I'm back at the Free Press copy editing and writing headlines this summer while I look for a permanent job. The first couple weeks have been a sharp reminder of a hard truth I learned last time around: I'm not really a copy editor.
I don't have the depth of grammatical and linguistic knowledge my coworkers have, not to the level it takes to be a really good copy editor. More than that, I struggle to rearrange other people's writing to make their stories really sing. There are a couple colleagues whose skill at storytelling is impressive - they're the secret weapons of the Winnipeg Free Press newsroom. Me? I can hack it out, but I'm not great.
Today I finished two weeks of full-time work at the CBC as an arts reporter.
When I say it was a dream gig, I mean the combination of a clear mission, enthusiastic coworkers, varied topics, new experiences, constant learning and ability to have impact gave me the tingles everyday. Even now, it seems unreal.
Someone paid me to report on the arts. People read, listened and watched. I was working full-time for the national broadcaster, contributing to the voice I've listened to since I was a child. Amazing.
I'll still be contributing as a freelancer. Before leaving, I sat down pretty much everyone there to ask how I could keep my foot in the door. I'm not done with you yet, CBC. And I think you're a long way from being done yourself, though some would say otherwise.
On a certain someone's insistence, I read five pages of fiction before going to bed the other day, rather than my usual nightcap of Twitter and blog posts. Holy glob, did I find out how much I miss reading for pleasure. Soon my beloved novels, novellas, poems and essays, soon we'll be reunited and spend the day lying in bed.
(And if you haven't read the Piano Man's Daughter, fix that situation. That Canada produced an author like Timothy Findley alone makes it a great country).
Writin'
Deadlines may gang up on me, but there's a deep deep pleasure in doing the freelance journalism/writing beat - mostly because I get to bring attention to notable things and people in my community. The recent wordsmithing includes...
Tomorrow morning I'm giving my final report on Heartbeat at the Winnipeg Convention Centre as part of the 2013 CreComm Independent Professional Project Presentations. The first two days have been stellar and my classmates have raised the bar (curse them). I'm on at 9am. You can watch it live, since the technical gurus of are streaming it here.
In CreComm land, the four nations (Public Relations, Advertising, Journalism and Media Production) are hustling toward major project presentations at the Winnipeg Convention Centre this coming week. You're very welcome to attend and see some absolutely outstanding work from up-and-coming communicators — from tea parties that raised $30K for eating disorders to documentaries on beer league hockey to silly little radio shows.
The public relations and advertising majors just finished their alchemical experiments, combining their two disciplines to produce three dynamite integrated marketing campaigns for FriendMatch, a platonic friendship-making site. Thanks to my teammates — particularly Jaclyn Leskiw, for being the perfect team co-leader. Employers take note, she's an advertising triptych (knows what to say, who to say it to and why she's saying it).
Here's a wee taste of FriendMatch: The World is Friendlier than you Think.
While cobbling together these campaigns, the public relations majors have also been practicing hostile/aggressive media interviews (with Melanie Lee Lockhart bringin' the heat).
My friends in journalism grumble every now and then about "being handled" by PR people — getting explanations and redirections instead of juicy, controversial remarks. The flip side is, of course, aggressive, sensationalism-seeking journalists who've only had five minutes prep to grapple with complex, long-standing and often confidential issues.
As a freelance arts writer and a public relations major, I have a foot in both camps, so it's a fun discussion. Especially when worlds collide and a beloved member of my theatre community is "released" from the theatre she founded 30 years ago.
Let's agree this isn't really a hostile interview. (Not like some of the take-no-prisoners flayings you can find online.) The questions are reasonable, the tone is polite. Marcy Markusa asks the questions Ms. Koop's audiences and key stakeholders must be asking.
Remembering there is a legal obligation to maintain confidentiality on some issues (and pretend you're neutral... which is hard...), you decide if the interview went well.
Gabriel Whitford is balancing on a double rolla bolla — a wooden plank laid across a foot-long-tube that balances on another, perpendicular tube. That’s three axis ofinstability (if you’re counting) the 24-year-old could mess up on, but he’s on top of the situation.
Until he starts juggling to shake things up. His balance slips, physics gets mean and Whitford falls two feet onto his knees. Hard. He sucks in breath through clenched teeth and waves off help from nearby jugglers, clowns and amateur acrobats.
