Eliza Bent is about as close to a recognizable brand as you can get in downtown theater land (I say this in a good way) – she has a specific and winning skewed sensibility and a propensity for characters, which I assumed would not be overly diminished by the Zoom platform.
And then, time reversed itself.
We sit like middle schoolers at lunch, cliques separated by social barriers. People chat. “Did you get the job?” “The one at TikTok? No, it was a no. They said they’re on a hiring freeze.”
Black Dance Stories is exactly what it sounds like and precisely what we need right now. It’s a distillation of insightful moments in post-performance talkbacks spliced with casual conversations you once shared over drinks, plus powerful sentiments you’re overhearing now at BLM protests.
Black Dance Stories is exactly what it sounds like and precisely what we need right now. It’s a distillation of insightful moments in post-performance talkbacks spliced with casual conversations you once shared over drinks, plus powerful sentiments you’re overhearing now at BLM protests.
The timeless, classic Cubana Rican performance artist stand-up comic Marga Gomez leans into her fears and at large: the pitfalls of friendship and failed perseverance that bog down all of humanity.
Re-examining the words these artists shared with me about the show on March 7, I was struck by the resonance of their work in the liminal fever dream that is our current reality. At this uncanny remove of time and location, the pieces swelled with meaning. The three soloists dealt with the limitations of their bodies, examining rituals and scores and diagnoses.
4:15 p.m. A couple more livestreaming resources. First, there’s the Social Distancing Festival. Organized by Toronto-based lyricist and book writer Nick Green, the site is collecting global performance streaming events and serving as a central hub. Much of the content is classical music and opera (thought
Documenting the performances affected by COVID-19
so much of how I felt about my body, so much of how I felt about like girlhood as a collective, everything that I felt about femaleness, came from the choir room
Coop seeks to remind us that we are here, together, and that “the piles of things we’ve forgotten” are scattered everywhere around us.
At the time I was obsessed with the chickens who can beat humans at tic tac toe in casinos.
