UpStArt Annapolis Summert 2016

A N N A P O L I S

A R T + C U L T U R E + L I F E

SUMMER 2016

T H E O F F I C I A L M A G A Z I N E O F T H E A R T S & E N T E R T A I N M E N T D I S T R I C T

Jason Liggett and Jeff Huntington working on Jason's mural behind 49 West.

THE POINTget to

410.544 . 5448 | thepointcrabhouse .com | 7 0 0 M i l l C r e e k R oa d A r n o l d , M a r y l a n d 2 1 0 1 2

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CON

TEN

TS

COVERZoomography, by Larry Melton

A N N A P O L I S


SUMMER 2016

T H E O F F I C I A L M A G A Z I N E O F T H E A R T S & E N T E R T A I N M E N T D I S T R I C T

Volume 3 | Issue 2

CANVAS

12 Messages of Resilience & Hope By Julia Gibb

BEATS

18 Hip-Hop Hits Annapolis By Alexandra Bayline

WAVES

24 Birdsong By Brenda Wintrode

SNAP

30 Annapolis Am-Bass-Ador By Leigh Glenn

MOTION

38 How I Learned To Stop Worrying & Love Ballet By Melanie McCarty

SUP

44 Leap of Faith & Frogs By Andrea Stuart

TREK

50 Into The Wild By Chris Kalman

EMOTE

56 Annapolis Shakes By Tom Levine

WUNDERKIND

62 The Talent-Powered Machine By Zoë Nardo

INK

68 Surrendering To The Poem By Leah Weiss

LIVE

73 What I Want To Be When I Grow Up By Emma Mudan Harrigan Campbell

UTTER

74 Why Art Matters By William Fletcher Rowel

upstart-annapolis.com | 7

Editor’s Inkwell

Publisher’s Note

I t’s hard to believe that we’re already more than halfway through our second year of creating Up.St.ART. It’s been a lifelong

dream of mine to be part of a community that shares in one another’s experiences; the accomplishments, the sorrows, the wonders, and the hard work. I believe it ’s important that we remain connected to each other in some way so that we can stay in touch with our compassion and hold each other up. In this way, community takes form.

Last issue, I requested essay submissions that spoke to the question, “What do I want to be when I grow up?” I received several essays that took this question and ran toward the horizon with wild abandon, challenging the assumptions of what it means to “grow up” or even “to be.” These thought-provoking essays each spoke of a bigger picture. They spoke of the heart and passions that drive us as human beings and compel us to be better people. They spoke of love for their fellows and the desire to design lives that they hope will enrich the world around them. One essay in particular stood out; that of young writer Emma Mudan Harrigan Campbell. Look for her essay online and on page 73.

Thank you, Annapolis, for sharing your thoughts and insights. We look forward to continuing the creative vibe with you.

Publisher & Creative DirectorJimi Davies

[email protected]

Editorial DirectorAndrea Stuart

[email protected]

Copy EditorLeah Weiss

Associate EditorsJenny Igoe

Katherine MatuszakMacDuff Perkins

Contributing Editors

Julia GibbLeigh Glenn

Chris KalmanTom Levine

Melanie McCartyZoë Nardo

Emmy NicklinWilliam Fletcher Rowel

Leah WeissBrenda Wintrode

Editorial InternAlexandra Bayline

Art DirectorCory [email protected]

Contributing PhotographersAlexis ArizziKaren DaviesJoe HeimbachChris KalmanMarie Jane MachinEvan McCormickLarry MeltonAllison Zaucha

Advertising Jimi [email protected]

Kim O'[email protected]

SUBMISSIONS: For article submissions, email proposal to [email protected]. Up.St.Art Annapolis Magazine is published quarterly. Address: P.O. Box 4162, Annapolis, MD 21403. Subscription rate: $40, payable in advance. Single copies $4.99. Back issues, if available, $15 (includes shipping and handling). POSTMASTER send address changes to Up.St.Art Annapolis, P.O. Box 4162, Annapolis, MD 21403. Entire contents © 2016 by Up.St.Art Annapolis Magazine™ unless otherwise noted on specific articles. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or part is strictly prohibited without Publisher permission.

Mailing Address: Up.St.Art Annapolis P.O. Box 4162 Annapolis, MD 21403 410.212.4242

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10 | Summer 2016

A N N A P O L I S



W R I T E R S

P H O T O G R A P H E R S

Evan McCormick Chris Kalman Alexis Arizzi Allison Zaucha

Joe HeimbachKaren DaviesLarry MeltonMarie Jane Machin

Brenda WintrodeLeah Weiss

Emmy NicklinWilliam Fletcher RowelZoë NardoJulia Gibb

Tom LevineChris Kalman Leigh GlennMelanie McCarty

12 | Summer 2016

CANVAS

Photo by Keren Davies


In her Highland Beach home studio, Lilian Thomas Burwell leans against a cheap table she altered to serve as a sturdy work surface, sharing stories of faith,

family, and art. Her gregarious tabby cat, Mikey, scales her slim frame to nestle into her arms. Scolding him for being spoiled, she accommodates him. At 89 years old, the artist battles three degenerative spinal diseases that should have had her wheelchair-bound years ago. Despite her ever-changing physical condition, she shows no sign of slacking off on what she considers a spiritual duty: to be a medium between her Creator and her community, sharing messages of resourcefulness, resilience, and hope.

by JULIA GIBB

Born in Washington, DC, Burwell’s artistic story truly begins with the stock market crash of 1929, which precipitated her family’s move to New York City. She has vivid memories of her mother fashioning block-printed curtains out of cast-off pongee silk sacks used for shipping fabric from Japan, and spectacular dresses out of the still-good parts of worn sheets. She and her brother created toys and books for themselves out of wooden produce crates and discarded magazines. Burwell’s resourceful spirit was forged in this environment; she came to take almost for granted a person’s ability to create whatever was needed out of practically nothing, and to make those things wondrous.

Messages of Resilience & Hope

Skybound by Lillian Burwell. Acrylic on canvas, 44" x 48."

Photo by Harlee Little

14 | Summer 2016

Burwell hails from an artistically inclined family—her father was a photographer, her mother was an artist and craftsperson, and her aunt, Hilda Wilkinson Brown was a renowned painter. But when Burwell expressed an interest in pursuing an arts education, her parents thought she had “lost what little mind she had,” she laughs with her whole body, bringing straight, tapered fingers to cover her mouth. Her aunt convinced her parents that Burwell should pursue teaching art as a career so that her income could support her passion to create art. To this day, Burwell credits that decision for giving her the freedom to be an artist. Brown and her husband augmented the partial scholarship that Burwell received from the School of Art at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn and helped pay for her art materials and books. She later returned to Washington, DC, and earned a Master of Fine Arts degree in painting at Catholic University in consortium with American University. During those years, Burwell married, gave birth to her daughter, Lilian Elizabeth, worked commercial design jobs, taught art at several schools, and exhibited her work in solo and group shows.

In the mid-sixties, Burwell studied abstract expressionism with famed artist Benjamin Abramowitz. She worked in this genre, painting on stretched canvas, until the early eighties. Following the death of her mother, who had spent her last year under the artist’s care, Burwell found herself paralyzed with grief and unable to work in her studio. She became absorbed in a project that sprang organically out of the simple necessity of hanging a large bathroom mirror. She carved a curvaceous wooden mirror frame and then, piece by piece, created her first sculpted wood bathroom. By doing so, she was expanding on her personal understanding of an expression she had heard from her elders, “[Finding a] way out of no way.” Ignoring those who admonished her

not to make a wood bathroom because of the dampness of that environment, she carved and shaped pieces of wood, paneled all the walls with them, encased the toilet tank, and created countertops.

The process freed her to approach artistic challenges in a new way. She was drawn back to an abandoned two-

dimensional painting that she had tried repeatedly to resolve without success. Instead of painting over the problematic section, she cut it away and then constructed a framework to support the cut canvas from the back. This improvisation gave birth to “paintings as sculpture”—her current mode of expression.

Burwell’s paintings as sculpture are carved out of pieces of sugar pine, covered with canvas, gessoed, and painted upon. As she works now, she allows the work to evolve in a point-and-counterpoint process. She likens it to a dance, the second direction of her shaping tool—and eventually the paintbrush—responding to the first. Upon completing a composition, she may hang a smaller shape from the ceiling by monofilament in front of the other shape attached to the wall.

The forms that comprise Burwell’s compositions are evocative of nature and movement, appearing

simultaneously solid and fluid. A single shape may resemble a scapula and, at the same time, a bird in flight. Brushstrokes and colors call to mind the solidity of mountains or the flow of water.

Burwell recently curated and featured in “The Art of a People: Finding a Way Out of No Way” at the Banneker-Douglass Museum in Annapolis. Eight

African-American artists and a poet created original works, exploring themes of slavery, racism, survival, and heroism in the face of adversity. The works were reproduced, and installed as adhesive murals in the museum’s second-floor gallery. Burwell’s massive installation, Orison Piece, was displayed in the first floor gallery as the exhibit’s prelude.

As accompaniment to her visual art, Burwell writes eloquently about the meaning of her work and the creative process. She has published a book of poems, A Dichotomy of Passions: the Two Masters, and an autobiographical book about the

evolution of her work, From Painting to Painting as Sculpture: the Journey of Lilian Thomas Burwell. In the latter, she explains what drives her to write and create: “I feel compelled to pass on knowledge of the primary forces that have enabled me to find answers critical to survival as a woman, as an African

Photo by Russell Williams Jr.

