Art Isn't Easy

When was the last time you held a piece of scrimshaw in your hands? Although the term first achieved popularity during the 19th century, according to Wikipedia:

"Scrimshaw is scrollwork, engravings, and carvings done in bone or ivory. Typically it refers to the artwork created by whalers, engraved on the byproducts of whales, such as bones or cartilage. It is most commonly made out of the bones and teeth of sperm whales, the baleen of other whales, and the tusks of walruses. It takes the form of elaborate engravings in the form of pictures and lettering on the surface of the bone or tooth, with the engraving highlighted using a pigment, or, less often, small sculptures made from the same material. The making of scrimshaw probably began on whaling ships in the late 18th century and survived until the ban on commercial whaling. The practice survives as a hobby and as a trade for commercial artisans."

A nautical scene from the Horta Scrimshaw Museum

The decline in traditional forms of scrimshaw can be traced to the impact of the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 and the Endangered Species Act of 1973.

Meanwhile, Ivo van Hove's revisionist staging of 1957's West Side Story has drawn controversial reactions from critics and audiences alike. Carina del Valle Schorske's recent OpEd in The New York Times entitled "Let ‘West Side Story’ and Its Stereotypes Die" points to the growing tensions between those demanding authenticity and accountability in the arts in place of willful ignorance, and/or cultural appropriation.

Unlike decades-old disputes over whether or not Jews should be forced to listen to the operas of Richard Wagner (whose music was greatly admired by Adolf Hitler), there are times when the impassioned self-righteousness of social justice warriors collides head-on with the blunt cruelties of reality (a recent comment about white supremacist Stephen Miller's marriage was "Ewww...she touched it!"). Thankfully, word is out that "Rebekah Mercer, Funder of Climate Change Denial, Is No Longer On The American Museum of Natural History's Board" thanks to the ongoing protests by a group named Revolting Lesbians.

As playwright Nicole Parizeau explains:

“Two news items collided on my radar in April 2019. A master painter whose work I loved was revealed, in an exhibit in Berlin, to have been not only an active member of the Nazi Party, but a venomous anti-Semite who systematically encoded racism into his artwork. Emil Nolde’s wild use of color had branded him a ‘degenerate’ artist in Hitler’s Germany, but no matter: he remained fiercely loyal, until the day he died, to the fanatic regime that condemned his work (that is, to the grotesquery of the Holocaust). Also in the news that spring: the 1937 Pernkopf Topographic Anatomy of Man, the most exquisitely detailed study of human anatomy ever published. An extraordinary book of meticulous, even beautiful anatomical depictions – and an excruciating moral test. The illustrations derive from the cadavers of prisoners of the Third Reich: men, women, and children executed at Vienna’s District Court and in the gas chambers of the Gestapo.”

An illustration by Eduard Pernkopf depicting the lungs and
/their blood vessels (Photo courtesy of Wikimedia)

“These items combusted in my brain and demanded a soul search. Is Emil Nolde now ‘dead to me’? Do I yank Sea With Violet Clouds from the wall? Do I, in today’s parlance, cancel him? And the corrupt Pernkopf Atlas -- should it be extirpated out of moral disgust? Its peerless accuracy abandoned at the cost of imperishable surgical value? It’s a miserably short footpath from these two accounts to the crop of discoveries about ‘bad actors’ in our time (and to other, ever unfurling exposés of historical icons in the arts, science, literature, et al). What do we do with these revelations? Should each person, every institution, embody a moral threshold? Does the ethical course, in fact, ‘depend on what we’re willing to live without’ for the sake of principle? Where will you stand, in the end?”

Over in Berkeley, CentralWorks is staging Parizeau's drama entitled The Human Ounce, which pits two African American curators against each other in the kind of professional tug-of-war that invokes memories of All About Eve. Directed by Gary Graves, Parizeau's drama focuses on an old painting about to be placed on exhibit in an art museum.

Though the 19th century painting (entitled The Gelding) presents a pleasant view of trees and vegetation, the history of its creator presents a moral problem: What stance should a museum take when an old master is revealed (by current standards) to be not so much an old goat as a sexual monster?

Kimberly Ridgeway (Biz) and Champagne Hughes (Jory) in
a scene from The Human Ounce (Photo by: Jim Norrena)

Biz (Kimberly Ridgeway) is the museum's chief curator, a woman who has worked her way up the ladder to become one of the few African American females to hold such a position. Though well aware of the museum's institutional needs and the necessity of keeping its donors happy, she's justifiably offended when, on the night before the painting is scheduled to go on display, her assistant demands that it not be foisted on an unknowing public after recent research revealed the artist to have been an unrepentant pedophile with a ravenous sexual appetite.

Kimberly Ridgeway (Biz) and Champagne Hughes (Jory) in
a scene from The Human Ounce (Photo by: Jim Norrena)

Jory (Champagne Hughes) is eager to enact social justice against the artist who painted The Gelding more than 100 years ago. And, if Biz is unwilling to acquiesce, Jory has a trump card up her sleeve that could force her boss to yield to her assistant's demand.

Champagne Hughes (Jory), Kimberly Ridgeway (Biz), and
Don Wood (Dodge) in a scene from The Human Ounce
(Photo by: Jim Norrena)

Dodge (Don Wood) is the museum's good-natured maintenance man who reacts to art on a gut level. More concerned with whether or not he likes a painting, he is nevertheless easily swayed by revelations that an artist might have been a truly despicable character.

