That mean, mean face

The reviews are in for Broadway Rose's Les Miserables opening: some real enthusiasm there. I'm grateful to be part of such a tight company of singer-actors (oh and yes, I plan to review the reviews later this week).

In the meantime, readers, I welcome your captions for the following photo, as published on wweek.com:

Overture! Light the lights!

It's the day of the show, y'all. (Les Mis opens tonight in Tigard)

I've got a day crammed with activity so a more full report will have to wait.

In the meantime, a clip from last night's dress rehearsal:

Here's to life

The visuals are nothing special (nothing at all, really).

Just close your eyes and listen.



For R @ N, A+M, BA, T+B, T+T, RH, M+D, J, and so so many others.

Mt. Tabor hike

So while I was off last week from my day gig at Just Out newsmag, I took some time to explore Southeast Portland. First up on the list - a Mt. Tabor hike. Here are some shots from the day - which was impossibly cloudless, wonderfully sunny and just plan nice.

This way to adventure...!




The view of inner downtown Portland from the top of Mt. Tabor.




Me. And the mountain.




Kids. On the mountain's quaint playground.




An important-looking statue of an important-sounding person whose name I've now forgotten.




Hot!




A view from Mt. Tabor looking east toward some other mountain.

Remembering Jason Ogan: tenor, conductor, impresario on the ascendant

When he talked about his latest dream opera project, his eyes would just shine.

Sitting with tenor turned budding impresario Jason Ogan in a cozy booth at Pastini Pastaria in fall of 2006, Ogan and I plotted a shakeup of Portland's snoozy opera scene over generous bowls of penne. Though his newly founded company, Oregon Lyric Opera, had picked up strong early notices and survived a bumpy transition, a heady future was envisioned - with a December 2006 production of Puccini's "La Boheme" to kick off the scrappy new troupe's big ambitions under Ogan's leadership.

"Everything seems to be going well," Ogan wrote in an October 23 email to me about the production, which I had agreed to stage direct. "We have a fine cast, great venue and a lot of things working in our favor. Keep the momentum up." Ogan and I talked on the phone daily then, in excited tones, about what was in store for the suburban opera company's rebirth. On car rides to and from Gresham, we'd conjure up elaborately inventive opera collaborations - a "Marriage of Figaro" in some intimate outdoor park, or a "Carmen" in an abandoned inner-city warehouse.

Those dreams stayed distant. Only two weeks later, lacking the resources to continue, Ogan pulled the plug on the production. A month after that his father, Dennis R. Ogan, called the company quits, writing on the company's website that the decision to close OLO was "an extremely difficult time in the life of our family," and went on to say this: "We have come to the end of our resources — every attempt to bring opera to our community has failed and no one is more disappointed than Jason and I."

Jason sent out a mass email announcing his next career move: to Asia, where he said he planned to teach. By winter of 2007 he'd returned to Portland, buzzing again about bringing opera to the people and promising to revive his dormant dream.

But only a few months later, and nearly one year after the tragic suicide of beloved American tenor Jerry Hadley, on a sunny Wednesday early evening, Ogan's own lifeless body was pulled from the Willamette River near the Marquam Bridge. Portland Police say Ogan had jumped to his death sometime in the early morning hours of Tuesday, June 17. His abandoned car had been towed from the bridge that very morning.

"Despair leads to death of music man" and "Gresham man found dead in Willamette River" are not the headlines Jason was naturally inclined to make at this point in his life.

More in tune with his musical prowess - Ogan was an alum of esteemed opera training programs like Houston Grand Opera and Des Moines Metro Opera, and a former staff conductor at Mt. Hood Community College - was a glossy feature like "Opera without subtitles" in Portland State University's alumni magazine, which celebrated the birth of Oregon Lyric Opera by Ogan and then-fiancee Angela Niederloh, a mezzo-soprano herself enjoying considerable success on the opera circuit. "We're engaged," Ogan told the magazine in the fall of 2004. "It has been an exciting year," Niederloh continued. "We've got a lot to look forward to." The engagement broke off just over a year later.

