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The Arts

“Exploring Abstraction”: A Community Collaboration

November 1, 2024 By Meredith Katibah Filed Under: The Arts

Explore the latest exhibit from Park Slope Windsor Terrace Artists in partnership with ShapeShifter Lab.

Diane Miller 
Haiku VII, 2020
28 x 21”
collage of artist-made paper, etching fragments & gold leaf 
DianeMillerArtist@gmail.com 
DianeMiller.org

Artistic endeavors exist on every corner of Park Slope, but even longtime residents may not be fully aware of the vast array of creative collaborations within our neighborhood. However, “Exploring Abstraction” is one art exhibit you won’t want to miss this fall. 

he exhibit is displayed at ShapeShifter Lab, a music and arts space on Union Street. Business partners Fortuna Sung and Matt Garrison run ShapeShifter Plus, a nonprofit organization, and designed the Lab to be a living canvas where local artists and musicians could reimagine the space with their own works of art.  

“The space is DIY, letting the artists have the freedom of how [they] want to curate the shows,” Sung said. 

Currently, the living canvas of ShapeShifter features the latest collaboration with the Park Slope Windsor Terrace Artists (ArtsPSWT), a collective of visual artists living and working in the two neighborhoods. 

Since the 1970s, ArtsPSWT has gathered distinguished local artists together to participate in events and showcase their work. Today, the collective is composed of over 50 artists who span the gamut of styles, techniques, and mediums. Rich Garr, who has been a member of ArtsPSWT for over 14 years, is deeply rooted in the art scene in Brooklyn. As a collage artist, Garr is skilled at connecting elements together which transfers to his ability to match artists with spaces to show their work. 

“We all want to be in our studios making art, but we want to make sure it gets seen.” Garr said. 

He said that members in the collective each play a different role to curate spaces and act as liaisons with the community. One of the newer members, Susan Newmark, sits on the exhibition committee for ArtsPSWT. 

Newmark, whose involvement in community arts projects spans many years in the city, has organized shows at The Brooklyn Museum Community Gallery and also ran the visual arts program at Henry Street Settlement. Now, she focuses her energy to curate shows for the diverse artists in Park Slope and Windsor Terrace by partnering with ShapeShifter Lab. She noted how the process of sharing art can often be quite complicated. 

“Artists all want their work to be shown…it’s the other side of creating so this is really a great possibility,” Newmark said. 

ShapeShifter Lab offers the talented artists of ArtsPSWT the opportunity to do precisely what their name suggests and shift the space for each unique exhibit. 

“It’s a community-based space and it allows for a lot of creativity,” Sung said. 

Community and creativity go hand and hand in the current exhibit, “Exploring Abstraction,” which displays work from 11 artists including painters, printmakers, photographers and multimedia artists. Artists Shoshana Cooper, Phil DeSantis, Rich Garr, Tom Nau, Toby Needler, Susan Newmark, Chris Doogen, Diane Miller, Paula Rennis, Robin Roi, and Heidi Yockey explore a unique perspective and story through the use of a wide variety of techniques and mediums including acrylic paint, watercolor, collage, and photographs. 

According to Britannica, abstract art has been historically used by artists to describe and illustrate the natural world and human civilization for centuries. 

The Britannica website notes that “abstract art puzzled and indeed confused many people, but for those who accepted its nonreferential language there is no doubt as to its value and achievements.” 

Chris Doogan 
Unraveling, 2020
woodcut print, 13 x 20”
ChrisDooganArt@gmail.com 
ChrisDooganArt.com

In order for the ArtsPSWT artists to display their own nonreferential masterpiece in the exhibit, they needed to provide information about their process, the content of their piece, and their unique involvement in their art form which is available for the public to read and learn more about the stories that inspired the works.  

A few artists have even held workshops for people to tangibly interact with the art and ignite their own creativity. Paula Rennis, whose pieces are displayed in “Exploring Abstraction,” hosted “Unwine,” an experimental abstract painting event. Not only did participants sip wine while they painted but also painted with their wine. 

“It’s a way to connect with her artwork too,” Garr said about “Unwine.” “You can have a great time as an artist exploring your own creativity.”

If you missed this workshop, don’t be dismayed because all are welcome to join ArtsPSWT for a free reception at ShapeShifter Lab on September 22nd from 2 p.m. – 4 p.m. to meet the artists and engage with “Exploring Abstraction” in all of the intricate interpretations of the theme.  

Newmark believes art goes on everywhere and that it’s important to see the accomplished local artists in our community. Beyond the current exhibit, ArtsPSWT plans to continue partnering with ShapeShifter Plus to host future exhibits exploring street stories and artists who are teachers. 

Until then, “Exploring Abstraction” will run through October 5th and is open to the public from 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. on Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays as well as from 12 p.m. – 3 p.m. on Wednesdays. Additionally, Sunday hours will resume on September 8th. 

“I hope that when people realize the incredible amount of talent that is in their community and the diversity, they might be inspired by that.” Garr said. 

Filed Under: The Arts

Open Studios Showcases Gowanus: A Neighborhood’s Changing Identity

October 24, 2024 By Lauren Hartley Filed Under: Community, The Arts

By: Lauren Hartley and Jaylen Green

NEW YORK — Blue balloons wrapped door handles across Gowanus Saturday and Sunday, signaling to the public that they could enter to view work created by local artists. 

Gowanus, a neighborhood known for its converted industrial buildings turned art spaces, hosted its 28th year of Open Studios, where hundreds of artists showcase their work out of their homes, studios, galleries, and local businesses, to welcome people into Gowanus and encourage art sales and display.

Arts Gowanus, the event organizer, is an arts and advocacy organization that helps artists across New York City and Gowanus maintain affordable access to studios and living space, publicly showcase their work, and provide resources that allow them to thrive. 

Ella Yang next to her paintings of Park Slope and Gowanus

2024 marks the 21st year Ella Yang has been participating in the Open Studios. When she first joined the Open Studios event, there were about 30 participating artists. Now, there are about 400. 

One of Yang’s exhibits, titled Disappearing Gowanus showcases scenes that have now completely changed – or soon will – due to new high-rise developments, which take advantage of the rezoning near the canals.

“One of the things that was so wonderful about painting here was there was just so much sky,” Yang said, about painting in Gowanus. “There were no tall buildings, especially along the canals. I’ve done like dozens in the last twenty years of paintings of the canals and now the views are going to be completely changed, so I don’t think I’ll be painting a lot of the canal anymore.” 

Rosie Oliveto sits outside the studio home she grew up in. She made the pillows behind her with sustainably sourced materials.

Pointing across the street to the new apartment building that casts a shadow over the studio home she grew up in, Rosie Oliveto reflects on how the neighborhood’s rapid changes have left little space for its artists to make their mark. 

“They’re just trying to make it a bigger and bigger, bigger city and artists are like, wait, we’re here. We’re here too, you know?”

Growing up on Carroll Street, Oliveto was surrounded by artists like her mother that shaped her identity and encouraged self-expression. 

“It’s infectious and amazing because we all can come together as a community and make art shows happen and build on each other instead of like, ‘oh, I’m an artist.’ And then it’s competitive and like everybody’s an artist, it doesn’t feel that way,” she says. “It feels like everybody’s meant to be together.”

Casielle Santos-Gaerlan pictured next to her work

Casielle Santos-Gaerlan sees her art as a search for more belonging. As an American, she feels disconnected from her Filipino heritage. Her work, centered around Brown women, is inspired by her identity and themes of the immigrant experience, colonialism, and how it affects people and the Filipino community.

