This will be the third Women in the Arts. (Photo: Courtesy Dixon Gallery & Gardens)
For a third time, the Dixon Gallery & Gardens and Theatre Memphis will cohost the annual Women in the Arts, a day dedicated to, as you may have ascertained, women in the arts, with panels, demonstrations, classes, performances, and more.
“We have such a rich arts community in Memphis,” says Karen Strachan, youth programs coordinator at the Dixon, “and while women are fortunately starting to get more of a nod in other industries from engineering to business to medicine, the case isn’t the same for women who are creatives.” In turn, this event hopes to rectify that gap by supporting and highlighting the women makers, arts administrators, actors, singers, writers, musicians, dancers, florists — basically any kind of artist you can think of.
Split between the Dixon and Theatre Memphis, with shuttles going back and forth between locations, the day will cater to all ages, artists and art lovers alike. The schedule for the day is truly packed, so choosing which bits to attend will be the hardest part of the day, says Kristen Rambo, the Dixon’s communications associate. “We try to cover all the things, but you can participate as much or as little as you like.”
At the Dixon, attendees can chat with several visual artists and perhaps even get a chance of some hands-on experience during artist demonstrations. Plus, guests can check out the make-and-take stations, hosted by Hutchison School teens, who will also facilitate a poetry corner. The galleries inside will also be open, with Jeanne Seagle’s “Of This Place” and “American Made,” a survey of American art curated by Diane DeMell Jacobsen, on display.
Also on display is “What Is That Artist?” with art by Johana Moscoso, Karla Sanchez, and Danielle Sierra — all of whom will be present at the event on Saturday. Sierra will be part of the artist demonstrations, Sanchez will facilitate a large-scale collaborative mural activity, and Moscoso will be a part of a panel, titled “Made In,” which will feature women who are artists and immigrants speaking on their experiences.
Meanwhile, at Theatre Memphis, there will be a panel featuring women directors as well as an artist market. Theatre Memphis will also host various performances and drop-in dancing, acting, and yoga classes.
All in all, the event, Strachan says, hopes to “connect new artists and performers with the community because there is certainly no shortage of talent here. You may see some familiar faces but also some new ones. You might even be introduced to a new art form.”
Rambo adds, “I am a woman in the arts and have been working here for a long time, and every year I am amazed how many people I meet. … So we hope a lot of people will come out and see something that might be out of your comfort zone.”
Women in the Arts, Dixon Gallery & Gardens and Theatre Memphis, Saturday, March 4, 10 a.m.-2 p.m., free. A full schedule of the day’s events can be found here.
Confession: I have a few books out there that no one knows about because I haven’t written them … well, finished them. I’ve talked in previous columns about “wrestling with infinity” — the match I always lose — by which I mean, picking a subject too large to reduce to words and eventually getting hopelessly lost in it, e.g.: shifting human consciousness, transcending what we think we know, truly creating peace (whatever that is).
So welcome to my latest attempt to circumvent infinity. The book I’m aiming at is a collection of the poetry I’ve written over the past two decades, but not exactly. It’s not really a “collection” of anything — art objects on display in glass cases, meant to be admired — and the poetry (and other stuff) I would include I think of essentially as “soul fragments”: bleeding pieces of personal truth. And the point of the book is to enter the present moment with the reader, to revere life together, to tremble at its wonder, to look into the eyes the unknown … with the help of something I call the Blue Pearl.
A second confession: I admit it, I’m a jewel thief. I came upon the concept “Blue Pearl” many years ago, in a book called Meditate by Swami Muktananda. He describes the Blue Pearl as something found at a deep stage of meditation: “a tiny blue light, the light of the Self. … The Blue Pearl is the size of a sesame seed, but in reality it is so vast it contains the entire universe. … [It] lights up our faces and our hearts; it is because of this light that we give love to others.”
Fascinated as I was by this, I considered myself a total mediocrity when it came to meditation, and knew I would never reach a level where I might somehow grasp the Blue Pearl. But a decade later, something happened. My wife was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Untreatable.
By the time it was discovered, it had metastasized throughout her gastrointestinal system. She was given four months to live — case closed, nothing can be done. The doctor we talked to in the wake of her surgery was stunningly emphatic, so much so that I wrote in my journal afterwards: “At this point my image of Western medicine is of a mason jar with the lid closed tight, all the facts in there stale and hopeless. They want Barbara inside that jar and inside that jar she’s going to die.”
We had no choice but to reach beyond this medical certainty in every way we could — to reach for alleged miracles, and to savor every day, every moment. And, oh my God, I needed a real role to play. I asked Barbara if I could be her “spiritual advisor,” whatever that might mean. She concurred. We joined the Cancer Wellness Center, read the same books, looked at treatments beyond the world of conventional medicine (some doctors tread there) … and I thought about the Blue Pearl.
