Monday, August 23, 2010

ESSAY: Gulf Oil Spill: A New Louisiana Story

Once upon a time there was a kingdom by the sea.  It was shaped like a humble workboot, but it was a frontier of singular wild magnitude, and its greatest treasure was the final destination of a mighty river. The meeting of river and sea created a vast, spongy delta swamp of bayous, inlets, sky, and slow tidal penetrations.
The value of the great kingdom was not understood by its king, and desperate for money after fighting many wars, he sold the land to the young leader who lived in a new kingdom nearby.  He, in turn, was laughed at for paying so dearly for unexplored swamps, but as time passed,  he was praised for his wisdom and foresight.


Some two hundred years passed quickly and the small nation grew to possess wealth and power never before seen in human history.  The country, once so impenetrable, developed farms, factories, fishing fleets, and great cities, but the bayou remained a place of surpassing beauty.

David Bates, Catfish Moon, oil on canvas, 84x64” www.dallasmuseumofart.org/



A nation is often symbolized by body parts: the capital is its vital acting mind, the farm states its heartland, its wild frontiers its elusive soul. But lovely Louisiana claimed, by right, the womanly center, tender and receptive, fecund, reflective, responsive, vulnerable.
Flaherty tells their story about how oil is taken from the land using the watching eyes of a bayou youth.  Ulysses is a prince of Petit Anse Bayou who roams the waters, at one with his world and time.  His father allows the Oil Lord’s workers to drill on his land, hoping to earn some extra money for his family.
Corner of Uncle Sam Plantation House and Garconniere, St. James Parish, Louisiana, Walker Evans Archive, Metropolitan Museum of Art, www.met.org/
Louisiana’s citizens sang and told many stories: about its great city, New Orleans, the sugar cane plantations, the Acadian people who came from the cold North, about their special music, jazz; their fervent religious devotion, and their mad once-yearly celebration they called “Mardi Gras”.
  The houses were humble bayou shacks or gracious welcoming plantations, lacy charmers with wide front porches.  Life was slower; it was humid, hot, prone to mildew and decay, flood, damp, but languid and dreaming always.
 Quote from interview with Mrs. Flaherty included in DVD, from the solicitation made by Standard Oil to famous documentary filmmaker Robert J. Flaherty in 1946: “...a permanent artistic record of the contribution which the oil industry has made to civilization, ...that would present the story with dignity and the epic sweep it deserves...and ensure...a lasting place in the literature of the screen”.
Not only did Louisiana tell stories about itself; others came to set their own tales upon the changing world of the bayou and lakes. The storytellers of the kingdom told them in a new way, showing pictures that moved and talked for them instead of in the old manner, circled around a fire and speaking of the past so the young would possess their heritage.  
Storyteller Flaherty was sent to Louisiana by a powerful group of lords to make a story for the people of the kingdom. Their story was about oil, a fuel that gave the land even more wealth. It had just been found along the shores, and the growing country needed its power.
 The huge machine used to drill the well fascinates the boy, who climbs it, fishes from it, and is befriended by the workers. The workers are heroes to Prince Ulysses, who admires their power. Prince Ulysses is skilled too, catching and skinning the alligator he thinks ate his pet raccoon, showing it proudly to his friends. He watches excitedly as long sheaths for a drill are screwed together and penetrate deep into the bayou waters to reach the oil secreted beneath. But when it does, the well explodes with a tremendous roar. 

Finally the well stops spurting, and begins pumping oil instead, and the drilling barge is towed away.  Only the small machine called a “Christmas Tree” turns the pumps of the well in the still waters. With the money he earns, his father buys gifts for his delighted family:  for his wife, a new cookpot and a dress, and for Ulysses, a fine hunting rifle.  Bayou life is like it always was, tranquil, placid, and serene, a place apart, a place to return in dreams

 frame from “Louisiana Story”, showing a “newspaper account” of the blowout - photos from DVD on computer screen


.
But the story Flaherty told for the oil lords left out some of the things that happens when a well blows out.
The oil spreads all over, through, and beneath the earth and sea, sticking to everything it touches. The air is filled with sickening gases that can ignite into flame.  The animals and plants are covered with oil.



