Sue Katz: Consenting Adult

Boston Commons: Commonwealth Shakespeare Company presents “Twelfth Night”

When I was finishing Lillian’s Last Affair during a two-week stint at the LA house of dear friends a year or two ago, I couldn’t get started. The first night there I had experienced a scary earthquake and I had uncharacteristic trouble settling into my writing. My writer friend, Sarah, invited me to a Shakespeare-in-the-Park performance, and the wit and power of Shakespeare’s writing catapulted me into a very productive literary housesit.

How infrequently I take advantage of such opportunities in my own town of Boston. It’s a hassle to go downtown, parking is expensive, maybe there will be mosquitos, those beach chairs are uncomfortable, and where will I pee. The Commonwealth Shakespeare Company, in its 19th season, is performing “Twelfth Night” so my friend and I decide to go, not the least because the main character is a girl passing herself off as a boy, causing a skein of romantic gender confusions.

Everything about the production was fantabulous and I highly recommend that locals go and see it (until August 10). My only complaint is that clearly neither the actor nor the director knows much about girls dressing as boys. Convincing gestures and body language are crucial elements to “passing,” and these were absent. Lowering the pitch of the voice is useful, as is a different attitude. I’m afraid that Viola needed more than a change of clothes to become a convincing Cesario. I would have loved to play the part (I’ve never been in a play) if only I could pass for a teenager and wouldn’t be required, as Viola, to wear a dress.

There’s singing, there’s dancing, and there’s the most magnificently pliable and decorative backdrop for the play. There is even a bank of porta-potties with plenty of toilet paper and well-behaved lines right behind the bandstand. Every seat is a good seat and the sound system is superb.

Check out the details here.

Boston Stands in Outrage Against the Massacre in Gaza

There have been frequent demonstrations in Boston since the start of the vicious assault on Gaza, but most of them have attracted people in their hundreds. Last night, Tuesday July 22, we met in a main downtown plaza, Copley Square, for a rally and march, sponsored by about ten different organizations. It was much bigger than most Boston protests – probably around 2,500 or 3,000 people.

And it went on so much longer than other demos. I believe we all felt the relief, even comfort, of being together, of abandoning our computer monitors, our telephones, our televisions in the isolated vigils we have all been conducting in our own homes and workplaces, watching with frustration and horror as this massacre befalls Gaza. We have all felt impotent, that once again our good will and good wishes, our community organizing, our boycotts and sanctions, have failed to protect the people of Gaza from the murderous wrath of Israel.

When I arrive at Copley Square, I have a moment of confusion. Instead of seeing “my” crowd of protestors on the steps of the main library, there are perhaps 1,000 supporters of Israel waving Israeli flags. Our group, I quickly see, are massing on the far side of the block-long square. The counter- demonstrators have signs like, “Israel has the right to self-defense” and “Hamas kills children.” As one friend pointed out, despite thousands of hand-made signs among our fellow protestors, not one even mentions Hamas. What are these Israel-supporters thinking of?

We gather on the steps of the Trinity Church for speeches most of us cannot hear over our own chanting. The pro-Israel group approaches and tries to out-yell us, but there is no way. The feelings among us are deep and loud. We march through the main streets of Boston, the police closing the roads – we have no permit – and apparently holding back the counter-demo. It is hot and humid and a long way – but people of every age and level of mobility march with the energy born of solidarity and pain. Four seniors link arms to physically assist one of them who limps heavily.

I am holding my home-made sign: "Another Jew Against the Brutal Occupation of Palestine." Again and again, people come over to take my picture, to bless me, many of them Arabs, astonished by the notion of a Jew opposing Israel. I am one of many, many Jews at this demonstration.  

At the State House, we rally again and then some people lay down in a pre-planned die-in, wearing the names of murdered Gazans. The organizers send the majority of demonstrators down to the Boston Commons, where I watch them chant and talk for another two hours. I stay up on the street where it is revealed that the die-in is an act of civil disobedience. The police, however, continue to keep their distance. When more than four hours have passed since the start of the action and darkness is settling on us, I head home, so grateful that we are able to come together to bear witness against injustice, as we have unhappily had to do for decades and as we will continue to do in the days ahead.

All photos by Barry Hock

For those interested, here is the list of sponsoring organizations:
Sponsors of the rally and march Included: Boston University Students for Justice in Palestine; Jewish Voice for Peace Boston; Boston College Students for Justice in Palestine; Boston BDS; Grassroots International; United for Justice with Peace; International Socialist Organization – Boston; Boston Feminists For Liberation; Northeastern University Students for Justice in Palestine; Boston Coalition for Palestinian Rights ;First Baptist Church in Jamaica; Boston Alliance for Water Justice ;National Lawyers Guild, Suffolk Law; Palestinian House; Jewish Rabbis Opposing Zionist Occupation of Palestine & Colonization & Persecution of Palestinians.

