events offer a glimpse at a thrumming ecosystem — one they either live in or don’t know enough about. Either way, the trio of events offers a new lens for considering music in the city and a chance to see work that might otherwise escape their notice.
“We’re really cultivating an experience here,” Smothers says. “This is a choose-your-own-adventure music opportunity. There’s no one genre of music we’re focusing on. Any genre you want to pick, St. Louis has had a significant impact.”
At its best, theatre can provide a great deal: It entertains us, it moves us, it sustains us, it reflects us back to ourselves. But for some St. Louis school kids, it can literally save their lives.
Metro Theater Company’s “Say Something, Do Something!” program uses drama to help equip students to face difficult circumstances, from bullying to gun violence. The interactive skits encourage them to consider how to defuse tense moments or intervene when they see interactions going south.
“It’s a theatrical experience, but it’s a theatrical experience with a very specific goal,” says Metro Theater managing director Joe Gfaller. The hope is that, having walked through difficult scenarios in safe circumstances, participants might have access to the strategies later, if necessary.
Metro Theater is directed at young audiences and their families, creating access to theatre as well as the growth and development that it fosters. The company produces plays at The Grandel and takes theatre into schools. Last year, it visited 31 schools across the region.
Launched in Fall 2011, the “Say Something, Do Something!” experience involves a relatively small group of kids — usually about 60 fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-graders — and a small troupe of Metro actors, as well as a teaching artist who serves as a facilitator. The scripts and entire experience are the result of intense preparation by Metro’s production team. Before they ever take the stage at a school, they’ve conducted interviews with teachers and social workers in the schools and learned all they can about the specific conflicts that kids might be facing. They’ve also researched language, because lingo and vocabulary are ever-changing, and the scenes need to seem feasible.
“We want the language and conflict situation to feel true to life,” says Metro Theater education director Karen Weberman. “It’s what they’re actually going through. Our education is on the ground every week, in classrooms across the city and county.”
She stresses the need for deep listening to the teachers, administrators, and other school staff who know the kids best. “We don’t want this to be, ‘Here’s this program we think you need,’” she says.
Metro’s methodology for the program is backed by serious scholarship. Saint Louis University’s College for Public Health and Social Justice evaluated the program, and Weberman and SLU researchers presented the data last year at the American Public Health Association’s annual meeting in Philadelphia.
The sessions begin with a deep dive into the study of body language. Actors will freeze into a tableau, which the students can pick apart, examining characters’ motivations and feelings in a specific moment. It’s good training for what comes next — the scripted conflict. The scene is only about five minutes long, Weberman says, and while the conflict itself may vary from season to season or, to some extent, from school to school, one thing is constant: There’s a clear and obvious imbalance of power.
“When the scene comes to the highest point of conflict, the facilitator calls a freeze,” says Weberman. “The students dig into the body language of the characters. We hold up an actual thought bubble, like you might see in a cartoon.”
The students fill the bubbles with what a character — aggressor, victim, or bystander — might be thinking. Then the actors break out of the tableau but not their character, and the students take on the role of investigative reporter.
“They’re put in the hot seat, and the students get to interview them,” Weberman says. The students aren’t shy about grilling the characters, she adds. “They really go after the actor who’s playing the bully character. They want to know, ‘Why are you the way you are? Were you bullied?’”
“They want to understand the bad guy as much as they want to help the good guy,” says Gfaller.
After the interrogations, students come up with strategies for better outcomes. The actors run the scene again, and kids can tag actors out and step into the scene themselves to try the strategies.
“We like to say, ‘It’s like rehearsal for real life,’” says Weberman. “It really is all about empathy, stepping into the shoes of another.”
Previous seasons have addressed physical violence and sexual harassment — disheartening realities, Weberman says, for sixth graders. Some of the programming for the upcoming season will continue to look at violence.
During the forthcoming year, Metro Theater will also work with the Diversity Awareness Partnership, whose “Give Respect Get Respect” campaign pairs older students with local corporate executives in a mentorship program. Metro’s programming for that initiative will address gender identity issues.
After nearly 35 years in St. Louis, Circus Flora has a home.
By Jen Roberts
Step right up and prepare to be whisked away to a magical world where people fly through the air, pigs dance, and one brave soul runs and jumps rope on a spinning wheel.
