http://ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/index/ Your guide to Rural Living en MarilynBethany@aol.com Copyright 2011 2011-08-25T12:14:16+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_movies/movie_intelligence4/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_movies/movie_intelligence4/   Following are the films currently showing in our region, listed in order of their Metacritic score.*  For a synopsis of the film and excerpts from the reviews that led to the score, click on the Metascore next to the film title. For show times, click on the theater name in the Movie Theaters directory at right.           Metascore/film title/(theaters) 98 Metropolis (TSL)** 95 Days of Heaven (Clark) 87 Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 (Beacon, Hudson Movieplex) 85 The Tree of Life (Spectrum) 82 The Trip (Spectrum) 81 Midnight in Paris (Spectrum) 80 Le Quattro Volte (Upstate) 78 The Guard (Upstate) 75 Tabloid (Crandell, Little Cinema) 72 Terri (Spectrum) 68 Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Bank Street, Beacon, Cinerom, Fairview, Lyceum, Regal Berkshire, Roosevelt) 68 Crazy, Stupid, Love (Beacon, Crandell, Spectrum, Triplex) 64 Fright Night (Bank Street, Beacon, Cinerom, Hudson Movieplex, Lyceum, Regal Berkshire, Roosevelt) 62 The Help (Bank Street, Bantam, Beacon, Cinerom, Fairview, Images, Lyceum, Moviehouse, Regal Berkshire, Roosevelt, Spectrum, Triplex) 61 Our Idiot Brother (Beacon, Cinerom, Hudson Movieplex, Lyceum, Regal Berkshire, Roosevelt, Spectrum) 59 The Tree (TSL) 58 Sarah’s Key (Cinerom, Little Cinema, Moviehouse, Spectrum, Triplex, Upstate) 55 Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark (Hudson Movieplex, Regal Berkshire) 50 Final Destination 5 (Beacon, Hudson Movieplex,  Roosevelt) 48 30 Minutes or Less (Hudson Movieplex, Regal Berkshire) 48 Glee: the 3-D Concert Movie (Hudson Movieplex) 48 One Day (Bantam, Cinerom, Lyceum, Moviehouse, Regal Berkshire, Spectrum, Triplex) 47 Colombiana (Fairview, Lyceum, Regal Berkshire, Roosevelt) 37 Spy Kids: All the Time in the World (Bank Street, Hudson Movieplex, Lyceum, Regal Berkshire, Roosevelt) 37 Conan the Barbarian (Hudson Movieplex, Regal Berkshire) 30 The Smurfs (Beacon, Hudson Movieplex, Regal Berkshire, Roosevelt)   *Metacritic is a site that weighs film reviews from dozens of sources, averaging the results to achieve a score—the closer to 100, the more positive the reviews. **Free   Unscored The Debt (Spectrum, Triplex) Ken Kesey’s Search for a Kool Place (TSL) Pruitt-Igoe Myth (TSL) The Last of the Blonde Bombshells (PS/21)** Berkshire Jewish Film Festival Metropolitan Opera Live on HD Tickets: Met Members/August 19, General Public/August 29 (Bardavon, Beacon, Clark, Mahaiwe, TSL) Movies 2011-08-25T12:14:16+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/food_section/food_articles_shopping/the_meat_market_a_butcher_shop_goes_back_to_the_future/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/food_section/food_articles_shopping/the_meat_market_a_butcher_shop_goes_back_to_the_future/ When Rural Intelligence first reported two years ago about Jeremy Stanton’s dream of opening a butcher shop in Great Barrington devoted to locally raised meats, he had yet to meet Ruth Reichl, the editor of the late lamented Gourmet magazine, who spends her weekends in Columbia County.  In July 2010, Reichl hired Stanton’s Fire Roasted Catering to produce a pig roast for her husband Michael Singer’s birthday, and she was blown away by Stanton’s artistry and passion for real food. She pledged to invest in his next venture. With her moral and financial support, Stanton was able to finally assemble a group of investors to back The Meat Market, which officially opens on Monday, August 29. As someone who’s made his living by grilling over open flames no matter what the weather, Stanton is a bit of a daredevil—the Evel Knievel of cooking. So it comes as no surprise that he may or may not have steaks for sale on opening day. “We have some beef in the walk-in, but it may not be ready to sell—it takes 14 to 21 days for an animal to relax,” he explains. “We’ll open with the best we can offer, including a lot of sausages, pork chops, liver sausages and chickens.” The Meat Market wiil be more than a butcher shop. “We will have an assortment of prepared foods that you can eat here or take home,” says Stanton, who vows to serve the best egg-and-sausage sandwich in the Berkshires all day long.  “We’ll serve it with coffee made in a Chemex server. It’s what I like to drink, and I like that Chemex comes from Pittsfield. But we are not going to have an espresso machine and we are not going to be a coffee shop. Everything we do will be about meat with a focus on local and artisanal products. I’ll sell mustard and capers, but not granola.” He will have a lunch counter where he’ll offer customers a chance to eat exactly what he and his staff are having for lunch that day such as a Philly cheesesteak,  a North Carolina-style pulled pork sandwich, or a bowl of spaghetti Bolognese. “There will be three ways to experience the shop. Buy the ingredients to cook at home. Buy prepared food to eat at home. Or eat it here.” As any locavore knows, eating responsibly and seasonally means not necessarily being able to have what you want when you want it.  “I probably won’t offer baby back ribs except by special order because I would rather sell bone-in pork chops and you can’t get both from the same animal,” he explains. “But I will have spare ribs.”  Like an old-fashioned neighborhood butcher, he and his staff will be teachers, explaining the difference among various cuts and offering cooking advice as well as recipes. Located in the old Gypsy Joynt space (near Cafe Adam and across Route 7 from Price Chopper), The Meat Market is surprisingly stylish. “Ritch Holben, who’s an architect and our neighbor in Southfield, helped us source the chairs and subway tiles and gave us lots of advice about colors,” says Stanton. “We both like that chic industrial look of soft woods mixed with hard metals.”  The snappy logo was designed by Greg Klee, another friend. While Stanton hopes to be open seven days a week, he will adjust his schedule based on how much meat he’s selling and how much he has on hand. “We are not going to be afraid to run out,” he says dare-devilishly. The Meat Market opening August 29 389 Stockbridge Road (aka Route 7), Great Barrington 413.528.2022 Daily 11 a.m. - 7 p.m. Shopping 2011-08-24T15:45:24+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/food_section/food_articles_news/luna_61_restaurants_vegetarian_fare_with_asian_flair_/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/food_section/food_articles_news/luna_61_restaurants_vegetarian_fare_with_asian_flair_/ by Bess J.M Hochstein Throw a rock in our region and you’re likely to hit a yoga teacher, reiki master, herbalist, massage therapist, or other holistic practitioner. Which makes it seem odd that vegetarian restaurants are so rare here. Many local dining establishments do serve up a meatless option or two – notably Chez Nous in Lee, where co-owner and pastry chef Rachel Portnoy, herself a vegetarian, has some sway in the kitchen over her traditional-French-chef husband, Franck Tessier; Swoon Kitchenbar in Hudson, one of the few local participants in the global Meatless Monday movement; and the Hudson branch of Mexican Radio, which goes so far as to offer not just faux meat but also dairy substitutes to accommodate both vegetarians and vegans. And, of course, the region’s Asian and Indian restaurants generally have a list of vegetarian dishes. Those seeking a meat-free dining environment, however, are mostly out of luck. Even Kripalu added chicken and fish to its buffet a few years ago. Fortunately for compassionate foodies, there’s Luna 61 in Tivoli, where husband-and-wife team Debra and Peter Maisel have been serving vegetarian meals after having relocated from Red Hook six years ago. Omnivorous diners who fear that vegetarian means bland beans, greens, tofu, and rice can happily take a seat in Luna 61’s cheery, chartreuse dining room without trepidation. A hearty, flavorful meal, prepared from organic, as-local-as-possible ingredients, awaits. Chef Peter Maisel, who studied with Annemarie Colbin at New York’s Natural Gourmet Institute, mans the kitchen. He has a bold hand with spice and a keen understanding of balancing sweet, hot, salty, and sour flavors, which he puts to use in creative interpretations of international cuisine.  Debra Maisel runs the front of the house and does the baking, turning out homey, seasonal fruit pies, crisps, and tarts, as well as luscious cakes, many of which are vegan. She also prepares fresh fruit beverages, such as watermelon strawberry lemonade, refreshing on a recent scorching day. Among the Starters, Scallion Pancakes present a surprise; rather than the flat disc served at Chinese restaurants, they’re upright cones of crispy flatbread wrapped around fresh vegetables. The Vietnamese Salad Roll is a more faithful rendition of the classic summer roll, with a suitably spicy peanut sauce, which, like all the restaurant’s sauces and dressings, is made from scratch. The appetizer menu is full of creative rolls, such as the Maki 61 sushi roll with shiitake mushrooms and avocado, or the Galaxy, bite-sized cones made from a tortilla wrap filled with portabellas, mock Canadian bacon, and veggies. Notes Debra, “Our customers often make a meal of them.” You could also make a meal of the menu’s hearty salads, such as Roasted Root (beets, carrots, and onions over field greens); Land and Sea (arame, daikon, carrots, red cabbage, and scallions over mesclun); and Wild Mushroom, Potato and Kale Salad. A globetrotting list of sandwiches includes the Cuban Press (panko-crusted portabello, roasted red peppers, and sautéed spinach, with goat cheese or tofu), the Curry Roti Wrap, falafel, burrito, and a tempeh reuben. Peter’s Asian culinary inclinations shine through in the main courses, with fiesty, filling dishes like Bangkok Curry Tofu, Pad Thai, or Laksa Noodlepot, and a nightly special, such as the Korean Kimchee Noodlepot—with house-pickled cabbage and daikon – available on a recent visit. Vegetarians can indulge without fear of hidden, animal-derived ingredients, like fish sauce or shrimp paste, that are common in Aisan cuisine. Debra points out that the sweet potato enchiladas and the ravioli—which changes daily—are also perennially popular. “We try to change the menu,” she says, “but our customers always complain when we take something off.” That doesn’t stop them from coming up with new seasonal temptations, like a current plate of raw cheese from Pine Plains and local peaches on a bed of arugula with pumpkin seeds and lemon basil vinaigrette. Portions are generous and Peter’s irresistible sauces may compel you to lick the plate clean, but you’ll definitely want to leave room for one of Debra’s desserts, even if you take it to go, which we recently did with a slice fresh peach pie. After tearing through that humble vegan dessert later the same evening, we seriously regretted not having ordered two slices. Debra explains that about ninety percent of the menu is vegan, or can be made vegan by leaving out cheese. She also claims it’s not an issue for the majority of her clientele, which draws heavily from nearby Bard College.  “About seventy percent of our customers are not vegetarian,” says Debra. “And why should that be surprising? You don’t have to be Chinese to go to a Chinese restaurant. You don’t have to be Mexican to a Mexican restaurant. People come here for good, clean, organic food.” She and her husband initially gravitated toward a vegetarian diet for health reasons; Peter lost his mother, his father, and other close family members to cancer, and he has the Ashkenazi genetic predisposition to the disease. As Debra describes it, the couple used to be “hardcore macrobiotic,” though they’ve loosened up over time. Still, health is not the only reason they’ve chosen to eat and serve vegetarian food. “We don’t like killing animals,” she says. “We’re animal lovers.” They’ve got four adopted dogs and four cats at home, plus a bevy of feral cats that Debra cares for, to prove the point. Even gluten-free vegans will find a warm reception and a good meal at Luna 61, though, perhaps surprisingly, Chelsea Clinton and her now-vegan dad did not stop by on the lead-up to Chelsea’s recent wedding in nearby Rhinebeck. But Debra notes Luna 61 did get some business from the former Clinton administration during the nuptials. “Madeleine Albrigtht stopped for our banana cream pie,” says Debra. “We’re famous for our banana cream pie. We always have to have it on the menu.” Luna 61 55 Broadway Tivoli, NY Dinner: Monday,Tuesday & Thursday,  5 - 9 p.m.; Friday & Saturday 5 - 10 p.m. Brunch: Sunday 9:30 - 4:00 845.758-0061 News 2011-08-23T21:17:46+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/blog_section/blog_articles_AgriCulture/agriculture_the_off_label_uses_of_basil/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/blog_section/blog_articles_AgriCulture/agriculture_the_off_label_uses_of_basil/ AgriCulture bloggers Peter Davies and Mark Scherzer are the owners of Turkana Farms in Germantown, NY. This week,  Peter writes: One of the minor mysteries that nagged at me while living in Turkey years ago was the pots of dwarf bush basil I saw on the sills of the village cottage windows along the Aegean coast. The mystery was that I never saw basil used in any way in Turkish cuisine, nor did I ever hear much mention of it.  