twi-ny talks

BEAUTIFUL UNCERTAINTY: TOM SANTOPIETRO, AUDREY HEPBURN, AND DORIS DAY

TOM SANTOPIETRO AT B&N
Barnes & Noble
2289 Broadway at Eighty-Second St.
Monday, March 31, free, 6:30
212-362-8835
barnesandnoble.com
tomsantopietro.com

“When Audrey Hepburn died at 8 P.M. on January 20, 1993, at the age of sixty-three, she left behind one Academy Award, two Tony Awards, dozens of lifetime achievement awards, her beloved sons Sean and Luca, companion Robert Wolders, millions of fans, universal acclaim as an indefatigable activist on behalf of the world’s children, and one final surprise — a nearly empty closet.

“She had walked away from the church of fame that rules Hollywood and ever-increasing swaths of the general public yet held onto that fame without even trying. Her elusiveness only increased public interest in her films and clothes as well as her life and loves, but Audrey Hepburn had grown uninterested in rehashing old tales of Hollywood glamour and legendary friends. In an industry which based its self-image on endless awards shows, she was, it was safe to say, the only screen idol about whom a son could convincingly state: ‘Being away from home to win an award was really a lost opportunity. Walking the dogs with her sons was a personal victory.’”

So begins Tom Santopietro’s latest book, Audrey Hepburn: A Life of Beautiful Uncertainty (Rowman & Littlefield, March 2025, $45). Born and raised in Waterbury, Connecticut, Santopietro attended Trinity College in Hartford, then went to the University of Connecticut Law School, also in Hartford.

“I always joke that law school was the three misbegotten years of my life,” Santopietro tells me in a phone interview. “I stayed, I graduated, and as soon as I graduated, I said, I’m never doing this ever. And I never have. You know why? Because I was uninterested. And when it comes to work, we’re all good at what we’re interested in.”

A few weeks before, I had met Santopietro at the Coffee House Club for an Oscars straw vote event he hosted with his friend Simon Jones, who has appeared in such series as Brideshead Revisited, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and The Gilded Age (as Bannister) and in New York in such shows as The Real Thing, Privates on Parade, and, most recently, Trouble in Mind.

Santopietro is a lovely storyteller, in person and in print. Among his previous books are The Sound of Music Story: How a Beguiling Young Novice, a Handsome Austrian Captain, and Ten Singing von Trapp Children Inspired the Most Beloved Film of All Time; Considering Doris Day; The Way We Were: The Making of a Romantic Classic; The Importance of Being Barbra: The Brilliant, Tumultuous Career of Barbra Streisand; Why To Kill a Mockingbird Matters: What Harper Lee’s Book and the Iconic American Film Mean to Us Today; Sinatra in Hollywood; and The Godfather Effect: Changing Hollywood, America, and Me.

In A Life of Beautiful Uncertainty, Santopietro details Hepburn’s fascinating life and career in five acts comprising sixty-two chapters, including “What Price Hollywood,” “The Last Golden Age Star,” “A Star Is (Not Quite Yet) Born,” “Paris When It Fizzles — 1962–1964,” and “Everything Old Is New Again.” He explores Hepburn’s diverse filmography, from the many hits (Roman Holiday, Love in the Afternoon, The Nun’s Story, Charade, My Fair Lady, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Funny Face) to a trio of what he calls “mistakes” (Green Mansions, The Unforgiven, Bloodline).

On March 13 at 6:30, Santopietro, who lives on the Upper West Side, will be at the Barnes & Noble on Broadway and Eighty-Second St. to discuss and sign copies of A Life of Beautiful Uncertainty. Below he talks about speaking with Doris Day and Alan Arkin, the decline of theater etiquette, celebrities’ charitable work, and his favorite Audrey Hepburn film.

Tom Santopietro will be at Upper West B&N March 31 for NYC launch of his latest book (photo by Joan Marcus)

twi-ny: Where did your love of movies come from?

tom santopietro: When I was a little kid, I always liked movies. But what really accelerated it was when I was at Trinity, I took film courses at Wesleyan, which is in Middletown, and their film department was headed by an incredible woman named Jeanine Basinger. Have you ever met Jeanine?

twi-ny: I haven’t, but I know of her.

ts: She was on the board of the AFI. She was an extraordinary teacher who ignited my love of old films and Hollywood. And that’s where it really took off. Jeanine showed me possibility, and that’s what’s so great. That’s what great teachers do. So anyway, that’s where it really took off. And then I came to New York and worked on several Broadway shows, which I still do, but about twenty years ago, I thought, I want to do something more creative. And that’s how I started to write.

twi-ny: That was your first book, The Importance of Being Barbra, which was published in 2006.

ts: I’ve been fortunate and lucky, and I always joke, I didn’t tell anybody I was writing a book because I thought, What if I don’t finish it? And what if it’s really bad? And then when it was done, I sent it to my oldest friend, and a couple of days later, he called me back. And in a voice of total surprise, he said, It’s good. So I still laugh about that. And that led to Doris Day, Frank Sinatra, and then the Godfather movies.

twi-ny: I’m looking at the books you have written and their subjects. This is something we talked about at the Coffee House, that they’re all beloved icons, beloved films, beloved characters; there’s a lot of love in the room. And one of the things you told me was that that’s one thing you do when choosing a subject.

ts: Yeah, I really do. Because I think, well, you know this, you are a writer. I always say I don’t want to write a book about Stalin because I don’t want that monster in my head for three years. So these are people whose talent I admire so much. And also what I realized, Mark, and this just came to me when the Audrey book was completed, I thought, Oh, I’ve completed a trilogy of books about enormous stars, all of whom are incredibly nice, which is so rare in Hollywood. And that’s Doris Day, Audrey Hepburn, and Julie Andrews, these women who are beloved by their costars. And in the same way, I also realized after it was completed, Oh, I wrote a trilogy of books about family, and those were The Godfather, The Sound of Music, and To Kill a Mockingbird.

So I didn’t even realize it until the trilogy had been completed, but whatever was inside of me clearly needed to be expressed.

twi-ny: In the case of Doris Day, you had a conversation with her.

ts: Yes, after the book came out. The phone rang very late one night. It was after eleven, and I answered the phone grumpily.

I hadn’t eaten dinner yet. I had just come in from work. And I said, Well, who is this? And she said, Well, I’ve been trying to reach you from Carmel, California, for a long time. And then I realized it was Doris. Everybody wants to know what it was like. We spoke for an hour; as nice as she was on the screen, she was even nicer on the phone. It’s extraordinary. She was so unbelievably honest and open; she talked about her failed marriages, her love of animals, and Hollywood. So yeah, she was pretty terrific. I wrote that book because I felt she was a huge star who never received her due.

twi-ny: She retired from movies so early in her career.

ts: Another thing in writing about Audrey Hepburn is Audrey Hepburn and Doris Day had a lot of similarities, which was they worked from when they were teenagers nonstop. And then they both walked away from their fame; Doris said, “It means much more to me to work for animal welfare.” And Audrey said, “I want to work for UNICEF.” So that interests me a lot, that in our fame-obsessed society, world-famous women would walk away from it.

twi-ny: Right. And someone like Doris Day — I bet a lot of people don’t realize that she died only in 2019. So there was a long time, even with social media and the internet and everything, that she still wasn’t around. People didn’t know her, except for her charity work, but she wasn’t flooding Facebook with it. So, she was a very private person.

ts: Yes, a very private person. And so was Audrey. And so what interests me, Mark, is we’re a fame-obsessed society today, right?

twi-ny: Oh, yes.

ts: That’s reality television, everybody demanding to be famous.

twi-ny: Even the president.

ts: That’s a really interesting dichotomy. One thing I discovered while researching the Audrey book is that who knew that Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor were good friends? They were so opposite as people, but separately, toward the end of their lives, they used the exact same phrase: “At last, my fame makes sense to me.” And that’s because Elizabeth Taylor, with her AIDS activism, and Audrey, with UNICEF, that’s how they defined themselves. And I thought that was worth exploring.

twi-ny: That’s something that also happened and is still happening with Brigitte Bardot. She retired early to spend her life with animals and become an antifur activist. And I bet she would say the same thing as Audrey, Doris, and Elizabeth.

ts: I think that’s true. And because at a certain point, fame and money are nice, but how much does the acclaim of strangers really mean when you want to make a difference? And the difference comes through for these women through their social activism. Audrey was a kind of saint. She was such a good person.

twi-ny: All the people you spoke with, you probably never got a bad quote from anyone. Everybody just loved her. Is that right?

ts: That’s fair to say, and it’s not hyperbole. People who worked on the sets, everyone in the village in Switzerland where she lived, said she was unfailingly good to people. And I think after her war-torn, very disrupted childhood, I think she realized the value of family and the value of treating people with kindness. Because she said toward the end of her life, “The most important thing in life is being kind.” She really lived that.

Tom Santopietro signs copies of The Sound of Music Story at B&N in 2015 (photo courtesy Tom Santopietro)

twi-ny: In doing your research and interviews, was there one moment that really struck you or surprised you?

ts: I think the biggest surprise for me is how she really — how do I want to answer this — the reason why I titled the book A Life of Beautiful Uncertainty is that her entire life, she was uncertain of herself. And that was surprising. She genuinely did not think she was pretty. She just saw flaws everywhere. She genuinely did not think she was a good actress. And that shocked me because she was beautiful. And she was a terrific actress. And I think it stems from when, in the span of two months, she won the Tony Award and the Academy Award, and her mother said to her, “It’s amazing how far you’ve gotten considering how little talent you have.” [ed. note: In 1954, Hepburn won the Tony for Ondine and the Oscar for Roman Holiday.]

twi-ny: That haunts people, that kind of stuff.

ts: Yeah. So I think it all comes back to childhood, right?

twi-ny: It so often does.

ts: Barbra Streisand grew those incredibly long fingernails because her mother said, “Well, you should be a typist.” She grew her fingernails so she couldn’t type.