Screen replica of Sculptural Bathroom Birch Wood. Photo by John Woo


CAN

VAS

American, and as a person constantly needing to adapt to the new and threatening realities of our times.”

Burwell does not rest on her laurels: after decades of significant accomplishment, she feels as if she is just beginning to learn, create, and teach. In her living room, where everything from her artwork to her furniture bears her personal touch, her phone rings often. She takes calls from family, friends, and other people, offering a helping hand. Connecting with others is essential to Burwell, in life as in art. She considers her pieces complete only when the viewer has a chance to interact with them. “In art, as in life, you have to throw your stone into the ocean—you don’t know where the ripples will go.” █

Spirit of Blue Grosebeak (2007) by Lilian Burwell

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18 | Summer 2016

BEATS

I t’s an unseasonably cold Tuesday night in April, and people are filing into Metropolitan Kitchen & Lounge. It's a rather eclectic group of artists from various

disciplines—rappers, singers, beatmakers, poets, comedians, videographers, photographers, and graphic designers, all mingling in the dimly lit bar with drinks in hand, waiting for the What’s Dope Open Mic to officially begin. Malcolm McFadden, who goes by the stage name Justice The Genius Child, is first up. McFadden plays many roles at these monthly events. He is not only a performing rapper, but also the event’s mastermind and emcee, organizing the list of performers and keeping the crowd engaged between sets.

McFadden has a familiar rapport with the audience. Jokes, shout-

outs, and one-liners fly back and forth from the stage to the audience, eliciting oohs, aahs, laughs, and boos. The feel is akin to watching a group of friends holding a comedy roast. After a few minutes of opening remarks, he starts off the night with an a cappella version of a song from his latest self-produced album called The Session. The crowd, full of many other rappers and artists, emphatically reacts to lines they like with cheers, putting a smile on McFadden’s face mid-song. The audience is far from passive, and fuels the artist as much as the artist’s music fuels the crowd. The scene is emblematic of the growing hip-hop culture within Annapolis that has sprouted from this event. It’s a small but tight-knit community where artists and fans alike have the mindfulness to support each other’s efforts.

by ALEXANDRA BAYLINE photography by EVAN MCCORMICK

HIP-HOP HITS ANNAPOLIS


20 | Summer 2016

Historically, an open mic night has been an outlet for artists of any vocal performance genre to share their work with the community, and this gathering is no different. What’s Dope Open Mic welcomes and supports myriad talents. During its year-plus-long stint at Metropolitan, the event has included performances from a number of artists from rock, indie rock, acoustic, and spoken word genres. What’s Dope, sponsored by The Conglomerate—a company McFadden cofounded with his sister Darin Gilliam and two others to help facilitate events for independent artists in the area—has been a melting pot of people from all different demographics since day one. “You see people here that would probably never hang out outside of this space. I think that’s the cool part,” says Gilliam.

Steven Duarte, a rapper from Washington, DC who performs under the name Steven X, says of the hip-hop scene, “The one thing that’s really lacking is a sense of unity.” What’s Dope, and the movement that’s grown from it, may be the antidote. The open mic night has become a networking opportunity for local artists to meet others with complementary skill sets. “That’s one of the main reasons why I come out here, to seize the opportunity to meet other artists,” says Duarte. “That way, I can do collaborations down the line.”

Luka Kartozia, otherwise known as HEYITSLUKA, is a hip-hop artist from Severna Park who has performed at some of the What’s Dope Open Mic nights. He says that the hip-hop music scene in Annapolis is small but growing. Metropolitan’s venue manager, Joe Martin, likens Metropolitan to a giant crockpot of genres cooking for the area.” Before The Conglomerate approached Martin about What’s Dope Open Mic nights, no other venue was hosting hip-hop events. Martin was happy to fill that void. “It’s about the community,” he says.

Zeus De'Lejion

Steven X

Kevin Alexander

Jaysun Legit


BEAT

S

“ That’s one of the main reasons why I come

out here, to seize the opportunity to meet

other artists”

The Conglomerate and Metropolitan have become strong allies, seeking the common goal of furthering the independent artist music scene in Annapolis. The Conglomerate recently expanded and now hosts individual artist showcases at Metropolitan. It recently sponsored a live recording event with Davonne D’Neil, a talented R&B singer, and featured rapper Kojo and singer Kameron Ralls, all from Annapolis. Martin says Metropolitan averages two to three hip-hop shows a month and is looking to do more, trying to draw in acts and crowds from the Baltimore and Washington, DC, areas.

In addition to expanding its events calendar, The Conglomerate is hoping to collaborate with artists of other media in the area, including muralists. That has The Conglomerate very excited. “I feel like these scenes go hand in hand because they complement one another,” says Gilliam. Through their work, Gilliam and McFadden aim to help build a friendly, inclusive platform for local, independent artists to share their talents with all of Annapolis, like they have with What’s Dope Open Mic nights.

In the meantime, it seems hip-hop has found its place in the Annapolis music scene, adding to its already rich complexion by drawing attention from a prolific community that is steadily becoming lusher in diversity. █

PILATE

Malcolm

Marly Rokkz-Head Band

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Photo by Jean-Marie Denis

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WAVES


Dan Haas unpacks his scope from the trunk of his car at Sandy Point State Park, one of his favorite birding spots. “Listen, there’s a blue-headed vireo,”

he says. The Annapolis-based musician, painter, and avid birder hears the birds long before he sees them. Having birded in Maryland for ten years, he has sighted 307 different species in Anne Arundel County alone.

With binoculars hanging around his neck, he walks toward the grassy field behind the beach. He turns his head quickly to the sight the source of chirping. A small brown bird zips overhead. Haas points out its path. “Northern rough-winged swallow,” he says.

by BRENDA WINTRODE

Birding is one of Haas’ many passions that are woven into every aspect of his creative life. He recreates the birds he photographs in bright acrylic paintings on canvas. References to birds appear in the songs he writes, and birdsong accompanies the tracks of his new solo recording.

Haas describes his fourth and latest solo collection of seven original songs, Polishing Stones, as “a piece of time.” After he and his wife, Emery, had their first child, priorities changed. He focused time on family and his full-time sales job. The pace of his songwriting slowed

greatly, from one song per week during his bachelor days to one song every two months. The inspiration for Polishing Stones came from watching his three children—Declan (8), Isla (6), and Holden (1)—develop, and change his life. The songs blossomed alongside them in spite of time demands.

Part memoir, part lyrical photo album, the words of Polishing Stones are as intimate as if Haas had left his diary on the kitchen table to be read. The songs capture complex inner conflicts, desires, self-doubt, and the tenderness of a childhood romance.

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His melodies express relatable feelings. The aching guitar in the song “Kicking Up Storms” wallows in introspection as the artist weighs the daily responsibilities of family life against the irrepressible urge to pursue his passions. A lingering blues bass line hangs on every word as Haas’ lyrics interpret the notes:

I’m twisting up rainbows, And I’m walking the line. I ’m waking up strangers. I ’m feeling just f ine; I ’m losing my mind.

Sharply contrasting that somber tone is “Today,” a playful, future projection of Haas’ oldest son’s childhood crush. Happy chirps of a wood thrush introduce the song.

Birds out a window, they couldn’t give a damn about anything.

And sharks in the bathtub, she doesn’t know who she’s swimming with.

The chorus laments, Bella, I know when he’s through with you. Then you can call and tell me what to do. And, Bella I’m sorry I ever let you go.

Haas wrote all the songs, and he co-produced the album with long-time friend and the recording’s bassist, Larry Melton. The two have collaborated since playing at Middleton Tavern ten years ago. Melton describes their working relationship: “We have a good contrast. I’m the quiet guy in the back supporting him. He’s the front man, more outgoing, a great spokesperson for the band.”

Haas started playing the Annapolis bar scene in 1994. In 2001, he recorded the first of four solo albums, followed by two CDs with Ben’s Bones, a high-energy, indie rock group that he

fronts. He also has The Dan Haas Band, which plays restaurants, weddings, and corporate gigs.

Back at Sandy Point, Haas, now on the beach, aims his scope toward the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Seeing which birds are migrating through the area and maybe finding a bird that is far away from its typical route keep him coming back to the beach. “I try to find the rarest of the birds that are out here,” says Haas.

He also searches for a rare and beautiful song with enthusiasm. For his brainchild compilation CD from the Annapolis Songwriter’s Collective, he assembled a menagerie of local talent. This effort took root in 2014, when he invited 70 musician friends to form the collective through a private Facebook group. The initial motivation was helping the area’s songwriters support each other. “I wanted to light a fire under everybody to keep them creating,” said Haas.

Each month, he sent out a theme to the group and expected members to submit their prose. Response was flat. Still determined, Haas provided further inspiration by asking each artist to put forth a piece for a compilation CD. In response, a songwriting centrifuge formed, whereby the lyrically rich, sumptuous cream that emerged earned a place on the album.

Thirty-two local and regional artists are featured on the first volume. Black Rhinoceros, Mike Heuer, Starbelly, Jimi Haha, Pompeii Graffiti, and Meg Murray are just a handful of the talent. The CD must be purchased from an artist on the collection.

