Born in Canada moved to Peru's altiplano at the age of six; came to the U.S. at 10 to discover that you don't use your feet to dribble the ball. Learned from the git-go that "America" is an idea, not a place.
In a time when the word “community” occurs at least once in every official communication down to solid-waste disposal notices, who actually speaks to and for the generality? Who tries today to assist us toward self-healing?
"The arts” must cease lobbying just for themselves but for their just share of support alongside other “non-profit” instruments of a just society; essentials like universal public heath, public education, basic income.
The original, gen-yew-ine original was not at all operatic: that was part of its charm. And it probably couldn't have come into being in any other American city of the time. Informal smash-and-grab performances were a distinctive aspect of the Seattle theater scene from the 1970s onward, starting with the Empty Space theater's summer shows in Volunteer Park and Norman Langill's flatbed truck borne One Reel Vaudeville Show.
I suddenly realized how lucky we are to have it at all. If the poet who created the story and the composer who set it to music 40 years later had ever actually met, they would probably have disliked each other enough to make collaboration impossible.
Seattle Opera’s current staging of Cenerentola is mostly fun to watch. It is also a great example of how much work having fun can be, on both sides of the imaginary footlights.
The rush to electric scooters as a solution to urban congestion and traffic woes is hitting town in a very Seattle way: cautiously, processed-to-death—and maybe too late.