Mark Twain in the Azores

I've been doing some research on Twain's visit to the Azores. He stopped in Horta on his way to Palestine-a series of correspondences that would become his book,  Innocents Abroad.

Most of what he wrote about the Azores in that book was not kind, he was trying to create jokes-and also created a cynical sense of the superiority of the American traveler. He made himself the joke of an ugly American-especially viewed from the perspective of today.

In the Book about the Dabneys, there is evidence that he was in their house. Below is a quote from one of the female residents.

“At 10 the parlor was quite full….One young man had his note-book out all the time and remarked as I gave him some verbena,’I am taking notes as I am a correspondent of a paper’. 

‘Horrors;, writes CPD, “how we may appear in print,’

Next adventure!

Having spent Thanksgiving in Provincetown, with all its associated Portuguese heritage, I noticed that there is an Annual Blessing of the Fleet and weekend-long Festival at the end of June (6/25-28/2020) More information can be found here:
https://provincetownportuguesefestival.com/

It's never to early to plan your time in this seaside town, especially bc it fills up so quickly in the summertime. See you then!!

The 29th Floor of a Giant Castle Hotel

She had also begun swimming across bays, across rivers with slow currents and anywhere she deemed safe enough for humans against the elements-or motorboats.

She stayed once on the 29th floor of a giant castle hotel. Looking out over the Bay, it was as if she could fly and catch one of the airplanes as they swooped across the expanse.  The window in the room framed everything-from the farthest spot, she felt like the trees loomed large against the frame-taking up a line that filled almost half the space. But as you pressed your face against the glass, the trees seemed further away-a crazed sense of reversal.

She KNEW exactly what that reversal WAS when she was swimming, The sense that the more you swam-the further the far shore got. As if it swimming away at exactly the same speed. Uprooting the trees, kicking their feet and laughing slightly, just to keep ahead of you.

On a day like today, everything was gray and foggy.  Cold, but only because of the dampness, when you let yourself into the water, all the cold stayed up inside of the air. The water wanted you to come inside, like a warm bath or a warm bed. Come inside, and fall asleep.  Isn't it easier than fighting the cold, or trying, IN VAIN, to get to the other side? Like a chicken-like a chicken with your head cut off, come and rest and stop the flailing of the arms and legs, and just rest.

But you keep flying, and reaching and floating, half in and half out of the water. And gradually, you get out of the dream and out of the water, until you feel the pull of gravity as you take deep breaths on the shore. The water escaping your wetsuit, your body, your hair, drip dripping like rain, seeking its own level. And you want to sink into the pebbles too, because you just remembered what it was to live outside of the water again.

Visiting an Artist Studio in Laguardia

I was walking to my flight at the Jetblue Terminal and saw a tiny art studio in the lobby area.

Stopping, I chatted a bit with the woman who was running the space, Anna, but was rushing to my flight and I couldn't linger.  What a funny place for a popup art location, I thought.

And then I came through again, and my plane was delayed. Finally I had the proper time.

This time I stayed for a good while, and spoke to Davi Leventhal, an enchanting man who told me about being raised Brazilian in NYC, something I related to, being raised Azorean in Boston. Anna was there as well.

His art was based on fuxicos-simple circles of fabric, which when combined, make a giant tapestry of color and energy.  Visitors are invited to make one and leave one. I made 3, but one fell apart.  He gifted me one-which I will attach to a blanket my Vovo made me.

His assembly method reminded me of my Mousetrap Project, creating small pieces of beauty which are seen as a strong presence when mounted together. And because there was the interactive element, of getting to sit and sew (especially in what is normally a stressful environment), the was a performance piece that I was happy to have experienced.



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For more info:

https://www.davileventhal.com/about.html

https://www.aviationpros.com/airports/buildings-maintenance/press-release/21076449/the-port-authority-of-new-york-new-jersey-local-artist-residency-program-returns-to-laguardia-airports-marine-air-terminal-for-second-year

https://www.queenscouncilarts.org/2019-artport-artists

Handful of Times

Every summer I regret not swimming MORE.

All year, I plan to swim EVERY DAY, that would be the only thing to make me happy. To be away from screens, from work, from other people. (Especially that-not bumping into other people in the pool!)

I want to be in the water CONSTANTLY. If there was a way to live out there, camping in the water, as it were, to become/transform into the Mermaid. i would.

Always a matter of access-of wishing for something when you are too far away from it.