Over the past two weeks I sat down for beverages/nosh with three titans of Winnipeg interviews: Joff Schmidt (CBC Manitoba theatre reviewer and associate producer for Definitely Not The Opera), Joanne Kelly (CTV and Shaw TV anchor, Journalism instructor at Red River College) and Drew Kozub (Breakfast Television). I sought these gurus out, climbing the proverbial mountain (actually, just sending emails) because while I've cottoned on to the basics of interviewing (ask question, record answer), it is an art I'd like to get better at.
A few hours of conversation amounted to a masterclass in interviewing. I'm struggling to absorb the wisdom imparted and work it into my radio show Heartbeat. It'll take some time to reflexively adopt their tips, of course. But I'd like to think I've taken some big steps forward lately, versus my usual shuffle.
And what tips did they have? Well, because I like you, here's a few pointers from the pros...
Joff Schmidt
Ask the question you most want answered first. Too often interviewers ask a few soft question before getting into the actual meat of the conversation. Do your audience a favour by grabbing them with the most interesting lead question possible. Less filler, more killer.
If you give your interview an intro, don't lean too heavily on stats. (She won this award, he's been published in all these books, etc.) Choose only the most important accomplishments and use the rest of your time to tell their life story - what matters to them, what messed them up, what they want.
"What did you take away from that situation," is a cheap question. And the answers it gets are usually golden. Use it.
Joanne Kelly
Get your guest to tell stories from their lives. Don't ask broad questions or wander into esoteric fields of pontificating boredom. Ask your interview to tell a story. Then use that story as a springboard to explore who your guest is. ("So that incident is when you learned to never lie..." "And that's why you followed your father's footsteps..."). Imagine starting on a tight focus with intimate detail (the story) then drawing back to a wide focus (the subject's life and world).
Pre-interview your guests during the five minutes of microphone checks, lighting adjustment or walking into the studio. Those brief moments are your chance to find golden stories to fill your interview.
Use physical cues when interrupt people. It's a great way to show you're engaged while nudging your guest to wrap up their thought.
Bring the audience listening/watching at home into the conversation by talking about them ("People at home can appreciate how awkward that must have been." "I know that those listening want to know - because I want to know - how..."). Make the interview a three-way conversation.
Drew Kozub
Don't talk about yourself. People don't care about what you think - they care about your guest (hopefully) or how your guest's story impacts their lives.
Cover what you can in the time you have. If you're doing a brief hit, you can't do a ten minute interview; you have 90 seconds before you throw it back to weather. Keep your eye on the clock.
Make sure your guest knows about the clock too. During your pre-interview ask, "What's the most important message you need to get across?" Focus on that.
A year ago, I attended the Remembrance Day service at Bruce Park Cenotaph, then wrote this story for my first year creative communications journalism class.
***
Over 400 people are waiting on the grassy hill beside Bruce Park’s cenotaph. The sun is shining; a few drifts of snow are on the grass. Clumps of friends, young families and solitary people mix on the hill. Uniforms dot the crowd.
A woman leads a boy by the hand, saying, “You’ve got ants in your pants, so we’re taking a walk.”
In the distance, bagpipes and drums strike up a march and the crowd’s chatter stops.
Six pipers and twelve drummers, blue kilts and regalia flapping in the breeze, lead flag-bearers, a party of veterans and members of 402 Squadron Winnipeg. They march around the crowd, circle the memorial, and then halt at attention.
As the service begins, grey clouds hide the sun.
The Assiniboia Concert Band plays “O Canada” before listeners realize what’s happening. The crowd catches up, however, and quietly sings the national anthem.
Major Brian Slous prays, asking God to be near those whose lives have been affected by war, who have lost loved ones, or who suffer pain and injury due to conflict.
“What we value is preserved by a very thin line. Many standing here have stood on that line. Many have died on that line. Some bear the wounds of having stood on that line. If we gathered here fail to stand on that line... their sacrifice is in vain.”
The last post.
The piper’s lament.
Two minutes of silence are announced. Halfway through, a young boy in a suit looks around; he doesn’t break his silence, but he can’t stop himself from looking at the crowd.
Representatives lay wreaths at the foot of the cenotaph. A hymn plays, a benediction is given and “God Save the Queen” is sung. The people are still waiting.
