The Omaha Magic Theatre: An Alternative Theatre for Mid-America

1989 ◽  
Vol 30 (1-2) ◽  
pp. 127-144
Author(s):  
Judith Babnich ◽  
Alex Pinkston

Aspiring young actors traditionally leave their hometowns to seek training and performance experiences in America's theatre centers. Many choose to study and perform in New York City, and they carry with them to New York the naive assumption that only in the “Big Apple” can a theatre artist's dreams come true. But some become disenchanted with the New York theatre scene and gain a determination to create significant, non-commercial theatre in another part of the country. And, on occasion, they erect their alternative stages in the very towns from which they sprang.

Urban Studies ◽  
1977 ◽  
Vol 14 (3) ◽  
pp. 393-394
Author(s):  
Elinor Ostrom ◽  
Stephen Percy

Author(s):  
Simone Cinotto

This chapter examines how Italian restaurateurs used food to represent Italian American identity and nation outside the community. In the interwar years, the position of Italian Americans in the larger life of New York City was still far from secure and subject to a complicated range of attitudes. The exclusionary Immigration Act of 1924 was filled with fearful allusions to the racial inadequacy of Italian immigrants and their inability to make good American citizens. At the same time, however, Italian immigrant restaurateurs and restaurant workers were beginning to transform cultural differences into highly marketable products for mass consumption. This chapter first provides an overview of the economy of Italian restaurants during the period 1900–1940 before discussing how popular culture, race, and performance converged at such establishments. It also considers customer–worker relations in Italian restaurants and shows that Italian restaurants attracted non-Italian middle-class customers by offering popular Italian food in an original and ultimately appealing ethnic narrative.


2018 ◽  
Vol 1 (1) ◽  
pp. 1-20
Author(s):  
Brent Luvaas

The sidewalks outside New York Fashion Week are lined with makeshift plywood walls. They are designed to keep pedestrians out of construction zones, but they have become the backdrops of innumerable “street style” photographs, portraits taken on city streets of self-appointed fashion “influencers” and other stylish “regular” people. Photographers, working to build a reputation within the fashion industry, take photos of editors, bloggers, club kids, and models, looking to do the same thing. The makeshift walls have become a site for the staging and performance of urban style. This photo essay documents the production of style in urban space, a transient process made semi-permanent through photography.


Music ◽  
2020 ◽  
Author(s):  
Sean Bellaviti

While it has broad popular appeal, an instantly recognizable sound, world-famous performers, and is the subject of sundry books, articles, and movies, the music called “salsa” is, nonetheless, remarkably difficult to define or even to describe. Much that makes salsa meaningful as a musical category—including the origins and meaning of its name, the significance of its Afro-Cuban roots, the importance of Latin and especially Puerto Rican New York to its emergence, and its role as a symbol of ethnic or national identity—turns out to be hotly debated and often contested by its fans and musicians, not to mention the various scholars and journalists whose written work is cited and summarized here. We know that the use of the term “salsa” (literally “sauce”) as a marketing label first became widespread in 1970s when it was applied to a new brand of Cuban son-inspired dance music taken up predominantly by Puerto Ricans living in New York’s hardscrabble East Harlem, also known as Spanish Harlem or “El Barrio.” That the term gained popularity only after fulfilling its function as a marketing tool for music that had clear Cuban roots is a key question that few authors fail to address—namely, whether salsa is merely a rebranded version of Cuban music or is, in reality, a new musical form that owes its provenance to the efforts of Nuyoricans, Puerto Rican New Yorkers. That many salsa performers of note including Tito Puente, Celia Cruz, and Rubén Blades have credited Cuba as the source of the music they played has unquestionably solidified the position of the Cuba camp. At the same time, many scholars have argued that salsa is different from Cuban son. This is particularly true with regard to the subject and message of salsa’s lyrics, the breadth of the musical genres on which it draws, and the social context of Latin Americans in New York City, all factors that, scholars sustain, underpin the features of salsa that are fresh, innovative, and so passionately loved by its creators and fans. The intense Cuban-or-Puerto Rican origins debate notwithstanding, some contemporary salsa scholarship has focused on the ways in which the genre has become a representative music of Latin Americans of diverse national, ethnic, and social backgrounds. These studies have examined salsa practices and performance scenes in places far removed from New York City such as Colombia, Mexico, Spain, and even as far afield as Japan, all of which has expanded our understanding of the various meanings attributed to salsa as it has spread internationally and into increasingly diverse social and cultural settings. This list of resources presents a full picture of the various positions articulated in the debate described here as well as the different theoretical foci taken up by salsa scholars, historians, and writers.