Photo by Jean-Marie Denis


WAV

ES

Also featured on the album is the single, “Coming Back Around” from Haas’ band, Flód, composed of Haas’ musical dream team: Larry Melton, Gingerwolf, Robin Eckman, Max Bent, and Evan Cooper. Flód records once a month, with the goal of recording a song in one day. The group arrives at the studio around 10 a.m. They jam, create riffs, harmonize, write, and wait for inspiration to perch on their shoulders and rest its wings long enough for them all to see it. By the time they leave, sometimes at midnight, they have a new creation.

Haas has a vision of Annapolis becoming a music mecca. “I want people to hear this album and think, ‘Wow, this was recorded in Annapolis? I should record in Annapolis!’” He wants this recording to promote not only local songwriters, but also the instrumentalists and the recording and production studios. If they all succeed, then so does he.

Haas props his scope over his shoulder to walk back to his car. Off the beach, just over the trees, he spots a group of purple martins, migrating birds that return to nest in Maryland. “If they’re back, that means it’s spring. That’s always a good sign.” █

Dan's bird acrylic paintings

28 | Summer 2016


30 | Summer 2016

SNAP

For an instrument born into the viol family in the late 1400s, the bass has come a long way. It shot up in size as an upright and shrunk as

an electric. Whether musicians use a bow, or strum, pluck, or slap its strings, the bass is a crucial part of the soundscape. Music without bass is like soup without salt—lacking in wholeness. The idea that bass is merely in the background belies its importance.

Larry Melton knows this because the bass is his instrument. At age 13, after piano and trumpet, he veered toward electric bass to complement two friends—a drummer and a guitarist. “I thought, ‘I’ll try bass, and we can start a band.’ I was slacking on the trumpet, and the bass seemed a lot hipper, so I made the switch.”

He didn’t look back. “You have the ability to change the harmony of the song, the groove of the song,” he says. “It’s a supportive instrument, and you’re part of a

team. But if you think about all the great pop tunes, usually they have a catchy bass line—and that drives the tune. It makes everything above it sound better.”

Growing up in Bowie, Maryland, Melton was exposed to all kinds of music, thanks to his parents, Edward and Elizabeth, and older sisters Vicki and Kathy, who filled the house with everything from classical and Broadway to pop and Motown, The Beatles, Jethro Tull, and Yes. Edward Melton, a World War II veteran who served in Newfoundland and Burma, often broke into song.

His father also gave Melton his first camera, and today Melton photographs professionally. Edward Melton liked to use his medium-format camera to capture the family, whether it was a special occasion, someone catching a fish, or a family portrait. “They were really crisp black and whites,” says Melton. “They still look great.”

by LEIGH GLENN photography by LARRY MELTON

A N N A P O L I S AM-BASS-ADOR

Zoom lens #3


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Etching Forest

SNAP continued...


Music and photography—plus a years-ago stint at Paul Reed Smith’s shop making guitars—have been Melton’s mainstays. Though if he were forced to choose between them, he’d pick the bass. “I consider myself a musician first,” he says. He knew that by age 15. “A lot of close friendships were established in high school. I’m still friends with them, and we still play music together.”

In 1980, he met the Cassidy siblings, violinist Dan and the late singer/guitarist Eva. They played songs by Yes, Jethro Tull, Heart, Kansas, and Crosby, Stills & Nash, as well as originals. “It was so challenging to play the music we were playing,” he recalls. They rehearsed so much—three or four nights a week—that Melton’s grades suffered and he barely graduated from high school.

Melton studied with Annapolis guitarist Rob Izzi, who taught him Jimi Hendrix and Jeff Beck tunes. “All kinds of cool bass lines,” he says. Included among his many influences are bassists Chris Squire, Jaco Pastorius, Paul Chambers, Charles Mingus, Ron Carter, and Dave Holland, and other musicians such as Stevie Wonder, Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, and Miles Davis. He enjoys anything with a good bass line.

After high school, Melton moved to California to study at Musicians Institute. In 1985, he returned to Maryland and began playing, teaching, and making guitars. He went back to Los Angeles and worked in a few bands, playing rockabilly and covers, but after a trial period, he came home.

Melton’s shift into creative photography coincided with his time backpacking out west and focusing on nature. By 1991, he was studying with photographer Dick Bond at Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts.

34 | Summer 2016

What started out as a teacher-student relationship evolved into mentor-mentee, then friendship as Melton began assisting Bond on commercial assignments involving the use of studio techniques to create the perfect light to showcase the artwork of others, including painters, sculptors, and other photographers.

Melton’s love of land and earthly-cosmic phenomena comes through in his nature photography, including his photographs of the Northern Lights. “When you’re traveling, it ’s just made for photography—everything you see is new, it kind of heightens your awareness. A lot of these pictures aren’t worthy of hanging on a wall, but they’re memories.”

Melton also likes to experiment with light. He used a strobe outdoors to create abstract images, such as those in his Blur series.

Through Eva Cassidy, Melton came closest to blending the two media. He played bass on “Wade in the Water” and “Time Is a Healer” from her Songbird album, which was certified as platinum in 2008. And, in the summer 1996 after Cassidy played Blues Alley and while her name was still on the marquee, Melton photographed her outside of

the Washington, DC, jazz club. Those iconic photographs appear on her Live at Blues Alley CD.

Melton is still good friends with Dan Cassidy, who resides in Iceland, and they have played gigs in England. He also stays in touch with the Cassidy parents, Hugh and Barbara. Hugh, a cellist, gifted Melton his old Fender bass on Melton’s thirtieth birthday.

Locally, Melton often plays with Dan Haas and the Jarflys, and enjoys opportunities to play with bluesman Dean Rosenthal. He’s also worked with Permanent Vacation, a jazz-fusion band for which he

has penned some compositions, Meg Murray, The Geckos, Van Meter, Joe Karr—who’s helped Melton enhance his photo-editing skills—Lance Taylor, and Angie Miller.

Melton’s newest gig is serving as an Airbnb host with his art- and light-filled home. But he’s most in his element when working with sight and sound. “Music and photography pull you into the present,” he says. “If you’re really engaged playing music or taking pictures, there’s nowhere else to be.” █

SNAP continued...

Self Portrait


SNA

P

Zoom #1

36 | Summer 2016145 Main Street, Annapolis, MD 21401

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upstart-annapolis.com | 37145 Main Street, Annapolis, MD 21401

www.lilacbijoux.com (410) 263-3309

MOTION

“Coming here to dance is what gets me out of bed in the morning,” says Alyssa Johnson-Taylor, principal dancer at the Ballet Theatre of Maryland (BTM). “When people say it ’s a calling, it really is. If I wasn’t doing this, I have no idea what I would be doing with my life. “

It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’ve caught Johnson-Taylor during a break from rehearsals for BTM’s production of Alice in Wonderland. Johnson-Taylor plays the Queen of Hearts, a character whose violent demeanor couldn’t contrast more with the friendly person before me. We speak in BTM’s modest office, and I realize that I’ve never seen a person wearing a leotard in an office setting before. Then again, I’ve never spoken with a professional ballerina, either.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve viewed ballet as “Performance Art”—capital P and capital A—intimidating in its precision and formality. It always seemed like art for people with more formal tastes. Yet as I speak with Johnson-Taylor and the other dancers, I’m struck by the way their eyes light up when they talk about ballet, as if they’ve got a secret that they really want to share. It makes me wonder whether I’ve ever really given ballet a chance.

Based in Annapolis, BTM is the state’s premiere professional ballet company. It performs more than 70 times a season, presenting works ranging from classical ballets such as Swan Lake and The Nutcracker to original works such as Excalibur, which was adapted from literature and choreographed by artistic director Dianna Cuatto.

HOW I LEARNED

TO STOP WORRYING

& Ballet

by MELANIE MCCARTY photography by ALEXIS ARIZZI

38 | Summer 2016


Cuatto is BTM’s driving force, responsible for spurring its remarkable creative and professional growth. Since her arrival in 2003, BTM has grown from a company of 6 professional dancers to 52, and a school of 50 to 400 students. It has received numerous awards, including a proclamation by former Governor Martin O’Malley that October 19, 2012, was Ballet Theatre of Maryland Day. I ask Cuatto— who has an impressive resume spanning numerous genres of dance—why she chose to focus on ballet.

“There is nothing as powerful as ballet when it’s at its best,” she tells me. “If you are able to get in the moment and really express powerfully and emotionally, there is no way that the audience doesn’t feel it.”

Cuatto returns to ballet’s expressive potential throughout our conversation. She believes that allowing people to experience it for themselves is key to expanding its audience. To that end, she keeps ticket prices low and places great emphasis on community outreach and education. BTM regularly performs in schools and at public events, and has programs designed to bring ballet to underserved communities. “I want people to have a chance to see if they like this art form. Most people do, once they have the chance to see good ballet,” she says.

Yet BTM’s low ticket prices and nonprofit status come at a cost. Nearly everyone involved in the company does double duty. For instance, Johnson-Taylor sews the dancer’s costumes

while Nicole Kelsch, another principal dancer, runs BTM’s school. This work comes on top of the dancers’ rigorous six-days-a-week rehearsal schedule.

“They all pitch in,” says Cuatto. “You’ll be here watching rehearsal, and the ones who are not dancing are sitting on the floor, sewing costumes, or helping to paint the sets, or [doing] whatever is needed.”

Moreover, BTM is supported by a self-described family of people who are committed to what BTM does for the community. Board members attend—and purchase tickets to—every performance. Dancers’ parents pitch in to paint sets. Dancers work second jobs to make ends meet, waiting tables after putting in a full day at rehearsal.