The veterans and 402 Squadron turn for their march down Portage Avenue to the St. James Legion. Now the crowd pushes forward. Men, women and children take poppies from their coats and start adding them to the cluster of wreaths at the foot of the cenotaph, covering the green with red.
Have you ever found that life has sped up to point of detachment? That when you think about your day, your week, the past month, not only does it seem like events happened a lifetime ago, but they happened to someone else?
I'm in that season right now, it seems. And I'm deeply grateful I chose the independent professional project (IPP) for college that I did, because nothing pulls me out of the blurring race of life like a great conversation. You know the kind; the ones that slow time down as you openly, honestly connect with another person; the ones that set off thoughts in your head to the tune of "Oh my god, here is this intelligent, funny, beautiful human being who is trying to answer the big questions, just like me."
As much work as my radio show/podcast Heartbeat is (and will be), I wouldn't trade the conversations I've had for anything. They've been an anchor in a stormy three months.
But before you do that, grab someone (a friend, an acquaintance, someone you barely know), clear an hour of your time and have an open, honest, emotionally available conversation. Tell them something you've never told anyone and ask questions that leap over barriers of polite manners and awkwardness.
Having trouble with your writing? Perhaps you're stuck for ideas. Perhaps the words are flowing but the final product reminds you of a Dickensian orphan - sickly, underfed and poisoned by mercury.
Put down your keyboard, drop your pen and pull up your favourite chair, because - and I'm not the first person to say this - reading great writing will improve your own work. It will inspire you, expose you to different writing rhythms and remind you of grammatical rules you mothballed ages ago.
The great fiction writers are easy to find at your local bookstore (while those last) and library or online. My tastes tend to the non-fiction side, though it's harder to find a starting place with non-fiction's more modest reputations. Here, then, are some of my favourite online non-fiction articles.
Two personal accounts of journeys through another country - cancerland. The first by a widely published American columnist who was ahead of the curve criticizing the hijacking of breast cancer as a "dream cause" (she's in this clip of 2011 documentary Pink Ribbons, Inc.) and the second by a TODAYshow.com / MSNBC reporter who was killed by lymphoma in 2010.
This recent article made waves and caused great debate - which is great - though I don't know if the systemic changes Slaughter is advocating have gotten the traction she clearly hopes for. Great read and blueprint for the future.
Not one piece of writing, but a logophile's attempt to bring attention to some of the very best letters on record. Usually from (or to) the famous, though not always. The "random letter" button and the near daily posts will satisfy any logophile's craving.
A collection of 2010's best journalism as picked by The Atlantic staff writer Conor Friedersdorf. A sharp journo pointed out the list's imbalanced favour of men (of the 105 identified authors, 20 have feminine names), but I don't think this detracts from any of the individual pieces.
Can you recommend any great non-fiction reads for me? Any thoughts on the articles I linked to in this post? How's your Thursday going?
This summer I peeked behind the curtain of the great and powerful Winnipeg Free Press, working as a copy editor on the night shift (editing the "news" segments of the paper, as opposed to sports and arts). Now it's autumn and I've returned to school, it's time to talk smack about my former employer, right?
Wrong - I'll leave that to the buzzing horde of online commentors who live to criticize (abide to deride, remain to disdain...).
Because I think the Free Press usually does a pretty good job covering the many, many events shaking up Winnipeg and/or Manitoba. Do they miss sometimes? Widely. They'll admit they do. But they regularly are the leading (if not the only) coverage of breaking news, political subterfuge and artistic events.
So the following is not a townsfolk-with-a-pitchfork-style rant. It's just three nuggets I picked up that might come in handy if you ever need to interact with a newsroom yourself.
Downtown, viewed from the distant offices of the Winnipeg Free Press.
1. The newsroom is in a rush
There may be moments when a reporter is waiting to hear back from a contact, an editor is waiting to hear back from a reporter, a copy editor is waiting to get a page from the editor (etc). But in the meantime, everyone is following up other leads, scanning the competition's tweets, reading the wire. The newsroom is always busy - and it switches to a rush in the evening as the print deadline looms (10:50 PM for the Free Press). It gets super quiet in the newsroom as everyone races the clock to put in the best performance possible.