I think the other thing is that because I love films, and this is circling back to what we said earlier, I felt Audrey had never received her due as to how good an actress she was. Everybody says she’s charming and beautiful, but you look at a movie like The Nun’s Story, directed by Fred Zinnemann — that is a spectacularly good performance; the whole performance is with her eyes. And I wanted people to realize how skilled she was, even if she didn’t think she was skilled.

twi-ny: One of my favorite movies, and I don’t know that it would always be at the top of her list, but I adore Charade, which you write about in the book. Even with Cary Grant, Walter Matthau, George Kennedy, James Coburn, all these popular men in the movie, it is all built around her face.

ts: That’s exactly right.

twi-ny: And it’s the best Hitchcock movie Hitchcock didn’t make.

ts: That sums up that movie perfectly.

twi-ny: Do you have a favorite film of hers?

ts: That’s a great question. I know this is a cop-out answer, but I have three favorite films: The Nun’s Story, because her performance is spectacular. And also it’s really interesting the way it grapples with issues of faith and higher powers. My second favorite movie is My Fair Lady, because it’s so beautiful to look at and listen to. And the third one is, believe it or not, Wait Until Dark, because it still scares the living daylights out of me.

twi-ny: Yes. And it’s still scaring us. People who love Alan Arkin don’t realize that he could be pretty threatening.

ts: Toward the end of his life, I was able to interview him over the phone for the book. The funny thing is, when I finally got him, he started the conversation by saying, “Well, I hear you’ve been looking for me.” What he said was that Audrey was so lovely and such a good person that twenty years later, when she received the Chaplin Award from Lincoln Center, he was one of the speakers. And when he saw her, he actually apologized to her and said, I’m so sorry I was so mean to you in that movie, which is sort of amazing.

twi-ny: Can you share publicly who or what your next subject might be?

ts: I actually haven’t really figured out who I’m writing about next because, well, this has taken a long time, but also I wrote a play and it was produced this past summer in Connecticut. So I want to spend time putting the play out in the world for other productions, and it sort of fits in with what I write about because it’s a one-woman play called JBKO, about Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis. So that’s really what I’m going to work on next.

twi-ny: Well, this is a good transition, because my last question was going to turn back to theater. You work as a house manager part-time on Broadway.

ts: Yes. I’ve been a general manager, and these days I’m working as a house manager most of the time. I don’t know if you’ve found this too, but because writing is so solitary, it’s really good for me to be around people at night at the theater. So that socialization is great, as long as the audiences are behaving themselves, of course.

twi-ny: That’s where I was going with this. At the Coffee House, we discussed how, since the pandemic, the audience’s relationship with the theater experience, interacting with other people, isn’t the same as when they were going out for a night of theater years ago.

ts: Well, I think it’s a funny thing, but since the pandemic, when people go to the theater, on some level they still think they’re in their living room streaming a show. That’s the only way I can try to make sense of it. When you’re home, you talk, you eat. And it’s different in a Broadway theater. So that’s sort of my best explanation for it.

twi-ny: Right. As someone who goes to a lot of theater, I’ve seen some things that I never had before. It’s like, I paid for my ticket, I can do whatever I want. But no, you can’t. It’s sort of representative to me of how we deal with our fellow human beings in everyday life. Now we’re much more quickly agitated, and people don’t want anyone telling them what to do.

ts: Exactly. Yeah, that has all changed. What hasn’t changed, the positive thing for me, is that theater offers people the sense of being part of a family. Everybody’s there backstage to put on the best possible show. I always say you belong when you walk through the stage door. And that’s a great feeling. That’s the joy of theater for me.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

BLACK LODGE: DAVID T. LITTLE AND THE FUTURE OF OPERA

Timur Bekbosunov stars onstage and onscreen in David T. Little’s Black Lodge (photo by Matthew Soltesz)

BLACK LODGE: LIVE MULTIMEDIA EXPERIENCE
BRIC Arts Media House
647 Fulton St., Brooklyn
January 11-15, $35-$150
bricartsmedia.org
prototypefestival.org

“Art is not a mirror with which to reflect society but a hammer with which to shape it” is a popular quote attributed to Bertolt Brecht — and a favorite of contemporary composer David T. Little’s. Born and raised in the New Jersey countryside, Little is a renaissance man when it comes to opera. He was inspired to become a composer after being enthralled by Danny Elfman’s gothic score for The Nightmare Before Christmas, which he saw when he was fifteen; he later played drums in a rock band and got into musical theater and the avant-garde before turning to classical music.

He incorporates these elements and more into each of his works, which explore sociopolitical issues in unique and subtle ways. JFK is a two-hour grand opera that takes place the day before JFK’s assassination; Soldier Songs tells the story of a young veteran suffering from PTSD; and What Belongs to You is based on Garth Greenwell’s novel about an American teacher obsessed with a hustler in Sofia, Bulgaria.

In these and other pieces, Little, a two-time Grammy nominee, reshapes expectations of what opera is and can be while working with a wide range of impressive collaborators in multiple genres of music, movement, and film. This weekend, his seventy-minute industrial opera Black Lodge makes its New York debut, running January 11–15 at BRIC Arts Media in Brooklyn; it’s part of the Prototype festival, a coproduction of Beth Morrison Projects and HERE that focuses on new multidisciplinary opera and musical theater works.

The live multimedia experience, set in a bardo where a writer (Timur Bekbosunov) struggles with his demons and encounters a mysterious woman (Jennifer Harrison Newman), features a libretto by poet Anne Waldman, sound by Garth MacAleavey, lighting by Matthew Steinberg, film written and directed by Michael Joseph McQuilken and photographed by Daniele Sarti, and performances by tenor Timur and the Dime Museum and the Isaura String Quartet, who present such songs as “Electric Cerberus,” “The Hungry Ghost Who Sings in Lamentation,” and “Premonition of the Worm.” Timur and his band appeared at the inaugural Prototype in 2013, as did Little’s Soldier Songs; the opening night of Black Lodge includes an immersive concert by Timur and the Dime Museum, while the January 12 show at 5:00 will be followed by an artist conversation.

In a twi-ny talk, Little discussed his eclectic taste in music, collaboration, bearing witness, and grappling with big questions.

David T. Little navigates through the world of opera in unique and inventive ways (photo courtesy David T. Little / Instagram)

twi-ny: You have composed works for string quartets, percussion quartets, contemporary ensembles, solo cello, church choirs, and others, with music styles ranging from classical and operatic to rock, goth, metal, and punk. What type of music did you listen to growing up? How did your taste become so eclectic?

david t. little: I grew up in a house that was full of music. For one, classic musicals, so music theater was in my DNA from the start. Also in heavy rotation at the time was ’50s/’60s pop (aka “oldies” at the time), Johnny Mathis, the Ink Spots, Dave Brubeck, Peter, Paul, & Mary, and the Kingston Trio. Then a little later — through my stepparents — Harry Chapin, Willie Nelson, and Garth Brooks crept in, all great musical storytellers.

Around age ten or so I started to discover harder/heavier music: Run-DMC and the Beastie Boys, the Cure, and hair metal; then Led Zeppelin; then through friends: Public Enemy, Megadeth, Guns n’ Roses, Nine Inch Nails, Ministry . . . then Pantera, then Napalm Death, Morbid Angel, etc. I also had an aunt who made a copy for me of Pink Floyd’s The Wall, which was life-changing. And when I was fifteen I went to a summer program at Berklee to study jazz drumming, where I heard a Naked City cover band (seriously) which blew my mind. The Rite of Spring came not long after, as would a period of intense obsession with Oingo Boingo, and a few years later a similar obsession with Ani Difranco, Dar Williams, and Utah Phillips.

And this whole time I was also playing in a fife and drum corps, playing Revolutionary and Civil War–era tunes, performing onstage in musicals, and exploring classical music. My grandfather was a great lover of classical music and played the organ. I heard a lot of music for the first time through him. My stepfather also had a lot of records of classical music, which I’d listen to: one that had [Charles Ives’s] “The Unanswered Question” and [Sergei Prokofiev’s] “The Love for Three Oranges Suite” was especially transformative.

So I don’t know, I think I just always loved music! If there was music to be heard, I wanted to hear it. I certainly had likes and dislikes, but it was never about genre per se. It was just about what spoke to me and didn’t — that’s still how I listen, and I still listen to a really wide range.

twi-ny: That wide range is also evident in many of the famous figures who have influenced and/or inspired your work, from JFK, Iggy Pop, and Spalding Gray to Robert Johnson and the Freedom Riders. In the case of Black Lodge, it’s David Lynch, William S. Burroughs, and Antonin Artaud. Do you see any commonalities in these people, specifically the last three?

dtl: Writing a piece of music provides a great opportunity to think about big questions, and I think for me each of these figures you mentioned poses some kind of a big question through their life or their work about something that felt really important to me at the time.

