Monday, August 17, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
from Diane Cammarata
From: Diane Cammarata <dianec326@netzero.net>
Date: Sun, Aug 2, 2009 at 8:00 PM
Subject: elephants
To: jordanlema@gmail.com
Date: Sun, Aug 2, 2009 at 8:00 PM
Subject: elephants
To: jordanlema@gmail.com
Dear Jordan,
Your show last night was fantastique! The concept, setting, actor/dancer were stupendous. Unbelievable work. Congratulations!
Diane Cammarata
But next time, ask the tall men in the front to go to the rear so short gals can see
http://infringebuffalo.blogspot.com/
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Phó Malpica: The Last White Elephant
I had originally planned to attend several Infringement performances yesterday, but due to my own over- booked schedule, was only able to attend one. And, to be honest, I think it's probably the best "piece" I've seen at Infringement 2009.
It's called, "Phó Malpica: The last White Elephant", and it's taking place every evening, at 10:30, in the alley next to La Tee Da. Every, single evening, rain or shine.
Creator, Angela Lopez, brings to life this story, in a way I have never seen a piece done before. I don't want to spoil it, because it's short, emotional, textured, fresh, and intense. And, it's something you should experience, live. But, I will include some photos I shot, to give you a bit of an 'appetizer'.
Scene Report: Day three
Saturday was one of those days that makes WNY such a special place to live; in addition to Infringement, I spent some time on the outskirts of both the Canal Fest (still probably my fave of all the area's many small-town summer festivals) and Garden Walk. Between those two and Infringement alone, there must have been at least 400 things to see and do yesterday, even with the crappy weather, so at this point in my life, I'm pretty much convinced that anyone who claims Buffalo is boring is too stupid/boring to waste my time on. If you don't get what's remarkable about the place you live, don't bitch to me about it! So here--on my way out of the house and back into GardenFringementLand for another day, is a quick recap of just the Infringey things on my itinerary yesterday:
First up was Nobody's Estro-Acoustic Showcase and Potluck, where my husband and I saw most of Lara Buckley's set and the first three songs from Erin Sydney Welsh before the ticking clock sent us to our next few non-festival stops. I know Buckley mainly from her always-memorable guest appearances with the Real Dream Cabaret, but this was my first chance to experience a fuller set (and from the audience instead of backstage), and I loved what I saw and heard. In this incarnation, she was performing songs that reminded me of Phil Ochs's material in the way that her lyrics invest topical subject matter with heartfelt ultra-personal meaning--only with a voice far more acrobatic than Ochs's, and accompanied by loops of nature sounds. The terms "freak folk" and "psych-folk" get bandied about a lot these past few years, but they seem to really fit Buckley's work almost literally. Undercutting the acoustic prettiness of the music is the sense that the singer (or at least her songwriting persona) is a woman on the edge. Highly recommended. So is Welsh--at the tender age of 13, she's got the confidence and stage savvy of a far more experienced performer. If you've ever wondered what it must have felt like to catch Ani DiFranco as an unknown teenager in a Buffalo bar, this may be the closest you'll ever come:
I often assume music scheduler Curt Rotterdam's titles for showcases are tongue-in-cheek, but this really was a potluck, and the pulled pork was particularly yummy. This was my first time to Nobody's, and the venue encapsulates much of what thrills me, as well as much that annoys me, about Buffalo's ongoing DIY art scene--it's clearly a labor of genuine love, absolutely in line with a rich tradition of artist-run live/work spaces in this town, deliberately beneath the radar but radiating a passion for art. At the same it's not exactly what I would call inviting to a first-time visitor: intimidating entrance, pitch-black interior, no ventilation (until I stumbled upon an ancient air conditioner in the back), almost no seating, and just plain dirty in that punk-rock way that gets a little old as one reaches a certain age. I was originally planning to head back after midnight for Nobody's Electronic Showcase" but the thought of hanging out with total strangers in total darkness in somebody's (er, nobody's) living room made me opt for my own home instead. I'm sure if I was in a different mood, or 20 years younger, or both, I would have gone back, and probably loved the show. (Call me bourgeois, but I've got my own Autechre albums to listen to, and A/C to boot!)
