Valerie Jarrett - White House Senior Advisor to Obama

My new favorite person, Valerie Jarret.

Article published in this month's Essence magazine.

My New York

1999 New York Gay Pride Parade



I’ve tried to write this several times.

At 17, I spent my first summer in New York attending acting school. On the drive over from Pennsylvania, we were all excited about my adventure, singing Santana and Al Green in the car. My parents were good at encouragement, despite bittersweet disdain for my summer absence. They knew I would never be the same. We were welcomed to the city by the feathers, glitter and gigantic SMILES of the 1999 Gay Pride Parade on 6th avenue—more than appropriate for my exhaustingly "ambiguous in all directions" self.

I’d previously been amongst the frightened pre-New Yorkers, swearing that I would be mugged or turned to stone from eye contact. A four sided rural upbringing will develop sheltered and cloudy outlooks on circumstance that may never be conquered by experience. My only time in the city was the summer before—at the talent convention where I’d auditioned for my spot in the following summer’s acting program. That gave me a tiny wet taste of the next ten years of my life and as usual I was ready-- maybe prematurely. Throughout the year, I pined in my room to be in New York—somehow I believed that it held an answer, a place of solace, and revolving location for identity and purpose. I’d worked retail with the intention to save for the summer, however more accurately spending every paycheck on the latest clearance shit of the week. I was ready for my stride to be created daily, the crowds beckoning for differing daily personalities. This was a time where I would walk forward without looking back, taunting onlookers with my proud disregard for security. And I would walk, endlessly—bright eyed and unaware of any fears that should have overwhelmed me. I asked questions and made friends easily with classmates and plenty of the fellows that lived and hung around my dorm. Gary, Lovett, Joe, Tom, and the rest of the summer kids taking classes at the School for Visual Arts.

I spent a lot of time denying ballet, it was such a second nature form for me, that I didn’t really know how to present it as a part of my life. Only recently have I been able to call myself a dancer.

Gary loved the Bible and would read it daily.
Tom and Gary were best friends and would do anything for one another.
Tom liked me all summer but I never realized this until my last week in the program.
Lovett liked me too, but was discouraged when he realized that I liked Tom.
I knew nothing about sex that summer. Propositions, thongs, group cuddling, hand holding, cleavage, cigarette smoke--were all new to me and I welcomed it.

Gary’s work was one of my first experiences of connection to painting and visual art.
All of the actors and I within the summer program would sing at random hours and Gary said he could hear us. He didn't seem to mind.

We watched the sun come up on many nights.

(An excerpt from ENLIGHTENMENT, my story.)

Diane von Furstenberg recalls being a young princess on Fifth Avenue; Chloe Sevigny slept in Washington Square Park; and Rufus Wainwright's "magic blankness" after writing Poses in New York mag's "My New York" Issue.

If everything could ever feel this real forever

Being one of my favorite people, I was moved to something resembling tears when I got the news several weeks ago that David Letterman married his girlfriend of thirteen years, Regina Lasko.



circa 1997, God bless ya Dave

FAT

Lisa Marie Barren
MFA Thesis Exhibit
University of New Mexico, Albuquerque

http://www.unm.edu/~lbarren/

Press
Local IQ
Daily Lobo

Book available, here.

watermark

Presumably, a "PostNatural History" third eye

Corpus Extremus (LIFE+)
Exit Art
February 28th-April 18th, 2009

Dennis Overbye's essay in Tuesday's Science Times.