I was surprised to spot Jason at a callback in late March for "Les Miserables" at the Broadway Rose Theater Company; but there he was, handsome as ever in a dark suit and slicked hair, score in hand. In a rush to my next appointment, I remember signaling at him from across the crowded hallway and exchanging a few pleasantries. I honestly hadn't really thought of Jason since, until a "Les Mis" rehearsal this past Friday, when a pale-faced woman in the cast walked onstage with red-ringed eyes at the rehearsal's start. I asked her what was wrong: "A musician friend just committed suicide." She and her now-husband had sung alongside Jason as Portland State students. They recalled him as burning bright, as a young man bursting with energy and promise, and as a tremendous musician.

I'm not sure what music was coursing through Jason's ears as he parked his car on the Marquam Bridge late Monday night or early Tuesday morning. It's possible that his acknowledged depression and mental illness had all but turned off the soaring melodies that had for so long lifted the gifted man.

I could hardly speak the lyrics, let alone sing them, at the end of rehearsal after the news of Jason's passing. And though he wasn't physically holding forth at center stage with us, as 31 voices roared with emotion, I like to hope that he somewhere heard these words:

"Take my hand and lead me to salvation /
Take my love, for love is everlasting.
And remember the truth that once was spoken /
To love another person is to see the face of God."

A service of remembrance for Jason is being held at 1 p.m. Friday, June 27, at Greater Gresham Baptist Church, 3848 N.E. Division St.

Now we pledge ourselves to hold this, uh, barricade

We've been spending lots of rehearsal time on and around this thing - the set you see above, yes (including a 24 foot center stage revolve - wheee!), but the mass of materials that dude is riding just stage left of center.

It's TEH BARRICADE. It's TEH WOODEN MONSTER. It's also TEH BATSHIT CRAZY BIG HEAVY SET PIECE THAT STRIKES TERROR IN TEH ACTOR'S HEARTS. I don't actually scale this guy in the show, though others do, including of course our little 10-year-old dude playing the irascible Gavroche. When things go apeshit guns-blaring nuts onstage in Les Miserables, I'm usually offstage barking ominous orders into a loudspeaker (err, microphone - see youtube clip below).

BTW, I'd like to point out that while I'm so so pleased to be doing another book musical after a short hiatus, there was a sense of shall we say funny flashbacky feelings in the gut when I arrived at the production's first onstage rehearsal - at the Deb Fennell Auditorium at Tigard High School. Wow whoa, hold on there a minute... high school auditorium! It's a fine space and all - actually much better appointed than almost any other midsize theater I've seen in the Portland region (PCS excepted, of course) - but all sorts of tucked away memory clipart came tumbling out as I paced the aud's dressing rooms and dungeon hide-aways, the loops of hallways and bulletin boards all baring show posters and stern drama teacher reminders ("Leave It At The Door!") and candid rehearsal pics packed with gleaming-eyed teenagers. Was that all so long ago? I got a little verklempt.

And then I hauled ass to get back onstage for another scrappy scene. We open in a week.

(photo above by Joe Theissen, good colleague and Les Mis cast member... can you spot teh SMB on teh set?)

You at the barricade, listen to this!

Good news, arts news

Hey, here's some interesting and good arts-news from around Portland.

... I salute Eric Bartels at the Portland Tribune for being the only local writer to cover Oregon Ballet Theatre's trip to D.C.'s Kennedy Center with any reasonable amount of ink. OBT got positive nods from the NYT's Alastair Macaulay and Washington Post's Sarah Kaufman, who called OBT's performance "a revelation: here is a group of talented and winsome dancers to watch."

... Oregon Bach Festival makes a long overdue Portland debut Friday June 27 at the Schnitz, with a one-night-only performance of the Bach B Minor Mass. There is talk of further expanding the fest's Portland reach in years ahead (including a festival debut by our very own Portland Baroque Orchestra in summer of 2009)

... Congrats to much-admired queer artist Jeffry Mitchell - he of the blinding white elephantine trunks and floral explosions - for nabbing one of Portland Art Museum's inaugural Contemporary Northwest Art Awards. His work - and that of four other winners - is on display at PAM through mid-September.

