Nova Clutch

Is.Man at St. Ann's Warehouse

Is.Man

I am plagued by codes. Computer codes. Safety codes. Genetic codes. And codes of conduct. I am overwhelmed by the noise in my head, the constant buzzing, the crossing of wires and the failure of human connection. Good codes that protect us, bad codes that separate us. But who is to decide which is which? Why are we torn from our human family and separated into rooms of culture and religions? And what do we find when we are forced to leave the limited space of our rooms to subject ourselves to the codes of another room?

Maybe some of the answers lie in Adelheid Roosen's Is.Man that opens tonight at St. Ann's Warehouse.

Is.Man is a raw, 90 minute look into one family's experience of moving from one room (Turkey) into the next (Holland), a story partially based on the writer's interviews of Muslim men convicted of crimes in the latter. The four character production focuses on three generations of Turkish men struggling with the concept of namus (honor) and its impact on women and a society whose laws and ethics do not include honor killings designed to determine the sexual purity of their women and a clan's integrity.

Thoughtfully written and powerfully delivered on a stark stage where one of the few indications of female presence comes in the form dress-like pillars that are hung on actual clothes hangers, the story is played out by conversations taking place out of time and out of context by a grandfather playing instruments, singing and speaking in Turkish, a father writing and lamenting from his prison chair, a mystical Sulfi Imam who silently meditates or twirls his way to center stage, and a son who translates and interacts with the audience as he tries to make sense of his father's familicide.

One of the most powerful moments comes when the father, after having his back to the audience for almost the entire play turns around and asks the audience to challenge the concept of namus for the sake of the children. He urges us, the audience, to join him in chanting, "our children, our children". But the audience, not knowing what to do or say, uncomfortably sits in silence. Maybe this is the code of the theater, or maybe a code of our society to be suspicious of this stranger's invitation to heal our differences and embrace a future that is more humane.

By crossing into to our room we are forced to look at their room through their eyes, actions and words, and in turn, our own room. As our world gets smaller, and more doors are opened, interaction with other cultures and religions will become more frequent and more personal than we might like. Regardless, a code of silence is no longer applicable. It's time to look to a genetic code that knows no god, no cultural, no borders, no law, no hate and no shame. It's time to tap in that PIN and buy some tickets to see Is.Man that will be running through October 14th.

Surprise birthday with homemade doughnuts

We missed Jenn's birthday because she was on vacation and when she returned we went away. It would have been easy to think that the moment was over and it was too late to celebrate. But it's never to late to celebrate in my book.

J'aime and I decided we should give her a surprise birthday brunch with homemade doughnuts, pancakes, coffee and hot bourbon-spiked cider. Yes, it was 11am. And?

I got up very early and started making the yeast batter that, although simple, had a combined resting time of about two hours. I used this recipe, which was very good, except that when the crucial moment of yeast adding came, I realized that one packet of yeast wasn't enough. Why measure yeast in teaspoons when they come in standard sized sachets? Two 25oz sachets is far simpler than 5.5 teaspoons. By the time I had run to the store and got another packet and added it, my mixture wasn't at the right temperature anymore (duh). Consequently the dough didn't rise, and I called J'aime in a panic.

J'aime came to rescue, bringing with her heart-shaped sugar cubes, doughnut decorations, chocolate sauce, beautiful fig molasses and amazing bread. We decided to make the doughnuts anyway, and although they weren't as light as they should have been (that would be because of the lack of air), they were delicious. And with chocolate sauce...good Lord. Jenn walked in to the smell of doughnuts and was completely shocked that we were all there to celebrate her belated birthday. After having our fill of food and hot bourbon cider, we wandered into DUMBO for the Arts festival, finishing up the day sitting in the Brooklyn Bridge park in the sunshine. Not bad for a Saturday that began with accidentally unleavened bread.

Peter Beaton in Nantucket

Now I'm not one of those preppy types, well not in the way that you may understand the term. Both Sweetu and I tend to appreciate preppiness in an understated English way. We go for a little Maragret Howell, Church's and Labour and Wait.

Going up to Nantucket the other week, I saw a lot of preppy types. Actually I was kind of shocked by it. Never had I seen so many blonde-haired, checkered-pants-wearing people in one place, but then, I never go to the Upper East Side. I obviously need to get out more.

Some of these blonde-haired people went into Peter Beaton, where I dutifully followed. I was pleasantly surprised. Bright orange, pink and brown umbrellas with contrasting undersides and beautifully crafted wooden handles. Gorgeous navy blue one-piece bathing suits for infants. And the best, rough-hewn rubber wellies that seem raw and almost unfinished. Perhaps my preppy fix will be from here, and not from the old tweeds of the homeland.

Clifford Shikler at Art Under the Bridge Festival

I have to be honest and say that although I love DUMBO, open studios around the neighborhood can mean that finding art gems is a bit of the old needle in a haystack. But when you find some it's certainly very gratifying. Walking around DUMBO, slightly disgruntled because the few food establishments are inundated and overwhelmed and because you have to spend long stints of uncomfortable silences in elevators with other people searching for good artwork, you can get, well, a little moody. Well I can anyway.

Then I found two fantastic painters in one space. A nook of a studio in 55 Washington is where Clifford Shikler, part owner of the local organic food market Foragers, paints and draws. His work is technically good, mainly portraiture, with uncanny observations of people's quirks and personalities. Not pictured here, but on his website, Shikler's beach paintings have a stange nostalgia about them. With the language of family snapshots, mostly with a vacational feel, the pieces give your a voyeuristic sense of unease, as you are witness to at once familiar but private moment. I for one am looking forward to looking in on more of those moments in the future.

Jane's Carousel opens in DUMBO

Friday night signalled the opening of of this year's DUMBO Art Under the Bridge Festival . We began it with the opening of Jane's Carousel on Water Street. Dating back to 1922, Jane Walentas purchased the carousel in 1984 and has had it painstakingly restored and brought it up to an amazing condition.

Although I have seen the carousel spinning slowly and quietly within the old and stuningly beautiful old Smack Mellon site, this was the first time I have ever seen anyone ride it. The effect of such a huge, beautiful carousel spinning in such a magnificent building, with old merry-go-round music playing is quite stunning. It made even me hop on it for a spin.

Jane's Carousel is located at 65 Water Street, yes, right near Jacques Torres.