Subversive Theatre Collective: When things get Hairy

No full-fledged Scene Report for this, the final day of the festival, because I wasn't part of any particular "scene" today. Despite my best intentions, outside factors intervened and I never even made it down to Allen Street at all. The closest I got was the Great Arrow Building, which this year, thanks to the Alt and Manny Fried Theatres, took the place of Rust Belt as the primary venue for live theater (a smart and understandable move, but, as one festivalgoer pointed out to me midweek, it does take away a bit of the centrally-located aspect of the early years of BIF). There was no way I could let the festival end without seeing the latest project from by its once and future Pooh-Bah, Kurt Schneiderman, and his Subversive Theatre Company.



I have vague memories of reading The Hairy Ape in or around high school, but other than the basic premise and the ending, not much of it stuck with me. And I confess I've never quite gotten America's Greatest Playwright, despite repeated attempts. Even so, I trusted that the Subversives would do something ... well, subversive, with the play.

No disappointment there! From the full-out opening surprise (which I won't spoil) to the live music score by Pat Cain and Gabriel Gutierrez to the overall framing device of "the Burn 'em & Bail 'em Circus," this is easily the most fun you're ever likely to have at an O'Neill play. (It's sinister fun, mind you, but still.) The relatively large cast of familiar and unfamiliar faces is something I've almost come to expect from Subversive projects, and I'm always amazed at how many talented actors Schneiderman manages to find and work with. I'll single out ringmaster Brian Zybala and protagonist Patrick Cameron, each an intense presence in his own way, by name, but pretty much everybody else is called upon to play multiple roles and does so with captivating ease. This particular production is practically a dance piece at times, and there are inventive bits of stage business every couple of minutes. (It's a noisy show, in more ways than one, and at times I had trouble hearing or following the main storyline because of all the hoopla on the sidelines.) Given its staging, I can easily envision this show being mounted in, say, 1967, but that's not to say it doesn't feel fresh and alive in our current era of burnout and bailout. (And face it: 1967 was a pretty cool time to see a play.)

As luck would have it, if you missed Ape during the festival proper, you can still catch it this coming Thursday through Saturday--if you're not already burnt out on artgoing for a while. Lord knows I might be, and I'll be happily taking a break from seeing stuff for at least a week or two. With that in mind, even though I only made it to one show today, I'm glad my own experience of Infringement 09 ended with a bang, not a whimper.

Scene report: Day ten

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.

Scene report: Day nine

I cannot tell a lie: after a long workweek, finding the weather unexpectedly pleasant, I came very close to sitting out one of the biggest nights of the festival--and knew I would regret it if I did. Still, I made time to listen to this 1985 interview with the late Merce Cunningham and this one with John Cage from the same year on Fresh Air while working on a fresh batch of Self-Infringement instructions. It's pretty safe to say there would be no Infringement without these two fearless pioneers of Art Under the Radar, and I wish there was some way to salute them during the festival. So: "saaaaaaa-LUTE!," as they used to say on Hee-Haw.

After a quick stop at Rust Belt, I paid a quick return visit to Mrs. Squandertime, who was back in action after taking a night or two of rest. I see she has company in the window of 224 Allen now, too, in the form of a witty computer installation called eyeMacs (by another of my WoyUbu colleagues--represent, y'all!):



One window over is another cool-looking digital project whose name escapes me, but I'm told it's the work of 224's owner. There's an interactive component, and if I remember, I'll add more details about that here later:



I got to the Albright-Knox just in time to miss all of the Infringement festivities in Gusto at the Gallery, but I heard good reports from many people about the poetry and the dance. I did manage to make my way through the museum's two current exhibitions, one devoted to (allegedly) "subversive" work in the permanent collection and the other a lovely tribute to Ed Ruscha, another of those precursors who gave everybody else permission to do weird stuff in the name of Art. Walking around the upstairs galleries gave me a nice opportunity to think about how "subversive" work bubbles up from spaces like most of the other venues in BIF into mainstream cultural institutions like the AKAG about 20-30 years later, or doesn't, and how sometimes lately that process is sped up by a couple of decades. Some subversion gets forgotten after a good night's sleep, and some ends up accompanied by a child-friendly wall text in a major American museum. My tour of the show also gave me yet another chance to marvel at just how much money Matthew Barney makes for his often gorgeous, always completely hermetic jibberjabber. Plus, he gets to date Bjork!

While I saw no actual BIF work at the Albright, I consider the costumes of Euphraxia and Red Moon to be art objects in themselves, not so far off from Barney's elaborate getups. The dancers looked astounding in the bright lights just outside the museum's entrance. Because I am not David Lynch, I lack the ability to take a photo of them that captures the surreal glory of the moment:



Headed from the AKAG to Days Park for the first of three performances this weekend by Pyromance. I shot video of their fire dance, but haven't yet figured out how to upload it, so you'll just have to get to the park Saturday or Sunday to see them in action. (They promise a new show every night, so go early and often.) While waiting for them to set up, I ran down to La Tee Da to catch another snippet of Pho Malpica, which is shaping up to be the word-of-mouth hit of BIF09. I escorted the newly arrived cast of Car Stories to it, and then crossed paths with them again later during the aptly named Yet Another Cool Showcase at Nietzsche's. I was very happy that I got to catch ROJOMOJO's set: straightforward blues, an excellent country-flavored original (something about the grass being bluer on my side--I don't remember the chorus, but it was a damned catchy song), and covers of Marvin Gaye and James Taylor, all performed without a shred of rockstar pretense. Anybody who thinks Infringement is nothing but bizarre, out-there oddness (not that there's anything wrong with that!) is missing the fuller picture: it's a celebration of homegrown creativity in all its manifestations, from Cunningham-influenced weirdness to feel-good party music.