Bites for Rights tag

RSG tagged me in a quasi-meme.

This Thursday, June 19th (tomorrow, kids!) is Bites for Rights – where participating Portland restaurants will donate 15% of their sales for the day to Basic Rights Oregon, the state's flagship education and advocacy group for sexual minorities. Kathryn (that's "RSG") wants to know what restaurants I will be frequenting that day and pass on the question to other Portland peeps. Here goes...

I have Thursday off from my "day job" at Just Out but a long "Les Miserables" rehearsal that night in Tigard, so the evening part is tricky. Also, the pocketbook's a bit on the thin side, so I've got to do this on the cheap. Here's my plan...

Morning: latte and light breakfast at Haven Coffee (just down the street and a typical morning coffee spot for me anyway), followed by a vigorous Mt. Tabor hike.

Post-hike lunch: No Fish! Go Fish! of course, right down Hawthorne.

Much as I would love to meet up with Kathryn et al for a Mint/820 happy hour, my rehearsal night (6 to 10:30 pm) won't allow it. I'll likely settle instead for take-out dinner from Pastini Pastaria.

And if I'm feeling up for more post-rehearsal gustatory adventure, I might grab drinks at Crush with some peeps.


I now tag Last Debate and Witch Trivets.

Thoughts RE "anonymous"

I find myself in an Ibuprofen and PBR sated quandary.

As my "personal" life becomes ever more blurred with my "professional" - or as I'm simply becoming better known as an artist, musician and writer - I find myself sometimes assailed here at From Every Corner by those hard-to-know-what-to-do-with "anonymous" commenters.

And so I ask you, readers, anonymous or not - how best to handle "anonymous" posters to this blog; how do you handle it at your own blog, if you have one; and what to do if there are recurrent ISP addresses associated with certain anonymous posters who might be, shall we say, especially antagonistic?

The floor is open.

Buzzwords like "hope" and "change" are on the lips

I was asked by the Broadway Rose Theater Company honchos for "a sentence or two on what performing in Les Miserables means" to me.

And this is what I just submitted:

"In a year where buzzwords like "hope" and "change" are on the lips of many Americans, Broadway Rose's 'Les Mis' gives me the chance to perform a masterful piece of music-theatre that truly embodies those heady ideals. I don't think I've ever before been part of a production where the blast of words and music erupts with such brutal timely force out into the world - bring your anger, your beliefs and your election-year politics with you to the Deb Fennel Auditorium for 'Les Mis,' and hold on tight."

Meanwhile, here's a charming interview with our production's director, Robert Hunt, who played a few ensemble roles in the original Broadway Les Mis company, then returned as Javert for the 2006-07 revival.



More soon... I'm a bit wiped from a great Mt. Tabor hike today, and heading to dinner with AB + MMB, especially to celebrate MMB's new doctoral degree!

Tenth column

"Say My Name, Say My Name. Harvey Milk, Hillary Clinton and Sam Adams say it loud." - Just Out newsmag, June 13, 2008

Poor Johnny no-notes

I need to be easier on myself in Les Miserables rehearsal. Again, while staying "checked in."

One of my frustrations in stage musicals can be the musical score "sides" that you're given to learn from as a cast member. You know, the little mini scores that include only the vocal parts and lines, but with no orchestral reduction and sometimes not even a piano part offered to contextualize what is being sung. How is that even remotely helpful for the performer?

And so tonight, while rehearsing an especially quick-paced and rhythmically tricky scene - which I'd looked at many times in advance of rehearsal - I found myself getting tripped up on a particular instance because of some unusual accents and intricacies in the orchestral reduction (played on the piano by our indefatigable music director). "How was I to have known what was going on around the vocal line in advance to prepare myself accordingly?" I harumphed to myself. By the 2nd or 3rd time I tried and just missed this particular vocal entrance, I was very frustrated. I bit my lip and breathed, and tried it again. Okay; better.