I also want to mention a few others whose names might not be as widely known: Last Nightfall was inspired by Rufina Amaya, the only survivor of the massacre at El Mozote. and the sky was still there was inspired by the story of my friend Amber Ferenz separating from the US military. And of course there are all of the people who lent their voices to Soldier Songs: Amber, of course, but also Justen Bennett, Rich Girardin, my grandfather Joe Little, uncle Gene Little, and stepfather Gene Woznicki. And of course Remedios Varo, Leonora Carrington, and Lou Harrison (in “The Conjured Life”) and Utah Phillips (in “Valuable Natural Resources”). I think some of this may be about documentary, about bearing witness to events, and people, what they did and how they lived.

But sometimes it is less clear. This was definitely the case with Lynch, Burroughs, and Artaud. I was initially drawn to what I saw as common threads in their work, which made me ask whether there was any influence between them. Not finding evidence of that, the really interesting questions started to emerge: If they hadn’t influenced each other, what accounted for the commonalities? This then became about the psychological and the spiritual. That, to me, is where the piece really lives.

These are three figures whose work stares the dark and difficult squarely in the face, and they were doing so — I believed — in search of some kind of spiritual balm. This was something I was grappling with at that time myself, which stemmed from questions to do with depression, escape, transcendence, spirituality, and the darker parts of life, including processing trauma. I found that Lynch, Burroughs, and Artaud all grappled with some versions of these issues (and others) through their work.

As I wrote the piece, winnowing my way through a dark and strange ten-year-long path, I was trying to move toward some sort of light at the end of the tunnel, which I thankfully found. I think those who have traveled a similar road will feel this story in the piece, even as the narrative itself is more abstract.

twi-ny: During the pandemic, you virtually reimagined Soldier Songs with Johnathan McCullough for Opera Philadelphia, where Black Lodge premiered online. What was it like turning Black Lodge into an in-person live presentation in front of an audience — and essentially doing the opposite with Soldier Songs?

dtl: It has been a really thrilling process full of discoveries! It is amazing to see how the brain tries to parse what it is seeing and hearing during the live show. Like, you know that Timur is singing live, but he is so synced with his image on the screen, you start to hear the live sound as recorded. Similarly with the visual world — the live image and the film somehow blur in your perception, making you doubt your senses. It really messes with you in a terrific way that feels totally perfect for what Black Lodge is exploring.

twi-ny: Timur is remarkable in it. Did you always have him and his band in mind when you were putting the show together?

dtl: My partner in crime! Yes — Timur was the voice of the piece from the beginning, absolutely! He’s so amazing. I first heard them perform at Prototype, actually, all the way back in 2013. His performances of both Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer” and Klaus Nomi’s “Total Eclipse” just blew my mind, and I knew immediately that I needed to work with him and the band, who are equally amazing. It has been a real pleasure to build this piece for and with him.

twi-ny: You are program chair at Mannes at the New School, where you teach New Opera Labs. What are your thoughts about the future of opera, based on what your students are doing and the success of such festivals as Prototype? A lot has changed over the last twenty-five years in the world of opera.

dtl: I think the opera world right now is also full of big questions. During the pandemic, there was such an eruption of inventiveness and creativity, because we needed to pivot somehow just to survive. To me that was the “shock doctrine” moment our field really needed, and I had high hopes. But since things reopened, a big part of the field has just gone back to their prepandemic plans, as if pretending that we hadn’t been permanently altered by what we experienced in those years! Add to this the fact that things have become very expensive to produce and you have an industry that has grown more risk averse, which are not great conditions for new work.

The good news is that most artists don’t tend to think or care about this stuff. We’re going to make the work we need to make, that feeds our souls, and then we’ll figure out how to put it onstage. My students at Mannes (and our alums) are doing tremendous work in this area — rethinking what opera can (and will) be moving forward — and, like always, we will find a way to make those pieces happen as a community.

All this to say, the operatic future I imagine is, by and large, the same as the world I came up in: a DIY scene where artists make work they love and make performances happen despite impossible odds. This, to me, is where the most interesting work has always originated, work that then gets taken up by forward-looking opera companies and producers. I’m grateful for festivals like Prototype and producers like Beth Morrison who continue to provide vital support to the artists who really see the future and insist on taking us there.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

THE VIVID UNKNOWN: REIMAGINING KOYAANISQATSI THROUGH INTERACTIVE AI TECHNOLOGY

The Vivid Unknown uses generative AI and immersive sound to reimagine Godfrey Reggio’s Koyaanisqatsi (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

TECHNE: THE VIVID UNKNOWN
Under the Radar Festival / BAM Next Wave
BAM Fishman Space
321 Ashland Pl.
January 4-7, $10
Series continues through January 19
utrfest.org
www.bam.org

“I like people to break things. I’m always interested in how kids interact with things because they’re going to do things that someone else might not do,” artist John Fitzgerald told me at the inaugural presentation of TECHNE: The Vivid Unknown at BAM’s Fishman Space, a multimedia reimagining of Godfrey Reggio’s 1982 documentary Koyaanisqatsi, which means “life out of balance,” “life disintegrating,” and “a state of life that calls for another way of living” in the Hopi language.

Fitzgerald was not referring to the hardware but “the rules of engagement” that he’s designed with an expert team. “Anyone can bring their own story to it. That’s something I learned from Godfrey, who calls it the autodidactic experience of watching Koyaanisqatsi,” he said. “He’s not telling you, ‘technology bad, humans good — the natural world is safe.’ He’s giving you the opportunity to have thoughts about things, to experience things. Everyone will always watch it differently. I’ve seen that movie dozens and dozens of times; there are a lot of different ways that you can interpret it. So I’m excited to see how this evolves and unfolds. People might want to come in here and sit down on the floor, they might want to go out and get some fresh air and come back in; it’s an open experience.”

There are numerous ways to experience The Vivid Unknown, and it’s left up to each individual to decide, mimicking how we approach life. AI-generated images speed across three large screens as immersive AI sound envelops the room. You can sit on the floor right in front, move around, or take a regular seat in the back. If you decide to participate — and I highly recommend you do — you will discover that when you are in an oval of light, the shape of your body will be picked up by sensors behind you and your onscreen silhouette will eventually be filled by an image different from what is already being projected.

For example, amid slow-motion and time-lapse shots of beachgoers, mountains, metropolitan cities, airplanes, waterfalls, clouds, traffic, the demolition of a housing project, and other scenes, a rocket taking off fit into my outline and followed me onscreen as I walked across the room. Meanwhile, a woman stood near the middle, moving like a dancer. Couples posed together. A few kids jumped up and down. Humanity fused together with technology and the environment as some of us participated and others merely watched from the back.

Almost all the young boys and girls chose to become involved with the art, which brought out the child in the adults who got up from their seats and interacted with it as well. Noticing that, Fitzgerald, who has a five-year-old and a four-month-old, said that the older one is “the best product tester out there. He’s the first to be, like, ‘That’s too long,’ or ‘I want to see more of that.’ He speaks without a filter.”

Curated by Onassis ONX, TECHNE consists of four digital installations that are part of BAM’s Next Wave Festival and Under the Radar; it begins January 4-7 with The Vivid Unknown and continues January 8-11 with Marc Da Costa and Matthew Niederhauser’s The Golden Key, January 12-15 with Margarita Athanasiou’s Voices, and January 16-19 with Stephanie Dinkins’s Secret Garden. (Tickets for each is $10; a series pass is $35.) BAM Rose Cinemas will be showing Koyaanisqatsi on January 7 at 7:30, with Fitzgerald and Vivid Unknown codirector Reggio on hand for the conversation “Terra techno firma” afterward.

Onassis ONX NY program director Jazia Hammoudi shared information with me about how it all works, but I opted to discover much of The Vivid Unknown on my own, which was extremely satisfying. In the program, she writes, “The refined interactivity of the work’s music and visuals subverts the source material’s linear minimalism and subtly engages the body in epic vistas from mountainscapes to oil fields. Within The Vivid Unknown’s zone of immersion, the connection between individual and collective action reflects the complex relationships between human agency and planetary outcomes.” In addition to TECHNE, Onassis ONX is presenting Christiana Kosiar’s RUNWAY and Viola He’s A {room} of one’s own January 10-14 at the Olympic Tower on Fifth Ave. as part of Under the Radar’s Under Construction series.

Fitzgerald met Reggio about two years ago, when he went out to Santa Fe to visit the now-eighty-four-year-old filmmaker, who also made the sequels Powaqqatsi in 1988 and Naqoyqatsi in 2002; all three films in the series feature original soundtracks by Philip Glass.

Audience participation enhances experience of multimedia The Vivid Unknown by John Fitzgerald and Godfrey Reggio (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Since this was the first public presentation of the work at BAM, I asked Fitzgerald what he thought about the audience’s response.

“It’s exceeding expectations on all levels,” he said. “We’ve never had this many people in it. One of the things about making creative technology art is that it’s always half broken until it’s not, until you have to press play and make sure everything comes together. The idea was that Koyaanisqatsi is a depiction of the state of the world in the latter half of the twentieth century as chaos unfolded. So I was just playing around with this idea of how you don’t really control anything but you do have an impact on this.”

That concept is also represented by a video sculpture off to one side, a refurbished slot machine that was transformed into an interactive artwork by the fabrication studio Chateau Brooklyn. When you pull down the S2000 lever, images speed by a trio of small monitors; it offers an additional moment of connection, but it has no effect on the film. It exists on its own, but it offers a sense of power and involvement even though the results are random. One boy was having a blast with it, pulling the lever a few dozen times, too young to consider the metaphor of how we gamble in life, taking or avoiding risk.