Moral: Don't waste the newsroom's time. I witnessed a PR person call at 10 one night to deliver some not very important news. As soon as he was hung up on, he was cussed out for calling near deadline. On the other side of the coin, I've heard editors muttering under their breath, "Please be writing the story on the road, please be writing the story on the road," as they wait for a photographer to drop a reporter back at the office. (They were often disappointed.)
A newsroom, sans power, is a tense room. Happily, the sun was still up.
2. The newsroom is depressing
Newspaper people are stereotyped as cranky, cynical, angry, or just bitter. And it's true.
OK, OK, it's not totally true. But when a person wades through murders, thefts, stabbings, beatings, dismemberments (which happened a LOT this summer - eep), abuse and cataclysms on a daily basis for their work, it takes a toll. For me, the most depressing aspect of the newsroom was the police scanner. Every media outlet is equipped with a scanner to listen for breaking emergencies; it's kept on all night, at a high volume. The most frequent call? Young female with lacerations to wrists.
Moral: Cut news people some slack if they're grumpy; you don't know what story they just covered.
Hey look - it's tomorrow's newspaper, today!
3. The newsroom loves a great story
News people got into the business because they're junkies - they love a good story, they love a scoop, they love uncovering the truth and sharing it with the world. Even on the busiest day, a really great, well written story would cause colleagues to gather around a computer and quickly read. If you've got a story - as a journalist or a PR professional - with emotional impact that affects a wide audience, it will get picked up for love of craft alone.
But that isn't the only factor. The truth is, many days of the week the Free Press looks for content to fill its pages. The wire services (Canadian Press and Associated Press being the biggies) have been noticeably cutting back on staff and resources - they're no longer a reliable source for "filler" stories. Local reporters are being trimmed down to keep costs low, while the advertising department is trying to keep the page count up to maintain salable space. The result is any night there isn't a murder, fire, high-profile legal case or emergency, the newsroom is hungry for a good story.
Moral: If you have a story to pitch, especially one that isn't time sensitive, you can probably get it in the paper. Read the stories that do get picked up - the ones with legs, the ones with impact - and see if your story can be framed the same way. Controversy can be a good thing to include (so long as it doesn't hurt your organization deeply, of course). Struggle, sacrifice and resilience in the face of opposition - throw in a cute dog (if you can) and you're the front page.
On Friday, July 20, a young man walked in to a Colorado movie theatre and opened fire on the audience. 12 people were killed and 58 were injured.
The shooting was, unsurprisingly, a top story that weekend in newspapers across North America, including the Winnipeg Free Press. I was copy editing that weekend and I remember the editors searching the news wire services with urgency, looking for stories to move in time for the print deadline.
One piece that came over the wires was by Eli Saslow and Marc Fisher, two Washington Post journalists, who managed a pretty good piece within a day of the shooting: expert opinions mixed with reasonable conjecture and, importantly, details on the deceased, the injured and the alleged shooter. Their piece was picked up around the world.
Give this section a read:
"The suspected shooter, James Holmes, surrendered to police without a fight. He was armed for war, outfitted for terror. His hair was painted red. He told the cops, "I am the Joker."
His past, so far, seems more a riddle. Unlike some mass shooters, Holmes, 24, does not appear to have much of an online or written trail. The world of social media is now such that anyone can find Holmes' description of his genitalia, but no one has come forward to explain his departure from the realm of the rational.
The evidence at this point is sparse; the clues, tantalizing. Jimmy Holmes was an accomplished student, a "brainiac," something of a loner, some said; others called him witty, even nice. For four months, he'd been receiving a high volume of packages at his Aurora apartment, yet no one said anything.
Over and over, people who studied, worked and lived near Holmes sheepishly acknowledged they didn't know his interests, friendships or much at all. At his high school, his college, in Aurora and back home in San Diego, acquaintances recognized his face on TV on Friday morning, but beyond that, mostly a blank.
"He's one of those people. I had classes with him but never talked to him," said Abel Maniquis, a high school classmate.
A longtime neighbour of Holmes's parents, who live in the Torrey Highlands section of San Diego, didn't even know the couple had a son.
Arlene Holmes is a registered nurse. Her husband, Robert, is a senior scientist at FICO, a nationally known financial services company where he works on identify theft and online financial fraud. The father has three degrees in math and statistics.