40 | Summer 2016

MOT

ION

A few days later, I meet with Steve and Cindy Pimpo. Steve serves as vice president of BTM’s board and Cindy has taken classes at BTM’s dance school. Their daughter, Laura, participates in BTM’s trainee program. Encouraged by their friendliness, I ask a question that I was too bashful to ask Cuatto: How do you know if ballet is good?

After a long pause, Cindy responds, “Are they all together? Are they on the music? Is the choreography exciting, beautiful, and unique?”

It then occurs to me how frequently the word beautiful has come up in my conversations about BTM. It’s a powerful word, unequivocal in its praise. I begin to

realize how rarely I use it. I wonder—is it because there’s a dearth of beautiful things in my life? Or does it reflect something deeper, perhaps an ingrained cynicism that runs through our culture and makes us dismissive of things that aspire to such a lofty goal? When was the last time I dared to call something beautiful? Have I ever been brave enough to make something that I hoped would be worthy of that word?

A week later, I finally got to see BTM in action. The performance, titled Innovations, wasn’t anything like I expected. Rather than tutus, the dancers

wore plain leotards and tights, which put the focus squarely on their movements. I was amazed by the dancers’ strength and stamina, their fluidity, and how their facial expressions added to the performance—they were as much a part of the show as the movement of their feet.

As I watched, I was reminded of something Johnson-Taylor said when I asked what motivated her to work so hard: “It’s truly just the love of the art form. It’s something you have to do, not something you want to do. You just, you have to.”

I found it all to be, well, beautiful. █


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SUP

44 | Summer 2016

When we come into this world, we are greeted by the

friendly faces that have been long awaiting our arrival. Sometimes we are christened, in a manner of speaking, by fixed smiles, oohs and aahs, and the caress of mother’s arms. When Great Frogs Winery co-owner Nate O’Shea came into this world, he was christened with the fruits of a vine-ripened libation when a drop of wine was gently placed upon his tongue in celebration of his birth. Growing up, he would peer out of his bedroom window and admire acres of trellised vines.

It’s no surprise, then, that when he and his wife, Andrea, decided to move east from California, they did so to

become involved in Maryland’s wine industry. They ultimately co-founded Great Frogs with Don and Barbara Segal, the majority owners.

Inspired by a number of friends who worked in wineries and vineyards, Nate explored his future with abandon. While living in Southern California, he worked in the wine industry as a writer and wine buyer, while Andrea worked at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in the dental field. Over time, the couple began discussing moving closer to family on the East Coast. When Nate discovered that a vineyard in Maryland was in need of help, he and Andrea jumped at the opportunity.

When they uprooted, the O’Sheas were not familiar with Maryland’s burgeoning wine

by ANDREA STUART photography by KAREN DAVIES

LEAP OF FAITH . . . &FROGS


industry. But Nate never shied away from a challenge, making a career out of unconventional job positions, and Andrea felt right at home on farmland. “Being originally from the Midwest, the idea of getting involved with a vineyard was not a big stretch from helping out on different farms back home,” says Andrea. “It felt like the natural thing to do.” They dove into the local wine scene, working with various Maryland vineyards.

The search for great wines on the East Coast came as a challenge to Nate. Mid-Atlantic wine offerings—there are sixty-plus Maryland wineries and more than two hundred in Virginia—are modest compared to the thousands of wine producers that call California home. He thought that starting a winery in Maryland could offer an opportunity to educate wine lovers about the potential that the local terroir has to offer those little, round fruits. “People have preconceived ideas about where wine comes from. So we focus on teaching people about how certain grapes taste better when grown in certain areas,” says Andrea. “People are often surprised to learn how much they like our wines when they try them.”

Great Frogs came to fruition with its first planting in 1999, and became a licensed winery in 2010. The adventure began with French varietals such as Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, and Syrah, providing many learning opportunities, which the couple have enjoyed. “Much of what we see in winemaking start as accidents. You have to be experimental and not worry,” says Andrea.

As part of the experimental process, the O’Sheas often set products aside for trials. “We started out old-school, using old equipment, pressing the same day as we pick,” says Andrea. Because their presses couldn’t extract all of the juice

Photo by Jenna Walcot

46 | Summer 2016

from the white grape skins, they decided to ferment them. Their first attempt resulted in a libation tasting like beer. Having no idea if this was a marketable product, they poured it into a barrel and let it age. When they opened the barrel the following spring, they discovered a most delightful and complex aroma. What came to life was their signature Full Sail dessert wine, which is said to go well with a cheese and sausage spread.

While planting grapes in the unique Maryland soil produces sumptuous, healthy grapes, it still takes great effort for the O’Sheas to create their tasty libations. Grapes in other areas often struggle, working their roots deep into the soil and bedrock and vying for a small token of water, often fifty or more feet beneath the surface. But vines near the Chesapeake Bay have roots that grow near the water table; because wine grapes taste better when they have to fight for vigor—making fuller, richer fruits—the

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O’Sheas employ methods that help the vines put more effort into reproducing and yielding grapes.

Temperature fluctuations can also pose a challenge. Whereas vineyards in the Napa Valley, California enjoy a fairly predictable Mediterranean climate, Maryland vineyards may break bud just before a frost. Fortunately, Great Frogs vineyards are near the Bay, which regulates the temperature while the vines receive a nice breeze that also helps reduce humidity and vulnerability to vine diseases.

The O’Sheas have found their niche in Great Frogs. Nate performs more of the laborious tasks, such as grape growing, transporting, pressing, racking, and determining blending volumes, and Andrea tests grapes, calculates additives, and manages the bookkeeping. They work easily and synergistically together, late into the nights, on marketing and brand development.

At the end of a typical day, Nate and Andrea often pour some wine and relax with their three dogs, Finn McCool, Bruno, and Scout. Each morning, Bruno and Scout ransack the bedroom like whirling dervishes, beckoning Andrea to rise, and the adventure continues.

During the summer months, Great Frogs hosts events with yard games and outdoor activities, such as their Bocce Ball and Backyard BBQ with Paul’s Homewood Café.

And the name? The Segals are huge wine lovers with a penchant for frogs. After searching the business name registry, they settled on Great Frogs because it embodies fun. “It makes us and others crack a smile and enjoy wine,” says Andrea. “Great things can happen, even for little frogs in a big pond, and Maryland is a little frog in the big pond of wine.” █


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It’s four in the morning when I finally hear the sound I’ve feared all summer. I’m 12 miles deep in the backcountry, living in a yurt in

the remote Sierra Nevada mountain range in Sequoia National Park. Not a soul in sight. I try not to breathe—then I hear it again. Scratch scratch scratch. Scratch scratch scratch. It’s coming closer.

Suddenly, I hear something step on the small plastic plate that I left on the floor. It can’t be more than two feet away from my bed, where I lie, pretending to sleep. I tense up my muscles, acutely prepared for this long-awaited moment, and yank the string to the booby trap—hard! The pot comes slamming down to the floor, and the vicious beast is

captured. I turn on the light, flip the pot over, and take a look at my new friend: Mr. Mouse.

People tend to think of the wilderness as something of a no man’s land. They imagine lions, tigers, and bears at every turn, deathly lightning storms spurred by Thor himself, epic blizzards and snowstorms just waiting to turn any backpacking trip into the next Donner party. Over and over again, when I told people I would be living in the backcountry for an entire summer, on my own, without supervision, I got the same response: fear.

Wild by CHRIS KALMAN photography by CHRIS KALMAN

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I N T O T H E

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“But what will you eat?” “What will you do if it snows?” “Are there bears out there?” “What if you run into some bandits or something?” “What if you fall and break a leg?” “Won’t you get lonely?”

Of course, I wasn’t afraid of any of those things. I am no stranger to

mountains. In fact, I’m more comfortable in the hills than any city, suburb, or town.

The paralyzing claustrophobia of concrete towers, honking cars, and smartphone-lit semi-catatonic faces disquiets me. Where buildings stand taller than the scant remaining trees, I find myself anywhere but at peace.

Going out to Sequoia National Park was a hard decision, though. I’d

rather not explain why the timing was bad, why a million things were tugging me back to Maryland. In the end, though, I needed a job. I wasn’t exactly killing it as a writer, and I wasn’t finding anything else in the area that seemed to fit the bill. So I went.

The gig was something of a dream for a guy like me. Hike into the backcountry, set up a yurt (a large, semi-permanent circular tent on a flat wooden platform), and live out there for three months. No phone, no Internet, no supervision—just

“What if you run into some bandits or

something?” “What if you fall and break a leg?”

“Won’t you get lonely?”

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matters is that you do your art—forget happiness or comfort,” back to “Give up on anything remotely ascetic—sell out, go back to school, get a normal job, start a family, buy a minivan—and do it NOW.”

Before I left for my job, people asked me about bears. “Are they out there?” “Do you have bear spray?” “What will you do if you see one?”

Well, I only saw one bear the entire season. I was on a normal patrol, more than 15 miles away from my yurt. As I walked down the trail, I came around a bend and saw an enormous brown butt just 15 paces away. My senses quivered in an awe-stricken fight-or-flight moment. I must have stepped on a stick, because suddenly that bear turned around and looked at me. I was ready to run for my life, but the bear charged, headfirst, off the trail and into what looked to be impenetrably thick forest.