After a few detours, it was off to an opening at the WNY Book Arts Center. 'Twas my first time there after reading and hearing a lot about the place, and it's safe to say I was blown away by the joint: street-level gallery and gift shop, incredible collection of (working!) vintage printing equipment in the basement, future home of Just Buffalo on the second floor. There is a lot I want to say about this place and my maiden voyage to it, but in the interest of time I will vow to post those remarks elsewhere, later. Just go check it out, pronto--and tell 'em Infringement sent ya.
First up was Nobody's Estro-Acoustic Showcase and Potluck, where my husband and I saw most of Lara Buckley's set and the first three songs from Erin Sydney Welsh before the ticking clock sent us to our next few non-festival stops. I know Buckley mainly from her always-memorable guest appearances with the Real Dream Cabaret, but this was my first chance to experience a fuller set (and from the audience instead of backstage), and I loved what I saw and heard. In this incarnation, she was performing songs that reminded me of Phil Ochs's material in the way that her lyrics invest topical subject matter with heartfelt ultra-personal meaning--only with a voice far more acrobatic than Ochs's, and accompanied by loops of nature sounds. The terms "freak folk" and "psych-folk" get bandied about a lot these past few years, but they seem to really fit Buckley's work almost literally. Undercutting the acoustic prettiness of the music is the sense that the singer (or at least her songwriting persona) is a woman on the edge. Highly recommended. So is Welsh--at the tender age of 13, she's got the confidence and stage savvy of a far more experienced performer. If you've ever wondered what it must have felt like to catch Ani DiFranco as an unknown teenager in a Buffalo bar, this may be the closest you'll ever come:
I often assume music scheduler Curt Rotterdam's titles for showcases are tongue-in-cheek, but this really was a potluck, and the pulled pork was particularly yummy. This was my first time to Nobody's, and the venue encapsulates much of what thrills me, as well as much that annoys me, about Buffalo's ongoing DIY art scene--it's clearly a labor of genuine love, absolutely in line with a rich tradition of artist-run live/work spaces in this town, deliberately beneath the radar but radiating a passion for art. At the same it's not exactly what I would call inviting to a first-time visitor: intimidating entrance, pitch-black interior, no ventilation (until I stumbled upon an ancient air conditioner in the back), almost no seating, and just plain dirty in that punk-rock way that gets a little old as one reaches a certain age. I was originally planning to head back after midnight for Nobody's Electronic Showcase" but the thought of hanging out with total strangers in total darkness in somebody's (er, nobody's) living room made me opt for my own home instead. I'm sure if I was in a different mood, or 20 years younger, or both, I would have gone back, and probably loved the show. (Call me bourgeois, but I've got my own Autechre albums to listen to, and A/C to boot!)
After a few detours, it was off to an opening at the WNY Book Arts Center. 'Twas my first time there after reading and hearing a lot about the place, and it's safe to say I was blown away by the joint: street-level gallery and gift shop, incredible collection of (working!) vintage printing equipment in the basement, future home of Just Buffalo on the second floor. There is a lot I want to say about this place and my maiden voyage to it, but in the interest of time I will vow to post those remarks elsewhere, later. Just go check it out, pronto--and tell 'em Infringement sent ya.
We headed next to Gateway Gallery (yet another first visit--does Buffalo know how to crank out new spaces, or what?) for Walri but they were still setting up when we got there, so we braved the rain for a quick bite at Sample (this was exactly the kind of situation Sample was born to address!) and then caught a good chunk of Phó Malpica: The Last White Elephant in the alley next to La Tee Da. This butoh-influenced site-specific dance/audio/video piece is the first example I've seen this year of the kind of work that suits Infringement best. Sure, it could be performed at any time in any location, but it fits its impromptu venue like a teeny-tiny glove and uses the festival setting to generate critical mass. Being a bit of a butoh-phobe myself, my favorite thing about the performance is the way it creates an audience for itself, and then inadvertently makes them part of the spectacle. Every time someone walked out of LTD or simply headed down Allen, they came across an oddly configured clump of onlookers staring at ... something, but what? How could you resist the temptation to investigate for yourself, in the process discovering a delicate, moving piece with both aesthetic and (subtle) eco-political impact? Don't miss this one.