“A lot of it is also a practice of going back to my roots,” she explains about her art. “As an American I feel really disconnected, I don’t speak the language. A lot of it is a search for finding more belonging.” 

Born, raised, and lives in Park Slope, Santos-Gaerlan has been impacted by gentrification and the changes in the neighborhood. 

“I’ve seen a lot of businesses close and a lot of loved ones leave the neighborhood,” she says. “Eventually I do want to do more work about the neighborhood and race for different spaces that I’ve experienced in my childhood.” 

Gowanus Wine Studio & Tasting Table

Aimee Little, Founder of Gowanus Wine Studio & Tasting Table, has made art an integral part of her business model. Part of the concept from day one was to have art representation from the community, preserving the creative culture that has long been a part of the neighborhood. 

“It’s part of the culture of the neighborhood, that was here first,” Little says. “This is trying to keep in line with the roots of the area.” 

As a long time resident of Gowanus, Little was aware of the anticipated influx of residents to the neighborhood, and strategically opened her business in the developing area.

As the development has begun, but people have not yet moved in, the change in the area looks obvious, but the density that will likely follow with more residences isn’t in full effect yet.

“Change is difficult in some aspects,” notes Little. “I think the Arts Gowanus in particular has done a good job of setting the stage. What they’ve done to advocate for the people that are here is special.”

Kitty McDonough sitting on the stoop to her home selling clothes and shoes

Kitty McDonough, 67, is a Brooklyn-born novelist who moved to Gowanus in 1992. She recounts the open atmospheric energy she grew accustomed to in the “industrial no man’s land” she knew as the sleepy provincial Gowanus.

“Cities change, and that’s particularly true about New York City, it’s constantly changing and inventing itself.”

McDonough loves the attention Arts Gowanus brings to local artists. The event introduces artists’ work to people who might otherwise not know of it. “It’s important to get people aware that this is happening here and it’s an artist community,” she says.

While she’s still getting used to the changes of the neighborhood, she welcomes the new energy people bring to the area. 

Work by Dale Williams

Dale Williams has been creating art in Gowanus since 1996. He became a part of the Open Studios in 1999 and helped organize the event the year after.

Williams paints hybrid figurative works from his imagination. His works evolve out of spontaneous feelings he has as he works, likening the experience to dreaming.

“You don’t plan your dreams, but afterward, you think about them—how they’re important to you, what they mean,” Dale says. “That’s what I’m always setting off towards in my work. I want to show myself something that feels like it has significance to me in that moment of making it, much like a dream might.”

Despite the lack of a fixed plan, Williams recognizes certain recurring themes in his work. “I definitely paint certain kinds of figures. I call them ‘strugglers and strivers.’

“They’re kind of involved in some sort of mysterious action and kind of emotional and you hope they get through it, whatever it is.”

A page of one of Dale Williams’ drawing books, showcasing works One Waiting and Sing Cuckoo Sing

Work by Dale Williams

Alitha Alford is a Black American Filipina artist whose work is inspired by her ancestry and family. She remembers confiding in her grandpa that she had always been a late bloomer, and in response, he said, “Leelee it doesn’t matter if you’re a late or early bloomer, all it matters is that you bloom.” 

She painted her grandpa with a flower, as an ode to that advice.

Alford initially held back from pursuing being a full-time artist because of the stigma that art can’t support you. Eventually, she chose to chase her dreams anyways. 

“Art is literally my heartbeat,” she says. “It feeds my soul.”

Work by Alitha Alford

Scott Albrecht standing in front of works from artists that have inspired him. Pictured is also a skateboard and a Korean Scotch Whisky box he designed.

Scott Albrecht is an abstract artist with a love for writing. He noticed people reading without connecting to words on a page and wanted to use his background in graphic design to turn his love of writing into a visual work that allows viewers to engage with words in a different way. 

“You can still find the letter forms, you can still look for the message, but the fact that it’s abstracted, reading becomes secondary to the experience,” he says.

Albrecht is currently working on an exhibit entitled What Holds Us that showcases works started after he sustained a severe head injury last year. He says the project branched out of his feeling of gratitude for all the love he received from those around him during his recovery. One of his works, Hold a Moment, centers around the power of telling people you love them and its influence on strengthening that moment.    

Albrecht ends the excerpt of this piece with, “At the time I was reconciling a level of fear from almost not having the opportunity to express that feeling because of the severity of the injury, and I wanted to take the opportunities when I could, telling people they were important to me was nurturing.”

Filed Under: Community, The Arts

The Regina Opera’s Cavalleria Rusticana

February 29, 2024 By Bronwen Crowe Filed Under: The Arts

Regina Opera continued their 54th season of classical Italian opera with a free performance of Cavalleria Rusticana this Tuesday evening, February 27th. The production runs March 2-10th.

Photo by Michael Wong

The Regina Opera is a professional opera company in Sunset Park whose mission is to bring world-class performances to music lovers at a price they can afford. Their goal is to make opera accessible to more people, with the hope that young audiences will fall in love with their craft, allowing it to live on to future audiences, too. 

The entire production – orchestra, costumes, set design, lighting, cast, vocal performances – is Metropolitan Opera caliber for $25 or less, and in the intimacy of a small theater where there are no bad seats. The first performance of each opera series is always offered as free to the public.  Join their mailing list to stay in the loop on the latest Regina Opera productions and offerings.

Pictured: Conductor Scott Jackson Wiley accompanied by pianist Catherine Miller at the free performance on February 27th. Photo by C. Michael Clark. The remainder of the performances will feature a full 32-piece orchestra. 

We live in such a talent-rich city, made clear by the high-quality production of these affordable shows. I spoke with the President of The Regina Opera, Fran Garber-Cohen, about the incredible caliber of their performances.

“We are never left wanting for talent in this community.” Garber-Cohen explained that the opera world is a small, but international one. Much of their cast and crew come from around the globe, having studied and performed at some of the most esteemed opera houses in the world.

Soprano Sara Beth Pearson stars in the role of Santuzza, the scorned lover of Turiddu. She has performed extensively with Baltimore Opera, Annapolis Opera, Washington National Opera, and The Metropolitan Opera. Her incredible vocals brought me chills and teary eyes more than once throughout the performance. Photo by C. Michael Clark. 

The artistry is also clear in every stitch, seam, and set piece. Director Sabrina Palladino is quite the history buff, and takes great pleasure researching the history of each opera she directs – down to the historical gossip surrounding her characters and the artwork they may have owned. 

I was lucky enough to see her production of Rigoletto this fall, which featured replicas of artwork from the real Duke of Mantua’s palace in 16th century Italy. On the love she has for her craft, Palladino said, 

“When you look at a Van Gogh and you examine the brush strokes, you are there with the artist. You are looking at him. It’s the same with opera. When you look at the composer’s notes, you are spending time with them. You are hanging out with Verdi.”

Opera has been a part of Palladino’s life from the beginning, and Cavalleria Rusticana is particularly close to her heart. She sang it every Easter morning with her mother. 

“I’ve watched it, I’ve sung it, I’ve performed it – that opera is a part of me.” 

Cavalleria Rusticana is a decadent melodrama which tells the story of two unfaithful lovers played out on an Easter Sunday in late 19th century Sicily. And of course, the whole village is in their business. Don’t miss your opportunity to see Palladino’s production of this classic tale which will run March 2-10th. 