I don’t blame him. I may have been the wildest, least tame, most terrifying thing he saw all summer. In the end, it wasn’t the bears that I was afraid of—it was me. █

call in on the radio in the morning, say where you’re going, and call out in the evening. Something between a writer’s sojourn and a paid backpacking trip. I was sad to leave Maryland but elated to arrive in California.

My day-to-day life out there was not much different from any average Joe’s. I would wake up, do my morning rituals, clock in to work, hike four to 18 miles (paid travel time), clean up litter, toilet paper, and illegal fire pits along the way, interface with the public and solve whatever minor crises they might be having, hike 4 to 18 miles more, and clock out. Think nine to five, but with better views.

When people did not respond to my job description with misgivings, they tended to idealize it. I suppose I did as well. Of course, the law of averages always wins. Was it the most beautiful place I’ve ever spent a summer? Probably. Did I catch more incredible sunsets in a single season than many city-dwellers catch in a lifetime? Likely. But did I also get lonely, doubt my course in life, get a little stir-crazy, keep a mouse in my pocket for a short time, name a family of marmots that lived nearby, and write some of the wildest, weirdest, most experimental . . . stuff . . . I’ve ever written, as my brain reeled from seclusion, isolation, and sensory deprivation? Definitely, yes.

The wilderness is balm for a tortured soul, but it does not render a new soul altogether. In Sequoia, I found that the peace the mountains brought me was ephemeral. Perhaps it was only a superficial distraction from the turbulent waters of my wild mind. From time to time, without anybody to bounce ideas or feelings off of, I felt bipolar—swinging wildly back and forth from “You are worthless, and so is everything you write,” to “All that


EMOTE

Live performance of The Importance of Being Earnest

56 | Summer 2016

A pril 24, 2016, marked the four-hundredth anniversary of William Shakespeare’s death. In 1623, his collected plays were published, many for the first time, in a book

known as the First Folio. If you see one at a yard sale, snatch it up; a few years ago, a copy was auctioned off for $6.2 million. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, has 88 of the 233 known copies, and as part of a year-long Shakespeare celebration, the Folger is sending a few out on tour so that every US state can host one. Maryland’s will arrive in early November and be displayed at St. John’s College in Annapolis. The city and the college are almost as old as the First Folio, but St. John’s partner for the First Folio’s visit, the Annapolis Shakespeare Company, is quite a bit younger—it was founded by Sally Boyett six and a half years ago.

When I call to introduce myself to Boyett, she invites me to stop by the “Shakes” and, better yet, “Come see Earnest.” Two days later, I’m at the company’s intimate performance space on Chinquapin Round Road, waiting to see not one but two Earnests, neither of whom are particularly earnest. They are

Noël Coward’s characters, the alter egos in his brilliantly witty The Importance of Being Earnest. Coward’s story takes us on a breezy spin through 1890s Britain, and Boyett’s direction gives the production a healthy zing. The actors play it at a smart pace. James Carpenter as Algernon is sharp and clever, a perfect fop. Brian Keith MacDonald’s Jack is a perfect foil, struggling to keep the lid on his suppressed Victorianism.

Boyett is smart, talented, and driven. She grew up in Texas, studying ballet. By age 16, she had been invited to join the New York City Ballet as an apprentice. However, she decided against New York and enrolled at the University of Houston. She studied drama under Sydney Berger, who changed her life. He was not only the head of the drama department, but also the founder and artistic director of the Houston Shakespeare Festival.

When the Broadway run of 42nd Street ended, Houston’s Theatre Under the Stars brought the entire show to Houston, complete with the scenery, costumes, and virtually the entire company. There were three roles open, and Boyett landed one. She joined the Actors’ Equity Association and never looked back. Eventually, 42nd

by TOM LEVINE photography by ALLISON ZAUCHA

A N N A P O L I S

Shakes


Street moved on, and so did she. She was hired by Walt Disney World in Orlando, joining a group of young actors, singers, and dancers doing five shows a day. “Everyone went on to Broadway and the West End,” said Boyett with understandable pride.

She was cast again in 42nd Street, not in Houston, but with the International Touring Company. Success continued. There was a two-year-long run with the Broadway National Tour of Crazy for You playing Patsy, a role she reprised for the International and European touring companies. Then there were performances at Lincoln Center at Alice Tully Hal, and stints in regional theatre in and around New York. About ten years ago, she stopped for a breath. She had four children and moved her family from the suburbs of New York City to the Annapolis area.

Eventually, she was recruited to help students at her children’s school mount a summer production. Boyett had previously taught drama and loved doing it. She envisioned Annapolis Shakespeare Company as a professional company that would also provide education. It has become the largest outside provider of arts education in the county, with members performing regularly for school groups and teaching 16 classes a week at Bates and Brooklyn Park middle schools.

Boyett has brought a wealth of talent to the Annapolis Shakespeare Company. Nancy Krebs, voice and dialect coach, is a faculty member at the Baltimore School for the Arts. She had the actors sounding so convincingly British in The Importance of Being Earnest that it was shocking to hear their natural

American accents after the show. Lighting designer Adam Mendelson and scenic designer Jack Golden use their imaginations and technical skills to great effect, overcoming the limitations of the home location’s small stage and short ceiling. Resident Directors Donald Hicken and Tony Tsendeas also serve as faculty members in the drama department at Baltimore School for the Arts.

On the Wednesday evening after The Importance of Being Earnest closes, the company is well into rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet. Scenes are being rehearsed simultaneously on the main stage and in an adjacent room. Most of the cast have come from day jobs, and they’ll be rehearsing six evenings a week until opening night. Notwithstanding, the energy level never wanes.

Hicken, who was a finalist for the 2015 Tony Excellence in Theatre Education Award, is directing on the main stage, essentially giving a master class, dissecting the scene one line at a time—“Tak(ing) a play apart and put(ting) it back together again,” says Boyett. Every word is scrutinized and every line is repeated until the actors find Hicken’s holy trinity: obstacle, passion, and tension. And then there is the choreography of movement, a constant awareness not just of stage space and how the actors physically relate to each other, but also of playing to an audience that sits closely on three sides of the stage.

Later in the evening, Boyett is teaching the cast to dance the foxtrot, a hint of what’s to come; the words are Shakespeare’s, the setting is still in Verona, but the

58 | Summer 2016

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time is post-World War II. It’s not simply the conceit of bringing the show into the twentieth century: the company wants to make Shakespeare more accessible to the public. Despite the immense sacrifices of the Second World War and the defeat of fascism, human prejudices and cruelty still consume us. But so does love. The truth and eloquence of Shakespeare’s writing has endured for over four hundred years, and the Annapolis Shakespeare Company helps keep his legacy alive. █

Founder Sally Boyett


WUNDERKIND

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The storyline went a little something like this: a handful of grade school students decided that they wanted to

organize a talent show. Rehearsal started quickly, but was hastily halted when the students realized that none of them had any talent. They ran straight to their teacher, who resembled wild-haired Dr. Emmett Brown from Back to the Future. The students confessed that they couldn’t sing, act, dance, or do anything they’d need for the big show. He nodded, gave an I-know-just-the-thing stare, and went rummaging. Rather than producing in a plutonium-powered time machine, the professor rolled over a contraption that was a bit more cumbersome. After each student entered the mechanism, out emerged a singing and dancing child actor. But these new triple threats weren’t borne of magic; they were products of the talent machine.

That’s how The Talent Machine Company was born. After Bobbi Smith and three of her students

from Annapolis Summer Garden Theatre wrote a play based on that storyline in 1987, it inspired her to create a nonprofit that provided high-quality singing, dancing, and acting education to children within the community. Smith saw the spark in the kids she worked with, and crafted The Talent Machine to be a professional theater that had its audience forgetting that they were watching children as young as seven.

Smith’s high standards meant that jaw-dropping talent wasn’t going to come as easily as it did for the students in that play. For auditions, children performed not only their prepared songs, but also a dance routine that they were taught that same day. They made the cut if Smith, the director, the choreographer, and the music director were all in agreement. She made it clear that no one, not even a returning student, was a shoo-in. Starting with the first audition held in 1988, The Talent Machine began generating three full stage productions a year and an

by ZOË NARDO photography by ALLISON ZAUCHA

MachineMachineTa l e n t - P o w ere d

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Lea Capps

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Easter breakfast production. Auditions and rehearsals were held in constant rotation throughout the year to also accommodate two summer shows—one youth and one teen—and a big Christmas production. Every weekend, starting three months before opening night, the company rehearsed in a small space called Stageworks that Smith owned and rented out to other theatres during the week.

The Talent Machine never stopped running, even when Smith suddenly passed away in 2001 and left the kids at the company and at Stageworks in a panic. Without hesitation, Smith’s daughter, Lea Capps, and sister, Vickie Smith, divvied up the work. While Capps grew up in theatre, she never thought that she would run The Talent Machine. She recalls her mother asking if she’d ever thought about taking over the company, and responding by spouting off a quick “No way.” Fifteen years later, she’s still in charge and keeping Smith’s spirit alive. From the

high expectations placed on each actor to the energy circles in which the kids chant before each show, Smith is still inspiring the youth. Recognizing that young minds are malleable, the company intertwines life lessons, public speaking, and responsibility throughout each show season.