Turkish cookery is so herb oriented with its heavy use of mint, dill, oregano, and rosemary that the absence of basil seemed strange.  To me, it is very odd, given that Italy and Turkey are both Mediterranean countries, sharing so much culturally and climate-wise, that, while basil plays such a prominent role in Italian cuisine, it is virtually absent from Ottoman/Turkish cookery. Even odder, given that Turkish and Greek cultures were so intermingled for centuries, is that basil seems to be so much a part of Greek myth and folk belief while in Turkey it seems relegated, seemingly bereft of all associations, to village window sills. I was thinking of this last month while potting the dwarf bush basil plants, labeled “Greek Basil,” I had started in the greenhouse in the late spring. This variety of basil is the one with the tiny leaves that mounds so beautifully if its end leaves are constantly pinched (thus both creating a little topiary and providing a convenient kitchen source for brightening up salads and other dishes). I had similarly potted this variety, or one like it, about eight years ago after returning from Turkey with a tiny packet of miniscule black seeds, wild basil, which I eagerly planted with great success. But for some reason I had let the practice lapse (probably because I did not act soon enough collecting the seeds). The seeds were a gift from Erkan, the owner/captain of the yacht I usually charter for my trips. I had been in Bodrum, on the lower Aegean, making charter arrangements and was invited up into the surrounding hills to see the tiny subsistence level farm Erkan had grown up on. I remember sitting outside his family’s farm cottage enjoying the fantastic view. Through a large cleft in the mountains, the turquoise waters of the Aegean sparkled, except where three barren cone-shaped islands, ancient mountain tops, poked through, barely rising out of the sea.  As I sat mesmerized, looking at this strangely primitive scene, Erkan asked me if I would like some of the basil seeds his father had foraged recently on the mountainside. I knew that the Turkish peasantry still foraged a great deal, particularly in the spring. I had recently seen peasants carrying baskets overflowing with some kind of greenery, which, upon inspection, turned out to be wild marguerites. On further inquiry, I learned that the villagers sautéed them as a spring vegetable. This was a dish I had never seen in Turkish restaurants or in urban Turkish homes. I also knew that the Turkish countryside was rich with herbs. In my first months of living in Izmir, Turkey, in the early sixties,  I remember having made out a list of vegetables and herbs I wanted our school buyer to get us from the market. He laughed when he saw rosemary, oregano, bay leaves, and thyme on the list and said “Oh, we don’t need to buy those. I can pick them for you in the fields.”  And he did. Subsequent hikes through the countryside revealed paths redolent with herbs, especially thyme, rosemary, and oregano but not basil.  However, in Bodrum, possibly because it was once primarily Greek-populated and the climate is right, basil seems to have naturalized. Once I had Erkan’s gift seeds in hand, it seemed an opportune time to solve a few mysteries; for one, the purpose of the tiny pots of basil on cottage window ledges and, secondly, its absence from Turkish cuisine “For deodorizing the rooms, and sometimes we use it,” Erkan glibly replied in such a way as to say “End of subject.” And this answer satisfied me for a time but, gradually, it occurred to me that in this part of the world everything was so fraught with meaning and symbol that this could not be the entire explanation. I had learned from attending several Turkish funerals, for instance, that the bunch of rosemary dropped on the filled grave, the water poured on it, and the smashing of the ceramic water pot signified death and resurrection. And I had learned at the underwater archaeology museum in Bodrum from the centuries-old wrecks preserved there that a sprig of rosemary in ancient times traditionally hung from the mast or the roof of the ship’s cabin. And I became aware thereafter that even today in the yachts and small boats of the region, rosemary predictably can be found hanging somewhere. Obviously it was an ancient custom, rosemary functioning as some kind of protective talisman. Are the pots of basil in the windows in Turkey there for reasons other than deodorizing the rooms? I assume they must be since there are so many rituals and beliefs associated with basil worldwide. In India, where it is generally believed basil originated, the herb is placed in the mouth of the dying to ensure that they reach God. The ancient Egyptians and Greeks believed it would open the gates of heaven. And it is known from an examination of mummies that Egyptians used basil in the embalming process. In European lore there seems to be good basil and bad basil. In some, basil is the symbol of Satan, and some Greek beliefs associate basil with hatred. On the good side, it is believed that basil was found around Christ’s tomb after the resurrection, hence its use in holy water, and its presence beneath altars in most branches of Orthodox Christianity. On a more romantic level, in Portugal a pot of dwarf bush basil is traditionally presented, along with a poem and pompom, to a sweetheart on the religious holidays of Saint John and Saint Anthony. A friends tells me that in Sicily, a pot of dwarf basil on the windowsill is the sign of a house of prostitution—they seem to have one-upped the young swains in Portugal. In eastern Turkey, a brothel is signaled more subtly, with the glow of a lighted cigarette in a dark window. Slowly, in stages, the glow moves towards the window becoming brighter and brighter, ending with a puff of smoke before withdrawing gradually in stages, leaving blackness. Very mysterious; almost hypnotic. Too dark for potted basil, I guess.  And definitely too dark to see the lady. So where, I wonder, is the basil lore of the Turks?  One possible clue: Our name for the plant “basil” apparently derives from Greek. There are two theories regarding the derivation of the word; one is that it derives from the word “basileus,” above, meaning “king” or “royal”, another, that it comes from the word “basilisk,” the half-lizard/half-dragon monster of mythology, right, known for its fatal piercing stare and equally fatal breath. In popular Greek lore, the medicinal application of basil leaf was believed to protect one from the stare, breath, and even bite of the basilisk. Is it possible that the pot of basil on the window ledges of cottages along the Aegean hark back to this protective function, guarding the vulnerability of an open window? Possibly, since nowhere else in Anatolia do Greek and Turkish cultures fuse so closely as along the Aegean. But, then, I may never know, as I have yet to meet a Turk who would speak to me about basil. —Peter Davies   For the complete archive of past AgriCulture blogs, click here.  AgriCulture fans who would like to continue receiving Peter Davies’ and Mark Scherzer’s essays, may sign up for their weekly e-mail at . AgriCulture 2011-08-23T12:02:16+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/parties_section/parties_articles_parties/ferrin_gallery_dishdine/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/parties_section/parties_articles_parties/ferrin_gallery_dishdine/ Cultural correspondent Bess J.M. Hochstein reports from Pittsfield. The genteel tradition of the art salon finds new vitality at the Ferrin Gallery’s periodic Dish+Dine soirees, which bring together local artists, food, academics, and chefs, plus guests interested in any or all of those topics, to share a meal, libations, and lively discussion over a table set with locally made plates and cups. The latest of such events, on Friday, August 19, was a sold-out dinner on the theme of Decadence & Decay, part of an artBerkshires curated weekend, with a focus on photography. Aprile Gallant, curator of Prints, Drawings, and Photographs at the Smith College Museum of Art (in photo, left, with Leslie Ferrin); John Stromberg, director of the Mount Holyoke College Art Museum; and Maria Mingalone, interim executive director of Berkshire Museum, discussed the role of photography in museum collections as a crowd of more than 40 art lovers and bon vivants enjoyed a meal prepared by Brian Alberg of the Red Lion Inn, served on porcelain dishes made by Mary Ann Davis. Hope Sullivan, executive director of IS183 Art School of the Berkshires, with Joan Salke; Olivia Georgia, executive director of Meredith Monk’s The House Foundation, with Michael Salke. Paul Goldberg with photographer and gallerist Cassandra Sohn; Deborah Pege and ceramist Frances Palmer. Arts consultant Bobbie Paley with Vicki Bonnington; Hancock Shaker Village’s interim director Dr. Peter Hansen and Dr. Petra Krauledat. Publicist Michael Kusek and photographer Susan Mikula; nonprofit marketing consultant Cathy Deely with attorney David Schecker. MASS MoCA communications queen Katherine Myers with gallerista and artBerkshire collaborator Sienna Patti; sculptor Gordon Chandler with Studio Two’s new project manager Rebecca Weinman. BART charter school math teacher Curtis Asch, who went on the win the next day’s Word X Word poetry slam, with Maria Mingalone, interim executive director of Berkshire Museum; Ferrin gallerinas Madeline Thompson and Lauren Shea, a B-HIP arts management intern from MCLA, flank photographer Bill Wright. Sienna Patti holds forth in a lively discussion amidst Ferrin Gallery’s photography show, Beauty in Decay. Parties 2011-08-22T18:35:47+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/community_section/community_articles_passages/a_farewell_from_marilyn_dan/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/community_section/community_articles_passages/a_farewell_from_marilyn_dan/ From the start, Rural Intelligence was an experiment. Our goal to create an online culture-and-lifestyle magazine that would unite four counties in three states was and remains, as far as we know, unique.  We are proud of the work we’ve done and that we’ve succeeded in fostering a sense of community across state and county lines among full- and part-time residents, as well as visitors. We’ve immensely enjoyed chronicling the extraordinary people and places that make our neck of the woods so special. Now, at the end of our fourth summer, despite a record number of advertisers and a still-growing readership, we remain a tenuous business.  So, the time has come for us to step back and get some perspective on the world beyond the Hudson Valley, the Berkshires, and the Litchfield Hills and on Rural Intelligence—what it is and, just possibly, what it could be again someday. We honestly do not know if RI has a future.  What we do know, and apologize for, is that we leave behind disappointed contributors, readers, and advertisers (who, if they’ve paid in advance, will receive refunds).  For Labor Day weekend, we will refresh the home page one last time with golden oldies.  Thereafter, Rural Intelligence will remain online as is,  so that anyone can continue to access the hundreds of stories and thousands of photographs in our archive. It has been our great honor and pleasure to be part of your lives.  