Tickets to Cavalleria Rusticana can be purchased on Regina Opera’s website. General admission is $25, with discounts for seniors, students and teens who can go for as little as $5. Children under 12 are admitted for free. 

The Regina Opera will also be presenting performances of Lucia Di Lammermoor in May 2024, as well as a few outdoor concert series to round out their 54th season. 

Filed Under: The Arts

Pottery Is Back in Park Slope Like It Never Left

January 2, 2024 By Chloe Cullen Filed Under: The Arts

In the first fifteen minutes of the Friday TryDay Night Class at the Prospect Heights BKLN Clay branch, I thought I was destined to work with clay. 

A dozen wheels punctuated with orange clothes and mats stretched out in front of a long slab of wood, like a spinning Last Supper set-up. I picked a spot at the end to avoid breaking up couples who attended together. After grabbing clay from a repurposed trash bin, I threw the clay around in my hands as I looked around the studio. 

“When Jen [Waverek] founded it, the concept was to create an elevated space,” Laura Vogel, BKYLN Clay’s COO/CFO said. “It’s really hard to keep ceramics studios clean. It’s really hard to keep them clutter free. It’s hard to keep them aesthetically elevated and pleasing. I think that people really like having a clean environment to work in.” 

A dozen wheels punctuated with orange clothes and mats stretched out in front of a long slab of wood, like a spinning Last Supper set-up. I picked a spot at the end to avoid breaking up couples who attended together. After grabbing clay from a repurposed trash bin, I threw the clay around in my hands as I looked around the studio. 

“When Jen [Waverek] founded it, the concept was to create an elevated space,” Laura Vogel, BKYLN Clay’s COO/CFO said. “It’s really hard to keep ceramics studios clean. It’s really hard to keep them clutter free. It’s hard to keep them aesthetically elevated and pleasing. I think that people really like having a clean environment to work in.” 

The white walls and cabinets with shelves full of kiln-fired mugs and bowls made the space feel like a Hollywood version of purgatory. Anything outside the beige dried clay or white walls, from the orange dish towels, the bright beanie of one member working on their own, or the two small dogs the member dog-sits sniffing the dust of the floor, commanded attention. 

Once the class started, I trained my eye on the orange mat. I followed the instructor’s advice about centering the clay, throwing it hard enough to stick, and moving a sponge along the perimeter of the clay’s base to anchor and seal it for the upcoming spins. There was something almost natural or nostalgic about touching clay, about wetting it so it stays “glossy” while spinning. Maybe it’s a kindergarten playground memory of finding red clay in a sandbox and working our five-year-old fingers to dig as much of it as possible out of the ground. Maybe it’s a clay kit my friend had a few years ago where I made a little clay turtle named “Taxi”. Or maybe there’s a more primal drive beneath clay. 

“It is one of the most ancient art forms,” Vogel said. “Connecting with something that has such a long history, and is literally earth, is appealing to people. Also, you have to put your phone down. You can’t do it while holding your phone. That forced separation is good for people, and people really need an excuse to do that. For ceramics, you need two hands in mud.” 

While it would be easy to associate the pandemic with the increased popularity of a hands-on artistic escape, Park Slope residents have gravitated toward ceramics for over six years. A studio opened in 2017 by Jennifer Waverek and Cor Garcia-Held found popularity almost immediately in the neighborhood. After Waverek and Garcia-Held found different visions for their studios, Waverek and Vogel started BKLYN Clay at the Prospect Heights location on Dean Street, and Garcia-Held and her partner Emiliano founded Gasworks on Fifth Avenue. 

Today, BKLN Clay has expanded to a Tribeca branch. Vogel estimates between the two branches they see 1,500 people walk in and out of their spaces each week. Gasworks boasts a smaller community of 75 members and almost 200 virtual and in-person students. The Garcia-Helds also started a philanthropy effort called Public Ceramics that raises money for ceramics fellowships to make it accessible to people who otherwise can’t afford the opportunity. Both studios offer one-time Try Night classes, private lessons and events, and specialized workshops covering topics from Claymation and hand-building planters to hand-building classes. 

In 2018, the first year of both studios opening, BKLY Clay and Gasworks each saw their classes sell out within thirty minutes. Now, once the class registration link is live on their websites, their classes sell out in minutes. 

“There are jokes around the studio games of, ‘Oh, here comes the Hunger Games,’’’ Garcia-Held said. “It can be heartbreaking for people when they don’t get into classes.” 

Both studios claim that there isn’t one type of ceramics artist. “Broadening the definition of what it is to be an artist is important,” Vogel said. “So many people are like, ‘Oh, I’m not an artist, but I spend six hours a week crocheting,’ or ‘I really love coming to my ceramics class.’ You are an artist. You don’t have to have a gallery show to say you’re an artist. I really like being surrounded by people who are exploring that part of themselves very consciously.” 

Cor Garcia-Held, Co-Owner of GasWorks

Garcia-Held also notes that ceramics is a communal activity from its earliest roots. “Historically, ceramics has always necessitated a lot of people to mine clay from the earth, to make glazes, to help fire the kilns. You can’t really do it by yourself. It’s always been something done in community.” 

Back in my Try Night class, the beginners collective and I learn how to individually lift the clay with the outer edges of our hands, palms facing up into a small knob. Then we push the clay back into a lower dome by pushing the pad of our right thumb into our left thumb on the clay. 

I could do this forever, I think. I imagine myself as the first cavewoman to discover ceramics. It feels so natural that I’m convinced I may have been clay in a past life. 

I might be called to be a ceramics artist. I might be that girl. 

We move onto putting our right thumbs into the lower dome to pull it closer to our bellies and create a bowl shape. 

I push it too hard, and my thumb goes through the wall and breaks my beloved bowl. 

The rest of the class moves on to the part of actually making a mug shape, and I’m back at square one. I creepily crane my neck to peer at the instructor and everyone else’s hands after I whack another clay cube into a ball and throw it on the orange mat, now dripping with the excess water from my last, glossy attempt. 

“Speaking for myself, I think clay attracts perfectionists,” Garcia-Held said. “It attracts people that are grieving or going through intense emotions. In the world of art therapy, I was always taught that clay absorbs the most emotion of any medium, so I find it incredibly healing, and I think a lot of people do, too. When you were making something with clay, you’re sculpting it, you have these intentions for it, but it has to go through this crazy metamorphosis when it goes into the kiln. And you don’t know what it’s going to come out like, so you really have to practice surrendering and letting go.” 

Laura Vogel, COO/CFO, and Jennifer Waverek, Founder/CEO of BKLYN Clay

When I heard this the day after my Try Night class, spending the entire time at another studio going over and over the centering phase that I trusted myself to do so well, I almost laughed. During the pandemic, I wrote a book on perfectionism in our larger Western culture but also, primarily, in my negative spurring. I always want to be the person that does something right on the first try, and if I can’t, I won’t try. I’ve gotten better at trying things, even if I think I’ll look like a fool when I mess up, but the instinct to preserve the respect I have still hides out. 

Another woman in the class shares this same self-deprecating route that I find so familiar. “Is this doomed?” she asks the instructor. 

“It’s not doomed yet,” the instructor says hopefully. People in the class laugh as the woman says, “That’s an emphatic yet.” The instructor hops in, pulls the clay back from breakage. I’m too scared to hail the instructor over to my station to repair the knowledge I don’t have on how to keep my clay upright and whole. 

