the CAB - March 2011

This time last year, Causers of This reached the greater consciousness of indie music. The debut album of Toro y Moi (brainchild of South Carolina resident Chaz Bundick) is a seamless blend of IDM and dream-pop and was partly responsible for turning chillwave from a satirical music-nerd in-joke into a bona fide genre.

Released last month, Bundick's follow-up Underneath the Pine finds the project going in a different direction, channeling disco, funk, and psych-pop. We recently talked to Bundick about the new album and branching out into remix work and possibly soundtracking movies in the future.

City Arts: Causers of This had a synthetic sheen to it -- I guess you can call it “chillwave,” though it sounds a little different from that movement -- while Underneath the Pine is built on really lush live instrumentation. Have you thought about what you‘d like to do next as far as recording goes?

Chaz Bundick: Not yet. I’m just trying to make the music sound right for the shows. I might work on some things on tour.

Where was your headspace when writing these songs? What were you feeling?

I usually think the same thing when I’m making song, but during this one, I was experiencing a lot of really big tours. Lyrically, I was thinking about being away from home, but musically, I was taking in a lot of psychedelic and funk music.

I mentioned the chillwave thing, and people tend to lump you in with that genre, but your demos from 2009 had a vast instrumental range, and I was wondering if you had referenced them at all while recording the new album.

A little bit. It was nice to go back and listen to a few of them, but I mostly wanted to try something challenging that I had never done before

You recently talked about how Underneath the Pine was inspired by composers like David Axelrod. If you could score or soundtrack any existing movie right now, what would you choose?

I just saw the Justin Bieber movie. I could probably do that one. Either that or Tron. I think Tron would be fun.

Do you see yourself one day providing a score or soundtrack to an original movie? Would that be something you would be interested in?

It would be. I think that seems to be the next step for a lot of musicians nowadays, to go into that realm.

For Underneath the Pine, did you record all of the instruments by yourself, did you record demos and teach your band the parts, or did they come in and help you flesh out song ideas?

I recorded everything myself, and we ended up writing all the parts later.

Aside from the album, you recently did a remix for Tyler, the Creator. Was that something where you said, “This song is really cool, I’m doing to do a remix”?

I was sent an e-mail being asked to do it, and since I was a fan, I immediately said yes. It was really fun; it was cool to see all of the different responses. A lot of people enjoyed it.

How do you feel about the brand of rap that they do? There seems to be a lot of really explicit themes in their music. Do you normally get down with stuff like that?

It doesn’t bother me. I like it a lot. I like the rhythm; usually I pay more attention to the rhythm of the words rather than the lyrics. I also really like the production, the chords that he [Tyler] uses, and the different sounds. It’s more experimental than most rap.

Would you be interested in making beats for other rappers? What other rappers would you like to make beats for?

I really like Drake, so working with either him or Kanye would be really cool.

What about singers or other bands? Would you be interested in working with more melody-driven artists?

Possibly It depends on who the bands are and what the music sounds like, but yeah. That’s definitely a goal, to do something like that.

What are your favorite current bands right now?

I like Soulja Boy. I just saw the Justin Bieber movie, and I think I like him now. That movie makes you really like Justin Bieber. Lil’ B, he’s cool, too.

You toured with Caribou last year. Were you given any really good advice that you still keep close to you?

Now that we’re in a position of headlining of our own tours, we just have a better idea of how to go about things, like making sure the supporting bands are alright and if they needing anything. And just generally being more responsible.

Do you like touring?

I used to not like it, but now that we actually are satisfied with how stuff’s done and how the crowd reactions are, it’s pretty nice. It’s a lot different from when we were first touring. It’s still as hard, but back then, there were not a lot of people at shows. Things are definitely better now.

Do you prefer recording to touring, or is touring the most fun for you now?

I don’t hate touring anymore, but recording ends up being the most fun, for sure.

Toro y Moi will be playing at the Crocodile on Sunday, March 27th with Cloud Nothings and Braids. $10, 21+.

Sleuth -- a witty take on the classic country house thriller running at the Performing Arts Center in Everett -- throws viewers even after they've already been thrown (and thrown again). To maintain the mystery, theater staff asks (both as the curtain goes up and in the playbill) that the audience not divulge the plot’s curvy trajectory to future audiences. After a thrilling performance last weekend, the whispers and smiles on people's faces as they left the theatre meant the secret has been well-kept.