The positive impact on the children is impressive, especially considering the small staff that runs such a big operation. Most of the non-management tasks, including running the light and sound boards, designing and creating costumes and sets, collecting tickets, running the concession stand, and whatever else is needed to make sure the show goes on, are handled by volunteers. The theatre, with sixty or more seven- to eighteen-year-olds, transfers its show to the stage in Francis Scott Key Auditorium at St. John's College one week before the curtain rises. Volunteers—often parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, and sisters of the company’s performers—help

transport set materials and get the children there every day for rehearsal. Without them, The Talent Machine would be out of commission. Many volunteers continue to help years after their relatives have grown up. It’s an organization that welcomes everyone; once a Talent Machiner, always a Talent Machiner. Smith wanted a professional theater within a community setting, and she achieved her goal, also making a community of her own.

In the 1987 play, the professor gave the students that sly look after they asked for help because he knew something that they didn’t. It’s the same thing that Smith, Capp, and everyone involved with The Talent Machine knows: even though the students, searching for talent, went through the machine and came out with talent, they really had it within themselves all along. And that is the school’s foundation. █


INK

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Mick standing in his "Snow Drift," aka the small white building in which he spends countless

hours reading and writing every week.

“I was very young when it happened to me,” says Mick Loggins. Poring over William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, he came upon these lines:

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!“I was so struck with the music, the tonality,

the connection that was being talked about, the metaphor. It was around that moment, that time—when I was about 13—when language entered me, words entered me . . . as if a door had opened, and I walked through it, or it walked through me. And there it was.”

V. P. Loggins, as he is known in the literary world, is a respected poet and Shakespearean scholar—and a sculptor. He has authored two critical books on Shakespeare and a litany of poems that have appeared in such prestigious journals as Poet Lore, Poetry East, Poetry Ireland Review, and The Southern Review.

“A Name More Sure Than Love,” from his first published collection, Heaven Changes (2007, Pudding House), is part of Ensemble Galilei’s performance piece entitled “A Universe of Dreams” and performed by radio luminary Neal Conan. Irish sculptor Andrew Cooke created an art exhibition based on poems in The Fourth Paradise (2010, Main Street Rag). Loggins traveled around Ireland while working on the collection. “I wanted to feel the places,” he says.

His poems are finely crafted pieces, rich with imagery yet elegantly clear, accessible, and universal. They welcome the reader into diverse environments and encounters, allowing an intimate sojourn in a family home, a winterscape, the Irish countryside, a city park, a coal mine, the heavens, the woods. Themes of exploration, migration, loss, and restoration are ever present.

SURRENDERING TO THE POEM

by LEAH WEISS photography by MARIE MACHIN


The ShantyThere is moisture on the window, like mountains in a Chinese silk; it gathers at the lower corner of the glass. A valley slopes to where a river runs. A town or village lies peacefully there. And halfway up the mountain a shanty balances on stone, awaiting any who would climb to where the view is faultless. I climb throughout the morning in sun that creeps across the glass, but the mountains and the valley fade before I reach the shanty.

© V.P. Loggins, published in Poet Lore (2007) and Heaven Changes (2007).

Born in Alabama to an Irish-American working class family and raised in Illinois, Loggins nurtured his love for books and verse on his own. He started learning the craft by studying Shakespeare and other poets and trying to emulate what they were doing. “I think I rather confused my parents,” he smiles.

After high school, he continued his studies in Indiana, first at Purdue University in West Lafayette, and then at Ball State University in Muncie. Returning to Purdue for a PhD in English Renaissance Literature, Loggins wrote his dissertation on Troilus and Cressida, one of Shakespeare’s more perplexing plays. As a graduate student and then as a professor, he taught in the Purdue University system for more than 20 years.

In 1999, after spending a sabbatical year ensconced in Oxford University’s Bodleian Library, he began a formidable weekly commute to West Lafayette when his wife, who works in finance, took a job in Baltimore. They bought a house in Annapolis, and in 2002, Loggins left Purdue to put down Annapolitan roots. He taught writing and literature at the US Naval Academy for six years. “I was always trying to get Hamlet in, and [ James] Joyce, and as many poems as possible,” he grins.

No longer teaching, Loggins focuses on his poems. This year, two unpublished collections received high literary accolades—The Wild Severance was named a finalist for the T.S. Eliot Prize for Poetry, and The Green Cup was named a finalist for the Cider Press Review’s Poetry Book Award.

Standing Male Figure made of Maryland marble by V. P. Loggins

70 | Summer 2016

A wooden book holder the Bodleian Library at University of Oxford gifted

to Mick after he studied there.

For Loggins, writing verse is pure discovery—of the world, of oneself, of the creative process. “One comes to see it. There may be a vague outline in the mind, early. But, of course, the more you work, not only the clearer things become, but the more different they become,” he explains, “because new ideas will present themselves, or new opportunities to explore a direction you might not have anticipated when you began.”

His weekday routine involves at least six hours of writing, revising, or reading, and breakfast and an afternoon study session at 49 West Coffeehouse, Winebar & Gallery, just up the road from his home. “I spend my time thinking about poetry and surrendering to it. I study every day. I’m looking at what contemporary poets are doing and how they are doing it.” He reads William Butler Yeats and Shakespeare daily, as well as English Romantic poets such as John Keats. “There’s so much to know, to work on. I really am mining the work of all of the people I read to see what they can teach me,” he says.

Revising is a partnership process that often takes years. “You surrender yourself to the work of art in such a way that it teaches you how to manage it. So in time, and with a great familiarity with the work, I come to a point where I think we’ve said enough,” he chuckles.

It’s no accident that his work is accessible. “The fundamental paradox of poetry, I think, is that the more specific you are, the more universal you can be,” says Loggins. When I use the word I in a poem, I also always mean

you.” He gives great thought to the reader, adhering to Robert Frost’s belief that a poem isn’t completed until it is received. “It’s one of the reasons I submit my work to journals and magazines,” he says.

“The creativity of the writer has to be matched by the receptivity of the reader. It’s in that junction where the poem is ultimately found. So for me, it isn’t about self-expression, it ’s an expression for connection, or for sharing, or for compassion.” █

For the online version:Listen to V. P. Loggins’ poem

“Low T” read by Deirdre Neilen, editor of The Healing Muse, an annual journal of literary and visual arts published by the State University of New York’s Upstate Medical University’s Center for Bioethics and Humanities:

http://blogs.upstate.edu/healthlinkonair/2015/09/15/a-visit-from-the-healing-muse-low-t/

INK


Right: Ariadne made of Maryland marble by V. P. Loggins


O ver the course of eight years, I have switched career paths constantly. My first idea was to

become a singer, then a dancer, and then an actor—maybe even all three at once. I liked how people would occasionally compliment me on my voice when I sang, and I figured why stop there?

I wanted to become someone great, someone who changed the world; mainly through theatrics. Then I switched to a more political standpoint and thought about being a lawyer. My mother said I would make a good lawyer since I manage to avoid questions by not directly answering them.

Today, I aspire to be a writer, any sort of writer—an author, a journalist, a blogger, anything. This was the doing of my third grade teacher, who read a short story I wrote out loud and said, “If this girl doesn’t become a writer, I don’t know who will.” The underlying connection between all of these jobs is that someone else told me I could be them. That I would be “good” at singing, or a “talented” writer. But, the idea of choosing something based on what other people say doesn’t appeal to me. Yes, I want to be a writer, but is it for the right reason?

“Do what you love, love what you do.” I found this quote while trying to break my writer’s block for an English essay. It may be cheesy and overused, but I think there is more importance to it than just a saying on a hand towel. When most people read this, the first thing they think of is their

career. Why is that? I think it is because we automatically correlate the verbs “do” and “be” with a job. When someone asks, “What do you want to be?” People tend to say their future or current career choice. I have never heard someone respond with an emotion or a non-tangible idea.

Pondering this, I found my answer for what I want to be when I grow up. Instead of choosing a potential job that will change time and time again, I need a long-term plan. In the course of one lifetime, I want to be happy. Realizing this, the question, “What do you want to be?” might not provide the correct platform for my answer, “I want to be happy.” Maybe the appropriate question for this answer is, “How do you want to exist?” When I “grow up” I want to exist happily. Although it sounds simple, I can imagine it probably won’t be as easy to carry out. There will be highs and, there will be lows. I plan to take on the lows with a smile as my sword, and with the knowledge that I will make it out alive. Maybe I will become a writer, or maybe I won’t. Whatever I choose career wise, I know it will be because I am happy doing it.

About the Writer: Emma is 13 years old and lives in Annapolis.

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

By EMMA MUDAN HARRIGAN CAMPBELLES

SAY

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Life, noun: 1. the condition that distinguishes animals and plants from

inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change preceding death

2. an artist’s subjectArt, noun:

1. the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance

Art is alive.

It is often said that art is, in fact, life. Italian film director Federico Fellini once said, “All art is autobiographical; the pearl is the oyster’s autobiography.” And what is a life but a collection of accumulated experiences—a dynamic series of individual and collective histories that give body to thin threads of existence

that, when woven together, make us uniquely who we are. Which then become the verifiable fabric of the lives we lead, thereby reaffirming our power to create. Much like life, art does not need to always be beautiful; it needs only to provoke thought in the mind

W H Y A R T M A T T E R S

by WILLIAM FLETCHER ROWEL photography by JOE HEIMBACH


76 | Summer 2016

of the beholder. Art can be defined as the embodied power to assign meaning based on our own experiences. For example, Andy Warhol’s Brillo Boxes are distinguished from actual Brillo boxes and invites this very conversation. This aspect of aesthetic indulgence can be called “metaphysical,” since it arises from the fundamental relation between humans and the world. According to existential theory, there are no real differences between metaphysical inquiry and artistic practice; both are ways of revealing to humans their own freedoms and responsibilities.