The woman across from me, one of the only other people who arrived alone, laughs that her longer nails are not compatible with clay. I laugh because my nails are almost filed down to the nub, so what’s my excuse? 

At the end of the class, everyone cleans up their station and throws their clay, whether it eventually adopted the intended mug shape or not, into an orange bin. No one takes anything away from the class, but everyone knows that going in. This wet clay will be thrown in the kiln and recycled, ready to become something for someone else another day. 

Filed Under: The Arts

Opera For A New Audience: The Regina Opera

December 7, 2023 By Bronwen Crowe Filed Under: Park Slope Life, The Arts

Regina Opera will present the opera “Cavalleria Rusticana” for 6 performances from March 2 to March 10, and 6 Performances of “Lucia di Lammermoor” in May 2024.

New interest unlocked: I’m now an opera-goer

On a chilly, sunny Sunday in November I took a quick train ride south to Sunset Park. I found myself outside of an unassuming catholic academy, Our Lady of the Perpetual Help, home of Brooklyn’s Regina Opera. I had never heard of this opera company before, and I was unsure of what my next few hours would be like. I stepped in line to check in and hand over my ticket information. Beyond the line of patrons, I could see peeks of a beautiful auditorium that didn’t seem to match the mundane façade I’d just stepped into. 

As I funneled into the theater, the President of the Regina Opera, Fran Garber-Cohen, hosted a raffle on stage for vouchers to local restaurants like Johnny’s Pizza. “The BEST”, she called it. There are so many versions of New York to experience in this city, and this was one I hadn’t yet seen. The audience was filled with mostly seniors who I assumed had lived their lives around these blocks, with a sprinkling of younger folks here and there. I people watched as everyone filed into their seats, eavesdropped on complaints about the holidays, discussions of where to eat after the show, and witnessed many a patron shushed by quiet onlookers awaiting the start of the performance. 

Then orchestra began to play.

My seat neighbors and I looked around at each other with wide eyes as the room quickly transformed from school-like raffle to the ominous moody scene that is Act I of Rigoletto – and that was just the string section. As the full 30-piece orchestra began to play, the lights dimmed, and a moody apprehension crept over the crowd. The curtains parted to reveal the grandeur of the stage and those sharing it.

Peter Hakjoon Kim (left) and Veronica Mak (right) as the father-daughter pairing of Rigoletto and Gilda in Rigoletto. Photography by C. Michael Clark.

The opera world is a small but international one. Many of the artists here come from acclaimed stages and programs around the world such as Julliard, the Metropolitan Opera House, Carnegie Hall, The Royal Opera House Muscat, and the Korea National Opera to name a few. Many take part in Regina Opera productions between shows overseas. 

Christopher Trapani (left) as the Duke of Mantua alongside Veronica Mak as Gilda. Photography by Meg Goldman.

The entire production – orchestra, costumes, set design, lighting, cast, vocal performances – was Metropolitan Opera caliber but at the cost of $25 and in the intimacy of a small theater where there are no bad seats.

Regina Opera’s mission is to bring opera to new audiences and communities affordably. In doing so, they support an underserved community with art and commerce, and the craft lives on beyond its notably senior audiences. But these affordable tickets don’t come with any lack of effort or output.

The entire cast and crew is extremely dedicated to their craft and does the research to ensure each production is of a traditional, professional quality. The stage director, Sabrina Palladino, spoke to me about the research that goes into producing and directing an opera. History is one of her passions and she was excited to bring every detail to life in her directorial debut at the Regina Opera. She even included replicas of paintings that hung in the real Duke of Mantua’s palace in the set. 

Passion, creativity, and excitement for her craft so genuinely spilled into our conversation as she told me about the joy it gives her to bring productions to life. 

Opera has been a part of Palladino’s life from the beginning. She sang Cavalleria Rusticana each Easter morning with her mother, an opera that’s particularly close to her heart. “I’ve watched it, I’ve sung it, I’ve performed it – that opera is a part of me.” This spring, Palladino can add directing it to her resume, as well. You can see Cavalleria Rusticana at the Regina Opera in March 2024. 

The Regina Opera will also be hosting performances of Lucia Di Lammermoor in May 2024, as well as some outdoor concert series to round out their 54th season. You can find free online recordings of their performances on YouTube, a platform they utilized to cope with the pandemic. Sadly, many of the relief funds doled out to small businesses didn’t apply to them as they are a non-profit. They took to the streets to share their craft and uploaded videos for those who couldn’t leave their homes.

They will also be hosting “date-night” performances on Fridays for their upcoming productions. If you’d like to get involved – be it volunteering, fundraising, or performing – reach out via their website. 

Take advantage of this incredible, enriching, affordable resource in our community. I’ll see ya at Johnny’s Pizza after the show. 

Filed Under: Park Slope Life, The Arts

Maeve Higgins Is Using Creativity to Figure Out The World

November 16, 2022 By Julia DePinto Filed Under: The Arts Tagged With: comic

The Irish comedian and author of Maeve in America is back with a new collection of essays that examine the imperfections of her adopted country— while learning important lessons from the pandemic and showing love for everyone on this train. 

In March 2020, shortly before New York City went into coronavirus lockdown, writer and comedian Maeve Higgins found herself at The Alamo wedged between myriads of Border Patrol Officers with buzz cuts and homemade rifles. In the following months of forced isolation, Maeve discovered that one, like every person in every part of the world, she wished the pandemic would end, and two, she hoped that the experience would not impart any lessons. The lonely days of too much solitude, a mishap with edibles, and the realization that relationships are important, led Maeve to write a collection of essays that reflect on Irish nostalgia, American exclusivity, widespread injustices, and the extraordinary circumstances that led to deep analysis of what it takes for one to survive in an adopted country. In her memoir, Tell Everyone on This Train I Love Them, Maeve examines the complexities of the present while looking to the past, and finding compassion for those with radically different worldviews. Maeve makes it her mission to accept New York City for what it is and to try to love everyone on this train. 

In a phone call, Maeve Higgins and I discussed the creative process, controversial monuments, living in Park Slope on a freelance budget, and listening with compassion instead of judgment. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity. 

You are a writer, an actor, a performer, a comedian, a researcher — and a podcast co-host and panelist. You are an artist in just about every sense of the word. Your many different skillsets and art forms are fascinating to me. The creative process, in general, is always fascinating to me. I’m a writer and visual artist, but I tend to define myself as a visual artist before calling myself a writer. I am curious to learn how you define yourself, and how you have developed these many different creative skillsets. Is stand-up comedy how you began your career? 

Yes, it was in stand-up comedy where I started my creative career. You get it because you also do all of these other forms of self-expression, like writing and visual arts. For me, it’s writing and comedy—like, performing on stage. It doesn’t feel unnatural; there wasn’t a moment where I stopped doing one to do the other. I kind of did them all simultaneously, or I suppose, in which medium best fit a specific idea. But technically, yes, comedy was the first thing I did. I’ve always had this compulsion to express myself, which took the form of stand-up, beginning in my 20s. With my writing, I’m gradually asking bigger questions and have more resources. With comedy, you can have a thought and then kind of spew it out that night— and then it’s done. Writing, for me, is a form of painting. If I’m really trying to figure out what I think about something, I write it down. 

