The first of these posts is an edited version from Living Lutheran of a speech I made for the rededication of the Tower of the Four Winds in Black Elk-Neihardt Park. The other articles were written some years ago for an arts-related blog. I’m not a “writer” but when asked I thoroughly enjoyed writing these articles and hope you’ll enjoy reading them.
Black Elk and the Cosmic Christ Spirit
A year ago, I received a VHS tape of a speech given by my late father, the Lutheran pastor and professor F.W. Thomsen. It was from the 1987 dedication of the Tower of the Four Winds, which my father designed. I was delighted and moved by hearing my father’s voice once again, but I was struck by how short his speech was—11 lines in all—and surprised by its strong Judeo-Christian emphasis.
At the time of his first profound vision in 1872, Black Elk was only a child, and Christianity had no part in the boy’s life; rather, he’d been brought up with the spiritual teachings of his people. He held these teachings deeply within his heart until his death in 1950 (and, no doubt, into the next world). He did not become a baptized Christian until he chose to join the Catholic Church in 1904, at the . . .
I Love Lassie (and Mullen the Wonder Cat)
Many of the films I treasure most are by foreign directors. The Turin Horse by Bela Tarr gave me thought-food for weeks after experiencing it. The intense ’90s trilogy by Krzysztof Kieslowski, Red, White, and Blue, presented me with a series of mind-blowing experiences. Haneke’s recent film Amour brought me face to face with some of my personal history in a most revealing way. And the list goes on and on of powerful films that have been offered to me by great and, for the most part, foreign filmmakers. But, damn it! If I’m ever going to be emotionally free from a very deep secret I’ve harbored most of my life I’ve got to reveal it to the world and get it off my chest! It’s that . . . that . . . that . . . that I absolutely, positively, without reservation also love Lassie! As Walt Whitman once wrote, “Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, I am vast, I contain multitudes.” And thank God . . .
Bebe Neuwirth at Studio 54 Below
Kander and Ebb wrote: “You gotta ring them bells, you gotta ring them bells / It’s such a happy thing to hear ’em ting a ling.”
Well, Bebe Neuwirth really rang my bells last week at Studio 54 Below, where she landed a most welcome knockout punch. To use a little litotes, Bebe’s show was Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!!
Studio 54 Below opened last June, and I could kick myself from here to eternity for not rushing to this venue months ago with the great lineup of stars that have already played there—Patti LuPone, Norbert Leo Butz, Linda Lavin, Rebecca Luker, etc. The atmosphere itself is the quintessence of . . .
The West Side Story Connection
As I sang myself out of a recent showing of West Side Story—“Boy, boy, crazy boy, Get cool, boy!”—little did I realize I was summoning up a pelting sleet storm. Umbrellaless, my first thought as I stepped into the storm was an expletive, my second was, “How do I get out of this mess?” Then I remembered someone at a recent dinner party mentioning the Martha Swope photos at the Lincoln Center Library (officially the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts), which was only a quick dash across the street. I was very curious to see the exhibit because for a couple of years in the early ’80s, I’d worked in magazine design. This was a time before magazine layout was computerized, when designers spent 20% of their time being creative and 80% of their time pasting photos into text with hot wax and a roller. In those years, I pasted the name Martha Swope next to photos of dancers and actors . . .
BAMMMMM! and the Fly In Its Ointment
I can’t begin to tell you how much I enjoyed the French film festival at BAM (The Brooklyn Academy of Music) this week, and how fortunate I felt as I walked home knowing I live only minutes away from this grand old Brooklyn matriarch of the arts. How grateful I am to her for filling my 28 years in Brooklyn with music, theater, film, and dance from around the world. There are very few people on the planet who have this kind of opportunity, and there are times I really can’t stop pinching myself, even though I suppose I must do so before I’m diagnosed with some psychological disorder.
And now . . . all that being said, there is at the same time a terribly annoying fly in this gratitude and art-filled ointment. The fly is the embarrassingly ridiculous questions asked of filmmakers . . .
The Wonderful World of the Brothers Quay
Well, I’m out the door and off a second time to immerse myself in the magical Quay Brothers retrospective at MOMA here in NYC. As I raced through the museum to revisit their exhibition, I glimpsed two whimsical but thought-provoking etchings by my old neighbor, Louise Bourgeois. Stopped for a moment to soak them in and then off and running again to reach my destination, The Wonderful World of the Brothers Quay. That’s not actually the name of the show, but when one enters the exhibition, one also steps into a world that exists nowhere else that I know of on planet Earth.
It starts with a mesmerizing video called “Hopscotch, Expendable Scenes in False Order,” made in 2012. It’s a compilation of images that the Quay Brothers describe as “a gentle assault to . . .