We’ve given this our all for the past three-and-a-half years. Thank you for making us feel that it’s been worthwhile. We’ll miss you. —Marilyn Bethany and Dan Shaw for Rural Intelligence Passages 2011-08-21T10:59:24+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_music/david_dorfman_dance_to_the_music/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_music/david_dorfman_dance_to_the_music/ Dance review by Bess J.M. Hochstein Photos: above, Kate Enman; below, Cherylynn Tsushima Prophets of Funk, an evening-length work performed by David Dorfman Dance this week at Jacob’s Pillow, begins with the choreographer strutting his stuff diagonally across the stage on a path of light. He’s no longer a young man, and he’s taken on some pounds along with the years, but he’s still got the moves – he can get down and funky, loose and slinky, with the best of them. Before long, Raja Kelly, standing in for Sly Stone, aka Sylvester Stewart, frontman of Sly and the Family Stone, enters, with just as funky and slinky a groove as Dorfman’s. The diagonal light turns out to be a sort of memory lane, and for its first half, Prophets of Funk, Dorfman seems to be a joy ride, fueled by the infectious music of Sly and the Family Stone. No need to analyze, just sit back and enjoy the full-throttle non-stop, exuberant dancing: high-kicking, hip-swiveling, pelvis-thrusting, hand-standing, cartwheeling, back-flipping, floor-slidng, head bobbing, toe-tapping fun. The music, hippie costumes, frequently flashed peace signs, and video backdrop of vintage concert footage and psychedelia are a blast from the past, as are bygone dance elements like the bump and the pony, but watch carefully and you’ll see some time shifting, as later-era dance influences from disco, hip-hop, and the fly-girl idiom creep into the choreography. After a while the dance takes a detour into darker territory – how could it not, when Sly and the Family Stone—which, as Dorfman points out in his program notes, was the first racially and gender-integrated bands in U.S. history—put out songs like Don’t Call Me Nigger, Whitey. Dorfman takes this opportunity to address issues of power and domination, subtle and overt, while moving more into the realm of dance theater. In addition to dancing full-out, company members are also called upon to perform monologues, pantomime, and even sing. But in the end the troupe rides out of the darkness with a finale that brings the audience to its feet, and is surely one of the cleverest ways to guarantee a standing ovation. The work finishes on a high note, with more than half the audience out on the stage, heeding Sly’s call to Dance to the Music. The performance transforms into a dance party, and since it’s an audience of all ages, shapes, and backgrounds on the stage, dancing amidst the performers, it becomes obvious that, like Sly and the Family Stone, Dorfman really does love Everyday People. Is it a coincidence that just this week Sly Stone released a new album? Perhaps Dorfman’s riding the zeitgeist, or maybe even helping to drive it. David Dorfman Dance in the Doris Duke Theatre Now through August 21 Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival Becket, MA Music 2011-08-19T11:58:34+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_music/aspen_santa_fe_ballet_articulate_company/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_music/aspen_santa_fe_ballet_articulate_company/ Dance review by Bess J.M. Hochstein Photos: Rosalie O’Connor A well-composed program of work by three European choreographers, in performance by Aspen Santa Fe Ballet this week at Jacob’s Pillow, shows off the many skills of this company’s ten talented dancers: speed, strength, grace, presence, agility, and humor. Although the three dances that comprise the program skip around in time, from Spanish choreographer Cayetano Soto’s Uneven, commissioned by ASFB in 2010; to the great Czech choreographer Jiří Kylián’s 1983 work, Stamping Ground; to Finnish choreographer Jorma Elo’s Red Sweet, commissioned by ASFB in 2008, the viewer can spot a few through lines in both the big picture and the details that tie these works together. The big picture is evident: largely asymmetric movement; daring lifts and swirls; fast-paced precision and keen articulation; and bold, contemporary choreography performed by self-possessed, classically trained dancers. As for the details, all three dances include quirky movements, such as intermittent tremors in the extremities; improbable holds in the partnering and lifts; extreme, unefforted extensions; and surprising moves (such one-handed handstands or cartwheels more expected in a hip-hop performance) that somehow seem right at home. The evening begins with Uneven, and even before the dance begins we see that it is just that; a corner of white fabric spills off the stage and into the audience. The curtain opens, revealing that the fabric forms a diagonal swath across the stage; the opposite corner has been lifted to create a triangular frame for cellist Kimberly Patterson, dressed in black, who plays the live part of a score by David Lang, accompanied by recorded music and voice. The dancers wear black-and-white leotards. Thanks to evocative lighting and a subtle fog effect, the dancers emerge from the back curtain as if materializing. Like the set and costumes, there are no gray areas in this dance; solo, coupled, or in small groups, the dancers snap from one off-center pose to the next in a disjointed manner, limbs articulating from their hip, knee, shoulder and elbow joints. Transitions happen in a blink, as the dancers pop into angular position after position. They hit their marks, stop-and-go style – for the women, often while being lifted and whirled by the male dancers. This is the dance equivalent of atonal music – which is not to say it’s inharmonious; just complex and unpredictable, going off in unexpected directions. Stamping Ground provides comedy to balance the seriousness of Uneven. The audience gasps when what seemed like a black-curtain background is revealed to be hanging strips of a shiny, mylar-ish material, through which the dancers make dramatic and often funny entrances and exits. The work begins in silence, with a series of solos in which the dancers perform low-to-the-ground animal-like movements – here a chicken, with that characteristic sharp jutting of the head or chest; there a monkey, elongated arms trailing as the dancer travels in deep squats and lunges, popping up every so often to look over their shoulders. Periodic stomps, thuds, and body slaps provide the soundscape as one dancer after the other takes a solo, sometimes chasing the previous beast off the stage. Ensemble work begins along with the percussive score by Carlos Chavez, a fly-by series of witty and wonderful vignettes among groupings of dancers: two men holding a woman suspended to a tick-tock section of music as her legs match the beat like a pendulum; what looks like a game of leap frog that results in a chain of collapse; one man breaking free of two others, who fall flat on their backs, limbs stiffly splayed, later to be pulled quickly, in their rigid forms, offstage through the shiny strips by unseen hands. The dancers bounce off the floor with no apparent muscle effort, as if the stage were a trampoline, or as if they were being jerked upward by marionette strings. Every interaction between and among dancers touches off an unexpected, laugh-inducing, reaction. They move like cartoon characters, maintaining mock-serious facial expressions. It’s a delightful work by a rightfully legendary choreographer, masterfully performed. The evening ends with Red Sweet, which manages to combine the best of the two preceding works. Full of humor and grace in asymmetry, the work is characterized by angular positions, innovative partnering, and sophisticated patterning that matches the balletic score of string music by Vivaldi and Biber with lush cannons and cascades of movement. While the structure is traditional, the forms created by the dancers’ bodies are anything but, and therein lies the humor. It’s the perfect culmination for an evening of surprising choreography performed by well trained dancers willing to give it their all. Aspen Santa Fe Ballet at the Ted Shawn Theatre Now through August 21 Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival Becket, MA Music 2011-08-18T14:55:02+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_theatre/the_wharton_salon_bringing_edith_wharton_works_to_life_at_the_mount/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_theatre/the_wharton_salon_bringing_edith_wharton_works_to_life_at_the_mount/ Preview by Bess J.M. Hochstein Longtime Berkshire theater goers fondly reminisce about the days in the late 1970s when Tina Packer and her merry band of thespians took up residence at The Mount, where, in addition to Shakespeare, they performed theatrical adaptations of the work of the estate’s esteemed creator, Edith Wharton. That era ended in 2001, when Shakespeare & Company relocated to its current home, just down the road. This week for the third summer, Wharton returns to her home, with a production of Autres Temps…, thanks to The Wharton Salon, brainchild of former Shakespeare & Co. member Catherine Taylor-Williams, right. Like her two previous productions – Xingu and Summer, Autres Temps… was adapted by Dennis Krausnick, who was also responsible for Taylor-Williams’ introduction to Shakespeare & Co. in 1996. “While I was in Toronto I met Dennis, who came up to do a workshop,” recounts Taylor-Williams, who is Canadian. “I found his approach to Shakespeare very refreshing and personal. After that workshop I was pretty determined to come down and work with Shakespeare & Co. I came to the Berkshires just as they were about to leave The Mount in the summer of 2001, but before the move I house-managed their fantastic Midsummer Night’s Dream.” That summer she also house-managed The Wharton One Acts at Spring Lawn, the mansion adjacent to Shakespeare & Co.’s current campus, where the troupe staged intimate productions before the Bernstein Theatre was built. Among the program of one acts, she says, “Normi Noël directed An International Episode. I was very moved by the production, loved the wonderful roles for women, and also thought that performing in a non-traditional theatre space with windows, daylight, and in such close proximity to the audience was so much better than a black box theatre.” “From there I began to read Wharton’s short stories,” she recounts. Her first onstage role with Shakespeare & Co., in 2002, was in Wharton’s first novel, The Valley of Decision. “I loved Dennis Krausnick’s adaptations; they were so dry, witty, and wonderful. And I also saw how much the audiences loved them, and I remembered that.” In 2007 Taylor-Williams was accepted into a prestigious arts management program at the Kennedy Center. “I had been working in the press department at Shakespeare & Co. in addition to being onstage for five years,” she says. “I knew I wanted to run a theatre company, but there was a lot I needed to learn about fundraising, marketing, finance, and planning for a successful company, so I took a year to immerse myself in that alone and build a solid management base. “From Washington, I went to New York thinking that was where I should strive to make my mark. I worked for two years at the Atlantic Theater Company in development, and was a member of the 2009-2010 Producer’s Lab at The Women’s Project, a company that advances plays written and directed by women. But I wasn’t prepared for how much I would miss the Berkshires.” In 2008 she began thinking about bringing the works of Wharton back to the author’s home. She found a receptive ear in Susan Wissler, who had recently been named The Mount’s executive director. Taylor-Williams launched The Wharton Salon in 2009 with Xingu, she says, “…because it was one of Wharton’s very rare comedies and it had seven women’s roles for all my favorite actresses.” Next up was Summer because, she says, “It was a Berkshire story—about coming of age in time with nature and the seasons, which is a big part of our lives here.” This year’s production is based on a short story by Wharton first published 100 years ago in Century Magazine as Other Times, Other Manners—a title derived from the French expression autres temps, autres moeurs, later retitled Autres Temps… in Wharton’s 1916 collection Xingu. It tells the story of the scandalous Mrs. Lidcote, a divorcee who returns to New York from self-imposed exile in Europe, under the assumption that her daughter Leila, who is getting divorced and quickly remarried, is in need of support. Back in America, she finds that times certainly have changed… to some extent. Taylor-Williams and Krausnick updated the setting to 1962, which, she says, required very few edits: “‘Sargent’s been to paint her’ changed to ‘Avedon’s been to photograph her for Harper’s Bazaar,’ etc. Really just cosmetics.” She also cast a real-life mother-and-daughter – Diane Prusha and Rory Hammond, both Wharton Salon veterans – in the mother-and-daughter roles. Corinna May, who plays cousin Suzy Suffern, was also in Xingu. (Prusha, May, and Hammond, l-r, in photo above by David Dashiell.) With so many juicy roles for women, it’s only natural to wonder if Taylor-Williams is tempted to jump back over to the acting side of the stage, but, she says, “I am pleased and a little relieved to say I don’t think of that at all when I’m directing. Directing is very new to me, and there is a lot to learn, so I don’t have a lot of time to spend wishing I were onstage. “Directing brings a very different type of joy. When the actors play a scene with precision, or something sad, funny or surprising happens, or when the designers create something extraordinary, or when the crew comes in and works all night putting up or taking down the set, it’s extremely humbling to be the one person out there witnessing all that passion and energy. But do I have Wharton roles I’d love to play? Ha ha. Sure.” The Wharton Salon presents Autres Temps… In the Stables at The Mount 2 Plunkett Street, Lenox, MA August 17 - 28 Performance schedule: Wednesdays and Thursdays, August 17, 18, 24 & 25 @ 5:30 p.m. Saturdays, August 20 & 27 @ 10:30 a.m. & 3 p.m. Sundays, August 21 & 28 @ 10:30 a.m. Theatre 2011-08-17T14:21:08+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/ruralroadtrips_section/ruralroadtrips_articles_excursions/the_hyde_park_trail_history_in_motion/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/ruralroadtrips_section/ruralroadtrips_articles_excursions/the_hyde_park_trail_history_in_motion/ by Kathryn Matthews   “If beauty is good for the soul, then I wish I could have taken the whole world to walk with me early Saturday morning in the woods at Hyde Park,” Eleanor Roosevelt once wrote of her restorative walks at Val-Kill, her Dutchess County retreat. Dogwood trees in bloom, “little orange lizards” (salamanders) skittering about, a sea of wildflowers in bloom—the details of Val-Kill’s ever-changing landscape so captivated the First Lady that she shared them with readers of her nationally syndicated “My Day” column. Celebrating its 20th anniversary this summer, the Hyde Park Trail, a nine-mile “through trail” linking all the National Park Service sites—the Vanderbilt Mansion; Springwood, the home of Franklin D. Roosevelt; Val-Kill, Eleanor Roosevelt’s private getaway; FDR’s Top Cottage; and the Roosevelt Farm Lane—rests within the town of Hyde Park’s 16-mile trail system. The impetus for developing the Hyde Park Trail began in the mid-1980s when the Polio Plus (a Rotary Club charity) and March of Dimes walk-a-thon participants, attempting to follow the trail between Springwood and the Vanderbilt Mansion, got lost.  “They were turning up in other people’s backyards—that’s when we realized we needed a better trail system,” says Karl Beard of the National Parks Service. The original 3.5 mile stretch, linking the FDR Home to the Vanderbilt Mansion, opened in 1991.  In the ensuing two decades, its length has nearly tripled. The latest addition is the Roosevelt Farm Lane trail.  On a recent 3.6 mile hike, my husband and I discovered that, on this parcel situated between Route 9 and the entrance to Val-Kill on Route 9G, FDR experimented with forestry, planting over a half-million trees over three decades.  In the process, he’d acquired an understanding and appreciation of forestry that he later applied to the national tree-planting efforts of the Civilian Conservation Corps.  The Roosevelt Farm Lane is the only part of the Hyde Park trail open to bicyclists. On another hike within the system, we discovered that Riverfront Park, between the Vanderbilt Mansion and Springwood, parallels River Road, a public thoroughfare, before diverging onto the historic carriage roads and woodland paths that lead to each of those sites.  The toughest trail is from Val-Kill, Eleanor’s retreat, to Top Cottage, where FDR entertained high-profile visitors, such as Winston Churchill and the king and queen of England.  The trail is a steep and narrow, one hiker-wide, mile-long footpath.  We hoofed it all the way up and back; though, for the weary, there is a free shuttle bus service from May through October that stops at all the historic sites. which hikers can use to hitch a ride back to their parked cars.  The only potential drawback; there could be a substantial wait. Using new cell phone tours (845.475.3819) as their “guide,” hikers now get to listen, at designated spots along all six Hyde Park trails, to fact-filled highlights (example: the Atlantic sturgeon that were once commercially fished in the Hudson River at Hyde Park were so abundant that they became known as “Albany beef”).    Alternatively, hikers can download audio podcasts to a computer, MP3 player, or iPod, for listening at home or later, while on the trail.   Hyde Park Trail Map Roosevelt-Vanderbilt National Historic Sites Daily, dawn to dusk; hikers/free Parking lots: Springwood Home of Franklin D. Roosevelt 4097 Albany Post Road (Route 9) Hyde Park Vanderbilt Mansion 119 Vanderbilt Park Road (2 miles north of the FDR Home on Route 9) Eleanor Roosevelt National Historic Site (Val-Kill) Route 9G, 2 miles east of the FDR Home on Route 9 Excursions 2011-08-17T13:17:53+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/parties_section/parties_articles_parties/from_the_mountaintop_to_the_rooftop_berkshire_celebrants_scale_the_heights_/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/parties_section/parties_articles_parties/from_the_mountaintop_to_the_rooftop_berkshire_celebrants_scale_the_heights_/ Bess J.M. Hochstein reports from Monterey and Pittsfield. Parties reached a peak this Saturday, August 13 – at least two of them did in the Berkshires, where celebrants could scale a rural mountainside to sip pina coladas and daiquiris, or climb a steep set of stairs for an urban party high above the city streets, lubricated by cans of Narragansett beer. The Bidwell House Museum’s Caribbean garden party, high atop Mount Hunger, may have seemed an odd theme for a fete celebrating a New England landmark of the Colonial era. However, the bright sun, warm breezes, lush gardens, and endless views from the home of Kenneth and Malinka Jackson lent the fundraiser a distinctly tropical feel, abetted by guests in Hawaiian shirts and other island attire. A few miles north, a festive crowd (including Gordon Chandler and Karen Lee, above) gathered up on the roof of the Greystone building for the annual rooftop party to kick off the Word X Word Festival. The band Jack the Radio, in town for the festival from North Carolina, played long and hard, high above the city streets, through sunset and beyond. In Monterey: antiques dealers Lorraine and Steve German with Bidwell House Museum executive director Barbara Palmer. Executive recruiter Doug Shufelt and realtor Nancy Kalodner; Nancy Jones and Christine Goldfinger. Jewelry designer Lisa Frankel with Kathryn Roberts and host Malinka Jackson; Karen Gundernsheimer and Louisa Weinrib. Bidwell family descendants Paula Moats and Marie Bidwell Leuchs; entrepreneur Tonio Palmer, Eyal Shapiro, and Joy Flint. Michael Weinrib, Paul Dodyk, and Werner Gundernsheimer. Julie Neu and Peggy Matlow; Hannah Mulvey and Leigh Yates-Weisgal. Jennifer Greenfield, Walter Ritter, and Diana Deacon; Sandy Pukel and Melanie Kern. Gordon and Carole Hyatt; Samantha Abdulla, Dominique Steiner, and Dr. Ronald Goldfinger. In Pittsfield: Simon’s Rock professor and author Brendan Mathews, who curated the narrative fiction component of Word X Word, at the festival’s rooftop kick-off party with participating novelists Stefan Block and Jami Attenberg, and readMedia CEO Colin Mathews. Aaron Dunn and Studio 2 newbie project manager Rebecca Weinman; Barrington Stage power couple Jeff and Laura Roudabush, directors of production and marketing, respectively. Berkshire Chamber of Commerce’s Jennifer Glockner with graphic designer Mary Garnish; artist Gabrielle Senza with CompuWorks founder and Word X Word board chair Alan Bauman. Gallerista Leslie Ferrin with Carole Schultz; intellectual property attorney Paul Rapp and writer Jeremy Goodwin. Caitlin and Mitch Nash with fellow Blue Q-er Katie Frisina and Ralph Frisina, VP and creative director at Winstanley Partners. Val Whalingand philanthropic pediatrician Siobhan McNally, board chair at Circle of Health International, with Kelly Dolan; Studio 2’s Heather Rose, medical illustrator Caity Delphia, and gardener Abigail Elwood. Artist Colin Toomey, who has just joined the Pittsfield Office of Cultural Development, with stylist Tony Barnini; 1Berkshire CEO Stuart Chase and Megan Whilden, Pittsfield’s director of cultural development. Jenny Cianflone Benson with Peter Alvarez Salon esthetician Sarah Frenkel; Word X Word board member David Rosenthal and the Tenement Museum’s Leslie Milton. State senator Benjamin Downing Jr. with Dr. Peter Dillon, superintendent of the Berkshire Hills Regional School District; poets Taylor Mali and Marie-Elizabeth Mali. The North Carolina band Jack the Radio kept the party lively. Pittsfield real estate magnate George Whaling, entertainment programmer and booking agent Simon Shaw, and congressional candidate Andrea Nuciforo; WAM’s Kristen van Ginhoven with Carrie Saldo, host of Connecting Point on WGBY. Maria Mingalone, acting executive director of Berkshire Museum, with Dolla Sapeta, visiting artist from South Africa, and MASS MoCA director of retail operations Jodi Joseph; Bra & Girl’s April Burch (aka Dr. Cleavage) with Dr. Nick Webb, assistant professor at Union College and WAM board president. The view from on high. Word X Word 2011 continues through August 20. Parties 2011-08-16T01:58:31+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/blog_section/blog_articles_AgriCulture/agriculture_leading_a_lamb_to_assisted_living/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/blog_section/blog_articles_AgriCulture/agriculture_leading_a_lamb_to_assisted_living/ AgriCulture bloggers Peter Davies and Mark Scherzer are the owners of Turkana Farms in Germantown, NY. This week,  Mark writes:    Since I wrote about the dilemma of what to do with an increasingly frail elderly ewe a few months ago, a number of people have asked me “What happened to Marina?”  We debated her fate at length. Peter convinced me that she and her twin sister, Mira, and the two other elderly ewes, Brigid and Kybele*, who arrived here together 10 years ago, would have a terrible winter ahead.  He worried that because they were increasingly unable to keep up with the herd, they would be prime candidates to be torn up by coyotes.  I reluctantly agreed it was time for them to go, and we arranged to send them off to slaughter—there’s a market for older animals as dog food.  I’m thrilled to report, however, that at the last minute Peter called around and instead found a home for all four of them at a wonderful institution, the Catskill Animal Sanctuary in Saugerties.  We took them last Monday, and it seems it will be a fine home for them, run by delightful, caring folks who did not have the doctrinaire,“farmer as enemy” attitude I feared.  Instead of becoming dog food, these two sets of devoted sisters are now happily retired to assisted living in the farm animal version of DelRay Beach. [*Kybele’s first lambing resulted in twins, one of which she rejected because of insufficient milk.  The author, above with the rejected twin Orhan, whom he and his partner bottle-fed and castrated to be the herd wether.  Orhan now leads the herd.] The reason I had concerns about our reception was a certain anti-farm zealotry that sometimes comes across from those associated with farm animal sanctuaries.  I got a sense of this antipathy just a couple of weeks ago, when Peter (right) told me about Joe Donahue’s interview on WAMC radio with Jenny Brown, of the Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary.  In the interview, she recounted the saga of Kayli the cow. Kayli recently escaped while awaiting slaughter at a Halal slaughterhouse in Pennsylvania. Her cause was adopted by local animal rights activists; she was pardoned by Pennsylvania’s governor, and finally brought to the Sanctuary in Woodstock to live out her days as a celebrity cow. It all sounded quite heartwarming—who would not root for a cow escaping death?—but Peter suggested to me that there was a certain anti-agricultural subtext.  I listened to the interview, in which Ms. Brown sounded quite reasonable.  I then turned to the Sanctuary’s website.  