The play opens on the mansion of Andrew Wyke, a detective-novelist finishing his latest manuscript, who's summoned to his home the young man having an affair with his wife Marguerite, Milo Tindle. Milo’s in a tough spot. He wants to extricate Marguerite from her marriage to Wyke so she can marry him and share his modest home. He comes in reserved, hoping to win the old fellow over with respect and admiration, but finds a man disillusioned, not only by his wife’s infidelity, but by the boredom of his reality. The two hatch a plan meant to please everyone and, in turn, set into motion events that twist and turn until the very, very... very end. This is a battle of wits -- between young and old, weak and strong, confidence and inadequacy -- bordering at times on ridiculous, with the two men’s non-stop "games-playing." At other turns, Sleuth is a careful reflection on masculinity, infidelity, age, and the fear inherent in being replaced and forgotten.

Because of its intimate nature, Sleuth relies almost entirely on its actors. There’s no change of scenery, it’s told mostly in real time, and the play's minimal action is contained entirely within the actors on the stage, of which there are never more than two at any time. There are only the actors playwright Anthony Shaffer’s dialog and plotting (with help from director Martin Charnin, who, among many other things, created, directed and wrote the lyrics for Annie).

The star of this show is local mainstay David Pichette. Fresh off of a run as Polonius in Seattle Shakespeare Company’s Hamlet last fall (the company’s most successful show to date), Pichette embodies Wyke’s narcissism, child-like enthusiasm/immaturity, and deceptive intelligence. Actor MJ Sieber as Tindle is a worthy opponent, but, much like his character (who is tough to nail at the outset because of his discomfort and formality), the strength of his performance evolves with the play.

The difference between these two skilled actors is that with Pichette it never feels like acting -- a particularly challenging feat on stage. He’s so naturally charismatic, his movement from one outburst to the next so seamless, that you’d swear he was just as nuts as Wyke. He delivers the beautiful ("Let the encyclopedias fly like autumn leaves!") and the twisted ("I’m simply saying that in common with most men I want to have my cookie and ignore it.") with equally realistic fervor. It’s the same reason his Polonius was such a scene-stealer; for those fortunate enough to have seen that fantastic production, the similarity between these two borderline-inconsequential-but-totally-amusing characters will not be lost.

Sleuth runs through Sunday. Tickets are available at www.villagetheatre.org or 425-357-8600.

AND, should you miss the performance in Everett (or wish to expand upon it), there are two film adaptations of Sleuth worth checking out. The 1972 version, with a screenplay by Shaffer, sticks close to the play, pitting Sir Laurence Olivier’s Wyke against Michael Caine’s Tindle (both performances nominated for Academy Awards). A re-imagined version by Harold Pinter, released in 2007, sees Caine taking on the role of Wyke and Jude Law as his young opposition. Pinter injects a handful of plot changes, some based simply on the 35-year time gap, but the fantastic storytelling and character dynamic remain intact.

Nick DeSantis as Yengenyi Onanov in Iron Curtain. 

In a glittery presentation of “us” vs. “them,” Iron Curtain, which opened at Issaquah's Village Theatre last Thursday, spoofs Cold War era stereotypes of the Soviet Union, America’s own self-importance, and with a slightly meta twist, pokes fun at over-the-top, glitzy musical productions. Adapted from Susan DiLallo’s book of the same name, and premiered in New York in 2006, the play is full of fast-paced humor in the form of exploited stereotypes and roll-your-eyes puns (Onanov Broadway, Gentlemen Prefer Bombs) that softens the anxiety of the McCarthy-era into a laughable celebration of the good ol’ days.

Flowing in the vein of The Producers, Iron Curtain tells the story of Murry Finkel (Jared Michael Brown) and Howard Katz (Matt Wolfe), two down-and-out musical writers in New York working toward their big break. As they pitch ideas to their boss he tells them, “This is America. America likes winners, even when they’re losers.” With that line, the tone of the show is set, and the audience is propelled into a two-and-a-half hour musical throwback to 1950’s Broadway (think Stephen Sondheim, Rogers & Hammerstein) that emphasizes the glory of America and highlights every Soviet Union stereotype you can think of in a bright shade of red.

The strength of the show lies in the actors’ over-the-top, nuanced performances, elaborate costumes, and a delightful ensemble that dances in and out of every few scenes, dancing on desks, waving Soviet flags and occasionally kicking their legs in chorus-line fashion. There is much room for error in a show so packed with overused stereotypes, but the performers’ energy in fast-paced song, dance and line delivery never flags during the entirety of the first act; there is scarcely a moment to reflect on each scene. Around each corner is another plot twist, mishap or dramatic revelation.

