Posts tagged: Dwight Peters

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

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #31

Ah, to do what one does, shrouded in scaffolding, ready to bow before the eternal critic, exposed by the full moon, the great god memory, and to lose something temporal, and by its premature death it may never graze in its silicon pasture alongside those of its kin.

Lexi

Lexi Stern

Whereas digital audio files abundant and indiscriminate have Splice Finders’ mighty Olympus LS-10 captured lo these many months, yet another important series of consecutive minutes has slipped by its slurpy circuity due to an imperfect specimen of the otherwise popular and convenient SD memory card.  Having claimed its last victim, the offending puce de mémoire en plastique de sort malheureux has been indelibly stigmatized and withdrawn from professional use (if we make any other such use of anything any more), and that broken vessel may even be permanently disposed of by our obsessive pack rat podcast producer.  Some day.  Anyway, early the next day, featured invitee Nikki Jauron took the news with grace, and with the depth of experience that attends the likes of us who have banged our heads against the wall of sound only to receive the concussions of technical difficulties.

Cat

Cat Dynes

Nikki also displayed endearing grace  on February 9 of ’09, as the Three Friends Mondays: Caffienated Art designated driver, affording her friends Cat Dynes and Lexi Stern a generous portion of the road, and following at a safe (it seemed) distance with her own discursive deliveries, mostly composed of the poignant observations contained in her recently-published Hot Sauce-Flavored Coffee, as well as the necessarily quirky story behind its tongue-teasing title.  You will hear and no doubt enjoy Cat and Lex’ strong, hummable songs (about girls, they confess) on the podcast.  But (sigh) you won’t hear Nikki’s fine, fluid writing – writing of a nature that is so honest and familiar that one says to oneself, “…yes! I can relate!”

Mr. Timer

Mr. Timer

The sinister bent circuitry broke with the hour at that climactic moment as the detail devil struck again; we have another, drier and more elaborate explanation for what happened, which Nikki has been given and has cheerfully accepted.  No matter how we may describe this unfortunate event, Show and Tell Gallery Productions has sought to move beyond this tragedy and will seek to present and podcast a Nikki Jauron reading in the future.

Now we can kick off our muddy boots and lie by the road, waiting to trip up the passing poets and dreamers, the various condiments in our subsequent boisson de café express des arts et des lettres: The Show and Tell Open Mic. As if to compensate for the aforementioned loss, deliberate reduction by volume (except in the strange case of Dwight Peters, to whom Splice chose to add 2.74db) was done with the podcast file of the open mic.  Hey, the stage was already set by Melissa Sillitoe‘s new friend/foil Mr. Timer, whose poetry-crashing is well-documented and whose oddly masculine moniker will be forever entombed in the Broken Hours blog.

Christine White

Christine White

The affable Mike G (for “grail-road”) constituted the choicest cabooster of Mr. Timer’s quickly faded glory toot sweet, Christine White wrapped us up in business poetica old and Neruda, and by the time Wayne Flower had brought back all of our heartbreaking memories of youth, our latest attendee had become Mr. No-timer, the possessed (eek!), see-yah.  Christian shunned the new shit and instead dealt with some old shit.  And, as if to fling ourselves headlong, past the moon, down the side of the road to eclipse Valentine’s Day, we seat past 3FM:CA invitee/bigfootiphile Dennis McBride, and he loads us into his double-shot Stanza Cause of death sling, sharing love, talking sex, noting death “by death” on another certificate of authenticity along with which we can post this one here, without all that it is missing, for posterity.