We nearly missed all of Walri's set as a result, returning to Gateway just in time to hear the Rochester-based band play "Ziggy Stardust." Taken out of context, it was hard to tell at first whether this was that indie-rock staple, the Ironic Classic Rock Cover, or we'd stumbled upon a Monroe County cover band. (Spoiler: it was option A.) There were only two songs after that, and I loved 'em both enough to buy a CD on the spot and to mark my calendar for their next BIF show, this Wednesday.
We nearly missed all of Walri's set as a result, returning to Gateway just in time to hear the Rochester-based band play "Ziggy Stardust." Taken out of context, it was hard to tell at first whether this was that indie-rock staple, the Ironic Classic Rock Cover, or we'd stumbled upon a Monroe County cover band. (Spoiler: it was option A.) There were only two songs after that, and I loved 'em both enough to buy a CD on the spot and to mark my calendar for their next BIF show, this Wednesday.
THINK TWICE RADIO
www.thinktwiceradio.com/infringement/audio/2009/r.mp3
Dear Angela,
Your recent interview at the Infringement Festival is now on ThinkTwiceRadio.com
To hear same, simply go to our website:
and click on The Infringement Festival radio show
Help me chase down the errors. Let me know if you notice anything.
It will be up indefinitely, send out a notice to your email list and spread the word.
We have been averaging over 190,000 hits a month.
Feel free to use this graphic on your internet page, if you have one.
- Richard
Richard Wicka
45 Shanley St.
Buffalo, NY 14206
716-823-1750 (leave a message with Spencer)
alternative email: para@roadrunner.com
from Jeffrey Kuhn
some thoughts re pho malpica; oops. take 2. your performance, my words:"deep, pain , intense". You said "evolution." Change. Always painful,intensity proportionate to depth. Constant, neverending. Circular? are we not all suspended at a point in our evolution? Time? To what end? I believe the end, and the beginning, to be the life force,light , love, god if you will, the universal mind, spirit. have we, humankind, taken our drive for biological preservation to the point where we are actually devolving? Physically, yes. Is too much intellect, not enough heart also harmful to uorselves and the planet? and so, spiritually?? Have you not found , as a dancer, that intense focus on your physical self quiets the mind and so opens your consciousness, your spirit? Perhaps elephants are more spiritually aware than most people!? Is 'self' awareness an asset or an obstacle? does a more evolved consciousness facilitate physical adaptation? what themes are you exploring? I'm always interested in new ideas, perspectives, a different light to study the reflections of spirit as manifested in its earthly forms, human and amimal (plant?) I'd enjoy hearing from you- 563-8086 or jeffrey kuhn 160 russell lwr. Buff. 14214 or h7jeffk63@yahoo if you have the time and inclination. If not, please know that i greatly enjoyed meeting you and Jordan, felt your work,and was amazed. Thanks so very much for your passion and insight and dedication!!! jeff ps. please forgive grammer, punctuation, etc.. |
Monday, August 3, 2009
The Audience
During the course of the 11 day event we have estimated 400 or so viewers of the performance. We based the estimation on the amount of programs notes we passed out to our guests during the festival. Some people came in groups and only requested 1 flyer so our guess is heavily approximate. We made no more than 500 flyers in total. It is great to know that we could have possibly impacted a singular person with our performance let alone hundreds. So I feel that our mission was accomplished. And I am very grateful for our dedicated audience members. Much luv to you all.
As far as donations we broke $200.00! I never expected that in the least! I don't even remember really planning on taking donations to begin with. It seems like it was a very last minute idea in my memory. It is wonderful to get compensated for our efforts. WOW. It feels pretty damn great!
