“Erin Petty wrote an article for the City Paper November 18, 2010 titled, Color Theory: Racial Stunt-Casting on D.C. Stages, or Is It Just “Nontraditional?” After reviewing a few examples, she writes, “actors weren’t just cast because they were great for the role, but also because the director had something to say”, and the color of the actor helped the director make the statement. Petty goes on to explore the casting of a black woman in the JonBenet Ramsey role in the Woolly Show House of Gold. In talking about House of Gold with my friend Emily (who attended with me) we discussed how the directors made choices to bring a slight remove from the extreme creepiness, and that the color of Ramsey’s character was one of those things.

The character on stage declaims that she is white, but the audience sees the actor is black. This relieves the viewer: we are in a fiction world – the world of theater. The action of the play is overwhelmingly disturbing, and this affect — stunt-casting, perhaps — actually is what makes the action congestible….”

Click here to read the entire post, which goes on to consider how audience/director preferences are implicated in casting decisions and discrimination. Click here to read the article by Erin Petty which inspired Bettmann’s post. Image in this post is from Petty’s post, and the production House of Gold at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre.

I have felt at times that my body is like clay and I am a sculptor. In my personal case, I transitioned from one gender to another, one of many methods of human shape-shifting. If my body is a work of art, then my plastic surgeon has been my collaborator. One way I highlight this is by using long, thick, singular brushstrokes that evoke bandages. Paint is to me as flesh is to the surgeon. I can manipulate it by pushing it around and scraping it away. Oil paint is the only appropriate medium for my process. The fact that it forms a skin when it dries is not lost on me.

Hair is a recurring subject in my work because it is a strong cultural signifier. We first judge the gender of a figure in the distance by the length of hair on the head and the amount of facial and body hair. For my paintings, I first lay down a dark brown-purple, filling large areas with a thin application of paint. When that has dried completely, I begin the painting in earnest and while the paint is still wet I use an Exacto knife or razor blade to scrape away thin lines of paint exposing the tone of the under-painting. This way I render one hair at a time. It is a painstaking process that takes much time as I carefully consider each mark.

I do seek to expose and make known the existence and reality of trans lives, but I have no interest in glossing over the truth or putting it in a pretty package. Even though I show the toughest moments, I want to reveal the often over-looked beauty in what many people consider ugly. Instead of wincing and hiding their eyes, viewers can see in my work that bruises are beautiful. I educate about trans lives, yet I am more concerned about minimizing the differences between myself/trans and non-trans people. We all experience growing pains. I am amazed by the many breast cancer survivors who have told me how much my work resonates with them.

Both the artistic process and the process of claiming and realizing my identity have been difficult. However, I went through the ringer and came out better and stronger. I pushed the limits of my ability to recover emotionally and physically and I share that with my viewers the best way I know how–through my work. I have often been asked why I stick to self-portraits. I am not a narcissist. I simply know myself the best, so portraying what I know feels genuine to viewers. I also find it vital to avoid the risk of appearing that I am exploiting someone else.

My solo exhibition this spring, “Naked” at G Fine Art, was the culmination of years of tunnel vision. The works all examined my emotional and physical evolution over the course of three years. Now I can close the door on this phase of my life and career. Starting over with a new body of work intimidates me. It will take time to really make my work again. Right now I’m mostly thinking about my next move and sorting through many ideas. I see the potential for my work to explore memory and the suppression of one’s past and also become more abstract, but I’m not making any promises.

Al Miner (b. 1977, New York, New York) is an artist, curator, and curatorial assistant at the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden. For the Hirshhorn he curated projects with Yoko Ono and Dan graham and has worked with Smithsonian Artist Research Fellows Runa Islam and Henrique Oliveira. In spring 2009 he curated “Domesticated: Men and the Domestic Interior” at Transformer Gallery. In fall 2009 he was awarded a German travel fellowship from the Goethe Institut to spend one month in Berlin in 2010. As an artist he has exhibited extensively and received awards including the D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities Young Artist Program Grant and two Artist’s Fellowship Awards. Miner holds an M.F.A. in painting and mixed media from Queens College, CUNY (2000) and a post-graduate certificate in museum studies from the George Washington University (2006). To see more visit the artist’s website.

Edited by Ellyn Weiss

The appointment of a female music director in a country as conservative as Italy has generated considerable buzz and again focused attention on the progress women have made toward taking their place on the podiums of major orchestras — and the stubborn forces that prevent more of them from getting there.

Classical music institutions throughout the world are embracing the notion of female conductors more than ever. In addition to appearing regularly as guest conductors and in assistant conductor positions with top orchestras, women are now commonly in the running for — and occasionally winning — music directorships.

Recent appointments in North American orchestras include Joana Carneiro at the Berkeley Symphony, Laura Jackson at the Reno Philharmonic, Anne Manson at the Manitoba Chamber Orchestra, Teresa Cheung at the Altoona Symphony, Elizabeth Schulze at the Flagstaff Symphony and Antonia Joy Wilson at the Midland Symphony.