Perhaps you’ve fully mooned this iTunes link before, but in case you need to go back down that road, find what you’re missing and not what we’re missing (domo arigato, Mr. Time Thief), the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art podcast can be subscribed to via that golden Apple’s DRM Queen of the Sky, and tell ’em Bigfoot sent you:

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

The Show and Tell Gallery Podcast #8

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Melissa Sillitoe welcomes Laura Chase

Gallantly, the  evening air warmed up a skosh for the first First Thursday opening of the year for the Show and Tell Gallery, a return to the source for the unsinkable Melissa Sillitoe who, naturally, had wavered at the prospect of continuing to host receptions at her live-in artspace.  The turbulent economic predictions clapping together with last year’s unexpected retirement of First Thursday at The Core Gallery, which shares the same trough aloft, were conspiring to freeze out this humble and geeky operation from the flow of the more terrestrial galleries in the Everett Station Galleries building.  However, the enduring promise of fulfillment and monkeyshines obligado forecast another show, and with the Spring perhaps more will blossom.

Messenger (2008), acrylic on wood

Verily did Melissa rain-dance another lightning-strike event, turning first to prior collaborator Lea Keohane, who has stayed busy and brave during the Winter season and who has hung her delightful pieces along the main concourse in the sky above Everett Street amongst the isobars and areas of convergence and divergence in the wind field (which are helpful in determining the location of extreme points along the spectrum).   The next ray of sunlight belonged to Laura Chase, having returned fresh from West Africa to parlez pearly dewdrops of pop and samba, followed like a rainbow by the hyper-chipper hip-hop of  Inkre:mentals with an album soon to drop and who-all brought in many lovely attendees (of whom one was, to our surprise, our favorite check-out king Jason) to minglebrate with supporters Mikey Golightly, Anna Todaro, Mike G, Christian, James Honzik, Becca Yenser and The Dark Lord, among many others, in addition to saintly gallery volunteers Dwight Peters, Patrick Bocarde, Rick J and Eric McEuen.  For our part, we had a nice conversation in the back of the house with Wayne Flower, who pointed our anemometer towards his own visual expressions.

Inkre:mentals

Inkre:mentals

Podcast producer Splice Finders was criminally loved and appreciated by Inkre:mentals Justin Eder and Jesse Gardner.  The backatcha cloudburst of enthusiasm for this MC positive pair and the perseverance of Tiffany (aka DJ ASAP) upon a beat system less-than-loud ushered a warm front of victorious vibes through the assemblage, many of whose errant voices were captured in the sleety Show and Tell Gallery Podcast, which is in da here fo’ sho, we hope, what fo’ Broken Hours’ own technical difficulture re: this index has been de-rigged.

Representz the Show and Tell Gallery Podcast do too on the inexorable iTunes audi-file storm-gathering jet stream with this link-a-dink:

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

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #30

michaelberton

Michael Berton

We’ve decided that this is a pretty neat thing, a quite beautiful thing, really, this Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art thing, this infinitely changeable thing, this unpredictable thing what it has been all along we suppose but one can’t really see such a trend in a small sample.  So we arrive at number 30, and after a month of caffeinated Mondays we assert, smiling, yet humbly, that this is a pretty cool thing, a quite handsome thing, really.

Milo Duke

Milo Duke

Consider the February 2, 2009 “Blind Date Edition” line-up, per se.  Initiating, delightfully, with the accomplished troubadour Milo Duke packing emotional and technical wallop-mastery and more tempo changes than a Tchaikovsky ballet; Michael Berton, deadpan voice declaiming his uncompromising verse, often cantankerous in its lack of punctuation and asphyxiation of grammar, all to sublime effect; and Ezza Rose bearing multiple stringed instruments, each an angel’s harp to accompany her stunning voice, rendering a canon of wicked-smart and delicate songs: “Power is a dangerous thing/And all the beautiful that it brings,” as she sings in “Storyteller,” and we can’t help but agree, regarding each of you, dear performers.   We who have the good fortune to be part of Show and Tell Gallery Productions are truly blessed, and we want you to always be a part of it, to return to it, to bring your friends, to show and to tell, as it seems to be real, and it feels good – a real, good thing.