Indeed, I just took it — smashed the window, reached in, and seized it, brought it into my life and Barbara’s life. I could never have seized the Blue Pearl if it hadn’t been for the shock of the medical diagnosis, which shattered not some window in a museum of world religions, but an inner window of self-doubt and false awe that could just as easily be called intimidation. I don’t quite know what I seized, maybe no more than three words: “the Blue Pearl.”
But as I felt Barbara’s mortality looming, kicking around in the next room — as I felt my own mortality for the first time — a sense of urgency lit up. This is all we’re going to get. And it was the life around me that began to glow, infused by some precious secret about how much life is worth that the dying pass back and forth to one another.
Barbara survived beyond the diagnosis. She lived nine months — months that were difficult and pain-ridden, but also amazing beyond words. After her passing I started writing poetry. The narrative of my life was interrupted, shattered. I could only write poetry, for the first year or so that I was a widower. I wrote about her life. I wrote about cancer. I wrote about our 12-year-old daughter. I wrote about whatever I encountered — the beauty of wet snow, the streetwise salesman at the train station who pleaded: “Pray for me.” I wrote about a ceiling leak. I wrote about my dad. So these are the soul fragments I want to clump into a book: sparkling blue pearls, perhaps, each of which tries in its own way to turn a moment sacred, to turn life’s every moment sacred. Here, for instance, are the final lines of a poem called “The Blue Pearl”:
In the lifeless parking lot my wild heart, so big and wanting happiness, a cure for cancer or just five years five years to perfectly love my wife, stops, lets go of itself, bears for an instant the silver-streaked now of truth, now now only now and always now she is alive and I am alive and that’s my miracle and it’s enough.
Robert Koehler (koehlercw@gmail.com), syndicated by PeaceVoice, is a Chicago award-winning journalist and editor. He is the author of Courage Grows Strong at the Wound.
From the days of lockdown (Photo: Courtesy Peabody Records)
Creative thinking is often spurred on by a sudden change: There’s nothing like having the rug pulled out from under you to get you thinking on your feet. And, to hear Steve Selvidge tell it, that’s exactly what happened nearly three years ago when he, Luther Dickinson, and Paul Taylor began work on what’s now the freshly released album, MEM_MODS Vol. 1 (Peabody Records). Of course, that was a time when the whole world was caught off guard, not the least these three musicians who’ve thrived on live performance for decades.
“We were all reeling,” Selvidge recalls. But then a ray of hope appeared. “I got an email from Luther saying, ‘Paul and I have been messing around with some stuff, do you want to put some guitar on it?’ I was like, ‘Yeah, I don’t have anything else to do!’” It was within the first month of the pandemic’s lockdown, so Dickinson and Taylor had not been playing together in person; they’d been swapping tracks over the internet. And that in itself was not unusual for any of them.
“We all had some sort of digital audio workstation of some sort in our homes,” says Selvidge. “And I’d been doing a bunch of remote recording pre-pandemic, anyway. It’s not uncommon for me to do guitar overdubs here in my home studio.” That might even include the odd overdub on a Hold Steady track, he notes. “Mostly last little pickup bits right at the end,” he explains. “But for that last Bash & Pop record [by Tommy Stinson], we cut half of it live at Tommy’s place, and the other half was stuff written after the fact. So I did a lot of my guitars and all of my vocals here at my place on that album.”
Dickinson and Taylor had similar home studios, though Selvidge’s home in Memphis tended to be where it all came together. “After a while, it was easier for me to be the guy running everything in Pro Tools, with everybody sending me files,” Selvidge adds. “And so it kept growing.”
As it turned out, the three began to thrive on the collaboration in unexpected ways. After the first track, says Selvidge, “I was like, ‘We made this! I love it! And it’s something to keep myself occupied.’ So that turned into another track, and then we realized we had kind of a workflow. And we exploded with this creativity. Paul might start with drums, and either Luther or I would add a bass line, creating a song out of raw drums. And I started messing with old drum machines and wrote a tune to that. There were ideas flying everywhere! So much so that we had a brief storage crisis, the music piled up so quickly.”
The result is that rare bird in the indie music world, an instrumental album. While that might be somewhat familiar in the jam band world, MEM_MODS doesn’t really fit that tag. The tracks hit more like a lost ’70s soundtrack, evoking everything from Augustus Pablo-like dub to funk bangers to smoldering Isaac Hayes-like ballads. Tasty, ear-catching synth sounds abound. Indeed, the trio leaned into their multi-instrumental talents, with Dickinson not even contributing his first instrument, guitar. Instead, he played bass and various keyboards; Selvidge played guitar, bass, Rhodes piano, and drum machine; and Taylor contributed drums, percussion, omnichord, bass, fretless bass, washtub bass, synth pedals, and “soundscapes.”
Over these elements sit some of the finest horn parts to come out of Memphis in recent years, courtesy arranger and trumpeter Marc Franklin and saxophonist Art Edmaiston. Ranging from pitch-perfect pads to nimble, jazz influenced fills, the horns (and a flute cameo) pair with warm drums, bass, and guitar to ground the album in an earthy, Memphis vibe.
