Glowing accomplishments



Not too long ago, I wrote about the work-art balancing act that so many people living in the city maintain.  (Apparently, I am having a hard time maintaining that, as this month has been scaled heavily towards "work.") When the toils of that act can finally be expressed through your art, it makes the frustration of maintainence well worth it, and energizes you to keep trudging forward, despite those bouts of what's the point. A published novel, a part in an off-broadway play--these are ideal accomplishments, but smaller victories also keep one inspired, widen perspectives, and curve paths. Last Sunday was one of those instances; GLOW, the creative group that I have taken part in this past year,  had its first public reading/performance at The Creek in Long Island City--fitting since our first meeting was only a few blocks away. It was an evening of poetry and  short stories, read by myself, Leigh Ann Cobb, Angela Tweed, Kat Hinchey and Melissa Miles, while Dana Lang ended the night with music. 


Melissa, our lovely host, also shared a sestina. 


Angela adds some spice with her short stories. 


Yours truly, sharing poems. 

For the sake of long explanations, it's been easier to call GLOW a writing group, but that's somewhat insufficient. While we all write, we're not primarily writers; almost half of us are trained theater actors and performance artists. More than half are musicians. We are playwrights, poets and cabaret stars. Some of us are all of these things. And this pastiche of passions has pushed each of us to at least think of art in ways we wouldn't have on our own. I, for starters, have always dubbed myself a behind-the-scenes-type person, but have started working on something that I can only call a "performance piece, " involving  various media (and guess what--urban walking!). Odd since I was, since I am, terrified of performing.


Leigh Ann, threw in some Marilyn and the Taj Mahal. 



Kat takes the spotlight with Cold Remedy

Despite our recent flow of new pieces, GLOW doesn't just focus on work alone. While we all would like to make money pursuing our art, publishing, recording and landing roles is not what solely fuels our meetings. Process, embracing the creative life, having fun, and, of course, support constitute the stronger foundation that will give way to the "professional" outcome.

The following is a write-up from our program, to give a better idea:

One Sunday afternoon last January, a group of us came together in a city apartment with lots of wine and little pretense. Seasoned performers unexposed writers, natural musicians--we were all desperate to revive what had become our somewhat sleepy creative lives. Soon enough, our modern salon became a safe haven for sharing artistic ideas. Weekly writing exercises launched imaginative stories, as unexpected characters doused our session with laughter. We found ourselves having a good time, but we also found ourselves creatine new work and taking more chances. 

Our Sunday afternoons have saved us, reconnecting us to a creative energy that continually reshapes our lives. In this spirit, we are so happy you are able to join us this evening for our first reading, as we encourage you to live creatively--in whatever way you choose. 

And now I remember...


Ah, it was nice to rejoin the living, this weekend in particular. After a week immersed in timelines and editing (job) and coming home to rooms full of boxes (recent move) I felt human again during my stroll to the park--the same Astoria Park that barely a month ago proved to be a haunting experience, with a looming Triborough and phantom Hellgate in the fogginess of a winter snow storm. If my last visit was black, white and grey, this time it burst with the promise of color and new noises, amidst the same old cars and trucks rattling the rafters from above. The pop of metal bats for pre-season baseball practice, the bouncing of basketballs on the pavement, even the slaps of gloves from men boxing in the center of the track, while a little girl played in the sandbox next to them. Soon enough, the pool will be full, chlorine and hotdogs will fill the air, and people will be laying out on the great stretch of lawn with coolers, Frisbees and hookah, as cars and motorcycles promenade down Shore Boulevard below them. And I will be jogging down to the track at dusk, when the heat is somewhat bearable, trying to enjoy the plum-colored skyline as I heave along, the high-school track team breezing by.

So much focus on a busy work week and not enough time to take a breather and merely get outside leads to a loss of sanity, simply put. (The Rolling Stones were right. Lose your dreams and you do start losing you mind.) A little sun heating up my head and a glance at the water, even if it is the East River, reminds me of the trip to Italy I am supposed to be planning.

I must admit, my new route to the park from my new place is a little less enjoyable than my old route, starting off from 30th avenue. I do prefer the long stretch of little brick houses and front yard gardens down Crescent Street to a busy, and at times threatening Astoria Boulevard. But the plus? My new route thus far includes a turn on 24th Ave and a pass of the beer garden. I foresee a well-deserved icy mug of beer and some kielbasa on my way home from the track this summer.

Traffic

Followers