2021 ◽  
Vol 36 (3) ◽  
pp. 129-135
Author(s):  
Lynne Sachs

Abstract This personal essay articulates filmmaker Lynne Sachs's experiences working with experimental filmmaker Barbara Hammer. Sachs conveys the journey of her relationship with Hammer when they were both artists living in San Francisco in the late 1980s and 1990s and then later in New York City. Sachs initially discusses her experiences making Carolee, Barbara and Gunvor (US, 2018), which includes Hammer, the conceptual and performance artist Carolee Schneemann, and the experimental filmmaker Gunvor Nelson. She then discusses her 2019 film, A Month of Single Frames, which uses material from Hammer's 1998 artist residency in a Cape Cod shack without running water or electricity. While there, she shot film, recorded sounds, and kept a journal. In 2018, Hammer began her process of dying by revisiting her personal archive. She gave all of her images, sounds, and writing from the residency to Sachs and invited her to make a film with the material. Through her own filmmaking, Sachs explores Hammer's experience of solitude. She places text on the screen as a way to be in dialogue with both Hammer and her audience. This essay provides context for the intentions and challenges that grew out of both of these film collaborations.


Author(s):  
Doran George

This chapter examines the dissemination of Somatics pedagogy globally, focusing on five key sites where it developed: New York City, New England, England, the Netherlands, and Australia. Each site developed Somatics in different ways, adapting it to fit the aesthetics and politics of the locale. At the same time, teachers and performers frequently traveled from one site to another, thereby maintaining a network of distinctive yet mutually reinforcing hubs of practice. The chapter shows how Somatics met different kinds of needs for dancers in the distinct locales as they worked to establish experimental approaches to technique and performance and to connect with their sociopolitical surround. Even as Somatics was adapted differently in each location, it also carried with it an ideology of American expansionism that validated freedom and individuality.


2017 ◽  
Vol 58 (1) ◽  
pp. 68-85
Author(s):  
Maurya Wickstrom

This essay is about a performance by the musician, singer, and performance artist M. Lamar, who describes himself as a “Negrogothic Devil-worshipping free black man in the blues tradition.” I saw the piece,Destruction, in the American Realness Festival at Abrons Art Center in New York City in January 2016. During the seventy-minute-long performance, the countertenor sang and played the piano, and appeared in mediated form in a complexly assembled film montage. In both live and filmed form his performance was a labor to resurrect the dead into an insurrectionist revolt, an army of all the black people whose lives have been taken—from slavery to lynchings, to incarceration, to police shootings. The lush, sometimes heart-stopping sound environment was both live and recorded, a mix, mash-up, and collage of sounds and sources the core of which was Lamar's singing of fragments of slave spirituals. In what follows, I am prompted by Lamar's work to explore my own ongoing commitment to Marx through what I read as the work's temporal innovations. These innovations, I suggest, supplement Marx's failure to imagine a revolutionary strategy through anything but the standard progressivist notion of time and history. In so doing, I claim Lamar for an affiliation to Marxism and materialist thought by identifying in his work a material immortal.


2019 ◽  
Vol 28 (1) ◽  
pp. 121-137 ◽  
Author(s):  
Ambra Vitti ◽  
Pantelis T. Nikolaidis ◽  
Elias Villiger ◽  
Vincent Onywera ◽  
Beat Knechtle

Author(s):  
Sharon Mazer

The move to Aotearoa New Zealand was transformative in ways I could not have imagined when I left New York City “temporarily” in 1994. From the cheap seats at Madison Square Garden to the VIP tent at Te Matatini National Māori Performing Arts Festival, I continue to embrace the excitement (and terror) of entering into theatre and performance arenas that are emphatically not mine, and to be touched, always, by the generosity of performers and audiences no matter where I find myself. It is tempting to picture Johnny, Larry, and the others frozen in time and space, still at Gleason’s right where I left them. And indeed, Johnny is still there, still teaching youngsters the game and maintaining his claim to fame. He has a website: the ...


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