It makes sense, given how far back the three musicians go, all from famed musical families. “We’ve been making music together for 30 odd years,” says Selvidge. “So everything we’ve done together and apart came to the table when we did this. We know each other’s instincts, even as our lives have changed, getting married, having children. Losing our fathers. There’s a depth there with us. And that depth has gone into our playing.”
Hailey Thomas at Cooper-Young Fest last fall (Photo: Chip Googe)
The Memphis Flyer mourns the loss of Hailey Thomas, a dedicated member of the Contemporary Media sales team. Hailey represented both the Flyer and Memphis magazine brilliantly, and we will miss her bright, strong light. Her colleagues shared these memories of Hailey.
Hailey loved college sports, and relished March Madness. She won at least one office pool, but had the decency to only remind me with a wink and a smile now and then. I loved trying to figure out the Tigers’ latest challenge with her, or discussing how the next freshman would make THE difference in a Final Four run. Mostly, I welcomed Hailey’s enthusiasm, the human quality that transfers easiest. She made me happier whenever we crossed paths, even after the latest Tiger season ended short of the Final Four. She’ll continue to make me happy, though now with a lump in my throat. — Frank Murtaugh
I’ve been involved with the Flyer for almost 30 years, and I’ve learned that our little corner of journalism tends to attract very unusual people. Sometimes I think we must seek them out. Even so, if we ran a photo of any of my other colleagues with a large white parrot perched on their shoulder, the sun reflected in their aviator sunglasses, I’d think, “What … in the world?” But with Hailey Thomas, my immediate reaction is, “Yep, that’s Hailey.” No questions needed — just a day in the life of one of the most interesting, fun, and funny people I’ve ever known. It’s not enough to say she was one-of-a-kind. She had a definite spark about her. Hailey would light up the room with her smile, and even on my darkest days, she would make me laugh. She was my friend, and I will miss her — and her brilliant smile and her unforgettable laugh — forever. — Michael Finger
I knew Hailey Thomas for 30 years, beginning back when she started selling ads for Memphis magazine in the late 1990s. We were work friends, yes, but we also had many mutual friends outside of the workplace and I always looked forward to running into her, wherever it might happen. In recent years, that occurred almost literally, as Hailey’s running trails and my dog-walking route frequently overlapped on the sidewalks of Midtown around the noon hour. We would always stop and chat for a few minutes, before Hailey pulsed that 1,000-watt smile and took off.
That smile! That smile is what everyone will take from their memories of Hailey. It was a smile that made you feel good, like you mattered, and it always came with a dash of mischief, like somehow you both shared a secret. I will miss the spark of life and laughter that was Hailey Thomas, too soon gone. — Bruce VanWyngarden
Hailey was an undeniable presence in any room she entered — sometimes literally. If someone else sat at the head of our conference table before she got to a meeting, Hailey would stare them down (smiling, of course) until they ceded the chair to her. It was very hard to tell her ‘no’ — I imagine our clients felt the same! I only had the pleasure of knowing her for a few years, but I’ll remember her for many more. She was super-charged with energy, curiosity, and zany humor. And never shy to share an opinion. Whenever we asked for new ideas or suggestions — expecting crickets — Hailey would offer four or five. She was an original, and I will miss her undeniable presence. — Anna Traverse Fogle
Whenever my band had a gig, Hailey was there to cheer and support me. She always made a concerted effort to attend my band’s shows. Not only that, she would bring her entourage. She was outgoing, eager to meet and greet, and to introduce me to her friends and acquaintances. Hailey was a cheerful beacon of light. — Chip Googe
I’m determined to remember Hailey as a fiery, spirited, beautiful person, quick-witted and always ready to flash a glowing, dimpled smile as she walked into any room, wearing a casual but chic designer ensemble (purchased at the most amazing price possible, of course) and holding either a coffee or a cold-pressed juice — nah, it’s probably a glass of wine.
Cheers to my friend of at least the past two decades! I’m missing her so — her zest for life, her eternal energy, and her fun-loving heart. Rest in peace, Hailey Thomas, as fit, young, tan, and gorgeous as ever. — Kelli deWitt
I’ve known Hailey Thomas for at least 40 years. She was always cheerful. Always upbeat. I always thought she looked like she could be the twin of actress Dyan Cannon, one of my favorite movie stars from 1970s.
Like everyone I’ve talked to, it’s unfathomable to think Hailey is gone. — Michael Donahue
Loved Hailey. She was the most accessible mood-booster we had, bar none. Loved her smile. Admired her running chops. An irreparable loss. — Jackson Baker
A high-school-aged Governor Bill Lee dressed as a woman. That is what thousands of Reddit users claim is seen in the photo above with the detail that it is “from 1977 Franklin High yearbook page 165.”
The image is topical as a bill that would outlaw drag in many places is likely headed for Lee’s desk. The governor said he has not decided whether or not he’ll sign the bill.