There are moments where the Russian accents make some parts of the show hard to understand, especially when the chorus is singing, and the two scenes where Howard becomes sentimental could be axed. His character softens too much, losing that sharp, caustic edge when he fades into “Half a World Away” with his girlfriend Shirley Dooley (Carolyn Magoon), a dead ringer for Lucielle Ball both in looks and actions. Wolfe does slapstick cynicism much better than sentiment.

At the beginning of the play after a dreadful rehearsal of Oh, Kostronma!, a musical written in celebration of Communism, Nikita Khrushchev (Allan Barlow) claims that all Soviet writers are insufficient, he sends his producer for the Ministry of Musical Persuasion, Yengenyi Onanov (Nick DeSantis), to New York to bring “real” writers back to fix the flailing production. Murry and Finkle answer an add calling for writers from a production company called Onanov Broadway (pun intended—in fact all the puns in the show, and there are many, are intended). They are subsequently captured and taken to Moscow where they set about trying to salvage the Oh, Kostroma! injecting some American Dream idealism into a show with a “Tractor Anthem,” “Pitchfork Ballet,” and “Bolshevik Boogie.”

Each Soviet character is given a buffoonish personal flaw, undermining the Red Scare-fueled ideals of the Cold War that Communists are dangerous and terrifying. These Communists are farcical and harmless, even when they brandish guns and threaten death or exile. Onanov is campy beyond belief, dancing with a chorus line in a blinding sequined tuxedo while belting out “If Not for Musicals,” strict, riding crop yieling, yell-at-the-cast-for-everything musical director Hildret Heinz (Bobbi Kotula) had the audience shrieking with laughter at her proclivity towards men (especially Howard), and even Khrushchev keeps cracking jokes about despotism: “My people were rolling in the aisles…and this time it wasn’t their heads!” America is portrayed as a country of progressives and freedom, despite the witch-hunt trials of McCarthyism hinted by Howard’s comment, “We are two Americans in Russia with no money and no passports. Even if we get back I have nothing to wear to a Senate hearing.” Clearly America isn’t as free as it thinks, embracing its own version of despotism. 

It doesn’t take much thought to enjoy this show, and the true horrors of Soviet-era Communism are conveniently swept under the rug, rolled into laughable puns and harmless plot points. Moscow proves an enjoyable destination for a break from serious, thought-provoking theatre and everyone is reassured in the end that America is in fact the land of dreams, the country of opportunity and the only place to make it big from writing musicals. Iron Curtain provides an enjoyably nostalgic look at an era long past, but in the current political climate of the world, perhaps the “us” vs. “them” viewpoint isn’t so old fashioned after all. 

Iron Curtain runs through April 24 at Village Theatre, then moves to the Everett Performing Arts Center from April 29-May 22. Tickets here. 

Image taken by Jay Koh, courtesy of Village Theatre.

By the third image of American Chronicles: The Art of Norman Rockwell, currently on display at Tacoma Art Museum, two things become apparent. One, Norman Rockwell is a skilled painter with an uncanny ability to tell a story with a single image. And, two, Rockwell clearly chose to use that talent to sell stuff.

And that is okay. Every artist of every age has had a patronage. Rockwell’s hero and fellow realist Rembrandt created his art at a time when the church was all powerful; fittingly much of his work was commissioned by, and sold its audience the mythology of, that church. Rockwell, on the other hand, worked throughout the mid-twentieth century, the heady days of the advertising age; fittingly his work sold its audience cereal, war bonds and magazines. TAM should be commended for embracing this fact, though it is difficult to imagine how the museum could not. Creating a commercially viable product is, as this exhaustively annotated collection makes abundantly clear, a source of both inspiration and trouble for the artist.

Rockwell is best known for creating more than 300 covers of the Saturday Evening Post, all of which are on display in this show. Impressive in their sheer number, the covers create a populace of stock characters from a hallucinatory dream of an idealized twentieth century America. Here are heroes, curious kids, happy families, wise elders, and young couples in love all doing exactly what we expect them to do. Yet, despite the fact that any critically minded American must recognize that Rockwell’s creations are fantasy, it is difficult not to search within the lines of his characters’ faces, in their posture, in their dress, for clues as to who they are and what they are thinking. This is what makes the dozens of original 3’x 5’ paintings of some of those covers, also on display, so compelling. Looming larger than any museum-goer likely ever imagined Rockwell’s work, the paintings invite contemplation, the details of his work even more pronounced. A fine illustrator can make a magazine cover sing, but it takes a skilled artist to make a canvas do so. To do so consistently, as Rockwell does, it takes a master.