Purple dinos

There is a new fixture in and around the R/V/G Steinway station in my neighborhood. A man with a harmonica/drum contraption and a banjo performs for money. He wears a black blazer and no shoes. His hair appears to have once been a golden blond, and his light eyes are bloodshot. He's not covered in dirt, but grime--just unwashed buildup. To bang out his no rhythm ditties he uses Sharpies, leaving green and purple marks on the surface--colors concentrated, yet somehow subtle...must be a new thing. His improvised music is incoherently performed with fervor, leaving it aimless. Music seems to just be the most available option to him, and not something studied, valued, or instinctual. While shouting his jibberish lyrics, he displays a hat that beckons for change. It seems to me that it would be a great disturbance to actually drop something into that hat. I never have, and I see him every time I'm in the area. He must be a transplant, from times and places I've never seen, arriving in the international blender that is Astoria--Steinway Street-complete with discount hosiery, the Mickey Dee's Dollar menu, and Italian suits. I think he must have stepped onto the wrong train, blacked out, and woke up here. Am I a part of this man's nightmare?

Econo-RIZE

"Learn how to earn better." - Jay-Z

Guess Whos Back - Jay-Z, Beanie Sigel, Scarface


As responsibility goes, dear Obama is getting the shit end of the stick as he scrambles to save our drowning economy. It sucks to be the one left holding the gun.

There's a lot of mental/social chaos right now with newly jobless folks and recession specials popping up left and right. AIG is cushioning its employees whilst my customers are looking more sleep deprived and credit card happy. I am concerned that everyone will freak out and up their medication dosages. I'd rather deal with a more revolutionary freak out...a movement perhaps? Times are astronomically alarming-- materializing monies, technological advances so heightened that CD and record stores are closing and Insignia creates digital books alleviating the NEED (?) for newspapers and libraries (I'm old fashioned!). I'm trying not to think about the money I spent last year and the bills I paid late...ah, sounds like its time to make some shit. Or exit....

Now that Sonnets is over this time around, I am returning to my second city. I'll be staying in Paris for a month, developing Jean Genet's THE BLACKS. I am looking forward to this project because it's been stored in my cerebral filing cabinet for almost 5 years. I will be taking language classes and studying ballet again.

I'm attracted to post-chaos or hysterical creation--Dada and Beat--reactionary and provocative substance. I feel even more called to contribute. We should be hungry now. I am thrilled to devote time to Jean Genet's work----a legacy exemplary of our current time-- raw, frightened, yet ready.

We should nurture what is within us....because, we are all we've got.

I document what imprints my inner skin--heart stains, visible feelings and tangible breath. This winter, it was paranoia, hatefulness, grief, listlessness...love scorned and art-tired. Whoa, useless lamentations from the battleground?! Pitiful complaints, indeed. My gratitude does extend to the sheets on my bed and the socks on my feet. I am still fighting, hoping to hide the scars that no one wants to see.

Intuition--chosen to provide something.



Sonnets is about week-shy of completing its second run at the Nuyorican. It was glorious and great, GREAT exhausted fun. The cast is remarkable and hard working--all looking out for the greater good of the project. As I've said before, dedication such as this, could do nothing but serve as a springboard for every artist involved.

The RETURN....

SONNETS FOR AN OLD CENTURY by Jose Rivera

Mar 5,6,7,8,12,13,14,15>Thurs, Fri, Sat, Sun@7:30pm>$18 ($15 for students)

Can you tell your life story in the space of a moment, the length of a sonnet? A diverse group of people caught in limbo must reflect on the choices and challenges they confronted in life.

Through contemporary dance and theatre, director Erica Cardwell and choreographer Miriam Wasmund lead an energetic 21-person ensemble through Jose Rivera's surreal search for answers.



Visit www.nuyorican.org for further details

A week of performances!

STOOP chosen to perform in the FINALS!

The Strawberry One-Acts Festival The Wild Night Winter 2009
Friday, February 20th at 7:30 p.m. & 9:30 p.m.

Tickets: $20.00
Call the box office 646-623-3488 for tickets!

We were asked to perform a SONNETS PREVIEW in the
NUYORICAN'S SNAZL FESTIVAL, Saturday at 3pm!

Portraits

Marlene Dumas: Measuring Your Own Grave
Museum of Modern Art- closes February 16, 2009

I may try to catch this one last time, before it closes on Monday. I love her work.