You describe personal reflections, in regard to your creative process, that struck me. Perhaps it’s because they felt familiar. For example, you discuss a period of conflict between theatre and film. You write that it became “impossible” for you to “suspend reality enough to enjoy any form of acting.” You continue the dialog to include the “politically fraught era” in which you were living at that time, and admit that you “ran out of time and tolerance for anything outside of the real.” Can you talk further about how political and/or real-life events can, at times, hinder motivation? Or pause the creative process entirely? 

I think it’s interesting, too. I’ve talked to my friends who are writers and performers about this. I do think we have a responsibility to show up politically in the world, not as an observer but as an actual participant. It’s really important to stop and think about where we are and what we are doing and why we are doing it. And that can also be really difficult. If you’re going through personal things or collective things, like what we have been going through with a semi-authoritarian government—and pandemic and climate catastrophe—but you’re not really showing up, then you’re not actually taking it in. I think creativity has a really important place in figuring out the world. 

“Situational Awareness” was one of my favorite essays. I was completely engulfed in this chapter and your experiences at the Border Security Expo. You write about the reflective interactions and conversations you had with others who encompassed fundamentally different ideologies than yours. These exchanges forced you to think about your own history as an Irish immigrant. Is there one encounter, in particular, that is the most memorable? 

One event that stayed with me was a kind of social event at the Border Security Expo. I was there alone and attended a community gathering. There were retired Border Patrol Officers and current Border Patrol Officers— and that’s where they were also auctioning off handmade rifles. The moment that was interesting to me— remember, I was a woman there by myself, and an Irish immigrant one—was at a luncheon. I asked to join a group at this table, and they were so kind to me. They were completely welcoming. It was very human that they would be like— “oh, a stranger. Let’s make her comfortable.” And at the same time, I really disagreed with their work. I know that they dedicated themselves to stopping strangers in need of help, from getting the help they are entitled to— and yet, in person, face-to-face— they were so lovely, and we totally connected about tons of things. I think it is important that I put myself in these types of situations and not let it just be an intellectual exercise where I judge other people and read studies. It’s important to meet people and be there physically. I think that’s one of the times you’re asking about that’s memorable. These moments are not simple. 

Throughout the book, you discuss your experiences as an Irish immigrant who found an “adopted” home in the United States. Your experiences as an immigrant, in some ways, are radically different from the experiences of others, such as migrants and refugees. 

I am lucky because I’m allowed to have a different viewpoint. I am a guest in this country but a very welcomed one. I’m also white and European and documented. I get to have this perspective that is “outside” but also “inside”— and that’s really valuable for writing. I can start to blend in but at the same time, I have a different cultural experience. Every one of us has a different perspective and I believe that I am lucky to be able to write from mine. 

Right. And you recently finished a graduate degree in International Migration Studies that allowed you to investigate the politics and power dynamics at the border. The heavy research component of this essay seems like it would influence the creative process. The essay is both autobiographical and journalistic. 

At the end of 2019, I was writing so much about migration and continued taking on more assignments. I realized that I didn’t want to be a writer who “didn’t know enough.” I don’t know if you’d call it professionalism or imposter syndrome, but I felt like I was in no position to write about migration, so I decided to get a Master’s in Migration Studies. I am fascinated by the immigration system in the US and the country itself. In New York, one in three of us were not born in the US. I was glad to have access to brilliant minds and scholarly work that I could draw from and learn from. 

You write about the profound experiences you’ve had with historical statues, including the Robert E. Lee monument and Kehinde Wiley’s “Rumors Of War”— a bronze statue depicting a young Black man on a rearing horse. These are both controversial monuments that, for a brief time, existed in the public sphere near one another. I saw “Rumors Of War” in Times Square, before it debuted in Richmond. As an artist, I’m always interested in hearing others describe profound moments they’ve had with works of visual art—and in this case, monumental works of art. 

I didn’t see “Rumors Of War” when it was in Times Square although I wish I had. That sounds so cool because every inch of Times Square is so commodified. It would be interesting to see the statue there, and to ask, “who is Kehinde Wiley in this scenario?” He’s so celebrated. I saw “Rumors Of War” immediately after I saw the Robert E. Lee monument, about a mile away. The energy coming off the statues was so different. When I saw the Robert E. Lee monument it had been completely taken back by the Black community and the allies in Richmond. It was graffitied with a vegetable garden around it. There were also tributes to Black people who had been murdered by the police. It was stunning to me. The images illuminated with anyone who had even slightly been paying attention that summer. There were incredible visuals of images being projected onto the monument. Seeing the monument in person— and the size— and the fact that it really did dominate the city, really took me aback. That and reading all of the graffiti that encompassed it. It wasn’t just BLM and anti-police—it was also pro-migration. People were really using the monument to say the things that they had wanted to say for so long. 

The energy surrounding “Rumors Of War” was different. Kehinde Wiley said that the statue is “in conversation” with all of the other monuments— which were all Confederate monuments. This statue was his response. He created a conversation that was painful and necessary, but that’s what it is— a conversation. It’s really nothing more frightening than a conversation. I had quite an emotional response to the monument.

In the essay, you brilliantly contextualize the meaning of the monuments and relate them to Ireland’s revolutionary history. 

Yes. “Rumors Of War” immediately reminded me of the “Misneach” monument in Ireland, which I write about in the essay. I used to walk by monuments every day in Dublin, but it wasn’t until I saw “Rumors Of War” that I was able to connect these things. I’m not interested in being prescriptive but I did have the reaction of— “this is not the first time a country has had this conversation.” Americans are so insular. They don’t always understand that they can look to other places for answers. Understanding other nation-states can help conversations evolve. 

The visuals of defaced and desecrated Confederate monuments are truly powerful. I often wonder if it’s more effective for cities to remove monuments, or to allow the public to take them back by way of graffiti or toppling. As you mentioned, people were making trips to the monuments to better understand our Nation’s complex history. You interviewed some of these folks. 

Yes, I did. I wanted to know what the locals in Richmond felt was best, and of course, everyone has a different answer. That’s why these conversations are so important. It’s such a privilege to be a writer and to be upfront with people by asking questions to better learn. 

The title of your book is inspired by the last words of a young man named Taliesin Namkai-Meche. Taliesin was murdered on a train in Portland while trying to protect two teenage girls from a violent hate crime. I am wondering if this is the first time you’ve written about death? I am also wondering if you felt connected to him while meditating on his words? 

I haven’t written about death in any big way. When I heard his words, my reaction was shock. I was shocked by his heroism and by what he said. His words really stayed with me. I kept them with me and continued to use them as a guide. I didn’t really feel like I connected to him as a person as much as I connected to his words. Before this book was published, I spoke to his parents. He has such a public life and death. In the past few months, I have been looking more at his life— and that was why I wanted to publish a piece in The Guardian. I don’t claim any special relationship with him because I did not know him. All I know are his words and this one incredible action that he took that led to his death. 

The title of the book is perfect because it echoes not only the compassion that Taliesin had, but themes of compassion throughout. 

So many people took his words to heart. That story and tragedy— and seed of hope— was a big moment for all of us. The point of his words is that we are all connected. 

Maeve Higgins is a contributing writer for The New York Times and the host of the podcast Maeve in America: Immigration IRL. She is a comedian who has performed all over the world, including her native Ireland. Now based in New York, she cohosts Neil deGrasse Tyson’s StarTalk, both the podcast and the TV show on National Geographic, and has also appeared on Comedy Central’s Inside Amy Schumer and on WNYC’s 2 Dope Queens. 