Ezza Rose

Ezza Rose

And share we do, although we forget what we are doing, our shoelaces untied, in the afterglow of each week’s invited performance, leaving the power on, the mic open – an open, “on” mic available – it is not the Machiavellian star, rather it is the steel stagehand of the outstretched arms of the Show and Tell Open Mic, our nuclear ars gratia artis embracing our friends, our heroes, our champions all.  Is that why Melissa Sillitoe shares, as if revealing Secret Knowledge, the story of why she calls people “chipmunks,” who root for the roto-endearing Justin Parris – seems he’s got it as bad as we do, and his sink drain (rhymes with brain) is infested.  We scrutinize the inscrutable writings of Christian and we follow blind (could this be… an infirmary?), and that’s a fact.  And, you, young man, Dwight Peters… yeah, well…  there’s imagery here… that… well, our dirty mind is interpreting…  so… keep it up, man, this is… intense.  And, check it out: Wayne Flower sings – SINGS – a capella… you had us at “broken,” man, we tell you what.  We are grateful for Rick J, who is MySpace friends with Keats and we are but his brief and accidental audience – the reverse would be impossible to arrange, not even by Melissa Sillitoe, whose Astoria pilgrimages are apparently as legendary as our own.  We encounter the thoroughly digniified Tob(e)y, reciting from memory Tom Crawford’s “Pacific City” as well as one of his own, and betraying a depth of memory yet to fully expose itself to this brief and accidental audience. The present satori of Mike G’s writing “into a very dark and painful place” (see 3FM:CA #27) appears to us to be a lateral move.  Then appearing and disappearing in sequence let’s go down to Big Pinkside for the sage, steel-handed Patrick Bocarde vs. the modern yeti machines, and xonclude, delightfully,  with Eric McEuen showing off his infectious, three-week-old ditty “…for anyone who’s been disappointed.  Anyone in this room?”  Not us – not tonight, anyway.

Justin Parris

Justin Parris

Ars gratia iTunes, while a beautiful thing, may not have the same ring, at least not to our traditionalist ears, much less to those of Edgar Allan Poe’s, whose prose in The Poetic Principle goes “that would we but permit ourselves to look into our own souls we should immediately there discover that under the sun there neither exists nor can exist any work more thoroughly dignified, more supremely noble, than this very poem, this poem per se, this poem which is a poem and nothing more, this poem written solely for the poem’s sake.”  When we are taking a break from looking into our souls, might we remember that this thoroughly dignified podcast lives at the same old Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series page at brokenhours.net under the same old, dying sun?  We forgot to point this out last time.  Nevertheless, permit thyself to look into the sink drain of the modern yetiTunes machine, for there you should immediately discover the podcast, this very podcast, this podcast per se, which is posted solely for the podcast’s sake, and which can be subscribed to via this link:

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

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #29

N.A. Terranova

N.A. Terranova

“It frees you up,” said N.A. Terranova to Rick J who, following the January 26th Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art performance, had commended her on having delivered all of her twenty-or-so minutes of spoken word hands-free-to relax in pockets, body swaying side-to-side and forwards on occasion, as she also chose to be free of the microphone, a choice that caused due concern on the hairline part of Broken Hours’ prodcast pod-inducer Splice Finders but he did not interject, and the levels they headed out fine it seems, perhapspossibly and moreovermaybe her al dente heralding issued a natural resonance that carried over into Rick J‘s set, which triggered another type of memory – not that to which one commits but rather that of which one is reminded by a word, an image, yes, a turn of phrase, yes, to wit, Rick has been habit-formatting our verse-drives to some of this material through his open mic sourcing, and here now our memories are liberated, aloft, fluttering, and swept away come the we to the look to the “top” of the index on the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series page at brokenhours.net and our third, dear incarnation of memory, the return of Fern Capella to the 3FM:CA stage; we to the “thee” to the she with Show and Tell Gallery Productions‘ and back again, a touch under the weather (“outside the windows the frosty moonlight hung” as we recall) but lettres belles et chansons to those who fell under the spell, whom were urged to rise and be true to ourselves and, yes, it does free us up.