I found it especially embarassing that I didn't "nail it" the first time as a) I don't have a ton of solo singing in the show and b) at least some folks in the cast know me as "the musician/singer." I maybe tend to stew in these thoughts in the middle of a challenging moment, and watched myself do it tonight... it kept me from moving on, from saying "OK, next time it will be better!" About five minutes later I snapped out of it, and was into the full rehearsal zone, not beating myself up about those things but working for a better and stronger attempt in each "go" at it. (Maybe I can apply some of these same ideas to other parts of my life...?)

Meantime, I'd like to call MTI and some of those other musical theatre licensing and rental companies and give 'em a piece of my mind...

NEA Releases "Artists in Workforce" study... so where's Portland?

There are 310 actors, 310 dancer/choreographers, 1,800 musicians and 3,105 architects in Oregon, and there are just shy of 19,000 total professional artists in the Portland-Vancouver metro area. At least, according to the National Endowment for the Arts and the U.S. Census.

The NEA has just released a major report on American artists' place in and impact on the American workforce. This is big stuff; if you've got an hour this weekend, it's a fascinating read.

And it's interesting to see where Portland and the state of Oregon fits into the larger picture, according to 1990-2005 figures cited in the report.

From the New York Times, which first reported the report:

"More Americans identify their primary occupation as artist than as lawyer, doctor, police officer or farm worker.

Drawing from the census, the endowment has compiled what it bills as the first nationwide profile of professional artists in the 21st century.

In 2005 nearly two million Americans said their primary employment was in jobs that the census defines as artists’ occupations — including architects, interior designers and window dressers. Their combined income was about $70 billion, a median of $34,800 each. Another 300,000 said artist was their second job.

San Francisco leads metropolitan areas in the proportion of artists in the work force, followed by Santa Fe (which ranks first in writers and fine artists), Los Angeles, New York and Stamford-Norwalk in suburban Connecticut. The Top 10 also include Boulder, Colo.; Danbury, Conn.; and Seattle.

While the number of artists doubled between 1970 and 1990 as theaters, galleries, orchestras and university and commercial venues grew, their ranks since 1990 have increased at about the same rate as the total work force. They now represent 1.4 percent of the labor force, or nearly as many people as the active and reserve armed forces."

Some interesting facts related to Portland and Oregon artists jumped out at me:

*In Oregon, Utah, Arizona and Nevada from 1990 to 2005, the artist population grew 2.5 to 5 times that of the U.S. labor force during the same time.

*In the 1990's in Utah, Oregon and Montana, the growth of artists was faster than the growth of the general population.

*According to the survey, Oregon does not rank in the top 15 most populous states for artists. Washington, with an estimated 45,157 professional artists, ranks 13th.

*BUT Oregon does, according to 2000 stats, rank as the 8th highest state in the union in terms of pecentage of total state workforce that identify as artists (it's 27,540 artists, or roughly 1.58 percent of the total state population). It's noteworthy that the number of artists in Oregon increased by just over 38% from 1990 to 2000, according to census numbers. (in 1990, only 19,924 Oregon residents identified as professional artists)

*Total artists per 10,000 people:

In total: Oregon ranks 8th (80.5)
Writers/authors: Oregon ranks 5th (8.5)
Architects: Oregon ranks 8th (9.1)
Designers: Oregon ranks 9th (31.6)
Actors: Oregon ranks 9th (0.9) (that's a surprisingly high number to my eyes)
Fine artists/art directors/animators: Oregon ranks 9th (11.4)
(Oregon did not break the top 10 in number of musicians, dancers/choreographers and entertainers/performers)

*The "Musicians" stats on page 30 of the report claims just under 170,000 identified professional musicians in the country; only 36% of them are female and 40% of those musicians work for private non-profit organizations (I bet a solid majority of those are orchestra members, but the report doesn't break that stat down further). Oh, and there's a nice photo of cellist Fred Sherry, too, that looks like it comes from Chamber Music Northwest (white jacket and all).

Reactions or thoughts?

Big PS: I was just cruising around the Oregon Symphony's website to grab an image for this post and wow - they're making some nice improvements to the usability and interactivity of their site, especially in the orchestra members' section (biographies, "musician moments," etc).

I'm still waiting, though, for that Symphony blog, as well as a better forum for connectivity and interaction among audience members, administrators, players and supporters. Oh, and better program notes, too. As in, less snoozy. I know I know, I ask for a lot.