The nation’s most established female music directors are proving successful at their jobs. Over the course of JoAnn Falletta’s 11-year directorship of the Buffalo Philharmonic, the orchestra’s budget has grown from about $7.5 million to $10 million. The orchestra has won two Grammy Awards, made 14 recordings and boasts record subscription levels. Meanwhile, in 2008, the Baltimore Symphony announced its first balanced budget in five years, which observers attribute in part to enthusiasm surrounding the appointment of music director Marin Alsop in 2007.

It couldn’t have been more different only a few decades ago. “It is safe to say that until the past 15 or so years, there simply was no woman with an important international conducting career,” wrote Henry Fogel, the League of American Orchestras’ former president, on his blog in 2007. Despite inroads by such early pioneers as Antonia Brico (1902-89), Sarah Caldwell (1924-2006) and Judith Somogi (1941-88), women rarely appeared on the podiums of major orchestras in the first half of the 20th century.

Heather Risley’s article on Women in Dance leadership for Bourgeon in 2007 reported, “A recent study found that 86 percent of the country’s 43 ballet companies with budgets of $2 million or more are run by men. The 2002 study, by DanceUSA, is part of that organization’s long-standing project to document trends in the field. The data shows that those holding positions at the highest levels in the largest companies are mostly men.” You can see the entire article here.

Here it is, from Virginia Woolf:

“When a subject is highly controversial — and any question about sex is that — one cannot hope to tell the truth. One can only show how one came to hold whatever opinion one does hold. One can only give one’s audience the chance of drawing their own conclusions as they observe the limitations, the prejudices, the idiosyncrasies of the speaker.”

[Here is the official trailer from Juno]

Why is being an exotic dancer relevant? Sensationalism. Exotic dancing, the preferred term for stripping since the advent of the upscale gentlemen’s clubs, is stigmatized and has an unfounded reputation for leading to prostitution, drugs and other crime and decreases property values. Recent social science has disproved all of this. Rooted in an American tradition of parody, namely, American burlesque, and Middle Eastern belly dance, exotic dance is a form of dance, theater art and adult entertainment. By definition it’s supposed to be somewhat “risqué” or “naughty” adult play. It is a fanciful teasing that is expected to transgress social decorum and dress codes in an ambience ranging from sedate to carnival-like. Exotic dance is erotic fantasy with disclosure of more skin and display of different movements than are usually seen in public. Performed in signature four to six inch stiletto heels, exotic dance incorporates jazz-like improvisatory movements in choreographed routines.

Perhaps exotic dance does have something to do with screen-writing? Like many other dancers, Cody went from stage to page and wrote a book about her experience. She went on to team with producer Steven Spielberg on a dark-comedy pilot for Showtime called “The United States of Tara,” and filming has begun on “Jennifer’s Body,” a horror flick based on Cody’s original screenplay. (Parade 3-3-08, p. 2) Many dancers have gone on to graduate school and become lawyers, business people, doctors and professors. Yet the media do not consider how Cody’s stripping background helped to shape her now acclaimed aesthetic.

[Here is a little clip from the movie Juno]

Skills learned or enhanced in exotic dancing include memory of movement vocabulary and discipline of the preparation to perform — scheduling, grooming, attire, make-up and choreography. Creativity is rewarded by patron tips and purchase of dances. Learning to adapt to the unpredictable is essential. Exotic dancers sharpen their sensitivity to human behavior – getting along with co-workers (dancers to dj, manager, bar tender, doorman) and diverse patrons. Successful dancers become acute observers of verbal and nonverbal communication in order to sell a fantasy of themselves and to create the patron’s fantasy. Dancers commonly gain self-esteem and self-confidence appearing nude before strangers. Listening skills capture dialog, stories and patron interests. Business and money management leads dancers to complete education, start businesses and support families.

Katherine Frank, one of numerous exotic dancers who earned doctorates (in anthropology, criminology, social work, sociology, theater arts and women’s studies), and became university professors said, “Dancing helped me learn how to handle the inevitable rejections one comes across in any kind of sales position. If you stick with it, eventually someone says yes. It taught me not to take it personally if someone said no at first–it probably had nothing to do with me but with my timing. I also learned to create illusions of authenticity, scarcity and value — useful in many different kinds of careers.”

Maybe the critical and commercial success of “Juno” would not have evolved if Cody had not been an exotic dancer. Did she try out different characters and snappy, smart, funny, captivating dialog in the club? She is one of many performers who prove that exotic dancers are more than sexual objects.

Judith Lynne Hanna, Ph.D., is an expert witness in the area of exotic dance, and has testified on behalf of adult clubs in cases across the country. Hanna has been conducting research on exotic dance sine 1995. For more information, visit www.judithhanna.com.

Reprinted by permission of the author; originally published in Exotic Dancer’s Club Bulletin, May 2008, p. 56

“Neither the Royal Ballet nor the English National Ballet currently employs a single black ballerina. The path to ballet stardom is generally easier for black men than women: black men are considered well built for lifts and pas de deux work. Just 10 dancers in the Royal Ballet’s 98-strong company are not white – of those, only four are black, and all of them, like Acosta, are male. At ENB, just eight out of 71 dancers are not white. Only one is black, and he is also male.”

You can see the whole article here.

It reminded me of the Bourgeon article looking at the difference between the treatment of men and women as choreographers. You can see that here

-Rob