At several points, the barrage of images dropped out and the screens went dark; only the shapes of the audience members standing in the oval of light could be seen. “I want people to feel like they’re making an impact on the images,” Fitzgerald said. “That’s why the last state is left this way; the film disappears, and it’s fuel to give a reflection of your presence.”

He was also quick to share credit. “This is a project made by a dozen artists; it’s truly a collaborative effort,” Fitzgerald explained. “Everyone is unified behind Godfrey and his vision to show humans where we are right now. It’s like a mirror into ourselves.”

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

HANNAH ARENDT AND THE HISTORY OF THOUGHT: A TWI-NY TALK WITH JENNY LYN BADER

Jenny Lyn Bader’s Mrs. Stern Wanders the Prussian State Library explores a little-known part of the life of Hannah Arendt, portrayed by Ella Dershowitz (photo by Valerie Terranova)

MRS. STERN WANDERS THE PRUSSIAN STATE LIBRARY
59E59 Theaters
59 East 59th St. between Park & Madison Aves.
Through November 10, $44
212-279-4200
www.59e59.org

“Personally I think that is the first big mistake in the history of thought — that truth comes at the end. I think truth comes at the beginning of a thought,” the title character says in response to a prison guard’s question about hidden truth in Jenny Lyn Bader’s outstanding drama Mrs. Stern Wanders the Prussian State Library, which opened Thursday night at 59E59 for a limited run through November 10.

The show takes place in 1933 Berlin, where twenty-six-year-old burgeoning historian, philosopher, and author Hannah Arendt — her married name at the time was Stern; she and her first husband, Günther Anders Stern, would divorce in 1937 — has been arrested by the Gestapo and is being held in a dank cell. She is visited several times a day by Karl, an inquisitive guard who appears to be just as interested in her philosophy as in the identities of her dissident, Zionist friends; he also gives her updates on how her mother, who is in a different cell, is doing, although sharing such information is against the rules. The terrific cast features Ella Dershowitz as Hannah, Brett Temple as Karl, and Drew Hirshfield as a lawyer; the play, which resonates with the rise of antisemitism in today’s world, is beautifully directed by Ari Laura Kreith, with an immersive set by Lauren Helpern. Coincidentally, the load-in for the production was done on what would have been Arendt’s 118th birthday, on October 14.

A prolific award-winning playwright who graduated from Dalton and Harvard, Bader (The Whole Megillah: A Purim Spiel for Grown-Ups, None of the Above, Manhattan Casanova, In Flight) has written more than thirty full-length and short works, including ten virtual presentations, in addition to numerous essays and the web serial drama Watercooler. She and her husband, author and educator Roger Berkowitz, are raising two children on the Upper West Side.

Berkowitz and Bader will team up for a talkback following the 7:15 performance of Mrs. Stern Wanders the Prussian State Library on November 3; there will also be talkbacks with Mark Schonwetter, Ann Arnold, and Isabella Fiske on October 29 (7:15), Bader on October 30 (2:15) and November 7 (2:15), and Bader and Dawn Tripp on October 30 (7:15).

I recently spoke over Zoom with Bader, who is a friend of mine and my wife’s, discussing Hannah Arendt, misquotations, the playwriting process, and the search for the truth.

“I have a pandemic cat. She’s absolutely wonderful. It was my daughter who insisted on getting the cat, and now I’ve become obsessed with her. That’s what happens,” Bader explains about Terry, who is half Abyssinian and half Bengal (photo courtesy Jenny Lyn Bader)

twi-ny: What was the genesis of the project?

jenny lyn bader: I was at a meeting at the League of Professional Theatre Women. We used to have something called the Think Tank. I was at a Think Tank meeting and my friend Cindy Cooper said to me that she was curating an evening called “More Jewish Women You Should Know” at the Anne Frank Center because she had done an evening called “Jewish Women You Should Know,” and it had been so popular that the center asked her to bring “More Jewish Women” there.

She asked me if I was writing anything about a Jewish woman, and I said, Yes, I was working on something about some obscure housewives who had been part of the antinuclear protest movement. And she said, No, they can’t be obscure. It has to be a woman with an image and a name and do you have anything like that? And I said I don’t, and that could have been the end of the conversation, but I said, But I could write something for the occasion. And this was interesting because everybody else was doing an excerpt of a project they were already working on, and here I was, I had nothing. And she said, Okay, who? And I suggested a couple of people, and I think the third person I suggested was Hannah Arendt. I said, I have a lot of her research materials and a lot of books written by her and about her in my home.

I’ve also attended an alarming number of conferences inspired by Hannah Arendt. I’m an adviser to the Hannah Arendt Center and have been involved with it and been there a lot even before joining the board of advisers because my husband, Roger Berkowitz, founded the Hannah Arendt Center for Politics and Humanities at Bard College. So I am very steeped in her thinking all the time. Roger has a weekly reading group, and people come from all over the world, from different countries, time zones, to discuss reading Arendt. I’m often on that Zoom meeting, but I also can sometimes hear the meeting in my apartment even if I’m not signed on. So I’m very submerged in the world of Hannah Arendt, by osmosis and more proactively depending on the time of day.

I suggested Hannah Arendt. She said, Okay, Hannah Arendt, I like that. The next time I saw her, she handed me a flyer and said, Oh, here’s the flyer for our event. And it said, “More Jewish Women You Should Know: Readings of Excerpts of New Plays at the Anne Frank Center.” And there were these photographs of four important historical women: Emma Goldman, Emma Lazarus, Gisa Konopka, Hannah Arendt. And it had the names of four playwrights and these four historical women — and it was in six weeks. I’ve had this happen before, where the brochure preexists the script, but that usually happens in a situation where I know the exact goal of the script or if it’s a commission, what it’s supposed to be about.

Here I only had a character, but I didn’t know if I was writing about her when she was old or young or what was happening. I had a subject, but I didn’t have the subject. So now I had to figure out what the play was about. I was going to see another show of mine in Boston with my husband, and we were taking the Acela, so we had a few hours and I said to him, I’ve got this flyer, this thing is happening. Everyone else has a full-length play. I’ve got nothing. What do you think is the most dramatic thing that ever happened to Hannah Arendt? And it can’t be the [Adolph] Eichmann controversy; there’s already a movie about that. And it can’t be the [Martin] Heidegger relationship, because there’s already a play about that.

And Roger said, Huh, I think it’s probably her experience with Jewish Cultural Reconstruction, Inc., this committee after the war that decided what happened to all of the Judaica and where everything went. So it was a very emotional experience for her. She returned to Germany after the war and sat on this committee and had to decide whether to see Heidegger while she was there and decide where things went and heard more about what had happened to her friends. It was a lot.

Roger starts telling me about this for a couple of hours and I’m taking all these notes, and then, as the train pulls into the station, he says, There was that time she was arrested. That week I started to try to write the Cultural Reconstruction play, but I wasn’t finding my way into it. I couldn’t figure out whether it started on the airplane or back in Germany or in a conversation with which characters. I just couldn’t find the shape of the play. The play was not writing itself, it was not doing that for me. And I believe that a really good idea writes itself.

Hannah Arendt was born in Germany in 1906 and died in New York City in 1975

twi-ny: Did you feel, at that point, that you were on the right track even though it wasn’t writing itself?

jlb: No. After a couple of hours I kind of gave up on this play and I thought, Well, I have to find another subject. What is this thing about her being arrested? I’ve never heard of it. I know Hannah Arendt scholars, I know people who knew Hannah Arendt. I’ve talked to a lot of people about her. I’ve been to many conferences at the Arendt Center, not necessarily about her work but inspired by her work in some way. I’ve been in the orbit of Hannah Arendt for a while, but I did not know that she was arrested when I began this project. And one reason I didn’t know was that it was not something she talked about a lot. She really didn’t mention it during most of her life because after the war, people didn’t really talk about their stories. Gruesome things happened to people and they didn’t want to talk about that.

And then less gruesome things happened and those people didn’t want to tell their story because it wasn’t as gruesome. They felt it wasn’t significant. In fact, she says in the interview she gives where she finally does tell the story, “What actually led me out of Germany I never told since it’s so inconsequential.”

Miraculously, I immediately picked up and found the one book where she mentions this, and it was in this 1964 interview with Günter Gaus, which you can watch online now, but you couldn’t at that time.

[ed. note: You can also watch Arendt’s last interview, in 1973 with Roger Errera, here.]

twi-ny: I looked at some of it. It was amazing to be able to see her talk, casually smoke her cigarette.

jlb: Yes! So I read this interview, and in the interview she says she was arrested by a young man with a decent, open face who had been working for the criminal police, had just got promoted to the political police, doesn’t really know what to do with her and has to figure out how to charge her. This is so different from his last job. And a little more, but I don’t want to say too much for those who haven’t seen it, about exactly what happened. And I thought, Well, there’s your play.

twi-ny: There it is.

jlb: Yeah. And I started writing it. That first version just had two characters, and I brought it into my writers group, the Playwrights Gallery, and two actors read it. I asked those two actors to do the reading at the Anne Frank Center that was coming up the following week. And then the actress dropped out the night before; she got a better-paying job that conflicted.

So I ended up being in that first reading myself. I had this two-character short play that some people thought was an excerpt. This is like the downtown Manhattan version of Hamilton at the White House story, right? They had a song and they said it was from a musical, but there was no musical. I had this scene that I told people was from a play, but I didn’t have the play; I didn’t know what the play was yet. I only knew what that scene was.