Filed Under: The Arts Tagged With: comic

Uncle Skunk’s New EP, Heaven River, Hits the Brooklyn Music Scene

August 2, 2022 By Sofia Pipolo Filed Under: Music, The Arts

Brooklyn-based band, Uncle Skunk played a fantastic show to celebrate the release of their new EP, Heaven River. After a strong positive response, this milestone is an exciting step forward for the group.

Heaven River is the newest release from the alternative folk rock band made up of Otis Streeter (guitar, lead vocals), Henry Pearson (guitar), Sam Benezra (guitar), Robert Kim (bass guitar), Teddy Sidiropoulos (drums). This album features additional instrumental credits to Howe Pearson and Derrick Burt. Together this 5 song EP showcases the collaborative and eclectic sound two years in the making. It’s a densely packed rock sound matched with folk vocals and a droney soundscape. In songs like Together you’ll hear more metal influences hiding in the background— making them some heavy-hitters. Still the project has an overall textured acoustic feel that reflects the band’s individual and collective tastes and styles.

“Someone had described that it sounds like all of our personalities together,” says guitarist Sam.

“We tried recording this 5 times,” tells Henry, who was a principal songwriter along with Otis. The writing process began with Henry and Otis in Connecticut; evolving over time as they played shows and recorded bit-by-bit. Later they began recording at King Killer Studio, a DIY music studio in Gowanus. They also recorded instrumentals in their own homes.

This music was again given new life and new enthusiasm when bassist Robert joined the band. You can hear his beautiful cello featured in the songs Metal’s chorus and in Together. This interesting sonic layering was made possible by Matt Labozza, who mixed the album. Robert enthused, “He was able to find the right place for elements you think would take up a lot of space.” Matt creatively found pockets in the sound to fit in these elements from midi and synth samples, like the monkey sounds featured at the end of Stuck in a Toaster.

Continuously playing live also gave Uncle Skunk a stronger sense of knowing how each song needed to be recorded and put together. It took 2 years to piece everything together.

After so much time working on Heaven River, the band members all tell that its release felt like a huge weight off their shoulders. They are happy with the EP’s unexpected and vibrant form. “Working out these final recordings it felt like we didn’t have to make compromises in any fundamental way,” reflects Henry. And still now being able to play music live continues to bring new experimentation to the music.

Sam states, “Yes, these are the recorded versions but they are not the only versions.”

The Brooklyn live music scene has so much to offer; you can find venues, bands, or parties for any sounds or atmosphere you like best. Still, Uncle Skunk has never easily fit into one box—

whether it genre, vibe, or audience. They’re an eclectic group not only in sound but in make up— each member of the band coming from different backgrounds and college music.

Coming together now in Brooklyn, the competitive and gatekeeping nature of the live music industry has been difficult for band to navigate and find their place in. “We’ve always been a kind of lonely band.” That is why DIY spaces and openness to collaborate and create accessibility is a priority they hope continues to grow. For example there EP release party was hosted at the Tea Factory, a DIY music and artists space in Bushwick, Brooklyn. These communitie are valuable for all independent artists to create equal access to resources, venues, and audiences. As Henry explains, “The Brooklyn music scene is amazing from the consumer point. There’s always cool shows to be found! But creating those cool shows can be frustrating.”

Uncle Skunk’s enthusiasm continue to perform, collaborate, and expand their music will keep them playing shows in the coming months. Experimenting and fabricating their sound as they go. They plan to release more music by the end of the year.

Heaven River is available to stream and can follow Uncle Skunk at the links below. @uncleskunkmusic https://www.instagram.com/uncleskunkmusic/
Steam Music Here – https://linktr.ee/uncleskunk

Filed Under: Music, The Arts

Amy Touchette: A Candid Approach to Capturing Community

June 24, 2022 By Julia DePinto Filed Under: The Arts

By Julia DePinto

“Photographing strangers on the street is like having an epic novel read aloud to you, only it’s real. You’re connected. You’re involved. And you carry every piece of it with you from then on.”

Amy Touchette, Personal Ties: Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn

Touchette adores New York City. The visceral energy and the frenetic vibrations; the architecture; the history; the diversity and blending of cultures— the city is a sea of inspiration for visual artists and storytellers to sink into. Touchette spends the late afternoons of warm summer days canvassing the city’s streets and searching for captivating characters. Her photography practice explores themes of social connectedness by celebrating New Yorkers in their communities and within their social groups. An antiquated Rolleiflex film camera makes her intentions explicit. Young people gathered in units, families sitting on stoops, grannies pushing carts of groceries, and teenage girls flaunting their individuality, are among the subjects of her pictures. Touchette provides her subjects with the space to present themselves in their most authentic form, highlighting the features that make them emboldened and unique. 

“One of the greatest things about New York is that you can be a misfit,” Touchette told me, in a phone interview. “Misfits belong here.” 

Touchette moved to New York City in 1997, after completing a Master’s degree in Literature and living in San Francisco and DC. She worked as a managing editor in the publishing industry and painted large-scale compositions of jazz musicians in her kitchen. She was steadily climbing the ladder of corporate America when the unthinkable events of September 11 transpired. At the time, Touchette was living on Bleecker Street in the West Village, only a few train stops from the Twin Towers. Traffic was cut off from her neighborhood and the stench of smoke and death was unavoidable. The landscape had been permanently altered.

“It looked like the end of the world had come,” said Touchette. 

She described the horror of the terrorist attacks and the extraordinary loss that New Yorkers felt. Touchette’s younger brother had enlisted in the army one year before the attacks and was one of the first troops to deploy to Afghanistan.

“It was surreal. There were all these posters up that said ‘have you seen my mother’ or family member and it was awful because if you didn’t have a loved one missing you knew they were gone.” 

From Personal Ties: Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn.

Feelings of devastation brought on by the events of 9/11, coupled with feelings of loneliness and complacency in her career led Touchette to rethink her profession and life’s pursuits. She enjoyed oil painting, albeit a solitary art practice, but was searching for a greater purpose and desired human connection. The posters of missing persons were reminders of her mortality. Street photography, Touchette decided, easily lends itself to being an interactive medium. Making pictures of community members would ease the feelings of solitude and satisfy her anthropological curiosities about the human condition. 

“It felt imperative to do what I was supposed to be doing— which was photographing my community,” said Touchette. “9/11 was such a tragic event any way you look at it but it yielded one of the best things that have ever happened to me in my life. It’s very incongruous and it has always confused me, but it is what happened.”

Touchette enrolled in photography courses at the International Center of Photography. She traded her corporate position for freelance writing opportunities that allowed for flexible scheduling. She worked enough hours to pay the rent but prioritized photography projects. The shifting landscape of the great metropolis and the recovery efforts of the 9/11 aftermath were secondary to Touchette’s conceptual interests. Her pictures, void of arrogance and lofty expectations, capture the interconnectedness of humanity— and advance brief but meaningful dialogue. Today, Touchette routinely takes two frames, providing little to no instruction. She allows her subjects to present their authentic selves, gaining much of their trust before documenting their mortality. These ephemeral moments of raw human exchange are invaluable to Touchette’s aesthetic.  

Touchette moved to Williamsburg, Brooklyn in 2005 and to Bedford-Stuyvesant in 2015.  

Personal Ties: Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, by Amy Touchette, Schilt Publishing
(Amsterdam, 2021).

“Bed-Stuy is very vivid,” Touchette explained. “It’s interactive; it’s inclusive; it’s community-oriented. I got that feeling as soon as I arrived.” 