To coin a phrase, it's all good.

Chris chimes in: the first 3 days

I'm not sure how or why Chris Uebbing's Scene Report ended up as a comment to an empty post by somebody else, but it's too good to miss, so I'm reposting it for her here. -- Ron E

My first comment is related to my rusty brain's inability to start my own topic...

More importantly, a summary of the last 3 days...

Friday (opening night), I made a point of getting to Nietzche's early to see Dotson Moon. Friends of a friend, I'd listened/quite liked much of their stuff from their MySpace page, but hadn't seen them play.I believe they come out of hiding only for Infringement.

They've had an addition of a very strong vocalist since I'd listened much,which has altered their focus. Used have a dreamy, ambient-pop sound; things are earthier and more accessible now.

Glad I made the effort.

Friday was busy. I started over at the 464 Gallery on Amherst, a new venue for BiF this year. This is part of the Blackrock contingent that also includes the Yard near Buff State. I needed to put name to face with Marcus Wise, who owns 464.

This was the opening event for the MINDWEB members show, plus Abnormal Growth #s 1 & 2. I was particularily struck by Marcus's photos, some fibre-based sculptures, and one-of-a-kind painted furniture pieces.

I stayed for the first few songs by Android's Dream. They started with "Me and my Rythym Box" which was covered from an early 80's cult/sci fi flick "Liquid Sky." I am quite certain I was the only one in the audience who had seen this movie in the theatre on first-release. Meagan Breen had the appropriate dead-pan delivery which I found very amusing.

Had to leave to bring the neccessary cheese/crackers/fruit to Gateway Gallery for their opening party. Nice crowd,LOTS of space for the visual artists, excellent line-up of bands. I was there largely for my son's "There is No Title", a modest collection of ink comics, still-lifes, and a self-portrait, with Brooklyn price tags (he studies @ Pratt Institute). My review has no objectivity whatsoever; I love the self-potrait because A. it looks like him, and B. it's well-executed.

Totally split Infringement after an hour at Gateway to see Mark Eitzel on Marty Boratin's porch in Hamburg (navigated there and back with no mishaps), and wrapped up @ Gateway to pick up what remained of my portion of the spread. No four-cheese pasta for me;cheese all gone.

Yesterday was spent trying to beg/borrow/steal for venue coverage @ MANNY FRIED (thank you, all), then off to Nobody's for their electronica show (missed WNYBA opening, much to my chagrin; I was caught in a downpour in Clarence)

Started off there with Android's Dream once again (and no, I am not stalking them; despite the assertions of the conceited David Anderson). Heard the cover of a favorite Laurie Anderson (no relation;whose hairdo I have been trying to emulate for ABOUT 25 years), plus the much ballyhooed "Cougar", which allegedly struck close to home with some audience members the previous night.

Stayed through City of God, an electronic dance band that I really enjoyed, but had to cut short, as we were running late. (I was czaring for Melissa @ Nobody's while she escaped to see something OFF-SITE.

Sorry I missed This is the Sun (@ Soundlab later today) and Modi Sines, who I will see at Grant Street Gallery next weekend.

Later.

Scene report: Day four

Garden Walk and personal commitments kept me from doing much on the Infringement side Sunday. I only had time to make a brief appearance at ...

•A sound check/rehearsal/hangout session by Grammar School, a supercool noise/punk band whose members look to be about 10-12 years old apiece, outside Lagniappe's. If Sonic Youth had a Saturday morning cartoon where they were depicted as pre-teens, they would surely look something like this:



I especially enjoyed the look and attitude of the Mini Kim Gordon. I heard no actual music but would in no way be surprised if they end up dominating avant-rock in the 2010s. They were apparently next in line to perform at

•the College Street Block Party, which is always a good time. When I was there, I saw the Global Village Idiots



and watched kids making a glorious mess with paint (much to ringleader Klinger's delight).



•I ducked into Nietzsche's for Mimi Loco, only I missed her entire set. Said hello. Seemed nice enough. Drove here from DC just for Infringement.

•Final stop of the day was the Yard for Zombie Fest. I've driven by the big graffiti'ed text reading "The Yard" on the side of an industrial building off the Thruway (where Niagara splits off with Tonawanda St.) for at least a year now and wondered what it was. And now I know: yet another archetypal DIY Buffalo venue! You pull up to the back of a warehouse, sit on i-beams (which carry the music directly through your body, via your ass!), and marvel at Bflo's Rust Belt legacy. THIS PLACE WAS MADE FOR METAL! If Penelope Spheeris ever directs another installment of her ongoing Decline of Western Civilization doc series, she should film concerts here:



Me, I'm not that much of a metalhead, but I enjoyed the three songs I saw from the Phoenix Resistance (which included one by Alice in Chains and one by GNR, neither of which was one of those ironic indie covers I was just going on about) as much as I possibly could. Mainly I enjoyed the only patch of truly great weather of the weekend. I was in the right spot at the right time, along with about six other audience members, only one of whom could accurately be described as zombie-clad.