Dear Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders, and Al Franken,

Dear Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders, and Al Franken,

This is a break-up letter, I’m sorry to tell you. I am done with each and every one of you. Don’t come knocking at my door or my inbox. Don’t look for my support.

Elizabeth, I am a Massachusetts resident at this time, although I spent 14 years in Israel where I was an activist in the peace movement you should have been allying yourself with, instead of going along with the Senate's unanimous consent to back Israel’s murderous invasion of Gaza. Shame on you. I will be explaining to everyone I know that you can no longer be trusted to do the right thing, even in a situation where one of the strongest armies in the world is pounding a crowded, impoverished Gaza.

Bernie, I have had a strong connection with Vermont since my college crowd founded a hippy farm in Vermont. They are still there, pillars of their communities now, some grandparents, and all of them supporters of yours. I will be talking to them about how you have compromised every principle that you say guides you, how you failed to reject the disgusting AIPAC and its resolution calling this Israeli barbarism “self-defense.”

Al, you are considered a national treasure, a person who transformed himself from an entertainer to a serious progressive politician. You have transformed yourself once again into a man willing to pass a resolution that does not even mention that over 350 Gazans have been killed, so far, in this horrific invasion - the vast majority unarmed, poor, and cowering in their own homes. Fifty of those are children.

I could do an ABC of brutal Occupation, but you ought to already understand what is being done by a country to which you vote billions of dollars in military and other support. You three are members of one of the most powerful political bodies in the world and you should be as ashamed of yourselves as I am of you.

Revolted,

Sue Katz
Arlington, MA

NY (July 2014): Brooklyn Museum, Fireworks, A Subtlety

THURSDAY JULY 3

The drive from Boston to NYC is endless and difficult – and I’m just the passenger! It may take fewer hours than other trips I’ve been known to take, but it’s more daunting what with the bridges and construction detours. Our only real gridlock is in Brooklyn. For amusement, I stare at the license of the car in front of us: KICK AXE.

We arrive to Vicki and Zach’s place in the Kensington neighborhood of Brooklyn. Vicki had asked me to bring her four copies of Lillian’s Last Affair, and it is a treat to see her and Zach holding the book in their hands. These are old friends from 90s London who have always been so supportive of me.

Brooklyn Museum
After a quickie rest, we are off to the Brooklyn Museum, open late on Thursday nights. It’s practically empty so we have the remarkable establishment to ourselves, although the air conditioning – obviously set to deal with the heat of human crowds – turns the place into a massive fridge.

We go directly to the special exhibition “Witness: Art and Civil Rights in the Sixties” (until July 13) a marvelous collection of work done at the time by engaged artists who wanted to highlight both the obstacles to and the advances of civil rights. Sixty-six artists are represented, from Ben Shaun’s simple portraits of the three murdered young men, Goodman, Chaney, and Schwerner, to the deeply textured gut-wrenching painting into which Benny Andrews embeds coarse fabric in a work named Witness. Barkley Hendrick's Lawdy Mama is a gold-leafed black power figure in a medieval holy setting. Only one artist quite literally used the imagery of the times in an exploitative way – the always-reactionary Andy Warhol who admitted to feeling “indifferent” to the movement.

Next we visit “Ai Weiwei: According to What?” (until August 10). These forty works cover a couple of decades and highlight his mix of photography, sculpture, installation, and activism. A row of photos from his time in Brooklyn include many images of Allen Ginsberg. His political resistance to the Chinese government is embraced by a huge room-size exhibit documenting the experience of an orphan woman thrown out of her living quarters because of her political activities. A downstairs installation of interlocking bicycles with revolving wheels is almost monumental in size and impact. Coincidentally, I was at a lunch party a couple of days later with the person who oversaw the assembly of Ai Weiwei’s massive structures at this exhibition. Here’s a one-minute clip of how the bike piece was put together:


We are surprised by the amazing exhibit “Swoon: Submerged Motherlands” (until August 24). It is the fantastical, feminist, epic work of Swoon, an artist based in Brooklyn. The astounding scale of her work put me in mind of Louise Bourgeois who, even quite late in life, built art of a size and impact that went way past ambitious. Swoon had to work with an engineer to fit a lift to the highest roof of the museum in order to raise her gorgeous, fabric-draped tree. Her lacy cut-out leaves and her multi-generational figures contribute to an unreal, exquisite statement about the impact of Hurricane Sandy in 2012.