Touchette documents the streets of her adopted community by engaging with Brooklyn natives and introducing both her analog camera and iPhone. The pictures tell the stories of her beloved community, echoing shared human experiences and collective desires. A small portion of Touchette’s film portraits of Bed-Stuy residents culminated into a recently published monograph, appropriately titled, “Personal Ties: Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn.” The book celebrates the relationships between families, friends, couples, and culture of the historically Black neighborhood.

The coronavirus pandemic presented Touchette with new technical and visual challenges. For one, state and city mandates required New Yorkers to stay inside and socially distance when outdoors; and two, strict mask mandates were enforced. Facial expressiveness is instrumental to the art of portrait photography. Touchette, however, embraced the challenges the pandemic presented. She photographed New Yorkers from safe distances in open-air spaces and incorporated the masks into her aesthetic. She found that Brighton Beach occupants were particularly welcoming. 

Far Rockaway Beach, Queens; 2021.

Touchette is currently working on a series of candid street portraits taken with her smartphone. Unlike the collaborative pictures she makes with her film camera, these pictures are taken quickly, candidly, without express permission beforehand. The series, “Street Dailies” feature Touchette’s favorite NYC muses and are archived on Instagram. Touchette explained that the advent of digital photography and the rapidly developing technology of smart cameras and social media are essential to her art. 

“It’s very liberating to photograph with a smartphone because I can capture moments that I can’t always get with my film camera. I really believe in the candid, documentary approach— I don’t always want to see the photographer’s heavy hand in the photo.”  

Manhattan Avenue, Brooklyn; 2022.

Editor’s Note: I first spoke with Amy Touchette in early May, on a weekday when major news headlines were nuanced and predictable. The ongoing Russian invasion of Ukraine and continued outrage among progressives over the leaked SCOTUS draft overturning Roe headlined the day’s top stories. Amy and I discussed her two-decades-long career of street photography— including thousands of pictures, numerous awards and exhibitions, a poker-sized deck of playing cards, and a recently published monograph. We also discussed the 9/11 terrorist attacks and how the event impacted her personal life and career trajectory. Two weeks later, as I was finishing this feature, the breaking news of the terrorist attack at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, TX began to circulate. Sad and angry at the things I alone can’t resolve, I stopped writing and began to consume as many of the grim details as I could stomach. When the photos of the young victims began to surface, I was suddenly reminded of our conversation and the visceral weight a picture can carry. Photographs are records of human mortality. Beneath the surfaces of the images of the children, lie the complexities of our existence. 

Amy’s pictures are evocative of the moments that shape our lives— and forever remind us of the sanctity of being alive. When I look back through Amy’s pictures, I can appreciate the good in humanity. The bold personalities she captures, the intimate moments between families and friends, and the personal ties within community. They remind me to never give up on humanity.    

Filed Under: The Arts

Anna Meejin: On Identity, Ancestry, and Finding a Place in American Culture

March 23, 2022 By Julia DePinto Filed Under: The Arts Tagged With: Anna Meejin, Art

An invincible nostalgia for an unlived experience is illuminated through Meejin’s art. 

Lady in Green (2021), oil on canvas, 24″ x 36″. Image courtesy of the artist.

Anna Meejin’s paintings of landscapes, dinner plates, portraits, and horses cover the walls of her Brooklyn home. The large-scale paintings are hung salon-style against exposed brick, juxtaposed with ordinary household furnishings and decor. The lushly smooth surfaces with rich color palettes and ambient metaphor reveal a totality of nuanced domesticity, cultural patrimony, and the complexities of American history and Western civilization. Meejin’s paintings pay homage to the people and events in her life while reflecting a perpetual curiosity about a culture she has never known. 

Meejin’s legal name is Anna Mee-Jin Hurley-Echevarria. She was born in Manhattan and raised between New York City and Puerto Rico. Anna’s mother is Puerto-Rican; her father is of Irish heritage. Although she was raised in a culturally pluralistic home in one of the most diverse cities in the world, Meejin always knew she was adopted. The striking physical differences between her and her parents were inevitable. The enforced societal expectations of constructing an American identity—for a child growing up in the early 2000s among rapid technological advances and economic crisis— led Meejin down a tumultuous road of self-discovery in an extraordinary period of US history. 

“I was always trying to figure out where I fit in,” Meejin told me over the phone. “I knew I was Korean but never had a relationship with my culture.” 

In the series, Considering Her Past (2020-21), Meejin explores the delineation she often feels from her Korean identity, while simultaneously searching for her place in contemporary American society. Painting through the pathos of confusion and detachment, she creates exaggerated portraits of Korean women and fictional horses. Traditional objects of cultural importance entangle with narratives told but not lived. The illustrative compositions examine the dichotomy between what is and what could have been.

“I was going back in time learning about the traditional things,” Meejin explained. “I was thinking about an experience I never had.”

Sweet Thoughts (2020), oil on canvas, 36″ x 42″. Image courtesy of the artist.

In “Sweet Thoughts” (2020), an invincible nostalgia for an unlived experience is illuminated through the portrayal of a seated Korean woman, holding an intricately crafted folding fan. The traditional Korean fan, called a hapjukseon, dates back to the Goryeo Dynasty which ruled Korea from 918-1392. Covering the slim bamboo strips and the delicate frame is a painted landscape, applied directly to the hanji— a fine handmade paper made from mulberry trees. The hapjukseon covers the nude female figure, whose stylized anatomy and downward gaze are placed in the center of the composition— and are confined by the barriers of the canvas. Her porcelain-white skin and rose-colored makeup date back to the cultural aesthetic of early Korean Dynasties, long before Eurocentric beauty standards came into existence. The figure is ungrounded, floating in a dream-like state through lulling brushstrokes that sweep across the surface of the canvas. 

The Last Peach (2021), oil on canvas, 36″ x 48″. Image courtesy of the artist.

In “The Last Peach” (2021), Meejin creates a fictitious world to poignantly route her lived experiences. The painting is paramount to Meejin’s Korean-American identity; the narrative is heavily influenced by Western allegory and Korean metaphor. A celebrated horse, symbolic of the historic European ideals of power and conquering a people or place, is painted in the center of the composition. The horse’s neck is outstretched; his jaw is defined. His gaze is determined by greed. Dangling above the horse from a flimsy tree branch is a ripened peach. The peach is vibrant, fresh, and representative of Korean ideals of abundance, fertility, and longevity. It is a symbol of wealth that taunts the horse, whose form becomes distorted with the desire to obtain its fortune. In the backdrop of the painting is a pool of water that eventually drowns the horse. 

Steak Frites (2021), oil on canvas, 24″ x 36″. Image courtesy of the artist.

In her recent work, Meejin has turned to those around her for inspiration. Oil paintings of friends and family members have shifted Meejin’s aesthetic from personal narratives to the subtleties that encompass the existence of others. Nuanced scenes of domestic routine warrant the stoic expressions of the figures who gaze back indifferently at the viewer. The figures sit in chairs at dinner tables and desks. They eat dinners of steak frites and snacks of delicately sliced fruits. They read books and smoke cigarettes. Bold color palettes and atmospheric lighting set the tone of the paintings— elongating the forms and evoking a sense of belonging. The paintings provide an astonishing direct line to reality and the shared human experiences that exist in all cultures. 