There “the subtext” was in bold relief, essays ostensibly about factory farming, but which paint with such a broad brush, they could be used to condemn all livestock raising. True believers concern me.  I admire their passion and commitment, but always worry that their allegiance to a particular vision of an ideal world might make things in the real real world in which we live worse. This has certainly seemed true of late with the rigid ideological zealots of the Tea Party in Congress. The Woodstock Sanctuary has an admirable mission of saving abused and neglected farm animals, but, from what I can discern from its website, it is also guided by a rigid ideology that rests on some unexamined assumptions and damaging misinformation about farm life.  The effect of the misinformation is to set up opposition between two groups—small, humanely-run farms and farm animal sanctuaries—that ought to be allies in a shared effort to see that farm animals are well cared for. Let’s start with the unexamined assumptions.  The story of Kayli, like many of the essays on the website, rests on the assumption that saving farm animals from slaughter promotes happier lives for them.  The story does not confront an uncomfortable underlying truth: the only reason people support farm animals—provide food, shelter, and attention—is because they serve human needs. If Kayli had not been raised for food, she probably never would have lived at all. Indeed, over thousands of years of selective breeding, livestock have been essentially created by man to serve as human food or fiber sources.  The creatures we’ve created rely on us, not only for their sustenance, but also for protection. If allowed to roam free and reproduce naturally, it is likely that, in short order, they would face extinction. Domesticated livestock do not have the resources or genetic imprint to live on their own.  They would be easy prey for predators. The evil the Sanctuary says it is trying to address is inhumane, unhealthy and environmentally unsound factory farming.  The Sanctuary tells us that agriculture has changed: our picture of the small family farm, with contented animals grazing out in pasture, is at least fifty years out of date, and the factory farming that has largely replaced it is full of unspeakable horror.  I couldn’t agree more.  But the Sanctuary’s remedy is to stop eating meat, poultry and eggs altogether, and even to stop using wool. There is no mention of the obvious alternative of encouraging the movement so evident in our region of raising livestock in a humane and sustainable way.  If the Woodstock Sanctuary approach prevailed, the only place you would find farm animals would be at the Sanctuary and like institutions, or on the estates of the rich folks who keep them as pets.  Ironically, achieving that goal would jeopardize the continued existence of the very animals that are the objects of the Sanctuary’s work. Believing that all farm animals will enjoy natural, happy lives if only we stop raising them for food or fiber is kind of like believing that cutting taxes for wealthy people creates jobs—it’s essentially a religious conviction lacking empirical support.  When, to support its arguments, the Woodstock website offers facts beyond those about the horrors of factory farming, many of those facts seem to have been created to justify their ideology rather than their ideology growing out of the facts. Consider these passages from their section on what’s wrong with using wool: WOODSTOCK WEBSITE: “Supposedly, shearing a sheep is a humane practice because the sheep would otherwise be burdened with kilograms of excess wool. This, of course, is a myth. Sheep grow enough wool to cover, insulate and protect themselves. It is only through human involvement that the wool grows faster because it is constantly being sheared off. Sheep are sheared each spring, after lambing, just before they would naturally shed their winter coats.” Actually, the human effect on the growth of wool on sheep is the result of eight thousand years of selective breeding.  Beginning with Ovis Orientalis, a hairy goat-like wild animal, man bred domesticated animals to produce far more fibers than the animals themselves needed, in order to serve human needs.  Shearing removes this excess fiber.  Anyone involved in raising sheep knows that without shearing their wool grows longer and thicker and becomes matted—a big source of discomfort once hot weather arrives. The matted wool around the anus can become caked with manure, creating a breeding ground for maggots and flies.  Further, sheep do not naturally shed their winter coats.  This we know from the few times we have been late getting our shearing done or when we’ve decided not to shear the new lambs born in the spring.  WOODSTOCK WEBSITE: “Timing is considered critical. Shearing too late means loss of wool. In the rush, many sheep die from exposure after premature shearing.” Give me a break.  I’ve never seen or even heard of this happening on farms like ours. Our twice a year shearing is timed to give the sheep relief from summer heat (the spring shearing) and to give them time to grow back a nice coat for winter (the fall shearing). Judging from the challenges of scheduling our expert shearer, Bruce McCord, everyone else is on pretty much the same schedule.  Our shearing is about as threatening to the sheep as a haircut would be to a human. WOODSTOCK WEBSITE: “Every single year, hundreds of lambs die before the age of 8 weeks from exposure or starvation. Many mature sheep die every year from disease, lack of shelter, and neglect.” Out of the millions of lambs born each year world wide, “hundreds” or “many” die? The vague numbers themselves (asserted without any citation to scientific literature) should give you an idea of just how serious an issue this is.  Most breeders we know of create warm, sheltered environments similar to our birthing pens in the barn for sheep to have their lambs, and buy milk substitute to bottle feed the lambs if their mothers are unable to nurse them. Some breeders even make tiny garments for their newborn lambs to keep them warm. If you want a sense of the environment that sheep on small scale farms enjoy, go to the sheep barns at the Rhinebeck Sheep and Wool Festival in October. No birth (sheep or human) is risk free, but you can be sure that livestock keepers, for whom the sheep have value, take measures to avoid risk. Sheep are quite hardy and can give birth successfully even outside in January blizzards, but if you want to see a big increase in deaths from exposure among the more vulnerable lambs, stop raising sheep agriculturally and let them roam wild. WOODSTOCK WEBSITE: “Many people do not know that the sheep farming industry involves abuse, pain and suffering. The animals are often treated inhumanely and are made to undergo severe amounts of pain and brutality. Lambs’ ears are punched, their tails cut off and the males castrated all without anesthesia within the first few weeks of their lives.” Is punching lambs’ ears (that is, piercing ears for identity tags) painful abuse? Tell that to the millions of men and women who elect to pierce their ears, noses, lips and nipples, solely for cosmetic reasons. As to the admittedly less comfortable issue of castration, there’s a balancing of cost (including the minimal pain to the animal if done right) and benefit, as I discussed a couple of weeks ago in this space. You can make up your own mind, but in doing so, keep in mind that humane societies and animal shelters, which are not raising animals for either food or fiber, generally require neutering of both males and females before they release animals for adoption. Is the SPCA then guilty of abuse? There are many good reasons for limiting reproduction. WOODSTOCK WEBSITE: “While animals such as egg-laying hens, dairy cows and wool-bearing sheep are not immediately killed to procure their salable products, they suffer tremendously for years prior to their ultimate and unavoidable slaughter.” As to whether keeping of sheep generally leads to lives of pain and abuse, I am sure the operators of the Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary, and the readers of this blog, could readily find dozens of farms to visit within less than an hour’s drive of home where suffering is simply not part of the picture.  I believe that, in our region, farms that make humane treatment of their livestock a priority far outnumber factory farms. If the evil is factory farming, then an attack on all livestock farms and all use of meat and fiber is far too broad a remedy. Folks are certainly entitled to believe that the ultimate slaughter of animals for food is distasteful or immoral; being vegetarian or vegan on that ground is, to my mind, a readily defensible philosophy. But what is not defensible is justifying that philosophy by speading misinformation that implies that raising animals for meat or fiber necessarily involves pain or abuse.  Failing to adequately draw the distinction between factory farming and humane farming implicitly vilifies the many people of good faith who live with farm animals and care deeply about their welfare even as they choose to continue the very human practice of eating meat.  As the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy has argued for years, without a market for meat, most farm animal breeds would become extinct, resulting in the loss of our agricultural heritage.  If raising farm animals is restricted to the few farm animal sanctuaries that have room for a breeding pair or two, these breeds will not be preserved.  If the Woodstock Sanctuary were to succeed in its goal of “saving” all farm animals from their fate, it would ultimately be dooming cows like Kayli to extinction. —Mark Scherzer   For the complete archive of past AgriCulture blogs, click here. AgriCulture 2011-08-15T20:32:09+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/parties_section/parties_articles_parties/Drama_at_VIM_Benefit_at_The_Pastures/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/parties_section/parties_articles_parties/Drama_at_VIM_Benefit_at_The_Pastures/ Bess J.M. Hochstein reports from Southfield, Massachusetts. Supporters of Volunteers in Medicine, which operates a clinic in Great Barrington that provides free healthcare to low-income, uninsured Berkshire workers and residents, gathered at The Pastures during the ‘golden hour’ on Thursday, August 11, for VIM’s annual benefit. After receiving a heart-felt greeting from VIM board vice chairman Matt Mandel and host Bridget Ford Hughes (left), guests enjoyed cocktails and hors d’oeuvres in the brilliant sunshine before scattering to dinner parties at private homes across South County. Also on the pre-dinner agenda was a “services auction,” providing an opportunity for supporters to subsidize various VIM services – ranging from prescriptions for all patients for six months to a single patient visit – preceded by personal accounts by VIM patients of their experiences at the clinic. Unfortunately, one patron collapsed before the auction began. Fortunately, there was a doctor in the house – more than a few of them, actually – and the patron was well tended until the ambulance arrived. The evening went on, but the auction, which typically accounts for half of the revenue generated by VIM’s annual gala — the organization’s largest fundraising event — was suspended. Word arrived that the guest is at home and doing fine, and that supporters can still “bid” on VIM services online. VIM board chair Arthur Piesner and Susan Piesner; CATA founder Sandy Newman and gala chair Jane Salamon. VIM development consultant Dave Barrett, publicist Gina Hyams, and psychiatrist Jesse Goodman; Susie Weeks with her summer guests David Sanchez and J.J. Allen Thomas. Jim Rosenstein and Anne MacDonald; VIM client Demetrio Gomez and VIM medical assistant and interpreter Gladis Rave. Elise Richman, Shirley Mueller, VIM board member Michael Richman, and Lisa Cohen. Author Efrem Sigel with VIM board member and health coach Nancy Fernandez Mills; host and sculptor Jonathan Prince with Rose Levine, who manages the farmers’ markets in Great Barrington and Lenox. Executive recruiter Doug Shufelt and realtor Nancy Kalodner; Betty Reba and Nancy Feldman Edman. Michelle Moore and caterer/restaurateur David Renner; Rocky Greenberg and Susan Popper. Jane and Alan Salamon flank their daughter, Karen Salamon. Parties 2011-08-15T20:13:50+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/style_section/style_articles_restoration/the_wandering_eye_house_guests/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/style_section/style_articles_restoration/the_wandering_eye_house_guests/ Our blogger, interior designer Carey Maloney, and his partner Hermes Mallea, an architect, are principals in the M (Group).   