Posts tagged: Constance Hall

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #37

Josh Killiingsworth and K.C. Killingsworth

Josh Killiingsworth and K.C. Killingsworth

Here’s to the ongoing recherche pour le luxe des divertissements et des réalisations, Three Friends Mondays invited performance in the caffeinated confines loops its engorged growl of destiny, the Show and Tell Open Mic following in self-reference like a massage after a hot bath.  Came March 23 all chilly and wet Napolitan at the gates, the “Blind Dates” edition heralding a harmonious trio afterward espied engaged in small talk, so magical was the chemistry.  Phase One already brimming with a misty essence, a prompt on the command line, the reassuring Americana of KC Craine gathering our focus and we were in for an evening.  Second Phase volatility underway, perhaps some of the pieces shared by Josh Killingsworth lyrically dark, but his voice oh so sweet, the subtle fingerstyle of his dad (another K.C.) accompanying on guitar gorgeous.

Ashia

Ashia

Safety glasses on, proceed to Phase Three, phenomena surge, careful, careful, the amazing cello and voice and brave musical endeavor of Ashia, molecules colliding, periodic table in question, theorem k.o.’ed by post-science, we’re learning again, observations reign.

Goodness gracious for spacious skies does The Show and Tell Open Mic strain at its leash on occasion, begun so on-time that even Splice Finders was caught in a half-assed leap for for the record button by the time Christine Honitsu White had begun in another language reciting.  Welcomed we the comedy stylings of Mike G reading Starlite Motel, then could Steve Williams and Constance Hall stake the pre-warmed own turf.  Patrick Bocarde brought us our monstre poétique knees with material by Rick J and Melissa Sillitoe.  ‘Twas Wendra who told us that all her songs are long, and it was Myrrh Larsen whose songs, including the aching “Homesick” which ends Part 1 of the Open Mic, are all about our longing.

Starlite Motel

Starlite Motel

Starlite Motel dove into Mike G’s “Deep End (for Dennis McBride)” and tagged relay Rick J baton sideways poem “When Nothing Gets Bored,” a restless play of words also by Mike G, scatters Melissa Sillitoe’s “Ashes.”  After Chad MD shares a little poem, Judith Fay Pulman springs into a poem by Rick J.  Then it’s bonus panels, accommodating Wayne FlowerMichael lifting a Luke Lefler lyric, Wolfgang Reinhard, The Ambassador of Truth, Christian Kenseth and the new Three Friends Caffeinated Librarian, Mikey Golightly.

We’ll meet you at the “page” where we host the Three Friends Mondays: Caffienated Art podcast with good intention in our hearts, Wonderful, but you feeling the molten golden goose-flesh raised virtuoso upon hearing this fulsome audio feature you may wish then future clicks to save away, angled sense and hanging out iTunes in the dry of the tiger, though it collates unwell wethinks, and scruffy unrepentant links, this formula denotes:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435468

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #33

Eileen Elliott, Toni Partington and Constance Hall

Eileen Elliott, Toni Partington and Constance Hall

In changing, difficult times we lode our mothers and cling to our static, and these broken weeks are nothing if not changing, and cultish if not diffident.  You are reading this attentively, and we are grateful and starved for commitment.  While nicht nähernd the steady and inexorable keel of a cult, the ongoing series Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art once again extended its thermal-fleeced fingerlimbs northward to the region known as Vancouver, U.S.A. – the ‘Couve,  the “Ghost Town” implicit in Christopher Luna‘s observant munchings.  And veri-fiberly the invitation was extended pro looma towards Toni Partington, published in VoiceCatcher 3, Cascade Journal, NW Women’s Journal and others (her work, that is – not the humble invite from Show and Tell Gallery Productions).  Toni coaxed poet and award-winning artist Eileen Elliott and published writer/editor Constance Hall to turn a dreary late Winter evening into something of warm flickering ink and essence. Dalla memoria, nel carattere, Constance Hall shared from a prose poem drawn on her Sicilian family roots.  Eileen Elliott presented several elaborate pieces of visual art each varied in tone and texture and words to elaborate further the tale.  Then Toni Partington approached the accumulating ears with offerings from her upcoming poetry book, For the Love of Agnes, and other of her material that concluded with a poem for three voices, performed for the first time, all three writers onstage, Constance’s husband Steve Williams on bell; it was swell.

crashandbettycrop

The Crash and Betty Show

Another two-parter, a garter-grabbing, rabble-arousing combination free speech festival and Spring training wake, the Show and Tell Open Mic always follows 3FM:CA and the mixed metaphors long afterwards.  After a brazen plug for Oregon Society of Artists we were treated to three poems (including the poignant and aptly-titled “In My Dreams”) from Mike G (fresh off his first sick day in six years).  Darest the parenthetical wouldst overtake, we enjoyed a coupla musical ditties from The Crash and Betty Show, followed by more spoken sword face-offs, the first part/round the Dan (Raphael) and Walt (Curtis, also number five-and-a-half) show.

Walt Curtis

Walt Curtis

Steve Williams rejoined the party with a Christmas poem and spotted the Stick Man.  Despite the bench-clearing brawl outside his flat Wayne Flower had just written “He Is Cruel,” whereas Chad MD had come to a realization and stepped up to the plate with “Honey,” and Christian Kenseth had dug out three poems and chose to share them after all.  End of Part One.  Simon Diamond shared a poem (“Return to Exile”) and an anti-poem (“Poets of a Technocratic Dreamcoat”) (in two parts) (yes, it’s often necessary).  Nathan Reynolds also delighted wtih a couple of new and adorable toss-offs.  Reinhard Wilhelm (Benjamin Fisher) imparted a dialectic dilemna “for everyone who calls themself a poet.”  Rick J commanded a uneasy quietude in the course of indeed being a poet, delivering three difficult pieces in the stillness.  Dwight Peters championed “A Merry Cause” and disturbing “Expressions of Joy (Paintings of 1,000 Different (Moans?),” and  purported rain boots stepped through the sharp distance tracing tears through “Sun, Salt, Sand and Time” with some guy’s rib (indeed there must be purpose in pain).  In extra innings, Garret Potter and “The Ambassador of Truth” (just a rectum his anger), off respective stints in the Texas farm system swing at the vacant space bubbles.  “There’s No Difference,” we’re told.  Viva le manque de différence!  Why did we stick around this late, then?

Oh, yeah, in order to record every at-bat for the podcast, naturally.  Watch out for the roadkill when you pass through here at the podcast home field advantage.  And peering over the DRM fence, waiting for one to fly out of the park, part and parcel of our spoken World Series, one of our biggest fans, iTunes chomps on a link, bun and relish the feed:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435461

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