One of the placards in the exhibit quotes Rockwell talking about his approach to these works in particular. “There was one kind of idea which I didn’t have to struggle over – the timely idea. I’d just keep my ear to the wind and, when I heard of a craze or a fad which everyone was talking about, I’d do a cover of it.” In the modern era, where we are entrenched in a twenty-four hour entertainment cycle, such a proclamation sounds quaint, obvious. At the time, though, it was inventive. Rockwell was able to help the Post sell magazine’s by presenting its American audience with a saccharin version of its current state, creating an immediate nostalgia. A testament to his master touch, that potent nostalgia has only grown stronger with time.

Despite the idealized vision Rockwell presents in so much of his work, there are some very dark threads that run through these pieces. War is perhaps the most widely recognized of his darker themes. On display here are the artist's Four Freedoms – posters he created for the war bond effort. Most definitely propaganda, the posters are still colored with the heaviness of sacrifice, rather than the thrill of battle and victory. His Uneasy Christmas in the Birthplace of Christ (1970), oddly one of the most vivid paintings in the collection, shows a more nuanced vision of conflict, which is neither self-righteous nor defeatist. It is simply real.

For Rockwell, though, the most complicated subject was clearly race. TAM gives that subject its due by bookending the exhibit with the artist's works that reflect the civil rights movement. Early in the show there is his painting for Look magazine, The Problem We All Live With (1964), which depicts first grader Ruby Bridge being escorted to her newly desegregated New Orleans public school, a tomato smashed on the wall behind her, the word “nigger” scrawled above it. By far the most powerful work in the collection, it is accompanied by a story of another of Rockwell’s paintings. Early in his career, the artist painted a black character out of a Post cover because the original image broke the magazine’s policy of only showing African Americans in service industry jobs. The very next painting in the exhibit is Boy in a Dining Car (1947), featuring a black porter waiting for a white boy to pay his check. It’s the show's most well-played positioning, shedding light on an unsettling conflict within Rockwell's body of work.

Equally effective is the capstone to the exhibit; a step-by-step annotation of the creation of Murder in Mississippi (1965), another painting Rockwell did for Look magazine. Murder is a very stark painting, depicting the lynching of three civil rights workers. Rockwell’s process is on display with the help of full documentation, including a heartbreaking letter Rockwell wrote to the magazine's art director. In the letter, the artist states that he had overworked the piece, that “all the anger that was in the sketch had gone out.” He is right. It is, sadly, one of the more ineffective works in the collection. The salesman finally discovered something he could not sell.

Last Friday at Seattle Art Museum, Chicago-based artist Nick Cave (not to be confused with the musician) showed his latest work: "Soundsuits" made of cast-off materials like buttons, purses, and sandwich bags. Accompanying aisles of Soundsuits were the dancers of Seattle troupe Whim W'him, choreographed by Seattle Ballet principal dancer Olivier Wevers.

One of Nick Cave's Soundsuits.

A collection of mannequinned Soundsuits stood motionless for spectators at SAM.

Two dancers from Whim W'him move in sync during a performance of "Addiction."

The public was encouraged to put their own creativity to work in the Chase Open Studio.

Caught drinking a cocktail, this furry Soundsuited number took a moment to embrace my fiance and me.

Photos by Nate Watters

The City Arts Best Of Art Walk Awards are back. In 2011, four winners will each receive $1,000 and a profile of their artwork in City Arts magazine. 

The Best of Art Walk Awards support and highlight the diversity of Seattle art walks—as well as the artists, businesses and communities that make each art walk possible. Together with our 2011 partners, the Art Walk Consortium, we encourage businesses and galleries that participate in neighborhood art walks to nominate a favorite artwork each quarter. From these submissions, City Arts will select six finalists and host a party to celebrate them. Party attendees will vote on the winner.

All artworks showcased by City Arts will also promote the gallery or business where the artwork was originally displayed. Nominations can be submitted online and a representative from the Art Walk Consortium will show you how.

Cash prizes are provided by City Arts, 4Culture and Blue Moon beer.