Memphis Reddit user u/inscrutablejane got to the heart of why the image matters, commenting, “The difference for them is that a skit at Senior Follies with football players in bad wigs portrays nonconformity as laughable, shameful, and ridiculous, whereas drag portrays nonconformity as aspirational, liberating, and beautiful; while superficially they’re both ‘man in a dress as entertainment’ they’re actually opposites.”
Credit: WREG via Kappa Alpha Order
Lee’s cosplay past landed him in hot water in 2019 when a photo surfaced of him dressed in a Confederate military uniform. That photo was taken during Lee’s Auburn University years at his fraternity’s “weeklong celebration of the grandeur and glory of the Old South.”
Tommy Kha's “Eye is Another” at Memphis Brooks Museum of Art
As you invite spring back into your lives, we invite you to support the arts this season, for Memphis has no shortage of exhibitions, performances, and arts happenings. We also encourage you to step out of your comfort zone. Catch a performance by a cast of actors who were formerly incarcerated; try out an immersive theater experience; or maybe, if you’re brave enough, audition for a show yourself.
Black Men Missing II
Nine years ago, during a service at Miracle Temple Ministries, Larry NuTall noticed that the majority of the church’s congregation was women. The men, he noted, were missing, not just from the church but from the community and the family, and he let his imagination carry him through the different reasons as to why that might be. “I just created little scenarios,” he says. “That’s how I basically got the idea to write a play about Black men.”
The characters came easily and so did their backstories, wrapped up in crime and family issues, often the victim of their situation. By the conclusion of the play, called Black Men Missing, most of these men end up dying or incarcerated, and that bleak ending has sat with audiences for almost a decade. NuTall says that, even to this day, people ask him about what happened to the characters and their families after they last saw them on stage. So, when he was approached to bring back the show, he opted instead to create a sequel.
“Part two is basically giving the audience the ending where everything turns out great,” NuTall explains. “These guys [who were incarcerated by the end of the first part] are back out in society and what they’re doing now is being role models. … They’re trying to encourage others to be better than they were, not to be a statistic, letting them know that they don’t have to go that way.”
Though Black Men Missing II has yet to take to the stage, it’s already impacting members of the community — specifically those in the cast. Though most of them had never acted before answering the casting call NuTall posted at church and on social media, these men have lived the story he has written, stories of addiction and incarceration, stories of lacking a father figure, stories of searching for love in the wrong places.
In turn, they bring a weight to their respective characters that the playwright could never have imagined. For this cast, acting has become a source of therapy. They’re able to embody their stories with not only a sense of accountability but also sympathy for their characters and, by extension, their past selves.
“One of the guys said that this particular play basically saved his life,” NuTall says. “They are actually very emotional. To see them cry, these big guys, strong guys, to see them emotional in rehearsal, it caused my heart to just fall right into my pocket. It’s really helping them. To see them at the very beginning and to see them now, these guys embrace each other and tell them, ‘I love you, brother. I’ll see you next week.’ They didn’t do any of that at the very beginning.”
NuTall himself knows the power of performing, having been a professional dancer for the Tennessee Ballet Theater before turning to playwriting. “I remember back in the day, the Orpheum was one of the biggest spotlights for me because we did the Nutcracker there basically every year. I always said that I would love to bring my very own show back to the Orpheum. And my dream is a reality now.”
Black Men Missing II is a Larry NuTall production and will be performed at the Orpheum Theatre, on March 25th, 7 p.m.
In a Dark Wood
For Julia Hinson and Aliza Moran, writing a script together comes just as easily as finishing each other’s sentences. “I think we have a very similar language,” says Moran. “I feel like it’s something that’s developed through our time working together. She’s one of my best friends, and we are around each other all the time. … We’ve known each other for 20 years.”
For their latest project, titled In a Dark Wood, the two friends, who met while at the University of Memphis, found inspiration in Southern lore. The show is about two travelers who, after an unexplainable event, find refuge in a diner, where patrons and staff share their own experiences with the supernatural. “We have taken real experiences we read about and just put them in the mouths of our character basically,” Hinson says.
“We also knew it was gonna be audio immersive,” she continues, “meaning that the people will go into the theater, they’ll put headphones on, and then we will put them in darkness. So the play happens in their minds, basically.”
As such, the two knew that scripting this experimental play would be different than scripting a traditional performance. “We’re always thinking of the audio first, so as we’re writing it, if it’s a storm, what kind of storm? And then to even think through sounds that you wouldn’t normally think about — like driving in a car, the sound of the keys, the sound of the engine.”
They plan to record the cast with a binaural microphone. “It’s shaped like the human ear,” Hinson explains. “And so it picks up sound just like the human ear would.”
“So whatever character’s perspective we’re writing, you’re hearing it from their perspective, which is pretty neat,” adds Moran, and that concept focusing on character perspective drove their process. “We started with the characters first and then moved from there. … We ask questions, which is the part of the devising process that I learned, and it’s like asking questions from these characters like you were trying to get to know somebody. So, say, what is their earliest memory? What do they want? What did they want to be when they were young? And then just keep adding and adding, so that when we got to the writing process, we knew these characters so well that we could trust each other with scripting.”