Restaurant tip: We end our day by sharing scads of scrumptious appetizers at Am Thai Bistro, 1003 Church Ave, Brooklyn 11218.

FRIDAY JULY 4

Vicki drops me off at a restaurant called The Farm where I am meeting my college freshman (sic) roommate Abby Robinson for lunch. She is a well-known, accomplished photographer who teaches in NY during the year and in the East during the summers – from VietNam to China to Singapore. She has turned into such a chic, good-looking, cool-dressing grown-up, and I am floored by the brilliant work she shows me on her iPad. Check out her website here.

Vicki, Zach, Barry and I watch the World Cup match between Brazil and Colombia at a Mexican bar, after which we stroll around Brooklyn, dipping into a gay bar where there is a hand-written sign behind the bar that says, “God sees you when you don’t tip.”

FIREWORKS
Later we head out to see the Fireworks down by the river. Since Vicki has truly remarkable parking karma - and parking skills to match - she drives right down to the river and squeezes into a nearby spot. We arrive two hours early so that we can secure street-level spots to stand against the wall – something to lean on. Thousands are passing through police security to descend to watch from the riverside below.

As first there are only dozens of us, but as 9:00 approaches that turns into thousands. I have to fight to maintain our four spots, aided by a group of French tourists next to me, while Barry and Zach go to forage for food. Soon it is no longer an issue as the crush becomes extreme and we are pressed against our wall.

There are some booms that sound like fireworks, but we can see nothing. We realize that the places we guarded for two hours are irrelevant when the many thousands around us start running down a nearby street. I ask a cop what’s happening and he says he hasn’t been told, but he heard that because of the wind they moved the barge and we now have to get on the other side of the bridge in order to see. We rush with the others and find a spot in a crowded side street where we can see a particularly narrow slice of the show between the buildings. It’s fine.


SATURDAY JULY 5

A Subtlety

We stand in a very long line, perhaps five or six blocks – as have over 130,000 viewers during its two-month run. It is the penultimate day to see Kara Walker’s stunning  and historic sculpture installation, “A Subtlety,” at the Domino Sugar Factory. In fact, the full title is:
At the behest of Creative Time Kara E. Walker has confected: A Subtlety or the Marvelous Sugar Baby – an Homage to the unpaid and overworked Artisans who have refined our Sweet tastes from the cane fields to the Kitchens of the New World on the Occasion of the demolition of the Domino Sugar Refining Plant

I have read a dozen reviews, articles, and critiques, and seen video of the making of the installation. I know just what to expect and I’m steeped in the varied reactions people have had. But I knew from the first time I heard of it that I would have to view it in person, which is why we first decided to come to Brooklyn.

The narrative of the work has to do with the labor that it takes to turn brown cane into white sugar. The main figure is a black woman, her head in a scarf, her body naked. It is fitting that she is in the form of a Sphinx, which is a figure both beautiful and painful, having been built by slave labor – like the sugar industry.

The scale of “A Subtlety” is sobering and exhilarating. Her nakedness, breasts, uplifted rear end, and exposed genitals speak to the violent exploitation of black women’s bodies during 250 years of slavery and their objectification ever since. However, the elegance of her head and features conveys pride and volition. The dazzling whiteness is commanding, and is scored by the seams of the many blocks of Styrofoam on which has been sprayed an undercoat of sugar water to hold the white sugar skin. Altogether it is constructed of 160,000 pounds of sugar, according to one NYTimes piece.

In the approach to the main figure, we pass many life-size little boys holding cotton-picking baskets and other field items. These figures, made of molasses, are reminiscent of the lantern-holding statues of young black slaves once so popular on suburban lawns. The combination of the summer heat and the passage of time has caused a good deal of melting – and some of them have lost their balance, only to lay like murdered children in dark puddles of molasses that looks disturbingly like blood.

Creative Time is the non-profit that is organizing the viewings. There are many volunteer docents around to talk to you about their own take on this installation. I spoke with an undergraduate volunteer whose analysis of the gender, race, and class ramifications of this work made sophisticated sense. Then I spoke with Robert Shelton, a former Domino employee, who the day before had been featured in the NYTimes. His perspective – including a bitter stint of strike-breaking at the Domino factory – was all about the mechanics of the laborers’ work.

“A Subtlety” is full of meaning about work, about slavery, about our diets, about concepts of beauty, about the female body, about exposure, about mixed-messages, about all of life. I’m privileged to have seen it in real time. The visuals and the complex feelings they evoked will surely feature in my mind in myriad situations for many years to come.

Here is a video in which the artist Kara Walker introduces you to A Subtlety:

 

Thanks to Barry Hock for all the photos (except from the Brooklyn Museum)