(photo above: Violinist Jennifer Koh with the Oregon Symphony, photo by James W. Prichard)

3 Things

1) This weather makes me very, very sad. I love chilly autumnal gray skies and all, but really. This has got to stop.

2) Oregon anti-equality legislators and activists admit defeat in their initiatives to repeal two landmark Oregon laws: the Oregon Family Fairness Act and the Oregon Equality Act.

3) OMG I haven't been to the gym in, like, a week, and I'm feeling guh-ross. Lemme put on some Rihanna and get myself pumped for a 7 am jog tomorrow... there we go... hellz yes.

Back in the WW

For all of you loyal fans wondering when I would be appearing again in Willamette Week, check out today's issue.

WW writer Byron Beck salutes me in his "Queer Window" column, dedicating a full paragraph to summarizing my recent Just Out "Corner View" column on "Pride" and the almighty corporate dollar.

He then adds that he "begs to differ" with my view, and offers a one sentence argument bolstering his position, before skidding off into more typical territory, fantasizing about what "new faces of Pride" (closeted Congressman, straight hairdressers, etc) should march in this year's parade.

A Marriott coke party, oddly

Maybe it was all for the best that things didn't really work out with S. from Seattle. After my e-room visit Saturday AM, he opted to find a hotel for that Saturday night - we went our separate ways, more or less, but cordially.

And now this e-mail just arrived:

Hey, thanks again Stephen. I had a great weekend, and am very much contemplating coming down next Friday as well. I got two VIP passes to the stuff near Boxxes next weekend from that guy I was staying with yesterday. So I may see you soon again. Saturday night turned out as a Marriott coke party, oddly. Wasn't planning that, but it was definitely fun. Hope your tooth is shaping up nicely.

Rescue: 9-1-1

I had forgotten about the uncomfortable common area furniture, the stale air and the pleasant nurses of the hospital emergency room. Until this past Saturday morning.

I landed in the ER courtesy of a severely impacted wisdom tooth, which had been until Friday a dull ache for weeks, and one I hoped would pass. Wouldn’t you know that about the same time I was welcoming S. from Seattle and finishing a Friday night Les Mis rehearsal the impaction flared up in a big way. I noticed this when the left side of my face began to ache when I smiled or laughed.

But there was little laughing or smiling Saturday about 5:30 in the morning, when I bolted upright in bed from a pronounced throbbing in my jaw. I ran to check my face in the mirror: sure enough, my left cheek had swelled like a nut-hoarding squirrel, all puffy exaggeration. Shit.

After some calls to my (thank god) insurance provider, I determined the only way I could address the problem immediately was to head to the ER. After a lengthy check-in and wait, they tucked me into a room and I watched the Food Network for almost two hours before the ER doc on duty made it to me (doubtless he had other, more pressing emergencies than my sore jaw and swelled face).

The verdict was as I suspected: my lower left wisdom tooth was severely impacted, and potentially causing pressure and infection to the surrounding teeth. They loaded me with pain and penicillin prescriptions, and I hied to Walgreen’s for vanilla ice cream and to retrieve said drugs.

So here I am Sunday, much less swollen but still sore, pouting with a cup of tea and wondering which dear friend might come deliver soup. Awwww. (the wisdom tooth, meanwhile, will most certainly have to be extracted at some point in late June once the infection has cleared, but when? I have a musical to open and no “recovery time” ever fits in my schedule)

Meantime, S. from Seattle came and went and it was a lovely time, as we diagnosed each other’s troubles and traipsed about the city (I, in a cloud of pain-diminishing drugs and antibiotics). Friday night at Boxxes/Red Cap during the Latino Gay Pride "Papis Party," I ran into a recent date who sort-of attacked me with kisses and, when I demurred, called me a “self-absorbed flake.” Ah yes.

On my to-do list today: buy groceries, clean living room, send birthday gift to niece (now three!), have drink with Eddie the lutenist, finish Corner View column, express gratitude. For every thing, sore jaw included.