But how do we grab hold of, acknowledge, and feel the rich tapestry of these accumulated experiences? How do we intentionally experience the experience of living, as both the beholder and the beholden?

Through love, relationships, history, science fiction, religion, culture, family, food, stories, books, music, yoga, meditation, prayer, friendship, and much more.

The awareness of our experiences gives rise to the integration of mind, body, and spirit. We can intentionally relive the observation and impact of events through art, deliberately experiencing them. Through experiencing, we begin to mindfully negotiate our separateness and our desire to connect with others.

Art can foster cognitive development.Research indicates that children who

experience sustained involvement in the arts are more likely as adults to initiate successful companies, publish important articles, and patent new inventions. They exercise and develop higher order thinking skills, including analysis, synthesis, evaluation, and “problem finding.” Research suggests that arts programs can serve as vehicles for deeper learning and build on the possibilities presented by arts-integrated instruction. For preschool


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children, art helps them practice and gain fine muscle control and strengthen eye-hand motor coordination. By holding paintbrushes and learning how to control paints, crayons, scissors, and other art tools, they gain the skills necessary for later writing activities, as well as a feeling of control over themselves and their world.

Art can heal.Art can be beneficial for mental health.

There are two dimensions to this. Art can be a healing force for people with mental disorders, including dementia, and can contribute to the psychological well-being of people, regardless of their mental states. Studies show that people who attend arts activities are significantly healthier, have lower anxiety, and are less subject to depression. Learning to slow down and look closely and mindfully at an object of art (whether static or animated) can help to open up the mind and imagination—therapeutic in an informal way. It doesn’t matter whether a person looks at the work just for its subject matter, or observes it for its formal properties (composition, form, tone, color). What matters is that the observer is receptive to the possibility of an unexpected and exciting response that could take him or her in a different direction or farther in the same direction aesthetically, intellectually, emotionally, or spiritually.

Art can be a protest against the threat of oral tradition’s extinction.

The spoken relationship and preservation, from one generation to the next, of a people’s cultural history and ancestry, often by means of artistic expression, is relevant and important. Artists translate and tell these stories. Art is a language that all people speak. It cuts across racial, cultural, social, educational, and economic barriers, and enhances cultural appreciation and awareness. It can weave a story and spark imagination to the point of spiritual

transcendence. In Buddhism, it can bring to life the story of Maitreya. In Christianity, we can see the teachings of Jesus Christ. Art can be unearthed in the beauty and strength of the oral history of Emperor Haile Selassie I of Ethiopia, the Messiah of the Rastafari movement, commonly referred to as “The Conquering Lion of Judah.” Through the Hindu narrative of Krishna we can imagine an epic fight with an apocalyptic snake to achieve the final victory over evil on earth. In Kurt Cobain’s murmurings, we can nearly experience the sublime emotions of teenage angst. Michael

Jackson croons a deceitful account of Billie Jean, and we can be moved, physically and emotionally. A Jackson Pollack canvas can simply blow our minds against the wall or calm the senses just enough so we appreciate what’s beneath the violent splashes of pigment. A poem can transport us to hear, see, and feel the melodious ping of sailboats bobbing in the bay, a seagull riding the wind, the setting of the sun.

Art can help us establish a profound sense of place.

Lebanese poet and philosopher Khalil Gibran wrote, “The eye of a human being is a microscope, which makes the world seem bigger than it really is.” In this vast world, with so much space in between things, art

empowers us to focus on what it means to be precisely where we are. It has the influence to provoke thought and permit recollection, correlation, and imagination when viewed through the lens of what we experience here on Earth and what we can concoct within the infinite universe of our ever-expanding minds. What distinguishes the artist from others is the consistency and coherence of a specific outlook onto the world from a unique vantage point. Such coherent perspective introduces an element of regularity and structure in the chaos of a big world. It introduces directions: a high and a low, a right and a left. That is, it introduces an awareness of place.

Art provides proof and an account of our existence.

An alien craft arrives on earth and proposes to eliminate humanity unless we can offer a justification for our existence. Art is that justification. We could offer these beings artifacts, such as a Picasso, a Scott Joplin rag, a Mamet play, an Aztec chacmool, an ancient Egyptian papyrus, or a photograph of our grandmother sitting on the couch. This is why art is important; it negotiates values between the world and individuals universally.

Art is both antiquity and destination. It serves as an indicator of where we’ve gone and of where we’re going. A demarcation of the events and emotions we’ve navigated to arrive here, and a proverbial compass, pointing in directions we’ve yet to explore. Art can facilitate an understanding of where we are, independently in relation to others, and conversely so. By opening up a veritable toolbox we can tinker with a complex and hectic world, endlessly reshaping our human experience. Art is the here and the now, but it is also the prologue, epilogue, and sequel, providing an undeniable account of life by uniquely focusing our attention on the ultimate concerns of human existence.

Art matters because we are alive. And sometimes we need proof of that. █

We can intentionally relive the observation

and impact of events through

art, deliberately experiencing them.

78 | Summer 2016

HOOD

Emma Adams does the colorful obstacle course set up at

Maryland Therapeutic Riding.


“T here’s just something about being around a horse,” says Kelly Rodgers in the stables of Maryland Therapeutic

Riding (MTR). Outside, rolling green hills—a surprising sight, being a mere 11 miles from downtown Annapolis—drift into an end-of-day glow, while satisfied horses chomp on hay in their stalls and settle in for the night after another hard day of good work. “I don’t know if anyone’s been able to explain it,” Rodgers continues, describing the healing power of horses. “You don’t think that they are that sensitive and intuitive, but they really are.”

Rodgers is devoted to horses. She grew up riding them and earned her degree in equine business management. For the past eight years she’s served as program director of MTR, a nonprofit organization that seeks to improve the quality of life of those with physical, developmental, and emotional health challenges through human and horse interaction.

MTR offers a range of programs, depending on what an individual needs. They include Therapeutic Riding, where instructors teach riding skills, Hippotherapy, in which the rider participates in one-on-one therapy sessions under the guidance of an occupational, physical, or speech therapist, and Equine-Facilitated Psychotherapy, where a mental health professional and equine specialist work as a team to provide a therapy setting to someone working through emotional distress such as depression, anxiety, or trauma.

Equine Therapy is a fascinating concept, though hardly new. Hippocrates wrote of the horse’s power to heal those with incurable illnesses in ancient Greece. Beginning in the 1940s, Equine Therapy grew in popularity across Scandinavia and other parts of Europe, eventually making its way across the Atlantic in the 1970s. Nowadays, there are more than 7,600 facilities around the globe helping nearly 62,000 children and adults.

by EMMY NICKLIN photography by MARIE JANE MACHIN

Horse Healthy

A lift and support from staff and volunteers are used to help some riders get off the

horses safely and comfortably.

80 | Summer 2016

And they help in profound ways. At MTR, the stories abound—of children who were previously unable to speak saying their first words, of adults in wheelchairs sitting up and trotting, unassisted, on a horse, of military riders suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder finding solace and calm simply by grooming a horse.

Debbie Parry and her daughter Katie have been a part of the MTR community since its inception, 20 years ago. Katie has cerebral palsy and lupus. “[But] when she’s on a horse, she’s no longer in her wheelchair,” says Parry. “She’s doing what her sister can do. She has a little bit of control in her life, for once. A feeling of freedom and empowerment.”

From improving balance, coordination, muscle tone, and flexibility to ameliorating sensory awareness, interpersonal communication, mood disorders, self-esteem, and more, the benefits to riding and simply being around horses are enormous.

“We’re very goal-focused here,” says Cathy Rosenbaum, who serves as MTR’s executive director. “It’s not that these miracles just happen. There’s a thought-out plan to build upon to make sure that it can happen. And that’s on the part of the instructors, therapists, and the families working together to determine what the goals should be and how to get there. Sometimes it’s riding, sometimes it’s working on their ability to process movement and space and catch a ball while they’re sitting on a horse.” And sometimes it’s the sensory trail ride through the nearby woods, which features activity stations that enhance the rider’s visual, spatial, tactile, and auditory senses—colorful tires dangling from trees, a wooden box full of jars of rosemary, cinnamon, and other fragrant herbs, a bridge that the horse hoofs clatter across at the end of the trail.

Each week, roughly 90 riders, ranging in age from 2 to 80, come to Crownsville to connect with one of MTR’s 14 highly trained and selected horses. “I’m amazed by them every single day I’m out here,” says Rodgers of their patience, empathy, and calmness. “They’re worth their weight in gold.”

And she’s not the only one who thinks so.

Six years ago, Richard Mosher joined the impressive group of 200 MTR volunteers—a range of professionals, including emergency room nurses,

attorneys, and teachers, who come to the farm weekly; many say that the experience is just as therapeutic for them as it is for the riders. With hardly any horse experience, Mosher started out by shoveling horse poop five mornings a week. Now he is a volunteer mentor, the board’s treasurer, and is learning to ride. He is impressed with the powerful connection that happens between horse and human. “I can sense the emotion, I see the emotion, but I can’t translate it.” MTR’s mental health professional Trisha Itzel says that such transformations occur in just a few

Therapeutic Riding's Executive Director Cathy Rosenbaum, Romeo the horse, and

volunteer Joan Rankin.