Christopher Nelson has photographed Seattle concerts for over a decade. His new show at the Paramount documents his last two years of show-going, with a very specific subject: the crowd. "Fans--A Look At The People Who Make A Show Great" features 15 large-scale, canvas-printed photos taken mostly from the Gorge, the Paramount, and Redmond's Marymoor Park. The show officially opens Thursday at 5 pm with a free reception at the Paramount lobby bar.

City Arts: This is your first solo show. How did it come about?

Christopher Nelson: You touched on it in your recent article. We have this amazing community right now, and with that comes the opportunity for people's dreams to become reality. I've found Seattle to be this goldmine of people that encourages people to do what they're good at. That's the only reason I've been able to do what I do. We're really in a special time, not just with the music community but the artistic community in general. It's not, "Look what I did," it's "Look what we did."

This is our pastime: We go to shows for fun. That’s what people do here. We're lucky to live in a place with so many music lovers and supporters.

And these are all crowd shots. How'd you decide on that angle?

It's so often overlooked, how important the audience is in making a good show. The performers are paid to be there, but the audience is there by choice. The audience is the most authentic gauge of the success and energy of the show.

I didn’t set myself on becoming a concert photographer. It fell into my lap. So I've always taken a different perspective than the people I'm around. A lot of them, their business is music, but I've always had an outside perspective. For me to find this inspiration through the audience goes a bit with being an outsider. The shots that inspire me are the ones that convey an emotion and tell some sort of story. The crowd shots do that.

A couple years ago I clued in on the fact that I spent more time photographing the audience and less time photographing the performers. I've been more satisified, more moved with those shots. I felt like they told the story better. When this opportunity arose it was a no-brainer. I could show some photos at the Paramount? Like, are you shitting me?? The next question was, what do I show? I didn't have to think about it--[the crowd shots were] the only thing I felt strongly enough about.

Up front in the pit, you have one of the best seats in the house.

Music is powerful. Something about bringing these people together that have the same passion over music or a band or a concert is really intense. It's such a treat to be up front at the barricade, turning around and seeing that I get a view of what the performer sees. I'm sure it's a drug for the performer, and you can tell the audience is high, not just on drugs or whatever but on energy. That raw emotion. People go crazy. It's something a lot of people don’t get to see. For me, it’s the same perspective as the performers, depending on how high the stage is. Sometimes I'm even onstage so you can see what they see and feel.

More photos and interview after the jump...

Hugh Masekela, who plays the Triple Door on Thursday, was one of the first African musicians to make an impression on American ears. Masekela was born in South Africa in 1939 and trained in jazz trumpet since age 14. He came to the U.S. in 1961 to escape apartheid, landing in New York and absorbing as much jazz, funk, and rock music as he could. All along, he retained a strong connection to his African roots, which showed prominently in his 1968 song "Grazing in the Grass" (one of the all-time great instrumental songs), an international hit that sold more than 4 million copies worldwide.

Masekela also founded one of the first African-oriented record labels, Chisa, in Los Angeles in 1966. Shuttling between New York, L.A., and South Africa, he befriended Afrobeat originator Fela Kuti and became a mentor to numerous African bands, producing albums and shepherding young talent around the world for the next several decades. After contributing heavily to Paul Simon's Graceland, he's recognized today as an ambassador of African music of all kinds.

I interviewed Masekela back in 2005 for the New Times Broward-Palm Beach as he was set to release The Chisa Years, 1965-1970 (Rare and Unreleased), a slew of Masekela-produced tracks from his label. He spoke to me while driving from Princeton, New Jersey--where he had just finished a two-day artist-in-residency program--to New York to prepare for his upcoming U.S. tour. That interview is reprinted here; nobody read it then, and it's equally valuable now.

New Times: Over the past several years, there's been a major surge in interest in African music thanks to DJ and dance-music culture.

Masekela: I think the greatest thing that happened for the music world about DJs is that they don't search in a categorical fashion. They just go for music that moves them. And I think that's great, because they're bringing an appreciation for dance from other cultures and help whittle away people's prejudices about other ethnic groups. They just sort of slice through that whole obstruction and take music from wherever it is. They're a great gateway of the necessary familiarization of cultures to each other through music, which is a language which doesn't need translation. And I think it's true then that an album like The Chisa Years is being appreciated because it opens listeners' ears to almost anything. It's a great adventure for the ears.

Afrobeat is also becoming more recognized here. You had a close relationship to its originator, Fela Kuti.