Rick J

Rick J

Up on the same stage, remembering us all where and when it may have started, free-to-relax in pockets side-by-side with poets Mike G, Patrick Bocarde and Rick J free-assembled around Melissa Sillitoe with scripts in hand, followed by Mike G with the tremulous and timely “After Poets (for Curtis White-Carroll),” and we will remember that Christine echoed the recollections, and then a stirring Wayne Flower meditation-in-process for Sylvia Plath’s memory, and we do so recall Christian and Dwight Peters, and we are forgetting nothing (are we?), as indeed there was no more, rather a reincarnation of plenty, the Show and Tell Open Mic replenished, resounded, retold, re-shown, once again, it freed us up.

Fern Capella

Fern Capella

The best things on-line are free, and it turns out une iTunes is no different in that the Three Friends Monday: Caffeinated Art is freed up thereon, and it can be recalled, liberated to their favorite media player even, by swaying side-to-side and forwards on occasion to this link:

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

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #28

Michael Hart, Lou and Anthony

Michael Hart, Lou and Anthony

Don’t expect Broken Hours to take the quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide, no alarms and no surprises.  Not at this stage, not while the Three Friends Coffee House is setting ’em up, Joe.  Such a pretty house, such a pretty garden, no surprises, though, that Lou Guidi invited Anthony to constitute the duo of Lou and Anthony at 01/19/01’s Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art.  No surprises either, that the mandated third friend should be  Michael Hart (reference The Show and Tell Gallery Podcast #7), who remarked, “I’m glad you guys are all here celebrating the last painful day of destruction” (such a pretty sentiment – we hope he’s right).  And no alarms, please.

Not that we don’t want surprises – we are already working in tandem, after all, with Show and Tell Gallery Productions‘ surprise-purveyor Melissa Sillitoe in order to cast these rites podways.  However, we do love music, and Lou, Anthony and Michael are as earnest about music as a heart that’s full up like a landfill, a job that slowly kills you, bruises that won’t heal.  You were so tired, happy, bring down the government, they don’t, they don’t speak for her.

Nikki Jauron

Nikki Jauron

Then it’s up to the Show and Tell Open Mic, which welcomes alarms, surprises even, despite its auto-incestuous, numerical sequencing.   And such pretty pleasant surprises were to be had in welcoming Julia Dawn (in reference to whom the adjective “pretty” constitutes an understatement), as well as Nikki Jauron stirring her Hot Sauce-Flavored Coffee, and future (February 2, 2009) Three Friends invitee-gesticulator Michael Berton.  Neither could it have been everything it was without the participation of Christian (“like the religion”), Wayne Flower and Dwight Peters (let us hope that certain invitations are in the mail).   Melissa “The Inviter” Sillitoe (avec et sans Luke Lefler, choosing the quiet life), past 3FM:CA invitees Brittany Baldwin, Mike “Headed For” G(reatness)  and Rick J (also a future (01/26/09) Three Friends invitee-gesticulator), and at least one surprise, grated for headness, brought up most of the rest of the proceedings.

On an internet that’s full up like a landfill, a connection that slowly kills you, bruises that won’t Google, you might never find the podcast on the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series page at brokenhours.net if you don’t know where to look.  Or, you were so tired, happy, and you had it brought to you via iTunes, which let you do that without alarms, nor surprises, such a pretty link:

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

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #27

Doug Marx

Doug Marx

Sometimes it takes just a little more time, no matter how determined to be on time one is.  When the time comes, I’ll spend more time discussing time but, for now, I haven’t got the time.  Here are the quick details, for the purpose at hand, regarding time:

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art happens every Monday from 7-8 p.m. at Three Friends Coffee House.  Immediately afterward there is an Open Mic that occurs for as long as it tends to occur – so far, it’s been about an hour, give or take.   The resulting performance quotient of the event generally occupies more than two hours of linear time, and thus we post the podcast in two parts, even though our tireless and timeless producer Splice Finders snips and frets over these hours upon the stage, removing as much deaf space as possible, making it more full of sound and fury, blessing it with every hope of signifying something.