So I ended up doing it that night. People would say, This is a really interesting premise; you should expand this play! But I couldn’t figure out how to expand it because a short play doesn’t always turn into a long play. And also it was hard for me to evaluate the short play because after that first performance, people kept inviting me to perform it myself, with a guy playing the officer. So I never saw it because I was always in it. I was always performing it. And then one day there was a festival about Jewish women from history at the Museum of Jewish Heritage, and one of the organizers asked me, Could we do your Hannah Arendt piece? I said, Yes, but I’m going to be out of town. And they said, Oh, that’s okay. We don’t want any playwrights acting in their own pieces in this festival. And I said, Fine. They actually cast Kate Hamill.

twi-ny: Wow!

jlb: Kimberly Eaton directed that version, and she cast Kate Hamill, who also has a play coming up at 59E59 Theaters this season [The Light and the Dark (the life and times of Artemisia Gentileschi), starting November 2]. She’s an absolutely wonderful actress. She did the scene and I saw her, she was a very tiny, tiny Kate Hamill on my Zoom screen, where I was watching from out of town; I participated in the Zoom rehearsal, and then I came back into town and there was some kind of miracle where there was a blizzard on the day of the festival and it was entirely postponed. So I thought I was going to miss it, but I actually saw it because it happened three days later and I got to see Kate Hamill do the scene and I watched it and I thought, Oh my gosh, I know how to turn this into a full-length play.

There’s a third character, and I know who he is, and he’s mentioned twice in that original interview, but not in the way I’m going to dramatize it. There are two references to attorneys in that interview, but I’ve hit upon a way of adding the attorney that changes the shape of the play.

Jenny Lyn Bader starred in her solo play Equally Divine: The Real Story of the Mona Lisa in 2019 at Theatre Row

twi-ny: Yes, it does. What’s that feeling like?

jlb: Oh, I mean, it’s absolutely wonderful. I’m a big believer in the unconscious mind and in the subconscious mind. Sometimes I’ll go to sleep thinking about a problem and I’ll wake up and I’ll have dreamt the answer. I believe we need to court our subconscious, bring lattes to our subconscious, whatever you need to do just to be tapped into that. Playwriting is a really unusual kind of writing because so much of it has to do with reading aloud and being in a role. And so I find if I participate in a developmental reading of a play of mine and I play a role, I mainly get insight on how to develop that role, how to develop that character, what they would say, what they would not say, what are the emotional transitions, are they logical, or are they emotionally justified. But I don’t necessarily get an insight into the whole.

It helps to watch different people in the roles, although sometimes the best ideas come when you’re not watching, you’re just thinking about something else or going somewhere. I find sometimes just changing locations is really important when you’re trying to spur on the creative process. The first play that I wrote that was produced in New York I got the idea for on the crosstown bus; just being in motion or going to a new place. When you’re stuck, it can be good to leave your office and go out in the world.

twi-ny: Prior to your knowing Roger, were you already a Hannah Arendt fan? Did you know a lot about her or was it through your relationship with him?

jlb: Prior to knowing Roger, I think I had only read Eichmann in Jerusalem, but I was familiar with her in general, what people said about her. I’d seen a lot of stuff about her. Now there are five documentaries, a couple of plays, a biopic. I was aware of her in the cultural imagination, and I had read about The Origins of Totalitarianism. I don’t think I had attempted to read it — it’s a very intense book — yet it’s become, in recent years, a bestseller in the United States, years after she wrote it. [The book was published in 1951.]

It’s just full of wisdom for us today. I should mention that there’s a quotation that has gone viral recently on the internet, and it had at one point more than fifty thousand downloads just on one of the social media sites, and it’s a misquotation. Roger actually wrote a piece about how it was a misquotation.

Shortly after that, I saw it misquoted again, this time with a photo of someone who is not her. I thought, What is this? Why are people doing this? Why do we want her to have written with less complexity and nuance than she did? And why do we want her to look different than she did? What is this strange way that she’s getting refashioned by social media?

twi-ny: I read that piece; it’s the quote about constantly lying.

jlb: The other day I noticed it was Eugene O’Neill’s birthday and I wanted to post something about it. I looked for a quotation, and there were so many things that he did not say attributed to him.

twi-ny: There are sites dedicated to things Abraham Lincoln, Albert Einstein, Mark Twain, Benjamin Franklin never said. Has the play changed in the five years since it premiered at Luna?

jlb: Yes. Yes, it has. I mean, it’s the same, but as you work on a play, you make more discoveries, especially when you’re working with a director like Ari Laura Kreith, who does very deep exploration. We had a wonderful rehearsal process. The play at Luna was five scenes, and this version is six scenes. So one of the scenes has been broken up in a way that I think is more effective for the dramatic arc. And then there were still a couple of lines in there that were holdovers from the short piece, which sort of gave too much away early. So there’s been a little bit of tweaking and restructuring, I would say.

But I was very proud of the version that was at Luna. I was considering sending it out to publishers, but I always try not to do that until two, possibly three productions in, because you always make changes. I always say, look at Sam Shepard. He won the Pulitzer, and seventeen years later he totally rewrote Buried Child. You never know what it’s going to be. Plays are living; they are alive.

twi-ny: Ella is a tremendous Hannah Arendt. What was the casting like?

jlb: Brett did the play in New Jersey, so he was a real find in 2019. So that was set; we didn’t have auditions for his role. This time around we only auditioned potential Hannahs and potential Erichs. It was very exciting when Ella came into the room.

twi-ny: It clicked right from the start.

jlb: I am a big crossword puzzle fan, so when I saw that she was a crossword constructor in her spare time — some people wait tables, she constructs crosswords for the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and Los Angeles Times. Also on her resume it said she had studied philosophy and psychology at Yale, which is not the kind of thing that usually gets you an acting job, but in this case I found it really impressive. And she’s just a transformational actress.

So I was very excited about the audition, but I was also nervous. I really thought this was cool that she was a crossword constructor, but was I biased toward her? She was blonde at the time. Was the blonde hair going to be an issue? Everybody knows what Hannah Arendt looked like. I said to the casting director, What are the rules about that? What is the proper way to ask her if she would be willing to dye her hair? The rules were explained to me. But then the next time Ella walked into the room, five minutes later before she left she said, By the way, I’m willing to dye my hair. So she removed the final obstacle, but I don’t know, she’s just a really special, vulnerable, riveting actress.

twi-ny: Definitely.

jlb: And Drew, playing the attorney, that’s a really hard scene actually. Drew makes it look easy, but he just walked in and gave one of the best auditions I’ve ever seen. He has a few minutes to establish the main conflict of the play, the main dilemma. A lot of the burden of the play’s climax rests on his performance. And of course, Brett is just extraordinary in portraying the inner conflict of the police officer, with some kind of humanity.

twi-ny: Which is not how we think of Nazi prison guards.

jlb: It’s funny. A lot of people come up to me after the play and say, Oh, I really like the Nazi. But he’s not technically a Nazi. He was a member of the criminal police; the Gestapo had just started that week and had not been fully “Nazified” yet, so we still have him in last week’s uniform.

twi-ny: There is no swastika on it.

Mrs. Stern made its Luna Stage debut in 2019, with Brett Temple as Karl Frick and Giuliana Carr as Hannah Arendt (photo by Mike Peters / Montclair State)

jlb: In the 2019 production, we did have a swastika, and it was not historically accurate, but the design team felt it would give people the right vibe. The play now looks like it’s set in a Gestapo cellar, which is, I think, where she would’ve been. In the 2019 production, they made it a jail with bars. They thought that conveyed the sense of being imprisoned. So there were certain dramatic liberties taken in the design.

What’s interesting about this period is there isn’t yet a swastika on everything. There’s about to be. We’re in the last vestiges of the old Germany. But I think the audience sees the swastika even if it’s not there.

twi-ny: And the swastika is mentioned in the dialogue. Speaking of libraries, another part of the play that works so well is how relevant it is to what’s happening today, with banned books and parents and schools deciding what all kids can and can’t read. That’s always a bad cultural sign. Was that consciously done in the writing?

jlb: I feel that suppression of thought leads to suppression of people, and that leads to violence. I think that is at the core of this story and of what happens to her. I was thinking about trying to send this play to a festival that said “no Holocaust plays.” And I said to myself, Well, this is not actually a Holocaust play. Maybe I can send it. Right? This is pre-Holocaust. Nobody’s being put in a gas chamber. Someone is being questioned, but this play has some comedic elements, and maybe this festival that doesn’t want Holocaust plays would read it.

But then the play was featured in a source book called Women, Theater, and the Holocaust, and someone suggested that the play be listed in it, and it now is. So it’s both not a Holocaust play and a Holocaust play in the sense that this is the kind of thing that leads to much darker things.

When you start saying what people can read and you make it illegal for them to distribute materials about antisemitism and hate, and you make it illegal for them to do that the day after they already did it, it’s very scary.

twi-ny: Fifteen or twenty years ago, I don’t think Arendt would’ve been as well known as she is today. So even for people who think they know her through books and movies and other plays, what do you think they will learn from yours?

jlb: Well, I think that often there is a tendency to talk about women through men and through their relationships with men and what they have said about men. And part of that is the problem of sexism and misogyny in general; who wants a story about a woman? Oh, there’s a man in it. Okay. So it was interesting that at our first talkback, there was a question about Heidegger, who had nothing to do with the play. It torpedoed the conversation momentarily. In our second one, there was a question about Eichmann.