James Holmes ran cross-country in high school, spent summers in science programs, was a counsellor at a camp for poor kids in Los Angeles. He graduated with honours in 2010 from the University of California at Riverside. From his undergraduate years on, his studies focused on human behaviour. This spring, he delivered a presentation in a University of Colorado graduate class on the biological basis of psychiatric and neurological disorders. Then he left school.
Mostly, he's left questions. Had he been on a psychotropic medication he had stopped taking? Did his recent departure from a neuroscience PhD program at the University of Colorado represent the kind of sudden, traumatic break from his career's forward motion that has been cited as a spark for violence in some previous shooting cases? Did his teenage passion for online fantasy games morph into a break from reality that culminated in him assuming the identity of the Joker, Batman's eternal nemesis?"
The writing is a bit florid, but there's pretty decent detail given the tight time frame. They strike me as good writers and journalists. But a phrase caught my eye. Did it catch yours?
"Mostly, he's left questions."
I disagree. Mostly, Holmes (allegedly) shot and killed people. From a journalist's perspective - with a deadline looming and immersed in a news industry that's fascinated by psychopathy - unknown details about Holmes' life may be important. But questions aren't his largest legacy. Saying so insults the dead while trampling the journalists' credibility.
At the Free Press, we changed it to "He's also left questions."
I gave some personal impressions after reading Journey for Justice and attending a lecture by author Mike McIntyre and Wilma Derksen (read the blogpost here) but here's a more formal review of the book. In case, you know, that happens to be the actual thrust of the assignment. Let's consider this blogpost part two...
Overview
Journey for Justice: How "Project Angel" Cracked the Candace Derksen Case chronicles the 1984 disappearance of 13-year-old Winnipegger Candace Derksen, her family's efforts to find her, the discovery of her body and, finally, the arrest and trial of her killer 26 years later. The book is written by Winnipeg Free Press crime reporter Mike McIntyre (who turned 10 the day Candace's body was discovered) and closely follows Wilma Derksen (Candace's mother) through her journey of devastation, grief and recovery.
A Reader's Perspective
Whatever faults there are in this book, ranging from punctuation to stylistic problems, they're overshadowed by the gripping story of family struggling to deal with the random murder of their young, innocent daughter. There's something so universal about her story: Candace is one specific person, but anyone who has had justice violated in their own life - who has watched the world callously crush innocence - will be moved by this story. You'd have to have a wooden heart not to. I don't know if McIntyre should be praised for this - or for the Derksens' remarkable choice to embrace healing and forgiveness - but he's chosen the right story to publish. He can take credit for that.
He also adds moments of quiet, domestic life to this tragedy, providing the reader moments of relief as well as giving his characters a more three-dimensional form. When he chooses to paint the picture of an environment - a suspect walking down a street, a backyard meeting - he can form a vivid scene that places the reader in the moment, walking hand in hand with story's cast. When Journey rises as a book, it gets some good height.
But there are also lows. Forensic detail and psych evaluations supply cumbersome detail and poor reading. A number of scenes and witnesses exist without description and form; they pass by as voices and moments not grounded in the real world of Wilma, Cliff and Candace Derksen. McIntyre's thorough descriptions of evidence and desire to give his many, many sources their moments of coverage mean the reader will go over the same facts and events several times. It's understandable why he's done this, it may be commendable. But it doesn't make great reading.
A Journalist's Perspective
Journey for Justice holds a number of lessons for journalists, the most obvious one being there is still a venue for long form storytelling (so often unavailable in print, television and radio journalism). It delivers the pay off of that long term investment can yield, by showing the full arc of people who grow, change and live with the events that make them briefly 'newsworthy.'
Hearing McIntyre speak about his long form writing, you're able to fill in the background work that you suspected went in to Journey; how McIntyre carefully built a friendship with the Derksens first, how he transparently and approachably set about documenting the loss of their daughter. His example of how to approach victims is one more journalists should copy.
A News Addict's Perspective
But journalists also need to know what a great leap it is to move from short form coverage to multi-chapter, long form print because that's where Journey stylistically falls down. In his regular column, McIntyre is forced to edit down cumbersome police reports and trial testimony. With the wider space a book provides, McIntyre is free to let these reports stretch, to the detriment of his story.