Thoreau/Twain in Concord, MA

I'm happy to report that the performance of Thoreau/Twain: Brothers in the River for the Thoreau Society was a tremendous success.

Brent Rinalli, Tammy Rose and Joel Hersh

The main performers were Brent Rinalli, who has been in and around Concord giving lectures and historical interpreting as Thoreau for the past few years and Joel Hersh, a local actor known for his varied musical ability-played Twain.

The main conceit of the show is that an Academic is trying to summon the spirits of the authors, to have them discuss a major, and underexplored parallel of their lives.  Both of them had a deep relationship with a brother on the river of their childhood, and both of them lost that brother to a sudden event. This happened before either of them began to write-but both found inspiration in their brothers and documented the influences strongly in their writings.

The authors -who had never met in real life- get deep into conversation, about their lives, commonalities they share-and especially their brothers. Most of the text of the play is taken directly from journals, letters and the formal published writings of the authors-and their contemporaries. They argue with each other using their own words and get a chance to recount a major emotional moment in their lives. (No pop-psychology or therapy here-the drama comes directly from their own words and existing texts).

Thanks to the Thoreau Society and to all the amazing and attentive attendees!  Especially those who took pictures and gave me feedback on new areas to explore between the two!

And extra special thanks to my fellow Tourguides who make all the research and the entire experience of Concord SO MUCH FUN!!!

New Play: Thoreau/Twain: Brothers on the River

Thoreau/Twain: Brothers on the River

Masonic Hall, 

58 Monument Sq, 

Concord, MA

Wednesday, July 10, 2019

7pm

(immediately after the performance of "HDT's Heroic Journey")

https://www.thoreausociety.org/annual-gathering#Wed

"Be thou my Muse, my Brother--,"

A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers

Both Henry David Thoreau and Samuel Clemens were by the deathbeds of their beloved brothers.  What happens when one brother is left on the river, and the other has to complete the rest of the journey in life alone?

Come see Henry David Thoreau and Mark Twain meet under new and unusual circumstances; a meeting that never happened in history. Finally, both have a chance to recognize and reconcile their parallel journeys. 

Primary texts of the play are taken directly from primary sources including A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers & Life on the Mississippi, as well as from journals & letters from the authors themselves.

Written by

Tammy Rose

and Henry David Thoreau

and Samuel Clemens

One

Vulnerabilty

-------

Maybe She is a Goldilocks Among her Literary Genres

Imagine a writer, thinking herself into insanity. Trying one thing after another-too hot, too cold. Waiting until she can find the thing that is Just Right:

"Okay, so at one point after college, I realized I was a Writer-I had always identified myself as one, always did research and readings, kept a journal, etc-but I realized I hadn't WRITTEN.

So I literally began at my beginning.

I started doing Blogs. And Plays. And Short Stories. TV Pilots, Novels. And lately, I've also started doing Satire.  Short pieces which focus on humor, on a good idea that gets developed-and also gets workshopped among you and your closest writing partners.

New York has hosted several of my pieces, and I've been proud to help others bring theirs forward (helping to produce is helping to pay it forward in your own "work")

Everything feels natural to each of the medium (media), but it's about persistence.  And if something is not working, not breaking through, I'm willing to try the NEXT GENRE-the next pattern of storytelling.  Because it IS all the same urge, just coming out in different frames and formats."

Thoreau/Twain: Brothers on the River

For the first evening of this 2019 Edition of the Annual Gathering of Thoreauvian Appreciators my play, THOREAU/TWAIN: Brothers of The River will be performed.

I am immensely proud to be presenting my work to such an excellent group of scholars, enthusiasts, teachers, environmentalists, historians, professors-AND this year's focus will be encouraging the ENGINEERS to come out in full force.

Therefore, not ONLY am I excited to be able to do research on both Thoreau and Twain, but also to focus on the parts of their lives which reflect their interest in innovation, technology and how things get put together.

Hint: This will involve HDT's work on developing a new formula for a graphite pencil, AND Twain's enthusiasm for a printing machine known as the Paige Compositor. Which will survive the ultimate test of engineering?

Frozen Pond

The temperature in NYC today was 3 degrees. Not counting windchill, not counting ice or snow on the ground-and Boston has more snow and ice, AND worse temperatures.

Today, I saw a photo of The Pond, and it looked like someone had taken it away. The expanse of water had disappeared under a blanket of snow. The cold had turned it into ground. Just another place to walk, no immensity to dive right into-just more solid stuff to crash into.