Well, Fela introduced me. I came from South Africa, but I'd never been to Africa; Fela opened that door for me and invited me to Nigeria to be his guest. We had been looking for each other for 12 years when he was in school in England and I was in school in the States. Our careers were building, but people were telling us about each other. Finally in '72, as I was preparing to go to Africa on a musical pilgrimage, I wrote to him, and he invited me to come and be a guest in his band and tour West Africa. I figured somewhere along the lines, I would meet some African musicians to play with, because that's what I was looking for. And in Ghana, the band that opened for him is the one I decided to stay with on the first leg of the tour. He said, "Yeah, I knew you'd love this band." And so I stayed with him and made a whole record with them and came to the States with them and actually became a Ghanaian citizen through them and got married to a Ghanaian woman and spent a lot of time in Ghana.

You were one of the first African musicians to have a huge hit in the U.S., with "Grazing in the Grass."

Well, Miriam Makeba [whom Masekela later married and divorced] had one the year before with "Pata Pata." That was gigantic; it went to number two on the charts. Many people recorded it--even Mongo Santamaria had a hit with it. But "Grazing in the Grass" was really huge and has gone around a few times; it's a very popular song. And after that, Manu Dibango came out with "Soul Makossa" a few years later; he had a big record. From time to time, we show up, but those are the only three that I remember.

How is it living in South Africa again?

I've lived in Johannesburg for the last 15 years. It's great. You have to contend and live and be part of the initiatives to reverse the damage that was done by apartheid. It doesn't take many generations; people often fail to talk about that. Other than that, it's wonderful for everybody to be free, especially the ex-oppressors, the privileged people in those communities, because they really have the wherewithal economically to enjoy that freedom. But it's nice not to be harassed by police. But in our freedom euphoria, we tried to show the world we're not a police state anymore and countries can change overnight. And of course, when the country opened up, people came from all over the world to enjoy the liberated atmosphere there. The canvas sort of changed a lot, and that coupled with the fact that as many people as were poor, a little more were poor or poorer now that they were free. The solidarity groups that supported our liberation struggle, like any struggle, when it's over, they all walk away. There's no aftercare. So we end up in a state of flux now. But as far as the music industry is concerned, what will bring it to the attention of the world is that the industry has to be African-owned. That has everything to do with fashion, design, film, television, music, media, you know. And I think from there will come out a whole new unknown African potpourri that will project Africa for the first time from the continent.

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“The idea came out of my general frustration with poetry readings,” says poet Brittany Dennison. “You talk to poets around town and even they don't like going to readings.”

The “idea”? This afternoon's Face Time with Brittany Dennison, an intimate, performative poetry reading at the Hedreen Gallery that overhauls the (can we admit it?) often staid format of poetry readings.

From 2 to 6 p.m., Dennison will be situated in a room off the main space that participants can enter one at a time. Once inside, Dennison will read largely new works of her own to the one-person audience, though which poems, she says, depend on the listener. When another person enters, the current occupant must decide whether to relinquish their spot or stay. Remote audience members may also call in via Skype, adding another dimension to the reading.

Dennison's reading is part of a larger series of Face Time events, participatory art experiences organized by Hedreen curators (and City Arts CultureMakers) Jessica Powers and Whitney Ford-Terry that Powers describes as “unintimidatingly intimate.”

“Face Time events are designed to combat isolation,” says Powers, citing a study that ranked Washington as the 48th most extroverted state. “Audience members have reported the events to be cathartic (chainsawing wood on the sidewalk at midnight with Eli Hansen), physically difficult (Cat Clifford’s movement workshop based on Yvonne Rainer's celebrated minimalist dance piece 'Trio A') and contemplative (failed documentation and conceptual forecasting with Duncan Scovil).”

Dennison describes today's incarnation of Face Time as “intimate and conversational,” the opposite of a standard poetry reading, poet at the podium and in control. “I suppose you could say that the interactions between listeners are confrontational,” says Dennison. “But walking in on someone in the bathroom isn't confrontational; it's just a little awkward and embarrassing, which is kind of how I imagine it will feel. I will be like poetry's Chris Hansen: I caught you red-handed, wanting to hear poems. 'Why don't you have a seat over there?' But then I'll read you poems, so it's okay.”

Face Time with Brittany Dennison, 2-6 p.m.

The Hedreen Gallery at the Lee Center for the Arts, 905 12th Avenue

Image by Greg Hickman