Soul balm and an old quilt
The week felt full of horrors, small and large. A former student trying to update their passport and finding that there are now only two gender options. An immediate freeze on all foreign aid. The National Gallery of Art closing its Office of Belonging and Inclusion. A parade of jokers getting confirmed by the Senate to crucial national positions. (Special solidarity shout-out to our friends at the NEA and other government workers.)
In the midst of a truly eternal week, a new show from Philly-based Ninth Planet felt like a healing balm, applied directly to the soul. There's five more chances to see it at FringeArts if you're in the area. This multimedia play written by Arielle Julia Brown, directed by Nia Benjamin aims to construct a "living sanctuary" that honors an extraordinary "Black woman of trans experience," and it does have a deep sense of the sacred.
Learn some new dances
New community resource on the scene as the Philly Community Dance Calendar aims to keep us all informed about class opportunities. It is free and will only get better as more people use it, so check it out and add your events if you got 'em. The volunteer calendar coordinators are also using a nice, broad definition of dance: "it includes circus, puppetry, improvisation, site specific work, experimental performance, dance films, and any other dance or movement based work you can imagine!!" Get some Umfundalai training or check out the West Philly square dance scene.
The Politics of Refusal
With the political climate so bleak and likely to get even bleaker, I kept coming back to this piece in Hyperallergic from artist Chloë Bass in which she discusses her reasons for refusing a potential project with the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs to work on commissions that would have her work placed in detention centers or jails. She explains that "I believe that the only ethical use of a several hundred thousand dollar budget under these conditions is to use every cent of it to support organizations working to dismantle the carceral system — a proposal that I understand Percent for Art would not be able to support," and reminds us that "budgets tell us a story."
She puts forward a few provocative questions in addition to her refusal, including:
What would it mean to use Percent for Art’s commission funds to support existing artists who are already within the prison population?
What would it mean to use the commission funds to support institutions working to abolish the carceral system, or to fund programs more likely to be helpful, including supportive housing and mental health services that are widely considered to be both more humane and more economically sustainable?
And then this is the part I really keep coming back to:
While this boycott may not signal an end to the carceral system, at minimum my refusal to participate gives me time, energy, and creative will to work toward systems that imagine, and allow us to live, otherwise.
To think about how we are stewarding our limited time, energy, and creative will seems even more crucial now, and thinking beyond the individuals into systemic approaches. That's what I'm sitting with.
Train station takeover
Also on the public art front, one late night last week I was at Penn Station and thought I had maybe entered a technicolor fever dream when I saw a preview for a new film by Alla Kovgan with choreography by Annie-B Parson on huge colorful screens above me. Annie-B is at the train station with me?, I wondered in my half-sleeping state. It turns out it is true! The installation will be up through April 14 and full credits (including a starry roster of dancers) are available on this informative instagram post, and The Oath will be released sometime in 2025.
Sisterly Affection (a bit of Philadelphia appreciation)
Our flying birds are going to the Super Bowl. Is two weeks enough time for me to turn this vintage family quilt from the 1890s into a pair of celebratory Eagles overalls? (Please note: I am very slow.) Let's find out! Go birds!
Another correction: much to my dismay, I got Carolyn Brown's name wrong in the last newsletter. On the same day, I got out an outfit to put on and then could not find it for a full 36 hours, in my own small home. I don't know what was going on with me last week, but it was potent.