I’ve written about neither of those people. It could be argued that there are references or connections in the play to both of those people, but they are not characters in the play. The play is not about them. The play is about a woman, and a woman who was extremely courageous and who was very perceptive about what was going on in her time and who was really able to talk to anybody, even her prison guard. And she’s this incredible human being who has written some controversial things.

She managed to write thirty books and to have a huge number of insights, very, very wide-ranging ideas, and she’s multidisciplinary. She doesn’t just stick to one field. She’s taught today in philosophy programs, in politics programs and literature and genocide studies and Jewish studies. You can find her work across humanities disciplines, and you can find people in different walks of life who are deeply influenced by her work. I’ve met doctors, lawyers, scientists, psychologists who say that Arendt has been a big influence on them.

What I do is I show her when she’s twenty-six years old, when she already has a kind of ethical and moral backbone that is extraordinary and the social gifts and the wit that are legendary. She hasn’t written all thirty books yet, but what I decided at a certain point is that she’s already thinking about them. She’s already starting to figure them out. So I decided it’s all there. In some ways, this situation is giving her ideas for more books.

Hannah Arendt (Ella Dershowitz) is visited by a lawyer (Drew Hirshfield) in gripping play by Jenny Lyn Bader (photo by Stephanie Gamba)

twi-ny: In addition, the thing that is key for her, even more important than herself, is her mother, who’s also imprisoned. She’s more concerned about her mother’s safety and well-being than her own. And not everybody’s going to feel that way when they’re locked up in a dungeon.

jlb: When you write a play that’s about a [fictional] brilliant woman, a random, brilliant, strong woman, you’re going to get a lot of feedback. Like, Oh, did this person really do that? Can’t you make this character more soft or whatever. Whereas if you write about a real person, you don’t get these sexist critiques of the brilliant woman. She really did exist. So there’s something especially exciting about this story, this story that’s centered on a woman, but it’s not about being a woman. It’s not about having a relationship with a man. It’s about a person who is a human being who understands what it means to be a human being and understands our common humanity.

This connects back to what you asked me earlier about getting ideas. And that actually happens in the play. You watch her getting ideas and you see her coming up with ideas and realizing she may be executed before she gets to write them.

twi-ny: Right. And even though you know that she isn’t going to get executed, you still have this fear, this tension.

jlb: There’s several weird things about this play, Mark. One weird thing I learned was at the first public reading of the play, at Urban Stages. I had no idea how suspenseful the play would be. There were a whole bunch of people there who were on the board of the Arendt Center, or went to conferences regularly at the center, who knew full well that Hannah Arendt was not executed for treason, but they were on the edge of their seats, worried about her; because, sitting in the audience, we know she survived, but we don’t know exactly how.

And there’s just the suspension of disbelief when you go into the world of the play. Even people who absolutely know better were taken into that suspense. So that was a surprise to me. And then another surprise was how we live in a very politically polarized world, and Hannah Arendt is one of those thinkers who asks us how we can all talk to each other, how we can talk across ideological divides, how we can find common ground with those who disagree with us. And that’s a very important thing that people are talking about now who are influenced by her work.

You asked if I had intended it being a story about the suppression of thought and all of the censorship that’s happening today. And yes, I did intend those things. What I didn’t intend was that I would somehow hit upon the common ground between left and right that people keep talking about in this country. There’s no common ground. Well, people who are leftist activists and conservative activists have both embraced this play.

twi-ny: There’s hope for our future.

jlb: I feel like they now have something in common, and now we can begin a conversation.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

BUILDING BRIDGES: JOHN T. REDDICK AND THE BLACK HISTORY OF TIN PAN ALLEY

Curator and cultural historian John T. Reddick will give a talk on Tin Pan Alley on September 11 at the Society of Illustrators (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

ILLUSTRATING TIN PAN ALLEY: FROM RAGTIME TO JAZZ
Society of Illustrators
128 East Sixty-Third St. between Park & Lexington Aves.
Wednesday – Saturday through October 12, $10-$15
Tin Pan Alley Talk & Reception: Wednesday, September 11, $10-$15. 6:30
212-838-2560
societyillustrators.org

Longtime Harlem resident and Yale University School of Architecture graduate John T. Reddick is into bridge building — but in this case, the bridges aren’t physical structures but those that involve the lesser-known history of Tin Pan Alley. The birthplace of American popular music, Tin Pan Alley flourished in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when dozens of music publishers and businesses lined the streets of what is now Chelsea, in the West Twenties.

Born and raised in the integrated Philadelphia neighborhood of Mount Airy, Reddick got involved in trying to save Tin Pan Alley when five buildings on West Twenty-Eighth St. were in danger of being demolished by their owner/developer. In 2019, the Landmarks Preservation Commission designated them historic landmarks.

A founding member of Harlem Pride and the director of community engagement projects for the Central Park Conservancy, Reddick has been an avid collector of sheet music art, focusing on songs composed and/or performed by Black and Jewish entertainers. What began as a curiosity and hobby has blossomed into a dazzling exhibition at the Society of Illustrators, “Illustrating Tin Pan Alley: From Ragtime to Jazz,” on view through October 12.

“I felt like these artists were groundbreakers. I see in them many parallels to hip hop, in that ragtime’s innovation for its time was as jarring as hip hop’s,” he said of the composers and performers of the era during a tour of the show. “My journey began after I went to a talk on the Lower East Side given by Jeffery Gurock, who lectured on the period when Harlem was Jewish. That was a revelation to me, that Harlem had once been the second largest Jewish community in New York City. From that point I went to the library, did research, and started buying items on eBay. It was just shocking; as I bought sheet music or got to see the names, I realized they all lived in Harlem during the same time period.”

Arranged chronologically, the exhibit focuses on sheet music and its accompanying art, which reveals the developing connections between American Black and white music, beginning with the cakewalk, a Black dance that originated in America but became a craze when introduced in Europe, advancing its popularity as a hit in the United States. Several photographs and illustrations depict the cakewalk being performed, including two works by French artist Georges-Bertin Scott, sheet music covers for the songs “Darktown Is Out To-Night” and “Cake Walk Neath the Dixie Moon,” and a drawing in which Uncle Sam relaxes while watching dancers’ cakewalk around a tree.

On a nearby wall is the sheet music for “All Coons Look Alike to Me,” a popular 1898 song composed by Ernest Hogan that sold more than a million copies. Hogan, a prominent Black composer and performer, appeared in shows with the leading African American performers of the day. However, the song’s sheet music art, which featured unflattering caricatures of Black men and women, became such a crippling definer of Hogan as an artist that it led to his demise.

Reddick noted, “All of a sudden, this ragtime music is popular, and you want to show and sell us more. What do you use to image that music?” Reddick grouped together the sheet music covers for “Who Dat Say Chicken in Dis Crowd” by Paul Laurence Dunbar and Will Marion [Cook], “Cotton: A Southern Breakdown” by Albert Von Tilzer, and “Watermelon Am Good Enough for Mine” by G. Barker Richardson and Von Tilzer. “I have three things in there: cotton, chicken, and watermelon. They’re in the lyrics; they’re in the titles,” Reddick said. “A lot of the signifying, I feel, is coming out of music publishers just trying to meet the commercial market where its mind is at. You don’t cartoon something unless its understanding is pervasive. For me it’s the beginning of bridge building to some identity that’s beyond that becomes an American music.”

Other excellent groupings juxtapose two different sheet music covers for Lew Pollack’s “Vamping Sal the Sheba of Georgia” and three for Shelton Brooks’s “Darktown Strutters’ Ball.”

Pointing out that a lot of sheet music was dedicated to songwriter and journalist Monroe Rosenfeld because the performers knew he could talk them up in the newspaper, Reddick zeroed in on the team of Bert Williams and George Walker.

“Rosenfeld has this bridge relationship, so you see a lot of people pandering to him, even Williams and Walker, who coined themselves ‘the two real coons.’ They claimed the tag and the stage to establish their own authenticity and artistry. I realized in many ways it’s just like hip hop. You could have been the greatest hip-hop singer in the world, but if you went to amateur night at the Apollo and started singing in a tuxedo, you would be booed. You wouldn’t even get your mouth open because there’s a certain kind of drag they expect you to be in to perform. Williams and Walker knew they were good, but they realized that more whites were blacking-up and playing Blacks onstage than actual Black performers. It was so much more sophisticated. They could show that there’s parody and all this irony in lot of stuff they did.”

Every element, even the way the show is hung, carries some kind of weight. Reddick explained that for most of the works, a black frame indicates the song was written by a Black composer, a white frame by a white composer.

Perhaps not accidentally, the cover sheet for Jean Schwartz’s 1908 “The Whitewash Man,” depicting a smiling Black man carrying a paint bucket and a broom, is placed over a water fountain, evoking the “Whites Only” signs of the Jim Crow era.

Among the other composers and performers Reddick discussed were James Reese Europe and Ford T. Dabney, Noble Sissle and Eubie Blake, Irene and Vernon Castle, Irving Berlin, George Gershwin, Ethel Waters, Cab Calloway, Duke Ellington, Miss Aida Overton Walker, drummer Buddy Gilmore, Fats Waller, Sophie Tucker, Josephine Baker, and W. C. Handy as well as the Clef Club, the Ziegfeld Follies, the Cotton Club, Connie’s Inn, and Al Hirschfeld and Sydney Leff, two Jewish artists who attended the Vocational High School for the Arts on 138th Street in Harlem.