McIntyre does have a valuable quality as a crime journalist that I was happy to see carry over to Journey; a lack of preachiness. I've found other crime reporters underline and highlight their writing with moral outrage, rage and disgust as they cover their beat. And McIntyre doesn't stress this. He doesn't have to; the facts do it for him. There is still loaded language and his word choice gives away his perspective very clearly, but it's no more pronounced than in his regular column. For the most part, he stays out of the way of his story. And I appreciate it - it leaves more room for the incredible people who populate this tragedy.
Angels in America
can’t be called ‘just another play.’ It would be like calling Neon Bible a decent LP. Or saying Mad Men is an okay period piece. The
sprawling, emotionally charged masterwork by American playwright Tony Kushner
ranges from New York to Heaven to Antarctica as a cast of gay men, Mormons,
angels and hallucinations intersect during the AIDS crisis and Reagan
administration of late 1980s America. It stretches over two parts – Millennium Approaches and Perestroika. It’s won the Pulitzer and
Tony awards. Its HBO miniseries adaptation (featuring Meryl Streep, Al Pacino
and Emma Thompson) was similarly burdened with Emmys and Golden Globes.
So don’t be surprised that the cast and crew working on
Winnipeg Jewish Theatre’s run of Angels
– the first part opening on March 21, the second in the fall – are being
touched in different ways by the play.
That’s what happens when you work with angels.
Michael Rubenfeld (Louis Ironson) in WJT's Angels in America (Photo credit Dylan Hewlett)
The Flesh
The day before our interview, Michael Rubenfeld rehearsed
anal sex.
“It was fine.
It was just a scene,” he says. “He wasn’t really giving me anal sex - it might
have been a different story if he actually penetrated me.”
The former
Winnipegger is playing Louis Ironson in Angels.
Ironson abandons his AIDS infected lover early in the play, eventually hooking
up with the deeply closeted (and married) Mormon lawyer Joe Pitt. Their
encounters are edgy, to put it mildly.
“Actually, it
was kind of fun,” Rubenfeld continues. “I like the feeling of being
uncomfortable in rehearsal – myself and others around me. It makes me feel,
oddly, more comfortable. It’s a fun social experiment to see people giggly and
curious. And everyone was super giddy, it’s such a tense scene.”
The Toronto based actor isn’t gay himself, though he’s
played gay men before, on screen and on stage. The orientation of a role isn’t
central, he says; nor does he find living in the skin of a gay character
unusual.
“The only
challenge I feel is not playing into stereotypes; just playing the words and
not trying to add some affectation on top of the part. I trust that if I play
the truth of the emotions and tell the story, the rest will take care of
itself.”
“And homosexuality
has been in my life since I was a child… I grew up with an uncle who was gay. I
don’t think I’m someone who had to deal with any kind of internalized homophobia
that I didn’t know existed…. I feel very comfortable within the culture.”
The actor points to other productions of Angels now running in New York and
Philadelphia as signs of a renewed interest in the play and a reaction against
resurging conservative politics in North America.
“It’s
speaking to so many relevant conversations. It was written in the mid-90s but
if you change around a few names… the western world is still having so many of
the same conversations.”
“It’s just
a great fucking play.”
Ryan Miller (Prior Walter) in WJT's Angels in America (photo credit Dylan Hewlett)
The Heart
“I’ve heard
the part of Prior described as one of those Everest parts,” says Ryan Miller,
speaking about his role. “It doesn’t scare me when people say ‘I’m so looking
forward to seeing this play’ but when they say ‘Oh! That’s a big part’… when
people do that, it sort of snaps me back into reality and makes me ask if I’m
capable of doing this.”
Miller is making his professional stage debut with WJT as
Prior Walter, the AIDS infected, prophetically gifted character Angels revolves around. A core member of
local sketch comedy troupe Hot Thespian Action, Miller admits to being
intimidated by both the part and his more accomplished fellow actors. He draws
on powerful personal experiences, however, to rise to the challenge of being Angel’s moral centre.
“Not that I
have AIDS and my lover is leaving me… but I always relate my situation in the
play to when my dad passed away from cancer. It was very quick, it was very
sudden. So it feels like similar storylines, you know? The way Prior
deteriorates very quickly into just shitting blood and he’s dying in front of
the audience’s eyes… we watched my dad deteriorate right in front of our eyes.