Through this collaborative process, Moran continues, “No one part of the play belongs to one person,” and the collaboration doesn’t end in the scripting. For instance, Hinson says, “We’ll tell the actors that if something doesn’t quite fit in their mouth, we’ll change it to make it flow out of their mouth. So we hope to be collaborative with them as well.”
Even the audience will be a part of this collaboration, Hinson says. “It’s a communal experience.” Without an audience, the show’s purpose would cease to exist, and in that way, the show belongs to the audience, too. In a Dark Wood, in particular,promises to be intimate, with the audience limited to 20 people. “When we experience things together [through theater], I think it bonds us to people in a way that other things don’t,” Hinson says. “Theater’s also a mirror to society. And while our show is mostly creepy fun — we’re not making any political statements necessarily — we’re looking to give people a different kind of experience, but there’s value in that.”
“It is a way to step out of our general lives,” Moran adds, “have the experience with others, maybe be moved by it. You never know.”
In a Dark Wood is a LoneTree Live production and will be showing at Evergreen Theatre at select times on March 31st-April 9th; lonetreelive.com.
Mora Play rehearsals in 2020 (Photo: Courtesy Our Own Voice | Facebook)
Mora Play
After eight years of working on their play, Sarah Rushakoff was finally ready to share it with the public. Rehearsals began in early 2020 with the theater group Our Own Voice (OOV) and soon came to a crashing halt at the onset of the pandemic. Now, after another three years of waiting, Rushakoff’s Mora Play will at last make its debut on the TheatreWorks stage as OOV’s first production since 2020.
The play takes inspiration from medieval morality plays, which were religious in nature and largely allegorical with a protagonist who must choose between good and evil for the sake of their salvation. For Mora Play, Rushakoff says, “I’m making it the humanist version, with the idea that people can do good without the promise of a reward and avoid doing evil without the threat of punishment, which is opposite of the original morality plays.
“It just always nagged at me that some people who are very religious make it sound very difficult to just be good and do good things,” they continue. “And when you look at a lot of religious zealots today and what they say, a lot of it is not what you would call moral goals. It’s capitalism, greed, hate, dishonesty, willful ignorance. It turns people against each other, instead of bringing them together. That’s why I thought that this [play] was a version that maybe we need today, instead of fire and brimstone.”
But Rushakoff, a self-declared atheist, is wary of creating their own echo chamber, so they hope to get feedback from their fellow OOV members, who range in religious affiliations. They’ve also recruited Bill Baker, the founding director of the company, as a co-director. “I definitely wanted different viewpoints. I wanted to be challenged if something in the script didn’t sit well with someone.”
After three years in limbo, Rushakoff does expect to revise the script. “It’ll probably never be done in my mind,” they say. “But there’s so much stuff that’s happened since I first said I was done writing it. There’s so much more to say. … But it’s gonna be a collaborative process.”
After all, that collaborative and egalitarian energy is what initially drew Rushakoff to OOV. “If you’ve ever done a show with us, you’re a company member,” they say. “Period. Like forever. We welcome everyone and for a lot of people, we’re the first play they’ve ever been in. … Auditions are more like, ‘Just show up and if you like what we’re doing and we like what you’re doing, then you’re in.’” (For those interested, auditions are April 1st, 2nd, and 8th.)
Audience participation is also important for OOV performances, where there’s never a fourth wall. “When the performers acknowledge the audience and when we invite them to perform with us,” Rushakoff says, “it deepens the connection with the audience and makes them feel like a part of the performance.”
Mora Play, for its part, hints at that desire for connection. “We wanted to redefine the idea of sin,” Rushakoff says. “We boiled it down to the idea that it’s a modern sin to prevent or break a connection between people. So the flip side of that is, a good deed is building or facilitating a connection between people. That’s what we hope to do [with theater].”
Mora Play will be performed May 26th-June 11th at TheatreWorks; follow OOV on Facebook (@ourownvoicetheatretroupe).