As far as donations we broke $200.00! I never expected that in the least! I don't even remember really planning on taking donations to begin with. It seems like it was a very last minute idea in my memory. It is wonderful to get compensated for our efforts. WOW. It feels pretty damn great!
Sunday, August 2, 2009
A SHORT ARTICLE IN BUFFALO RISING...
Witness 'Pho Malpica: The Last White Elephant'
Buffalo Rising August 2, 2009 11:48 AM Comments: 0
If I have one complaint about the performance, it would be regarding the program notes (also on the website). These notes give me a window into Angela’s process. While interesting and even illuminating as a fellow choreographer, as an audience member I found them to be something of a distraction - limiting, perhaps. They didn’t -couldn’t - do justice to the complexities of the work, its multifarious images and implications. Part of the great beauty of Phó Malpica is that through its ambiguity, by shuffling and re-shuffling specificity and confusion, I experience one of the great mysteries or paradoxes of life: that the specific can be universal, and that the universal is made up in fact of many specifics.
I envy Angela’s bravery as a performer. It takes guts to let so little speak for so much. The opening stillness lasts a long time. When she finally moves, it is to snake her torso side to side, at first imperceptibly, but eventually with a commanding power achieved by pairing sinuous, smooth sequentiality with the visible muscular effort of her naked back. This undulation eventually torques and twists Angela’s body toward the audience, revealing tusks and a gauze covered face supplementing a costume otherwise consisting of half a wedding dress and veil. Her trajectory in space consists of a slow and deliberate progression from “upstage” to “downstage.”
Other salient movement images include a shaking claw of a hand, a precarious balance assisted by the lightest touch against the brick wall of next door, a bound foot tentatively lifted, and the continuous arching, twisting spine and head. When Angela lifts an arm in what appears as an elephant’s trunk, I cringe. My concern is that this well crafted performance will suddenly veer off its carefully trod line between abstract and representational, diving headfirst into the literal. My concern is unfounded. Trunk-like images continue to appear briefly and occasionally, but the effect is of an echo or gesture toward elephant trunk rather than a literal representation thereof.
Most of the performance includes video projection. The space is long and narrow, and the video hits everything everywhere: both walls, white curtain, performer. It is difficult to determine what the video images are. Based on foreknowledge of the source material, I presume the yellowish tubular somethings are elephant tusks, though they could easily be bananas from where I stand. The first image I see with any clarity is an old snapshot of a young man. Though I see him clearly, I must imagine that it is a trophy photo of him and the elephant he poached. As the dance moves forward in space, the projected images suddenly hit Angela’s skirt just so, and I see everything: piles upon piles of tusks. At this distance she returns to her backward facing. I see a duet between performer and her enlarged shadow self.
Bending forward, rear toward us, Angela removes her headdress. She moves past the upstage projector, effectively breaking the fourth wall and invading what has hitherto been my “safe distance.” Her painted white face is deathly. Images of terminal illness invade my thoughts, lending to comparisons between our species’ lack of respect for nature and our own impending doom. The movement has grown in size and intensity, but maintains an elastic, sinewy quality that lends itself to building tension but not its release. At its most aggressive the movement is a single stomp or fingernails dragged across the brick (adding to the anxious electronica).
I don’t like seeing Angela retreat upstage, perhaps because I sense it means resignation to the state of things, perhaps because I know it means the end. I’m struck by noticing that the largest single gesture in space is her lifted leg as she mounts a half-wall in exit, leaving as swiftly and silently as she came. I am left with the majesty of a narrow alleyway in Allentown and the memory of how she filled it. I am grateful for that.
Buffalo Rising August 2, 2009 11:48 AM Comments: 0
Hosted at the Buffalo Infringement Festival's most unique venue, the alley between La Tee Da and The Buckingham apartment building (near Allen St. and Mariner), which is so narrow, we're not even sure it can be called an alley.
'Pho Malpica: The Last White Elephant' has already captivated over 300 viewers with a stunning visual display featuring performance artist, video producer, and sound designer Angela Christina Lopez. The production includes movement based performance, video projections and an original score.