Then the citizens of the kingdom have to work hard to clean the oil from their forests, fields, lakes, bayou and sea.
The people liked Flaherty’s story, and valued it because it showed their beautiful land, but as they watched, they realized it was the story the Oil Lords wanted told. It was not a story that helped them keep their kingdom safe for themselves and their children, nor a story to help them take care of the bounty of their kingdom. Instead, they were reminded of great tragedies that had befallen the lovely Louisiana since that time, and they were saddened afresh. 
The kingdom is a very different place today than when the emperor sold the vast land holding.  People talk among themselves, wondering if the kings and lords had become like he was, unable to understand the value of the land they hold, and willing to sell its future short.
Tonight in the bayou, the egret flies in a sky reddened with gas and dust. The pirogue glides over waters calm but rusty glittering with slick.  The moon casts her white blessing, a pathway to what could be again, if the citizens only choose.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

DANCE REVIEW: Luminario Ballet: Happy Landings





It was cool, now, hip; I think deliberately so, and even with that intention visible, remained thus. The choreography's elements are forms from the gasping split-second dazzle of gymnastics performance, the whipping arcing reversals of ice-skating, (bad shoes) the dazzle and cool mystery of Cirque de Soleil, and the unique elegance of en pointe partnering from classical ballet (good shoes). A deeply interesting unity: I thought of the first time I saw La-La-La Human Steps and Pilobolus. (I should see more of Cirque du Soleil).

The dancers are all exquisite bodies, slipping into minimal costumes that silkily enhance and reveal the buoyant, shining life energy within them. Narrative structures and traditional gender partnering that reminded me of Twyla Tharp's "Sinatra Suite", told stories of flirtation, love-seeking, loss, rejection, heartache, and reunion, heating up the stage. It stayed that way most of the night, too; seeking, beautiful eroticism.

Aerial dances were performed on two high apparatus with suspended ropes, placed well back on the stage, imposing the necessity of frontality on the choreography, an interesting challenge, but which distanced the audience somewhat. It's time to hold your breath - will the dancers fall like performers in Olympic competition? Course not.

I calmed myself by deciding that the choreographer wouldn't stage risky business; it just looked that way: breath-taking swoops, ascents, split-second releases, the dancers folded in streaming scarves unfurling and cascading down the ropes. It was elegant, lyric, tension-filled - how would the dances end? Would they come down? Ascend to Heaven? Solo dancers began to climb, were joined by others, in an elevated complex variety of exchanged levels, extensions, and excitement, momentum sustained throughout the aerial work with its necessity of upward and downward mobility.

The program included a Bella Lewitzky dance called "Turf". I found this choice really a fascinating contrast to the other pieces. It had such heart, such warmth. It explored the possibilities of ascent without bootstraps, only dancers' bodies.

They struggled to control the stage's square footage, the air around them, and each other's spaces, too. The dance concluded with a pyramid of bodies, yearning upwards, an energy-built monument that earned and possessed the place.

It was fashioned after the Los Angeles riots of 1991, and Luminario Ballet is the only company that has ever performed it besides Lewitzky's.

The audience was receptive, supportive, and so am I, looking forward to seeing more from this engaging, experimental company. (www.luminarioballet.org)

Saturday, August 14, 2010

POEM: As Time Goes Buy

Soft Sculpture by Orly Cogan, viewed and photographed at Charlie James Gallery, Chinatown Los Angeles

Finished school, experience-rich
Thought I’d found a singular niche

Out there swimming in a great big pool
Great Big Power changed all the rules.

Get this: the fundamentals no longer apply
Upon past advice I can longer rely.

Finances controlled by freaky hi-tech
Plans and dreams now all a huge wreck.

Design some new models, account for the variables
Predictions all dire, consequences terrible.

Apocalypse scenarios breed and astound
No ostrich position will help to surround

Me with some comfort and a viable plan
Hunker down, take it, just like a man.

All the targets move out of range
Take a pill quick, it’s nauseating change.

Dismantle the pension system entire
Cut back Soc Security so folks can’t retire.

Raise the co pays on medical insurance
Be sure that from me you’ll find little concurrence.

Call for accountability, cut back school funds,
Surely those budgets are visibly rotund.

Only tomorrow’s citizens will suffer,
Don’t matter to you, you rich fat old duffer.

Shut down the parks, libraries, and squares
Don’t fund the infrastructure, just let it wear

Out and slip down a bottomless black hole
Middle class too, signing up for the dole.

Take care to mend nets before it’s too late
Correct course for our shortsighted mothership of state.