Yesterday I read in the Middletown Press that Terry’s father, Terry Woolard Sr., just released a CD with a title track inspired by his son’s writing. Black President debuted on WPKN in Bridgeport, Connecticut and was engineered by David Davis, a Green Street teaching artist and one of my former neighbors at the North End Artist Cooperative (aka MAC650).

You can listen to tracks from Black President, including one featuring Terry Jr., at cdbaby.com.

The Theatre de la Jeune Lune announced today, in a letter to its members, that it will be closing its doors and selling its beautiful building to pay off debts. The company (which took its name from a Bertolt Brecht poem) was one of the brightest lights to inspire me as a teenager growing up in Rochester. We traveled to see shows at the Guthrie, once or twice a year. But the Jeune Lune came to us, trained us and inspired us, and since that time I have come to them–in New London, Philadelphia, and Minneapolis–to watch their darkly beautiful, comical, and physical creations.

Today, upon hearing this news, I can see no good in it. If the Jeune Lune is not possible in Minneapolis, a city renowned for its philanthrophy and for valuing the arts, what might not be possible elsewhere? What can we do to prevent this from happening again? What will happen to the building?

I remember walking into the Jeune Lune for an audition in 1998. The world seemed full of possibilities, simply because there were a few great theater companies, with paid actors, in Minneapolis. And later, sharing it with Dan as I tried to show him the Minneapolis I loved (in the depths of February, with negative 15-degreeweather) on a two-day trip.

And, I have often read and re-read that Brecht poem, which was another gift the Jeune Lune provided, during times of difficult change:

As the people say, at the moon’s change of phases
The new moon holds for one night long
The old moon in its arms.

-Bertolt Brecht

Although I don’t know them personally, my hopes and thoughts are with the artists and administrators who stood by this institution in difficult times.

As an added bonus, Rebecca is a trained life and leadership coach. This means that I also got to pester her with my friends’ (ahem) career conundrums, all in the name of journalism.

Seriously though, Rebecca gives some good advice, comments on Richard Florida, shares her must-read list, AND points out the bright lights of the leadership track at Convention.

Interview excerpted from The Art Agenda. Broadcast on 88.1fm, WESU, Middletown on June 12 2008.

I would never get anything done, creative or otherwise, if it weren’t for inspiring people who push me along in one way or another. Although I’ve never met Stephanie and May, I admire the simplicity of their partnership: two photographers, 3191 miles apart, sharing photographs.

He will be participating in a Dirty Words literary reading at Real Art Ways in Hartford on June 23 at 7:45pm, and at the Green Street Arts Center in Middletown on June 24 at 7:30pm.

Interview excerpted from The Art Agenda. Originally broadcast on 88.1fm, WESU, Middletown on June 12 2008.

One of the great perks of working in the arts at Wesleyan is the music—music unlike any I’d ever heard before, music by Alvin Lucier, who can pick up a pencil box or a tape recorder and change the way you think about sound.

In a recent Art Agenda interview, choreographer Anne Carlson defined dance as “intentional movement.” Alvin Lucier first blew my mind with a piece called “I am sitting in a room”—a landmark electro-acoustic work of the 21st century—performed at a Sol Lewitt installation in the Ezra and Cecile Zilkha Gallery, that included un-intentional sound, or at least unpredictable sound.

I was reminded of this performance last week, due to several media stories about David Byrne and his new project for Creative Time. Byrne’s project also involves a room and music, used to dramatic effect. He has combined an antique pump organ and a 9,000 sq ft space within a historic ferry terminal to create a giant, music-making instrument unlike any other.

My favorite part about it? Is that anyone can play. The erratic sound also means that virtuosos and novices have equal opportunity to sound good (or bad).

Just in case there is a room in your house that would be better served as a musical instrument, Design news, a publication for engineers, gets technical in their description of “Playing the Building,” and has lots of good pics.

As a relatively recent Massachusetts transplant, I have been impressed by the ability of state arts leaders to express the value of the arts, generate discourse, and successfully lobby for arts funding. Not everyone agrees that this new post is a good one, and future debates are alluded to in today’s Boston Globe, alongside accusations of “pandering to fads.” This job would be a challenge for anyone, but also an opportunity for exciting change and growth. I look forward to seeing what Massachusetts (and Jason) think of next.

(Thank you to Rebecca Borden at Americans for the Arts for the tip!)

Many beers, a few broken plates, one drawn-and-quartered babydoll, and two standing ovations later, Janaka (who is an undertaker, in addition to being a poet) told me about his plan to revolutionize the American grieving process. A line from his poem elegy pretty much sums it up:

“The Leopard People of Sierra Leone carry their dead in a bag; whenever they feel sorrow, they cut off a piece and eat it.”

Eight years later, Janaka is still making waves with Black Ocean, a literary/multidisciplinary movement that is hard to define. Black Ocean just released Holy Land, a book of poetry by Rauan Klassnik. If it is half as good as Dear Al Qaeda, it’s worth a look.

Douglas knows a zillion people, is very curious about a lot of things, and makes all kinds of quirky connections that he writes about to share with others. Through his blog and his friendship, he has directly or indirectly inspired me to: read comics, cook, write, and take pictures. His latest blog, Mincing Up the Morning, will no doubt introduce me to some new music and hopefully inspire me to be better about remembering birthdays (sorry, Bill!).