Filed Under: The Arts Tagged With: Anna Meejin, Art

We Don’t Deserve Dogs: Park Slope Documentary Filmmakers Connecting The World

October 5, 2021 By Sofia Pipolo Filed Under: Park Slope Life, The Arts Tagged With: Art, dogs, dogs in Park Slope, film, Park Slope

What connects us? What makes us different? What’s it like being a shepherd in the isolated mountains of Romania? Or an evening with a dog walker under the streetlights of Istanbul? And how does listening to these stories help us grow together?

From Park Slope filmmakers Matthew Salleh and Rose Tucker the new documentary We Don’t Deserve Dogs travels around the world beautifully capturing the lives of everyday individuals and their dogs. While we may never truly know what we did to deserve the unconditional love of our four-legged friends, there are sure to be life lessons in this special relationship.

The filmmaking duo of Urtext Films began their career in their home city of Adalene, Australia; and soon began developing and perfecting their own DIY hands-on way of documentary filmmaking. “When we started doing the documentary work we realized how much we could achieve just the two of us,” reflects Producer Rose Tucker. During production, Rose also manages Sound Recordist, while Matt takes the role of Director and Cinematographer. Together they’ve traveled the world intimately capturing the daily lives of individuals you may not normally see on screen. With just the two of them and sometimes a local translator as the crew, Matt and Rose are able to create a non-disruptive and personal filming experience, which reflects greatly in their work. The small, quiet details as incense smoke fill a prayer space. The rhythmic jingles of a dog’s collar tag. The friendly looks between patrons at a local pub. These natural moments make Matt and Rose’s first-person filmmaking style that much more mesmerizing, unique, and maybe a bit familiar.

Familiarity is always a starting point for Matt and Rose. Subjects that people are passionate about, things that get people talking. Their previous award-winning feature film, Barbecue (2017) covered BBQ culture across the planet. By capturing how everyday things manifest they can explore contrasts in cultures, while simultaneously connecting the things humans have in common. “It’s important to me because I come from a mixed-race background, so I’m always questioning what comes from each side,” says Director Matt Salleh. “We live in a seemingly very fractured world, and post-pandemic even more fractured. We can give insight and show commonalities in people’s lives while celebrating our unique differences.”

Of course, Park Slope is no stranger to the connective joy between fellow dog lovers. “One of the inspirations for this film is just looking out our window in Park Slope,” Rose remembers. “There are always people walking their dogs. People having relationships with each other based on their pets, visiting each other, and going to Prospect Park together.”

Filming for We Don’t Deserve Dogs took our fellow Park Slopers around the world. Traveling to 11 different countries in 9 months finding remarkable stories that would normally go untold. From Italy, Turkey, Uganda, Pakistan, Chile, Finland, Romania, Peru, Vietnam, Nepal, and Scotland; featuring 10 different languages, including some rarely seen on screen like the Acholi/

Lou language of Northern Uganda. “I think traveling when making a film is so different than traveling for tourism because you get that insight into what real life is like for people. You travel to neighborhoods you wouldn’t normally go to,” says Rose, who coordinated their travels and connections in each country.

By working with locals as tour guides, translators, and researchers they successfully sought out interview subjects and narratives. These tour guides, dubbed ‘fixers’ came from all walks of life. Some journalists, photographers, or students, all people who were embedded in the local community in some way and offered a bridge into that specific culture. For example, Matt tells about working with a female street performer in Santiago, Chile. “She created these street tours that took us to hidden parts of the city. She knew the lesser popularised history, like LGBTQ history, which meant she had to talk to people, understand the culture and people’s stories.”

Spending about 2 weeks in every country, the duo worked tirelessly, on foot, by car, and even on motorbike to capture the immersive terrains, complex soundscapes, and individual narratives. They didn’t seek to create the cliché cutesy dog film, nor interview celebrities or the boldest of personalities, but rather everyday individuals and their canine companions. Whether energetic or melancholy, spiritual or quirky, We Don’t Deserve Dogs shifts with each location’s distinct rhythms and pace of life. In Miraflores, Peru, you’ll meet young women throwing birthday parties for their adopted dogs. In Turku, Finland, support dogs for the elderly and disabled bring needed joy and cheer. In Gulu, Uganda, former child soldiers help rehabilitate street dogs as a form of trauma therapy. While directing Matt trusted subjects to share their experiences in their own voice and view. “We are not a voice-over saying what people should think about other people’s lives, we just want to show people’s lives as they are.”

While Matt and Rose feel privileged and bless to have their nomadic filmmaking lives, they have continued to find comfort in returning to Park Slope. A place that again brings together community and familiarity within the much larger New York City setting. Having immigrated to the United States four years ago, Rose expresses her appreciation, “We are lucky to have landed in Park Slope. We joke that we are more connected with our neighbors here than we were in a smaller city back in Australia. It’s a different kind of community living. In Australia everyone is in their house or in a car, here everyone is walking, sitting outside, everyone knows their neighbors and knows who works at the shops.” This aspect has also influenced the couple creatively. Not only reflecting on the immigrant experience, but the ability to find affinity, support, and friendship through genuine connection with those around us.

So here in their one-bedroom apartment, the editing process commenced for 3 months; reviewing hundred of translated transcripts, determining detailed story structure, meticulous color grading, and adding the beautiful score by composer Blake Ewing. Matt and Rose emerged from the editing cave in February 2020 (unfortunately only to return a month later for quarantine), and We Don’t Deserve Dogs made its virtual world premiere at South by Southwest 2020 Film Festival. The film is now digitally available for everyone to enjoy.

And it’s the perfect film for Park Slopers. Yes, of course, because of the dogs; but equally the showcasing of different cultures, religions, genders, and generations. “I think people in Brooklyn have a strong interest and deep respect for other cultures and want to know what’s happening around the world,” says Rose. “We made a very intentional decision to not film stories in Western countries like the U.S. or Australia. All of the stories are coming from lesser-known places. And I think people in Park Slope would be very interested in seeing for example what the relationship between a Muslim woman and her dog in Karachi [Pakistan] is like, and how that can relate to their own experience back here.”

There are no doubt commonalities seen right here in the melting pot that is Brooklyn. Every corner has a little – or more likely a lot – of history, culture, and influence from around the world. Matt expressed, “I don’t think Brooklyn would function in the way it does without all these different cultures coming together.” Matt and Rose even express how that if they find a food dish they love while traveling they have good faith in Brooklyn’s diversity they’ll be able to get it when they return home. “In filmmaking, we have this love and opportunity to travel and meet people from dozens of cultures, and they are all also right here in Brooklyn.”

If there is something special to be said about our ability to come together and blend cultures in our neighborhood, there is equally something to be said about how we can distinctly set each other apart. “We always start our films off with this positive hypothesis that there’s more good in the world than bad. Over and over again we meet people who prove that and amaze us with their stories. Their courage, their bravery, their insight into the world, how they preserve their history, how they celebrate their cultures,” Matt says when reflecting on what he hopes people will get out of the film. “So the fact our film is just listening to people talk about their lives, where they come from, and what is important in their culture, I think it’s a good first step to greater cultural understanding.”

In documenting these genuine stories, valuable kinships, and heartfelt moments from around the world, Matt and Rose’s film We Don’t Deserve Dogs follows the thread that connects us to the humanity, companionship, and unconditional love we may have with dogs and with each other.

Visit wedontdeservedogs.com to watch

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Filed Under: Park Slope Life, The Arts Tagged With: Art, dogs, dogs in Park Slope, film, Park Slope

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