ON DISPLAY
“Black Alchemy: Backwards/Forwards Revisited” Aaron Turner explores the depths of music through photography. TONE, through March 18
“Atmospheric Conditions” Bill Killebrew’s narrative scenic paintings. David Lusk Gallery, through April 1
“Jeanne Seagle: Of This Place”
“Jeanne Seagle: Of This Place” Drawings of landscapes surrounding Memphis with remarkable precision. Dixon Gallery & Gardens, through April 9
“Who Is That Artist?” Works by Johana Moscoso, Karla Sanchez, and Danielle Sierra, who speak to Latinx identity, intersectionality, and transcendence. Dixon Gallery & Gardens, through April 16
Johnson Uwadinma Paintings by this contemporary Nigerian artist. Urevbu Contemporary, through April 29
“Eye is Another” at Memphis Brooks Museum of Art
“Eye is Another” Photography-based installation by artist Tommy Kha. Memphis Brooks Museum of Art, through May 7
“Tend To” A flora-filled group exhibition featuring works by Joel Parsons, Sarah Elizabeth Cornejo, and Verushka Dior. Urban Art Commission, through May 7
“Extending the Potential” Enameling by the late Bill Helwig and current enamel artists. Metal Museum, through May 21
“Going with the Grain” Rose Marr’s crayon drawings on wood. Hattiloo Theatre, March 9-April 6
Harmonia Rosales’ “Master Narrative”
“Master Narrative” Harmonia Rosales’ paintings weave tales of West African Yorùbà religion, Greco-Roman mythology, and Christianity. Memphis Brooks Museum of Art, March 10-June 25
Carl E. Moore at Jay Etkin Gallery
“From the Studio” Carl E. Moore’s work reflects and represents the people and landscape around him. Jay Etkin Gallery, March 17-April 29
Jasmine Marie Photographer Jasmine Marie’s work exploring love, Black femme identity, and community. Beverly & Sam Ross Gallery, March 19-April 23
“The Expansive Moment” Susan Maakestad’s watercolors take banal urban landscapes and transform them into meditations on light and color. Dixon Gallery & Gardens, April 16-July 9
“Watercolors and Ceramics” Chinese-French artist Zao Wou-Ki’s lyrical watercolors and designs for ceramics. Dixon Gallery & Gardens, April 30-July 16
Doudou Mbemba Lumbu Paintings that express the artist’s observations of a failing humanity and his vision for a better world. Urevbu Contemporary, May 6-June 30
“Rich Soil at the Garden” at Memphis Botanic Garden
“Rich Soil at the Garden” Outdoor exhibition created by Kristine Mays, inspired by the movements of Alvin Ailey’s dance composition. Memphis Botanic Garden, opening in May
The Dixon Gallery & Gardens
“Dixon Blooms” Daffodils, hyacinths, and tulips! Oh my! This will be one of the Dixon’s biggest garden exhibitions yet, with 350,000 new flowering bulbs planted. Stay up to date on the status of the blooms on the Dixon’s social media. The Dixon Gallery & Gardens, Spring
Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater (Photo: Paul Kolnik)
Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater The dancers of Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater dazzle with their technical brilliance and passionate energy, bringing audiences to their feet at every performance. Orpheum Theatre, March 3-5
Spamalot A musical and comedic take on the tale of King Arthur’s quest to find the Holy Grail. Germantown Community Theatre, March 3-19
The Play That Goes Wrong A play within a play, where disaster befalls the cast and crew. Theatre Memphis, March 3-26
Step Afrika! One of the top-10 African-American dance companies in the United States comes to GPAC. Germantown Performing Arts Center, March 5
Ain’t Too Proud (Photo: Emilio Madrid)
Ain’t Too Proud The electrifying new smash-hit Broadway musical follows The Temptations’ extraordinary journey from the streets of Detroit to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Orpheum Theatre, March 7-12
Freckleface Strawberry: The Musical A show for the whole family, this musical follows Freckleface Strawberry as she tries to do anything to get rid of her freckles. The Circuit Playhouse, March 10-April 16
Lonely Planet Centered around the AIDS epidemic, this play touches on mourning and grief, kept at bay with quips and comedy. TheatreWorks, March 10-19
Marie-Stéphane Bernard: Sounds of My Life Witness the worlds of Paris, Italian opera houses, and Memphis as they collide in the lyrical language of Marie-Stéphane Bernard. Germantown Performing Arts Center, March 11
Memphis Music & Art Expo An evening of dynamic jazz by pianist Alex Bugnon, plus a performance by flutist Althea Rene. Scheidt Performing Arts Center, March 11
Dalí Quartet An Iris concert fusing classical and Latin music. Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center, March 17
Ink A team of underdog reporters and an editor set out to beat the competition and change the way the world looks at news — all this, under the watchful eye of Rupert Murdoch. The Circuit Playhouse, March 24-April 16
Mozart and Electric Guitar Concerto A concert of musical dedications by Memphis Symphony Orchestra. Crosstown Theater, March 24 | Germantown United Methodist Church, March 26
School Girls; Or, African Mean Girls Play Exploring the universal similarities (and glaring differences) facing teenage girls across the globe. Hattiloo Theatre, March 24-April 16
Preacher Lawson (Photo: Courtesy EV Memphis)
Preacher Lawson Memphis-born comedian comes to GPAC. Germantown Performing Arts Center, March 25
Menopause: The Musical Four women at a lingerie sale have nothing in common but a black lace bra and memory loss, hot flashes, night sweats, not enough sex, too much sex, and more. Orpheum Theatre, March 29
Mrs. Mannerly A demanding etiquette teacher comes face-to-face with a student determined to earn a perfect score. Theatre Memphis, March 31-April 16