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weeks, compared to a typical clinical setting, where the same results may not happen for four months.

Whatever it is about horses, it ’s working, in a therapeutic sense—the calm one feels while grooming them, the workout of riding them, the look they give when they are greeted. “A horse is totally accepting of wherever you’re at, and doesn’t really ask for anything in return,” says Rosenbaum. “It’s very powerful. I don’t know how to put it in words, but there’s such a strong connection. It’s like you’re a team—you work together, you take care of each other.”

A few days later, on a rainy Saturday morning, the MTR arena is bustling with young riders. One sits fully upright in her saddle, throwing a ball down to her therapist. Another leans back on his horse and reads from a book with his speech pathologist. Two others slowly but steadily circle the ring, working on balance and coordination. After the boy finishes his book, he holds onto the reins, and with assistance from volunteers on the ground, the horse begins to walk. The boy beams. “I’m riding!” he announces to the world. Wherever and however this little boy started his day, he’s in a far healthier place now. █

To learn more about Maryland Therapeutic Riding, go to www.HorsesThatHeal.org.

After an hour long session rider Beth Jensen says goodbye to horse Toril until

their next meeting.

Photo by Dimitri Fotos

82 | Summer 2016

A & E D I S T R I C T C A L E N D A R49 West Coffeehouse, Winebar & Gallery49westcoffeehouse.com | 410.626.9796 | 49 West StreetLive music every night, Saturday and Sunday brunches, and Sunday afternoons

June 1–30 | Paint Annapolis, plein air painters from three countries paint in Annapolis July 1–31 | Works by Alexis RotellaAugust 1–31 | Annapolis Arts Alliance exhibition

1429 mfg 443.540.3816 | 47 Spa RoadMay 22, 2 p.m. | Ribbon cutting

Annapolis Art in Public PlacesMusic and dance performances | Annapolis City Dock

June 10, 7–10 p.m. | Annapolis TangoJune 30, 6:30–8 p.m. | Kings of CrownsvilleJuly 7, 6:30–8 p.m. | Mark BrineJuly 8, 7–10 p.m. | Annapolis TangoJuly 14, 6:30–8 p.m | Them Eastport Oyster BoysJuly 21, 6:30–8 p.m. | Jazz MosaicJuly 28, 6:30–8 p.m.| Peacherine Ragtime Society Orchestra August 4, 6:30–8 p.m. | MEGAAugust 11, 6:30–8 p.m. | One AccordAugust 12, 7–10 p.m. | Annapolis TangoAugust 18, 6:30–8 p.m. | Michael Hochman BandAugust 25, 6:30–8 p.m. | TJ Shaw Ensemble with Tish Martinez September 1, 6:30–8 p.m. | The Sunset Band September 9, 7–10 p.m. | Annapolis Tango

Annapolis Collection GalleryAnnapolisCollection.com | 410.280.1414 | on Gallery Row at 55 West Street

June 18, 6–7 p.m. | Unveiling new portrait of Abraham Lincoln by Ann Munro WoodJuly 13, 20 & 27, 7–10 p.m. | Dining Under the Stars: community dining on West StreetAugust 18, 6–9 p.m. | Annual Annapolis Art Walk with works by Ann Munro Wood, Greg Harlin, Roxie Munro, and Moe Hanson, plus live music

Annapolis Shakespeare Company AnnapolisShakespeare.org | 410.415.3513 11 Chinquapin Round Road

May 17–September 27 (Tuesdays), 7:30 p.m. | The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) (Reynolds Tavern outdoor courtyard, 7 Church Circle)July 8–17 | A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Charles Carroll House Garden, 107 Duke of Gloucester Street)July 29–August 14 | My Fair Lady (Summer Repertory Staged-Reading Series)August 5–21 | The Turn of the Screw (Summer Repertory Staged-Reading Series)

Annapolis Summer Garden Theatersummergarden.com | 410.268.9212 | 143 Compromise Street

May 26–June 18 | The Wedding SingerJune 30–July 23 | RentAugust 4–September 4 | The Producers


Artfarmartfarmannapolis.com | 45 West Street

June 15, 6:30-8:30 p.m. | Beginner Photography Workshop 102June 20–24 | Fearless Girls Photography (ages 11-15)June 27–July 1 | Art Camp for kids (ages 5-7 & 7-12)July 8–10 | Fearless Girls Photography Weekend Workshop (ages 15-17)July 11–15 | Art Camp for kids (ages 5-7 & 7-12)July 18–22 | Fearless Girls Photography (ages 13-17)July 25–29 | Art Camp (ages 11-15)

Colonial Players of Annapolisthecolonialplayers.org | 410.268.7373 | 108 East Street

July 9–17 | The One-Week Musical Project

Maryland Federation of Artmdfedart.org | 410.268.4566 | 18 State Circle

May 30–June 5 | 14th Annual Paint Annapolis plein air painting competitionJune 4, 6 p.m. | 14th Annual Paint Annapolis exhibitJune 15–July 15, 11 a.m.–5 p.m., daily | Off the Wall, all-sculpture exhibitionJune 16–July 31, 11 a.m.–3 p.m. | Flora or Fauna all media exhibition (Annapolis Maritime Museum)June 22–July 8, 11 a.m.–5 p.m. daily | Midsummer Madness, local MFA member exhibitionLight Structures by Mark WlazJune 26 | Flora or Fauna opening reception, 3–5 p.m (Annapolis Maritime Museum) | Off the Wall opening reception, 5–7 p.m. (MFA summer annex)July 8, 5–8 p.m. | Midsummer Madness receptionJuly 14–August 6, 11 a.m.–5 p.m. daily | Fiber OptionsJuly 24, 3–5 p.m. | Fiber Options opening receptionAugust 12–September 10, 11 a.m.–5 p.m. daily | American Landscapes August 21, 3–5 p.m. | American Landscapes opening reception

Maryland Hall for the Creative Artsmarylandhall.org | 410.263.5544 | 801 Chase Street

May 12—July 15, 2016 | A Single Goal: The Art of Trumpy Yacht Building (Chaney Gallery)June 18, 8 p.m. | BritBeat-A Multimedia Concert Journey Through Beatles Music HistoryJune 21, 8 p.m. | Jonny Lang, presented by Rams Head GroupJune 25, 7 p.m. | Pure ZeppelinJuly 16, 8 p.m. | Peacherine Ragtime Symphony July 26–August 27 | AACC Printmaking Club Group Show (Chaney Gallery)

Mitchell Gallery at St. John’s College410.626.2556 | 60 College Avenue

Open noon—5 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday

Wine & Designwineanddesign.com | 240.925.7464 | 32 West Street

June 3 | Paint Night in StudioJune 9 | Paint Night in Studio

Annapolis Watercolor Clubannapoliswatercolorclub.org

July 17, 3–5 p.m. | Maritime Museum Juried Exhibition reception

First Sunday Arts Festivalfirstsundayarts.com | First Block of West Street, near Church Circle

June 5, 12–5 p.m.July 3, 12–5 p.m.August 7, 12–5 p.m.

Metropolitan Kitchen & Loungemetropolitanannapolis.com | 410.280.5160 | 169 West Street

June 10 8:30 p.m. | 3rd Grade Friends, Onespot, Youth League, GreaverJune 23 8:30 p.m. | Robot Jurassic, Not Blood Paint, Tha Raw, Nomad ExpressJuly 1, 8:30 p.m. | Golden Road, Celebrating the Music of the Grateful DeadJuly 9, 8:30 p.m. | Big Hoax Release Party, Haint Blue, Gingerwolf

Music in Whitmore ParkJune 9, 7 p.m. | Dixie Hotel Jazz Night with Ronny SmithJune 12, 7 p.m. | Gospel in the Park night with Spirit LiftersJune 23, 7 p.m. | Dixie Hotel Jazz Night with SpiceJune 26, 7 p.m. | Gospel in the Park night with ZionnairesJuly 7, 7 p.m. | Dixie Hotel Jazz Night with Michael McHenry TribeJuly 10, 7 p.m. | Gospel in the Park night with Christian CavaliersJuly 21, 7 p.m. | Dixie Hotel Jazz Night with Kathy Stansbury BandJuly 24, 7 p.m. | Gospel in the Park night with Johnson Male ChorusAugust 4, 7 p.m. | Dixie Hotel Jazz Night with Higher HandsAugust 14, 7 p.m. | Gospel in the Park night with RemnantAugust 18, 7 p.m. | Dixie Hotel Jazz Night with Ron Ward, Jr.August 28, 7 p.m. | Gospel in the Park night with Curtis Harris Singers

Ram’s Head On Stageramsheadonstage.com | 410-268-4545 | 33 West Street

June 12,11:30 a.m. | Bay Tunes Guitars Spring Rock Band School PerformancesJune 16, 8 p.m. | WRNR 103.1 Presents Margaret GlaspyJune 21–22, 8 p.m | Gregg AllmanJune 23, 8 p.m. | Ani Difranco July 10, 8 p.m. | Los Lonely Boys w/ The Slim KingsJuly 13–14, 8 p.m. | The TemptationsAugust 11, 7 p.m. and 9:30 p.m. | Jim BreuerAugust 22, 8 p.m. | Ani Difranco

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UpStArt Annapolis Summert 2016