Kimberly Ridgeway (Biz) and Don Wood (Dodge) in a
scene from The Human Ounce (Photo by: Jim Norrena)

With costume design by Tammy Berlin, sound design by Gregory Scharpen, and
lighting design by Gary Graves, Parizeau's drama balances Jory's exhaustive list of morally questionable artists against Biz's institutional resistance. Once it becomes clear that each party has done extensive opposition research on the other (Biz's terse responses prove that she can maintain control with something as simple and steely as a knowing stare) Jory's willingness to go for the jugular eventually wins out.

While Jory seems deaf to any suggestion that she "hate the sin, but love the sinner," there is no ignoring the fact that she lacks any track record of her own creativity. Instead of rising on the shoulders of her predecessors, she seems much too eager to build her career on the weaknesses of those she can stab in the back (especially artists who are long dead and gone and thus have no way of speaking for themselves). Coming from a generation that freely cautions people not to judge, her eagerness to conquer and cancel selected artists leaves her blind to the possibility that one day someone may judge her as harshly as she has judged others. Is it possible that, in a perverse way, her eagerness to cancel out those whose past offends her has rendered Jory deaf, dumb, and blind?

Champagne Hughes co-stars as Jory in The Human Ounce
(Photo by: Jim Norrena)

“For every vilified act, it's also important to search for mitigating or refuting sources (if they exist). In writing The Human Ounce, I researched the stories of current and historical bad actors...a litany of ‘villains’ who might best illustrate certain points in the play. And I can tell you this: Actively searching for dishonorable people and institutions is a numbing, enervating experience," confesses the playwright. "It just isn’t normal to hunt for stories of sexual predation, racism, gender phobia, and the like. It rubs on the heart like scouring powder.”

Champagne Hughes and Kimberly Ridgeway deliver strong performances as two women with sharply opposing viewpoints. However, were it not for Don Wood's affable characterization of Dodge (the innocent art consumer caught in the middle), Parizeau's play could easily veer into a tiresome series of "gotcha" accusations.

Performances of The Human Ounce continue through March 15 at the Berkeley City Club (click here for tickets).

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On a much happier note, Word for Word is breathing life into a series of vignettes from the 2018 coming-of-age memoir by Octavio Solis under the title of Retablos. Lovingly directed by Sheila Balter and Jim Cave, the production finds its soul in the following chapters: The Way Over, Consuelo, El Judío, La Migra, La Llorona, Nothing Happens, The Quince, Mexican Apology, El Segundo, Neto, and My Right Foot. Solis describes each chapter as a memory tale verging on fable, that paints a dreamlike picture of life in El Paso during the 1960s and 1970s.


Having recently sat through six hours of Elevator Repair Service's staged reading of GATZ, I'm delighted to report that Retablos is four hours shorter and at least ten times more rewarding an experience. Not only does one care a whole lot more about the characters onstage, the sheer beauty of Solis's writing (combined with the vitality and versatility of Word for Word's cast) makes for an evening of theatrical magic.

Gendell Hernandez and Edie Flores flip burgers in a scene
from Retablos (Photo by: Lorenzo Fernandez-Kopec)

Don't just take my word for it. As Solis readily admits:

"I am known primarily as a playwright, but when I wrote Retablos, I heard the voice of that 'little brown shit' that was me as a boy relay them aloud as a collection of prose vignettes, and that's how I transcribed them. I have resisted any effort to adapt them to the stage because they are not meant for it (I would have written them as plays if they were). But if there is a company on earth that is perfectly suited to these very personal stories, it is Word for Word, because they honor the language of the page while managing to theatricalize the words in rare and unpredictable ways. This wondrous method is what transforms my Retablos into a magic pop-up book depicting people from my very real past living with vitality and dignity in the El Paso of my youth. Sheila Balter and Jim Case have taken the trip there, metaphorically and literally. They visited my hometown to look for the heart of Retablos and their beautiful work on my book is proof that they found it."

Brady Morales-Woolery and Regina Morones recall the story of
Consuelo (Maria Candelaria) in a scene from Retablos
(Photo by: Lorenzo Fernandez-Kopec)

Working on a unit set designed by Nina Ball (with costumes by Callie Floor, lighting by Jeff Rowlings, choreography by Carolina Morones, and original music and sound design by David R. Molina), Word for Word's ensemble includes Regina Morones, Brady Morales-Woolery, Carla Gallardo, and Gabriel Montoya. Exceptional work comes from Maria Candelaria, Edie Flores, and Gendell Hernandez, with Ryan Tasker appearing as a variety of priests, police officers, and local authority figures.

Gendell Hernandez and Edie Flores dance at a Quinceanera in a
scene from Retablos (Photo by: Lorenzo Fernandez-Kopec)

Performances of Retablos continue through March 15 at ZSpace Below (click here for tickets). If you can't make it to the theatre during the show's run, Retablos: Stories From a Life Lived Along the Border is available in several formats on Amazon.com.

Gabriel Montoya (left) sees the ghost of his dead brother
(Gendell Hernandez) at the airport in a scene from Retablos
(Photo by: Lorenzo Fernandez-Kopec)