30 Days of Opera Opera Memphis presents a month of free, outdoor performances throughout Memphis. Various locations, April 1-30
Chicago This Broadway show brings all that jazz to Memphis. Orpheum Theatre, April 4-9
Ballet Memphis presents Cinderella. (Photo: Justin Fox Burks)
Cinderella Young and old alike will be enchanted by this timeless tale from Ballet Memphis. Orpheum Theatre, April 14-16
Jose Limón Dance Company Jose Limón Dance Company is revered throughout the world for its dramatic expression, technical mastery, and expansive yet nuanced movement. Buckman Arts Center, April 16
Brahms: A People’s Requiem Experience this exquisite, soulful journey with the Memphis Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. Cannon Center for the Performing Arts, April 22-23
Heather McMahan: The Comeback Tour Your favorite high-functioning hot mess, comedian Heather McMahan is back on tour. Orpheum Theatre, April 28
Lungs A couple considers starting a family. Quark Theatre, April 28
Rachmaninoff and Shostakovich One of the greatest symphonies of the 20th century. Cannon Center for the Performing Arts, May 6 | Scheidt Family Performing Arts Center, May 7
Clyde’s A truck-stop sandwich shop in Reading, Pennsylvania, becomes a place of employment and redemption for the formerly incarcerated staff. The Circuit Playhouse, May 12-June 4
Sistas: The Musical After a matriarch’s death, the women in the family bond over old memories. Hattiloo Theatre, June 2-25
Mary Poppins You know her and you love her. Mary Poppins is coming to Theatre Memphis. Theatre Memphis, June 9-July 2
Jersey Boys An exciting walk down memory lane uncovers the rise and fall of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Playhouse on the Square, June 16-July 16
AROUND TOWN
Chalkfest (Photo: Courtesy Memphis Brooks Museum of Art)
Chalkfest Join local artists in transforming the Brooks Plaza into the most beautiful masterpiece with chalk. Memphis Brooks Museum of Art, March 25
Tennessee Triennial: Memphis Highlight Weekend Presented by the Tennessee Triennial, the weekend will include receptions and celebratory events at select venues. Various locations, April 27-29
Spring Faire Theatre Memphis’ annual event with artists’ and artisans’ booths, food trucks, and performances throughout the day. Theatre Memphis, April 29
Brazil by Day Become immersed in the rich culture of Brazil through fine art, live music, dance performances, cuisine, and more! Crosstown Arts, May 13
Activist Jerred Price (right) conducted a monster fundraiser at IBIS restaurant last week, and numerous supporters showed up for the event, which was broken up into a meet-and-greet and a concert, in which Price delivered his patented tribute to Elton John. With Price here are Thurston Smith (left) and Regina Morrison Newman (center). (Photo: Courtesy Jerred Price)
Although the Memphis city election of 2023 won’t take place until October, candidates are already fully extended in an effort to get their campaigns (and especially their fundraising needs) established and in order. This has been especially the case regarding the race for mayor, but it is evident in selected council races as well.
One of those races is the one for Super District 8, Position 3, which the term-limited Martavius Jones, currently the council chairman, is scheduled to vacate at year’s end. The District 8 position is one of the six at-large districts permitted by a judicial consent decree dating from the 1990s. In essence, a line was drawn bisecting the city, dividing Super District 8, a majority-Black district, from Super District 9, a majority-white area.
Each of the super districts has three positions, and there are six Super District seats altogether. Unlike the case of the seven smaller regular districts, runoffs are not permitted for the Super District races. They are winner-take-all.
Three candidacies are already fully launched for Super District 8, Position 3. The candidates are shown here.
Business consultant and community activist Brian Harris (center, with tie) hosted a campaign event for fellow Overton High School alumni (classes of 1995-1999) last Sunday at Chef Tam’s Underground Cafe on Union Avenue. (Photo: Jackson Baker)FedEx executive and former City Councilman Berlin Boyd (here in a vintage photo with erstwhile council colleague Bill Boyd) is seeking a return to the council, where he served as a representative from District 7 from 2011 until his defeat by current Councilwoman Michalyn Easter-Thomas in 2019. (Photo: Jackson Baker)
If you give a bear a crap ton of cocaine, he’s going to ask for more. He is, after all, not just a bear on cocaine; he is Cocaine Bear.
Back in 1985, a drug smuggler named Andrew C. Thornton II found himself over East Tennessee in a failing Cessna. Trying to lighten the load, he ejected a few duffle bags’ worth of cocaine into the woods. When that didn’t work, he stuffed several Ferraris’ worth of product in his pockets and jumped out of the airplane. His parachute didn’t open, and the former-federal-narcotics-officer-turned-cocaine-cowboy went splat in suburban Knoxville.
As someone who grew up in rural Appalachia during the height of the Reagan era, I can attest that bundles of drugs regularly fell from the sky. Some poor randos got lucky and were able to buy a real house, not a trailer. Some less-lucky randos were brutally murdered by employees of the distribution network whose drugs had gone missing. In this case, a black bear found the fallen cocaine cache and ate it. Pablo Escobear, as the overstimulated ursine would come to be known, is the only known bear to die of a cocaine overdose — another Appalachia victim of the War on Drugs.