Here goes nothing

I feel good today, and I believe I intend to stick with that feeling.

About a month ago I spent 24 hours in Seattle with friend C. (since moved to St. Louis), and met a nice gent, S. Well, S. and I have been in touch since, and while I certainly wasn't anticipating this even as recently as two days ago, we thought it might interesting if he came down to PDX for the weekend and we hung out a bit and spent some time together. And so it will be: he arrives after ten tonight, and is meeting me downtown. We may stop by Latino Pride or just grab a drink and a show at the Doug Fir or Someday or something.

Shite my bus is coming and I've got to run. More soon.

Welcome, Monsieur... sit yourself down...

And meet the best blog-keeper in town.

Welcome to recent guests from...

Brisbane, Australia; Brussels, Belgium; Budapest, Hungary; Chinle, Arizona; Clacton-on-Sea, Essex, United Kingdom; Columbia, South Carolina; Dundee, Oregon; Elkton, Maryland; Houston, Texas; Jammu, India; Lennon, Michigan; Marble Rock, Iowa; Miami, Florida; Montana, Bulgaria; Norwalk, Connecticut; San Francisco, California; Tulsa, Oklahoma; Utica, New York; Washington, D.C.

At the end of Day 2

... I'm another night tired-er. (sorry. I am.)

Just in from the second night of Broadway Rose Co. Les Miserables rehearsals in Tigard. I'm gnawing on a mixed green salad and meatless barbecue pizza from Hammy's, and kickin' back a PBR. Oh yes: this, my friends, is the good life.

I'm just tired enough that bullet point thoughts on the first two nights of rehearsal will have to suffice:

*So I walk into rehearsal Tuesday night, and am greeted by a room of conspicuously fresh faces. First thought: "ah, some of these youngins must be interns!" (Answer: they're not) Turns out there's a goodly number of college students or recent grads in the ensemble ranks... don't get me wrong, the ensemble (myself included) is a powerfully-piped bunch, but I'm just not used to being on the mid to older aged side of a cast. First ten minutes of the first rehearsal I found myself giving college audition advice to a perky young soprano.

*I'm having to consciously work to leave my director hat at home. Part of my natural inclination in rehearsal, because of my past as a stage and music director, is to pull myself out of a moment and ask: "how might I have done such-and-such differently?" or "I wonder what might happen if we tried la-la-la." Three words, SMB: not your show. So I'm working diligently to be present in every moment of every rehearsal and leave the big-picture decisions to the people in charge of them.

*"Musical theatre singing:" here we go, another test of my vocal versatility. It's been, what, at least six or seven years since my last "pop" musical? (was that Godspell?) Even though Les Mis has moments of operatic "flight," it's a pretty pop-y show, and I find myself policing the use and abuse of my voice already in rehearsal, especially when affects (breathiness, brightness, bite) are sought. Also... there are a lot of words for the ensemble. A lot. I'm hunkering down with my score on tonight's bus ride to Tigard.

Enough already. Time to plug into Dichterliebe and go to bed.

One day... less

Tonight I'll walk into my first "book musical" rehearsal in nearly four years. Four years! Excuse me, but Jesus Christ.

I'm getting a bit nerved up about it; excited, too... though I suppose it's tough to tell the two feelings apart. I'm excited to be back in a cast of what I'm guessing will be really first-rate singing actors; to be working with a Broadway veteran stage director; to be powered-up on stage. I'm nervous maybe about how clumsy I might be in rehearsal; how colleagues may react knowing my history as a critic and writer in town (this is a real concern sometimes); how I'll stomach the 1.5 hour bus ride to Tigard for rehearsals five nights a week (ugh).

I don't have any more time tonight to fret, though - gotta run. I'll leave you, though, with this:

High, high, high

Hey, just wanted to say thanks to all you lovely readers for sending my blog stats to a new high last month (oh yeah, happy June everyone): I had a record 2,300+ visitors in May, 2008.

And now I'm just home from the QDoc showing of that landmark 1984 documentary, "The Times of Harvey Milk," right down the block at Clinton Street Theater. And going to grab a drink with Eddie the Lutenist.

Satisfied for a Sunday.