“Think of the names of Motown groups,” Reddick said. “The Supremes, the Marvelettes, the Temptations. Nobody’s a gangster. They’re claiming we deserve to be on the other side. Now we have a credential. . . . When the Central Park jogger case happened [in 1989], the term ‘wilding,’ it was just a term for young people being in nature and the park, not being there in the park to victimize people. But that was the first time it crossed over as a term from the Black community to the broader public. . . . So, I always think, what if bling had crossed over, associated with a jewelry store robbery as opposed to the fashions of hip-hop artists. Again, the word already had that meaning in my culture. Bling and jewelry. You got bling on, but at a certain point it crossed over, right? Maybe a hip-hop person, whatever. What was the bridge that made it happen?”

Tin Pan Alley exhibition winds down narrow hallway (photo courtesy of Society of Illustrators)

One of the most striking works is E. Simms Campbell’s gorgeously detailed 1932 “Night-Club-Map of Harlem,” which locates such hot spots as Smalls Paradise, Club Hot-Cha (“where nothing happens before 2 a.m.”), “the nice new police station,” Gladys’ Clam House, the Lafayette Theatre, the Radium Club, and the Savoy Ballroom, with cartoon vignettes of people dancing the lindy hop and the snakehips, men purchasing “marijuana cigarettes,” Bill “Bojangles” Robinson tapping away, and Tillie’s offering “specialties in fried chicken — and it’s really good.”

Reddick, who will give a lecture at the Society of Illustrators on September 11 at 6:30, followed by a reception with pianist/preservationist Adrian Untermyer, then told a story about American composer and violinist Will Marion Cook, who had studied with and influenced Antonín Dvořák’s take on America’s “Negro Music.”

“He performed and got a review that said he was one of the nation’s best colored violinists. And he took his violin to the critic and broke it and said, ‘I’m the best violinist.’ He wanted to start writing for Black shows and other Black players. He wrote with [poet and novelist] Paul Laurence Dunbar. But his family was so embarrassed for writing that ‘n—er’ music that in his first productions, he didn’t use his last name. However, Cook-associated shows such as 1898’s Clorindy and 1903’s In Dahomey served to bring a more diverse African American identity to the stage. What does that mean politically? If people are liking you, then they are seeing you in another light. What’s that going to mean on the political landscape?”

He added, “Now they could be voters. Picking cotton, you weren’t a voter. They’re playing at Madison Square Garden, so they’re at this elevated level. They’re having a life that was unimaginable for most Blacks.”

Above “All Coons Look Alike to Me” is a quote by W. E. B. Du Bois from his 1903 book The Souls of Black Folk: “It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others . . . one ever feels his two-ness, an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two un-reconciled strivings.”

In “Illustrating Tin Pan Alley: From Ragtime to Jazz,” Reddick is reconciling those strivings and more, building bridges across race and class through a unique moment in New York City musical history.

[On September 19, the Society of Illustrators will host a happy hour from 5:00 to 9:00, with free admission, drink specials, and live music by Charlie Judkins, Miss Maybell, and Robert Lamont. Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

twi-ny talk: HARRIET STUBBS / LIVING ON MARS

Harriet Stubbs will perform at Joe’s Pub on June 2 (Drew Bordeaux Photography)

HARRIET STUBBS
Joe’s Pub
425 Lafayette St. by Astor Pl.
Sunday, June 2, $32.50 (plus two drink or one food item minimum), 6:00
212-539-8778
www.joespub.com
www.harrietstubbs.com

“If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area,” David Bowie said in a 1990s video interview. “Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth, and when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”

British classical pianist, William Blake scholar, and Bowie aficionado Harriet Stubbs has built her career on such advice, as evidenced by her latest album, the exciting Living on Mars; the record is the follow-up to 2018’s Heaven and Hell: The Doors of Perception, a title inspired by Aldous Huxley’s autobiographical 1954 book The Doors of Perception and 1956 essay Heaven and Hell and Blake’s 1793 tome The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.

Now based in London, Los Angeles, and the East Village, the British-born Stubbs took to the keys when she was three and has performed at such prestigious venues as Carnegie Hall, Le Poisson Rouge, St Martin-in-the-Fields, the Cutting Room, Tibet House, and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. On June 2, she will play Living on Mars in its entirety at her Joe’s Pub debut; be sure to get a good look at her shoes, which are always spectacular.

The eclectic record features Stubbs’s unique solo adaptations of the Thin White Duke’s “Space Oddity” and “Life on Mars” as well as Nick Cave’s “Push the Sky Away,” Paul McCartney’s “Blackbird,” and Beethoven’s “Pathétique” in addition to homages to the duos of J. S. Bach/Glenn Gould and Frédéric Chopin/Leopold Godowsky.

My wife and I first became interested in Stubbs when Cave gave her a shout-out at an October 2023 show at the Beacon; earlier this month my wife saw Stubbs perform a private Coffee House Club concert at the Salmagundi Club on Fifth Ave., and then we bumped into her on the street by Sheridan Square. Clearly, our paths were destined to cross.

In this exclusive interview, Stubbs talks about Blake and Bowie, the pandemic, swimming with Cave, and playing in New York City.

twi-ny: You started your career early, first performing publicly as a pianist at the age of four and performing piano concertos as soloist at the age of nine. Growing up immersed in classical music performance, when did you become interested in contemporary pop music?

harriet stubbs: My love of music outside of classical really developed as a teenager and as I was transitioning from a career as a child prodigy to that of an adult artist: what I wanted to do with classical music, how I wanted to remain in it, why, and how these were going to come together to inform my professional adult life. A moment that I remember in particular was hearing the Verve live at Glastonbury in 2008 and realizing that it would always be music that I wanted to dedicate my life to. The thrill of a shared moment in music where everyone has been moved by the same thing is simply extraordinary.

twi-ny: That thrill was changed when the pandemic hit. During the Covid-19 crisis, you played live daily, from your London flat — 250 twenty-minute concerts. Do you have any favorite memories from that rather dark time? How did it feel to get back in front of larger audiences in person again after the lockdown ended?

hs: I think that period was so bleak that every concert in its own way was a deeply moving experience, whether it was two people in the pouring rain or two hundred. Pre-vaccine it was outside of a small window, attached to an amp attached to an upright at a busy intersection of traffic, with people very distanced and masked — who I waved at through the window.

At the time there was no end in sight, so just to have a shared experience in that way — however tentative — was needed more than ever. The two hundredth concert was in December of 2020 and the last at that address and under those circumstances in the dark and the rain. When the spring came, people were starting to be vaccinated, and as they were, I was able to offer them drinks outside; the weather was beautiful (mostly), there was a grand piano, a bay window, and a quiet, residential street where people could hear properly. Being awarded a British Empire Medal [in 2022] by the late Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II was very special, as was Nick Cave showing up to hear “Push the Sky Away”! Those concerts were made by the regulars who came right up until the border opened back up for me to return to New York.

twi-ny: Speaking of Nick Cave, we recently saw him play the Beacon, and he raved about you. Your cover of “Push the Sky Away” is on your new album, Living on Mars. How did the Nick Cave connection come about?

hs: Nick and I met in a park in London a few years ago and became fast friends and swimming partners, and eventually Nick became an integral part of how the album came to be. We swam in a lake together every day and would talk about everything from philosophy to music, politics, literature, and what we were working on as the seasons changed around us.

These are some of my happiest memories. If Nick hadn’t insisted under the moon on a dark New Year’s Day swim that I “get on with” the new album — just as he was starting his [Wild God will be released August 30] — I would never have been on a plane to LA three weeks later to record it. Mike Garson wrote the arrangement of Nick’s “Push the Sky Away” as a thank-you to Nick, and it became the centerpiece.

twi-ny: I’m glad you brought that up. How does a classical pianist end up recording one album with Russ Titelman, who has worked with Randy Newman, Rickie Lee Jones, James Taylor, the Monkees, and Eric Clapton, and then Garson, who’s produced and played with the Smashing Pumpkins, Nine Inch Nails, and, primarily, David Bowie?

hs: I have been in New York for fifteen years now and over that time have had so many adventures, many of which were not directly related to classical music. Russ and I met at Barney Greengrass on the Upper West Side through our mutual friend, author Julian Tepper. Russ wrote his number on a Barney receipt and we would meet for milkshakes. Two years later we were on a train to Pleasantville to “try out” recording together, which then turned into Heaven and Hell: The Doors of Perception, recorded at Samurai NYC.

·

Russ invited Marianne Faithfull because of my love of William Blake — I recently wrote the lead editorial article for The Journal of the Blake Society, “Invisible Women in Blakean Mythology” — and really the point of the record was just that, to bring together the worlds of rock and roll, literature, classical, and popular music, to see all of them in each other and to have as Blake would have referred to it an “illuminated” experience. Living on Mars continues this threading of the worlds together, just a little more literally.