Okay.  Hermes had (another) good idea..  A blog on House Guests.  Avoiding all the clichés, comparisons to old fish, etc. All it takes is a few moments searching the Interweb to know we have pay dirt…The images!  The advice!  The incredibly stupid How To lists -  “Entertaining ‘Tempestuous Twenty-Something’s’  (Yeah, right.  See below..)  ‘Super Senior Citizens as Houseguests’ (only if they are continent, rich, and I am in the will).  We never have house guests in town—our friends are old and established and prefer hotels…  And upstate, infrequently.  But this summer has been more “House Guest-y” than usual… A Straight Shot from East Texas to West L.A. In June I foisted a University of Texas senior onto our willing and generous BFF’s in LA.  For three weeks William the Younger stayed in their swell pool house, and they launched him into TinselTown with the most glam Hollywood internship possible.  The perfect hosts. And William the Younger was an exemplary guest.  Quiet, invisible (and handsome when visible), played nice with the puppy.  But all was not perfect. Our girlfriend had problems with his laundry habits (“How could he have any clean underwear?”).  Girls… So I pipe up, “Just send Carmen in and muck him out”. Well – this was construed by BFF as unduly indulging William the Younger.  “He needs to learn how to do it himself—not wait for the maid.”  Hmm.  No, he doesn’t.  Really.  I know of what I speak… If you wait long enough, in my personal experience, that underwear gets magically clean.  Is that a guy thing?                                                                                     Carey into Carmen, Now I Can Relate Well, two months later, I have a house guest, and I am washing and drip drying Young Adrian’s shirts… “Carmen”, right,  courtesy of Duane Hanson (whose work freaks me out) Our friend Young Adrian arrived from Havana to spend two weeks in my Dressing Room before launching on a Grand Tour.  The name is not accidental. From Day One it has been my Dressing room.  Never a guest room - - ever.  A rule.  But Adrian is an exception to the rule.  He is young, and he’s good looking, a struggling (albeit successful) artist.  He’s worked for us—so I know I can boss him around.  He’s Cuban so the lame AC in my apartment will seem arctic.  . And it’s the dead of summer – I can take a few days off and go upstate and leave him to it.  I’m not a good roommate – nor do I share well for long..  I can rally for a day or two – but quickly I want all my space for me. We didn’t have an auspicious start.  Adrian was put up by NYU/Tisch School in a Best Western way downtown for his first week. He came up to me midweek for dinner and a little apartment orientation.  I fed him, we laughed, I bought him Time Out New York for the long ride south, and pointed at the #1 subway.  Sadly, I pointed at the uptown entrance.              I hate when this happens.                 At midnight in that horrible heat wave when he cleverly realized his (my) mistake, he fled the northbound train at 181st Street (OMG - that is north of the George Washington Bridge!).  His tale of simply crossing to the southbound side was terrifying.  Damn.  I coulda lost him before I even had him… His mother would kill me.  So after his week in a hotel, he ‘checks in’ to my dressing room, inflates his mattress and figures out the Wifi… Now what?  We go to the grocery store. (You know it’s not your strength when the foreigner has to ask “Is this ‘food place’ you talk about what we call a ‘grocery store?’ ”). Okay, I don’t shop well for food.  “Carey, what is the difference between a peach and a nectarine?”  (OMG - biology! Or something..Is this a trick question?) “Hair?” That field trip finished. (“No you can’t have those cookies. Put them back.” —him talking to me.) I ordered Bacon Cheeseburgers Deluxe from E.J’s Luncheonette.  (“They bring them to you? We could have picked them up when we were at the Food Place. Why didn’t we buy something to cook at the Food Place?  It’s cheaper, right?”  Shut up, Adrian.)                                                                                                         Cuban Heat Dries Cuban Clothes So while waiting for the burgers I asked if he had any laundry to do.  Indeed he did so I show him the laundry closet.  The sparkly new washing machine was recognized but when someone looks at a dryer and asks, “What’s that for?” your fate is sealed.  He ain’t touching those machines without a long Spanglish tutorial that I may be incapable of delivering. I am going to be doing Young Adrian’s effing laundry that night… We then sorted out the Nespresso machine, the microwave (“Nada metal!”) and NetFlix.  I slowly realized this wasn’t simply Adrian the Provincial Cuban, this was Adrian the Spoiled Cuban.  I am thinking Mami and Abuelita’s baby boy never lifts a domestic finger in La Habana.  Why is this behavior strangely familiar??  Oh – I know. Because Cuban men are spoiled.  I’m an authority.  I married one. For example - Hermes has never learned how to put gas in the car.  My pointed barbs are met with a Cuban shrug and a wide smile.  He can’t use the TV remote.  Nada nada nada..  Why bother when he has me?                                                                                      Who Else Misses “Full Service?”           Of course, I quickly realized the power I gained from this set up. Wanna watch Bill Maher?  Beg…                               Nice, But It Ain’t Olana So we invite Adrian upstate to see the glory of the Hudson Valley.  Bear in mind, this is a first trip out of Cuba and into the USA.  His first time with unlimited internet access.  Endless hot and cold running water. Steaks that don’t require that they be Very Well Done.  Havana is far away.  We made stops at construction projects on the drive north.  Billionaire #1 in Greenwich (“This house is just for the pool?”) and Billionaire #2 in Katonah (“Dios mio”.)  We cruise up the Taconic with him asking El Jefe in Espanol, “Are we there yet?”  Kids… As we pass the new modular spec houses on Route 199 he is happily snapping photos (“Beautiful!”).  Finally, Hermes pipes up, “Save the memory space, Adrian.  These aren’t the star attractions”.  We drive through the Chiddingstone gates to our house and his eyebrows arch.  Commie our entrance ain’t…“Explain again how private property works?” I kid you not. FYI: That subject is fraught with contradictions; way too hard for me… Hermes had to change clothes and bolt to the Bard pre-Opera dinner. So we pile back in the car and drive through Bard and down River Road to a house named “Okefenokee” (name changed to protect the innocent) to drop him off. Trust me, my eyes got wide when we cruised into that spread.  A million acres of mowed green lawn studded with sculpture. I felt like I was on a Rancho Mirage golf course.  Adrian is silent and, I assume, thinking revolutionary thoughts. Well, Adrian and I survived.  He left for his Grand Tour well fed, well dressed, and better informed than he was when he arrived—and with a shitload of downloaded music. As I said, we are infrequent hosts and always to the same few friends.  We play to a small audience. Our target market maybe isn’t your target market.. WiFi: Keep ‘em wired and out of earshot We can lose them for hours, and they seem happy… Bicycles; No Helmet But Proper Shoes     We have a magical little route around Tivoli with no hills and completed in under an hour—works for all fitness levels.  We get the tires pumped up and see them off safely—and damned if more than one doesn’t come home bloody.                           Our friend Joe C lost some ink on the Clermont driveway—which is way steep, stupid.                       NetFlix, Apple TV, Direct TV           ...and lots of premium channels—this is more for me than the guests.  They can enjoy the great outdoors and I can chill in the dark bar and watch Tosh.O. on Comedy Central.             Sleeping Aids A well-rested guest is a happy guest.  Prescription drugs in the medicine cabinet always elicit squeals of delight (Note to guests: the wall is thin between those two baths. Very thin.)  Ambien, Ativan, Halcion, Oxycontin.  Push the downers.  Avoid Provigil (Hermes calls it the Divorce Drug) and those post-op pain things that made me not poop.  Clearly label it!  (See how responsible I am?)                                                         Booze and Smokes             Keeps ‘em busy at night.  We are teetotalers but since Drunk = Sleepy, we get them drunk. Nowhere to drive.  Frankie’s friend Rocket has “a problem,” we think….             Books     The crummy basement bedroom (the ‘Chauffeur’s Room’ on the old electrical panel box.. How hot is that?) is full of entertaining paperbacks and out-of-date travel books, edited and fairly well organized. Move upstairs and novels fill one wall of the Guest Room. The Powder Room has a Cecil Beaton (left, a treasure…simply a treasure.) and royal theme going (Princess Anne’s wedding present list is an excellent loo read—).  Reference is in Hermes’ room.  The Bar has good stuff.  Beach Reading is in my room.  Thousands to choose from.  If your guests aren’t engaged by lit’riture—get new guests.         And now maybe a few well-intentioned suggestions for Guests.  We love you but…                                                                                         The House Present Don’t spend a moment worrying about a gift.  You can shop local.  The best recent Bread and Butter present we got was a Hustler.  I was laughing telling someone, and they got all wide-eyed.  “Where did they find a hustler?”  “The Mobil station, I guess.”  “In Germantown?  A hustler?? On 9G?”  Then I realized they thought I meant a person (which would definitely qualify as an inspired gift) when what we got was the magazine…For you Country Folk… Black leather pants = hustler And what an eye into contemporary mores that periodical is. Not a word in it—not even captions—and not a hair out of place—what little hair there was.  The “models” were, shall we say, well groomed?  And cheerful.  Damn.  Dazzling smile into the camera over her left shoulder.  Meanwhile, down a bit and over to the right, what that man is doing cannot be comfortable…No Welcome Mat on a Hustler model…  Upshot - Don’t listen to your stick-in-the-mud husband.  Straight Print Porn is a super retro gift that’s always in good taste.  Hint: Give porn with a lottery ticket and a twelve pack of Diet Coke—to make it extra special… Booze  When someone asks what to bring, our standard (joke) response is “A case of red and a case of white.”  Great line, right?  This was a ‘gift’ from a friend.  She got that response when she asked a Business Associate of Her Husband’s what she could bring for a weekend.  Didn’t bode well, right? The story ended when they left silently before dawn on Sunday a.m., coasting down the driveway in neutral..  Don’t Mess with the Good Stuff and Don’t Wear Our Clothes… And if you do, don’t post it on Facebook.  Busted. This fun Dress Up shot was taken by buds we’d loaned the house to.  The birthday boy is sporting a very fragile African straw mask of great rarity and illustrious provenance. What fun to wear!!  NOT…  When this little pearl surfaced, my post on their wall had them running for the hills - “OMG! Is he mad?!?”                                                                                   Oh, and Pick Up After Yourself. Empty the ashtrays.  Find the errant underwear, which spares the housekeeper leaving me little immodest laundered thongs to mail back.  We had a friend suffering from a cold one weekend. First -don’t come if you’re sick.  Second - when I went into her room after her damp departure, it was strewn with used Kleenex.  A blizzard.  Gross.      Worst was the horribly bloody T shirt I found in the bushes.  I am talking knife fight bloody. Truly shocking. Turns out the same crew playing dress up, above, on a different “festive” weekend—had punked a friend and faked an accident with artificial blood (this is funny?!). In the ensuing merriment they neglected to ‘clean up.’  Freaked me out..     Damn.  For all their foibles, our friends are fun (and funny) house guests. Oddly, these two continue to be our favorite guests…Perhaps an acquired taste…  As my mother would say when I’d return to school after a vacation, “Happy to see you come and happy to see you go”.  (Hmmm… Was that hurtful?  Nah…) —Carey Maloney   For the complete archive of past Wandering Eye blogs, click here.  