There a just 1 night left of the Buffalo Infringement Festival. That means you have two more chances to see COLLECTIVE COLLECTIVE's site-specific multimedia spectacle 'Pho-Malpica: The Last White Elephant' before it is extinct. Stop by at 9:00 and 10:30pm for a performance that is not to be missed.
For more information, please see visit the following websites:
Pho Malpica Blog:
Pho Malpica review by 'The Spark':
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Dance Review: Phó Malpica: The Last White Elephant
I already had some ideas about what I was getting myself into when I showed up to see Phó Malpica: The Last White Elephant at La Tee Da Alley earlier this evening. I had read the description posted on Phó Malpica’s website (http://phomalpica.blogspot.com), and I’ve known Angela Christina Lopez for some time now (full disclosure: we went to the New York Summer School of Dance together in 2002). Not that any of that quite prepared me for the experience of seeing - nay, witnessing - the event itself.If I have one complaint about the performance, it would be regarding the program notes (also on the website). These notes give me a window into Angela’s process. While interesting and even illuminating as a fellow choreographer, as an audience member I found them to be something of a distraction - limiting, perhaps. They didn’t -couldn’t - do justice to the complexities of the work, its multifarious images and implications. Part of the great beauty of Phó Malpica is that through its ambiguity, by shuffling and re-shuffling specificity and confusion, I experience one of the great mysteries or paradoxes of life: that the specific can be universal, and that the universal is made up in fact of many specifics.
I envy Angela’s bravery as a performer. It takes guts to let so little speak for so much. The opening stillness lasts a long time. When she finally moves, it is to snake her torso side to side, at first imperceptibly, but eventually with a commanding power achieved by pairing sinuous, smooth sequentiality with the visible muscular effort of her naked back. This undulation eventually torques and twists Angela’s body toward the audience, revealing tusks and a gauze covered face supplementing a costume otherwise consisting of half a wedding dress and veil. Her trajectory in space consists of a slow and deliberate progression from “upstage” to “downstage.”
Other salient movement images include a shaking claw of a hand, a precarious balance assisted by the lightest touch against the brick wall of next door, a bound foot tentatively lifted, and the continuous arching, twisting spine and head. When Angela lifts an arm in what appears as an elephant’s trunk, I cringe. My concern is that this well crafted performance will suddenly veer off its carefully trod line between abstract and representational, diving headfirst into the literal. My concern is unfounded. Trunk-like images continue to appear briefly and occasionally, but the effect is of an echo or gesture toward elephant trunk rather than a literal representation thereof.
Most of the performance includes video projection. The space is long and narrow, and the video hits everything everywhere: both walls, white curtain, performer. It is difficult to determine what the video images are. Based on foreknowledge of the source material, I presume the yellowish tubular somethings are elephant tusks, though they could easily be bananas from where I stand. The first image I see with any clarity is an old snapshot of a young man. Though I see him clearly, I must imagine that it is a trophy photo of him and the elephant he poached. As the dance moves forward in space, the projected images suddenly hit Angela’s skirt just so, and I see everything: piles upon piles of tusks. At this distance she returns to her backward facing. I see a duet between performer and her enlarged shadow self.
Bending forward, rear toward us, Angela removes her headdress. She moves past the upstage projector, effectively breaking the fourth wall and invading what has hitherto been my “safe distance.” Her painted white face is deathly. Images of terminal illness invade my thoughts, lending to comparisons between our species’ lack of respect for nature and our own impending doom. The movement has grown in size and intensity, but maintains an elastic, sinewy quality that lends itself to building tension but not its release. At its most aggressive the movement is a single stomp or fingernails dragged across the brick (adding to the anxious electronica).
I don’t like seeing Angela retreat upstage, perhaps because I sense it means resignation to the state of things, perhaps because I know it means the end. I’m struck by noticing that the largest single gesture in space is her lifted leg as she mounts a half-wall in exit, leaving as swiftly and silently as she came. I am left with the majesty of a narrow alleyway in Allentown and the memory of how she filled it. I am grateful for that.
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