[ed. note: Stubbs also participated in a January 2022 panel discussion at the Global Blake conference that you can watch here. Faithfull narrates Blake text over John Adams’s “Phrygian Gates” to open Heaven and Hell: The Doors of Perception.]

twi-ny: There are Blakean influences throughout Bowie’s work, particularly in the 1970s. What makes his music so translatable to classical?

hs: I have always been a Bowie fan, and over the years there have been many ways in which our worlds seemed to collide serendipitously. I loved Bowie as a teenager and through my friendship with May Pang became friends with [producer] Tony Visconti and later Mike Garson, who produced and arranged Living on Mars. Before the Bell Canyon wildfires I went to Mike’s home there and played for him, and we started to conceive of the album. We finally got to record it in 2023 in LA, entirely live, which was a thrilling experience.

twi-ny: Who are your favorite classical composers?

hs: It depends who I am at any given time of the day but usually somewhere between late Beethoven’s final piano sonatas living on the border between life and death or dancing through some gothic Prokofiev.

twi-ny: Besides Bowie and Cave, what other contemporary performers or songwriters do you listen to? Who’s doing things that you find musically intriguing?

hs: I have recently started listening to the Last Dinner Party. My rotation at the moment seems to be some [Krystian] Zimerman Brahms B flat piano concerto, the Magnetic Fields, [Marc-André] Hamelin’s late Busoni, Rob Zombie, Judas Priest, Alter Bridge, and the National, but that’s just this week. Always a mix!

twi-ny: Yes, that is quite a mix. Having performed on both sides of the Atlantic for years, do you notice any difference between American and British or European concertgoers, especially over time, pre- and postpandemic?

hs: I think that location is becoming less relevant to those that consume their music entirely through platforms such as TikTok. I think that the US has been more open to contemporary reimagining of classical music than other locations around the world, but social media has changed that concentration, as has the growing need for audience development. Anywhere that there is a live, enthusiastic audience is the same thrill, but there’s nothing like playing to my adopted hometown of New York; it’s electrifying.

twi-ny: You’ll be in New York on June 2 at Joe’s Pub. Have you ever been there before?

hs: I am so excited to perform at Joe’s. This will be my first show there and I can’t wait!

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

twi-ny talk: RICHARD AYODEJI IKHIDE

Artist Richard Ayodeji Ikhide stands next to Mother’s Embrace at Candice Madey gallery (photo by Kunning Huang)

RICHARD AYODEJI IKHIDE: TIES THAT BIND WITH TIME
Candice Madey
1 Freeman Alley off Bowery
Tuesday – Saturday through June 15, free, 11:00 am – 6:00 pm
www.candicemadey.com
www.instagram.com/pandagwad

Richard Ayodeji Ikhide is having quite a week. He and his partner, Gina, had a baby on April 29 in London; Gina celebrated her birthday on May 2; Ikhide flew that day to New York City for the May 3 opening of his second solo show at Candice Madey on the Lower East Side, “Ties That Bind with Time”; and he then returned home for his newly expanded family’s first Mother’s Day together.

Born in Lagos, Nigeria, and based in London, Ikhide studied at Central Saint Martins College of Art and the Royal Drawing School. His first exhibition at Candice Madey’s 1 Rivington St. home, June 2022’s “Emiomo,” introduced the title character, a child emissary or messenger, inspired by West African spiritual beliefs and legends, who undergoes a metamorphosis with other figures in a fantastical world. He broadens that vision in the new show at Madey’s Freeman Alley space, in which Ikhide again incorporates his interests in weaving, textile design, comic books, manga, Nigerian mythology, and video games in large-scale watercolor, gouache, and collaged paintings on paper that are screwed into the walls. But this time, there’s a sharper focus on motherhood — and fatherhood — across generations. Each of the five works tells its own story, bursting with swirling colors that depict symbolic animals, ritualistic objects, and red and blue circles.

In Mother’s Embrace, a woman clutches her child, their eyes closed, their bond offering them protection from whatever they may face. In Familial Procession, a man and a woman march with several children, surrounded by floating faces; one of the kids emits a dialogue bubble with an abstract shape in it instead of recognizable words. And in Patriarch’s Principles, a family prepares for a ceremony at a table filled with artifacts.

On a recent Saturday afternoon, I bumped into Ikhide at Madey’s Rivington gallery, where he generously agreed to sit down for an impromptu interview. “Ties That Bind with Time” is up through June 15, the day before Ikhide will experience his first Father’s Day as a new dad.

twi-ny: There’s a lot of imagery with children and a mother and father in these paintings. How did that evolve? You started this series before your partner was pregnant.

Richard Ayodeji Ikhide: I think obviously it’s that thing of bringing a new life into the world. It’s kind of like you have all these ideas and associations in terms of what you might think a family might be, or what you might want for your family. And I was saying to people that I felt like this body of work was almost a bit like a visual manifesto, for myself in terms of what I might want for my family unit and how I might want things to be. And one thing I was meditating a lot on was the role of the patriarch; even the word “patriarch” itself can be this oppressive figure in the family dynamic. It was something I really wanted to push against. It’s like a narrative around the idea of the patriarch not as this oppressive figure but also a nurturer, somebody who’s also propagating the life and the vitality of the family.

twi-ny: Fathers get short shrift sometimes.

rai: Exactly. I mean, I’m going to be a Black father; there are so many narratives around Black men and their children, their family units. I don’t want to be that kind of father. I really wanted to counteract or push against some of these narratives.

twi-ny: Why is that narrative still with us? I went out with a bunch of white friends recently and we got into political discussions, and those narratives came up, with some of them arguing that that’s what’s wrong with Black society.

rai: It’s funny because Oprah did a recent study that talked about participation amongst fathers, and African American fathers were quite high. [ed. note: OWN Spotlight: Oprah and 100 Black Fathers aired in June 2021.] A lot of African American fathers are quite active in their kids’ lives, but like you said, that’s a narrative that’s still propagated today. I’m from London, but that’s something that, across the waters, still affects how people view things. It’s been interesting for me. I’ve been to every single midwife visit. I was there in the delivery room. I was there for the baby’s first change. So that’s the role I would like to play in my child’s life. This body of work was a deep meditation on what kind of dad would I like to be, and what kind of family unit would I like to have. It was really interesting to bring it all together, even the whole nine months of seeing my partner’s body change and how she’s adapting. Okay, now we’ve had the baby, she’s breastfeeding, all these things. We’re doing this together. I love her to bits. It’s been both of us, like Bonnie and Clyde. Also, I’ve got a family to feed, so on a financial level I’m thinking, Hey, look. My wife’s been on maternity leave for a while so I’m literally paying for every single bill.

twi-ny: What does she do?

rai: She’s in marketing and research and strategy, so she works with brands and agencies like Sony and Converse. She’s taking time off work, so I can’t expect to be like, You need to chip in your share. That’s all on me now. We’re also talking about all the baby responsibilities, right? And the duty you have as a father, in terms of how you need to make sure your family unit is okay. So yeah, there’s a piece with the patriarch’s principles that’s right in the middle where, you know, you have this patriarchal figure almost giving assurance and direction and almost kind of like life lessons in the sense of okay, this is how you might want to go about doing certain things. I was talking to Jake [Borndal], the director of the gallery, about one thing I got into recently, and that’s all these stats about the involvement of fathers and how the odds for children in terms of their education, career, finances, economic literacy shoot up if the father’s involved. Society needs to also incentivize men to want to play an active role. But if you have this narrative of Oh, men are just going to traumatize their families, then it’s not necessarily incentivizing us.

twi-ny: They’re going to go out for cigarettes and not come back.

rai: Exactly. I’m at a point where, I don’t know, maybe it’s a bit idealist or utopian of me, but I’m like, Hey, maybe that’s the kind of work I would like to make, put that narrative out into society.

twi-ny: And that comes across in your show without preaching at the viewer.

rai: Yeah, exactly.

Richard Ayodeji Ikhide’s “Ties That Bind with Time” is on view at Candice Madey through June 15 (photo by Kunning Huang)

twi-ny: So you’re in London, and your wife gives birth four days ago.

rai: Yeah.

twi-ny: You are there at the birth.

rai: Yeah.

twi-ny: And then you’re on a plane, and you come here to give birth to this show. And tomorrow you’re going right back home.

rai: Yeah.

twi-ny: So what have these five or six days been like for you?

rai: Intense. I’m running on empty. I mean, a couple hours ago I was changing diapers. The night before I had to fly, the baby was waking up like every hour, and I’m like, Oh my god, she needs to eat again. I don’t think I’ve cried so much as in the past four days. Yesterday, towards the end of the opening, I was getting quite emotional because we were in a hospital for about four days, just preparing for it, because our baby was late, so the doctors were like, Okay, we might need to do this, we might need to do that, we might need to do this, and I’m just there like, No, I need to make sure my partner’s okay, she doesn’t want a C-section, no, we’re not doing that. So I was in practical, logical mode. And then Monday, when we came back home, I think that’s when all the emotions started to hit me. Like, Oh my god, we have a child.

And the funny thing is, my partner’s birthday was on Thursday, the night I flew out. So her and my daughter, they’re both Tauruses now — their birthdays are three days apart — I feel really appreciative and grateful to be able to have this experience in my life: a partner’s birthday, a child being born, a show opening.

twi-ny: And now Mother’s Day.

rai: Yeah, so it’s just been absolutely mind blowing, incredible for me. All I can say is I’m grateful, you know?

twi-ny: You look deliriously happy. It’s like there’s this aura around you.

rai: It’s just been incredible to work with the gallery, with Candice and the team, with Jake. They’ve both just been absolutely amazing and incredible, they’ve treated me well, so it’s been such a lovely experience. I know I’m here for only a short time, but it’s been absolutely stellar.

twi-ny: I’m glad I just walked into this, glad you were here.

rai: It’s a synchronous moment.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]