Restoration Blog 2011-08-15T15:06:18+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/style_section/style_articles_shopping/style_shopping_mcteigue_mcclelland_the_business_of_enchantment/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/style_section/style_articles_shopping/style_shopping_mcteigue_mcclelland_the_business_of_enchantment/ For nearly a century following its founding in 1895, McTeigue & Co. was one of the most respected hallmarks in the fine jewelry trade, selling only to elite retailers such as Tiffany & Co., which in 1990 acquired and absorbed the family-owned business into its own. Yet as he was growing up in Westchester County, young Walter McTeigue III (near left) dreamed, not of taking over the family business, but of becoming a farmer. He thought about farming all through his troubled school days and after, even as he halfheartedly entered the ancestral trade. Then in 1992, he quit his job in the estate jewelry department at Harry Winston and moved to Hillsdale to start an organic dairy farm. “Fortunately, it did not work out, ” McTeigue says, adding, as if sharing breaking news, “Farming is really hard, and it’s almost impossible to make a profit.” With farming blessedly behind him, when Walter III told Walter II what he intended to do next, the elder McTeigue reportedly behaved as if he thought (and not for the first time) that, as his son puts it, “I had lost my marbles.” Yet, thirteen years after its launch in 1998, McTeigue & McClelland, makers and retailers of some of the finest jewelry in the world, flourishes. Instead of a large manufacturing plant making jewelry for others to sell from hushed salons in centers of wealth, its headquarters, both manufacturing and retailing, is in an enchanting cottage on the edge of Great Barrington, the setting through this weekend and all of next week for an exhibition of rare, loose gemstones. “We design and make jewelry, one piece at a time, and deal with customers one at a time,” says the jewelry-designing half of the team, master goldsmith Tim McClelland, describing the very aspects of their business plan that led the elder Walter McTeigue to predict its demise. “We are not looking to go play golf. We love this. We hire people who are going to be part of this family”—a family of nine, four of whom “sit at the bench” alongside McClelland crafting his designs.      Bridal represents about 50% of McTeigue & McClelland’s business.  Rings start at around $10,000; the one pictured here, a 5.03 carat Asscher Cut diamond in their Classic Flora mounting, $88,000.         McClelland, who apprenticed “under an Austrian taskmaster” at Shreve, Crump and Low in Boston, explains that the metal in “95%, at least, of all jewelry” is shaped via a lost-wax casting method that he likens to making ice cubes—“you can make 100 as fast as you can make 10.” In contrast, each metal element in a McClelland design is heated and hammered by hand, “similar to a blacksmith,” then ground and polished, as if it were a tiny sculpture. In their basement workshop, the only piece of equipment that would not have been used by a jewelry maker a century and longer ago is a high-tech laser welder that permits individually-sculpted elements to be joined with the greatest precision possible.  Once the metal “sculpture” is assembled, the gemstones that inspired its design are set in place. The 27 matching sapphires in this recently completed bracelet, “sat on Tim’s workbench for a year,” according to McTeigue, before the designer came up with a design that would incorporate them all to best advantage. Similarly, after a long period of cogitation, a set of diamond and ruby buttons became a cuff. “Walter is not going to tell you this,” says McClelland, “but he is one of the foremost gem experts in the world.” What McTeigue will cop to is being “discerning, picky, and neurotic about quality.” Gem traders worldwide know that when they come across something rare, such as the large, perfect orange sapphire currently in house, McTeigue is one of the few potential buyers who will understand it and know what to do with it. Alerted by a cutter, McTeigue recently bought a padparadscla, a rose-colored sapphire “much rarer than a ruby,” from Sri Lanka. It and other equally fabulous stones will be in the exhibition, which is intended as much to entertain and edify the community as to spark local sales. In a stair hall of the cottage hangs a world map with pins to indicate just how sprawling McTeigue & McClelland’s customer-base is. And how, exactly, does, say, an Australian who’s in the market for a $50,000 engagement ring find a jewelry store that does not advertise and that is tucked away in rural western Massachusetts? “On the internet,” McTeigue says. “Or maybe in a bridal magazine. The editors like us.” With good reason.  If a piece of jewelry is a masterpiece, it has a better chance of enduring the ages than a marble sculpture.  But unlike a marble sculpture, jewelry that misses the mark is easily dismantled so its parts can be recycled.  McTeigue & McClelland do it all the time themselves, both with pieces they’ve acquire and with their own self-proclaimed “flops.”  (They chalk those up to R & D.)  But a winner is impossible to miss.  A multi-carat diamond ring that comes across as gently charming is a triumph of finesse over intrinsic razzle-dazzle—a neat trick that only the best designers can pull off.  The great Lalique did it routinely.  McTeigue & McClelland seem to have the knack, as well.  Pieces that, by rights given their component parts, ought to come across as trophies, are something much subtler and finer here.           Dandelion Puff pin, 18 karat white- and yellow-gold, enamel, and 133 round diamonds, $8,500             Walter McTeigue recalls having breakfast with his father, now deceased, a few years ago at the Red Lion Inn. “He told me he was blown away. McTeigue & McClelland is the real deal”—a highly regarded hallmark that, despite the company’s size and location, has secured its place in history. McTeigue & McClelland 597 Main Street Great Barrington Tuesday - Saturday 10 a.m. - 5 p.m. Salon Show of Unusual Diamonds and Rare Gems August 18 - 27 Opening reception: Friday, August 19, 4 - 6 p.m. Shopping 2011-08-15T15:04:03+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/parties_section/parties_articles_parties/chris_and/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/parties_section/parties_articles_parties/chris_and/ Just about everything it turns out, as tout Hudson showed up at Club Helsinki to celebrate the release of Evermore, a new cd by Chris Swicegood, one half of the local favorite singing duo Chris and Lolly Swicegood. (The couple usually sing together and did that night; Lolly will make it on to the next recording, which is to be produced by Bob Dylan’s own, Bob Johnsten.) A microcosm of Hudson itself during its citywide Music Fest, to which the proceeds of the night went, Helsinki was an aural multiplex, with Chris and Lolly serenading the crowds downstairs while swing dancing took place up and various and sundry musical groups played outside in the club’s newly opened courtyard.—Scott Baldinger   Chris and Lolly Swicegood, the honored guests and headline performers at a benefit party for the Hudson Music Fest. Hudson Music Fest volunteer Erika Clark with photographer Alphonse Telymonde   Hudson Democratic Party chair Victor Mendolia with music fan Linda Lovallo, performer Erin Hobson, and Hudson mayoral candidate Nick Haddad. The recently wed B&B proprietors Dini Lamot and Windle Davis, with decorative painter Charlotte Belote.   Antiques restorer Alan Hamilton with Hudson lawyer Kristal Heinz. Five and Diamond owner Lisa Durfee with furniture designer Jules Anderson.   Artist Kianja Strobert with Historical Materialism co-owner Dina Palin. Radiation therapist Suzanne Johnson with Orlando Castillo of Colonia Antiques. Parties 2011-08-13T20:50:30+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_music/david_neumann_and_jodi_melnick_join_forces_at_jacobs_pillow/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_music/david_neumann_and_jodi_melnick_join_forces_at_jacobs_pillow/ Dance review by Bess J.M. Hochstein Photos: above, Julieta Cervantes; below, Cherylynn Tsushima Is it downtown week at Jacob’s Pillow? In the Ted Shawn Theatre, Trisha Brown, enduring icon of the Judson Church dance days, marks her company’s 40th anniversary in a program that travels through the decades. Concurrently, two of-the-moment NYC-based choreographers present a joint program in the Doris Duke. It’s an insightful pairing, as it can easily be argued were it not for Brown neither Jodi Melnick nor David Neumann would be there. The argument is clearly defensible in the case of Melnick, who worked with Brown as an assistant director and has danced with Brown’s equally iconic and influential peers, Twyla Tharp and Sara Rudner. Even without this knowledge, you can see Brown’s imprint all over Melnick’s precise, elegant, cerebral choreography for Fanfare: loose limbs seemingly initiating movement phrases; arms and legs swinging from shoulders and hips – not flung, but rotated with intention; spine held straight but not stiff. The movement, asymmetric and off-balance, is imbued with meaning that’s difficult to discern. Melnick performs alone until near the end, on a starkly high-drama set (by renowned artist Burt Barr) with a pair of shiny, double-sided oscillating fans that reflect focused light and cast large, animated shadows on a white projection that resembles two walls forming a corner on the theater’s back curtain. Melnick also casts shadows as she determindely walks to a spot on the stage, executes a phrase, then walks to another spot where another movement sequence spills from her lithe body, all the while exhibiting remarkable stage presence and tremendous concentration with an impassive but soft face. As she casts her gaze out along her extended limbs, or a pointed finger, or off to the wings, the audience is practically compelled to follow her eyes. There’s a jolt when the noise of a steam radiator hisses on, and Melnick, facing the audience, feet planted, repeats an almost-pedestrian sequence with, arms in constant, nervous motion while her gaze travels sideways, upward, along the sweep of her hand. The noise repeats, too, subtly altered each time. It goes on and on, and we get the feeling Melnick is waiting and looking for someone, until after an uncomfortably long time Dennis O’Connor appears from the wings. The projections disappear and the mood shifts. His arrival seems to ground her, emotionally and literally; they dance together, eventually ending up on the floor, adjacent but not touching, repeating an intriguing folding-and-unfolding sequence in unison as the light fades. Neumann provides comic relief from Melnick’s solemnity with Tough the Tough, a work of slapstick existentialism, in which Neumann is cast by an unseen, omniscient narrator as an everyman named Steve, Steven, or at one point Stefan - a stand-in for all mankind. You can practically hear the narrator whispering “Poor schmuck” under his breath as Neumann preens, scratches, runs and paces, riffles through his jacket, carries, trips over, and sets up a bunch of folding chairs, and performs other pointless actions in response to the voice from above. Lo and behold: one segment in the middle could have been ripped right out of Trisha Brown’s playbook. The comic tone is maintained in Hit the Deck (Studies and Accidents), which opens with a woman (Carol Wong) balanced sideways on a folding chair. Impassively, she rights herself and strides to the piano at the rear of the stage, takes her seat (on another of those folding chairs), and begins to play only snippets of classical compositions as four dancers strive to make their moves. She’s like an uncooperative accompanist in the rehearsal studio. Big discrepancies in the bodies of his performers add humor to the exaggerated stop-and-go choreography. The comedy is further heightened by what seems to be a recalcitrant stagehand, a rotund figure (Timothy Fallon) who wants to get in on the action. First he drops a chair with a huge clatter, drawing attention and upsetting the dancers’ flow. Later he practically jumps into the piano, strumming its strings like a harp and joining in on the keyboard. There are antics requiring split-second timing with chairs tossed on and off the stage – but not too much; it’s not overdone. Finally there’s an extended pas de deux between ostrich-like Kennis Hawkis—whose hair-bun exaggerates her long-and-lean physique—and Will Rawls before Fallon returns, emphatically plants himself mid-stage rear of the