This is not a simple, arty bypass, gotten dirt cheap, baby.  It’s because time requires space – file space, baby.  The average size of one hour of these 16-bit, 256 kbps, joint stereo, real-time (mostly) mp3 recordings is roughly 115MB.   That may mean a lot to you (or zero to your power of ten may equal nothing all), but when one accesses an 100+ meg file on the internet, one consumes a great deal of that which is called “bandwidth,” and depending on your connection-speed-thingy with the big web-deelie, it may not be worth your time to try to listen.  That contingency does not discourage us from giving you the best times of our time, graced freely and willingly by the artists who take the time out of their times to entertain and enlighten us.

“My brutal, weary-of-me-methinks Broken Ears, suffering,” our namescape Baron Landsake might say, “this is another one for the ages, the times are yearning, and just in time, timelessly, unto time eternal” came poets Sean Patrick Hill, Doug Marx, and Andy Budor at nearly the appointed hour on Monday, January 12, 2009.

“Andy is a transplant from Michigan and he,” says Andy, “is fascinated by Oregon’s landscape, flora and fauna.  Ancient philosophical Taoism and the expression of its principles by contemporary teachers currently influence his thinking and poetry.  He cooks and cleans for his wife who (sic) he chased across the country.  They are both owned and are being trained by two kittens.  He pays his taxes and mortgage so he can hide under the wisteria tree in his backyard and write poems.”

Doug’s poems have, once upon a time, Doug recalls, “been published in a variety of literary journals and magazines such as Willow Springs and Harper’s.  A chapbook, Sufficiency, was an Oregon Book Award finalist in Poetry. ”   Without question a master of timing, Doug regularly makes time with The Reverb Brothers, the “Eagle Time” band for Fridays from 5:30pm-7:30pm at the legendary White Eagle Saloon (836 N Russell St in Portland, OR).

Sean, meanwhile, all the while, admits to being “a travel writer, husband, soon-to-be-father and sometime-teacher in Portland, Oregon.  His poems are currently in Exquisite Corpse, elimae, Alba, diode, In Posse Review, Juked, Ditch and The Corduroy Mtn, and are forthcoming in Willow Springs, New York Quarterly, Copper Nickel, Apocryphal Text and Quarter After Eight.”  Whew!  We guess Sean’s gotta write, and it also seems he’s gotta right to waltz into the Three Friends Coffee House, that paramonger of perk on Portland’s East side and the epicenter of Show and Tell ProductionsCaffienated Art series every Monday, and rip coffee a new asshole.  Cancer?  Hmm.  Please forgive us for not caring so much between refills.  All was made better by Sean and his well-chosen friends, and by the end of the transcendent “White River Junction” our lives had been spared, for an hour at least.  By then we were even re-thinking our penchant for the bitter brew.

But there is more time, and lots more coffee, and this time it’s the audience – our turners-out for the now-officially-monikered Show and Tell Open Mic.   Our “more time” is shared by, among others, Christine White, who turns off the phone at night, Joel, who was outside when Melissa was saying her stuff, and a Black-Sabbath-quoting Patrick Bocarde.  “I haven’t read in a long time or very many times,” insisted Dwight Peters but we suspect otherwise.  We know that  Mike G has read recently and very many times although he cautions that his writing “is about to move into a very dark and painful place.”  How will we be able to tell?  We’ve also listened to Rick J recently and frequently, yet he’s seldom seemed as rambunctiously surreal as he did that time.  Melissa Sillitoe wasn’t timing anybody but she chose to time herself, followed by Ara without an “S” or Sara without an “h” (we thought it was the latter) suffering from “about a six-month identity crisis.”  Troy left us with something thrown together “really quick,” and, now, finally Nathan, now, again.

Since you’re spending time here, you can the visit the podcast, which lives nearby on the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series page at brokenhours.net.  And what rough beast, its hour come at last, slouches toward your headphone jack waiting to be imported? Why, it’s only iTunes, which allows you to access the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series podcast!  Take these chains, please, starting with this link:

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

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