Artistic director Jack Marsh has been part of the wonder since nearly the beginning when his mother worked as a performer and a director. He was 2-years-old when the show debuted in 1986 at the Spoleto Festival in Charleston, South Carolina. Marsh never intended for it to be his life’s work, but he was drawn back after law school and several years as a corporate attorney. “Just the magic of it,” he says, “the love for it.”
The one-ring circus was named after an elephant that circus founder David Balding rescued after ivory poachers killed her mother in Botswana. (Flora was an integral part of the circus until the early 2000s, when she retired to an elephant sanctuary in Tennessee.) Balding’s idea: to meld modern theatre with a traditional European circus. “It was Balding’s dream to marry his twin loves of theatre and the traditional one-ring circus,” says Marsh.
It’s a circus with a storyline. “Circus typically has very specific images associated with it,” says Marsh. “Some of them are wonderful, like the magic of going as a kid and being transported into this place with beautiful people who are doing these incredible things. That is part of that imagery that we love and embrace.”
But not all circus imagery is so favorable. “There are not-so-positive images, like mistreated animals or tawdy aesthetics and a not thought-out artistic product. We steer clear of those,” says Marsh. “I think we lean into the fact that we are this very nostalgic art form, but we try to find ways where it can appeal to a modern audience.”
Circus Florais modern, but it still has that traditional appeal that you enjoyed as a child. Inside The Big Top is a sawdust-filled ring that’s reimagined throughout the show. There are acrobats and high-wire artists, “the images you might come to expect,” says Marsh, “but then we wrap it in a fun and goofy atmosphere.”
It’s a show that appeals to everyone. “I think it’s secretly the best friend night out or date night. It’s not a show aimed at 5-year-olds; it’s just as fun for adults,” says Marsh. “That’s the beauty of it: You get all these people from different ages and backgrounds, and they’re going to have the same fun time for the same reason. It’s an amazing popular entertainment that not a lot of art forms can accomplish.”
And the show is local. Typically, the word “circus” conjures memories of traveling shows that arrive in town with lions and elephants and exciting performers. The big tent is set up and taken down nearly as quickly, as the show heads to its next city. Circus Flora is working hard to combat this transient image. “It’s been a while since we’ve played anywhere else, and we have year-round programming,” says Marsh. “We see ourselves as a vital part of the St. Louis fabric.”
For years, Circus Flora used to “squat on the Powell Hall parking lot every summer,” recalls Marsh, adding that the temporary location wasn’t as conducive to establishing the circus as a St. Louis arts institution. The schedule also had to coincide with the symphony’s, and the circus packed up everything after the show concluded each year.
Then, in 2018 the Kranzberg Arts Foundation stepped in. The nonprofit provided a permanent venue, simply called The Big Top, at 3401 Washington Ave. After years of setting up on the parking lot beside Powell Hall, Circus Flora now has its own space, and the tent remains up for much of the year. Even when it’s not set up during the winter months, the four posts remain and a permanent neon-lit sign points in the direction of The Big Top. As Marsh says, “Our best billboard is our big red tent.”
Marsh hopes this permanent location will enable Circus Flora to help grow Grand Center Arts District while allowing the circus to be “full members of the community,” he says. “We like to stress the St. Louis-ness of what we do and how important the community is to us.”
Clowns on Call is one way that Circus Flora extends the show throughout the year and beyond The Big Top. Through this cornerstone community outreach program, clowns entertain children at SSM Health Cardinal Glennon Children’s Hospital. “It’s healing through laughter,” says Marsh. “The families are going through what I am sure is the toughest experience in their life, and it’s really wonderful to be able to transport them and bring a little bit of the magic to them.”
Circus Flora also provides tickets to underserved communities, so all kids can be part of the experience. “The community-oriented mission is really important to us,” says Marsh.
Marsh admits there are a lot of “unmagical things” that go into planning and executing a show including physical labor, paperwork, and budgeting. But even after all these years, he still gets that “warm, excited feeling in his chest” when he sees the audience’s reaction to a performance. “Being able to trace that moment back through a mountain of hard work from so many talented people is amazing,” says Marsh.
Each year, Circus Flora presents a new theme. This year’s production taking place June 4th through 28th is “The Trial of the Century,” which is best described as a “boisterous courtroom crossed with a circus,” says Marsh, which is sure to bring him back to his days as a lawyer. It’s also sure to tie in elements of St. Louis. After all, Circus Flora is St. Louis’ circus — and it’s not going anywhere.