It happened so quickly and it was just so… earth shattering. So I’m able to relate
to my character that way. Not that I’ve gone through a horrible disease of my
own. But I’ve watched it.”
The Soul
“When I
programmed this play, I was still married,” says Michael Nathanson, Artistic
Producer of Winnipeg Jewish Theatre. “I find myself separated from my wife
currently - and my children - so Angels
connects on an extraordinarily primal level for me right now. About the pain
involved in relationships.”
Nathanson
came on board as WJT’s Artistic Producer in 2006, in time to see his two-hander
Talk produced that fall (and go on to
be nominated for the Governor General’s Award). Since then, he’s programmed
seasons combining new work, Canadian premieres and classics. Angels in America, with its large cast
and fantastical plot, might be his most challenging choice yet.
“It’s the
very definition of writing that comes from the gut and has blood on the page.
It’s a cri de coeur. And it feels for
me like such a deeply Jewish play... Israel means arguing with God and Angels in America, we don’t have the
Hebrew word for it, but it would be arguing with America.”
“It’s
this amazingly vital, heartfelt, human exploration of our need for other
people. And it’s impossible to listen to this play, let alone watch it, and not
come away moved and changed.”
Angels in America:
Millennium Approaches runs March 21 to April 1 at Winnipeg Jewish Theatre
(Asper Community Campus, Berney Theatre).
Details and online tickets ($15 for students) are at wjt.ca
Once upon a time,
countries were shaped like stars.
Sound was measured in
pin drops
and time had no skin.
Words were understood
by the spaces in between them
and anticipation grew
on trees.
Two voices joyfully chant the poem in perfect harmony.
They’re accompanied by a whirly-wind (one of those plastic tubes you swung over
your head as a child). There’s a small audience with you in the tiny performing
space; an audience, you’re told, made up of Birds and Constellations.
Countries Shaped Like
Stars is one of those plays where you’re aware – even in the first few
moments – that you’ve crossed some sort of threshold into a really magical
place. In an intimate venue, two actors
sing you through the sweet and tragic fairytale of Gwendolyn Magnificent and
Bartholomew Spectacular’s love, pulling out all the stops – puppetry, dance,
audience participation – to bring the audience into the world of childhood
dreams. The play was a runaway hit for Ottawa-based Mi Casa Theatre during the
2009 Winnipeg Fringe Festival. Getting a
ticket during that run meant standing in line for hours (I know, I did).
Now Countries is
returning to Winnipeg for an encore run March 14 – 17, helping the Fringe
fundraise for this coming summer’s festival. It’s part of a cross-country tour
that’s seen actors Emily Pearlman (30) and Nicolas Di Gaetano (31) trek through
Montreal, Regina, Edmonton and Whitehorse – and have a fantastic time doing so.
“The tour is awesome. It’s really great to bring it to
different communities,” says Pearlman during a phone interview to Whitehorse.
“We love doing this show because it feels like a party – we’re all hanging out
together as we create an experience for the audience.”
“Remember as a kid the first time you saw a squirrel and you
went ‘Wow! Squirrels are amazing!' Then you acclimatize and lose that sense of
wonder. My main interest is providing an opportunity for adults to feel that
childlike wonder again.”
Writing a preview/review for Countries is difficult. I’m resisting the urge to give away too
many playful moments that kept my jaw dropped when I first saw the show. The
snarling, snapping dragon fruit; Di Gaetano’s stellar mandolin playing; the
cumin-scented moustaches. I’ve said too much.
Perhaps the best way to end is this: each year at the
Winnipeg Fringe I usually see just one show that stays with me as an enduring
reminder of the joy of live theatre. This is one of those shows.
Countries Shaped Like
Stars runs Wednesday, March 14 to Saturday, March 17 at Studio 320 (70 Albert
Street). Tickets are $18 or $14 for the opening show and Saturday matinee. Get
info and tickets by heading to winnipegfringe.com
"It looks pretty good, I'm pleased with it all - it's a year of my life."
365 sketches, paintings and inks by Winnipeg artist Michael Joyal have just been installed at the cre8ery gallery on Adelaide Street. They're the final result of his yearlong quest to make an original artwork every day.
Arranged like days on calendar pages, the four-by-six pieces vary wildly in content. There are sketches of people from his daily bus ride to work, collages of animals, landscapes, and objects. A drawing of Lindsey Lohan - done on bright wrapping paper - marks Christmas Day.