stage, and begins to sing like an angel. Petite Natalie Agee executes an equally angelic solo, concluding with a nod of appreciation toward Fallon. The evening ends with July, a lulling duet between Melnick and Neumann commissioned by the Pillow, which elicits a gasp from the audience when a scrim is removed to reveal a most striking backdrop: barn door open, evergreens behind the theater illuminated in the night’s darkness. In this world premiere of coupling and clever weight transference, we see that despite their differences in style and demeanor – Melnick’s sobriety and Newmann’s silliness—the two don’t have to look hard to find common ground: keen intelligence plus an eccentric movement vocabulary born in the Judson Church days which is strung together in a successful collaboration that’s both somber and warm. But for the bucolic setting, it would look perfectly at home in a downtown performance space, either today or in the 1960s. Jodi Melnick and David Neumann/Advanced Beginner Group August 10 - 14 @ the Doris Duke Theatre Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival, Becket, MA Music 2011-08-12T16:02:34+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/food_section/food_articles_news/panzur_tapas_and_then_some_in_tivoli/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/food_section/food_articles_news/panzur_tapas_and_then_some_in_tivoli/ by Peter Davies Sometimes serendipity is the best guide. While walking up the main street of Tivoli a few weeks ago, we passed a rather understated place called Pan-Zur. We had never heard of it. On its front patio were a number of diners who seemed quietly satisfied. After consulting one of its menus, we were more than surprised by its offerings and more than eager to take our place on the patio. And we are certainly glad that we did. It’s rare, maybe only once or twice a year, that we both come away from a restaurant fully satisfied by the quality of the meal. In the case of Pan-Zur it is fair to say we were both exhilarated. The menu was original, the execution of the dishes virtually flawless, and the staff, one of them, co-owner Kim Peraza, the chef’s wife, were personable, attentive, and well educated about what was on offer. We were particularly excited to find a chef who not only appreciates black pig but also knows how to make the most of it. The menu reflects the Catalan origins of the family of chef/owner, Rei Peraza. Indeed, the name Pan-Zur is a tribute to his grandfather, a chef who had some fame in Barcelona. While much of the menu is Spanish-influenced, the offerings are much more varied…in toto, a very original presentation of dishes not usually seen on menus, Spanish or otherwise. This is not a restaurant of the big, bare, elegant plate with a tiny pyramid of food and lots of artistic squiggles, but one in the Mediterranean mode of celebrating food in all its natural deliciousness and bounty. As you will see, we are unabashed food adventurers. With my years of living and traveling in the Middle East I have developed a very open mind and varied tastes where food is concerned, a predilection shared by Mark.  So when potted pig’s head was suggested as a special tapa we went for it (delicious), as well as black fried squid (garbanzo crusted squid cooked in ink aioli, smoked pepper drizzle), also a hit, followed by a perfectly spiced shrimp ajillo—all reluctantly shared. The only tapa of which either of us voiced any disappointment was a “sandwich” of fried green tomato and pork belly. With my gluten allergy, I chose to pass on the bread part and found the fried green tomato and pork belly delicious, but Mark, who fortunately for him, does not share my gluten allergy, felt the filling was overwhelmed by the bread. We ended happily by sharing a “plate”: Octopus (with garbanzo beans, baby fennel, chorizo, citrus, mint, saffron, & vinaigrette).  An octopus enthusiast, I was pleased to see it in yet another delicious incarnation. The menu offers a variety of possibilities for constructing a meal, but the big challenge for us was how to eliminate some of the many enticing dishes.  While often in most restaurants I find it difficult to zero in on something I would like to try, at Pan Zur I find myself in a quandary, being pulled in so many directions. Do I want to start with the creamy eggplant-garlic soup with roasted lemon and crème fraiche)? Or, from the “Snacks” category:  chip & dip: (crisp pig ears with saffron yoghurt)?  Or from the “Tapas” category as described above.  Or the Charcuterie category lomo iberico (100% acorn-fed Iberian pig loin), about the tenderest most melt-in-your-mouth morsel you can imagine; or chistorra (grilled sausage, saffron pickled cabbage slaw). While chef Peraza does homage to locavore tastes when possible, he quite rightly turns to Spain for many of his ham and other pork products. Pork dishes abound in several categories (not for nothing is the corporate name of this restaurant Porcus, LLC). On one recent evening the menu included, in addition to most of the pork dishes mentioned above, a tapa: migas (1 yr old Ozark ham, mushrooms cheddar, poached egg, red eye gravy vinaigrette); heritage pig belly (sherry-cherry molasses glaze), citrus-garlic braised pork (red cabbage slaw),  and jamon Serrano (dry cured 9 months, Spain).The pork piece de resistance is a special order 7-hour roasted suckling pig prepared to serve 8 to 10 people. We have not yet found the sympathetic crowd to try this with. A pork abstaining friend of ours who took our recommendation on Pan Zur observed that if you don’t eat pork you might find yourself feeling a bit hard pressed to assemble a meal. But she managed, and she and her husband loved the meal so much they returned a few nights later for the Wednesday night Prix Fixe menu El Toro Loco (the crazy bull), a meal centering on beef in homage to the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. For those not inclined to the pork dishes and other exotica, the regular menu in the Plates category offers wild striped bass, New York Strip steak, and roasted Amish chicken. Even these more standard dishes are seasoned and garnished in highly original (and tasty) ways. We only regret that we did not sit down and write our restaurant review after our first visit, as now we need to append a full disclosure.  On our first visit to Pan-Zur our enthusiasm was utterly free of conflict of interest, but by our second visit, we were proud suppliers of several pigs heads, several pounds of back fat, and pigs feet and tails from our farm’s Ossabaw Island Hogs. We couldn’t be prouder that Chef Peraza found our product worthy as ingredients in his very creative cuisine.   Pan-Zur Restaurant and Wine Bar 69 Broadway Tivoli; 845.757.1071 Rural Intelligence’s AgriCulture bloggers Peter Davies and Mark Scherzer are the owners of Turkana Farms in Germantown, NY. News 2011-08-12T13:22:30+00:00 http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_music/trisha_brown_dance_company_marks_40-year_anniversary_at_jacobs_pillow/ http://www.ruralintelligence.com/index.php/arts_section/arts_articles_music/trisha_brown_dance_company_marks_40-year_anniversary_at_jacobs_pillow/ Dance review by Bess J.M. Hochstein Photo: Julieta Cervantes Trisha Brown is the Eileen Fisher of the dance world. Like Fisher’s clothing, Brown’s dances are loose, comfortable, fluid, and seemingly simple and unstructured while actually finely and smartly constructed with shrewd attention to detail. Like Fisher in the design world, Brown has a style all her own that has nonetheless inspired the work of scores of choreographers who have followed in her quick, unpredictable footsteps. And, like Fisher, Brown’s work is timeless; while her dancers may now be more highly trained and her patterns and structures more complex, her basic movement vocabulary remains consistent and stands up through the decades. Set and Reset (1983; photo: Karli Cadel), the finale of a four-work program that stretches from 1973 to the present, is a case in point. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, it’s always a joy to watch. One of Brown’s many collaborations with Robert Rauschenberg, who designed the set (two triangles and a rectangle suspended above the stage, serving as screens for projected vintage black & white films, plus black and white curtains hanging in the wings), costumes (sheer, loose and flowing, with a faint pattern reminiscent of blueprints), and had a hand in the lighting, the piece flows so naturally to Laurie Anderson’s original score that it’s impossible to imagine one without the other. Throughout this work we notice distinct, foundational elements that recur in the two more recent works of the program—the opener, Les Yeux et l’âme (2011), and Foray Forêt (1990): fluid motion; abstract composition; movement that seems to initiate from the arms or hands; the illusion of weightlessness and effortlessness despite rapid, nonstop, precise dancing; looseness in the joints that allows the arms and legs to swing freely; bodies held in asymmetry, mostly with a straight spine; arms held at right angles, legs too; interesting and amusing things happening at the edges of the stage; clever weight transference between dancers; humor; and a key section in which the dancers line up center stage, from front to back, and lunge, fold, twirl, walk, fall, lean, melt out of line and merge back in again, like a wave unfurling and re-forming, a set piece with tremendous visual appeal. Les Yeux et l’âme (The Eyes and the soul; photo: Deen van Meer), a lyrical dance that Brown created for a production of the Rameau opera Pygmalion, conducted by William Christie, incorporates these common elements in a more formal framework and more traditionally graceful composition. This dance has more traditional partnering and interactions between the dancing partners and among the couples dancing as an ensemble. It’s a satisfying work of structure and wit. Foray Forêt (photo: Karli Cadel) is set to marching band music that fades in so gradually after the dancers have begun moving to silence that you might mistake the score for noise bleeding in from outside the theater, until it wells up loud, then seems to march around the room itself. At first the dancers appear to be moving in isolation from each other, but then patterns begin to emerge in the way forms and movements overlap or echo, and a careful viewer will note repeated phrases. The gold-accented costumes by Rauschenberg (in their final collaboration) are nearly as eccentric as the movement. The final segment, with one dancer, now in a loose dress, accompanies by fleeting appearance by the ensemble’s arms, feet, and other isolated body parts peeking out from the wings, makes for an indelible dance image, and also leaves one questioning whether there is a narrative through-story. The third work on the program, Spanish Dance (1973; photo: Karli Cadel), arrived like a post-intermission interlude, and a reminder of Brown’s earlier, simpler explorations of accumulation. In this case it’s bodies, rather than movements, that accumulate. Five dancers stand spaced evenly along a line in front of the curtain, facing the wing. When the music begins—Bob Dylan’s rendition of Early Morning Rain, written by Gordon Lightfoot—the last dancer begins to move, at first swaying her hips and pumping her legs in place in time to the score, then snaking her arms upward like a flamenco dancer and rhythmically shuffling forward until she bumps up against the second dancer, and sets her in motion, remaining snug against her. In the end, all five dancers are piled up, chugging along, and despite the snaking arms one can’t help thinking of a train, even without the song’s lyrics: “You can’t jump a jet plane/Like you can a freight train.” It’s a quick blast from the past, when highly trained dancers (such as those that comprise Brown’s company today) were not necessary to present a work on stage, and neither was a stage, for that matter. Fads and trends may come and go, but Trisha Brown’s work never goes out of fashion. It may get more complex as the decades go by, but whatever the vintage, it’s clean, clear, comfortable, and easy on the eyes. It’s not for everyone, but like Eileen Fisher, Brown sticks to her knitting; she has devoted fans who know they can turn, and return, to Brown for dance that’s delightful, smart, quirky, joyful, light as air, full of surprises, and always a pleasure to watch. Trisha Brown Dance Company 40th Anniversary Celebration August 10 - 14, in The Ted Shawn Theatre Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival, Becket, MA   Music 2011-08-11T15:32:20+00:00