In retrospect, it’s kind of amazing that it took so long for someone to make Cocaine Bear. In the 1980s, lots of producers got their movies funded with little more than a catchy title and some eye-catching VHS art. The story writes itself. Bears are cute, but they can eat you whenever they want. Luckily, bears are lazy, and you’re more trouble than you’re worth. But a bear on cocaine, they’re edgy. They’re paranoid. They just want to party with you. Why are you holding out on them?
Director Elizabeth Banks sets the gonzo tone in the first scene, when Andrew Thornton (Matthew Rhys) experiences a high degree of job satisfaction by dipping into the bricks before he tosses them out of the airplane. At least he dies doing what he loves: cocaine.
The first people to discover what happened to the cocaine are prime slasher movie fodder: a pair of young European hikers in love. For Cocaine Bear, they’re just a yummy appetizer.
Also on the table are a pair of kids: the rebellious Dee Dee (Brooklynn Prince), who is skipping school to paint a waterfall, and Henry (Christian Convery), who is following her. Dee Dee’s mom Sari (Keri Russell) is trying to track down both of them, with the help of Ranger Liz (Margo Martindale) and zoologist Peter (Jesse Tyler Ferguson).
Meanwhile, Syd (Ray Liotta), who is on the hook for the missing marching powder, sends his enforcer Daveed (O’Shea Jackson Jr.) and angsty son Eddie (Alden Ehrenreich) to retrieve the $14 million in assets before the Columbian cartels come calling. They have a violent run-in with a trio of delinquents and find one of the missing duffle bags at the same time as TBI detective Bob (Isiah Whitlock Jr.) and the cocaine-crazed bear.
Besides Cocaine Bear, who is an instant movie star, Bob is the film’s best character. He’s a police detective who’s getting too old for this stuff. He’s thinking about retirement and just bought a cute dog. But he’s been chasing Syd for years, and he’s got a hunch that this is his last chance to take him down. In a movie like this, he’s a dead man walking. Whitlock, a veteran of Spike Lee films and The Wire, understands the assignment and plays it to the hilt.
Everyone involved in Cocaine Bear seems to know exactly how serious to take it, which is, not very. As a classy appreciator of art, I should call CocaineBear a guilty pleasure, except I don’t feel very guilty about it. Cocaine, a wise man once said, is a hell of a drug.
Editor’s note: This issue of the Memphis Flyer is dedicated to Hailey Thomas, a member of our work family who passed away last week. We welcome you to read this week’s Last Word to get a glimpse of the beautiful mark she left on us.
A week or so ago, I had the most vivid dream. I stopped in my favorite bar and my friend Kristin greeted me, smiling ear to ear as if I’d just walked in on a funny conversation. “I didn’t know you worked here now!” I said, pleasantly surprised but perplexed. “I do! Come give me a hug,” she said as she whipped around the counter. Kristin passed away in March 2020, and although it felt as real as the last time I saw her, I knew it was a dream. And I stayed in it as long as I could to admire the way her eyes lit and lips curled when she laughed, to feel the warmth of her embrace. I like to think this was her way of sending a sweet hello, a gentle reminder that she lives on … somewhere. Reaching through to the other side.
When I was a kid, I developed a deep curiosity about death. From my earliest experience of loss — around the age of 5 — I couldn’t help but wonder where the departed went. They existed, they lived full lives, and then they were just … gone. I thought a lot about growing up, and how grown-ups always died. I decided I didn’t really want to be one.
As a teen, I desperately sought to prove that death wasn’t the end. I went “ghost hunting” with friends, in graveyards or “haunted” spaces, with audio recorders and several cameras — digital and film, black-and-white and color, with flash and without. We needed to cover all the bases. At some point, I messed around with Ouija boards and attempted seances. Was that unidentified blob in the photo an “orb”? What was that indecipherable whisper I heard on the tape playback? Did a summoned spirit blow out that candle?
Later, I read about quantum physics and the possibility of alternate realities and timelines. I studied various religions and beliefs on death across cultures. Eventually, I stopped looking for proof. A fruitless effort, really — too much to wrap one’s head around. I liked the way my thoughts went when I considered the law of conservation of energy: Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only converted from one form of energy to another. I am not a physicist, and whether or not this can be appropriately applied to life and death doesn’t matter much to me. It’s the idea of it. Because I have seen and felt the energy of everyone I’ve ever met. The imprints left in places, in minds, and on hearts. The deceased have lived and because of this, they live on. Their energy hasn’t been destroyed but transferred, transformed into a thing less tangible than physical existence, just outside of our three-dimensional view.
We can still feel them in dreams, in sunsets, in songs, in special places that held special moments. A butterfly in flight, a falling leaf, a soft breeze, the sound of rain on the roof, the smell of cookies baking. In remembering their smile lines, the times you laughed together until your cheeks hurt, the long talks and road trips and late nights.
Maybe death is just a door. To reincarnation, to heaven, to infinity, the unknown. And we’ll all gather again when it’s our time to step through.
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Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again! — Henry Scott Holland