"I can't remember why I did that; perhaps she was on TV."
The project begain in summer 2010 when Joyal, then 39, was browsing through an online sketchbook by German-American artist Stella Im Hultberg.
"I was going through her sketches and saw these amazing drawings - I was astonished at what she considered a sketch. They were thick with paint and ink, thick with detail - she had really worked the paper. It looked like they were aggressively attacked."
"And I felt like I had dropped the ball as an artist. I hadn't done anything in my sketchbook for a long time."
So on June 25, Joyal did a sketch before going to bed; not a quick drawing, but a longer, involved piece. The following night he did the same thing, trying to improve on the previous night's work.
"The thought of a whole year occurred to me. And as I went on, day-by-day, I wondered, 'Can I get a show out of this?'"
As the months went by, Joyal's investment in his project grew. He had to spread the work throughout the day, doing rough sketches during his morning commute, painting on lunch breaks, then adding finishing details in the evening.
"Throughout the series, it became obsessive. I'd be working on a piece and wondering what to do four days in the future."
Joyal found the discipline required to keep going on the project - as well as the time it cost - were balanced by a growing confidence in his abilities and craft. He was also encouraged by a collection of Facebook fans.
"I'd post each piece online and my family and friends, they started to get eager to see the next piece. I could never guess their response - something I thought was okay they'd think was the second coming. Something I thought they'd love - meh. It proves you can't draw for the public, you have to draw for yourself."
This past June 24, Joyal completed his final work in front of an audience at the Winnipeg Free Press Cafe. The installation on now at the cre8ery (free admission, running until February 21) is the first time all the works have been displayed together.
"I don't want to admit it," Joyal says, "but I do feel proud. Working on a four-by-six piece in a sketchbook each day, you get tunnel vision. Now, putting it all together, I realize how much work it was."
"When I look back at the whole year, I'm grateful for my wife, Suzanne. She gave up a lot of me for that year. One to four hours each day, every day. It's a huge gift she gave me."
"When we were prepping the installation, I let her put the last piece down on the calendar board. It was cool - we finished it together."
Now that 365 Days Before I Sleep is on display, Joyal hopes his work will encourage others to push their own boundaries.
"I hope this inspires people. It inspires me. Now that I've done this, I wonder, 'what else can I do?'"
A theme that's emerged in Creative Communications this term is the power of words to pass judgement.
Journalism class featured a strongly worded instruction on using the word "suffers" to describe anyone coping with an illness (she suffers from cancer, he suffers from parkinson's). The instruction was DON'T YOU DARE. Unless we were going to quote their own words, we weren't ever to use the word 'suffers' for fear of belittling a person - making them a victim instead of a human.
It was a harder mental shift than I expected. Because disease and misfortune are unpleasant, right? You don't enjoy illness - you suffer. These same thoughts occurred when I was a boy growing up in church and the minister preached on Romans 5:3 "... but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance." My seven year old mind rebelled at the idea.
I realize they're not the same concept, but I think my objection to both was similar. Namely that we don't exist independently of our circumstances. If someone stabs me, I will cry. Everyone cries when they're stabbed.
That was my objection at the time. But over the past four months, I find my thoughts swinging the other way. Not because of increased perseverance; I'm a giant suck of a kitten and always will be. And not because of increased faith; stay tuned for my 'holiday' post to deal with that.
But from the continual stream of examples I've been shown where a "factual" story describing a person's circumstances/misfortune have not captured the full picture of those people.
Example 1: Statistic or Dancer
The first story treats Harry Gegwitch as a stat; the second tries to tell his story. Is there a difference between a 'murdered man' and a 'man who was murdered' ?
This one I admit I have still wrestle with, in part because I don't think 'Tilly's' experience is the norm. But then again, maybe I'm being judgemental...
This is less to do with specific words, so much as the arrangement of some words and the leaving out of others. See what your reaction to the first story is, then read the second.
With those examples in mind, I'm curious about your take on the story linked below. Do you think the story paints the boy as only a victim? Is it all right to say he suffered from anxiety? Thoughts?
(the video linked in this post is from the hilarious Canadian series Slings and Arrows. So funny. One of the funniest Canadian series I've ever watched. Would that all our comedies aimed so high. Check it out)
