My only regret when it comes to Lisa Vitrano's one-person show Bitch Bares All is that I didn't see it earlier in its run so I could tell more people about it. (Truth be told, I'm not nuts about the title, which is funny and eye-catching but also a bit misleading, and might scare off potential audience members expecting/fearing something totally different. Ah, well.) I've been a fan of Vitrano since I first started noticing her in Alleyway shows in the 90s. There's something about her energy, her physicality, and above all her timing that always makes me happy, even when I don't like the play she's in.
That's not an issue here, because she wrote this particular piece herself, and it turns out she's every bit as entertaining and interesting a writer as she is a performer. Updating an autobiographical monologue she first developed in 2001, Vitrano tells the story of giving birth to a son when she was essentially still a child herself. If that sounds like a heady, heavy dose of Lifetime Channel movie-of-the-week fodder, guess again--this tale is hilarious almost from beginning to end and utterly idiosyncratic throughout. (A handful of brief moments are alternately surreal, poetic, or directly didactic; some of these work better than others, but they're all essential to the fast-moving collage of voices and perspectives she presents.) At one point she refers to a Newsweek cover story on teen mothers; her own approach is about as far away from something like that as you can get. Clocking in somewhere around 45 minutes, it's short, sweet, smart, and sharp. You've got one more chance to see it as of this writing, but I hope she gets it out to the widest possible audience. Here's a photo that does little to convey the performer's talents--she just happened to be standing in brighter lights at the moment:
There's no way I could convey the appeal of Ella Joseph's A House of Stone or Sunk In, or . . . (or any of her other work I've seen in Infringement over the years) in a mere photo, either:
Entering this particular video installation reminded me a little of a labyrinth and a little of a confessional--only the ceiling is strung with fuzzy little creations that evoke both fishing flies and houseflies. This is the kind of piece you're best off witnessing alone, at a point when you have enough time to sit quietly for a while and let Joseph's imagery and audio wash over you. I won't claim to know what it all means to its maker, to me, or to you--in that sense it's the polar opposite of Vitrano's far more explicit message--but I love the mystery and elegance of it all.
Heading into Allentown, I stumbled upon something I wasn't expecting: an eye-catching installation of works in the fresnelphotography series. I'd seen the photographer's trippy lens up and down Allen Street over the last few days, but the grouping of finished images hanging by clothespins on string on the edge of Days Park was a wonderful surprise:
Speaking of wonderful surprises, Der Wundertisch (The Wonder Table) may well be the single most delightful experience I've had in five years of Infringing. The less I say about it, the better, but suffice to say if you're a fan of Michelle Costa's puppetry, or Joseph Cornell's boxes--or if you've ever wondered what it would be like to fall down the rabbit hole with Alice and take tea with the White Rabbit (? Mad Hatter? whoever)--don't miss this five-minute, one-audience-member-at-a-time project by a pair of artists visiting from New York and Boston. A big part of its charm on Saturday was the fact that it was on the back porch behind Space 224 on a perfect afternoon, whereas Sunday it moves indoors, to the Grant Street Gallery, but I'm pretty sure it would enchant me no matter when or where I encountered it. (Warning: the artist statement may make the piece sound a lot more academic than it really is; I have no doubt that the historical references and critical theory informing it will be relevant and illuminating to some audience members, but for me the appeal is in how homemade and delicate both the set and the performance are. My advice is to dive in first, and suss out its deeper meanings later.)
At this point in the evening, I snuck off with two friends to the Black Rock and Riverside Starry Night Gardenwalk, an event which started the same year as Infringement and, in its own way, has a similar kind of grassroots, funky, all-over-the-place creative energy that may totally challenge your stereotypes of the neigborhood, much as Infringement can expand your sense of what artists and musicians are up these days. (Amazingly enough, it's the only nighttime garden tour in WNY--this idea is too much fun not to catch on!) Alas, looks like it'll always be the same night as the biggest single night of BIF, but if Infringement just doesn't provide enough adventure and inspiration for you, check it out next year. Besides, it's not that far from some of the newest BIF venues.
OK, one more day of Infringing, and it's all over for 354 days! Fortunately, all the events I've mentioned above are viewable one last time, along with so much more. If I can somehow fit in even a third of what's still on my wanna-see list SUnday, I'll be in ecstasy.
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